A dialogue of comfort against tribulation, made by Sir Thomas More KNIGHT, and set forth by the name of an Hungarien, not before this time imprinted.  
Londini in aedibus Richardi Totteli.  
¶ Cum Privilegio ad imprimendum solum.   

¶ A Table, wherein is expressed the sum and effect of every Chapter contained in this book  

A Declaration of the first book.  
That the devised comforts by the old pa●nim philosophers, were unsufficient, and the cause wherefore. 
cap. i.  That for a foundation men must needs begin with faith. 
cap. two.  The first comfort in tribulation may a man take in this, when he feeleth a desire and longing to be comforted by god. 
ca iii.  That tribulation is a mean to draw a man to that good mind to desire and long for the comfort of god. 
ca iiii.  The special mean to get this first comfort in tribulation. 
ca v.  It sufficeth not that a man have a desire to be comforted by god, only by the taking away of the tribulation. 
ca vi.  A great comfort it may be in tribulation, that every tribulation is, if we ourself will, a thing either medicinable, or else more than medicinable. 
ca seven.  The declaration larger concerning them that fall in tribulation by their own known fault and that yet such tribulation is medicinable. 
cap. viii.  The second point, that is to wit, that tribulation that is sent us by god without any open certain deserving cause known to ourself: & this kind of tribulation is medicinable, if men will so take it● and therefore great occasion of comfort. 
cap. ix  Of the third kind of tribulation which is not sent a man for his sin, but for exercise of his patience & increase of his merit, which is better than medicinable. 
cap. x.  another kind of comfort yet in the base kind of tribulation sent for our sin. 
cap. xi.  A certain objection against the things aforesaid. 
ca xii.  That a man ought to be comfortable to himself, & have good hope, & be joyful also in tribulation, appeareth well by this, that a man hath great cause of fear and heaviness that continueth always still in wealth, discontinued with no tribulation. 
cap. xiii.  A certain objection and the answer thereto. 
cap. xiiii.  Other objections. 
cap. xv.  The answer to the objection. 
cap. xvi.  An answer to the second objection. 
cap. xvii.  Of them that in tribulation seek not unto god: but some to the flesh, and some to the world, and some to the devil himself. 
cap. xviii.  another objection with the answer thereunto. 
cap. nineteen.  A Summary commendation of tribulation. 
cap. xx.    

A declaration of the second Book.  
Whether a man may not in tribulation use some worldly recreation for his comfort. 
cap. i.  Of the short uncertain life in extreme age or sickness. 
cap. two.  He divideth tribulation into three kinds, of which three, the last he passeth shortly over. 
cap. iii.  
cap. iiii.  An objection concerning them that turn not to god till they come at the last cast. 
cap. v.  An objection of them the say the tribulation of penance needeth not● but is a superstitious folly. 
cap. vi.  What if a man cannot weep, nor in his heart be sorry for his sins? 
cap. seven.  Of that kind of tribulation which though they not willingly take, yet they willingly suffer. 
cap. viii.  First of temptation in general as it is common to both. 
ca ix.  A special comfort in all temptation. 
cap. x.  Of four kinds of temptations, and therein both the parts of that kind of tribulation that men willingly suffer, touched in two vearses of the psalter. 
cap. xi.  The first kind of the four temptations 
cap. xii.  Of pusillanimity. 
cap. xiii.  Of the daughter of pusillanimity, a scrupulous conscience. 
cap. xiiii.  another kind of the nights fear, an other daughter of pusillanimity, that is to wit, the horrible temptation by which some folk are tempted to kill & destroy themselves. 
ca xv.  Of him that were moved to kill himself by illusion of the devil which he reckoned for a revelation. 
ca xvi. ca xvii  Of the devil named Negorium, that is to wit, business walking about in the darknesses. 
cap. xviii. cap. nineteen.    

A declaration of the third Book.  
Wither a man should cast in his mind and appoint in his heart before, that if he were taken with Turks he would rather die, than forsake the faith. 
cap. i.  Of the fourth temptation, which is persecution for the faith, touched in these words of the prophet. Ab incursu & demen●o meridia●o, 
cap. two. cap. iii. cap. iiii.  Of the loss of the goods of fortune. 
cap. v.  Of the unsurety of lands and possessions. 
ca vi.  These outward goods or gifts of fortune are two manner of ways to be considered. 
cap. seven.  The little commodity of riches, being set by but for this present life. 
cap. viii.  The little commodity of fame being desired but for worldly pleasure. 
cap. ix.  Of flattery. 
cap. x.  The little commodity that men have of rooms, officis and authority, if they desire them but for their worldly commodity. 
cap. xi.  That these outward goods, desired but for worldly wealth, be not only little good for the body, but are also much harm for the soul. 
cap. xii.  Whether men desire these outward goods for their only worldly wealth, or for any good virtuous purpose, this persecution of the Turk against the faith will declare, & the comfort that both twain may take in the losing them thus. 
ca xiii  An other cause, for which any man should be content to forego his goods in the Turk's said persecution. 
ca xiiii  This kind of tribulation trieth what mind men have to their goods, which they that are wise, will at the fame thereof, see well and wisely laid up safe before. 
cap. xv.  another comfort and courage against the loss of substance. 
cap. xvi.  Of bodily pain, and that a man hath no cause to take discomfort in persecution, though he feel himself in an horror at the thinking upon the bodily pain. 
cap. xvii.  Of comfort against bodily pain, and first against captivity. 
cap. xviii.  Of imprisonment, and comfort there against. 
cap. nineteen. ca xx.  The fear of shameful & painful death. 
ca xxi.  Of death considered by himself alone, as a bare leaving of this life only. 
cap. xxii.  Of the shame that is joined with the death, in the persecution for the faith. 
cap. xxiii.  Of painful death to be suffered in the Turks persecution for the faith. 
cap. xxiiii.  The consideration of the pains of hell (in which we fall if we forsake our saviour) may make us set all the painful death of this world at right nought. 
cap. xxv.  The consideration of the joys of heaven, should make us for Christ's sake abide & endure any painful death. 
ca xxvi.  The consideration of the painful death of Christ, is sufficient to make ●s content to suffer painful death for his sake. 
ca xxvii.    
FINIS.   
¶ A Dialogue of comfort against Tribulation: Made by an Hung●rien in Latin, and translated out of Latin into French, and out of French into English.  
¶ Anthonye● and Uincent. ☞ Vincent. 
WHo would have went, oh my good uncle, afore a few years passed, that such as in this country would visit their friends lying in disease and sickness, should come (as I do now) to seek & fetch comfort of them, or in giving comfort to them, use the way that I may well use to you? For albeit that the priests and Friars be wont to call upon sick men to remember death, yet we worldly friends for fear of discomforting them, have ever had a guise in hungary to lift up their hearts, and put them in good hope of life● But now my good uncle, the world is here waxed such, and so great perils appear here to fall at hand, that me thinketh the greatest comfort that a man can have is, when he may see that he shall soon be gone, and we that are likely long to live here in wretchedness, have need of some comfortable council against tribulation, to be given us by such as you be, good uncle, that have so long lived virtuously, and are so learned in the law of God, as very few be better in this country here, and have had of such things as we do now fear, good experience and assay in yourself, as he ●hat hath been taken prisoner in Turkey two times in your days, and now likely to depart hence ere long. But that may be your great comfort good uncle sy●h you depart to God: but us here shall you leave of your kindred, a sort of sorry coumfortles Orphans, to all whom your good help comfort and counsel● hath long been a great stay, not as an uncle unto some, & to some as one farther of kynne● but as ●hough y● unto us all, you had been a natural father.  Anthony. 
Mine own good Cousin, I cannot much say nay, but that there is in deed, not here in hungary only but almost also in all places of Christendom, a customable manner of unchrysten coumforting: which albeit that in any sick man it doth more harm than good, with drawing him in time of sickness, with looking and longing for life fro the meditation of death, judgements heaven and hell, whereof he should beset much part of his time, even all his whole life in his best health: yet is that manner in my mind more than mad where such kind of co●mforte is used to a man of mine age. For as we well wot that a young man may die soon: so be we very sure that an old man can not live long. And yet sith there is as Tully saith, no man for all that so old, but that he hopeth yet that he may live one year more: and of a frail folly delighteth thereon to think, and comforting himself therewith, other men's words of like manner coumforte● adding no s●yckes to that fire, shall in a manner burn up quite the pleasant moisture that most should refresh him: the wholesome dew I mean of God's grace, by which he should wish with God's will to be hence, and long to be with him in heaven. Now where you take my departing from you, so heavenly, as of him of whom you recognyse of your goodness to have had here before help and comfort, would God I had to you and other more half so much done, as myself reckoneth had been my duty to do: But whensoever god take me hence, to reckon yourselves then comfortelesse, as though your chief comfort stood in me: therein make you, me thinketh, a reckoning very much like, as though you would cast away a strong staff, and lean upon a rotten reed. For GOD is and must be your comfort, and not I And he is a sure coumforter● that (as he said unto his disciples) never leaveth his servants in case of coumfortlesse Orphans: not even when he departed from his Disciples by death, but bothe● as he promised, sent them a comforter, the holy spirit of his father and himself, a●d them also made sure, that to the worlds end he would ever dwell with them himself: and therefore if you be part of his flock, and believe his promise, how can you be coumfortlesse in any tribulation, when christ and his holy spirit, and with them their unseparable father, (if you put full trust and confidence in them,) be never neither one finger breadth of space● nor one minute of time from you?  ☞ Vincent. 
Oh my good uncle, even these same self words wherewith you well prove that because of Gods own gracious presence, we can not be left coumfortelesse, make me now feel and perceive what a miss of much comfort we shall have when you be gone: for albeit good vncle● that while you do tell me this, I can not but grant it for true: Yet if I now had not heard it of you, I had not remembered it, nor it had not fallen in my mind. And over that, like as our tribulations, shall in weight & numbered increase: so shall we need, not only such a good word or twain, but a great heap thereof, to stable and strength the walls of our hearts against the great surges of this tempestuous sea.  ☞ Antony. 
Good cousin, trust well in God and he shall provide you teachers abroad convenient in every time, or else shall himself sufficiently teach you within.  Vincent. 
very well good uncle: but yet if we would leave the seeking of outward learning, where we may have it, and look to be inwardly taught, only by God, then should we thereby tempt God, and displease him: and sith that I now see likelihood, that when you be gone we shallbe sore destitute of any such other like: therefore thinketh me that God of duty bindeth me to sew to you now good uncle in this short time that we have you, that it may like you, against these great storms of tribulation, with which, both I and all mine are sore beaten already, and now upon the coming of this cruel Turk fear to fall in far more, I may learn of you such plenty of good counsel and comfort, that I may, with the same laid up in remembrance, govern and stay the ship of our kindred, and keep it afloat from peril of spiritual drowning. You be not ignorant good uncle, what heaps of heaviness, hath of late fallen among us already, with which some of our poor family be fallen into such dumps, that scantly can any such comfort as my poor wit can give them, any thing assuage their sorrow. And now sith these tidings have come hither so brim of the great Turks enterprise into these parts here: we can almost neither talk nor think of any other thing else, than of his might & our mischief. There falleth so continually before the eyen of our heart, a fearful imagination of this terrible thing, his mighty strength & power, his high malice & hatred, and his incomparable cruelty, with robbing, spoiling, burning, & laying waste all the way that his army cometh: than killing or carrying away the people far thence far from home, & there sever the couples & the kindred asunder, every one far from other: some kept in thraldom, and some kept in prison, & some for a triumph tormented and killed in his presence. Then send his people hither, and his false faith therewith, so that such as here are & remain still, shall either both lose all and be lost too, or forced to forsake the faith of our Saviour Christ, and fall to the sect of Machomette. And yet which we more fear then all the remnant, no small part of our own folk that dwell even here about us, are (as we fear) falling to him, or already confedered with him: which if it so be, shall happily keep this quarter from the Turks incursion: but then shall they that turn to his law leave all their neighbours nothing, but shall have our good given them, and our bodies both: but if we turn as they do, and forsake our saviour to, and then (for there is no borne Turk so cruel to Christian folk, as is the false Christian that falleth from the faith) we shall stand in peril (if we persever in the truth) to be more hardly handled, and die more cruel death by our own country men at home, then if we were taken hence and carried into Turkeys These fearful heaps of peril lie so heavy at our hearts, while we wot not into which we shall fortune to fall, & therefore fear all the worst, that as our Saviour prophesied of the people of jerusalem, many wish among us already before the peril come, that the mountains would overwhelm them or the valeis open, & swallow them up & cover them. Therefore good uncle against these horrible fears of these terrible tribulations, of which ●ome ye wot well, out house already hath, & the rennant stand in dread of, give us while god dareth you us, such plenty of your comfortable counsel, as I may write & keep with us, to stay us when god shall call you hence.  ☞ Antony. 
Ah my good Cousin, this is an heavy herring, and likewise as we that dwell here in this part, fear that thing sore now which few years passed, feared it not at all: so doubt I that ere it long be, they shall fear it as much that think themself now very sure, because they dwell farther of. Grece feared not the Turk when that I was borne, & within a while after, the whole Empire was his. The great Sowdom of Sirry thought himself more than his match, & long since you were borne, hath he that Empire to. Than● hath he taken Belgrade the fortress of this realm, and since hath he destroyed our noble young goodly king. And now strive there twain for us, our lord send the grace, that the third dog carry not away the bone from them both. What should I speak of the noble strong city of the Rhodes, the winning whereof he counted as a victory against the whole corpse of christendom, sith all christendom was not able to defend that strong town against him: howbeit if the princes of christendom every where about, would where as need was, have set to their hands in time: the Turk had never taken any one place of all those places, but partly dissensions fallen among ourself, partly that no man careth what harm other folk feel: but each part suffereth other to shift for itself. The Turk is in few years wonderfully increased, & christendom on the other side very sore decayed: and all this worketh our wickedness with which god is not content. But now where as you desire of me, some plenty of comfortable things, which ye may put in remembrance: & comfort therewith your company, verily in the rehearsing & heaping of your manifold fears, myself begun to feel that there should much need against so many troubles● many comfortable counsels. For surely a little before your coming, as I devised with myself upon the Turks coming, it happened my mind to fall suddenly from that, into the devising upon my own departing: wherein albeit that I fully put my trust & hope to be a saved soul by the great mercy of god, yet sith no man is here so sure, that without revelation may clean stand out of dread, I bethought me also upon the pain of hell. And after I bethought me then upon the Turk again. And first me thought his terror nothing, when I compared with it the joyful hope of heaven. Than compared I it on the other side with the fearful dread of hell, and therm casting in my mind those terrible devilish tormentors with the deep consideration of that furious endless fyre● me thought that if the Turk with his whole host & all his trumpets & timbrels to, were to kill me in my bed coming to my chamber door, in respect of the other reckoning, I regard him not a ryshe. And yet when I now heard your lamentable words, laying forth as it were present before my face, that heap of heavy sorrowful tribulation that beside those that are already fallen, are in short space like to follow: I waxed therewith myself suddenly somewhat aflighte. And therefore I well allow your request in this behalf, that would have s●ore of comfort afore hand ready by you to resort too: and to lay up in your heart as a treacle against the poison of all desperate dread, that might rise of occasion of sore tribulation. And herein shall I be glad as my poor wit will serve me, to call to mind with you such things, as I before have red, heard, or thought upon, that may conveniently serve us to this purpose.  

¶ The first Chapter, That the comforts devised by the old paynim Philosophers were unsufficient, and the cause wherefore.  
FIrst shall you good Cousin understand this, that the natural wise men of this world, the old moral Philosophers, laboured much in this matter, & many natural reasons have they written, whereby they might encourage men to set little by such goods or such hurts either, the going or the coming whereof, are the matter & the cause of tribulation, as are goods of fortune, riches, favour, friends, fame, worldly worship, & such other things: or of the body, as beauty, strength, agilite quickness, and health. These things (ye wot well) coming to us, are matter of worldly wealth: and taken from us by fortune, or by force, or by fear of th● losing, be matter of adversity and tribulacyon● For tribulation seemeth generally, to signify nothing else but some kind of grief, either pain of the body, or heaviness of the mind. Now the body not to feel that if feeleth, all the wit in the world can not bring about, but that the mind should not be grieved neither with the pain that the body feeleth, nor with occasions of heaviness offered & given unto the soul itself. This thing laboured the Philosophers very much about, and many goodly sayings have they toward the strength & coumfort against tribulation, exciting men to the full contempt of all worldly loss, and despising of sickness, and all bodily grief, painful death and all. How be it in very deed, for any thing that ever I read in them, I never could yet find that ever those natural reasons were able to give sufficient comfort of themself: for they never stretch so far but that they leave untouched for lack of necessary knowledge, that special point which is not only the chief comfort of all: but without which also, all other comforts are nothing, that is to wit, the referring the final end of their comfort unto god, and to repute and take for the special cause of coumfort, that by the patient sufferance of their tribulation, they shall attain his favour, and for their pain receive reward at his hand in heaven. And for lack of knowledge of this end● they did (as they needs must) leave untouched also the very special mean, without which we can never attain to this comfort, that is to wit, the gracious aid and help of God to move, stir, and guide us forward, in the referring all our ghostly comfort, yea and our worldly comfort too, all unto that heavenly end. And therefore as I say, for the lack of these things, all their comfortable counsels are veri far unsufficient: how be it, though they be far unable to cure our disease of themself, and therefore are not sufficient to be taken for our physicians: some good drugs have they yet in their shops for which they may be suffered to dwell among our Apoticaryes, if their medicines be not made of their own brains, but after the bills made by the great physician God, prescribing the medicines himself, & correcting the faults of their erroneous receipts: for without this way taken with them, they shall not fail to do, as many bold blind apothecaries do: which either for lucre or of a foolish pride, give sick folk medicines of their own devising, & therewith kill up in corners many such simple folk, as they find so foolish to put their lives in such lewd & unlearned blind bayards hands. We shall therefore neither fully receive these philosopher's reasons in this matter, nor ye● utterly refuse them: but using them in such order as shallbe seem them, the principal & theffectual medicines against these diseases of tribulation, shall we fetch from that high great & excellent physician, without whom we could never be healed of our very deadly disease of damnation, for our necessity wherein the spirit of god spiritually speaketh of himself to us, & biddeth us of all our health give him the honour: & therein thus saith to us. Honora medicum propter necessitatem enim ordinavit eum altissimus. Honour thou the physician, for him hath the high god ordained for thy necessity. Therefore let us require the high physician, our blessed saviour Christ, whose holy manhed god ordained for our necessity, to cure our deadly wounds, with the medicine made of the most wholesome blood of his own blessed body: that likewise as he cured by that incomparable medicine our mortal malady, it may like him to send us & put in our minds such medicines at this time, as against the sickness & sorrows of tribulations, may so comfort & strength us in his grace, as our deadly enemy the devil, may never have the power by his poisoned dart of murmur, grudge and impatience, to turn our short sickness of worldly tribulation, into the endless everlasting death of infernal damnation.   

¶ The second Chapter. That for a foundation men must needs begin with with.  
Sith all our principal comfort must come of god, we must first presuppose in him to whom we shall with any ghostly counsel give any effectual comfort, one ground to begin withal: whereupon all that we shall build must be supported & stand, that is to wit, the ground and foundation of faith, without which had ready before, all the spiritual comfort that any man may speak of can never avail a fly. For likewise as it were utterly vain to lay natural reasons of comfort, to him that hath no wit, so were it undoubtedli frustrate to lay spiritual causes of comfort to him that hath no faith. For except a man first believe, that holy scripture is the word of God, & that the word of GOD is true, how can a man take any comfort of that that the scripture telleth him therein? Needs must the man take little fruit of the scripture, if he either believe not that it were the word of God, or else ween that though it were it might yet be for all that untrue. This faith as it is more faint or more strong, so shall the comfortable words of holy scripture stand the man in more stead or less. This virtue of faith, can neither any man give himself nor yet any one man another: but though men may with preaching be ministers unto god therein, & the man with his own free-will obeying freely the inward inspiration of god, be a weak worker with almighty god therein: yet is the faith in deed the gracious gift of god himself. For as Saint james saith. Omne datum optimum & omne donum perfectum desursum est descendens a patre luminum Every good gift and every perfect gift, is given from above, descending from the father of lights. Therefore feeling our faith by many tokens very faint, let us pray to him that giveth it, that it may please him to help & increase it. And let us first say with the man in the gospel. Credo domine, adi●ua incredulitatem meam. I believe good Lord but help thou the lack of my belief. And after let us pray with the Apostles. Domine adauge nobis fidem. Lord increase our faith. And finally let us consider by Christ's saying unto them, that if we would not suffer the strength and fervour of our faith to wax lukewarm, or rather kaye cold, and in manner lose his vigour by scatering our minds abroad about so many trifling things, that of the matters of our faith, we very seldom think it that we would withdraw our thought fro the respect and regard of all worldly fantasies, and so gather our faith together into a little narrow room. And like the little grain of a mustered seed, which is of nature hot, set it in the garden of our soul, all weeds pulled out for the better feeding of our faith, than shall it grow, and so spread up in height, that the birds, that is to wit, the holy Angels of heaven shall breed in our soul and bring forth virtues in the branches of our faith, and then with the faithful trust, that through the true belief of god's word we shall put in his promise, we shallbe well able to command a great mountain of tribulation, to void from the place where he stood in our heart, where as with a very feeble faith and a faint, we shallbe scant able to remove a little hillock. And therefore, as for the first conclusion, as we must of necessity before any spiritual coumfort presuppose the foundation of faith: So sith no man can give us faith, but only god, let us never cease to call upon God therefore.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth my good uncle, me thinketh that this foundation of faith, which as you say must be laid first, is so necessarily requisite, that without it, all spiritual coumfort were utterly given in vain. And therefore now shall we pray god for a full & a fast faith. And I pray you good uncle, proceed you farther in the process of your matter of spiritual comfort, against tribulation.  ☞ Antony. 
That shall I Cousin with good wil   

¶ The third Chapter, The first comfort in tribulation, may a man take in this: When he feeleth in himself a desire and longing to be comforted by God.  
I Will in my poor mind assign for the first comfort, the desire and longing to be by God comforted, and not without some reason call I this the first cause of comfort. For like as the cure of that person is in a manner desperate, that hath no will to be cured: so is the discomfort of that person desperate, that desireth not his own comfort.  
And here shall I note you two kinds of folk that are in tribulation and heaviness. One sort that will seek for no comfort, an other sort that wil And yet of those that will not, are there also two sorts. For first one sort there are, that are so drowned in sorrow, that they fall into a careless deadly dullness.  
Regarding nothing, thinking almost of nothing, no more than if they lay in a letarge, with which it may so fall, that wit and remembrance will wear away, and fall even fair from them. And this comfortless kind of heaviness in tribulation, is the highest kind of the deadly sin of sloth. another sort are there, that will seek for no comfort, nor yet none receive, but are in their tribulation (be it loss or sickness) so testy, so fumish, and so far out of all patience, that it booteth no man to speak to them, and these are in a manner with impatience, as furious as though they were in half a frenzy, and may with a custom of such fashioned behaviour, fall in thereto full & whole. And this kind of heaviness in tribulation, is even a mischievous high branch of the mortal sin of ire.  
Than is there as I told you, an other kind of folk, which feign would be comforted, and yet are they of two sorts to. One sort are those, that in their sorrow seek for worldly comfort: and of them shall we now speak the less for the divers occasions that we shall after have, to touch them in more places than one. But this will I here say, that I learned of saint Barnard. He that in tribulation turneth himself unto worldly vanities, to get hel●e & comfort by them: fareth like a man that in peril of drowning catcheth whatsoever cometh next to hand, and that holdeth he fast be it never so simple a stick, but than that helpeth him not: for the stick he draweth down under the water with him, & there lie they drowned both together.  
So surely if we custom ourself to put our trust of comfort in the delight of these peevish wordly things God shall for that foul fault suffer our tribulation to grow so great, that all the pleasures of this world shall never bear us up, but all our peevish pleasure shall in the depth of tribulation drown with us.  
The other sort is I say, of those that long and desire to be comforted of GOD. And as I told you before, they have an undoubted great cause of comfort, even in that point alone, that they considre themself to desire and long to be by almighty God comforted: This mind of theirs may well be cause of great comfort unto them for two great considerations. The one is, that they see themself seek for their comfort where they cannot fail to find it. For God both can give them comfort, and wil He can for he is almighty: he will, for he is all good● and hath himself promised, Petite et accipietis. Ask and ye shall have. He that hath faith (as he must needs have that shall take comfort) cannot doubt but that God will surely keep his promise. And therefore hath he a great cause to be of good comfort, as I say, in that he cons●dereth that he longeth to be comforted by him, which his faith maketh him sure, will not fail to comfort him.  
But here consider this that I speak here of him that in tribulation longeth to be comforted by God: and it is he that referreth the manner of his comforting to God, holding himself content, whether it be by the taking away or the minyshment of the tribulation itself, or by the giving him patience and spiritual consolation therein. For of him that only longeth to have god take his trouble from him, we cannot so well warrant that mind for a cause of so great comfort. For both may he desire that, that never mindeth to be the better, & may miss also the effect of his desire because his request is happily not good for himself. And of this kind of longing & requiring, we shall have occasion farther to speak hereafter. But he which referring the manner of his comfort unto God, desireth of god to be comforted asketh a thing so lawful & so pleasant unto god, that he cannot fail to speed, & therefore hath he (as I say) great cause to take comfort in the very desire itself.  
another cause hath he to take of that desire, a very great occasion of comfort. For sith his desire is good, and declareth unto himself that he hath in god a good faith: it is a good token unto him that he is not an abject cast out of gods gracious favour while he perceiveth that god hath put such a virtuous well ordered appetite in his mind. For as every evil mind cometh of the world and ourself, and the Devil: so is every such good mind either immediately, or by the mean of our good Angel or other gracious occasion, inspired into man's heart by the goodness of God himself. And what a comfort than may this be unto us, when we by that desire perceive a sure undoubted token, that toward our final salvation our Saviour is himself so graciously busy about us?   

¶ The fourth Chapter. That tribulation is a mean to draw men to that good mind to desire and long for the comfort of God.  Vincent. 
Forsooth good uncle, this good mind of longing for God's comfort, is a good cause of great comfort in deed: our lord in tribulation send it us. But by this I see well, that woe may they be, which in tribulation lack that mind and that desire, not to be comforted by God, but are either of sloth or impatience discomfortless, or of folly seek for their chief ease and comfort any where else.  Anthony, 
That is, good cousin, very true, as long as they stand in that state. But than must you consider, that tribulation is yet a mean to drive him from that state. And that is one of the causes for which God sendeth it unto man. For albeit that pain was ordained of God for the punishment of sins (for which they that never can now but sin, can never be but ever punished in hell) yet in this world, in which his high mercy giveth men space to be better, the punishment by tribulation that he sendeth● serveth ordinarily for a mean of amendment.  
Saint Paul was himself sore against christ, till Christ gave him a great fall and threw him to the ground, and struck him stark blind: and with that tribulation he turned to him at the first word, and God was his physician, and healed him soon after both in body and soul by his Minister Ananias, and made him his blessed Apostle. Some are in the beginning of tribulation very stubborn and stiff against god, and yet at length tribulation bringeth them home. The proud King Pharaoh did abide and endure two or three of the first plagues, and would not once s●oupe at them. But then god laid on a sorer lash that made him cry to him for help, and then sent he for Moses and Aaron, and confessed himself a sinner, and god for good and righteous, and prayed them to pray for him, and to withdraw that plague, and he would let them go. But when his tribulation was withdrawn, than was he nought again. So was his tribulation occasion of his profit, and his help again cause of his harm. For his tribulation made him call to god, and his help made hard his heart again. Many a man that in an easy tribulation falleth to seek his ease in the pastime of worldly fantasies, findeth in a greater pain all those comforts so feeble, that he is feign to fall to the seeking of god's help. And therefore is I say, the very tribulation itself many times, a mean to bring the man to the taking of the afore remembered comfort therein: that is to wit, to the desire of comfort given by god, which desire of god's comfort is as I have proved you, great cause of comfort itself.   

¶ The fifth Chapter. The special means to get this first comfort in Tribulation.  
How be it, though the tribulation itself be a mean often times to get man this first comfort in it: yet itself some time alone bringeth not a man to it. And therefore sith without this comfort first had, there can in tribulation none other good comfort come forth, we must labour the means that this first comfort may come. And thereunto seemeth one, that if the man of sloth or impatience, or hope of worldly comfort have no mind to desire and seek for comfort of god, those that are his friends that come to visit and comfort him, must afore all thing put that point in his mind, and not spend the time (as they commonly do) in trifling and turning him to the fantasies of the world. They must also move him to pray god put this desire in his mind, which when he getteth once, he than hath the first comfort. And without doubt (if it be well considered) a comfort marvelous great. His friends also that thus counsel him must unto thattaining thereof help to pray for him, themself, & cause him to desire good folk to help him to pray therefore. And than if these ways be taken for the getting, I nothing doubt but the goodness of god shall give it.   

¶ The vi Chapter. It sufficeth not that a man have a desire to be comforted by god only by the taking a●aye of the tribulation.  ☞ Vincent. 
verily me thinketh good uncle that this counsel is very good. For except the person have first a desire to be comforted by god, else can I not see what it can avail to give him any further counsel of any spiritual comfort: how be it what if the man have this desire of god's comfort, that is to wit, that it may please god to comfort him in his tribulation by taking that tribulation from him, is not this a good desire of god's comfort & a desire sufficient for him that is in tribulation?  Anthony. 
No Cousin that is it not. I touched before a word of this point & passed it over, because I thought it would fall in our way again, and so wot I well it will ofter than once. And now am I glad that you move it me here yourself. A man may many times well and without sin desire of god the tribulation to be taken from him, but neither may we desire that in every case, nor yet very well in no case (except very few) but under a certain condition, either expressed or implied. For tribulations are ye wot well of many sundry kinds: some by loss of goods or possessions some by the sickness of ourself, & some by the loss of friends or by some o●her pain put unto our bodies: some by the dread of the losing those things that we fain would save, under which fear fall all the same things that we have spoken before. For we may fear loss of goods or possessions, or the loss of our friends, their grief & trouble or our own: by sickness, imprisonment or other bodily pain: we may be troubled with the dread of death, and many a good man is troubled most of all with the fear of that thing which he that most need hath feareth least of all, that is to wit, the fear of losing through deadly sin the life of his seli soul. And this last kind of tribulation as the sorest tribulation of all, though we touch here & there some pieces thereof before, yet the chief part & the principal point will I reserve to treat apart effectually that matter in the last end. But now as I said where the kinds of tribulation are so divers some of this tribulation. A man may pray god take from him & take some comfort in the trust the god will so do, and therefore against hunger, sickness, & bodily hurt & against the loss of either body or soul men may lawfully many times pray to the goodness of God either for themself or their friend. And toward this purpose, are expressly prayed many devout orisons in the comen service of our mother holy church. And toward our help in some of these things serve some of the petitions in the Pater noster, wherein we pray daily for our daily food, and to be preserved from the fall in temptation, and to be delivered from evil. But yet may we not alway pray for the taking away from us of every kind of temptation. For if a man should in every sickness pray for his health again, when should he show himself content to die, and to departed unto god? and that mind must a man have ye wot well, or else it will not be well. One tribulation is it to good men to feel in themself the conflict of the flesh against the soul, the rebellion of sensuality against the rule and governance of reason, the relics that remain in mankind of old original sin, of which Saint Paul so sore complaineth in his epistle to the Romans. And yet may we not pray while we stand in this life, to haue● this kind of tribulation utterly taken from us. For it is left us by god's ordinance to strive against it, & fight withal, and by reason and grace to master it and use it for the matter of our merit. For the salvation of our soul, may we boldly pray. For grace may we boldly pray, for faith, for hope and for charity, and for every such virtue as shall serve us to heaven w●rd. But as for all other things before remembered, in which is contained the matter of every kind of tribulation, we may never well make prayers so presysely, but that we must express or employ a condition therein: that is to wit, that if god see, the contrary better for us, we refer it whole to his will: and in stead of our graefe taking away, pray that god may send us of his goodness either spiritual comfort to take it gladly, or strength at the least ways, to bear it patiently. For if we determine with ourself that we will take no comfort in nothing, but in the taking of our tribulation from us, than either prescribe we to god that we will he shall no better turn do us though he would, than we will ourself appoint him, or else do we declare, that what thing is best for us, ourself can better tell than he. And therefore I say, let us in tribulation desire his comfort and help, and let us remit the manner of that comfort unto his own high pleasure: which when we do, let us nothing doubt, but that like as his high wisdom better seeth what is best for us, than we can see ourself: so shall his sovereign goodness give us the thing that shall in deed be best. For else if we will presume to stand to our own choice (except it so be) that god offer us she choice himself, as he did to David in the choice of his own punishment. after his high pride conceived in the nombring of his people, we may foolishly choose the worsle: and by the prescribing unto god ourself so precyselye what we will that he shall do for us (except that of his gracious favour he reject our folly) he shall for indignation grant us our own request, and after shall we well find that it shall turn us to harm. How many men attain health of body that were better for their soul's health their bodies were sick still? How many get out of prison that hap on such harm abroad, as the prison should have kept them fro? How many that have been loath to lose their worldly goods, have in keeping of their goods soon after lost their life? So blind is our mortality & so unware what will fall, so unsure also what manner mind we will have to morrow, that god could not lightly do man a more vengeance, than in this world to grant him his own foolish wishes. What wit have we poor fools to wit what will serve us, when the blessed apostle himself in his sore tribulation, praying thrice unto god to take it away from him, was answered again by god, ●n a manner that he was but a fool in ask that request, but that the help of god's grace in that tribulation to strength him, was far better for him than to take the tribulation from him. And therefore by experience perceiving well the truth of the lesson, he giveth us good warning not to be to bold of our own minds, when we require aught of god not to be precise in our askinges, but refer the choice to god at his own pleasure. For his own holy sprite so sore desireth our weal, that as men might say, he groaneth for us, in such wise as no tongue can tell. Nos autem (sayeth Saint Paul) quid o●em us utoportet, nessimus, sed ipse spiritus postulat pro nobis gemitibus inenarrabilibus. We what we may pray for that were behovable for us, can not ourself tell: but the spirit himself desireth for us with unspeakable groanings, & therefore I say for conclusion of this point, let us never ask of god precisely our own ease by delivering us from our tribulation, but pray for his aid & comfort by, which ways himself shall best like, and than may we take comfort of our own such request. For both be we sure that this mind cometh of god, & also be we very sure that as he beginneth to work with us, so (but if ourself flit from him) he will not fail to tarry with us, and than he dwelling with us, what trouble can do us harm? Si deus nobiscum quis contra nos? If god be with us saith saint Paul, who can stand against us?   

¶ The vii Chapter. A great comfort may be in tribulation, that every tribulation is, if we ourself will, a thing either medicinable, or else more than medicinable.  ☞ Vincent. 
YOu have good uncle well opened & declared the question that I demanded you, that is to wit, what manner of comfort a man might pray for in triblation, & now proceed forth good uncle, and show us yet farther some other spiritual comfort in tribulation.  ☞ Anthony. 
This may be, thinketh me good cousin great comfort in tribulation, that every tribulation which any time falleth unto us, is either sent to be medicinable if men will so take it, or may become medicinable if men will so make it, or is better than medicinable, but if we will forsake it.  ☞ Vincent. 
Surely this is very comfortable if we may well perceive it.  ☞ Antony. 
These three things that I tell you, we shall consider thus: every tribulation that we fall in, cometh either by our own known deserving deed, bringing us thereunto as the sickness that followeth our intemperate surfayte, or the prisonment or other punishment put upon a man for his heinous crime, or else is it sent us by god without any certain deserving cause open and known unto ourself, either for punishment of some sins passed. Certainly we know not for which, or for preserving us from some sins in which we were else like to fall, or finally for no respect of the man's sin at all, but for the proof of his patience and increase of his merit. In all the former cases tribulation is (if he will) medicinable: in this last case of all it is better than medicinable.   

¶ The viii Chapter. The declaration larger concerning them that fall in tribulation by their own known fault, and that yet such tribulation is medicinable.  ☞ Vincent. 
THis seemeth me very good good, uncle, saving that it seemeth somewhat brief and short, & thereby me thinketh somewhat obscure and da●ke.  Anthony. 
We shall therefore to give it light withal touch every member somewhat more at large: One member is you wot● well of them that fall in tribulation thorough their own certain well deserving deed open and known unto themself, as where we fall in a sickness, following upon our own gluttonous feasting, or a man that is punished for his own open fault. These tribulations lo, and such other like, albeit that they may seem discomfortable in that a man may be sorry to think himself the cause of his own harm: yet hath he good cause of comfort in them, if he consider that he may make them medicinable for him (if himself will.) For where as there was dew to that sin (except it were purged here) a far greater punishment after this world in an other place: This worldly tribulation of pain & punishment, by god's good provision for him put upon him here in this world before, shall by the mean of Christ's passion (if the man will in true faith and good hope, by meek and patient sufferance of his tribulation so make it) serve him for a sure medicine to cure him and clearly discharge him of all the sickness and disease of those pains, that else he should suffer after. For such is the great goodness of almighty god, that he punisheth not one thing twice. And albeit so that this punishment is put unto the man, not of his own election and free choice, but so by force as he would feign avoid it, and falleth in it against his will, & therefore scantly worthy no thank: yet so far passeth the great goodness of god the poor unperfit goodness of man, that though men make their reckoning one here with an other: such, god yet of his high bounty in man's account toward him, alloweth it for otherwise. For though a man fall in his pain by his own fault, and also first against his will, yet as soon as he confesseth his fault, and applieth his will to be content to suffer that pain & punishment for the same, & waxeth sorry, not for that only that he shall sustain such punishment: but for that also, that he hath offended God, and thereby deserved much more. Our lord from that time counteth it not for pain taken against his will, but it shallbe a marvelous good medicine, & work as a willingly taken pain the purgation and cleansing of his soul with gracious remission of his sin, and of the far greater pain, that else had been prepared therefore peradventure in hell for ever. For many there are undoubtedly that would else drive forth and die in their deadly sin, which yet in such tribulation feeling their own frailty so effectually, and the false flatte●ing world failing them, so fully turn goodly to god, and call for mercy, & by grace make virtue of necessity, and make a medicine of their maladi, taking their trouble meekly, and make a right godly end. Consider well the story of Acham that committed sacrilege at the great city of Hierico whereupon god took a great vengeance upon the children of Israel, and after told them the cause, and bade them go seek the fault and try it out by lots, when the lot fell upon the very man that did it, being tried by the falling first upon his tribe, & than upon his house, and finally upon his person: he might well see that he was deprehended, and taken against his will, but yet at the good exhortation of joshua, saying unto him. Fili mi, da gloriam deo Israel, & confitere & indica mihi quid feceris & neabscondas. Mine own son, give glori to the god of Israel, and confess and show me what thou hast done, and hide it not. He confessed humbly the theft, and meekly took his death therefore, & had, I doubt not, both strength & comfort in his pain, & died a very good man (which if he had never come in tribulation had been in peril never hapli to have had just remorse thereof in all his whole life, but might have died wretchedly & gone to the devil eternally, & thus made this thief a good medicine of his well deserved pain & tribulation. Consider the well converted thief that hung on Christ's right hand, did not he (by his meek sufferance & humble knowledge of his fault ask forgiveness of god & yet content to suffer for his sin) make of his just punishment & well deserved tribulation, a very good special medicine to cure him of all pain in tother world, & win him eternal salvation: & thus I say, that this kind of tribulation though it seem the most base & the least comfortable, is yet (if the man will so make it) a very marvelous wholesome medicine & may therefore be to the man that will so consider it, a great cause of comfort and spiritual consolation.   

The ix Chapter. The second point, that is to wit, that tribulation that is sent us by God without any open certain deserving cause known to ourself, and this kind of tribulation is medicinable if men will so take it● and therefore great occasion of comfort.  Vincent. 
verily mine uncle, this first kind of tribulation have you to my mind opened sufficiently, & therefore I pray you resort now to the second.  Anthony. 
The second kind was you wot well of such tribulation as is so sent us by god, that we know no certain cause deserving that present trouble as we certainly know that upon such a surfeit we fell in such a sickness, or as the thief knoweth that for such a certain theft he is fallen into such a certain punishment: but yet sith we seldom lack faults against god, worthy & well deserving great punishment: in deed we may well think, & wisdom it is so to do, that with sin we have deserved it, and that god for some sin sends it though we certainly know not ourself for which, & therefore as yet thus farforth is this kind of tribulation somewhat in effect in comfort to be taken like unto the other: for this as you see if we thus will take it, well reckoning it to be sent for sin & suffering it meekly therefore, in medicinable against the pain in the other world to come, for our sins in this world passed: which is as I showed you● a cause of right great comfort. But yet may than this kind of tribulation be to some men of more sober living, & thereby of the more clear conscience somewhat a little more comfortable: for though they may none otherwise relkin themself than sinners (. For as Saint Paul saith. Nulliu● mihi consius sum se● non in hoc justificatus sum. My conscience grudgeth me not of any thing, but yet am I not thereby justified. And as Saint John saith. Si dixerimus quia pecc●tum non habemus, ipsi nos seducimus & veritas in nohis non est. If we say that we have no sin in us, we beguile ourself and troth is there not in us) yet for as much as the cause is to: them not so certain as it is to the other afore remembered in the first kind, & that it is also certain that god sometime sendeth tribulation for keeping & preserving a man from such sin, as he should else fall in, & sometime also for excercise of their patience & increase of merit: great cause of increase in comfort have those folk of the clearer conscience in the fervor of their tribulation, in that they make the comfort of a double medicine, and of that is the kind which we shall finally speak of that I ●al better than medicinable, but as I have before spoken of this kind of tribulation how it is medicinable in that it cureth the sin passed, & purchaseth remission of the pain dew therefore, so let us somewhat consider how this tribulation sent us by god is medicinable, in that it preserveth us from the sins into which w● were else like to fall, if that thing be a good medicine that restoreth us our health when we lose it: as good a medicine must this needs be that preserveth our health while we have it, & suffereth us not to fall into the painful sickness that must after drive us to a painful plaster. Now seeth god sometime that worldly wealth is with one (that is yet good) coming upon him so fast that for seeing how much weight of worldly wealth the man may beare● and how much will overcharge him, and enhance his heart up so high, the grace should fall from him. Lo, god of his goodness I say preventeth his fall, & sendeth him tribulation betime while he is yet good to garre him ken his maker, and by less liking the false flattering world, set a cross upon the ship of his heart, & bear a low sail thereon, that the boisterous blast of pr●de blow him not under the water. Some young lovely lady lo, that is yet good enough, god seeth a storm come toward her, that would (if her health & her fat feeding should a little longer last) strike her into some lecherous love, & in stead of her old acquainted knight lay her a bed with a new acquainted knave. But god loving her more tenderly than to suffer her fall into such shameful beastly sin, sendeth her in season a goodly fair fervent fever, that maketh her bones to rattle and wasteth away her wanton fleshy & beautifieth her fair fell, with the colour of a kightes claw, & maketh her look so lovely, that her lover would have little lust upon her, & make her also so lusty● that if her lover lay in her lap she should so sore long to break unto him the very bottom of her stomach, that she should not be able to refrain it from him, but suddenly lay it all in his neck. Did not as I before showed you the blessed apostle himself confess that the high revelations that god had given him, might have enhanced him into such high pride, that he might have caught a foul fall, had not the provident goodness of god provided for his remedi? And what was his remedy, but a painful tribulation, so sore that he was feign thrice to call to god to take the tibulation from h●m: & yet would not god grant his request, but let him lie so long therin● till himself that saw more in Saint Paul than saint Paul saw in himself witted well the time was come in which he might well without his harm take it from him: & ● thus you see good Cousin, that tribulation is double medicine, both a cure of the sin passed, and a preservative fro the sin that is to come. And therefore in this kind of tribulation is there good occasion of double comfort: but that is (I say) diversly to sundry divers folks, as their own conscience is with sin cumbered or clear. Howbeit I will advise no man to be so bold as to think that their tribulation is sent them to keep them fro the pride of their holiness. Let men leave that kind of comfort hardly to Saint Paul, till their living be like: but of the remnant may men well take great comfort and good beside.   

¶ The ten Chapter. Of the third kind of tribulation which is not sent a man for his sin, but for exercise of his patience and increase of his merit, which is better than medicinable.  ☞ Vincent. 
THe third kind uncle that remaineth now behind, that is to wit, which is sent to a man by god, and not for his sin, neither committed, nor which would else come, and therefore is not medicinable, but sent for exercise of our patience, and increase of our merit: and therefore better than medicinable, though it be as you say, and as in deed it is better for the man than any of the other two kinds in another world, where their reward shallbe received: yet can I not see by what reason a man may in this world where the tribulation is suffered, take any more comfort therein, than in any of the other twain that are sent a man for his sin: sith he can not here know, whether it be sent him for sin before committed, or sin that else should fall, or for increase of meri●e and reward after to come. namely sith every man hath cause enough to fear and think that his sin already passed hath deserved it, and that it is not without peril a man to think otherwise.  ☞ Anthon●. 
This that you say Cousin, hath place of truth, in far the most part of men, & therefore must they not ē●y nor disdain (sith they may take in their tribulation, consolation for their part sufficient) that some other that more be worthy, take yet a great deal more. For as I told you Cousin, though the best man must confess himself a sinner, yet be there many men (though to the number few) that for the kind of their living, & thereby the clearness of their conscience may well & without sin have a good hope that god sendeth them some great grief for exercise of their patience, & for increase of their merit, as it appeareth not only by. S. Paul, in the place before remembered: but also by the holy man job, which in sundry places of dispitions with his burdenous comforters, letted not to sai, that the clearness of his own conscience declared & showed to himself that he deserved not the sore tribulation that he than had: howbeit as I told you before, I will not advise every man at adventure to be bold upon this manner of comfort. But yet some men I know, such as I durst (for their more ease & comfort in their great & grievous pains) put them in right good hope, that god sendeth it unto them: not so much for their punishment, as for exercise of their patience. And some tribulations are there also that grow upon such causes, that in those cases I w●uld never let, but alwai would without any doubt, give that counsel & comfort to any man.  Vincent. 
What causes good uncle be those?  ☞ Anthony. 
Marry Cousin, wheresoever a man falleth in tribulation for the maintenance of justice, or for the defence of god's cause. For if I should hap to find a man that had long lived a very virtuous life, & had at the last happened to fall into the Turks hands & there did abide by the truth of his faith, & with the suffling of all kind of torments taken upon his body still did teach & testify the truth if I should in his passion give him spiritual comfort might I be bold to tell him no farther, but that he should take patience in his pain, & that god sendeth it him for his sin, & that he is well worthy to have it although it were yet much more: he might than well answer me, & such other comforters, as job answered his. Onerosi consolatores estis vos. Eurdenous & heavy comforters be you. Nay I would not fail to bid him boldly, while I should see him in his passion, cast sin & hell & purgatory & all upon the devils pate, & doubt not but like as if he gave over his hold, all his merit were lost & he turned to misery: so if he s●and & persever still in the confession of his faith all his whole pain shall turn all into glory. Ye more shall I yet say than this: that if there were a chris●en man, that had among those infidels● committed a very deadly crime, such as were worthy death, not by their laws only, but by Chrstes to, as manslaughter, or adultery, or such other thing like, if when he were taken, he were offered pardon of his life, upon condition that he● should forsake the faith of Christ: if this man would now rather suffer death than so do, should I comfort him in his pain, but as I would a malefactor: Nay this man though he should have died for his sin, dieth now for Christ's sake, while he might live still if he would forsake him. The bare patient taking of his death, should have served for the satisfaction of his sin through the merit of Christ's passion, I mean without help of which no pain of our own could be satisfactory. But now shall Christ for his forsaking of his own life, in the honour of his faith, forgive the pain of all his sins, of his mere liberality, & accept all the pain of his death, for merit of reward in heaven, and shall assign no part thereof to the payment of his debt in purgatory, but shall take it all as an offering, and requite it all with glory: and this man among Christian men, all had he been before a devil, nothing after would I doubt to take him for a Martyr.  ☞ Vincent. 
verily good uncle me thinketh this is said marvelously well, and it specially delighteth and comforteth me to hear it, because of our principal fear that I first spoke of the Turks cruel incursion into this country of ours.  ☞ Anthony. 
Cousin, as for the matter of that fear I purpose to touch last of all: nor I meant not here to speak thereof, had it not been for the vehemency of your objection brought it in my way. But rather would I else have put some example for this place, of such as suffer tribulations for maintenance of right & justice, and that rather chose to take harm, than do wrong in any manner of matter. For surely if a man may (as in deed he may) have great comfort in the clearness of his conscience, that hath a false crime put upon him, and by false witness proved upon him, & he falsely punished, and put to worldly shame and pain therefore: an hundredth times more coumfort may he have in his heart, that where white is called black, and right is called wrong, abideth by the truth and is persecuted for justice.  ☞ Vincent. 
Than if a man sew me wrongfully for my own land in which myself have good right, it is a comfort yet to defend it well, sith god shall give me thank therefore.  ☞ Antony. 
Nay nay Cousin nay, there walk you somewhat wide: for there you defend your own right for your temporal avail: and sith S. Paul counseleth, Non vosmet defendentes charissimi. Defend not yourself my most dear friends. And our saviour counseleth. Si qui vult tecum judicio contendere & tunic●●● tuam totlere, dimit ei & pallium. If a man will strive with the at the law and take away thy coat, leave him thy gown to. The defence therefore of our own right asketh no reward. Say you speed well if you get leave, look hardly for no thanke● But on the other side if you do as S. Paul biddeth, Querentes non que sua sunt sed que aliorum. Seek not for your own profit but for other folks: but defend therefore of pity a poor widow or a poor fatherless child, & rather suffer sorrow by some strong extortioner than suffer them take wrong. Or if you be a judge and will have such zeal to justice that you will rather abide tribulation by the malice of some mighty man than judge wrong for his favour: such tribulations lo be those that are better than only medicinable, & every man upon whom they fall may be bold so to reckon them: and in his deep trouble may well say to himself the words that Christ hath taught him for his comforte● Beati misericorde● quoniam misericordiam consequentu●. Blessed be the merciful men for they shall have mercy given them. Beati qui persecutionem patiuntur propter justiciam quoniam ipsorum est regnum celorum. Blessed be they that suffer persecution for justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Hear is an high comfort lo for them that are in the case. And in this case their own conscience can show it them and so may fulfil their hearts with spiritual joy that the pleasure may far surmount the heaviness and the grief of all their temporal trouble. But gods nearer cause of faith against the Turks have yet a far passing comfort that by many degrees far excelleth this which as I have ●●●d I purpose to treat last: and for this time this sufficeth concerning the special comfort that men may take in this third kind of tribulation.   

¶ The xi Chapter. another kind of comfort yet in the base kind of tribulation sent for our sin.  Vincent. 
OF troth good uncle, albeit that every of these kinds of ●ribulacions have cause of comfort in them as you have well declared, if men will so consider them: yet hath this third kind above all a special prerogative therein.  ☞ Anthony. 
That is undoubtedly true, but yet is there not good Cousin the most base kind of them all, but that it hath more causes of comfort than I have spoken of yet. For I have you wot well in that kind that is sent us for our sin, spoken of none other comfort yet but twain: that is to wit, one that it refraineth us from the sin that else we would fall in, and in that serveth us through the merit of Christ's passion as a mean by which God keepeth us from hell, and serveth for the satisfaction of such pain as else we should endure in purgatory. Howbeit there is therein an other great cause of joy besides this: For surely those pains here sent us for our sins in whatsoever wise they happen unto us, be our sin never so sore, nor never so open and evident unto ourself and all the world to, yet if we pray for grace to take it meekly and patiently, and confessing to god that it is far over little for our fault, beseech him yet nevertheless that sith we shall come hence so void of all good works whereof we should have any reward in heaven to be, not only so merciful to us as to take that our present tribulation in relief of our pains in purgatory: but also so gracious unto us as to take our patience therein for a matter of merit and reward in heaven. I verily trust, and nothing doubt it, but God shall of his high bounty grant us our boon. For likewise as in hell pain serveth only for punishment without any manner of purgeing, because all possibility of purgeing is passed: and in purgatory punishment serveth for only purgeing, because the place of deserving is passed. So while we be yet in this world in which is our place and our time of merit and well deserving, the tribulation that is sent us for our sin here, shall if we faithfully so desire (beside the cleansing and purgeing of our pain,) serve us also for increase of reward. And so shall I suppose and trust in God's goodness all such penance and good works as a man willingly performeth enjoined by his ghostly father in confession, or which he willingly farther doth of his own devotion beside. For though man's penance with all the good works that he can do, be not able to satisfy of themself for the least sin that we do, yet the liberal goodness of God through the merit of Christ'S byther passion, without which all our works could neither satisfy, nor deserve, nor yet do not in deed neither merit nor satisfy so much as a spoonful to a great vessel full in comparison of the merit and satisfaction that Christ hath merited and satisfied for us himself: this liberal goodness of GOD I say, shall yet at our faithful instance and request, cause our penance and tribulation patiently taken in this world to serve us in the other world both for release and reward tempored after such rate as his high goodness and wisdom shall see conveniently for us: whereof our blind mortality can not here imagine nor devise the stint. And thus hath yet even the first kind of tribulation and the most base, though not fully so great as the second, & very far less than the third far greater cause of comfort yet, than I spoke of before●   

¶ The xii Chapter. A certain objection against the things aforesaid.  ☞ Vincent. 
Verily good uncle this liketh me very well, but yet is there ye wot well some of these things now brought in question, for as for any pain dew fro our sin to be minished in purgatory by the patient sufferance of our tribulation here, there are ye wot well many that utterly deny that and affirm for a sure truth that there is no purgatory at all. And than is if they say true, the cause of that comfort gone, if the comfort that we should take be in vain and need not. They say ye wot well also, that men merit nothing at all, but God giveth all for faith alone, and that it were sin and sacrilege to look for reward in heaven either for our patience and glad suffering for God's sake, or for any other good deed: and than is there gone if this be thus, the other cause of cure farther comfort too.  Antony. 
Cousin, if some things were as they be not, than should some things be as they shall not. I can not in deed say nay but that some men have of late brought up some such opinions, and many more than these besides, and have spread them abroad: and albeit that it is a right heavy thing to see such variances in our belief rise and grow among ourself to the great encoraging of the common enemies of us all, whereby they have our faith in derision, and catch hope to overwhelm us all, yet do there three things not a little comfort my mind.  
The first is, that in some communications had of late together, hath appeared good likelihood of some good agreement to grow together in one accord of our faith.  
The second, that in the mean while till this may come to pass, contentions, dispicions, with uncharitable behaviour, is prohibited and forbidden, in effect upon all parts: all such parts I mean as fell before to fight for it.  
The third is, that all Germany for all their divers opinions, yet as they agree together in profession of Christ's name, so agree they now together in preparation of a common power, in defence of Christendom against our common enemy the Turk, and I trust to GOD, that this shall not only help us here to strength us in this war, but also that as GOD hath caused them to agree together in the defence of his name, so shall he graciously bring them to agree together in the truth of his faith. Therefore will I let GOD work and leave of conten●cion: and nothing shall I now say, but that with which they that are themself of the contrary mind, shall in reason have no cause to be discontented. For first, as for purgatory though they think there be none, yet sith they deny not that all the corpse of Christendom by so many hundredth years have believed the contrary: and among them all, the old interpreters of scripture from the Apostles days down to our own time, of whom they deny● not many for holy saints, that I dare not believe these men against all those. These men must of their courtesy hold my poor fear excused, and I beseech our Lord heartily for them, that when they depart out of this wretched world, they find no purgatory at all, so GOD keep them from hell. And as for the merit of man in his good works, neither are they that deny it full agreed among themself, nor any man is there almost of them all that sith they began to write, hath not somewhat changed and varied from himself: and for the more part are thus far agreed with us that like as we grant them that no good work is ought worth to heaven ward without faith, and that no good work of man is rewardable in heaven of his own nature, but through the mere goodness of god, that lust to set so high a price upon so poor a thing: and that this price god setteth through Christ's passion, and for that also that they be his own corks with us. For good works to godward worketh no man without god work with him: and as we grant them also that no man may be proud of his works for his own unperfect working, and for that in all that man may do, he can do god no good, but is a servant unprofitable, and doth but his bare duty: As we I say grant unto them these things, so this one thing or twain do they grant us again, that men are bound to work good works if they have time and power: and that whoso worketh in true faith most, shall be most rewarded. But than set they thereto, that all his rewards shall be given him for his faith alone, and nothing for his works at all, because his faith is the thing (they say) that forceth him to work well. strive will I not with them for this matter now, but yet this I trust to the great goodness of God, that if the question hang on that narrow point, while Christ sayeth in the Scripture in so many placest that men shall in heaven be rewarded for their works, he shall never suffer our souls that are but mean witted men, and can understand his words, but as himself hath set them● and as old holy Saints hath construed them before, and as all christian people this thousand year have believed, to be damned for lack of perceiving such a sharp subtile thing: specially sith some men that have right good wits and are beside that right well learned too, can in no wise perceive for what cause or why these folk that fro good works take away the reward, and give the reward all whole to faith alone: give the reward to faith rather than to charity. For this grant they themself, that faith serveth of nothing, but if she be companyed with her sister charity. And then sayeth the Scripture too, Fides, spes, charitas, tria he●, maior autem horum, est charitas. Of these three virtues, faith, hope, and charity, of all these three, the greatest is Charity, and therefore as worthy thank as faith. Howbeit as I said, I will not strive therefore, nor in deed as our matter standeth, I shall not greatly need. For if they say that he which suffereth tribulation or martyrdom for the faith, shall have high reward, not for his work, but for his well working faith: yet sith that they grant that have it he shall, the cause of high comfort in the third kind of tribulation standeth, and that is you wot well the effect of all my purpose.  Vincent. 
verily good uncle this is truly driven and tried unto the uttermost as it seemeth me. And therefore I pray you proceed at your pleasure.   

