THE LIFE OF St. Anthony OF PADOUA.  
WITH The MIRACLES He wrought Both before, and after his Death.  
Written Originally in Italian, and Now done into English  
Printed at PARIS, 1660. Cum Privilegio.   

To the Right Honourable, and his Most Noble Lady, ELIZABETH Countess of Arundel and Surrey.  
May it please your Ladyship,  
SInce onely High Priests are to Sacrifice at High Altars, where all Religious Ceremonies, and Devotion are required, the sacrifice I now offer might seem a little strange to your Ladyship, unless the devotion, with which it is accompanied removed your Honours wonder. The hope of this ( Madam) induced this oblation, which no ways is proportionable to your Ladyships high quality, but rather as a monument erected to the memory, and religious sense I have, of your. Ladyships Noble favours to me And since no other motive engaged me in this Offering, what book could I have found, more agreeable, and more suitable to your Honours condition, where a Life so full of Piety, and so far above the common pitch of others, is presented to your Ladyships view. As the Sun therefore ( madam) when it is at the highest, imparts the greatest benefit to the Earth, so your Ladyship, I hope( who is in so high and so eminent a sphere of Nobility, and worth) will impart the rays, and influence of a favourable Acceptance, to the low endeavours of  
Madam, Your Ladyships most devoted and most humble Servant John Burbury.   

page. 27. line 13. red Haven, p. 31. l. 12. deal ● p. 30. l. 26. r. like actions, p. 42. l. 2. deal and, l. 2 deal then, p. 49. l. 17. deal to, p 51. l. 26. r. serve● p. 66. l. 1. r. and infuses. 68. l. 12. r. offending, p. 1●… l. r. in array▪ p. 118. l. ult. r. from the way, 148. l. 1 r. writ, l. r. receiving. p. 158. l. 4. r. calling. p. 15 l. 11. r. traild on.   

THE LIFE OF St. Anthony OF PADOUA.  

The First Chapter.  
EUrope, which as Queen of the World, does wear as many Crowns on her head, as she hath Royal Cities in her Lap, is as glorious for lisbon in Portugall, as famed for Rome in Italy. To parallel the one with the other, and say they both are heads of the Country, both seated on the banks of two renowned rivers; that both in their circuit encompass seven hills, and for their magnificent fabrics, the concourse and traffic of Nations, their riches, and other rare circumstances, are the wonders of the World, is not now my design, nor intention. I only hint this, that in lisbon Sir Martin Buglione was born, a-Gentleman, who besides a great fortune to support his estate the better, was favoured by nature with all the endowments of the mind, and the body, to make him most accomplished.  
He therefore no less famous in the management of war, then of peace, and employed in the greatest commands of the City, and most eminent affairs of the public, was generally held by all in much honour and esteem. But of all the prerogatives, which rendered him so qualified, none was more noble, and more visible, then his duty and devotion to Heaven.  
He like a good Christian, acknowledged from God, whatsoever he had, and with all his heart, giving him daily thanks, most earnestly besought him, to give him such a Wife, as might be as conformable to his divine will, as conducing to his own consolation, and quiet.  
Heaven heard his prayers, and seconded his desires, for he married a Noble Lady of lisbon called Mary of Taveri, a pattern of virtue, and living abridgement of what we can wish in a Woman. Whereupon in this State they holily contended in the way of perfection, and albeit his Wife was gorgeously clad in appearance, in order to the fashion of the World, yet still she remembered to join to her bravery and feasting, mortification and fasting, and accompany soft pleasures with rough disciplines and penance.  
A fortunate couple, which enjoying in each others bosom, the chastest, and most Christian delights, neglected not at all the more holy, and more religious rites.  
Near their palace stood a Temple, which in the age and vastness of the walls, the Magnificent and royal fabric, and in the shady horror of a religious obscurity, discovered no less sanctity and veneration, then infused devotion and reverence. This, called St. Mary in the ends of the Earth, and renowned for the relics of St. Vincent, who lay there entombed, was as famous for the structure, as the Concourse of People flocking thither.  
Mary going thither daily to Mass, mingled frequently her tears with her prayers, and asking God a child to inherit their fortune, shew'd her self a companion, as well in the exercises, as desires of her Her Husband.  
Heaven is not inexorable to the prayers of the just. Mary therefore conceived, and when the time came, was delivered of a Son, whose birth assured the Father, the Stars had been propitious, and the Mother full of holy consolation, contained not her self for the grace she had received. Their joy being therefore imparted to their Friends, they gladly came thither, to admire him in the innocent cradle, who yet in a manner not knowing how to breath, began to give signs of his sanctity. And they feeling themselves inwardly incited, to adore in the East of his forehead the immature rays of a powerful Sun, began from the manner of his crying to presage in some sort, what his actions would be.  
The day of his Baptism was solemn, as well for the great preparation, which every where was splendid in the palace of Sir Martin; as for the Noble concourse of Ladies and Gentlemen, which either of his Kindred, or Friends, came to the sollemnity.  
The sacred function was celebrated in the Temple aforesaid, not so much that it seemed decreed, that he who in time was to be a great Saint, should receive in a famous sanctuary his baptism, as because that Church was the Parish of Sir Martin, and therefore ought to give him the principles of a Christian, who should with his miracles so illustrate Christianity. His Parents desired his name might be Fernandus, perhaps in some manner persuaded, a name supposed happy might have some secret virtue of bequeathing felicity to the owner.  
As soon as Fernandus was christened, and recarried from the Temple to the house of his Father, 'tis probable his Mother taking him into her arms, laid her lips to his face, and kissing him with the fullness of joy, with her eyes raised devoutly to Heaven, said the following words. O Lord if the child thou hast favoured me with, will be for the increase of thy glory, quicken his tender limbs, and give life to his new blood, that he growing to thy praise, may be a living testimony of the Graces thou hast done me. But if with the eye of thy knowledge, thou seest, as he increases, he will offend thy goodness, deprive him now of life, for if he will decline from thy holy Commandements, his body cannot have a better Coffin, then the arms now supporting him. 'Tis better he die, though hardly born, if he live not after death, and advancing in age, adds as many decrees of torments to his Soul, as he multiplies the years of his life. Thou knowest what will become of this work of thy hands, and I as a Mother cannot choose but weep over this doubt, since 'tis the decree of thy will, that no body know whither he be worthy of hatred or love.  
And here filling her eyes with tears, we may very well imagine her intent in contemplating on her Son.  
Fortunate Mother, if she could have known then, that the bosom beating weakly in her hand, and the heart, which with the motion of her milk, lay panting in her arms, were in time to be the forge of the most ardent charity inflaming a Christian, and receptacles of the most noble virtues becoming a Gentleman.  
Now when they had taken a nurse into the house, that the child by the Parents constant presence together with his milk, might suck that education, which was most agreeable to a Son of their family, they used all means to breed him with care. In the mean time he grew up, and as it were a picture, in which every day, some new line or other was drawn by the pencil, he daily more resembled his Father. And he scarce had the use of understanding and reason, when he, exercised by his parents in the acts of Christian piety, began with his weak and pretty hand, to make on his breast the sign of the across, and fashion his yet stammering tongue, to the pious expressions of verbal supplications.  
What principles of unspeakable sweetness, would not the name of Jesus and Mary, infuse into his heart, since God had designed him, for the most Noble Tabernacle, that contained Religion and Sanctity. What joys his Angel Guardian would not feel, while he saw him so early to begin, to tread in that pulpit, in which he was to walk like a Giant.  
Turn about sooner O Heavens, the unchangeable periods of Years, and hastening the course of the seasons, contract a whole lustre into a single compass of the Sun, for if in Fernandus age only is required to make him the wonder of the World, we brook not the delay, but in order to our nature, would have him work miracles in an instant. What shall we not see, to the glory of our God, as soon as this new Josuah stops the Sun of his life, in the Heaven of the holy Church?  
So the Angels would say, every time they looking down on the Earth, discocer'd nothing thereof greater admiration; the Fernandus riper years.  
Being seven years old, he was sent to School to that noble Temple of St. Mary, and committed to the charge of a virtuous Priest, who teaching him no less the first rudiments, then manners, instructed him in all things relating to humanity.  
His Parents were much pleased, to see with what forwardness and capacity, he outstripped his years, in the studies and life of a Christian, so as they taking hourly delight, in the living and little Garden of their Son, gave hearty thanks to Heaven for the great and rare fruit, they hoped to have in time, from such young and tender blossoms.  
But Fernandus, on whom a noble Temple was not vainly bestowed for a School, learning no less useful lessons from the choir, then his Master, when he had made an humble oblation, of his tender age to God, shared equally his hours, among divine offices and his studies. Every one that knew him, admired him, and edifi'd by his good example, extolled his Family and Name.  
He lived in this manner to the age of fifteen years, when beginning a course in the more grave sciences, he learned with all facility, rhetoric, logic, Philosophy, and Theology. Can an Angel in behaviour, be otherwise then an Angel in wit? knowledge and goodness go often together. Fernandus made such progress in these studies, that opening to himself a broad way, in the sense of the holy Scriptures, he stopped there the flight of his desires, and was at a stand, to inebriate his soul with contemplating on the most hidden mysteries.  
But the Devil, who discovered, that the multitude of virtues resplendent in Fernandus, would prove a living machine for the ruin of his Kingdom, as well to repair the damages of hell as obstruct the benefactors of christendom, began with strong batteries to try, if he could make a breach in the holy youths heart.  
Whereupon suggesting inwardly to him the cogitations of pride, he represented to his intellect, how much 'twas misbecoming his birth, to perform the base actions of a poor religious man, and wholly abandon the exercises of a Gentleman. That if God had desired, he should have been born, to serve him in the humbleness of religion, he would not have made him descend, from a family so noble in his country, nor have given him such abundance of wealth. That considering he might live like a Gentleman, yet be a good Christian, he should make reflection, how much better a sword would appear in his hand then a book, with how much more decorum, he might manage a horse then a pulpit, and how much more glory acquire, by his fighting then disputing.  
Then passing to libidinous temptations, he made him remember, how solicitous and keen the provocations were of nature, and how proper for one of his age, to swim in those pleasures whose unconquerable force, neither samson, nor Solomon, could withstand. That to defer them, without a clear assurance to o'ercome them, was to spur on his senses, and induce him to plunge into them with a greater desire. That finally the sin of the flesh, because most agreeable to humanity, was most of all practised, and most of all pardonable, and since he would begin, it being impossible to refrain all the dayes of his life, 'twould be better to begin, when the fault best deserved compassion.  
Then he tempted him with gluttony, and framing as subtle arguments against fasting, as they seemed to be forcible, endeavoured by all ways, to divert him from each holy action.  
In fine, when Fernandus encountering any Lady saluted her out of civility, the Devil with illusions, and shows, made her appear fairer to him, and when in the Church he devoutly said his prayers, he suggesting to his thoughts many vanities and distractions, diminished the force of his orisons, When shut up in his closet, he fell to his studies, Satan causing him to distaste them, made him careless and negligent of the course he had begun, and when at the table, to practise sobriety, he abstained from any meat, he stirring up his concupiscible faculty, made the flesh seem more delicate, the sauce more pleasing, and the fruit more delicious. Nay even in his bed, when Fernandus wast fastest asleep, th● Devil disturbing his fancy, with many obscene and filthy apparitions, endeavourd at least, while he took his rest, to make him a sinner.  
What course wilt thou steer, O Fernandus, in so many straights of thy mind, since he that undertook, to dry up the devotion in thy breast, leaves no blast of Hell unattempted.  
He prostrating often himself before a Crucifix, whose many bleeding wounds shew'd the greatness of the love, that had brought him to that state, opened two living Fountains at the veins of his eyes, and bathing one by one, the remembrances of the graces, even to that very moment received, said probably, as follows.  
O my good God, who shall take me from thy sight? who will ever be able to cancel from the sensiblest part of my heart the bloody image I see thee transformed into? shalt thou my Creator, hang naked upon a hard trunk, have thy body all rended with whips and with nails, and breath out thy Heavenly soul, in the bitterness of gull, and of vinegar, and shall I not be able, to endure for thy sake, the mortification of a single desire, the privation of a show, abstinence from some delicate meat, and the exercise of one humble act? what are Worldly means, the qualities of Gentlemen, the pastimes of loves, and delights of ease and joy, since thou born poor in a stable, discovering thyself abject of condition, blameless in behaviour, and an enemy to sin, didst do nothing else all the dayes of thy life, but show thyself patient, humble, charitable, exemplar, beneficial, and loving? Ah, my Christ, how weak are the arguments of the Devil, in persuading of Man, in case he have recourse to thy School, and learn of thy across how to answer them? Yet Satan can dispute in that manner, as none without thy Grace, may presume to convince him. Suffer him not O Lord to darken my intellect. The beginning of all knowledge is to fear thy holy name. Before these sacred feet, which here I adore in all humility, and kiss, I profess I will serve thee eternally, and always be mindful, thou hast given me my being, and fitted me for thy grace, by causing me to be born among thy faithful people, and given me an understanding, a will and a memory, to be able to know, and to love thee, and remember thy benefits. Ile always be mindful, true nobility is in thee, since thou art the Lord of the World, that thou hast behaved thyself like a true Cavalier, in fighting for me against death, and with Hell, and hast the true delights, since in Heaven thou beatifi'st the Souls of thy faithful, in an endless felicity, which cannot be expressed. Ah behold not my defects, nor the negligences, and carelessness of my service and duty, but remembering that I am the work of thy hand, and the price of thy dear blood, help, defend, encourage, and direct me, in the way of thy holy Commandements.  
So rising from the Earth, like another Antaeus, more vigorous, and stronger, he proposed to himself a life more becoming a Christian, insomuch as reforming his manner of living( though it had been ever faultless) he avoided all he could, his companions conversation abhorred all licentious discourses, and applied himself diligently to hear the word of God. He neglected all the pomps and vanities of youth, and contracting a friendship with silence, and never using laughter, was grave composed retired, and devout.  
Satan therefore, who the more he saw Fernandus withdrawn from the love of the World, endeavoured the more, to hold him the nearer to it with his daily allurements, invading him with a never ceasing war of Temptations, would not let him have one hour of repose. Whereupon the holy youth perceiving it was difficult, to be in the middle of thorns and yet not be prick't, deliberated in the most secure manner, to provide for his life.  
Without the City not far from the walls was a Monastery of Canon Regulars, called St. Vincent of the Order of St. Augustine, which as Famous as Exemplar for all things, beseeming a House of Devotion, was by every one esteemed, a true Sanctuary of Religion, and true harbour of Christian tranquillity. To this place Fernandus repaired, and taking there the habit with great edification, added whiteness to his rob with the purity of his manners, and equalled those religious mens sanctity, with the holiness of his life.  
It is not against Piety to believe, that Fernandus his dear Parents, beholding an action so remote from their ends, wept at the advice, yet submitting to Gods will, they patiently bore the loss of their Son to the World. But in the mean time, his breast-plate no sooner was on, which seemed to him the fitter to defend him, from each spot of sin by how much the more he saw it all white, but he knowing he had really changed his manner of living, began to led a life so full of perfection, that we cannot wish a better.  
To dilate myself in telling his prayers, his Fastings, Disciplines, Studies, and contemplations, would be to undertake an impossible thing. Fernandus remained in that monastery for the space of two years, in the period of which, he thinking the visits of his Friends disturbed him much, went into Cohimbria, with the leave of his superior, to the Convent of the Holy across, whosoever loves truly, loves solitude.  
There Fernandus more then ever, using exercises of devotion, applied himself particularly to the Scripture, and Pulpit, and showing in his Sermons no less lightning of Doctrine, then Sanctity, made a very great impression in the Souls of his auditors.   

The Second Chapter.  
WHile the Order of the Canon regulars flourished thus in Fernandus, the Seraphin of Assisi, who then was alive, and admired by all the world, was resplendent with as many living miracles, as the Friars in his new order. The 'vice of the times had no greater a scourge, then those practisers of penance, who begird with a course cord, epitomized in themselves, whatsoever lay scattered among the rest of men, that was virtuous and exemplar.  
Now the confines of Europe were too narrow, for those active fires of Paradise, which concealed in a habit of ashes, did pass into afric, to kindle mens hearts in Christian Religion. Some therefore among others, that went into that country, arriving in the City of Morocco, were so zealous in preaching the Gospel, those barbarous people could find no other way, to quench the growing flames, then by putting them out, with the preachers own blood, so as after several torments they beheaded them at last.  
Their famed being therefore grown precious, by the treasure of their veins cut asunder by the ax, was held in admiration by all, and triumphing in each place, made the name of Martyrs glorious in the City of lisbon.  
In the mean time Don Peter the Infant of Portugall, lay sick in his bed, and was a living hospital to himself, whose disease being wholly incurable, admitted not of hope for a remedy. But when he had heard, many graces were obtained by the Martyrs intercession, he resolved to go to Morocco, as well as he could, to adore those holy relics, and beg some compassion on his miseries.  
He went, wept bitterly, and prayed, and recovered his health, whereupon in acknowledgement of so eminent a favour he caused the holy bones to be brought into his Country, which the Citizens of lisbon and the neighbouring Clergy met devoutly in procession. The air no less resounded with the noise of bells, then the roaring of guns, and the concourse and throngs of the People, together with their joy, shewed by so much the more their devotion to be the greater, by how much the more, they made it fly to Heaven on the wings of many bonfires.  
Fernandus among, other Religious, was present at the ceremony, and seeing with what characters of holy veneration, they honoured all those, that had dyed for their faith, he so earnestly desired to be Martyred for Christ, that now no other torment, but that of delay, he imagined could be felt. The friars of St. Francis ran continually in his mind, and considering their course habit, their exemplary life and heavenly profession, he condemned his own garments as too soft, and his order as to easy.  
Fernandus supposing he could not better imitate Christ, then by practising a vo●… untary poverty, began to nourish thoughts of changing his life, and frequenting the Franciscans, discovered his desire of receiving their habit, in case the superior would permit him, to go preach to the Infidels.  
The proposition pleased those Fathers, for they knowing by his exemplary life, with what zeal and what Spirit, Fernandus was incited to that enterprise, presaged from his transplantation, the fruits of greater glory to Christendom. Having therefore discussed it with the Guardian, Fernandus was received without opposition, whereupon he no sooner heard the news, but with joy overflowing in tears, began to beg the leave of his superior, in the monastery of the holy across, which was with great difficulty obtained, since Satan, who saw that from the across, he would go to be crucified, feared no less his own losses, then a new Martyrs triumphs.  
So going in the company of the Friars, to a monastery of St. Francis called St. Anthony, he soon put on their cloath, in the mixture of whose homely thirds he saw interwoven humility, and thinking it meet, while he changed his life, to change t●… his name, taking it from the convent, 〈◇〉 which he took his habit, he desired t●… name of Anthony for the future.  
Now when he had completed in hi●…self this religious Metamorphosis, a●… saw he was begird with the cord, whi●… he certainly believed, would drag him 〈◇〉 Martyrdom, who is able to express t●… tenderness of his heart, and the amoro●… ecstasies of his Soul? Being entered t●… new cell, where on every side he saw n●…thing but an emptiness, caused by a ho●… poverty, 'tis probable, he prostrati●… himself with great zeal on the earth, kiss●… weeping devoutly the ground, then sig●…ing out his Soul, said as follows.  
My Christ! Now I am in that sphear●… where I may, as I desire, show my s●… to be active. Now I am in the way●… where 'tis not hard for me, to follow th●… footsteps. The solitude of these wall●… this naked straw-bed, and this wretche●… and contemptible habit, what are the●… but mute Masters, which teach me wi●… the tongue of an eloquent silence, wh●… thou hast endured for me, and how for m●… sake, thou hast lived? My affections 〈◇〉 therefore aspire to higher marks. I 〈◇〉 in this state for thy sake, but I am not co●…tent. One pricking alone of thy thorns, ●… rpasses far in torments all the mise●… es I can suffer. Shall I before mine eyes, ●… have thee always crucified, and think I ●… o enough, to wear a course habit for thy ●… ke, lie upon a hard bed, and have an ●… nfurnisht, and melancholy Cell? Shall be so mad, to think with short fastings, ●… old disciplines, and distracted supplicati●… ns, I can fulfil the duties of penance, of which thou art a pattern to me, on the cross? Ah, no my God. To be beaten ●… y Infidels,  shed my blood at a thousand ●… arge wounds, and leave my neck under ●… n ax, are the true imitations, whereby in ●… ome sort, I may follow thy footsteeps. Give me grace, O my Lord, to go amongst the barbarousest nations of afric, where there are so many Creatures, who have not yet tasted the fruits of thy Redemption. Ah, if the veins of this my poor body, might be worthy to be emptied for confessing thy name, and to wash with their streams, the sins but of one of those souls, who would be happier then me, and show a devouter, and dutifuller love towards thee.  
These, or such expressions of affection the Saint uttered in his new Cell, as soon as he had taken the desired possession. Whereupon when he had stayed there 〈◇〉 while, still perfecting more himself in t●… works of a true Son of St. Francis, as●…ceased not to mind his superiors of 〈◇〉 promised leave, to go preach to the Infide●… so at last he obtained it.  
He therefore taking shipping for ●…frique scarce touched that unfortunat●… shore, but infected with that merciless ai●… which venomous peradventure, imparte●… first its poison, to make him fall sic●… was forced to keep his bed a whole winter●… being no less inprofitable for the welfa●… of others, then doubtful and in danger o●… his own.  
Behold O Saint, a beds become a Pulpit to instruct thee. Dilate now thy se●… on the arguments of thy languishing state if thou wilt know the excellency of th● Martyrdom, to which peradventure, thou hast boldly directed thy thoughts. Believest thou perhaps, to suffer death for Christ, is so ordinary a favour that every one may ask it? dost see how with the heat of a lingering fever, God was pleased to teach thee, how vain is the chillness of thy mind, which hath without desert, pretended to a treasure so great? 'Tis much if thou dost not die lazily in thy bed, for a punishment of thy boldness, thou, who aspired'st to be crucified by Infidels.  
Such a sense of humility revolved in his mind, must needs have increased the afflictions of our infirm Saint, while far from his country, in a Land no less inhospitable, then faithless, he was as well a sufferer in his sickness, as journey. Whereupon without doubt, it was no less a pitiful, then Christian like spectacle, to the eyes of the assistants, to see a body laid on a heap of bare straw, and in a course habit little differing from hair cloth, in which contending equally the delicacy of his blood and complexion, augmented his disease, and the compassion of others.  
Now when the Saint had seen that afric unwilling to restore him to his health, continued his infirmity, he was forced to resolve, to return into his country, being sure his native soil, would be as kind and healthful to him, as that barbarous climate had been cruel and unwholesome. He therefore embarking himself steered his course towards Portugal.  
The Sea was so quiet and still, that resembling azure milk, it seemed the rennet of an immovable calm, had made it cease flowing, insomuch as it sporting with the curled and pleasant winds, had its watery bosom onely fanned with gentle gales. O what fine sailing 'tis O Saint now thy fortune by changing her wont, shows her kindness to thee.  
But no sooner the sails, in their untimely swelling, had conceived a prosperous voyage, which every one there had promised to himself, but a little cloud appearing toward the South, gave signs of a tempest ensuing.  
The Horizon from that side is now covered with thick clouds, The Sea now murmurs at the blowing of the wind, which comes to disturb his repose, and by little and little, becoming white through rage, begins to foam, and storm. The waves crowed together, and swell to the bigness of the clouds, and being the more furious, by how much the more hoary, become moving mountains, whence they tumbling with terror among liquid precipices, force the ship to change her course, and steer towards Sicily.  
Whither carries thee, O Pilgrim thy fortune, which being not content, by having in afric disputed thy health, forbids thy return into Portugall? St. Anthony saw the menaces of the boisterous winds, in the pale and fearful mariners faces, and counted the assaults of an imminent death, in the bouncings of the vessel, that was ready to sink.  
If my faults, O God, are the blustering tempests, that endanger this Ship, drown me alone in the swallowing Waves, since I, who have offended thy infinite goodness, deserve no less sepulchre then a Sea. At the most, little damage will accrue to Mankind by my loss, who by reason of my sickness, fill a place to no use among the living. I know the greatest weight oppressing now this vessel, is my feeble carcase, which as a heap of bones, in which there is nothing but misery, draws upon itself the anger of the Elements, and invokes the indignation of the stars. Ah O Lord, have pitty on these thy sad Creatures, and let them not be drowned, for having in their company, a remnant of corrupton.  
In this manner spake St. Anthony, and in the mean time, the vessel encountering with many raging blasts, got safe in the end into the Haven of Sicily. There the sick Saint disenbarqued himself, and giving thanks to God, that he had been pleased to preserve him still alive, remained some dayes, and during his stay, receiving advice, a general chapter should be held in the City of Assisi, he desired to go thither.  
He therefore advancing to the place, though wholly infirm, 'tis piety to believe, the dangers, and incommodities he met on the way, were not light, and such as peradventure, he could not have or'ecome, if God, who was enamoured of him, as foreseing his sanctity, had not favoured, and assisted him particularly.  
Now come to Assisi, and the chapter at an end, as our St. was unknown, and by reason of his infirnity, supposed to be useless, no convent was assigned to him, as to each other Friar. Whereupon when he saw, he was the refuse of the order, and neglected, and abandoned by all he recommended himself to the provincial of Romagna, and entreated he might go along with him.  
St. Anthony was young, not in holy orders, a stranger, and held for an idiot, but the provincial discovering in his countenance, a certain Air of Nobleness and sanctity, took him willingly with him, and gave him a lodging in a convent, called the Mount of St. Pa●l,  
This place was little less then a desert, and seated in the solitude of a very thick wood, which being nothing else but a labyrinth of boughs, made it rather appear an enclosure for beasts then a dwelling for men.  
Happy shades( St. Anthony peradventure broke forth, as soon as he saw it from far) under whose lovely silence, I shall wi●h delight, and more clearness, see the Sun of my dear Christ. What thanks owe I not to his goodness, since after so dangerous, and long a peregrination, he hath conducted me to so peaceable a Heaven, that I could not wish a quieter? If these are the rewards, O my God, of the will I have had, to die for thy sake, and for having longed after the persecutions of all afric, the cruelties of the barbarousest Nations, and the terror and dangers of the horriblest monsters, thou refusest me martyrdom, by making me enjoy a sweet quietness in this place, thou canst not hinder me, from being a Martyr. Ile make the scorchingst sun boil my flesh in my one sweat, and be instead or that burning furnace, in which I supposed to be roasted by the infidels. I'll make the Coldest January flay off alive my skin, with the edge of his sharp frosts, and serve for the razors I expected from afric. I'll make the raging'●… hunger devour within my bowels, the most substantial parts of my body, and serve for the teeth of those beasts, to which I imagined to be given for food by thy enemies. In fine, I will make bloody disciplines do the office of those Hangmen, by whom I expected to be scourged incessantly. No, no, O my Lord, thou canst not refuse me to be martyred, since my heart is so enamoured of thy passion, and desires in that manner to imitate thee, in the hard, and bloody way of thy across.  
With these affections, each one of which deserved a Paradise for reward, our St. entered into that monastery, where applied by his superior, to the basest and contemptiblest exercises, the diligence with which he performed his duty, surpasses all expression.  
'Tis therefore very probable, that the Devil beholding his proceedings with too envious an eye, and invading him sometimes in the heat of his actions, suggested to his thoughts in this manner.  
When thou didst leave the World, it was not thy purpose, to come to wash the dishes of the order, nor to sweep away the filth of the convent, but thy end without doubt, was for preaching the gospel to souls, and administering the Sacraments, for the benefit of all. To lose thyself now in works of this kind, which aim at nothing else, but the infimousest services, the body requires, is as great an impediment to thy holy intentions, as a cozenage of the Devil, who excusing thy unprofitable idleness, with the colour of holy obedience, holds thee fast in these contemptible affairs, that spending in them the beauty of thy life, thou mayst be defrauded of the merit, thou mightest have acquired in actions becoming a true religious Man. And what avails it thee, to have mortified the flower of thy youth, with the discipline of studies, and abandoned the World, where with a single alms thou mightest have equalled the reward of many spiritual exercises, if after thy arrival in the cloister, thou onely wast to serve, for the washing of the Kitchen, the watering of the Garden, and pruning of the Trees? Ah O Anthony, disengage thyself from these base employments, and consider thou art now a scullion to one, who would have thought himself very highly preferred, to have served in thy house for a Porter.  
But St. Anthony, who knew from what root, these thoughts guilded with a feigned zeal, were derived, with his arms folded hard before a crucifix, performed more then ever, the vilest affairs of the convent; and accompanying his infinious employments with high contemplations, and mortifying his body with fastings, and keeping it waking with disciplines, did verefie the saying, that every thing is sweet and conquerable to a passionate lover.  
Frequently when weary with digging, he sate in the Garden, in some cool and pleasant shade, and tempered the heat of his labours, with the harmony of devout supplications, he considered what diversity of vegetables, that little spot of cultivated Earth, sustained in her bosom, and perpended in his mind, by what subterranean veins that nourishing moisture passed which feeding the several seeds, made them break forth into sprouts, stalks, and leaves, which likewise receiving a different organization, were distnguisht the one from the other, by their variety of colours, and figure.  
Who hath given the lustre( he said to himself) to the leaves of that flower, which carved with such diligence, and environed in such order, make a little globe of wonders, each Philosopher admires? From what breathing places of Paradise, come the odours to perfume it in that manner, that it made aromatical by nature, as likewise a carcase, appears to be embalmed? O God, come ye monarchs of the Earth, ye, who with such boldness, boast of doing each great thing, and try if ye are able but to make a little flower. And thou O my God, who on the face of the Earth, feedest infinite Trees and plants, and when thou hadst created the nobility of the Angels, the People and of Men, and the rout of living Creatures, fittest governing the universe, and holding the vast Machine of the Earth hanging over the waters, prescribest the confines to the Ocean, and regulatest the motions of the Heavens and Stars, seest thou not all things, measurest not all things, and art not the life and understanding of all things? Thou, who sitting on a throne inlaid all with Stars, hast the Sun for thy canopy, and the crystalline sky for thy Tabernacle, art not thou onely great, the true King, and true God? And who is more beautiful then thee O my Redeemer, who with a single smile makest the dawning of the day every Morning in the East? who is more sweet, and more delicious, since with a blast of warm, and gentle air, thou dost recreate the World, and infuse life into it? And when I remember the profession I make, to serve so great a God, shall not I be quiter dissolved into tears, with thinking how little I do? what are without thy grace, O my God, these exercises, these prayers, these scourges, and these abstinences, but the forces of a senseless little worm, and pretences of an atom scarce distinguished from nothing.  
And here the fair tears trickling down hot and thick from his eyes, he sob'd at these humble remembrances.  
Such were the Christian-like lessons, which St. Anthony daily learnt in that rural School of the convent of St. Paul. Whereupon when some Moneths were expired, his superiors admiring the sanctity of his life, and knowing he desired to be in holy orders, sent him to that effect towards Forli, together with other clerks in the Company of the Guardian.  
It happened as he travailed with some religious Men of St. Dominiques order, his Guardian had a humour, to command him to preach, perhaps to make trial of his supposed simplicity, and have some occasion to laugh at his pretended ignorance. But when he had excused himself so far, that it looked like disobedience, he sitting in a chair, began to speak so learnedly, that he in his discourse, contracting the learning, the Emphasis, and eloquence of a hundred other Preachers, confounded so his audience, that they loading him with praises, and blessings, cried him up for one of the famousest Men of their order at that time. The news of it therefore arriving the Provincial,( our St. now being free from his sickness) he granted him leave to go preach, now he was in holy orders.   

