THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Sr. THOMAS MOOR, WHO WAS LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND TO KING HENRY THE EIGHT. Printed for N.Y. 1642 The Preface to the Reader. 1. AS I cannot but daily think of the rare and admirable virtues both of nature and grace, The end and scope of this work: which did shine most perspicuously in the blessed life and glorious death of that worthy Champion of Christ's Church Sr. THOMAS MORE; so also have I often had an earnest desire, especially for the spiritual behoof of myself and my Children (who are as small brooks derived by natural propagation from that spacious sea of rare perfections; or like tender twigs drawing sap from the fruitful root of his noble excellencies) to give them a taste, according to my poor ability, of some few of his most heroical virtues; professing myself utterly unable to set down his life in writing, as he deserveth. Though beyond my ability and capacity▪ 2. For if that Apelles the principal painter that ever lived, was thought only fit to draw with his pencil the pourtraicture of Alexander the Great; or if Lysippus the most curious engraver was the only man, which was suffered to carve in brass the beauteous feature of the same so worthy a personage; for fear lest that some unskilful workman might rather blemish his favour, than any ways grace it: what courage can I have to undertake a work of so great difficulty as this, who know myself a very puney in comparison of so many famous men, that have undergone this business already, finding in the very beginning of this mine enterprise my small capacity overwhelmed with the plenty and copiousness of this subject? and if I should boast my wit and skill to be equal with learned Stapleton's, who at large and with great diligence and dexterity hath set forth the life of this great servant of God in his book entitled The three Thomases, I should, vanish away in mine own pride, knowing myself right well most unworthy to be compared unto him; or if I should challenge unto myself more certainty of the matter related, than my great uncle Mr. William Rooper could have, every one might judge me both vain and arrogant, of whose sincerity none that ever knew him or heard of him, can doubt, I being the third in descent from S. THOMAS, and he his owe sonne-in law, with whom he had familiarly conversed y space of sixteen years together, as he himself confesseth; Yet undertaken out of zeal and love to the memory of S. Th. M. yet for all this I have now at last ventured to discourse a little of the life and death of this glorious Martyr (for so without envy I hope I may call him) non ut electus ex multis, sed quasi relictus ex omnibus, not as one that may be thought fit to set his life forth with good grace, but as he, who only upon a natural affection to his Ancestor, trusting chiefly of God's aid, and this Saints holy prayers, is emboldened to say somewhat thereof; this being one property of affection, to suppose, that whosoever hath spoken, or whatsoever hath been said of him, whom we love, all that we think nothing, if we ourselves have not said somewhat in his praise; although (alas) we are often the unfittest men for that purpose, we being not able to utter what we conceive, because our passion taketh away much of our conceit; and therefore we utter for the most part either broken words, or unperfect sentences, more intelligible to him, that searcheth the secrets of men's hearts, then to others that hear them spoken, or read them in our writings. And for special cause known to myself alone. 3. But one may ask me, why I should challenge more affection to this man, than any other of my kin, of whom few or none have endeavoured to write any thing hitherto; I answer, that though I have had more cause perhaps then any man else to love him, and honour him, which is best known to myself, and not fit to be related unto all men, secretum meum mihi; yet will I not ascribe to myself so great a privilege of loving him best, I being the youngest and meanest of all my family; let this suffice him, that is a curious searcher of this my deed, that as Doctor Stapleton was moved to take pains in setting forth the actions of S. THOMAS MORE, because he was borne in the very same month and year, wherein he suffered his glorious martyrdom; As also for being borne on the day of his martyrdom▪ so was I borne anew and regenerated by the holy Sacrament of Baptism on the very same day (though many years after) on which Sr. THOMAS MORE entered heaven triumphant, to wit, on the sixth day of july And therefore have I had some special confidence of his particular furtherance and blessing. For how, I pray you, could I ever have hoped to have lived as heir of Sr. THOMAS his family, And by his prayers having the honour to be the heir of his family. and to enjoy at this time some part of his inheritance, all which by his attainder he had lost utterly from himself and his children, if his prayers had not, as it were begged it at God's hands? besides I was the youngest of thirteen children of my father, the last & meanest of five sons, four of which lived to men's estate; and yet it hath been God's holy pleasure, to bestow this in heritance upon me; which though perhaps I have no cause to boast of, because it may be a punishment unto me for my faults, if I use it not well, and a burden which may weigh me down full deep; yet will the world conjecture it to be a great blessing of God, and so I ought to acknowledge it: And although I know myself the unfittest and unworthiest of all the four to manage this estate, yet they either loathed the world, before the world fawned on them, living in voluntary contempt thereof, and died happy souls, in that they chose to be accounted abject in the sight of men; or else they utterly cast of all care of earthly trash, by professing a straight and religious life, for fear lest the dangerous perils of worldly wealth might gall their souls, and the number of snares, which hang in every corner of this world, might entrap them to the endangering of their eternal salvation; and left me poor soul to sink or swim, or, as I can, wade out of these dangerous whirl pools, amongsts which we worldlings are ingulphed; the multitude of which eminent perils do force me to cry first and chiefly to CHRIST JESUS: saying with his Apostles: Lord, save me, for I am in danger of drowning; and then also to crave the especial assistance of Sr. THOMAS MORE his prayers, by whose intercession I hope to wafte this my poor bark unto her assured haven of heaven, though shaken and crushed with wind and weather. 4. But none of us must think, Not presuming only vpon his merits: that his assistance is all, we must put our own helping hands thereto: Nangenus & proavos, & quae non fecimus ipsi Vix ea nostra voco.— his merits are not our warrant, yea rather his examples have laid a greater load on the backs of his posterity, in that we are bound to imitate his actions more than any other, or else more harm will fall upon us, because we have not followed the foot steps of our worthy Forefather, Which lay à greater burden of imitation upon us; according as Moses commanded the Israelites saying in his Canticle: Interroga patrem tuum, & annunciabit tibi; maiores tuos, & di●ent tibi; which the Apostle also counselleth Christians in these words: Quorum videntes Conuersationem, imitaminifidem. But should I therefore wish I had not been his Grandchild, because I have incurred a greater bond, and shall run into greater infamy, by forsaking my duty? noe; God forbid; yea rather this will I boldly affirm, not upon vain glory, but upon the confidence I have of this singular man's blessing; if God would have given me choice, before he created me of nothing, weather I would be the son of some famous Emperor, magnificent King, noble Duke, courageous Lord, or his, whose I was, I would most willingly have chosen to be the same I am (to Gods eternal glory be it spoken.) But trusting vpon his prayers: and setting his life & death as a sampler before our eyes. 5. Wherefore relying upon the assistance of this most excellent Saint, I will endeavour briefly to set down for mine own instruction, and my children's, the life & death of Sr. THOMAS MORE; who was as a bright star of our Country in the tempestuous storms of persecution, in which we sail to our heavenly City; on whom God heaped a number of most singular endewments; as, abundance of wit, profound wisdom, happy discretion, perfect justice, exceeding Temperance, sweet affability, and all excellencies of nature and morality, besides supernatural and Theological gifts; as, Charity in a high degree, both towards God and his neighbour, a Faith most constant, which would not be daunted with any threats or disgraces, that his Prince or Counselors could thunder out against him, nay not with death itself; a magnanimity not to be overcome either by fear of any losses, or hope of any dignities; religion and such devotion as scarcely could be looked for in any of a lay profession; which perfections began to shine in his infancy, and continued in the progress of his actions, and did not end, but increased by his most glorious death which was an entrance into a most happy kingdom, wherein he both can and will have compassion and help us in these our miseries; because he was raised by God to be one of the first famous warriors in this our long persecution. Wherefore he may worthily be set before our eyes, as a perfect pattern and lively example to be imitated by us: for he had more to lose, than most men in the land, being second to none but to the Chiefest, either in worldly dignity, or his Prince's favour; and yet did he willingly forgo all, yea life itself, rather than to wrong his Conscience, in consenting to any thing against the law of God, and justice, as by this ensuing discourse will particularly appear. THE FIRST CHAPTER. SIR THOMAS MOOR'S parentage, birth, education; studies and first employments of youth. 1. Sir Tho. Moor's parents, and their noble descent. 2. The place, day, and year of Sir Th. Mor. birth. 3. Sir T. M. his first studies. 4. Sir T. M. his first works or writings. 5. His mortifications and penances. 6. His devotions, and prayers. 7. His diet and apparel. 8. His pleasant and discreet dissimulation of his virtues. 1. S. Thom. Moor's parentage and nobility. SIR THOMAS MORE was the only son of Sir john More knight, one of the justices of the king's Bench a singular man for many rare perfections, S. john Moor Knight, father of Sir Thomas, and his virtues. which his son setteth down in his own Epitaph extant amongst his Latin Works, terming his father a man Civil, that is to say, Courteous and affable to all men; sweet and pleasant in Conversation, that is, full of merry conceits and witty jests; innocent and harmless, to wit, neither desirous of revenge, nor maligning any for his own private gain; meek and gentle, that is to say, of an humble carriage in his office and dignity; merciefull and pitiful, that is, bountiefull to the poor, and full of compassion towards all distressed persons; just and uncorrupted, which are the aptest titles and epithets that can be given to a judge, as if he would say, that he was never moved with friendship, stirred up with hope of gain, nor wrested by any threats, but still performed his duty, and that he shut up always his left eye to all affection of friendship, and from all bribery. Cambden also reporteth of him for proof of his pleasantness of wit, that he would compare the multitude of women, which are to be chosen for wives, unto a bag full of snakes, having amongst them but one eel; now if a man should put his hand into this bag, he may chance to light on the eel, but it is a hundred to one he shall be stung with a snake. Many such like witty similitudes would he use in his private discourses, and in public auditory. By these his perfections of wit and grace one might guess that this Child was likely to prove singular, having so good a father; Descended of ancient gentry. but he far surpassed him in all these and many more excellencies; so that our Family hath been much more dignified by this son, than he any way drew worth and dignity from his Ancestors; the consideration whereof hath caused many to think and say that SIR THOMAS was of mean parentage, and the first of his house; yea some have not stuck to write, by birth no gentleman; grounding their error upon these words, which he setteth down in his Epitaphe: Thomas More, borne of no noble family, but of an honest stock; which is true as we here in England take Nobility and Noble; For none under à Baron (except he be of the Privy Council) doth challenge it; and in this sense he meaneth it: but as the Latin word Nobilis is taken in other Countries for Gentry, it was otherwise. For judge More bare Arms from his birth, having his Coat quartered, which doth argue that he came to his inheritannce by descent, and therefore although by reason of king Henry's seizure of all our Evidences we cannot certainly tell, who were Sir John's Ancestors, yet must they needs be Gentlemen; and, as I have heard, they either came out of the Moors of Ireland, or they of Ireland came out of us. And as for SIR THOMAS, he was, as I have said, a Knight's eldest son, and sole heir to a judge of this realm. But whatsoever the Family was or is, if Virtue can ennoble any, surely it hath by these two excellent men been made much more to be respected▪ yet if we, as God forbid we should, degenerate from their footestepps, we may cause it soon to be base & of small reckoning, vice being the chief stain, that tainteth even the noblest Families. The name of SIR THOMAS his mother was Hand●ombe of Holiewell in the County of Bedford; Sir Tho. Moor's mother, a very virtuous gentle woman. yet Doctor Stapleton had not heard so much, who saith: that her name was unknown; by reason of which words some have taken great exceptions, as though she had been a base woman, though he doth in the same place tell this reason thereof, because she died soon after she had brought forth this child; but to have been a woman of more than ordinary virtue, that, Her vision concerning her children, and especially Sir Thomas. which Doctor Clement reporteth from SIR THOMAS his own mouth of a vision which she had the next night after her marriage, seemeth, in my judgement, forcible to argue; in which she saw in her sleep, as it were engraven in her wedding ring the number and favour of all her children she was to have, whereof the face of one was so dark and obscure that she could not well discern it, and indeed afterwards she suffered of one of her children an untimely delivery; but the face of one of her other, she beheld shining most gloriously, whereby no doubt Sir THOMAS his fame and sanctity was foreshened and presignifyed. She brought forth before him to Sir john two daughters, one called jane, afterwards married to à noble gentleman Mr. Richard Staffreton, & Elizabeth, wife to the worthy gentleman Mr. john Rastall, judge rastal's father. Sir john Moor his second wife, out lived Sir Thomas. Sir john after his first wife's death, married successively two others, whereof the last, as I have heard, was called Alice one of the Moors of Surrey, and great aunt to Sir William More, whose son, now living, is Sir George, lieftennant of the Tower, a man little inferior to his noble Anncestours, if his religion were answerable to theirs. This Lady outlived her son in law Sir THOMAS, dwelling upon her jointure in Hartfordshire at a Capital message then called More-place, now Gubbons, in the parish of Northmimes; but being a little before her death thrust out of all by king Henry's fury, she died at Northall a mile from thence, and lieth buried in the church there. 2. 2. The place and time of S. Th. Mor. birth. Sir THOMAS MORE was borne at London in Milk-street, (where the judge his father for the most part dwelled) in the year of our Lord 1480. in the twentieth year of Edward the Fourth. Shortly after his birth God would show by another sign, An euident danger strangely escaped in his childhood. how dear this babe was unto him. For his nurse chancing to ride with him over à water, and her horse stepping aside into a deep place, put both her and her Child in great danger and jeopardy; whose harms she seeking suddenly to prevent, threw the infant over a hedge into a field near adjoining; and after by God's help escaping safe also, when she came to take him up again, she found him to have no hurt at all, but sweetly smiled upon her; that it might well be said of him: Angelis suis Deus mandavit de te, ne forte offendas ad lapidem pedem tuum; and not his foot only, but his whole body. 3. 3. His first studies & employments. This was no doubt a happy presage of his future holiness; and put his parents in mind that he was that shining Child, of whom his mother had that former vision; wherefore his father had the greater care to bring him up in learning, as soon as his tender age would permit it; and so he put him to the Free-school of London called S. In S. Anthony's school in London. Anthony's, where he had a famous and learned man called Nicolas Holt for his master, under whom when he had rather greedily devoured then leisurely chewed his Grammar rules, he outstripped far both in towardness of wit, and diligence of endeavours, all his school fellows, with whom he was matched. In Cardinal Moortons' house. And being borne to far greater matters, his father procured him to be placed shortly after in the house of the most worthy prelate that then lived in England both for wisdom, learning and virtue, whose like, the world scarcely had, The praise of the L. Cardinal. Cardinal Morton Archbishopp of Canterbury, and Lord high Chancellor of England, whose grave countenance and carriage was such that he easily alured all men to honour and love him; a man (as Sir THOMAS MORE describeth him in his Utopia) of incomparable judgement, a memory more than is credible, eloquent in speech, and, which is most to be wished in Clergiemen, of singular wisdom and virtue; so that the King and the Common wealth relied chiefly upon this man's counsel, as he, by whose policy King Henry the Seaventh both got the Crown of England from Richard the third the usurper, and also most happily procured the two houses of Lancaster and York to be united by marriage. In this famous man's house this youth learned most diligently abundance of wisdom and virtue; S. Thom. Moor his towardlynes in the Cardinals retinue. and now he began to show to the world, what man he was likely to prove. For the Cardinal often would make trial of his pregnant wit, especially at Christmas merriments, when having plays for recreation this youth would suddenly step up amongst the players, and never studying before upon the matter, make often a part of his own invention, which was so witty and so full of jests, that he alone made more sport and laughter, than all the players besides; for which his towardlienesse the Cardinal delighted much in him, and would often say of him unto divers of the Nobility, who at sundry times dined with him, that that boy there waiting on him, whosoever should live to see it, would prove a marvellous rare man. The Cardinal sendeth him to Oxenford. But when this most reverend Prelate saw, that he could not profit so much in his house, as he desired, where there were many distractions of public affairs, having great care of his bringing up, he sent him to the University, and placed him in Canterbury-Colledge at Oxford, now called Christs-church; where, in two years' space that he remained there, he profited exceedingly in Rhetoric, Logic and Philosophy; and showed evidently, what wonders, wit and diligence can perform, when they are joined, as seldom they are, in one painful student. Brought up there nearly & austerly by his father. There his whole mind was set on his book; for in his allowance his father kept him very short, suffering him scarcely to have so much money in his own custody, as would pay for the mending of his apparel; even no more than necessity required; and of his expenses he would exact of him a particular account, which course of his fathers he would often both speak of, and praise it, when he came to riper years; affirming that by this means he was kerbed from all vice, and withdrawn from many idle expenses either of gayming or keeping naughty company, so that he knew neither play nor other riot, wherein most young men in these our lamentable days plunge themselves too timely, to the utter overthrow as well of learning and future virtue, as their temporal estates. This strictness of his father increased in him also a great reverence and obedience after unto him again; The great reverence which he always bare to his father. in so much that in all his life after he was so dutiefull unto him, that he never offended nor contradicted him in any the least word or action, still showing towards him admirable deeds of humility, even at that time, when in the eye of the world, he far surpassed his father in dignity, which may be seen, by ask him blessing everieday duly, even after he was Lord Chancellor of England; and when he and his father met publicly at Lincolns-inn, or other where, he would still offer him the place of precedence, though the judge by reason of his son's office did still refuse it; such was the piety and submissive mind of this humble man; such again was the provident care of the father towards his son, that one can hardly guess, which of the two were more worthy, the father of such a son, or the son of such a father; yet I judge the father more happy, that enjoyed such an admirable son, and wish that my Children may imitate in this kind their virtuous Anncestours. 4. His first works and writes. 4. When this towardly youth was come to the age of eighteen years, he began to show to the world his ripeness of wit; for he wrote many witty and goodly Epigrams, which are to be seen in the beginning of his English Works; he composed also many pretty and elegant verses of the Vanity of this life, and the inconstancy thereof, which his father caused to be set up with pictures and pageants, which are also in the beginning of his great English Volume; he translated for his exercise one of Lucian's Orations out of Greek into Latin, which he calleth his first fruits of the Greek tongue, and thereto he added another Oration of his own, to answer that of Lucian's; for as he defended him who had slain a tyrant, he opposeth against it another with such forcible arguments, that this seemeth not to give place to Lucian either in invention or eloquence. As concerning his divers Latin Epigrams, How much esteemed of by learned men. which he either translated out of Greek into Latin, or else composed of his own: many famous authors, that then lived, do make mention of them with great praise. For Beatus Rhenanus in his epistle to Bilibaldus Pitcheimerus writeth thus: THOMAS MORE is marvellous in every respect; for he compoundeth most eloquently, and translateth most happily: how sweetly do his verses flow from him? how nothing in them seemeth constrained? how easy are all things there that he speaketh of? nothing is hard, nothing rugged, nothing obscure; he is pure, he is witty, he is elegant; besides he doth temper all things with mirth, as that I never read a merrier man. I could think that the Muses have heaped upon him loan all they pleasant conceits and witty merriments; moreover his quips are not biting, but full of pleasantness and very proper, yea rather any thing then stinging; for he ieasteth, but without mordacitie; he scoffeth, yet without contumely. The like judgement of his Epigrams doth that famous Poëte Leodgarius à Quercu, public Reader of Humanity in Paris, give, and that not so much by his words as by his deeds. For he having gathered of the Epigrams of divers famous men a Collection, he hath set out more Epigrams of Sir THOMAS MORE'S, then of any other writer: yet because rareness of any excellent quality is still envied by some man or other, one Brixius a German, wrote a book against these Epigrams of Sir THOMAS MORE's, Aquarrel stirred up between him and Germanus Brixius; which he called Antimorus; with such commendation, that Erasmus earnestly besought Sir THOMAS, that he would not overwhelm his friend Brixius with such an answer, as his rashness deserved; adding this of this his foolish book Antimorus: I hear what learned men speak of Brixius now after he hath written his Antimore, which as I hear it not willingly of him, so would I less willingly hear them so speak of you; wherefore seeing I perceive how hard a matter it is to temper an answer to so spiteful a book, but that you must give some scope unto your passions, I deem it best for you not to regard, but wholly to contemn the matter; yet this I would not counsel you, my best friend, to do, if there were any thing in that malicious Antimore, which did truly blemish your fame, so that it were necessary for you to wipe it away, etc. Easily given over by S. Th. Moor. Which friendly counsel Sir THOMAS MORE in some sort followed; for although he had answered Brixius fully in a little treatise, which already he had published, before Erasmus his letter came to his hands; yet upon the receipt thereof, he endeavoured by all the means he could to get all the Copies again into his hands, and so to suppress the book; so that it is now very hardly to be found; though some have seen it of late. And Sir THOMAS sent Erasmus a letter to this effect, that although Brixius by his malicious book had endeavoured so much to disgrace him, that he wanted no will but skill and power to overthrow his fame utterly, yet this should prevail more with him, that Brixius was friend to Erasmus, then that he was his own enemy. Which kind of answer showeth expressly, how easy he was to forgive injuries, especially this being such a one as touched him so near in his reputation; following herein the counsel of Christ himself in the gospel of S. Matthew, who saith: Love your enemies, and do good to them that hate you, that you may be the true imitators of God, who causeth the son to shine as well upon the wicked, as upon the just. But can we think so heroical an act in so young years (for he was not now of the full age of twenty) could proceed from one, who had not been practised before in the school of Christ, and in the earnest search of perfection? surely no, for this young man had even from his infancy laboured with allmight and main to enrich himself with virtues; knowing that learning without virtue is to set precious stones in rotten wood, and, as the wise man saith, a gold ring in a hags snout. 5. 5. His Mortifications When he was about eighteen or twenty years old, finding his body by reason of his years most rebellious, he sought diligently to tame his unbridled concupiscence by wonderful works of mortification. Hearshirt. He used oftentimes to wear a sharp shirt of hair next his skin, which he never left of wholly; no, not when he was Lo: Chancellor of England: Which my grandmother on a time in the heat of summer espying, laughed at, not being much sensible of such kind of spiritual exercises, being carried away in her youth with the bravery of the world, and not knowing quae sunt spiritus, wherein the true wisdom of a Christian man consisteth. He added also to this austerity a discipline every friday and high fasting days, thinking that such cheer was the best he could bestow upon his rebellious body, rather than that the handmaid sensuality should grow too insolent over her mistress Reason, having learned the true interpretation of these words of Christ: He that hateth his life in this world, Watching & fasting. keepeth it for life everlasting. He used also much fasting and watching, lying often either upon the bare ground or upon some bench, or laying some log under his head, allotting himself but four or five hours in a night at the most for his sleep, imagining with the holy Saints of Christ's Church, that his body was to be used like an ass, with strokes and hard fare, lest provender might prick it, and so bring his soul like a headstrong jade into the bottomless pit of hell. For chastity, especially in youth, is a lingering martyrdom, and these are the best means to preserve her from the dangerous gulf of evil custom; but he is the best soldier in this fight, that can run fastest away from himself, this victory being hardly gotten with striving. Exercises among the Charthusians. He had enured himself to straitness that he might the better enter in at the narrow gate of heaven, which is not got with ease sed violenti rapiunt illud, that is to say, they that are boisterous against themselves, bear it away by force. For this cause he lived four years amongst the Carthusians, dwelling near the Charterhouse, frequenting daily their spiritual exercises, but without any vow. He had an earnest mind also to be a Franciscan Friar, that he might serve God in a state of perfection; but finding that at that time Religious men in England had somewhat degenerated from their ancient strictness, Not permitted by God to take an ecclesiastical course. and fervour of spirit, he altered his mind. He had also after that together with his faithful Companion Lillie a purpose to be a priest; yet God had allotted him for an other estate, To be a pattern of married men. not to live solitary, but that he might be a pattern to married men, how they should carefully bring up their children, how dear they should love their wives, how they should employ their endeavour wholly for the good of their country, yet excellently perform the virtues of religious men, as, piety, Charity, humility, obedience, and Conjugal chastity. 6. His devotions & prayers. At daily mass. 6. He heard an entire Mass every day, before he undertook any worldly buesinesse; which custom he kept so religiously that being on a time sent for to the king, whilst he was hearing Mass, he would not once stir, though he were twice or thrice sent for, until it was wholly finished, answering them that urged him to come quickly, that he thought first to perform his duty to a better man, than the king was; imitating therein the famous act of S. Ludgar first bishop of Munster, who being sent for to Charles the Great, whilst he was singing in the quire the Canonical hours, he would not once stir till all were ended; and being asked by the Emperor, why he neglected to come, when he sent for him, he answered: I have always thought that your command is by me so to be obeyed, as I doubted not but God is to be preferred; therefore I have been careful to finish that I was about first, not for any contempt of your Imperial Majesty, but for your more safety and the duty I owe to God. With which answer the Emperor no whitt displeased but delighted, answered him with thanks, saying, that he had now found him such a one, as he had ever formerly thought him to be. Neither was King Henry any whitt angry at that time with Sir THOMAS MORE, but rather highly pleased with this his small neglect. He used every day to say our lady's Matins, the Seven psalms and litanies, His daily orisons. and many times the Gradual psalms, with the psalm Beati immaculati in via; and divers other pious prayers, with he himself composed; he selected also many sentences of the Psalms, imitating therein S Hierome's psalter, which are extant in the latter end of his English Works. But finding his body for all his austerity ready still to endanger his soul, Much pleased with the life of Picus Mirandula. although at all times he shunned idleness more than any other man, he determined to marry; and therefore he propounded to himself, as a pattern of life, a singular layman john Picus Earl of Mirandula, who was a man famous for virtue, and most eminent for learning; his life he translated, and set out, as also many of his most worthy letters, and his twelve precepts of good life; which are extant in the beginning of his English Works. For this end he also wrote a treatise both learned, spiritual and devout, of the Four last things of man, though he left it unperfect, being called by his father to other studies. His diligence in frequenting good preachers. He frequented sermons diligently; especially when those men preached, who were most excellent for good life and spiritual direction, such as Doctor Collett was, the most famous Deane of Paul's, who, as Erasmus writeth, was wont every day to preach at Paul's, besides many other sermons, which he made at the Court and else where, Doctor Colets excellent employments. expounding in them either the Pater noster, the Apostles Creed, the Ten Commandments, the Seven Sacraments, or some other matter of necessary instruction, which he never left of, until he had perfected the whole, that thereby every one might learn, what they should believe, what to follow, and what to shun, and showed the means how every Christian might come to perfection in their sundry states of life; and his life did not disagree from his doctrine; for he exercised himself much in all works of Charity and mortification of his flesh. This was he that founded the goodly Free-school of Paul's, dedicating it to the little boy JESUS, as he was found disputing with the Doctors at twelve years old, of which famous act Sir THOMAS MORE writing unto him, compareth it by a fit Antithesis to the Horse of Troy, out of which the Grecians issued to surprise that City; in like manner, saith he, out of this your school, many have come that have subverted and overthrown all ignorance and rudeness. But fearing least all these his devout exercises might not be so meritorious, Doctor Colet choose by S. Th. M. for his ghostly father. if he followed his own will; for a young man is in great danger of himself to want discretion, the mother of all virtues; therefore he chose this worthy Dean for his ghostly Father; for he was accounted one of the skilfullest physicians for the soul, that could be found amongst ten thousand; him he committed himself unto, as to a safe guide of perfection in the dangerous passages of youth; that by his experience he might the more easily overcome the devil, the world, and his own flesh, by following his whole some lessons, to work the salvation of his soul, without any prejudice of his body; to him he was as obedient in all spiritual affairs, as he was to his father in all dutiefull obligation; whereby he arrived to perfect obedience, one of the chiefest helps that a spiritual man can have to get heaven. And because every one may see what affection he bore to this man his ghostly physician, I will set down here an excellent letter of Sir THOMAS MORE's to Doctor Collett, and it is this: S. Th. his letter to D. Colet having left London. §. As I was lately walking before Westminster-hall, busying myself about other men's causes, I met by chance your servant, at whose first encounter I was marvellously rejoiced, both because he hath been always dear unto me, as also especially for that I thought he was not come to London without yourself; but when I had learned of him, that you were not come, He professeth what spiritual comfort he received from D. Colet. nor yet minded to come of a long while, it cannot be expressed, how suddenly my great joy was turned into as great sorrow and sadness. For what can be more grievous unto me, then to be deprived of your most sweet conversation? whose wholesome counsel I was want to enjoy, with whose delight some familiarity I was recreated, by whose weighty sermons I have been often stirred up to devotion, by whose life and example I have been much amended in mine own, finally in whose very face and countenance I was want to rest contented. Wherhfore as I have found myself greatly strengthened, whilst I enjoyed these helps, so now do I see myself much weakened and brought almost to nothing, being deprived of them so long. For having heretofore by following your footestepps almost escaped out of hell's mouth, so now like another Eurydice (though in a contrary manner, for she was left there because Orpheus looked back upon her, but I am in the like danger, because you do not look upon me) fall back again by a certain violence and necessity into that obscure darkness I was in before. Populous cities fuller of dangers of sin, than the country life. For what I pray you is there here in this City, which doth move any man to live well, and doth not rather by a thousand devices draw him back, and with as main allurements swallow him up in all manner of wickedness, who of himself were otherwise well disposed and doth endeavour accordingly to climb up the painful hill of Virtue? Whithersoever that any man cometh what can he find but feigned love, and the honey poison of venomous flattery; in one place he shall find cruel hatred, in another hear nothing but quarrels and suits. Whithersoever we cast our eyes, what can we see but victualling houses, fishmongers, butchers, cooks, puddingmakers, fishers, o fowlers, who minister matter to our bellies, and set forward the service of the world, and the prince thereof and devil? yea the houses themselves I know not how do bereave us of a great part of our sight of heaven; so as the height of our buildings, and not the circle of our horizon, doth limit our prospect. For which cause I may pardon you the more easily, that you do delight rather to remain in the country, where you are. For there you find a company of plain souls, The pleasure and innocence of a country life. void of all craft, wherewith citizens most abound; whithersoever you look, the earth yieldeth you a pleasant prospect, the temperature of the air refresheth you, and the clear beholding of the heavens doth delight you; you find nothing there but bounteous gifts of nature, and saintelie tokens of innocence. Yet I would not have you so carried away with those contentments, that you should be stayed from hastening hither. For if the discommodities of the City do, as they may very well, displease you, yet may the country about your parish of Stepney (whereof you ought also not to have the least care) afford you the like delights to those, which that affords you, wherein now you keep; from whence you may upon occasions come to London as into your Inn, where you may find great matter of merit. The country people is most commonly harmless, or at the least not loaden with great offences, Cities stand more in need of skilful pastors, then country mansions. and therefore any physician may minister physic unto them; but as for citizens, both because they are many in number, as also in regard of their inveterate custom in sinning, none can help them but he that is very skilful. There come into the pullpett at Paul's divers men, that promise to cure the diseases of others; but when they have all done, Preachers that live not well, edify no thing. and made a fair and goodly discourse, their life on the other side doth so jar with their saying, that they rather increase then assuage the griefs of their hearers. For they cannot persuade men that they are fit to cure others, when as themselves (god wot) are most sick, and crazy; and therefore when they feel their sores touched and handled by those, whom they see are full of loathsome sores themselves, they cannot but have a great aversion from them. But if such a one be accounted by learned men most fit to cure, in whom the sick man hath greatest hope, who doubteth then, but you alone are the fittest in all London to cure their maladies, whom every one is willing to suffer to touch their wounds, and in whom what confidence every one hath, and how ready every one is to do what you prescribe, He inviteth D. Colet to return to the city, to help souls. both you have heretofore sufficiently tried, and now the desire that every body hath of your speedy return, may manifest the same. Return therefore my dear Colett, either for Stepney's sake, which mourneth for your absence no less than children do for the absence of their loving mother, or else for London's sake, in respect it is your native country, whereof you can have no less regard, then of your own parents; and finally (although this be the least motive) return for my sake, who have wholly dedicated myself to your directions, and do most earnestly long to see you. In the mean while I pass my time with Grocine, Linacre and Lillie; the first being as you know the director of my life in your absence; the second, the master of my studies, the third, my most dear Companion. Farewell, and see you love me as you have done hitherto. London, 21. Octob. By this letter it may clearly beseen, The inestimable profit of a good ghostly father. how he gave himself from his youth to the true rules of devotion, and thereby sought to profit as well in holiness as in learning; For if Christ hath pronounced them happy, that hunger and thirst after justice, surely he showed in this letter a great earnestness of desire to attain to perfection. And his example may move all his to follow therein his footestepps, that their chief and principal endeavour in their youth be to seek out a skilful physician of the soul, who both can and will guide us in the path of Catholic doctrine and duty, and when we have found such a one, to follow his counsel precisely, and make the secrets of our hearts known to him. This dutiefulnesse of the ghostly child to so rare a father, made Colett also admire this young man's towardlienesse, so that this Doctor would profess to many, and at sundry times say, that there was but one wit in England, and that was young THOMAS MORE; although many flourishing youths at that time lived in England, which were of hopeful expectation. And no doubt but God did further him with particular grace and towardliness, because he was so extraordinarily devout, Sir Tho. Mo. learned more by prayer then by study. so that I do imagine it may be said of Sir THOMAS MORE, which S. Thomas of Aquine wittnesseth of himself, that he learned more by prayer and spiritual exercises, than ever he could do by any study For to what study soever Sir THOMAS applied himself, he grew in short time most famous therein. And first how great a Poet he was accounted even in his youth, we have already partly spoken of; then what Declamations he made full of all Rhetorical eloquence to the amazement of all his auditory, many have wittnessed, who heard them, and have read them; how pure a Latin stile he attained unto, his singular epistles yet extant to divers personages do evidently show, so that one would imagine he had spent all his life time in Humanity only. And although his aptness for eloquence seemed far to disagree from the serious studies of the Common Law of this land, so that few could suppose such a wit would have had the patience to have taken a lawbooke in hand, yet such was his obedience to his father that at his command he studied the Law diligently. 