¶ The xiii. Chapter. That a man ought to be comfortable to himself and have good hope and be joyful also in tribulation, appeareth well by this, that a man hath great cause of fear and heaviness that continueth always still in wealth, discontinued with no tribulacion●  ☞ Anthony. 
Cousin, it were a long work to peruse every comfort that a man may well take of tribulation. For as many comforts you wot well may a man take thereof, as there be good commodities therein: and that there be surely so many, that it would be very long to rehearse and treat of them. But me seemeth we cannot lightly better perceive what profit and commodity, and thereby what comfort the● may take of it that have it, than if we well consider what harm the lack is, and thereby what discomfort the lack thereof should be to them that never have it: So is it now that all holy men agree, and all the Scripture is full, and our own experience proveth at our eye, that we be not come into this wretched world to dwell here, nor have not as Saint Paul sayeth, our dwelling City here: but we be seeking for that City that is to come, and therefore Saint Paul showeth us that we do seek for it as they that are good folk, and fain would come thither do. For surely whoso setteth so little thereby that he lysteth not to seek therefore: it will I fear me be long ere he come thereat, and marvelous great grace if he ever come thither. Sic ●urrite, sayeth Saint Paul Vt comprehendatis. Run so that you may get it: If it must then be gotten with running, when shall he come at it that list not step towards it? Now because that this world is as I tell you, not our eternal dwelling, but our little while wandering, God would that we should in such wise use it, as folk that were weary of it, and that we should in this veil of labour, toil tears and misery, not look for rest and ease, game, pleasure, wealth and felicytye. For they that so do, far like a fond fellow, that going towards his own house where he should be wealthy, would for a tapster's pleasure become an ostler by the way, and die in a stable, and never come at home. And would GOD that those that drown themself in the desire of this worlds wretched wealth, were not yet more fools than so. But alas their folly as far passeth the foolishness of that other fond fellow, as there is distance between the height of heaven and the very depth of hell. For our saviour sayeth. We vobis qui ridetis nunc, quia lugebitis & flebitis. Woe may you be that laugh now, for you shall wail and weep. Est tempus flendi, (sayeth the scripture) & est tempus ridendi. There is time of weeping and there is time of laughing. But as you see, he setteth the weeping time before, for that is the time of this wretched world, and the laughing shall come after in heaven. There is also a time of sowing and a time of reaping too. Now must we in this world sow, that we may in the other world reap: and in this short sowing time of this weeping world, must we water our seed with the showers of our tears, and then shall we have in heaven a merry laughing harvest for ever. Euntes ibant & flebant (saith the Prophet,) mittentes semina sua. They went forth and sowed their seeds weeping, but what sayeth he shall follow thereof. Venie●tes autem venient cum exultacione po●ta●tes manipulos suon. They shall come again more than laughing, with great joy and exultation, with their hands full of corn in their hands. Lo, they that in their going home towards heaven, sow their seed with weeping, shall at the day of judgement come to their bodies again, with everlasting plenty laughing. And for to prove that this life is no laughing time, but rather the time of weeping: we find that our Saviour himself weped twice or thrice, but never find we that he laughed so much as once. I will not swear that he never did, but at the least wise he left us no ensample of it. But on the other side, he left us ensample of weeping. Of weeping have we matter enough. both for our own sins and for other folks too: for surely so should we do, bewail their wretched sins, and not be glad to detract them nor envy them neither. Alas silly souls, what cause is there to envy them that are ever wealthy in this world, and ever out of tribulation? which as (job sayeth.) Du●unt in bo●is dies suos, & in puncto ad inferna descendunt. Lead all their days in wealth, and in a moment of an hour descend into their grave and be painfully buried in hell. Saint Paul sayeth unto the hebrews that GOD (those that he loveth) he chastiseth. Et flagellat omnem filium quem recipit. And he scourgeth every son of his that he receiveth. Sayncte Paul sayeth also. Per multas tr●bulaciones oportet nos introire in regnum dei. By many tribulations must we go into the kingdom of GOD. And no marvel, for our Saviour Christ said of himself unto his two disciples that were going into the castle of Emaus. An nesciebatis quia oportebat Christum pati, & sic introire in regnum su●m? Know you not that Christ must suffer and so go into his kingdom? and would we that are servants look for more privilege in our masters house, than our Master himself? Would we ●eat into his kingdom with ease, when he himself got not into his own but by pain? His kingdom hath he ordained for his disciples, and he sayeth unto us all. Qui v●lt esse meus discipulus, tollat crucem suam & sequatur me. Y● any man will be my disciple, let him learn at me to do as I have done, take his cross of tribulation upon his back and follow me. He saith not here lo, let him laugh and make merry. Now if heaven serve but for Christ'S disciples, and they be those that take their cross of tribulation: when shall these folk come there that never have tribulation? And if it be true that Saint Paul saith, that GOD chastiseth all them that he loveth, and scourgeth every child whom he receiveth, and to heaven shall none come, but such as he loveth and receiveth: when shall they come thither whom he never chastiseth, nor never doth vouchsafe to file his hands upon them, and give them so much as one lash? And if we can not (as Saint Paul sayeth we can not) come to heaven, but by many tribulations: how shall they come thither than, that never have none at all? Thus see we well by the very Scripture itself, how true the words are of old holy Saints, that with one voice in a manner say all one thing, that is to wit, that we shall not have both continual wealth in this world, and in the other too. And therefore, sith they that in this world without any tribulation enjoy their long continual course of never interrupted prosperity, have a great cause of fear and of discoumforte lest they be far fallen out of god's favour, and stand deep in his indignation and displeasure, while he never sendeth them tribulation, which he is ever wont to send them whom he loveth. They therefore, I say that are in tribulation, have on the other side a great cause to take in their grief great inward comfort and spiritual consolation.   

¶ The xiiii Chapter. A certain objection, and the answer thereto.  Vincent. 
Verily good uncle, this seemeth so in deed? howbeit, yet me think you say very sore in some things, concerning such persons as are in continual prosperity, and they be you wot well not a few, and those are they also that have the rule and authority of this world in their hand. And I wot well, that when they talk with such great cunning men, as can I trow tell the truth: and when they ask them whither (while they make merry here in earth all their life) they may not yet for all that have heaven after to: they do tell them, yes yes well enough. For I have heard them tell them so myself.  ☞ Antony. 
I suppose good Cousin that no very wise man, and specially none that very good is therewith will tell any man fully of that fashion: but surely such as so say to them, I fear me that they flatter them either for lucre or fear. Some of them think peradventure thus. This man maketh much of me now, and giveth me money also to fast and watch & pray for him: but so I fear me would he do no more if I should go tell him now that all that I do for him will not serve him but if he go fast and watch and pray for himself to. For if I should set thereto and say farther that my diligent intercession for him, should I trust (be the mean) that god should the sooner give him grace to amend, and fast, and watch, and pray, and take affliction in his own body for the bettering of his sinful soul, he would be wondrous wrath with that. For he would be loath to have any such grace at all as should make him to leave of any of his mirth and so sit and mourn for his sin. Such mind as this lo, have there some of those that are not unlearned and have worldly wit at will, which tell great men such tales as perilously beguile them rather than the flatterer that so telleth them would with a true tale jeopard to lose his lucre.  
Some are there also that such tales tell them for consideration of an other fear. For seeing the man set sore on his pleasure that they despair any amendment of him whatsoever they should show him, and than seeing also beside that the man doth no great harm, but of a gentle nature doth some good men some good, they pray god themself to send him grace, and so they let him lie lame still in his fleshly lusts, Ad probati●●m piscinam expectantes aque motum● At the pool that the gospel speaketh of beside the temple wherein they washed the sheep for the sacrifice: and they tarry to see the water stirred. And when his good angel coming from God shall once begin to stir the water of his heart, and move him to the lowly meekness of a simple sheep: than if he call them to him, they will tell him an other tale, and help to bear him and plounge him into the pool of penance over the hard ears: but in the mean while, for fear lest when he would wax never the better, he would wax much the worse: and from gentle, smooth, sweet & curtice, wax angry, rough, froward and sour: & thereupon be troublous & tedious to the world to make fair weather withal: they give him fair words for the while, and put him in good comfort, and let him for the remnant stand at his own adventure. And in such wise deal they with him as the mother doth some time with her child: which when the little boy will not rise in time for her, but lie still a bed and slug, and when he is v● weepeth because he hath lain so long, fearing to be beaten at school for his late coming thither: she telleth him then that it is but early days, and he shall come time enough, and biddeth him go good son I warrant thee, I have sent to thy master myself, take thy bread and butter with thee, thou shalt not be beaten at all. And thus, so she may send him merry forth at the door that he weep not in her sight at home, she studieth not much upon the matter though he be taken tardy and beaten when he cometh to school. Surely thus I fear me far there many friars & states chaplains to, in comfort giving to great men when they be loath to ●isplease them. I cannot commend their thus doing, ●ut surely I fear me thus they do.   

¶ The xu Chapter. Other objections.  ☞ Vincent. 
BUt yet good uncle, though some do thus, this answereth not full the matter: for we see that the whole church in the common service use divers collects, in which all men pray specially for the princes and the prelate's, & generally every m● for other & for himself to, that god would vouchsafe to send them all perpetual health & prosperity. And I cannot see no good man pray god send an other sorrow, nor no such prayers are put in the priests ports, as far as I can hea●e. And yet if it were as you say good uncle, that perpetual prosperity were to the soul so perilous, and tribulation thereto so fruitful, than were as me seemeth, every man bound of charity, not only to pray god send their neighbour sorrow, but also to help thereto themself, And when folk are sick, not pray god send them health, but when they come to comfort them, they should say I am glad good gossep that you be so sick, I pray god keep you long therein, & neither should any man give any medicine to an other, nor take any medicine himself neither: for by the minishing of the tribulation he taketh away part of the profit from his soul which can with no bodily profit be sufficiently recompensed. And also this wot you well good uncle, that we read in holy scripture of men that were wealthy and rich, & yet were good withal. Solomon was you wot well the richest & the most wealthy king that any man could in his time tell of, & yet was he well-beloved with God. job was also no beggar pardie, nor no wretch otherwise, nor lost his riches & his wealth, for that God would not that his friend should have wealth but for the show of his patience to th'increase of his merit and confusion of the devil, and for proof that prosperity may stand with god's favour, Reddidit deus Iob omnia duplicia. God restored him double of all that ever he lost, and gave him after long life to take his pleasure long.  
Abraham was eke you wot well a man of great substance, and so continued all his life in honour and in wealth: yea, and when he died to he went unto such wealth that Lazarus which died in tribulation and poverty, the best place that he came to was that rich man's bosom. Finally good uncle this we find at our eye, and every day we prove it by plain experience, that many a man is right wealthy and yet therewith right good: and many a miserable wretch as evil as he is wretched. And therefore it seemeth hard good uncle that between prosperity and tribulation the matter should go thus, that tribulation should be given alway by god to those that he loveth for a sign of salvation, and prosperity sent for displeasure and a token of eternal damnation.   

¶ The xvi Chapter. The answer to the objection.  Anthony. 
Either I said not Cousin, or else meant I not to say, that for an undoubted rule worldly prosperity were always displeasant to god, or tribulation evermore wholesome to every man. For well wots I that our lord giveth in this world unto either sort of folk, either sort of fortune. E●facit solem suum ori●i super bonos et malos, et pluit super justos et iniustos. He maketh his sun to shine both upon the good and the bad, and his rain to rain both on the just and on ●he unjust. And on the other side, Flagellat omnem filium quem recipit: he scourgeth every son that he receiveth. And yet he beateth not only good folk that he loveth, but Multa flagella peccatoris too. There are many scourges for sinners also: he giveth evil folk good fortune in this world, both to call them by kindness, and if they thereby come not, the more is their unkindness: and yet where wealth will not bring them, he giveth them sometime sorrow. And some that in prosperity can not to God creep forward, in tribulation toward him they run a pace. Multiplicate sunt infirmitates corum postea acceleraverunt. Their infirmities were multiplied (sayeth the Prophet) and after that they made has●e. To some that are good men god sendeth wealth here also, and they give him great thank for his gift, and he rewardeth them for the thank to. To some good folk he sendeth sorrow, & they thank him thereof to. If god should give the goods of this world only to evil folk, than would men ween that god were not the lord thereof. If god would give the goods only to good men, than would folk take occasion to serve him but for them. Some will in wealth fall into folly. Homo qum in honore esset non intellexit, comparatus est iumentis insipientibus, & similis factus est ills. When man was in honour, his understanding failed him, than was he compared with beasts and made like unto them. Some man with tribulation will fall into sin, and therefore saith the prophet: Non relinquet dominus virgam peccatorum super sortem justorum, ut non ex●endant iustiad iniquitatem manus suas. GOD will not leave the rod of wicked men upon the lot of righteous men, lest the righteous peradventure hap to extend and stretch out their hands to iniquity. So say I not nay, but that in either state, wealth or tribulation may be matter of virtue and matter of vice also: but this is the point lo, that standeth here in question betewene you and me: not whither every prosperity be a perilous token, but whither continual wealth in this world without any triblation be a fearful sign of God's indignation. And therefore this mark that we must shoot at, set up well in our sight, we shall now meet for the shoot and consider how near toward, or how far of, your arrows are from the prick.  ☞ Vincent. 
Some of my bolts uncle will I take up myself, and prettily put them under your belt against For some of them I see well be not worth the meeting, and no great marvel, though I shoot wide while I somewhat mistake the mark.  ☞ Antony. 
Those that make toward the mark & light far to short, when the shoot is meatte, shall I take up for you.  
1 To prove that perpetual wealth shouldbe no evil token, you say first, that for princes and prelate's and every man for other, we pray all for perpetual prosperity, and that in the comen prayers of the church too.  
2 Than say you secondly that if prosperity were so perilous, and tribulation so profitable, every man ought then to pray god to send other sorrow.  
3 thirdly you furnish your objections with ensamples of Solomon, job, and Abraham.  
4 And four in th'end of all, you prove by experience of our own time daily before our face, that some wealthy folk are good, and some needy very nought. That las●e bolt I think lo, that sith I say the same myself, you be content to take up, it lieth so far wide.  ☞ Vincent. 
That will I with a good will uncle.  ☞ Anthony. 
Well, do so good Cousin, and we shall meet for the remanante. first must you Cousin be sure that you look well to the mark, and that can you not do, but if you know what thing tribulation is. For sith that it is one of the chief things that we principally speak of but if you consider well what that is, you may miss the mark again. I suppose now that you will agree that tribulation is every such thing as troubleth and grieveth a man either in body or mind: and is, as it were the prick of a thorn a bramble or a bryre thrust into his flesh or into his mind: and surly Cousin the prick that very sore pricketh the mind as far almost passeth in pain the grief that paineth the body, as doth a thorn that sticking in the heart, pass and exceed in pain, the thorn that is thrust in the heel.  
Now Cousin if tribulation be this that I call it, than shall you soon consider this, that there be more kinds of tribulation, than you peradventure thought on before. And there upon it followeth also, that sith every kind of tribulation is an interruption of wealth and prosperity, (which is but of wel●h, an other name) may be discontinewed by more ways than you would afore have went: Than say I this unto you Cousin, that sith tribulation is not only such pangs as pain the body, but every trouble also that grieveth the mind, many good men have many tribulations that every man markethe not, and consequently their wealth interrupted therewythe when other men are not ware. For trow you Cousin that the temptations of the devil the world and the flesh solicyting the mind of a good man unto sin, is not a great inward trouble & secret grief to his heart. To such wretches as care not for their conscience, but like unreasonable beasts follow their foul affections, many of these temptations be no trouble at all, but matter of their bodily pleasure. But unto him Cousin that standeth in dread of god, tribulation of temptation is so painful, that to be rid therof● or sure of the victory therein (be his substance never so great) he would gladly give more than half. Now if he that careth not for god think this trouble but a trifle, and with such tribulation prosperity not interrupted: let him cast in his mind if himself hap upon a fervent longing for the thing which get he cannot (as a good man will not) as percase his pleasure of some certain good woman that will not be nought, and than let him tell me whether the ruffle of his desire shall so torment his mind, as all the pleasures that he can take beside, shall for lack of that one, not please him of a pin. And I dare be bold to warrant him that the pain in resisting, and the great fear of falling that many a good man hath in his temptation, is an anguish and a grief every deal as great as his.  
Now say I farther Cousin, that if this be true, as in very deed true it is, that such trouble is tribulation, and thereby consequently an interruption of prosperous wealth: no man precisely meaneth to pray for other to keep him in continual prosperity without any manner of discontinuance or change in this world, so the prayer without other condition added or employed, were inordinate & were very childish. For it were to pray that either they should never have temptation, or else if that they had they might follow it & fulfil their affection. Who dare good Cousin for shame or for sin for himself, or for any man else make this manner kind of prayer? Besides this Cousin the church you wot well adviseth every man to fast & watch, & prai, both for taming of his fleshly lusts, & also to mourn and lament for his sin before committed and to bewail his offences done against god, and as they did at the city of Ninive, and as the prophet David did for their sin put affliction to their flesh, and when a man so doth Cousin, is this no tribulation to him because he doth it himself? For I wot well you would agree that it were, if an other man did it against his will. Than is tribulation, you wot well tribulation still, though it be taken well in worth: yea and though it be taken to with very righ● good will, yet is pain you wot well pain, & therefore s● is it though a man do it himself. Than sith th● church adviseth every man to take tribulation for his sin, whatsoever words you find in any prayer, they never mean (you may be fast and sure) to pray god keep every good man nor every bad man neither, from every manner kind of tribulation. Now he that is not in some kind of tribulation, as peradventure in sickness or in loss of goods, is not yet out of tribulation, if he have his ease of body or of mind unquieted and thereby his wealth interrupted with an other kind of tribulacion● as is either temptation to a good man, or voluntary affliction: either of body by penance, or of mind by contrition and heaviness for his sin & offence against god. And thus I say, that for precise perpetual wealth and prosperity in this world, that is to say, for the perpetual lack of all trouble and all tribulation, there is no wise man that either prayeth for himself or for any man else, & thus answer I your first objection. Now before I meddle with your second your third will I join to this. For upon this answer, will the solution of your ensamples conveniently depend. As for Solomon was as you sai all his days a marvelous wealthy king, & much was he beloved with god, I wot well in that beginning of his reign: but that the favour of god persevered him, as his prosperity did that cannot I tell. And therefore will I not warrant it, but surely we see that his continual wel●h● made him fall first into such wanton foli, in multiplying wives to an horrible number, contrary to the commandment of god, given in the law of Moses: and secondly taking to wife among other, such as were infidels contrary to an other commandment of gods written law also, that finally by the mean of his miscreant wife, he fell into maintenance of Idolatry himself: and of this find we no amendment or repentance, as we find of his father. And therefore though he were buried where his father was, yet whether he went to the rest that his father did● through some secret sorrow for his sin at last, that is to say, by some kind of tribulation, I cannot tell: & am content therefore to trust well, and pray god he did so, but surely we be not sure & therefore then sample of Solomon can very little serve you, for you might as well lay it for a proof, that god favoureth Idolatry, as that he favoureth prosperity: for Solomon was you wot well in both. As for job, sith our question hangeth upon prosperity perpetual, the wealth of job that was with so great adversity so sore interrupted, can as yourself seeth serve you for no ensample. And that god gave him here in this world all thing double that he lost, little toucheth my matter, which deny not prosperity to be gods gift, & given to sum good men too: namely such as have tribulation too. But in Abraham Cousin I suppose is all your chief hold, because that you not only show riches & prosperity perpetual in him throw the course of all his whole life in this world, but that after his death also. La●are that poor man that lived in tribulation, & died for pure hunger & thirst, had after his death his place of comfort and rest in Abraham the wealthy rich man's bosom. But here must you consider that Abraham had not such continual prosperity, but that it was discontinued with divers tribulations.  
1 Was it nothing to him trow you, to leave his own country, and at gods sending to go into a strange land, which god promised him and his seed for ever? but in all his whole life he gave himself never a foot.  
2 Was it no trouble. that his Cousin Loth & himself were fain to part company, because their servants could not agree together?  
3 Though he recovered Loath again from the iii kings, was his taking no trouble to him trow you in the mean while?  
4 Was the destruction of the five cities no heaviness to his heart? A man would ween yes that readeth in the story what labour he made to save them.  
5 His heart was I dare say in no little sorrow, when he was feign to let Abimelech the king have his wife, whom (though god provided to keep undefiled & turned all to wealth) yet was it no little woe to him in the mean time.  
6 What continual grief was it to his heart many a long day that he had no child of his own body begotten? he that doubteth thereof shall find it in Genesis of his own moon made to god.  
7 No man doubteth but Ishmael was great comfort unto him at his birth, and was it no grief than, when he must cast out the mother and the child both?  
8 Isaac that was the child of promission: although god kept his life, that was unlooked for, yet while the loving father bound him and went about to behead him, and offer him up in sacrifice, who but himself can conceive what heaviness his heart had than? I would ween in my mind (because you speak of lazare) that lazars own death panged him not so sore. Than as lazarus pain was patiently borne, so was abraham's taken not only pacientely● (but which is a thing much more meritorious) of obedience willingly. And therefore, though Abraham had not as he did in deed far excel lazare in merit of reward, for many other things beside, and specially for that he was a special patriarch of the faith, yet had he far passed him, even by the merit of tribulation well taken here for god's sake to. And so serveth for your purpose no man less than Abraham. But now good Cousin, let us look a little longer here upon the rich Abraham & lazare the poor, and as we shall see lazare set in wealth some what under the rich Abraham: so shall we see another rich man lie full low beneath lazare crying and calling out of his fiery couch, that lazare might with a drop of water falling from his finger's end, a little cool and refresh the tip of his burning tongue. Consider well now what Abraham answered to the rich wretch. Fili recordare quia recepisti bona in vita tua & lazarus similiter mala, nune autem hic consolatur, tu vero cruciaris. Son, remember that thou hast in thy life received wealth, and lazare in like wise pain, but now receiveth he comfort, and thou sorrow, pain and torment. Christ describeth his wealth and his prosperity, gay and soft apparel with royal delicate fare, continually day by day. Epulabatur (saith our Saviour) ● quotidie splendide. He did far royally every day, his wealth was continual, lo no time of tribulation between. And Abraham telleth him the same tale that he had taken his wealth in this world, and Lazarus likewise his pain: & that they had now changed each to the clean contrary: poor Lazar from tribulation into wealth, & the rich man from his continual prosperity into perpetual pain. Here was laid expressly to Lazare no very great virtue by name nor to this rich glutton no great heinous crime, but the taking of his continual ease and pleasure without any tribulation or grief, whereof grew sloth & negligence to think upon the poor man's pain. For that ever himself saw Lazarus and witted him die for hunger at his door that laid neither Christ nor Abraham to his charge. And therefore Cousin this story lo of which by occasion of Abraham and Lazare you put me in remembrance, well declareth what peril is in continual worldly wealth, and contrariwise what comfort cometh of tribulation. And thus as your other ensamples of Solomon and job nothing for the matter further you: So your ensample of rich Abraham and poor Lazarus have not a little hindered you.   

¶ The xvii Chapter. An answer to the second objection.  Vincent. 
SUrely uncle you have shaken mine ensamples sore, and have in your meeting of your shoot removed me these arrows: me thinketh farther of fro the prick then me thought they stack when I shot them. And I shall therefore now be content to take them up again. But yet me seemeth surely that my second shalt may stand. For of truth if every kind of tribulation be so profitable that it be good to have it as you say it is, I cannot see wherefore any man should either wish, or pray, or any manner of thing do, to have any kind of tribulation withdrawn either from himself, or any friend of his.  ☞ Anthony. 
I think in very dead tribulation so good, and profitable, that I should happily doubt as you do: wherefore, a man might labour or pray to be delivered of it, saving that God, which teacheth us ●he one, teacheth us also the other. And as he biddeth us take our pain patiently, and exhort our neighbours to do also the same: so biddeth he us also not let to do our devour to remove the pain from us both. And then when it is god that teacheth both, I shall not need to break my brain, in devising wherefore he would bid us to do both, the tone seeming to resist the other. If he send the scourge of scarcity and of great famine, he will we shall bear it patiently: but yet will he that we shall eat our meat when we can hap to get it. If he send us the plague of pestilence, he will we shall patiently take it, but yet will he that we let us blood, and lay plasters to draw it, and ripe it, and lance it, and get it away. Both these points teacheth God in Scripture, in more than many places. Fasting is better than eating, and more thank hath of God, and yet will God that we shall eat. Praying is better than drinking, and much more pleasant to god, And yet will God that we shall drink. Waking in good business is much more acceptable to God than sleeping, & yet will god that we shall sleep. God hath given us our bodies here to keep, and will that we maintain them to do him service with, till he send for us hence. Now can we not tell surely how much tribulation may mar it● or peradventure hurt the soul also: wherefore the Apostle, after that he had commanded the Corinthians to deliver to the devil the abominable fornicator, that forbore not the bed of his own father's wife: yet after that he had been a while accursed and punished for his sin, the Apostle commanded them charitably to receive him again, and give him consolation. Vt non a magnitudine doloris absorbeatur that the greatness of his sorrow should not swallow him up. And therefore when God sendeth the tempest, he will that the ship men shall get them to their tackeling, and do the best they can for themself, that the seas eat them not up: for help ourselves as well as we can, he can make his plague as sore and as long lasting as hymselfe●lu●te. And as he will that we do for ourself, so will he that we do for our neighbour too. And that we shall be in this world each to other petious, for Sine affeccione which the Apostle rebuketh them that lack tender affections here● so that of charity sorry should we be for their pain too: upon whom, for cause necessary, we be driven ourself to put it. And whoso sayeth that for piety of his neighbour's soul he will have none of his body, let him be sure, that as Saint john sayeth: He that loveth not his neighbour whom he seeth, loveth God but a little whom he seeth not, So he that hath no pity of the pain that he seeth hyse neighbour feel afore him, pitieth little (whatsoever he say) the pain of his soul that he seeth not: yet God sendeth us also such tribulation some time, because his pleasure is, to have us pray unto him for help. And therefore, when saint Peter was in prison, the scripture showeth, that the whole church without intermission prayed in●essauntlye for him: and at their fervent prayer god by miracle delivered him. When the disciples in the tempest stood in fear of drowning, they prayed unto Christ and said: salva nos Domin● perimus. Save us Lord we perish. And than at their prayer he shortly ceased the tempest. And now see we proved often that in sore weather or sickness by general processions god giveth gracious help. And many a man in his great pain and sickness by calling upon god is meruelousli made whole. This is god's goodness that because in wealth we remember him not, but forgeat to pray to him, sendeth us sorrow, and sickness, to force us draw toward him, and compelleth us to call upon him and pray for release of our pain: whereby when we learn to know him and seek to him we take a good occasion to fall after into farther grace.   

¶ The xviii Chapter. Of them that in tribulation ●eke not unto god, but some to the flesh, and some to the world, and some to the devil himself.  ☞ Vincent. 
verily good uncle with this good answer I am well content.  Antony. 
Ye Cousin but many men are there with whom god is not content, which abuse this great goodness of his, whom neither fair treating nor hard handling can cause to remember their maker, but in wealth they be wanton and forgeat god, and follow their lust: and when god with tribulation draweth them toward him, than wax they wood and draw back all that ever they may, and rather run and seek help at any other hand than to go feke it at his. Some for comfort seek to the flesh, some to the world, and some to the devil himself. Some man that in worldly prosperity is very dull of wealth, and hath deep stepped into many a sore sin: which sins when he did them, he counted for part of his pleasure: god willing of his goodness to call the man to grace, casteth a remorse into his mind among after his first sleep, and maketh him lie a little while and bethink him● Than beginneth he to remember his life, and from that he falleth to think upon his death, and how he must leave all this worldly wealth within a while behind here in this world, and walk hence alone, he woteth not whither, nor how soon he shall take his journey thither, nor can tell what company he shall meet there. And than beginneth he to think that it were good to make sure and be merry so, that we be wise therewith, lest there hap to be such black bugs in deed as folk call deuilles● whose torments he was wont to take for poets tales. These thoughts if they sink deep, are a sore tribulation. And surely if he take hold of the grace that god therein offereth him, his tribulation is wholesome, & shallbe full comfortable to remember, that god by tribulation calleth him and biddeth him come home out of the country of sin that he was bred and brought up so long in, and come into the land of behest that floweth milk and honey. And then if he follow this calling (as many one full well doth) joyful shall his sorrow be, and glad shall he be to change his life, leave his wanton lusts, & do penance for his sins, bestowing his time upon better business.  
But some men now when this calling of GOD causeth them to be sad, they be loath to leave their sinful lusts that hang in their heartes● and specially if they have any such kind of living as they must needs leave of or fall deeper in sin: or if they have such great wrongs done that they have many minds to make, that must (if they follow god) minish much of their money, than are these folks (alas) woefully bewrapped, for God pricketh upon them of his great goodness still and the grief of this great pain pyn●heth them at the heart and of wickedness they wry away and for this tribulation they turn to their flesh for help and labour to shake of this thought, and then they mend their pillow and lay their head softer, and assay to sleep, and then that will not be: than they find a talk a while with them that lie by ●hem. If that cannot be neither, than they lie and long for day, and then get them forth about their worldly wretchedness the matter of their prosperity, the self-same sinful things with which they displease God most, & at length with many times using this manner, god utterly casteth them of. And then they set nought neither by GOD nor devil. Peccator cum in profundum venerit, contemnit. When the sinner cometh even into the depth, than he contemneth and setteth nought by nothing, saving worldly fear that may fall by chance, or that needs must (they wot well) fall once by death?  
But alas when death cometh than cometh again their sorrow, than will no soft bed serve nor no company make him merry than he must leave his outward worship and comfort of his glory and lie panting in his bed as it were on a pine bank, than cometh his fear of his evil life, and of his dreadful death. Than cometh the torment of his cumbered conscience and fear of his heavy judgement. Than the devil draweth him to dyspayer with imagination of hell, and suffereth him not than to take it for a fable. Ah, woe worth the while that folk think not of this in time.  
God sendeth to some man great trouble i● his mind, & great tribulation about his worldly goods, because he would of his goodness take his detite & his confidence from them. And yet the man wythdrawith no part of his fond fantasies, but falls more fervently to them then before, and setteth his whole heart like a fool, more upon them: and he taketh him all to the devil of his worldly counsellors and without any counsel of god or any tru●t put in him maketh many wise ways as he weneth● and all turn at length unto folly, and one subtle drift driveth an other to nought. Some have I seen even i● their last sickness sit up in their death bed underproppted with pillous take their play fel●o●es to them & comfort themself with cards and this they said did ease them well to put fantasies out of their heads, and what fantasies trow you, such as I told you right now of their own lewd life and peril of there soul, of heaven and of hell that i●cked them to think of, and therefore cast it out with card play as long as ever they might till the pure pangs of death pulled their heart fro their play and put them in the case they could not reckon their game. And then left them their gamners and slily slong away. And long was it not ere they galpeb up the ghost: And what game they came than to, that god knoweth and not I. I pray god it were good, but I fear it very sore. Some men are there also that do (as did king Saul) in tribulation go seek unto the devil. This king had commanded all such to be destroyed as use the false abominable superstition of this ungracious wichecraft & necromancy and yet fell he to such folly afterwade himself that ere he went to battle he sought unto a witch & besought her to raise up a dead man to tell him how he should speed. Now had god showed him before by Samuel that he should come to nought, and he went about none amendment, but waxed worse and worse, so that god lust not to look to him: and when he sought by the Prophets to have answer of god, there came none answer to him, which thing he thought strange: and because he was not with god heard at his pleasure, he made suit to the devil, desiring a woman by witchcraft to raise up dead Samuel: but speed had he such thereof, as commonly they have all that in their business meddle with such matters. For an evil answer had he, & an evil speed thereafter, his army discomfited and himself slain. And as it is rehearsed in Paralipomenon the ten Chapter of the first book. One cause of his fall was for lack of trust in god, for which he left to take counsel of god, & fell to seek counsel of the witch against god's prohibition in the law, and against his own good deed: by which he punished & put out all witches so late afore. Such speed let them look for that play the same part as I see many do that in a great loss send to seek a conjuror to get their gear again: and marvelous things there they see sometime, but never groat of their good again. And many fond fools there are, that when they lie sick, will meddle with no physic in no manner wise, nor send his water to no cunning man, but send his cap or his hose to a wise woman, otherwise called a witch. Then sendeth she word again that she hath spied in his hose, where when he took no heed, he was taken with a spirit between two doors as he went in the twilight, but the spirit would not let him feel it in .v. days after: and it hath all the while festered in his body, and that is the grief tha● paineth him so sore: but let him go to no leech craft, nor any manner of physic, other then good meat or strong drink, for sirroppes should souse him up. But he shall have .v. leaves of valerian that she enchanted with a charm, and gathered with her left hand: let him lay those .v. leaves to his right thumb, not bind it fast to, but let it hang lose thereat by a green thread: he shall never need to change it, look it fall not away. but let it hang till he be whole, and he shall need no more. In such wise wytches, and in such mad medicines have there in many fools more faith a great deal than in god. And thus Cousin as I tell you, all these kind of folk that in their tribulation call not upon God, but seek for their help and for their ease otherwhere, to the flesh and the world, and some to the flinging fiend himself: The tribulation that god's goodness sendeth them for good, themselves by their folly ●●r●e unto their harm. And then that on tother side seek unto God therein, both comfort and profit they greatly take thereby.   

¶ The xix Chapter. another objection with the answer thereunto.  Vincent. 
I Like well good uncle all your answers herein: but one doubt yet remaineth there in mind, which riseth upon this answer that you make, and that doubt soiled, I will as for this time mine own good uncle, encumber you no farther. For me think I do you very much wrong to give you occasion to labour yourself so much in matter of ●ome study, with long talking at once. I will therefore at this time move you but one thing, and seek other time at your more ease for the remnant. My doubt good uncle is this, I perceive well by your answers gathered and considered together, that you will well agree that a man may both have worldly wealth, and yet well go to god. And that on the other side, a man may be miserable and live in tribulation, and yet go to the devil. And as a man may please God by patience in adversity, so may he please God by thanks given in prosperity. Now sith you grant these things to be such that either of them both may be matter of virtue, or else matter of sin, matter of damnation or matter of salvation: they seem neither good nor bad of their own nature, but things of themselves equal and indifferent, turning to god, or the contrary after as they be taken. And than if this be thus, I can perceive no cause why you should give the pre-eminence unto tribulation, or wherefore you should reckon more cause of comfort therein then you should reckon to stand in prosperity, but rather a great deal less, by in manner half, sith in prosperity the man is well at ease & may also by giving thank to god, get good unto his soul, whereas in tribulation, though he may merit by patience as in abundance of worldly wealth, tother may by thank. Yet lacketh he much comfort that the wealthy man hath, in that he sore is grieved with heaviness and pain: besides this also, that a wealthy man well at ease may pray to god quietly & merely with alacrity and great quietness of mind, whereas he that lieth groaning in his grief can not endure to pray nor think almost upon nothing, but upon his pain.  ☞ Antony. 
To begin Cousin where you leave, the prayers of him that is in wealth and him that is in woe, if the men be both nought, their prayers be both like. For neither hath the one lust to pray, nor tother neither. And as the one is let with his pain, so is the other with his pleasure, saving that the pain s●yreth him some time to call upon God in his grief, though the man be right bad, where the pleasure pulleth his mind another way, though the man be me●ely good. And this point I think there are very few that can (if they say true) say that they find it otherwise. For in tribulation, which cometh you wot well in many sundry kinds, any man that is not a dull beast or a desperate wretch, calleth upon God, not hourly, but right heartily: and se●●eth his heart full whole upon his request, so sore he longeth for ease and help of his heaviness. But when men are wealthy and well at their ease, while our tongue pattereth upon our prayers a pace, good God how many mad ways our mind wandereth the while. Yet wot I well, that in some tribulation such sore sickness there is, or other grievous bodily pain, that hard it were for a man to say a long payer of martens, and yet some that lie a dying say full devoutly the vii Psalms and other prayers with the priest at their annealing but those that for the grief of their pain cannot endure to do it, or that be more tender and lack that strong heart and stomach that some other have, God requireth no such long prayers of them. But the listing up their heart alone without any word at all, is more acceptable to him of one in such case, than long service so said as folk use to say it in health. The martyrs in their agony, made no long prayers aloud, but one inch of such a prayer so prayed in that pain, was worth a whole ●alne and more, even of their own prayers prayed at some other timer Great learned men say that Christ, albeit he was very God, and as god was in eternal equal bliss with his father, yet as man merited not for us only, but for himself to: for proof whereof they lay in these words the authority of S Paul. Christus humiliavit semet ipsum factus obedience usque ad mortem, mortem autem crucis● propter quod & deus exaltavit illum & donauit●lli nomen quod est super omne nomen, ut in nomine jesu omne genuflectatur celesi●m terrestrium & infernorum & omnis lingua confiteatur quia dominus jesus Christus in glori● est dei patris. Christ hath humbled himself, and became obedient unto the death, and that unto the death of the cross, for which thing god hath also exalted hymn and given him a name which is above all names: that in the name of jesus every knee be bowed, both of the celestial creatures and the terrestrial, and the infernal to: and that every tongue shall confess that our Lord jesus Christ is into the glory of God his father. Now if it so be as these great learned men upon such authorities of holy Scripture say, that our saviour so merited as man, and as man deserved reward, not for us only, but for himself also: than were there in his deeds as it seemeth, sundry degrees & differences of deserving, and not his maundy like merit as his passion, nor his sleep like merit as his watch and his prayer, no nor his prayers peradventure all of like merit neither. But though there none was, nor none could be in his most blessed parson but excellent, and incomparably passing the prayer of any pure creature: yet his own not all alike, but some one far above other some. And than if it thus be, of all his holy prayers, the chief seemeth me those that he made in his great agony and pain of his bitter passion. The first, when he fell thrice prostrate in his agony, when the heaviness of his heart with fear of death at hand, so painful and so cruel as he well beheld it, made such a fervent commotion in his blessed body, that the bloody sweat of his holy flesh dropped down on the ground. The other were the painful prayers that he made upon the cross, where for all the torment that he hanged in, of beating, nailing, and stretching out all his limbs, with the wresting of his sinews, and breaking of his tender veins, and the sharp crown of thorn so pri●king him into the head, that his blessed blood stremed down all his face. In all these hideous pains, in all their cruel despites, yet two very devout & servant prayers he made. The one for their pardon that so dispiteously put him to his pain, and the other about his own deliverance, commending his own soul unto his holy father in heaven. These prayers of his, among all that ever he made, made in his most pain, reckon I for the chief. And these prayers of our saviour at his bitter passion & of his holy martyrs, in the fervour of their torment, shall serve us to see that there is no prayer made at pleasure so strong & effectual, as in tribulation: now come I to the touching of the reason that you make, where you tell me that I grant you, that both in wealth and in woe some men may be nought and offend God, the one by impatience, the other by fleshly lust. And on the other side, both in tribulation and prosperity too, some man may also do very well, and deserve thank of god by thanks given to god, as well of his gift of riches, worship and wealth, as of need and penury priesonment, sickness and pain, and that therefore you cannot see, for what cause I should give any pre-eminence in comfort unto tribulation, but rather allow prosperity for the thing more comfortable, and that not a little, but in manner by double, sith therein hath the soul comfort and the body both: the soul by thank (for his gift) given unto god, And then the body by being well at ease, where the parson pained in tribulation, taketh no comfort but in his soul alone. first as for your double comfort Cousin, you may cut of the one. For a man in prosperity, though he be bounden to thank God of his gift, wherein he feeleth ease, and may be glad also that he giveth thank to GOD: yet for that he taketh his ease here, hath he little cause of comfort, except that the sensual feeling of bodily pleasure, you lust to call by the name of comfort. Nor I say not nay, but that some time men use so to take it, when they say, this good drink coumforteth well my heart.  
But comfort Cousin, is properly taken, by them that take it right, rather for the consolation of good hope that men take in their heart, of some good growing toward them, then for a present pleasure, with which the body is delighted and tickled for the while.  
Now though a man without patience can have no reward for his pain, yet when his pain is patiently taken for god's sake, and his will conformed to god's pleasure therein, god rewardeth the sufferer after the rate of his pain, & this thing appeareth by many a place in scripture, of which some have I showed you, and yet shall I show you more. But never found I any place in scripture that I remember, in which though this wealthy man thanked god for his gift, our lord promised any reward in heaven, because the man took his ease and pleasure here. And therefore, sith I speak but of such comfort as is very comfort in deed, by which a man hath hope of God's favour, and remission of his sins, with minishing of his pains in purgatory, or reward else in heaven. And such comfort cometh of tribulation, and for tribulation well taken, but not for pleasure though it be well taken: therefore of your coumfort that you double by prosperity, you may as I told you cut very well away the half. Now why I give prerogative in coumfort unto tribulation far above prosperity, though a man may do well in both: Of this thing will I show you causes two or three. First as I before have at length showed you out of all question, continual wealth interrupted with no tribulation, is a very uncomfortable token of everlasting damnation, whereupon it followeth that tribulation is one cause of comfort unto a man's heart, in that it dischargeth him of the discomfort that he might of reason take of overlong lasting wealth. Another is, that the scripture much commendeth tribulation as occasion of more profit than wealth & prosperity, not to them only that are therein, but to them too that resort unto them, & therefore sayeth Ecclesiastes: Melius est ire ad domum luctus, quam ad domum conuiuii● En, illa enim finis cunctorum admonetur hominum, & vivens cogitat quid futurum sit. Better it is to go to the house of weeping & wailing for some man's death, than to the house of a feast. For in that house of heaviness is a man put in remembrance of the end of every man, and while he yet liveth, he thinketh what shall come after. And after yet he farther sayeth: Cor sapientum ubi tristicia●est, et Cor stultorum ubi leticia. The heart of wise men is there as heaviness is. And the heart of fools, is there as is mirth and gladness. And verily, there as you shall hear wordly mirth seem to be commended: in scripture it is either commonly spoken, as in the parson of some worldly disposed people, or understanden of rejoicing spiritual or meant of some small moderate refreshing of the mind, against an heavy uncomfortable dullness. Now whereas prosperity was to the children of Israel promised in the old law: as a special gift of god, that was for their imperfection at that time to draw them to god, with gay things and pleasant, as men to make children learn, give them cake bread & butter. For as the scripture maketh mention, that people were much after the manner of children in lack of wit, & in waywardness. And therefore was their master Moses called Pedagogus, that is, a teacher of children, (or as they call such one in the grammar schools) an usher, or a master of the petites. For as Saint Paul saith. Nihil ad perfectum duxit lex. The old law brought nothing to perfection. And god also threateneth folk with tribulation in this world for sin, not for that worldly tribulation is evil, but for that we should be well aware of the sickness of sin, for fear of that thing to follow, which though it be in deed a very good wholesome thing if we will take it, is yet because it is painful, the thing that we be loath to have.  
But this I say yet again and again, that as for far the better thing in this world toward the getting of the very good that God giveth in the world to come: the scripture undoubtedly so commendeth tribulation, that in respect and comparison thereof, it discommendeth this worldly wretched wealth and uncomfortable comfort utterly. For to what other thing soundeth the words of Ecclesiastes that I rehearsed you now? that it is better to be in the house of heaviness, than to be at a feast: whereto soundeth this comparison of his, that the wise man's heart draweth thither as folk are in sadness: and the heart of a fool, is there as he may find mirth? Whereto draweth this threat of the wise man, that he that delighteth in wealth shall fall into woe? Risus (sayeth he) dolore miscebitur, & extrema gaud●i luctus occ●p●t Laughter shallbe mingled with sorrow, and th'end of mirth is taken up with heaviness. And our saviour saith himself. We vobis qui ridetis, quia lugebitis et flebitls. Woe be to you that laugh, for you shall weep and wail. But he saith on the other side: Beati qui lugent, quoniam illi consolabuntur. Blessed are they that weep & wail, for they shallbe comforted. And he saith unto his disciples: Mundus gaudebit; vos autem dolebitis. Sed tristitia vestra vertetur in gaudium. The world shall joy, & you shallbe sorry: but your sorrow shallbe turned into joy. And so is i● you wot well now. And the mirth of many that then were in joy, is now turned all to sorrow. And thus you see by the scripture plain, that in matter of very comfort, tribulation is as far above prosperity, as the day is above the night. another pre-eminence of tribulation over wealth in occasion of merit & reward, shall well appear upon certain considerations well marked in them both.  
Tribulation meriteth in patience, and in thobedient conforming of man's will unto god, & in thanks given to god for his visitation: if you reckon me now against ●hese, many other good deeds that a wealthy man may do: as by riches give almose, by authority, labour in doing many men justice, or if you find farther any such other thing like.  
first I say that the patient parson in tribulation, hath in all these virtues of the wealthy man, an occasion of merit to, which the wealthy man hath not, againward, in the forerehearsed virtues of his. For it is easy for the parson that is in tribulation, to be well willing to do the self same if he could, and than shall his good will, where the power lacketh, go very near to the merit of the deed. But now is not the wealthy in a like case with the will of patience and conformity and thanks given to GOD for tribulation, sith it is not so ready for the wealthy man to be content to be in the tribulation, that is occasion of the pacientes desert, as for the troubled person to be content to be in prosperity, to do the good deeds that the wealthy man doth. Besides this, all that the wealthy man doth, though he could not do them without those things that are accounted for wealth, and called by that name, as not do great almose without great richesses, nor do these many men right by his labour, without the authority: yet may he do these things being not in wealth in deed, as where he taketh his wealth for no wealth, nor his riches for no riches, nor in heart setteth by neither nother, but secretly liveth in a contrite heart and a life penitenciall, as many times did the Prophet David being a great King, so that worldly wealth was no wealth to him, and therefore is not of necessity worldly wealth called the cause of those good deeds, sith he may do them, and doth them best in deed, to whom the thing that worldly folk call wealth, is yet for his godly set mind, drawn from the delight thereof, no pleasure in manner nor no wealth at all. Finallye● whensoever the wealthy man doth those good virtuous deeds, if we considre the nature of them right, we shall perceive that in doing of them, he doth ever for the rate and portion of those deeds minish the matter of his worldly wealth, as in giving great almose he departeth with so much of his wordly goods, which are in that part, the matter of his wealth.  
In labouring about the doing of many good deeds, his labour minisheth his quiet and his rest. And for the rate of so much, it minisheth his wealth, if pain and wealth be each to other contrary, as I ween you will agree they be.  
Now whosoever then will well consider the thing, he shall I doubt not perceive and see therein, that in these good deeds that the wealthy man doth, though he do them by that, that his wealth maketh him able, yet in doing of them, he departeth (for the portion) from the nature of wealth, toward the nature of some part of tribulation: and therefore, even in those good deeds themself that prosperity doth: doth in goodness the prerogative of tribulation above wealth appear.  
Now if it hap that some man cannot perceive this point because the wealthy man for all his almose abideth rich still, and for all his good labour abideth still in his authority, let him consider that I speak but after the portion. And because the portion of all that he giveth of his goods, is very little in respect of that he leaveth: therefore is the reason happily with some folk li●le perceived.  
But if it so were that he went forth with giving till he had given out all and left himself nothing, than would a very blind man see it. For as he were from richesse come to poverty, so were he from wealth, willingly fallen into tribulation: and between labour & rest, the reason goeth all alike: which whoso can consider, shall see that for the portion in every good deed done by the wealthy man, the matter is all one. Than sith we have somewhat weighed the virtues of prosperity, let us consider on the other side the afore named things that are the matter of merit & reward in tribulation, that is to wit, patience conformity and thanks. Patience the wealthy man hath not, in that he is wealthy. For if he be pinched in any point wherein he taketh patience, in that part he suffereth some tribulation, and so not by his prosperity, but by his tribulation hath the man that merit. Like is it if we would say, that the wealthy man hath another virtue in the stead of patience, that is to wit, the keeping of himself from pride, and from such other sins as wealth would bring him too. For the resisting such motions, is as I before told you without any doubt, a minishing of fleshly wealth, and is a veri true kind, and one of the most profitable kinds of tribulation, so that all that good merit groweth to the wealthy man, not by his wealth, but by the minishing of his wealth with wholesome tribulation. The most colour of comparison is in the other twain: that is to wit, in the conformity of man's will unto god, and in thanks given unto god. For like as the good man in tribulation sent him by god, conformeth his will in that behalf, and giveth god thank therefore, so doth the wealthy man in his wealth which god giveth him, conform his will to gods will in that point: sith he is well content to take it of his gift, and giveth god again also right hearty thank therefore. And thus as I said, in these two things may you catch mo●●e colour to compare the wealthy man's merit with the merit of tribulation. But yet that they be not matches, you may soon see by this. For in tribulation can there none conform his will unto gods, and give him thank therefore, but such a man as hath in that point a very special good mind. But he that is very nought, or hath in his heart but very little good, may well be content to take wealth at god's hand, and say, marry I thank you sir for this with all my heart, and will not fail to love you well while you let me far no worse. Confitebitur tibi, quum benefeceris ei. Now if the wealthy man be very good, yet in conformity of his will and thanks given to god for his wealth, his virtue is not like yet to his that doth the same in tribulation: for as the philosophers said in that thing very well of old, virtue standeth in things of hardness and difficulty. And than as I told you, much less hardness and less difficulty there is by a great deal to be content and conform our will to gods will, & to give him thank too for our ease, than for our pain: for our wealth, than for our woe. And therefore is the conforming of our will into gods, and the thanks that we give him for our tribulation, more worthy thank again, and more reward meryteth in the very fast wealth and felicity of heaven, than our conformity with our thanks given for and in, our worldly wealth here. And this thing saw the devil when he said to our Lord of job, that it was no marvel though job had a reverent fear unto god, god had done so much for him, and kept him in prosperity, but the devil wist well it was an hard thing for job to be so lovings and so to give thanks to god in tribulation and adversity, and therefore was he glad to get leave of god to put him in tribulation, & thereby trusted to cause him murmur and grudge against God with impatience. But the devil had there a fall in his own turn. For the patience of job in the short time of his adversity, gate him much more favour and thank of God, and more is renowned in Scripture, & commended there for that, than for all the goodness of his long prosperous life. Our Saviour sayeth himself also, that if we say well by them, or yield them thank that do us good, we do no great thing therein, & therefore can we with reason look for no great thank agayne● and thus have I showed you lo, no little pre-eminence that tribulation hath in merit, and therefore no little pre-eminence of comfort in hope of heavenly reward above the virtues (the merit and cause of good hope and comfort) that cometh of wealth and prosperity.   

¶ The twenty Chapter. A Summary commendation of tribulacion●  
ANd therefore good Cousin, to finish our talking for this time, lest I should be to long a let unto your other business if we lay first for a sure ground a very fast faith, whereby we believe to be true all that the Scripture saith understanden truly, as the old holy doctors declare it, and as the Scripture of god instructeth his catholic church: than shall we consider tribulation as a gracious gift of god, a gift that he gave specially his special friends. The thing that in Scripture is highly commended and praised, a thing whereof the contrary long continued is perilous, a thing which but if God send, it men have need by penance put upon themself and seek it, a thing that helpeth to purge our sins passed, a thing that preserveth us from sins that else would come, a thing that causeth us to set less by the world, a thing that excite●h us to draw more toward God, a thing that much minisheth our pains in purgatory, a thing that much increaseth our final reward in heaven, the thing by which our saviour entered his own kingdom, the thing with which all his Apostles followed him thither, the thing which our Saviour exhorteth all men to, the thing without which he sayeth we be not his Disciples, the thing without which no man can get to heaven. Whoso these things thinketh on, and remembreth well, shall in his tribulation neither murmur nor grudge, but first by patience take his pain in worth, and than shall he grow in goodness and think himself well worthy, than shall ●e consider that God sendeth it for his weal, and thereby shall he be moved to give God thank therefore● therewith shall his grace increase, and God shall give him such comfort by considering that God is in his trouble ever more near unto hymn Quia deus juxta est iis qui tribulato sunt cord. God is near saith the Prophet to them that have their heart in trouble, that his joy thereof shall minish much of his pain, and he shall not seek for vain comfort else where, but specially trust in God, and seek for help of him, submitting his own will wholly to God's pleasure, and pray to God in his heart, and pray his friends pray for him, and specially the Priests, as saint james biddeth, and begin first with confession, and make us clean to God, and ready to depart, and be glad to go to God, putting purgatory to his pleasure: if we thus do, this dare I boldly say, we shall never live here the less of half an hour, but shall with his comfort find our hearts lighted, and thereby the grief of our tribulation lessed and the more likelihood to recover and to live the longer. Now if god will we shall hence, than doth he much more for us. For he that this way taketh, cannot go but well. For of him that is loath to leave this wretched world, my heart is much in fear lest he die not well: hard it is for him to be welcome that cometh against his will, that saith to god when he cometh to fetch him, welcome my maker magrye my teeth: but he that so loveth him, that he longeth to go to him, my heart cannot give me but he shallbe welcome, all were it so that he should come ere he were well purged. For charity covereth a multitude of sins, and he that trusteth in god cannot be confounded. And christ sayeth● he that cometh to me I will not cast him out. And therefore let us never make our reckoning of long life, keep it while we may because God hath so commanded: but if God give thoccasion, that with his good will we may go, let us be glad thereof, and long to go to him. And than shall hope of heaven comfort our heaviness and out of our transitory tribulation shall we go to everlasting glory, to which my good Cousin I pray god bring us both  ☞ Vincent. 
Mine own good uncle I pray God reward you, and at this time will I no longer trouble you. I trow I have this day done you much tribulation with my importune objections of very little substance. And you have even showed me an ensample of sufferance, in bearing my folly so long and so patiently. And yet shall I be so bold upon you farther, as to seek some time to talk forth of the remnant the most profitable point of tribulation, which you said you reserved to treat of last of all.  ¶ Anthony. 
Let that be very shortly Cousin hardely● while this is fresh in mind.  ☞ Vincent. 
I trust good Uncle so to put this in remembrance, that it shall never be forgotten with me. Our lord send you such comfort as he knoweth to be best.  Anthony. 
That is well said good Cousin, and I pray the same for you and for all our other friends that have need of comfort, for whom I think more than for yourself, you needed of some counsel.  Vincent. 
I shall wy●h this good counsel that I have heard of you, do them some comfort I trust in GOD, to whose keeping I commit you.  Antony. 
And I you also: far well my own good Cousin.    