The Third Chapter.  
ITaly at that time was a miserable stage, on which all calamities attended with sorrow were acted to the life. overflowed by a deluge of foreign Arms, which poured down upon her from the Alps out of Germany, no beam of the Sun could be seen, which stained with the reflection of their glittering weapons, did not form in the Air streaks of light threatening terror. Amazement and horror went hand in hand together, and the several mischances of burnings and rapines, together with the various customs, rites, and languages of the barbarous warriors, caused so horrible and universal a confusion, that the country on this side the Rhetian Alps resembled a tempestuous sea, on which floated, turned upside down, both divine and human things. But that which most of all sustained an irreparable loss, was the purity of the catholic faith, which infected with the contagion of heresy, lay languishing in the arms of impiety, and the hainousest sacrileges.  
These things perpended by St. Anthony, imprinted in his mind such troubled imaginations, as represented Italy to him more monstrous and barbarous then afric itself; insomuch as he comparing in his heart both the countries together, rather wished himself( now he had leave to preach) in the wildest and inhospitablest corners of Mauritania, then in the most populous cities of Italy.  
Whereupon, before he would prepare himself for so high an undertaking, as that to preach to people infected with heresy, he desired with the leave of his Seraphical superior, to make a new course in theology in Vercelli, under the Abbot of Saint Andrew, a very famous Doctor.  
Thither therefore he went, and turning again Scholar, more for the love of God than of learning, by which he knew God, he knew very well that nothing was more fit to raise him to Heaven than the wings of contemplation, which always mounts high, so as too for that, to be the more apt and more nimble, he making himself meager with disciplines, and reduced by fasting to the form of pure spirit, made the axiom most true, that every light thing tends upward. Often in the heart of the longest nights, when silence and darkness have the greatest dominion on the face of the earth, he watching in his Cell by the light of a lamp profoundly contemplated, with what rest less motion that little flamme aspired to its sphere, which tied to a poor and vile week, with the slippery knots of an unctuous liquor, and made a bright scourge of the A●r round about it, extended itself into the form of a Pyramid, the better to ascend, and shew'd with what disquietness to itself it desired to go to its centre. Wherefore fighing very deeply to himself, he said in this manner. Art thou, O Anthony, a famous Doctors Scholar, and yet hast a lamp to instruct thee? What are the blazing qualities of that tongue of fire, but mute, yet powerful lessons, from which thou receivest the more light, by how much the more it shows thee with its motions, what way thou shouldst take to know God.  
And here adding deluges of tears to those reflections on the flames, he bewailed his own weakness, and the negligence of his not neglected talent.  
He studying in this manner, in a short time so profited, that now he surpassed in science the Abbot his Master, and to the astonishment of the students his Companions, arrived to comprehend, what others were not capable of. His intellect become an epitomized Heaven, beholded in it internally the essence Divine, and as if God, ineffable, and uncircumscribed, could be limited and terminated by human capacity, he contemplated his qualities and attributes, with so vigorous and strong an apprehension, that he wanted but little of identifying himself, in the knowledge of him.  
So arrived to that height in Theology, that his amazed Master made public encomiums of him, he ended the course of his studies, and began to consider, 'twas now necessary for him, to follow the exercises of preaching.  
St. Anthony was devoted to the Mother of God, and in his greatest needs, finding no better counsel, nor help, then what he received by her holy Protection, who is able to express the affectionate prayers, with which he recommended himself unto her, while he by the means of his disciplines and fastings, prepared himself in all hast for his Sermons?  
He now therefore being fortified with Heavenly assistance, and armed with all the necessary preparations for so high a vocation, went abroad through the neighbouring Towns, as a Trumpet of the Gospel, reproving all the vices of Men. Whereupon he not retarding, to echo from the Rocks of the most obdurate hearts, the praises of the great good he did, was by his Superiors sent Guardian to lymoges, a City in France, to the end with his works, and his Preaching, he might convert the heretics, living there in great numbers. He therefore going thither, made good in that manner, the opinion had of him, that the miracles he there wrought, clearly witnessed his works.  
No business whatsoever could hinder him from performing exactly, both the office of a Preacher and Guardian. And when such important affairs met together, as at the same time required his presence in two several places, with a wonder unheard of, by the Heavenly virtue infused into him, at once he was present both at this, and that action. Hear this O Nations, and with wonder be immovable.  
'Twas the Night of good Friday, and those dark and black hours added mourning to the funeral of our Saviour, at what time the Saint bewailing in the Pulpit, the doleful remembrance of his passion, wept abundantly perhaps of set purpose, to wash the peoples sins, then listening to him. He be laboured himself in recounting that sad tragedy, each syllable of which pierced his soul with most sensible torments, and reveling Christs love, and the ingratitude of sinners, inveighed against the wickedness of Man, and his negligence in order to the holy Commandements.  
But St. Anthony in the fullness, and height of his discourse, when his auditory more attentive and persuaded, gave liquid assurances of their hearty repentance, by the tears trickling down from their cheeks, remembering that he was to red a lesson of the matins, which the Friars were reciting at that time in the choir, raised his thoughts up to Heaven, and said. O Lord, the Pulpit, and choir demand me at once, how can I supply both this and that place, if my body be not multiplied beyond the course of nature? Ah O Lord, do thou, who canst double the Sun, and create a Thousand Worlds if thou pleasest, permit me without interruption, to perform both these functions.  
O wonders deserving to be written with the Characters of Stars, that they may ever shine in the face of eternity! He no sooner had expressed in his heart, this his holy conception, but without going out of the Pulpit, he appeared in the choir, and sang the said lesson.  
Now here to inquire by the means of Philosophy, how that could come to pass, and with a refined understanding, search, and trace out the forms, which make such life-actions subsist, would doubtless be a boldness, as vain as tenerarious. My ways, and your ways are not alike, saith God by the mouth of his prophet. who is able to discover the path of a ship on the Sea, of a bide in the Air, or of a Serpent on the Earth? And if we fail in that, may we not justly think, he is not a good Christian, that would know by natural reasons, how the Heavenly power operates? Ah the works of God should be held in veneration, and not questioned.  
In Mompeliers afterwards the like admiration was caused by St. Anthony, while he preaching in the doom, went and sang an Alleluja belonging to him, in the choir of his convent, without stirring out of the Pulpit. In our St. was made good, what is usually said of good friends, who highly to oblige one another, would gladly have two lives, for he loving God infinitely, obtained the favour to pluralize himself in his service.  
But with what affections, may we suppose he thanked his Heavenly Majesty every time he himself amazed at his own miracles, beholded he was favoured among Men, with qualities onely suitable to the inhabitants of Paradise? I may peradventure conceive, but cannot describe the tenderness, cordiality, and trances of this Saint, who sometimes through abundance of sweetness, drowned in a Sea of tears, enjoyed the shipwrecks of Heaven in the Ocean of his sorrow.  
In the convent at Mompelier was a novice, a voluntary, but unfortunate prisoner, who thinking all the happiness of this life, consisted in secular liberty, imagined all the thirds of his habit, were as so many strings, which bound him to a hateful obedience. Battered therefore with the stones of the walls, the confines of his walk, he looked not on their whiteness, but his countenance growing pale, he bewailed that election, as too inconsiderate, which had obliged him, to sequester perpetually himself from the World.  
What a madness is it( said he) for a man, who receiving from God, a vast globe for his dwelling, will reform as it were a work not to be mended, and circumscribe his residence within the narrow limits of a little spot of Ground, and declaring himself worthy of an everlasting prison, will carry the punishment of his vanity, in the mortification of his life without end? If God could not be served, but in Monasteries, either no secular person could be saved, or the face of the Earth, would abound with sacred cloisters. Is mans life so exempt from disasters, that it must be held convenient, to add to diseases, to penury, misfortunes, and persecutions, and a voluntary chastity, poverty, and odedience? An exact observance and devotion in each sense, more peculiar to Angels then men? And why in the time of the spring, doth nature present thee with a world of fine flowers, if to mortify thy smelling, thou turnest away thy face from the Rose, which perfuming the air with aromatical blasts, scatters fragancies up and down about its thorns? to what end doth a skilful musician, with the bow of a citterne, endeavour to shoot the through thy ears to the heart, if thou deaf to the music prolonging thy life, preferrest before the swetness of singing, the blubberings of tears? To what purpose in the Countenance of a beautiful woman, hath God represented the similitude of a bright shining morning, if looking another way, thou avoidest that sight, which the stars themselves sometimes may envy? Ah tis mere foolishness, to be more observant, and exacter, then then God doth command, and to seem to be wiser, and more abstinent then is suitable to mans nature. Abandon then, abandon thy order, and let it lay no burden on the shoulders of him, who carries his own weight very hardly.  
With these conceptions( provocations peculiar to the Devil) the poor religious man so disquieted himself, that resolved now to cast of his habit, he designed now to run from the Covent. St. Anthony coming thither at that time, and knowing by divine inspiration, of the tempest of his mind, in which he was about to shipwreck his salvation, was moved by his disaster to pitty, and going to him lovingly, and opening his mouth, as if he had the power to infuse a new soul into him, said O son, receive the Spirit of God. And so breathing into his throat, made him fall to the ground in a swoon, then stretched out his hand for the raising of him up, while the novice in the presence of many other of the Friars, awakened as it were out of a sleep, began to cry out, that he had been in paradise, and seen, &c. but the Saint commanded him to be silent, causing him ever after to be freed from that temptation.  
The famed is very great of the aged Ezechiel, the praises of whom are sung on a harp whose strings are the spheres, and whose rose is the sun, for having with a blast restored to life, a mountain of mens bones. But St. Anthony to our greater amazement, so far hath surpassed this miraculous action, as 'tis harder to give a new life to one alive, then to animate one dead. And how could he ever, more powerfully show himself, an imitatour of Christ in his works, unless by replenishing his Disciples, with the spirit of salvation, by the virtue of a blast, as we red our Saviour did, when incarnated he conversed with men.  
Equal to this, if not greater, was the miracle, he wrought a while after in the Abbey of Simoniaque, in the bishopric of lymoges, where a monk then resided, the piety of whose life incensed the Devil, and caused the foul fiend to employ against him, all the instigations and enticements to sin, which his cunning could device But he knowing especially the Temperament and genius of the monk, enflamed him so with the temptations of the flesh, that the poor religious man burning vehemently with lust, found no ease to his torments. If he either said his office in the choir, prayed in his cell, or mortified himself with fastings and disciplines, the Devil with a never ceasing war of filthy allurements, would not let him have a minute of repose.  
What shall I wretch do( he said in his heart) if the waves of my tears, and the blood of my stripes, can neither extinguish, nor mitigate the heat, that consumes me? To carry a fire in my bosom, which the most devout suffrages, a Christian can apply, can do no good against, is a kind of Damnation resembling that of hell.  
So the monk bewailed himself, and was in the height of his afflictions, as St. Anthony arrived at that convent, the famed of whose sanctity was now become great. To him having therefore recourse, and earnestly commending himself, he retired with him into a place apart, and falling very sadly at his feet, confessed the commotion of his senses, and besought him for Gods sake, to assist him.  
St. Anthony commiserating in him, the deplorable condition of Man, devested himself of his tunick, and giving it to him to put on, as if the touch of that, had had the same virtue with his body, imparted in that manner his own chastity to him, that the monk never after all the dayes of his life, felt the least provocation of the flesh, as he often weeping tenderly had publicly avouched, and affirmed. Then the praises of the St. being spread o'er all France, for this thing alone, and with reason, caused it to be envi'd by all the other Kingdoms of Europe, but that succeeding to Gods greater glory, did likewise succeed to the greater consolation of all.   