7. His sober diet. 7. He used to eat at his meals but of one dish, which was most commonly powdered beef, or some such like salt meat; although his table was always furnished with much variety; and what meat he first tasted on, the same would he for that time make his whole refection of. In his youth he abstained wholly from wine; and in his latter years he would taste thereof, but first it must be well allayed with water; as Erasmus to Huttenus wittnesseth. And plain apparel. He had no care what apparel he wore; in so much that being once told by his secretary Mr. Harris, that his shoes were all torn, he bade him tell his man, that looked unto him thereof, to buy him new, whom for this cause he called his Tutor; for he bought and made all his apparel at his own discretion, Sir THOMAS never busying his head about such matters; choosing rather to be in all things at the discretion of other men, then at his own guiding, that he might in all his actions exercise the chief virtues of a Christian man, obedience and humility. Yea although he were most wise, and dexterous in discerning truth from falsehood, and virtue from cloaked vice; yet would he for the most part in his greatest affairs and studies ask his man Harris his advice and counsel; and if he thought the contrary better, he would willingly submit himself to his opinion. And indeed Harris was a man of good understanding and judgement, and a very trusty servant. 8. These were the foundations, 8. He dissembled his virtuous mortification by pleasunt and witty conversation. on which he laid his future building; which by how much the more it was to be raised to splendour and beauty, by so much he laid his groundwork of humility the lower; and whatsoever hardness he used secretly, still kept he in outward semblance a singular alacrity, being merry in company and full of jests; especially eschewing the vice of singularity; yea he was very cunning in dissembling his virtues, so that few came to know, what holy exercises he practised; even as in his writings he often feigned matters cunningly to have heard them of others, which he himself had invented, as in his preface to his Utopia he artificially discourseth as though Raphaël Hithlodius had told that whole story unto him; commento periucundo, as Paulus jovius doth testify. So he feigned as though an Englishman called Rosse had pleasantly confuted Luther's book, as he discoursed with his host in Italy, who afterward published all their communication in print, by which means Luther could never learn, who he was that answered him after his own furious fashion, which angered him sore; lastly his three books of Comfort in tribulation, a work most excellent and divine, he invented to have been spoken by two Hungarian kinsmen about the Turks persecution; but thereby he most lively represented the terrible storms of cruelty, which king Henry the eight, and heresy would raise in our poor distressed Country. THE SECOND CHAPTER. SIR THOMAS MORES his marriage, first preferment, and serious writes: with his danger in time of K. Henry 7. and entry into favour with King Henry 8. 1. S. Thomas Mores first marriage and wife. 2. His second marriage with a widow. 3. His integrity in profession of the law. 4. He offendeth K. Henry 7. by crossing in parliament an injust imposition. 5. The beginning of his favour with King Henry the eight. 6. His studious employments amidst his serious offaires. 7. The first honours bestowed by K. Henry 8. upon S. Thomas. 8. He is by the K. made speaker of the lower house of parliament. 9 Cardinal wolseys proposition in parliament frustrated by S Thom. More. 10. Sir Tho. made chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. 1. S. Thom. Moor his marriage▪ and first wife. 1. SIR THOMAS MORE having determined by the advice and direction of his ghostly father to be a married man, there was at that time a pleasant conceited gentleman of an ancient family in Essex one Mr. john Colie of Newhall, from whom Sr. Henry Colt that now liveth, is lineally descended, that invited him to his house, being much delighted in his company, and proffered unto him the choice of any of his daughters, who were young gentlewomen of very good carriage and complexions, and very religiously inclined, whose honest and sweet conversation, whose virtuous education inflamed Sir THOMAS not a little; Chosen out of a charitable compassion against his own affection. and although his affection most served him to the second, for that he thought her the fairest and best favoured; yet when he thought with himself, that this would be a grief and some blemish in the eldest, to see her younger sister preferred before her, he, of a kind of compassion settled his fancy upon the eldest, and soon after married her, with all her friends good liking. Now when he began to be clogged with wife and family, His children by her. children also began to grow fast vpon him; for his wife, whose name was jane Colt, as long as she lived with him, which was but some six years, brought unto him almost every year a child, for whose maintenance he applied himself busily to the practice of the law; and because he would have his wife near unto his father, he placed her in Bucklersbury. john More. By her he had one son called john More my own grandfather, who was his youngest child, and three daughters; his eldest daughter Margarett, Margaret Roper. a woman of singular wit and wisdom, rare piety, and extraordinary learning, was wife unto William Rooper of Eltham in the County of Kent Esquire, whose grandchild now living is Sir William Rooper; Elizabeth Dancy. his second daughter called Elizabeth was afterward matched with Sir john Dancy's son and heir; the third called Cicilie was married to Mr. Cecily Heron. Giles Heron of shakclwell in the County of Middlesex esquire: Anne Cresacre wife to M. john More. his son my grandfather married Anne Cresacre sole daughter and heir of E'dward Cresacre deceased of Baronborough in the County of York esquire, whom Sir THOMAS bought of the King being his ward, upon error for another body's land lying in the same town, as was afterware proved. 2. His second marriage with a widow. 2. My great grandmother having brought forth these four children, died soon after, and within two or three years he married a widow called Mris. Alice Middleton, by whom he had no children; this he did not of any concupiscence; for he would often affirm, that Chastity is more hardly kept in wedlock, then in a single life, but because she might have care of his children, that were very young from whom of necessity he must be very often absent; she was of good years, of no good favour nor complexion, nor very rich, by disposition very near and worldly. I have heard it reported, he wooed her for a friend of his, not once thinking to have her himself; but she wisely answering him, that he might speed, if he would speak in his own behalf, telling his friend, what she had said unto him, with his good liking he married her, and did that which otherwise he would perhaps never have thought to have done. And indeed her favour, as I think, Not very fair, but kind stepmother. could not have bewitched or scarce ever moved any man to love her; but yet she proved a kind and careful mother-in-law to his children, as he was always a most loving father unto them, and not only to his own, but to her daughter also, who was married to Mr. M. Alington, his step-daughter Alington, and mother to Sir Giles Alington. He brought up together with this own children as one of them Margarett Jigs, Margaret Clement. after wife to Doctor Clement, a famous physician; and she proved also very famous for her many excellent parts, Careful government his family. as learning, virtue and wisdom All these he bred most carefully to learning and godly exercises, often exhorting them, to take virtue for their meat, and play for their sauce; getting them good means to maintain them by his practice in the law, which he had first studied in an Inn of Chancery called New-inn, where he profited exceedingly, and from thence went to Lincolns-inn, of which house his father then was, where he allotted him small allowance for the reasons before alleged, and, as it seemed, than his great patron the good Cardinal was dead. 3. His knowledge, and rare integrity in profession of the law. 3. But he plied that study whereto he gave himself, being apt to any, that in short time he was made and accounted a worthy Outer-barister; yea still proceeding with most notable fame, he became a double reader, to which few but rare and singular lawyers do ever attain. Every one began to admire him both for a man of judgement, uprightness and other excellent parts, a ready delivery, boldness in a just cause, and diligence in his Client's case, and no great taker of money, unless he had thoroughly deserved. For which causes every man strived to have him of their Counsel in all suits. He is made judge of the sheriff of London's court. The City of London chose him within a while, judge of the Shrief's Court, some say, Recorder of London, which I think not; yea there was not at that time any matter of importance in any of the King's Courts of this realm but he was of counsel to one of the parties, still choosing the justest side, and therefore for the most part he went away victorious. His plentiful, but honest gains. By all which means he got yearly, as he told his son Rooper, without any grudge of conscience, to the value of four hundred pounds, which was a large gains in those days, when lawyers sped not so well as now they do, neither were they then so plentiefull; but his fame exceeded all other. Wherefore he was chosen twice Agent for the Stillyard-marchents, which business he dispatched with singular dexterity. 4. K. Henry the 7. offended with S. Tho. 4. King Henry the Seaventh then reigning, was a prince of singular virtues, as wisdom and religion, if that covetousness, the root of all mischief, had not seized upon him towards his latter days, which caused him to lay upon his subjects many Impositions, and to raise sore exactions by two Caterpillars of the Commonwealth Emson and Dudley, who in the beginning of Henry the Eighth's reign were rewarded according to their deserts for their wicked counsel, to teach other men by their deaths how Injustice and rapine is punished by God. This King, I say, had called to gather a Parliament, For crossing him in parliament in an unjust imposition. wherein he demanded one Subsidy and three Fifteen for the marriage of his eldest daughter the Lady Margaret's Grace, who then should be, as she was in deed shortly after, bestowed upon the King of scott's. It chanced that Sir THOMAS was then one of the Burgesses; For many had now taken notice of his great sufficiency. When the consent of the Lower house was demanded to these impositions, most of the rest either holding their peace, or not daring to gainsay them (though they were unwilling to grant them) Sir THOMAS making a grave speech, brought forth such urgent arguments, why these exactions were not to be granted, that hereupon the King's demand was crossed, and his request denied; so that one Mr. Tiler one of the King's privy Chamber went presently from the house, and told his Majesty, that a beardelesse boy had disappointed him of all his expectation; whereupon the king conceived great indignation against him, and could no way be satisfied, until he had in some sort revenged it. But for as much as he having yet but a little, Sir john More the father imprisoned, to be revenged upon the sonne. could not loose much, the king devised a Causeless quarrel against Sir john More his most innocent father, and clapped him up in the Tower of London, keeping him there prisoner, until he had forced him against all justice to pay one hundred pounds as a fine for a Causeless offence. Bad council given by a politic bishop. Many also then counselled Sir THOMAS MORE to ask the king mercy, that his father might be released, amongst whom was Doctor Fox than Bishop Winchester one of the king's privy Council, who pretended great love towards Mr. More, purposing indeed to get the king thereby a better means to revenge his displeasure against him. Avoided by council of the religious bishop's chaplain. But when Sir THOMAS had asked the Bishop's Chaplain Doctor Whittford a very holy and grave man, afterward a Father of Zion, he that translated the Following of Christ into English, what he were best to do, he requested him for the passion of Christ not to follow his Lord's advice, saying moreover that the Bishop would not stick to agree to the dearh of his own father, if it were to serve the king's turn. For which cause he returned no more to my Lo: of Winchester, but determined to have gone over sea, thinking he could not live in England without great danger, standing now in the king's displeasure; He retires to his quieter studies. and therefore he studied the French tongue at home, sometimes recreating his tired spirits on the viol; where he also perfected himself in most of the Liberal Sciences, as Music, Arithmetic, Geometry and Astronomy, and grew to be a perfect historian; his chief help in all these labours being his happy memory, of which he modestly speaketh thus; I would I had as good a wit, and as much learning ut memoria non usquequaque destituor, as my memory doth not altogether fail me. But king Henry dying shortly after, Empson and Dudley put to death for wicked counsel. and his son king Henry the Eighth striving at the beginning of his reign to win the applause of his people, cast Emson and Dudley into prison, and attainted them of high treason for giving pernicious counsel to his father their prince; and when they were going to execution Sir THOMAS asked Dudley whether he had not done better than they; The happiness of a good conscience. to whom with a sorrowful hart he answered: O Mr. MORE, God was your good friend, that you did not ask the king forgiveness, as many would have had you done; for if you had done so, perhaps you should have been in the like case with us now. So that to shun present dangers by offending God or our Country, is not always the safest way even for our bodily good, the contrary turning oftentimes to our great fame, glory and profit. 5. The beginning of S. Th. Moor's favour with K. Henry 8. 5. These great parts of nature and diligence, which every one noted in Sir THOMAS MORE coming to the young king's ear, who was at that time greedy to entertain all rare men into his service, he caused Cardinal Wolsey then Lo: Chancellor to move him to come to the Court; and albeit the Cardinal laboured earnestly with him to effect it, alleging how dear his service would be to his Majesty, Warily at the first declined by S. Th. who could not with his honour allow him less than he should lose by changing his former estate, but rather would enlarge his means, and recompense him fully; yet loath to change his estate, (which was certain) made such means to the king by the Cardinal, as that his Majesty was at that time satisfied to forbear him. He is employed by the K. on an embassage into France. Yet did the king use him in divers Embassages, first sending him in to France to challenge certain debts, which the king of England demanded to be due unto him, that had been there unjustly kept back, in which charge he satisfied both the kings fully; such was his wise demeanour and sufficiency. After this he was also sent Ambassador into Flanders to confirm a league betwixt England and Burgundy, To Flanders and Burgundy. which he happily finishing, the king offered him at his return a yearly pension, which Sir THOMAS refused, as he writeth to Erasmus in these words: When I returned from my embassage of Flanders, the king's Majesty would have given me a yearly pension, which surely, if one would respect honour and profit, was not to be little esteemed; yet have I as yet refused it, and I think I shall refuse it still; because either I should be fain to forsake my present means, which I have already in the City (and I esteem it more than a better) or else I must keep it with some dislike of the Citizens, between whom and his Highness if there should happen any controversy (as sometimes it doth chance) about their priu iledges, they might suspect me as not sincere and trusty unto them, in respect I am obliged to the king with an annual stipend. 6. His more serious writes 6. About this time he compounded his famous book of Utopia in latin so much praised and extolled by all the learned men of that age, His Utopia, greatly esteemed by all learned men. about the year of our Lord 1516. being six and thirty years of age. This book was of all Nations so much applauded, that very shortly after it was translated both into French, Italian, Dutch and English. The judgement of divers learned men concerning which work, I think good to set down here in English as Doctor Stapleton reciteth them in his Three Thomases in Latin. By Budaeus. And first Budaeus a singular writer in those days saith thus of it in an epistle to Lupsetus: We are beholding to Thomas More for the discovery of Utopia, werein he hath diuulged to the world in this our age a pattern of a happy life, and a perfect rule of good behaviour. This age and our posterity shall have this history as a Seminary of most wholesome doctrine and profitable instructions, from whence they may transport and accommodate every one to their own Cities and Countries these excellent ordinances and decrees▪ By I. Paludanus. john Paludan to Peter Giles speaketh thus thereof: you may see in Utopia as in a lookingglass, whatsoever belongeth to a perfect Communion Wealth. England truly hath many excellent learned men. For what may we conjecture of the rest, if More alone hath performed so much? being first but a young man, and then full of businesses both public, and domestical, and lastly professing any thing rather than learning. By P. Aegidius. Peter Giles also to Hierome Buslidian speaketh thus, and giveth it this praise: So many wonders do here meet together, that I am in a doubt which first to admire, whether his most happy memory, which could almost word for word relate so many different things again, having but heard them once told, or his wisdom for marking and setting forth all the fountains, from whence either the happiness or mischiefs of any Common wealth do arise; or the elegancy and force of his stile, who hath with such pure Latin, and such vigour of speech comprised so many and sundry matters; especially one that is so much distracted both with public and private affairs. By Buslidius. Buslidian a great Counsellor of Charles the fifth Emperor in a letter to Sir THOMAS saith: In the happy description of your Utopian Commonwealth, there is nothing missing, which might show most excellent learning together with an absolute knowledge of all humane things. For you excel in sundry sciences, and have such great and certain knowledge of things besides, that you affirm every matter in writing, as though you had tried every thing by experience before, and you write most eloquently whatsoever you affirm; a maruclous and rare happienesse; and the more rare, by how much the fewer can attain thereunto. And further in the said letter he affirmeth that this Utopian Common wealth far exceedeth the Lacedaemonian, the Athenian, yea even that of the Romans itself, in that it seeketh not so much to make many laws, as it laboureth to provide good and upright Magistrates; by whose prototypon, that is, the pattern of their honesty, the example of their manners and behaviour, and the pourtraicture of their justice, the whole state and true government of every perfect Common wealth may be framed. By Paulus jovius. Paulus jovius in his book of the praises of learned men speaketh thus: Moor's fame will always last in his Utopia; for he therein hath described a kingdom well governed with wholesome laws, and much flourishing, with rich peace, showing how he loathed the corrupt manners of this wicked age, and endeavouring by a pleasant fiction to lead the right path to a blessed and most happy life, etc. Finally Hutten, Viues, Grapheus and Lacius affirm that Sir THOMAS had an incomparable wit; greater than a man's wit, pene divinum, yea almost divine. About this time he also wrote for his exercise the history of king Richard the third, His story of K. Richard the 3. both in Latin and English, which is so well penned that if our Chronicles of England were half so well set out, they would entice all English men to read them over often. These his works set out at that time, when he was most employed in other men's affairs, show how diligent and industrious he was. For thus he writeth in his Utopia: He was wonderfully studious amidst his serious affairs. Whilst I daily either plead other men's causes, or hear them sometimes as an arbiter, otherwhiles as a judge, whilst this man I visit for friendship, another for businesses, and whilst I busy myself abroad about other men's matters all the uhole day; I leave no time for myself, that is for study. For when I come home; I must discourse with my wife, chat with my children, The office of a discreet householder. speak with my servants; and seeing this must needs be done, I number it amongst my affairs; and needful they are, unless one will be a stranger in his own house; for we must endeavour to be affable and pleasing unto those, whom either nature, chance, or choice hath made our companions; but with such measure it must be done, that we do not mar them with affability, or make them of servants our masters, by too much gentle entreaty and favour; whilst these things are doing, a day, a month, a year passeth. When then can I find any time to write? for I have not yet spoken of the time that is spent in eating and sleeping; which things alone bereave most men of half their life. As for me I get only that spare time, which I steal from my meat and sleep, which because it is but small, I proceed slowly; yet it being somewhat, I have now at the length prevailed so much as I have finished, and sent unto you, Peter, my Utopia. Besides all this to show the more his excellent parts of ready utterance, His lectures public vpon S. Austin, de civet, Dei. pleasant conceits and sharpness of wit, even to the admiration of all men, he read a lecture in S. Laurence church at Lothburie, where Sir john More his father lieth buried, out of S. Augusten's books De Civitate Dei, not so much discussing the points of Divinity, as the precepts of moral philosophy and history, where with these books are replenished. And he did this with such an excellent grace that whereas before all the flower of English youths went to hear the famous Grocinus, who was lately come out of Italy to teach Greek in the public university, under whom as also that famous Grammarian Linacre Sir THOMAS himself had profited greatly, of whom he had Aristotle's works interpreted in Greek, now all England almost left his lecture, and flocked to hear Sir THOMAS MORE. 7. By pleading for the Pope against the K. he makes him of his privy Council. 7. It fortuned shortly after that a ship of the Popes arrived at Southampton, which the King claimed as a forfeiture; yet the pope's legate so wrought with the king that though it was seized on, yet he obtained to have the matter pleaded by learned Council. For the Pope's side as their principal man was chosen Sir THOMAS MORE; and a day of hearing being appointed before the Lo: Chancellor and other the chief judges in the Star-chamber Sir THOMAS argued so learnedly and forcibly in defence of the pope's part, that the afore said forfeiture was restored, and he amongst all the audience so highly commended for his admirable and witty arguing, that for no entreaty would the king any longer forbear to use him. Wherefore he brought him perforce to the Court and made him of his Privy Counsel, as Sir THOMAS testifieth himself in a letter to that worthy prelate john Fisher Bishop of Rothester, saying: I am come to the Court extremely against my will, as every body knoweth, and as the king himself often twiteth me in sport for it. And hereto do I hang so unseemly as a man not using to ride doth sit unhansomely in his saddle. But our Prince, whose special and extraordinary favour towards me I know not how I ever shallbe able to deserve, is so affable and courteous to all men, that every one, K. Henry 8. learning, and courtesy who hath never so little hope of himself, may find somewhat, whereby he may imagine, that he loveth him; even as the Citizen's wives of London do, who imagine that our ladies ' picture near the tower doth smile upon them, as they pray before it. But I am not so happy, that I can perceive such fortunate signs of deserving his love, and of a more abject spirit, then that I can persuade myself that I have it already; yet such is the virtue and learning of the king, and his daily increasing industry in both, that by how much the more I see his Highness' increase in these kingly ornaments, by so much the less troublesome this Courtier's life seemeth unto me. A gracious King for his first twenty years. And indeed king henry's Court for the first twenty years was a seat of many excellent wits, a palace of rare virtues, according as Erasmus wittnesseth thereof in an epistle to Henry Gilford a gentleman of an ancient family. For thus he writeth; The fragrant odour of the most honourable fame of the Court of England, which spreads itself over all the world, it having a king singularly endued with all princely excellencies, a Queen most like unto him, and a number of sincere, learned, grave and wise personages belonging unto it, hath stirred up the prince of Berghes to put his son Antony to no other school but that. S. Thom. More knighted and made Threasurer of the exchequer. Within a while after the king had created him one of his high Counsellors of state, perceauing every day more and more his fidelity, uprightness, dexterity, & wisdom, dubbted him knight, and after Mr. Weston's death he made him Threasurer of the exchequer, a place of great trust; of which increase of honour Erasmus writeth to Cochleus, saying: When you write next to MORE, you shall wish him joy of his increase of dignity and good fortune; For being before only of the king's privy Council, now of late by the benevolencc and free gift of his most gracious prince, he neither desiring nor seeking for it, is not only made knight, but Threasurer of the king's Exchequer; an office in England both honourable, and also commodious for the purse. The familiarity of K. Henry with S. Thom. More. Yea king Henry finding still more and more sufficiency in Sir THOMAS used him with particular affection for the space of twenty years together; during a good part whereof the king's custom was upon holy days, when he had done his devotions to send for Sir THOMAS into his Traverse, and there some times in matters of Astronomy, Geomitrie, and Divinity, and such other sciences, to sit and confer with him: otherwhiles also in the clear nights he would have him walk with him on the leads, there to discourse of the diversity of the courses, motions and operations of the stars, as well fixed as the planets; And because he was of a very pleasant disposition, it pleased his Majesty and the Queen at supper time commonly to call for him to hear his pleasant jests. Discreetly lessened by S. Th. himself. But when Sir THOMAS perceived his witty conceits so much to delight him, that he could scarce once in a month get leave to go home to his wife and children, whom he had now placed at Chelsey, three miles from London by the water side; and that he could not be two days absent from the Court, but he must be sent for again, he much misliking this restrainte of his liberty, began thereupon to dissemble his mirth, and so by little and little to disuse himself, that he from thenceforth at such seasons was no more so ordinarily sent for. He is sent by the K. to appease the prentices of London. The great respect, which the City of London bore unto him caused the king as a special man to send Sir THOMAS to appease the apprentices, which were risen up in a mutiny against the strangers that dwelled then amongst them, upon a May day: and surely Sir THOMAS had quicted them wholly and soon, had not an extraordinary chance hindered it in S. Martin's, as Stow wittnesseth. The king used also of a particular love to come on a sudden to Chelsey, where Sir THOMAS now lived; and leaning upon his shoulder to talk with him of secret counsel in his gardin, yea and to dine with him upon no inviting. 8. 8. He is by the King chosen speaker of the lower house of Parliament. In the fourteenth year of the reign of king Henry the eight, there was a parliament held, and thereof (which was a strange thing) Sir THOMAS MORE was chosen Speaker for the Lower house, being now one of the Prince Counsel; who being very loath to take this charge upon him, made a worthy Oration to the King's Ma.tie (not now extant) whereby he earnestly laboured to be discharged of the said place of Speakershipp; where unto his Highness would by no means give consent. At the beginning of Parliament he made another Oration, A summary of his first speetch in Parliament the points whereof are very wisely set down by my uncle Rooper in his Life of Sir THOMAS MORE; and they are these: Since I perceive, most redoubted Sovereign, that it acordeth not to your high pleasure to reform this election, and cause it to be changed, but have by the mouth of the right Reverend Father in God the Legate (who was then Cardinal Wolsey) your high Chancellor there unto given your assent, and have of your benignity far above that I may bear, to enable me and for this office to repute me fit rather than that you would seem to imputte to your Commons, that they had unmeetely chosen me, I am therefore, and always shall be ready obediently to conform myself to the accomplishment of your high command. And then he maketh two humble petitions; the one concerning himself, the other, the whole assembly. The first; that if he should chance to mistake his message, or for lack of good utterance by misrehearsall pervert their prudent instructions, that his Ma.tie would then pardon his simplicity, and suffer him to repair unto them again for their more substantial advice. His other request unto the King's Majesty was, that it would please his inestimable goodness to pardon freely, without doubt of his dreadful displeasure, whatsoever it shall happen any man to say there, interpreting every man's words, how uncomely soever they were couched, to proceed of a good zeal towards the profit of the realm, and the honour of his royal person. 9 9 Cardinal Wolsey's entry into parliament. Cardinal Wolsey found himself much grieved at the Burgesses, that nothing could be either done or spoken in both the houses, but it was immediately blown abroad in every ale house. It fortuned after that a great Subsidy was to be demanded, and the Cardinal fearing it would not pass the lower house, unless he were there present himself before whose coming it was long debated, whether they should admit him with a few of the Lords, as the most opinion of the house was, or that they should receive him with his whole train. Masters, quoth Sir THOMAS, for as much as my Lo: Cardinal lately, ye wot well, laid to our charge the lightness of our tongues, for things uttered out of this house, it should not in my mind be amiss to receive him with all his pomp, with his Maces, his Pillars, his Pole-axes, his Cross, his hat, and the Great Seal too, to the intent, that if he find the like fault with us then, we may lay the blame upon those, whom his Grace bringeth with him. Upon which words the House wholly agreed, and so he was received accordingly. And a motion to the lower house. There the Cardinal with a solemn speech by many reasons proved, how necessary it was that the demand there moved should be granted, but he seeing the company silent, contrary to his expectation, showing no inclination thereto, demanded of them some reasonable answer; but when every one still held their peace, he spoke in particular to Mr. Murrey; who making no answer neither, he asked others also; but they all had determined to answer him by their Speaker: Frustrated by S. Tho. Mores. wisdom. Who spoke therefore reverently on his knees, excusing the silence of the house abashed, as he said, at the sight of so noble a personage, who was able to amaze the wisest and best learned in the realm. Yet with many probable arguments he proved this his manner of coming to be neither expedient, nor agreeable to the ancient liberties of that house; & for himself in conclusion he showed, that except all they could put their sundry wits into his head, that he alone in so weighty a matter was unmeet to make his Grace a sufficient answer. Whereupon the Cardinal displeased with Sir THOMAS that he had not in that parliament satisfied his expectation, Who pleasantly and wittily diverteth the Cardinal's displeasure. suddenly rose in a rage and departed. And afterwards in his gallery at Witehall he uttered unto him his grief, saying; I would to God you had been at Rome, Mr. MORE, when I made you Speaker. Your Grace not offended, so would I too, my Lord, replied Sir THOMAS, for than should I have seen the place I long have desired to visit. And when the Cardinal walked without any more speech, he began to talk to him of that fair Gallery of his, saying: This Gallery of yours, my Lord, pleaseth me much better than your other at Hampton court; with which digression he broke of the Cardinal's displeasant talk, that his Grace at that present wist not more what to say unto him▪ But for a revenge of his displeasure he counselled the king to send him his Ambassador Legerinto Spain, And obtaineth against him not to be sent Leger ambassador into Spain. commending to his Highness, his learning, wisdom and fittnesse for that voyage, the difficulty of many matters considered between the Emperor Charles the fifth and our realm, so as none was so well able to serve his Majesty therein; which the king broke to Sir THOMAS. But when Sir THOMAS had declared to the king, how unmeet that journey was for him, the nature of Spain so much disagreeing with his constitution, that he was unlike to do his Sovereign acceptable service there, being that it was probable, that he should send him to his grave; yet for all that he showed himself ready, according as duty bound him, were it with the loss of his life to full-ful his majesty's pleasure in that behalf. The king most graciously replied thereto thus: It is not our meaning Mr. MORE, to do you any hurt, but to do you good, we could be glad: We will therefore employ your service otherwise; and so would not permit him to go that long journey. 10. He is made Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. 10. For the king's wisdom perceived that the Cardinal began to grow jealous of Sir THOMAS MORE's greatness, fearing that (which after happened) he would outstrip him in the king's gracious favour, who still heaped more honour upon Sir THOMAS; and although he was never the man that asked the king any request for himself; yet upon the death of Sir Richard Winckfield, who had been Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, that dignity was bestowed upon Sir THOMAS MORE. Of which his honour Erasmus writing to Cochlie bids him to send congratulatory letters unto him, saying, that he came unto it nec ambiens nec expetens, ultroneo favore Principis humanissimi, that is, neither ambitiously seeking it, nor once ask it, but by the mere favour of his most gracious Prince. King Henry took such extraordinary love in Sir THOMAS his company, S. Thom. Moor's iudgement of K. Hēr●es extraordinary favour. that he would sometimes on a sudden, as before I touched come over to his house at Chelsey and be merry with him; whither on a time unlooked for, he came and dined at his house. And after dinner walked with him the space of an hour, holding his arm about his neck most lovingly in the gardin. When his Majesty was gone, my uncle Rooper rejoiced thereat, and told his father, how happy he was, for that the king had showed him such extraordinary signs of love, as he had never seen him do to any other, except the Cardinal, whom he saw with the king once walk arm in arm. Whereto Sir THOMAS answering said: I thank our Lord God, I find his Grace my very good Lord indeed; and I believe he doth as singularly favour me as any other subject, within this realm; how beit, son Rooper, I may tell you, I have no cause to be proud thereof; for if my head would win him a Castle in France (for then there was wars between France and us) it should not fail to go of. By which words he evidently showed, how little he joyed either in the king's favour, or in his worldly honour, piercing with his singular eye of judgement into king Henry's nature; that what show of friendship soever he made to any, yet he loved none but to serve his own turn; and no longer was any in his favour, but as long as they applied themselves to his humours; yet could he not choose but love Sir THOMAS for his singular parts, his profound judgement, his pleasant wit, and entire sincerity; for which causes the rare and admirable Queen Catherine king henry's first wife would often say, Queen Catherins' judgement of S. Th. Moor's loyalty. that the king her husband had but one sound Counsellor in his kingdom, meaning Sir THOMAS MORE; for the rest she said that either they spoke as the king would have them, or had not such matter of judgement in them; and as for Cardinal Wolsey, Cardinal Wolseys vaniglory. who was then the greatest subject in the realm, for his own benefit and end, he cared not what counsel he gave the king. He was of base parentage, and, as they say, a butcher's son of Ipswich; yet had he crept up into favour partly by his learning, partly by his nimble wit, and lovely carriage, whereby he could in sinuate himself into great men's favours; he had also a ready tongue and a bold countenance, and had gotten many spiritual livings together, bestowing them upon vanities, as great and sumptuous buildings costly bancketts, and great magnificence; for he was vain glorious above all measure, Flattered by most men. as may be seen by Sir THOMAS MORE's book of Comfort in Tribulation; where he meaneth of him what is spoken under the name of a great Prelate of Germany, who when he had made an oration before a great audience, would bluntely ask them that sat at his table with him, how they all liked it; but he that should bring forth a mean commendation of it, was sure to have no thanks for his labour. And he there telleth further, how a great spiritual man, who should have commended it last of all, was put to such a non plus, that he had never a word to say, but crying oh, and fetching a deep sigh he cast his eyes into the welking and wept. But nothing at all by S. Th. More On a time the Cardinal had drawn a draught of certain Conditions of peace, between England and France, and he asked Sir Thomas More's counsel therein, beseeching him earnestly that he would tell him if there were any thing therein to be misliked. And he spoke this so heartily (saith Sir THOMAS, that he believed verily that he was willing to hear his advice indeed. But when Sir THOMAS had dealt really therein, & showed wherein that draught might have been amended, he suddenly rose in a rage and said: By the Mass, thou art the veriest fool of all the Counsel. At which Sir THOMAS smiling said: God be thanked that the king our Master hath but one fool in all his Council. But we shall have occasion to speak more hereafter of this Cardinal. THE THIRD CHAPTER. THE COURTEOUS and meek behaviour of Sir THOMAS MORES; his friends at home and abroad. 1. The gentle disposition of S. T. More in all occasions. 2. His prompt and ready wit. 3. His friendship with learned men at home. 4. With learned men of other nations. 5. His pleasant and merry conversation. 1. His courteous behaviour in midst of honour. 1. SIR THOMAS MORE for all his honour, and favour with his Prince, was nothing puffed up with pride, disdain or arrogancy, but was of such a mild behaviour, and excellent temper, that he could never be moved to any passion or anger, as mine uncle Rooper wittnesseth, who affirmeth that in sixteen years' space and more, that he dwelled in his house, and was conversant with him always, he could never perceive him so much as once in a fume. Yea Margaret Jigs, (who was brought up from a child amongst Sir THOMAS his children and used by him no otherwise, than one of them, and afterwards married Doctor Clement) a singular learned woman would say, that sometimes she would commit a fault for the nonce, His meekness in reprehending. to hear Sir THOMAS MORE chide her, he did it with such gravity, such moderation, such love and compassion. His meekness and humility was also perceived in this, that if it had fortuned any scholar to come to him (as there did many daily) either from Oxford, Cambridge or else where, some for desire of his acquaintance (as he had intercourse of letters with all the men of fame in all Christendom) some again for the report of his learning and singular wisdom, some for suits of the Universities; if any of them, I say, had entered into argument, whrein few were able to dispute long with him, he would urge very forcibly; and if it fortuned, that they entered together so far to dispute, that he perceived they could not without some inconvenience hold out much further against his arguments, then, lest he should discourage them, as he that sought not his own glory, he would seem to be confuted, that the student should not be discomforted, ever showing himself more desirous to learn then to teach, and so by some witty device he would courteously break out into some other matter. 2. His readiness of wit in all occasions. 2. Such was also his readiness of wit, that going ever in progress with the king either to Oxford or Cambridge, when they were received with very eloquent orations, he was always the man appointed by his Majesty ex tempore to make answer unto them, as he that was promptest and most ready therein. Yea when the king went into France to meet the French king, Sir THOMAS MORE made a speech of their congratulation; which he also did, when Charles the fifth landed in England to see Queen Catherine his aunt. And whensoever he had occasion either in England or beyond the sea, to visit any university, he would not only be present at their readings and disputations, but would also learnedly dispute there amongst them himself, to the great admiration of all the Auditory, for his skill in all sciences. But when at Brugges in Flanders an arrogant fellow had set up a Thesis, that he would answer whatsoever question could be propounded unto him in any art whatsoever, Sir THOMAS made this question to be put up, for him to answer thereto, whether Aueria capta in Withernamia sunt irreplegebilia; adding that there was one of the English Ambassadors retinue, that would dispute with him thereof. This Thraso or Braggadocio not so much as understanding those terms of our Common Law, knew not what to answer to it; and so he was made a laughing stock to the whole City for his presumptuous bragging. 