¶ The second book  ☞ Vincent. 
IT is to me good uncle, no little comforts that as I came in here, I heard of your folk, that you have had since my last being here (GOD be thanked) meetly good rest, and your stomach somewhat more come to you. For verily, albeit I had heard before that in respect of the great grief that for a month space had held you, you were a little before my last coming to you, somewhat eased and relieved, for else would not I for no good, have put you to the pain to talk so much as you than did: yet after my departing from you, remembering how long we tarried together, and that we were all that while in talking, all the labour was yours, in talking so long together without enterpausing between, and that of matter studious & displeasant, all of disease and sickness, and other pain and tribulation: I was in good faith very sorry, and not a little wroth with myself for mine own oversight, that I had so little considered your pain, and very feared I was, till I heard other word, lest you should have waxed weaker, and more sick hereafter. But now I thank god, that hath sent the contrary, for else a little casting back, were in this great age of yours, no little danger and peril.  ☞ Antony. 
Nay nay good Cousin, to talk much (except some other pain let me) is to me little grief. A fond old man, is as often full of words as a woman. It is, you wot well, as some poets paint us, all the lust of an old fools life, to sit well & warm with a cup & a roasted crab, & drivel, and drink and talk. But in earnest Cousin, our talking was to me great comfort, and nothing displeasant at al. For though we commoned of sorrow and heaviness, yet was the thing that we chiefly thought upon, not the tribulation itself, but the comfort that may grow thereon. And therefore am I now very glad, that you be come to finish up the remnant.  Vincent. 
Of truth my good uncle, it was comfortable to me, & hath been since to some other of your friends, to whom as my poor wit and remembrance would serve me, I did, and not needles, report and rehearse your most comfortable counsel. And now come I for the remnant, and am very joyful that I find you so well refreshed, and so ready thereto. But this one thing good uncle, I beseech you heartily, that if for delight to here you speak in the matter, I forgeat myself and you both, and put you to to much pain, remember you your own ease, & then if you lust to leave, command me to go my way, & to seek some other time.  ¶ Antony. 
Forsooth Cousin, many words, if a man were weak spoken, as you said right now without enterp●using, would peradventure at length somewhat weerye him. And therefore wished I the last time after you were gone, when I left myself (to say the truth) even a little weighed, that I had not so told you still a long tale alone, but that we had more often enterchaunged words, & parted the talking between us, with ofter enterpausing upon your part in such manner, as learned men use, between the people whom they devise, disputing in their feigned dialogues. But yet in that point, I soon excused you, & laid the lack even where I found it, & that was even upon mine own neck. For I remembered that between you and me it fared, as it did once between a Nun and her brother: very virtuous was this Lady, & of a very virtuous place in a close religion's and therein had been long, in all which time she had never seen her brother, which was in like wise very virtuous, and had been far of at an university. and had there taken the degree of doctor in divinity, When he was come home, he went to see his sister, as he that highly rejoiced in her virtue. So came she to the grate that they call (I trow) the locutorye, and after their holy watch word spoken on both sides, after the manner used in that place, one took the other by the typ of the finger, for hand would there be none wrongen throw the grate, & forthwith began my Lady to give her brother a sermon, of the wretchedness of this world, & the frailty of the flesh, & the subtle sleights of the wicked fiend, and gave him surely good counsel, saving somewhat long, how he should be well aware in his living, and master well his body for saving of his soul: and yet ere her own tale came all at an end, she began to find a little fault with him (and said) in good faith brother, I do somewhat marvel that you that have been at learning so long, & are doctor, and so learned in the law of god, do not now at our meeting (seeing we meet so seldom, to me that am your sister & a simple unlearned soul) give of your charity some fruitful exhortation. For I doubt not but you can say some good thing yourself. By my troth good sister ꝙ her brother, I can not for you, for your tongue hath never ceased, but said enough for us both. And so Cousin I remember, that when I was once fallen in, I left you little space to say aught between. But now will I therefore take an other way with you: for I shall of our talking, drive you to the one half.  Vincent. 
Now forsooth uncle this was a merry tale. But now if you make me talk the one half, than shall you be contented far otherwise, than there was of la●e a kynswoman of your own, but which will I not tell you, guess her and you can: her husband had much pleasure in the manner and behaviour of an other honest man, & kept him therefore much company, by the reason whereof, he was at his meal time more often from home. So happened it on a time, that his wife and he together, dined or supped with that neighbour of theirs, and than she made a merry quarrel to him, for making her husband so good cheer out a door, that she could not have him at home. Forsooth masters quoth he (as he was a dry merry man) in my company nothing keepeth him but one, serve you him with the same, & he will never be from you. What gay thing may that be quoth our Cousin than? Forsooth maistres ꝙ he, your husband loveth well to talk, & when he sitteth with me, I let him have all the words. All the words quoth she? marry that am I content, he shall have all the words with a good will, as he hath ever had. For I speak then not all myself, but give them all to him, and for aught that I care for them, he shall have them still: but yet to say that he shall have them all, you shall then rather keep him still, than he shall get the one half at my hands.  ☞ Anthony. 
Forsooth Cousin I can soon guess which of our kin she was: but yet the fewer of that kind, the quieter is the many (for all her merry words) that thus would let her husband to talk.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth she is not so merry, but she is as good. But where you find fault uncle, that I speak not enough, I was in good faith ashamed, that I spoke so much, and moved you such questions, which I found upon your answer, might better have been spared, they were so little worth. But now sith I see you be so well content that I shall not forbear boldly to show my folly, I willbe no more so shamefast, but ask you what me lust.  

¶ The first Chapter. Wither a man may not in tribulation use some worldly recreation for his comfort.  
ANd first good uncle ere we proceed farther, I will be bold to move you one thing more of that we talked when I was here. When I revolved in my mind again the things that were concluded here by you, me thought ye would in no wise that in any tribulation men should seek for comfort either in worldly thing or fleshly, which mind uncle of yours, seemeth somewhat hard, for a merry tale with a friend ref●esheth a man much, & without any harm lighteth his mind, and amendeth courage and his stomach, so that it seemeth, but well done to take such recreation. And Solomon sayeth I trow, that men should in heaviness give the sorry man wine to make him forgeat his sorrow. And. S. Thomas saith, the propre pleasant talking which is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is a good virtue serving to refresh the mind, & make it quick and lusty to labour and study again, where continual fatigation, would make it dull and deadly.  ☞ Anthony. 
Cousin, I forgot not the point, but I long not much to touch it, for neither might I well utterly forbid it where the cause might hap to fall that it should not hurt, and on the other side if the case so should fall, me thought yet I should little need to give any counsel to it: folk are prove enough to such fantasies of their own mind, you may see this by ourself, which coming now together, to talk of as earnest sad matters as men can devise, were fallen yet even at the first into wanton idle tales and of truth Cousin, as you know very well, myself am of nature even half a giglet and more, I would I could as easily mend my fault as I can well know it, but scant can I refrain it as old a fool as I am: howbeit so partial will I not be to my fault as to praise it, but for that you require my mind in the matter, whether men in tribulation may not lawfully seek recreation and comfort themselves with some honest mirth first agreed that out chief comfort must be in god, & that with him we must begin, & wi●h him continue, and w●●h him end also. A man to take now & ●han some honest worldly mirth, I dare not be so sore as utterly to forbid it, sith good men & well learned, have in some case allowed it, specially for the diversity of diu●rs men's minds: for else if we were all such, as would god we were, & such as natural wisdom would we should be, & is not all clean excusable that we be not in deed: I would than put no doubt, but y● unto any man the most comfortable talking that could be, were to hear of heaven, whereas now, god help us our wretchedness is such that in talking a while thereof, men wax almost wea●y, & as though to hear o● heaven were an heavy burdaine, they must refresh themself after with a foolish tale, our affection toward heavenly joys waxeth wonderful cold. If dread of hell were as far●e gone, very few would fear God, but that yet a little sticketh in ou●e stomachs mark me Cousin at the sermon, and commonly towards the end, somewhat the preacher speaketh of hell and heaven: now while he preache●h of the pains in hell● still they stand yet and give him the hearing, but as soon as he cometh to the joys of heaven, they be busking them backward and flock meal fall away: it is in the soul somewhat as it is in the body. Some are there of nature or of evil custom come to that point, that a worse thing some time stedeth them more than a better. Some man if he be sick, can away with no wholesome meat, nor no medicine can go down with him, but if it be tempered with some such thing for his fantasy as maketh the matter or the medicine less wholesome than it should be. And yet while it will be no better, we must let him have it so. Cassianus that very virtuous man rehearseth in a certain collation of his, that a certain holy father in making of a sermon, spoke of heaven and heavenly things, so celestially, that much of his audience with the sweet sound thereof, began to forgeat all the world and fall a sleep: which when the father beheld he dissembled their sleeping, and suddenly said unto them: I shall tell you a merry tale. At which word, they lift up their heads and hearkened unto that. And after the sleep therewith broken, heard him tell on of heaven again, In what wise that good father rebuked than their untoward minds so dull unto the thing that all our life we labour for, & so quick and lus●y toward other trifles, I neither bear in mind, nor shall here need to rehearse. But thus much of the matter sufficeth for our purpose, that whereas you demand me whither in tribulation men may not some time refresh them ●elfe with worldly mirth & recreation. I can no more say, but he that can not long end●re to hold up his head and hear talking of heaven except he be now & than between (as though to hear of heaven were heaviness) refreshed with a merry foolish tale, there is none other remedy but you must let him have it: better would I wish it, but I cannot help it. Howbeit, let us by mine advise at the least wise make those kinds of recreation as short & as seld as we can: let them serve us but for sauce, & make them not our meat, and let us pray unto god, & all our good friends ●or us, that we may feel such a savour in the delight of heaven, that in respect of the talking of the joys thereof, all worldly recreation be but a grief to think on. And be sure Cousin, that if we might once purchase the grace to come to that point, we never found of worldly recreation so much comfort in a year, as we should find in the bethinking us of heaven in less than half an hour.  ☞ Vincent. 
In faith uncle I can well agree to this: and I pray God bring us once to take such a savour in it: and surely as you began the other day, by faith must we come to it, and to faith by prayer. But now I pray you good uncle vouchsafe to proceed in our principal matter.   

¶ The ii Chapter. Of the short uncertain life in extreme age or sickness.  ☞ Anthony. 
Cousin I have bethought me somewhat upon this matter since we were last together. And I find it, if we should go some way to work, a thing that would require many more days to treat thereof, than we should happily find meet thereto in so few as myself ween that I have now to live, while everytime is not like with me, and among many painful, in which I look every day to depart: my mending days come very seld, and are very shortly gone. For surely Cousin I cannot lycken my life more meetly now than to the snuff of a candle that burneth within the candelstyckes nose. For as the snuff some time burneth down so low, that whoso looketh on it, would ween it were quite out, and yet suddenly lifteth a flame half an inch above the nose, and giveth a preaty short light again, and thus playeth divers times, till at last ere it be looked for, out it goeth altogether: so have I Cousin divers such days together, as everyday of them I look even for to die: and yet have I than after that some such few days again as you see me now to have yourself, in which a man would ween that I might well continue, but I know my linger not likely to la●t long, but our will my snuff suddenly some day within a while, and therefore will I with god's help, seem I never so well amended nevertheless reckon every day for my last: for though that to the repressing of the bold courage of blind youth there is a very true proverb, that as soon cometh a young sheeps skin to the market as an old, yet this difference there is at the least between them: that as the young man may hap sometime to die soon, so the old man can never live long. And therefore Cousin, ●n our matter here leaving out many things that I would else treat of, I shall for this time speak but of ve●y few, howbeit if god hereafter send me more such days, than will we when you lust farther talk of more.   

¶ The iii Chapter. He divideth tribulation into three kinds, of which three the last he passeth shortly over.  
ALl manner of tribulation Cousin that any man can have, as fa●re as for this time cometh to my mind, falleth under some one at the lest of these th●ee kinds: ●ither it is such as himself willingly taketh, or secondly, such as himself willingly suffereth, or finally, such as he cannot put from him. This third kind I purpose not much more to speak of now● for thereof shall as for this time, suffice those things that we treated between us this other day: what kind of tribulation this is I am sure yourself perceive, for sickness, imprisonment, loss of goods, loss of friends or such bodily harm as a man hath already caught, and can in no wise avoid, these things and such like, be the third kind of tribulation that I speak of● which a man neither willingly taketh in the beginning, nor can though he would put afterward away. Now think I, that as to the man that lacketh wit and faith, no comfort can serve whatsoever counsel be given, so to them that have both, I have as for this kind said in manner enough already, and considering that suffer it needs he must while he can by no manner of mean put it from him, the very necessity is half counsel enough to take it in good worth, & bear it patiently, & rather of his patience to take both ease & thank, then by fretting and fuming to increase his present pain, and by murmur & grudge fall in farther danger after by displeasing of god with his froward behaviour, & yet albeit that I think that that which is said sufficeth, yet here and there shall I in the second kind, show some such comfort as shall well serve unto this last kind to.   

¶ The. iiii● Chapter.  
THe first kind also will I shortly pass over to, for the tribulation that a man willingly taketh himself which no man putteth upon him against his own will, is you wot well as I somewhat touched the last day, such affliction of the flesh or expense of his goods as a man taketh himself, or willingly bestoweth in punishment of his own sin, and for devotion to God. Now in this tribulation needeth he no man to comfort him, for while no man troubleth him but himself which feeleth how farforth he may conveniently bear, & of reason & good discretion shall not pass that, wherein if any doubt arise, counsel needeth and not comfort. The courage that for god's sake and his soul health kindleth his heart and inflameth it thereto, shall by the same grace that put it in his mind, give him such comfort and joy therein, that the pleasure of his soul shall pass the pain of his body: yea and while he hath in heart also some great heaviness for his sin, yet than he considereth the joy that shall come of it, his soul shall not fail to feel than that strange case which my body felt once in a great fever.  ☞ Vincent. 
What strange case was that uncle?  Anthony. 
Forsooth Cousin, in this same bed it is now more than xu year a go, I lay in a tercian & had passed I trow iii or four fits: but after fell there one fit on me out of course, so strange and so marvelous, that I would in good faith have thought it impossible. For I suddenly felt myself verily both hot and cold throughout all my body, not in some part y● one, and in some part the other, for that had been you wot well no very strange thing, to feel the head hot while the hands were a cold: but the self same parts I say so god my soul save, I sensibly felt & right painfully to, all in one instant both hot and cold at once.  ☞ Vincent. 
By my troth uncle this was a wonderful thing, & such as I never heard hap any man else in my days: & few men are there of whose mouths I could have believed it.  Antony. 
Courtesis Cousin peradventure letteth you to say that you believe it not yet of my mouth neither, & surely for fear of that you should have heard it of me neither, had there not an other thing happened me soon after.  ☞ Vincent. 
I pray you what was that uncle?  ☞ Anthony. 
Forsooth Cousin this I asked a pysician or twain, that than looked unto me how this should should be possible, and they twain told me both that it could not be, but that I was fallen into some slumber, and dreamt that I felt it so.  ☞ Vincent. 
This hap hold I, little cause you to tell the tale the more boldly.  ☞ Anthony. 
No Cousin that is true lo, but than happened there another, that a young Girl here in this town whom a kinsman of hers had begun to teach plysicke, told me that there was such a kind of fever in deed.  Vincent. 
By our Lady uncle, save for the credence of you, the tale would I not yet tell again upon that hap of the maid. For though I know her now for such, as I durst well believe her, it might hap her very well at that time to lie, because she would you should take her for cunning.  Antony. 
Ye, but than happened there yet an other hap thereon Cousin, that a work of Galen de diff●renciis febrium, is ready to besolde in the book sellers shops: In which works she showed me than the Chapter where Galen saith the same.  ☞ Vincent. 
Marry uncle as you say, that hap happened well, and that maid had (as hap was) in that point more cunning than had both our physicians besides: and hath I ween at this day in many points more.  ☞ Antony. 
In faith so ween I to: and that is well warred on her, for she is very wise and well learned, and very virtuous too. But see now what age is, lo, I have been so long in my tale, that I have almost forgotten for what purpose I told it. Oh, now I remember me lo, likewise I say, as myself felt my body than both hot & cold at once: so he that is contrite & heavy for his sin, shall have cause for to be, and shall in deed be both merry and sad, and both twain at once, and shall do as I remember holy Saint Hieron biddeth: & doleas, & de dolore gaudeas. both be thou sorry saith he, and be thou of thy sorrow joyful also.  
And thus as I began to say of comfort to be given unto him that is in this tribulation, that is to wit, in fruitful heaviness and penance for his sin, shall we none need to give other, than only to remember and consider the goodness of gods excellent mercy well that infinytely passeth the malice of all men's sin, by which he is ready to receive every man, and did spread his arms abroad upon the cross, lovingly to embrace all them that will come, and even there accepted the thief at his last end that turned not to god till he might steal no longer, and yet maketh more feasle in heaven at one that from sin turneth, than of xcix good men that sinned not at all. And therefore of that first kind will I make no longer tale.   

The .v. Chapter. An objection concerning them that turn ●ot to GOD till they come at the last cast.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth Uncle, this is unto that kind comfort very great, and so great also, that it may make many a man bold to abide in his sin, even unto his last end, trusting to be than saved as that thief was.  Anthony. 
very sooth you say Cousin, that some wretches are there such, that in such wse abuse the great goodness of god, that the better that he is, the worse again they be. But Cousin, though there be more joy made of his turning that from the point of perdition cometh to salvation, for pity that god and his saints all of the peril of perishing that the man stood in, yet he is not set in like state in heaven as he should have been if he had lived better before, except it so fall that he live so well after, and do so much good that he therein outrun in the shorter time, those good folk that yet did not so much in much longer, as it proved in the blessed apostle. Saint Paul, which of a persecutor became an Apostle, and last of all came in unto that office, and yet in the labour of sowing that seed of Christ'S faith, outran all the remnant, so far forth that he letted not to say of himself. Ego plus omnibus cucurri, I have run more than all the remnant have. But yet my Cousin, though GOD I doubt not be so merciful unto them, that at any time in their life turn and ask his mercy and trust therein, though it be at the la●te end of a man's life and hireth him as well for heaven that cometh to work in his vineyard toward night, at such time as men leave work, if the time would serve as he hireth him that cometh in the morning: yet may there no man upon the trust of this parable be bold all his life to lie still in sin. For let him remember that in God's vinyeard there goeth no man but he that is called thither. Now he that in hope to be called toward night, will sleep out the morning, and drink out ●he day, is full likely to pass as night unspoken to, and than shall he with shrewd rest go supperless to bed. They tell of one that was wont alway to say that all the while he lived he would do what he lust: for three words when he died should make all safe enough: but than so happened it, that long ere he were old, his horse once stumbled upon a broken bridge, and as he laboured to recover him, when he saw it would not be, but down into the flood headlong needs he should: in a sudden flight he cried out in the falling, have all to the ●euyl: and there was he drowned with his three words ere he died, whereon his hope hung all his wretched life. And therefore let no man sin in hope of grace, for grace cometh but at god's will, and that mind may be the let that grace of a fruitful repenting shall never after be offered him, but that he either graceless go linger on careless, or with a care fruitless, fall into despair.   

The vi Chapter. An ●bieccion of them that say that tribulation of penance needeth not, but is a superstitious folly.  Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle in this point me thinketh you say very well. But than are there some again that say on the other side, that heaviness of our sins we shall need none at all, but only change our purpose and intent to do better, and for that which is passed take no thought at al. And as for fasting or other affliction of the body, they say we should not do it, but only to tame the flesh when we feel it wax wan●on, and begin to rebel: for fasting they say, serveth to keep the body in a temperance, but for to fast for penance, or to do any other good work, almose deed and other, toward satisfaction of our own sin, this thing they call plain injury to the passion of Christ, by which only are our sins forgiven freely without any recompense of our own. And they that would do penance for their own sins, look to be their own Christ's, and pay their own ransoms, & save their souls themself. And with these reasons in Saxoni, many cast fasting of, & all other bodily affliction, save only where need requireth to bring the body to temperance. For other good they say can it none do to ourself, & then to our neighbour can it do none at all, & therefore they condemn it for superstitious folly: now heaviness of heart & weeping for our sins, this they reckon shame almost and womanyshe peevishness, howbeit, thanked be God, their women wax there now so mannyshe, that they be not so peevish nor so poor of spirit, but that they can sin on as men do, and be neither afraid nor ashamed, nor weep for their sins at al. And surely mine uncle, I have marveled much the less ever since that I heard the manner of their preachers ●here. For as you remember when I was in Saxoni, these matters were in a manner but in a māmering● nor Luther was not then wed yet, nor religious men out of their habit, but suffered where those that would be of the sect freely to preach what they would unto the people. And forsooth I heard a religious man there myself, one that had been reputed and taken for very good, and which, as far as the folk perceived, was of his own living somewhat austere and sharp, but his preaching was wonderful, me think I hear him yet: his voice was loud and shrill, his learning less than mean: but where as his matter was much part against fasting & all affliction for any penance which he called men's inventions, he cried ever out upon them to keep well the laws of Christ, let go their peevish penance, & purpose them to mend and seek nothing to salvation but the death of Christ, for he is our justice, and he is our saviour & our whole satisfaction for all our deadly sins, he did full penance for us all upon his painful cross, he washed us there all clean with the water of his sweet side, and bought us out of the devils danger with his dear precious blood. Leave therefore, leave I beseech you these inventions of men, your foolish lenten fasts and your peevish penance, minyshe never Christ's thank, nor look ●o save yourself, it is Christ's death I tell you that must save us all: Christ'S death I tell you ye● again and not our own deeds: leave your own fasting therefore, & lean to Christ alone good christian people for Christ's dear bitter passion. Now so loud & so shrill he cried Christ in their ears, and so thick he came forth with Christ's bitter Passion, and that so bitterly spoken with the sweat dropping down his cheeks, that I marveled not though I saw the poor women weep, for he made my own here to stand up upon my head, and with such preaching were the people so brought in, that some fell to break their fasts on the fasling days, not of frailty or of malice first, but almost of devotion, lest they should take from christ the thank of his bitter passion. But when they were a while nuzzled in that point first, they could abide & endure after many things more, with which had he than begun, they would have pulled him down.  ☞ Antony. 
Cousin, GOD amend that man what soeever he be, and god keep all good folk from such manner of preachers: such one preacher much more abuseth the name of Christ and his bitter Passion, than v. hundredth hasardars that in their idle business swear and forswear themself by his holy bitter passion at dice. They carry the minds of the people from the perceiving of their ●rafte, by the continual naming of the name of Christ and crying his passion so shrill into their ears, they forgeat that the church hath ever taught them that all our penance without Christ's Passion were not worth a pea●e, and they make the people ween that we would be saved by our own deeds without Christ's death, where we confess that his only passion meriteth incomparably more for us, than all our own deeds do: but his pleasure is, that we shall also take pain our own self with him, and therefore he biddeth all that will be his disciples take their crosses upon their backs as he did, and with their crosses follow him: and where they say that fasting serveth but for temperance to tame the flesh, and keep it from wantonness, I would in good faith have went that Moses had not been so wild, that for the taming of his flesh he should have need to fast whole xl days together.  
No nor Hely neither, nor yet our saviour himself which began, and the Apostles followed, and all christendom have kept the lenten xl days fast, that these folk call now so foolish. King Achas was not disposed to be wanton in his flesh, when he fasted and went clothed in sack cloth & all besprent with ashes. Nor no more was in Ninive the king & all the City, but they wailed & did painful penance for their sin to procure god to pity them & withdraw his indignation. Anna that in her wydowhed abode so many years with fasting and praying in the temple till ●he birth of Christ● was not I ween, in her old age so sore disposed to the wantonness of her flesh that she fasted all therefore. Nor. S. Paul the fasted so much, fasted not all therefore neither. The scripture is full of places that proveth fasting not to be the invention of man but the institution of god, & that it hath many more profits than one.  
And that the fasting of one man may do good to an other, our saviour saith himself where he showeth that some kind of devils can not be by one man cast out of an other Nisiin oratione & jeiunio, without prayer and fasting. And therefore I marvel that they take this way against fasting and other bodily penance, and yet much more I marvel that they mislike the sorrow and he avines and displeasure of mind that a man should take in forthinking of his sin. The Prophet saith. Sindite corda vestra & non vestimenta. Tear your hearts (he sayeth) and not your clothes. And the Prophet david sayeth. Cor contritum & hu●iliatum deus non despicies. A contrite heart and an humbled, that is to say, a heart broken, torn, and with tribulation of heaviness for his sins laid a low under foot, shalt thou not good Lord despise. He sayeth also of his own contrition. Laboravi in gemitu meo lavabo per singulas noctes lecrum meum lacrimis meis stratum meum rigabo. I have laboured in my wailing, I shall every night wash my bed with my tears, my couch will I water. But what should I need in this matter to lay forth one place or twain. The scripture is full of those places, by which it plainly appeareth that god looketh of duty, not only that we should amend and be better in the time to come, but also be sorry, and weep, and bewail our sins committed before, and all the old holy Doctors be full and whole of that mind that men must have for their sins, contrition and sorrow in heart.   

The vii Chapter. ¶ What if a man can not weep, nor in his heart be sorry for his sins?  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle yet seemeth me this thing somewhat a sore sentence, not for that I think other wise, but that there is good cause and great, wherefore a man so should, but for that of truth some man can not be sorry and heavy for his sin that he hath done, though he never so fain would: but though he can be content for god's sake to forbear it from thenceforth, yet for every sin that is passed, can he not only not weep, but some were happily so wanton, that when he happeth to remember them, he can scantly forbear to laugh. Now if contrition & sorrow of heart, be so requisite of necessity to remission. many a man should stand as it seemeth, in a very perilous case.  ☞ Anthony. 
Many so should in dede● Cousin, and in deed many so do. And the old saints write very sore in this point: how be it, Misericordia domini super omnia opera eius The mercy of God is above all his works, & he standeth bound to no common rule, Et ipse cognovit figmentum suum & propitiatur infirmitatibus nostris. and he knoweth the frayeltye of this earthen vessel that is of his own making, and is merciful, and hath pity and compassion upon our feeble infirmities, and shall not exact of us above the thing that we may do. But yet Cousin, he that findeth himself in that case, in that he is minded to do well hereafter, let him give GOD thanks that he is no worse: but in that he can not be sorry for his sin passed, let him be sorry hardly that he is no better. And as. S. Iherom biddeth him that for his sin sorroweth in his heart, be glad and rejoice in his sorrow: so would I counsel him that can not be sad for his sin, to be sorry yet at the least that he can not be sorry. Besides this, though I would in no wise any man should dyspayer, yet would I counsel such a man while that affection laste●h, not to be to bold of courage, but live in double fear. first, for it is a token, either of faint faith or of a dull diligence, for surely if we well believe in God, and therewith deeply consider his high majesty with the peril of our sin, and the great goodness of God also, either should dread make us tremble and break our stony heart, or love should for sorrow relent it into tears? Besides this, sith I can scant believe, but sith so little misliking of our old sin is an affection not very pure and clean, & none unclean thing shall enter into heaven, clens●d shall it be, & purified before that we come thither. And therefore would I farther advise one in that case, the counsel which master Gerson giveth every man, that sith the body and the soul together make the whole man the less affliction that he feeleth in his soul, the more pain in recompense: let him put upon his body, and purge the spirit by the affliction of the flesh, and he that so doth, I dare lay my life, shall have his hard heart after relent into tears, and his soul in an wholesome heaviness and heavenly gladness to, specially if (which must be joined with every good thing) he join faithful prayer therewith. But Cousin, as I told you the other day before: in these matters with these new men will I not dispute, but suerli for mine own part I can not well hold with them: for as mine own poor wits can perceive, the holy scripture of GOD is very plain against them, & the whole corpse of christendom in every christian region● and the very places in which they dwell themself, have ever unto their own days clearly believed against them, and all the old holy doctors have evermore taught against them, and all the old holy enterpretors have construed the scripture against them. And therefore if these men have now perceived so late, that the scripture hath been miss understanden all this while, and that of all those old holy doctors no man could understand it, than am I to old at this age to begin to study it now, and trust these men's cunning Cousin, that dare I not in no wise, sith I can not see nor perceive no cause wherefore I should think that th●se men might not now in the understanding of scriptures as well be deceived themself, as they bear us in hand that all those other have been all this while before: howbeit Cousin, if it so be that their way be not wrong, but that they have found out so easy a way to heaven as to take no thought, but make merry, nor take no penance at all, but sit them down & drink well for our saviours sake, set cock a hope & fill in all the cups at once● & than let Christ's passion pay for all the shot, I am not he that will envy their good hap, ●ut surely counsel dare I give no man to adventure that way with them. But such as fear lest the way be not sure, & take upon them willingly tribulation of penance, what comfort they do take, and well may take therein, that have I somewhat told you alreadi. And sith these other folk sit so merry without such tribulation, we need to talk to them you wot well of no such manner comfort, and therefore of this kind of tribulation will I make an end.   

The viii Chapter. Of that kind of tribulation which though they not willingly take, yet they willingly suffer.  Vincent. 
Verily good Uncle so may you well do, for you have brought it unto veri good pass. And now I require you to come to that other kind, of which you purposed alway to treat last.  ☞ Anthony. 
That shall I Cousin very gladlis do. The other kind is this which I rehearsed second, & sorting cut the other twain, have kept it for the last.  
This kind of tribulation is you wot well, of ●hem that willingly suffer tribulation, though that of their own choice they took it not at the first.  
This kind Cousin divide we shall in to twain. The first might we call temptation, the second persecution. But here must you consider that I mean not every kind of persecution, but the kind only, which though the sufferer would be loath to fall in, yet will he rather abide it and suffer it, than by the flitting from it, fall in the displeasure of God, or leave gods pleasure unprocured. Howbeit, if we consider these two things well, temptation & persecution, we may find that either of them is incident to the other. For both by temptation the devil persecuteth us, & by persecution the devil also tempteth us: and as persecution is tribulation to every man, so is temptation tribulation to a good man.  
Now though the devil our spiritual enemy fight against man in both, yet this difference hath the common temptation from the persecution, that temptation plain is as it were the fiends train, & persecution his open fight. And therefore will I now call all this kind of tribulation here, by the name of temptation, & that shall I divide into two parts. The first shall I call the devils trains, the other his open fight.   

The ix Chapter. first of temptation in general as it is common to both.  
TO speak of every kind if temptation particularly by itself, this were you wot well in manner an infinite thing: for under that as I told you, fall persecutions and all. And this Devil hath of his open fight as many sundry poisoned darts, he tempteth us by the world, he tempteth us by our own flesh, he tempteth us by pleasure, he tempteth us by pain he tempteth us by our foes, he tempteth us by our own friends, and under colour of kindred, he maketh many times our next friends our most foes: for as our saviour saith, Inimici hominis domestici eius. But in all manner of so divers temptations one marvellous comfort is this, y● with the more we be tempted, the gladder have we cause to be●ffor. S. james saith, Omne gaudium existimate fratres quum in t●mptaciones varias incideritis. Esteem it and take it, saith he, my brethren for a thing of all joy, when you fall into divers and sundry manner of temptations: & no marvel, for there is in this world set up as it were a game of wrestling, wherein the people of God come in on the one side, and on the other side come mighty strong wrestler's and wily, that is to weet, the devils, the cursed proud damned spirits: for it is not our flesh alone that we must wrestle with, but with the devil too, Non eft nobis colluctacio adversus carnem & sanguinem, sed adversus principes & potestates tenebrarum harum adversus spiritalia nequitie in celestibus. Our wrestling is not here saith. S. Paul against flesh and blood, but against the Princes and Potestates of these dark regions, against the spiritual wicked ghosts of the air.  
But as God (unto them that on his part give his adversary the fall) hath prepared a crown, so he that will not wrestle shall none have: for as. S. Paul saith, Nemo coronabitur nisi quilegittime certaverit. there shall no man have ●he crown but he that doth his devor therefore, according to the law of the game. And than as holy. S. Barnard saith: how couldst thou fight or wrestle, therefore, if there were no challenger against thee, that would provoke the thereto. And therefore may it be a great comfort as. S. james saith to every man that feeleth himself challenged & provoked by temptation, for thereby perceiveth he that it cometh to his course to wrestle, which shall be (but if he willingly will play the coward or the fool) the matter of his eternal reward in heaven.   

The ten Chapter. ¶ A special comfort in all temptation.  
BUt now must this needs be to man an inestimable comfort in all temptation, if his faith fail him not, that is to wit, that he may be sure that God is always ready to give him strength against the devils might, & wisdom against the devils trains: for as the Prophet saith: Fortitudo m●●et laus mea dominus factus est mihi in salutem. My strength and my praise is our Lord, he hath been my safegarder. And the scripture saith. Pete a deo sapientiam et dabit tibi. Ask wisdom of God and he shall give it thee: Vt possitis (as. S. Paul saith: deprehendere omnes arts, that you may spy & perceive all the crafts. A great comfort may this be in all kinds of temptation, the god hath so his hand upon him that is willing to stand & will trust in him, and call upon him that he hath made him sure by many faithful promises in holy scripture, that either he shall not fall, or if he some time thorough faintness of faith stagger & hap to fall, yet if he call upon God betimes, his fall shall be no sore bruisinge to him, but as the scripture saith: justus si ceciderit non● collidetur quia dominus supponit manum. The just man though he fall shall not be bruised, for our lord holdeth under his hand. The Prophet expresseth a plain comfortable promise of God against all temptation, where he saith: Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi, in proteccit one dei ●eli commorabitur. who so dwelleth in the help of the highest God, he shall abide in the protection or defence of the God of heaven. Who dwelleth now good Cousin in the help of the high God? surely he the thorough a good ●aythe abideth in the trust & confidence of God's help and neither for lack of that faith and trust in his help. falleth desperate of all help, nor departeth from the hope of his help to seek himself help as I told you the other day, of the flesh, the world or the devil. Now he than that by fast faith and sure hope dwelleth in God's help and hangeth alway thereupon, never falling from that hope, he shall, saith the Prophet ever abide and dwell in God's defence and protection, that is to say, that while he faileth not to believe well and hope well, GOD will never fail in all temptation to defend him. For unto such a faithful well hoping man the Prophet in the same psalm saith farther: Scapulis suis obumbrabit tibi & sub pennis eius sperabis: with his shoulders shall he shadow thee, and under his feathers shalt thou trust.  
Lo, here hath every faithful man a sure promise, that in the fervent heat of temptation or tribulation (for as I have said divers times before) they be in such wise coincydent, that every tribulation the devil useth for temptation to bring us to impatience, and thereby murmur, grudge & blasphemy, and every kind of temptation is to a good man that fighteth against it, and will not follow it, a very painful tribulation. In the fervent heat, I say therefore, of every temptation, GOD giveth the faithful man that hopeth in him the shadow of his holy shoulders which are broad and large sufficient to refrygerate and refresh the man in that heat, and in every tribulation he putteth his shoulders for a defence between.  
And than what weapon of the devil may give us any deadly wound, while that impenetrable pavise of the shoulder of GOD stands alway between? Than goeth the verse farther and saith unto such a faithful man, et sub pennis eius sperabis. Thy hope shall be under his feathers, that is to weet, for the good hope thou haste in his help. he will take the so near him into his protection, that as the hen, to keep her young chyckyns from the kyght, nestleth them together under her own wings, so fro the devils claws, the ravenous kyght of this dark air, the God of heaven will gather his faithful trusting folk, near unto his own sides, and set them in surety very well and warm under the covering of his own heavenly wings. And of this defence and protection our saviour spoke himself unto the jews, as mention is made in the xxiii Chapter of. S. Math. to whom he said in this wise, Jerusalem Jerusalem que occidis Prophetas & lapidas eos qui ad te missisunt, quotics volui congregare te sicut gallina congregat Pullos suos & noluist●? that is to say, Jerusalem Jerusalem, that killest the Prophets and stonest unto death them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered the together as the hen gathereth her chickens, and thou wouldst not?  
Here are words Cousin Uincent, words of no little comfort unto every christian man, by which we may see, with how tender affection GOD of his great goodness longeth to gather under the protection of his wings, and how often like a loving hen he clocketh home unto him, even those chickens of his, that wilfully walk abroad in the kyghtes danger, and will not come at his clocking, but ever the more he clockethe for them, the farther they go from him. And therefore can we not doubt if we will follow him & with faithful hope come run unto him, but that he shall in all matter of temptation take us near unto him and set us even under his wings, and than are we safe, if we will tarry there. For against our will can there no power pull us thence, nor hurt our souls there. Pone me (saith the Prophet) juxta te, & cui●suis manus pugnet contra me. Set me near unto thee, & fight against me whose hand that will: and to show the great safeguard and surety that we shall have while we sit under his heavenly feathers. The Prophet saith yet a great deal farther. Sub umbra alarum tuarum exultabo. That is to weet, that we shall not only (when we sit by his sweet side under his heavenvly wing) sit in safeguard, but that we shall also under the covering of his heavenly wings, with great exultation rejoice.   

The xi chapter. Of four kinds of temptations, and therein both the parts of that kind of tribulation that men willingly suffer, touched in two vearsis of the Psalter.  
Now in the next vearses following, the Prophet briefly comprehendeth four kinds of temptation, and therein all the tribulation that we shall now speak of, and also some part of that which we have spoken of before, and therefore I shall peradventure, except any farther thing fall in our way, with the treating of those ii vearses finish & end all our matter. The Prophet saith in the psalm S●uto circumdabit te veritas eius, non timebis a timore nocturno. A sagitta volante in die a negotio perambulante in tenebris ab incursu et demonio meridiano. The truth of God shall compass the about with a pavice, thou shalt not be afraid of the nights fear, nor of the arrow flying in the day, nor of the business walking about in darknesses, nor of the incursion or invasion of the devil in the mid day.  
first Cousin in these words: The truth of GOD shall coumpasse the about with a pavice: The Prophet for the comfort of every good man in all temptation and in all tribulation beside those other things that he said before, that the shoulders of god shall shadow them, and that also they should sit under his wing, here sayeth he farther. The troth of GOD shall compass thee with a pavice, that is to wit, that as god hath faithfully promised to protect and defend those that faithfully will dwell in the tru●t of his help, so will he truly perform it, & thou that such one art, will ye●routh of his promise defend not with a little round buckler that scant can cover the head, but with a long large pavice that covereth all along the body, made as saint Barnard saith, broad above with the godhead, and narrow beneath with the manhood, so that this pavice is our saviour Christ himself: and yet is this pavice not like other pavices of this world, which are not made but in such wise as while they defend one part, the man may be wounded upon another: but this pavice is such, that as the Prophet sayeth. it shall round about enclose and compass thee, so that thine enemy shall hurt thy soul on no side. For, Scuto (saith he) circundabit te veritas eius: with a pavice shall his truth environ and compass the round about, and than continently following, to the intent that we should see that it is not without necessity that the pavice of god should cumpasse us about upon every side. He showeth in what wise we be by the devil with trains and assaults by iiii. kinds of temptations & tribulations environed on upon every side: against all which compass of temptations and tribulations, that round cumpassing pavice of God's truth, shall in such wise defend us and keep us safe, that we shall need to dread none of them all.   

The xii Chapter. The first kind of the four temptations.  
first he sayeth: Non timebis a timore noc●urno. Thou shalt not be afraid of the fear of the night. By the night is there in scripture sometime understand tribulation as appeareth in the xxxiiii Chapter of job. Novit ●nim deus opera ●orum, id●irco induce● nocrem. God hath known the works of them, & therefore shall he bring night upon them, that is to wit tribulation for their wickedness: and well you wot, that the night is of the nature of itself very discumfortable and full of fear. And therefore by the nights fear, here I understand the tribulation by which the devil thorough the sufferance of god, either by himself or other that are his instruments, tempteth good folk to impatience as he did job. But he that as the prophet saith, dwelleth and continueth faithfully in the hope of god's help, shall so be becleped in on every side with the shield or pavice of god, that he shall have no need to be afraid of such tribulation that is here called the nights fear. And it may be also conveniently called the nights fear for two causes. The one● for that many times the cause of his tribulation is unto him that suffereth it, dark and unknown, and therein varieth it, and differeth from that tribulation by which the devil tempteth a man with open fight and assault for a known good thing from which he would withdraw him or for some known evil thing into which he would drive him by force of such persecution. another cause for which it is called the nights fear, may be for that the night is so far out of courage, & naturally so casteth folk in fear, that of every thing whereof they perceive any manner dread, their fantasy doubleth their fear, and maketh them often ween that it were much worse than in deed it is. The Prophet saith in the psalter. Posuisti tenebras & facta est no●, in illa pertransibunt omnes besti● siluarum. Catuli leonum rugientes querentes a deo escam sibi Thou haste good lord set the darkness, and made was the night, and in the night walk all the beasts of the wood. The whelps of the lions roaring and calling unto GDO for their meat.  
Now though that the lions whelps walk about roaring in the night and seek for their prey, yet can they not get such meat as they would always, but must hold themself content with such as God suffereth to fall in their way. And though they be not aware thereof, yet of god they ask it, and of him they have it. And this may be comfort to all good men in their night fear, in their dark tribulation: that though they fall into the claws or the teeth of those lions whelps, yet shall all that they can do not pass beyond the body, which is but as the garment of the soul. For the soul itself which is the substance of the man, is so surely fenced in round about with the shield or pavice of God, that as long as he will abide faithfully in adiutorio altissimi, in the hope of Gods help, the lions whelps shall not be able to hurt it. For the great Lion himself could never be suffered to go farther in the tribulation of job, than God from time to time gave him leave. And therefore the deep darkness of the midnight maketh men the stand out of faith and out of good hope in God, to be in their tribulation far in the greater fear for lack of the light of faith whereby they might perceive that the uttermost of their peril is a far less thing than they take it for, but we be so wont to set so much by our body which we see and feel, and in the feeding and fostering whereof we set our whole delight and our wealth, and so little, alas, and so seld we think upon our soul because we cannot see that, but by spiritual understanding, & most specially by the eye of our faith (in the meditation whereof, we bestow, god wot, little time) that the loss of our body we take for a sorer thing and a greater tribulation a great deal, than we do the loss of our soul. And whereas our saviour biddeth us that we should not fear these lions whelps that can but kill our bodies, and when that is done have no farther thing in their power wherewith they can do us harm, but biddeth us stand in dread of him, which when he hath s●aine the body, is able than beside to cast the soul into everlasting fire: we be so blind in the dark night of tribulation, for the lack of full and fast belief of god's word, that whereas in the day of prosperity we very little fear god for our soul, our nights fear of adversity maketh us very sore to fear the Lion & his whelps for dread of loss of our body. And whereas. S. Paul in sundry places showeth us that our body is but as the garment of the soul, yet the faintness of our faith to the Scripture of god maketh us with the nights fear of tribulation more to dread, not only the loss of our body● than of our soul: that is to wit, of the clothing than of the substance that is clothed therewith, but also of the very outward goods that serve for the clothing of the body, and much more foolish are we in that dark nights fear, than were he that could forgeat the saving of his body, for fear of losing his old rain beaten cloak that is but the covering of his gown or his coat. Now consider farther yet, that the Prophet in the forecemembred vearses, sayeth not that in the night walk● only the Lion's whelps, but also, Omnes besties siluarum all the beasts of the wood. Now wot you well, that if a man walk thorough the wood in the night, many things may make him afraid, of which in the day he would not be afraid of a whit: for in the night every bush (to him that waxeth once afraid) seemeth a thief. I remember that when I was a young man, I was once in the war●e with the king: than my master (God assoil his soul) and we were camped within the Turks ground, many a mile beyond Belgrade, which would God were ours now as well as it was than: but so happened it, that in our camp about midnight, there suddenly rose a rumour and a skrye that the Turks whole army was secretly stealing upon us, wherewith our whole host was warned to arm them in haste, and set themself in array to fight, and than were scurars of ours that brought these sudden tidings, examined more laisorly by the counsel, what surety or what likelihood they had perceived therein: of whom one showed that by the glimuring of the moon he had espied and perceived and seen them himself, coming on softly and soberly in a long range all in a good order, not one farther forth than the other in the forefrunte, but as even as the thread, and in breadth farther than he could see in length. His fellows being examined, said that he was somewhat pricked forth before them, and came so fast back to tell it them, that they thought it rather time to make haste and give warning to the camp, than to go nearer unto them, for they were not so far of, but that they had yet themself somewhat an unperfect sight of them too: thus stood we watching all the remnant of the night, evermore hearkening when we should hear them come with hushed, stand still, me think I hear a trampling, so that at last many of us thought we heard them ourself also. But when the day was sprongen, and that we saw no man, out was our scurer sent again, and some of our captains with him to show them where about the place was, in which he perceived them: and when they came thither, they found that great fearful army of the Turks so soberly coming on, turned (God bethanked) into a fair long hedge, standing even stone still. And thus fareth it in the nights fear of tribulation, in which, the devil to bear down and overwhelm with dread the faithful hope that we should have in GOD, casteth in our imagination much more fear than cause. For while there walk in the night, not only the lions whelps, but over that, all the beasts of the wood, beside the beasts that we hear roaring in the dark night of tribulation, and fear it for a Lion, we sometime find well afterward in the day, that it was no Lion at all, but a silly rude roaring ass: & the thing that on the sea seemeth sumtime a rock, is in deed nothing else but a mist: howbeit, as the Prophet saith: He that faithfully dwelleth in the hope of gods help, the pavice of his troth shall so fence him in round about, that be it an ass colt, or a Lion's whelp, a rock of stone or a mist. Non tim●●it a timore nocturno, the nights fear thereof shall he nothing need to dread at all.   

¶ The xiii Chapter. Of pusillanimity.  
THerefore find I that in this nights fear, one great part thereof is the fault of pusillanimity, that is to wit, feeble, and faint stomach, by which a man for faint heart, is afraid where he needeth not: by reason whereof he flieth often times for fear of that thing, of which if he fled not, he should take no harm: and some man doth some time by his fleeing make his enemy bold on him, which would if he fled not but durst abide thereby, give over & ●●ee from him. This fault of pusillanimity maketh a man in his tribulation for fieble heart, first impatient, and afterward often times driveth him by impatience into a contrary affection, making frowardly, stubborn and angry against God, and thereby to fall into blasphemy, as do the damned souls in hell: this fault of pusillanimity and timerouse mind, letteth a man also many times from the doing of many good things, which (if he took a good stomach to him in the trust of God's help) he were well able to do, but the devil casteth him in a cowardice, and maketh him take it for humility to think himself unmeet and unable thereto, and therefore to leave the good thing undone, whereof GOD offereth him occasion and had made him meet and convenient thereto. But such folk have need to lift up their hearts and call upon God, and by the counsel of other good ghostly folk, cast away the cowardice of their own conceit, which the nights feare● by the devil hath framed in their fantasy, and look in the gospel upon him which laid up his talent, and left it unoccupied, and therefore utterly lost it, with a great reproach of his pusillanymitie by which he had went he should have excused himself in that he was afraid to put it forth in ure and occupy it, and all this fear cometh by the devils drift, wherein he taketh occasion of the faintness of our good and sure trust in god, and therefore let us faithfully dwell in the good hope of his help, and than shall the pavice of his truth so compass us about, that of this nights fear we shall have no fear at all.   