The Fourth Chapter.  
GReat and glorious actions France often hath beholded, but of all She ever saw, none was so full of admiration, as that Julius Caesar presented to her of himself.  
To see, that nature had formed a man, the least of whose thoughts designed the revolution of a World. To consider, that his head, and his heart gave nourishment to spirits, which bequeathing life and motion to Armies, ruined provinces, and kingdoms. To reflect, that at last, he disdaining common victories o'er Men, undertook the Dominion of the Elements, made the French raise as many Arch Triumphalls to his valour, as were the wondering eyes, that beholded him.  
But let the wonders wrought by Julius Caesar yield to those done in France by St. Anthony. For if 'twas a wonder, that a Man armed with ●teel, accompanied by Millions of Souldiers, and feared by all Europe, should trample upon crowns, erect, and throw down empires, and Kingdoms, and give, and then take away sceptres; 'tis a far greater wonder, that a poor, contemned, and mortified Friar, should tame the wills of others, repress their desires, instruct their understandings, and heal their sore consciences. 'Twas a far greater wonder, that a barefooted Friar, gird about with a cord, abject, and unknown, should bear the sway o'er nature, have command o'er the Devils, dispense Heavens treasures, and reconcile souls unto God. But why should I weary myself, to parallel Caesars deeds, and St, Anthonies, since the m●racle of a hair will obscure all the actions of that Roman.  
In the City of lymoges resided a Woman, who indifferently handsome of body, but rich in all the qualities of the mind, which become a good Christian, professed her self a servant to all the religious, but particularly to St. Anthony. She therefore watching all opportunities to serve him, sometimes sto●e away the time from her household affairs, and spending it devoutly in order to his service, very diligently attended him. But her husband▪ besides his ill condition, was jealous of her, insomuch as he torm●nted with that internal fury, which distracted still his mind, no meat did him good, no sleep appeased his thoughts, nor pastime could please him.  
His face being therefore grown lean, and deformed, he looked like a fury, and abusing his wife, and often upbrayding her, with her waiting on St. Anthony, would beat her sometimes, commanding her straightly to desist from his affairs.  
But she thinking the reprehensions of her husband, would turn to her advantage, gave him leave to vent his fury, and attended on St. Anthony, whose busness having once staid her longer then usually, till the obscurity of the night, began no less to darken the World, then her husbands understanding, she no sooner got home, but he firmly concluding, her stay had been dishonest, in that it was sheltered by the darkness, and would not brook the light as he thought, resolved to kill her, assaulting her to that end with a dagger.  
Death thundering on the point of his weapon, now threatened to make itself a way in her innocent bosom, when the blow stopped by some that came in between them, gave the mad man an occasion, when he saw, he was hindered of his purpose, to seize with his left hand on her hair, which with a hellish fury he pulled quiter off from the roots. His innocent wife felt as many piercing torments in her heart, as the hairs were she lost, insomuch as she afflicted, not so much because deprived of that part, which serves as a crown to the beauty of Women, as because the want of it( custom so prevailing with them, that cut off their hair) was a testimony of infamy. When she had laid together her locks, she weeping very bitterly o'er them, sent to call the next Morning to St. Anthony, and telling him how unfortunate she was, so tenderly bewailed her disasters, that the Saint moved to pitty returned to his Convent, and caused all the Friars to pray jointly for her.  
And behold, when they were in the midst of their prayers, the Woman appeared in the Church, who, as she every morning used to do, came to do her devotions. Whereupon the Saint meeting her, and taking her hair into his hands, which she still carried with her, having stayed till the people there present, had encompassed him round, said probably as followeth. Be of comfort, O Daughter. Whosoever hath his conscience free from sin, is secured from the hurt of the body. The purity of thy affection to God, fulfils those words in thee, that his friends shall not suffer so much, as the loss of a hair, which we shall see verified here. Having said so, he no sooner put the hairs on her head, but they, as if receiving both Spirit and life, grew again in their places, and covering the skin, made the Woman seem unhurt.  
Each hand can destroy, but to build is onely proper for a workman. Whosoever mends a vessel, is Master of the trade, or of the same profession. Every Man can deprive another of life, but no man, though a Monarch, can make a hair regrow, when once 'tis fallen off. O fortunate St. Anthony, who renewing human bodies, shewed clearly to all, he was his disciple, who made all the World. Those hairs set together again, were so many golden Testimonies to the husband, of the innocence and purity of his Wife. Whereupon he ashamed, because he had been d●awn by the hair, as well to the l●ve due to her, as the necessary respect to the Friars, changed his life, and behaviour, repairing the savageness, he shewed to his neighbour, with as many acts of kindness, and affection.  
famed therefore become a blazing Star to the glories of St. Anthony, made his name so renowned, that the People from all parts concurring to hear him, erected living statues to his praises, to the number of the Men in the Temples and Streets, immovable out of wonder, insomuch as he forced to preach in the spatiousest piazze, gave the People occasion, to set up seats and scaffolds round about them, to the end, that conveniency, and ease of their bodies, might raise their attention, and be of more advantage, and profit to their Souls.  
But the Devil, who stormed at the good, Mankind did receive from St. Anthony, contrived in what manner, to disturb his proceedings, resolving very hellishly, after many designs, to make the people pay for their setting.  
Shall a Friar, said he, whose onely desert consists in his cord, which should seem to hang him, subvert my Dominion, and make the prey escape, which was in my hands as it were? And shall Heaven, depriving an Angel of it's favour, capacitate a Man to surpass him in merit, and condition? The remembrance of these things torments me extremely. Who hath given that eloquence to his tongue, which resembling a Thunderbolt to the most obdurate hearts, insensibly overthrows the most settled, and fixedest resolutions, which another had made to follow my dictates,? Shall the breath of a mouth which naturally blows could, be such a gentle Air, and so vital to the World, that infusing new spirits into Men, it shall carry them to new customs, and new actions? Shall the jaws of a poor, and weak Friar, be such dreadful dens to me, that with the least breath of a word, they shall have the power to ruin the harvest, where I hoped to reap great store of lost Souls? But let it not be said, I am injured, and to weak to conquer this enemy. I'll make those that hear him, feel the greatness of my power, and fall for a punishment of their vanity, into a pit of sorrows, and torments.  
Thus the Devil watched all opportunities to compass his ends.  
On the other side St. Anthony, full of fervour and zeal, gave devout, and affectionate thanks every minute to God, fo● the good he did to souls, and in his understanding was united to him, that often by special favour, he foresaw future things. Whereupon he discovering what the Devil had designed, in order to the concourse of People at his Sermons, and beholding from the Pulpit, the throngs of the scaffolds, and ground,  told them in the beginning, that Satan was about to terrify, and hurt them, but that each one there should be of good courage, for they should have no harm.  
Having spoken in this manner, and advancing in his Sermon, when he was the most fervent, and his audience most attentive, and devoutest, behold the devil untying the ropes, which held the beams, and planks of that portable theatre, caused the frames with the Men, to fall from the top to the bottom, and in a most intricate disorder turning topsy turvy, the living and senseless things, with many strange postures, butted one body under another.  
In this case the piazza by the order of nature, should have been on the sudden a heap of dead bodies. This with a broken Head, and broken arms, and that with his Breast beaten flat, One stisted by the crowd, and another half dead. This grieving sadly, and that sorely hurt. But in so great a ruin( O most glorious Saint whom all succeeding ages should admire) they suffered not so much as the loss of a hair. The charity of St. Anthony was to them, an invisible defence against harm, and just at the time, when the cords were unti'd by the Devil, with an act of desire made to God, he prevailed, that each one there, was particularly assisted by Heaven.  
The People therefore glad, and astonished, when they had with all speed set the scaffolds up again, re-attended to the Sermon. Hereupon the name and credit of our Saint growing infinitely great, increased so the audience, and devotion to his Sermons, that they held it a sin not to hear him, so as the Devil, mad with himself, for the great good he did, designed new inventions to hinder the devotion of the People.  
In the bishopric of lymoges resided a Matron, who nobly born, and rich, and married to her liking, had a Son, whom she loved most dearly. Being therefore in a fortunate condition, and meeting in all things with all desires, she wanted nothing else to perfect her happiness, but to gain the beatitude, the grace of God imparts.  
'Tis an easy thing, and natural as it were for one that lives contented on Earth, to settle himself unfeignedly to the seeking of Heaven.  
She therefore living well, was particularly devoted to St. Anthony, and had all his actions in that reverence and esteem, that she would rather have suffered any thing then omitted his Sermons.  
But her Son on the contrary side, who naturally was haughty and proud, did every thing amiss, and to the offence and displeasure of others. Whereupon being hated by all, and obliged to maintain with his sword, what his pride every day engaged him in, he abounded with enemies and cares, and became no less an Argos for his own preservation, then a Hell to his solicitous parents.  
What thoughts does thy mind labour with, his devout and good Mother said often to him? Whence comes the contempt with which thou dost vilify others? dost think peradventure, because thou art distinguished from the Vulgar by thy quality, that nature hath distinguished thee from them? And that thy difference from others in fortune, makes thee different in species from them? Ah, human blood is the same in the King and the shepherd, and there is no true disparity among men, except it be by virtue. The poor man thou vilifiest, and whom thou thinkest thyself superior to, hath frequently his senses more refined, and more even than thine, surpassing thee so far in the functions of the body, and qualities of the mind, that he seems to be wholly composed of reason, and thou of bestiality: must he therefore, because he is not richly appareled, as one that is obscure be reputed vile and base? O deplorable ignorance of the wealthy!  
Men are like Kings on the face of the Earth, who have constituted their tribunal in the mind, at which all mens actions and merits are examined, and as it seems just unto them they give them the reward of affection, and punishment of hatred. And the Authority of this tribunal is extended so far, that it does pronounce death against all whom it judges to be guilty, and actually oftentimes makes the sentence to be executed; for we see 'tis in the power of each one to kill another. Since therefore it is thus, why should not every man seek the favour of another, declining the anger and ruin that may hang ore his head? Ah, my dear son, leave thy manner of living, which hitherto thou hast followed, and love, esteem, and honour every one, for the best dominion, and the fairest command of a man, is that over the will and affections of another.  
And confirming her words with as many liquid testimonies, as the tears were she  shed, she laboured all she could to soften and mollify the harsh youth, her son. But he the more increasing his insolences for his mothers admonitions, disquieted himself, and his country. Whereupon she seeking comfort from Heaven, and attending only things of religion, became such a pattern of devotion and piety, as made the Devil hate her particularly, insomuch as he ware of the good she derived from S. Anthonies sermons, resolved to disturb her to his power.  
On a solemn day therefore, as she was at the sermon in a full Congregation, he taking upon him the form of a Courier, addressed himself to her, and presenting her a Letter informed her of the death of her Son.  
Her pale friends and Kinsfolks running hastily to her, so disordered the assembly, that they broke off S. Anthonies discourse, insomuch as he raising his voice, said aloud, Be of comfort, O Matron, the news you have received is as false, as 'tis true he that brought it is a Devil in the shape of a man. Your son is alive, and if you will but look towards the gate of the Church, you shall see him soon appear.  
The Devil confounded at his words, vanished presently away, and the Matron with the rest, directing her eyes to the place aforesaid, saw the young man come in. Joy therefore, and wonder entering into their hearts, when they had admired the sanctity of S. Anthony, and expressed their thanks to Heaven for the same, they betook themselves again to their places, attending with great silence to the rest of the sermon.  
Many other illusions might be  told, which were instead of Trophies to S. Anthony, as that of the Friars, who saw a field spoyled one night belonging to their Benefactor, which he said should not trouble them, because they that did it were Devils, who by that appearance endeavoured to distracted their devotions. But our design at present being only to mention the wonders which he wrought by his sermons, we will speak of this subject alone.  
The Saint wrought great miracles in the Pulpit, but that of the field of Arras was most glorious, where he used to assemble the people and preach, the Church not being able to contain them.  
This was a large place, the foundation in times past of some vast and goodly palace, which having then the air for its walls, and the Heavens for its roof, seemed a theatre proportionable, and suitable to the great Congregation which followed him continually. As he therefore was preaching one day in that place, behold on the sudden, the winds began most dreadfully to hiss, and assembling the clouds round about, so covered the air with thick darkness, that the light which lay languishing in it shewed the world was in an agony. Horrid claps of thunder followed after, at whose resounding noise the pale orisons echoing, advice all there present to shelter themselves from the tempest. The fearful people therefore disorder the assembly, and moving here and there to fly to the city, presage a future storm in their faces.  
Stay, said the Saint. Be none of you afraid of the menaces of the air, for when ye are actually in the service of God, even Hell itself let loose cannot hurt a mans hair. I promise to secure you from harm, if neglecting all other things ye will diligently attend to Gods word.  
These his words infused such a security into all, that regarding not the tempest, they resettled themselves to hear the word of God. In the mean time the rain mixed with hail poured down in that abundance and fury, that each drop become a torrent, made whole rivers run along through the neighbouring fields. Who will deliver the devout Congregation from the precipices and ruins of an Ocean? Who will be a fence against the waves, and a bank against the billows, that the people unhurt, and not wet may renew the examples of the Ark, in which mankind was preserved? O the force of the miracles of S. Anthony! One request made to God was an invincible Canopy to the Audience, and encompassed and protected the assembly, so as the least besprinkling of water did not wet the hems of their garments.  
The people therefore drowned in admiration, by so much the more divulged the praises of S. Anthony, by how much the more they found they were dry, and unhurt. But since his sanctity often bridled the Elements, who will not be astonished to hear, that he bridled too the madness, even of mad men themselves?  
In lymoges lived a Man so distracted, and mad, that every thing he did was irrational, and furious. Having therefore his countenance and body very meager, and pale, his hair dishevil'd, and his eyes full of rage, he walked up and down in the City, no less uncompos'd in his actions, then tattered in his clothes. Whereupon he, made a spectacle of misery and horror, moved all to compassion and wonder.  
Where are the Physitians, who pretending to re-edify human bodies, say, there is no disease surpassing their skill? What virtue can be found in a ston, what juice in an herb, or what force in compositions, that will cure the disorders of a mad, and irrational mind, which flowing from the inward seditions of the humours, the muscles, and arteries of the head, most obstinately persist in unreasonable operations?  
Cannot therefore Physitians, be they never so diligent, nor physic, nor diet, or mutation of air, restore to the order of nature, the disorderly State of a Man besides himself? Ah, the rectifying of the motions of these wheels, is only reserved to the hand, of the artificer that made them, and the Proverb is too true, that he, who once loses his wits, never gets them again.  
This mad man therefore hopeless of remedy, being one day in the Church, when St. Anthony was preaching, and admonished by him to give no disturbance to the audience, said, he would not be quiet until he took off his own cord, and with his own hands presented it to him.  
To see a mad man look for a cord, is to see him soon hanged. Hemp is not good for Men besides themselves, unless it be to bind them, but when 'tis in their power, 'tis either to their death, or to the hurt of some other.  
No body could have thought that St. Anthony would have furthered the ruin of a man about to ruin himself, or put into the hands of a child a sharp, and keen raisor, so as when he threw him down the cord from the pulpit, every one fastened to it with wonder, stood expecting what would follow.  
The mad man laying hold on the cord kissed it with equal tenderness, and devotion, and no sooner had touched it with his fortunate lips, but a heavenly virtue infused into his mind, rekindled the light of his reason, and he knowing the errors of his miserable state, and falling at the feet of St. Anthony, entreated his pardon, and being well again, made the standards by weep out of pitty.  
But the wonders were greater, which his sermons occasioned. A Woman in a village of the Country of lymoges, loving passionately her son, and thinking all the pleasures in the World, were contracted into his bosom, did nothing all the day, but hug and embrace him. Every kiss she therefore gave him, was the quintessence of affection, and when she looked on him, she imagined Heaven smiling upon her.  
When in order to the laws of common calamity, he sometimes used to weep, she reducing her soul into one of his tears, felt her self die as often, as the drops were he  shed. But on the other side, when he smiled upon her, she wounded with the bow of his lips, felt many years added to her life.  
Now St. Anthony going thither to preach the woman by the devils illusions, set a cauldron of water on the fire, and put the child into it, believing she had laid it in the cradle, and laying on great store of wood, shut the door, and went away to the sermon. But at her return, the devil a while after recalling to her mind, what she had done, represented to her fancy, many strange apprehensions.  
Now together with the water in the cauldron, death boiled in her bosom, and she phancying those limbs to be sudden to pieces, which she thought to have refreshed with the vigour of sleep, had hardly power to breath, much less to stir a foot. Looking therefore very sadly, and crossing her hands, she striven to vent her grief, but her breath not permitting her to speak, she remained no less insensible of weeping, then sorrow. When she was able afterwards to walk, she approached to the door, rather opening it in desire, then with her hands, and going half dead into the room, cast her eyes in all hast towards the chimney, and beholding the flames, which encompassing the cauldron, look't as if they not only consumed the water, but the brass, would have doubtless fallen dead to the ground, if the last reflection occasioned by her eyes, had not brought her some life. Shee therefore approaching to the cauldron, and looking into it, saw her child sporting there, as in a sea of milk, whom the water was not warm enough to hurt.  
Silence O Pen! when miracles surpass imagination, 'tis in vain to extol them. To hear the Saint preach, and to suffer for that, was repugnant to his charity. Let the Reader consider on the joys, and the wonder of the Mother, who alone to support so much gladness, and survive it, ran the hazard of being compassionate.   

The Fifth Chapter.  
IN this manner the wonderful works of St. Anthony resounded in all places. But no ways inferior to this, was the miracle he wrought, in behalf of another mother, who leaving her son in the cradle, to go to his sermon, and finding him stisted, and dead at her return, prevailed with him to restore him to life.  
O fortunate rewards of the devoted to St. Anthony! Hegosias discoursed so eloquently of the miseries of Mans life, that his words representing calamities, and fraught with disasters, infused into Mens minds such destructive cogitations, that many by his rhetoric, threw themselves into the arms of a Voluntary death.  
But St. Anthony a quiter different orator, with his divine Eloquence utters Heavenly things, infuses inspirations of life into the hearts of the auditors. What wonder is it then, so many run to hear him, and that France become one body, and one heart, hangs with a single sense at his mouth? All tongues, and all wits would doubtless be weary, should they undertake to recount, the demonstrations of faith, the acts of contrition, the tears of repentance, the changes of life, the reconciliations, and restitutions of the goods, and good names of other Men, which his Sermons occasioned. Whereupon as the Eloquence of a holy taciturnity, suits best with those things, which transcend Mans capacity, so I purposely omitting the infinite relations, in order to these matters, will confine myself to one of them alone.  
In lymoges lived a a Gentleman in the flower of his youth, who following the lusts of the flesh, let no hour of his life pass away, without some particular satisfaction to himself. As he was of a healthful, and strong constitution, so he was of a boisterous and unquiet behaviour, expressing in his face a disordenate mind, so as 'twas impossible to fathom his thoughts, his strange resolutions, and fantastical desires. Who will be able to calm, and appease this stormy Man, who as fierce in his looks, as extravagant in his clothes, would have every hair of his head, and his beard, infuse a like terror with his countenance and carriage? If we would be informed of the pleasures of his mind, and entertainments of his thoughts, 'tis clear, that the minutes, and atoms of time, in which he resolves not of destruction, and designs not incontinence, are not numbered with his years, as parts of his life. To follow the dictates of each unruly passion, to hang at the hilt of his sword, his fortune, and his soul, be the mark of each affection, and never to be weary of hatred, and revenge, employed the greatest part of his study and time.  
But being one day smitten with the sermons of St. Anthony, and pierced to the heart with his words, which infused into him the terrors of Hell, as a sick Man rising up out of the lethargy of death, he began to consider on his State, and condition.  
Who art thou( thus he spake to himself) who walkest so idly and boldly in the path of the World, and thinkest that nothing can hurt thee? dost suppose the mass of Earth, of which thou art made, is so incorruptible, that death in an instant, cannot make it a receptacle of worms? In what consists thy bravery, if the prick of a sword, some inward pain and grief, the heat of a lingering fever, a thorn; a fly, a spider may deprive thee soon of life? And shall the precious time, thou shouldst spend in considering on things, in order to Heaven, and the hours thou shouldst employ in giving thanks to God for his benefits to thee, be consumed in this manner, in neglecting, and attending him? How comes it to pass, thou shouldst not still remember, thy Creator is infinitely powerful, and infinitely good, and can, if he please, give thee Heaven, or Hell without end? But grant, thou art so miserable, the horror of death, and of judgement, cannot make the afraid, why dost not consider on the amiable qualities of God, who when he had created, and placed thee in the World, subjected all Creatures to thy will, and made the Sun and Stars, together with the Earth, the Water, and Air, for thy service and use, would incarnate himself,  shed his blood for thy sake, and die to save thee? To comply with the gratitude of the World, thou wilt be very sorry, when thou canst not return the civilities of a friend, nor serve him according to thy wishes, and to show thy love to God who hourly does oblige thee beyond al, the World, wilt thou be so voided of humanity, as not to retain so much gratitude in thy heart, as will cause thee to be sad, for having offended him? Where are now the contrition, and sighs of devotion of a penitent soul?  
Having spoken in this manner, he let the reins loose to lamentations, and sorrows, and firmly resolving to offend his Creator no more, he went penitently to the feet of St. Anthony, and retiring with him into a place a part, began in all humility to discover his faults.  
O most loving Jesus, how ready art thou to assist and help all, that convert themselves to thee.  
God was so pleased with this sinners contrition, that he opening his intellect, in the act of his confession, so sensibly made him know the greatness of his faults, that he sighing extremely at every thing he spake, was not able, by reason of his immoderate sorrow, to utter a word. St. Anthony knew of his pardon from Heaven, so as, that Gods mercies might more evidently appear, he  told him, since he could not speak his mind, he should return home, and writ down his sins, and bring them to him in a paper.  
Who can imagine, and fully conceive, the bitter resentments he had, when he wrote that cursed roll?  
His soul pierced no less with the point of his memory, then his pen, imprinted not a character in the paper, which looking like a Monster of hell, represented not to him, the merit of the pains, he would have been liable to, if the mercy of God had abandoned, and forsaken him.  
Now when he had often been pale, and likewise often blushed, at that which he red, and had yet to writ, and made his ink thinner with his tears, he filling, and then folding up the paper, returned to the feet of St. Anthony, where renewing his tears, and contrition( never satisfying himself with asking God pardon) he drew out the abominable list, and as he was beginning to red it, he found it all white, there appearing not in it, the least shadow of any writing.  
O Son, where are thy faults? who hath washed from the bosom of this paper, the black, and foul tincture of the characters, which infused the horror of death? To what may we ascribe such an unexpected whiteness, unless to the waves of thy eyes? Wilt see how prevalent thy contrition hath been, and what it hath articl'd, and covenanted with God? Behold, he offers thee a blank paper. Tears and sins reside not together. Go, and be comforted in Christ, and continue in the State thou art in: Thus our Saint spake to him, and giving him his blessing, dismissed him with happiness.  
Infinite other miracles St. Anthony wrought in France, the particular relation of which, as it would be very difficult to the eloquentest tongue, so it does altogether exceed my capacity. His name therefore growing renowned, made a glorious echo in the Vatican, so as the Pope desirous to hear, and behold him, sent for him to Rome.  
The Capitol requires thee, O Saint. What wonder is it, since after thy conquest of France, triumphs are prepared for thee? The rock Tarpeia receives greater credit, by adding thy act●, to the many inscriptions of the Hero's, with which it is engraven. Advance to the place, where the Tybur would gladly gilled his sands, with the touch of thy feet, for since all this while, the Rhosne, and the Seine have made their waters flow with the motion of thy wonders, 'tis but just thy happy presence should make the latin river renowned.  
St. Anthony arrived in Rome, when the Pope much encouraged with the good he had done, had resolved of a crusado, in order to the conquest of the holy land, so as devout Nations meeting there from all parts, the City seemed too little, to contain so great a multitude.  
'Twas doubtless a fine sight, to see the huge concourse of the people, the throngs in the Streets and piazze, together with their habits, their customs, and different languages, but that was no new thing to the Romans.  
The Pope commands St. Anthony to preach, and the sacred Consistory, with an infinite number of People, flock thither to hear him, who though he spake Italian, made his words sound to all in their own proper language. Who will deny thee O Saint, the laurel, and triumph, since in testimony of thy holy undertakings, such variety of tongues do attend on thy sermons? The Nations there present, were amazed, and extolled him to the sky, and the Pope called him, the ark of the Testament, and treasure of each science. And he knowing of the miserable State, Italy was in at that time, commanded him to go through the Cities and Towns, to reduce Christian souls to repentance.  
At that time lived an Usurer in Florence, who minding onely traffic and gain, so far loved the light of the Sun, as it served to make him rich. To spend all his life in casting up accounts, and booking his debts and receipts, seemed to him the onely quality, to procure him esteem. Whereupon he enamoured with Gold, had no end of his desires in heaping up wealth, and growing pale with watching, and lean with solicitude, shew'd nothing in his eyes, and his face, but covetousness and desire.  
To gnaw a piece of dry bread, and with so much wine mingle his water, as served to change the colour. To dine on an onion, and frieze in the middle of winter o'er a languishing fire. To sweat in August with a long sided coat of patched cloth, and go all the year to his bed, by the light of the Moon, were such pleasing things to him, because they spared his money, that this of all others, was the life he most fancied; minding therefore onely money, he had no other thoughts but what brought him gain, insomuch as grown rich, he began to bless his eyes with the lustre of his gold, and rejoice at the heaps of his silver. Having therefore provided very great and strong chests, whose iron-work seemed able to resist Thunderbolts themselves, and shutting them with locks, whose strange and extravagant devices, resembled the crooked ways he got his wealth by, he opened them daily with delight, and fixing his eyes on the heaps of his gold, said gladly to himself.  
Let the lover now come, who says, he does burn with a more noble fire, and see if his flames have more reasonable motives then mine. He adores a woman, whose transitory beauty soon vanishes like a shadow, her rosy cheeks, and lovely hair, contributing to the wound of an innocent heart, and her smiles, and carriage together with her gestures, which show her vivacity and spirghtliness, aiming onely at this, to make her a Venus on Earth.  
But omitting the conditions of her mind( besides her infidelity and pride) for which She may often be compared to a Devil, tell me, O lover, how permanent in thy mistress are the corporal endowments, for which thou art become her idolater? Ah, the roses no sooner do bud, but the frosts pursue them closely. Her swelling breasts abate, growing flaggy, and wrinckel'd and her withered eyes, and teeth, show nothing worth the seeing in her declining face, but the commiseration, that they have once been handsome.  
'Tis not so which me. I love a beauty not subject to corruption, by so much the more commending my idol, by how much the more, it produced by the Sun, cannot certify Men of it's qualities, and value, with a clearer, and more evident testimony. I sigh not to behold it, nor long to possess it, for when I will, I see it, and when I please, I kiss it. To doubt of it's faith, is to deny natures orders, for never 'twas yet seen, that Gold was false to any.  
Can a Man have a greater comfort, then to think he is a Master of a substance, the soul of the World, and hath a precious Protheus in his hand, which changeth itself into every thing? The adorations of the Egyptians are ridiculous, who had not so much wit to discern, gold was the greatest Deity. Will you see wonders wrought in an instant, take gold into your hand, and with that you may do any thing? What delights more the eye, then the sphaericall figure of money, which for it's lovely roundness, represents a whole World? what can make any Man more a Gentleman, and more learned then money, which is the best defence, and projection we can have? Shall a lover therefore lie several nights on the stones, endure the greatest heats, and greatest colds, endanger himself, suffer banishments, imprisonment, and want, for a painted corruption, and shall not I much more, who adore the worthiest thing the world hath, toil and moil, and endure the greatest torment for riches? O happy rags, which cover me? O fortunate abstinences, watchings, and solicitude, which wast, and consume me, since these bitter, pains are the cause of my treasure.  
And here kissing those sparkling heaps, he took great pleasure to count his money over again, and again, and reflecting on the things, in which he might have spent it, his vanity seemed excusable in this thing alone, that it made him enjoy each delight in the abstract. O the madness of Men.  
This Usurer living in this manner, expired at last as St. Anthony arrived in Florence, and his obsequies were prepared in the Church, where he was to preach.  
The Corps now brought thither, and accompanied in great State, while the torches distilled in hot tears for the loss of his soul, St. Anthony illuminated with the light of the holy Ghost, cried aloud in this manner.  
What do ye O Florentines? Shall the body whose soul is in hell, lie in a sacred place? Shall he enjoy the privileges of a church, who abused the merits of Christ? Shall he have Christian burial, who lived like a Heathen? Open but his breast, and youl find it wants a heart, then come along with me, and I will show you where it is, by which you may judge of his damned condition.  
The persons there present would have laughed at his strange words, he being unknown unto them, if the sound of his tongue, tuned by the Holy Ghost, had not had the power to infuse faith and reverence into them. The Florentines therefore inwardly persuaded, began to anatomize the breast of the Usurer, and seeing it was whole, and unhurt, but deprived of that part so necessary for the functions of life, being almost dead with wonder, stood while without motion. Then following St. Anthony, they went to the Usurers house, and opening by his order and direction one of the great Chests, they found his heart within it, which reeking as it were, lay on a heap of money.  
The people then raising a cry, which was mixed with praises and wonder, received assurance of St. Anthonies holiness, and increasing their devotion to him, ran, and took the Corps out of the Church, and butted it like a beast in the fields. In this manner our Saint, like an Apostle of Christ, going here and there through the country of Italy, did not cease to work miracles; so as he arriving at Ferrara, was well known unto all, and received by the city with unspeakable praises and joy. Wherefore reverenced, and admired, by all, as an Angel in the shape of a man he contributed his assistance to every one in need.  
A little before two of the chiefest families of Ferrara had been joined in marriage, who no less noble then rich, their gold received lustre from the beauty of the Bride, which surpassed all belief. The heart of her Husband being therefore tied to her with as many strong chains as the hairs curled in rings on her temples, he found no other happiness in the world, then what was circumscribed him by love, in the confines of her face.  
'Tis a felicity to love and be married. But as this earthly happiness resembles a cloud before the wind, so this married mans joys soon changed into sorrow. For his wife, in regard of her beauty, being gazed on by all, the Gentlemen in the city still attended and respected her. Her husband therefore noting the passages, the looks, and respect his wife had at home and abroad, began to congeal, and freeze in the midst of his flames, concluding those pleasures were mixed with poison, which a little before had been so delicious and sweet. But that which consummated his fears was, to see his wife return, with the terms of civility, the favours she received, her acceptance of them fomenting new acts of devotion and service, from which love beginning by little and little, would terminate in time with his Families disgrace.  
These reflections therefore boiling on the slow fire of hatred, which insensibly began to flow from his breast, raised fumes in his mind, which obscuring the light of his reason, disordered him extremely. Wherefore pale with continual agitations, and lean with his freting, he was now become a residence of torments.  
Sometimes in the heart of the night, when silence and quietness seize most on the senses, he taking no rest, turned toward his lovely Wife, to gaze upon her by the light of a candle, and contemplate her features, and delicate face, while she sleeping soundly, so insensibly breathed, that adding a grace, and a lustre to her beauty she shew'd a kind of sadness, and silence, which her innocence conveyed to his eyes. Whereupon he enamoured of that sight which attracted his affection, called to mind the happy hours, when first he thought himself entirely possessed of her love, so as filling his eyes with tears, he said the following words.  
Lets look some other way O my heart, and behold our scorns no longer, and the joys of another. Time was, when what we now do behold, lived onely for our pleasure and delight; but now it is otherwise. The faithful soul she had, is fled away and vanished, and a spirit full of fraud and deceit is come into the room, lets bewail our disasters O heart.  
And here turning to the otherside of the bed, he wept so down right, though without the least noise, that he made the senseless darkness itself, even pitty his sorrows.  
With this piercing grief, he lived for the space of some Months, so as he might well be imagined the compendium of hell. But his Star not content with the miseries he endured, made his torments complete, for he seeing his Wife was with child, and supposing himself not the Father, was desperately furious beyond all expression. He wept, grew pensive, stood still, and then ran, the combat of his doubts, and his horrible resolutions so tempestuously agitating, and disquieting his mind, that the least thing he designed was death.  
In fine having cast up his accounts, and resolved not to loose his wifes portion, he determined not to poison her, till after her delivery, and to kill while after the child. Concluding in this manner, he began to live merrily( anger being sweet in expecting revenge) and striven to fain kindness to her. But he could not so clear up his countenance, but that the inward tempest of his mind sometimes shewed itself, insomuch that his Wife, who perceived his smiles were mixed with poison, and his looks grown malicious, began to suspect his affection, and fear some disaster.  
Shee therefore renewing her dalliances with him, and expressing more her love then at any time before( beauty accompanied with sadness being always most powerful) endeavoured to dive into the bosom of her husband, and discover what he would not reveal. But seeing the more liberal she was of her amorous demonstrations, the more he declined her kindness, when she had in vain requested him, to inform her of the cause of his disturbance, she resolved to put a period to her fears, and shut up her self into a chamber with him.  
There growing pale, and languishing in that manner, that she would have moved every one to pitty, that beholded her, when she had faintly lifted up her eyes to the face of her husband, she sate down by his side, and taking his hand into hers, said the following words.  
This hand, which affectionately clasps thee, my Dear, should make thee comprehend my passionate desires, but since my unhappiness will force me to use words, where my paleness, and fears speak for me, tell me I pray thee, whence does it proceed, thou carest not for me as before? Are these eyes, and this bosom, which once were so pleasing to thy thoughts, so vile now to thee, they cannot delight thee? What fault hath my soul, which adores thee, committed, that thou for its punishment, withdrawest from thy countenance the graces and affection, which made our marriage happy? I have given the my liberty, my body, and my mind. I observe thy commands as an inviolable law, and should live, and die in thy arms, and can I endure to see thy mind altered thy tranquillity disquieted, and thy pleasures obstructed by me? Ah, this can come from no other cause, but thy settling thy affection on some other woman.  
As she spake in this manner, she fainted, being unable to conclude this last word, whereupon looking pale, and blocking up the passage to her tears, by closing her eyes, she opened it on her forehead, to a could, and clammy sweat.  
To see a beauty languish, and faint, and breath out both innocence and pitty, must needs have made the hardest heart relent. burr her husband more cruel, and resolved then before could leave her in that state, and without being moved to compassion, go out of the room, she coming then again to herself while after, and finding she was left there alone, renewed the remembrance of her sorrows, and wept with that bitterness, over each word she heard, that she would have been turned into tears, if her parents coming into the chamber by chance, had not comforted her to their power.  
However not long after, she omitting her ornaments and mirth, lead a sad and solitary life, resembling an innocent Turtle deprived by some disaster of her mate. Her parents observing it, encouraged her to go prostrate herself at the feet of St. Anthony, and discovering her misfortune to him, to beg his assistance.  
She followed their counsel, whereupon the Saint comforting her with a fatherly affection, and telling her the punishment was sent her from Heaven, for the vanity in exposing her self to the eyes of the Gentlemen, bad her patiently endure the harshness of her husband, and hope in Gods mercies.  
So dismissing her with a promise, to pray to God for her, many dayes had not past, but her nine months expired, she was delivered of a delicate boy, the pains at whose birth, together with the memory of her miseries, cost her almost her life, and perhaps at that time, she gladly would have died. But her pangs being over, she took the little child into her arms, and looking towards Heaven, fixed her mind upon God, and weeping abundantly, said the following words.  
O Lord, who seest all things, and without whose consent, not so much as a pismire can have the least being, thou knowest if to the forming of this babe, there hath been any mixture, but that of a loyal marriage. Comfort me according to my innocence, and open the eyes of my blind, and jealous husband. But if I deserve not this favour, end my disasters by ending my dayes, since by going from this bed to my grave, I shall clear my husbands doubts, and ease my torments.  
And O thou little wretch, who hardly art born, and yet art so unhappy, thy father will not own thee, how much better for thee would it be, if these arms now sustaining thee, might at present be thy Coffin, and that breathing in this bosom, which newly gave thee life, we might go both together to the sepulchre? Perhaps thy cruel Father assured of my innocence, in time would weep, though too late, o'er the ashes he not long before hated.  
And here hugging her child in her bosom, she began so to storm it with tears, and with kisses, that she moved all there present to pitty, and her parents had enough to do to comfort her. But they grieving exceedingly for the danger, in which they saw their Daughter, thought they had no other way, to hinder that imminent destruction, then by their renewing their instance to the Saint.  
When they therefore had found him, he praying in that urgent, and pressing occasion, discovered by divine revelation, the murder decreed by the Husband, the innocence of the Wife, together with the ruin of that family, and the scandal of the City. Whereupon he afraid of the mischief that would happen, added disciplines and fastings to his prayers, to prevent it. A while after as the husband stood discoursing near his house, with some gentlemen his acquaintance, St. Anthony, who knew it, as likewise that the nurse would pass the same way with the Child, repairing to the place, took the child from the nurse, and carrying him in his arms to the company aforesaid, with a countenance full of Majesty and veneration, infused at that time into him, fixed his eyes on the child, and said the following words.  
I command thee, O Infant newly born. by the power of Jesus Christ our Redeemer, the Son of the blessed Virgin, to tell me thyself in the presence of these men, which amongst them is thy true and legitim●te Father.  
The standards by affrighted at his words, expected with wonder the issue of the thing: when the child looking on the jealous man, and nodding to him, spake as readily as a boy of ten years, This is my proper, natural, and legitimate Father, this is he, whose true, legitimate and natural son I am.  
A man that sees a ghost congeals not in that manner with astonishment, nor trembles so with wonder and fear, as all that heard the words of the infant were amazed and trembled. But the Father above all, unable for a while to stand on his legs, would have fallen without doubt to the ground, if the wonder, and confusion issuing out of his eyes, and congealed into tears, had not eased the exhalations of his suffocated heart.  
Then the Saint said to him, behold here thy son, whom receive with affection, and as the faithful birth of thy chast and dear wife, and know, she hath always respected and honoured thee, as became a good woman. And since thou hast hated her till now, like a blind and jealous man, ask pardon of God for thy thoughts, and resolutions, and love her, and live peaceably with her, as becomes a good Christian.  
Having said so, he departed, leaving all weeping there out of tenderness. Who is able to express the acts of affection, and reconciliation, which passed betwixt the Wife, and the husband soon after? Who can relate their words, their tears and repentance? Let the fancy of others supply the defects of my pen. This short, and narrow paper is not able to contain unlimited conceptions.   