3. Now, 3. His friendship and estimation with the learned of all Christendom. as he was ungrateful to vain proud men, so was he an entire and special good friend to all the learned men in Christendom; and first he affected especially that famous man Cuthbert Tunstall lately Bishop of London, and then of Durham; of whom Sir THOMAS speaketh in his epitaph made by himself whilst he was in good health and state, thus: Then whom the whole world hath not a man more learned, Cuthbert Tunstall Bishop of Durrham. wise or better. He speaketh also of him in his Utopia thus: The King sent me Ambassador into Flanders as a Colleague to that excellent person Cuthbert Tunstall, whom lately he hath chosen (to the congratulation of all men) his Master of the Rowles', of whose singular praises I will not speak, for that I fear I should be suspected, because he is so dear a friend unto me; but for that his virtues and learning are greater than I can express, and also more known, then that I should need to go about to declare them; except I would seem to set a torch to lighten the sun. In this embassage many things delighted me much: first the long and never interrupted familiarity, which I had with Tunstall, than whom as there is none more learned, so also no man more grave in his life and manners, no man more pleasant in his manner of carriage and conversation. He wrote unto him divers letters, which may testify what intire-friendshipp there was between these two excellent men; as this: Although every letter which I receive from you (most worthy friend) is very grateful unto me, yet that which you written last, was most welcome, for that besides the other commendations, which the rest of your letters deserve in respect of their eloquence, and the friendship they profess towards me, these last of yours yield a peculiar grace, for that they contain your peculiar testimony (I would it were as true as it is favourable) of my Common Wealth. I requested my friend Erasmus, that he would explain to you the matter thereof in familiar talk; yet I charged him not to press you to read it, not because I would not have you to read it (for that is my chief desire) but remembering your discrete purpose, not to take in hand the reading of any new work, until you had fully satisfied yourself with the books of ancient Authors, which if you measure by the profit you have taken by them, surely you have already accomplished your task; but if by affection, than you will never bring your said purpose to a perfect end. Wherefore I was afraid that seeing the excellent works of other men could not allure you to their reading, you would never be brought to condescend willingly to the reading of my trifles, and surely you would never have done it, but that your love towards me drove you more thereto, than the worth of the thing itself. Therefore I yield you exceeding thanks for reading so diligently over my Utopia; I mean, because you have for my sake bestowed so much labour; And no less thanks truly do I give you, for that my work hath pleased you; for no less do I attribute this to your love, because I see you rather have testified, what your love towards me did suggest, than the authority of a Censor: Howsoever the matter is, I cannot express how much I joy, that you have east your whole account in liking my doings. For I almost persuade myself all those things to be true, which you speak thereof, knowing you to be most far from all dissembling, and myself more mean, then that you should need to flatter me, and more dear to you, then that I should expect a mock from you. Wherefore, whether that you have seen the truth unfeignedly, I rejoice heartily in your judgement, or whether your affection to me hath blinded your judgement, I am for all that no less delighted in your love; and truly vehement and extraordinary great must that love be, which could bereave Tunstall of his judgement. And in another letter he saith: You deal very courteously with me, in that you give me in your letter such hearty thanks, because I have been careful to defend the causes of your friends, amplifying the small good turn I have done you therein, by your great bounty; but you deal somewhat, too fearfully in regard of the love, which is between us; if you imagine that you are indebted unto me for any thing I have done, and do not rather challenge it of right to be due unto you, etc. The Amber, which you sent me, being a precious sepulchre of flies, was for many respects most welcome unto me; for the matter thereof may be compared in colour and brightness to any precious stone, and the form is more excellent, because it representeth the figure of a a hart, as it were the hieroglificke of our love: which I interpret your meaning is, that between us it will never fly away, and yet be always without corruption; because I see the fly (which hathwings like Cupid the son of Venus, and is as fickle as he) so shut up here and enclosed in this gluey matter of Amber, as it cannot fly away, and so embalmed and preserved therewith, as it cannot perish. I am not so much as once troubled that I cannot send you the like gift again, for I know, you do not expect any interchange of tokens; and besides I am willing still to be in your debt, yet this troubleth me somewhat, that my estate and condition is so mean, that I am never able to show myself worthy of all and singular your friendship. Wherhfore though I cannot give testimony myself herein before other men; yet must be satisfied with mine own inward testimony of mind, and your gentle acceptance. He dedicated one of his books unto him saying in this wise: When I considered, to which of all my friends I should dedicate these my Collections out of many Authors, I thought you most fit for the same, in respect of the familiar conversation, which of long time hath been between us, as also in respect of the sincerity of your mind, because you would be always ready to take thankfully, whatsoever in this work should seem grateful unto you; and whatsoever should be barren therein, you would make a courteous construction thereof; whatsoever might be unpleasing, you would be willing to pardon. I would to God, I had as much wit and learning, Tunstall a glorious confessor in Q. Elizabeth's days. as I am not altogether destitute of memory. As for Bishop Tunstall he was a learned man, and wrote a singular book of the real presence. And although, during king henry's reign, he went with the sway of the time (for who almost did otherwise?) to the great grief of Sir THOMAS MORE; yet living to the time of Q. Elizabeth, whose Godfather he was, when she bewrayed the fonte, in his old age seeing her take strange courses against the Church, he came from Durham, and stoutly admonished her not to change religion; which if she presumed to do, he threatened her to lose God's blessing and his. She nothing pleased with his threats, made him be cast into prison, as most of the Bishops were, where he made a glorious end of a Confessor, and satisfied for his former crime of Schism contracted in the time of king henry's reign. Friendship of S. Th. More with B. Fisher. Sir THOMAS MORE's friendship with the glorious Bishop of Rochester was neither short nor small, but had long continued, and ended not with their famous martyrdoms. See how good Bishop Fisher writeth unto him: Let, I pray you, our Cambridge men have some hope in you to be favoured by the king's Majesty that our scholars may be stirred up to learning by the countenance of so worthy a prince, We have few friends in the Court, which can or will commend our causes to his royal Majesty and amongst all we account you the chief, who have always favoured us greatly, even when you were in a meaner place; and now also show what you can do, being missed to the honour of knighthood, and in such great favour with our prince, of which we greatly rejoice, and also do congratulate your happiness. Give furtherance to this youth, who is both a good scholar in Divinity, and also a sufficient preacher to the people. For he hath hope in your favour, that you can procure him great furtherance, and that my commendations will help him to your favour. To this Sir THOMAS MORE answereth thus: This Priest, Reverend Father, whom you write to be in possibility of a Bishopric, if he might have some worthy suitor to speak for him to the king, I imagine that I have so prevailed, that his Majesty will be no hindrance thereto, etc. If I have any favour with the king, which truly is but little, but whatsoever I have, I will employ all I can to the service of your Fatherhood and your scholars, to whom I yield perpetual thanks for their dear affections towards me, often testified by their loving letters, and my house shall be open to them as though it were their own. Farewell worthy and most courteous prelate, and see you love me as you have done. With Cardinal Poole, in his younger days His love and friendship with young Pool (afterwards a famous Cardinal) may be seen by their letters. he maketh mention of him with great praise in a letter he wrote to his well-beloved daughter Margaret Rooper in this wise: I cannot express in writing, nor scarcely can conceive it by thought, how grateful to me your most eloquent letters, dear daughter Margarett, are. Whilst I was reading them, there happened to be with me Reinald Poole, that most noble youth not so noble by birth as he is singularly learned, and excellently endued with all kind of virtue; to him your letter seemed as a miracle; yea before he understood how near you were beset with the shortness of time, and the molestation of your weak infirmity, having notwithstanding sent me so long a letter. I could scarce make him believe, but that you had some help from your Master, until I told him seriously that you had not only never a master in your house, but also never another man, that needed not your help rather in writing any thing, than you needed his. And in another to Doctor Clement a most famous physician, and one that was brought up in Sir THOMAS his own house, he saith thus: I thank you, my dear Clement, for that I find you so careful of my health and my children's, so that you prescribe in your absence, what meats are to be avoided by us. And you, my friend Poole, I render double thanks, both because you have vouchsafed to send us in writing the counsel of so great a physician, and besides have procured the same for us from your mother, a most excellent and noble matron, and worthy of so great a son; so as you do not seem to be more liberal of your counsel, then in bestowing upon us the thing itself, which you counsel us unto. Wherhfore I love and praise you, both for your bounty and fidelity. And of Sir THOMAS MORE's friendship Cardinal Poole boasteth much after his martyrdom in his excellent book De unitate Ecclesia saying: if you think that I have given scope to my sorrow, because they were my best beloved friends that were put to death (meaning Sir THOMAS MORE and Bishop Fisher) I do both acknowledge and profess it to be true most willingly, that they both were dear unto me above all others. For how can I dissemble this, seeing that I do rejoice more of their love towards me, then if I should boast, that I had gotten the dearest familiarity withal the princes of Christendom. With D. Lea Archebishop of york. His frienshipp also with Doctor Lea (afterwards the worthy Archbishopp of York) was not small nor feigned, although he had written an excellent book against Erasmus his Annotations upon the new Testament, Erasmus being then Sir THOMAS his entire friend, and as it were the one half of his own hart. For Sir THOMAS writeth thus unto him: Good Lea, that you request of me, not to suffer my love to be diminished towards you, trust me, good Lea, it shall not, though of myself I incline rather to that part that is oppugned. And as I could wish that this City were freed from your siege, so will I always love you, With Lapsetus and be glad that you do so much esteem of my love. He speaketh also of Lupset, a singular learned man of that time, in an epistle to Erasmus: Our friend Lupsett readeth with great applause in both tongues at Oxford, having a great auditory; for he succeedeth my john Clement in that charge. What familiarity there was betwixt him and Doctor Collett, Grocine, Linacre, and Lily, all, singular men, Grocinus. Linacre. Montjoy. G. Latimer. we have spoken of heretofore. William Montioy, a man of great learning, and William Lattimer, not Hugh the heretic, that was burnt, but another most famous for virtue and good letters, were his very great acquaintance, as also john Croak, I. Crocus that read Greek first at Lipsia in Germany, and was after King henry's Greek master, to whom he writeth thus: What soever he was, my Crocus, that hath signified unto you that my love is lessened, because you have omitted to write unto me this great while, either he is deceived, or else he seeketh cunningly to deceive you; and although I take great comfort in reading your letters, yet am I not so proud, that I should challenge so much interest in you, as though you ought of duty to salute me every day in that manner, nor so wayward nor full of complaints to be offended with you, for neglecting a little this your custom of writing. For I were unjust, if I should exact from other men letters, whereas I know myself to be a great sluggard in that kind. Wherefore be secure as concerning this: for never hath my love waxed so cold towards you, that it need still to be kindled and heated with the continual blowing of missive epistles; yet shall you do me a great pleasure if you write unto me as often as you have leisure, but I will never persuade you to spend that time in saluting your friends, which you have allotted for your own study, or the profiting of your scholars. As touching the other part of your excuse, I utterly refuse it; for there is no cause why you should fear my nose as the trunk of an elephant, seeing that your letters may without fear approach in the sight of any man; neither am I so long snouted that I would have any man fear my censuring. As for the place which you requirre that I should procure you, both Mr. Pace and I, who love you dear, have put the king in mind thereof. 4. 4. With learned men of other nations: as, I. Coclaeus. But now as concerning the familiarity he had with the most famous men of other nations, it may be likewise seen by his letters to them; as to that famous john Cochlee, who was Luther's scourge, he writeth thus: It cannot be expressed, most worthy Sir, how much I hold myself indebted unto you, for certifying me so often of those occurrences, which happen in your Country. For Germany now daily bringeth forth more monsters, yea prodigious things, than afric was want to do. For what can be more monstrous than the Anabaptists; yet how have those kind of plagues, risen forth and spread for many years together? I for my part seeing these sects daily to grow worse and worse, do expect shortly to hear, that there will arise some, who will not stick to preach, that Christ himself is to be denied; neither can there arise so absurd a knave, but he shall have favourers; the madness of the people is so great. In which letter he foretelleth of David George the Hollander, who called himself Christ, and had divers followers at Basile. So was there in England the like desperate fellow called Hackett, whose disciples were Arden and Coppinger. At another time he writeth thus unto the same man: I would have you persuade yourself, dear Cochlie that I have not received any letter from any of my friends these many years, more grateful than your last were to me; and that for two causes especially; the first, for that I perceive in them your singular love unto me, which though I have sufficiently found heretofore, yet do these show it most plentifully, and I account it as a great happiness; for to let pass your benefits done me, who would not highly esteem the friendship and favour of such a friend? Secondly because in these letters you certify me of the news of many actions of Princes, etc. Afterwards he had also entire familiarity with Budaeus, G. Badaeus. which was often renewed by letters, and once by personal meeting in France, when the kings of England and France had a parley together. For Budaeus was in great favour with his king Francis, yea one of his privy Council, as Sir THOMAS was to king Henry; all which may be perceived by his letter to Budeus in this manner: I know not, my good Budie, whether it were good for us to possess any thing that were dear unto us, except we might still keep it. For I have imagined that I should be a happy man, if I might but once see Budeus, whose beautiefull picture the reading of his works had represented unto me. And when God had granted me my wish, it seemed to me that I was more happy than happiness itself; yet after that our business were so urgent, that I could not fulfil my earnest desire to enjoy your sweet conversation often, and that our familiarity scarce begun was broken of within a while, the necessary affairs of our Princes calling us from it, so as it is now hard to say, whether we shall ever again see one another, each of us being enforced to wait upon our own Prince; by how much the more joyful our meeting was, by so much the more was my sorrow in the parting; which you may lessen somewhat, if that you would please to make me often present by your letters: yet dare I not crave them of you: but my desire to have them is great. M. Dorpius. Another friend he had called Martin Dorp, a famous reader in Louvain, and a singular good man, whom by letters fraught with sound arguments he brought to the love of the Greek tongue, being altogether before averted therefore: thus he speaketh of him in a letter to Erasmus: I cannot let Martin Dorpius pass unsaluted, whom I respect highly for his excellent learning, and for many other respects; but for this not a little because he gave you occasion to write your Apology to Brixius his Moria. Lascarus▪ Philip Beroaldus. He mentioneth also john Lascarus as a dear friend of his, as also Philipp Beroalde in a letter of his to Budeus in this manner: Commend me heartily to Lascarus that excellent and most learned man; for I imagine that you would of yourself remember me to Beroaldus, though I should not put you in mind thereof; for you know him to be so dear unto me as such a one ought to be, than whom I have scarcely found a more learned man, or a more pleasant friend. Hierome Buslidian, Hierom Buslidius who built the College called Trilingue in Louvain, we have mentioned before, when we spoke of his learned Utopia, of whom thus he speaketh in a certain letter of his to Erasmus: Amongst other things which delighted me much in my Embassage, this is none of the least, that I got acquaintance with Buslidian, who entertained me most courteously according to his great wealth and exceeding good nature, where he shown me his house built most artificially, and enriched with costly household stuff, replenished with a number of monuments of antiquity, wherein you know I take great delight, finally such an exquisite library, yea his hart and breast, more stored than any library; so that it astonished me greatly. And presently after in the same letter he speaketh of Peter Giles as followeth: Peter Aegidius. But in all my travails, nothing happened more to my wish then the acquaintance and conversation with Peter Giles of Anwerp, a man so learned, so merry, so modest and so friendly that, let me be baked if I would not purchase this one man's familiarity with the loss of a good part of my estate. And in his Utopia he speaketh thus of him: Whilst I live here in Anwerp, I am visited often, amongst the rest, by Peter Giles, than whom none is more grateful unto me: he is native of Anwerp, and a man of good reputation amongst his countrymen, and worthy of the best▪ For he is such a young man that I know not whether he is more learned, or better qualifyed with good conditions▪ for he is a most virtuous man, and a great scholar, besides of courteous behaviour towards all men, of such a sincere carriage, love and affection towards his friend, that you can scarce find such another youth to set by him, that may be compared unto him; he is of rare modesty, all flattery is far from him; plainness with wisdom are seated in him together; moreover so pleasant in talk and so merry without any offence, that he greatly lesseneth by his pleasant discourse the desire I have to see my Country, my house, my wise, my children, of whose company I am of myself too anxious, and whom to enjoy I am too desirous. Of Beatus Renanus a very learned man, B. Rhenanus. he writeth in an epistle to Erasmu, thus: I love Renanus marvellously and am much in his debt for his good Preface; whom I would have thanked a good while ago, but that I have been troubled with such a gout of the hand, that is to say, idleness, that by no means I could overcome it. Cranuilde also an excellent learned man and one of the Emperor Charles his privy Council was brought to Sir THOMAS MORE's friendship by Erasmus; Cranuild for which both of them thanked Erasmus exceedingly as appeareth first by Cranuild's letter to him, which is thus: I cannot but thank you greatly with these my (though rude) letters (most learned in all sciences) for your singular benefit lately bestowed upon me which I shall always bear in remembrance, and which I esteem so much as that I would not le●se it far Craesus' wealth. You will ask me, what benefit that was; truly this, that you have brought me to the acquaintance and sweet conversation of your friend MORE but now I will call him mine, whom after your departure I often frequented, because he often sent for me unto him; whose bountiefull entertainment at his table I esteem not so much as his learning, his courtesy, and his liberality. Wherefore I account myself deeply indebted unto you, and desire God that I may be able to demonstrate unto you a grateful signification of this good turn done me. In his absence he sent my wife a ring of gold, the posy whereof in English was: All things are measured by good will. He gave me also certain old pieces of silver and gold coin; in one whereof was graven Tiberius' picture, in another Augustus; which I am willing to tell you, because I am somewhat to thank you for all. Whom Erasmus answered thus: This is that sure, which is vulgarly spoken: I have by the means of one daughter gotten two sons in law: you thank me because by my means you have gotten so special a friend, as MORE is; and he on the other side thanketh me also, for that I have procured his knowledge of Cranuilde. I known well enough that because your wits and manners were alike, there would easily arise a dear friendship betwixt you; if so were that you did but know each other; but as the having of such friends is precious, so is the true keeping of them as rare. Hear how, Sir THOMAS writeth to Cranuilde: I both perceive and acknowledge how much I am in your debt, my dear Cranuilde, because you never cease to do that which is most grateful unto me, in that you certify me still of your affairs and friends. For what can be either more acceptable to THOMAS MORE in his adversity, or more pleasing unto him in his prosperity, then to receive letters from Cranuilde, except one could bring me to the speech of him, a most learned man of all others. But as often as I read your writes, I am enamoured therewith, as if I were conversing with you in presence. Wherefore nothing troubleth me more, then that your letters are no longer; yet have I found a means to remedy that, because I read them over again and again, & I do it leisurely that my sudden reading them may not bereave me of my pleasure. But so much for this. That which you write concerning our friend Viues, Viues. who hath made a discourse of wicked women, I agree so well with your opinion, that I think one cannot live without inconueniencies with the very best woman. For if any man be married, he shall not be without care; and in my conceit Metellus Numidicus spoke truly of wives; which I would speak the rather, if many of them through our own faults were not made the worse. But Viues hath gotten so good a wife, that he may not shun only, as much as possible any man, all the troubles of marriage, but also thereby he may receive great contentment; yet now men's minds are so busied with public garboils, whilst the fury of wars doth so rage every where, that no man is at leisure to think of his private cares: where fore if any household troubles have heretofore oppressed any, they are now all obscured by reason of common mischiefs. But this sufficeth for this matter, for that I return to yourself, whose courtesies and friendship towards me as often as I think of (which is very often) it shaketh from me all sorrow. I thank you for the book you sent me, and I wish much joy with your new child, not for your own sake only, but for the Common wealth's, whose great benefit it is, that such a parent should increase it with plenty of children. For from you none but excellent children can be borne. Farewell, and commend me carefully and heartily to your wife, to whom I pray God send happy health and strength: My wife and children also wish you health, to whom by my report you are as well known and as dear as to myself. Again farewell. London 10. Aug. 1524. Another letter he wrote unto him in this sort: I am ashamed, so God help me, my dear Cranuilde, of this your great courtesy towards me, that you do salute me with your letters so often, so lovingly and so carefully, when as I so seldom do salute you again, especially seeing you may pretend yea allege as many troubles of businesses as I can: but such is the sincerity of your affection and such the constancy thereof, as although you are ready to excuse all things in your friends, yet you yourself are always ready to perfurme every thing, and to go forward without omitting that which might be pardoned in you. But persuade yourself, good Cranuild, that if there happen any thing at any time, wherein I may really show unto you my love, there, God willing, I will never be wanting. Commend me to my Mistress your wife, for I dare not now invert the order begun, and to your whole family, whom mine doth with all their hearts salute. From my house in the Country this 10th. C. Goclenius. of june 1528. Conradus Goclenius a Westphalian was commended by Erasmus unto Sir THOMAS MORE thus: I praise your disposition, my dearest MORE, exceedingly, for that your content is to be rich in faithful and sincere friends, and that you esteem the greatest felicity of this life to be placed therein. Some take great care that they may not be cozened with counterfeit jewels; but you contemning all such trifles, seem to yourself to be rich enough, if you can but get an unfeigned friend. For there is no man taketh delight either in Cards, dice, Chess, hunting or music so much as you do in discoursing with a learned and pleasant conceited Companion. And although you are stored with this kind of riches; yet because that I know, that a covetous man hath never enough, and that this manner of my dealing hath luckily happened both to you and me divers times heretofore, I deliver to your custody one friend more whom I would have you accept with your whole hart. His name is Conradus Goclenius a Westphalian, who hath with great applause and no less fruit lately taught Rhetoric in the College newly erected at Louvain called Trilingue. Now I hope that as soon as you shall have true experience of him, I shall have thanks of you both; for so I had of Cranuilde, who so wholly possesseth your love, that I almost envy him for it. But of all strangers Erasmus challenged unto himself his love most especially, Sir Tho. Moor's friendship to D. Erasmus Roderodamus. which had long continued by mutual letters expressing great affection, and increased▪ so much that he took a journey of purpose into England to see and enjoy his personal acquaintance and more entire familiarity; at which time it is reported how that he, who conducted him in his passage, procured that Sir THOMAS MORE and he should first meet together in London at the Lo: Mayor's table, neither of them knowing each other. And in the dinner time, they chanced to fall into argument, Erasmus still endeavouring to defend the worse part; but he was so sharply set upon, and opposed by Sir THOMAS MORE, that perceauing that he was now to argue with a readier wit, than ever he had before met withal, he broke forth into these words not without some choler: Aut tu es Morus aut nullus; whereto Sir THOMAS readily replied: Aut tu es Erasmus, aut diabolus: because at that time he was strangely disguised, and had sought to defend impious propositions; for although he was a singular Humanist, and one that could utter his mind in a most eloquent phrase, yet had he always a delight to scoff at religious matters, and find fault with all sorts of Clergy men. He took a felicity to set out sundry Commentaries upon the Father's works, censuring them at his pleasure, for which cause he is termed Errans mus; because he wandreth here and there in other men's harvests; yea in his writings he is said to have hatched many of those eggs of heresy, which the apostata Friar Luther had before laid; not that he is to be accounted an heretic, for he would never be obstinate in any of his opinions, yet would he irreligiously glance at all antiquity and find many faults with the present state of the Church. Whilst he was in England Sir THOMAS MORE used him most courteously, doing many offices of a dear friend for him, as well by his word as his purse; whereby he bound Erasmus so straitly unto him, that he ever after spoke and wrote upon all occasions most highly in his praise; Forsaken, when he perceived Erasmus hate in Religion but Sir THOMAS in success of time grew less affectionate unto him, by reason he saw him still fraught with much vanity and unconstancy in respect of religion; as when tindal objecteth unto Sir THOMAS, that his Darling Erasmus had translated the word Church into Congregation, and Priest into Elder, even as himself had done, Sir THOMAS answered thereto, if my darling Erasmus hath translated those places with the like wicked intent, that tindal hath done, he shall be no more my darling, but the Devil's darling. Finally long after having found in Erasmus' works many things necessarily to be amended, he counselled him as his friend in some latter book to imitate the example of S. Augustin who did set out a book of Retractations, to correct in his writing, what he had unadvisedly written in the heat of youth; but he that was far different from S. Augustin in humility, would never follow his counsel; and therefore he is censured by the Church for a Busy fellow: many of his books are condemned, and his opinions accounted erroneous, though he always lived a Catholic Priest; Erasmus lived always a Catholic Priest. and hath written most sharply against all those new Gospelers, who then began to appear in the world; and in a letter to john Fabius Bishop of Vienna he saith that he hateth these seditious opinions, with the which at this day the world is miserably shaken; neither doth he dissemble, saith he, being so addicted to piety, that if he incline to any part of the balance, he will bend rather to superstition then to impiety; by which speech he seemeth in doubtful words to tax the Church with superstition, and the new Apostolical brethren with impiety. Now to conclude this matter of Sir THOMAS MORE's friends, let us hear what Erasmus speaketh of him in an epistle to Vlderick Hutten: S.T. Moor's constancy in friendship MORE seemeth to be made and borne for friendship, whereof he is a most sincere follower, and a fast keeper; neither doth he fear to be taxed for that he hath many friends; which thing Hesiodus praiseth nothing: every man may attain to his friendship; he is nothing slow in choosing, most apt in nourishing, and most constant in keeping them; if by chance he falls into one's amity, whose vices he cannot amend, he slackeneth the reins of friendship, disjointing it by little and little rather than dissolving it suddenly: whom he findeth sincere and constant agreeing with his own good disposition, he is so delighted with their company and familiarity, that he seemeth to place his chief worldly pleasure in such men's conversation; and although he be very negligent in his own temporal affairs, yet none is more diligent than he in furthering his friends causes. What need I speak many words? if any were desirous to have a perfect pattern of friendship, none can make it better than MORE. In his company there is such rare affability, and such sweet behaviour, that no man is of so harsh a nature, but that his talk is able to make him merry, no matter so unpleasing, but he with his wit can shake from it all tediousness; His pleasant conversation proceeding from a quiet consciense. declaring plainly in these words the most pleasant disposition of Sir THOMAS MORE; whose only merry jests and witty sayings were able to fill a whole volume, if they were all gathered together; some of which Doctor Stapleton hath set down in two several Chapters, whereof I shall also mention some hereafter; but the greatest number have never been set down in writing, as daily falling from him in his familiar discourse. All which show plainly that he had a quiett conscience full of alacrity and a witty conceit, able to please all men that resorted unto him, and who would not be glad of his company, who was by nature most affable, in his Prince's favour very high, and stored with worldly blessings, as ample possessions, wealth enough and pomp of the world, even at will. He used when he was in the City of London a justice of peace, A witty and merry reprehension. to go to the Cessions at Newgate, as other justices did; amongst whom it happened that one of the ancient justices of peace was wont to chide the poor men, that had their purses cut, for not keeping them more warily, saying that their negligence was cause, that there were so many Cutt purses brought thither. Which when Sir THOMAS had heard him often speak at one time especially, the night after he sent for one of the chief Cutt purses that was in the prison▪ and promised him that he would stand his good friend, if he would cut that Justice's purse, whilst he sat the next day on the Bench, and presently make a sign thereof unto him; the fellow gladly promiseth him to do it. The next day therefore when they sat again, that thief was called amongst the first; who being accused of his fact, said that he would excuse himself sufficiently, if he were but permitted in private to speak to some one of the Bench; he was bid therefore to choose one whom he would; and he presently chose that grave old man, who then had his pouch at his girdle; and whilst he roundeth him in the ear, he cunningly cuts his purse; and taking his leave solemnly, goeth down to his place; Sir THOMAS knowing by a sign that it was dispatched, taketh presently an occasion to move all the Bench to distribute some alms upon a poor needy fellow, that was there, beginning himself to do it. When the old man came to open his purse, he sees it cut away, and wondering, said, that he had it, when he came to sit there that morning, Sir THOMAS replied in a pleasant manner; what? will you charge any of us with felony? He beginning to be angry and ashamed of the matter, Sir THOMAS calls the cut purse and wills him to give him his purse again, counselling the good man hereafter not to be so bitter a censurer of innocent men's negligence, when as himself could not keep his purse safe in that open assembly. For these his witty jests he may well be said to have been neither hateful to the Nobility, nor unpleasing to the people. If we read his letters, His candour and innocence. they show great eloquence a pure latin phrase and a religious mind, for always they express either humility in himself, zeal of God's honour, love to his neighbour, compassion of the afflicted, or a dear affection to his wife and children; so that it may be said that he had pectus verè candidum a very sincere hart; and surely they breathe out matter either of wonderful devotion, or admirable wisdom. THE FOURTHE CHAPTER. THE PIOUS Home-employment of Sir THOMAS MORES; and his godly counsels given to his wife and children. 1. Sir Th. Moor's home-entertainements and devotions. 2. His beehaviour towards his wife and children and counsels given them. 3. Sir Th. More studiously written against beresyes in midst of his affairs. 4. A view of many wits and pithy speeches of S.T. Mores. 5. Sir Th. Moor's profound skill in divinytye. 1. 1. S.T. Moor's home-entertainments & devotions. ALthough he lived a Courtier and a lay married man yet when he came home, he would both in the morning and in the evening, before he went to bedde, say in his Chapel certain prayers devoutely upon his knees, with his wife, children and family, and because he was desirous sometimes to be solitary, and would sequester himself from the world, to recollect himself and shake of the dust of earthly businesses, which otherwise would easily defile his soul, he built for himself a Chapel, a library and a gallery, called the New buildings, a good distance from his main house, wherein as his custom was, upon other days to busy himself in prayer and meditation, whensoever he was at leisure, so usually he would continue there on the Fridays, in memory of Christ's bitter passion, from morning until night, spending the whole day in devotion; so that he became an excellent man in the Contemplative life; of all which let us hear what Erasmus writeth: MORE hath built near London upon the Thames side (to wit, at Chelsey that which my lo: of Lincoln bought of Sir Robert Cecile) a commodious house, neither mean nor subject to envy, yet magnificent enough: there he converseth affably with his family, his wife, his son and daughter in law, his three daughters and their husbands, The excellent order of his family. with eleven grandchilds; there is not any man living, so loving to his children as he, and he loveth his old wife as well as if she were a young maid; and such is the excellency of his temper, that whatsoever happeneth that could not be helped, he loveth it as though nothing could happen more happily. You would say there were in that place Plato's Academy; but I do the house injury in comparing it to Plato's academy, wherein there was only disputations of numbers and Geometrical figures, and sometimes of moral virtues. I should rather call his house a school or university of Christian religion; for there is none therein but readeth or studieth the liberal Sciences; their special care is piety and virtue; there is no quarrelling or intemperate words heard, none seen idle; which household discipline that worthy Gentleman doth not govern by proud and lofty words, but with all kind and courteous benevolence; every body performeth his duty, yet is there always alacrity, neither is sober mirth any thing wanting. And again he writeth thus: His wives employment. His first wife, which was but young, he caused to be instructed in learning, and to be taught all kind of music; she dying after she had brought forth four children, he married, as is aforesaid, a widow, not for lust, but to be a governess, to his young family, who although she were inclining to old age, and of a nature somewhat harsh and besides very worldly, yet he persuaded her to play upon the lute, viol, and some other instruments, every day performing thereon her task; and so with the like gentleness he ordered his whole family. His servant's discipline. He suffered none of his servants either to be idle or to give themselves to any games; but some of them he allotted to look to the gardin, assigning to every one his sundry plot; some again he set to sing, some to play on the organs; he suffered none to give themselves to cards or dice. The men abode on the one side of the house, the women on the other, seldom conversing together; he used before bedtime to call them together, and say certain prayers with them, as the Miserere psalm; Evening prayers. Ad te, Domine, levaui; Deus misereatur nostri; Salue Regina; and De profundis for the dead, and some others; he suffered none to be absent from Mass on the Sundays, or upon holy days; and upon great feasts he got them to watch the eves all the Matins time. Vigils. His deuotion on good friday. Upon Good Friday he would call them together into the New-buildings; and reading the holy Passion unto them, he would now and then interpose some speeches of his own to move them either to compassion, compunction, or such pious affections. Erasmus saith, that there was a fatal felicity fallen on the servants of that house, that none lived but in better estate after Sir THOMAS MORE's death; none ever was touched with the least aspersion of any evil fame. He used to have one read daily at his table, His tabletalke▪ which being ended, he would ask of some of them, how they understood such and such a place, and so there grew a friendly communication, recreating all men that were present, with some ieaste or other. My aunt Rooper writing hereof to her father in the Tower saith: What do you think, my most dear father, doth comfort us at Chelsey in this your absence? surely the remembrance of your manner of life passed amongst us, your holy conversation, your wholesome counsels, your examples of virtue, of which there is hope that they do not only persevere with you, but that they are by God's grace much more increased. 2. 