The xiiii Chapter. Of the daughter of pusillanimity a scrupulous conscience.  
This Pusillanimytie bringeth forth by the nights fear, a very timorous daughter, a silly wretched Girl and ever puling, that is called scrupulosytie or a scrupulous conscience. This girl is a meetly good pussel in a house, never idle, but ever occupied and busy, but albeit she have a very gentle master that loveth her well, & is well content with that she doth, or if it be not all well (as all can not be always well) content to pardon her as she doth other of her fellows, and so letteth her know that she will: yet can this peevish Girl never cease whining and puling for fear lest her master be alway angry with her, and that she shall shrewdly be shent. Were her masters ween you like to be content with this condition? Nay verily, I knew such one myself whose master was a very wise woman, and (which thing is in women, rare) very mild and also meek, and liked very well such service as she did her in her house, but this continual discomfortable fashion of hers she so much misliked, that she would sometime say. Eygh, what aileth this girl. The elvish urchin weeneth I were a devil I trow: surely if she did me ten times better service than she doth, yet with this fantastical fear of hers, I would be loath to have her in my house.  
Thus fareth lo, the scrupulous person, which frameth himself many times double the fear that he hath cause, & many times a great fear where there is no cause at all, and of that which is in deed no sin, maketh a venial, and that that is no venial, imagineth to be deadly: and yet for all that falleth in them, being namely such of their own nature, as no man long liveth without, & than he feareth that he be never full confessed nor never full contrite, and than that his sins be never full forgiven him, and than he confesseth and confesseth again, and cumbereth himself and his confessor both, and than every prayer that he saith, though he say it as well as the frail infirmity of the man will suffer, yet is he not satisfied, but if he say it again, and yet after that again: and when he hath said one thing thrice, as little is he satisfied with the la●te as with the first, and than is his heart evermore in heaviness, unquiet, and in fear, full of doubt and dullness, without comfort or spiritual consolation.  
With this nights fear, the devil sore troubleth the mind of many a right good man, & that doth he to bring him to some great inconvenience, for he will if he can, drive him so much to the fearful minding of gods rigorous justice, that he will keep him from the cumfortable remembrance of gods great mercy, and so make him do all his good works wearilye, and without consolation and quickness.  
Moreover, he maketh him take for sin, some thing ●hat is none, and for deadly, some such as are but venial, to the intent that when he shall fall in them, he shall by reason of his scruple sin, where else he should not, or sin deadly (while his conscience in the deed doing so gave him) where else in deed he had but offended venially. Yea & farther the devil longeth to make all his good works and spiritual excercise so painful and and so tedious unto him, that with some other subtle suggestion or false wily doctrine of a false spiritual liberty, he should for the false ease & pleasure that he should suddenly find therein, be easily conveyed from that evil fault into a much worse, & have his conscience as wide & as large after, as ever it was narrow and straight before. For better is yet of truth, a conscience a little to straight, than a great deal to large. My mother had, when I was a little boy, a good old woman that took heed to her children, they called her mother Maude● I trow you have heard of her.  Vincent. 
Yea, yea, very much.  Antony 
She was wont when she sat by the fire with us, to tell us that were children many childish tales. But as Plinius saith, that there is no book lightly so bad, but that some good thing a man may pike out thereof: so think I there is no tale so foolish, but that yet in one matter or other, to some purpose it may hap to serve. For I remember me● that among other of her fond childish tales, she told us one that the Ass and the wolf came on a time to confession to the fox. The poor Ass came to shrift in the shrovetide, a day or two before Ashewednesdaye, but the wolf would not come to confession until he saw first Palm Sunday pas●, & than foded yet forth farther until good friday came. The Fox asked the Ass before he began Benedicite. wherefore he came to confession so soon before lente began. The poor beast answered him again: for fear of deadly sin, and for fear he should lose his part of any of those prayers that the priest in the cleansing days prayeth, for them that are confessed already. Than in his shrift he had a marvelous great grudge in his inward conscience, that he had one day given his master a cause of anger, in that, that with his rude roaring before his master arose, he had awaked him out of his sleep, and bereaved him of his rest. The fox for the fault● like a good discrete confessor, charged him to do so no more, but lie still & sleep like a good son himself till his master were up, and ready to go to work, and so should he be sure that he should not wake him no more.  
To tell you all the poor Ass' confession, it were a long work: for every thing that he did was deadly sin with him, the poor soul was so scrupulous.  
But his wise wily confessor accounted them for trifles, as they were in deed, and swore afterward unto the bageard that he was so weary to sit so long and hear him, that saving for the manner sake, he had liefer have sitten all the while at breakfast with a good fat goose. But when it came to the penance giving, the fox found that the most weighty sin in all his shrift, was gluttony, and therefore he discreetly gave him in penance, that he should never for greediness of his own meat do any other beast any harm or hindrance, and then eat his meat, and study for no more.  
Now, as good mother Maude told us, when the Wolf came to confession to father Raynarde (for that was, she said, the fox's name) upon good friday, his confessor shook his great payer of beads upon him, almost as big as bowls, and asked him wherefore he came so late? Forsooth father Raynarde quoth the wolf, I must needs tell you the truth, I come you wot well therefore, I durst come no sooner for fear lest you would for my gluttony have given me in penance to fast some part of this lent. Nay nay, quod father fox, I am not so unreasonable, for I fast none of it myself. For I may say to the son between us twain here in confession, it is no commandment of god this fasting, but an invention of man. The priests make folk fast and put them to pain about the moon shine in the water, and do but make folk fools, but they shall make me no such fool I warrant thee son. For I eat flesh all this lent myself I: howbeit, because I will not be in deed occasion of slander, I therefore eat it secretly in my chamber out of sight of all such foolish brethren, as for their weak scrupulous conscience would wax offended withal, and so would I counsel you to do. Forsooth father Fox quoth the wolf, and so I thank god I do as near as I can, for when I go to my meat, I take none other company with me, but such sure brethren as are of my own nature, whose consciences are not weak I warrant you, but their stomach as strong as mine. Well than, no force quoth father fox. But when he heard after by his confession that he was so great a ravenor that he devoured & spent sometime so much victual at one meal, as the price thereof would find some poor man with his wife and his children almost all the wieke, than he prudently reproved that point in him, and preached him a process of his own temperance, which never used as he said to pass upon himself the valour of vi d. at a meal, no nor yet so much neither. For when I bring home a Goose, quoth he, not out of the poulters shop where folk find them out of their feathers ready plucked, and see which is the fattest, & yet for vi d. by & choose the best: but out of the housewives house at the first hand, which may somewhat better cheap afford them you wot well than the poulter may, nor yet can not be suffered to see them plucked and stand and choose them by day, but am fain by night to take adventure, and when I come home, am fain to do the labour myself & pluck her. Yet for all this, though it be but lean, & I ween not well worth a groat, serveth it me sometime for all that both dinner and supper to. And therefore, as for that you live of raven, therein can I find no fault: you have used it so long, that I think you can do none, o●her, and therefore were it folly to forbid it you, and to say the truth against good conscience to, For live you must I wot well, and other craft can you none, and therefore as reason is, must you live by that. But yet you wot well, to much is to much, & measure is a merry mean, which I perceive by your shrift you have never used to keep, and therefore surely this shall be your penance: that you shall all this year never pass upon yourself the price of vi d. at a meal, as near as your conscience can guess the price.  
Their shrift have I showed you as mother Maude showed it us. But now serveth for our matter the conscience of them both, in the true performing of their penance. The poor Ass after his shrift, when he waxed an hungered, saw a sow lie with her pigs well lapped in new straw, and near he drew and thought to have eaten of the straw, but anon his scrupulous conscience begun therein to g●udge him, for while his penance was for greediness of his meat, he should do none other body no harm, he thought he might not eat one strawe● lest for lack of that straw, some of those pigs might hap to die for cold: so held he still his hunger till one brought him meat. But when he should fall thereto, then fell he yet in a far farther scruple, for than it came in his mind that he should yet break his penance if he should eat any of the either, sith he was commanded by his ghostly father that he should not for his own meat hinder any other beast, for he thought that if he eat not that meat, some other beast might hap to have it, and so should he by the eating of it, peradventure hinder some other, and thus stood he still fasting, till when he ●olde the cause, his ghostly father came and informed him better, and then he cast of that scruple, and fell mannerly to his meat, and was a right honest Ass many a fair day after.  
The wolf now coming from shrift, clean soiled from his sins, went about to do, as a shrewd wife once told her husband that she would do when she came from shrift. Be merry man, quoth she now, for this day I thank God was I well shriven, and I purpose now therefore to leave of all mine old shrewdness and begin even afresh.  Vincent. 
Ah, well uncle, can you report her so: that word hard I her speak, but she said it in sport to make her good man laugh.  ☞ Antony. 
In deed it seemed she spoke it half in sport, for that she said she would cast away all her old shrewdness, therein I trow she sported: but in that she said she would begin it all afresh, her husband found that good earnest.  ☞ Vincent 
Well, I shall show her I warrant you what you say.  ¶ Antony. 
Than will you make me make my word good: but what soever she did, at leastwise so fared now this wolf, which had cast out all his old raven in confession, and than hunger pricked him forward, that (as the shrewd wife said) he did in deed begin all afresh. But yet the prick of conscience withdrew and held him back because he would not for breaking of his penance, take any pray for his meal tide that should pass the price of vi d. It happened him than as he walked prowling for his gear about, he came where a man had in few days before, cast of two old, lean, & lame horses, so sick, that no flesh was there almost left on them, and the one when the wolf came by, could scant stand upon his legs, and the other already dead, and his skin ripped of and carried away. And as he looked upon them, suddenly he was first about to feed upon them, and whet his teeth on their bones, but as he looked aside, he spied a fair cow in a close walking with her young calf by her side: and as soon as he saw them, his consceince began to grudge him against both those two horses, and than he sighed & said unto himself. Alas wicked wretch that I am, I had almost broken my penance ere I was ware, for yonder dead horse, because I never saw no dead horse sold in the market, and I should even die therefore by the way that my sinful soul shall to, I can not devise what price I should set upon him, but in my conscience I set him far above vi. d. & therefore I dare not meddle with him. Now than is yonder quick horse of likelihood worth a great deal of money, for horse be dear in this country, specially such soft aumblers, for I see by his pace he trotteth not, nor can scant shift a foot, & therefore I may not meddle with him, for he very far passeth my vi. d. but kine, this country here hath enough but nonny have they very little: & therefore considering the plenty of the kine, and the scarcity of the money, as for yonder peevish ●owe seemeth unto me in my conscience worth, not past a groat, and she be worth so much. Now than as for her calf, is not so much as she by half, and therefore, while the cow is in my conscience worth but four pence, my conscience cannot se●ue me for sin of my soul to praise her calf above two pence, and so pass they not vi d, between them both, and therefore them twain may I well eat at this one meal, & break not my penance at all, and so thereupon he did without any scruple of conscience. If such beasts could speak now, as mother Maude said they could than● some of them would, I ween, tell a tale almost as wise as this: wherein save for the minishing of old mother Maudes tale, else would a shorter process have served: but yet as peevish as the parable is, in this it serveth for our purpose, that the nights fear of a conscience somewhat scrupulous, though it be painful and troublous to him that hath it, like as this poor ass had here, is les●e harm yet, than a conscience ●uerlarge, or such as for his own fantasy the man lust to frame himself, now drawing it narrow now stretching it in breadth, after the manner of a cheverel point, to serve on every side for his own commodity, as did here the wily wolf: but such folk are out of tribulation, and comfort need they none, and therefore are they out of our matter: but those that are in the nights fear of their own scrupulous conscience, let them be well aware as I said, that the devil, for weariness of the one, draw them not into the other: and while he would flee from Scylla, drive him into Charybdis. He must do as doth a ship that should come into a haven, in the mouth whereof lie secret rocks under the water on both sides, if he be by mishap entered in among them that are on the one side, and cannot tell how to get out, he must get a substantial cunning pilot that so can conduce him from the rocks on that side that yet he bring him not into those that are on the other side, but can guide him in the mid way: let them I say that are therefore in the troublous fear of their own scrupulous conscience, submit the rule of their own conscience, to the counsel of some other good man, which after the variety and the nature of the scrupulous, may temper his advise: yea although a man be very well learned himself, yet let him in this case learn the custom used among physicians: for be one of them never so cunning, yet in his own disease and sickness, he never useth to trust all to himself, but sendeth for such of his fellows, as he knoweth meet, and putteth himself in their hands for many considerations, whereof they assign the causes, and one of the causes is fear, whereof upon some tokens he may conceive in his own passion, a great deal more than needeth: & that were good for his health, that for the time he knew no such thing at all. I knew once in this town, one of the most cunning men in that faculty, and the best expert, and therewith the most famous to● and he that the greatest cures did upon other men, and yet when he was himself once very sore sick, I heard his fellows that than looked unto him, of all which, every one would in their own disease, have used his help before any other men, wish yet that for the time of his own sickness, being so sore as it was, he had known no physic at all, he took so great heed unto every suspicious token, and feared so far the worst, that his fear did him some time much more harm than the sickness gave him cause. And therefore as I say, whoso hath such a trouble of his scrupulous conscience, let him for a while forbear the judgement of himself, and follow the counsel of some other whom he knoweth for well learned and verteous● and specially in the place of confession, for there is god specially present with his grace, assisting his holy Sacrament, and let him not doubt to acquit his mind and follow that he there is biddden, and think for a while less of the fear of God's justice, and be more merry in the remembrance of his mercy, and persever in prayer for grace, and abide and dwell faithfully in the sure hope of his help, and than shall he find without any doubt, that the pavise of God's troth shall, as the Prophet saith, so compass him about, that he shall not need to dread this nights fear of scrupulosity, but shall have afterward his conscience stablished in good quiet and rest.   

The xu Chpter. another kind of the nights fear, an other daughter of pusillanimity, that is to weet, that horrible temptation by which some folk are tempted to kill and destroy themself.  Vincent. 
Verily good Uncle, you have in my mind, well declared these kinds of the night's fear.  ☞ Antony. 
Sureli Cousin, but yet are there many more than I can either remember or find: howbeit, one yet cometh to my mind now, of which I before no thing thought● and which is yet in mine opinion, of all the other fears the most horrible: that is to wit Cousin, where the devil tempteth a man to kill and destroy himself.  Vincent. 
Undoubtedly this kind of tribulation is marvelous and strange, and the temptation is of such a sort, that some men have opinion that such as fall once in that fantasy, can never after full cast it of.  ☞ Anthony. 
Yes, yes Cousin, many a hundredth, and else god forbidden: but the thing that maketh men so say, is because that of those which finally do destroy themselves, there is much speech and much wondering, as it is well worthy, but many a good man, and many a good woman hath sometime, yea divers years each after other, continually be tempted thereto, & yet have by grace and good counsel, well and virtuously withstand it, and been in conclusion clearly delivered of it, and their tribulation nothing known abroad, and therefore nothing talked of: but surely Cousin, an horrible sore trouble it is to any man or woman that the devil tempteth therewith: many have I heard of, and with some have I talked myself, that have been sore encumbered with that temptation, and marked have I not a little the manner of them.  ☞ Vincent. 
I require you good uncle, show me somewhat of such things as you perceive therein, for first where you call this kind of temptation the daughter of pusillanimity, and thereby so near of sib unto the nights fear, me thinketh on the other side, that it is rather a thing that cometh of a great courage and boldness, when they dare their own hands put them self to death, from which we see almost every man shrink and flee, as that many such as we know by good proof and plain experience for men of great heart and of an exceeding hardy courage.  ☞ Anthony. 
I said Cousin Uyncent, of that pusillanymytie cometh this temptation, and very truth it is. that in deed it so doth, but yet I meynt it not that of only faint heart and fear it cometh and groweth alway, for the devil tempteth sundry folks by sundry ways: but the cause wherefore I spoke of none other kind of temptation, than of only that which is the daughter that the devil begetteth upon pusyllanimitie, was for that, that those other kinds of that temptation fall not under the nature of tribulation and fear, and therefore fall they far out of our matter here, and are such temptations as only need counsel, and not comfort or consolation, for that the persons therewith tempted, be with that kind of temptation not troubled in their mind, but verily well content, both in tempting and following: for some hath there been Cousin such, that they have be tempted thereto by mean of a foolish pride, & some by the mean of anger, without any dread at all, & very glad thereto, to this I say not nay. But where as you ween that none fall thereto by fear, but that they have all a strong mighty stomach, that shall you see the contrary, & that peradventure in those of whom you would ween the stomach most strong, and their heart and courage most hardy.  Vincent. 
Yet is it marvel Uncle to me that it should be as you say it is, that this temptation is unto them that do it for pride or for anger, no tribulation, nor that they should need in so great a dyst●esse & peril both of body and soul to be lost, no manner of good ghostly comfort at all,  Anthony. 
Let us therefore Cousin, consider a sample or two, for thereby shall we the better perceive it. There was here in Buda in king Ladislaus days, a good poor honest man's wife: this woman was so fiendyshe, that the Devil perceiving her nature, put her in the mind that she should anger her husband so sore, that she might give him an occasion to kill her, & than he should be hanged for her.  Vincent. 
This was a strange temptation in deed: what the Devil should she be the better than?  Anthony. 
Nothing, but that it eased her shrewd stomach before, to think that her husband should be hanged after. And peradventure if you look about the world and consider it well, you shall find more such stomachs than a few. Have you never heard no furious body say plainly, that to see some such man have a myschy●fe, he would with good will be content to lie as long in hell as God liveth in heaven?  Vincent. 
Forsooth and some such have I heard?  ☞ Anthony. 
This mind of his was not much less mad than hers, but rather happily the more mad of the twain, for the woman peradventure did not cast so far pe●ell therein. But to tell you now to what good pass her chartable purpose came: as her husband (the man was a carpenter) stood hewing with his chyppe axe upon a piece of timber, she began after her old guise, so to revile him, that the man waxed wroth at last, and ●ade her get her in or he would lay the helve of his axe about her back, & said also, that it were little sin even with that axe head to chop of that unhappy head of hers, that carried such an ungracious tongue therein. At that word the devil took his time, and whetted her tongue against her teeth, and when it was well sharped, she swore unto him in very fierce anger. By the mass whoreson husband I would thou wouldst, here lieth my head lo, (& therewith down she laid her head upon the same timber log) if thou smite it not of, I beshrew thy horesons heart. With that, likewise as the devil stood at her elbow, so stood (as I heard say) his good angel at his, and gave him ghostly courage, and bade him be bold and do it. And so the good man up with his chyppe axe, & at a chop chopped of her head in deed. There were standing other folk by, which had a good sport to hear her chide, but little they looked for this chance till it was done ere they could let it: they said they heard her tongue babble in her head, and call horeson● horeson● twice after the head was from the body. At leastwise, afterward unto the king, thus they reported all, except only one, & that was a woman, and she said that she heard it not.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth this was a wonderful work, what became uncle of the man?  ☞ Anthony. 
The king gave him his pardon.  ☞ Vincent. 
verily he might in conscience do no less.  ☞ Anthony. 
But than was i● farther at neither point, that there should have been a statute made, that in such case, there should never after pardon be granted, but the truth being able to be proved, no husband should need any pardon, but should have leave by the law to follow the sample of the carpenter and do the same.  Vincent. 
How happened it uncle, that the good law was left unmade?  Antony. 
How happened it? as it happeth Cousin, that many more be left unmade as well as it, and within a little as good as it to, both here & in other countries, & some time some worse made in their stead. But as they say, the let of that law was the queens grace, god forgive her soul: it was the greatest thing I ween good Lady that she had to answer for when she died, for surely save for the one thing, she was a full blessed woman. But letting now that law pass, this temptation in procuring her own death was unto this carpenters wife no tribulation at all, as far as ever men could perceive: for it liked her well to think thereon, and she even longed therefore. And therefore, if she had before told you or me her mind, and that she would bring it so fain to pass, we could have had no occasion to comfort her as one that were in tribulation, but marry counsel her (as I told you before) we well might, to refrain and amend that devilish mind of hers.  ☞ Vincent. 
verily that is truth, but such as are well willing to do any purpose that is so shameful, will never tell their mind to no body for very shame.  ☞ Antony. 
Some will not in deed, & yet are their some again, that, be their intent never so shameful, find some yet, whom their heart serveth them to make of their counsel therein. Some of my folk here can tell you, that no longer ago than even yesterday, one that came out of Uienna showed us among other talking, that a rich widow (but I forgot to ask him where it happened) having all her life an high proud mind and a fell, as those two virtues are wont always to keep company together, was at debate with an other neighbour of hers in the town, & on a time she made of her counsel a poor neighbour of hers, whom she thought for money, she might induce to follow her mind: with him secretly she broke, and offered him ten Duccattes for his labour to do so much for her, as come in a morning early to her house, & with an axe, unknown, privily to strike of her head: and when he had so done, than convey the bloody axe, into the house of him with whom she was at debate, in some such manner of wise, as it might be thought that he had murdered her of malice, & than she thought she should be taken for a martyr. And yet had she farther devised, that a other sum of money should after be sent to Rome, and that there should be means made to the Pope, that she might in all hast be canonized. This poor man promised, but intended not to perform it, howbeit, when he deferred it, she provided the axe herself, and he appointed with her the morning when he should come. But than set he such other folk, as he would should know her frantic fantasy, in such place appointed as they might well hear her and him talk together. And after that he had talked with her thereof what he would, so much as he thought was enough, he made her lie down, & took up the axe in his one hand, & with the other hand he felt the edge, and found a fault that it was not sharp, and that therefore he would in no wise do it, till that he had ground it sharper, he could not else he said for piety, it would put her to so much pain, & so full sore against her will, for that time she kept her head still: But because she would not suffer any more to deceive her so and food her forth with delays, ere it was very long after, she hanged herself with her own hands.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth here was a tragical story, whereof I never heard the like.  ☞ Antony. 
Forsooth the party that told it me, swore that he knew it for a truth. And himself is I promise you such, as I reckon for right honest, & of substantial truth. Now here she le●ted not as shameful a mind as she had, to make one of her counsel yet, and yet as I remember an other to, whom she trusted with the money that should procure her canonization. And here I wot well that her temptation came not of fear, but of high malice & pride. But than was she so glad in the pleasant devise thereof, that as I showed you, she took it for no tribulation, but for a marvelous merry mortal temptation. And therefore, comforting of her could have no place: but if men should any thing give ●er toward her help, it must have been (as I told you) good counsel: and therefore as I said, this kind of temptation to a man's own destruction which reqireth counsel, & is out of tribulation, was out of our matter, that is to weet of comfort in tribulation.   

The xvi Chapter. Of him that were moved to kill himself by illusion of the Devil, which he reckoned for a revelation.  
BUt lest you might reject both those samples, weninge they were but feigned tales, I shall but put you in remembrance of one, which I reckon yourself have read in the collations of Cassianus: & if you have not, there may you soon find it, for myself have half forgotten the thing, it is so long since I read it: but thus much I remember, that he telleth of one there that was all his days a very holy man in his living, & among the other virtuous monks & Anckres that lived in wilderness, was marvelously much esteemed, saving that some were not all out of fear of him, lest his revelations, whereof he told many by himself, would prove illusions of the devil, and so proved it after in deed: for the man was by the devils subtle suggestions brought into such an high spiry●uall pride that in conclusion the devil brought him to that horrible point that he made him to kill himself, & as far as my mind giveth me now, without new sight of the book, be brought him to it by this persuasion, that he made him believe it was gods will he should so do, & that thereby should he go straight to heaven. And than if it were by that persuasion with which he took very great comfort in his own mind himself, was it then as I said out of our case here, and needed not comfort, but counsel against giving credence to the devels persuasion. But marry if he made him first perceive how he had been deluded, & than tempted him to his own death by shame & despair, than was it in our matter lo, for than was his temptation fallen down from pride to pusyllanimitie, & was waxed that kind of the nights fear that I spoke of, wherein a good part of the counsel that were to be given him, should have need to stand in good comforting, for than was he brought to right sore tribulation: but as I was about to tell you, strength of heart and courage is there none therein, not only for that very strength as it hath the name of virtue in a reasonable creature can never be without prudence, but also for that as I said even in them that some men of most hardiness it shall well appear to them that well weigh the matter, that the mind whereby they be led to destroy themself, groweth of pusyllanymytie and very foolish fear. Take for the sample, Cato uticensis, which in Affrycke killed himself, after the great victory of julyus Ceasa● had. S. Austyn well declareth in his work, De civitate dei, that there was no strength nor magnanimity therein but plain pusyllanimitie, and impotency of stomach, whereby he was forced to the destruction of himself, b●cause his heart was to feeble to bear the beholding of an other man's glory, or the suffering of other calamities, that he feared should fall on himself. So that. S. Austen well proveth that horrible deed is no act of strength, but an act of the mind, either drawn from the consideration of itself, with some devilish fantasy, wherein the man hath need to be called home with good counsel, or else oppressed by faint heart and fear, wherein a good part of the counsel must stand in lifting up his courage, with good consolation and comfort: and therefore if we found any such religious person as was that father which Cassyon writeth of, that were of such austerytie and apparent ghostly living, that he were with such as knew him reputed for a man of singular virtue, and that it were perceived that he had many visions appearing unto him, if it should now be perceived after the that ye● man went about secretly to destroy himself, who so should hap to come to the knowledge thereof, and intended to do his devor in the let: first must he find the means to search and find out, whether the man be in his manner and in his countenance, lightsome, glad and joyful, or dumpish heavy or sad: and whither he go there about as one that were full of the glad hope of heaven, or as one that had his breast farsed full of tediousness & weariness of the world: if he were founden of the first fashion, it were a token that the devil hath by his fantastical apparitions puffed him up in such a pievyshe pride, that he hath finally persuaded him by some illusion showed him for the proof, that gods pleasure is that he shall for his sake with his own hands kill himself.  Vincent. 
What if a man so found it uncle, what counsel should a man give him than?  ☞ Anthony. 
That were somewhat out of our purpose Cousin, sith as I told you before, the man were not than in sorrow and tribulation, whereof our matter speaketh, but in a perilous me●ye mortal temptation: so that if we should beside our own matter that we have taken in hand entre into that to, we might hap to make a longer work between both, than we could well finish this day. Howbeit to be short, it is soon seen, that therein the counsel and the effect thereof, must in manner rest in giving him warning of the devils sleights, & that must be done under such pleasant sweet manner, as the man should not abhor to hear it: for while it could lightly be none other but that the man were rocked and sungen a sleep by the devils craft, and thereby his mind occupied as it were in a delectable dream, he should never have good audience of him that would rudely & boysteously shugge him and wake him and so shake him out therof● Therefore must you fair & easily touch him, & with some pleasant speech awake him so, that he wax not wayward as children do that are waked ere they lust to rise. But when a man hath first begun with his praise (for if he be proud, ye shall much better please him with a commendation than with a dyrige) than after favour won therewithal, a man may little & little insinuate the doubt of such revelations, not at the first as it were, that it were for any doubt of his, but of some other men that in some other places talk of. And peradventure it shall not miscontent himself to show great perils that may fall therein in an other man's case than his own, and shall begin to preach upon it.  
Or if you were a man that had not a scrupulous conscience of an harmless lie, devised to do good with all, which kind. S. justen (though he take always for sin, yet he taketh it but for venial) and S. Jerome) as by divers places of his books appeareth) taketh not fully for so much, than may you feign some secret friend of yours to be in such case, & y● yourself somewhat fear his peril, and have made of charity this viage for his sake to ask this good father's counsel. And in the communycation may you bring in these words of. S. john. Nolite omni spiritui credere, sed probate spiritus si ex deo sunt give not credence unto every spirit, but prove whither they be of god. And these words of. S. Paul, Angelus Sathane transfigurat se in angelum lucis. The Angel of Satan transfigureth himself into the Angel of light, you shall take occasion the better if they hap to come in on his own side, but yet not lack occasion neither if those texts for lack of his offer come in upon your own occasion I say, shall you not lack to enquyer, by what sure & undeceivable tokens, a man may decern the true revelations from the false illusions, whereof a man shall find many both here & there, in divers other authors, & whole together diverse goodly treatises of that good godly doctor M. Io. Gerson, ent●tuled● De probatione spirituum. As if the pa●ti be natural wise or any thing seem fantastical, or whither the party be poor spirited or poude, which will somewhat appear by his delight in his own praise, or if of wiliness, or of an other pride for to be praised of humility, he re●use to hear thereof, yet any little fault found in himself or diffidence declared and mistrust of his own revelations & doubtful tokens told, whereof himself should fear lest they be the devels illusions. Such things (as M. Gerson saith) will make him to spette out somewhat of his spiteful spirit, if the devil lie in his breast. Or if the devil be yet so subtle that he keep himself close in his warm den, and blow out never a hot word, yet is it to be considered what end his revelations draw to, whither to any spiritual profit to himself or other folk, or only to vain marvels and wonders. Also, whither they withdraw him from such other good virtuous business, as by the common rules of Christendom, or any rules of his profession he was wont to use, or were bound to be occupied in. Or whither he fall into any singularity of opinions against the scripture of God, or against the common faith of Christ'S catholic church, many other tokens are there in that work of M. Gerson spoken of to consider by, whither the parson neither having revelations of GOD, nor illusions from the Devil, do either for winning of moneye● or wordly favour, feign his revelations himself to delude the people withal.  
But now for our purpose, if among any of the marks by which the true revelation may be known from the false illusions, that may himself bring forth for one mark, the doing or teaching of any thing against the scripture of GOD, or the common faith of the church, than have you an entry made you, by which when you lust you may entre into the special matter wherein he can never well flit from you. Or else may you if you lus●e, ●ayne that your secret friend, for whose sake you come to him for counsel, is brought into that mind by a certain apparition showed unto him as himself ●ayth by an Angel as you fear by the Devil, that he can be by you none other ways persuaded as yet, but that the pleasure of God is that he shall kill himself, and that if he so do, than shall he be thereby so special partycypant of Christ'S passion, that he shall forthwith be carried up with Angels into heaven, for which he is so joyful, that he firmly purposeth upon it, no less glad to do it, than another man would be glad to void it. And therefore may you desire his good counsel, to instruct you with some good substantial advise, wherewith you may turn him from this error, that he be not under hope of gods true revelation in body & soul destroyed by the devils false delusion: if he will in this thing study and labour to instruct you, the things that himself shall find out of his own invention, though they be less effectual, shall peradventure more work with himself toward his own amendemet, sith he shall of likelihood better like them, than shall the double substantial things told by another man if he be loath to think upon the side & therefore shrink from the matter: than is there none other way, but adventure after the plain fashion, to fall into the matter, & show what you hear, and to give him counsel & exhortation to the contrary: but if you lust to say that thus and thus hath the matter been reasoned already between your friend and you, and therein may you rehearse such things, that should prove that the vision which moveth him, is no true revelation but a false illusion.  Vincent. 
verily uncle I well allow this, that a man should as well in this thing as every other, wherein he longeth to do an other man good, seek such a pleasant way as the party should be likely to like, or at the least wise well to take in worth his communication, and not so to enter in thereunto, as he whom he would help should abhor him, and be loath to hear him, and therefore to take no profit by him.  
But now Uncle, if it come by the one way or the other to the point to hear me he will or shall: what be the reasons effectual with which I should by counsel convert him?  ☞ Anthony. 
All those by which you may make him perceive that himself is deceived, and that his visions be no godly revelations, but very devilish illusions. And those reasons must you gather of the man, of the matter, and of the law of God, or of some one of these. Of the man, if you can peradventure show him that in such a point or such, he is waxed worse since such revelations have haunted him, than he was before, as in those that are deluded, whoso be well acquynated with them, shall well mark and perceive, for they wax more proud, more wayward, more envious, suspicious, mysseiudging, and depraving other men, with they delight of their own praise, and such other spiritual vices of the soul.  
Of the matter may you gather if you have proved his revelation before false, or that they be things rather strange then profitable, for that is a good mark between God's miracles and the devils wonders, for christ and his saints have their miracles alway tending to fruit and profit, the devil and his witches and Necromancer, all their wonderful works draw to no fruitful end, but to a fruitless ostentation, & show as it were a juggler that would for a show before the people, play masteries at a feast.  
Of the law of God you must draw your reasons in showing by the scripture that the thing which he weeneth God by his Angel biddeth, God hath his own mouth forbidden, and that is you wot well in the case that we speak of, so easy to find, that I need not to rehearse it unto you, sith there is plain among the x commandments forbidden the unlawful kill of any man, and therefore of himself as. S. Austen sayeth, and all the church teacheth, except himself be no man.  Vincent. 
This is very true good uncle, nor I will not dispute upon any glozing of that prohibition, but sith we find not the contrary but that god may dispense with that commandment himself, & both licence and command also if him lust, any man to go kill either an other man or himself either: this man that is now by such a marvelous vision induced to believe that God so biddeth him, & therefore thinketh himself in that case of that prohibition discharged, and charged with the contrary commandment: with what reason may we make him perceive that this vision is but an illusion, and not a true revelation?  ☞ Anthony. 
Nay Cousin Uincent, you shall not need in this case to require those reasons of me: but taking the Scripture of God for a ground in this matter, you know very well yourself, you shall go somewhat a shorter way to work if you ask this question of him, that sith god hath forbidden the thing once himself, though he may dispense therewith if he will, yet s●th the devil may feign himself god, and with a marvelous vision delude one, & make as though god did it, & sith the devil also is more likely to speak against god's commandment than god against his own: you shall have good cause I say, to demand of the man himself whereby he knoweth that his vision● is gods true revelation, and not the devils false delusion.  ☞ Vincent. 
In deed uncle I think that would be an hard question for him: may a man have uncle in such a thing, even a very sure knowledge in his own mind?  ☞ Anthony. 
Yea Cousin, God may cast in the mind of a man I suppose, such an inward light and understanding, that he cannot ●ayle but be sure thereof. And yet h● that is deluded by the devil, may think himself as sure & yet be deceived in dede● And such a difference is there in a manner between them, as is between the sight of a thing while we be waking & look thereon, & the sight with which we see a thing in our sleep, while we dream ●herof.  Vincent. 
This is a preaty similitude uncle in this thing, & than is it easy for the monk that we spoke of, to declare how he knoweth his vision for a true revelation, and not a false desusyon, if there be so great difference between them.  ☞ Anthony. 
Not so easy Cousin yet as you ween it were, for how can you prove unto me that you be awake?  Vincent. 
Marry lo: do I not wag my hand, shake my head, and stampewith my feet here in the ●●ore?  Anthony. 
Have you never dreamt ere this, that you have done the same.  Vincent. 
Yes that I have, & more to than that, for I have ere this in my sleep, dreamt that I doubted whither I were awake or asleep, and have in good faith thought that I did thereupon even the same things that I do now in deed, & thereby determined that I was not a sleep. And yet have I dreamt in good faith farther, that I have been afterward at dinner, & there making merry with company, have told the same dream at the table & laughed well thereat, that while I was asleep, I had by such means of moving the parts of my body, & considering thereof, so verily thought myself waking.  ¶ Anthony. 
And will you not now soon trow you when you wake & rise, laugh as well at yourself when you see that you lie now in your warm bed asleep again and dream all this time, while you ween so verily, that you be waking and talking of these matters with me.  ☞ Vincent. 
God's lord uncle, you go now merely to work with me in deed, when you look and speak so sadly, and would make me ween I were asleep.  ☞ Anthony. 
It may be that you be so, for any thing that you can say or do, whereby you may with any reason that you can make, drive me to confess that yourself be sure of the contrary, sith you can do nor say nothing now, whereby you be sure to be waking, but that you have ere this, or hereafter may think yourself as surely to do the self same things in deed, while you be all the while a sleep, and nothing do but lie dreaming.  ☞ Vincent. 
Well well uncle, though I have ere this thought myself awake, while I was in deed asleep, yet for all this I know well enough that I am awake now, and so do you to, though I cannot find the words by which I may with reason enforce you to confess it, but that alway you may drive me of by the sample of my dream.  Antony. 
This is Cousin as me seemeth very true. and likewise seemeth me the matter and difference between some kind of true revelations, and some kind of false illusions, as it standeth between the things that are done waking, and the things that in our dreams seem to be done while we be sleeping: that is to weet, that he which hath that kind of revelation from god, is as sure of the truth as we be of our own deed while we be waking. And he that is illuded by the devil, is in such wise deceived, and worse to, than be they by their dream, & yet reckoneth himself as sure for the time as the other, saving that the one falsely weeneth, and the other truly knoweth: but I say not Cousin that this kind of sure knowledge, cometh in every kind of revelation, for there are many kinds whereof were to long to talk now, but I say that God doth, or may do to man in some thing, certainly send some such.  Vincent. 
Yet than may this religious man of whom we spoke, when I show him the Scripture against his revelation, (and therefore call it an illusion,) bid me with reason go care for myself, for he knoweth well and surely himself that his revelation is good and true, and not any false illusion, sith for all the general commandment of god in the Scripture God may dispense where he will, and when he will, and may command him to do the contrary, as he commanded Abraham to kill his own son, and as Samson had by inspiration of God commandment to kill himself with pulling down the house on his own head at the feast of the Philistines, now if I would do than, as you bade me right now, go tell him that such apparytions were illusions, and sith that god's word is in the Scripture against him plain for the prohibition: he must prove me the truth of his revelation, whereby I may know that it is not a false illusion. Than shall he ask me again whereby that I can prove myself to be awake and talk with him, and not to be asleep and dream so, sith in my dream I may as surely ween so, as I know that I do so, and thus shall he drive me to the same bay, to which I would bring him.  ☞ Anthony. 
This is well said Cousin, but yet could he not scape you so, for the dispensation of God's common precept, which dispensation (he must say that he hath by his revelation) is a thing of such sort as showeth itself nought & false: for it never hath had any sample like since the world began till now, that any man hath read or heard of among faithful people commended. first in Abraham as touching the death of his son, god intended it not● but only tempted the towardness of the father's obedience. In Samson all men make not the matter very sure, whether he be saved or not, but yet therein some matter & cause appeareth, for the Philistines being enemies to god, & using Samson for their mocking stock, in scorn of God, it is well likely that God gave him the mind to bestow his own life upon the revenging of the displeasure ●hat those blasphemous Philistines did unto god, and that appeareth meetly clearly by this, that though his strength failed him when he wanted his here, yet had he not, as it seemeth, that strength evermore at hand while he had his here but at such times as it pleased god to give it hymn which thing appeareth by these words that the Scripture in some place of that matter sayeth. Ir●uit virtus dominni in Sampsonem. The power or might of god rushed into Samson, and so therefore while this thing that he did in the pulling down of the house, was done by the special gift of strength, than at that point given him by god it well declareth that the strength of god, and therewith the spirit of god entered into him. Therefore. S. Aus●en also rehearseth that certain holy virtuous virgins in time of persecution, being by gods enemy's infidels pursued upon to be deflowered by force, ran into a water and drowned themself rather than they would be bereaved of their virginity: and albeit that he thinketh that it is not lawful for any other maid to follow their sample, but rather suffer other to do her any manner violence by force, and commit sin of his own upon her against her will, than willingly, and thereby sinfully herself become an homicide of herself, yet he thinketh that in them it happened by the special instinct of the spirit of god, that for causes seen unto himself, would rather that they should avoid it with their own temporal death, than abide the defile and violation of their chastity. But now this good man neither ha●h any of god's enemies to be by his own death revenged on, nor any woman that violentli pursue him by force to bereave him of his virginity: nor never find we that god proved any man's obedient mind by the commandment of his own slaughter of himself, therefore is his case both plain against gods open precept, and the dispensation strange, and without sample no cause appearing nor well imaginable: but if he would think that he could no longer live without him nor take him ●o him in such wise as he doth other men, but command him to come by a forbidden way, by which without o●her cause we never heard that he had any man before: now where you think that you should after this, bid him tell you by what way he knoweth that his intent riseth upon a true revelations & not upon a false illusion● he would bid you than again tell him by what means you know that you be talking with him well waking, and not dream it sleeping. You may tell him again, that men thus talk together as you do, and in such manner of wise they may prove and perceive that they so do by the moving of themself, and with putting the question thereof unto themself for their pleasure, and the marking and considering thereof, is in waking a daily common thing that every man doth or may do when he will: and when they do it, they do it but of pleasure, but in sleep it happeth very seld that men dream that they so do, nor in their dream never put they question but for doubt, and therefore it is more reason, that while his revelation is such also that happeth so seld, and ofter happeth that men dream of such, than have such in deed: therefore it is more reason you may tell him, that he show you in such a rare thing, and a thing more like a dream, that himself is not asleep, than you in such a common thing among folk that are waking, and so seldom happing in a dream, should need to show him whereby you know that you be not a sleep. Besides this, himself to whom you should show it, seeth and perceiveth the thing that he would bid you prove, but the thing that he would make you believe the truth of, his revelation which you bid him prove, you see not he wotteth well himself: and therefore ere you believe it against the Scripture, it were well consonant unto reason that he should show you whereby he knoweth it for a true waking revelation, and not for a false dreaming delusion.  Vincent. 
Than shall he peradventure say to me again, that whether I believe him or no●, maketh him no matter: the thing toucheth himself and not me, and himself is in himself as sure that it is a true revelation, as that he can tell that he dreameth not, but talketh with me waking.  ☞ Antony. 
Without doubt Cousin, if he abide at that point, and can be by no reason brought to do so much as doubt, and can by no means be shugged out of his dead sleep, but will needs take his dream for a very truth, and as some by night rise & walk about their chamber in their sleep, will so rise and hang himself: I can than no other ways see, but either bind him fast in his bed, or else assay whether that might hap to help him, with which the common tale goeth that a carvers wife in such a frantic fantasy, holp her husband, to whom when he told he would upon a good friday needs have killed himself for Christ's sake, as Christ was killed for him, she would not in vain plead against his mind, but well and wisely put him in remembrance, that if he would die for Christ as Christ died for him, it were then convenient for him to die even after the same fashion, and that might not be by his own hands, but by the hand of some other: for Christ pardy killed not himself, and because her husband should need to make no more ofcounsayle (for that he would not in no wise) she offered him that for god's sake she would secretly herself crucify him on a great cross, that he had made to nail a great crucifix upon, whereof when he was very glad, yet she bethought her that christ was bound to a pillar and beaten first, and after crowned with thorn, whereupon when she had by his own assent bound him fast to a post, she left not beating with holy exhortation to suffer so much and so long, that or ever she left work and unbound him, praying him nevertheless that she might put on his head, and drive it well down, a crown of thorn that she had writhen for him, and brought him: he said he thought that was enough for that year, he would pray GOD to forbear him of the remnant ●yl good friday come again. But when it came again the next ye●e, than was his lus●e paste, he longed to follow christ no farther.  Vincent. 
In deed uncle if this help him not, than will nothing help him I trow.  Antony. 
And yet Cousin, peradventure the devil might make him toward such a purpose first gladly first suffer other pain, and minish his feeling to therein, that he may thereby the less fear his death, & yet are peradventure sometime such things & many more to be assayed. For as the devil may hap to make him suffer, so may he hap to miss, namely if his friends fall to prayer against his temptation, for that can himself never do, while he taketh it for none. But for conclusion, if the man be surely proved, & so inflexibly set upon the purpose to destroy himself, as commanded thereto by god, that no good counsel that men can give him, nor any other thing that men may do to him, can refrain him, but that he would shortly kill himself, than except only good prayer made by his friends for him, I can find no farther shifte● but ever have him in sight, or bind him fast in his bed. And so mu●●e he needs of reason be content so to be ordered, for though himself take his fantasy for a true revelation, yet sith he can not make us perceive it for such, like wise as he thinketh himself by his secret commandment bounden to follow it, so must he needs agree, that sith it is against the plain prohibition of god, we be by the plain open precept bound to keep him from it.  Vincent. 
In this point uncle I can go no farther: but now if he were on the other side perceived to mind his destruction, & to go there about with heaviness of heart, thought & dullness, what way were there to be used with him then?  ¶ Anthony. 
Then were his temptation as I told you before, properly pertaining to our matter, for than were he in a sore tribulation, & a very perilous, for than were it a token that the devil had either by bringing him into some great sin, brought him into despair, or peradventure his revelations founden false & reproved, or by some secret sin of his divulged and deprehended cast him both in despair of heaven thorough fear, and in a weariness of this life for shame, sith he seeth his estimation lost among other folk, of whose praise he was wont to be proud: & therefore Cousin, in such case as this is, the man is to be fair handled and sweetly, and with dowce and tender loving words to be put in good courage, & comforted in all that men godly may. And here must they put him in mind, that if he despair not, but pull up his courage, and trust in gods great mercy, he shall have in conclusion great cause to be glad of this fall, for before he stood in greater peril than he was ware of, while he took himself for better than he was, and god for ●auour that he bore him hath suffered him to fall deep into the devils ranger, to make him thereby know what he was, while he took himself for so sure, and therefore as he suffered him than to fall for a remedy against over bold pride, so will god now (if the man meken himself not with unfruitful despair, but with fruitful penance) so set him up again upon his feet, & so strengthen him with his grace, that for this one fall that the devil hath given him, he shall give the devil an hundredth. And here must he be put in remembrance of mary Magdalene, of the prophet David, and specially of Saint Peter, whose high bold courage took a foul fall, and yet because he despaired not of god's mercy. but wept and called upon it, how highly God took him into his favour again, in his holy scripture is well testified & well through christendom known: & now shall it be charitably done, if some good virtuous folk such as himself somewhat esteemeth, and hath afore longed to stand in estimation with, do resort some time unto him, not only to give him counsel, But also to ask advise and counsel of him, in some cases of their own conscience● to let him thereby perceive that they no less esteem him now, but rather more than they did before, sith they think him now by this fall better expert of the devils craft, and thereby not only better instructed himself but also better able to give good counsel and advise to other. This thing will in my mind, well amend and lift up his courage from the peril of that desperate shame.  ☞ Vincent. 
Me thinketh uncle that this were a perilous thing. For it may peradventure make him set the less by his fall, and thereby cast him into his first pride, or into his other sin again: the falling whereunto drove him into this despair.  ☞ Antony. 
I do not mean Cousin, that every fool should at adventure fall in hand with him, for so lo might it hap for to do harm in deed. But Cousin, if a cunning Physician have a man in hand, he can well discern when and how long some medicine is necessary, which at an other time ministered or at that time overlonge continued might put the patient in peril, for if he have his patient in an ague, to the cure whereof he needeth his medicines in their working, cold: yet if he hap ere that fever be full cured to fall into some such other disease, as except it were helped with hot medicines, were likely to kill the body before the fever could be cured, he would for the while have his most care to the cure of that thing wherein were most present peril, & when that were once out of jeopardy, do than the more except diligence after, about the farther cure of the fever. And likewise, if the ship were in peril to fall into Scylla, the fear of falling into Charibdys, on the other side, shall never let any wise master thereof, to draw him from Scylla toward Charibdys first of all, in all that ever he may. But when he hath him once so far from Scylla, that he seeth himself out of that danger, them will he begin to take heed to keep him well from the other: & likewise when this man is falling down to despair & to the final destruction of himself, a good wise spiritual leech will first look unto that, & by good comfort lift up his courage, & when he seeth that peril well past, care for the cure of his other faults after: howbeit, even in the giving of his comfort, he may find ways enough in such wise to temper his words, that the man may take occasion of good courage, & yet far from occasion giving, of more recidivation into his former sin, sith the great part of his counsel shall be to courage him to amendment, & that is pardy far from falling to sin again.  ☞ Vincent. 
I think Uncle that folk fall into this ungracious mind throw the devils temptation by many more means than one.  Antony. 
That is Cousin very true, for the devil taketh his occasions as he seeth them fall meet for him. Some he stirreth to it through weariness of themself after some great loss, some for fear of bodily harm, and some as I said, for fear of worldly shame. One wist I myself which had been long reputed for an honest man, which was fallen in such a fantasy, that he was well near worn away therewith: but what he was tempted to do, that would he tell no man, but he told unto me that he was sore cumbered, & that it always ran in his mind that folks fantasies were fallen from him, and that they esteemed not his wit as they were wont to do, but ever his mind gave him that the people begun to take him for a fool, & folk of troth did no thing so at all, but reputed him both for wise and honest. Two other knew I that were marvelously afraid that they should kill themself, & could tell me no cause wherefore they so feared it, but only that their own mind so gave them, neither loss had they any's nor no such thing toward them, nor none occasion of any worldly shame, the one in body very well liking and lussy, & wondrous weary were they both twain of that mind, and alway they thought that do it they would not for no thing, but nevertheless they ever feared they should, and wherefore they so both feared, neither of them both could tell, & the one le●t he should do it, desired is friends to bind him.  ¶ Vincent. 
This is uncle a marvelous strange manner.  ☞ Antony. 
Forsooth Cousin I suppose that many of them are in this case the devil as I said before seeketh his occasions. For as. S. Peter saith, Diabolus tanquam leo rugens circuit querens quem devoret. The devil as a roaring Lion goeth about seeking whom he may devour. He marketh well the state and the condition that every man stands in, not only concerning these outward things, as lands, possessions, goods, authority, fame, favour or hatred of the world, but also men's complexions within them, as health, or sickness, good humours or bad, by which they be light hearted or lumpyshe, strong hearted or faint, or fieble of spirit, bold, hardy or tymerouse, & fearful of courage, & after as these things minister him matter of tentacion, so useth he himself in the manner of his temptation.  
Now likewise as in such folk that are full of young warm lusty blood, & other humours exciting the flesh to filthy voluptuous living, the devil useth to make those things his instruments in tempting them & in provoking them thereunto: & where he findeth some folk full of hot blood & collar, he maketh those humours his instruments to set their hearts on fire, in wrath & very fierce furious anger, so where he findeth some folk which thorough some dull melancoliouse humours are naturally disposed to fear, he casteth sometime such a fearful imagination in their mind, that without helps of god they can never cast it out of their hearts. Some at the sudden fall of some horrible thought into their mind, have not only had a great abomination thereat (which abomination they we●l and virtuously had thereat) but the devil using their melancolious humour (& thereby their natural inclination to fear) for his instrument, hath caused them to conceive there with such a deep dread beside, that they ween themself with that abominable thought, to be fallen into such an outrageous sin, that they be ready to fall into despair of grace, weening that god hath given them over for ever, whereas that thought (were it never so horrible & so abominable) is yet unto them that never like it, but ever still abhor it & strive still there against, matter of conflict & medite, & not any sine at al. Some have with holding a knife in their hands, thought suddenly upon the kill of themselves, & forthwith in devising what an horrible thing it were if they should mishap so to do, have fallen into a fear that they should so do in deed, & have with often thinking thereon, imprinted that fear so sore in their imagination that some of them have not ca●●e it of without great difficulty, and some could never in their life be 〈◊〉 rid thereof but have after in conclusion miserably done it in deed: but likewise as where the devil useth the blood of a man's body toward his purpose in provoking to leacherye, the man must and doth with gra●e and wisdom resist it, so must that man do whose melancholious humours the devil abuseth toward the casting of such a desperate dread into his heart.  Vincent. 
But I pray you uncle, what advice were to be given him in such case?  Anthony. 
Surely me thinketh his help standeth in two things, counsel & prayer. First as concerning counsel, likewise as it may be that he hath two things that hold him in his temptation, that is to wit, some evil humours of his own body, & the cursed devil that abuseth them to his pernicious purpose, so must he need against them twain, the counsel of two manner of folk: that is to weet, physicians for the body, & physicians for the soul: the bodily physician shall consider what abundance that man hath of those evil humours that the devil maketh his instruments of, in moving the man toward the fearful affection, & aswell by diet convenent, & medicines meet therefore, to resist them, as by purgations to disburdaine the body of them, nor let no man think strange that I would advise a man to take counsel of a physician for the body in such a spiritual passion. For sith the soul and the body be so knit and joined together, that they both make between them one person, the distemperance of either other engendereth sumtime the distemperance of both twain. And therefore, like as I would advise every man in every sickness of the body to be shriven and seek a good spiritual physician the sure health of his soul, which shall not only serve against peril that may peradventure farther grow by that sickness, than in the beginning men would ween were likely: but the comfort thereof & gods favour increasing there with, shall also do the body good for which cause the blessed Apostle exhorteth men that they should in their bodily sickness, induce the priests, & saith that it should do them good both in body & soul, so would I sumtime advise some men in some sickness of the soul, beside their spiritual leech, take also some counsel of the physician for the body. Some that are wretchedly disposed, and yet long to be more vicious than they be, go to physicians and pothecaries, and inquire what things may serve to make them more lusty to their foul ●●eshely delight: and were it than any folly upon the other side, if he that feeleth himself against his will much moved unto such uncleanness, should inquire of the physician what things without minishing of his health, were meet for the minishment of such foul fleshly motion? Of spiritual counsel, the first is to be shriven, that by reason of his other sins the devil have not the more power upon him.  Vincent. 
I have heard some say uncle, that when such folk have been at shrift, their temptation hath been more brim upon them than it was before.  Antony. 
That think I very well, but that is a special token that shrift is wholesome for them, while the devil is with that most wroth. You find in some places of the gospel, that the devil (the parson whom he possessed) did most trouble when he saw that Christ would cast him out, we must else let the devil do what he will, if we fear his anger, for with every good deed he will wax angry: than is it in his shrift to be showed him, that he not only feareth more than he needeth, but also feareth where he needeth not, and over that is sorry of that thing whereof (but if he will willingly turn his good into his harm) he hath more cause to be glad. First if he have cause to fear, yet feareth he more than he needeth, for there is no devil so diligent to destroy him. as god is to preserve him, nor no devil so near him to do him harm, as god is to do him good: nor all the devils in hell so strong to invade him and assault him, as god is to defend him, if he distrust him not, but faithfully put his trust in him. He feareth also where he needeth not: for where he dreadeth that he were out of god's favour, because such horrible thoughts fall into his mind, let him consider, that sith they fall into his mind against his will, they be therefore not imputed unto him. He is finally sad of that he may be glad: for sith he taketh such thoughts displeasantly, and striveth and fighteth against them, he hath thereby a good token that he is in god's favour, and that god assisteth him and helpeth him, and may make himself sure, that so will god never cease to do, but if himself fail and fall from him first: and over that, this conflict that he hath against his temptation, shall (if he will not fall where he needeth not) be an occasion of his merit, and a right great reward in heaven: and the pain that he taketh therein, shall for so much (as Master Gerson well showeth) stand him in stead of his purgatory. The manner of the fight against this temptation, must stand in three things: that is to weet, in resisting, and in contemning, and in the invocation of help: resist must a man for his own part by reason, considering what a folly it were to fall where he needeth not, while he is not driven to it in advoiding of any other pain, or in hope of winning any manner o● pleasure: but contrariwise should by that pain, lose everlasting bliss, and fall into everlasting pain, and if it were in avoiding of other great pain, yet could he void none so great thereby, as he should thereby fall into. He must also consider, that a great part of this temptation is in effect, but the fear of his own fantasy, the dread that he hath lest he shall once be driven to it, which thing he may be sure that, but if himself will of his own folly, all the devils in hell can never drive him to● but his own foolish imagination may: For like as some man going over an high bridge, waxeth so frayed thorough his own fantasy, that he falleth down in deed which were else able enough to pass over without any danger: and as some men shall upon such a bridge, if folk call upon him, you fall, you fall fall with the fantasy that he taketh thereof, which bridge if folk looked merely upon him, and said, there is no danger therein, he would pass over well enough, and would not let to run thereon though it were but a foot broad. Thus fareth it in this temptation, the devil findeth the man of his own fond fantasy afraid, and than crieth he in the ear of his heart, thou fallest thou fallest, and maketh the ●onde man afraid that he should at every foot fall in deed, and the devil so wearieth him with that continual fear (if he give the care of his heart unto him) that at the last he draweth his mind from the due remembrance of god, and than driveth him to that deadli mischief in deed. Therefore, like as against the vice of the flesh, the victory standeth not all whole in the fight, but also some time in the flight, saving that it is in deed the part of a wise warriors fight, to fly from his enemies trains, so must a man in this temptation to, not only resist it alway with reasoning there against, but some time set it clean at right nought, and cast it of when it cometh, and not once regard it, so much as vouchsafe to think thereon. Some folk have been clearly rid of such pestilent fantasies with very full contempt thereof, making a cross upon their hearts bidding the devil avaunt, and some time laugh him to scorn to, & than turn their mind unto some other matter, and when the devil hath seen that they have set so little by him, after many assays made in such times as he thought most meet, he hath given that temptation quite over, both for that the proud spirit cannot endure to be mocked, and also lest with much tempting the man to the same, whereunto he could not in conclusion bring him, he should much thereby increase his merit: the final fight is by invocation of god, both by praying for himself, and desiring other also to pray for him, both poor folk for his almose, & other for their charity, specially good priests in that holy sacred service of the mass, and not only them, but also his own good angels, and other holy saints, such as his devotion standeth specially unto. And if he be learned, let him use the Litany with the holy suffrages that follow, which is a prayer in the church of marvelous old antiquity, not made first as some ween it were by that holy man. S. Gregory, which opinion rose of that, that in the time of a great pestilence in Rome, he caused the whole city to go in solemn procession therewith, but it was in use in the church many years before. S. Gregoryes days, as well appeareth by the books of other old holy doctors and saints that were dead hundreds of years before. S. Gregory was borne. And holy. S. Barnard giveth counsel that every man should make suit to angels and saints to pray for him to god in the things that he would have sped at his holy hand, if any man will stick at that, and say it needs not, because god can hear us himself, and will also say, that it is perilous so to do, because they say we be not so counseled by no Scripture, I will not dispute the matter here, he that will not do it, I let him not to leave it undone: but yet for mine own part I will as well trust to the counsel of. S. barnard, and reckon him for as good and as well learned in the holy Scripture, as any man that I hear say the contrary, and better dare I jeopard my soul with the soul of Saint barnard, than with his that findeth that fault in his doctrine: unto god himself every man counseleth to have recourse above all, and in this temptation to have special remembrance of Christ's passion, and pray him for the honour of his death, the ground of man's salvation, to keep the parson thus tempted from that damnable death: special vearsis may there be drawn out of the Psalter against the devils wicked temptations, as for example. Exurgat deus & dissipentur inimici eius. & fugiant qui oderunt eum a fancy eius: and many other which are in such horrible temptation to god most pleasant, & to the devil very terrible, but none more terrible, nor none more odious to the devil, than the words with which our saviour drove him away himself. Vade Sathana, nor no prayer more acceptable unto god, nor more effectual for the matter, than those words which our saviour hath taught himself. Ne nos inducas in temptationem, sed libera nos a malo. And I doubt not by gods grace, but he that in such a temptation will use good counsel and prayer, & keep himself in good virtuous business and good vert●ous company, & abide in the faithful hope of gods help, shall have the truth of god (as the Prophet saith in the verse afore rehearsed) so compass him about with a pavice, that he shall not need to dread this nights fear of this wicked temptation: & thus will I finish this piece of the nights fear, and glad am I that we be passed it, and come once unto the day to those other words of the Prophet, A sagitta volante in die, for me thinketh I have made it a long night.   