The Sixth Chapter.  
WE said before, that Italy in the time of our Saint was miserable infected with heresy. Now what may we imagine, were his sorrows, and afflictions for this, at his return especially out of France? What minutes of time, may we fancy passed away in which he did not weep for the loss of those souls, which though purified by their baptism, and washed with Christs blood, yet afterwards polluted with many stains of heresy, fell headlong into hell?  
Who is able to relate the strange disasters he saw, in the places he past, and preached in? Who can tell the disputes, the reasons, and persuasions he used, to reduce their perverse understandings into the right path? He hating his own body, as if it had done all that evil, did beat it without pitty, and making it meager with fastings, which would have made giants themselves even languish and faint, and applying it to prayers, which for their great fervour, did terminate in agonies, did vent on himself all the anger and zeal for the iniquities of Italy.  
O Saint! The Tybur and the Po have more errors then waves. A flower cannot be seen on their banks, which breaths not Corruption. All the leaves of the trees are depraved, nor sings there a bide in the fields, which chaunts not forth axioms of hell. And wilt thou alone with thy weak and lean breast, withstand, the rapid torment of so many enormities.  
Yes, like an animated Mountain in Italy, I will cause floods of tears, and of blood, to run from my veins, and carrying on my head, as it were driven snow, the purity of the catholic faith, will abate with it, the edge of the thunderbolts from Heaven, and opposing Gods fury and wrath, be a bulwark for his peoples defence.  
Thus it seemed, he spake in the fervour of his prayers, when he prayed for the heretics of his time. Whereupon when he heard, that the City of Rimini was become a new Babylon for heresy, though in France he had converted before the Archheretick, Bonville, he like a generous stead encouraged to the battle by the sound of the trumpet, resolved to hasten thither. And perpending very seriously on the misery of those souls( not without shedding rivers of tears every time he reflected on them) he decreed to spend there, all the force of his sermons, all the blood of his disciplines, together with his abstinences and fastings.  
Having therefore recommended himself, and his interprize to God, and humbly begged his blessing, he expressing such tenderness at the foot of a crucifix, as cannot be described, departed from Ferrara towards Rimini.  
As he walked along the fields, which lie between those Cities, he sighing considered on the pleasantness of the trees, the beauty of the meadows, the clearness of the brooks, and lukewarmness of the air. Then being unable to keep in his heart, which distilled into tears trickel'd down from his eyes, he said the following words.  
Shall this Earth support their feet, who straying from the lap of the Church, do walk in the way of perdition? Shall these Plants shade their heads, whose mindes only think of impugning the Gospel? And these streams quench the thirsts of those palates, through which pass only blasphemies, which tear my Gods name? And how is it possible to remember these wonders, and yet not die of sorrow and confusion? O Fields, which are the creatures of my Lord! O vegetative Schools, whose arguments are solid and substantial, as fit to overthrow, and confounded the greatest obstinacy, how useful would your learning be to these clouded people, if they would be but fixed, and intent in contemplating on you?  
The Water still runs towards the Sea, and always is moist, the Earth stands firm and always brings forth grass, the Trees still grow, and cease not to be fruitful, the beasts do still multiply, and follow their instinct, and Seasons come and go observing their course. And shall man alone, endowed with reason, and superior to all sublunary things, whose soul is a part of the Divinity, neglect his obligations, digress from his duty, and contemn thy holy laws? Shall man alone deride thy commandements, dispute thy authority, and persist in offending thee? Seest thou this O God, and indur'st it? Surely thou deservest not to be used in this manner.  
With these reflections, which for their force and vigour, contained the affections of a Seraphin, our Saint advanced towards Rimini, where no sooner he arrived, but the rumour of his coming spread in all parts, occasioned great disorder in the City.  
The opinions and desires of the Citizens were divided, one saying, that they should hear him preach, another affirming, he had gotten such renown by his learning that they should not meddle with him. But at last, one inclined, to the catholic party, said at least he might utter, what was rational and just, insomuch that he orecoming the rest, they encompassed St. Anthony with so numerous a throng, that they filled the whole piazza.  
There the Saint as the center of truth, to a circumference of lies, received their blows, and abated in that manner the edge of their daring and blind understandings, that forcing them to recur to their obstinacy, he wholly confounded them. Whereupon in prosecution of his fortunate victory, he going from the chair to the pulpit, and from arguments to preaching, began a discourse, each syllable of which, would doubtless like a chain have bound fast the mindes of the auditors, if the people dispersing themselves on the sudden and running from him, as from an enchanter, had not fled from his presence.  
Then the Saint when he saw he was alone, not brooking at least the ill manner, with which they treated things of the faith could not forbear weeping. But encouraged with the Spirit of God, which always assisted him, and showing a zeal peculiar to his actions, he sighing said thus.  
Since men will not hear thy word O God, wee'l go preach it to the fish, and with that he went out of the City, and stood on the neighbouring shore, where the crystalline Marecchia unburthens itself, and runs into the sea.  
The Citizens of Rimini observing the proceedings, watched what he intended to do in that place, nor without some inward motion, which called them to wonders, would they have attended on their enemy. The Sea was then so quiet, that it seeming not to move, resembled in that calm, a serene, a cloudless sky, whereupon it representing a spacious lookinglass for the suns gilded face, shewed it's waves stirred no otherwise, then the rays darted on them, did with their reflection finely cousin the sight.  
St. Anthony considering the beauty of that Element, and blessing it in the name of the Lord, said aloud.  
O Inhabitants of the deep, who devout, as well as mute, express in your white, and silver scales, the purity of your innocence, and State, come ye, since Men will not hear me, come I say, and harken to what God will tell you by me.  
O wonders, which all succeeding ages should admire! As if the Saints voice had been an angelical trumpet, the sound of it penetrating the deep, caused the fish to obey him, insomuch as they floating to the top, covered over the Sea with their heads, the multitude being great, and their order, and attention both admirable and unspeakable. The greatest sort disposed into large semicircles, made up the first magnitude, and in order, in less spheres, those of a less size, approached as it were to the shore. All with open mouths, fixed their eyes on the Saint, who beholded them, and forgetting the natural antipathy, with which they used to prosecute one another, they mildly and humbly, without either stirring their fins, or the waves, seemed as if they came thither, to receive new instincts, and new forms, and ways of living. 'Twas doubtless a fine sight, to see in that scaly Congregation, the extravagancy of their shapes, their different colours, and various constitutions. For as in strange Nations, we consider the variety of their customs, and the fashions of their clothes, so those capricious bones, unaccustomed eyes, and unusual mouths and heads, must needs show the habit, the pomp, and extravagant greatness of the kingdom of the Ocean. Now when that mute audience of the Sea had encompassed St. Anthony, with veneration in his looks, and majesty in his words, he began.  
Though in all created things( beloved fish) the power, and great providence of God, are most infinitely seen, and though Heaven with all the Stars, this World, mankind, and the other perfectest creatures, clearly evidence his vast goodness yet the characters of his love are particularly resplendent in you. For though ye are confined to the deep, always tost up and down with the waves and the storms, and are mute, and horrid to behold, appearing the miscarriages, of nature, and extravagancies of the creation, yet from you are drawn great mysteries of his mercy, nor do the sacred Scriptures make mention of you, without concealing some profound Sacrament. And think ye, that it is not a mystery, that Gods first gift to man contained only fish? Do ye think 'tis not a secret, that Christ our redeemer, from the time of the paschal lamb, so desired to eat fish? Do ye think 'twas by chance that the Saviour of the world, being obliged as man to pay tribute to Caesar, would find it in the mouth of a fish? All these things are mysteries and sacraments, and therefore of all others, ye are bound to praise our God from whom you have your being, your motion and sense, the Kingdom of the Waters being assigned for your dwelling as most suitable to your nature, where ye have spacious places, dens, caverns, and holes, as the fittest habitations for you, your element is clear and so lucid and transparent, that from the low'st rooms, as it were with Linxes eyes, ye discern what is done on the waters. What ye like, ye pursue, & avoid what is hurtful to you. Ye naturally desire the preservation of your Species, and your instincts and motions are pure dictates of nature, neither Winter, nor Summer having power to offend you. Let the Heavens be serene, or the weather tempestuous and stormy. Let it thunder, or lighten, and the World be disordered and turned topsy turvy. Let the Spring be gay and green, and autumn either fruitful or barren, ye as unconcerned are both quiet and secure. Besides, ye alone were exempt from the general deluge, and the damages it occasioned to the World. How much therefore, and how strangely, is the greatness, and Majesty of God discovered in you? How admirable is his power, and how stupendious his goodness? And how are ye obliged to praise, and give him thanks, for his eminent favours to you? Since therefore ye cannot with your tongues express an obsequious devotion to God, nor set forth his praises, show signs at least of reverence, bowing at his sacred name, and acknowledging his mercies by your gratitude, in the manner ye are able.  
At this saying( O unspeakable wonder) the fish, as if endowed with reason and understanding, bowd down their heads, and moving very gently, with gestures of humility and religion, acknowledged their engagements to God, and approved of what St. Anthony had spoken. The standards by therefore astonished and amazed, now looking on the fish, and now on the Saint, could not speak for confusion, but their foreheads, made the theatre of shane, confessed by their paleness, what punishment their incredulity deserved.  
Then the Saint full of zeal, said, behold O Men of Rimini, the Sea in opposition to you, is become a School of truth, to confounded your opinions, with as many liquid doctrines, as the arguments are, the fish themselves, though mute, fully prove the true faith with. Why remain ye yet obdurate and obstinate, since the Creatures little differing from insensible things, give evident testimonies of the errors ye live in? How ought ye not to fear, that in the day of judgement, this scaly Congregation will bring against you, as many accusations, as are the opportunities you now have, to reduce you to repentance? Ah, if ye should  shed more tears, then is water in this Sea, if exhale, and vent more sighs, then are blasts of the winds, and with your contrition, feel your hearts more disquietted, then the sea is with tempests and storms, yet ye would not be able, to satisfy the punishment of one of those offences, ye now actually commit against God.  
Do ye see with what obedience and humility, these Creatures come to hear the word of God, and yet will ye, endowed with reason, and partakers of his Heavenly grace, be dubious of your faith, and contemn your religion? And how can death retard the razing you out of the number of the living? And shall not hell fire break forth out of the most obscure caverns, and consume you to nothing? And wilt thou O my God, have the patience to endure these monstrous Men, who put into the balance on this shore with the blockishest, and irrationalest Creatures, are inferior in reason to them? Ah, 'tis an unhappiness, to come and see such lamentable miseries.  
The pronouncing of these his last words were as the boiling vinegar, with which this our mystical hannibal, broke the Alpes of their hard and stony hearts, so as they, touched inwardly with compunction and repentance, for the knowledge they then had of themselves, fell down on their knees, and weeping begged forgiveness of God, professing their return into the catholic Church, and that they would die in that faith.  
O Saint, thou hast conquered! who could suspect thy victory, by the open confession of truth, when thou hadst set an Army of mutes array? St. Anthony then weeping for joy, desired them to be thankful to God, speaking thus unto them. Know ye all, ye are most infinitely obliged to God, and particularly to my beloved Christ, who was pleased to be born, and to die for our sakes. Endeavour to amend with a hearty repentance, your former ill lives, and with acts of love, and of gratitude, comply with the favours you receive every minute from God. And ye Creatures of the Sea, have a long, and lasting peace in your dwellings, may the greatness of God appear in your Species and your scales like bright shields, receive the impressions of his powerful hand.  
He speaking in this manner, held up his sacred hand, and blessed both the Men, and the fish, who humbling themselves, and showing their dcvotion, departed with great joy.  
But though winged famed relating his miraculous deeds, made no stop in her flight, till extoling still his name, she had carried it aloft into the lap of eternity, yet envy, and the obstinacy of some, did all in their power to hinder his proceedings some, who were not present at the miracle of the fish, gave no credit to the thing, and instead of a Saint, holding him a magician, did attribute his works to the cozenage and illusion of the sight. O deplorable State of the wicked, who by their ill habit, never thinking of good, do rather ascribe a supernatural work to the virtue of the Devil, then God, as if the Creator were inferior to Satan in power.  
These Friars( said they) are masked with hypocrisy, and under a habit of repentance hid a body full of vices, having no other end but to cousin the World. The conveniency allowed them for studying, makes them dive into books, more fit for the fire, then for reading, from which sucking arts, and diabolical sciences, they soon become enchanters. Whereupon by this means being able to attain to their ends, besides carnal sins, in which they make detestable Progresses, they will command souls, and manage Mens consciences, and meddling with reconciliations, with marriages, and wills, fairly seem to have great zeal about the points of religion. In this manner having pale, and grave countenances, and boasting of their disciplines, and fastings, they endeavour to get credit, and opinion in the World, and preaching doctrines suitable to their humour, and with seeming miracles confirming the same, desire to be canonised for venerable persons, and Saints. But as these their arts do take with the People, so they render them abominable and odious, to wise and prudent Men. Arguments, arguments are necessary, to convince the understanding of Men of sound judgments, and not vain illusions and shows.  
Such were the diabolical discourses of those ill conditioned heretics, who, not long before by the miracle of the fish, being pressed too much with St. Anthonies reasons, had been forced to retreat, to the end they might not hear him. One of them as rich in Estate, as poor in understanding and faith, among other things, denied the true body of Christ, was in the holy Sacrament of the Altar, so as breaking out often into words, and conceptions, every one of which deserved a particular hell for a punishment, the damage was unspeakable, he occasioned to the souls of his auditors.  
Our Saint therefore speaking with him, and zealously advising him, that he neither would believe, nor utter such errors, laid open to him the treasure of Divinity, and with reasons and arguments, which cleared the greatest doubts, compelled him to cry out, that he having not learning to answer him, nothing but a miracle could persuade him to believe it.  
Then the Saint inspired by God, did offer to confirm unto him, the truth of his doctrine, by causing him to behold what he most of all desired. Nor doubt I( said he) but that my good God, for the glory of his name, and the benefit of thy soul, will grant me all the graces and favours, I shall beg of his Majesty in this case.  
The heretic had a mule( behold an extravagancy invented by the Devil) the pattern of obstinacy, and treachery, and in all things like his Master, who reflecting on this beast, said in a jeering manner, My mule three dayes together, shall neither eat, nor drink, after which, when I bring him some oats, and you come with the sacrament if he will leave his meat and kneeling adore it, I will confess the body of Christ is truly there.  
St. Anthony undertaking the business, they prepared themselves accordingly, and the City ringing of it, caused great expectation in all. The hours of the limited day, passed away with their accustomend swiftness, but measured by the hunger of the mule, and the curiosity of some that were incredulous, seemed slow unto them. In the mean time the heretic laughing at our Saints enterprise, gathered great store of people together, and venting among them such impious conceits, as awakened the thunderbolts of Heaven, did not cease to deride the proposed agreement.  
But our Saint on the contrary side, being sad he had cause to necessitate miracles, who is able to express the great reverence, with which he prepared himself for that high undertaking? Who can tell the humility, with which he presented himself in his prayers to God? He making his body with fasting, and disciplines, an animated spectacle of pitty and compassion, and darting from his eyes a holy desire, said sighing in this manner. O my good God, to what a strange pass, is thy holy worship, and religion reduced in this place? To experience thy Divinity with a mule? To try if thou art God, with a beast? This is so great a presumption and boldness, that none but a Devil would have offered to conceive it. How can these Creatures, which bear thy own image, be so senseless in knowing thee, that a vile and base beast may teach and instruct them? Is therefore thy Divinity so concealed, and unknown, that the Stars with their rays, the World with all it's beauty, the herbs, plants, and flowers, cannot witness sufficiently thy omnipotency, and that nothing is impossible to thee? Where are the greatest torments, and most devouring flames, that they come not to consume these blind souls, and mine among the rest which presumes to tempt thee in favour of them? Ah, O good God, the author of my being, and the happiness and life of my thoughts, how worthy should I be to be punished amongst them if thou sawst not the secrets of my mind? But since 'tis most true, that nothing can retreat, and lie hide from thy eyes, thou seest what design moves my heart, to make these addresses to thee.  
Having said so, and receiving inward comfort, which invited him to hope for good success, he spent all the limited time in exercises of devotion. The destined day appearing in the end, the people, who knew of that high and great enterprise, assembled themselves on the piazza, where their wisperings, their scoffings, and opinions cannot possibly be related.  
But our Saint thinking onely of God, and wholly recollected in him, very humbly said Mass, where renewing his sighs, and his prayers with the greatest devotion, he was filled with Heavenly zeal, and the sacrifice ended, taking into his hand the most blessed Sacrament, he accompanied by many of the faithful with torches and candles, went to the piazza, where the trial was to be. Now the mule with his Master, and an infinite company of people stood expecting St. Anthony, who encompassed with the faithful aforesaid, presented himself, while all with admiration and quietness attended the issue of the thing. The heretic with a five-full of oats, went to his hungry mule, and putting them often to his nose, to stir up his appetite the more, threw them down at his feet on a heap.  
Then the Saint a little elevating the most holy Sacrament, with a venerable countenance looked steadfastly on the mule, and speaking divinely, said the following words. O beast less unreasonable, and less obstinate then thy Master, I command thee in the name of thy Creator, to come and adore presently this Heavenly Sacrament, the true body and blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ. show reverently the truth, I so often have preached to thy Master, and which he so obstinately hath refused to believe, and adore God obediently, the Creator and Redeemer of the World.  
At this saying the mule( O God, and how can such wonders unheard of, be related without tears) not regarding the oats and the hay, brought thither by his Master, presented himself before the blessed Saint, who resembling an animated tabernacle, held immovably in his hands, the most blessed Sacrament, and kneeling on the ground, as if capable of reason, with a certain kind of posture expressing admiration and humility, beholded the blessed Sacrament, and as a mute testimony, confessing that the most sacred body of the Saviour of the World, was truly, and really there, stood immovable, and beholding it steadfastly, since he could not express it by words.  
All the people there present being moved with so prodigious a miracle, broke forth into the tears of a holy astonishment, and the owner of the mule being full of confusion, which caused him to tremble and look pale, fell prostrate on the Earth, speaking thus.  
I confess( said he, directing his speech towards the most holy Sacrament) I confess O my Lord Jesus Christ. That under the Species of bread we now see, thy most immaculate body is really contained, which born of the ever B. Virgin Mary, dyed and rose again triumphantly and gloriously ascended into Heaven. I confess my own blindness hath been so very great, a mule hath been able to instruct me in my faith. Whereupon being sorry for my error, I humbly beg my pardon of God, and abjure and detest each opinion, but what is commanded by the catholic Church, most hearty beseeching him, that though for my sins, I deserve to be thrown into hell, yet out of his mercy, which is so peculiar and proper to him, his Majesty will be pleased, to receive me into favour. And since by your means, O Saint, the great servant of God, I know the real presence is there, pray to God for me, that I may obtain the pardon I desire.  
Then the Saint turning to him, said thus, God pardon thee, O Son, I beseech him, and blessing him afterwards with the most holy Sacrament, did command the hungry beast to rise up, and eat. The Mule obeied him quickly, and his admired readiness was the last act of wonder, which perfected the miracle.  
In the mean time St. Anthony discoursing a little to the people, reproved their incredulity, and communicating in the presence of all, and blessing them afterwards, went away praising God.   