2. His behaviour toward his wife and children, and counsels giuen them. His children used often to translate out of English into Latin, and out of Latin into English: and Doctor Stapleton testifieth that he hath seen an Apology of Sir THOMAS MORE's to the university of Oxford in defence of learning, turned into Latin by one of his daughters, and translated again into English by another. To desire heauenly matters. And to stir up his wife and children to the desire of heavenly things, he would sometimes use these and the like words unto them: It is now no mastery for you, my joys, to get heaven; for every body giveth you good example, every one storeth your heads with good counsels; you see also virtue rewarded, and vice punished; so that you are carried up thither by the chins; but if you chance to live that time, wherein none will give you good example, nor none any good counsel; when you shall see before your eyes virtue punished and vice rewarded, if then you will stand fast, and stick to God closely, upon pain of my life, though you be but half good, To bear afflictions patiently. God will allow you for whole good. If his wife or any of his children chanced to be sick or troubled, he would say unto them: we must not look to go to heaven at our pleasure and on fotherbeds; that is not the way, for our Lord himself went thither with great pain; and the servant must not look to be in better case than his master. As he would in this sort animate them to bear their troubles patiently, So withstand temptations of the devil. so would he in like manner teach them to withstand the devil and his temptations valiantly, comparing our ghostly enemy to an ape, which if he be not looked unto, he will be busy and bold to do shrewede turns; but if he be espied and checked for them, he will suddenly leap back and adventure no further; so the devil finding a man idle, sluggish, & using no resistance to his suggestions, waxeth hardy, and will not fail still to continue them, until he hath throughly brought us to his purpose; but if he find a man with diligence still seeking to withstand and prevent his temptations he waxeth weary, and at last he utterly forsaketh him, being a spirit of so high a pride, that he cannot endure to be mocked; and again so envious that he feareth still lest he not only thereby should catch a fowl fall, but also minister unto us more matter of merit. Against too much curiosity in dressing. When he saw any of his take great pains in dressing themselves to be fine either in wearing that which was uneasy, or in stroking up their hair to make themselves high foreheads, he would tell them that if God gave them not hell, he should do them great injury; for they took more pains to please the world and the devil, than many even virtuous men did to cleanse their souls and please God. A happy household. Many such speeches tending to devotion and care of their souls had he every day at dinner and supper, after the reading was done, as is before said, with such heavenly discourses flowing with eloquence, that it might well be said of him, which the Queen of Saba said of Solomon: Blessed art thou; and blessed by thy Lord God; and blessed are all they that attend and wait on thee; For no doubt there was the spirit of God in that family, where every one was busied about somewhat or other; no cards, no dice, no company keeping of the men with the women; but as it were in some religious house, Their ordinary recreations. all chaste, all courteous, all devout; their recreations was either music of voices or viols; for which cause he procured his wife, as I have said, to play thereon, to draw her mind from the world, to which by nature she was too much addicted; but so, as Sir THOMAS would say of her, that she was often penny-wise, and pound-foolish, saving a candle's end, and spoiling a veluett gown. Of her also he meant it, when in his books of Comfort in Tribulation he telleth of one, who would rate her husband, because he had no mind to set himself forward in the world, saying unto him: Tillie valley, tillie valley: will you sit and make goslings in the ashes; my mother hath often said, unto me: it is better to rule then to be ruled. Now in truth, answered Sir THOMAS, that is truly said, good wife; for I never found you yet willing to be ruled. And in another place of the same book he calleth this wife of his, a jolly Maister-woman. 3. 3. S.T. More studiously wrote against heresies in midst of of his affairs. For all his public affairs and household exercises, he never left of to write learned books either of devotion or against heresies, which now began to spread themselves from Germany into Flanders, & from thence into England by many pestiferous pampheletts and books, against which Sir THOMAS MORE laboured with his pen more than any other English man whatsoever, in regard of his zeal to God, and the honour of his immaculate spouse the Catholic Church, as appeareth by his four books of Dialogues, The praise of his Dialogue a work full of learning and wit, where he argueth most profoundly of the Invocation of Saints, pilgrimages, relics, and Images; he teacheth also substantially, how we may know, which is the true Church, and that that Church cannot err. After he had ended this book, there was a lewd fellow set out a pamphlett entitled the Supplication of Beggars; His answer to the Supplication of beggars. by which under pretence of helping the poor, he goeth about to cast out the Clergy and to overthrow all Abbeys and religious houses, bearing men in hand, that after that the Gospel should be preached, beggars and bawds should decrease, thief's and idle people be the fewer, etc. Against whom Sir THOMAS wrote a singular book, which he named A Supplication of the souls in Purgatory, making them there, The Supplication of souls of Purgatory. complain of the most uncharitable dealing of certain upstarts, who would persuade all men to take from them the spiritual alms, that have been in all ages bestowed upon these poor souls, who feel greater misery than any beggar in this world; and he proveth most truly that an ocean of many mischievous events would indeed overwhelm the realm: Then, saith he, shall Luther's gospel come in; then shall tindal's Testament be taken up; then shall false heresies be preached, The woeful effects of heresy. then shall the Sacraments be set at naught, then shall fasting and prayer be neglected, then shall holy Saints be blasphemed, then shall Almighty god be displeased, then shall he withdraw his grace and let all run to ruin, then shall all virtue be had in derision, then shall all vice reign and run forth unbridled, then shall youth leave labour and all occupation, then shall folks wax idle and fall to unthriftiness, then shall whores and thiefs, beggars and bawds increase, then shall unthrifts flock together, and each bear him bold of other, then shall all laws be laughed to scorn, then shall servants set naught by their masters, and unruly people rebel against their governors, then will rise up rifeling and robbery, mischief and plain insurrection; whereof what the end will be, or when you shall see it, only God knoweth. And that Luther's new Gospel hath taken such effect in many parts of Christendom, the woeful experience doth feelingly to the great grief of all good folks testify to the world; Of all which, and that the land would be peopled to the devouring of one another, he writeth particularly more like one that had seen what had ensued already, then like one that spoke of things to come. Against Tindal, Frith, and Barnes. He wrote also a laboursome book against tindal, refuting particularly every period of his books; a short treatise also against young Father Fryth in defence of the real presence, which that heretic did gainsay and for that was after burnt. Against Friar Barnes his church he wrote also an Apology, Apology. and a defence thereof, Debellation of Salem & Bizance. under the name of Salem and Byzanze; which are all set forth together with that most excellent piece of work comprised in three books of Comfort in Tribulation; Comfort in tribulation. which subject he handleth so wittily as none hath come near him either in weight of grave sentences, devout considerations or fit similitudes; seasoning always the troublesomeness of the matter with some merry jests or pleasant tales, as it were sugar, whereby we drink up the more willingly these wholesome drugs, of themselves unsavoury to flesh and blood; which kind of writing he hath used in all his works, so that none can ever be weary to read them, though they be never so long. 4. 4. A view of many witty & pithy speeches of S. Th. Mores. Wherefore I have thought it not amiss to set down in this place amongst a thousand others, some of his Apothegms, which Doctor Stapleton hath collected in two whole Chapters: Do not think, saith Sir THOMAS MORE, that, to be always pleasant, which mad men do laughing. For one may often see a man in Bedlam laugh, The vulgar no true judge of things. when he knocks his head against the wall; uttering this to condemn them that esteem all things good or bad, which the common people judge to be. Sinners distasted. Again: A sinner, saith he, cannot taste spiritual delights; because all carnal are first to be abandoned. Why few do fear death. By an excellent similitude he teacheth us, why few do fear death thus: Even as they which look upon things afar of, see them confusedly, not knowing whether they be men or trees; even so he that promiseth unto himself long life, looketh upon death as a thing far of, not judging what it is, how terrible, what griefs and dangers it bringeth with it. And that none ought to promise himself long life, No man sure of long life. he proveth thus: Even as two men that are brought out of prison to the gallows, one by a long way about, the other by a direct short path, yet neither knowing, which is which, until they come to the gallows, neither of these two can promise himself longer life, the one than the other, by reason of the uncertainty of the way; even so a young man cannot promise himself longer life, than an old man. Against the vanity of worldly honour he speaketh thus: Even as that criminal person, World's vanity. who is to be lead to execution shortly should be accounted vain, if he should engrave his Coat of Arms upon the prison gate; even so are they vain, who endeavour to leave, with great industry, monuments of their dignity in the prison of this world. By a subtle dilemma, he teacheth us, Worldly losses hurt not. why we are not to think that we can be hurt, by the loss of our superfluous goods in this manner: he that suffereth any loss of his goods, he would either have bestowed them with praise and liberality, and so God will accept his will in steed of the deed itself, or else he would have wasted them wickedly, and then he hath cause to rejoice, that the matter of sinning is taken away. To express lively the folly of an old covetous man he writeth thus: The folly of old misers. a thief that is to die to morrow, stealeth to day; and being asked, why he did so, he answered, that it was a great pleasure unto him to be master of that money but one night; so an old miser never ceaseth to increase his heap of coin, though he be never so aged. To express the folly and madness of them that delight wholly in hording up wealth, he writeth in the person of the souls in purgatory thus; Madness of covetous men. in his book of the Supplication of the Souls: We that are here in purgatory when we think of our bags of gold, which we hoarded up in our life time, we condemn & laugh at our own folly no otherwise, then if a man of good years should find by chance the bag of Cherry stones, which he had carefully hid, when he was a child. Fruits of tribulation. In his book of Comfort in tribulation, that men should not be troubled in adversity, he writeth thus: The minds of mortal men are so blind and uncertain, so mutable and unconstant in their desires, that God could not punish men worse, then if he should suffer every thing to happen that every man doth wish for. The fruit of tribulation he describeth thus all punishment inflicted in hell, is only as a just revenge because it is no place of purging: In purgatory all punishments purge only, because it is no place of merit; but in this life, every punishment can both purge sin and procure merit for a just man, because in this life there is place for both. He saith also that they which give themselves to pleasure and idleness in this time of pilgrimage, are like to him, How fond it is to love this world. who travelling to his own house, where there is abundance of all things, would yet be an hosteler in an Inn by the way, for to get an Innkeepers favour, and so end his life there in a stable. Speaking of ghostly Fathers, Against Confessors that flatter their ghostly Children. that seek to please their penitents, he saith: Even as a mother sendeth forth her child to school with fair words and promises, that hath slept too long in the morning, and therefore feareth the rod, when he weepeth and blubbereth she promiseth him, all will be well, because it is not so late as he imagineth, or that his master will pardon him for that fault this time, not caring what he endureth when he cometh thither indeed, so she send him merry from home with his bread & butter in his hand; even so, many Pastors of souls speak pleasing things to their sheep that are rich and delicate, they promise them, when they are dying, and fear hell, that all things shall be well with them, telling them, that either they have not offended God so grievously as they fear, or that God being mercieful will easily forgive them; nothing careful whether after this life they feel hell or no, so that they make them not sad in this world, & show themselues grateful unto them here. Affliction more profitable than pleasure. Pleasure, saith he, doth not only withdraw wicked men from prayer, but also affliction sometimes; yet this is the difference; that affliction doth sometimes wrest some short prayer from the wickedest man alive; but pleasure calleth away even one that is indifferent good from all prayer. Against differing of amendment. Against impenitent persons and such as differre the amending of their life till the latter end of their days, he saith thus: A lewd fellow that had spent all his life in wickedness, was wont to brag, that he could be saved, if he spoke but three words at the hour of his death; riding over a bridge that was broken, his horse stumbling, and not being able to keep himself from tumbling into the water, as he saw himself fall headlong into it casting away the bridle, he said: the Devil Take All; and so with his three words he perished in the river. He that is lightened with a true vision, Visions, and illusions. differeth from him that hath an illusion; even as a man awake differeth from him that dreameth. Even as he that passeth over a narrow bridge, by reason of his fear often falleth, Pusillanimity a dangerous temptation. especially if others say unto him: you fall; which otherwise he would safely pass over; even so he that is fearful by nature and full of pusillanimity, often falleth into desperation, the devil crying unto him; thou art damned, thou art damned; which he would never hearken to, nor be in any danger, if he should take unto him a good hart, and by wholesome counsel fear nothing the devil's outcry. Danger of prosperity. The prosperity of this world is like the shortest winter's day; and we are lifted up in it as an arrow shot up on high, where a hot breath doth delight us, but from thence we fall suddenly to the earth, and there we stick fast, either be mired with the dirt of infamy, or starving with cold, being plucked out of our feathers. Of riches and honours. Again he saith? As it is a hard thing, to touch pitch, and not to be defiled there with, a dry stick to be put into the fire, and not to burn, to nourish a snake in our bosom, and not to be stung with it; so a most hard thing it is to be rich and honoured in this world, and not to be struck with the dart of pride and vain glory. All riches of this world none of our own. Let there be two beggars, saith he, who have long time begged together; one of whom some rich man hath entertained in his house, put him in silk, given him money in his purse, but with this condition, as he tells him, that with in a short space, he will thrust him out of his doors, and take all that away from him again; if he in the mean while being thus gallant, should chance to meet with his fellow beggar, would he be so foolish as for all this not to acknowledge him for his companion? or would he for these few day's happiness hold himself better than he? Applying this to every man's case, who cometh naked into this world, and is to return naked again. He compareth Covetousness to a fire, Covetousness which by how much the more wood there is laid on it to burn, so much apt it is to burn more still. That there are many in this life, Bad merchants. that buy hell with more toil, than heaven might be won with, by half. He foresaw heresy in England, A prediction of heresy. as appeareth by this witty comparison; Like as before a great storm the sea swelleth, and hath unwonted motions without any wind stirring; so may we see here many of our Englishmen, which a few years ago could not endure to hear the name of an Heretic, Schismatic, Lutheran or sacramentary, now to be very well contented both to suffer them and to praise them somewhat, yea to learn by little and little as much as they can be suffered, to find fault, and to tax willingly the Church, the Clergy, the Ceremonies, yea and Sacraments too. rich are not goods. Also he hath this argument; if he be called stout that hath fortitude, he hot, who hath heat, wise that hath wisdom; yet he who hath riches, cannot be said presently to be good; therefore riches cannot be numbered amongst good things. Twenty, yea a hundred bare heads standing by a noble man do not defend his head from cold so much as his own hat doth alone, which yet he is enforced to put of in the presence of his prince. The worst affection. That is the worst affection of the mind, which doth delight us in that thing, which cannot be gotten but by offending God. He that doth get or keep worldly wealth by offending God, let himfully persuade himself, that those things will never do him good; for either God will quickly take away evil gotten goods, or will suffer them to be kept for a greater mischief. Even as he that knoweth certainly that he is to be banished into a strange country, Alms deeds. never to return into his own again, and will not endure that his goods be transported thither, being loath to want them for that little while rather than ever to enjoy them after, may well be thought a mad man; so are they out of their wits, who enticed with vain affections to keep their goods always about them, and neglective to give alms for fear of wanting, cannot endure to have these goods sent before them to heaven, when as they know most assuredly that they shall enjoy them always there with all plenty, and with a double reward. To ease his thoughts when he was in prison, An the world a prison. he imagined that all the world was but a prison, out of which every day some one or other was called to execution, that is to death. To suffer for God. In his daily talk he used also many witty sayings, as: that it is an easy matter in some cases for a man to lose his head, and yet to have no harm at all. The world no recompenser. Good deeds the world being ungrateful is wont never to recompense, neither can it, though it were grateful. Heresy impuden. Speaking of heretics he would say; they have taken away hypocrisy, but they have placed impudency in the room thereof; so that they which before feigned themselves to be religious, now do boast of their wickedness. Prayer. He prayed thus: O Lord God, grant, that I endeavour to get those things, for which I am to pray unto thee. Detraction. When he had any at his table speaking detraction, he would interrupt them thus; Let any man think as he pleaseth, I like this room very well; for it is well contrived and fairly built. Ingratitude. Of an ungrateful person he would say, that they wrote good turns done unto them in the dust; but even the least injuries, in marble. Faith the mistress of reason He compareth reason to a handmaid, which if she be well taught, will obey; and Faith to the mistress, which is to keep her in awe: captivans intellectum in obsequium fidei. To seek for the truth amongst heretics, No truth among heretics. is like to a man wand'ring in a desert, & meeting with a company of lewd fellows, of whom he asketh his way they all turning back to back, each pointeth right before him, & assureth him that that is his true way; though never so contrary one to the other. He saith that he were a mad man, Better prevent, than redress. that would drink poison to take a preservative after that; but he is a wise man, that spilling the poison, leaveth the antidote for him, that hath need thereof. As it is an easier thing to weave a new net rather than to sow up all the holes of an old; Heretical translations. even so it is a less labour to translate the Bible a new, then to mend heretical versions. He is not wise that eateth the bread, Avoid heresy. which is poisoned by his enemies, although he should see a friend of his scrape it away never so much, especially having other bread to eat not poisoned. Fasting. The heretics saying that none ought to fast, but when they are troubled with the motions of the flesh, he answereth; if it be so, no married man needs to fast; for they have another remedy athand; and virgins durst not fast, least wanton fellows should mark them, when carnal temptations most assail them, and this were for one to show to others their fleshly frailties. Desire of heaven. He was wont to say that he may well be adadmitted to heaven, who was very desirous to see God; but on the contrary side, he that doth not desire earnestly shall never be admitted thither. Monastical life. Against an heretic he speaketh thus: that if monastical life be against the Gospel, as you seem to say it must needs be, that the gospel be contrary unto it; and that were to say that Christ taught us to pamper ourselves carefully, to eat well, to drink well, to sleep well and flow in all lust and pleasure. Faith and good works. If Faith cannot be without good works, why then babble you so much against good works, which are the fruits of faith. That people should fall into bad life and lust, is as great a miracle, he saith, Bad life no miracle. as stones to fall downwards. Whereas (he saith) you inveigh against Schoole-divinitie, School-divinity. because truth is there called in doubt, not without danger; we inveigh against you, because false matters are held by you undoubtedly for truth itself. These good fellows (speaking of heretics) will rather hang out of God's vineyard, Heretics. then suffer themselves to be hired into it. Heretics writings, seeing they conclude no good thing, are altogether tedious, be they never so short. And again: As none can run a shorter race, than he that wants both his feet; so none can write shorter than he that hath not any good matter, nor fit words to express it. When an heretic told him, Impugning of heresy. that he should not write against heretics, unless he could convert them; he said, that it was like, as if one should not find fault with burners of houses, unless he were able to build them up again at his own charge. Heretics falsplay. He telleth, that heretics use to frame Catholics arguments very weak and frivolous, that they may the more easily confute them; even as little children make houses of tyleshardes, which they cast down with great sport again presently. Their contumelies. Of their contumelious speeches against himself he saith, I am not so void of reason, that I can expect reasonable matter from such unreasonable men. His hatred against heresy in good earnest. When they said his writings were nothing but jesting toys, he saith; I scarce believe that these good brethren can find any pleasant thing in my books; for I write nothing in them that may be pleasing unto them. When the heretic Constantine had broken prison in his house, he bade his man go lock the door fast and see the place mended sure, lest he should come back again; and when the heretics reported, that he was sorry for this, that he could not for anger eat in three days, he answered that he was not so harsh of disposition to find fault with any man for rising and walking, when he sat not at his ease. All his English works were set out together in a great volume, whilst Q. Marie reigned, 5. His profound skill in divinyty. by judge Rastall Sir THOMAS his sister's son, by which works one may see that he was very skilful in Schoole-divinitie and matters of Controversy, for he argueth sharply, he confirmeth the truth profoundly, and citeth both Scriptures and Fathers most aptly; besides he urgeth for the adverse part more a great deal, than any heretic ever did, that wrote before him. But to see how he handleth Luther under the name of one Rosse, None handled Luther more kindly. would do any man good, feigning that Rosse wrote his book from Rome, against the most ridiculous and scurrilous pamphlett, which Luther had made against King Henry the eighth, who of good zeal had set out with great praise a book in defence of the Seven Sacraments, & the Pope's authority; for which Pope Leo the tenth gave him the tile of Defender of the Faith. Wherefore in defence of his Sovereign, whom Luther had most basely railed at, calling him often Thomistical ass, & that he would bewray the king's Crown, who was not worthy to wipe his shoes, with many other scurrilous speeches; Sir THOMAS painteth out the fowl mouthed fellow in his lively colours, and made him so enraged, that it stung him more than any other book, that ever was set out against him. Sir Thomas More well studied in S. Thomas doctrine. Finally in every one of his books, whensoever he toucheth any controversy, he doth it so exactly that one may see, that he had diligently read many great Divines; and that he was very well seen in S. Thomas the father of all Divinity, this may be an evident sign, which his Secretary john Harris a man of sound judgement and great piety, reported of him, that on a time an heretical book newly printed and spread abroad was brought to Sir THOMAS; which when he read, being in his boat, going from Chelsey to London, he showed certain of the author's arguments with his fingar to Mr. Harris saying: Lo here how the knave's argument is taken out of the objections of S. Thomas in 2.2. in such and such an article; but the lewd fellow might have seen the solutions, which are presently added there. And other school-divines. He maintained also in a learned Disputation with Fa: Alphonsus the Franciscan Q. Catherin's ghostly Father Scotus his opinion of Attrition and Contrition, as more safely to be followed, then that Occhamus; by all which it may be gathered, that he had great insight in the diversity of Scholastical opinions. He wrote also a book in Latin against Pomeran the heretic, His epistle against Pomeranus. and indeed laboured very much rather to reduce such men unto the Catholic Faith then to punish them for their revolt: & yet in his epitaph he saith of himself, that he was to thieves, murderers and heretics grievous: and Simon Grineus a Lutheran boasteth in his translation of Proclus dedicated to my grandfather, how courteously Sir THOMAS his father used him, when he was in England. THE FIFTH CHAPTER. K. HENRY'S FIRST scruples in his Marriage; Sir THOMAS MOOR'S care in the education of his children. 1. The ambition of Cardinal Wolsey occasion of K. Henry his fall. 2. K. Henry communicates his scruple about his marriage with S. T. More. 3. S. T. Moor's predication of the fall of England from religion. 4. He reduceth his son Roper miraculously from heresy. 5. He obtaineth his daughter Margaret's health of God by prayer. 6. S. T. Moor's domestic school. 7. His delight, and contentment in the studies of his children. 8. How his daughter Margaret proved excellent, for her sex, in learning. 1. 1. Cardinal Wolsey his ambition. WHile Sir THOMAS MORE was Chancellor of the Duchy, the Sea of Rome chanced to be vacant; and Cardinal Wolsey a man of unsatiable ambition, who had crept up in the favour of Charles the fifth, (so that the Emperor still writing unto him called him Father, and the other called him son,) hoped now by his means to attain to the popedom; but perceauing himself of that expectation frustrate and disappointed, because the Emperor in the time of their election had highly commended another to the whole College of the Cardinals, called Adrian, who was a Fleming, and had been sometime his school master, a man of rare learning & singular virtue; who thereupon although absent and little dreaming of it, was chosen Pope; and then forth with going from Spain, where he was then resident, came on foot to Rome. Pope Adrian's humility. Before he entered into the City, putting of his hose and shoes, barefoot and bare leggd he passed through the streets towards his palace, with such humility & devotion that all the people not without cause had him in great reverence and admiration; but, as I said, Cardinal Wolsey, a man of contrary qualities, waxed therewith so wroth, and stomached so the Emperor for it ever after, that he studied still how he might revenge himself any ways against him; which as it was the beginning of a lamentable tragedy, so the end thereof we cannot yet see, although there have been almost one hundred years sithence. Wolsey the author of K. H. 8. fall. This Wolsey therefore not ignorant of King henry's unconstant & mutable disposition, inclined to withdraw his affections upon every light occasion from his own most noble, virtuous and lawful wife Q. Catherine the emperor's own aunt, and to fix this amorous passions upon other women, nothing comparable unto her either in birth, wisdom, virtue, favour, or external beauty; this irreligious prelate meaning to make the king's lightness an instrument to bring about his unconscionable intent, endeavoured by all the means he could to allure the king to cast his fancy upon one of the French king's sisters; the king being fallen in love already, he not suspecting any such thing, with the lady Anne Bullen a woman of no nobility, no nor so much as of any worthy fame. This French match he thought to plot to spite the Emperor, Longland B. of London, Wolsey's instrument. because at that time there was great wars and mortal enmity between the French king and Charles the fifth. For the better compassing whereof, the Cardinal requested Longland Bishop of London, who was the king's ghostly father, to put a scruple into king henry's head, that he should, as it were another S. john Baptist, (though the case were nothing like,) tell his Majesty, that it was not lawful for him like another Herode to marry his brother's wife. 2. K. Henry communicateth with S. T. More, his scruple concerning his first marriage And although K. henry's conscience had been quiett now above twenty years together, yet was he not unwilling to hearken hereunto: but entertaining it, opened his scruple to Sir THOMAS MORE, whose counsel he required herein, showing him certain places of Scripture, that somewhat seemed to serve the turn and his appetite. Which when Sir THOMAS had seriously perused, and had excused himself saying, he was unfit to meddle with such matters, being one that never had professed the study of Divinity: The king not satisfied with this answer, knowing well his judgement to be found in whatsoever he would apply himself unto; pressed him so sore, that in conclusion he condescended to his Majesty's request being as it were a command; and for that the cause was of such weight and importance, having need of great deliberation, he besought his Majesty to give him sufficient respite advisedly to consider of it; with which the king very well satisfied, said that Tunstall and Clarke, two worthy Bishops, one of Durham, the other of bath, with others the learnedest of his privy Council should also be his Coadiutours. Sir THOMAS taking his leave of the king, Sir Tho. Moor's discreet answer to the king's scruple. went and conferred with them about those places of Scripture, adding thereto, for their better means to search out the truth, the expositions of the ancient Fathers, and Doctors of the Church; and at his next coming to the Court, talking with the king about this matter, he spoke thus: To deal sincerely with your Majesty neither my Lo: of Durham, nor my Lo: of bath, though I know them both wise, virtuous, learned, and honourable prelate's, nor myself with the rest of your Council, being all your Grace's own servants and subjects, for your manifold benefits daily bestowed upon us so much bound unto your Highness; none of us, I say, nor we all together are in my judgement meet counsellors for your Majesty herein: but if your princely disposition purpose to understand the very truth hereof, you may have such counsellors, as neither for respect of their own worldly commodity, nor fear of your princely authority will be inclined to deceive you; and then he named S. Hierome, S. Austin, and divers others both Greek and Latin Fathers; showing him moreover, what authorities he had gathered out of them, that he need not have any further scruple thereof, and that marrying of a new wife, whilst his own was alive, was wholly repugnant to their doctrine and the meaning of the Scriptures. All which though king Henry did not very well like of, because it was disgustful to his passionate lust; yet the manner of Sir THOMAS his discourse and collection was so wisely tempered, by his discreet communication, that he took them at that present in good part, and often had conference of them again. His most upright conscience, and constant zeal of the truth. By which manner of Sir THOMAS his counsel and sincere carriage, one may easily gather, what unspotted conscience this upright man had, who for no hope of gain, or any fear of disgrace, would once swerve from the true dictamen of his Conscience: and if the rest of king henry's counsel had been as backward, (to hinder this beginning of dissolution) as Sir THOMAS was, no alteration of religion had by all likelihood happened in England; for from this only spring of K. henry's intemperance, proceeded all the succeeding calamities, which have daily increased, & yet have not any hope of amendment. All which change Sir THOMAS MORE either like a very wise man foresaw long before, 3. He foresaw in spirit the fall of religion in England. or rather like a prophet prophesied thereof to my uncle Rooper, who on a time of a certain joy began to commend to his father-in-lawe the happy estate of this realm, that had so Catholic and zealous a prince, that no heretic durst show his face; so learned and virtuous a Clergy, so grave and sound a Nobility, such loving and obedient subjects, all agreeing together in one faith and dutiefulnesse, as though they had cor unum & animam unam, but one hart and one soul; Sir THOMAS thus replied again; Truth it is indeed, son Rooper, as you say, and going through all estates with his commendations of them, he went far beyond my uncle; and yet son, quoth he, I pray God, that some of us, as high as we seem to sit now upon the mountains, treading heretics under our feet like ants, do not live the day that we gladly would wish to be in league with them, to suffer them to have their churches quietly to themselves, so that they would he content to let us have ours peaceably to ourselves. When mine uncle Rooper had told him many reasons, why he had no cause to say so; well, said he, I pray God some of us live not till that day; and yet showed he no reason for all these his speeches▪ whereat my uncle said in a choler: By my troth Sir it is very desperately spoken; I cry God mercy (saith my uncle) I used unto him that very word. By which speech Sir THOMAS perceauing him to be somewhat angry, said merrily▪ well son Rooper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so. But yet himself found the prediction too true: for he lived until the fiveteenth year of Q. Elizabeth's reign, when he saw religion turned topsie turuie, and no hope of any amendment. This spirit of prophecy no doubt was a sign of God's love unto Sir THOMAS, 4. The miraculous reduction of his son Roper from heresy, by his prayers. being so dear in his sight, that he would make him partaker of some part of his secrets: but that which he wrought in the conversion of this his son in law, was not a sign only, but an evident demonstration of God's great favour unto him. For when Mr. William Rooper was a young man, he used austerity to himself more than discretion afforded; and by this means he grew weary of the Catholic fasts and religious discipline; and hearing of a new and easy way to heaven, which the preachers of novelties did promise to their followers, he began to read diligently the books of heresies, which came over, and were spread in every place of England; in so much that being weary of Auricular Confession, fasting the lent, and vigiles, he grew vehement in his new opinions, and zealous in breaking of them to others; so as that he would be always talking, what a ready way to heaven was now found out, no body needing to sue to Saints or men's prayers; but God's ear was open still to hear, and his mercy ready to forgive any sinner whatsoever, when he shall call to him by faith, which was only necessary to salvation; and having that only, which he assured himself of, he needed not doubt, but that he was an elect and saved soul, so that it was impossible for him to sin or fall out of God's favour. The hot spirit of heresy. Of this dangerous poison of security he having drunk a full draught, he came on a time to Sir THOMAS to request him, because he was highly in the king's favour, that he would get him a licence to preach, what the spirit had taught him; for he was assured that God had sent him to instruct the world; not knowing (god wot) any reason of this his mission, but only his private spirit; to whom Sir THOMAS in a smiling manner replied; Is it not sufficient, son Rooper, that we that are your friends should know that you are a fool, but that you would have your folly proclaimed to the world? After this he often disputed with him about matters of religion, yet never could he bring him to hearken to any reason, every day seeming more obstinate than other, until at length he said: in sober sadness: I see, son, no disputation will do thee good; henceforth therefore I will dispute with thee no more; only will I pray for thee, that God will be so favourable as to touch thy hart; and so committing him to God, they parted. And he earnestly poured out his devotions before the Divine mercy for that intent. And behold my uncle not long after being inspired with the light of grace, began to detest his heresies; and, as another S. Austin was wholly converted; so that ever after he was not only a perfect Catholic, The great piety and charity of his said sonne M. Roper but lived and died a stout and valiant Champion thereof, whose alms in charitable uses, was so great, that it is said, that he bestowed every year to the value of five hundred pounds, especially in his latter days in which he enjoyed an office of great gain and commodity; and after his death I have heard it reported by them, that were servants in his house, that whilst his body lay unburied for three or four days there was heard once a day for the space of a quarter of an hour the sweetest music that could be imagined, not of any voices of men, but angelical harmony, as a token how gracious that soul was to Almighty God, and to the quires of Angels. 5. Another miraculous cure wrought by prayer upon his daughter Margaret. Now this was a more special favour, which God granted to Sir THOMAS his devout prayers, than the raising of a dead man to life, by how much more the death of the soul is of more danger than the death of the body, yet it is certain also, that this glorious man begged also corporal life for some of his dear friends. On a time his daughter Margaret wife to this William Rooper, fell sick of the sweeting sickness, of which many died at that time; who lying in so great extremity of the disease, that by no inventions nor devices that any cunning physician could use at that time having continually about her most learned, wise, and expert that could begotten, she could by no means be kept from sleep; so that every one about her had just cause to despair of her recovery, giving her utterly over, her father as he that most loved her, being in no small heaviness at last sought for remedy of this her desperate case from God. wherefore going as his custom was, into his new building, there in his Chapel upon his knees most devoutly even with many tears besought Almighty God, unto whom nothing was impossible, of his goodness, if it were his blessed will, that at his meditation he would vouchsafe graciously to grant this his humble petition; where presently came into his mind, that a glister was the only way to help her: which when he told the physicians, they confessed that it was the best remedy indeed, much marveling of themselues, they had not remembered if; which was immediately ministered unto her sleeping; for else she would never have been brought to that kind of medicine. And although when she awaked throughly, God's marks (an evident and undoubted token of death) plainly appeared upon her, yet she contrary to all expectations was, as it were miraculously and by her father's fervent prayer restored to perfect health again; whom if it had pleased God at that time to have taken to his mercy, her father solemnly protested that he would never have meddled with any worldly matters after, such was his fatherly love and vehement affection unto this his jewel, who most nearly of all the rest of his Children expressed her father's virtues, although the meanest of all the rest might have been matched with any other of their age in England, either for learning, excellent qualities or piety, they having been brought up even from their infancy with such care and industry, and enjoying always most virtuous and learned masters. 