¶ The xvii Chapter.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle so have you, but we have not slept in it, but been very well occupied. But now I fear except you make here a pause till you have dined, you shall keep yourself from your dinner overlong.  Antony. 
Nay nay Cousin, for both broke I my fast even as you came in, & also you shall found this night & this day like a winter day & a winter night. For as the winter hath short days, & long nights, so shall you find that I made not this fearful night so long but I shall make you this light courageous day as short, & so shall the matter require well of itself in deed: for in these words of the prophet. Scuto circundabit te veritas eius, a sagitta volante in die. the truth of god shall compass thee about with a pavice, from the arrow flying in the day, I understand the arrow of pride, with which the devil tempts a man not in the night in all tribulation & adversity, for that time is to uncomfortable and to fearful for pride, but in the day that is to weet, in prosperity, for that time is lightsome, lus●y, & full of courage: but surely this worldly prosperity wherein a man ●●ioiseth, & whereof the devil maketh him so proud, is but even a very short winter day, for we begin many full poor & cold, & up we fly like an arrow that were shotie up into the air: & yet when we be sodeinli shot up ●nto the highest, ere we be well warm there, down we come unto the cold ground again, & then even there stick we still, & yet for the short while that we be upward and a fit, lord how lusty & how proud we be, buzzing above busily like as a bumble Bee flieth about in summer, never ware that he shall die in winter: and so far many of us God help us, for in the short winter day of worldly wealth & prosperity, this flying arrow of the devil, this high spirit of pride shot out of the devils ●owe, & piercing thorough our heart, beareth us up in our affection aloft into the clouds where we ween we sit upon the rain bow, & overlook all the world under us, accounting in the regard of our own glory, such other poor souls as were peradventure wont to be our fellows, for silly poor pismyres & ants: but this arrow of pride fly it never so high into the clouds & be the man that it carrieth up so high, never so joyful thereof, yet let him remember, that be this arrow never so light, it hath yet an heavy iron head, & therefore fly it never so high, down must it needs come at last, and on the ground must it light, & falleth sometime not in a very cleanly place, & then the pride turneth into rebuke & shame, so that there is than all the glori gone. Of this arrow speaketh the wise man in the .v. Chapter of Sapi●̄ce, where he saith in the parson of them that in pride and vanity passed the time of this present life, & after that so spent, passed hence into hel● Quid prosuit nobis superbia aut divitiarum iactantia? quid con●ulit nobis? Transieri nt omnia illa tanquam v●bra etc. Aut taquam sagitta emissa in locum d●stinatum divisus aer contin●o in se recl●su● est, ut ignoretur tran●●ens illius, sic & nos nati conunuo desivimus es●e, & virtutis quidem null●m s●gnum valuimus ostendere, in mal gu. tate au●em nostra cosumpti sumus Talia dixerun●in inferno hi qui peccaverurt. what hath pride profited us, or that good hath the glory of our riches done vs● passed are all these things like a shadow, etc., or like an arrow shot cute into the place appointed, the air that was divided, is by & by returned into the place, & in such wise closed together again that the way is not perceived, in which the arrow went: & in likewise we, as soon as we be borne, be by & by vanished away, & have left no token of any good virtue behind vs● but are consumed & wasted & come to nought in our own malignity: they lo that have li●ed here in sin, such words have they spoken when they lay in hell. Here shall you good Cousin consider, that where as the scripture here speaketh of the arrow shot in his place appointed or intended in the sho●●●g of his arrow o● pride, thereby diverse purpo●īges & appointmentes● For the proud man himself, hath no certain purpose or appointment at any mark, butt or prick, upon the hearts whereat he determineth to shoot, & there to stick & tarry, but ever he shooteth as children do that love to shoot up a cop high to see how high their arrow can fly up, but now doth the devil intend and appoint a certain prick surely set in a place, into which he purposeth (fly this arrow never so high, and the proud heart thereon) to have them light both at last, and that place is even in the very pit of hell, there is set the devils well acquainted prick and his very just mark down, upon which prick with his pricking shaft of pride, he hath by himself a plain proof and experience, that (but if it be stopped by some grace of god in the way) the soul that flieth up therewith, can never fail to fall. For when himself was in heaven and began to fly up a cop hie, with that lusty light flight of pride, saying: Ascendam super astra & ponam solium meum ad latera aquilonis, & similis ero altissimo. I will fly up above the stars, & set my throne on the sides of the north, and will be like unto the highest, long ere he could fly half so high as in his heart he said he would, he was turned from a glorious bright Angel, into a black deformed devil: and from flying any farther upward, down was he thrown into the deep dark doungeon of hell. Now may it peradventure Cousin seem, that sith this kind of temptation of p●ide, is no tribulation or pain, all this that we speak of this arrow of pride, flying forth in the day of prosperity, were beside our matter.  Vincent. 
verily mine uncle, and so seemed it unto me, & somewhat was I minded so to say to you to, saving that were it properli pertaininng to the present matter, or somewhat disgressing therefro: good matter me thought it was, & such as I had no lust to let.  Antony. 
But now must you Cousin, consydre, that though prosperity be contrary to tribulation, yet unto many a good man, the devils temptation unto pride in prosperity, is a greater more tribulation, & need hath of good counsel and good comfort both, than he that never felt it would ween, and that is the thing Cousin that maketh me speak thereof, as of a thing propre to this matter. For Cousin, as it is a thing right hard to touch pitch & never file the fingers, to put flex unto fire, and yet keep if from burning, to keep a serpent in thy bosom, and yet be safe from stinging, to put young men with young women, without danger of foul fleshly desire: so is it hard for any parson, either man or woman, in great worldly wealth and much prosperity, so to withstand the suggestions of the devil, and the occasions given by the world, that they should keep themself from the deadly desire of ambitious glory, whereupon there followeth, if a man fall thereto, an whole flood of all unhappy mischief, arrogant manner, high solaine solemn port overloking the poor in word and countenance, displeasant and disdainouse behaviour, raven, extortion, oppression, hatred, & cruelty: now many a good man Cousin comen into great authority, casting in his mind the peril of such occasions of pride as the devil taketh of prosperity to make his instruments of, wherewith to move men to such high point of presumption, as engendereth so many great inconveniences, & feeling the devil therewith offering to themself suggestions thereunto, they be sore troubled therewith, & some fall so frayed thereof, that even in the day of prosperity they fall into the nights fear of pusillanimity, & doubteth over much lest they should miss use themselves, leave the things undone, wherein the night use themself well, and mistrusting the aid of god in holding them upright in their temptations, give place to the devil in the contrary temptations, whereby for faint heart, they leave of good business wherein they were well occupied, & under pretext (as it seemeth to themselves) of humble heart and meekness, and serving god in contemplation and silence they seek their own ease & earthly rest unware wherewith, (if it so be) god is not well content: howbeit, if it so be that a man feel himself such in deed as by experience that he hath of himself, he perceiveth that in wealth & authority he doth his own soul harm, and cannot do therein, the good that to his part appertaineth, but seeth the things that he should set his hand to sustain, decay thorough his default, and fall to ruin under him, and that to the amendment thereof, he leaveth his own duty undone: than would I in any wise advise him to leave of that thing, be it spiritual benefise that he have, parsonage or bishopric, or temporal room and authority, and rather give it over quite, and draw himself aside and serve god, than take the worldly worship and commodity for himself, with the incommodity of them whom his duty were to profit. But on the other side, i● he see not the contrary, but that he may do his duty conveniently w●ll, and feareth nothing but that the temptation of ambition and pride, may turn peradventure his good purpose, and make him decline unto sin, I say not nay, but that well done it is to stand in moderate fear alway, wherefore the Scripture saieth● Beatus homo qui semper est pavidus. Blessed is the man that is alway fearful. And. S. Paul saith: Qui stat, v●deat ne cadat, he that standeth let him look that he fall not. Yet is o●er much fear perilous, and draweth toward the mistrust of God's gracious help with immoderate fear & faint heart: and holy Scripture forbiddeth saying: Noli esse pus●llanimis, be not fieble hearted or timerouse. Let such a man therefore temper his fear with good hope, and think that sith god hath s●t him in that place (if he think that god hath set him therein) god will assist him with his grace to the well using thereof: howbeit, if he come thereto by simonis, or by some such o●her evil mean, than were that thing one good reason wherefore he should the rather leave it of, but else let him continue in his good business, & against the devils provocation unto evil, bless himself & call unto god, & pray: and look what thing the devil tempteth him to leave, the more toward the contrary, let him be pitiouse and comfortable to those that are in distress and af●●iccion, I mean not let every malefactor pass forth unpunished and freli run out and rob at rovers, but in his heart be sorry to see that of necessity for fear of decaying the common wealth, men are driven to put malefactors to pain. And yet where he findeth good tokens and likelihood of amendment, therein all that he may help that mercy may be had, there shall never lack desperately disposed wretches enough beside, upon whom for ensample justice may proceed, let him think in his own heart every poor beggar his fellow.  Vincent. 
That will be very hard uncle for an honourable man to do, when he beholdeth himself richly apparelled and the beggar rygged in his rags.  ☞ Antony. 
If here were Cousin two men that were beggars both, and afterward a great rich man would take the one unto him, and tell him that for a little time, he would have him in his house, and thereupon arrayed him in silk, and give him a great bag by his side filled even full of gold, but giving him this knot therewith, that within a little while, out he should in his old rags again, and bear never a penny with him. If this beggar met his fellow now while his gay gown were on, might he not for all his gay gear take him for his fellow still? and were he not a very fool, if for a wealth of a few weeks, he would ween himself far his better?  Vincent. 
Yes by my troth uncle, if the difference of their state were none other.  ☞ Antony. 
Surely Cousin, me thinketh that in this world between the richest and the most poor, the difference is scant so much: for let the highest look on the most base, and consider how poor they came both into this world, and than consider farther therewith, how rich soever he be now, he shall yet within a while, peradventure less than one wieke, walk out again as poor as the beggar shall, and than by my troth me thinketh this rich man much more than madde● if for the wealth of a little while, happily less than one wieke, he reckon himself in earnest, any better than the beggars fellow: and less than this can no man think that hath any natural wit, & will use it. But now a Christian man Cousin that hath the light of faith, he cannot fail to think in this thing much farther, for he will think not only upon his bare coming hither, & his bare going hence again, but also upon the dreadful judgement of god, & upon the fearful pains of hell, and of the inestimable joys of heaven. And in the considering of those things, he will call to remembrance that peradventure when this beggar & he be both departed hence, the beggar may be suddenly set up in such royalty, that well were himself that ever was he borne if he might be made his fellow: & he that well be thinketh him Cousin upon these things, I verily think that the arrow of pride flying forth in the day of worldly wealth, shall never so wound his heart that ever it shall bear him up one foot. But now to the intent he may think on such things the better, let him use often to resort to confession, & there open his heart, & by the mouth of some good virtuous ghostly father have such things oft renewed in his remembrance, let him also choose himself some secret solitary place in his own house as far from noise & company as he conveniently can, and thither let him some time secretly resort alone, imagining himself as one going out of the world, even strait unto the giving up of his reckoning unto god, of his sinful living: than let him there before an altar's, ●r some pitiful Image of Christ's bitter passion, the beholding whereof may put him in remembrance of the thing, and move him to devout cōpassyon● and there kneel down or fall prostrate, as at the feet of almighty god, verily believing him to be there invisibly present, as without any doubt he is: there let him open his heart to god & confess his faults such as he can call to mind, & pray god of forgiveness. Let him also call to remembrance the benefits the god hath given him, either ingeneral among other men, or privately to himself, and give him humble hearty thanks therefore: there let him declare unto god the temptations of the devil, the suggestions of the flesh, th'occasions of the world & of his worldly frendes● much worse many times in drawing a man from god, than are his most mortal enemies, which thing our Saviour witnesseth himself where he say Inimici hominnis domes●iei eius, the enemies of a man are they that are his own familiars, there let him lament and bewail unto god his own frailty, negligence, and sloth in resisting and withstanding of temptation, his readiness and pronity to fall thereunto, there let him beseech god of his gracious aid & help to strength his infirmity withal both in keeping him from falling: & when he by his own faults misfortuneth to fall, than with the helping hand of his merciful grace to lift him up & set him on his feet in the state of his grace again, & let this man not doubt, but that god heareth him & granteth him gladly this boon, and so dwel●ng in the faithful trust of gods help, he shall well use his prosperity, & persever in his good profitable business, & shall have therein the truth of god so compass him about with a pavice of his heavenvly defence, that of the d●uils arrow ●●ying in the day of worldly wealth, he shall not need to dread.  Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle I like this good counsel well, & I would ween that such as are in prosperity, & take such order therein, may do both to themself & other folk about much good.  ¶ Antony. 
I beseech our lord Cousin, put this & better in the mind of every man that needeth it: & now will I touch one word or twain of the third temptation whereof the prophet speaketh in these words. A nego●io per ambulante intenebris, from the business walking in the darkness, & then will we call for our dinner: leaving the last temptation that is to weet, Abbess in cursu & demonio meridiano. From the incursion, & the devil of the mid day● till after none, and than shall we therewith god willing make an end of all this matter.  Vincent. 
Our lord reward you good uncle for your good labour with me, but for our lords sake take good heed uncle that you forbear not your dinner over long.  Anthony. 
Fear not the Cousin, I warrant you, for this piece will I make you but short.   

¶ The xviii Chapter. Of the devil named Negotium that is toyvit, business walking about in the darkne●  
THe prophet saith in the said psalm. Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi, in protectione dei c●li commorabitur Scuto ●ircundabit te veritas eiu●, no● timebis. etc. A negotio per ambulante intenebris. He that dwelleth in the faithful hope of gods help, he shall abide in the protection or safeguard of the god of heaven, & thou y● art such one, shall the truth of him so compass about with a pavice that thou shalt not be afraid of the business walking about in the darknesses. Negotium is here Cousin, the name of a devil that is ever full of business, in tempting folk to much evil business: his time of tempting is in the darknesses, for you wot well, that beside the very full night which is the deep dark, there are two times of darknesses. The one ere the morning wax light. The other when the evening waxeth dark. Two times of like manner darkness, are there also in the soul of man: the one ere the light of grace be well in the heart sprongen up. The other when the light of grace out of the soul beginneth to walk fast away. In these two darknesses this devil that is called business, busily walketh about, & such fond folk as will follow him, he carrieth about with him, & setteth them a work with many manner bumbling business ●he setteth I say some to seek the pleasures of the flesh, in eating, drinking and other filthy delight, & some he setteth about the incessant siking for these worldly goods, & of such busy folk whom this devil called business, our saviour saith in the gospel: Qui ambulat in ten●bris, neslit quo vadit. he that walketh in darkness wotteth not whither he goeth. And surely in such case are they, for they neither wot which way they go, nor whither. For verily they walk round about, as it were in a roūd●mase, ●hē they ween themself at an end of their business, they be but at the beginning: again, go they never so full fed to bed, yet evermore on the morrow as new be they to be fed again as they were the day before. Thus fareth it by the belly, thus fareth it with those parts that are beneath the belli, & as for covetise, fareth like the fire, the more wood that cometh thereto, the more fervent & the more greedy it is● but now hath this maze a sentry or middle place, into which sumtime they be conveyed suddenly when they ween they were not yet far from the brink the country or middle place of this maze is hell, & into the place be these busy folk that with this devil of business walk about in this busy maze, in the darknesses, suddenly sometime conveyed, no thing ware whither they be going, & even while they ween that they were not far walked from the beginning, & that they had yet a great way to walk about before they should come to the end: but of these steshely folk walking in this pleasant busi maze, the Scripture declareth the end. Ducunt in bondies suos & in puneto ad inferna descendunt. They lead their life in pleasure, & at a pop down they descend into hell. Of the covetous man saith. S. Paul. Qui volunt divites fieri in●idunt in temptacionem & in laqueum diaboli, & desideria multa in v●ilia & nocive que merg●nt homines in nteritum & perdicionem. They that long to be rich do fall into temptation & into the grin of the devil, and into many desires unprofitable & harmful, which drowned men into death & into destruction. Lo, here is the middle place of this busy maze, the grin of the devil, the place of perdition & destruction, that they fall and be caught and drowned in ere they be ware. The covetous rich man also that our saviour speaketh of in the gospel, that had so great plenty of corn that his barns would not receive it● but intended to make his barns larger, & said unto himself that he would make merry many days, had went you wot well that he had had a great way yet to walk, but god said unto him: Stulte, hac noc●e tollent a te anim●m ●uam, que autem parasti c●ius erunt? fool, this night shall they take thy soul from thee, and than all this good that thou haste gathered, whose shall it be? here you see that he fell suddenly into the deep sentry of this busy maze, so that he was fallen full & whole therein long ere ever he had went he should have come near thereto. Now this wot I very well, that those that are walking about in this busi maze, take not their business for any tribulation, and yet are there many of ●●em forweried as sore, & as fore panged & pained therein, their pleasures being so short, so little and so few, and their disple●sures & their griefs so great, so continual, & so many, that it maketh me think upon a good worshipful man, which when he divers times beheld his wife, what pain she took in straight binding up her here, to make her a fair large forehead, and with strait bracing in her body to make her middle small, both twain to her great pain, for the pride of a little foolish praise: he said unto her. Forsooth Madam if god give you not hell, he shall do you great wrong, for it must needs be your own of very right: for you buy it very dear, and take very great pain therefore. They that now ●ye ●n hell for their wretched living here. do now perceive their folly in their more pain that they took here for the less pleasure. There confess they now their folly, and cry out. Lassati sumus in via iniqui●●atis: we have been wearied in the way of wickedness. And yet while they were walking therein, they would not rest themself, but run on still in their weariness, and put themself still unto more pain and more, for that little peevish pleasure, short and soon gone, that they took all that labour and pain for, beside the everlasting pain that followed it for their farther advantage after. So help me god and none other wise, but as I verily think that many a man buyeth hell here with so much pain, that he might have bought heaven with less than the one half. But yet as● I say, while these fleshly & worldly busy folk are walking about in this round busy maze of the devil that is called business, that walketh about in these two times of darknesses, their wits are so by the secret enchauntement of the devil bewitched, that they mark not the great long miserable weariness & pain that the devil maketh them to take and endure about nought, and therefore they take it for no tribulation, so that they need no comfort: and therefore is it not for their sakes that I speak all this, saving that it may serve them for counsel, toward the perceiving of their own foolish misery, thorough the good help of god's grace beginning to shine upon them again. But there are very good folk & virtuous that are in the day light of grace, & yet because the devil tempteth them busily to such fleshly delight, & sith they see plenty of worldly substance fall unto them, & feel the devil in likewise busily about to tempt them to set their heart thereupon, they be sore troubled therewith, & begin to fear thereby that they be not with god in the light, but with the devil that the Prophet calleth N●gotium, that is to say, business, walking about in the two times of darknesses: howbeit, as I said before of those good folk & gracious, that are in the worldly wealth of great power & authority, and thereby fear the devils arrow of pride: so say I now here again of these that stand in dread of fleshly foul sin & covetise, sith they be but tempted therewith & follow it not albeit that they do well to stand ever in moderate fear, lest with waxing over bold, & setting the thing over light, they might peradventure mishap to fall in thereto, yet sore to vex and trouble themself with the fear of loss of gods favour therefore, is without necessity & not all way without peril. For as I said before, it withdraweth the mind of a man far from spiritual consolation of the good hope that he should have in gods help. And as for these temptations, while he that is tempted followeth them not, the fight against them serveth a man for matter of merit and reward in heaven, if he not only fly the dede● the consent & the delectation, but also in that he conveniently may fly from all the ocations thereof, & this point is in those fleshly temptations a thingeth to perceive, & meetly plain enough. But in these worldly businesses pertaining unto covetise, therein is the thing somewhat more dark, & in the perceiving more difficulty, & very great troublous fear doth there oftentimes arise thereof in the hearts of very good folk, when the world falleth fast unto them, because of the sore words & terrible threats the god in holy scripture speaketh against those that are ●iche: as where. S. Paul saith. Qui ●olunt divites fieri, incidunt in temptacionem & in laqueum Diaboli. They that will be rich, fall into temptation, & into the grin of the devil, & where our saviour saith himself. Facilius est camelum per foramen acus quam diui●ē intrare in regnum dei. It is more easy for a camel, or as some say (for so Camelus signifieth in the Greek tongue) for a great cable rope to go through a needles eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of god. No marvel now though good folk that fear god take occasion of great dread at so dreadful words when they see the worldly goods fall unto them, & some stand in doubt whither it be lawful for them to keep any goods or no. But evermore in all those places of scripture, the having of the worldly goods is not the thing that is rebuked & threatened, but the affection that the haver unlawfully beareth thereto. For where. S. Paul saith. Qui volunt divites fieri. etc. They that will be made rich he speaketh not of the having, but of the will & the desire & affection, & the longing for it● for that can not be lightly without sin: for the thing the folk sore long for, they will make many shifts to g●at, & jeopard themself therefore, & to declare that the having of riches is not forbyddē● but the inordinate affection of the mind sore set thereupon: The prophet saith: divitie si affl●āt nolite cor apponere. If riches flow unto you set not your hearts thereupon. And albeit that our lord by the said ensample of the camel or the cable rope, to come throw the needles eye, said that it is not only hard, but also impossible for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven, yet he declared that though the rich man can not get into heaven of himself, yet god he said can get him in well enough, for unto men he said it was impossible, but not unto god: for unto god he said, all things are possible. And yet over that he told of which manner rich men he meynt that could not get into the kingdom of heaven, saying: Filioli, quam difficile est confidentes in pecuniis in regnum dei introire My babes, how hard is it for them that put their trust and confidence in their money, to enter into the kingdom of god?  Vincent. 
This is I suppose uncle very true, and else god forbid. For else were the world in a full hard case if every rich man were in such danger & peril.  ☞ Anthony. 
That were it Cousin in deed, and so I ween is it yet. For I fear me to the multitude, there be very few, but that they long sore to be rich, & of those that long so to be, very few reserved also, but that they set their hearts very sore thereon.  Vincent. 
That is Uncle I fear me veri true, but yet not the thing that I was about to speak of, but the thing that I would have said was this, that I can not well perceive (the world being such as it is, & so many poor people therein) how any man may be rich, and keep him rich without danger of damnation therefore. For all the while that he seeth poor people so many that lack, while himself hath to give them, and whose necessity (while he hath wherewith) he is bound in such case of duty to relieve, so farforth that holy saint Ambrose sayeth: that who so that die for default, where we might help them, we kill them ourself. I can not see but that every rich man hath great cause to stand in great fear of damnation, nor I can not perceive as I say, how he can be delivered of that fear as long as he keepeth his riches, and therefore though he might keep his riches, if there lacked poor men, & yet stand in god's favour therewith, as Abraham did, and many an other holy rich man since: yet it such abundance of poor men as there be now in every country any man that keepeth any riches, it must needs be, that he hath an inordynate affection thereunto, while he giveth it not out unto the poor needy people, that the duty of charity bindeth & straineth him to. And thus Uncle in this world at this day, me seemeth your comfort unto good men that are rich, & troubled with ●eare of damnation for the keeping can very scantly serve.  ☞ Antony. 
Hard is it Cousin in many manner things, to bid or forbid, affirm or deny, reprove or allow, a matter nakedly proponed and put forth, or precisely to say, this thing is good or this thing is nought, without consideration of the circumstances. Holy Saint Austen telleth of a physician that gave a man a medicine in a certain disease, that holp him: the self same man at an other time in the self same disease, ●ooke the self same medicine himself, and had thereof more harm than good: which thing when he showed unto the physician, & asked him whereof that harm should hap, that medicine, quoth he, did the no good but harm, because thou tookest it when I gave it the not. This answer. S. Austen very well alloweth, for the though the medicine were one, yet might there be peradventure in the sickness, some such difference, as the patient perceived not, yea or in the man himself, or in the place, or in the time of the year: many things might make the let, for which the physician would not than ha●● given him the self same medicine that he gave him before, to peruse every circumstance that might Cousin in this matter be touched, & were to be considered & weighed, would in deed make this part of thi● devil of business a very busy piece of work, & a long: but I shall a little open the point that you speak of, and shall show you what I think therein, with as few words as I conveniently can, & than will we go to dinner. First Cousin, he that is a rich man & keepeth all his good, he hath I think very good cause to be very frayed in deed. And yet I fear me that such folk fear it least, for they be very far from the state of good men, sith if they keep still all, than are they very far from charity, & do, you wo●e well, almose, either li●●le or none at al● But now is our question Cousin, not in what case that rich man standeth that keepeth all, but whither we should suffer men to stand in a perilous dread and fear, for the keeping of any great part. For if that by the keeping still of so much, as maketh a rich man still, they stand in the state of damnation: than a●e the curates bound plainly to tell them so according to the commandment of god given unto them all in the person of Ezechyel. Si dicente me ad impium morte morieris non annunciaveris ei. etc. If when I say to the wicked man. Thou shalt die, that do not show it unto him, nor speak it unto him, that he may be turned from his wicked way and may live, he shall sooth die in his wickedness, & his blood shall I verily require of thine hands. But Cousin, though god invited men unto the following of himself in wyful poverty, by the leaving of altogether at once for his sake, as the thing whereby with being out of the solicitude of worldly business, & far from the desire of earthly commodities, they may the more speedily get and attain the state of spiritual perfection & the hungry desire, & longing for celestial things, ye● doth he not command every in Turrian so to do upon the peril of damnation. For where he saith: Qui non renunciauerit omnibus que pos●idet, non potest esse meus discipulus. He that forsaketh not all that ever he hath, can not be my disciple. He declareth well by other words of his own in the self same place a little b●fore, what he meaneth. For there saith he more. Si quis venit ad me & non odit patrem su●m & matrem, & uxorem, & filios, & fratres, & sorores, ad huc autem & animam suam, non potest es●e n●eus dicipulus. He that cometh to me and hateth not his father & his mother, & his children, and his brethren and his sisters, yea and his own life too, can not be my disciple. Here meaneth our saviour Christ that none can be his disciple, but if he love him so far above all his kin, & above his own life to, y●●or the love of him rather than to forsake him, he shall forsake them all: & so meaneth he by those other words, that whosoever do not so renounce & forsake all that ever h● h●th in his own heart and affection, that he will rather lose it all and let it go every whit, than deadly displease god with the reserving of any one part thereof, he can not be Christ's disciple sy●h Christ teache●h us to love God above all thing: & he loveth not God above all thing, that contrary to god's pleasure keepeth any thing that he hath. For the thing he showeth himself to set more by than by god, while he is better content to lose god, than it. But as I said to give away all or that no man should be rich or have any substance, that find I no commandment of. There are as our saviour saith, in the house of his father many mansions, & happy shall he be, that shall have the grace to dwell even in the lowest. It seemeth verily by the gospel, that those which for god's sake suffer penury, shall not only dwell above those in heaven, that live here in plenty in earth but also the heaven in some manner of wise more properly belongeth unto than, & is more specially prepared for than, than it is for the rich, by that, that god in the gospel counseleth the rich folk to buy in a manner heaven of them, where he saith unto the rich men. Facite vobis amicos de Mammona iniquitatis, ut cum defeceritis, recipiant vos in eterna tabernacula. Make you friends of the wicked riches, that when you fail here, they may receive you into everlasting tabernacles. But now although this be thus, in respect of the riches and the poverty compared together, yet they being good men both, there may be some other virtue beside, wherein the rich man may so peradventure excel, that he may be in heaven far above that poor man that was here in earth in other virtues far under him, as the proof appeareth clearly in Lazarus and Abraham.   

¶ The xix Chapter.  
NOr I say not this to the intent to comfort rich men in heaping up of riches, for a little comfort is bent enough thereto for them. They be not so proud hearted and obstinate, but that they would I ween, to that counsel be with right little exhortation very conformable. But I say this for those good men to whom god giveth substance, and the mind to dispose it well, & yet not the mind to give it all away at once, but for good causes to keep some substance still, should not despair of god's favour for the not doing of the thing, which god hath given them no commandment of, nor drawn by any special calling thereunto. acheus lo, that climbed up into the tree for desire that he had to behold our saviour, at such time as Christ called aloud unto him & said: zacheus, make haste & come down, for this day must I dwell in thy house. Zacheus was so glad thereof, & so touched inwardly with special grace to the profit of his soul, that whereas all the people murmured much that Christ would call him and be so familiar with him, as of his own offer to come unto his house, considering that they knew him for the chief of the Publicans, that were customers or tolle gatherers of th'emperors duties: all which whole company were among the people sore infamed of ravin, extortion and bribery, & than zacheus, not only the chief of that fellowship, but also grown greatly rich, whereby the people accounted him in their own opinions for a man very sinful and nought: he forthwith by the instinct of the spirit of god, in reproach of all such temerarious bold & blind judgement given upon a man, whose inward mind and sudden change they cannot see, shortly proved them all deceived and that our lord had at those few words outwardly spoken to him, so touched him, that his grace so wrought in his heart within, that whatsoever he was before, he was than, unwares unto them all suddenly waxen good: for he made haste & came down, & gladly received Christ, and said: Lo lord, the one half of my goods here I give unto poor people: & yet over that, if I have in any thing deceived any man, here am I ready to recompense him four fold asmuch.  Vincent. 
This was uncle, a gracious hearing, but yet I marvel me somewhat wherefore zacheus used his words in that manner of order. For me thinketh he should first have spoken of making restitution unto those whom he had beguiled, and than speak of giving his almose after. For restitution is, you wot well, duty, and a thing of such necessity, that in respect of restitution, almose deed is but voluntary. Therefore it might seem, that to put men in mind of their duty in making restitution first, and doing their almose afters zacheus should have said more conveniently if he had said first that he would make every man restitution whom he had wronged, & than give half in almose of that the remained after, for only that might he call clearly his own.  ☞ Anthony 
This is true Cousin, where a man hath not enough to suffice for both: but he that hath is not bound to leave his almose ungeven to the poor man that is at his hand, and peradventure calleth upon him till he go seek up all his creditors, and all those that he hath wronged, so far peradventure asunder, that leaving the one good deed undone the while, he may before they come together change that good mind again, and do neither the one nor the other. It is good always therefore to be doing some good out of hand, while we think thereon: grace shall the better stand with us, and increase also to go the farther into the other after: and this I answer, if the man had there done the one out of hand, the giving I mean● half in almose, & not so much as speak of restitution till after, where as now though he spoke the one in order before the other, and yet all at one time, the thing remained still in his liberty to put them both in execution after such order as he should than think expedient. But now Cousin did the spirit of god temper the tongue of zacheus in the vtterau●ce of these words, in such wise as it may well appear the saying of the wise man to be verified in them, where he sayeth: Domini est gubernare linguam. To god it belongeth to govern the tongue.  
For here when he said he would give half of his whole good unto poor people, and yet beside that, not only recomp●ce any man whom he had wronged, but more than recompense him by three times asmuch again: He double reproved the false suspicion of the people that accounted him for evil, the than reckoned in their mind all his good gotten in e●fect with wrong, because he was grown to substance in that office, which was commonly misused extorciously. But his words declared that he was r●p● enough in his reckoning, that if half his goods were given away, yet were he well able to yield every man his duty with the other half & yet leave himself no beggar neither: for he said not he would give all away. Would god Cousin that every rich christian man that is reputed right worshipful (yea & which yet in my mind, more is reckoned for right honest too) would and were able, to do the thing tha● little zacheus thesame great Publicans (were he jew or were he Painim) said: that is to we●e, with less than half his goods recompense every man whom he had wronged four times as much: ye, ye Cousin, as much for as much hardly, and than they ●hat shall receive it, shall be content (I dare promise for them) to let the other thrice as much go, & forgive it, because it was one of the hard points of the old law, whereas christian men must be full of forgiving, and not use to require a●d exact their amends to the uttermost. But now for our purpose here, notwithstanding that he promised not, neither to give away all, nor to become a beggar neither, no nor yet to leave of his office neither, which albeit that he had not used before peradventure in every point, so pure as. S. john baptist had taught them the lesson. Nihil amplius quam constitut● e●●vobis faciatis. Do no more than is appointed unto you. Yet forasmuch as he might both lawfully use his substance that he minded to reserve, and lawfully might use his office to, in receiving the Prince's duty according to Christ's express commandment. Reddite que sunt Se●ar●s, ●efari. give th'emperor those things that are his, refusing all extortion & bribery beside: our lord well allowing his good purpose, and exacting no farther forth of him concerning his worldly b●haueour● answered and said: Ho●●e salus facta ●st hui● d●mui eo quod ipse ●ilius sit Abrahe. This day is health comen to this house, for that he too, is the son of Abraham. But now forgeat I no● Cousin, that in effect thus far you condescend unto me● that a man may be rich, and yet not out of the state of grace, nor out of god's favour: howbeit you think that though it may be so in some time, or in some place, yet at this time, and in this place, or any such other like, wherein be so many poor people upon whom they be, you think, bounden to bestow their good, they can therefore keep no riches with good conscience: verily Cousin if the reason would hold, I ween the world was never such any where, in which any man might have kept any substance without the danger of damnation, as for since Christ's days to the worlds end, we have the witness of his own word, that there hath never lacked poor men, nor never shall: for he said himself. Pauperes semper habebitis vobi●cum, quibus quum vultis, bene●acere po●estis. Poor men shall you always have with you, whom when you will you may do good unto: so that as I tell you, if your rule should hold, than were there, I ween, no place in no time since Christ's days hitherto, nor as I think in as long before that neither, nor never shall there hereafter, in which there could any man abide rich without the danger of eternal damnation, even for his riches alone, though he demeaned it never so well. But Cousin, men of substance must there needs be, for else shall you have more beggars pardie, them there be, & no man left able to relieve another. For this think I in my mind a very sure conclusion, that if all the money that is in this country, were to morrow next brought together out of every man's hand, and laid all upon one heap, and than divided out unto every man alike, it would be on the morrow after worse than it was the day before. For I suppose when it were all equally thus divided among all, the best should be left little better, than a beggar almost is now: and yet he that was a beggar before, all that he shallbe the richer for that he should thereby receive, shall not make him much above a beggar still: but many one of the rich me if their riches stood but in movable substance, shallbe safe enough from riches haply for all their life after. Men can not you wot well live here in this world, but if that some one man provide a mean of living for some other many, every man cannot have a ship of his own, nor every man be a merchant without a stock, and these things you wot well must needs be had: nor every man cannot have a plough by himself. And who might live by the tailors craft, if no man were able to put a gown to make? who by masonry? or who could live a carpenter, if no man were able to build neither church nor house? Who should be makers of any manner of cloth, if there lacked men of substance to set sundry sorts a work? Some man that hath but two duccates in his house, we●e better forbear them both and leave himself not a farthing, but utterly lose all his own, than that some rich man by whom he is w●ekely set a work, should of his money lose thee one half, for than were himself like to lack work. For surely the rich man's substance is the weispring of the poor man's living. And therefore here would it far by the poor man as it fared by the woman in one of Esopes' fables, which had an hen that laid every day a golden egg, till on a day she thought she would have a great meinie of eggs at once, and therefore she killed her hen, and found but one or twain in her belly, so that for covetise of those sew she lost many. But now Cousin, to come to your doubt how it may be that a man may with conscience keep riches with him, when he seeth so many poor men upon whom he may bestow it: verily that might he not with conscience do, if he mu●t bestow it upon as many as he may. And so must of truth every ●iche man do, if all the poor folk that he seeth, be so specially by God's commandment committed unto his charge alone, that because our saviour saith: Omni peten●ite, d●. give every man that asketh thee, therefore should he be bound to give out still to every beggar that will ask him, as long as any penny lasteth in his purse. But verily Cousin, that saying hath, as S. Paul saith and other places in Scripture, need of interpretation. For as holy. S. Austen saith: Though Christ say, give every man that asketh thee: he saith not yet, give them all that they will ask thee. But surely all were one, if he meint to bind me by commandment to give every man without exception somewhat, ●or so should I leave myself nothing. Our saviour in that place of the vi Chap of S. Luke, speaketh both of the contempt that we should in heart have of these worldly things, & also of the manner that men should use toward their enemies. For there he biddeth us love our enemies give good words for evil, & not only su●fer injuries patiently both by taking away our goods and harm done unto our bodies, but also be ready to suffer the double, and over that, to do them good again, that do us the harm. And among these things he biddeth us give every man that asketh, meaning that in the thing that we may conveniently do a man good, we should not refuse it, what manner of man soever he be, though he were our mortals enemy, namely where we see, that but if we help him ourself, the person of the man should stand in peril of perishing, & there saith: Si esurierit inimicus tuus, da illi cibum. If thine enemy be in hunger, give him meat. But now though I be bound to give every manner of man in some manner of his necessity, were he my friend or my foe, christian man or heathy, yet am I not unto all men bound alike, nor unto any man in every case alike. But as I began to tell you, the difference of the circumstances make great change in the matter. S. Paul saith Qui non providet suis, est infideli deterior. He that provideth not for those that are his, is worse than an infidel. Those are ours that are belonging to our charge, either by nature or law, or any commandment of god, by nature as our children, by law as our servants in our household: so that albeit these two sorts be not ours all alike, yet would I think that the lest to be ours of the twain: that is to weet, our servants, if they need & lack, we be b●unden to look to them, & provide for their need, & see so farforth as we may, that they lack not the things that should serve for their necessity, while they dwell in our service. Me seemeth also that if they fall sick in our service, so that they cannot do the service that we retain them for: yet may we not in any wise turn them then out of doors, & cast them up comfortless while they be no● able to labour & help themself, for this were a thing against all humanity. And surely if he were but a wayfaring man that I received into mi house as a jest, if he fall sick therein, & his money gone, I reckon myself bound to keep him still, and rather to beg about for his relief than cast him out in that case to the peril of his life, what loss soever I should take thereby in keeping of him. For when God hath by such chance sent him to me, and there once matched me with him, I reckon myself surely charged with him, till I may without peril of his life, be well and conveniently discharged of him.  
By God's commandment are in our charge, our parents, for by nature we be in theyrs● sith as. S. Paul saith, it is not the children's part to provide for the parents, but the parents to provide for the children, provide I mean conveniently good learning or good occupations to get their living by with truth and the favour of god, but not to make provision for them of such manner of living as to godward they should live the worse for: but rather if they see by their manner, that to much would make them nought, the father should then give them a great deal the less. But although the nature put not the parents in the charge of the children: yet not only god cōmaundeth● but the order of nature also compelleth, that the children should both in reverent behaviour, honour their father & mother, & also in all their necessity maintain them, & yet as much as god & nature both bindeth us to the sustenance of our own father, his need may be so little, though it be somewhat, and a friend man's so great, that both god & nature also would I should in such unequal need, relieve that urgent necessity of a stranger, yea my foe, & gods enemy to, the veri Turk or Sarazin before a little need, & unlikely to do great harm in my father and in my mother to, for so ought they both twain themself to be well content I should. But now Cousin out of the case of such extreme need well perceived and known unto myself, I am not bound to give every beggar that will ask, nor to believe every faytor that I meet in the street, that will say himself that he is very sick, nor to reckon all the poor folk committed by God only, so to my charge alone, the none other man should give them nothing of his, till I have first given out all mine, nor am not bound neither to have so evil opinion of all other folk save myself as to think, that but if I help, the poor folk shall all fail at once, for god hath left in all this quarter no more good folk now but me: I may think better by my neighbour, & worse by myself than so, & yet come to heaven by god's grace well enough.  Vincent. 
Marry Uncle but some man will peradventure he right well content in such cases, to think his neighbours very charitable, to the intent that he may think himself at liberty to give nothing at al.  Anthony. 
That is Cousin very true, so will there some be content either to think, or make as though they thought, but those are they that are content to give nought, because they b● nought. But our question is Cousin not of them, but of good folk, that by the keeping of worldly goods, stand in great fear to offend god. For the acquieting of their conscience speak we ●ow, to the intent that they may perceive what manner of having of worldly goods & keeping thereof, may stand with the state of grace. Now think I Cousin that if a man keep riches about him for ● glory & royalty of the world, in consideration whereof h● taketh a great delight, & liketh himself therefore the bette● taking the poor for the lack thereof as one far wors● than himself, such a mind is very vain, foolish, prou● and such a man is very naught in deed. But o● the other side, if there be a man such as would god the●● were many, that hath unto riches no love, but having ● fall abundantly unto him, taketh to his own par●● no great pleasure thereof, but as though he had it n●● keepeth himself in like abstinence & penance prieu●● as he would do in case he had it not, and in su●● things as he doth openly bestow somewhat n●●● liberally upon himself in his house after some manner of the world, lest he should give other folk occasion to marvel & muse, and talk of his manner, & misse-report him for an hypocrite, there in between god & him doth truly protest & testify as did the good Queen Hesther, that he doth it not for any desire thereof in the satisfying of his own pleasure, but would with as good will or better, forbear the possession of riches, saving for the commodity that other men have by his dysposing ●hereof. as percase in keeping of a good household in good christian order & fashion, & in se●ting other folk a work with such thing as they gain their living the better by his means. This man's having of riches I might me thinketh in merit, ma●ch in a manner with an o●her man's forsaking of all if there were none other circumstances more pleasant unto god farther added unto the forsaking beside as percase for the more fervent contemplation, by reason of the solicitude of all worldly business l●ft of, which was the thing that made Mary Magdalen's part the better. For else would C●ris●e have canned her much more thank to go about and be busy in helping her sister Martha to dress his dinner, than to take her stool and sit down at her ease and do nought. Now if he that have this good and riches by him, have not happily fully so perfect mind, but somewhat loveth to keep himself from lack, and not so fully as a pure christian fashion requireth, determined to abandon his pleasure: well, what will you more, the man is so much the less perfect, than I would he were, and happily than himself would wish, if it were as easy to be it as to wish it, but yet not by & by in the state of damnation, no more than he the forsaking all, & entering into religion. is not yet always so clear depured from all worldly affections as himself would very feign he were & much bewaileth that he is not: of whom some man that hath in the world willingly forsaken the likelihood of right worshipful rooms, hath afterward had much ado, to keep himself from the desire of the office of cele●ar or sextayn, to bear yet at the leastwise some rule & authority, though it were but among the belles. But god is more merciful to man's imperfection, if the man know it, & knowledge it, & mislike it, & little & little labour to amend it, than to reject & cast of him that after as his frailty can bear & suffer, hath a general intent & purpose to please him & to prefer or set by nothing in all this world before him. And therefore Cousin, to make an end of this piece withal A negotio perambulante in tenebris. Of this devil I mean that the prophet calleth business walking in the darkness if a man have a mind to se●ue god & please him, & rather lose all the good he hath than wittingly do deadly si●ne● & would without murmur or grudge, give it every whit away in case that god should so command him and intend to take it patiently if god would take it from him, & glad would be to use it unto gods pleasure, & do his diligence to know and to be taught what manner using thereof god would be pleased with: & therein from time to time be glad to follow the counsel of good virtuous men, thouge he neither give away all at once, nor give every man that asketh him, neither (let every man fear and think in this world, that all the good that he doth or can do, is a great deal to little) but yet for all that fear, let him dwell therewith in the faithful hope of God's help. And than shall the truth of god so compass him about (as the proph●● saith) with a pavice, that he shall not so need to dread the trains & the temptations of this devil that the prophet calleth business, walking about in the darkensses, but that he shall for all the having of riches and worldly substance, so avoid his trains and his temptations, that he shall in conclusion by the great and almighty mercy of god, get into heaven well enough. And now was I Cousin about lo, after this piece thus ended, to bid them to bring in our dinner, but now shall I not need lo, for here they come with it already.  ¶ Vincent. 
Forsooth good Uncle god disposeth and temeth your matter and your dinner both I trust. For the end of your good tale (for which our lord reward you) and the beginning here of your good dinner too, (from which it were more than piety that you should any longer have tarried) meet even at the close together.  ¶ Anthony. 
Well Cousin, now will we say grace, and than for a while● will we leave talking, and assay how our dinner shall like us, and how fair we can fall to feeding, which done you know my customable guise (for manner I may not call it) because the guise is unmannerly to bid you not far well, but steal away from you to sleep: but you wot well I am not wont at after noon to sleep long, but even a little to forgeatte the world. And when I wake, I will again come to you, and than is (god willing) all this long day ours, wherein we shall have time enough to talk more than shall suffice for the finishing of this one part of our matter, which only now remaineth.  ☞ Vincent. 
I pray you good uncle keep your customable manner, for manner may you call it well enough: for as it were against good manner to look that a man should kneel down for courtesy when his knee is sore, so is it very good manner that a man of your age aggrieved with such sundry sicknesses beside, tha● suffer you not always to s●epe when you should. Let his sleep not slip away, but take it when he may: And I will uncle in the mean while steal from you too, and speed a little earrande, and return to you again.  Antony. 
Tarry while you will, and when you have dined, go at your pleasure, but I pray you ●arye not long.  ☞ Vincent. 
You shall not need uncle to put me in mind of that, I would so fain have up the remnant of our matter.    

¶ The third Book and the last● of consolation and comfort in tribulation.  ¶ Vincent. 
SOmewhat have I tarried the longer uncle, partly for that I was loath to come oversoon, lest my son coming might have happened to have made you wake to soon: but specially by the reason I was letted with one that showed me a letter dated at Constantinople, by which letter it appeareth, that the great Turk prepareth a marvelous mighty army, and yet whether he will therewith, that can there yet no man tell. But I fear in good faith vncle● that his viage shallbe hither. Howbeit; he that wrote the letter, sayeth that it is secretly said in Constantinople, that great part of his army shallbe shipped and sent either into Naples or into Cicile.  ¶ Anthony. 
It may fortune Cousin, that the letter of the venetian dated at Constantinople, was devised at Venice. From thence come there some among, & sometime from Rome to, & sometime also from other places, letters all farced f●l of such tidings that the Turk is ready to do some great exploitie● which tidings they blow about for the fartherance of some such affairs, as they than have themselves in hand. The Turk hath also so many men of arms in his retinue, at his continual charge, that lest they should lie still and do nothing, but peradventure fall in devising of some novelties among themself, he is fain yearly to make some assemblies and some changing of them from one place unto another, and pa●te some sort asunder, that they wax not over well acquainted by dwelling over long together. By these ways also he maketh those that he mindeth suddenly to invade in deed, the less to look therefore, and thereby the less preparation to make before, while they see him so many times make a great visage of war, when he mindeth it not: but then at one time or other, they suddenly feel it when they fear it not. Howbeit, full likely Cousin it is of very truth, the into this realm of hungary he will not fail to come. For neither is there any country thorough christendom, that lieth for him so meet, nor never was there any time till now, in which he might so well and surely win it. For now call we him in ourself (God save us) as Esope telleth, that the sheep took in the wolf unto them, to keep them from the dogs.  Vincent. 
Than are there very like good uncle all these tribulations to fall upon us here, that I spoke of in the beginning of our first communication here the other day.  Anthony. 
very truth it is Cousin, that so there will of likelihod in a while, but not forthwith all at the first. For while he cometh under that colour of aid for the one against the other, he will somewhat see the proof before he fully show himself. But in conclusion, if he be able to get it for him, you shall see him so handle it that he shall not fail to get it from him, & that forthwith out of hand or ever he suffer him settle himself over sure therein.  Vincent. 
Yet say they uncle, that he useth not to force any man to forsake his faith.  Anthony. 
Not any man Cousin? They say more than they can make good that tell you so: he maketh a solemn oath among the Ceremonies of that feast in which he first taketh upon him his authority, that he shall, in all that he possible may, mynyshe the faith of Christ, and dilate the faith of Machomet. But yet hath he not used to force every whole country at once to forsake their faith. For of some countries hath he been content, only to take a tribute yearly, and let them live than as they lust. Out of some he taketh the whole people away, dispersing them for slaves among many sundry countries of his, very far from their own, without any sufferance of regress. Some country so great and populous, that they cannot well be carried and conveyed thence: he destroyeth the gentlemen and giveth their lands part to such as he bringeth, & part to such as willingly will revye their faith, and keepeth the other in such misery, that they were in manner as good to be dead at once. In rest he suffereth else no christian man almost, but those that resort as merchants, or those that offer themself to serve him in his war. But as for those christian countries, that he useth not for only tributories as he doth Thio, Ciprys or Candy, but reckoneth for clear conquest, and utterly taketh for his own, as Morea, Grece & Macedony, and such other like. And as I verily think, he will Hungary, if he get it. In all those useth he christian people after sundry fashions. He letteth them dwell there in deed because they were to many to carry all away, & to many to kill them all to. But if he should either leave the land dispeopled and desolate, or else some other countries of his own, from whence he should (which would not well be done) convey the people thither, to people that land withal. There lo, those that will not be turned from their faith, of which god keepeth (lauded be his holy name) very many he suffereth to dwell still in peace. But yet is their peace for all that not very peaceable: For lands he suffereth them to have none of their own: office or honest room they bear none: with occasions of his wars he pilleth them with taxis and tallagis unto the bare bones, their children he chooseth where he lust in their youth, and taketh them from their parents conveying them whither he lust, where their friends never see them after, & abuseth them as he lust. Some young maidens maketh harlots: some young men he bringeth up in war, & some young children, he causeth to be gelded, not their stones cut out, as the custom was of old, but cutteth of their whole members by the body: how few escape and live, he little forceth, for he will have in oughe. And all that he so taketh young, to any use of his own, are betaken unto such Turks or false renegades to keep, that they be turned from the faith of Christ every eachone, or else so handled, that as for this world they come to an evil cheving. For beside many other contumelyes, & dispightes that the Turks and the false renagate christians, many times do to good christian people, that still persever and abide by the faith, they find the mean sometime to make some false shrews say, that they heard such a christian man speak opprobrious words against Machomet, & upon that point falsely testified, will they take occasion to compel him forsake the faith of Christ, and turn unto the profession of their shameful superstitious sect, or else will they put him to death with cruel intolerable torments.  Vincent. 
Our lord uncle for his mighty mercy keep those wretches hence. For by mi troth, if they hap to come hither, me think I see many more tokens than one that we shall have of our own folk hear ready to fall in unto them. For like as before a great storm the sea beginneth some time to work and roar in itself ere ever the wind wax boisterous: so me think I hear at mine ear, some of our own here among us, which within these few years, could no more have borne the name of a Turk, than the name of a devil, begin now to find little fault therein, yea & some to praise them to, little and little as they may, more glad to find faults at every state of christendom, priests, princes, rites, ceremonies, sacraments, laws and customs, spiritual and temporal, and all.  Anthony. 
In good faith Cousin, so begin we to far here in deed, and that but even now of late. For since the title of the crown hath come in question, the good rule of this realm hath very sore decayed, as little while as it is: and undoubtedli Hungary shall never do well, as long as it standeth in this case, that men's minds hearken after novelties, & have their hearts hanging upon a change: & much the worse I like it, when their words walk so large toward the favour of the Turks s●●te, which they were ever wont to have in so great abomination, as every true minded christian man and christian woman to must have. I am of such age as you see, and verily from as● far as I can remember, it ha●h been marked and often proved true, that when children have in Bowda fallen in a fantasy by themself to draw together, & in their playing make as it were corsies carried to church, and sing after their childish fashion the time of the dirige, there hath great death there shortly followed after. And twice or thrice I may remember in my days, when children in diverse parts of this realm, have gathered themselves in sundry companies, and made as it were parties and battles, and after their battles in sport, wherein some children have yet tagreat hurt, there hath fallen very battle & very deadly war in deed. These tokens were somewhat like your ensample of the sea, sith they be of things that after follow, tokens foregoing thorough some secret motion or instinct, whereof the cause is unknown. But by. S. Marry Cousin, these tokens like I much worse, these tokens I say not of children's plays, nor of children's songs, but old shrews large open words, so boldly spoken in the favour of Machomettes sect, in this realm of Hungary, that hath been ever hitherto a very sure kaye of christendom: and out of doubt, if hungary be lost, & that the Turk have it once fast in his possession, he shall ere it be long after, have an open ready way, into almost the remnant of all christendom, though he win it not all in a week, the great part will be won after I fear me within veri few years.  Vincent. 
But yet evermore I trust in Christ good uncle, that he shall not suffer that abominable sect of his mortal enemies, in such wise to prevail against his Christian countries.  Anthony. 
That is veri well said Cousin, let us have our sure hope in him, and than shall we be very sure that we shall not be deceived: for either shall we have the thing that we hope for, or a better thing in the stead: for as for the thing itself that we pray for, & hope to have, god will not always sand us, & therefore as I said in our first communication, in all thing save only for heaven, our prayer nor our hope, may never be to precise although the thing be lawful to require. verily if we people of the christian nations were such as would god we were, I would little fear all the preparations that the great Turk could make, no nor yet being as bad as we be, I nothing doubt at all but that in conclusiō● how base soever christendom be brought, it shall spring up again, till the time be come very near to the day of doom, whereof some tokens as me thinketh are not come yet, but somewhat before the time shall christendom be straited sore, & brought into so narrow a compass, that according unto Christ's words, ●ilius hominis quum venerit, putas inuenie● fidem in terra? when the son of man shall come again, that is to wit, to the day of general judgement, weenest thou that he shall find faith in the earth, as who say but a little? For as appeareth in the Apocalyppes, and other places of scripture, he saith shallbe at that time so far faded, that he shall for the love of his elects, lest they should fall and perish to, abredge those days and accelerate his coming. But as I say, me think I miss yet in my mind, some of those tokens that shall by the scripture come a good while before that. And among other the coming in of the jews, & the dilating of christendom again before the world come unto that straight. So that I say, for my own mind I little doubt, but that this ungracious sect of Machomet shall have a foul fall, & christendom spring & spread flower, and increase again: howbeit, the pleasure and comfort shall they see that shall be borne, after that we be buried, I fear me both twain. For god giveth us great likelihood, that for our sinful wretched living, he goeth about to make these infidels, that are his open professed enemies, the sorrowful scourge of correction, over evil christian people, that should be faithful, and of truth are his falsely professed friends. And surely Cousin, albeit that me thinketh I see divers evil tokens of this misery coming to us, yet can there not in my mind be a worse prognostication thereof, than this ungracious token that you note here yourself. For undoudtedly Cousin, this new manner here of men's favourable fashion in their language toward these ungracious Turks, declareth plainly that not only their minds giveth them that hither in shall he come, but also that they can be content, both to live under him, & over that fro the true faith of Christ to fall into Machomethes false abominable sect.  Vincent. 
verily my uncle, as I go more about than you, so must I more hear needs (which is an heavy hearing in my ear) the manner of men in this matter which increaseth about us here, I trust in other places of this realm by god's grace it is otherwise. But in this quarter here about us, many of these fellows that a●e meet for the war, first were wont, as it were in sport, & in a while after half between game & earnest, & by our lady now, not far from fair flat earnest in deed, talk as though they looked for a day when with a turn unto the Turk his faith, they should be made masters here of true christian men's bodies & owners of all their goods.  ☞ Antony. 
Though I go little abroad Cousin, yet hear I sometime when I say little, as much as that almost, but while there is no man to complain to for the redress, what remedy but patience? & fain to sit still & hold my peace. For of these two that strive whither of them both shall reign upon us, & each of them calleth himself king, & both twain put the people to pain: The one is you wot well, to far from our quarter here to help us in this behalf. And the other while he looketh for the Turks aid, either will not or well dare not I ween, find any fault with them that favour the Turk and his sect. For of Turks natural this country lacketh none now which are here conversant under diverse pretextes: & of every thing advertise the great Turk full surely. And therefore Cousin, albeit that I would advise every man, pray still & call unto god to hold his gracious hand over us, and keep away this wretchedness if his pleasure be: yet would I farther advise every good christian body, to remember and consider, that it is very likely to come, and therefore make his reckoning and cast his penny worths before, and every man and every woman appoint with gods help in their own mind before hand, what thing they intend to do if the very worst fall.  

¶ The first Chapter. ¶ Wither a man should cast in his mind and appoint in his heart before, that if he were taken with Turks, he would rather die, than forsake the faith.  ¶ Vincent. 
Well far your heart good uncle for this good counsel of yours, for surely me thinketh that this is marvelous good: but yet heard I once a right cunning & a very good man say, that it were great folly, & very perilous to, that a man should think upon any such thing, or imagine any such case in his mind for fear of double peril that may follow thereupon: for either shall he be likely to answer himself to the case put by himself, that he will rather suffer any painful death than forsake his faith, and by that bold appointment, should he fall in the fault of. S. Peter, that of oversighte made a proud promise, & soon had a foul fall, or else were he likely to think that rather than abide the pain, he would forsake god in deed, and by that mind should he sin deadly thorough his own folly, whereas he needeth not as he that shall peradventure never come in the peril, to be put thereunto, & that therefore it were most wisdom never to think upon any such manner case  ☞ Antony. 
I believe well Cousin that you have heard some man that would so say: for I can show almost as much as that, left of a good man and a great solemn doctor in writing: but yet Cousin, although I should hap to find one or two more, as good men, and as well learned too, that would both twain say & write the same, yet would I not fear for my part to counsel my friend to the contrary. For Cousin, if his mind answer him, as. S. Peter answered Christ, that he will rather die, than forsake him, though he say therein more unto himself, than he should be peradventure able to make good, if it came to the point, yet perceive I not that he doth in that thought, any deadly displeasure unto god nor. S. Peter, ●hough he said more than he could perform, yet in his so saying offended not god greatly neither: but his offence was, when he did not after so well as he said before. But now may this man be likely never to fall in the per●l of breaking that appointment, si●h of some ten M. that so shall examine themself, never one shall fall in the peril, & yet to have that good purpose all their life, seemeth me no more harm the while, than a poor beggar that hath never a penny, to think that if he had great substance, he would give great almose for gods sake. But now is all the peril, if the man answer himself that he would in such case rather forsake the faith of Christ with his mouth, & keep it still in his heart, than for the confessing of it, to endure a painful death: for by this mind falleth he in deadly sin, which while he never cometh in the case in deed if he never had put himself the case he never had fall in: but in good faith me thinketh that he which upon the case put unto himself by himself, will make himself that answer, hath the habit of faith so faint & so cold that to the better knowledge of himself, & of his necessity, to pray for more strength of grace, he had need to have the question put him, either by himself, or some other man. Besides this, to counsel a man never to think on the case, is in my mind as much reason, as the medicine that I have heard taught one for the tooth ache to go thrice about a church yard, & never think upon a fox tail: for if the counsel be not given them, it cannot serve them, & if it be given them, it must put the point of the matter in their mind, which by & by to reject, & think therein neither one thing or other, is a thing that may be sooner bidden then obeyed. I ween also that very few men can escape it but that though they would never think thereon by themself, but that yet in one place or other where they shall hap to come in company, they shall have the question by adventure so proponed and put forth, that like as while he heareth one talking to him, he may well wink if he will, but he cannot make himself sleep: so shall he whether he will or no think one thing or other therein. Finally, when Christ spoke so often & so plain of the matter that every man should upon pain of damnation, openly confess his faith if men took him, and by dread of death would drive him to the contrary, it seemeth me in a manner implied therein that we be bound condicionally, to have evermore that mind actually, sometime & evermore habitually: that if the case so should fall, than with god's help, so we would, and thus much thinketh me necessary for every man and woman, to be alway of this mind, and often to think thereupon: and where they find in the thinking thereon, their hearts agryce, and shrink in the remembrance of the pain ●hat their imagination representeth to the mind, than must they call to mind and remember the great pain & torment that Christ suffered for them, and heartily pray for grace, that if the case should so fall, god should give them strength to stand: and thus with exercise of such meditation, though men should never stand full out of fear of falling, yet must they persever in good hope, & in full purpose of standing, and this seemeth me Cousin so farforth the mind, that every christian man and woman must needs have that, me thinketh that every Curate should often counsel all his parishions, and every man & woman, their servants, and their children even beeginning in their tender youth, to know this point, and to think thereon, & little & little fro their very childhood to accustom them dulcely and pleasantly in the meditation thereof, whereby the goodness of GOD, shall not fail so to aspire the grace of his holy spirit into thei● hearts in reward of that virtuous diligence, that thorough such actual meditation, he shall confirm them in such a sur● habit of spiritual faithful strength, that all the devils in hell with all the wrestling that they can make, shall never be able to wrest it out of ●heir heart.  ☞ Vincent. 
By my troth uncle, me thinketh you say very well.  Antony. 
I say surely Cousin as I think, and yet all this have I said concerning them that dwell in such places as they be never like in their lives to come in the danger to be put to the proof: howbeit many a man may ween himself farther fro, that yet may fortune by some one chance or other to fall in the case, that either for the troth of faith, or for the troth of justice, which go almost alike, he may fall in the case. But now be you and I Cousin, and all our friends here, far in an other point. For we be so likely to fall in the experience thereof so soon, that it had been more time for us (all other things set aside) to have devised upon this matter, and formely to have settled ourself upon a steadfast point long ago, than to begin to common and counsel upon it now.  ☞ Vincent. 
In God faith uncle, you say therein very troth, and would God it had come sooner in my mind, but better is yet late, then never. And I trust God shall yet give us respite and time, whereof uncle that we lose no part, I pray you proceed now with your good counsel therein.  ☞ Anthony. 
Very gladly Cousin, shall I now go forth in the fourth temptation, which only remaineth to be ●reated of, and properly pertaineth whole unto this present purpose.   