The Seventh Chapter.  
THe inhabitants of Rimini instructed in this manner, with the power and force of miracles, could not doubtless have any one among them, that obstinataly persisted in heresy. To look upon the Sea, and yet not remember, that a little before, the waves had taught them lessons as devotion To behold the Land, and yet not reflect, that the obstinatest Creature on the Earth, had newly given testimonies of the catholic verity, were such apparent truths, as could not be denied. But as wicked Men are the worst conditioned Creatures in the World, so 'tis not any wonder, that the miracles of our Saint converted not entirely all the souls of that people.  
What avails it thee, O Anthony( he said to himself) to have so great a thirst for the Salvation of others, to have distilled thy heart into sighs, and by opening, with the force of thy fervent supplications, the treasures of God, to have so subverted the orders of nature, that thy miracles do not stupefy, and take away sense, but refine it, if such high endeavours cannot cause the conversion of one single City in Romagna.  
Some heretics resided in Rimini, who blown with the breath of ostentation, and popular applause, had treacherously made use of their heresy as a step to ascend to their ends, and the gaining of followers, which otherwise they would have failed of. Wherefore reckoned as Men, who alone amongst Christians, were sticklers for the faith, they not onely with this title, gained the love and affection of many, but likewise acquired abundance of riches.  
Their doctrines being therefore so many Cornucopias to all their desires, they wallow'd like hypocrites in all sensuality, and managing mens consciences, and hoarding up money, lead a life most conformable to their Genius. They therefore observing that the miracles of our Saint, not onely amongst men, had made them loose wholly as it were, the opinion of their wisdom, but that to the loss of their pleasures and ease, succeeded the other of their credit( reason of State prevailing more with them, then the power and force of truth, which they could not be ignorant of) they resolved to kill St. Anthony, and remove by his death, the cause of their disasters.  
Having wickedly resolved on the thing, they debated a while on the manner, and supposing if they did it with the sword, the fact would be revealed with as many loud tongues, as the drops of blood streaming from his sacred body, they determined to commit the execution to poison.  
Let him die, they said with poison, for designing our ruin. Let his heart burst with venom, since in that naughty covert, no other thoughts resided, but what intended mischief, and destruction to us. Our delights, and satisfactions shall not have an end, until they be accompanied with the end of his life, who tumbled us down from the top of our fortune.  
So providing a very costly dinner, they mingled deadly spices in the sauces, and dishes, and concealing in the meat destructive ingredients, invited St. Anthony to dinner.  
whither goest thou O Saint, at their invitation, who under the masks of affection and kindness, would consign thee to death? Will Heaven, after all thy great fastings, thy disciplines, and prayers for the benefit of souls, as a reward of thy pains decree thee a cup of poison? Shall a table, a refectory to others, be thy ruin, and destruction? Shall a dish, which presents meat to others, be a sepulchre to thee? And who ever heard of the like inhumanity?  
Now St. Anthony come into the room, where the table was furnished, fixed his thoughts upon God, and making the sign of the across, as he was about to eat, knew, the meat set before him, was poisoned, wherefore turning to the company, with a countenance full of Majesty and zeal, said the following words.  
What meat do you set before me? Do you think peradventure, I am like Mithridates, and can feed upon poison? Can you under the notion of friendship, invite me to dinner, and deprive me here of life? For what have I deserved to be poisoned by you? Ah, is this the charity, which God does command, we should use to our neighbours.  
So he spake unto them, and darted such a zeal from his eyes, as was able to confounded hell itself. But they voided of all shane, most boldly replied.  
We have thee where we would, says not Christ in the gospel, whosoever shall eat, or drink in his name any hurtful, or poisonous thing, shall receive no harm at all! Eat thou therefore of this meat, or confess that the gospel is false, for one of the two thou canst not avoid.  
When St. Anthony heard that, he could not on the sudden repress those apprehensions of horror, which the thoughts of our own ruin, and destruction, infuse. Wherefore seeing on the one side, that to eat of those meats, was in a certain manner to tempt Almighty God, who had revealed to him, their treachery and deceits to the end he might avoid them, and considering on the other side, that if he did not taste them, he inferred, he believed not the words of the gospel, he floated in an Ocean of thoughts.  
What straights art in O Saint? When he had in this manner been wavering while, about what he should do, he inspired by God, said with a cheerful countenance.  
Brethren, to the end ye may know, that the words of my dear Christ, the infallible truth, cannot possibly err, and that what the Gospel declares, cannot suffer contradiction, lets covenant together, that in case I do eat, of these poisoned meats, and they do me no harm, ye will detest your heresies, and promise to be catholics, by living according to the faith of the Church of Rome, but in case they do me harm, and I die, ye will most assuredly believe, the Gospel notwithstanding is not false, nor the words of Christ untrue, but that God would punish me, for my boldness in tempting him.  
The heretics liking well the conditions, St. Anthony laid his hand on these poisoned meats, and with such a mild, and so gracious a look, as could not but soften the most barbarous spectator, began to eat and drink, while they in the mean time being doubtful and amazed, stood expecting the issue, in order to the compassing of their wicked designs. And some of them relying on the rules of philosophy, supposed it impossible such a vigorous poison should not produce it's usual effects, and therefore seemed to see by degrees the colours of death shadowed in his face. They now phancied, that the clearness, and serenity in his eyes, began to hast away, and to usher in a deadly obscurity. Thus deluding themselves with illusions, and shows, which still do accompany an earncst desire, they were so far assured of his death, that wagers were laid of the various success they expected.  
But when they had seen, the time allowed the poison to work, passed away without effect, they poisoned with astonishment, began to be afraid, and to tremble, insomuch as they reflecting on their treachery, fell prostrate to the Earth, humbly asking God pardon, and detesting the blindness of their former ill Life. Wherefore promising the Saint, to live ever after in the catholic Church, they besought his intercession for them.  
Let a Seraphin now come, and with a tongue of fire inflaming the hearts of the inhabitants of Heaven, sing the triumphs of this Saint, and let all the World be his audience. Let his words infuse glory, and design as many Crowns for his Temples, as the periods in his Panegiriek, and praising him as a Martyr in desire, for such this trial made him, let him add to the lily of his sacred virginity, laurel displaying in the leaves an actual desire of dying for Christ. Who will then refuse to reverence in our Saint, the colours of the Purple and Pearl, with which his name enjemm'd, will for ever be renowned in the mouths of the living.  
The city of Rimini being purged in this manner from the contagion of heresy, St. Anthony undertaking new enterprizes, as a Pilot, which steers through new Seas, hoist sail from that country.  
At that time in Verona, lived Ezelin the stink of the World, and Monster of Beasts, who born, when the Stars were averse, and most hateful to Men, had a temper of body so desirous of destruction, that it seemed each little part of his limbs contained a fury. To behold the Physiognomy of his face, was to see represented so lively all the images of cruelty, that the air of his countenance seemed properly the region of thunderbolts and tempests.  
He that would penetrate his thoughts, could not think of a thing less dreadful then an Earth-quake, and less obscure, and profound then a bottonles pit. Tears, blood, and sighs, were the objects most grateful to his bowels, whose form and substance seemed distilled from the matter, of which nature makes tigers hearts.  
Having therefore a malice in his eyes, and venom in his mouth, he cast not a look, which did not affright, nor uttered a word, which did not destroy. Wherefore dwelling in a palace, which resembling deaths shop, was furnished with nothing but gibbets, axes, halters, knives, fires, and pincers, it seemed the inhabitant was answerable to the house, and the halberds of his guard, like so many glittering tongues, clearly witnessed his Tyranny and cruelty.  
famed therefore being tired with relating the multitude of his infamous actions, now concealed as small sins, his suffering many innocent persons to be famished in prison, his gelding Men and boyes, his cutting of Womens breasts, his causing many wretches to be thrown headlong down from high Towers, his putting out eyes, and cutting off tongues, and the noses, and lips of many pretended to be guilty.  
They concealed now his robbing honest Men of their goods, and enriching himself and his murtherers with them. That he hated all peace, and still fomented war, being causelessly jealous, and killing without mercy. That he made widows desolate, oppressed the orphans, and divorced married persons. They only related, as an execrable act of his impiety, his pillaging of Churches, murdering religious people, disposing Church livings, crediting superstitions, and denying Jesus Christ.  
fallen therefore from the company of the faithful, and excommunicated for a heretic, the eyes of all Italy were fastened upon him, and particularly St. Anthony, who advancing towards Verona, with intention to divert him in the way of perdition no sooner got thither, but perceived in every place, a sad, and horrid silence, the walls themselves seeming as as it were, to breath solitude and melancholy.  
The gates were seen guarded with Souldiers, the horror of whose arms added fierceness to their grim and ugly looks, while the rest of the City was solitary, unfrequented and mute. The inhabitants were thin, and with dejected countenances did walk up and down very sadly and pale, carrying tears in their eyes repressed with fear, and weighing their looks with care and circumspection, insomuch as the City for the want of the people represented a desert.  
The Saint entering in, and advancing to the room of the Tyrant, found him in the middle of his murtherers, as a Devil in the midst of the furies, whose dismal and black throne had nothing about it relating to pomp, which did not as a Character of pride, infuse likewise fear. His ministry stood observing his orders, with the readiness and promptitude, with which the lesser Devils do Belzebubs, he finishing no sooner his commands, then they executing and performing them.  
Now St. Anthony, come before him, without the least show of respect, began in this manner. And till when O cruel Tyrant, will thy execrable heart, take delight in the tears, the blood, and the ruin of Men? Till when will thy thoughts design the destruction of others, thy words denounce death, and thy actions be foul, and sacrilegious? The slaughters, deaths, and cruelties, in which thou art plunged even up to the eyes, cry to Heaven for vengeance, and famed hath not a tongue, which is not defiled with thy heinous transgressions, and yet O mad Man, dost thou forfeit thy reason, and perceivest not, that the horror of thy fins, makes the Elements conspire against thee, and all living Creatures thy Enemies? Look but about thee, and behold how thou hast trampled on peace, destroyed religion, spoyled the altars, and killed the priests, and tell me if they seem not to thee undeniable witnesses, to accuse every minute to God, and wrest out of his hands the thunderbolts against thee? What mean these cruel swords, and these murdering weapons here about thee, with which thou supportest thy tyranny, and defendest thyself? Wast thou not born a Man? Was't not nourished with the milk of the breasts? hadst thou not the use of reason from Heaven? And was't not with the water of Baptism adopted the Son of God? And instead of professing humanity, of loving thy fellow Creatures and exercising clemency and justice, dost thou, trampling on the laws, subverting the provinces, oppressing the people, and destroying mankind, become a wild beast, a fury, and a Devil let loose? How long dost imagine Gods anger will refrain from destroying thee? How long dost thou think, the Earth will forbear, to open itself, and to swallow thee alive? God punished Nimrod, destroyed goliath, and cut of Holophernes's head by the hand of a Woman, and hop'st thou to live, and to reign, who art far more wicked, and a crueller Tyrant? And what art thou doing O my God, in whose most dreadful sight no wickedness long remains, that thou hearest not yet the groans, and seest not the tears of so many poor people, which this barbarous Monster hath caused to be butchered.  
In this manner spake St. Anthony, who warmed with the Heavenly zeal, exclaimed against him, while the Tyrant afraid of his menaces, and countenance, with paleness and trembling descended from his throne, and penitently put his girdle round his neck, then prostrating himself at his feet, as a wolf, which becomes a meek lamb, began to  shed tears, and beg pardon of God, beseeching the Saint to intercede for him.  
What mean ye wondering eyes, that ye are not content in contemplating on wonders? Come and see this prodigy, a greater than which was never seen in Italy. Ezelin the contemner of laws, and one that supported his Tyranny with his slaughters and cruelties, that Monster I say, whom the forces of Kingdoms could not conquer and subdue, comes trembling, dejected, and weeping, and lays down his neck at the feet of a barefooted friar, humbly begging his pardon. O wonders of St. Anthony incapable of wonder, because, they deprive him of sense that beholds them!  
Now when the Saint had seen such a great demonstration of repentance, he fatherly admonished the Tyrant, and inducing him to make frequent promises to God, that he would not offend him any more, he departed full of spiritual joy. In the mean time the standards by astonished, as persons assured, the Tyrant would have brained St. Anthony at his uttering of the first word, could not digest the wonder of seeing him humbled, who was the throne of pride, Wherefore Ezelin perceiving it, said, wonder not Gentlemen, for while the holy Father was speaking to me his face was so majestic and dreadful, with the glory about it, that I thought even then, that hell would have devoured, & swallowed me up.  
Most fortunate victory, if God had been pleased, it might have continued. But the sins of Italy deserving still Gods wrath, Ezelin not only returned to his vomit, but to try the Saints holiness-caus'd some of his Murtherers, to present him a rich gift, and in case he ac, cepted it, to deprive him of life.  
They therefore arriving him, with a feigned humility began in this manner. Ezelin our Prince understanding how acceptable you are unto God, hath sent you this small charity, recommending himself to your prayers.  
O Saint, he valves thee at, the rate of a jewel, since he would set thee in gold. Who can say, he does not love thee, if the greatest expression of love be in a present? To refuse what he sends thee, is the way to provoke him to the anger▪ which he himself miraculously appeased. Tis prudence to submit to occasions, when occasions may procure our disturbance.  
So the Devil suggested to him, as soon as the present was offered him. But the Saint, who suspected the gift, as accompanied with death, looking sternly on the murtherers, replied. I made not myself poor to be rich, nor are my prayers mercenary to any. The greatest present Ezelin could make me, would be to change his life, and restore to the poor, the goods unjustly taken from them. Such are these you offer me, and as such, though I had no other cause to refuse them, I would always detest them. And when he had said so, he turned his back on them, and left them confounded and astonished. The Tyrant understanding the thing, ever after from that instant, had the Saint in high esteem, and abstaining for his sake from many great enormities, commanded his Ministers, though they heard him in his sermons exclaim against him, not only not to trouble him at all, b●t to honour and respect him ve●y highly.  
For these, and such like actions, our Saint grown, remarkable, did walk up and down as an Angel Guardian through the streets of Verona. But unable to endure the ill smell of the Tyrants most detestable villainies, and knowing God reserved him as a punishment to sinners, he departed very soon from the City, and went to preach in Padoua.  
He there opening the same School to Religion and Piety, in which he had employed himself in other places, enlightened with his doctrine those that strayed from the right path, and caused his own works to incite and stir up others to virtue. The padovans therefore receiving the fruit of the labours and sweat, which distilled from his forehead, now known to be holy, in the exercises of the catholic Religion, held him in the greatest veneration and esteem, devoutly observing his directions and counsels.  
In the mean time those sacred dayes arrived, which being the anniversary of the Passion of our Saviour, are deservedly called holy. In these the Saint hearing Confessions, and admonishing his Penitents with zeal, and persuading them with Love, endeavoured to free them by the authority of the Sacraments, from the snares of those sins, which threatened their damnation.  
Amongst others of St. Anthonies Penitents was a certain sturdy youth, abounding with vices, who having committed many hainaus offences, and touched with compunction and contrition, resembling a base mettal transformed into gold by the philosophers ston, did regenerate himself by the virtue of Confession at his feet.  
There among other accusations, with the testimony of his tears, having proved himself guilty, he said that his mother reprehending him once for coming home late in the night, he divelishly angry lifted up his foot against her and kicked her almost dead to the ground.  
St. Anthony affrighted at that execrable act, what pains did he not feel, by reflecting on the wickedness and malice of men? What sighs did he not vent from his heart, when he called to mind, the impudent licence they take in abusing the commandements of God? Turning therefore to the youth, he looked not severely upon him, for his charity made him pitty him, but uniting on the tip of his tongue, all the vigour and power, the zeal of the honour of God could dictate and administer to him, reproved him in that manner, that every word he spake, was enough to confounded with mere shane a Devil himself, and  told him in the end, his foot did d●serve to be cut off, God in preserving him alive, having shew'd an act of his clemency only proper to his infinite goodness. Then hearing the rest of his confession, and giving him penance, he sent him away very contrite and sad.  
What cannot the power of the Sacraments effect, in a soul disposed and fit for Heavenly grace? The young man going home, did not tread the least step, which watered particularly with a shower of his tears, did not serve as an ascent, to raise him to the knowledge of his errors. His memory was a wheel full of razors, which pierced his heart with the burning of his bitter reflections, and he thinking all the pains of the damned inferior to his sins, would have sighed himself to death, if he had not been afraid of offending of God, by opposing his will.  
Now being come home, and locking himself in his chamber, as if the shane of being beholded, had kerbed the violence of his sorrow, he began. And why have I not a thousand hearts to break to pieces, that with a thousand lives, I might satisfy for my sins? And why have I not in my power all the punishments( he said weeping softly) which heaven inflicts sometimes on sinners, to the end I might afflict and torture myself, who am the greatest sinner alive? Shall God create me, to serve and obey him, and shall I, by declining from his holy commandements, live only to offend him? What strange Stars were those which at my conception, formed a body so inclined unto evil, which would be as monstrous among men, as irrational among beasts? Was my mother so unfortunate to nourish a person designed for the scandal of Padoua, and wonder of mankind? Ah Mother! And when I was a child, thou didst hug, and embrace me, cherish me when a Youth, and direct me when a Man. And yet my disordinate courses still afflicted thy heart, though thy counsels and tears were not wanting to admonish, and persuade me to virtue. And what have I done for all thy fears for me? How have I observed the commandements of God, and thy motherly precepts? Returned I not them with a kick? Did the foot thou engendrest for thy help and support, beat thee down to the ground? Did the plant, from which thou hopedst to receive the fruit of life, cause thy death as it were? And shall I endure, to have such a hateful part so near me? Shall I walk on so abominable a foundation and pretend notwithstanding to follow the way of Christ? With what reason did St. Anthony tell me, my foot did deserve to be cut off? It shall not be said, I punished not my body in that manner, as did not clearly witness the contrition of my heart.  
And here being full of a zeal, which made him hate himself, for now he began to love God, he took up a hatchet which was in the room, and laying his foot on a block, cut it off.  
The rumour, together with his anguish and blood, which coloured soon the floor, informed his mother quickly, who dwelled not far off, of the unexpected accident. She running thither, and coming into the room, saw her son on the Gr●und▪ who venting his life with his blood, ●ad his foot divided from the leg.  
Ah, she began to cry out, what's the matter O Son? But the passage to her words being blocked up with sorrow, she swooned, falling down by his side, which those of the family observing, they called in the neighbours to help her, and caused many people to flock to the place. Whereupon the youth interrogated, how he came by that disaster, replied.  
That being at Confession, and St. Anthony telling him, the foot he had kicked his mother with, deserved to be cut off, he moved with contrition, had followed his counsel.  
This information highly stirred the standards by, so as in all hast, they applied all the remedies they could unto them, and those of their kindred quickly ran to St. Anthonies Cell, and chiding him soundly, and threatening him much, imputed the mischance unto him, permitting him very hardly to go out of their hands. But the Saint like a rock unshaken with their bellows, with a calm and quiet countenance, in which his humility was transparent, said to them.  
Be not troubled my Sons, the arm that gave that miserable blow, received not the motion from my counsel. I said his foot deserved to be severed from the leg but bid him not cut it off. Lets go to see him, and endeavour to help him. God is not so sparing of his mercies, to deny acts of pitty, even to those that are unworthy of his favours.  
And when he had said so, he went with the Company, to the house of the languishing youth, were admiring the simplicity of his heart, by his cutting off his foot, he devoutly fell to prayer.  
The standards by being curious, observed him, and saw, that he lifting up his eyes unto Heaven, with his mind no less fixed on God, then his arms laid a across on his breast represented in his countenance the affectionate and compassionate, request, he offered up to God, which infused a lively hope into all, notwithstanding all there, when his prayer was at an end, expected what would follow with anxiety and trouble.  
Now St. Anthony arising from the ground, took up the foot cut off, and going to the bed, where the youth lay in an agony, fastened it to his leg, and making the sign of the across, spake to him in this manner. Have faith, O Son, and beware you offend God no more. And when he had said so, his foot knit again, so miraculously to the leg, that the least skarr appeared not.  
The anguish therefore ceasing in an instant, and the youth receiving vigour from Heaven, rose up no less astonished then glad and his Mother almost dead for very joy, as she had been a before for affliction, could not forbea●… weeping for gladness, together with th●… persons there present, who were ravished and devout. Whereupon with loud and joyful acclamations, the City quickly ringing of the same, they could not be satisfied with reverencing, and commending St. Anthony.  
Padoua made happy in this manner, with the great and glorious acts, which almost every day where done by our Saint, did not envy the Macedonians for their Alexander, nor the Jews for their Solomon.  
This City, whose founder is said to be Antenor the Trojane, is seated in one of the most pleasant Territories of Italy. There the most beautiful plain, where the river Brenta runs, serving for its pedestal, and the Euganean hills encompassing it round, it displays it's strong walls and magnificent structures, of which the public Schools, and the Palace are most eminent.  
It is likewise renowned for the Garden of simples, in which, as in a breviate of the World, foreign plants do grow, which brought from several climates, and soils, 'tis a wonder, they should thrive, in a Country so much different from their own. Padoua therefore happy for the air and situation, and abundance of all things very necessary for mans life, is no ways inferior to any other City in the World.  
And being now the theatre, as well of the miracles, as the lectures of our Saint, was doubly renoun'd for his actions and learning. For the Chapter of Assisi declaring St. Anthony the Reader general of the order, he not only long before had red in Tolosa, and afterwards in Bologna, but red then at Padoua, to the students great advantage and profit.  
What may we imagine, were the arguments he used, who with a continual contemplation raised to the School of Paradise, learnt there all the doubtfullest questions, and the truest and most solid solutions of the same? How sweet and now powerful may we fancy his words, which flowing from a mouth, which the holy Ghost often replenished, could not choose but be all fire, and all love, all knowledge and all goodness.  
And O thou happy wood, which reduced into the form of a Chair, deservedst so often to contain his holy limbs, how wilt thou be envied by those triumphal chariots which ran in such glory to the Capitol? But 'twas very dubious, which in Padoua prevailed, or gave place, to wit the Pew, or Pulpit of our Saint.  
For if in the former, he informed their understandings, in the latter he instructed their Consciences. If there he used arguments for the solving of questions, he here let fall tears, to reconcile adversaries: and in fine, if in that he had a book before his eyes, in this he had a Crucifix in his hands. The concourse of the people was so great, which came to his sermons, that like an inundation, they thronging from the Towns, and the neighbouring villages, not only made the Churches but the piazza of the City incapable to contain them, so as he was forced to preach without the walls in the fields, where the Heaven was the roof, and the Earth the floor, and pavement. And yet too, to get near him, they were forced to come o'er night, to take up their places, and lie on the forms till the morning.  
Hence it came to pass, that our Saint was the general Father of the padovans, and a comfort, help, and remedy to all in affliction. Whereupon each one thinking he was happy, that could discourse with him, and enjoy him, many of the Gentlemen endeavoured particularly to receive him in their houses, and to honour and respect him as was fit. But he, who detested, and mortally abhorred, all the honours and pleasures of the World, had much to do all day, to disengage himself, and decline their entreaties.  
Yet he, earnestly besought by a Gentleman, who perhaps had need of him, went and stayed at his villa two dayes, which was not far from Padoua, where being entertained with all the demonstrations of affection and regard, the Gentleman had the curiosity to observe and watch his actions, to see if in reality, his life and conversation was so holy and unblemished, as famed had so gloriously delivered it.  
Having therefore expected the time, when our Saint used to shut up himself into his chamber, he softly approached to the door and looked in at the key hole, observing what he did. And behold a Heavenly brightness is presented to his sight, with which the room illuminated, had changed the light into a most resplendent East.  
He amazed at so much splendour, looked more earnestly in, and saw,( ah sight) Christ being descended from Heaven, in the form of a most beautiful child, stood upright on St. Anthonies bed, while he kneeling kist most humbly his feet, and held him in his arms.  
The Gentleman died not of pleasure at so lovely a spectacle, for death could not exercise his power in that sphere, in which the Sun of righteousness was resplendent. But he was so transported and ravished, that he had quiter forgot himself transfusing all his soul into the Chamber.  
Fortunate Gentleman, to receive such a guest into his house, who deserved to be visited of God. 'Tis best to conceal his consolations and comforts, since the tongue of a Seraphin would fail in expressing them.   