6. Sir Tho. Moor's domestiqs school. So that the school of Sir THOMAS MORE's children was famous over the whole world; for that their wits were rare, their diligence extraordinary, and their master's most excellent men, as above the rest Doctor Clement an excellent Grecian and physician, who was after reader of the phisicke-lecture in Oxford, and set out many books of learning. After him one William Gunnell who read after with great praise in Cambridge, and besides these one Drue, one Nicolas, and after all one Richard Hart, of whose rare learning and industry in this behalf, let us see, what may be gathered out of Sir THOMAS his letters unto them, and first to Mr. Gunnell thus: I have received, my dear Gunnell, your letters, such as they are want to be, most elegant & full of affection. Your love towards my children I gather by your letter; their diligence, by their own; for every one of their letters pleaseth me very much, Modesty the ornament of women. yet most especially I take joy to hear that my daughter Elizabeth hath shown as great modesty in her mother's absence, as any one could do, if she had been in presence; let her know that that thing liked me better, than all the epistles besides; for as I esteem learning, which is joined with virtue more than all the threasures of kings; so what doth the fame of being a great scholar bring us, if it be severed from virtue other than a notorious and famous infamy, especially in a woman, whom men will be ready the more willingly to assail for their learning, because it is a rare matter, and argueth a reproach to the sluggishness of a man, who will not stick to lay the fault of their natural malice upon the quality of learning supposing all their own unskillfullnesse by comparing it with the vices of those that are learned, shallbe accounted for virtue: but if any woman on the contrary part (as I hope and wish by your instruction and teaching all mine will do) shall join many virtues of the mind with a little skill of learning, Learning to be desired for use, not for praise. I shall account this more happiness, then if they were able to attain to Craesus' wealth joined with the beauty of fair Helen; not because they were to get great fame thereby, although that inseparably followeth all virtue, as a shadow doth the body, but for that they should obtain by this the true reward of wisdom, which can never be taken away as wealth may, nor will fade, as beauty doth, because it dependeth of truth and justice, and not of the blasts of men's mouths, than which nothing is more foolish, nothing more pernicious; for as it is the duty of a good man to eschew infamy, so it is not only the property of a proud man, but also of a wretched and ridiculous man to frame their actions only for praise; for that man's mind must needs be full of unquietness, that always wavers for fear of other men's judgements between joy and sadness. But amongst other the notable benefits, which learning bestoweth upon men, I account this one of the most profitable, that in getting of learning we look not for praise, to be accounted learned men, but only to use it in all occasions, which the best of all other learned men, I mean the philosophers those true moderatours of men's actions have delivered unto us from hand to hand, although some of them have abused their sciences, aiming only to be accounted excellent men by the people. Thus have I spoken, my Gunnell, somewhat the more of the not coveting of vain glory, in regard of those words in your letter, whereby you judge that the high spirit of my daughter Margarett's wit is not to be dejected▪ wherein I am of the same opinion that you are, In what consists dejection of spirit. but I think (as I doubt not but you are of the same mind) that he doth deject his generous wit, whosoever accustometh himself to admire vain and base objects, and he raiseth well his spirits, that embraceth virtue and true good, they are base minded indeed, that esteem the shadow of good things (which most men greedily snatch at, for want of discretion to judge true good from apparent) rather then the truth itself. And therefore seeing I hold this the best way for them to walk in, I have not only requested you, my dear Gunnell, whom of yourself I know would have done it out of the entire affection you bear unto them; neither have I desired my wife alone, whom her mother lie piety by me often and many ways tried doth stir them up thereto, What ornament Sir Tho. More required in his children. but also all other my friends I have entreated many times to persuade all my children to this, that avoiding all the gulfs and downfalls of pride, they walk through the pleasant meadows of modesty, that they never be enamoured of the glistering hue of gold and silver, nor lament for the want thereof, which by error they admire in others, that they think no better of themselves for all their costly trim, nor any meaner for the want of them; not to lessen their beauty by neglecting it, which they have by nature, nor to make it any more by unseemly art, to think virtue their chief happiness, learning and good qualities the next, of which those are especially to be learned, which will avail them most, that is to say, piety towards Gods, Charity towards all men, modesty, and Christian humility in themselves, by which they shall reap from God the reward of an innocent life, by certain confidence thereof they shall not need to fear death, and in the mean while enjoying true alacrity, they shall neither be puffed up with the vain praises of men, nor dejected by any slander of disgrace; these I esteem the true and solid fruits of learning; which as they happen not, I confess, A woman may attain to learning as well as a man. to all that are learned, so those may easily attain them, who begin to study with this intent; neither is there any difference in harvest time, whether it was man or woman, that sowed first the corn; for both of them bear name of a reasonable creature equally, whose nature reason only doth distinguish from bruit beasts, and therefore I do not see why learning in like manner may not equally agree with both sexes; for by it, reason is cultivated, and (as a field) sowed with wholesome precepts, it bringeth forth excellent fruit. But if the soil of woman's brain be of its own nature bad, and apt to bear fern then corn (by which saying many do terrify women from learning) I am of opinion therefore that a woman's wit is the more diligently by good instructions and learning to be manured, to the end, the defect of nature may be redressed by industry. Of which mind were also many wise and holy ancient Fathers, as, to omit others, S. Hierome and S. Augustine, who not only exhorted many noble matrons and honourable virgins to the getting of learning, but also to further them therein, they diligently expounded unto them many hard places of Scriptures; yea written many letters unto tender maids, full of so great learning, that scarcely our old and greatest Professors of Divinity can well read them, much less be able to understand them perfectly; which holy Saints works you will endeavour, my learned Gunnell, of your courtesy, The end to which all learning must be directed. that my daughters may learn, whereby they may chiefly know, what end they ought to have in their learning, to place the fruits of their labours in God, & a true Conscience; by which it will be easily brought to pass, that being at peace within themselves, they shall neither be moved with praise of flatterers, nor the nipping follies of unlearned scoffers; but me thinks I hear you reply, that though these my precepts be true; yet are they too strong and hard for the tender age of my young wenches to hearken too: For what man, be he never so aged or expert in any science, is so constant or stayed, that he is not a little stirred up with the tickling of glory? And for my part, I esteem that the harder it is to shake from us this plague of pride, so much the more ought every one to endeavour to do it from his very infancy. And I think there is no other cause, why this almost inevitable mischief doth stick so fast in our breasts, but for that it is engrafted in our tender minds even by our nurses, as soon as we are crept out of our shells; it is fostered by our masters, it is nourished and perfected by our parents, whilst that no body propoundeth any good thing to children, but they presently bid them expect praise as the whole reward of virtue; whence it is, that they are so much accustomed to esteem much of honour and praise, that by seeking to please the most, who are always the worst, they are still ashamed to be good with the fewest. He desireth it may by all means be beaten from his children. That this plague may the farther be banished from my children, I earnestly desire, that you, my dear Gunnell, their mother and all their friends, would still sing this song, unto them, hammer it always in their heads, and inculcate it unto them upon all occasions, that vain glory is abject, and to be despised, neither any thing to be more worthy or excellent, than that humble modesty, which is so much praised by Christ; the which prudent Charity will so guide and direct, that it will teach us to desire virtue rather than to upbraid others for their vices, and will procure rather to love them, who admonish us of our fault, then hate them, for their wholesome counsel. To the obtaining whereof nothing is more available, then to read unto them the wholesome precepts of the Fathers, whom they know not to be angry with them, and they must needs be vehemently moved with their authorities, because they are venerable for their sanctity. If therefore you read any such thing unto Margarett and Elizabeth, besides their lessons in Sallust, for they are of riper judgement by reason of their age, than john and Cecilie, you shall make both me and them every day more bound unto you; moreover you shall hereby procure my children being dear by nature, after this more dear for learning, but by their increase of good manners most dear unto me. Farewell. From the Court this Whitfuneeve. Another epistle of Sir THOMAS MORE to his Children. 7. The delight Sir T.M. bad in his child's learning. Thomas More to his whole school sendeth greeting: Behold how I have found out acompendious way to salute you all, and make spare of time and paper, which I must needs have wasted in saluting every one of you particularly by your names; which would be very superfluous, because you are all so dear unto me, some in one respect, some in another, that I can omit none of you unsaluted. Yet I know not, whether there can be any better motive, why I should love you, then because you are scholars, learning seeming to bind me more straitly unto you, than the nearness of blood. I rejoice therefore that Mr. Drue is returned safe, of whose safety you know I was careful. If I loved you not exceedingly, I should envy this your so great happiness, to have had so many great scholars for your masters. They studied Astronomy. For I think Mr. Nicolas is with you also, and that you have learned of him much astronomy; so that I hear you have proceeded so far in this science, that you now know not only the polestar, or dog, and such like of the common Constellations, but also, which argueth an absolute and cunning astronomer, in the chief planets themselves: you are able to discern the sun from the moon; go forward therefore with this your new and admirable skill, by which you do thus climb up to the stars, which whilst you daily admire, in the mean while I admonish you also to think of this holy fast of Lent, and let that excellent and pious song of Boethius sound in your ears, whereby you are taught also with your minds to penetrate beaven, lest when the body is lifted upon high, the soul be driven down to the earth with the brute beasts. Farewell. From the Court this 23th Another. Thomas More to his best beloved Children, and to Margarett Jigs, whom he numbereth amongst his own, sendeth greeting: The merchant of Bristol brought unto me your letters, the next day after he had received them of you, with the which I was exceedingly delighted. For there can come nothing, He discourieth pleesauntly. yea though it were never so rude, never so meanly polished, from this your shop, but it procureth me more delight than any other men's works, be they never so eloquent; your writing doth so stir up my affection towards you; but excluding these your letters may also very well please me for their own worth, being full of fine wit, and of a pure Latin phrase. therefore none of them all, but joyed me exceedingly, yet to tell you ingeniously what I think, my son John's letter pleased me best, both because it was longer than the other, as also for that he seemeth to have taken more pains than the rest. For he not only painteth out the matter decently, and speaketh elegantly, but he playeth also pleasantly with me, and returneth my jests upon me again very wittily; and this he doth not only pleasantly, but temperately withal, showing that he is mindful with whom he ieasteth, to wit, his father, whom he endeavoureth so to delight, that he is also afeared to offend. Hereafter I expect every day letters from every one of you; neither will I accept of such excuses, as you complain of, that you had no leisure, or that the Carrier went away suddenly, or that you have no matter to write; john is not want to allege any such things; nothing can hinder you from writing, but many things may exhort you thereto why should you lay any fault upon the Carrier, seeing you may prevent his coming, and have them ready made up, and sealed two days before any offer themselves to carry them. And how can you want matter of writing unto me, who am delighted to hear either of your studies, or of your play: whom you may even then please exceedingly, when having nothing to write of, you write as largely as you can of that nothing, than which nothing is more easy for you to do, especially being women, and therefore pratlers by nature, and amongst whom daily a great story riseth of nothing. But this I admonish you to do, He willeth them to write with care and premeditation. that whether you write of serious matters, or of trifles, you write with diligence and consideration, premeditating of it before; neither will it be amiss, if you first indite it in English, for than it may more easily be translated into Latin, whilst the mind free from inventing is attentive to find apt and eloquent words. And although I put this to your choice, whether you will do so or no: yet I enjoin you by all means, that you diligently examine what you have written, before you write it over fair again; first considering attentively the whole sentence, and after examine every part thereof, by which means you may easily find out, if any solecisms have escaped you: which being put out, and your letter written fair, yet then let it not also trouble you to examine it over again; for sometimes the same faults creep in at the second writing, which you before had blotted out. By this your diligence you will procure, that those your trifles will seem serious matters. For as nothing is so pleasing but may be made unsavoury by prating garrulity; so nothing is by nature so unpleasant, that by industry may not be made full of grace and pleasantness. Farewell my sweetest Children. From the Court this 3. of September. Another letter to his daughter Margarett only: Thy letters (dearest Margarett) were grateful unto me, which certified me of the state of Shaw; yet would they have been more grateful unto me, His earnest care of his child's good employment. if they had told me, what your and your brother's studies were, what is read amongst you every day, how pleasantly you confer together, what themes you make, and how you pass the day away amongst you in the sweet fruits of learning. And although nothing is written from you, but it is most pleasing unto me, yet those things are most sugared sweet, which I cannot learn of but by you or your brother. And in the end: I pray thee, Megg, see that I understand by you, what your studies are. For rather than I would suffer you, my children, to live idly, I would myself look unto you, with the loss of my temporal estate, bidding all other cares and businesses Farewell, amongst which there is nothing more sweet unto me, than thyself, my dearest daughter. Farewell. It seemeth also by another letter of his, how careful he was that his children might be learned and diligent, and he praiseth them for it thus: Thomas More sendeth greeting to his most dear daughters Margarett, Elizabeth and Cecilie; and to Margarett Jigs as dear to him as if she were his own. I cannot sufficiently express, my best beloved wenches, how your eloquent letters have exceedingly pleased me; and this is not the least cause, that I understand by them, you have not in your journeys, though you change places often, omitted any thing of your custom of exercising yourselves, either in making of Declamations, The care his children had to please him in their studies. composing of verses, or in your Logic exercises; by this I persuade myself, that you dear love me, because I see you have so great a care to please me by your diligence in my absence, as to perform these things, which you know how grateful they are unto me in my presence. And as I find this your mind and affection so much to delight me, so will I procure that my return shall be profitable unto you. And persuade yourselves that there is nothing amongst these my troublesome & careful affairs that recreateth me so much, as when I read somewhat of your labours, by which I understand those things to be true, which your most loving master writeth so lovingly of you, that unless your own epistles did show evidently unto me, how earnest your desire is towards learning, I should have judged that he had rather written of affection then according to the truth: but now by these that you write, you make him to be believed, and me to imagine those things to be true of your witty and acute disputations, which he boasteth of you almost above all belief; I am therefore marvellous desirous to come home, that we may hear them, and set our scholar to dispute with you, who is slow to believe, yea out of all hope or conceit to find you able, to be answerable to your master's praises. But I hope, knowing how steadfast you are in your affections, that you will shortly overcome your master, if not in disputing, at least in not leaving of your strife. Farewell, dear wenches. And thus you may conjecture how learned his daughters were; Books dedicated by learned men to his children. to whom for this respect Erasmus dedicated his Commentary upon ovid de nuce. Lewis Viues also writeth great commendations of this school of Sir THOMAS MORE's in his book to Q. Catherine of England. And both Erasmus dedicated Aristotle in Greek, and Simon Grineus, who although an heretic, yet in respect of his learning had been kindly used by Sir THOMAS MORE, as he writeth himself, did dedicate Plato and other books in Greek unto my grandfather john More as to one that was also very skilful in that tongue. See what Grineus speaketh unto him: There was a great necessity, why I should dedicate these books of Proclus full of marvellous learning, by my pains set out, but not without the singular benefit of your father effected, unto you, to whom by reason of your fatherlike virtues all the fruit of this benefit is to redound, both because you may be an ornament unto them, and they also may do great good unto you, whom I know to be learned, and for these grave disputations sufficiently provided and made fit, by the continual conversation of so worthy a father, and by the company of your sisters, who are most expert in all kind of sciences. For what Author can be more grateful to those desirous minds of most goodly things, such as you and the Muses your sisters are, whom a divine heat of spirit to the admiration and a new example of this our age, hath driven into the sea of learning so far, and so happily, that they see no learning to be above their reach, no disputations of philosophy above their capacity: And none can better explicate entangled questions, none sift them more profoundly, nor none conceive them more easily, than this author. Let us see another letter to his daughter Margarett only: You ask money, dear Megg, too shamefully & fearfully of your father, who is both desirous to give it you, He pays his daughter's letters with gold. and your letter hath deserved it, which I could find in my hart to recompense, not as Alexander did by Chaerilus, giving him for every verse a Philippine of gold; but if my ability were answerable to my will, I would bestow two Crowns of pure gold for every syllable thereof. Here I send you as much as you requested, being willing to have sent you more; but that as I am glad to give, so I am desirous to be asked and fawned on by my daughters, thee especially, whom virtue and learning hath made most dear unto me. Wherefore the sooner you have spent this money well as you are want to do, and the sooner you ask me for more, the sooner know you will do your father a singular pleasure. Farewell my most beloved daughter. 8. The learning and piety of his daughter Margaret. This daughter was likest her father as well in favour as wit, and proved a most rare woman for learning, sanctity, and secrecy, and therefore he trusted her with all his secrets. She wrote two Declamations in English, which her father and she turned into Latin so elegantly, as one could hardly judge, which was the best. She made also a treatise of the Four Last things; which her father sincerely protested, that it was better than his, and therefore, it may be, never finished his. She corrected by her wit a place in S. Cyprian, corrupted, as Pamelian and john Coster testify, in steed of nisi vos sinceritatis, rectoring neruos sinceritatis. To her Erasmus wrote an epistle, as to a woman not only famous for manners, and virtue, but most of all for learning. We have heretofore made mention of her letter that Cardinal Poole so liked, that when he had read it, he would not believe it could be any woman's; in answer whereof Sir THOMAS did send her the letter, some part whereof we have seen before; the rest is this, which though there were no other testimony of her extraordinary learning, might suffice: In the meantime, saith her father, I thought with myself how true I found that now, which once I remember I spoke unto you in ieaste, when I pitied your hard hap, that men that read your writes, would suspect you to have had help of some other man therein, which would derogate somewhat from the praises due to your works; seeing that you of all others deserve lest to have such a suspicion had of you, for that you never could abide to be decked with the plumes of other birds. But you, sweet Megg, are rather to be praised for this, that seeing you cannot hope for condign praise of your labours, yet for all this you go forward with this your invincible courage, to join with your virtue the knowledge of most excellent sciences: and contenting yourself with your own pleasure in learning, you never hunt after vulgar praises, nor receive them willingly, though they be offered you; And for your singular piety and love towards me, you esteem me and your husband a sufficient and ample theatre for you to content you with; who in requital of this your affection beseech God and our Lady, with as hearty prayers as possible we can power out, to give you an easy and happy childbirth, to increase your family with a child most like yourself, except only in sex; yet if it be a wench, that it may be such a one, as would in time recompense by imitation of her mother's learning and virtues, what by the condition of her sex may be wanting; such a wench I should prefer before three boys. Farewell, dearest daughter. The esteem that the B. of excester had of her learning. But see, I pray you, how a most learned bishop in England was ravished with her learning and wit, as it appeareth by a letter, which her father wrote unto her to certify her thereof, Thomas More sendeth hearty greeting to his dearest daughter Margarett: I will lettt pass to tell you, my sweetest daughter, how much your letter delighted me; you may imagine how exceedingly it pleased your father, when you understand what affection the reading of it raised in a stranger. It happened me this evening to sit with john Lo: Bishop of E'xeter, a learned man, and by all men's judgement, a most sincere man: As we were talking together, and I taking out of my pocket a paper, which was to the purpose we were talking of, I pulled out, by chance, therewith your letter. The handwriting pleasing him, he took it from me and looked on it; when he perceived it by the salutation to be a woman's, he began more greedily to read it, novelty inviting him thereunto: but when he had read it, and understood that it was your writing, which he never could have believed, if I had not seriously affirmed it; such a letter, I will say no more; yet why should not I report that which he said unto me? so pure astile, so good Latin, so eloquent, so full of sweet affections; he was marvellously ravished with it; when I perceived that, I brought forth also an Oration of yours, which he reading, and also many of your verses, he was so moved with the matter so unlooked for, that the very countenance and gesture of the man free from all flattery and deceit, bewrayed that his mind was more than his words could utter, although he uttered many to your great praise; and forthwith he drawn out of his pocket a portegué, the which you shall receive enclosed herein. I could not possibly shun the taking of it, but he would needs send it unto you, as a sign of his dear affection towards you, although by all means I endeavoured to give him again; which was the cause I shown him none of your other sister's works; for I was afeared lest I should have been thought to have shown them of purpose, because he should bestow the like courtesy upon them; for it troubled me sore, that I must needs take this of him: but he is so worthy a man, as I have said, that it is a happiness to please him thus; write carefully unto him and as eloquently as you are able, to give him thanks therefore. Farewell; from the Court this 11th. of Septemb. even almost at midnight. Some of her writings. She made an oration to answer Quintilian, defending that rich man, which he accuseth for having poisoned a poor man's bees, with certain venomous flowers in his garden, so eloquent and witty that it may strive with his. Her translation of Eusebius. She translated Eusebius out of Greek, but it was never printed, because Christopherson at that time had done it exactly before. Yet one other letter will I set down of Sir THOMAS to this his daughter, which is thus: Thomas More sendeth greeting to his dearest daughter Margarett: There was no reason, my dearest daughter, why thou shouldst have differred thy writing unto me one day longer, for fear that thy letters being so barren, should not be read of me without loathing. For though they had not been most curious, yet in respect of thy sex, thou mightest have been pardoned by any man; yea euen a bleamish in the child's face, seemeth often to a father beautiefull. But these your letters, Megg, were so eloquently polished, that they had nothing in them, not only why they should fear the most indulgent affection of your father More, but also they needed not to have regarded even Momus his censure, though never so tasty. I greatly thank. Mr. Nicolas our dear friend (a most expert man in astronomy) and do congratulate your happiness, Her skill in Astronomy. whom it may fortune within the space of one month with a small labour of your own to learn so many and such high wonders of that mighty and eternal workman, which were not found but in many ages, by watching in so many cold nights under the open skies, with much labour and pains, by such excellent and above all other men's understanding wits. This which you write, pleaseth me exceedingly, that you had determined with yourself to study philosophy so diligently, that you will hereafter recompense by your diligence, what your negligence hath heretofore lost you. I love you for this, dear Megg, that where as I never have found you to be a loiterer (your learning, which is not ordinary, but in all kind of sciences most excellent, evidently showing, how painfully you have proceeded therein) yet such is your modesty, that you had rather still accuse yourself of negligence, then vainly boast of diligence; except you mean by this your speech that you will be hereafter so diligent, that your former endeavours, though indeed they were great and praise worthy, yet in respect of your future diligence, may be called negligence. If it be so that you mean, (as I do verily think you do), I imagine nothing can happen to me more fortunate, nothing to you, my dearest daughter, more happy; For as I have earnestly wished that you might spend the rest of your life in studying physic and holy Scriptures, by the which there shall never be helps wanting unto you, for the end of mans life; which is, to endeavour that a sound mind be in a healthful body, Why humanity is best studied in our younger years. of which studies you have already laid some foundations, and you shall never want matter to build thereupon; so now I think that some of the first years of your youth yet flourishing may be very well bestowed in humane learning & the liberal Arts, both because your age may best struggle with those difficulties, and for that it is uncertain, whether at any time else we shall have the commodity of so careful, so loving, and so learned a master: to let pass, that by this kind of learning our judgements are either gotten, or certainly much helped there by. I could wish, dear Megg, that I might talk with you along time about these matters, but behold they which bring in supper, interrupt me and call me away. My supper cannot be so sweet unto me, as this my speech with you is, if I were not to respect others more than myself. Farewell, dearest daughter, & commend me kindly to your husband, my loving son, who maketh me rejoice for that he studieth the same things you do; and where as I am want always to counsel you to give place to your husband, now on the other side I give you licence to strive to master him in the knowledge of the sphere. Farewell again & again. Commend me to all your schoolfellows, but to your master especially. And having vpon this occasion of speaking of Sir THOMAS his children, how tenderly he loved them, how earnestly he sought to make them scholars, & with their schollarshipp to have them join virtue, made sonewhat a longer digression, then I thought; we will return, as we had begun, to speak of the alteration of religion in our Country, & how thereupon Sir THOMAS MORE fell into trouble. THE sixth CHAPTER. SIR THOMAS MORE made Lord high Chancellor of England. 1. The excellent charity of Sir Tho. More toward his neighbours. 2. The beginning of King Henry's separation from the Church of God. 3. Cardinal Wolsey's disgrace, downfall, and death. 4. Sir Thomas More installed in the office of Lord Chancellor. 5. His incomparable behaviour in that high place of honour. 6. He refuseth to allow of K. Henry's divorcement. 1. Charity of Sir Tho. More to his neighbours. 1. WHilst this unlucky divorce was so hotly pursued by the king, it happened that my uncle Rooper walking with his father along by the Thames side, near Chelsey, amongst other talk Sir THOMAS said; now would to our Lord, son Rooper, that upon condition three things were established in Christendom, I were put into a sack and here presently cast into the Thames. His three wishes for the good of Christedom. What great things are those, good Sir, said he, that should move you so to wish? Wouldst thou know them, son Rooper; yea Marry, Sir, with a good will, said he, if it would please you. In Faith, Unity in peace. son, they be these; First, that where the most part of Christian princes be at mortal war, they were at an universal peace; secondly, Unity in religion. whereas the Church of Christ is at this time sore afflicted with many errors and heresies, it were settled in a perfect uniformity of religion: Thirdly, that whereas the matter of the king's marriage is now in question, End of the king's controversy. it were to the glory of God and quietness of all parties brought to a good conclusion. Whereby one might well gather, that otherwise this would be a disturbance to a great part of Christendom. The first he saw in some sort granted him by his means; the other two are this day to be seen, what tragedies they have raised in England and else where. Thus did he by his words and deeds show throughout the whole course of his life, that all his thoughts, He never asked anything of the King. travails and pains were only for the honour of God without respect either of his own glory or regard of any earthly commodity; For it may be seen by many things as well deeds as letters how much he contemned the honours which were heaped upon him daily by his Prince's special bounty and favour towards him, and my uncle Rooper testifieth from his own mouth in his latter days, that he professed unto him, that he never asked of the king for himself the value of one penny. The like may be said of his contempt of riches and worldly wealth; but a fitter place to speak thereof may be had hereafter. All which excellent endowments of his mind proceeded no doubt from the special favour of Almighty God, and the fervent zeal of this his seruat to attain to perfection of all virtues. Liberality to his parish Church He built a Chapel in his parish Church at Chelsey, where the parish had all ornaments belonging thereunto abundantly supplied at his charge, and he bestowed there on much plate, often speaking those words: Good men give it, and bad men take it away. His merciful works to his poor neighbours. He seldom used to feast noble men, but his poor neighbours often, whom he would visit in their houses, and bestow upon them his large liberality, not groats, but Crowns of gold, yea more than that according to their wants. He hired a house also for many aged people in Chelsey, whom he daily relieved; and it was my aunt Rooper's charge to see them want nothing. And when he was a private lawyer, he would take no fees of poor folks, widows nor pupils. 2. The beginning of K. Henry's separation from the Church. 2. A little before he was preferred to the dignity of Chancellourshipp, there were questions propounded to many, whether the king in the case of his first marriage needed have any scruple at all; and if he had, what way were best to deliver him from it. The most part of his Counsel were of opinion, that there was good cause of scruple, because Q. Scruple of his marriage with Q. Catherine Catherine was married before to Prince Arthur, king henry's elder brother; wherefore she was not to be wife to two brothers; and therefore to ease the king's mind, suit was to be made to the pope and the Sea of Rome, where the king hoped by liberal gifts to obtain what he desired; but in this, as after it appeared, he was far deceived. After this there was a Commission procured from Rome for trial and examination of this marriage; Commissioneirs from Rome about it. in which the Cardinals Wolsey and Campegius, were joined together; who for the determination hereof sat at the Black Friars at London, where a bill was put in for the annulling of the former matrimony, alleging that that marriage was utterly unlawful; but on the orher side for proof that it was lawful and good a Dispensation was brought forth, The dispensation questioned. which was of very good force, as touching the power which the Pope had to dispense in a law that was neither contrary to God's positive law in the old Testament, but rather agreeable thereto, nor to the law of Nature, and it was commanded in Leviticus, that if the brother died without issue, the next in kindred to him in a manner should be forced to marry his wife. And supplied by a new confirmation. But there was found an imperfection in the Dispensation; yet that same was lawfully supplied by a public Instrument or brief found in the Treasure of Spain, which was sent immediately to the Commissioners in England, and so should judgement have been given by the Pope accordingly, that the first marriage stood in force, K. Henry appeals to a general council: and falls from the Pope. had not king Henry upon intelligence thereof, before the judgement was pronounced, appealed to the next General Council. Hincillae lachrimae; hence came the deadly enmity between the king and the Pope; hence proceeded that bitterness of king Henry, that he commanded none should appeal to Rome, nor none should so much as go thither; no Bishops nor Spiritual men should have any Bulls of authority from thence; all spiritual jurisdiction began now, never before thought of, to be invested from God immediately upon the Imperial Crown of England; but this not all at once: yea he grew afterwards unto such height of malice, that he caused the name of Pope to be razed out of every book that could be found either printed or written. He caused S. His injury to S. Thomas of Canterbury's body. Thomas of Canterbury to be attainted of high treason after he had been three hundred years accounted a blessed Martyr of the whole Church; yea so acknowledged by king Henry the second who was cause of his death; but this king most strangely cast his sacred bones out of his renowned shreene, after numbers of miracles, and caused them to be burnt. Q. Anne Bolens incontinency. This was the strange pass king Henry was brought unto doting on Anne Bullen, though, God knows, she had no qualities wherefore he should so dote on her, as appeared evidently when for fowl matters he after a short time cut of her head, and proclaimed himself in open Parliament to be a Cuckold; which no doubt he never had been, if he had kept himself to his first virtuous wife Q. Catherine; but all these things happened a good while after, and many other extreme violences and ensuing miseries, as we do see and feel as yet. 3. Cardinal Wolsey's disgrace & downfall. 3. Whilst those things were a doing, as is beforesaid, about the king's divorce, and nothing yet brought to any conclusion, the king sent Tunstall bishop of Durham & Sir THOMAS MORE Ambassadors to Cambray to treat of a peace between him and the French king, Sir Tho. Moor's embassage for peace; & happy success therein. and Charles the Emperor: in which journey Sir THOMAS so worthily behaved himself that he procured in our league with the said Princes far more benefits to our realm then at that time was thought possible by the king and all his Council; insomuch that his Majesty caused it afterwards openly to be declared to the people, when he was made Chancellor, how much all England was bound to Sir THOMAS MORE. And now at his return the king again was very earnest with him to have him agree to his second marriage; for which cause also it is thought, and Cardinal Poole testifieth it in a letter, he made him the rather Lo: Chancellor; telling him, Bishop Stokelies quirk in Q. Catherine's marriage that though the dispensation was good in respect of the laws of the Church, yet now it was found out to have been against the law of nature, in which no dispensation could be had, as Doctor Stokesly, (whom for that quirk found out he had lately preferred to the Bishopric of London,) was able to instruct him, His conference with Sir Thomas about it. with whom he willed Sir THOMAS to confer in that point. But for all the conferences he could have with him, Sir THOMAS could no way induce himself to change his former opinion therein. Yet the Bishop relating to the king their Conference, so favourably reported of Sir THOMAS MORE's carriage therein, that he said, he found him very toward and desirous to find out good matter, wherein he might truly serve his grace to his contentment, but yet he could not. Strokesly undermines the Cardinal, This Bishop having been lately by the Cardinal in the Star-chamber openly disgraced and awarded to the Fleet, not brooking this contumely, sought by all means to wreak his anger against the Cardinal: and picked a quarrel at him to the king, because he began to wax cold in the divorce. For backwardness in the king's divorce: & forwardness for a french match. For so it was, that Wolsey was sent over into France to treat a marriage between king Henry and the king of France's sister: and finding their willing acceptance, it was likely to come to that issue, which he hoped for. Yet God so wrought to cross him, that this very invention, which he had first plotted to revenge himself on Charles the Emperor, this same was the pit, wherein he fell, and whereby all his dignity, credit, and wealth was taken away; so that of him it may well be said: incidit in foveam quam fecit▪ For whilst he was contriving for the king a marriage in France, the king himself little to his knowledge had knit the knot in England with a mean woman in respect of a prince, a private knight's daughter, and of meaner conditions than any gentlewoman of worth. Wherefore Wolsey returning, The Cardinal discontented: and finding his embassage crossed, began to repine at the king for disgracing him so much, and now wished that he had never began to put such scruples into longland's head; which Stokesly soon finding, and himself having devised a new knot in a rush, to bring the king in better liking of himself for his forwardness, and into more dislike of the Cardinal so wrought with his Majesty, that he sent for the Cardinal back, being now on his way gone to be installed in the archbishopric of York: Arrested and deprived of all honours & riches. so that by Sir William Kinston he was arrested of high treason, having confiscated all his goods before, so that he that had been one of the greatest prelate's of Christendom, had not now one dish to be served in at the table; who if he had loved God half so well as he adored his prince, could never have come to such misery; for that he died either with sorrow or poison shortly after. But the king caused in his place of Chancellourshipp Sir THOMAS MORE to be placed, Sir Tho. More elected L Chancellor. that with that bait, saith Card: Poole, corrupted, he might the more easily be brought to the bent of the king's bow; who behaved himself so excellently in the place, as one may say that none ever before him did better, although he was the first lay man that ever possessed that room, as Card: Only worthy of the place, in Cardinal Wolsey's judgement. Poole noteth; yea Wolsey himself hearing that Sir THOMAS MORE should have it, though he was very loath to lose it himself, and withal bore Sir THOMAS no more good will, than needs he must; yet professed he to many, that he thought none in England more worthy of it then Sir THOMAS; such was his fame, that none could envy it, though it were never so unaccustomed a case. 4. The honourable ceremony with which he was installed. 