¶ The second Chapter. ¶ Of the fourth temptation, which is persecution for the faith touched in these words of the Prophet. Ab incursu et demonio meridiano.  
THe fourth temptation Cousin, that the Prophet speaketh of in the fore-remembered Psalm. Qu● habitat in a diutorio altissimi. etc. is plain open persecution which is touched in these words. Ab incursu et demonio meridiano. And of all his temptations, this is the most perilous, the most bitter, sharp, and the most rigorous. For whereas in other temptations, he useth either pleasant allectives unto sin, or other secret sleights & trains, and cometh in the night and stealeth on in the dark unware, or in some other part of the day, ●tyeth and passeth by like an arrow, so shaping himself some time in one fashion, sumtime in an other: & so dissim●●ling himself and his high mortal malice, that a man i● thereby so blinded & beguiled, that he may not sometime perceive well what he is. In this temptation. this plain open persecution for the faith, he cometh even in the very mid day, that is to weet, even upon them that have an high light of faith shining in their heart, and openly suffereth himself so plainly be perceived, by his fierce furious malicious persecution against the faithful christian, for hatred of Christ's true catholic faith, that no man having faith, can doubt what he is. For in this temptation he showeth himself, such as the prophet nameth him, demonium meridianum, the mid day devil. He may be so light●omly seen with the eye of a faithful soul, by his fierce furious assault & incursion. For therefore saith the prophet, that the truth of god shall compass the man round about, that dwelleth in the faithful hope of his help with a pavice. Ab incursu & demonio meridiano, from the incursion and the devil of the mid day, because this kind of persecution is not a wily temptation, but a furious force, and a terrible incursion. In other of his temptations he steale●h on like a Fox: but in this Turks persecution for the faith he runneth on roaring with assault like a ramping lion. This temptation is of all temptations also the most perilous: for whereas in temptations of prosperity, he useth only delectable allectives, to move a man to sin, & in other kinds of tribulations & adversity he useth only grief and pain to pull a man into murmur, impatience & blasphemy, in this kind of persecution for the faith of Christ, he useth b●th twain, that is to wit, both his allectives of quiet and rest by deliverance from death and pain, with other pleasures also of this present life: & beside that the terror and infliction of intolerable pain and torment in other tribulation, as l●sse of sickness, or death of our friends, though the pain be peradventure as great and some time greater to: yet is not the peril no where nigh half so much. For in other tribulations as I said before, the necessity that the man must of fine force abide and endure the pain, wax he never so wroth and impatient therewith, is a great occasion to move him to keep his patience therein, and be content therewith, and thank God thereof and of necessity to make a virtue, that he may be rewarded for. But in this temptation, this persecution for the faith, I mean not by fight in the ●ielde, by which the faithful man standeth at his defence, and putteth the faithless in half the fear, and half the harm too. But where he is taken and in hold, and may for the foreswearing or the denying of his faith, be delivered and suffered to live in rest, and some in great worldly wealth also.  
In this case I say this thing, that he needeth not to suffer this trouble and pain but he will, is a marvelous gr●at occasion for him to fall into the sin that the devil would drive him to, that is to weet, the forsaking of his faith: and therefore as I say, of all the devils temptations is this temptation, this persecution for the faith, the most perilous.  Vincent. 
The more perilous uncle that this temptation is (as in deed of all temptations the most perilous it is) the more need have they that stand in peril thereof, to be before with substantial advise and good counsel, well armed against it, that we may with the comfort and consolation thereof the better bear that tribulation when it cometh, and the better withstand the temptation.  ☞ Anthony● 
You say Cousin Uincent therein very truth, and I am content to fall therefore in hand therewith: but forasmuch Cousin as me thinketh that of this tribulation somewhat you be more frayed than I (and of truth somewhat more excusable it is in you, than it were in me● my age considered, and the sorrow that I have suffered already, with some other considerations on my part beside) rehearse you therefore the griefs & pains that you think in this tribulation possible to fall unto you: and I shall against each of them give you counsel, and rehearse you such occasion of comfort and consolation, as my poor wit and learning can call to my mind.  Vincent, 
In good faith uncle I am not all thing afraid in this case only for myself, but well you wot I have cause to care also for many more, and that folk of sundry sortes● men and women both, and that not all of one age.  ☞ Antony. 
All that you have cause to fear for Cousin, for all them have I cause to fear with you to, sith all your kinsfolks and alyes● within a little be likewise unto me: howbeit, to say the truth, every man hath cause in this case, to fear both for himself, & also for every other. For sith as the Scripture saith: unicuique deus dedit curam de proximo suo, god hath given every man cure and charge of his neighbour. There is no man that hath any spark of christian love & charity in his breast, but that in a matter of such peril as this is, wherein the soul of man standeth in so great danger to be lost, he must needs care and take thought, not for his friends only, but also for his ve●y foes. We shall therefore Cousin, not rehearse your harms or mine that may befall in this persecution, but all the great harms ingeneral, as near as we can call to mind that may hap unto any man.   

¶ The iii Chapter.  
Sith a man is made of the body and the soul, all the harm that any man may take, it must needs be in one of these two, either immediatli, or by the mean● of some such thing as serveth for the pleasure, weal, or commodity of the one of these two: as for the soul first we shall need no rehearsal of any harm, that by this kind of tribulation, may attain thereto: but if that by some inordinate love, and affection that the soul bear to the body, she consent to slide fro the faith, and thereby do her harm herself. Now remain there the body, and these outward things of fortune, which serve for the maintenance of the body, and minister matter of pleasure to the soul also. thorough the delight that she hath in the body, for the while that she is matched therewith. consider than first the loss of those outward things, as somewhat the less in weight than is the body itself, in them what may a man lose, and thereby what pain may he suffer?  Vincent. 
He may lose uncle. of which I should somewhat lose myself, money, plate, & other movable substance: than offices, authority, and finally all the lands of his inheritance for ever, that himself & his heirs perpetually might else enjoy. And of all these things uncle you wot well that myself have some, little in respect of that the some other have here, but somewhat more yet than he that hath most here, would be well content to lose. Upon the loss of these things follow neediness and poverty, the pain of lacking, the shame of begging: of which twain I wot not well, which is the most wretched necessity, beside the grief and heaviness of heart in beholding good men and faithful, & his dear friends, be wrapped in like misery and ungracious wretches and infidels, and his most mortal enemies enjoy the commodities that himself and his friends have lost. Now for the body, very few words shall serve us, for therein I see none other harm, but loss of liberty, labour, imprisonment, painful & shameful death.  ☞ Anthony. 
There need not much more Cousin, as the world is now: for I fear me that less than a fourth part of this, will make many a man sore stagger in his faith, and some man fall quite therefro, that yet at this day before he come to the proof, weeneth himself that he would stand very fast: and I beseech our lord that all they that so think & would yet when they were brought unto the point, fall therefrom for fear or for pain, may get of god the grace to ween still as they do, & not to be brought to thassay, where pain or fear should show them then. And (as it ●hewed. S. Peter) how far they be deceived now. But now Cousin, against these terrible things, what way shall we take in giving men counsel or comfort, if the faith were in our days as fervent as it hath been ere this in times past, little counsel & little com●ort would suffice, we should not much need with words & reasoning to extenuate and minish the vigor and asperity of the pains, but the greater the more bitter that the passion were, the more ready was of old time, the fervour of faith to suffer it: & surely Cousin, I doubt it little in my mind, but that if a man had in his heart so deep a desire & love, longing to be with god in heaven to have the fruition of his glorious face, as had those holy men that were martyrs in the old time, he would no more now stick at the pain that he must pass between, than at that time those old holy martyrs did. But alas, our faint & feeble faith with our love to god, less than leuke warm, by the fiery affection that we bear to our own filthy f●eshe, maketh us so dull in the desire of heaven, that the sudden dread of everybodely pain woundeth us to the heart and strike●h our devotion stark dead, & therefore hath there every man Cousin (as I said before) much she more need to think upon this thing many a time and oft, afore hand ere any such perel fall: & by much devising thereupon before they see the cause to fear it, while the thing shall not appear so terrible unto then reason shall better enter: and thorough grace working with their diligence, engender and set sure, not a sudden sleight affection of sufferance for god his sake, but by a long continuance a strong deep rooted habit, not like a reed ready to wave with every wind, nor like a rootelesse tree, scant set up an end, in a lose heap of light sand, the will with a blast or two be blown down.   

The four Chapter.  
FOr if we now consider Cousin, these causes of terror and dread that you have recited, which in his persecution for the faith, this mid day devil, may by these Turks rear against us, to make his incursion with, we shall well perceive, weighing them well with reason, that all be it somewhat they be in deed, yet every part of the matter pondered, they shall well appear in conclusion, things nothing so much to be dread, and ●●ed fro, as to folk at the first sight, they do suddenly seem.   

¶ The .v. Chapter. Of the loss of the goods of fortune.  
FOr first to begin at these outward goods that neither are the proper goods of the soul nor of the body, but are called the goods of fortune, ●hat serve for the sustenance & commodity of man for the short season of this present life, as worldly substance offices honour & auctoritie● What great good is there in these things of themselves, for which they were worthy so much as to bear the name, by which the world of a worldly favour, customably calleth them? For if the having of strength, make a man strong, and the having of heat make a man hot, and the having of virtue make a man virtuous: how can these things be verily and truly good, which he that hath them, may by the having of them, as well be the worse as the better, and as experience proveth, more o●ten is the worse than the better. What should a good man greatly rejoice in that that he daily seeth most abound in the hands of many that be nought? Do not now this great Turk and his pashas in all these advancements of fortune, surmount v●●y far above any christian estate and any lords living under him? And was there not yet hence upon a. x●. year a go the great Sultan of Siri, which many a year together bare as great a port as the great Turk, and after in one summer unto the great Turk, that whole Empire was lost, & so may all his Empire now, & shall hereafter by God his grace be lost into christian men's hands likewise, when christian people shallbe mended and grow into god his favour again. But when that whole kingdoms and mighty great empires are of so little surety to stand, but so soon stra●slated from one man unto an other: what great thing can you or I, yea or any Lord the greatest in this land, reckon himself to have by the possession of an heap of silver or gold, white and yellow methal not so profitable of their own nature (save for a little glistering) as the ●ude rusty mettle of iron.   

¶ The vi Chapter. ¶ Of the unsuertie of lands and possessions.  
Lands and possessions many men yet much more esteem than money, because the lands seem not so casual as money is or plate, for that though their other substance may be s●olne and taken away, yet evermore they think that their land will lie still where it laye● but what are we the better that our land can not be stirred but will lie s●yll where it lay, while ourself may be removed & not suffered to come near it? what great difference is there to us, whither our substance be movable or unmovable, sith we be so movable ourself, that we may be removed from them both, & lose them both twaine● saving y● som● time ●n the money is the surety somewhat more. For when we ●e feign ourself to ●●ee, we may make shift to carry some of our money with us, where of our land we can not carry one inch. If our land be a thing of more surety than our● money, how happeth it than that in this persecution, we be more frayed to lief it. For if it be a thing of more surety, than can it not so soon be lost. In the translation of these two great Empi●rs, Grece first, sith myself was borne. And after Siry, since you were borne to, the land was lost before the money was found.  
Oh Cousin Uincent, if the whole world were animated with a reasonable soul, as Plato had went it were, and that it had wit and understanding to mark & perceive all thing, Lord God how the ground on which a Prince buildeth his palace, would loud laugh his lord to s●orne, when he saw him proud of his possession, and heard him boast himself that he and his blood are for ever the very Lord and oweners of that land. For than would the ground think that while in himself. Ah thou silly poor soul, that weenest thou were half a God, and art amid thy glory, but a man in a ●aye gown. I that am the ground here, over whom thou art so proud, have had an hundredth such owners of me, as thou callest thyself, m●e than ever thou hast heard the names of. And some of them that proudly went over my headed lie now low in my belly, and my ●yde lieth over them● and many one shall as thou dost now, call himself mine owner after the●, that neither shallbe sib to thy blood, or any word hear of thy name, who ought your castle Cousin three thousand year a go.  Vincent. 
Three thousand U●e●e? Nay nay, in any King christian or heathen you may strike ●f a third part of that well enough, and as far as I ween, half of the remnau●te ●oo. In far fe●er years than three thousand, it may well fortune, that a poor plough man's blood may come up to a kingdom: and a kings right royal kin on the other side fall down to ●he plough and carte● and neither that king know that ever he came fro the cart, nor that carter know that ever he came from the crown.  ¶ Antony. 
We find Cousin Uincent in full Antentique stories, many strange chances as marvelous as that, come about in the compass of very f●we years in effect. And be such things than in reason so greatly to be set by, that we should esteem the loss at so great, when we see that in the keeping our surety is so little.  ☞ Vi●cent. 
Marry Uncle but the less surety that we have to keep it● sith it is a great commodity to have it, the fearder by so much, and the more loath we be to forego it.  ☞ Anthony. 
That reason shall I Cousin turn against yourself. For if it be so as you say, that sith the things be commodious, the less surety that you see you have of the keeping, the more cause you have to be afraid of the losing.  
Than on the other side, the more that a thing is of his nature such, that the commodity thereof bringeth a man little surety and much fear, that thing of reason, the less have we cause to love. And than the less cause that we have to love a thing, the less cause have we to care therefore, or fear the loss thereof, or be loath to go therefrom.   

The vii Chapter ¶ These outward goods or gifts of fortune are two manner wise to be considered.  
WE shall yet Cousin consider in these outward goods of fortune, as riches, good name● honest estimation, honourable fame a●d authority. In all these things we shall I say consydre, that either we love them and set by them, as by things commodious unto us for the state and condition of this present life, or else as things that we purpose by the good use thereof to make them matter of our merit with god his help in the life after to come. Let us than first consider them as things set by and beloved for the pleasure and commodity of them for this present life.   

The viii Chapter. ¶ The 〈…〉 of riches being ●●t by, ●ut for this ●●●●●nt life  
Now riches loved and set by for such if we consider it well, the commodit●e that we take thereof is n●t so great as our own fond affection and fantasy maketh us imagine it. It maketh us I say not naye● go much more gay and glorious in sight garnished with silk, but cloth is within a little as warm. It maketh us have great plenty of many kind of delicate and delicious victual, and thereby to make more exce●se, but le●se exquisite, a●d less superfluous fare, with fe●er su●●aytes and fewer fevers growing thereon to, were within a little as wholesome than the labour in the getting, the fear in the ke●yng, the pain in the parting fro, do more th●n counterpoise a great part of all the pleasure and commodity that they bring. Besides this, that riches is the thing that taketh many times frō●is master, all his pleasure, & his life too. For many a man is for his riches slain, and some that keep their riches as things pleasant & commodious for their life, take none other pleasure in a manner thereof in all their life, than as though they bore the kaye of an other man's coffer, and rather are content to live in neediness miserably all their days, than they could find in their heart to minish their hoard, they have such fantasy to look thereon: yea and some men for fear lest thieves should steal it from them, be their own thieves and steal it from themself, while they dare not so much as let it lie where themself may look thereon, but put it in a pot, and hide it in the ground, and there let it lie safe till they die, and sometime vii year after. From which place if the pot had been stolen away .v. year before his death, all the same .v. year that he lived after, weening alway that his pot lay safe still, what had he been the poorer while he never occupied it after?  Vincent. 
By my troth Uncle not one penny for aught that I perceive.   

¶ The ix Chapter. ¶ The little commodity of fame being desired but for worldly pleasure.  Antony. 
LEt us now consider good name, honest estimation, and honourable fame. For these three things are of their own nature, one, and take their difference in effect, but of the manner of the comen speech in diversity of degrees. For a good name may a man have be he never so poor, honest estimation in the common taking of the people belongeth not unto any man, but him that is takē●or one of some countenance and behaviour, and among his neighbours had in some reputation. In the word of honourable fame, folk conceive the renown of great estates, much and far spoken of by reason of their laudable ac●es. Now all this gear used as a thing pleasant and commodious for this present life, pleasant it may seem to him that fasteneth his fantasy therein, but of the nature of the thing itself, I perceive no great commodity that it hath: I say of the nature of the thing itself, because it may be by chance some occasion of commodity, as if it hap that for the good name the poor man hath, or for the honest estimation that a man of some have our & substance standeth in among his neighbours, or for the honourable fame wherewith the great estate is renowned, if it hap I say that any man beating them better, will do them therefore any good.  
A●d yet as for that, like as it may sometime so hap, (and sometime so happeth in deed:) so may it hap sometime on the other side (and on the other side so it sometime happeth in deed) that such folk are of some other envy and hated, and as readily by them that envy them and hate them take harm, as they take by them that love them, good. But now to speak of the thing itself in his own proper nature, what is it but a blast of another man's mouth, as soon passed as spoken, whereupon he that setteth his delight, feedeth himself but with wind whereof be he never so full, he hath little substance therein.  
And many times shall he much deceive himself. For he shall ween that many praise him, that never speak word of him, and they that do say yet much less than he weeneth, and far more seldom too. For they spend not all the day he may be sure in talking of him alone, and whoso commend him mostewyll yet I ween in every, xxiiii. hours, wink and forgeatte him once. Besides this, that while one talketh well of him in one place, an other sitteth and sayeth as shrewdelye of him in an other. And finally, some that praise him in his presence, behind his back, mock him as fast, and loud laugh him to scorn, and sometime slyly to his own face too: and yet are there some fools so fed with this fond fantasy of fame, that they rejoice and gory, to think how they be continually praised all about, as though all the world did nothing else day nor night, but ever sit and sing, Sanctus, Sanctu●, Sanctus. upon them.   

¶ The ten Chapter. ¶ Of ●latterye.  
ANd into this pleasant frenzy of much foolish vain glory, be there some men brought sometime by such as themselves do in in a manet hire to f●●tter them, and would not be content if a man should do otherwise, but would be ●yghte angry, not only if a man told them truth when they do ●ought in deed, but also if they praise it but slenderly.  ¶ Vincent. 
Forsooth Uncle this is very truth, I have been ere this and not very long ago where I saw so proper experience of this point, that I must stop your tale for so long while I tell you mine.  ☞ Anthony. 
I pray you Cousin tell on.  Vincent. 
When I was first in Almaigne Uncle, it happened me to be somewhat favoured with a great man of the Church, and a great state, one of the greatest in all that country there, and in deed whosoever might spend as much as he might in one thing and other, were a right great state in any country of christendom. But glorious was he very far above all measure, and that was great peitye, for it did harm, and made him abuse many great gifts that god had given him, never was he sac●a●e of hearing his own praise. So happened it one day, that he had in a great audience, made an Oration in a certain manner, wherein he liked himself so well, that at his dinner he sat him thought on thorns, till he might hear how they that sat with him at his board would commend it: and when he had sit musing a while, devising (as I thought after) on some prettye proper way, to bring it in withal: At last, for lack of a better (lest he should have letted the matter to long) he brought it even bloontly forth, & asked us all that sat at his boards end (for at his own mess in the midst, there sat but himself alone) how well we liked his Oration that he made that day. But in faith Uncle, when that problem was once proponed, till it was full answered, no man I ween eat one morsel of meat more, every man was fallen in so deep ● study, for the finding of some exquisite praise. For he that should have brought out but a vulgar, and a comen commendation, would have thought himself, shamed for ever.  
Than said we ou● sentences by 〈◊〉 as we sat. from the lowest unto the highest in good order, as it had been a great matter of the comen wail in a right solemn counsel, when it came to my part (I will not safe it for no boast Uncle) me thought by our lady for my part I quit myself very well. And I liked myself the better because me thought my words (being but a stranger) went yet with some grace in the Almaigne tongue, wherein letting my latin alone, me lusted to show my cunning, and I hoped to be liked the better because I saw that he that sat next me & should say his sentence after me, was an unlearned priest, for he could speak no latin at all: but when he came forth for his part, with my lords commendation, the wily Fox had been so well accustomed in the court, with the craft of flattery, that he went beyond me to to far. And than might I see by him, what excellency a right mean wit may come to in one craft, that in all his whole life studieth and busieth his wit about no more, but that one. But I made after a solemn vow to myself, that if ever he and I were matched together at that board again, when we should fall to our flattery. I would flatter in latin, that he should not contend ●yth me no more. For though I could be content, to be out run of a horse, yet would I no more abide it to be outrun of an Ass. But Uncle, here began now the game: he that sat highest and was to speak last, was a great benyf●zed man and not a doctor only, but also somewhat learned in deed in the laws of the Church, a world it was to see how he ma●ked every man's word, that spoke before him, and it seemed that every word, the more proper that it was, the worse he liked it, for the com●raunce that he had to study out a better to pass it. The man even sweatte with the labour, so that he was fain in the while now and than, to wipe his face: howbeit in conclusion, when it came to his course, we that had spoken before him had so taken all up among us before, that we had not left him one wise word to speak.  Antony. 
Alas good man, among so many of you some good fellow should have lente him one.  Vincent. 
It needed not as hap was uncle. For he found out such a shift, that in his flattering, he passed us all the meinie.  Antony. 
Why, what said he Cousin?  Vincent. 
By our lady uncle, not one word. But like as I trow. Plinius telleth, that when Appelles the painter (in the table that he painted of the sacrifice, and the death of Iphigenia) had (in the making of the sorrowful countenances of the noble men of Grece that beheld it) spent out so much of his craft and his cunning, that when he came to make the countenance of king Agamemnon, her father which ye reserved for the last, lest if he had made his visage before, he must in some of the other after, either have made the visage less dolorous than he could, and thereby have forborn some part of his praise, or doing the uttermost of his craft, might have happened to make some other look more heavily, for the pity of her pain, than her own father, which had been yet a far greater fault in his painting, when he came I say to the making of his face therefore last of all, he could devise no manner of new heavy cheer and countenance for her father, but that he had made there already in some of the other, much more heavy before, and therefore to th'intent that no man should see what manner countenance it was that her father had, the painter was fain to paint him, holding his face in his hand kercher, the like pagiaunt in a manner played us there this good ancient honourable flatterer: for when he saw that he could find no word of praise that would pass all that had been spoken before already, the wily fox would speak never a word, but as he were ravished unto heaven ward, with the wonder of the wisdom and eloquence that my lords grace had uttered in that Oration, he fet a long sigh with an Oh from the bottom of his breast, & held up both his hands, and lifted up his head, and cast both his yien up into the welkin and wept.  Anthony. 
Forsooth Cousin he played his part very properly, but was that great prelate's oration any thing praise worthy? for you can tell I see well, for you would not I ween play as Juvenal merely describeth the blind senator one of the flatterers of Tyberyus th'emperor, that among the remnant ●o magnified the great fish that th'emperor had sent for them to show them, which this blind senator, Montanus I trow they called him, marveled of as much as any that marveled most: and many things he spoke thereof, with some of his words directed thereunto, looking himself toward the lift side, while the fish lay on his right side, you would not I trow Cousin have taken upon you to praise it so, but if you had heard it.  ☞ Vincent. 
I heard it uncle in deed, and to say the troth it was not to dispraise: howbeit surely somewhat less praise might have served it, by more a great deal than the half: but this am I sure, had it been the worst that ever was made, the praise had not been the less of one here. For they that used to praise him to his face, never considered, how much the thing deserved, but how great a laud and praise themself could give his good grace.  Anthony. 
Surely Cousin as Terence sayeth, such folks make men of fools even stark mad, and much cause have their lords to be right angry with them.  ☞ Vincent. 
God hath in deed, and is I ween, but as for their lords uncle, if they would after wax angry with them therefore, they should in my mind do them very great wrong, when it is one of the things that they specially keep them for. For those that are of such vainglorious mind (be they lords or be they meaner men) can be much better content to have their devices commended then amended: and require they their servant and their friend never so specially to tell them the very truth, yet shall he better please them if he speak them fair, then if he tell them truth. For they be in the case that Martial is speaketh of, in an epigram unto a friend of his that requireth his judgement, how he liked his vea●sis, but he prayed him in any wise to tell him even the very truth: to whom Marcial made answer in this wise. The very truth of me thou dost require, the very truth is this my friend dear, that the very truth thou wouldst not gladly hear: & in good faith uncle the self same prelate that I told you my ●ale of● I dare be bold to swear it, (I know it so surely) had on a time made of his own drawing, a certain treatise, that should serve for a league between the country and a great Prince. In which treatise, himself thought that he had devised his articles so wisely, and indicted them so well, that all the world would allow them: whereupon longing sore to be praised, he called unto him a friend of his, a man well learned, and of good worship, and very well expert in those matters, as he that had been diverse times ambassador for that country, and had made many such treatises himself. When he took him the treatise, and that he had read it, he asked him how he liked it and said: But I pray you tell me the very troth, and that he spoke so heartily, that the t'other had went he would fain have heard the troth, and in trust thereof he told him a fault therein. At the hearing whereof, he swore in great anger. By the mass thou art a very fool. The other afterward told me that he would never tell him truth again.  Anthony. 
Without question Cousin, I cannot greatly blame him, and thus themself make every man mock them, flatter them & deceive them. Those I say, that are of such vainglorious mind: For if they be content to hear the truth, let them than make much of those that tell them truth, and withdraw their ear from them that falsely flatter them, and they shall be more truly served than with twenty requests praying men to tell them truth. King Ladislaus, our lord assoil his soul, used much this manner among his servants, when any of them praised any deed of his, or any condition in him, if he perceived that they said but truth he would let it pass by uncontrolled. But when he saw that they set to a gloze upon it for his praise of their own making beside, then would he shortly say unto them: I pray thee good fellow, when thou sayest grace at my board, never bring in, Gloria patri, without a Sicut erat. Every act that ever I did, if thou report it again to mine honour with a Gloria patri. Never report it but with a Sicut era●, that is to weet, even as it was● and none other wise: & lift me not up with no lies, for I love it not. If men would use this way with them, that this noble king used, it would minish much of their false flattery. I can well allow that men should commend (keeping them within the bonds of truth) such things as they see praise worthy in other men to give them the greater courage to th'increase thereof, for men keep still in that point one condition of children, that praise mus●e prick them forth, but better it were to do well, and look for none.  
Howbeit, they that can not find in their heart to commend an other man's good deed, show themself either envious, or else of nature very cold & dull. But out of question, he that putteth his pleasure in the praise of the people, hath but a fond fantasy. For if his finger do but ache of an hot blayney a great meinie of men's mouths blo●ing out his praise, will scantly do him among them al● half so much ●ase, as to have one little boy● to blow upon his finger.   

¶ The xi Chapter. ¶ The little commodity that men have o●●owme●, offices and authority, if they desire them but for the●r worldly co●modi●ie.  
LEt us now consider in likewise, what great worldly wealth ariseth unto men by great offices, tow●●s and authority to those worldly disposed people, I say that desyer● them for no better purpose. For of them that desire them for better, we shall speak after anon. The great thing that they chief like all therin● is ●hat they may bear a rule, command and controlled other men, and live uncommanded and uncontrolled themself●: & yet this commodity took I so little heed of that I never was ware it was so great, till a good friend of ours merely told me once, that his wife once in a great anger taught it him. For when her husband had no lust to grow greatly v●ward in the world, nor neither would labour for office of authority, & over that forsook a right worshipful room when it was offered him, she fell in hand with him (he told me● & all to rated him, & asked him: what will you do? will you sit still by the fire & make goslynges in the ashes with a sticks as children do? would god I were a man, & look what I would do: Why wife ꝙ her husband, what would you do? what? by god go forward with the best of them For as my mother was wont to say, god have mercy on her soul: It is better to rule than to be ruled. And therefore by god I would not I warrant you be so foolish to be ruled, where I might rule. By my truth wife, ꝙ her husband's, in this I dare say you say truth. For I never found you willing to be ruled yet.  Vincent. 
Well uncle, I wot where you be well enough. She is in deed a stout master woman: & in good faith for aught that I can see, even that same womanish mind of hers, is that greatest commodity that men reckon upon, in ●owmes & offices of authority.  Anthony. 
By my troth & me thinkeeths very few there are of them that attain any great commodity therein. For first there is in every kingdom, but one that can have an office of such authority that no man may command him or control him. None officer can there stand in that case, but the King himself, which only uncontrolled or commanded, may control and command all.  
Now of all the remnant, each is under him: and yet beside him, almost every one is under more commanders and controllers too than one: and some man that is in a great office, commandeth fewer things and less labour to many men that are under him, than some one that is over him commandeth him alone.  ☞ Vincent. 
Yet it doth them good uncle, that men must make courtesy to them, and salute them with reverence, and stand bare headed b●fore them, or to some of them kneel peradventure too.  Anthony. 
Well Cousin, in some part they do but play at gl●ke, receive reverence, and to their cost pay honour again therefore. For except, as I said, only a king, the greatest in authority under him, receiveth not so much reverence of no man, as according to reason, himself doth honour to him. Nor twenty men's courtesies do him not so much pleasure, as his own once kneeling doth him pain, if his knee hap to be sore. And I wi●t once a great officer of the Kings say, (and in good faith I ween he said but as he thought) that twenty men standing barehead before him, kept not his head half so warm, as to keep on his own cap. Nor he never took so much ease with their being barehead before him, as he caught once grief with a cough that came upon him, by standing barehead long before the King. But let it be that these commodities be somewhat such as they be, yet than considre whither that any incommodities be so joined therewith, that a man were almost as good lack both, as have both. Goeth all thing evermore as every one of them would have it? that were as hard, as to please all the people at once with one weather, while in one house, the husband would have fair weather for his corn, and his wife would have rain for her leeks. So while they that are in authority, be not all evermore of one mind. But sometime variance among them● either for the respect of profyite or for contention of rule or for maintenance of matters, sundry parts for their sundry friends. It can not be that both the parts can have their own mind, nor often are they content which see their conclusion quail, but x. times they take the missing of their mind more dyspleasauntly than other poor men do. And this goeth not only to men of mean authority, but unto the very greatest. The princes themself can not have you wot well all their will: for how were it possible while each of them almost would, if he might, be lord over all the remnant? Than many men under their princes in authority, are in the case that prievy malice and envy many bear them in heart falsely speak them fair, and praise them with their mouths which when there happeth any great fall unto them, bawl and bark and bite upon them like dogs. Finally, the cost & charge, the danger & peril of war, wherein their part is more than a poor man's is, sith the matter more dependeth upon them, and many a poor plough man may sit still by the fire while they must rise and walk, and sometime their authority falleth by the change of their masters mind, and of that see we daily in one place or other ensamples such, & so many, that the parable of the Philosopher can lack no testimony, which likened the servants of great princes unto the coumptors, with which men do cast a count. For like as the countor that standeth sometime for a farthing, is suddenly set up & standeth for a. M. pound, & after as soon set down, eft soon beneath to stand for a farthing again: So fareth it lo, sometime with those that seek the way to rise & grow up in authority, by the favour of great princes, that as they rise up high, so fall they down again as low. Howbeit, though a man escape all such adventures & abide in great authority till he dye● yet than at the least wise every man mu●t leave it at the last: & that which we call at least, hath no very long time to it. Let a man reckon his years that are passed of his age ere ever he can get up aloft: & let him when he hath it first in his fist, reckon how long he shall be like to live after, and I ween that th●n the mo●● part shall have little cause to rejoice, they shall see the time likely to be so short, that their honour & authority by nature shall endure, beside the manifold chances whereby they may lose it more soon. And than when they see that they must needs leave it, the thing which they did much more set their heart upon than ever they had reasonable cause, what sorrow ●hey take therefore, that shall I not need to tell you.  
And thus it seemeth unto me Cousin, in good faith, that sith in the having the profit is not great, & the displeasures neither small nor few, and of the losing so many sundry chances, & that by no mean a man can keep it long, & that to part there from, is such a painful grief, I can see no very great cause, for which as an high worldly commodity, men should greatly desire it.   

The xii Chapter. ¶ That these outward good, desired but for worldly wealth be not only little good for the body, but ●re alson much harm for the soul.  
ANd ●hus far have we considered hither to● in these outward goods that are called the gifts of fortune no farther but the slender commodity that worldly minded men have by them. But now if we consider farther what harm to the soul, they take by them the desire them, but only for the wretched wealth of this work: Than shall we well perceive, how far more happy is he that well loseth than, than he that cuil findeth them. These things though they be such, as are of their own nature indifferent, that is to wit of themself, things neither good nor bad, but are matter that may serve to the tone or the t'other, ●fter as men will use them, yet need we little to doubt it, but that they that desire them but for their worldly pleasure, & for no farther godly purpose, the deui● shall soon turn them from things indifferent unto them and make them things very nought. For though that they be indifferent of their nature, yet can not the use of them, lightly stand indifferent, but determinately must either be good or bad. And therefore he that desireth them but for worldly pleasure, desireth them not for any good. And for better purpose than he desires them, to better use is he not likely to put them, and therefore not unto good, but consequently to nought. As for ensample first consider it in riches he ●hat longeth for them, as for things of temporal commodity and not for any godly purpose, what good they shall do him Saint Paul declareth where he writeth unto Timothe, Qui volunt divites fieri, incidunt in temptacionem & in laqucum di●boli & des●deria mu●ta inutilia & noxia que ●ergūt homines in interi●um & penditionem. They that long to be rich fall into temptation, and into the grin of the devil, and into many desires unprofitable and noyous, which drown men into death and into perdition. And the holy scripture saith also in the xxi Chapter of the proverbs. Qui ●ongrega● thesauros inpingetur in laqueus mortis. He that gathereth treasures shallbe showued into the grins of death, so that where as by the mouth of. S. Paul god saith that they shall fall into the devils grin, he saith in the other place, that they shall be pushed or showued in by violence, & of troth while a man desireth riches, not for any good godly purpose, but for only wealth, it must needs be that he shall have little conscience in the geatting, but by all evil ways than he can invent shall labour to geatte them, and than shall he either niggardly heap them up together, which is you wot well damnable, or wastfullye missespende them about worldly pomp pride and gluttony, with occasion of many sins more, and that is yet much more damnable. As for fame and glory, desired but for worldly pleasure, doth unto the soul inestimable harm.  
For that setteth men's hearts upon high devices and desires of such things as are immoderate and outrageous, & by help of false flatterers puff up a man in pride, & make a bryttel man lately made of earth, & that shall again shortly be laid full low in earth, & there lie and rotte● and turn again into earth, take himself in the mean time for a god here upon the earth, and ween to win himself to be lord of all the earth. This maketh battles between these great princes, & with much trouble to much people & great effusion of blood one King to look to reign in five realms that can not well rule one. For how many hath now this great Turk, & yet aspireth to more? And those that he hath he ordereth evil, & yet himself worse. Than offices & rooms of authory●ye (if men desire them only for their worldly fantasies) who can look that ever they shall occupy them well, but abuse their authority & do thereby great hurt. For than shall they fall from indifferency, & maintain false matters of their friends, bear up their servants & such as depend upon them, with bearing down of other innocent folk, & not so able to do hurt, as easy to take harm. Than the laws that are made against malefactors, shall they make as an old Philosopher said, to be much like unto cobbewebbes, in which the little gnats & flies stick still & hung fast: but the great humble bees break them & fly quite thorough, & then the laws that are made as a buckler in the defence of Innocentes, those shall they make serve for a sword to cut, & so●e wounded them with, & therewith wound they their own souls sorer. And thus you see Cousin, that of all these ouward goods which mer●●al the goods of fortune, there is never one that unto them which long therfore● not for any godly purpose, but only for their worldly wealth, hath any great commodity to the body, & yet are they all in such case besides that, very deadly destruction unto the soul.   

¶ The xiii Chapter. ¶ Wither men desire these outward goods for their only worldly wealth, or for any good virtuous purpose, this persecucion● of the Turk against the faith will declare and the comfort that both twain may rake in the losing them thu●.  ¶ Vincent. 
Verily good Uncle this thing is so plainly true, that no man may with any good reason deny it. But I wee●e Uncle also, that there will no man say nay. For I see no man that will for very shame confess that he desireth riches, honour & renown, offices & rooms of authority, for his only worldly pleasure. For every man would feign seem as holy as a horse. And therefore will every man say & would it were so believed to, that he desireth these things (though for his worldly wealth a little so) yet principally to merit thereby thorough doing some good deed therewith  Anthony. 
This is Cousin very sure so, that so doth every man say, but first he that in the desire thereof, hath his respect therein, unto his worldly wealth as you say, but a little so, so much as himself weeneth were but a little, may soon prove a great deal to much: and many men will say so to that have in deed their principal respect unto their worldly commodity, and unto godward therein, little or nothing at all: & yet they pretend the contrary, and that unto their own harm, quia deu● n● irridetur, God can not be mocked. And some peradventure, know not well their own affection themself, but there lieth more imperfection, secret in their affection, than themself are well aware of, which only god behold●th, and therefore sayeth the Prophets unto god. Imperfectum meum viderant oculi ●ui. mine imperfection have thy yien beholden. For which the prophet prayeth: Ab occultis meis mund● me dominey From my hid sins cleanse thou me good lord. But now cousin this tribulation of the Turk, if he so persecute us for the faith, that those that will forsake their faith shall keep their goods, and those shall lose their goods that will not leave their faith. This manner of persecution lo, shall like a touch stone try them, and shown the feigned from the true minded, and teach also them that ween they mean better than they do in deed better to deserve themself. For some● there are y● ween they mean well while they frame them self a conscience & ever keep still a great heap of superfluous substance by them, thinking ever ●●il that they will bethink themself upon some good deed, whereon they will well bestow it once or else their executors shall. But if they lie not unto themself, but keep their goods for any good purpose to the pleasure of god in deed, than shall they in this persecution for the pleasure of God, in the keeping of his faith, be glad for to departed fro them. And therefore as for all those things the loss I mean of all those outward things that men call the gifts of fortune, this is me thinketh in this Turks persecution for the faith, consolation great & sufficient, that sith every man that hath them, either setteth by them for the world or for God. He that setteth by them for the world, hath as I have showed you little profit by them to the body, & great harm unto the soul '. And therefore may well (if he be wise) reckon that he winneth by the loss although he lost them but by some comen chance. And much more happy than while he loseth them by such a meritorious mean. And on the other side, he that keepeth them for some good purpose intending to bestow them for the pleasure of god, the loss of them in this Turks persecution for keeping of the faith, can be no manner grief unto him, sith that by his so parting from them, he bestoweth them in such wise unto god's pleasure, that at that time when he loseth them by no way could he bestow them unto his high pleasure better. For though it had been peradventure better to have bestowed them well before, yet sith he kept them for some good purpose, he would not have left them vnbestowed● if he had foreknown the chance: but being now prevented so by persecution the he can not bestow them in that other good way that he would, y●t while he parteth from them because he will not part from the faith though the devils escheator violently take them from him, yet willingly he giveth them to God.   

¶ The xiiii Chapter. ¶ An other cause for which any man should be content to forego his goods in the Turks said persecution.  Vincent. 
I Can not in good faith good Uncle say nay to none of this, and in deed unto them that (by the Turks over running of the country) were happened to be spoiled & rob, & all their substance movable & unmovable, bereft & lost already, their persons only fled and safe: I think that these considerations considered therewith, that as you lately said, their sorrow could not amend their chance, I might unto them be good occasion of comfort, & cause them as you said make a virtue of necessity: but in the case Uncle that we now speak of, that is to weet, where they have yet their substance untouched in their own hands, & that the keeping or the losing shall hang both in their own hands by the Turks offer upon the retaining or the renouncing of the christian faith, here uncle I find it as you said that this temptation is most sore & most perilous. For I fear me that we shall find few of such as have much to lose, that shall find in their hearts so suddenly to forsake their goods with all those other things afore rehearsed. whereupon all their worldly wealth dependeth.  Anthony. 
That fear I much Cousin too, but thereby shall it well as I said appear, that seemed they never so good & virtuous before, & flattered they themself with never so gay a gloze of good & gracious purpose that they kept their goods for, yet were their hearts inwardly in the deep sight of god, not sound & sure, such as they should be, & as peradventure some had themself, went they had be but like a pursering of paris, hollow, light & counterfeit in deed. And yet they being such, this would I feign ask one of them & I pray, you Cousin take you his person upon you, and in this case answer for him. What letteth, would I ask you (for we will take no small man for a sample in this part, nor him that had little to lose, for such one were me think so far from all frame, that would cast away GOD for a little, that he were not worthy to talk with:) what letteth I say therefore your lordship, that you be not gladly content without any deliberation at all in this kind of persecution, rather t●en to leave your faith, to let go all that ever you have at once.  Vincent. 
Sith ●ou put it uncle unto me to make the matter more plain, that I should play the great man's part that is so wealthy, and hath so much to lose, albeit I cannot be very sure of an other man's mind, nor what another man would say, yet as far as mine own mind can conjecture, I shall answer in his person what I ween would be his let. And ●herfore to your question I answer, that there letteth me the thing that yourself may lightly guess, the losing of the manifold commodities which I now have: Richeses and substance, lands and great possessions of inheritance, with great rule and authority here in my country: all which things the great Turk granteth me to keep still in peace, and have them enhanced too, so that I will forsake the faith of Christ: Yea, I may say to you, I have a motion secretly made me farther, to keep all this yet better cheap, that is to wit, not be compelled utterly to forsake Christ, nor all the whole christian faith, but only some such parts thereof, as may not stand with Machomets' law, & only granting Machomet for a true prophet, & serning the Turk truly in his wars against all christian Kings, I shall not be letted to praise Christ also, and to call him a good man, and worship him and serve him too.  Antony. 
Nay nay my lord, Christ hath not so great need of your lordship, as rather than to lose your service, he would fall at such covenants with you, to take your service at halves to serve him and his enemy both: he hath given you plain warning already by. S. Paul, that he will have in your service no parting fellow. Que societas lucis ad tenebras● Christi ad Belial? what fellowship is there between light & darkness? between Christ & Belial? And he hath also plainly showed you himself by his own mouth: Nemo potest doubus domini● seru●re. No man may serve two lords at once. He will have you believe all that he telleth you, & do all that he biddeth you, & forbear all that he forbiddeth you without any manner exception. Break one of his commandments, and break al. Forsake one point of his faith, & forsake all, as for any thank you get for the remnant. And therefore if you devise as it were Indentures between god & you, what thing you will do for him, & what thing you will not do, as though he should hold him content with such service of yours as your self-lust to appoint him: If you make I say, such Indentures, you shall seal both the parts yourself, & you get thereto no agreement of him. And ●his I say: though the Turk would make such an appointment with you as you speak of, & would when he had made it keep it, whereas he would not I warrant you leave you so, when he had once brought you so far forth, but would little and little after ere he left you, make you deny Christ altogether and take Machomette in his ●lede. And so doth he in the beginning when he will not have believe him to be God. For surely if he were not god, he were no good man neither, while he plainly said he was god. But though he would never go so far forth with you, yet Chri●t will (as I said) not take your service to halves, but will that you shall love him with all your whole heart. And because that while he was living here fifteen hundredth year agoe● he foresaw this mind of yours that you have now, with which you would fain serve him in some such fashion as you might keep your worldly substance still, but rather forsake his service ●hen put all your substance from you: he telleth ●●u plain xv hundredth year ago his own mouth, that he will no such service of you, saying: Non pote●tis d●o servire et Mammone. You cannot serve both God and your richesses together. And therefore this thing established for a plain conclusion, which you must needs grant if you have faith. And if you be gone from that ground of faith already: than is all your disputation you wot well, at an end. For whereto should you than rather lose your goods, then forsake your faith, if you have lost your faith and let it go already? This point I say therefore, put first for a ground between us both twain agrred, that you have yet the faith still, and intend to keep it alway still in your heart, and are but in doubt whether you will lose all your worldly substance, rather than forsake your faith in your only word. Now shall I reply to the point of your answer, wherein you tell me the lothnes of the loss, and the comfort of keeping letteth you to forego them, and moveth you rather to forsake your faith. I let pass all that I have spoken of the small commodity of them unto your body, & of the great harm that the having of them do to your soul. And sith the promise of the Turk, made unto you for the keeping of them, is the thing that munch you and maketh you thus to doubt, I ask you first whereby you wot, ●hat when you have done all that he will have you do against christ to the harm of your soul, whereby wot you I say, that he will keep yo● his promise in these things that he promiseth you, concerning the retaining of your well-beloved worldly wealth for the pleasure of your body.  Vincent. 
What surety can a man have of such a great Prince but his promise? which for his own honour it cannot become him to break.  Anthony. 
I have known him, and his father before him, to break more promises than .v. as great as this is that he should here make with you. Who shall come and cast it in his teeth, and tell him it is a shame for him to be so fickle and so false of his promise? And than what careth he for those words that he wotteth well he shall never hear? not very much although they were told him too. If you might come after and complain your grief unto his own person yourself, you should find him as shamefast as a friend of mine a merchant, found once the Sultan of Syrry, to whom (being certain years about his merchandise in that country) he gave a great sum of money for a certain office meet for him there for the while, which he scant had him granted and put in his hand, but y● or ever it were aught worth unto him, the sultan suddenly sold it to another of his own sect, and put our hungarien out. Than came he to him & humbly put him in remembrance of his grant passed his own mouth, and signed with his own hand: whereunto the sultan answered him with a grim countenance. I will thou wit it lozel, that neither my mouth nor my hand shall be master over me, to bind all my body at their pleasure: but I will so be lord and master over them both, that whatsoever the one say, or the other writ, I will be at my own liberty, to do what me lust myself, and ask them both no leave: ween you now my lord that Sowdan & this Turk, being both of one false sect, you may not find them both, like false of their promise.  Vincent. 
That must I needs jeopardy, for other sure●y can there none be had.  Antony. 
An unwise ieoparding to put your soul in peril of damnation, for the keeping of your bodily pleasures, and yet without surety thereof must jeopardy them too: but yet go a little farther lo, suppose me that ye might be very sure that the Turk would break no promise with you, are you than sure enough to retain all your substance still?  Vincent. 
Ye than.  Anthony. 
What if a man should ask you how long?  ☞ Vincent. 
How long? as long as I live.  ☞ Anthony. 
Well, let it be so than: but yet as far as I can see, though the great Turk favour you never so much and let you keep your goods as long as ever you live: yet if it hap that you be at this day fifty year old, all the favour that he can show you, can not make you one day younger to morrow, but every day shall you wax elder than other: and then within a while, must you for all his favour lose all.  ¶ ¶ Vincent. 
Well, a man would be glad for all that to be sure not to lack while he liveth.  ☞ Anthony. 
Well, than if the great Turk give you your good, can there than in all your life no other take them from you again?  Vincent. 
verily I suppose no.  ☞ Anthony. 
May he not lose this country again unto christian men, & you with the taking of this way, fall in thesame peril than that you would now eschew?  Vincent. 
Forsooth I think that if he get it once, he will never lose it again in our days.  Antony. 
Yes by god's grace, but yet if he lose it after your days, there goeth your children's inheritance awa● again. But be it now that he could never lose it● could none take your substance from you than?  Vincent. 
No in good faith none.  Antony. 
No? none at all? not god?  Vincent. 
God? what? yes pardie, who doubteth of that?  Antony. 
Who? marry he that doubteth whither there be any god or no: and that there lacketh not some such, the Prophet testifieth where he saith. Dixit insipiens in cord suo non est deus. The fool hath said in his heart there is no god. With the mouth the most foolish will forbear to say it unto other folk, but in the heart they let not to say it softly, to themselves and I fear me there be many more such fools than every man would ween there were, and would not let to say it openly to, if they forbore it not more for dread of shame of men, than for any fear of god. But now those that are so frantic foolish, as to ween there were no god, and yet in their words confess him, though that (as. S. Paul sayeth: in their deeds they deny him. We shall let him pass till it please god to show himself unto them, either inwardly betime, by his merciful grace, or else outwardly (but over late for them) by his terrible judgement. But unto you my lord, sith you believe and confess (like as a wise man should) that though the Turk keep you promise in letting you keep your substance, because you do him pleasure in the forsaking of your faith: yet God (whose faith you forsake, and therein do him displeasure) ●ay so take them from you● that the great Turk with all the power he hath is not able to keep you, then why will you be so unwise with the loss of your soul to please the great Turk for your goods, while you wot well that god whom you displease therewith, may take them from you too: besides this sith you believe there is a god, you cannot but believe therwiththat the great Turk cannot take your good from you without his will or sufferance, no more than the d●uill could fro job. And think you than that if he will suffer the Turk take away your good, albeit that by the keeping and confessing of his faith you please him: he will when you displease him by forsaking his faith, suffer you of those goods that you get or keep, thereby to rejoice and enjoy any benefit.  Vincent. 
God is gracious, and though that men offend him, yet he suffereth them many times to live in prosperity long after.  Anthony. 
Long after? nay by my troth my lord that doth he no man: for how can that be that he should suffer you live in prosperity long after, when your whole life is but short in all together, and either almost half thereof or more than half (you think yourself I dare say) spent out already before? can you burn out half a short candle, and than have a long one left of the remnant? there cannot in this world be a worse mind, than that a man to delight and take comfort in any commodity that he taketh by sinful mean: for it is the very strait way toward the taking of boldness and courage in sin, and finally to fall into infidelity and think, that god caruth not, nor regardeth not what thing men do hear, nor what mind we be of: but unto such minded folk speaketh holy scripture in this wise, Noli dicere peccavi, et nihil mihi accidit tr●●te, patience enim redditor est dominus. say not I have sinned, & yet hath there happened me no harm: for god suffereth before he strike. But as. S. Austen saith: The longer that he tarrieth or he strike, the sorer is the stroke when he striketh: & therefore if yo● will well do, reckon your self very sure, that when you deadly displease god, for the geatting or the keeping of your goods, god shall not suffer those goods to do you good, but either shall he take them shortly from you, or suffer you to keep them for a little while to your more harm: and after shall he when you least look therefore, take you away from them, and than what an heap of heaviness will there enter into your heart, when you shall see that you shall suddenly so go from your goods and leave them here in the earth in one place, and that your body shallbe put in the earth in an other place: and (which than shallbe most heaviness of all) when you shall fear (and not without great cause) that your soul shall first forthwith, and after that, at the final judgement, your body to be driven down deep toward the sentry of the earth into the fiery pit & dungeon of the devil of hell, there to tarry in torment world without end? What goods of this world can any man imagine whereof the pleasure and commodity could be such in a thousand year, as were able to recompense that intolerable pain, that there is to be suffered in one year, or in one day, or one hour either: yea & then what a madness is it, for that poor pleasure of your worldly goods of so few years, to cast yourself both body and soul into the everlasting fire of hell, whereof there is not minished the mountenaunce of a moment by the lying there the space of an hundredth thousand years. And therefore our saviour in few words concluded & confuted all these follies of them, that for the short use of this worldly substance forsake him and his faith, and sell their souls unto the devil for ever, where he sayeth: Quid prodest homini siuniversum mundum lucretur, anime veron sue detrimentum patiatur? what availeth it a man if he wan all the whole world, & lost his soul? This were me thinketh cause & occasion enough, to him that had never so much part of this world in his hand, to be content rather to lose it all, than for the retaining or increasing of his worldly goods to lose and destroy his soul.  Vincent. 
This is good uncle in good faith very true, and what other thing any of them (that would not for this be content) have for to allege in reason for the defence of their folly, that can I not imagine, nor lust in this matter to play their part no long. But I pray God give me the grace to play the contrary part in deed, and that I never for any goods or substance of this wretched world, forsake my faith toward God, neither in heart ●or tongue, as I trust in his great goodness I never shall.   