The Eight Chapter.  
ST. Anthony returned from the Villa aforesaid to the City, increased his renown by his miracles. The hours, that passed away, in which he did not good to this, or that person, did not seem to be the daughters of the time, which measured the motions of his Life.  
Padoua therefore happy in having this seraphical Protector, had neither Street, nor house, where some of the family related not some benefit, received. If either grief oppressing the mind, caused the eyes to overflow, or anger laying hold on a sword, quench it's thirst in the blood of another, no hand sooner dried up such springs, then that of our miraculous Saint. His life being therefore a Heaven, where his miracles served for Stars, that we now shall recount, may deserve to be called a Sun.  
In lisbon lived a beautiful youth( while our Saint had his residence in Padoua) who was as rich as noble, whereupon being favoured both by nature and fortune, his condition was the happier, in that his parents had no other child, and loved him as the apple of their eye, 'Twas a fine sight to see him, as he passed along the Streets, his handsomeness and bravery attracting all eyes, and perfuming the air as he went.  
loitering therefore up and down, his breast was fit matter to receive the flames of love which were kindled with the rays of those eyes, he casually saw darted from a handsome young Lady.  
It presages some great thing, when we forfeit our liberty, at the sight of a face. And if destiny were admitted among Christians, perhaps I might say without offence, the greatest force and influence, which fate can have on us, is to make us enamoured.  
This Gentlewomans Father( see how it fell out) was a very great enemy to the Father of the young Cavalier, and had three Sons, all Swordmen by nature, and Heirs to the hatred and affection of their Father so as she could not be in a sadder condition, and more to the lovers disadvantage. However that encounter of their looks, was so forcible and strong, that the young Man surprised by the brightness of her eyes, was deprived of himself, and imprisoned in a labyrinth of splendour. Yet retaining so much reason, as made him see the danger he was in, he said to himself.  
What dost thou? dost see the guilded precipices, and yet dost not avoid them? Dost thou hope for a harbour of peace in a lodging of hatred, and thinkest thou the three, which is nourished with poison, will bear sugared fruit? Ah, behold not that object, which under the show of a Serene, and Starry Heaven, conceals a Hell for thee? The artificial fires, which burn under water, are always most dangerous, and the greatest calm often foretells the greatest tempest.  
So reasoning with himself, he passed by that way, without looking on her, and resolved to behold her no more. But something remaining in his fancy which like an invisible painter, represented every hour to his intellect, the beautiful figure he had seen, he fought certain dayes about the resolution, if he should behold her, or no, whom if he had never beholded, would have been well for him. After long disputes in fine with himself, he spake a little angrily in this manner.  
What matter is't to see her? Are my senses so powerful, I cannot command them when I please. When a Man deprives himself of the liberty of his looks, 'tis a sign that his actions are unworthy of the light. We may see for curiosity, and not for affection, and he that is afraid to behold two spakling eyes, shows he hath not the courage to see a drawn sword.  
Having said so, with a gesture expressing a youthful levity, he put on his sword, and taking his cloak went directly to the Gentlewomans lodgings, and looking towards her window, stood gazing upon her.  
She beholded, beholds again, and seems to him more beautiful, as he to her more gracious. Their souls meet in their eyes, they with their looks alone, understanding one another, and now without speaking beginning to love. But the young Cavalier recollecting himself, made use of his reason, and considering how dangerous that conjunction might prove, resolved a fresh never more to pass that way.  
So a thousand times falling, and rising as often, being guilty and penitent in a moment, he repeated his relapses so often, that at last he was conquered and enamoured.  
The fire spreads in his bowels, and flaming in the most noble part of his mind, hath no longer a kerb to hinder it's passage, nor a law to restrain his desires. He discovers himself openly a lover, to whom he should by nature be an enemy, and by his frequent visits, salutations and congees, begins to be her servant. The Gentlewoman returns his affection, and being more frail, and more easy, shows she is as much enamoured as he  
The report of their loves being suddenly spread through the City, made every one admire, how treacle could be gathered from wolfes-bane, and of these were the Gentlewomans brothers.  
To grow pale when they met him, and look awry, and spitefully upon him, was the prologue to the mischief they designed against him.  
He perceived their alteration, but supposing it an effect of the feud between their fathers, hoped that love could not occasion their hatred.  
A lover is not easily afraid of disasters, in the mean time the Gentlewomans Brothers, observed that he walked alone, and by night, and considering that they could not have a better opportunity to destroy him; went secretly about it.  
In the night time therefore, while the stars were most resplendent, and seemed to have re-inforc't their rays, the better to behold the misfortunes of this Lover behold he came sighing alone to the accustomend place committing his security to none but his sword, on which he courageously relying thought himself preserved sufficiently from danger.  
The murtherers meeting him( like black and moving Ghosts, having nothing to be seen but their swords) he declined not the encounter, albeit he did know them, but drew in his defence; and began to thrust at them. The fight endured a while, e're they heard any noise, but that of the clashing of their weapons, but the Gentleman stumbling in the end at a ston, could not stay himself from falling, which his enemies observing, like so many furies fell upon him and killed him.  
The image of his Mistris being wounded in his heart invoked perhaps for aid his sweet name, in those his last sobs, but could not stop his fugitive Soul. The murtherers to conceal their offence, being close by the Garden, belonging to the House of St. Anthonies Father, threw the Body into it, and left it in that place.  
In the morning his parents not finding him at home, who is able to express with what solicitude they sought him? They knew of his loves, and many times had commanded him to refrain them, because from a family, which professed to hate them, they could have no hope of a firm and good alliance, wherefore fearing what might probably fall out, they went to the place, which he used to frequent.  
They saw( ah fight) the Ground stained with the blood, and tract the fresh drops, which led them to the wall of the garden( they being likewise stained) where getting up they saw lying under the trees, the corps of their Son.  
What cries did they then not sand to Heaven? Being followed by others, who leaped down after them, they embraced his dear limbs, and with tears, each of which contained a life, began to bath his wounds.  
To tell the lamentations, the distractions, and despair, with which they afflicted themselves, would be to attempt an impossible thing, and therefore for expression of their sorrow, tis enough to say they had no other child.  
But they lost not so themselves in the offices of pitty, as not to look after the murtherers, and therefore some suspecting Sir Martin Bug●ione, ran quickly to the Justice, and bringing along, the Sergeants soon carried him to prison.  
The corps being afterwards brought home, and buried with solenmity, like a child whom they loved, the prosecuted Sir Martin, and as they were powerful in friends, they prevailed so far, that the innocent was made guilty.  
The accusation being therefore made good, and the murder, though falsely, concluded, they hastened the sentence, and condemned Sir Martin to the ax.  
Whats the matter Sir. Martin? Dost find by experience, that a good and virtuous life, secures not from an ignominious fortune, and that without cause, we may suffer in the World? What will the future ages relate of thy life, since being born a Gentleman, and employed in such offices of honour, thou wouldest be convicted of murder and treason, and executed on a Scaffold? O Stars! And why with your rays concurred ye to my being, if the influences, which replenish't, and swelled my veins with blood, help to empty them on a Scaffold? Learn all by my example. Fortune and not virtue is prevalent on the Earth.  
So St. Anthonies Father bewailed in the prison, which for the darkness, horror, and noisomeness, little differed from a sepulchre.  
Now the hour of the dreadful execution being come, and the deadly bell ringing, whose sound infused sadness, and gave the people notice, they flocked to the spectacle. The comforters came in procession, with a crucifix in mourning, the ensign of his misery, and the Sergeants and Souldiers, were armed, and in troops, to secure the execution by their presence.  
The pale and fearful Citizens assembled themselves in the Street, through which he was to pass, and looking on one another, did shrink up their Shoulders, as astonished at the accident. In the end the sad Gentleman came forth, and began to advance with his hands tied behind him, the Executioner holding the rope, and the company reaching far, which followed in mourning.  
His face expressed a horror in his disordered hair, and his hollow eyes and cheeks shewed the languishing condition of his head, which he was about to loose.  
O Anthony! Where art thou, O my Son, that thou seest not the disaster of thy afflicted Father? Ah I know full well, if thou didst but behold me, thou wouldst run to help me. But since thou art not able to assist me, while I live, I am sure when thou hearest of my death, thou wilt pray for me, and make intercession for this soul, which loved thee so dearly, and free it from the pains it deserves, for the sins it hath committed.  
Thus the Gentleman speaking to himself, went on towards the place of execution.  
As that was done in lisbon, St. Anthony preaching in Padoua at that time, broke off his discourse on the sudden, and abstracted in God, saw the danger his Father was in, knew he was innocent, and prayed for him. Then the Lord sent an Angel, who carried him in spirit to lisbon, where he was in a moment, and appearing full of majesty in the street, which his Father was obliged to pass through, caused the hangman to stop.  
Then calling for the Judges, he desired the corps might be brought before them, whiles the Citizens no less wondering at his unlooked for presence then imperious commands, were internally compelled to obey him.  
Whereupon all the people were troubled, the procession went back, and the Judges meeting at the Tribunal, commanded they should execute what St. Anthony desired. All lisbon was disordered.  
The Sextons repaired to the sepulchre, and pulling up the corps with ropes, found it swelled, black and blew, and inclining to corruption. They presented it to the Judges, where in presence of many of the chief of the City, St. Anthony with a voice, that had power to revive a whole World, said the following words.  
O young Man, whose immature death afflicts in that manner thy parents, I command thee to rise in the name of the Lord, and to tell me, if my Father was the cause of thy death, but if any one else, discover not their names. And when he had said so, he no sooner had done making the sign of the across towards the corps( O wonder deserving every minute to be minded) but behold the youth opened his eyes, stirred, and rose up full of vigour, assuring them, that he had not been killed, either by Sir Martin Buglione himself, or any one else by his order, and appointment.  
The silence, which made them look pale, and half dead, was seconded with a strange and miraculous noise, causing all to invoke the names of Jesus and Mary, and to bless themselves often. Then the Gentleman turning towards St. Anthony, said aloud.  
Great servant of God, since thou hast most miraculously delivered thy Father, from the temporal death, to which he was innocently condemned, free me I beseech thee, from the everlasting death I deserve, for having offended the Majesty of God. Absolve me holy Father from the excommnication I incurred, and impetrate my pardon.  
Having said so, he was silent, and after absolution returned to the dead. Then St. Anthony vanished, leaving all there astonished, who reburied the Gentleman, while the Saint re-appeared in the Pulpit at Padoua, out of which he was departed but a little before.  
There he inspired by God, revealed to his audience, what place he had been in, and what had arrived, which caused the padovans to wit in all hast unto lisbon, to have a full assurance of the thing, from whence they received a true and clear account, as well to the circumstances, as time, insomuch as they confounded, and astonished, did not c●ase to render thanks unto Heaven and reverence our Saint, as a most prodigious worker of miracles.  
He therefore received consolation, by the progresses of devotion and piety, which he caused in that City, would have been fully comforted, if he had not seen his order, through the negligence of the superior, begin to grow remiss.  
St. Francis being dead, and some Generals of the order succeeding him, that dignity was devolved on Father Elias▪ who learned and well verst in the affair●… of the World, very easily acquired the favour of Princes, so as the rough habit, and austerity of life instituted by that Saint, displeasing him much, and seeming impossible as it were, for Men to observe, he obtained of the Pope, many privileges, and exemptions, not so much for himself, as the Friars of his order.  
Whereupon the course habit become foft, and smooth, and the cord much in fashion, and used, which before for the roughness, seemed contemptible and vile, and the fastings too, and prayers neglected and slackened, they were come to that liberty, to receive, and manage money.  
The rule being therefore so large, and so easy, that it was not a penance, but delight, to observe it, made the number so increase of Friar Elias his followers, that few abstained from violating the first institution, of which our Saint was principal, and an English Man Friar Adam his companion, with others of holy life.  
The general therefore seeing, that they by not following his footsteps, divided the order, did persecute them cruelly. Whereupon when our Saint with the rest, had secretly bewailed these disorders, and complained of him, they, in the open Chapter, opposed him to his face, and inveighing in that manner, against the violation of the laws of their order, so bestirred themselves, they were forced to go to Rome, and appeal to the Pope.  
At that time reigned Gregory the ninth, a Man of great integrity and learning, and a favouret of the first institution of St. Francis.  
At his feet our Saint prostrated himself, beseeching him to reform those abuses, and scandalous concessions. And he showing in his countenance and habit, how the rules were observed which God with his own mouth, had dictated to St. Francis, enflamed so the mind of the Pope, that a general Chapter was commanded in Rome.  
When the Chapter was assembled( at which the Pope would personally assist) St. Anthony with few on his side, declared to his holiness, the cause of their appeal, which was in respect of the hatred, friar Elias bore to all, who zealously prosecuted the first institution, and renewing his complaints, and holy admonitions caused many of the friars, which adhered to the General, to blushy.  
The said Father Elias was full of his reasons, and excuses, but they being vain and frivolous, shewed him proud, and seditious. Whereupon as well for this, as because he was so bold, to give St. Anthony the lie, the Pope put him out of his place, preferring to the same, a lover of the Evangeligall rule. Then commending, and respecting very highly our Saint, and giving him his blessing, he desired him to collect all his sermons, for the good of the public, absolving him to this purpose, from all other charges and offices in the order.  
St. Anthony freed in this manner from the City of Rome, went preaching through the provinces, returning in the end to the City of Padoua, where received with the reverence and joy, which every one may imagine, he attended to the exercises of preaching and prayer, as he formerly had done. And he cultivating the souls of the faithful with his holy operations, and doctrine, reduced so that City in the space of a Lent, that many bitter enemies made peace with one another, the prisoners were released, offences and debts remitted and forgiven, and that which most imports, old, and public sinners returning to repentance, frequented so the Sacraments, that the Priests had hardly time to communicate them.  
In this manner St. Anthony having filled with clean wheat, the Granary of the Lord, and ended in that time, in obedience to the Pope, and Cardinal of O●tia, thirteen books of his sermons on sundays, one of the Saints, and another of Lent, all full of great and deep learning, he began to perceive, the Lord would reward him for his pains.  
O Saint, thou approachest to the Haven! Who will deny, thou hast sailed o'er a troublesone Sea, since thy life hath been a School of abstinences, and wants, ●nd thou hast always mortified each single desire? What mornings of thy life, have not seen their own paleness, and purple, in thy fastings, and disciplines, and numbering thy tears with their due, have not envied thee in the Heaven of a holy conversation.  
But that tedious Lent being ended, St. Anthony desiring to obtain a little rest, retired to the field of St. Peter, a place appertaining to a Gentleman of Padoua, his acquaintance, who receiving such a guest, what tongue can express the reverend affection, and obsequions respect, with which he entertained him? The stones of the walls he called happy, which ecchood his voice, and kissed the ground which sustained his holy feet.  
His house being adorned with his best, and noblest furniture, to show his devotion and respect to the Saint, he ordered the entertainment should be as abundant and noble, as the rooms were rich and stately, and the table no less delicately furnished, then the bed was soft and fine.  
But St. Anthony in the midst of the pleasures, which the World most affects, desired the humble poverty, he professed in his habit and manners, and therefore entreated Sigre Tiso( so the Gentleman was called) he would cause three little cells to be made near his Lodging( for whose walls, and covering, he would use mats and straw) the one for himself and the rest for Friar Luke, and Friar Roger his companions.  
The Gentleman was astonished, yet obeied him, and considering, he desired, that his meat might be answerable to his lodging, he was frustrated of the great preparations he had made. Here in repose, and tranquillity, which is found in poor cottages, he contemplated on his dear, and beloved Reedemer, and devoutly overlooked our Lady, for freeing him from the danger he was in, when the Devil out of rage, at the beginning of the Lent aforesaid, endeavoured to throttle him.  
To presume to describe the affections the tenderness, and dialogues, which he had with his God, is onely for a pen, of a wing of a Seraphin. Whereupon I shall onely say this, that Cell was often turned into a Heaven, and served for a throne to the Creator of the World.  
But though the divine Consolations must as well have added vigour to the body of our Saint, as made his soul happy, and whither his desire, and longing now at last after Heaven, had consumed him too much, or that his limbs wearied with labour, began to relax, he felt a grievous weakness. But believing to o'ercome it with exercise, he went for recreation to the Oratory, which was not remote from the Friars of his order.  
There he was received with the charity, peculiar and suitable to good religious Men, and accommodated in a poor little Cell, and there about midnight, when the darkness was most dreadful on the face of the Earth, he rose up to prayer, according to his custom.  
O my Lord( he said sighing) what pretendest thou from the weakness, thou permittest in my limbs? Since they are to be committed to the Earth, that my soul disengage from all bonds, may fly into thy bosom, make thy hand heavier, and free at last my soul out of prison. But if for my sins, which are many and grievous, thou wilt lay more weight on my infirm, and weak body, ah merciful God, withdraw now thy hand, for I would not have a burden surpassing my strength, but yet not my will, but thine be still done. I shall think, if thou wilt lay me on a bed, and design me for torments, and patience, this is the onely way, to appease the grievous pains, which I for my sins, shall deserve after death. Besides, if thou chastise me, I shall the better serve thee, and calling to mind what thou hast suffered for me, I shall season my infirmities with the thoughts of thy passion. And who, O my Christ, will be happier then myself, if I shall not in my sickness, envy those that are healthy and strong? These are the advantages, of him that does love thee, and serve thee, though wretch that I am, I love thee not, and serve thee not according to my wish.  
In this manner he spake, when behold on the sudden, the room was full of brightness, and he saw descend an Angel, whose serene and lovely countenance would have turned hell itself without doubt into a Paradise.  
He glittering with splendour, which surpassed the Stars, approached to St. Anthony, and with a voice so sweet, as was able to occasion a trance, to all that deserved to hear him, said thus.  
O Servant of God, who with so much fidelity and love, hast hitherto performed thy part, be comforted in our Christ, who sends me to tell thee, thou art near unto thy end. The glory prepared for thee in Heaven, is suitable to the goodness of a God, who with a hundred fold does recompense each desert of his servants. And besides the honours he will give thee in Heaven, He'l make thy name great upon Earth, and illustrate this province with thy sepulchre, prepare thyself therefore for thy fortunate passage, for I among others expect thee with desire.  
So he ceased, and vanished, perfuming the chamber with the breath of a Paradise, and leaving St. Anthony in a sweet, and pleasant ecstasy. But when he had recovered himself, what did he not feel, and relate? He wept out of tenderness, and trembled for fear, being inflamed with an desire, which he afterwards revoked, the acts of his will opposing one another by a holy disquietness, he one while desiring to die, to enjoy that beatitude, and another while desiring to live to merit in the service of God.  
With this sense of humility, the most profound reflections of which, were particular ascents, to raise his merit higher to glory, our Saint spent the rest of the night, some Friars afterwards coming to visit him about break of the day, he turning to a window, from whence he could discover the neighbouring fields, spake to them in this manner.  
This plain will soon be famous, and renowned by many people.  
while after he perceiving his end to approach, affectionately entreated Friar Roger, that now since his death was at hand( he desiring no longer to incommode those poor Friars) he would cause him to be carried to the house of our Lady, a monastery of that order in Padoua.  
Friar Roger therefore speedily complying with his wish, the tears of his companions were not few, when they saw him go away, accommodated as well as they could on a cart. But albeit his journey was onely to the monastery in the City of Padoua, yet meeting with a friend, who  told him that the visits, which would be made him there, would greatly disquiet him, he caused the Friars, who carried him, to return, and conduct him to the oratory of Arcela, a place in the country.  
There the Lord called him in hast, he said the seven Psalms, together with the Friars there present, and uttering each verse with a particular act of compunction, represented to us, how fearful we should be of the justice of God, and how hope in his mercy. Then turning his thoughts to the most holy Virgin, as he ever had loved her in the time of his life, so he would at his death invoke her assistance. Whereupon when he had briefly, but powerfully thanked her, for the favours done to him, all along to that instant, he looking towards Heaven with a countenance, whose tranquillity and calmness shewed him even at that time an inhabitant of Heaven, recited that hymn, O glorious Lady, &c.  
Afterwards looking steadfastly upwards, and Friar Roger demanding what he saw, I see he replied, my dear Christ, who mercifully expects me at his feet, and in saying so, and commending to the Friars, the observance of their order, and the fear of the Lord, as a light, which in extinguishing, is resplendent and bright, he died in so sweet, and so peaceable a manner, that he looked, as if he quietly slept. And his flesh on the sudden, which by abstinenccs and austerity, was swarthy, dry, and pitiful to behold, becoming resplendent▪ and clear, gave a manifest sign 'twas part of a glorified body.  
He died in the Year of our Lord, 1231. on the 13th. of June, and 36. Year of his age, being happy, that in so short a time he wrought so great works. At the time of his death, he appeared on the sudden in the Chamber of the Abbot of Vercelli his Master, and  told him he had quitted his lodgings, and was going into his country. And saying so, and touching his throat, he cured a disease he had there, and seeming to go out of the door of the chamber, did vanish like lightning.  
The Abbot going after him, and finding him not, asked his servants where he was, but they answering, that they had not beholded him, caused him to sand to seek him in the monastery. But not finding him there, he began to understand, that the country he went to, was not Portugal, but Paradise, and assured by letters of his death at that instant, was confirmed in his belief.    

THE SECOND BOOK, Of the Miracles of St. ANTHONY OF PADOUA  

The first Chapter  
AS soon as St. Anthony was dead, his Friars, who by the splendour of his body, were assured of the Heavenly glory, which his soul was possessed of, being jealous of his corps, as of a precious treasure, resolved to hid his death, till they should have so accommodated things, that they might not be subject to rapine, and violence. But no sooner he expired, but strangely and miraculously, many children assembling themselves in the City, fell a crying through the Streets, our Father St. Anthony is dead, our Father St. Anthony is dead.  
God sometimes hath honoured the death of some others, with the unexpected ringing of the bells, but here instead of them, with a more sublime privilege, he was pleased human tongues should be employed, and the mouths of innocent boyes be the trumpets, to sound forth the death of his servant.  
Many Citizens being therefore awakened with the cries of the Children aforesaid, repaired to the Monastery of Arcela, whither they knew the Saint was brought, and finding him extended on a beer, which like a starry night, was resplendent with as many blazing lights, as were the rays reflecting on their eyes, they amazed and devout, quickly placed there a guard of armed Men, to hinder his body from being removed. But the Friars of the convent of Padova, coming thither with others of the City, began to demand the holy body, alleging since he had, while he lived, shewed a willingness to be butted in their Monastery, he belonged in all reason to them, and not to any others; so they raising a tumult here and there, increased much the rumour by the coming of some other pretenders, who living on the bridge near the Oratory of Arcela, and perceiving the place not secure, and the others pretences of moment, endeavoured with a band of armed Men to take away the body from the Oratory, and carry it to a Monastery of Nuns near that place. The contention being therefore between three several parties, and each growing warm with their different pretences, they came to that decree of contest, that they would have fallen out, if some of authority had not put themselves between them, and appeased the tumult in this manner, that all should be referred to the sentence of the Father Minister, who would soon be there.  
But the people, who extremely desired, to remove the holy body into the City, impatient of the Ministers stay, about midnight thrice assaulted the Monastery, which occasioned a miracle, for all the said times, when they came to the gates to get in, they remained like blind Men, impotent and lame, and unable to effect their desires.  
What meanest thou, O Padoua? Shall the Saint, the Protector of thy peace, be the cause of thy war? And shall he, who, while he lived, reconciled still thy differences, raise up tumults amongst thee, at his death? Who is't, that foments these hostilities, which under the pretence of devotion, do aim at nothing else but the conquest of each other? Shall it ever be said, that the strife about the place, where the body shall be butted, should grow to that height, as to cause thee to endanger thy inhabitants? O illusions of the Devil, which design as much mischief, as the relics will do good to thy country.  
Now the Friars of Arcela amazed at the assault, they received that night, had thoughts of preventing the danger, their treasure was in, by enclosing it in a chest, and concealing it under ground. Whereupon when they had done so, the Souldiers next morning came thither, and unable to find it, ran about through the Cells with drawn swords, refusing to be gone, unless they would discover it to them.  
While they were in this manner distracted, and irresolute, the Minister they expected arrived, who consulting the Bishop, gave this sentence with him, that the glorious body should be butted in the Monastery of the City where he had an intention to die. A solemn procession being therefore ordained, the governor caused a bridge to be made o'er the river, which consisted of boats chained together, and defending it with a choice band of Souldiers, had every thing in order to translate that glorious body. But that part of the Citizens, whom the sentence was given against, stirred up at the fight of those great preparations, which were assured testimonies of a religious obsequiousness, resolved by all means, not to suffer it to pass, and began to spoil the bridge, and scuffle with the Souldiers, Whereupon a general cry being raised, the tumult was soon spread through the City, insomuch that many fearing the worst, did sadly beat their breasts, ascribing that disorder to their sins, which made them unworthy of so eminent a favour. But the governor not dismayed at the greatness of the danger, did sand for the chief of the seditious, and banishing them out of the Territory, freed every one from fear, and from harm. The dissensions being quietted in this manner they began the solemn pomp. All the religious went two and two together, as likewise the Nuns, who had their feet bare, with devotion in their looks, and torches in their hands. The hot drops, which fell to the ground, represented the force of the praises, they uttered with their mouths, so as being followed by the Clergy, which came next in white, they looked like an Army, where the drums were the bells, and the crosses the banners. The Bishop followed after, together with the governor, next whom the holy body was carried by four religious Men, on a bear covered o'er with white damask, which traild the ground. Then two and two together, with torches in their hands, came the Gentlemen of the City, and the rest of the people. As they past through the Streets, the windows and doors, abounded with Women and Children, who blessed the sacred bones, and hearty commended themselves to the Saint. Arriving in this manner at the destined Church, 'Tis probable that they placed the bear on an eminent scaffold, and the Bishop in that great Congregation, extoling St. Anthonies merits, reduced to the memory of the padovans, the benefits they had had by his charity, the affection he had born to their country, and the diligence he had used in serving them.  
Then telling them what a favour he had done them, in leaving his body to the City, he put them in mind of the firm and lively hopes, which all there should have, that those holy relics would always prove a fountain of graces, which still would be flowing at their need. And recalling to their memory, the great obligations they had to thank him, he exhorted them in the end, to receive him for their particular advocate, as likewise to rejoice for the glory, which God out of his mercy, was pleased to reward his labours with.  
His sermon being ended in this manner, the Friars, who, as they would not have his body butted with other Corps in the ordinary sepulchre, so likewise being prest to inter it, had not time to erect a particular tomb for the same, which made them very melancholy and sad. But God, who knew their desire, discovered to them( not without a great miracle) a new sepulchre in the Church. 'Twas just, O holy Father, that thy flesh, which while thou liv'dst, by a candid virginity, was always kept remote from the touch of any one, should after thy death, be preserved unhurt from the common corruption of the body of others, and the lily of purity( the badge thou didst deservedly bear) should no ways be subject to any other injury, but that of thy mortality.  
All therefore being glad of the wonder, with which God was pleased to honour the funerals of his Servant, when they had with many tears, both ki'st him, and reverenc't him, they laid him in that sepulchre, where in imitation of that of our Saviour, none ever had been butted. In the mean time many persons that were lame, thrusting through the thick crowds to arrive at the sepulchre, no sooner were permitted to touch him, but by a secret virtue transfused from the stones, were by reason of their faith, immediately restored to their healths.  
'Twas both handsome and devout to behold, that he, who deprived of his limbs, supplied the defect of his motion by the benefit of crutches, no sooner touched the sepulchre, but throwing them away, returned sound and vigorous to his home. 'Twas prodigious to see, that the blind man, who, by losing his eyes, sate perpetually in darkness, assisted by our Saint, had his sight renewed again, and weeping out of gladness and devotion, shewed that the first office of the eyes is to weep. And the dumb man, who unable to speak, seems onely in his shape to be distinguished from a beast, obtaining the use of his tongue, most affectionately thanked our Saint for his recovery.  
But the confines of the infinite graces conferred by our Saint on the devoted to him, were not bounded and limited here, for out of his abundance of charity, he not only cured the persons, which touched his sepulchre, but those too, who by reasons of the throngs, could not get into the Church, and stood without invoking his name. Hence miracles being heaped on miracles, and gladness on gladness, who is able to relate the devotion, the jubily, thankes, and ●ears, which resounding every where, astonished and transported the people? Whereupon to vow perpetual fidelity, and observance to our Saint, and resolve to acknowledge him for their patron and advocate, were the least demonstrations of duty they could show. From hence it came to pass, that the neighbouring prople running after the famed of his miracles, and the Bishop unable to hinder them from worshipping him publicly, assembled the principal Citizens, and by common consent, sent ambassadors, to the Pope, beseeching him to Canonize that Saint, whom God out of his mercy had bestowed upon Christendom.  
The ambassadors being courteously received, and heard by the Pope, and the process, in order to his life, his behaviour and miracles, completed by a Bishop, an Abbot, and a Dominican Prior, by his Holinesses command, he approved of all things with devotion and joy, and proposed in the Consistory in the City of Spolet● his Canonization. It was not yet a year, since the said request was made, nor had many moneths been expired, since our Saint had been dead, whereupon a certain Cardinal opposing it vigorously, occasioned the decree to be suspended till the following Day. But as he was asleep, he had the same night a revelation from God, and thought he saw a Pope about consecrating an Altar, and demanding of him for that purpose some relics of Saints, but he having none to give him, heard a voice which said to him, give him of the new ones of St. Anthony. He therefore awakeing at the noise of that sound, by which he was fully assured of St. Anthonies most eminent merits, changed suddenly his opinion, and was the next day more earnest then the rest for his canonization. So God was assistant to the glory of his servant in the year 1232. The miracles here mentioned being authenticated after his death, besides those he did while he lived, to wit, nineteen lame persons restored to their limbs, five paralatique Souldiers recovered, five crook-backt made streight, six blind men made to see, three deaf men, and three mutes restored to their hearing, and speech, two freed from the gout, two raised from the dead, and many cured of several infirmities: so as in Spoleto with very great solemnity, he was canonised on Whitsunday by the Pope, who composed and sung that Anthem, O excellent doctor, &c. he ordering that afterwards the Church every year should sing it on the day of his feast assigned to the thirteenth of June.  
Now with what rejoicings may we fancy that feast was celebrated in Heaven, while on Earth it was honoured with so solemn a pomp? What manner of ineffable joy may we piously suppose, flowed out of the treasury of God, to felicitate with the merits of his servant all the orders of the blessed.  
The torrent of the happy consolations was so great, that it reaching to the Earth, and diffusing there itself, all the bells of themselves fell a ringing in lisbon that day. Whereupon all the Citizens feeling inwardly an unspeakable joy, were extremely astonished at the thing, till by Letters they knew, that day the Saint was canonised, the Ceremony being ended, the Pope gave the usual Bull for the same, the true copy of which is here faithfully registered.  