4. The manner how Sir THOMAS MORE was installed in this high Office, how the king did extraordinarily grace him therein, and how modestly notwithstanding he accepted therereof, is very remarkable. For being lead between the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk through Westminister hall up to the Star chamber, and there honourably placed in the high judgement-seate of Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk, who was the chief peer and Lo: Threasurer of England, by the king's order spoke thus unto the people, there with great applause and joy gathered together: The king's Ma.tie. The Duke of Norfolk's oration in behalf of Sir Tho. More. (which I pray God may prove happy and fortunate to the whole realm of England) hath raised to the most high dignity of Chancellourshipp Sir THOMAS MORE, a man for his extraordinary worth and sufficiency well known to himself and the whole realm, for no other cause or earthly respect, but for that he hath plainly perceived all the gifts of nature and grace to be heaped upon him, which either the people could desire, or himself wish for the discharge of so great an office. For the admirable wisdom, integrity & innocence, joined with most pleasant facility of wit, Of his worthiness for so great a place. that this man is endued withal, have been sufficiently known to all Englishmen from his youth, and for these many years also to the king's Majesty himself. This hath the king abundantly found in many and weighty affairs, which he hath happily dispatched both at home and abroad; in divers offices, which he hath born, in most honourable embassages, which he hath undergone, & in his daily counsel and advices upon all other occasions. He hath perceived no man in his realm to be more wise in deliberating, more sincere in opening to him what he thought, nor more eloquent to adorn the matter, which he uttered. Wherhfore because he see in him such excellent endowments, and that of his especial care he hath a particular desire that his kingdom and people might he governed with all equity and justice, integrity and wisdom: he of his own most gracious disposition hath created this singular man Lo: Chancellor; that by his laudable performance of this office, his people may enjoy peace and justice, and honour also and fame may redound to the whole kingdom. The first lay man, that ever was mad Lord Chancellor. It may perhaps seem to many a strange and unusual matter, that this dignity should be bestowed upon a lay man, none of the Nobility, and one that hath wife and children; because heretofore none but singular learned prelate's, or men of greatest Nobility, have possessed this place; but what is wanting in these respects, the admirable virtues, the matchless gifts of wit & wisdom of this man, Good reasons why that old custom was altered. doth most plentifully recompense the same. For the king's Majesty hath not regarded how great, but what a man he was; he hath not cast his eyes upon the nobility of his blood, but on the worth of his person; he hath respected his sufficiency, not his profession; finally he would show by this his choice, that he hath some rare subjects amongst the row of gentlemen and lay men, who deserve to manage the highest offices of the realm, which Bishops and Noble men think they only can deserve. The rarer therefore it was, so much both himself held it to be the more excellent, & to his people he thought it would be the more grateful. Wherhfore receive this your Chancellor with joyful acclamations, at whose hands you may expect all happiness and content. Sir THOMAS MORE according to his wont modesty was somewhat abashed at this the Duke's speech, Sir Tho. Moor's modest and discreet reply. in that it sounded so much to his praise; but recollecting himself as that place and time would give him leave, he answered in this sort: He acknowledgeth his own unworthiness, Although, most noble Duke, and you right Honble. Lords, and worshipful gentlemen, I know all these things, which the king's Majesty, it seemeth, hath been pleased should be spoken of me at this time and place, and your Grace hath with most eloquent words thus amplified, are as far from me, as I could wish with all my hart they were in me for the better performance of so great a charge. And although this your speech hath caused in me greater fear than I can well express in words: yet this incomparable favour of my dread Sovereign, by which he showeth how well, yea how highly he conceiveth of my weakness, having commanded that my meanness should be so greatly conmended, The Duke's love, cannot be but most acceptable unto me: and I cannot choose but give your most noble Grace exceeding thanks, that what his Majesty hath willed you briefly to utter, you of the abundance of your love unto me, have in a large and eloquent Oration dilated. And the king's favour, and bounty. As for myself I can take it no otherwise, but that his Majesty's incomparable favour towards me, the good will and incredible propension of his Royal mind (where with he hath these many years favoured me continually) hath alone without any desert of mine at all caused both this my new honour, and these your undeserved commendations of me. For who am I, or what is the house of my father, that the king's Highness should heap upon me by such a perpetual stream of affection these so high honours? I am far less than any the meanest of his benefits bestowed on me; how can I then think myself worthy or fit for this so peerless dignity? I have be drawn by force, Which he esteems beyond his deserts. as the king's Majesty often professeth, to his Highness' service, to be a Courtier; but to take this dignity upon me, is most of all against my will; yet such is his Highness' benignity, such is his bounty, that he highly esteemeth the small dutiefulnesse of his meanest subjects; and seeketh still magnificently to recompense his servants; not only such as deserve well, but even such as have but a desire to deserve well at his hands. In which number I have always wished myself to be reckoned, because I cannot challenge myself to be one of the former; which being so, you may all perceive with me how great a burden is laid upon my back, in that I must strive in some sort with my diligence and duty to correspond with his royal benevolence, All which increase in him a full purpose to discharge well so great a charge. and to be answerable to that great expectation, which he and you seem to have of me; wherefore those so high praises are by so much more grievous unto me, by how much I know the greater charge I have to render myself worthy of, and the fewer means I have to make them good. This weight is hardly suitable to my weak shoulders; this honour is not correspondent to my poor deserts; it is a burden, not a glory, a care, not a dignity; the one therefore I must bear as manfully as I can, and discharge the other with as much dexterity as I shallbe able. The earnest desire which I have always had and do now acknowledge myself to have, to satisfy by all means I can possible the most ample benefits of his Highness, will greatly excite and aid me to the diligent performance of all; And desireth favourable interpretation of his endeavours. which I trust also I shall be more able to do, if I find all your goods wills and wishes both favourable unto me, and conformable to his royal munificence: because my serious endeavours to do well iojned with your favourable acceptance will easily procure that whatsoever is performed by me, though it be in itself but small, yet will it seem great and praise worthy; For those things are always achieved happily, which are accepted willingly, and those succeed fortunately, which are received by others courteously. As you therefore do hope for great matters and the best at my hands, so though I dare not promise any such yet do I promise truly and affectionately to perform the best I shall be able. When Sir THOMAS had spoken these words, A wise ponderation of his predecessor Cardinal's example. turning his face to the high judgement seat of the Chancery, he proceeded in this manner: But when I look upon this seat, when I think how great and what kind of personages have possessed this place before me, when I call to mind, who he was, that sat in it last of all, a man of what singular wisdom, of what notable experience, what a prosperous and favourable fortune he had for a great space, and how at the last he had a most grievous fall, and died in glorious: I have cause enough by my predecessors example to think honour but slippery, and this dignity not so grateful to me, as it may seem to others; for both is it a hard matter to follow with like paces or praises a man of such admirable wit, prudence, authority and splendour, to whom I may seem but as the lighting of a candle, when the sun is down; and also the sudden and unexpected fall of so great a man as he was doth terribly put me in mind that this honour ought not to please me too much, The danger of high honours. nor the lustre of this glistering seat dazzle mine eyes. Wherhfore I ascend this seat as a place full of labour and danger, void of all solid and true honour; the which by how much the higher it is, by so much greater fall I am to fear, as well in respect of the very nature of the thing itself, as because I am warned by this late fearful example. And truly I might even now at this very first entrance stumble, yea faint, but that his majesty's most singular favour towards me, and all your good wills, which your joyful countenance doth testify in this most honourable assembly, doth somewhat recreate and refresh me; otherwise this seat would be no more pleasing to me, than that sword was to Damocles, which hung over his head, tied only by a hair of a horse's tale, when he had store of delicate fare before him, seated in the chair of state of Denis the Tyrant of Sicily; this therefore shallbe always fresh in my mind, this will I have still before mine eyes, that this seat will be honourable, famous and full of glory unto me, if I shall with care and diligence, A warning to use them well. fidelity and wisdom endeavour to do my duty, and shall persuade myself, that the enjoying thereof may chance to be but short & uncertain; the one whereof my labour ought to perform; the other, my predecessour's example may easily teach me. All which being so, you may easily perceive, what great pleasure I take in this high dignity, or in this most noble Dukes praising of me. Common joy of S. Thomas his promotion. All the world took notice now of Sir Thomas' dignity, whereof Erasmus writeth to john Fabius Bishop of Vienna thus: Concerning the new increase of honour lately happened to THOMAS MORE, I should easily make you believe it, if I should show you the letters of many famous men rejoicing with much alacrity, and congratulating the king, the realm, himself, and also me for MORE's honour, in being made Lo: Chancellor of England. 5. The behaviour of S. Thomas in the dignity of L. Chancellor. 5. Now it was a comfortable thing for any man to behold, how two great rooms of Westminster hall were taken up, one with the son, the other with the father, which hath as yet never been heard of before or since, the son to be Lo: Chancellor, and the father Sir john More to be one of the ancientest judges of the king's Bench, Towards his father the ancientest judge of the realm. if not the eldest of all; for now he was near 90. year old. Yea what a grateful spectacle was it, to see the son ask the father blessing every day upon his knees, before he sat in his own seat? a thing expressing rare humility, exemplar obedience, & submissive piety. Shortly began every one to find a great alteration between the intolerable pride of the precedent Chancellor Wolsey, Towards all sutours, especially the poorer sort. who would scarce look or speak to any, and into whose only presence none could be admitted, unless his fingers were tipped with gold; and on the other side this Chancellor, the poorer and the meaner the suppliant was, the more affably he would speak unto him, the more attentively he would hearken to his cause and with speedy trial dispatch him; for which purpose he used commonly every afternoon to sit in his open hall, so that if any person whatsoever had any suit unto him, he might the more boldly come unto him, and there open to him his complaints. Which his open manner of extraordinary favour to all, my uncle Dauncy, No access to bribery. his son in law seemed merrily on a time to find fault with, saying, that when Card: Wolsey was Chancellor, not only divers of his inner chamber, but such as were but his doorekeepers, got great gains by him; and sith I have married one of your daughters, I might of reason look for some commodity; but you are so ready to do for every poor man, and keep no doors shut, that I can find no gains at all, which is to me a great discouragement, whereas else some for friendship, some for profit, some for kindred would gladly use my furtherance to bring them to your presence; & now yff I should take any thing of them, I should do them great wrong, because they may freely prefer their causes to you themselves; which thing though it is in you, Sir, very commendable, yet to me I find it nothing profitable. Means how great men may do favours in justice which word Sir THOMAS answered thus; I do not mislike, son, that your conscience is so scrupulous; but there be many other ways, wherein I may both do yourself good and pleasure your friends; for sometimes by my word I may stand your friend in steed, some time I may help him greatly by my letter, if he hath a Cause depending before me, I may hear him before another man at your entreaty; if his Cause be not all the best, I may move the parties to fall to some reasonable end by arbitrement: Notable integrity but this one thing I assure thee on my faith, that if the parties will at my hands call for justice and equity, then, although it were my father, whom I reverence dear, that stood on the one side, and the devil, whom I hate extremely, were on the other side, his cause being just, the devil of me should have his right. What saying was this to express the love to justice, which he always bore, Even against his own kindred. and his deeds showed it so, that no malicious tongue ever could pick the least quarrel against him for the least touch of injustice, as shallbe more at large spoken of, when every light matter came to be sifted narrowly, after he fell from the king's favour; and that he would for no respect of alliance digress one jot from equity, well appeared by another son in law of his my uncle Heron; for when he having a Cause in the Chancery before Sir THOMAS, and presuming to much on his favour, because he ever showed himself the most affectionate father to his children that was in the world; by reason whereof he would by no means be persuaded to agree to any indifferent order, at last Sir THOMAS made a flat decree against him; wherein he lively expressed the practice of his former saying. Long delays in law, the misery of poor clients: remedied by Sir Thomas. Now at his coming to this Office, he found the Court of Chancery pestered and clogged with many and tedious Causes, some having hung there almost twenty years. Wherefore to prevent the like, which was a great misery for poor suitors, first he caused Mr. Crook chief of the Six Clerks, to make a Dockett containing the whole number of all Injunctions, as either in his time had already past or at that time depended in any of the king's Courts at Westminster. Then bidding all the judges to dinner, he in the presence of them all, showed sufficient reason why he had made so many Injunctions, that they all confessed that they rhemselues in the like case would have done no less. Then he promised them besides, that if they themselves, to whom the reformation of the rigour of the law appartained would upon reasonable considerations in their own discretion (as he thought in conscience they were bound) mitigate and reform the rigour of the law, there should then from him no Injunctions be granted; to which when they refused to condescend, then, said he, for as much as yourselves, my Lords, drive me to this necessity, you cannot hereafter blame me, if I seek to relieve the poor people's injuries. After this, he said to his son Rooper secretly, I perceive, son, why they like not this; for they think that they may by a verdict of a jury cast of all scruple from themselves upon the poor jury, which they account they chief defence. Wherefore I am constrained to abide the adventure of their blame. He took great pains to hear causes at home, as is said, A pleasant tale of a table. arbitrating matters for both the parties good; & lastly he took order with all the attorneys of his Court, that there should no sub poenas go out, whereof in general he should not have notice of the matter, with one of their hands unto the Bill; and if it did bear a sufficient cause of complaint, then would he set his hand to it, to have it go forward; if not, he would utterly quash it, and deny a sub poena. And when on a time one of the attorneys, whose name was Mr. Tub had brought unto Sir THOMAS the sum of the cause of his Client, requested his hand unto it, Sir THOMAS reading it, and finding it a matter frivolous, he added in steed of his own hand thereto; these words: A tale of a Tub for which the attorney going away as he thought with Sir THOMAS his name unto it, found when his Client read it, to be only a ieaste. 6. King Henry desire Sir Thomas to allow his divorce. 6. Shortly after his entry into the Chancellourshipp, the king again importuned him to weigh and consider his great matter, thinking that now he had so bound him unto him, that he could not have gainsaid him; but he valüing more the quiett of his conscience, and the justice of the cause, than any prince's favour in the world, fell down upon his knees before his Majesty and humbly besought him to stand his gracious Sovereign, Sir Thomas noble and discreet refusal▪ as he had ever found him since his first entrance into his princely service; adding that there was nothing in the world had been so grievous to his hart, as to think that he was not able (as he gladly would with the loss of one of his chiefest limbs) to find any thing in that matter, whereby with integrity of his conscience he might serve his Grace to his contentment. And he always bore in mind those most godly words, that his Highness spoke unto him, when he first admitted him into his royal service, the most virtuous lesson that ever prince gave unto his servant, whereby he willed him. First to look to God, and after God, to him; as, in good faith, he said, he did, and would; or else might his Majesty account him for his most unworthy vassal; whereto the king courteously answered, that if he could not therein with his conscience serve him, he was contented to accept his service otherways; Accepted for the time, by the king. and using the advice of other his learned Council, whose consciences could well agree thereto, he would notwithstanding continue his accustomed favour towards him, and never with that matter molest his conscience after: but how well he performed his promise, may be seen by the discourse following. And indeed there is no prince, be he bend to never so much wickedness, but shall find counsellors enough that will always seek to please his humours; but to find any one that will not agree to what that king is bend, to have wrongfully brought to pass, these are very rare, and therefore most to be admired. THE SEAVENTH CHAPTER. A VIEW OF SOME especial and most remarkable virtues of SIR. T. MORE in midst of his Honours. 1. Incredible poverty in so eminent a personage: sign of unmacheable integrity. 2. Admirable zeal in cause of catholic religion against all heresy. 3. Cheerful mirth in all occasions joined whith gravity. 4. Solid devotion, and reverence in divine service. 5. Patience & resignation in temporal losses. 6. Contempt of worldly honour declared in deposing of the dignity of Chancellor. 7. A resolution to live poorly, never like seen in a great states man. 8. With what deep ponderation he resigned up that high honour. 1. The death of Sir john More. 1. ABout this time it happened Sir john More to fall sick of a surfeit of grapes, as I have heard; who though he was very old, yet had he till then been more lusty, than his years afforded him. In his sickness, his son, whom now he had scene Lo: Chancellor, often came & visited him, using many comfortable words unto him; and at his departure out of this miserable world, with tears taking him about the neck, most lovingly kissed and embraced him, commending his soul devoutly to the merciefull hands of his Creator and redeemer: Sir Thomas never enjoyed his father's inheritance. so with a heavy hart departed from him, who left him now bettered with a very small increase of estate, because his chief house and lands at Gubbins in Hartfortdshire his last wife enjoyed, who outlived Sir THOMAS some ten years, and therefore Sir THOMAS never enjoyed almost any inheritance from his father; in so much that he affirmed in his apology, which he wrote about this time, that all his revenues and pensions, except that which had been granted by letters patents from the king of his mere liberality, to wit, the manors of Duckington, Frinckford, and Barlyparke in Oxfordshire, all the rest, he saith, amount not to above Fifty pound by the year, as those which he had from his father or by his wife, or by his own purchase. Rare poverty in a L. high Chancellor. Surely a rare saying, that one of the king's Counsel, who had gone through many offices for almost twenty years should not be able to purchase one hundred pound land; when as now a private Attorney by his own practice will leave his child five hundred pound land of inheritance. Therefore in so great an officer this showeth an admirable contempt of worldly commodities, a bountiefull hand to spend liberally and abundantly upon the poor, his own kinsfolk and family, the Church and upon hospitality. And as for ready money, he had not in all the world, when he gave up his office, above one hundred pound either in gold or silver; which is as strange as the former. Yet could it not stop. Q. Anne's malice against him. All which doth demonstrate his uprightness, his munificence, his singular perfections and his divine wisdom. For what could millions of gold have stood him in steed, but to cumber his conscience, when he lost all from himself and his posterity by reason of the malice of a spiteful queen, who pursued him and his to death, to their utter temporal overthrow, showing perfectly that saying non est malitia super malitia mulieris. For the king could not by his fall promise himself any great increase of goods, as he had gotten by the Cardinal's overthrow. 2. His admirable zeal in cause of catholic religion. 2. Now the Bishops of England at this time considering with themselves, that for all his prince's favour he was neither a rich man, nor in yearly revenues advanced as his worthiness deserved, & weighing with themselves what pains and travails he had taken in writing many learned books for the defence of the true Catholic faith against many heresies secretly sown abroad in the realm, to whose pastoral charge the reformation of them principally appertained, there being not one Clergy man, that had matched his writings either in the greatness of the volumes, the soundness of the arguments, to convince the adversary, or the pains taken to reduce them. A liberal reward proffered him nobly by the Bishops of Enggland. They called therefore a Convocation together, whether most of the Clergy came, where they concluded to offer unto him the sum of four thousand pound at the least, thereby to recompense in part his travails there in sustained. To the payment whereof every Bishop, Abbott, and the rest of the Clergy, after the rate of their abilities were liberal contributours, hoping that this sum would content him. Wherefore his dear friends Tunstall Bishop of Durham and Clarke B. of Bath, and as is supposed Veysey of Exeter came to Sir THOMAS and spoke thus unto him; how that they held themselves bound to consider him for his pains taken and bestowed to discharge them in God's quarrel; and albeit they could not according to his deserts requite him so worthily as they willingly would, but must refer that only to the goodness of God: yet for a small part of recompense, in respect of his estate so unequal to his worth they presented unto him that sum in the name of the whole Convocation, desiring him to take it in good part. And though this were a bountiefull deed in respect of those prelate's; yet little knew they Sir THOMAS his magnificent disposition, who answered them in this manner: As nobly and magnanimously refused by him, only for God's sake. That like as it was no small comfort unto him, that so wise and learned men accepted so well of his simple doings, for which he never purposed to receive any reward, but at the hands of God alone, to whom the thanks thereof was chiefly to be ascribed; so gave he most humble thanks unto their Lordships all, for their so bountiefull & friendly consideration; but he purposed not to receive any thing from them. And when they with great importunity pressed still upon him, that few would have supposed he could have refused it, they could not for all that fasten any whitt upon him. Then they besought him that he would be content they might bestow it upon his wife and children. Not so my Lords, quoth he; I had rather see it cast all into the Thames than I or any of mine should have there of one penny. For though your offer, my Lords, be indeed very honourable, yet set I so much by my pleasure and so little by my profit, that I would not in good faith for much more money have lost the rest of so many nights sleep as was spent upon the same: and yet for all this I could wish that upon condition all heresies were suppressed, all my works were burnt, and my labour utterly lost. Thus they were fain to depart, and restore to every one his own again. By which wise and virtuous answer, every one may see that all his pains that he took, were only in respect of God's honour, and not for either vain glory or any earthly commodity; The heretics calumny against him. Yea he cared not what any said of him, contemning the people's dispraise as a blast of wind. For the heretics having gotten it by the end, that the Clergy had offered him a great sum of money, and measuring other men by their own covetous humours, reported and wrote in pamphletts that he was bribed by the Clergy to write, whom he answered mildly by a flat denial, that he was not made richer by one penny from the Clergy. Yet some of those heretics had spent him somewhat; and besides he being Bigamus, twice married, could never hope for any spiritual promotion. The water bailiff of London, who had been sometime his servant, hearing (where he had been at dinner) certain merchants somewhat drunk with this new poison, liberally to rail against Sir THOMAS, True glory to be hated by heretics. in that he was so bitter against Lutherans, waxed sore discontented therewith, knowing well, that he little deserved any evil report; wherefore he hastily came to Sir THOMAS and told him what he had heard: and were I, Sir, said he, in such favour and authority with my prince, as you are, such men should not be suffered so villainously & falsely to misreport and slander me. Wherefore you may do well, Sir, to call them before you, and to their shame to punish them for their undeserved malice. But Sir THOMAS smiling on him said: why, Mr. Water bailife, would you have me punish those, by whom I reap more benefit then by all you that are my friends: let them in God's name speak as lewdly of me as they list, and shoot never so many bolts at me, as long as they hit me not, what am I the worse: but if they should once hit me, than would it not a little grieve me; howbeit I trust by God's grace and help, there shall none of them all be able to touch me I have more cause, I assure thee, to pity them, then to be angry with them. Lo, Perfect patience always joined with true perfection to what height of perfection had he now attained, that he was neither alured by hopeful gains, nor deterred one jot from his duty by evil tongues or slanders, always carrying one and the same alacrity in all his crosses and adversities! 3. Cheerful mirth. 3. When that one of the house of the Manners by the king's favour was come lately to a noble dignity, who had been before a great friend of Sir THOMAS; An unmamnerly reprehension mannerly returned on the reprehender. but perceauing that the world began somewhat to frown upon him for that he was not so forward as other men to egg the king to the divorce, and being desirous to pick a quarrel against him said unto him: my Lord, Honours' mutant Mores. Sir THOMAS readily after his merry fashion replied: It is so indeed, my Lord, but Mores signifieth in English, manners & not more; he was therewith so put out of Countenance, that he wist not what to say. A bold debtor, prettily told his own. In like manner he wittily twitted another man, whom he had lent money unto; of whom he ask his due, bade him remember that he should die, God knoweth how soon, and then he should have little use of money, adding the sentence in latin to please Sir THOMAS the more Memento morieris; whereto readily Sir THOMAS said: what say you Sir, me thinks you put yourself in mind of your duty herein saying Memento Mori aeris, remember More's money▪ Thus was he continually in his discourses full of witty jests, that though his countenance was always grave, yet none could converse with him, but he would make them laugh exceedingly; tempering all serious matters with some witty device or other. It happened on a time that a beggars little dog, A merry arbitrement between his Lady, & a beggar. which she had lost was presented for a jewel to my Lady More, and she had kept it some seven-night very carefully; but at last the beggar had notice, where her dog was, and presently she came to complain to Sir THOMAS, as he was sitting in his hall, that his Lady with held her dog from her; presently my Lady was sent for, and the dog brought with her; which Sir THOMAS taking in his hands, caused his wife, because she was the worthier person, to stand at the upper end of his hall, and the beggar at the nether end, and said, that he sat there to do every one justice: he bade each of them call the dog; which when they did, the dog went presently to the beggar, forsaking my Lady. When he saw this, he bade my Lady be contented, for it was none of hers; yet she repining at the sentence of my Lo: Chancellor, agreed with the beggar, and gave her a piece of gold, which would well have bought three dogs, & so all parties were agreed; every one smiling to see his manner of enquiring out the truth. A pleasant censore of a witless writing. A certain friend of his had taken great pains about a book, which he would have set out, thinking well of his own wit, which no other would praise and because he would have Sir THOMAS to over see it, before it were printed, he brought it to him to view; who perusing it, and finding no matter therein worth the print, said with a grave countenance: if it were in verse, it were more worth: upon which words he went and turned it into verse, and after brought it again to Sir THOMAS; who looking thereon, said soberly: yea marry, now it is somewhat; for now it is rhyme; before it was neither rhyme nor reason. And indeed whatsoever jest he brought forth, he never laughed at any himself, but spoke always so sadly that few could see by his look, whether he spoke in earnest or in ieaste. As talking with the messenger in his Dispute of his Dialogues, by an occasion they happened to speak of a dogs turd; A merry mistaking. and at that very instant one of his men came to tell him, that dinner was ready, to whom he said, look that there be better meat provided for us then that; who presently went forth and told my lady, that his Lo: would have better meat provided for his dinner; which sore troubled all the house, till at length the cause of mistaking being known they all fell a laughing. 4. 4. His earnest deuotion in the service of God. And although he never left his mirth in outward appearance, yet still did he use the like mortifications which he was wont; yea he exercised acts of humility that he made most worldly men to wonder at him. On the sunnedays even when he was Lord Chancellor, he wore a surplice, and sung with the singers at the high Mass and matins in his parish church of Chelsey; which the Duke of Norfolk on a time finding, He used to sing in his surplice, in his parish church. said. God body, God body, my Lo: Chancellor a parish Clarke: you disgrace the king, and your office. Nay, said Sir THOMAS smilingly: your Grace may not think I dishonour my prince in my dutiefulnesse to his Lord and ours; having in his mind that saying of David in the like case dancing before the Ark of God, when his wife Michol laughed at him Vilior fiam in oculis meis: I will still think meanly of myself, whatsoever others shall think of me. To carry the cross in procession, on foot. He often would also in public processions carry the cross before the rest, thinking himself happy, if he could any way show love and readiness in almighty God's service; and when many counselled him in the long processions in Rogation week to use a horse for high dignity and age, he would answer: it beseemed not the servant to follow his master prancing on cockhorse, his master going on foot. He never undertook any business of importance, Confessed & communicated before any important business. but he prepared himself first by Confession and receiving the blessed Sacrament devoutely, trusting more of the grace of God derived to us by these holy Sacraments, than he did to his own wit, judgement and practice; yet every of them was in him extraordinary, so that he lived a most worthy life in all the course of his actions: never changed with any prosperity, nor dismayed with any adversity. 5. 5. Patience in temporal lesser. As when his barns of Corn & hay were burnt, he never altered his countenance, or showed the least sign of sorrow, only saying: Fiat voluntas Dei; he hath bestowed much more upon us, and therefore may he take away what he pleaseth: besides he wrote a most patient letter to my Lady, which is thus: Mris. An excellent resignation to the providence of God. Alice, I commend me unto you: having heard by my son Heron, that ours & some of our neighbour's barns with all the corn in them are burnt; although we may be sorrowful for the loss of so much good corn, abstracting from God's holy disposition: yet seeing that it hath been his divine pleasure to suffer it, we ought not only patiently but also willingly to receive his gentle rod. God gave us all that we have; and seeing he hath taken part of it away by this chance, his blessed will be done: let us never murmur or grudge for this accident, but take it in good part, and give God thanks as well for adversity as for prosperity. Perhaps this loss may be a greater benefit of God than the gain of so much would have been; for he knoweth what is most expedient for us. Be therefore of good courage I pray thee, and taking all our family with you, go to the Church and give God thanks as well for these things which he hath given us, as for that he hath taken away, and for all that which he hath left us, which he can easily increase, when he seeth it fittest for us; More care to supply his neighbour's losses, than his own and if he pleaseth to take more from us, his blessed will be fulfiled; let it be diligently enquired out, what our neighbours have lost, and desire them not to be sad for any thing, for I will not see any of them endamaged by any mischance of my house, although I should thereby not leave myself so much as one spoon. I pray thee be cheerful with all my children and family. Also take counsel of our friends, how Corn is to be provided for that which is needful for you, and for seed corn this next year, if perhaps it be fit that we sow any field ourselves: but whether we do so or no; I do not think it expedient, presently to give over all care of husbandry and let out our farm to others, until we have better and at more leisure considered of it: yet if we have more workmen in our house, than we have need of, such may be dismissed, Godly care of his poor servants. if they can be commodiously placed with other masters; but I will not suffer any to be sent away to run at random without a place to devil in. At my return to the king, I see things go so, as it is likely I shall stay with him a good while; yet because of this misfortune, perhaps I shall get leave to come and see you some time this next week, when as we will confer more at leisure about these our household affairs. Farewell, from the Court. At Woodstock 13. Sept. 1539. God rewardeth true resignation even in this world. But mark how God rewarded this his patience: for it was in October next that he was made Lo: Chancellor; by which office he might easily have purchased many fair houses, if his mind had aimed at worldly riches, and not rather thirsted after heavenly rewards. Vanity of judgement of worldlings. Some have not stuck to say that if Sir THOMAS had been so happy as to have died of his natural death about this time he had been a very fortunate man, living and dying in all men's favour in the highest judgements of the world, and prosperous also to his posterity; for he had left them a fair and great inheritance, especially by the king's gracious gift. But in my mind they are all carnally wise that affirm this, and no way have tasted of heavenly wisdom For the last Scene of this Tragedy is the best and not to be wished to have been omitted for all the land king Henry enjoyed, though you add the abbeylands and all, after which now his fingers ends began to itch: For that Card. Wolsey had showed already a precedent thereof, by getting leave of the Pope, to dissolve certain small Abbeys for the building and maintenance of that great College of Christ-Church in Oxford, which for that cause, as I think, is S. Peter's work, and lieth still unfinished. 6. 6. S. Thomas resigned up his office of L. Chancellor. Though in all his life time Sir THOMAS had showed lively examples of many excellent virtues, as piety, zeal of God's honour, wisdom, justice, liberality, contempt of the world, riches, yea what not? yet his most heroical virtues towards his end he hath expressed more lively and exactly, as his magnanimity, The nearer his end, the more replenished with the love of God. contempt of honours, of wife, children, possessions, life itself, and whatsoever can be of us desired, and in steed thereof hath chosen disgraces, extreme adversities, imprisonment, loss of dignities, goods and inheritance, and hath taken up his Cross and followed Christ in shedding of his blood to his honour: no champion is crowned till he hath gotten the victory. And behold he most gloriously triumpheth over the flesh by forsaking his life and leaving it; the world, by despising it, and the devil by resisting manfully all his temptations. A notable record: that no cause was left undecyded in the Chancery. When Sir THOMAS had behaved himself in his office of the Chancelour-shipp for the space of two year and a half so wisely that none could mend his doings, so uprightly that none could take exception against him or his just proceedings, and so dexterously that never any man did before or since that which he did. For he had taken such order for the dispatching of all men's Causes, that on a time sitting as judge there, and having finished one cause, he called for the next to be heard; whereto was answered that there was not one Cause more depending. This he caused to be set down upon record; whereas at this day there are little fewer than a thousand, if not more; whereof some lie in the suds by the space of divers years. When (as I say) Sir THOMAS had deserved high commendations of every one, and now perceived that the king was fully determined to proceed to the unfortunate marriage of Anne Bullen, A parliament called for Q Anne's marriage and for that cause a Parliament was called, wherein Sir THOMAS being the chief Officer of the higher house, was with divers Bishops and Noble men commanded by the king, to go down to the lower house to show unto them, both what many universities beyond the seas, & Oxford and Cambridge at home had done in that behalf, with their public zeals testifying the same. All which matters at the king's command he opened to the Lower house, Sir Tho. More sues to depose his office. not showing his mind therein; yet doubting (as good cause he had) lest further attempts should after follow, which contrary to his conscience by reason of his office, he was likely to be put unto; he made great suit to the Duke of Norfolk his singular good friend, that he would be a means to the king that he might be discharged, with his Majesty's favour of the Chancellourshipp; wherein for certain infirmities of his body he pretended himself unable any longer to serve. The Duke being often thereto by Sir THOMAS solicited, at length obtained of the king, when at a time convenient by his Majesty appointed Sir THOMAS repaired to the king to yield up unto him the great Seal of England; The king graciously accepteth his desire. which his Majesty courteously received at his hands with great praise & thanks for his worthy service in that office, at which time it pleased his highness to say thus unto him: That for the service he had hitherto done unto him, in any suit that he should hereafter have unto him, that either should concern Sir THOMAS his honour (that very word it liked his Highness to use unto him) or that should appertain to his profit, he should not fail to find him a good & gracious Lord. But how true these words proved, let others be judges, when the king not only not bestowed upon him the value of one penny, but took from him and his posterity all that ever he had, either given by himself, or left him by his father, or purchased by himself. The next morning being holieday, How merely he insinuated the matter to his wife. few yet knowing what had been done, he went to Chelsey church with my Lady and his children and family: & after mass was done, because it was a custom that one of my Lord's gentlemen, should then go to my lady's pew, and tell her, my Lord was gone before, then did he himself come, & making unto her a courtesy, with his cap in his hand, & said: may it please yòur Ladieshipp to come forth now my Lo: is gone. whereto she imagining it to be but one of his jests, as he used many unto her, he sadly affirmed unto her, that it was true; for he had resigned up his office, and the king had graciously accepted it. This was the way that he thought fittest to break this matter unto his wife; who yet was full sorry to hear it; A pleasant jest, to divere her from sorrow. & it may be she spoke then those words, which I have rehearsed before: Tilli valley; what will you do Mr. MORE: will you sit and make goslings in the ashes: it is better to rule then to be ruled. But to requite her brave mind, he began to find fault with her dressing, for he saw a great fault about her; for which she chiding her daughters that none of them could espy it, they still saying they could find none; Sir THOMAS merrily said: Do you not perceive that your mother's nose standeth somewhat awry? at which words she stepped away from him in a rage. All which he did to make her think the less of her decay of honour, which else would have troubled her sore. 7. Provident disposition of his household after his resignment. 