¶ The xu Chapter. ¶ This kind of tribulation trieth what mind men have to their goods, which they that are wise, will at the fame thereof see well and wisely laid up safe before.  
ME thinketh Cousin that this persecution shall not only as I said beefore● try men's hearts when it cometh, & make them know their own affections, whither they have a corrupt greedy covetous mind or not: but also the very fame and expectation thereof may teach them this lesson ere ever the thing fall upon them itself to their no little fruit, if they have the wit and the grace to take it in time while they may. For now may they find sure places to lay their treasures in, so that all the Turks army shall never find it out.  ¶ Vincent. 
Marry uncle that way they will I warrant you not forgeat, as near as their wits will serve them. But yet have I known some that have ere this, thought that they had hid their money safe enough, digging full deep in the ground, and have miss it yet when they came again, and have found it digged out and carried away to their hands.  An●ony. 
Nay, fro their hands I ween you would say: and it was no marvel. For some such have I known too● but they have hid their goods foolishly, in such place as they were well warned before that they should not, and that were they warned by him that they well knew for such one, as witted well enough what would come thereon.  ¶ Vincent. 
Than were they more than mad. But did he tell them too where they should have hid it to have it sure?  ☞ Anthony. 
Ye by S. Mary did he. For else had he told them but half a tale, but he told them a whole tale, bidding them that they should in no wise hide their treasure in the ground: & he showed them a good cause, for there thieves use to dig it out, and steal it away.  ¶ Vincent. 
Why, where should they hide it than said he? For thieves may hap to find it out in any place.  Anthony. 
Forsooth he counseled them to hide their treasure in heaven, and there lay it up, for there it shall lie safe. For thither he said there can no thief come till he have left his theft and be waxen a true man first. And he that gave this counsel, wist what he said well yonough. For it was our saviour himself, which in the sixth Chapter of Saint matthew, sayeth: Nolite thezaurizare v obis thezauros in terra v by erugo et tinea demolitur et v by fures effodiunt et furantur. Thesaurizate vobis thesauros in celo, ubi ne que erugo neque tinea demolitur, et v by fures non effodiunt nec furantur: ubi enim est thesaurus tuu●, ibi est et cor tuum. Hoard not up for you treasures in earth where the ●ust and the moths fret it out, and where thieves dig it out and steal it away. But hoard up your treasures in heaven, where neither the rust nor the moth fret them out, and where thieves dig them not out nor steal them away. For where as is thy treasure, there is thy heart too. If we would well consider these words of our Saviour Christ, we should as me think, need no more counsel at all, nor no more comfort neither, concerning the loss of our temporal substance in this Turks persecution for the faith. For here our lord in these words teacheth us where we may lay up our substance safe before the persecution come. If we put it into the poor men's bosoms, there shall it lie safe. For who would go search a beggar's bag for money, if we deliver it to the poor for Christ'S sake? we deliver it unto Christ himself: and than what persecutor can there be so strong, as to take it out of his hand.  ☞ Vincent. 
These things are uncle undoubtedly so true, that no man may with words wrestle therewith, but yet ever there hangeth in a man's heart a lothenes to lack a living.  Anthony. 
There doth in deed, in theirs that either never, or but seldom hear any good counsel there against. And when they hear it, hearken it but as they would an idle tale, rather for a pastime or for manner sake, than for any substantial intent or purpose, to follow good advertisement, and take any fruit thereby. But verily, if we would not only lay our ear, but also our heart thereto, & considre that the saying of our saviour Christ is not a poets fable, nor an harper's song, but the very holy word of almighty god himself, we would, & well we might be full sore ashamed in ourself, & full sorry to. when we felt in our affection those words to have in our heart●s no more strength and weight but that we remain still of the same dull mind, as we did before we heard them.  
This manner of ours in whose breasts the great good counsel of God no better settleth nor taketh no better root, may well declare us, that the thorns & the briars and brambles of our worldly substance grow so thick, & spring up so high in the ground of our hearts, that they strangle as the gospel sayeth, the word of God that was sown therein. And therefore is god very good lord unto us, when he causeth like a good husband man his folk to come afield, (for the persecutors be his folk to this purpose) and with their hooks & their stocking irons, grub up these wicked weeds & bushes of our earthly substance, & carry them quite away from us that the word of God sown in our hearts, may have room therein, and a glad round about for the warmesome of grace to come to it and make it grow. For surely these words of our Saviour shall we find full true. Vbi thesaurus tuus, ibi est et cortuum Where as thy treasure is there is also thy heart. If we lay up our treasure in earth, in earth shallbe our hearts. If we send our treasure into heaven, in heaven shall we have our hearts. And surely the greatest comfort that any man may have in this tribulation, is to have his heart in heaven. If thy heart were in deed out of this world, and in heaven, all the kinds of torment that all this world could devise, could put them to no pain here. Let us then send our hearts hence thither, in such manner as we may by sending thither our worldly substance hence, please god. And let us never doubt it, but we shall (that once done) find our hearts so conversant in heaven, with the glad consideration of our following the gracious counsel of Chri●t, that the comfort of his holy spirit inspired us therefore, shall mitigate, minish assuage, & in a manner quench the great furious fervour of the pain that we shall hap to have by his loving sufferance for our farther merit in our tribulation. And therefore, like as if we saw that we should be within a while driven out of this land and fain to flee into another, we would ween that man were mad, which would not be content to forbear his goods here for the while, and send them into that land before him, where he saw that he should live all the remnant of his life. So may we verily think yet ourself much more mad (seeing that we be sure it can not be long ere we shallbe sent spite of our teeth out of this world) if the fear of a little lack, or the love to see our goods here about us, and the lothnes to part from them for this little while, which we may keep them here, shallbe able to let us from that sure sending them before us into the other world, in which we may be sure to live wealthily with them, if we send them thither, or else shortly leave them here behind us, and than stand in great jeopardy, there to live wretches for ever.  ¶ Vincent. 
In good faith uncle, me think that concerning the loss of these outward things, these considerations are so sufficient comforts, that for my own part save only grace well to remember them, I would me think desire no more.   

¶ The xvi Chapter. ¶ Another comfort and courage against the loss of worldly substance.  
Much less than this may serve Cousin, with calling & trusting upon gods help, without which much more than this cannot serve. But the fervour of the christian faith so sore fainteth now adays, and decayeth coming from hot unto leuke warm, & from leuke warm almost to kaye cold, that men must now be fain as at a fire that is almost out, to lay many dry sticks thereto, and use much blowing threats but else would I ween by my troth, y● unto a warm faithful man, one thing alone whereof we spoke yet no word, were comfort enough in this kind of persecution against the loss of all goods.  ¶ Vincent. 
What thing may that be uncle?  ¶ Anthony. 
In good faith Cousin, even the bare remembrance of the poverty that our Saviour willingly suffered for us. For I verily suppose, that if there were a great king that had so tender love to a servant of his that he had, to help him out of danger, forsaken & left of all his worldly wealth & royalty, & become poor & needy for his sake: the servant couldscant be found, that were of such an unkind villain courage, that if himself came after to some substance, would not with better will lose it all ●gain, than shamefully to forsake such a master. And therefore as I say, I do verily suppose, that if we would well remember & inwardly considre the great goodness of our saviour Christ toward us, not yet being his poor siuful servants, but rather his adversaries & his enemies. And what wealth of this world that he willingly forsook for our sake, being in deed universal king thereof: & so having the power in his own hand● to have used it if he had would, in stead whereof (to make us rich in heaven) he lived here in neediness & poverty all his life, & neither would have authority, nor keep netherlandes nor goods. The deep consideration & earnest advisement of this one point alone, were able to make any kind christian man or woman well content rather for his sake again to give up all that ever god hath lent them:) & lent them hath he all that ever they have) than unkindly & unfaithfully to forsake him. And him they forsake, if that for fear ●hey forsake the confession of his christian faith. And therefore to finish this piece withal concerning the dread of losing our outward worldly goods, let us consider the sl●ndre commodity that they bring, with what labour they be bought, how little while they abide, with whomsoever they be longest, what pain their pleasure is mingled withal, what harm the love of them doth unto the soul, what loss is in the keeping, Christ's faith refused for them: what winning in the loss, if we lose them for god's sake, how much more profitable they be well given, than evil kept. And finally, what unkindness it were, if we would not rather forsake than for Christ's sake, than unfaithfully forsake Christ for them: which while he lived for our sake, forsook all the world, beside the suffering of shameful & painful death, whereof we shall speak after. If we these things (I say, will consider well & will pray god with his holy hand to print them in our hearts, & will abide and dwell still in the hope of his help, his truth shall (as the prophet saith) so compass us about with a pavice, that we shall not need to be afraid ab incursu et demonio meridiano. of this incursion of this mid day devil, this open plain persecution of the Turke● for any loss that we can take by the bereaving from us of our wretched worldly goods, for whose short & small pleasure in this life forborn, we shallbe with heavenly substance everlastingly recompensed of God in joyful bliss and glory.   

¶ The xvii Chapter. Of bodily pain, and that a man hath not cause to take discomfort in persecution, though he feel himself in an horror, at the thistking upon the bodily pain.  ¶ Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle, as for these outward goods you have so farforth said, that albeit no man can be sure what strength he shall have, or how faint & how feeble he may hap to find himself when he shall come to the point, & therefore I can make no warrantise of myself, seeing that S, Peter so suddenly fainted at a woman's word, & so cowardly forsook his master for whom he had so boldly fought wntin so few hours afore. And by that fall in forsaking, well perceived that h● had been rash in his promise and was well worthy to take a fall for putting so full trust in himself: yet in good faith me thinketh now, (and God shall I trust help me too, keep this thought still) that if the Turk should take all that I have unto mi very shirt, except I forsake my faith, & offer it me all again with .v. times as much thereto to fall into his sect, I would not once stick thereat, rather to forsake it every whit, than of Christ's holy faith to forsake any one point. But surely good uncle, when I bethink me farther on the grief & the pain that may turn unto my flesh: here find I that fear that forceth my heart to tremble.  Anthony. 
Neither have I cause to marvel thereof, nor you Cousin cause to be dismayed therefore. The great horror & fear that our Saviour had in his own flesh against his painful passion, maketh me little to marvel, & may well make you take that comfort to, that for no such manner of gendering felt in your sensual parts, the flesh shrinketh at the meditation of pain and death, your reason shall give over, but resist it and manly master it: and though you would fain flee from the painful death, and be loath to come thereto: yet may the meditation of his great grievous agony move you, & himself shall, if you so desire him, not fail to work with you therein, & get and give you the grace that you shall submit and conform your will therein unto his, as he did his unto his father, & shall thereupon be so comforted with the secret inward inspiration of his holy spirit, as he was with the personal presence of that Angel, that after his agony came & comforted him, that you shall as his true disciple follow him, and with good will without grudge, do as he did, and take your cross of pain & passion upon your back, and die for the truth with him & thereby reign with him crowned in eternal glory. And this I say to give you warning of the thing tha● is truth, to th'intent when a man feeleth such an horror of death in his heart, he should not thereby stand in outrageous fear that he were falling, for many such men standeth for all that fear, full fast. And finally, better abideth the brunt when god is so good unto him, as to bring him thereto and encourage him therein, than doth some other, that in the beginning feeleth no fear at all, and yet may it be, and most often so it is, for god having many mansions, and all wonderful welthfull in his father's house, exalteth not every good man up to the glory of a martyr, but foreseeing their infirmity, that though they be of good will before, and peradventure of right good courage to, would yet play. S. Peter, if they were brought to the point, and thereby bring their souls into the peril of eternal damnation. He provideth otherwise for them, before they come thereat, and either findeth away that men shall not have the mind to lay any hands upon them, as he found for his disciples, when himself was willingly taken, or that if they set hand on them, they shall have no power to hold them, as he found for. S. john th'evangelist, which let his sheet fall from him, whereupon they caught hold and so stead himself naked away, and scaped fro them or though they hold him and bring him to prison to, yet god sometime delivereth them thence, as he did. S. Peter, and sometime he taketh them to him, out of the prison into heaven, and fuffereth them not to come to their torment at all, as he hath done by many a good holy man. And some he suffereth to be brought into the torment, and yet he suffereth them not to die therein, but live many years after, and die their natural death, as he did. S. john th'evangelist and by many an other more, as we may well see both in sundry stories, and in the Epistles of Saint Cyprian also. And therefore which way GOD will take with us, we can not tell: but surely if we be true Christian men, this can we well tell, that without any bold warrantise of ourself, or foolish trust in our strength, we be bound upon pain of damnation, that we be not of the contrary mind. but that we will with his help, (how loath so ever we feel our flesh thereto) rather yet than forsake him or his faith afore the world (which if we do, he hath promised to forsake us afore his father, and all the holy company of heaven.) Rather I say, than we would so do, we would with his help endure and sustain for his sake all the tormentrye that the devil with all his faithless tormentors in this world, would devise. And then when we be of this mind, and submit our will unto his, and call and pray for his grace, we can tell well enough that he will never suffer them to put more upon us, than his grace will make us all to bear, but will also with their temptation provide us for a sure way, for Fidelis deus? (saith saint Paul) Qui non patitur vos tentari supra id quod potestis, sed dat etiam cum temptatione proventum. GOD is (saith the Apostle, faithful, which suffereth you not to be tempted above that you may bear, but giveth also with the temptation a way out. For either as I said, he will keep us out of their hands (though he before suffer us to be feared with them to prove our faith withal, tha● we may have by the examination of our own mind, some comfort in hope of his grace, and some fear of our own frailty to drive us to call for grace (or else if we fall in their hands) so that we fall not fro the trust of him nor cease to call for his help) his truth shall as the prophet saith) so compass us about with a pauice● that we shall not need to fear this incursion of this mid day devil. For either shall these Turks his tormentors, that shall entre this, and and persecute us, either they shall I say, not have the power to touch our bodies at all, or else the short pain that they shall put unto our bodies, shall turn us to eternal profit both in our souls and in our bodies too. And therefore Cousin, to beegynne with, let us be of good comfort. For sith we be by our faith very sure, that holy Scripture is the word of god, and that the word of god, can not be but very true, and that we see that both by the mouth of his holy Prophet, and by the mouth of his blessed Apostle also, god hath made us so faithful promise, both that he will not suffer us to be tempted above our power, but will both provide a way out for us, and that he will also round about so coumpasse us with his pavice, and defend us, that we shall have no cause to fear this mid day devil, with all his persecution: we can not now but be very sure (except we be very shamefully cowardous of heart, and toward god in faith out of measure faint and in love less than leuke warm, or waxed even kaye cold) we may be very sure I say, that either God shall not suffer the Turks to invade this land, or if they do god shall provide such resistance that they shall not prevail, or if they do prevail, yet if we take the wai that I have told you) we shall by their persecution take little harm or rather no harm at all, but that that shall seem harm, shall in deed be to us no harm at all, but ●ood. for if god make us & keep us good men (as he hath promised to do if we pray therefore) than saith holy scripture. Bonis omnia cooperantur in bonum. Unto good folk all things turn them to good: and therefore Cousin, sith that God knoweth what shall hap and not we, let us in the mean while with a good hope in the help of God's grace, have a good purpose with us of sure standing by his holy faith against all persecutions, from which if we should (which our lord forbid) hereafter either for fear or pain (for lack of grace lost in our own default) myssehappe to decline: yet had we both won the well spent time in this good purpose before, to the minishment of our pain, and were also much the more likely that god should life us up after our fall, and give us his grace again: howbeit, if this persecution come, we be by this meditation and well continued intent and purpose before, the better strengthened and comfirmed, and much the more likely for to stand in deed. And if it so fortune (as with god's grace at men's good prayers and amendment of our evil lives, it may fortune full well) that the Turks shall either be well withs●anden and vanquished, or peradventure not invade us at all: than shall we pardie by this good purpose get ourself of god a very good cheap thank: and on the other side, while we now think thereon (as not to think thereon, in so great lykelihode thereof, I ween no wise man can. If we should for the fear of worldly loss or bodily pain, framed in our own minds, think that we would give over, and to save our good and our lives forsake our Saviour by denial of his faith, than whither the Turk come or come not, we be gone from god the while, and then if they come not in deed, or come & be driven to f●yghte, what a shame should this be to us before the face of god, in so shameful cowardous wise to forsake him for fear of that pain, that we neither felt, nor never was falling towards us.  Vincent. 
By my troth uncle I thank you, me think that though you never said more in the matter, yet have you even with this that you have of the fear of bodily pain in this persecution, spoken here already marvelously comforted my heart.  ☞ Antony. 
I am glad Cousin, if your heart have taken comfort thereby: but and if you so have, give god the thank and not me, for that work is his and not mine, For neither am I able any good thing to say but by him, nor all the good words in this world, no not the holy words of god himself, and spoken also with his own holy mouth, can be able to profit the man with th● sound entering at his ear, but if the spirit of god therewith inwardly work in his soul: but that is his goodness ever ready to do, except the let be thorough the untowardness of our own froward will.   

¶ The xviii Chapter. Of comfort against bodily pain, and first against captivity.  
ANd therefore now being somewhat in comfort and courage before, whereby we may the more quietly consider every thing which is somewhat more hard and difficile to do, when the heart is before taken up and oppressed with the troublous affection of heavy sorrowful fear: let us examine the weight and substance of these bodily pains as the sorest part of this persecution which you rehearsed before, which were (if I remember you right) thraldom, imprisonment, painful and shameful death. And first let us as reason is, begin with the thraldom, for that was, I remember the first.  Vincent. 
I pray you good uncle say than somewhat thereof, for me thinketh uncle that captivity is a marvelous heavy thing, namely when they shall, as they most commonly do, carry us far from home, into a strange uncouth land.  ¶ Anthony. 
I cannot say nay, but that some grief it is Cousin in deed: but yet as unto me not half so much as it would be● if they could carry me out into any such unknown country that god would not wit where nor find the mean to come at me but in good faith Cousin, now if my transmigration into a strange country should be any great grief unto me, the fault should be much in myself. For sith I am very sure that whithersoever men convey me, god is no more verily here, than he shallbe there, if I get (as I may if I will) the grace to set my whole heart on him● and long for nothing but him, it can than make no great matter to my mind, whither they carry me hence or leave me here. And than if I find my mind much offended therewith, that I am not still here in my own country, I must consider that the cause of my grief is mine own wrong imagination, whereby I beguile myself with an untrue persuasion, weening that this w●re mine own country, whereas of truth it is not so. For as S. Paul saith. Non habemus hic civitatem manentem sed futuram inquirimus we have here no City nor dwelling country at al. but we seek for one that we shall come to, and in what country soever we walk in this world, we be but as pilgrims and way faring men: and if I should take any country for my own, it must, be that country to which I come, and not the country from which I ●ame, that country that shallbe to me than for a while so strange, shall yet pardie be no more strange to me, nor longer strange to me neither, than was mine own native country when I came first into it. And therefore if the point of my being far from hence be very grievous to me, and that I find it a great pain, that I am not where I would be: that grief shall great part grow for lack of sure setting and settling my mind in god, where it should be: which fault of mine when I mend, I shall soon ease my grief. Now as for all other griefs and pains that are in captivity, thraldom and bondage, I cannot deny but many there are and great, howbeit they seem yet somewhat (what say I somewhat, I may say a great deal) the more because we took our former liberty for more a great deal than in deed it was. Let us therefore consider the matter thus: captivity, bondage or thraldom what is it but the violente restraint of a man, being so subdued under the dominion, rule and power of an other, that he ●ust do what the other lust to command him, and may not at his liberty do such things as he lust himself: now when we shall be carried away with a Turk, and be fain to be occupied about such things as he lust to set us here shall we lament the loss of our liberty, and think we bear an heavy burdayne of our servile condition, and so to do I grant well we shall have many times great occasion, but yet should we I suppose set thereby somewhat the less, if we would remember well what liberty that was that we lost, and take it for no larger than it was in ded●: for we reckon as though we might before do what we would, but therein deceive we ourself. For what free man is there so free● that can be suffered to do what him lust? In many things GOD hath restrained us by his high commandment so many, that of those things which else we would do, I ween it be more then the half. Howbeit, because (god forg●ue us) we let so little therefore, but do what we lust, as though we heard him not, we reckon our liberty never the less ●or y●: But ●han is our liberty much restrained by the laws made by men, for the quiet and politic governance of the people. And these would I ween let our liberty but a little neither, were it not for fear of pains that may fall thereupon. Look than whither other men, that have authority over us, command us never no business which we dare not but do, and therefore do it full oft, full sore against our wills. Of which things some service is some time so painful and so perilous too, that no lord can lightly command his bond man worse, nor seldom doth command him half so sore. Let every free man that reckoneth his liberty to stand in doing what he lust, consider well the points, & I ween he shall than find his liberty much less than he took it for before. And yet have I left untouched the bondage, that almost every man is in, that boasteth himself for free, the bondage I mean of sin: which to be a very bondage, I shall have our saviour himself to bear me good record. For he saith: Qui facit peccatum servus est peccati. He that committeth sin is the thrall, or the bondman of sin. And then if this be thus (as it must needs so be sith god saith it is so) who is there than, that may make so much boast of his liberty, that he should take it for so sore a thing & so strange to become through chance of war, bond unto a man while he is already, through sin become willingly thrall and bond unto the devil. Let us look well how many things and of what vile wretched sort the devil driveth us to do daily through the rash braids of our blind affections, which we be for our fautful lack of grace, fain to follow, and are to feeble to refrain, and than shall we find in our natural freedom, our bond service such, that never was there any man lord of any so vile a villain, that ever would for very shame command him so shameful service. And let us in the doing of our service to the man, that we be slave, unto, remember what we were wont to do about the same time of the day while we were at our free liberty before, & were well likely if we were at liberty to do the like again: & we shall peradventure perceive that it were better for us to do this business than that. Now shall we have great occasion of comfort, if we consider that our servitude (though in the count of the world it seem to come by chance of war) cometh yet in very deed unto us, by the provident hand of god● and that for our great good if we will take it well, both in remission of sins, & also matter of our merit. The greatest grief, that is in bondage or captivity, is this as I trow, that we be forced to do such labour, as with our good will we would not. But then against that grief Senecke teacheth us a good remedy. Semper da operam ne quid invitus fatias. Endeavour thyself ever more that thou do nothing against thy wil But that thing that we see, we shall needs do, let us use always to put our good will thereto.  Vincent. 
That is uncle soon said: but it is hard to do.  ¶ Anthony. 
Our froward mind maketh every good thing hard, and that unto our own more hurt and harm. But in this case, if we will be good christian men, we shall have great cause gladly to be content for the great comfort that we may take thereby, while we remmbre that in the patient & glad doing of our service unto y● man for god's sake according to his high commandment by the mouth of. S. Paul. Seruiobedite dominis. We shall have our thank & our whole reward of god, finally if we remember the great humble meekness o● our saviour Christ himself, that he being very almighty god Humiliavit seme●ip●um formam servi accipiens, Humbled himself & took the form of a bond man or a slave, rather than his father should forsake us, we may think ourself very unkind caitiffs', & very frantic fools to, if rather than endure this worldly bondage for a while, we would forsake him that hath by his own death, delivered us out of everlasting bondage of the devil, & will for our short bondage give us everlasting liberty.  Vincent. 
Well fa●e you good uncle, this is very well said, albeit the bondage is a condition that every man of any courage would be glad to eschew, & very loath to fall in, yet have you well made open, that it is a thing neither so strange nor so sore● as it before seemed unto me, & specially far from such as any man that any wit hath should for fear thereof shrink fro the confession of his faith: & now therefore I pray you somewhat speak of impriesonment.   

¶ The xix Chap. Of impryesonmen●e and comfort there against.  ¶ Anthony. 
THat shall I Cousin with good will: & first if we ●oulde consider what thing impriesonment is of his own nature, we should not me thinketh have so great horror thereof. For of itself it is perdie, but a restraint of liberty, which letteth a man from going whither he would.  Vincent. 
Yes by. S. Marry uncle, me thinketh it is much more sorrow than so. For beside y●●●t & re●●rainte of liberty, it hath many more displeysures & very sore griefs knit & adjoined thereunto.  A●thony. 
That is Cousin very true in deed. And those pains, among many sorer than those, thought I not after to forgeat: howbeit● I purposed now to consider first impri●sonmēt, but as impriesonment only without any other commodity beside. For a man may be pardie imprisoned, & yet not set in the stocks, nor coloured fast by the neck, & a man may be let walk at large where he will & yet a pair of f●tters fast riveted on his legs. For in this country ye wot well & in Cicile & port●ngale to, so go there all the slaves. Howbeit, because that for such things men's ha●tes hath such horror thereof, albeit that I am not so mad as to go about, to prove that bodily pain were no pain, yet sith that because of these manner of pains, we so specially abhor the state & condition of prisoners, we should me think well perceive that a great part of our horror groweth of our own fantasy if we would call to mind & consider the state and condition of many other folk in whose state & condision we would wish ourself to stand taking them for no prisoners at all that stand yet for all that in much part of the self same points that we abhor imprisonment for. Let us therefore consider these things in order. And first as I thought to begin, because those other kinds of grieves that come with impriesonment are but accedentes thereunto, & yet neither such kinds of accedentes as be either proper thereunto, but that they may (almost all) fall unto a man without it, nor are not such accedentes therinto● as are unseparable therefro: but that imprisonment may fall to a man, and none of all the therewith We will I say therefore begin with the considering what manner pain or commodity we should reckin impriesonment to be of himself & of his own nature alone. And than in the course of our communication, you shall as you lust increase & aggrieve the cause of your horror with the terror of those painful accedentes.  Antony. 
I am sorry that I did enterrupte your tale. For you were about I see well to take an orderly way therein. And as yourself have devised, so I beseech you proceed. For though I reckin impriesonment much the sorer thing by sore & hard handling therein, yet reckon I not the inpriesonment of itself any less than a thing very tedious, all were it used in the most favourable manner the i●possiple might. For uncle, if it were a great prince that were taken prisoner upon the field, & in the hand of a christian king, which use in such case (for the consideration of their former state (and the mutabl● change of the war) to show much humanity to them, & in very favourable wise entreat them. For these infidel Emperors handle often times the princes that they take, more villainously, than they do the poorest men, as the great tamberlain kept the great Turk when he had taken him, to tread on his back alway while he leapt on horse back. But as I began to say by the sample of a prince taken prisoner, were the impriesonment never so favourable, yet were it in my mind no little grief in itself for a man to be pinned up, though not in a narrow chamber, but although his walk were right large, and right fair gardens to therein, it could not but grieve his heart to be restrained by an other man, within certain limits and bounds, and lose the liberty to be where him lust.  ☞ Anthony. 
This is Cousin well considered of you. For in this you perceive well, that imprisonment is of himself, and his own very nature alone, nothing else but the retaining of a man's person within the circuit of a certain space narrower or larger as shallbe limited to him, restraining his liberty from the father going into any other place.  Vincent. 
Very well said as me thinketh.  ☞ Anthony. 
Yet forgot I Cousin, to ask you one question  ¶ Vincent. 
What is that Uncle?  ¶ Anthony. 
This lo, if there be two men kept in two several chambers of one great castle, of which two chambers, the tone is much more larger than the t'other: whither be the prisoners both or but the tone, that hath the less room to walk in?  Vincent. 
What question is it uncle, but that they be prisoners both as I said myself before, although the tone lay fast locked in slockes, & the t'other had all the whole castle to walk in.  Antony. 
Me thinketh verily Cousin, that you say the truth, & than if prisonment be such a thing as yourself here agree it is, that is to wit, but a lack of liberty to go whither we lust, now would I feign wit of you what any one man you know that is at this day out of prison?  ¶ Vincent. 
What one man Uncle? Marry I know almost none other. For suerly● prisoner am I none acquainted with that I remember.  Anthony. 
Then I see well you visete poor prisoners seld.  Vincent. 
No by my troth uncle, I cry god mercy, I send them sometime my almose, but by my troth, I love not to come myself, where I should see such misery.  Antony. 
In good faith Cosi Uincent, though I say it before you● you have many good conditions: but surely though I say it before you, to the condition is none of them: which condition if you would amend, than should you have yet the more good conditions by one. And peradventure by more than iii or four. For I assure you, it is hard to tell how much good to a man's soul the personal visiting of poor prisoners doth. But now sith you can name me none of them that are in prison, I pray you name some one of all them, that you be, (as you say) better acquainted with, men I mean, that are out of prison: for I know me think as few of them as you know of the other.  Vincent. 
That were uncle a strange case, for every man is uncle out of prison, that may go whither he will, though he be the poorest beggar in the town. And in good faith uncle (because you reckon imprisonment so small a matter of itself) the poor beggar that is at his liberty & may walk where he will, is as me seemeth in better case, then is a king kept in prison that can not go but where men give him leave  ☞ Antony. 
Well Cousin, whether every way walking beggre be by this reason out of prison or no, we shall consider farther when you will: but in the mean while I can by this reason see no prince that seemeth to be out of prison. For if the lack of liberty to go where a man will be impriesonment, as yourself say it is. Than is the great Turk by whom we so fear to be put in prison, in prison already himself. For he may not go where he will, for and he might, he would into Portugal, Italy, Spain, France, Almaigne & England & as far on an other quarter to: both preter john's land & the grand Canis to. Now the beggar that you speak of, if he be as you say he is, by reason of his liberty to go where he will, in much better case than a king, kept in prison because he can not go but where men give h●m leave: than is that beggar in better case not only then a prince in prison, but also then many a prince out of prison to. For I am sure there is many a beggar that may without let, walk farther upon other men's ground, than many a prince at his best liberty may walk upon his own. And as for walking out abroad upon other men's, that prince might hap to be said nay, & holden fast, where that beggar with his bag and his staff would be suffered to go forth & hold on his way. But for as much Cousin, as neither the beggar nor the prince is at free liberty to walk where they will, but that if they would walk in some place, neither of them both should be suffered, but men would withstand then & say then nay: Therefore if priesonment be (as you grant it is) a lack of liberty to go where we lust, I can not see but as I say the beggar & the prince, whom you reckon both at liberty, be by your own reason restrained in prison both.  Vincent. 
Yea but uncle the tone & the t'other have way enough to walk: the tone in his own ground, the other other men's, or in the common high way where they may walk till they be both weary of walking, ere any man say then nay.  Antony. 
So may Cousin the king that had as yourself put the case all the will castle to walk in, & yet you say not nay, but that he is prisoner for all that, though not so straightly kept, yet as verily prisoner as he that lieth in the storkes●  Vincent. 
But they may go at the lest ways to eu●ry plac● that they need, or that is commodious for them, & therefore they do not will to go but where they may goe● and therefore be they at liberty to go where they will.  Anthony. 
Me needeth not Cousin to spend the time about the inpugning every part of this answer for letting pass by, that though a prisoner were with his keeper, brought into every place where need requiered: yet ●ith he might not when he would, go where he would for his only pleasure, he were you wot well a prisoner stil. And letting pass over also this, that it were to this beggar need, & to this king commodious to go into diverse places, where neither of them both may come: And letting pass also that neither of them both is lightly so temperately determined, but that they both feign so would do in deed, if this reason of yours put them out of prison, & set them at liberty, & make them free (as I will well grant it doth if they so do in deed) that is to wit, if they have no will to go, but where they may go in deed. Than let us look on our other prisoners, enclosed within a castle● & we shall find that the s●raites● kept of them both (if he get the wisdom, & the ●race to quiet his own mind, & hold himself content with that place, & long not (like a woman wy●h child for her lusts) to be gadding out any where els● is by the same reason of yours while his will is not longing to be any where else, he is I say at his free liberty, to be where he will, and so is out of prison to. And on the other side● if though his will be not longing to be any where else, yet because that if is will so were, he should not ●o be suffered, he is therefore not at his free liberty, but a prisoner still: so sith your free beggar that you speak of, and the prince that you call out of prison to, though they be (which I ween very few be) by some special wisdom, so temperately disposed, that they have not the will to be, but where they see they may be suffered to be, yet sith that if they would have that will, they could not than be where they would, they lack theffect of free liberty & b● both twain in prison to.  Vincent. 
Well Uncle, if every man universally be by this reason in prison already after the very property of imprisomment, yet to be imprisoned in this special manner, which manner is only commonly called imprisonment, is a thing of great horror & fear, both for the straightness of the keeping, & the hard handling that many men have therein, of all which griefs & pains, & displeasures in this other general imprisonment that you peak of, we feel no thing at all, & therefore every man abhorreth the tone, & would be loath ●o come into i●: & no man abhorreth the other, for they feel no harm, nor find no fault therein. Wherefore uncle in faith though I can not find answers convenient wherewith to avoid your arguments, yet to be plain with you, & tell you the very troth, my mind findeth not itself satisfied in this point. But ever me thinketh that these things wherewith you rather convince & conclude me, than induce a credence & persuade me that every man is in prison already be but sophistical fantasies. And that (except those that are commonly called prysoners● other men are not in prison at all.  Antony. 
Well far thy heart good Cousin Uincent. There was in good faith no word that you spoke since we talked of those matters, that half so well liked me as these that you speak now. For if you had assented in words, and in your mind departed unperswaded, than if the thing be true that I say, yet had you lost the fruit. And if it be peradventure false, and myself deceived therein, than while I should ween that it liked you to, you should have confirmed me in my folly. For in good faith Cousin, such an old fool am I, that this thing, in the persuading whereof unto you, I had went I had quit me well, and when I have all done, appeareth to your mind but a trifle and a sophistical fantasy, myself have so many years taken for so very substantial truth, that as yet my mind cannot give me to think it any other, wherefore lest I play as the french priest played that had so long used to say Dominus with the second syllable long, at the last he thought it must needs be so, and was ashamed to say it short, to th'intent that you may the better perceive me, or I the better myself, we shall here between us a little more consider the thing, and hardly spit well on your hands and take good hold, and give it not over against your own mind, for than were we never the near.  ☞ ¶ Vincent. 
Nay by my truth uncle, that intended I not, nor no thing did yet since we began, and that may you well perceive by some things, which without any great cause, save for the farther satisfaction of mine own mind I repeated and debated again.  Anthony. 
That guise Cousin hold on hardly still, for in this matter I purpose to give over mi part, except I make yourself perceive, both that every man universally is a very prisoner in very prison, plainly without any sophistication at all, & that there is also no prince living upon earth, but he is in worse case prisoner by this general imprisonment that I speak of, than is many a lewd simple wretch, by the special prisonment, that you speak of, and over this that in this general imprisonment that I speak of, men are for the time that they be therein, so sore handled and so hardly, and in such painful wise, that men's hearts have with reason great cause as sore to abhor this hard handling that is in this imprisonment, as the other that is in that.  ¶ Vincent. 
By my truth uncle these things would I feign see well proved.  ¶ Anthony. 
Tell me than Cousin by your truth, if there were a man attainted of treason or of felony, & after judgement given of his death, & that it were determined that he should die, only the time of his exeqution delayed, till the kings farther pleasure known, and he thereupon delivered unto certain keepers and put up in a sure place, out of which he could not scape, were this man a prisoner or no?  ¶ Vincent. 
This man ꝙ he? ye mary that he were in very deed, if ever any man wered  ¶ Anthony. 
But now what if for the time that were mean between his attender and his exeqution, he were so favourably handled that he were suffered to do what he would, as he was while he was abroad, and to have the use of his lands and his goods, and his wife and his children, licence to be with him, and his friends leave at liberty to resort unto him, and his servants not forbodden to abide about him: & add yet thereunto, that the place were a great castle royal with parks and other pleasures therein, a very great circuit about, yea add yet and ye will, that he were suffered to go and ride also, both when he would and whither he would, only this one point always provided and foreseen, that he should ever be surely seen to and safely kept from scaping, so that took he never so much of his own mind in the mean while all other ways save scaping, yet he well knew that escape he could not, and that when he were called for to exeqution, and to death he should, now Cousin vincent what would you call this man● a prisoner, because he is kept for exeqution? or no prisoner because he is in the mean while so favourably handled, & suffered to do all that he would save scape, and I bid you not here be hasty in your answer, but advise it well, that you grant no such thing in haste, as you would after mislike by laysor, and think yourself deceived.  Vincent. 
Nay by my truth uncle, this thing needeth no s●udy in my mind, but that for all this favour showed him, and all his liberty lent him yet being condemned to death, and being therefore kept, wi●h such sure watch laid upon him that he cannot scape, he is all that while, a very plain prisoner still.  ¶ Antony. 
In good faith Cousin me thinketh you say very true, but then one thing must I yet desire you Cousin to tell me a little farther. If there were an other laid in prison for a fray, and thorough the jailors' displeasure were bolted and fettered, and laid in a low dungeon in the stocks, where he might hap to lie peradventure a while, & abide in the mean season some pain, but no danger of death at all, but that out again he should come well enough: whither of these two prisoners stood in worse case, he that hath all this favour, or he that is thus hardly handled?  Vincent. 
By our lady uncle, I ween the most part of men if they should needs choose, had le●er be such prisoners in every point as he that so sorely lieth in the stocks, then in every point such as he that at such liberty walketh about the pa●ke.  Antony. 
consider than Cousin whither this thing seem any sophestry to you, that I shall show you now. For it shallbe such as seemeth in good faith substantially true to me, and if it so hap that you think otherwise, I will be very glad to perceive which of us both is beguiled. For it seemeth to me Cousin first that every man coming into this world here upon earth as he is created by God, so cometh he hither by the providence of god: is this any sophestrye first or not?  ¶ Vincent. 
Nay verily, this is very substantial truth.  ¶ Anto●y. 
Now take I this also for veri truth in my mind, that there cometh no man nor woman hither into th'earth, bu● that e●e ever they come into the world, out of the mother's womb, god condemneth them unto death by his own sentence and judgement, for the original sin that they bring with them contracted in the corrupted stock of our forefather Adam: is this think you Cousin, verily true or not?  Vincent. 
This is uncle very true in deed.  Antony. 
Than seemeth this true farther unto me, that god hath put every man here upon th'earth, under so sure and under so safe keeping, that of all the whole people living in this wide world, there is neither man woman nor child, would they never so far wander about and seek it, that possibly can find any way whereby they may scape from death: is this Cousin a fond imagined fantasy, or is it very truth in deed?  Vincent. 
Nay this is no imagination uncle, but a thing so clearly proved true, that no man is so mad to say nay.  Antony. 
Than need I no more Cousin, for than is all that matter plain and open evident truth, which I said I took for truth, which is more a little yet now, than I told you before, when you took my proof yet but for a sophistical fantasy, & said that for all my reasoning that every man is a prisoner, yet you thought, that except those, whom the comen people call prisoners, there is else no man a very prisoner in deed, & now you grant yourself again, for very substauncial truth, that every man is here (though he be the greatest king upon earth) set here by the ordinance of god here in a place (be it never so large) a place I say yet (& you say● the same) out of which no man can scape but that therein is every man put under sure & safe keeping to be readily fet forth, when god calleth for him, & that than he shall surely die, & is not than Cousin by your own granting before, every man a very prisoner, when he is put in a place to be kept, to be brought forth when he would not, & himself wot not whither?  ¶ Vincent. 
Yes in good faith uncle, I cannot but well perceive this to be so.  Anthony. 
This were you wot well true, although a man should be but taken by the arm, & in fair manner lead out of this world unto his judgement, but now while we well know, that there is no king so great, but that all the while he walketh here, walk he never so lose, ride he with never so strong an army for his defence, yet himself is very sure (though he seek in the mean season some other pastime to put it out of his mind) yet is he very sure I say, that scape he cannot, & very well he knoweth, that he hath already sentence given upon him to die, and that verily die he shall, and that himself (though he hope upon long respite of his execution) yet can he not tell how soon. And therefore, but if he be a fool, he can never be without fear, that either on the morrow, or on the self same day, the grisly cruel hangman, death, which from his first coming in hath ever hoved aloof, and looked toward him and ever lie in a wait on him, shall amid among all his royalty and all his main strength, neither kneel before him, nor make him any reverence, nor with any good manner desire him to come forth, but rigorously and fiercely gripe him by the very breast, and make all his bones rattle: and so by long and diverse sore torments, strike him stark dead in this prison, and then cause his body to be cast into the ground in a foul pit, within some corner of the same, there to rot and be eaten with the wretched worms of the earth, sending yet his soul out farther unto a more fearful judgement, whereof at his temporal death, his success is uncertain, and therefore though by God's grace not out of good hope: yet for all that, in the mean while in very sore dread and fear, and peradventure in peril unevitable of eternal fire too. Me thinketh therefore Cousin, that as I told you, this keeping of every man in this wretched world for execution of death, is a very plain imprisonment in deed, & the as I say such that the greatest king is in this prison, in much worse case in all his wealth, than many a man is by the other imprisonment, that is therein sore and hardly handled. For where some of those lie not there attainted nor condemned to death, the greatest man of this world, and the most wealthy in this universal prison is laid in to be kept undoubtedly for death.  ☞ Vincent. 
But yet uncle in that case, is the other prisoner too: for he is as sure that he shall die to pardie.  Antony. 
That is very truth Cousin in deed, and well objected too: but then must you consider, that he is not in danger of death, by reason of that prison, into which he is put, peradventure but for a light fray: but his danger of death is by the other imprisonment, by which he is prisoner in the great prison of this whole earth, in which prison all the princes thereof be prisoners as well as he, if a man condemned to death were put up in a large prison, & while his execution were respited, he were for fighting with his fellows put up in a strait place: part of the same he is in danger o● death in that strait prison, but not by the being in that, for therein is he but for the fray: but his deadly imprisonment was the other (the larger I say) into which he was put for death. So the prisoner that you speak of, is beside the narrow prison, a prisoner of the broad world, & all the princes thereof, therein prisoners with him. And by the imprisonment, both they & he in like danger of death, not by the strait imprisonment, that is commonly called imprisonment, but by that imprisonment which (because of the large walk,) men call it liberty, and which prison you thought therefore but a fantasy sophistical, to prove it any prison at al. But now may you me thinketh very plainly perceive that this whole earth is not only for all the whole kind of man a very plain prison in deed, but also that every man without exception even those that are most at their liberty therein and reckon themselves great Lords and possessioners of very great pieces thereof, and thereby wax with wantonness so forgeatfull of their own state, that they ween they stand in great wealth, do stand for all that in deed, by the reason of their imprisonment in this large prison of the whole earth, in the self same condition ●hat other do stand, which in the narrow prisons, which only be called prisons, and which only be reputed priesons in the opinion of the common people stand in the most fearful and in the most odious case, that is to wit, condemned already to death. And now Cousin, if this thing that I tell you, seem but a sophistical fantasy to your mind, I would be glad to know what moveth you so to think. For in good faith as I have told you twice, I am no wiser but that I verily ween, that the thing is ●hus of very plain truth in very deed.   

¶ The twenty Chapter.  Vincent. 
IN good faith uncle, as for thus farforth, I not only can make with any reason, no resistance there against, but also see very clearly that it can be none otherwise but that every man is in this world a very prisoner, sith we be all put here into a sure hold to be kept, till we be put to execution as folk already condemned all to death. But yet Uncle that straight keeping, collering, bolting, and stocking, with lying in straw or on the cold ground, (which manner of hard handling is used in these special priesonmentes that only be commonly called by that name) must needs make that impriesonment which only among the people beareth that name, much more odious and dreadful than the general impriesonment wherewith we be every man universally priesoned at large, walking where we will round about the wide world: In which broad prison, out of those narrow priesons, there is with the prisoners no such hard handling used.  Antony. 
I said, I trow Cousin, that I purposed to prove you farther yet, that in this general prison, the large prison I mean of this whole world folk, be for the time that they be therein as sore handled and as hardly, and wrenched and wrongen, and braked in such painful wise, that our hearts (save that we consider it not) have with reason good and great cause to grudge against. And (as farforth only as pertaineth to the respect of pain) as much horror to conceive against the hard handling that is in this prison, as the t'other that is in that  ☞ ¶ Vincent. 
In deed uncle truth it is that this you said you would prove.  ☞ Anthony. 
Nay so much said I not Cousin, but I said I would if I could, and if I could not, than would I therein give over my part. But that trust I Cousin, I shall not need to do, the thing seemeth me so plain. For Cousin, though the prince and Kings have both Angels and devils that are Gaylors over him, yet the chief Jailer over this whole broad prison the world, is (as I take it) God. And that I suppose you will grant me too.  ¶ Vincent. 
That will I not uncle deny.  Antony. 
If a man be Cousin committed unto prison, for no cause but to be kept, though there lie never so great charge upon him, yet his keeper if he be good and honest, is neither so cruel that wou●de pain the man of malice, nor so covetise that would put him to pain to make him seek his friends, and to pay for a penny worth of ease. else if the place be such that he be sure to keep him safe otherwise, or that he can get surety, for the recompense of more harm than he seeth he should have if he scaped: He will never handle him in any such hard fashions as we most abhor imprisonment for. But mary if the place be such, as the keeper can not otherwise be sure, then is he compelled to keep him after the rate the straighter. And also if the prisoner be unruly, and fall to fighting with his fellows, or do some other manner of shrewd turn, then useth the keeper to punish him sundry wise, in some of such fashions as yourself have spoken of. So is it now Cousin, that god the chief jailor as I say of this broad pryeson the world, is neither cruel nor covetise. And this pryeson is also so sure and so subtellye builded, that albeit that it lieth open upon every side without any wall in the world: yet wander we never so far about therein, the way to get out at, shall we never find, so that he needeth neither to collar us, nor to sto●ke us, for any fear of scaping away. And therefore (except he see some other cause than our only keeping for death) he letteth us in the mean while (for as long as he lust to respite us) walk about in the pryeson, and do therein what we will: using ourself in such wise as he hath (by reason and revelation from time to time told us his pleasure.) And hereof it cometh, lo, that by reason of this favour for a time, we wax as I said so wanton, that we forgeat where we be: weening that we were Lords at large, where as we be in deed (if we would well consider it) even silly poor wretches in prison.  
For of truth our very prison, this earth is: and yet thereof we caute us out (partly by covenants that we make among us, and part by fraud, & part by violence too) divers parts diversly to ourself, and change the name thereof, from the odious name of prison, and call it our own land or our livelihood. Upon our prison we build our prison, we garnish it with gold, and make it glorious. In this prison they buy and sel. In this prison they brawl and chide. In this prison they run together and fight. In this they dice. In this they card. In this they pipe and revel. In this they sing and dance. And in this prison many a man reputed right honest, letteth not for his pleasure in the dark privily to play the knave. And thus while god our king, and our chief jailor too, suffereth us and letteth us alone: we ween oure self at liberty, and we abhor the state of those whom we call pryesoners, taking ourselves for no pryesoners at al. In which false persuasion of wealth, and forgeatfulnes of our own wretched s●ate (which is but a wandering about for a while, in this prison of this world, till we be brought unto the execution of ●eath) while we forgeat with our sollye both ourself and our Jail, and our under jaylours' Angels and devils both. And our chief jailoure God too, GOD that forgeat●eth not us, but seeth us all the while well enough, and being sore dyscontente to see so shrewd rule kept in the jail (: beesyde that he sendeth the hang man death, to put to execution, here and there: some times by the thousands at once) he handleth many of the remnant (whose execution he forbeareth yet unto a farther time) even as hardly, and punisheth them as sore, in this common pryeson of the world, as there are any handled in those special prye●ons, which for the hard handling, used you say therein, your heart hath in such horror, and so sore abhorreth.  ¶ Vincent. 
The remnant will I not gain say. For me think I see it so in deed, but that god our chief jailor in this world useth any such priesonlye fashion of punishment, that point I must needs deny. For I neither see him lay any man in the stocks or strike fetters on his legs, and so much as shut him up in a chamber either.  ☞ Anthony. 
Is he no minstrel Cousin, ●hat playeth not on a harp? maketh no man no melody, but he that playeth on a lute? He may be a minstrel and make melody you wot well, with some other instrument, some strange fashioned peradventure that never was seen before.  
God our chief Iayl●ure, as himself is invisible, so useth he in his punishment invisible instruments: and therefore not of like fashyon● as the other jailors do: but yet of like effect, and as painful in feeling as those. For he layeth one of his prisoners with an hot fever, as evil at his ease, in a warm bed as the other jailor layeth his upon the cold ground. He wringeth him by the brows with a mygreme he collereth them by the neck with a quynsy: bolteth them by the arms with a palsy, that they can not lift their hands to their heads: he manacleth their hands, with the gout in their fingers: he wringeth them by the legs with a cramp in their shinnes● he bindeth them to the bed board, with the crick in the back: and lieth on there a long and as unable to ryfel as though he lay by the fee●e fa●te in the stocks.  
Some pryesoner of another Jail, singeth, danceth in his two fetters, and feareth not his feet for stumbling at a stone, while god's prisoner that hath but his one foot fettered with the gout, lieth groaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out, if he fear there would fall on his foot no more but a cushion. And therefore Cousin as I said, if we consider it well, we shall find this general prison of this whole earth● a place in which the pryesoners be as sore handled as they be in the other. And even in the other some make as merry too, as there do some in this, that are very merry at large out of that. And surely, like as we ween ourself out of pryeson now: so if there were some folk borne and brought up in a prison, that never came on the wall, or looked out of the door, nor never heard of other world abroad, but ●aue some for shrewd turns done among themself, lo●ked up in straiter room, and heard them only called prye●oners that were so served, and themself ever called free folk at large: the like opinion would they have there of themself than, that we have here of ourself now. And when we take ourself for other than pryesoners now, as verily be we deceived now● as tho●e pri●soners should there be than.  Vincent. 
I can not Uncle in good faith say nay, but that you have performed all that you have promised: but yet sith that for all this there appeareth no more but that as they be prisoners, so be we too: and that as some of them be sore handled so be some of us too: sith we wot well for all this, that when we come to those pryesons, we shall not fail to be in a straighter prison than we be now: and to have a door shut upon us, where we have none shut on us now: this shall we be sure of at the least wise, if there come no worse. And ●hen may there come worse you wot well it cometh there so commonly, wherefore for all this, it is yet little marvel though men's hearts grudge much there against.  ¶ Anthony. 
Surely Co●yn in this you say very well, howbeit somewhat had your words touched me the nearer, if I had said that imprisonment were no displeasure at al. But the thing that I say Cousin, for our comfort therein is, that our fantasy frameth us a false opinion by which we deceive ourself, and take it for sorer than it is, and that do we by the reason that we take ourself before for more free than we be, and prisonment for a stranger thing to us then it is in deed. And thus farforth as I said, have I proved truth in very deed: but now the incommodities that you repeat again (●hose I say that are proper to thimprisonment of their own nature, that is to wit, to have less roum● to walk in, and to have the door shut upon us, these are me think so very slender and slight, that in so great a cause as to suffer for God's sake, we might be sore ashamed, so much as once to think upon them.  
Many a good man there is you wot well● which without force at all or any necessity, wherefore he so●●houlde do, suffereth these two things willingly o● his own choice with much other hardiness more.  
Holy monks I mean of the Cherterhouse order, such as never pass their celles, but only to the Church set fast by their celles, and thence to their celles again, and saint Brygettes order, and Sayncte Claryce much like, and in a manner all close religious houses, and yet Anchors and An●ressis most special. All whose whole room is less than a metelye large chamber: and yet are they there as well content many long years together, as are other men, and better too, that walk about the world.  
And therefore you may see with the lothenesse of less room and the door shut upon us, while so many folk are so well content therewith, and will for gods love live so to choose, is but horror enhanced of our own fantasy.  
And in deed I wist a woman once that came into a pryeson to visit of her charity a poor pryesoner there, whom she found in a chamber (to say the truth) meetelye fair, and at the leastwise it was strong enough: but with the mats of straw the pryesoner had made it so warm, both under the foot, and round about the walls, that in these things for the keeping of his health, she was on his beehalfe glad and very well comforted: but among many other displeasures, that for his sake she was sorry for: once she lamented much in her mind, that she should have the chamber door shut upon him by night, made fast by the tailor, that should shut him in: for by my truth quoth she, if the door should be shut upon me, I would ween it would stop up my breath. At that word of hers● the pryeson●r laughed in his mind, but he durst not laugh a loud, nor say nothing to her, for some what in deed he stood in awe of her, and had his finding there much part of her charity, for almose, but he could not but laugh inwardly, while he wist well enough that she used on the inside to shut every night full surely her own chamber to her, bo●he door and windows too, and used not to open them, of all the long night.  
And what difference then as to the stopping of the breath, whither they were shut up within or without. And so surely Cousin these two things that you speak of, are neither nother of so great weight, that in Christ's cause ought to move a christian man, and the tone of the twain is so v●rye a chyldy she fantasy, that in a matter almost of three chips: but if it were in chance of fire, neither should move any man as much as think thereof.  
As for those other accidents of hard handling therein, so mad am I not, to say they be no grief, but I say that our fear may imagine them, much grea●er grief than they be.  
And I say that such as they be, many a man endureth them, yea, and many a woman too, that after far full well. And than would I wit what determination we take, whither for our saviours sake to suffer some pain in our bodies (sith he suffered in his blessed body so great pain for us) or else to give him warning and be at a point rather v●terlye to forsake him, than suffer any pain at al. He that cometh in this mind unto this latter point (from which kind of unkindness, God keep every man, coumforte he none needeth, for he will fly the need: and counsel I fear availeth him little, if grace be so far gone from him.  
But on the other side, if rather than forsake our saviour we determine ourself to suffer any pain at all: I can not than see, that the fear of hard handling should any thing ●●ycke with us, and make us so to shrink, as we rather would forsake his faith, than to suffer for his sake so much as impryesonment, sith the handling is neither such in pryeson, but that many in many years, and many women to leave therewith, and sustain it, and afterward yet far full well. And yet that it may well fortune that beesyde the very bare ympryesonment, there shall happen us no hard handling at all, nor that same happily but for a short while neither, and yet betide all this peradventure not at all. And specially sith which of all these ways shall be taken with us, lieth all in his will: for whom we be content to take it, and which for that mind of ours favoureth us, and will suffer no man to put more pain unto us, than he well wotteth we shall be well able to bear. For he will give the strength ●here to himself as you have heard his promise already by the mouth of Saint Paul. Fidelis deus qui non patiturvos tentari supra id quod potestis far fed dat etiam ●um t●tacione proventum. God is faithful, which suffereth you not to be tempted above that you may bear, but giveth also with the temptation a way out. But now if we have not lost our faith already before we come to forsake it for fear: we know very well by our fayth● that by the forsaking of our faith, we fall into the state to be cast into the prison of hell, and that can we not tell how soon: but as it may be that God will suffer us to live a while here upon earth, so may it be that he will throw us into the dungeon beneath, before the time that the Turk shall once ask us the question. And therefore if we fear impriesonmentes so sore, we be much more than mad, if we fear not most the more sore: for out of that prison shall no man never get. And in this other shall no man abide but a while. In prison was joseph, while his brethren were at large, and yet after were his brethren fain to seek upon him for bread. In prison was Daniel, and the wild Lions about him: and yet even there God kept him harmless, and brought him safe out again. If we think that he will not do the likewise for us, let us not doubt but he will do for us, either the like, or better. For better may he do for us, if he suffer us there to die. Saint john the Baptist was you wot well in prison, while Herode and Herodias sat full merry at the feast, and the daughter of Herodias delighted them with her dancing, till with her dancing she danced of Saint john's head. And now sitteth he with great feast in heaven at God's board, while Herode and Herodias full heavily sit in hell burning both twain. And to make them sport withal the devil with the damosel dance in the fire afore them. Finally Cousin to finish this piece with, our saviour was himself taken prisoner for our sake, and prisoner was he carried, and prisoner was he kept, and prisoner was he brought forth before Annas. And prisoner from Annas carried unto Caiphas. Than prisoner was he carried from Caiphas unto Pilate: and prisoner was he sent from Pilate to king Herode: prisoner from Herode unto Pilate again. And so kept as prisoner to the end of his passion. The time of his imprisonment I grant well was not long, but as for hard handling (which our hearts most abhor) he had as much in that short while as many men among them all in much longer time. And surely than, if we consider of what estate he was, and therewith that he was prisoner in such wise for our sake, we shall I trow (but if we be worse than wretched beasts (never so shamefully play the unkind cowards, as for fear of imprisonment sinfully to forsake him, nor so foolish neither, as by forsaking of him, to give him the occasion again to forsake us, and with the avoiding of an easier prison, fall into a worse. And in stead of a prison that cannot keep us long, fall into that prison, out of which we can never come, where the short prisonment would win us everlasting liberty.   