The BULL  
GRegory the Bishop and Servant of the Servants of God, to our venerable Brethren the Archbishops, Bishops, &c. Greeting and Apostolical benediction. As God says by his Prophet, I will cause you to be honoured and praised by all the People, and promises by the wiseman, that the just shall be resplendent like the Sun in the presence of God, so he thinks it likewise meet, we should both praise and glorify those Saints upon earth, which are crowned by him in Heaven, since in them God himself is principally acknowledgd, and adored, who is laudable and glorious in his Saints, and showing his miraculous power, and desire of our salvation, makes the servants he rewards with beatitude, renowned upon earth for their miracles, to confounded in this manner the obstinacy and perverseness of heretics, and confirm his holy Church in the roman catholic Faith, chasing out of luke-warm hearts all negligence and sloth, and awakeing men to goodness by these holy examples, that heretics may be humbled, and believe in effect, what in the holy Scriptures they seem not to understand. And lastly that all, as well the Jews, as Pagans( the veil of blindness removed from their hearts) may see this shining Light of the power of Jesus Christ our Redeemer, and so have no excuse to convert themselves to him, and aclowledge him for true God, and true Man.  
We therefore O Beloved, albeit not so far as we are bound, yet as far as we are able, give thanks unto God for confirming our faith, to the confusion of heretics, by holy Men famous in our dayes who with evident signs and miracles have shewed the Truth and firmness of the holy Roman Church, since those that die in it, so die in the favour of the Lord, that they shine to the World as Suns in the Firmament. From whence it comes to pass since there is but one Faith, as appears by Divine approbation, that the falseness of all others is notorious to all. Of the numb●r of the blessed, is St. Anthony of happy memory, of the Order of the Friars Minors, who renowned in the World for his eminent merits, and resident now in Heaven, is resplendent for many miracles ●ay●y seen at his sepulchre, and of which we are certified by authentic writings, and persons of credit. And these two things, his merits and miracles, may gain ample testimony of his holiness and sanctity, and induce us to invoke him for our Intercessor, as appears by the words of the Gospel, and they departing shall go preach in all parts, the Lord working with them, and signs and miracles succeeding. We therefore commanded the said Bishop, Brother Giordan, Prior of St. Bennet, and Brother John, Prior of St. Augustine, a Monastery of the Dominicans in Padoua, to make diligent inquisition of the thing, and an authentic note of the foresaid Saints Miracles, which note seen by us, with what we know ourselves of his life, and most holy conversation, of which we had experience, that it may not appear, we( so much requested thereto by the Bishop of Padoua aforesaid) would take away the praise and veneration from the servants of God, who so clearly do merit it, we by the advice of our Brethren, together with all the Prelat●s with us, have enrolled him in the number of the Saints. Whereupon since the candle is not set in the candlestick, but onely to give light to the People, we entreat and command all, to the knowledge of whom these presents shall come, and you in particular, that by virtue of this apostolical brief, you stir up your subjects, and cause them every Year on the thirteenth of June, to honour very solemnly his feast, that God appeased and calmed by his prayers may give us his grace in this life, and his glory in the other. And we likewise desiring, that the sepulchre of this Saint, who with his many miracles, makes our holy Church renowned, may be with due honour frequented, all, who truly penitent and confessed, shall visit it every Year, on the day of his feast, and the Octave thereof, trusting in God, and the authority of the Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, absolve of one Years Pennance.  
Given at Spoleto on the 12th. of July in the sixth Year of our Papacy.   
Such being the glorious Characters, by which our Saints holiness was legally made authentic to the World, 'tis not easy to relate the great concourse and devotion, for which his name and sepulchre were famous. Hence miracles increasing proportionably to their prayers, the infinite pictures and lamps hanging there, seemed not sufficient testimonies to heighten their wonders. Whereupon famed unsatisfied with adding daily number to the number, we amazed at the quantity, will contract all our forces, and relate some that are most conspicuous, committing the narration of the rest, to the eloquence of a more refined wit.  
Some strangers resided in Padoua, who because they were students and heretics supposed they might live with the greatest disorder and looseness in the World. But deprived by the quality of their natural climate, of the fervour of Spirit, the Italians abound with, and modester by their own constitution, then the dictates of reason, they used not swords instead of their books, nor handled guns for arguments, but as grave & composed in their manners, as indulged with favours and privileges, they seemed not of the number of scholars. Yet their turbulent minds supplying the defects of their bodies, and unable being could, to digest the solid matters of the catholic faith, they had many crudities of sense, which turned into rudeness, and cherished thoughts repugnant to pious believers. From hence it came to pass, that they seeing how the sepulchre of Saint Anthony was honoured, and hearing every day of the wonders done their, supposed the padovans mad, and derid ng their devotion, did not cease to mock and flout them. Sousing themselves to jeering, they arrived in that manner to the height and pitch of insolence, they resolved to mock publicly the Saint, and cause all to see in effect, that the substance of the graces, which every one pretended to receive, consisted in nothing but a simplo opinion.  
'Tis a great shane( they said to themselves) that Christians both learned and discreet in other things, should loose themselves by crediting trifles, which the most severe stoics would laugh at, and not see, that what is spoken of Miracles, is an artifice and trick of lewd men, who maintain themselves by cozening of others. Their vanity well deserves, that they should still continue in this their blind simplicity, and never meet with any, that would tell them of their errors, and that we, who for their froward belief, are naturally their enemies, should leave them very justly in the darkness they so brag of.  
But as to undeceive them will be for our glory, so 'twill be their confusion to remain undeceived, whereupon our honour coming from their shane the victory will be nobler, in that we shall acquire it by their weapons.  
Having said so, and agreed what to do, they feigned that in a scufle one of them had lost his eyes, wherefore binding a bloody clout on his Temples( for they were not yet known to be heretics) they carried him with a feigned devotion to the sepulchre of the Saint. And affecting( as they past through the streets) a sorrow and affliction in their countenances, they lamented the wretch, whereupon throngs of People following after to the Church, who believed he went for help to the sepulchre of the Saint, invok't his assistance, while the others his companions, could scarce forbear laughing. Being come in this manner to the Sanctuary, the people taking notice of the motion of their lips, who kneeling seemed to pray most devoutly, expected the issue of their prayers, when after while, the blindman crying out, that he had obtained mercy, his companions ran to him, to take away the cloath.  
They thought with that act, to have clearly represented the credulity of the catholics, for 'twas their design, when they had laughed their fill, to recount the whole story, and cause all to see, the miracles done there were illusions and deceits. But God, who in the glory of his Saint, had his honour concerned, being, willing the derision, which the heretics had prepared for the catholics, should redound to their own punishment and shane, caused the eyes of the feigned blind man, as they untied the cloath, to remain fastened to it. His sudden cries and clamours, together with the blood, which flowed in that abundance, and the fight of those little globes of flesh, which moved still and stirred on the cloth, so astonished the heretics, that they looked on the punishment as a judgement from God, who made the soft linen do the office of iron hooks, to pluck out his eyes, that had jested with the Saint. Now who can tell the terror, the wonder and commotion, that unexpected accident caused in the standards by? The cries of the Church, together with the blind mans sad and doleful expressions, were as so many trumpets, which assembled the People, and increased the spectators, to make his shane the greater, who called them to the spectacle.  
Then the wretch in a full Congregation, said thus with a sorrowful and penitent voice, Let all the world come to see my chastisement, and the justice of the Saint. Who was ever more deservedly punished for so shameless a fault? I thought to mock the Saint, and am mocked myself. Hear me standards by, and here publicly recounting the wickedness intended, he spake not a word, which accompanied with sobs, expressed not what a penitent sinner could relate. Then falling to prayer he said. Since I with the loss of my eyes, am punished for so hanous a crime, I rather should admire then grieve at Gods just judgement. But since he is as merciful, as just, and desires not the death, but conversion of a sinner, I would persuade myself, he, appeased with my repentance, will restore me to my former condition. Pray for me ye that hear me, and are witnesses of my miseries, and learn by my example to be faithful and credulous.  
And O thou glorious cofessor St. Anthony, who by thy noble nature, continu'st thy custom in Heaven of doing good unto those the offend thee, with a miracle above a miracle, cause me to be restored to my sight, and grant the new light I shall have, may serve for a lantern to the darkness of all unbelievers, and witness thy greatness, and my Obligations.  
In this manner he spake sighing, and mingling with his words a deluge of tears and blood, which flowed out of the hallow of his eyes, he moved all that heard him to pitty. From hence it came to pass that all interceding for him, as if his offence had been common to them all, their prayers were so forcible, the Saint could not choose but be moved. And behold with a wonder unheard of, his eyes losing from the cloath, returned invisibly to their places, and growing so again to the flesh, that it could not be perceived, they had been ever stirred, made him joyful and sound.  
To tell now the cries which reached to the Heavens, their astonishment, and grateful devotion, would be an undertaking, no less difficult then superfluous; for these things being better contemplated then expressed, enough is related of the miracle, and 'tis likewise true, that the heretics his companions quickly converted, and with open mouth divulging the glories of St. Anthony, were to others for the future a pattern of religion.   

The Second Chapter.  
THat life is a period of miseries, which terminates with death, and the years like times Rams, which butt still against it, design there a miserable breach, and that all living creatures, the stars, and the elements conspire to de destroy it, is a sad, and deplorable condition. But that besides all this, it should be exposed to the cozenage of Satan, and infernal illusions, we cannot consider but with tears, nor express without sorrow. A Conjurer is so dreadful a man, that his very name is terrible, he commonly is black of complexion, hairy, ill-lookt, and ill-spoken, not walking but in darkness, and Churchyards, only handling dead mens bones, seeking hurtful herbs, and conversing with venomous creatures, whereupon no less abominable for his art, then aspect, he may truly be called the epitome of horror. And yet simplo people supposing him the Tyrant of nature, a subverter of the elements, and one that can presage and foretell future things, do reverence and fear him like an Oracle.  
Such a one resided in Padoua, and for such was feared by all. Now a simplo, and innocent fellow, but devoted to the Saint, desirous to discover some secret, was seduc't by curiosity, and fell into the hands of this doctor of Lucifer. Being therefore conducted by him into a desert, whose solitude and horridness seemed a suitable scene to his sacrelegious acts, he was fortified, and encouraged against fear, by the compass of a circled drawn out on the Earth, as if the said figure, which had nothing of perfection, but as it was spherical, would prove a wall of Diamond, or Steel, to defend him from hell. Then the Conjurer with terror and dreadfulness in his face, in his eyes, and in his words, began to make Characters on the ground, and brandish his rod in the air, while the poor man affrighted at his murmurs, and looks, especially when the light began to grow dimn, and he saw the neighbouring Spirits approach, became so could, and fearful, that unable to stand still, he went out of the circled assigned him. Whereupon the Devils seizing upon him, incontinently deprived him of his eyes, and his tongue, and leaving him in that manner in the desert, did vanish away with the Conjurer.  
He remaining in that state, who is able to relate the confusion▪ the sorrow, and terror, with which he was oppressed in an instant? To want in that desert, not onely the power to weep, but to be unable likewise, to express his lamentations, he thought the greatest misery in the World. Whereupon he retiring with his soul, into the fortress of his heart, began to turn himself to St. Anthony, and implore with all earnestness his aid and assistance.  
That I am without eyes, that I may not see my miseries, and want a tongue to tell them, does not hinder me from raising my mind from the bottom of my breast, and presenting myself at thy feet, O my Saint.  
Behold me the most sad, and most miserable Creature on the Earth, for since from the darkness of hell, I presumed to draw light, to arrive at future things, and from a Conjurers circled, hoped for Characters of truth, neither a juster, nor yet severer punishment could befall me. 'Twas meet I should forfeit my eyes, who was so temerarious, to desire to behold what God would conceal, and loose too my tongue, which invoked the devil. But since the offence is committed, and the punishment inflicted, shall I die of despair, and give a greater victory to my Enemy? Ah, O glorious Saint, if the constant devotion, with which I still have reverenc't thy name, and thy merits, if the most unhappy State I am in, and the great and ardent charity thou hast, can move thee at all to compassion, behold, Ah behold my disasters; and make me feel thy powerful assistance.  
So he said in his heart, and unable to vent otherwise his sighs, then by a confused, and indistinct sound in his throat, he was like to die of sorrow. What course wilt thou take, O unfortunate man, without light to direct thee, and a tongue to inform thee, in this craggy and pathless desert, where a solitude accompanied with fear, is the best thing thou cans't hope for. To advance is impossible, for besides all the stumblings in the way, thou art ignorant of the path, which leads to the City, and to cry out for help is in vain, for since thou want'st a tongue, how cans't thou be heard.  
We may therefore believe, the Angel Guardian, our inseparable companion,( though our sins much afflict him) leading him insensibly by the hand, conducted him to some place of habitation, and then some pious man carried him to the Church of our Saint. As he passed along the Streets, he was a bloody spectacle to the people, and though many knew him, yet because he was unable to relate his own misfortunes, the wonder and compassion was the greater in all. Being come at the last to the sepulchre, where graces every day are obtained, he renewed his prayers with so lively a faith, that the marbles themselves could not choose but be mollified. But though the conceptions of his heart, were incapable of expression, not so much for the want of his tongue, as his abundance of devotion, yet heard by those ears, which understand without hearing, while at the holy Altar, high Mass, where many People assisted, was advanced to Hosanna in Excelsis, he recovered his eyes.  
Whither they were the very same he had lost, or whither others grew in their places, we cannot conceive. 'Tis enough, that at the gaining of his eyes, which many eyes were witnesses of, the People raised devout, and most joyful acclamations to Heaven, persevering in their prayers to God, that since by the means of his Saint, he had begun the miracle, he would be pleased to perfect it by his intercession, and behold e're Mass was done, he received again his speech. famed therefore caused wonders in all, and from all parts the people flocked together, to see the man restored to his sight, and reverence the Saint. But though Padoua had not a ston, on which with the Characters of wonder our Saints glorious acts were not red, yet some heretics more hard of believe, then the very stones themselves, made sport of those things, which were motives to piety, and laughing at the faith of the catholics derided their devotion to St. Anthony. Among the chief of these was a very old Man, who equally advanced in age, and in heresy, so abounded with errors, that the light of all the miracles, which had been done in Padoua, diminished not the darkness he was in. He was given in that manner to the idolatry of the belly, that the onely way to life, as he thought ended in a full table; for the choicest, and most delicate meat, he supposed the best, and powerfullest means for the gaining of Heaven. Being therefore as fat in his body, as brain, he esteemed himself the happier, and more holy, by how much the more corpulent, and unctuous. Now as he was rejoicing with his friends at a feast( the heat of wine and meat administering discourse) they talked of various things, according to the Genius and humour of the company. But as in the most dissolute society, there is sometimes a civil, and intelligent person, so there was such a one amongst them, who spake very seasonably in praise of St. Anthony. But the heretic, to whom that discourse was unpleasant and unwelcome, derided and jeered him, so as the zealous catholic raised higher his voice, and answear'd him roundly.  
Whereupon all the rest being silent, the glutton said thus, 'tis as credible this thy Saint hath done miracles, as 'tis possible, that this glass should be thrown out of the window into the Street, and not break. And in saying so he took up a glass, and throwing it out of the window, said, save it O Anthony, if thou canst, all there looking after it, to see the success.  
And behold( O strange relation) the glass falling on the stones, not onely was not broken at all, but that the brittle matter might prove a lasting testimony to the glory of our Saint, it broken the ston it fell on, as if it had been an iron sledge. The heretic beholding the strangeness of the thing, and considering, that it could not be natural, was pierced to the heart with compunction, so as he deposing his vain ostentation, and cordially converting himself to the catholic faith, had the Citizens his companions in the wonder, who carrying it to the Temple, kept it there as a proof, that was clear and transparent of St. Anthonies miracles.  
So the glass, which for the height of the fall was highly esteemed, of a vessel of profaneness was religiously employed, and served to show the truth of the Roman Religion.  
But though like a heavenly bell, our Saint was very clearly understood by the force of his sound, yet still some deaf heretics persisted in their naughty opinions, and would not abandon their bestial positions. O lamentable wonder! Of what use was their reason, their discourse, and understanding, if even the demonstrations of sense were refuted as illusions? And the miracles, which had even splitted stones, were held by them for fallacies?  
Two heretics resided in Paedoua, who resembling two parallel lines, were alike in religion and behaviour, and took up their lodging in an Inn, where professing to live well they assured the Host often, that none surpassed them in the account of their lives. As they therefore one day in the winter, were sitting at table by the fire, and heard certain strangers dining there, discourse of St. Anthonies miracles, they according to their custom, fell a laughing at those fooleries, as they called them. The catholics thereupon making good what they had said, one more devout, and more eloquent then the rest, and incensed most of all, re-inforc't his discourse, and full of zeal and courage, said thus. Hath then the Sea of Rimini which like a large school, even taught the mute inhabitants, the doctrine of St. Anthony, not water enough to wash from your hearts the stains of incredulity? Hath the tongue of that child which beyond the course of nature, so clearly expressed his father, not influence enough to persuade you, that you live in an error? Shall the foot, which was restored to the Padouan, and the eyes to the blind have no power to reduce you into the right path? But why do I repeat things remote? Is not the late action of the glass, which gave a Spiritual draft of true knowledge to the obstinate man, who denied as you do the miracles of the Saint, so palpable and evident, as it must needs shane your impudence itself? And what are we the better, for his wearying every minute the ears of the Almighty, by begging his graces for us, according to our need, if these blind and ignorant men, who only have the show of humanity, deriding thy miracles, do not cease to have sacrilegious thoughts. Are the thunderbolts idle, and the hands of the thunderer tied to his girdle? O divine patience, and mercy, abused and contemned!  
In this manner spake the catholic, when one of the heretics, when he had laughed his fill, to see him so earnest, taking up by chance some dried stalks of Vines, to make the fire burn, said, if Anthony be a Saint, and lately kept the glass from being broken, let him cause too these dried branches of a whithered Vine, to bring forth immediately leaves, and as many ripe Grapes, as will fill this cup with wine, and then we will likewise believe him, which when he had spoken, they renewed their laughter.  
We cannot deny, but that this was a tempting of God, and the way to make him punish them severely, yet because he is goodness itself, he permitted those dead trunks to become in a moment, what the heretic had desired.  
To see blossom on the sudden in January, the early pride of April, and see the leaves increase, and dilate themselves sensibly, and in a few minutes, produce and ripen grapes, was to entertain their eyes with variety of miracles, insomuch as the spectators were confounded with wonder, and losing themselves in the wood of the Vineyard, which grew up, and multiplied without roots and Earth, they could not be satisfied with contemplating, in the veins, and the streaks of the leaves, on the Characters of divinity, with which God instructed their ignorance. And they looking on those clusters, as so many arguments, which Heaven had made use of, to persuade them to belief, at the same time were distracted between wonder and joy.  
What will you now say, said the catholics with tears in their eyes, what will you say, O obstinate Men, since a dry and withered branch instruct● and confounds you? Is there any doubt left of St. Anthonies sanctity, since a vine cut down and dead, grows again, to confirm it to you? what say ye, O miscreants? At these words, these wonders and internal compunctions, how may the Reader think they behaved themselves? Hear, and writ this miracle in the sensiblest part of thy memory. They yet not or'ecome with so many great miracles in one, nor abandoning their obstinacy, would acknowledge their error till the last. Whereupon they took the grapes between their hands, and pressing them hard, extracted as much juice, as filled the cup with excellent wine.  
Then drowning their unbelief in their tears, and losing themselves in the Sea of their sorrow, they arrived at the Haven of repentance, where confessing themselves undeserving of the favour of God, and worthy of the most severe punishment, they prostrated themselves, beseeching the Saint to intercede for them, and came out of the Inn, proclaiming the miracle in the Streets, So the sanctity of St. Anthony, confirmed every day with new wonders, caused the faithful so to credit his merits, that the devotion to him increased extremely. The devil therefore seeing by the fullness of those throngs, that his followers, and esteem began to diminish, did set all his engines on work, to keep up his credit.  
Among those of his retinue, was a soldier, whom to describe abominable enough, 'tis enough to say he thought it an honour, to sell his life for four crowns a month. A Man of the iron age, who thinks him the gallantest person, that is the greatest murderer, and owes all his fortune and valour to the point of his sword. A monster of Men, and though born of mankind, yet voided of all humanity. This Man once walking in the fields, met a cripple on the way, the object of misery and compassion, for sustained by two crutches, his hair disshevel'd, his countenance horrid, and the sores of his body accompanied with rags, he was so full of leprosy, that he seemed as past cure, as loathsome to behold. Stinking therefore and noisome to himself, like a fish covered over with thick scales, he looked not like a Man. Whither goest thou O wretch, said the soldier, and how canst thou carry the weight of so great a disease, without dying often?  
I go said the cripple, to the sepulchre of St. Anthony, to beseech that great Servant of God; to pray for my health, which I hope by his means to obtain, since daily such effects of the mercies of God, are seen in all those, that recur unto him.  
Poor Man replied the soldier, we may easily behold, that thy brains are as putrefied as thy limbs, and thou as voided of health, as of judgement, and therefore as a beast, very worthy of the state thou art in. Who made thee believe a dead Friar in a sepulchre, can procure health for any, where he needs it most himself? And who made thee imagine, that the dead see, and hear, speak, and pray for the living? Dost not see thou art mad, and that if thy disease did not move me to pitty, I would sand thee to thy grave? Go to the hospital, and seek rather help from the physician, then St. Anthony, for when he cures thee, I will be content to have thy disease.  
Having said so, he went from the Leper, and left him confounded and scandalised.  
But the cripple not distrusting his devotion to the Saint, continued his journey to the sepulchre, and after adoration of the most holy Sacrament, which was kept in the Church, began sighing thus.  
Behold, O blessed Saint, my health is interred in as many pits and graves, as are the gaping sores of my body, and I am a living Corps in the midst of corruption and filth. And though for my sins I deserve to be as miserable as Job( and with this addition, not to have my sores pitied) yet I trusting in thy charity, implore thy assistance and favour. Do but judge of the torments of my life, since my flesh is seen daily to consume, and my pains do not suffer me, to have then repose, when sleep appeases all other griefs. I was framed by those hands which gave thee thy being, and my soul, which for it's prison, hath so stinking a dungeon, was purchased and redeemed, with the same blood as thine. Ah, if there be any thing in me, to endear me to thee, I beseech thee have compassion of my of state, and by your intercession restore me to my health, and former condition.  
Thou art made great in Heaven, because thou art the Advocate of the humble, and the virtue God hath given thee, besides what thy merits import, was given thee to this end, to assist and help thy Servants. Hear me, most compassionate Saint, and let the grief I have for offending my Redeemer, and my firm resolution never more to displease him prevail with thee to intercede for me. Thy goodness I am sure, will not suffer me alone, of all that have recurred to thee, to depart without comfort, nor shall the tears, falling from my eyes, which have melted, and dissolved my heart, miss of finding that compassion in thy breast to dispose thee to assist me according to my wish.  
So prayed the poor Leper, when behold he surprised with sleep, was so silent and immovable, that he seemed in a trance, And behold in the midst of his sleep, his mind become lucid like a glass, receiving the Species of the objects presented before it, he saw the Saint before him, who said. Awake, rise, and take up thy crutches, and carry them to the soldier, who deriding me  told thee, that if thou shouldst be cured by my intercession, he would be content, thy disease should leave thee, & seize upon him, which accordingly is departed from thee, and fallen upon him by the judgement of God.  
The poor man awaking at the vision, was full of admiration and joy, and so whole, and so sound, that he had not so much as the marks of the leprosy. Wherefore taking up quickly his crutches, and knowing by the vision where to find the wicked soldier, he carried them incontinently to him, and finding him Leprous, and changed, was astonished and trembled. But approaching to him, having like a good Christian, reproved him first for deriding the Saint, he bad him take the crutches his wickedness had acquired. Then he gave him advice to repent of his sins, and recur with all humility to him, whom before he derided, assuring him this was the only way to recover his health. The soldier fell a weeping, and his grief was so cordial, that resolving very steadfastly to go to confession, and wholly change his life, he retarded not to do it. Coming therefore with contrition and humility to the sepulchre of our Saint, he wept and prayed so long, that at last he obtained his request. And he going through the Streets to show to the World the marks of his recovery, all the residue of his life proclaimed the miracles of his benefactor.   