7. Shortly after this he called all his seruants together, many of whom were Gentlemen of good sort and fashion, & told them, that he could not maintain them as he gladly would, and therefore demanded them, what course of life they would betake themselves to; and if they purposed to serve any Noble man, Of his servants▪ all well rec2ommended. he would undertake to place them to their contentment, who with eyes full of tears affirmed, that they had rather serve him for nothing, then most mwn for a great stipend: but when to this he would not agree, he settled them all in places most fit for their turns, either with Bishops or Noblemen. His barge he gave to my Lo: Audley, who succeeded him in his office, and with it his eight watermen; His fool Patison he gave to the Lo: Mayor of London, upon this condition, that he should every year wait upon him that should have that office. After this he called before him all his Children, Of his children living with him. and ask their advice, how he might now (in the decay of his ability so impaired by the surrender of his office, that he could not hereafter as he had done and gladly would) bear out the whole charges of them all himself (for all his Children with their children had hither to dwelled with him) for that they could not be able to continue together as he could wish they should. When he saw them all silent and none to show him their opinion therein; then will I, An incomparable resolution after so great an honour, to bear cheerfully so low an estate. said he, show unto you my mind: I have been brought up at Oxford, at an Inn of Chancery, at Lincolns-inn, and in the king's Court, from the lowest degree to the highest; and yet have I in yearly revenues at this present little left me above a hundred pound by the year: so that now if we look to live together, we must be content to be Contributours together. But my counsel is, that we fall not to the lowest fare first; we will not therefore descend to Oxford-fare, nor to the fare of New-inn; but we will begin with Lincoln's Inn dyett, where many right worshippfull men of great account and good years do live fullwell; which if we find ourselves after the first year not able to maintain, then will we the next year come down to Oxford fare, where many great learned and ancient Fathers & Doctors are continually conversant; which if our purses stretch not to maintain neither, then may we after with bag and wallett go a begging together, hoping that for pity some good folks will give us their charity, and at every man's door to sing a Salve regina; whereby we shall still keep company and be merry together. O worthy resolution! see how he expresseth his love towards his Children, but more towards God, taking patiently whatsoever might befall him. And he that provideth for the worst, will the better be prepared to endure lesser Crosses. But what an admirable thing is this, that whereas he was by the king taken into his majesty's service from a very worshipful living, as I have said, four hundred pounds by the year, to deal in the greatest and weightiest Causes that concerned his Highness and the realm, Honourable poverty of so great a personage. he had spent with painful cares, travels & troubles as well beyond the seas, as with in this kingdom, in effect the whole substance of his life; yet with all the gain he got thereby (being never himself a wasteful spender) he was not now able after the resignment of his offices, to find for himself and those that necessarily belonged unto him, sufficient meat, drink, fuel, apparel and such needful charges; all the lands, which he ever purchased being, as my uncle Rooper well knew, not above the value of twenty marks by the year, and after his debts paid, he had not of my uncle's own knowledge (his Chain excepted) in gold and silver left him the worth of one hundred pounds. Wherefore his Children went to their own livings, all but my uncle Rooper & my aunt, who lived in the house next unto him. 8. 8. How earnestly, and considerately he deposed his office. And how really he had desired himself to resign up his place of Chancellourshipp, partly for the above mentioned consideration, and partly also for his own content & quiett enjoying of himself, may well appear in that he so much liked and highly commended the like deed in William Warrham that worthy Archbishopp of Canterbury immediately before Card. Wolsey; as by this letter unto him is to be seen: An excellent letter to Archbishop Warrhan to such a purpose. I have always esteemed your most reverend Fatherhood happy in your courses, not only when you executed with great renown the office of Chancellourshipp; but also more happy now, when being rid of that great care you have betaken yourself to a most wished quiettnesse, the better to live to yourself, and to serve God more easily; such aquietnesse I say that is not only more pleasing than all these troublesome businesses, but also more honourable far in my judgement, than all those honours which you then enjoyed. For many men, and amongst those some wicked men also may oftentimes be raised to great offices: Great offices dangerously undertaken, and as dangerous to be given over. but when you had that high Office of Chancellourshipp, which, as all others of the like kind are, is of that nature, that the more authority and power one hath whilst he doth bear it, the more slanders he is subject unto having left it, to resign such an office voluntarily (which yet your Fatherhood could scarce get leave to do with all the means you could use) none but a modest minded man would, nor any but a guiltless man dare, do. Wherefore many, and amongst them myself do applaud and admire this your act, which proceeded from a mind I know not whether more modest in that you would willingly forsake so magnificent a place, A true valuation of virtuous actions. or more heroical in that you could contemn it, or more innocent in that yond feared not to depose yourself from it, but surely most excellent and prudent it was to do so; for which your rare deed I cannot utter unto you how I rejoice for your sake, and how much I congratulate you for it, seeing your Fatherhood to enjoy so honourable a fame, and to have obtained so rare a glory, by sequestering yourself far from all worldly businesses, from all tumult of Causes, and to bestow the rest of your days, with a peaceable conscience for all your life past, in a quiett calmness, S. Thom. Moor's humble estimation of himself. giving yourself wholly to your book and to true Christian philosophy; which pleasing and contented state of yours, my own misery causeth me daily more and more to think of; who although I have no businesses worth the talking of (and yet he was then one of the King's privy Counsel, Threasurer of the exchecker and employed in many embassages) yet because weak forces are easily oppressed with small matters, I am so troubled daily with businesses, that I have not as much as once leisure to visit your Fatherhood, or to excuse myself therefore by letter, and scarcely was I able to write this unto you, He sends his Utopia to the Archbishop. by which I was to commend this my little book of Utopia unto your most reverend Fatherhood, which an Antwerpian friend of mine (love swaying his judgement) hath thought fit to be published, and hath put it in print without my privity, being rather huddled up then polished, which I was emboldened to send to you, though it be unworthy of your learning, experience and dignity, relying on your courteous nature, which is want to construe to the best every man's endeavoures, also trusting in your tried love towards me, by which I hope, though the work itself should not like you, that yet for the author's sake you will favour it. Farewell most honourable prelate. A little after this time he wrote thus to Erasmus: I have a good while expected, His innocence in his office. if any man could accuse me of any thing, since the deposing myself of the Chancellourshipp: and as yet no man hath come forth to complain of any my injustice: either I have been so innocent, or so crafty, that my adversaries must needs suffer me to glory in the one, if they cannot abide I should do so in the other. Yea this the king's majesty also as well in private discourse often, as also twice in public hath wittnessed, for that (which shamefastness will not suffer me to speak of myself) he commanded the most noble Duke of Norfolk high Threasurer of England, Testified in private and public by the King when my successor an excellent man was settled in my place to testify this to all the assembly, that he had hardly at my earnest entreaty suffered me to let the office go; and not content with that singular favour in my behalf he caused the same again to be spoken of in his own presence when in the audience of a public meeting of the Nobility and people my successor recited his first speech, as the custom is, in the assembly of all the Estates, which we call the Parliament. The chief cause of his resignment, to serve God more freely. He writeth also to Erasmus in another letter thus. That which I have from a child unto this day almost continually wished (my most dear Desiderius) that being freed from the troublesome businesses of public affairs, I might live some while only to God and myself, I have now by the especial grace of almighty God, and the favour of my most indulgent prince, obtained. And then having spoken somewhat of the weakness of his health, he goes on, saying: Having these things often in my head, either that I was to depose myself of the office, or that I should fail in the performance of my duty therein, seeing that I could not dispatch those affairs, but that I must endanger my life, and so dispatch myself of the office howsoever, As thankful to the K. for permitting his resignment, as for the office itself. I purposed at the last to forgo the one rather then both. Wherefore because I would as well be careful of the public welfare as of mine own health, I was an earnest suitor to my Prince, and at last have obtained by his singular courtesy, that because I began to grow weary and even ready to lie under my burden I might be rid of that though a most honourable office, whereto his favour had raised me above all my deserving, as it was wholly without my seeking. I beseech therefore all the Saints in heaven, that by their intercession almighty God would recompense this most favourable affection of the King's towards me, and that he would give me grace to spend the rest of my age in his service, profitably and not idly or vainly, affording me health of body, that I may be the better able to take pains. And to Cochleus he writeth thus▪ Another cause for his weak health. I have been lately sore sick for some months together, not so much to the sight of others, as to mine own feeling, which infirmity I can scarce shake of now, when I have left of my office; for than I could not exercise my function of Chancellor, unless I should endanger my health daily. The care of my recovery, but especially the due respect I had not to hinder public justice, moved me thereto, whih I thought I should greatly hinder, if being sickly I should be constrained to undertake businesses as I did when I was stronger. That leisure, which the favourable benignity of my most gracious prince hath vouchsafed to grant me, I have purposed to dedicate wholly to my study and the honour of God. Contempt of all vainglory. And as for his contempt of worldly honour he writeth thus to Erasmus: You will not believe how unwillingly I undertake embassages; neither can there be any thing more displeasing unto me then the function of an Ambassador. Of his Utopia he writeth, that he judged the book no better worthy, then to lie always hidden in his own Hand, or else to be consecrated to Vulcan. Of his poetry he saith: my epigrams never, pleased my mind, as you well know, my Erasmus, and if other men had not better liked them, than myself, they should never have been put out in print. THE EIGHT CHAPTER. THE FIRST OCCASION and beginning of Sir THOMAS his troubles. 1. How he prepared himself to suffer for Christ, as if he foresaw he should so do. 2. A worthy lesson for statesmen given by Sir Thomas More, to Cromwell. 3. The unfortunate marriage of Queen Anne Bolain. 4. Sir Tho. More refuseth to be present at Queen Anne's coronation; the beginning of hers, and the King's indignation. 5. The holy Nun of Canterbury first occasion of calling Sir Thom. More into Question about Q. Anne▪ 6. divers accusations procured against Sir T. More, all easily avoided by his innocent life. 7. His first examination before the King's deputies. 8. His merry hart and brave resolution after this examination. 1. His remote preparation to Martyrdom. 1. THe year immediately before his troubles, he spent most in spiritual exercises, and in writing of books against heretics: of whom in another letter he speaketh thus: That which I profess in my epitaph, that I have been troublesome to heretics, I have done it with a little ambition; 1 Hatred to heresy. for I so hate these kind of men, that I would be their sorest enemy that possible they could have, if they will not repent; for I find them such men, and so to increase every day, that I even greatly fear the world will be undone by them. Yet for all his hatred to them, no heretic suffered death whilst he was Lo: Chancellor, Yet in his time no heretic put to death. as Erasmus confesseth in the above mentioned letter. And indeed it seemeth he would not have them suffer death, because he writeth to that effect in the laws of his Utopia. Writing another time to Cochlie he saith: I would to God, my Cochlie, I had such skill in holy Scriptures and Divinity, that I were able to write against these plagues of the world fruitfully and with good effect. Erasmus also confesseth that he hated those seditious opinions, with the which the world was then cruelly shaken. He would often talk with his wife and Children of the exceeding joys in heaven, 2. Continual talk of spiritual matters. and terrible pains of hell, of the lives of holy Martyrs, what torments they endured for the love of God, of their marvellous patience & deaths, which they suffered most willingly rather than they would offend Gods divine Majesty; and what an honourable thing it was for the love of our Lord JESUS-CHRIST to abide imprisonment, loss of goods, lands, and life; adding also what a comfort it would be to him, if he might find that his wife and children would encourage him to die in a good cause; 3. Desire to suffer for Christ for it would cause him for joy thereof merrily to run to death; besides, as prophesying of his future troubles, he would tell them what miseries might chance to happen unto him. With which virtuous discourses he had so encouraged them, that when these things after fell upon him indeed, their misery seemed the more tolerable unto them, because Shafts foreseen hurt not so much. 2. A notable lesson for all statesmen, giuen to M. Cromwell. 2. Within a while after the resigning of his Office, Mr. Cromewell (now highly in the King's favour) came of a message from the king to Sir THOMAS; wherein when they had throughly talked together, before his going away Sir THOMAS said unto him: Mr. Cromewell; you are entered into the service of a most noble, wise, and liberal Prince; if you will follow my poor advice, you shall in your counsel giving to his Majesty ever tell him what he ought to do, but never what he is able to do; so shall you show yourself a true and faithful servant, and a right worthy counsellor; for if a lion knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule him. But not kept by the said M. Cronwell. But Cromewell never learned this lesson; for he ever gave that counsel to his prince, which he thought would best please him, and not what was lawful. For it was he that was the mischievous instrument of king Henry to pull down all abbeys and religious houses, yea to ruinate religion utterly; whereby you may see the difference between king Henry a just prince, Bad Counselors make bad Princes. whilst he followed Sir THOMAS MORE's counsel, and after a cruel tyrant and bloodsucker, when he practised Thomas Cromewells plots and devices; and also we may see the issue of both these counsellors, the one having gotten great fame for his just deserts, the other having purchased eternal infamy, yea the overthrow of himself and his family. The reward of bad counsel exāplified in Cronwell. For though he attained to be Lord Cromewell, yea afterwards Earl of Essex, yet his honour and life was soon taken away from him most justly; and now there is scarce any of his posterity left, his lands are all sold, yea such was his grandchild's misery, that he complained very lamentably to some gentlemen that he had not bread to put into his mouth: Of good Counselors in. S. Tho. More. whereas Sir THOMAS MORE's great grandchilds, though they live not in great abundance, yet have they, God be blessed, sufficient to maintain the estate of honest Gentlemen; which God of his mercy continue. 3. The marriage of Q. Anne. 3. Now had King Henry also chosen an Archbishop of Canterbury for his own tooth, promoted by the King, as I have heard say, at a bear-baiting, soon after Warham's death; his name was Thomas Cranmer, Archbis. Cranmers good qualities Anne Boulogne's Chaplain, a man wholly bend to fulfil the king's pleasure in all things: By his counsel Q. Marie was after disinherited, and all men were sworn to the succession of Q. Anne's issue, and to renounce the Pope's authority, by acknowledging king Henry and his Successors supreme head of the church of England. Unto this man there was Commission granted under the great Seal to determine the marriage, who had a conscience large enough to put in execution, what the king did fancy; He concludes the marriage to be lawful & sitting at S. Alban about this new match, all things were easily accorded. The king pretended that he could get no justice at the Pope's hands; wherefore from thenceforth he sequestered himself and his kingdom from the Sea of Rome, marrying Q. Anne in private; for she was not solemnly carried through London, before she was great with child of Q. Elizabeth. Thus every man may see the cause of our breach from Rome, The cause of England's separation from Rome. the union whereof had continued more than nine hundred years, ever since holy Pope Gregory first converted us, & would have remained God knows how long, if that either king Henry would not have cast his liking upon a wanton damsel, or else the Pope's conscience could have stretched to dispense with a king to have two wives together; for the king still would praise his former wife, and term her a virtuous woman; only forsooth scruple of conscience was pretended; but he could not see any cause of scruple in breaking his promise upon his appeal; whereby he professed he would stay until the determination of a general Counsel, to which from the Pope he had already appealed. Sir Tho. Moor's prophetical guess of the oath of supremacy. As soon as Sir THOMAS had heard that king Henry was married, he said to my uncle Roper: God give grace, son, that these matters within a while be not confirmed with oaths. My uncle then, although he saw likeliehood thereof, yet fearing always that that would fall out, which Sir THOMAS foretold, waxed for these words very sore grieved. For he had many times had experience, that he spoke prophetically of divers things. 4. Sir Tho. M. refused to be at Q. Anne's coronation. 4. Before that Q. Anne should be carried in triumph from the Tower to Westminster through the streets of London, with many pageants & sumptuous shows, which proved after but a may-game, Sir THOMAS received a letter from three great Bishops, Durham, Winchester, & Bath, requesting him both to keep them company to her Coronation, and also to take twenty pounds, which by the bearer thereof they had sent him, to buy him a gown; the money he thankfully received; yet stayed he still at home, and at their next meeting, His counsel and prediction to the Bishops his good friends. he said merrily thus unto them. In the letter, my Lords, which you lately sent me, you requested two things of me; the one whereof I was well content to grant you, that the other I might the bolder deny; and like as the one, because I took you for no beggars, and myself I knew to be no rich man, I thought the rather to fulfil: so the other put me in mind of an Emperor, that ordained a law, that whosoever had committed a certain offence, A notable story wonderfully, and prophetically applied. which now I remember not, except she were a virgin, should suffer death for it; such reverence had he to virginity; now it happened that the first that offended in that crime, was a virgin; which the Emperor hearing of was in a perplexity, as he that by some example would fain have that law put in execution. Whereupon when his counsel had sit long debating this case very solemnly, suddenly rose there up one plain, man of the Counsel, and said: why make you so much ado, my lords, about so small a matter? let her be deflowered, and after devoured. So though your Lordships have in the matter of this marriage hitherto kept yourselves virgins, yet take heed, you keep your virginity still; for some there be, that by procuring your Lordships first to be present at the Coronation, next to preach for the setting forth thereof, His purpose rather to be devoured then deflowered. & finally to write books in defence of it, are desirous to deflower you; and when they have deflowered you, they will not fail soon after to devour you. As for myself, it lieth not in my power, but that they may devour me, but God being my good Lord, I will provide so that they shall never deflower me. In which speech he most lively prophesieth both of all the Bishopp's fall to Schism, which after befell, and his own death, which followed not long after. These words of his it is probable that they came to Q. Q. Anne's hatred to Sir Thomas. Anne's ears, who as impatient as an Herodias, not abiding that any in the realm should find fault with her great catch, she incensed King Henry more against Sir THOMAS MORE than any other man; And a month after this solemnity was not past, but she got him to be sent prisoner to the Tower, little knowing that her Fortune's wheel would soon turn after. When the king perceived he could not win Sir THOMAS to the bent of his lust by no manner of benefits, And the king's displeasure then lo the fair sunshine day of his favours became overcast, and there ensued a terrible storm, he now going about by terrors and threats to drive him to consent unto it: full little imagining that he was a steady rock, against which no waves of his rage could prevail. But mark how Sir THOMAS prepared himself for this valiant combat; Sir Thomas disposeth himself more immediately to suffer death. having given over his office of Chancellourshipp: he never busied himself in State-matters any more, but gave himself wholly, during that year, which was between that and his troubles, not only to confute heretics, as I have said, but also addicted himself to great acts of mortification, prayer and piety; he lessened his family, placing his men in other services; he sold his household stuff to the value of one hundred pounds; he disposed his Children into their own houses. As he lay by his wife's side, many nights he slept not, forethinking the worst that could happen unto him; and by his prayers and tears he overcame the frailty of his flesh, which, as he confesseth of himself, could not endure a fillipp. A Christian stratagem. He hired a pursuivant to come suddenly to his house, when he was one time at dinner, and knocking hastily at his door, to warn him, the next day to appear before the Commissioners, to arm his family the better to future calamity; imitating herein the act of S. john the Almes-giver, who hired a man to come to him at meals, to tell him, that his grave was not yet finished and that he should take order for it; for the hour of death was uncertain. 5. The first occasion of calling into question for Q. Anne. 5. But see how the beginning of this trouble grew first by occasion of a certain Nun, called Elizabeth Berton, dwelling in Canterbury; who for her virtue and holiness was not a little set by amongst the common people; unto whom for that cause many religious persons, Doctors of Divinity, The holy Nun of Kent▪ and divers lay men of good worship used to resort; she affirming to them constantly, that she had revelations oftentimes from God, Warned by revelation to rebuke K. Henry. charging her to give the king warning of his wicked life, and of his abusing of the sword, and authority committed from almighty God unto him. She moreover knowing that my Lo: of Rochester Bishop Fisher was of a singular and rare virtuous life, and of admirable learning repaired to Rochester, Conferreth her revelations with B. Fisher and there disclosed unto him all her revelations, desiring his advice and counsel therein; which the holy Bishop perceauing might well stand with the laws of God, and his holy Church, advised her (as she before had warning to do, and intended it) to go to the king herself and let him understand all the circumstances thereof; which she performed stoutly, telling him all the revelations, and so returned to her cloister again. Her talk with Sir Thomas More: In a short space after he making a journey to the Nuns of Zion, by means of one Fa: Reynold a priest of that house, there she happened to enter into talk with Sir THOMAS MORE concerning such secrets as had been revealed unto her, some part thereof touching deeply the matter of the king's supremacy, which shortly after this followed, and about the unlawfullnesse of the king's marriage. Waryly handled by him. Sir THOMAS though he might well at that time without danger of any law, (of which there was then none) freely talk with her therein, yet notwithstanding he demeaned himself so discreetly in all his talk with her, that he deserved no blame, but rather great commendations, as it was proved after most evidently, when it was sore laid to his charge. 6. Accusations procured against Sir Thomas. 6. After the divorce was pronounced, there was set out a book by authority from the Council, which laid down the reasons why this divorce was done; wherein amongst other matters it was said that therefore the king would not stay for the Pope's sentence, because he had already appealed from him to the next General Council. That he impugned the K. marriage. Straight after it was rumoured abroad, that Sir THOMAS MORE had answered and refuted this book; of which slander Sir THOMAS purged himself by a letter to Mr. Cromewell now Secretary, and in the king's great favour, showing by many arguments that he neither would nor could confute that book; which letter is at large in the latter end of Sir THOMAS his workes·s But for all his purging himself, Quarrels picked against his Chauncellourship. accusations still came thick and threefold upon him. For the king by threats and sifting of his former deeds, would either win him to his mind, or else find some occasion to except against his doings; and had he not been a man of singular integrity, free from all bribes and corruption in all his offices, every light matter would have been laid now heavy upon him; as of some things he was indeed accused, which adds more to his honour and reputation. There was one Parnell that grievously complained against Sir THOMAS; because when he was Lo: A supposed bribe pleasantly confuted. Chancellor at the suit of one Mr. Vaughan his adversary, he had made a decree against him; for which at his wife's hands Sir THOMAS had taken a great guilt Cup as a bribe: for the clearing of which accusation Sir THOMAS being called before the body of the Council, the whole matter was in grievous manner laid to his charge; and when Sir THOMAS confessed the taking thereof saying, that for as much as that Cup was given him long after the decree for a new years' gift, he at her importunity, of courtesy, refused not to take it. Then the Lo: of Wiltshire Q. Anne's father, who was the preferrer of the suit, & hated Sir THOMAS both for his religion, and for that he had not consented to his daughter's marriage, with much joy said unto the other Lords; Lo, did I not tell you, that you should find the matter true? whereupon Sir THOMAS desired their Honours, as they had courteously heard him tell the one part of his tale, so they would vouchsafe to hear the other with indifferent ears; which being granted he further declared unto them, that albeit at her urging he had indeed received the Cup, yet immediately thereupon he caused his butler to fill it up with wine, and therein drunk to her; which when he had done, and she pledged him, than he as freely as her husband bestowed it upon him, did even as willingly bestow the same upon her again for her new yeares-guift; & so forced her to receive it, though much against her will; all which herself and many others there then present deposed before that honourable assembly. Thus his accusers were put to shame enough, and he with great honour acquitted. At another time, on a newyears day also, A courteous refusal of an honest reward. there came unto him Mris. Croaker, a very rich woman, for whom with no small pains he had made a decree in Chancery against the Lo: of Arundel, (never fearing in act of justice, any nobility of blood, or greatness of personage) who presented him with a pair of gloves, and fourscore Angels in them; he thankfully received the gloves of her, but refused the money saying: Mris. seeing it were against good manners to refuse a gentlewoman's new-yeares-guift, I am content to take your gloves; but as for the lining, I utterly refuse it, and so caused her to take her money again. Another of like nature. One Mr. Gresham likewise, having at the same time a Cause depending before him in the Chancery, sent him for a new-yeares-guift a fair guilt Cup, the fashion whereof he very well liked; wherefore he caused the messenger to take one of his own Cups, which was in value better, though the fashion pleased him not so well, & deliver it to his master in recompense of the other; & under no other condition would he receive it; wherefore he was fain so to do. Many like unto those acts did he, which declared how clean his hands were from taking of any bribes; which for tediousness sake we will omit; these are enough to show any living man, how little he gained, yea how little he cared for all transitory wealth, esteeming virtues of the mind his richest treasure, and Christ naked on the Cross his chief desire; Sir Tho. More a wise merchant traffiking for heaven. which holy pleasure of his almighty God before his death fulfilled, when for his love he lost all that might be most dear unto worldly men; separation from wife and children, loss of all liberty, and the utter overthrow of all his goods and estate; yet by losing these things he gained better; for in steed of temporal, he achieved eternal, in lieu of transitory, he hath purchased permanent, in room of deceitful trash, he hath bought to himself a Crown of glory: centuplum accepit, & vitam aeternam possidet; he was a true merchant, that by selling all he had, bought the precious margarite spoken of by Christ in S. Matthew; than which there can be imagined nothing more precious, which without doubt he enjoyeth for all eternity. 7. 7. Sir. T. M. his first examination. Now there was another parliament called, where in there was a bill put into the Lower house to attaint the nun and many other religious men of high treason, A parliament to attaint true men of treason and Bishop Fisher with Sir THOMAS MORE of misprision of treason; which bill the King supposed would be so terrible to Sir THOMAS, that it would force him to relent, and condescend unto him; But therein he was much deceived, for first Sir THOMAS sued, that he might be admitted into the Parliament to make his own defence personally; which the king not liking of, granted the hearing of this Cause to my Lo: of Canterbury, The King's deputies, to examine Sir Tho. M. the Lo: Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk and Mr. Cromwell; who appointing Sir THOMAS to appear before them; my uncle Roper requested his father earnestly to labour unto them, that he might be put out of the parliament bill; who answered then that he would; but at his coming thither, he never once entreated them for it; when he came into their presence, they entertained him very courteously, requesting him to sit down with them; which in no case he would; The Deputies fairs words; to win Sir Tho. then the Lo: Chancellor began to tell him, how many ways the king's majesty had showed his love and favour towards him, how gladly he would have had him continue in his office, how desirous he was to have heaped still more and more benefits upon him, and finally that he could ask no worldly honour and profit at his Highness' hands, but that it was probable that he should obtain it; hoping by these words, declaring the king's affection towards him, to stir Sir THOMAS up to recompense the king with the like, by adding his consent unto the kings, which the Parliament, the bishops, and many Universities had already consented unto; Whereunto Sir THOMAS mildly made this answer, Fairly answered with a mild and constant refusal. that there was no man living that would with better will do any thing, which should be acceptable to his Highness than he, who must needs confess his manifold bounty and liberal gifts plentifully bestowed upon him; how be it he verily hoped that he should never have heard of this matter any more; considering that from the beginning he had so plainly and truly declared his mind unto his majesty; which his highness of his benign clemency had ever seemed like a gracious prince very well to accept of, never minding, as he said unto him, to molest him any more therewith; since which time, said he, I never found any further matter to move me to any change; and if I could, said he, there is not one in the whole world, which would have been more joyful for it. The Deputies threats. Many speeches having passed to and fro, on both sides, in the end, when they saw evidently, that they could not remove him from his former determination by no manner of persuasion, than began they more terribly to threaten him saying: the king's majesty had given them in command expressly, if they could by no gentle means win him, that they should in his name with great indignation charge him, that never there was servant so villainous to his Sovereign, nor any subject so traitorous to his prince, as he; For by his subtle and sinister sleights he had most unnaturally procured and provoked the king to set forth a book of the assertion of the Seven Sacraments, Sir. T. M. accused for autour of the king's book for the Pope and for the maintenance of the Pope's authority, so that he had caused his Majesty to put a sword in to the Pope's hands to fight against himself to his great dishonour, in all the parts of Christendom. Now when they had displayed all their malice & threats against him; my Lord, His constant reply, and evident refutation said Sir THOMAS, these terrors be frights for children, and not for me; but to answer that, where with you chiefly burden me, I believe the king's Highness of his honour will never lay that book to my charge; for there is none that can in that point say more for my discharge then himself; who right well knoweth that I never was procurer, promoter, nor counselor of his Majesty thereunto; only, after it was finished, by his Grace's appointment, and the consent of the makers of the same, I only sorted out, and placed in order the principal matters therein; wherein when I had found the Pope's authority highly advanced, and with strong arguments mightily defended, I said thus to his Grace: I must put your Highness in remembrance of one thing, and that is this: the Pope, as your Majesty well knoweth, Wise & wary counsel of Sir Tho. to the King. is a Prince, as you are, in league with all other Christian princes; it may hereafter fall out, that your Grace and he may vary upon some points of the league, where upon may grow breach of am●t●e and war between you both: therefore I think it best that that place be amended, and his authority more slenderly touched▪ Nay, quoth his Grace, that shall it not; we are so much bound to the Sea of Rome, that we cannot do to much honour unto it. Then did I further put him in mind of our statute of Praemunire, The king acknowledgeth obligation of his crown to Rome. whereby a good part of the Pope's authority & pastoral cure was paired away; to which his Majesty answered, whatsoever impediment be to the contrary, we will set forth that authority to the uttermost; For we have received from that Sea our Crown Imperial; which till his Grace with his own mouth so told me, I never heard before. Which things well considered, I trust when his Majesty shallbe truly informed thereof, and call to his gracious remembrance my sayings and doings in that behalf, his Highness will never speak more of it, but will clear me himself; with which words they with great displeasure dismissed him, & parted. 8. 8. His merry hart after his examination. Then took Sir THOMAS his boat to Chelsey; wherein by the way he was very merry, and my uncle Rooper was not sorry to see it; hoping that he had gotten himself discharged out of the bill. When he was landed and come home, they walked in his gardin, where my uncle said unto him: I trust, Sir, all is well, because you are so merry. It is so indeed, sonne, I thank God. Are you then, Sir, put out of the parliament Bill? said my uncle; by my troth, son, I never remembered it. Never remembered that? said he, that toucheth you and us all so near? I am very sorry to hear it. For I trusted all had been well, when I saw you so merry. Wouldst thou know, son, why I am so joyful? A fall given to the devil. In good Faith I rejoice that I have giuen the devil a fowl fall; because I have with those Lords gone so far, that without great shame I can never go back. This was the cause of his joy, not the ridding himself of troubles, but the confidence he had in God, that he would give him strength willingly to suffer any thing for Christ's sake, that he might say with Christ JESUS: Desiderio desideravi, etc. I thirst greatly to drink of the Cup of Christ's passion; and with S. Paul. Cupio dissolui, & ess cum Christo. But these speeches though they liked Sir THOMAS well, yet pleased they my uncle Rooper but a little. The King's indignation against Sir Tho. Now after the report made of this their examination of Sir THOMAS to the King, by the Lo: Chancellor and the rest, king Henry was so highly displeased with Sir THOMAS MORE, that he plainly told them, that he was resolutely determined, that the foresaid parlement-bill should undoubtedly proceed against them. Yet to this the Lo: Chancellor and the rest said: that they had perceived that all the upper house was so powerfully bend to hear Sir THOMAS speak in his own defence, that if he were not put out of the Bill, it would utterly be overthrown, and have no force against the rest. Which words although the king heard them speak, yet needs would he have his own will therein, adding that he would be personally present himself at the passing of it. But the Lo; Prudent and politic advice in so bad a cause. And lay and the rest seeing him so vehemently bend upon it, fell down upon their knees, and besought his Majesty not to do so; considering that if he in his own presence should be confronted and receive an overthrow, it would not only encourage his subjects ever after to contemn him, but also redound to his his honour for ever throughout all Christendom; and they doubted not in time but to find some other fitter matter against him; For in this Case of the Nun, they said, all men accounted him so clear and innocent, that for his behaviour therein every one reckoned him rather worthy of praise, then of reproof. At which words of theirs, the king was contented at their earnest persuasion to condescend to their petition; yet was not his displeasure against Sir THOMAS any whitt assuaged but much more incensed. On the next morning Mr. Proceeding against Sir Tho. M. differed. Cromewell meeting my uncle Rooper in the parliament house, told him, that his father was put out of the bill; which message he sent presently to Chelsey; and when my aunt Roper told her father thereof; he answered: In faith Megg, quod differtur, non aufertur, knowing as it were the very bottom of the King's hart, and all his Counsels, imagining that this was not any favour done unto him, but that they might find afitter matter to work on, as it shortly after proved. A brave answer to a friends fear. Within a while after the Duke of Norfolk fell into familiar talk with Sir THOMAS, and amongst other speeches he said unto him: By the mass, Mr. More, it is perilous striving with princes; therefore I could wish you as a friend to incline to the king's pleasure; for by God body, Mr. More, Indignatio principis mors est. Is that all my Lord, said Sir THOMAS; in good faith, then there is no more difference between your Grace and me, but that I shall die to day, and you to morrow. If therefore the anger of a prince causeth but a temporal death, we have greater cause to fear the eternal death, which the king of heaven can condemn us unto, if we stick not to displease him by pleasing an earthly king. THE NINTH CHAPTER. THE REFUSAL OF the oath of supremacy, cause of Sir THOMAS MOOR'S imprisonment in the Tower. 1. The oath of supremacy and succession refused by Sir Thomas. 2. His imprisonment, first in westminster, after in the Tower. 3. A notable discourse between him and his daughter Margarit Roper. 4. Some other passages of his in the time of his durance. 5. A pretty dialogue between him and his wife the Lady More. 6. Master rich his sophistical case put to Sir Thomas More. 7. His books, and means of writing taken from him. 8. His great care to give no occasion of offence to the King. 1. The oath of supremacy. 