The xxi Chapter. The fear of shameful and painful death.  Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle (our Lord reward you therefore) if we feared not farther beeside ymprisonment, that terrible dart of shameful and painful death: as for ymprysonment I would verily trust, that remembering those things which I have here heard of you, rather than I should forsake the faith of our Saviour, I would with help of grace never shrink thereat. But now are we come uncle with much work at the last, unto the last and uttermost point, of the dread that maketh, incursum & demonium meridianum. This incursyon of this mid day devil, this open invasion of the Turk, and his persecution against the faith, seem so terrible unto men's minds, that although the respect of GOD vanquisheth all the remnant of the troubles that we have hitherto perused as loss of goods, lands and liberty, yet when we remember the terror of shameful and painful death, that point so suddenly putteth us in oblivyon of all that should be our comfort, that we feel (all me●ne I fear me for the most part) the feruouce of our faith wax so cold, and our hearts so faint, that we find ourself at the point to fall even there fro for fear.  ¶ Anthony. 
To this I say not nay Cousin, but that in deed in this point is the sore pinch. And yet you see for all this, that even this point too, taketh increase or minishment of dread after the difference of the affections that are before fixed and rooted in the mind so far forth that you see some man set so much by his worldly substance, that he less feareth the loss of his life, than the loss of lands: yea some man shall you see that abideth deadly torment, and such as some other had rather die then endure, rather than he would bring out the money that he hath hid. And I doubt not but you have heard of many by right antentive stories, that (some for one cause, some for other) have not letted willingly to suffer death, diverse in diverse kinds: and some both with dyspightful rebuke and painful torment too. And therefore as I say, we may see that the affection of the mind toward the increase or decrease of the dread, maketh much of the matter. Now are the affections of men's minds imprinted by diverse means: One way, by the bodily senses moved by such things pleasant or dyspleasant, as are outwardly thorough sensible worldly things offered and abjected unto them. And this manner of receiving the impression of affections, is common unto men and beasts. Another manner of receiving affections, is by the mean of reason, which both ordinately tempereth those affections, that the bodily .v. wits imprint and also disposeth a man many times to some spiritual virtues, very contrary to those affections that are fleshly and sensual. And those reasonable dispositions been affections spiritual and proper to the nature of man, and above the nature of beasts. Now as our ghostly enemy the devil enforceth himself to make us lean to the sensual affections and beastly: so doth almighty God of his goodness by his holy spirit inspire us good motions, with aid and help of his grace toward the other affections spiritual, and by sundry means instructeth our reason to lean unto them, and not only to receive them as engendered and planted in our soul, but also in such wise water them with wise advertisement of godly counsel and continual prayer, that they may be habitually radycate, & surely take deep root therein, and after as the tone kind of affection or the t'other beareth the strength in our heart, so be we stronger or feebler against the terror of death in this cause. And therefore will we Cousin, assay to consider what things there are for which we have cause in reason's to master that affection fearful and sensually and though we cannot clean avoid it and put it aways yet in such wise to bridle it at the leaste● that it ●un●● not out so far, like ●n head strong horse● that spite of our ●eeth it carry us out unto the devil. Let us therefore now consider and way well this thing, that we dread ●o sore, that is to wit, shameful and painful death.   

¶ The xxii Chapter. Of death considered by himself alone as a bare leaving of this life only.  
ANd first I perceive well by these two things, that you join unto death, that is to wit, shameful and painful. You would esteem death so much the less if he should come alone without either shame or pain.  Vincent. 
Without doubt uncle, a great deal the less, but yet though he should come without thē●oth by himself, whatsoever I would, I weet well many a man would be for all that, very loath to die.  Antony. 
That I believe well Cousin, and the more pity it is, for that affection happeth in very few, but that either the cause is lack of faith's lack of hope, or finally lack of wit. They that believe not the life to come after this, and wen themself here in wealth are loath to leave this, for than they think they lose all, and thereof cometh the manifold foolish unfaithful words, which are● so rise in over many men's mouths this world we know and the other we know not, and that some say in sport, and thinker in earnest, the devil is not so black as he is painted, and let him be as black as he will, he is no blacker than a crow, with many such other foolish fantasies of the same sort: some that believe well enough, yet thorough the lewdness of living fall out of good hope of salvation, and than though they be loath to die, I very little marvel howbeit some that purpose to mend, and would fain have some time left the longer to bestow some what better, may peradventure be loath to die also by & by: and that manner lothenesse (albeit a very good will gladly to die, and to be with god) were in mi mind so thankful that it were well able to purchase as full remission both of sin and pain, as peradventure he were like, if he lived to purchase in many years penance, yet will I not say, but that such kind of lothenes to die, may be before god allowable. Some are there also, that are loath to die, that are yet very glad to die, and long for to be dead.  ¶ Vincent. 
That were uncle a very strange case  Antony. 
The case I fear me Cousin falleth not often, but yet sometime it doth, as where there is any man of that good mind that. S. Paul was, which for the longing that he had to be with god, would fain have been dead, but for the profit of other folk, was content to live here in pain, & differre and forbear for the while his inestimable bliss in heaven. Cupio dissolui & esse cum christo bonum autem mihi manner propter vos but of all these kinds of folks Cousin, that are loath to die, (except the first kind only that lacketh faith) there is I suppose none, but that except the fear of shame, or sharp pain joined unto death, should be the let, would else for the bare respect of death alone, let to depart hence with good will in this case of faith, well witting by his faith, that his death taken for the faith, should cleanse him clean of all his sins, and send him strait to heaven. And some of those, (namely the last kind) are such, that shame and pain both joined unto death, were unlikely to make them loath death or fear death so sore, but that they would suffer death in this case wi●h good will, sith they know well that the refusing of the faith for any cause in this world (were the cause never so good in sight) should yet sever them from god: wi●h whom (save for other folks profit) they so feign would be. And charity can it not b● (for the profit of the whole world), deadly to displease him that made it. Some are there I say also, that are loath to die, for lack of wit, which albeit that they bellue the world that is to come, and hope also to come thither yet they love so much the wealth of this world, and such things as delight them therein, that they would fain keep them as long as ever they might, even with tooth and nail.  
And when they may be suffered in no wise to keep it no lenger● but that death taketh them ●heref●o: than if it may be no better, they will agree to be (as soon as they be hence) hawsed up into heaven, and be with GOD by and by. These folk & as very nedyote fools, as he that had kept from his chyldehodde a bag full of cherry s●ones, and cas●e such a fantasy thereto, that he would not go from it, for a bigger bag filled full of gold. These folks far Cosin● as Esope telle●h in a fable that the snail did: for when jupiter (whom the poets feign for the great God) invited all the poor worms of th'earthea●th unto a great solemn feast, that it pleased him (I have forgotten upon what occasion) upon a time to prepare for them, the snail kept her at home, & would not come thereat. And when jupiter asked her after wherefore she came not at his feast, where he said she should have been welcome and have faren well, and should have seen a goodly palace, and been delighted with many goodly pleasures: she answered him, that she lo●ed no place so well as her own house. With which answer I●piter waxed so angry, that he said, sith ●he loveth her house so well, she should never after go from home, but should alway bear her house upon her back wheresoever she wen●e. And so hath she done ever since as they say, and at the leastwise I wot well she doth so now, and hath done as long time as I can remember.  Vincent. 
Forsooth uncle I would ween the tale were not all feigned? For I think verily that so much of your tale is true.  Antony. 
Esope meynee by that feigned fable to touch ●he folly of such folk, as so set their fantasy upon some small simple pleasure, that they cannot find in their hearses to forbear it, neither for the pleasure of a better man, nor for the gaining of a better thing: by which their fond froward fashion, they sometime fall in great indignation, and take thereby no little harm. And surely such Christian folk, as by their foolish affection, which they have set like the snail upon their own house here this earth cannot for the lothenes' of leving that house find in their heart with their good will, to go to the great feast that god prepareth in heaven, & of his goodness so gently calleth them to. Be like I fear me (but if they mend that mind in time) to be served as the snail was, and yet much worse to, for they be like to have their house here, the earth, bound fast upon thei● ba●kes for ever, and not walk therewith where they will as the snail ●●epeth about with hers, but lie fast bound in the mids with the foul fire of hell about them: for into this folly they bring themself by their own fault, as the dro●ken man bringeth himself in●o drunkenness whereby the evil that he doth in his drunkenness is not forgiven him for his folly, but to his pain imputed to his fault.  Vincent. 
Surely uncle this seemeth not unlikely, and by their fault they fall to such folly in deed. And yet if this be folly in deed, there are than some folk fools that ween themself right wise.  Anthony. 
That ween themself wise? marry I never saw fool yet● that thought himself other than wise. For as it is, one spark of soberness left in a drunken head, when he perceiveth himself drunk, and geatteth him fair to bed: so if a fool perceive himself a fool, that point is no folly but a little spark of wit. But now Cousin, as for those kind of fools, sith they be loath to die for the love that they bear to their worldly fantasies, which they should by their death leave behind them and forsake: they that would for that cause rather forsake the faith than die, would ra●her forsake it than sell their worldly goods, though there were offered them no peril of death at al. And than as touching those that are of that mind, we have you wot well, said as much as yourself thought sufficient this after none here before.  Vincent. 
Ue●ely that is uncle very true, & now have you rehearsed as far as I can remember, all the other kinds of them that would be lo●h to die for any other respect than the grievous qualities of shame and pain joined unto death: and of all those kinds except the kind of infidelity whom no comfort can help, but counsel only to thattaining of faith, which faith must be to the receiving of comfort presupposed and had ready before, as you showed in the beginning of our communication the first day that we talked of the matter. But else I say, except that one kind, there is none of the remnant of those that were before untouched which were likely to forsake their faith, in this persecution for the fear and dread of ●eath, save for those grievous qualities (pain I mean and shame) that they see well would come therewith. And therefore uncle I pray you give us some comfort against those twain. For in good faith, if death should come without them in such a case as this is, whereby the losing of this life, we should find a far better mine own reason giveth ●e: ●hat save for the other griefs going before, the change, there would no man that wit hath, any thing stick at al.  Antony. 
Yes peradventure suddenly before they gather their wits unto them and therewith well way the matter, but they Cousin that will consider the matter well reason grounded upon the foundation of faith, shall show them very great sub●tancial causes for which the dread of those grievous qualities that they see shall come with death (shame I mean & pain also) shall not so sore abash them as sinfully to drive them therefro: for the proof whereof let us first begin at the consideration of the shame.   

The xxiii Chapter. Of the shame that i● joined with the death in the persecution for the faith,  
How can any faithful wise man dread that death so sore for any respect of shame, when his reason & his faith together may shortly make him p●●c●●ue, that there is therein no pe●e of very shame at al. For how can that death be shameful that is glorious? or how can it be but glorious to die for the faith of Christ (if we die both for the faith and in the faith joined with hope and charity) while the Scripture ●o plainly ●ayeth: pre●iosa in conspectu domini mors sanctorum eiu● precious is in the sight of god, the death of his saintes●●ow if the death of his Saints be glorious in the sight of god, it can n●uer be shameful in very d●de, how shameful so ever it seem here in the sight of men for here we may see and be sure that not at the death of Saint Stephin only (to whom it liked him to show himself with the heaven open over his head) but at the death also of every man that so dieth for the faith, god with his heavenly company, beholdeth his whole passion & verily looketh on. Now if it so were Cousin, that you should be brought thorough the broad high street of a great long City and that all a long the way that you were going there w●re on the tone side of the way a rabble of ragged beggars, and mad men that would despise you, & dispraise you with all the shameful names that they could call you, and all the villainous words that they could say to you: and that there were than all a long the o●her side of the same street, where you should come by a goodly company standing in a fair range a row, of wise and worshipful folk, allowing you & commending you more than xu times, as many as that rabble ragged beggars and railing mad men are. Would you let your way by your will, weening that you went unto your shame for the shameful jesting and railing of those mad foolish wretches, or hold on your way with a good cheer and a glad heart● thinking yourself much honoured by the laud and approbation of that other honourable sort.  Vincent. 
Nay by my truth uncle, there is no doubt, but I would much regard the commendation of those commendable folk, and not regard of a rish the railing of all these ribalds.  ¶ Anthony. 
Than Cousin can there no man that hath faith, account himself shamed here by any manner death that he suffereth for the faith of Christ, while how vile and how shameful soever it seem in the sight here of a few worldly wretches, it is allowed & approved for very precious and honourable in the sight of god, and all the glorious company of heaven, which as perfectly stand and behold it as these peevish people do, & are in number more than an hundred to one: and of that hundred every one an hundredth times more to be regarded and esteemed than of the t'other, and hundred such whole rabble's. And now if a man would be so mad as for fear of the rebuke that he should have of such rebuke full beasts, he would be ashamed to confess the faith of Chri●t, than with fleeing from a shadow of shame he should fall into a very shame and a deadly painful shame in deed: for than hath our Saviour made a sure promise that he will show himself ashamed of that man before the father of heaven & all his holy angels, saying in the ix Chapter of. S. Luke. Qui me erubuerit & meo sermones huncfilius homini● erubesset quum venerit i● maiestate sua & patris & sanctorum angelo●um. He that is ashamed of me and my words, of him shall the son of man be ashamed when he shall come in the majesty of himself and of his father, and of the holy Angels. And what manner a shameful shame shall that be than, if a man's cheeks glow some time for shame in this world? they will fall on fire for shame when Christ shall show himself ashamed of them there, to suffer the thing for Christ's faith that we worldly wretched fools ween were villainy and shame, the blessed Apostles reckoned for great glory. For they when they were with despite and shame scourged, and thereupon commanded to speak no more of the name of Christ, went their way fro the counsel, joyful and glad that god had vouchsafed to do them the worship to suffer shameful despite for the name of jesus, and so proud were they of that shame, and villainous pain put unto them, that for all the forbidding of that great counsel assembled, they ceased not every day to preach out the name of jesus still, not in the temple only out of which they were fet and whipped for the same before, but also to double it with, went preaching that name about from house to house to. I would, sith we regard so greatly th'estimation of worldly folks, we would among many noughty things that they use, regard also some such as are good: for it is a manner among them in many places, that some by handy craft, some by merchandise, some by other kind of living arise & come forward in the world, & commonly folk are enough set forth to convenient masters under whom they be brought up and grow: but whensoever now they find a servant such as disdaineth to do such things as he that is his master did while he was servant himself, that servant every man accounteth for a proud unthrift, never like to come to good proof. Let us so mark & consider this, and way well therewithal, that our master Christ, not the master only, but the maker of all this whole world, was not so proud to disdain for our sakes the most villainous and most shameful death after the worldly account that then was used 〈◊〉 the world, and the most dispightefull mocking therewith joined to most grievous pain, as crowning him with sharp thorn, that the blood ran down about his face: than they gave him a read in his hand for a sceptre and kneeled down to him, and saluted him like a king in scorn, and bet then the read upon the sharp thorns about his holy head, now saith our saviour that the disciple or the servant is not above his master, and therefore sith our master endured so many kinds of painful shame● very proud beasts may we w●ll think ourself if we disdain to do as our master did. And whereas he thorough shame ascended in to glory, we would be so mad that we rather will fall into everlasting shame, both before heaven and hell, than for fear of a short worldly shame to follow him ●nto everlasting glory.   

¶ The xxiiii Chapter. Of painful death to be suffered in the Turks persecution ●or the faith.  Vincent. 
IN good faith uncle as for the shame, ye shall need to take no more pain, for I suppose surely that any man that hath reason in his head shall hold himself satisfied with this: but of truth uncle, all the pinch is in the pain: For as for shame, I perceive well now a man may with wisdom so master it, that it shall no thing move him at all, so far forth that it is almost in every country become a comen proverb, that shame is as it is taken but by god uncle, all the wisdom in this world can never ●o master pain but that pain will be painful spite of all the wit in this world.  Antony. 
Troth is it Cousin that no man can with all the reason he hath in such wise change the nature of pain, that in the having of pain, he feel it not, for but if it ●e felt, it is pardie no pain, and that is the natural cause Cousin, for which a man may have his leg stricken of by the knee and grieve him not, if his head be of but half an hour before: But reason may make a reasonable man (though he would not be so foolish as causeless to fall therein) yet upon good causes, either of gaining some kinds of great profit, or avoiding some kind of great loss, or eschewing thereby the suffering of far great pain, not to shrink therefro, and refuse it to his more hurt and harm, but for his far greater advantage & commodity content and glad to sustaire it, and this doth reason alone in many casis where it hath much less help to take hold of them it hath in this matter of faith. For well you wot, to take a sour and a bitter potion is great grief and displeasure, and to be lanced and to have ●he flesh cut is no little pain: now when such things shallbe ministered unto a child, or to ●ome childish man either, they will by their own wills rather let their sickness or their sore grow on to their more grief, till it be come incurable than abide the pain of the curing in time, and that for faint heart joined with lack of discretion. But a man that hath more wisdom though he would without cause, no more abide the ●ayne willingly than would the other, yet ●ith reason showeth him what good he shall have by the suffering and what harm by the refusing, this maketh him well content, and glad also to take it. Now then if reason alone, be sufficient to move a man to take pain for the gaining of some worldly rest or pleasure, and for the avoiding of another pain, though peradventure more, yet indurable but for a short season. Why should not reason grounded upon the sure foundation of faith, and helped also forward with aid of God's grace (as it is ever ready undoubtedly when folk for a good mind in God's name comen together thereon our Saviour saying himself: Vbi sunt duo vel tres congregati in nomine meo, ibi & ego sum in medio-eorum ● where there are two or three gathered together in my name there am I also even in the very mids of them:) why should not than reason I say, thus furthered with faith & grace, be much more able to engender in us first such an affection, and after by long and deep meditation thereof, so to continued that affection, that it shall turn into an habitual fast & deep rooted purpose of patient suffering the painful death of this body here in earth for that gaining of everlasting wealthy life in heaven, and avoiding of everlasting painful death in hell.  Vincent. 
By my truth uncle, word's can I none find that should have any reason with them (faith all way presupposed as you protested in the beginning for a ground) words I say can I none find wherewith I might reasonably counterpleade this that you have said here alreadi. But yet I remember that fable the E●ope telleth of a great old heart that had fled from a little bitch which had made suit after him, and chased him ●o long that she had lost him and as he hoped more than half given him over, by occasion whereof having than some time to talk & meeting with an other of his fellows, he fell in deliberation with him what were best for him to do, whither to run on still & fly farther from her, or turn again & fight with her: whereunto the other heart advised him to fly no farther, lest that bitch might hap to find him again at such time as he should with the labour of his farther flying be fallen out of breath & thereby all out of strength to, & so should he be killed lying where he could not stir him, where as if he would turn and fight, he were in ●o ●erell at al. For the man with whom she hunteth, is more ●hen a mile behind her, and she is but a little body scant half so m●che as thou, and thy horns may thrust her thorough before she c●n touch thy flesh, be ●ore then. x● times her to the length: now but by my truth ꝙ the other harte● I like your counsel well, & me think that the thing is eu●n ●othely such as you say: but I fear me when I here once that ●rchin bitch bark, I shall ●al to my fe●te and forgeat altogether. But yet and you will go back with me, than me think, we shallbe strong enough against that one bitch, between us both, where unto the other heart agreed, & so they both appointed them thereupon. Here it must be known of some man that can skill of hunting, whither that we mistake not ●ure terms, for than are we utterly shamed ye wot well, and I am so cunning that I cannot tell whither among them, a bitch be a bitch or no, bat as I remember she is no bitch, but ● brach●, this is an high point in a low house: beware of barking, for there lacketh an other hun●ing term, at a fox it is called crying, I wot not what they call it at an heart, but it shall make no matter of a far. But even as they were about to busk them forward to it, the bitch had found the foot again, & on she came yearning toward the place, whom as soon as the hearts heard● they to go both twain a pace: and in good faith uncle even so I fear me● it would far by myself and many other too, which though we think it reason that you say, and in our minds agree that we should do as you say, yea & do peradventure think also that we would in deed do as you say: yet as soon as we should once he●● these hell hounds, these Turks come yelping and bawling upon us our hearts should soon fall as clean from us, as those other hearts fly from the hounds.  ¶ Antony. 
Cousin, in those days ●hat Esope speaketh of, though those hearts and other brute beasts more, had (if he say sooth) the power to speak and talk, and in their talking, power to talk reason to: yet to follow reason, and rule themself thereby, thereto had they never given them the power. And in good faith Cousin, as for such things as pertain toward the conducting of reasonable men to salvation, I think without help of grace, men's reasoning shall do little more. But ●han are we sure as I said afore, that as for grace, if we desire it, God is at such reasoning alway present, and very ready to give it: and but if that men will afterward willingly cast it away, he is ever still as ready to keep it, & from time to time glad to increase it, and therefore biddeth us our Lord by the mouth of the Prophet, that we should not be like such brutish and unreasonable beasts, as were those hearts and as are horses and mules. Nolite fieri sicut equus & mulus in quibus non est intellectus. Be not you like an horse & a mule that hath no understanding: and therefore Cousin let us never dread, but that if we will apply our minds to the gathering of comfort and courage against such persecutions and hear reason, and let it sink into our heart and cast it not out again, nor even there choke it up and stifle it with pampering in and stuffing up our stomachs with a surfeit of worldly vanities, god shall so well work there with● that we shall find great strength therein, and not in such wise have all such shameful cowardous hearts, as to forsake our saviour and thereby lose our own salvation, and run into eternal fire for fear of death, joined therewith, though bitter and sharp, yet short for all that and in a manner a momentary pain.  Vincent. 
Every man uncle naturally grudgeth at pain and is very loath to come to it.  Antony. 
That is very truth, nor no man biddeth any man to go run into it, but that if he be taken, & may not flee, than we say that reason plainly telleth us that we should rather suffer and endure the less and the shorter here, than in hell the sorer and so far the longer to.  Vincent. 
I heard uncle of late where such a reason was made as you make me now, which reason seemeth undoubted & unevitable unto me: yet heard I late as I say a man answer it thus: he said, that if a man in this persecution should stand still in the confession of his faith, and thereby fall into painful tormentory, he might peradventure hap for the sharpness and bitterness of the pain to forsake our saviour even in the mids, and die there with his sin, & so be damned for ever, whereas by the forsaking of the faith in the beginning by time, and for the time, and yet not but in word neither keeping it still never the less in his heart a man may save himself from that painful death, and after ask mercy and have it, and live long, and do many good deeds and be saved as. S. Peter was.  Anthony. 
That man's reason Cousin, is like a three footed stole so tottering on every side, that whoso sit thereon, may soon take a foul fall: for these are the three feet of this tottering stole: fantastical fear, false faith, false flattering hope.  
First this is a fantastical fear, that the man conceiveth that it should be perilous to stand in the confession of the faith at the beginning, lest he might afterward thorough the bitterness of pain, fall to th● forsaking, and so die there in the pain, therewith ●ute of hand, and thereby be utterly damned, as though that if a man by pain were overcome, and so forsook his faith, god could not or would not, as well give him grace to repent again, and thereupon give him forgiveness, as him that forsook his faith in the beginning, and dy● set so little by him that he would rather forsake him, than suffer for his sake, any manner pain at all, as though the more pain that a man taketh for god's sake, th● worse would god be to him. If this reason were not unreasonable than should our Saviour not have sai● as he did. Nolite timere eos qui corpus possunt occidere, & ulterius non habent quod faciunt. Fear not them that may kill the body & after that have nothing that they can do farther: for he should by this reason have said, dread & fear them that may slay the body for they may by the torment of painful death (but if thou forsake me be times in the beginning and so save thy life, and get of me thy pardon and forgiveness after) make thee peradventure forsake me to late, and so be damned for ever. The second foot of this tottering stole● is a false faith, for it is but a feigned faith for a man to say to god secretly, that he believeth him, trusteth him, and loveth him, and then openly where he should to God's honour tell the same tale and thereby prove that he doth so: there to god's dishonour as much (as in him is) doth he ●●atter gods enemies & do them pleasure & worldly worship, with the forsaking of god's faith before the world, and is either faithless in his heart to● or else wo●teth well that he doth God this despite, even before his own face: for (except he lack faith) he can not but know that our Lord is every where present: and while he so shamefully forsake him, full angrily looketh on. The third foot of this tottering stool, is false flattering hope. For ●i●h the thing that he doth when he forsaketh his faith for fear, is by the mouth of god (upon the pain of eternal death) forbodden, though the goodness of god forgiveth many folk the fault, yet to be the boulder in offending for the hope of forgiving, is a very false pestilent hope, wherewith a man flattereth himself toward his own destruction. He that in a sudden braid for fear, or other affection unadvisedly falleth, & after in labouring to rise again comforteth themself with hope of gods gracious forgiveness, walketh in the ready way toward his salvation. But he that with the hope of god's mercy to follow doth encourage himself to sin & therewith offendeth god, first I have no power to shut the hand of god fro giving out his pardon where he lust, ●or would if I could, but rather help to pray therefore. But yet I very sore fear that such a man may miss the grace to require it in such effectual wise, as to have it granted: nor I can not suddenly now remember any sample or promise expressed in holy scripture, that the offender in such a kind shall have the grace offered in such wise to seek for pardon, that god hath (by his other promises of remission promised to the penitentes, bound himself to grant it. But this kind of presumption under pretext of ho●e, seemeth rather to draw near on the tone ●ide, as despair doth on the other side, toward the abominable sin of plasphemie against the holy ghost. Against which sin concerning either thimpossibility or at the least, great difficulty of forgiveness, our Saviour hath showed himself in the xii. Chapter of. S. matthew, and in the third of. S. Mark where he saith, that blasphemy against the holy ghost, shall never be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come. And where the man that you spoke of, took in his reason a sample of saint Peter: which forsook our saviour, and gate forgiveness after. Let him consider again on the other side, that he forsook him not upon the boldness of any such sinful trust, but was overcome & vanquished upon, a sudden fear: & yet by the forsaking, S● Peter wan but little. For he did but delay his trouble for a little while you wot well. For beside that, he repented forthwith very sore, that he so had done, & wept therefore by and by full bitterly. He came forth at the Whitsuntide ensuring, and confessed his master again, and soon after that he was imprisoned therefore, and not ceasing so, was thereupon sore scourged for the confession of his faith, and yet after the imprisoned again a fresh, and being from thence delivered, stinted not to preach on still, until that after manifold labours, travails and troubles, he was at Room crucified, and with cruel torment, slain. And in likewise I ween I might in a manner well warrant that there shall no man (which denieth our saviour once, & after a●taineth remission) scape thorough that denying, one penny the better cheap, but that he shall ere he come in heaven, full surely pay therefore.  ☞ Vincent. 
He shall peradventure work it out afterward Uncle in the fruitful works of penance, prayer & almose deed done in true faith, & dew charity, and attain in such wise forgiveness well enough.  Antony. 
All his forgiveness goeth Cousin you see well but by perhaps: but as it may be perhaps ye, so may it be perhaps nay. And where is he than? & you wot well yet by no manner hap, he shall never hap finally to scape fro death, for fear of which he forsook his faith.  ☞ Vincent. 
No, but he may die his natural death, and scape that violent death, and than he saveth himself from much pain, and so winneth therewith much ease, for evermore a violent death is painful.  Anthony. 
Peradventure he shall not avoid a violent death thereby, for god is without doubt displeased, and can bring him shortly to a death as violent by some other way: how be it, I see well that you reckon, that whoso dieth a natural death, dieth like a wanton even all at his case. You make me remember a man that was once in a galley subtle with us on the sea, which while the sea was sore wrought, & the waves rose very high, & he came never on the sea afore, & lay tossed hither and thither● the poor soul groaned sore, & for pain he thought he would very feign be dead, & ever he wished would god I were on land that I might die in rest: the waves so troubled him there, with tossing him up & down to & fro, that he thought the trouble letted him to die, because the waves would not let him rest: but if he might geatte once to land he though he should than die there even, at his ease.  ¶ Vincent. 
Nay Uncle, this is no doubt but that death is to every man painful: but yet is not the natural death so painful as the violent.  ¶ Anthony. 
By my troth Cousin me thinketh that the death which men call commonly natural, is a violent death to every man whom it fetches hence by force against his will, & that is every man which when he dieth, is loath to die, & feign would yet live longer if he might. How be it, how small the pain is in the natural death Cousin, fain would I wit who hath told you. As far as I can perceive, those folk the commonly depart of their natural death, have ever one disease & sickness or other, whereof if the pain of the whole week or twain in which they lie pining in thei● bed, were gathered together in so short a time, as a man hath his pain that dieth a violent death: it would I ween make double the pain that it is, so that he that naturally dieth, ofter suffereth more pain than less, though he suffer it in a longer time. And than would many a man be more loath to suffer so long lingering in pain, than with a sharper to be sooner rid. And yet lieth many a man more days than one in well near as great pain continually, as is the pain that with the violent death riddeth y● man in less than half an hour, except a man would ween, that where as the pain is great, to have a knife cut his flesh in the out side fro the skin inward, the pain would be much less, if the knife might on the inside begin, & cut fr● the mids outward. Some we hear in their death beds complain that they think they feel sharp knives cut a two their heart strings. And some cry out & think they feel within the brain pan, their head pricked even full of pings. And they that lie in a pleurisy think at every time that they cough, they feel a sharp sword swap them to the heart.   

¶ The xxv Chapter. The consideration of the pain● of hell, in which we fall if we forsake our saviour's may make us set all the painful death of this world at right nought.  
Howbeit, what should we need to make any such comparison between the natural death & the violent. For the matter that we be in hand with here, may put it ●ut of doubt, that he which for fear of the violent death, forsaketh the faith of Christ, putteth himself in the peril to find his natural death more painful, a thousand times. For his natural death, hath his everlasting pain so suddenly knit unto it, that there is not one moment of an hour between, but the end of the tone is the beginning of the t'other, that after shall never have end. And therefore was it not without great cause that Christ gave us so good warning before, when he said as, S. Luke in the xii chapter rehearseth. Dico ●obis amicis meis ne terreamini ab iis qui occidunt corpus & post hac non habent amplius quod faciant, Ostendam autem vobis quem ●imeatis, Timete eum qui postquam occiderit habet potestatem mittere in ge●ennam, Ita dico vobis hunc timete● I say to you that are my friends, be not afraid of them that kill the body, and which when that is done are able to do no more. But I shall show you whom you shall fear: Fear him that, which when he hath killed, hath in his power farther to cast him whom he killeth, into everlasting fire. So I say to you, be afraid of him. God meaneth not here that we should nothing dread at all any man that can but kill the body, but he meaneth that we should not in such wise dread any such, that we should for dread of them displease him that can everlastingly kill both body & soul with a death ever dying, and that shall yet never die. And therefore he addeth and repeateth in the end against the fear that we should have of him, & saith. Ita dico vobis hun● timete, so I say to you, fear him. Oh good god Cousin, if a man would well weigh these words & let them sink as they should do, down deep into his heart, & often bethink himself thereon, it would, I doubt not be able enough ●o make us set at nought all the great Turks threats & esteem him not at a straw, but well content to endure all the pain that all the world could put upon us (for so short while as all they were able to make us dwell therein) rather than by the shrinking from those pains (though never so sharp, yet but short (to cast ourself into the pain of hell, an hundredth thousand times more intolerable, & whereof there shall never come an end. A woeful death is that death, in which folk shall evermore be dying, & never can once be dead, whereof the scripture saith. Vocabunt mortem & mors fugiet ab eyes. They shall call & cry for death & death shall fly from them. O good lord, if one of them were now put in the choice of the both, they would rather suffer the whole year together the most terrible death that all the Turks in Turkeye could devise, than the death that they lie in for the space of half an hour. In how wretched folly fall than these faithless or feeble faithed folk, that to avoid the pain so far the less and so short, fall in the stead thereof into pain a thousand thousand times more horrible, & of which terrible torment, they be sure they shall never have end. This matter Cousin lacketh as I believe but either full faith or sufficient minding. For I think on my faith if we have the grace verily to believe it, and often to think well thereon, the fear of all the Turks persecution (with all this mid day devil were able to make them do, in the forcing us to forsake our faith) should never be able to turn us.  Vincent. 
By my troth Uncle, I think it is as you say, for sure if we would, as often think on these pains of hell, as we be very loath to do & seek us peevish pastimes of purpose to put such heavy things out of our thought this one point alone were able enough to make I think many a martyr.   

☞ The xxvi Chapter. ¶ The consideration of the joys of heaven should mak● us for Christ's sake abide and endure any painful death,  Anthony. 
Forsooth Cousin, if we were such as we should be, I would scant for very shame (in exhortation to the keeping of Christ's faith) speak of the pains of hell. I would rather put us in mind of the joys of heaven, the pleasure whereof we should be more glad to get, than we should be to fly & scape all the pains in hell. But surely god in the thing wherein he may seem most rigorous, is marvelous merciful to us, & that is (which many men would little ween) in that he provided hell. For I suppose very surely Cosin● that many a man & woman, of whom there sit some now, & more shall hereafter sit full gloriously crowned in heaven had they not first been afraid of hell, would toward heaven never have set foot forward. But yet undoubtedly were it so that we could as well conceive in our hearts the m●rueilous joys of heaven, as we conceive the fearful pains of hell (howbeit sufficiently we can conceive neither nother, but if we could in our imagination draw as much toward the perceiving of the t'other, we would not fail to be far more moved & stirred to the suffering for Christ's sake in this world, for the winning of those heavenvly joys, than for the eschewing of all those infernal pains. But for as much, as the fleshly pleasures be far less pleasant, than the fleshly pains are painful, therefore we fleshly folk that are so drowned in these fleshly pleasures, & in the desire thereof, that we can have almost no manner savour to taste in any pleasure spiritual, have no cause to marvel, that our fleshly affections be more abated and refrained by the dread & terror of hell than affections spiritual imprinted in us, and pricked forward with the desire and joyful hope of heaven: howbeit if we would somewhat set less by the filthy voluptuous appetites of the flesh, and would by withdrawing from them, with ●elpe of prayer thorough the grace of god draw never to the secret inward pleasure of the spirit, we should by the little sipping that our hearts should have here now & that sudden taste thereof, have such an estimation of the incomparable & uncogitable joy, that we shall have (if we will) in heaven, by the very full draft thereof, whereof it is written Sa●●abor quum app●●uerit gloria tua ● I shall be saciate, satisfied or fulfilled, when thy glory good lord shall appear.) That is to wit, with the fruition of the sight of gods glorious majesty face to face, that the desire. expectation, & heavenly hope thereof, shall more encourage us, & make us strong to suffer & sustain for the love of god & salvation of our soul, than ever we could be moved to suffer here worldly pain by the terrible dread of all horrible pains that damned wretches have in hell. Wherefore in the mean time for lack of such experimental taste as God giveth here sometime to some of his special servants, to th'intent we may draw toward the spritual exercise to for which spiritual exercise, god with the gift, as with an earnest penny of their whole reward after in heaven, comforteth them here in earth. Let us not so much with looking to have described what manner of joys they shallbe, as with hea●ing what our lord telleth us in holy scripture, ho●e marvelous great they shallbe. Labour by praie● to conceive in our hearts such a fervent longing for them, that we may for attaining to them utterly set at nought all fleshly delight, all worldly pleasures, all earthly losses, all bodily torments and pain. Howbeit some things are there in scripture, expressed of the mane● of the pleasures & joys, that we shall have in heaven, as where, Fulgebunt justi sicut sol, & qui ●rudiunt ad justiciam tanquam sci●●t●lle in arundin eto discurrent. Righteous men shall shine as the sun, and shall run about like sparkles of fire among reeds.  
Now tell some carnal minded man of this manner pleasure, & he shall take little pleasure therein, and say he careth not to have his flesh shine high, nor like a spark of fire to skip about in the sky. Tell him that his body shallbe impassable, & never feel harm: ●●t if ●e think than therewith that he shall never be an hungered nor a thirst, and shall thereby forbear all his pleasure of eating and drinking, and that he shall never have lust to s●epe, & thereby lose the pleasure that he was wont to take in slogging, and that men & women shall there live together as Angels without any manner mind or motion unto the carnal act of generation. And that he shall thereby not use there his old filthy voluptuous fashion, he will fay he is better at ease already, and would not give this world for that. For as● S. Paul saith. Animalis homo non percipit e● quesunt spiritus d●i stultica enim est illi: but when the time shall come that these foul filthy pleasures shall be so taken from him, that it shall abhor his heart once to think on them whereof every man ha●h among a certain shadow of experience in the fervent grief of a sore painful sickness while the stomach can sca●te abide to look upon any meat. And as for the acts of the t'other ●oule filthi lust, is ready to vomit, if it happen him to think thereon, when men shall I say after this life, feel that horrible abomination in their heart, at the remembrance of these voluptuous pleasures: of which abomination, sickness hath been a shadow, for which voluptuous pleasures he would here be loath to change with the joys of heaven when he shall I say after this life have his fleshly pleasures in abomination, and shall of those heavenly joys which he set here so little by, have there a glymering, though far from a perfect sight. Oh good god, how fain will he than be, with how good will and how glad will he than give this whole world if it were his, to have the feeling of some little part of those joys. And therefore let us all that can conceive now such delight in the consideration of them as we should have often in our yies by reading often, in our ears by hearing often, in our mouths by rehearsing often, in our hearts, by meditation and thinking upon those joyful words of holy scripture, by which we learn how wonderful huge and● great those spiritual heavenly joys are, of which our carnal hearts hath so feeble and so faint a feeling and our dull worldly wits so little able to conceive so much as a shadow of the right imagination, a shadow I say. For as for the thing as it is that ca● not only no fleshly carnal fantasy conceive, but over that no spiritual ghostly person, peradventure neither that here is living still in this world.  
For sith the very substance essential of all the celestial joys standeth in blessed beholding of the glorious godhead face to face, there may no man presume● or look to attain it in this life. For God hath so said himself: Non videbit me homo & vivet. There shall no man here living behold me. And therefore we may well know, that for the state of this life, we be not only shut from the fruition of the bliss of heaven, but also that the very best man living here upon earth (the best man I mean being no more but a man) can not I ween attain the right imagination thereof, but those that are very virtuous are yet in a manner as far therefro, as the borne blind man fro the right imagination of colours. The words that saint Paul rehearseth of the prophet Esay prophesying of Christ's incarnation, may properly be verified of the joys of heaven, N●● oculus vidit ●ec a●ris a●diuit n●cin cor hominis ascendit que preparavit deus diligentibus se. For surely for the state of this world the joys of heaven are by man's ears not audible, to man's mouth unspeakable, to man's ears not audible, to man's heart uncogitable, so far forth excel they all that ●uer men have heard of, all that ever men can speak of & all that ever any man can by natural possibility think on. And yet where the joys of heaven being such prepared for every saved soul, Our lord saith yet by the mouth of saint John that he will give his holy martyrs, that suffer for his sake, many a special kind of joy: For he saith, Vincenti dabo edere de ligno vite. To him that ouercommeth● I shall give him to eat of the tree of life. And also he that overcometh, shall be clothed in white clothes, and I shall confess his name before my father and before his Angels. And also saith: fear none of those thinges● that you shall suffer. etc. But be faithful unto the death, and I shall give them the crown of life. He that overcometh shall not be hurt. Of the second death, he saith also. Vincenti da●o manna absconditum & da●o illi calculum candidum & in calculo nomen nowm scriptum quod nemo scit nisi qui accip●t: To him that overcometh will I give manna secret and hid. And I will give him a white suffrage, and in his suffrage a new name written which no man knoweth but he that receiveth it. They used of old in Greece (where as saint John did write) to elect and choose men unto honourable Rooms, and every man's assent was called his suffrages, which in some place was by the voices, in some places by hands & one kind of those suffrages was by certain things that are in Latin called Calculi. because that in some places they used thereto round stones.  
Now saith our lord, y● unto him which overcometh, he will give a white suffrage. For those that wear white, signified approving, as the black signified reproving. And in these suffrages, did they use to write the name of him to whom they gave their voice. And now saith our lord, that to him that overcometh, he will in the suffrage give him a new name, which no man knoweth but he that receiveth it. He saith also, he that overcometh I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out thereof. And I shall write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the City of my God, the new H●erusalem which descendeth from heaven from my GOD, and I shall write upon him also my new name, if we would dilate and were able to declare these special gifts, with yet other more, specified in the second and third Chapter of the apocalypse: There would it appear how far these heavenly joys shall surmount above all the comfort that ever came in the mind of any man living here upon earth. The blessed Apostle Paul, that suffered so many perils, & so many passions, he that saith of himself that he hath been, In laboribus pluribu● in carceribus abūd●ncius in plagis su●●● m●dū● & c● In many labours, in prisons, of●er than other. In stripes above measure. At point of death often times. Of the Jews had I five times ●xl. stripes sa●e one. Thrice have I been beaten with roddes● once was I stoned. Thrice have I been in shipwreck. A day and a night was I in the depth of the sea. In my journeys oft have I been in peril of floods. In peril of thieves. In perils by the Jews, In perils by the paynim. In perils in the City, In perils in desert. In perils in the sea. In perils by false brethren. In labour and misery. In many nights watch. In hunger & thirst. In many fastings in cold and nakedness, beside those things that are outward, my daily instant labour, I mean my care, & solicitude about all the churches: & yet saith he more of his tribulations, which for length I let pass. This blessed Apostle I say, for all these tribulations that himself suffered in the continuance of so many years, calleth yet all ●he tribulations of this world, but light and short, as a moment in respect of the weighty glory that it after this world winneth us. Id enim quod in presenti est momentaneum, & le●e tribulacionis nostre supra modum in sublimitate eternum glory pondus operatur in nobis non contemplantibus nobis que videntur, ●ed que non ●identur. Que enim videntur te●poralia suit, que autem non videntur eterna sunt. This same short & momentary tribulation of ours that is in this present time, worketh within us the weight of glory above measure in sublimity, on high we beholding not those things that we see, but those things that we see not. For those things that we see, be but temporal things: but those things that are not seen, are eternal. Now to this great glory can there no man come headless. Our head is Christ, & therefore to him must we be joined, & as members of his, must we follow him if we will come thither. He is our guide to guide us thither, & is entered in before us. And he therefore that will enter in after, Debet ●itu●ille ambulavit, & ipse ambulare, the same way that Christ walked the same way must he walk. And what was the way by which he walked into heaven, himself showeth what way it was that his father had provided for him, where he said unto the two disciples going toward the castle of Emaus. Nescieba●is qui● oportebat Cristum pati & sic introire in regnum suum? knew ye not that Christ must suffer passion, & by that way entre into his kingdom? Who can for very shame desire to enter into the kingdom of Christ with ease, when himself entered not into his own without pain.   

The last Chapter. The consideration of the painful death of Christ, is sufficient to make us content to suffer painful death for his sake.  
SUrely Cousin as I said before, in the bearing the loss of worldly goods, in suffering of captivity, thraldom & imprisonment, and in the glad sustaining of worldly shame, that if we would in all those points deeply ponder the sample of our saviour himself, it were of itself alone sufficient to encourage every kind Christian man and woman, to refuse none of all those calamities for his sake● So say I now for painful death also, that if we could and would with dew compassion conceive in our minds a right imagination and remembrance of Christ's bitter painful passion, of the many sore bloody strokes that the cruel tormentors with Rods and whips gave him upon every part of his holy tender body: the scornful crown of sharp thorns beaten down upon his holy head so straight and so deep, that on every part his blessed blood issued out and streamed down his lovely limbs, drawn and stretched out upon the cross, to the intolerable pain of his forbeaten & sore beaten veins & sinews, new feeling, with the crewel stretching and straining pain, far passing any cramp in every part of his blessed body at once. Than the great long nails cruelly driven with hammers thorough his holy hands and feet, and in this horrible pain lift up & let hang with the paice of all his body, bearing down upon the painful wounded places, so grievously pierced with nails and in such torment (without pity, but not without many dispightes) suffered to be ●ined & pained the space of more than three long hours till himself willingly gave up unto his father, his holy soul. After which yet to show the mightiness of their malice after his holy soul departed, pierced his holy heart with a sharp spear, at which issued ●ut the holy blood & water, whereof his holy sacraments have inestimable secret strength: if we would I say remember these things in such wise as would god we would, I verily think & suppose, that the consideration of his incomparable kindness, could not in such wise fail to inflame our kaye cold hearts, & set them on fire in his love, that we should find our ●elfe, not only content, but also glad and desirous to suffer death for his sake, that so marvelous lovingly letted not to sustain so far passing painful death for ours. Would GOD we would here to the shame of our cold affection again toward God, for such ferue●te love, and inestimable kindness of GOD toward us: would god we would I say, but consider what hot affection many of these fleshly lovers have borne, and daily do bear to those upon whom they dote.  
How many of them have not letted to jeopardy their lives, and how many have willingly lost their lives in deed, without either great kindness showed them before (and afterward you wot well they could nothing win?) but ●uen that it contented and satisfied their mind, that by their death their lover should clearly see how faithfully they loved. The deli●e whereof, imprinted in their fantasy, not assuaged only, but counterpaised also they thought all their pain. Of these affections with the wonderful dolorous effects following thereon, not only old written stories, but over that I think in every country christian & heathen both, experience giveth us proof enough. And is it not than a wonderful shame for us for the dread of temporal death, to forsake our saviour that willingly suffered so painful death, rather than he would forsake us, considering that he shall for our sufferings so highly reward us with everlasting wealth. Oh, if he that is content to die for her love, of whom he looketh after for no reward, & yet by his death, goeth from her, might by his death be sure to come to her; & ever after in delight & pleasure to dwell with her. Such a lover would not let here to die for her twice, and how cold lovers be we than vn●o god, if ra●her than die for him once, we will refuse him and forsake him for ever, that both died for us before, & hath also provided that if we die here for him, we shall in heaven everlastingly both live & also reign with him. For as Saint Paul saith, if we suffer with him, we shall reign with him.  
How many Romans, how many noble courages of other sundry countries have willingly given their own lives and suffered great deadly pains, & very painful deaths for their countreyes● & the respect of winning by their deaths, the only reward of worldly renown & fame. And should we than shrink to suffer as much for eternal honour in heaven and everlasting glory? The devil hath some also so obstinate heretyques● that endure wittingly painful death for vain glory: & is it not than more than shame; that Christ shall ●ee his catholics forsake his faith, rather than suffer the same for heaven and very glories Would god as I many times have said, that the remembrance of Christ's kindness in suffering his passion for us, the consideration of hell that we should fall in by forsaking of him, the joyful meditation of eternal life in heaven, that we shall win with this short temporal death patiently taken for him: had so deep a place in our breast as reason would they should, and as (if we would do our devor toward it, and labour for it, and pray therefore) I verily think they should: for than should they so take up our mind● and ravish it all an other way, that as a man hur● in a fray feeleth not sometime his wound, nor yet is not ware thereof till his mind fall more thereon, so farforth, that sometime an other man showeth him that he hath lost an hand before he perceive it himself. So the mind ravished in the thinking deeply of those other things, Christ's death, hell and heaven, were likely to minish and put away of our painful death four parts of the feeling, either of the fear or of the pain. For of this am I very sure, if we had the fiftienth part of the love to Christ that he hath had, and hath unto us: all the pain of this Turks persecution could not keep us from him but that there would be at this day as many martyrs here in Hungary, as have be afore in other countries of old. And of this point put I no doubt● but that if the Turk stood even here, with all his whole a●mie about him, and every of them were ready at our hand with all the terrible torments that they could imagine, and (but if we would forsake the faith) were setting their torments to us, and to the increase of our ●er●or fell all at once in a shout with trumpet's tabrets and tembrels all blown up at once, and all their guns let go, therewith to make us a fearful noise if there should suddenly than on the other side the ground quake and rive a twain, and the devils rise out of hell, and show themself in such ougli shape as damned wretches shall see them, & with the hideous howling that those hell hounds should shritche, lay hell open on every sdie round about our feet, that as we stood, we should ●oke down into that pestilent pit, and see the swarm of silly souls in the terrible torments there, we would wear so frayed of the sight, that as for the Turks host we should scantly remember we saw them: and in good faith for all that, yet think I farther this, that if there might than appear the great glory of god, the Trinity in his high marvelous majesty, our saviour in his glorious manhood, sitting on his throne with his immaculate mother, and all that glorious company calling us there unto them, and that yet our way should lie thorough marvelous painful death, before we could come at them, upon the sight I say of that glory there would I ween be no man that once would shrink thereat, but every man would run on toward them, in all that ever he might, though there lay for malice to kill us by the way● both all the Turks tormentors, & all the devils to. And therefore Cousin, let us well consider these things, and let us have sure hope in the help of god, and I than doubt not, but we shallbe sure, that as the Prophet saith, the trough of his promise shall so compass us with a pavice, that of this incurtion of this mid day devil, this Turks persecution, we shall never need to fear: for either if we trust in god well, and prepare us therefore, the Turks shall never meddle with vs● or else if he do, harme● shall he none do vs● but in s●ede of harm, inestimable good, of whose gracious help wherefore should we so sore now despair (except we were so mad men as to ween, that either his power or his mercy were worn out already, when we see so many a thousand holy martyrs by his holy help suffered as much before as any man should be put ●o now. Or what excuse can we have by the tenderness of our flesh, when we can be no more tender, than were many of them among whom were not only men of strength, but also weak women and children & sith the strength of them all s●ode in the help of god, and that the very strongest of them all was never able of themself & with gods help the feeblest of them all was strong enough to stand against all the world, let us prepare ourself with prayer, with our whole trust in his help without any trust in our own strength, let us think th●ron and prepare us in our minds thereto, long before: let us therein conform our will unto his, not desiring to be brought unto the peril of persecution, for it seemeth a proud high mind to desire martyrdom, but desiring help and strength of god, if he suffer us to come to the stress either being sought, found, or brought out against our wilt being by his commandment (for the comfort of our cure) bounden to abide: let us fall to fasting to prayer to almose deed in time, and give that unto god that may be taken from us. If the devil put in our mind● the saving of our land & our goods, let us remember that we cannot save them long. I ●he fear us with exile and fleeing from our country, let us remember that we be borne into the broad world (& not like a t●ee to stick still in on● place) and that whither so ever we go god shall go with us. If he three a●ē us with captivity, let us tell him again, better is it to be thrall unto man a ●hile for the pleasure of god, than by displeasing of god, be perpetual thrall unto the devil: if he threat us with imprisomment let us tell him we will rather be man's prisoners a while here in earth, than by forsaking the faith, be his prisoners for ever in ●el. If he put in our minds the terror of the Turks, let us consider his false sleight therein, for this tale he telleth us to make us forgeat him. But let us remember well that in respect of himself, the Turk is but a shadow, nor all that they all can do, can be but a i'll a biting in comparison of the mischief that he goeth about. The Turks are but his tormentors for himself doth the deed. Our Lord saith in the apocalypse, Diabolus m●tret aliquos vestrum●n carcerem, ut tentemini. The devil shall send some of you to prison to tempt you. He saith not that men shall, but that the d●uil shall himself. For without question the devils own deed it is to bring us by his temptation with fear and force thereof into eternal damnation. And therefore saith, S. Paul. Non est nobis colluctatio adversus carnem & sanguinem, fed etc. Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood. etc. Thus may you see that in such persecutions it is the mid day devil himself that maketh such incursion upon us, by the men that are his ministers, to make us fall for fear. For ●y● we fall, he can never hurt vs● And therefore saith. S. Petre, Resistite diabolo & fugiet a vob●s● Stand against the devil, and he shall fly from you. For he never runneth upon a man to season him with his claws, till he see him down on the ground willingly fallen himself. For his fashion is to set his servants against us, and by them to make us for fear or for impatience to fall, & himself in the mean while compasseth us running and roaring like a rā●ing Lion about us, looking ●●o w●l fall, that he than may devour him, Aduer●●riu● v●ster diabolus (saith. S. Peter) Sic●: lo rugiens circuit querent quem de●oret, Your aduersa●ye the devil l●ke a roaring Lion, runneth about incircui●e, seeking whom he may devour. The devil it is therefore that if we for fear of men will fall) is ready to run upon us, and devour us. And is it wisdom than so much to think upon the Turks that we forgeat the devil? what mad man is he that when a Lion were about to devour him, would vouchsafe to regard the biting of a little fysling ●urre? Therefore when he roareth out upon us by the threats of mortal men, let us tell him that with our inward eye, we see him well enough, and intend to stand & fight with him, even hand to hand: if he threaten us that we be to weak, let us tell him that our Captain Christ is with us, and that we shall fight with his strength, that hath vanquished him already, and let us fence us with faith, and comfort us with hope, and smite the devil in the face with a firebrand of charity. For surely if we be of the tender loving mind that our master was● and not hate them that kill us but pity them and pray for them, with sorrow for the peril that they work to themself, that fire of charity thrown in his face, striketh the devil suddenly so blind, that he cannot see where to fasten a stroke on us. When we feel us to bol●, remember our own feebleness. When we feel us to faint, remember Christ's strength. In our fear let us remember Christ's painful agony that himself ●oulde (for our comfort) suffer before his passion, to th'intent that no fear should make us despair. And ever call for his help such as himself lust to send us, and than we need never to doubt but that either he shall keep us from the painful death, or shall not fail so to strength us in it, that he shall ioyou●ly bring us to heaven by it. And then doth he much more for us then if he kept us from it. For as god did more for poor Lazare in helping him patiently to die for hunger at the rich man's door, than if he had brought him to the door all the rich glotous dinner, so though he be gracious to a man whom he delivereth out of painful trouble, yet doth he much more for a man, if thorough right painful death he deliver him from this wretched world into eternal bliss, from which whosoever shrink away with forsaking of his faith, and falleth in the peril of everlasting fire, he shall be very sure to repent it ere it be long after. For I ween that whensoever he falleth sick next, he will wish that he had been killed for Christ's sake before. What folly is it than for fear to fly from that death, which thou seest thou shalt shortly after wish thou hadst died, yea I ween almost every good christian man would very feign this day that he had been for Christ's faith cruelly killed yesterday, even for the desire of heaven, though there were no hell, but to fear while the pain is coming, there is all our let. But then if we would remember hell pain on the other side, into which we fall while we fly fro this, than should this short pain be no let at all, and yet should we be more pricked forward, if we were faithful by deep considering of the joys of heaven of which the Apostle sayeth: Non sunt dign passi●nes huius temporis ad futuram gloriam que revelabitur in nobis the passions of this time, be not worthy to the glory that is to come, which shallbe showed in us. We should not I ween Cousin, need much more in all this whole matter, than that one text of. S. Paul if we would consider it well. For surely my own good Cousin, remember that if it were possible for me and you alone● to suffer as much trouble as the whole world doth together, all that were not worthy of itself to bring us to the joy which we hope to have everlastingly: and therefore I pray you let the consideration of that joy, put our all worldly trouble out of your heart, and also pray that it may do the same in me: and even thus will I good Cousin, with these words make a sudden end of my whole tale, and bid you far well, for now I begin to feel myself some what weary.  ☞ Vincent. 
Forsooth good uncle this is a good end, and it is no marvel though you be waxen weary, for I have this day put you to so much labour, the saving for the comfort that yourself may take of your time so well bestowed, and for the comfort that I have myself taken and more shall I trust for your good counsel given, else would I be very sorry to have put you to so much pain, and now shall our lord reward and recompense you therefore, and many shall I trust pray for you for to th'intent that the more may take profit by you, I purpose uncle as my poor wit and learning will serve me, to put your good counsel in remembrance not in our language only, but in the Almaigne tongue to, and thus praying god to give me and all other that shall read it, the grace to follow your good counsel therein, I shall commit you to god.  A●tony. 
Sith you be minded Cousin, to bestow so much labour thereon. I would it had happened you to fetch the counsel at some wiser man that could have given you better, but better men may set more things and better also thereto, and in the mean time, I beseech our lord to breath of his holy spirit in the readers breast which inwardly may teach him in heart, without whom, little availeth all that all ●he mouths of the world were able to teach in men's ears. And thus good Cousin, far well till God bring us together again, either here or in heaven. Amen.   
FINIS.   

¶ Imprinted at London in fleetstreet within Temple bar at the sign of the hand & star by Richard Tottel the xviii. day of Novembre in the year of our lord. 1543.  
Cum privilegio ad impris mendum s●lum.