The Third Chapter.  
'TIs a great disadvantage in the World to be a woman, but a greater to be a widow. To loose a Husband, is to loose the substance; for man may be said to be the subject, and woman the accident.  
A Widow is attended with sadness, and destined to mourning, her very tears refreshing her, and solitude her companion, for she looks not about her, but she sees her self covered with darkness, and in her black garment reads her own unhapy state. To have her soul confined in a sepulchre, fix her thoughts on a corps, imprison her body, not eat in the day, nor sleep in the night, and delight herself in sighs, and in sobs, are conditions sad enough, without the additional unhappiness, of being betrayed by kinsmen, abandoned by friends, vexed with law-suits, tormented with losses, and scorned by her own children.  
Yet there was one in Padoua, who exempt from such woes( her husband having left her a daughter, and slender possession) maintained her small family with her little revenue, being voided of great cares, because voided of great wealth. Being therefore very happy in her daughter since with more then one heart, she might weep for the loss of her Husband, she hugged her every minute in her bosom, and kissing her affectionately beholded in her countenance his picture.  
But her daughter being come to the use of understanding and reason, she instructed her in Piety and disposed her tender soul to a particular devotion to St. Anthony, endeavouring to make her comprehend, since she was deprived of a father, she could not rely on a better protector, then a Saint, who had given to the World, so many testimonies of his charity.  
The child therefore taking our Saint for her advocate, contended with her mother, in the acts of obsequiousness and reverence to him, still singing his praises, and extoling his miracles, as she either sowed or spun.  
O daughter, the mother said often to her if thou thinkest to war under the banner of St. anthony, keep thyself pure, and stray not from the whiteness of the lily he bears.  
The smile of a wanton young man, and a word from an old deceitful woman, are enough to slain thy whiteness, and subvert thy behaviour, guard still thy honour, like the apple of thy eyes, since Virginal candour in a maid, is equal to her life. Prayer, fasting, and employment, are the three best preservatives for the chastity of Women, What greater satisfaction can we possibly receive, then so to led our lives in the World, that when we come to die, we may not fear death? Ah, O my daughter, whosoever is capable of Heaven, must fight to obtain it, though the sorrows we should suffer for eternity, and the blood we should spill, while we live, are unworthy of the least of the beatitudes in heaven. Lets live without sin O my heart, for if we believe thy father is in heaven, though we had no other end, then to see him again, we should from all impurity abstain.  
So spake the good woman, who hearing daily mass, and frequenting the Sacraments omitted no day( because it was near her) to visit with her child the sepulchre of St. Anthony. Her daughter being therefore brought up in this manner and 13. years old( it being harvest time) went with her mother to a little possession belonging to them, not far from the river Brenta, which contained not many acres. As they were employed in getting in the corn, the girl went to wash some handkerchiefs in the river, where arriving to that end, and imitating the water and soap in purity and whiteness, when she had made them clean, and was going away, it happened one fell into the water, she seeing it carried away with the stream, and fearing her mother would chide her leaped into the river to catch it. But the force of the water carrying her beyond her depth, she was turned topsy turvy, and drowned in an instant. Some other poor women were washing near the place, who beholding the spectacle, endeavoured to save her, but in vain. Wherefore seeing she could not probably escape, they knew not what to do in that case, but to run, and inform her mother of it.  
We may easily imagine the mother, rather carried to that lamentable sight, on the wings of affliction and sorrow, then her feet, who with cries, & with tears increased the horror of the persons their present-  
When she had by the means of some Peasants who came to her assistance, recovered soon the corps, who is able to relate the sad state she was in? She began to cry alas, but her soul, which at the sight of the child, issued out at her eyes, and distilled in lively drops, could form no other words. In the end as a man, that is shipwrecked, who when he hath been under the water while, does rise again, and breath, so she coming to her self, and renewing her lamentations and cries, entreated those charitable people, to help her to carry her daughter to the City, and lay it before the sepulchre of the Saint. There like an animated coffin to the corps, which she held in her arms she so powerfully wept, and prayed, that the heat of her face dissolving deaths ice, she felt the could flesh, by the Saints intercession, become warm and pliable by little and little. The paleness in her face changed to a lively colour, and her lips and her cheeks were restored again to their coral, and roses, for her heart began to breath in her bosom, and her eyes receiving lustre & light, she opened them, and sighed very faintly.  
The daughter returning to life in this manner, made the mother sound for joy. The wonder and piety mixed with praises and thanks to the Saint, were such as were due for a miracle so stupendious, whereupon famed recounting the dead, the City of Padoua for many dayes together, resounded and echoed the applauses of the people.  
The greatness of our Saint discovering thus itself every day, seemed arrived at that height, that it could not be greater.  
But God, who when he honours his servant, prescribes not any limits to his graces, permitted while after, that with a greater miracle his merits were extolled.  
A rich, and young Gentleman of Vicenza being married to a Gentlewoman, that equalled him in all things, her wonderful beauty excepted, in which she surpassed him extremely, lead a very happy life for three years together, till he saw he wanted issue. From hence their grief beginning afflicted them much, when they saw the third year was expired, and the barrenness continued. They consulted the Physitians, used receipts, and changed the air, but in vain. Wherefore knowing their felicity would have been complete and perfect, if with this exception, Fortune had not been willing to make it defective, they conceived, that in order to this rule, they were to continue while in that state. The Husband therefore sadder then his wife, took no pleasure at all, either in the revolution of the seasons in pass-times, his studies, or mutation of places, so as grown pale and lean, and wanting sleep, and meat, he looked like the picture of grief, and discontent.  
In the pride of May often, when Heaven and Earth are disposed, to make all Creatures fruitful, and nothing but fertility is seen in every place he said sighing thus, what avails it me to see, that the ground brings forth flowers, and the boughs of the trees, and grots of the Earth, serve for nests to the birds, and dens for the beasts, and the mute fish themselves, near the shore of barren sands breed, and multiply abundantly, since I, who still water a plant, and cultivate, and manure it with all industry and care, can have no fruit of it? Shall therefore mankind, because I am not able to preserve it, be wholly lost to me? And the privileges of succession, which the beasts themselves enjoy, be denied to me alone? Where are those happy Men, who leaving lively memories of themselves, may boast they have as often obliged posterity, as are the individuals they have added to the World. Shall those that are poor, necessitous, and miserable abound with fair issue, and others that have wealth, content, and ease at will, have none to inherit them? O Stars, which across my wish. O strange disposition of things.  
So the Gentleman bewailed himself, who praying and frequenting the Churches( as one that was devoted to our Saint) by chance red one day in the Scripture, how Anne the wife of Elkanah making a vow( being barren) to consecrate h●r first born to God, was delivered of Samuel.  
Wherefore deeply imprinting this example in his mind( having vowed to St. Anthony to visit his sepulchre yearly, if by his intercession and merits, God would grant him a Son) nine moneths scarce expired, but his wife with unspeakable joy was delivered of a boy.  
To relate the care they had of his education, and the love, and affection they bare him, together with the hopes, which they had of his increase in virtue, is a thing altogether superfluous and needless.  
The Child being therefore acknowledged, as the mere effect of our Saints intercession, his parents very thankfully continued their devotion to him, and particularly the father gng yearly to satisfy his vow, never thought he could be grateful enough. Whereupon making happy with such acts of Religion the childes tender yeares, and beholding with astonishment, that he grew daily handsomer, and excellently fashioned for his age, the time was just come, to pay the annual tribute of his vow at the sepulchre of St. Anthony.  
His Son was now six years old and showing by the structure of his beautiful body, he was like to live long, he was the more dear to his Parents.  
Now the father being gone to perform his pious journey, who before he departed imprinted on his face, with the characters of kisses, the marks of a passionate affection, I know not by what means, the mother, who guarded him as the apple of her eye, let him go two dayes after, to play with other boyes in the Village, where they were at that time in the summer.  
The boyes therefore playing together in a ditch, that was dry, and served to water the field, by the unexpected coming of the stream, were so suddenly surprised that unable to help themselves, they were quickly all drowned.  
Behold how we loose in this World, in an instant, what in many years we hardly acquire. The servants who missed the Child sought him in every place with much anxiety and trouble, and at last found him drowned with the rest of the boyes, so as their lamentations and tears were such as we may easily imagine. Conceal, O my pen, the afflictions of the mother for 'twould be a cruelty, but to call them to remembrance. But that which most infinitely increased the circumstances of sorrow, was the return of the father at that time: to be forced and obliged in the very height of sadness, to repress and keep back tears on the sudden, and cloath with the appearance of joy( to hid the disaster from him) the anguish and pain of a languishing countenance, was to all the greatest torment, which humanity could suffer. But the father soon inquiring for his dearly beloved Anthony( for so he had name him, in acknowledgement of the favour received by our Saint) was necessary acquainted at last with the accident. He survived the news, for God by his particular assistance preserved his life, else he would have fallen dead without doubt.  
However his soul retiring from his eyes, and his lips, he could neither weep, nor speak but congealed, was insensible, and mute, differing little from a statue. Then crying out aloud he grew could, and then sweat, he ran, then stood still, and languished, seeking in his fury for a knife to kill himself, and looking for a window to throw out himself. But why with a single drop of ink, strive I to represent a vast Ocean of furies and agonies? Is it not a rude and barbarous thing, to ment the mind of others, with the dreadful imaginations of a Father, that hath lost his onely Son.  
Reader, few words. When he had paid that tribute of passions to his senses, which so great a disaster required, he caused the corps to be carried to the sepulchre of the Saint, and so powerfully prayed, that his Son was restored to life. And because the miracle may more clearly appear, at the very same instant, when his Son regained life, the children drowned with him, appeared there safe and sound, nor could it be known how they came to that place.  
Despair of drowning any, O rivers, with your inundations, for from the sacred tomb, where the ashes of our Saint are contained, flows a fountain of graces which restores again the life, ye destroy, and take away. Nor think ye, that because ye are rivers, ye are conquered by his power, for even the greatest Oceans submit to his force.  
In the City of lisbon lived a sister of St. Anthony, who married to a Gentleman of quality, had a Son called Parisius. To relate her sweet conditions, 'tis enough that she had the same Mother with our Saint, and though no other Character she had had, then that alone of such consanguinity with him, 'twas enough to make her famous to the World, not only to lisbon. To hear still the glories of her Brother, and see his name respected by all, obliged her to consider, how a person so related to her, in so short a space of time, had ascended to that merit. Then calling to her memory his presence, and shape, his civility, behaviour, and the innocent adventures which befell them, while they lived together in the house of their Father, she felt she was transported in that manner with devotion, that sighing from the bottom of her heart, she spake thus. Ah, whither art thou gone O my Brother? and where hast thou left t●y dear Sister, whom thou lovedst so affectionately here? Dost thou, who full of splendour, art made a Star in Heaven, and casting down thy eye from above, beholdest how the Men, thy intercessions have obliged, do thank God for thee, remember thy Sister, and family. Ah, if my relation to thee, can incline thee to favour me, give me leave I beseech thee, to commend my soul and body to thee, our Parents, my Husband, and my Son, for whom I particularly entreat thee. Ah, do thou, I pray thee who seest in the glass of divinity, what fortune will befall him, what good, and bad successses he shall meet with, how long he shall live, and what end he shall have, assist him, and cause, that he taking example from thee, may no ways degenerate from thy blood, in his duty, and devotion to Heaven, and imitation of thy footsteps.  
So spake the good Gentlewoman, who distilled devout tears out of tenderness, and desiring to educate her Son, with all Christian diligence, that was possible, took no greater pleasure and content, then to graft virtuous qualities in his mind.  
Now when he was arrived near the end of ten years, and began to be fashioned, and active, he, to divert himself took aboat with his companions, and rowed up and down the Seacoast.  
The Sea was very calm, and treacherously concealing a tempest, invited them abroad, but a storm on the sudden arising, turned the boat topsy turvy, and drowned them.  
The rowers themselves would have all been likewise lost, if nature instructing them to repel force by force, they had not by swimming preserved themselves. But Parisius unacquainted with that art, soon perished in the waters.  
The report of that disaster being carried on the wings of the wind, which had raised the tempest, immediately arrived at the ears of his Parents. Whereupon his father hastening with all speed to the shore, caused some fishermen to search for the body of his son. Every one may imagine how he grieved in the mean time, and wept, especially when he saw for along time together, they could not find the body. O God! To what disastrous trials of affection, is a father often subject, and reserved. The carcase being found in the end, 'tis compassion to conceal the afflictions of the mother.  
He had been kept a day, and a night in the house, and beginning now to putrifie; the Priests and the Friars were come to convey him to the grave, when his divout mother, who had never ceased weeping and praying, renewed her tears, and prayers to the Saint, and so passionately and earnestly besought him( promising if he revived to make him a friar of his Seraphical Order) that he moved by her tears, obtained his life of God, causing him in the presence of many standards by to rise and live again.  
So Parisius restored to the light of the World, when he was of an age to perform his mothers vow, took the habit of St. Francis, and in a sacred cloister living virtuously, and exemplarily, dyed many years after very holily there.   

The fourth Chapter.  
THere is no greater wonder to me, then to consider, that a Gentleman in an eminent condition, is as subject to mortality as the meanest, and most miserable person. He is born great and noble, though 'tis not his merit, but good luck, to be born so, and swaddled in clothes, which for beauty, and value may contend with Heavens zones, no sooner begins to cry out in his cradle, but many Servants waiting upon him, stand ready about him, to remove all disturbance, and annoyance from him.  
Then brought up with qualities, which are so rare, and exquisite, they pretend not as it were, to be Earthly, he arrives not at the years of understanding & reason, but seeing among other humble houses, his own, like a giant, obtain the name of a palace, and beholding the walls clothed with proud and stately hangings( but the Churches, of God unfurnisht and bare) and minding onely household-stuffe, plate, attendance, obsequiousness, and the homages of all he beholds, he thinks himself divine and immortal.  
With a high, and lofty forehead, a proud look and haughty behaviour, he disdains to cast his eyes on the Earth, being afraid with an humble aspect, to prejudice, and diminish the nobility he boasts of. Now if he should be asked, if his skin and flesh be penetrable, and subject to corruption, his blood read like others, and he liable to passions, to anguish, diseases, and miseries, as the vilest of Creatures, what answer could he possibly give? Is it not a madness worthy of laughter, like that of Democritus, to see, that a Man, who differs not from the poor in the manner of his birth & his sorrows, and hath as much need of air to breath in, of light to look about him, of meat to sustain him, and cloath to apparel him, as the greatest beggar living, whose wit, and whose senses are equal, and often inferior to the despicablest person, because he differs from him in fortune( then which there is nothing more instable, and more transitory) should be so far above him in his thoughts, as to scorn to converse with him? Since therefore 'tis a truth, that the greatest persons living are subject to miseries, it will not be strange, that Aldonza the Infanta of Portugall was sick.  
The Heiress of that Kingdom, and delight of her Parents, had afflicted all with her malady, and forced the eyes of all to bewail her infirmity.  
How could a disease invade those royal lodgings, where Men, because feigned, do serve instead of Tapistries, and Tapistries, because ply able, show how Men should live in Courts? Could not the cloth of State, with that majestic pomp, preserve her in health, whom the titles of Highness and Serenity, do tickle with a seeming immortality?  
Now the sickness of the Infanta Aldonza being so much the more grievous, because the more unknown, the famousest Physitians of Europe were sent for to lisbon, who tormenting her with several medicines, instead of assisting her, did her very much harm. She therefore consuming by little and little, being equally deprived of hope, and remedy, shewed the ruins and decay of that beauty, which had made her seem an Angel to all that beholded her. But the flesh being gone from her cheeks, which before were fresh, and flourishing Aprills of humanity, and the lustre of her eyes, from which the Stars acknowledged their brightness, grown dim, and obscured, she looked like a skeleton covered over with skin, and consuming made a tomb for her self of her bones. Whereupon if her Parents wept much, and particularly the Queen was dying every minute of grief, 'tis as easy to believe, as probable to imagine.  
But they with the rest of the Court, had their sorrow increased, when the Infanta very weak, exhausted, and fainting, was little less then dead. Then Teresa( for so the Queen her Mother was called) growing strong by despair, kneeled down on the ground, and lifting up her eyes towards Heaven, said thus.  
St. Anthony, who in so many parts of the World, both in life, and in death, hast assisted, afflicted and disconsolate persons, comfort me now, who, while thou wast alive, was, as I am now, thy faithful humble Servant. Comfort me a sad, and most sorrowful Mother, for the death of my daughter, who still was devoted to thee. O Saint, who in Italy, hast restored so many dead unto life, free from death my Daughter, the Heiress of the Kingdom thou wast born in.  
And pursuing her prayers, with expressions and tears, which would have moved a ston to compassion, she entreated so the Saint, that by divine favour he appearing to the Infanta, said thus unto her. Behold O Daughter, by the prayers of thy Mother, God sends me to tell thee, it is at thy choice, to go now to Heaven with me, or for the consolation of the Kingdom, to remain still alive in the World.  
Aldonza at these words returning to herself, opened her eyes with wonder and joy, and seeing her advocate, which none else beholded, humbly answered in this manner. Since God, O my blessed Protector, by thy intercession and means is pleased to give me liberty, to go with thee to Heaven, or remain still on Earth, I refuse not the one, nor dislike of the other. But if for the comfort of my dear and affectionate Mother, thou wouldst have me live a little while longer, I will willingly do so.  
Then do so, O my Daughter, St. Anthony replied, and giving her a cord said kiss this cord in witness of thy health, which she taking into her hand, as if she had awaked out of a very great sleep, broke out in this manner. Behold my dear Mother, the glorious St. Anthony gives me his cord to kiss, and together with my life, hath obtained my health. But the Queen seeing no body there, knew her daughter was recovered by the Saints intercession.  
Whereupon all the Kingdom extoling the miracle, the People no less shewed their gladness, in honour of the Saint, then in memory of the favour the Infanta had rec●ived.  
So the bonfires, and other signs of joy, which daily were resplendent, in the testimony of the holiness of our Saint, made every one hope to have a Protector in Heaven, which never would abandon them. But the Devil, who, like a Serpent, the more he is trodden on, the more he is incensed, and angry, omitting no attempt for the gaining of souls, did all in his power, to cause as much ill to mankind, as our Saint had done good.  
In Santareno a Village in Portugall resided a Woman, who violating her faith as often to her husband, as she had opportunities of being dishonest, was so shameless in sinning, she supposed not that adultery redounded to her infamy, but rather was a credit, and a grace unto her, making therefore that progress in her sins, that she thought no repentance could cancel them, she began to reflect on the glory of Heaven, and the happiness she had lost, by such vile and wicked courses.  
Being sad then, and pensive, and having many tempests in her mind, she was altogether unacquainted with repose. To weep, beat her breast, ask pardon of God, figh, fast, and not sleep, were her daily entertainments, so as grown lean, and meager, she seemed not the same dissolute person, who before was so beautiful, and merry.  
Often at midnight, when silence made the tyrant of Darkness, invaded with sleep the liberty of her eyes, she seeing in a drea●… all the horrors of hell, was so melancholy and sad, that she thought she could obtain no forgiveness of God, unless in satisfaction of her errors, she made away her self.  
Being therefore accustomed to nourish such thoughts, she mused on nothing, but poisons, knives, halters, precipices, and drownings, but yet in the midst of these frights remembering St. Anthony, to whom she had always been devoted, she earnestly recommended her self to his help and protection.  
But the Devil perceiving, she was fairly advanced in the way of despair, very diligently solicited the loss of her soul, appearing one day unto her in the form of a crucifix, and showing her his head crowned with thorns, his hands, and his feet gored with nails, his side pierced with a lance, his heart distilling water and blood, and his body black and blew, and wounded all over.  
Behold he said, O Woman, what I, to redeem thee, have endured, and yet thou ingratefull for all this great love, hast not ceased to offend me with thy infinite transgressions. Now since thy offences are incapable of pardon, except by thy death, I love thee so well, because thou art my Creature, that I come here in person to tell thee, if out of contrition thou wilt drown thyself in Tagus, soon after thy death I'll receive thee into glory.  
Having said, he vanished, and leaving only horror, and dreadfulness behind him, infected the Air.  
Now when the poor woman had seen so strange a vision, we may easily imagine how afflicted she remained, who quickly would have followed his counsel, if her Angel Guardian withholding her invisibly, she had not thought it best, to defer it for a while. So while she sighed and sob'd, being irresolute what to do, her husband unexpectedly arriving, and inquiring the cause of her sadness was informed of all, and hearing the visions of crucifixes, and the counsel that was given her, to go and drown her self, reproved her sharply, and telling her she was mad, and possessed, put her so into despair, that she went to throw her self into the river.  
That day by good fortune, was the feast of St. Anthony, whereupon as she passed that way, I know not by what means, she went into his Church, and kneeling at the Altar, prayed devoutly to him, that he would reveal it to her, if ●… t was the will of God, she should drown her self, or no. The throngs of the people, which came, and went away, the ornaments, the lights, the music, and incense should have been sufficient arguments to cheer and encourage her, yet she bathing her prayers with her tears, and looking so pale, and so sad, as would have even softened a diamond itself, she so wearied her self with praying that she falling asleep, heard the Saint speak to her in this manner, look in thy lap for a writing, which as soon as thou hast red, thou shalt be free from all diabolical vexation.  
The woman awaking; and finding in her lap the writing aforesaid, saw it was of this tenor, Behold the wood of the across, fly ye adverse parties, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah hath o'ercome, Alleluja Alleluja.  
She no sooner had done reading those words( O wonder of our Saint) but finding her self restored to her former condition, chac't away the extravagant vision, and knew it was only a deceit of the Devil. Whereupon giving thanks to the Saint with the powers of her soul, she returned safe and joyful to her home, and relating the business to her incredulous husband, and showing him the writing, did not cease to praise her advocate.  
That heavenly note was an invisible Key, which opening her husbands understanding, made him fully comprehend, that his wife was set at liberty by the miracle of our Saint, so as he going instantly to the King, acquainted him with it, who desirous to see it, made him bring it to him with all speed.  
But no sooner the woman was deprived of the paper, which as a white shield made in heaven, defended her from evil, and infernal opppression, but the devil returning upon her, began more then ever to torment her. Her Husband knew the cause of her sufferings, whereupon he humbly begged of the King to restore that holy writing, but could not prevail, for the King having tried it on some women possessed with miraculous effect, preserved it as a relic, and laid it up carefully amongst his choicest things.  
This his cruelty to the woman seeming strange unto many, some friars of St. Francis repaired to his Majesty to entreat him at least to give her a copy of the writing, to which he consenting, she no sooner had the same, but with a greater wonder then the former, found her self quiter recovered.  
Wherefore all giving thanks to the Saint, for the space of twenty years which she afterwards lived very penitently and well, she never more was troubled at all.  
But though Portugal assisted in this manner by our Saint, did not make the rest of Europe repined, and envy it, yet Italy still desirous of his favours, the more it received every day, the more thirsted after them.  
In Padoua was a building, which seated on the one side: near the famous physic Garden, and near two noble Churches on the other, the Saints, and St. Justines was commonly called il Maglio.  
This fabric made the storehouse for the public defence, besides many pieces of brass, had a very great quantity of powder, which was kept in the bowels of a very strong tower.  
O dreadful seed of death, found out by mans wit, as if the act of dying, grown barren by long use, had wanted fertility to contrive our destruction.  
Now the powder taking fire by some accident, sent a great cloud of smoke into the air, which forerunning the destruction that ensued, made the Sun mourn for pitty. Two dreadful claps of thunder following after, which for many miles together, made deaf the inhabitants, overthrew both the tower, and the buildings, and with the great force of the blow, ruined many great houses, and palaces thereabouts.  
To see fly to Heaven, huge stones, long beams, tiles, iron, great planks, Men, and beasts, with many other ponderous implements, and to see, that all these things mixed with smoke, and with dust, like a deluge of destruction, rained down on the river, and the neighbouring Monasteries, breaking roofs, and spoiling walls, was to be a Spectator of the end of the World.  
The padovans therefore pale, and half dead, had not force to cry out, but immovable like statues( having paid the first motions to humanity by their tears) fell a running towards the ruins.  
And behold( though yet butted in the darkness, and dust) a piazza is presented to their eyes in that place, where a little before many houses appeared, which in the heaps of timber and Stones, shewed the horrid confusion of the mixture, and posture of things, yet the horror was as great, as was the destruction, with which it was covered.  
The cries and tears of them, who bewailed their buried Parents, and the goods they had lost,( adding misery by this means to the fearful disaster) made it dreadfuller, and more lamentable.  
The Magistrates therefore causing the ruins to be searched, to fish as it were for dead bodies in a sea whose waves were broken stones, among others crushed to pieces, under a great heap of rubbish six foot high, found two children killed and smothered.  
The one was a boy of three years old, whose name was Francis Anthony, the Son of a cobbler, and the other called Mary, a girl of that age, a poor Stone-cutters Daughter.  
Being received into the arms of their Parents, who is able to conceive without sorrow, how they wept, and lamented over them! The children in their bosoms had enclosed their Fathers hearts, so as 'tis not strange, that they grieved without end.  
They, carried one after another to the ark of the Saint, with a faith that was able, to remove the very Mountains themselves, after long and earnest prayers, were restored both to life, of which authentic process being made( it happening in the Year 1617. on the 24th. of May) gave occasion to our age of great wonder and devotion▪   
FI●●S.