1. NOw in this parliament in the year 1534. when as Queen Elizabeth had been borne the September before, and Q. Anne had been proclaimed Queen the 12th. of April before that, and Q. Catherine declared the widow only of prince Arthur; there was, I say, at this parliament an oath framed, whereby all English subjects should both renounce the Pope's authority and swear also to the succession of Q. Anne's children, accounting the Lady Marie illegitimate; within a month or thereabouts after the enacting of this statute, all the Clergy as well Bishops as priests, Sir Tho. M. cited to take it. yet no lay man but Sir THOMAS MORE, were summoned to appear at Lambeth, before the Lo: Archbishop Cranmer, the Lo: Chancellor Audley, Mr. Secretary Cromewell, the Abbott of Westminster, with others appointed Commissioners by the King, to tender this oath unto them. On the same morning that Sir THOMAS was to go thither, His preparation before his going as he was accustomed before he took any matter of importance in hand, he went to Chelsey church, and there was Confessed and received at mass devoutly the blessed Sacrament; and whereas ever at other times before he parted from his wife and children, they used to bring him to his boat, and there kissing them bade them Farewell, at this time he suffered none of them to follow him forth of his gate, but pulled the wickett after him, and with a heavy hart, as by his countenance appeared, he took boat with his son Rooper, and their men; in which sitting sadly a while, as it were with Christ in his agony in the gardin, at the last suddenly he rounded my uncle in the ear, and said: I thank our Lord, son, the field is won▪ whereto my uncle answered at random, as not knowing then his meaning; I am very glad thereof. But one may easily know, what he meant, and so my uncle afterward perceived, that the burning love of God wrought in him so effectually, that it now had conquered all carnal affections; trusting to that saying of our Saviour: Behold and have confidence; I have conquered the world. His discreet behaviour in that cause. How wisely he behaved himself at Lambeth, may be seen in a letter of his scent after to my aunt Rooper, which is set out in print in the latter end of his English Works, with others his most singular letters, wherein he lively describeth to his children all his troubles, & showeth what a heavenly spirit he had to endure all for God's sake, trusting still chiefly to God's goodness not to his own strength, the effect whereof is this: He refuseth the oath: for conscience sake. After he was called before them, he requested of them to see the oath, which when he had read unto himself he answered, that he neither would find fault with the oath, nor with the authors of it, nor would blame the conscience of any man that had taken it, but for himself, he could not take it without endangering his soul of eternal damnation; which if they doubted of, he would swear unto them, that that was the chief cause of his refusal; in which second oath, if they doubted to trust him, how then could they trust him in the former? Which he having said my Lo: Chancellor replied, that all there were heartily sorry, he should make such an answer; for they constantly affirmed that he was the first man that denied to take it; which would greatly aggravate the king's displeasure against him; and forthwith they showed him a Catalogue of the Nobility and many others, who had taken it, and had subscribed their names thereunto. Yet because he would not blame any man's conscience therein, All the clergy, but Bishop fisher and D. Wilson, did take the oath. he was commanded to walk into the gardin a while and presently all the Clergy men, some Bishops, many Doctors, and priests were called in, who all took it, except Bishop Fisher, and one Doctor Wilson, without any scruple, stop or stay; & the vicar of Croyden, saith Sir THOMAS, called for a cup of beer at the buttery bar, quia erat notus Pontifici, and he drunk valde familiariter. Under what conditions Sir T. M offered to set down his reason of refusal. After all these had soon dispatched the matter, for which they were sent for, Sir THOMAS was called in again, and the names of all that had taken the oath, were showed him; whereto for himself he answered as before; then they often objected unto him obstinacy; because he would neither take it, nor give any reason, why he refused it; to which he replied, that his denial only would provoke the King's indignation sufficiently against him, and therefore he was loath any further to aggravate his displeasure, showing what urgent necessity drew him unto it; howbeit, if his Majesty would testify that his expressing the causes, wherefore he refused it, would not provoke against him his further anger, he would not stick to set them down in writing; and if any man could satisfy those reasons to the content of his conscience, he would take the oath most willingly. Sir T. M offer proceedeth not of uncertanty: but because he was certain his reasons were unanswerable. Then Cranmer, my Lo: archbishop urged him, that seeing he was not certain of his conscience, but that it was a thing certain, that he must obey his Prince, therefore was he to reject that doubtful conscience of his, and stick to the latter, which was undoubted. Yet if this argument were of any force, then in all controversies of religion we may soon be resolved to to follow whatsoever any king commandeth us. And when the Abbott of Westminster had said, that he might very well suspect his own conscience to be erroneous, All Christendom of more authority than all england. because he alone would seem to control all the wisdom of the whole realm, who had made and taken it. Thereto Sir THOMAS answered; that if he alone should stand against so worthy a kingdom, he had great cause to fear his own conscience; but if that of his side he could produce a far greater number of as learned men as they, he thought himself not then bound to reform his conscience by following the consent of one kingdom against the general received opinion of the whole Christian world. When Mr. Secretary seemed greatly to pity him, Sir THOMAS added: if any hard thing happened unto himself, he could not prevent it, without he should endanger his own soul. The oath of succession. Then asked they him, whether he would swear to the succession; to which he answered, that he was willing enough to do that, if the oath were set down in such words, as he might safely take it; Thereto my Lord Chancellor said: see, Mr. Secretary, he will not swear to that neither, but under a certain form of words. No truly, replied Sir THOMAS, except I find that I may swear it without danger of perjury, and with a safe conscience. 2. Sir Tho. Moor's imprisonment. First in Westminster. 2. When he had thus behaved himself, he was committed to the custody of the abbott of Westminster for the space of four days; during which time the king consulted with his council, what order were meet to be taken with him. And at the first albeit they were resolved, that, he swearing an oath not to be known, whether he had sworn to the Supremacy or no, or what he thought thereof, he should be discharged; yet did Q. Then by Q. Anne's importunity, in the Tower. Anne by her importunate clamours so sore exasperate the king against him, that contrary to the king's former resolution (but indeed for the greater honour of God, and his martyr) the king caused again the oath of Supremacy to be ministered unto him; who although again he made thereto a discreet qualifyed answer, nevertheless he was forthwith committed to the Tower. when as he went thither, wearing a chain of gold about his neck, Sir Richard Winkefield, His willingness to lose all for Christ. who had the charge of his conveyance thither, advised him to send home his chain to his wife or some of his children; nay Sir, said he, that I will not; for if I were taken in the field by mine enemies, I would they should far somewhat the better for me; rather choosing to have it lost in the Tower, than that king's officers should get it at home, when he should lose all; or else esteeming nothing lost, but gained, which was lost for Christ. At his landing, Mr. Lieutenant was ready to receive him at the Tower-gate; The upper garment the porters fee. where the porter demanded of him his upper garment; marry porter, said he, here it is, and gave him of his cap, saying, I am sorry it is not better for thee. Nay Sir, quoth he, I must have your gown; which forthwith he gave him; and then was conveyed to his lodging, His man's oath. where he called unto him john Wood his man there appointed to attend him, who could neither write nor read, and swore him before Mr. Lieutenant, that if he should hear or see him at any time speak or write any thing against the king, the Council or the State, of the realm, he should open it to Mr. Lieutenant that he might straightways reveal it again to the Council. His wonderful courage. This was his peaceable and constant carriage in adversity, bearing all his troubles with great alacrity, that both God was much pleased with his willingness, & every man admired much his patience: For if adversity will try men's wisdom and true fortitude, surely Sir THOMAS was a most wise man, that nothing happened unto him, which he did not in a manner foresee, and truly stout, that nothing could daunt his courage or abate his magnanimity. 3. 3. His discourse with his daughter Margaret. When he had remained with great cheerfulness about a month's space in the Tower, his daughter Margaret longing sore to see her father, made earnest suit, and at last got leave to go to him; at whose coming after they had said together the Seven Psalms, Prevented with prayers. and Litanies (which he used always after to say with her, when she came thither, before he would fall in talk of any worldly matters, to the intent he might commend all his words to almighty God's honour and glory) amongst other speeches he said thus unto her: I believe, Megg, that they who have put me here, think they have done me a high displeasure; but I assure thee on my faith, The comfort he found in his imprisonment. mine own good daughter, that if it had not been for my wife & you my children, whom I account the chief part of my charge, I would not have failed long ere this to have closed myself in as straight a room as this, and straiter too; now since I am come hither without mine own desert, I trust that God of his goodness will discharge me of my care, and with his gracious help supply the want of my presence amongst you; and I find no cause, I thank God, to reckon myself here in worse case, then in mine own house; For me thinks God by this imprisonment maketh me one of his wantoness, and setteth me upon his lap and dandeleth me, even as he hath done all his best friends, S. john Baptist, S. Peter, S. Paul and all his holy Apostles, martyrs, and his most especial favourites, whose examples God make me worthy to imitate. Five reasons used by his daughter to make him relent By which discourse of his it appeareth most evidently, that all the troubles, which ever happened unto him, were no painful punishments, but by his admirable patience and alacrity most profitable exercises. My aunt Rooper contrariwise, either because she would have more familiar access unto her father, or else because in deed she would really persuade him to follow the king's fancy, began to divert him from such zealours' discourses, and forcibly to urge him with many reasons and motives to the taking of this oath, that they might enjoy his presence at his house at Chelsey; first, 1. Obedience to the King. because he was more bound to the king than any man in England, and therefore ought the rather to obey his will in a case that was not evidently repugnant to God's law; 2. Authority of wise men. secondly, it seemed not credible, that so many wise and learned men, as were in England, should all impugn the will of God; thirdly, 3. Only B. Fisher of his mind. that he should beware how he pinned his soul upon Bishop Fisher, being one of the meanest bishops in England; fourthly, 4. Himself a lay man. that there were so many Bishops, Doctors and learned men that had taken it; so that he being a lay man seemed bound, in her judgement, to accommodate his conscience to theirs; and lastly, 5. against a parliament. every one thought him bound in conscience to approve that, which a whole parliament of the realm had so uniformly enacted; for which reasons many have condemned you, Father, said she, either of inconsideration, rashness, Sir T. M. answers. or obstinacy. To the first Sir THOMAS answered as may appear by a letter of my aunt Rooper's yet extant, which containeth all this their discourse, All the saints of God acknowleged the Pope's supremacy and by that letter of Sir THOMAS his written to Mr. Cromewell, that he had not slightly considered of this matter, but for these seven years' space, since the time that king Henry had written against Luther, he had diligently read over all the fathers both Greek & Latin, who all from Ignatius (S. john Euangelist's disciple) even to these late Divines, with one consent, do agree of the Pope's Supremacy, which hath been also accepted of throughout all Christendom, these thousand years and more; and he see not how one member of the Church, as England was, could withdraw itself from the whole body; Why he never touched that point in his writings. yet when he saw this controversy began to be disputed of, he always had tempered his speeches against tindal, that ex professo he never argued upon that theme; but now being put to his choice, whether he should offend his Conscience or the king, whether he should fall into temporal danger or eternal hazard of his soul, I cannot, saith he, resolve otherwise, than any wise man would. To the second, he said; Motives with which many deceive their own consciences. he would not condemn any body for taking it; for some, saith he, may do it upon temporal hopes, or fear of great losses, for which I will never think any hath taken it; for I imagine no body is so frail and fearful as myself; some may hope, that God will not impute it unto them for a sin, because they do it by constrainte; some may hope to do penance presently after; and others are of opinion that God is not offended with our mouth so our heart be pure; but as for my part, I dare not jeopard myself upon these vain hopes. To the third, he saith, He knew not of B. Fisher's mind. it was altogether improbable, because he refused this oath before it was tendered to Bishop Fisher, or before he knew whether he would refuse it or no. To the fourth, The Doctors of the Church greater than Doctors of England. though there were never so many learned prelate's within this realm, that should take it, yet being many more in other parts of Christendom, which think as I do, I am not bound to cōforme myself to these alone, having the Doctors of the Church on my side, who could not be drawn neither for hopes nor fears. And general Counsels, than a Parliament Finally to the last, he wisely answered, that although to deny the decree of a general Council were a damnable act, yet to withstand a statute of one realm's making, which contradicteth the constant opinion of the whole Church, is neither a rash deed, nor an obstinate, but most laudable and Christianlike. All which disputation my aunt Rooper set down in a letter to her sister Alington, printed together with Sir THOMAS his letters. His trust in God's mercy against the fear of death. After all this, my aunt Rooper sought to fright him, with the danger of death, which might perhaps move him to relent, when he cannot hinder his mishaps, but now he might prevent all, being yet not too late; whereunto how humbly he speaketh of his own frailty, and how confidently he relieth upon God's mercy, may be seen at large; whose words are so humble so zealous, so godly, that they are able to pierce any man's hart, that will read them in the latter end of his works; they breathe out an Angelical spirit, far different from the presumptuous speeches of either heretic or desperate man: Lord help me; A heauenly resignation. if God for my many and grievous sins will suffer me to be damned, his justice shallbe pmised in me; but I hope he will procure for me that his mercy shall have the upper hand; nothing can happen, but that which God pleaseth; and what that is though it should seem evil unto us, yet it is truly the best. 4. At another time, 4. Sir T. M. prophesieth Q. Anne's death. when he had questioned with my aunt Rooper of his wife, children, and state of his house in his absence, he asked her at last, how Q. Anne did: In faith, Father, said she, never better; there is nothing else in the Court but dancing and sporting. Never better, said he; alas, Megg, alas; it pitieth me to remember unto what misery, poor soul, she will shortly come; these dances of hers will prove such dances, that she will spurn our heads of like foot balls; but it will not be long ere her head will dance the like dance. And how prophetically he spoke these words, the end of her Tragedy proved it most true. His pleasant answer to his keepers honest excuse. Mr. Lieutenant coming into his chamber to visit him, rehearsed the many benefits and friendshipps, that he had often received from him, and therefore that he was bound to entertain him friendly, and make him good cheer; but the case standing as it did, he could not do it without the king's displeasure; wherefore he hoped that he would accept of his good will, & of the poor fare he had, whereto he answered: I verily believe you, good Mr. Lieutenant, and I thank you most heartily for it, and assure yourself I do not mislike my fare; but whensoever I do, then spare not to thrust me out of your doors. The inconstancy and ignorance of the oath makers. Now whereas the oath of Supremacy and marriage was comprised in few words in the first Statute; the Lo: Chancellor and Mr. Secretary did of their own heads add more words unto it, to make it seem more plausible to the king's ears; and this Oath so amplified they had exhibited to Sir THOMAS and others; of which their deed Sir THOMAS said to his daughter: I may tell thee, Megg, that they who have committed me hither, for refusing an oath not agreeable with their own statute, are not able by their own law to instifye mine imprisonment; wherefore it is great pity, that any Christian prince should be drawn to follow his affections by flexible counsel, and by a weak Clergy lacking grace; for want of which they stand weakly to their learning, & abuse themselves with flattery so shamefully. Which words coming to the councel's ears, they caused another Statute, espying their oversight, to be enacted with all these conditions. Another time looking out of his window to behold one Mr. Reynolds a religious, His meditation upon the martyrdom of 24. religious men learned and virtuous Father of Zion and three monks of the Charterhouse going forth of the Tower to their execution (for now king Henry began to be fleshed in blood, having put to death the Nun and divers others, and many after for the Supremacy and his marriage) Sir THOMAS, as one that longed to accompany them in that journey, said to his daughter then standing besides him: Lo, dost not thou see, Megg, that these blessed Fathers be now as cheerfully going to death, as if they were bridegrooms going to be married? whereby, good daughter thou mayst see, what a great difference there is between such as have in effect spent all their days in a strait, hard, and penitential life religiously, and such as have in the world like worldly wretches (as thy poor father hath done) consumed all their time in pleasure and ease licentiously? For God considering their long continued life in most sore and grievous penance, will not suffer them any longer to remain in this vale of misery, but taketh them speedily hence, to the fruition of his everlasting deity, whereas thy silly father, who hath most like a wicked Caitiff passed forth most sinfully the whole course of his miserable life; God thinketh him not worthy to come so soon to that eternal felicity, but leaveth him still in the world further to be plunged and turmoiled with misery. By which most humble and heavenly meditation, we may easily guess what a spirit of Charity he had gotten by often meditations, that every sight brought him new matter to practise most heroical resolutions. Within a while after this Mr. Master Secretary Cromwell's visit. Secretary coming to him from the king (who still gaped more for Sir THOMAS his relenting, than all his other subjects) pretended much friendship towards Sir THOMAS, and for his comfort told him, that the king was his good and gracious Lord, and minded not to urge him to any matter, wherein he should have any cause of scruple from thenceforth to trouble his conscience. As soon as M. Secretary was gone, to express what comfort he received of his words, he wrote with a coal, (as he did usually many other letters, because all his Ink had been taken from him by the king's express commandment,) certain witty verses, which are printed in his book. All the while Sir THOMAS was in the Tower, Sir T. M. writ in the tower his book of comfort. he was not idle, but busied himself in writing (with a coal for the most part) spiritual treatises, as the Three books of Comfort in Tribulation, where, in a dialogue manner under the names of two Hungarians fearing the Turks running over their Country, who had made great preparations therefore, he painteth out in lively colours both the danger that England stood then in to be overwhelmed with heresy, and how good Catholics should prepare themselves, to loose liberty, life and lands and whatsoever can be most dear unto them, rather than to forsake their faith. It is a most excellent book full of spiritual and forcible motives, expressing lively Sir THOMAS his singular resolution to apply all those wholesome medicines to himself, now being ready to practise in deed, whatsoever he setteth down in words. 5. A pretty dialogue between Sir T. M. and his wife. 4. When he had remained a good while in the Tower, my Lady his wife obtained leave to see him, that he might have more motives to break his conscience; who at the first coming to him like a plain rude woman, and somewhat worldly too, in this manner began bluntely to salute him. What the good year, Mr. More, I marvel that you, who have been hitherto always taken for a wise man, Her worldly objection. will now so play the fool, as to lie here in this close filthy prison, and be content to be shut up thus with mice and rats, when you might be abroad at your liberty with the favour and good will both of the king and the Council, if you would but do as all the bishops & best learned of his realm have done: and seeing you have at Chelsey a right fair house, your library, your books, your gallery, your garden, your orchard and all other necessaries so handsome about you, where you might in company of me your wife, your Children and household be merry; I muse what a Gods name you mean here still thus fond to tarry. His heavenly answer. After he had a good while heard her, he said unto her with a cheerful countenance: I pray thee, good Mris. Alice, tell me one thing. What is that, saith she. Is not this house as near heaven as mine own? she answering after her custom: Prison as near heaven as our own house. Tillie valley, tillie valley: he replied: how sayst thou Mris. Alice, is it not so indeed? Bone Deus man, will this gear never be left? Well then, Mris. Alice, if it be so, I see no great cause, why I should much joy either of my fair house, or any thing belonging thereunto, when if I should be but seven years buried under the ground, and rise and come thither again (he might have said but seven months) I should not fail to find some therein, that would bid me get me out of doors, and tell me plainly, that it were none of mine; what cause have I then to like such a house, as would so soon forget his Master? Again, tell me Mris. Alice, how long do you think may we live and enjoy it. Some twenty years, said she. Truly, replied he, if you had said some thousand years, it had been somewhat; Eternity to be preferred before temporality. and yet he were a very bad merchant that would put himself in danger to lose eternity for a thousand years; how much the rather if we are not sure to enjoy it one day to an end. And thus her persuasions moved him but a little, thinking of those words of job to his wife tempting him: quasi una ex stultis mulieribus locuta est. An other visit. Not long after this came there to him at two several times the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk and Suffolk with Mr. Secretary, and certain others of the Privy Council to procure him by all means and policies they could either to confess precisely the king's Supremacy, or plainly to deny it Here may we see that those very men, which seemed to cry before unto him: Osanna, benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini, say here: tolle, tolle, crucifige eum: this is the fickleness of the worldly men. But to this, as appear by the examinations set out at the end of his English Works, they could never bring him, because he was loath to aggravate the king's displeasure against himself, saying only, that the Statute was like a two-edged sword; if he should speak against it, he should procure the death of his body; and if he should consent unto it, he should purchase the death of his soul. 6. 6. M. Rich his sophistical case. After all these examinations came Mr. Rich, afterwards made the Lo: Rich for his good service done in this point, then newly created the king's Solicitor, Sr. Richard Southwell and one Mr. Palmer Mr. Secretarie's man, were sent by the king to take away all his books Mr. Rich pretending to talk friendly with Sat THOMAS said thus unto him, (as it proved after) of set purpose. For as much as it is well known Mr. More, that you are a man both wise, & well learned in the laws of this realm & in all other studies, I pray you, Sir, let me be so bold as of good will to put unto you this Case: Admit there were an act of Parliament made, that all the realm should take me for king, would not you, Mr. More, take me for king? Yes Sir, said Sir THOMAS that I would; I put the Case further, said Mr. Rich, that there were an act of Parliament, that all the realm should take me for Pope, would not you then take me for Pope? For answer, said Sir THOMAS to your first Case, the Parliament may well, Mr. Rich, meddle with the state of Temporal princes; but to make answer to your other Case; suppose the Parliament should make a law, that God should not be God, would you then, Mr. Rich, say that God should not be God? No Sir, said he, that would I not: For no Parliament can make such a law. No more, A poor ground for an indictment of treason. reported he, that Sir THOMAS should say: (but indeed he made no such inference, as he avouched after to Mr. Rich his face) could the Parliament make the king supreme head of the Church; and upon this only report of Mr. Rich, Sir THOMAS was shortly after indicted of high treason upon the new Statute of Supremacy. At this time Mr. Lieutenant reported that Mr. Rich had so vile a smell about him, that he could scarce endure him, which Sir THOMAS also felt. 7. 7. A remarkable accident, at the taking away his books. He had a little before this begun a divine treatise of the passion of Christ; but when he came to expound those words of the Gospel: And they laid hands upon him, and held him; these gentlemen took from him all his books, Ink and paper, so that he could write no more. Which being done, His merry jest vpon it. he applied himself wholly to meditation, keeping his chamber windows fast shut, and very darks: the occasion whereof Mr. Lieutenant ask him, he answered: when all the wares are gone, the shop windows are to be shut up. Yet still, by stealth he would get little pieces of paper, in which he would write divers letters with a coal: of which my father left me one, which was to his wife: which I account as a precious jewel, afterwards drawn over by my grandfathers son with ink. 8. How great care he took not to offend the king. 8. What respect Sir THOMAS had not to displease the king in any of his deeds or answers, may be seen by his discreet behaviour in all his proceedings. For first in his books he never handled exactly the Pope's Supremacy, though urgent occasion were given him by the books which he took in hand to confute; secondly, whatsoever writing he had touching that Controversy, he either made them away or burned them, before his troubles; as also a book, which the Bishop of Bath had written of that matter; thirdly, he would never take upon him to advise any man in that point, though much urged thereto by letters, especially of Doctor wilson his fellow prisoner in the Tower, knowing himself, being a lay man, not to be bound to persuade a Clergy man, much less a Doctor of Divinity: Fourthly, when he was brought from the Tower to Westminster to answer his Indictment, & thereupon arraigned at the King's-Bench-barre, where he had often asked his father's blessing; he openly told the judges, that he would have a bidden in law, and demurred upon the Indictment, but that he should have been driven thereby to confess of himself, that he had denied the king's Supremacy, which he protested he never had done. The substance of his indictment. And indeed the principal fault there Laid to his charge, was that he maliciously, traitorously, and Diabolically would not utter his mind of that Oath. Whereto Sir THOMAS pleaded; not guilty: & reserved to himself advantage to be taken of the body of the matter after verdict, to avoid that Indictment, adding moreover, that if only those odious terms, were taken out, he saw nothing that could charge him of any Treason. THE TENTH CHAPTER. THE ARRAIGNMENT & condemnation of Sir THOMAS MORE. 1. Sir Thomas Moor's arraignment at the kings-benche. 2. His worthy resolute, and discreet answer to his indictment. 3. Master rich his false oath against Sir Thomas, clearly rejected. 4. The jurours verdict excepted against, by Sir Thomas, with a noble confession of ecclesiastical supremacy. 5. Sentence of condemnation pronounced against Sir Thomas. 6. He delivereth fully & plainly his iudgement, touching the act and oath supremacy. 1. 1. The arraignment of Sir Th. More. AFter that the king had endeavoured by all means possible to get Sir THOMAS his consent unto his laws knowing that his example would move many being so eminent for wisdom and rare virtues, and could by no means obtain his desire, he commanded him to be called to his Arraignment at the kings-bench bar, having been a prisoner in the Tower somewhat more than a twelvemonth, for he was Committed about midde-Aprill, and this happened the seaventh of May 1535. the year following: He went thither leaning on his staff, because he had been much weakened by his imprisonment, his countenance cheerful and constant; His judges. his judges were: Andley the Lo: Chancellor, Fitz james, the Lo: Chief justice, Sir john Baldwin, Sir Richard Leicester, Sir john Port, Sir john Spilman, Sir Walter Luke, Sir Antony Fitzherbert: where the king's Attornye reading a long odious Indictment, containing all the crimes, His indictment. that could be laid against any notorious malefactor, so long, as Sir THOMAS professed, he could scarce remember the third part, that was objected against him; but the special fault was that: of the refusal of the oath, as is before spoken, for proof whereof his double examination in the tower was alleged; the first, before Cromewell, Thomas Beade, john Tregunnell, etc. To whom he professed that he had given over to think of titles either of Popes or Princes, although all the whole world should be given him, being fully determined only to serve God; the second before the Lo: Chancellor, Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Wiltshire and others, before whom he compared that Oath to a two-edged sword; for if he should take it, his soul should be wounded; if he refused it, his body: That he had written letters to Bishop Fisher to persuade him therein, because their answers were alike; upon all which it was concluded, that Sir THOMAS was a traitor to his Prince and realm, for denying the king's supreme jurisdiction in ecclesiastical government, presently after this Indictment was read, the Lo: Chancellor and the Duke of Norfolk spoke to this effect unto him: The judge's charges. you see now how grievously you have offended his Majesty. Yet he is so merciefull, that if you will lay away your obstinacy, and change your opinion, we hope you may obtain pardon of his highness. Whereto the stout Champion of Christ replied: Most noble Lords, His Christian resolution. I have great cause to thank your Honours for this your courtesy; but I beseech Almighty god that I may continue in the mind I am in through his grace unto death; by which three words he exercised the acts of three virtues, humanity, piety, and fortitude, showing himself a Civil man, a godly Christian, and a noble Confessor of Christ's truth. 2. 2. Sir Th. his answer to the indictment. After this he was suffered to say what he could in his own defence, and then he began in this fort: When I think how long my accusation is, and what heinous matters are-layed to my charge, I am strooken with fear, lest my memory and wit both, which are decayed together with the health of my body through a long impediment contracted by my imprisonment, be not now able to answer these things on the sudden, as I ought, and otherwise could. After this there was brought him a chair, in which when he was sat, he began again thus: 1. How sincerely he had always told the K. his mind touching the marriage. There are four principal heads, if I be not deceived, of this my Indictment, every of which I purpose, God willing, to answer in order; To the first that is objected against me, to wit, that I have been an enemy of a stubbornness of mind to the king's second marriage; I confess that I always told the king my opinion therein, as my conscience dictated unto me, which I neither ever would, nor aught to have concealed; for which I am so far from thinking myself guilty of high treason, as that of the contrary, I being demanded my opinion by so great a prince in a matter of such importance, whereupon the quietness of a kingdom dependeth, I should have basely flattered him against mine own conscience, and not uttered the truth as I thought, than I should worthily have been accounted a most wicked subject, and a perfidious traitor to God; if herein I had offended the king, if it can be an offence to tell one's mind plainly, when our prince asketh us, The durance of his imprisonment and afflictions. I suppose I have been already punished enough for this salt, with most grievous afflictions, with the loss of all my goods, and committed to perpetual imprisonment, having been shut up already almost these 15. months. My second accusation is that I have transgressed the Statute in the last parliament, 2. Why he refused to tell his iudgement of the law of supremacy. that is to say, being a prisoner, and twice examined by the Lords of the Council, I would not disclose unto them my opinion of a malignant, perfidious, obstinate and traitorous mind, whether the king were supreme head of the Church or no; Lay men not touched with that law. but answered them, that this law belonged not not to me, whether it were just or unjust, because I did not enjoy any benefice from the church; yet I then protested, that I never had said or done any thing against it, neither can any one word or action of mine be produced, to make me culpable; yea this I confess was then my speech unto their Honours, that I hereafter would think of nothing else, but of the bitter passion of our blessed Saviour and of my passage out of this miserable world; I wish no harm to any; No law can punish silence that is without malice. and if this will not keep me alive, I desire not to live; by all which I know, that I could not transgress any law or incur any crime of treason; for neither this Statute nor any law in the world can punish any man for holding his peace; for they only can punish either words or deeds, God only being judge of our secret thoughts. Of which words, because they were urgent indeed, the king's Attorney interrupted him and said: Whether his silence were malicious. Although we have not one word or deed of yours to object against you, yet have we your silence, which is an evident sign of a malicious mind, because no dutiefull subject being lawfully asked this question, will refuse to answer. To which Sir THOMAS replied saying: my silence is no sign of any malicious mind, which the king himself may know by many of my dealings, neither doth it convince any man of breach of your law. For it is a maxim amongst the Civilians and Canonists: Qui tacet, Obedience first to God, and then to man. consentire videtur; he that holdeth his peace, seemeth to consent. And as for that you say: no good subject will refuse to answer directly, I think it verily the duty of a good subject, except he be such a subject, as will be an evil Christian; rather to obey God then man, to have more care of offending his Conscience, then of any other matter in the world, especially if his Conscience procure neither heavy scandal nor sedition to his Prince or Country, as mine hath not done; for I here protest unfeignedly, that I never revealed it to any man living. I now come to the third Capital matter of my Indictment, whereby I am accused, 3. That he never counselled or induced B. Fisher. that I maliciously attempted, traitorously endeavoured and perfidiously practised against this Statute, as the words thereof affirm, because I written eight sundry packetts of letters, whilst I was in the Tower, unto Bishop Fisher, by which I exhorted him to break the same law; and induced him to the like obstinacy; I would have these letters produced and read against me, which may either free me or convince me of a lie. The contents of his letters to the said Bishop. But because you say the Bishop burned them all, I will here tell the truth of the whole matter; some were only of private matters, as about our old friendship and acquaintance; one of them was in answer to his, whereby he desired of me to know how I had answered in my examinations to this Oath of Supremacy; touching which, this only I written unto him again, that I had already settled my conscience; let him settle his to his own good liking; and no other answer I gave him, God is my witness, as God, I hope, shall save this my soul; and this I trust is no breach of your laws▪ 4. The law of supremacy like a two-edged sword. The last objected crime is, that being examined in the tower I did say that this law was like a two-edged sword; for in consenting thereto, I should endanger my soul; in refusing it, I should lose my life: which answer, because B. Fisher made the like, it is evidently gathered, as you say, that we both conspired together. Whereto I reply, that my answer there was but Conditional, if there be danger in both either to allow or disallow this Statute; and therefore, like a two-edged sword, it seemeth a hard thing, that it should be offered to me, that never have hitherto contradicted it either in word or deed. These were my words. What the Bishop answered, I know not. If his answer were like mine, it proceeded not from any Conspiracy of ours but from the likeness of our wits & learning. To conclude I unfeignedly avouche, that I never spoke word against this law to any living man; although perhaps the king's Majesty hath been told the contrary. 3. 3. M. Riches oath against Sir T. More. To this full answer the Atturnye did not reply any more, but the word: Malice: was in the mouth of all the Court; but no man could produce either word or deed to prove it; yet for all this clearing of himself, for a last proof to the jury that Sir THOMAS was guilty, Mr. Rich was called forth to give evidence unto them upon his oath, which he did forthwith, affirming that which we have spoken of before in their Communication in the Tower, against whom, now sworn and forsworn, Sir THOMAS began in this wise to speak If I were a man, Evidently disproved by Sir Tho. Moor's oath to contrary. my Lords, that did not regard an oath, I needed not at this time in this place, as is well known unto every one, to stand as an accused person. And if this oath, Mr. Rich, which you have taken be true, than I pray, that I never see God in the face: which I would not say, were it otherwise, to gain the whole world. Then did he recite before all the Court the whole discourse of all their Communication in the Tower, according as it was, truly & sincerely, adding this; In good faith Mr. Rich, I am more sorry for your perjury, then for mine own peril; By just exception against the witness unworthy of credit. and know you, that neither I nor any man else to my knowledge ever took you to be a man of such credit, as either I or any other would vouchsafe to communicate with you in any matter of importance. You know that I have been acquainted with your manner of life and conversation a long space, even from your youth to this time; for we dwelled long together in one parish, where as yourself can well tell (I am sorry you compelle me to speak it) you were always esteemed very light of your tongue, a great dycer and gamester, & not of any commendable fame either there or at your house in the Temple, where hath been your bringing up. Can it therefore seem likely to your Hon: ble Lordships that in so weighty a Cause I should so unadvisedly overshoot myself as to trust Mr. Rich a man always reputed of me for one of so little truth and honesty, so far above my Sovereign Lord, the king, to whom I am so deeply indebted for his manifold favours, or any of his noble and grave Counselors, that I would declare only to Mr. Rich the secrets of my Conscience touching the king's Supremacy, the special point and only mark so long sought for at my hands; which I never did nor never would reveal after the Statute once made either to the king's highness himself or to any of his noble Counsellors, as it is well known to your Honours, who have been sent, for no other purpose, at sundry several times from his Majesty's person to me in the tower, I refer it to your judgements, my Lords, whether this can seem a thing credible to any of you. If it had been true, there had been no malice. And if I had done, as Mr. Rich hath sworn, seeing it was spoken but in familiar secret talk, affirming nothing, but only in putting of Cases without any unpleasing circumstances, it cannot justly be taken to be spoken maliciously, and where there is no malice, there can be no offence. Besides this, my Lords, I cannot think, that so many worthy Bishops, so many honourable personages, & so many worshippfull virtuous and well learned men as were in the Parliament assembled at the making of that law ever meant to have any man punished by death, Malice in law. in whom there could be found no malice, taking malitia for malevolentia; for if malitia be taken in a general signification for any sin, no man there is that can excuse himself thereof. Wherefore this very word maliciously is only material in this Statute, as the word forcible is in the Statute of forcible entry; for in that Case if any enter peaceably and put his adversary out forcibly, it is no offence; but if he enter forcibly, he shall be punished by that Statute. Besides all the unspeakable goodness of the king's highness towards me, The improbability of M. Rich his deposition. who hath been so many ways my singular good Lord and gracious Sovereign, he, I say, who hath so dear loved & trusted me, even from my first coming into his royal service, vouchsafing to grace me with the dignity of being one of his Privy Council, and hath most liberally advanced me to offices of great Credit and worship, finally with the chief dignity of his majesty's high Chancellor, the like whereof he never did to any Temporal man before, which is the highest office in this noble realm, and next to his royal person, so far above my merits and qualities, honouring and exalting me of his incomparable benignity by the space of these twenty years and above, showing his continual favours towards me, and now at last it hath pleased his Highness at mine own humble suit to give me licence with his majesty's favour to bestow the residue of my life in the service of God for the better provision of my soul, to discharge and disburden me of that weighty dignity, before which he had still heaped honours more and more upon me; all this his highness' bounty so long and so plentiefully poured upon me, were in my mind matter sufficient to convince this slanderous accusation so wrongfully by this man surmised and urged against me, which I commit to your Lordships honourable considerations, whether this oath be likely or not to be true. M. Rich his witnesses do fail him Mr. Richardo seeing himself so evidently to be disproved, and his Credit so foully defaced, caused Sr. Richard Southwell & Mr. Palmer, who in the time of their communication were in the same chamber with them two, to be there sworn, what words had passed between them. whereupon Mr. Palmer upon his deposition said, that he was so busy in the thrusting up of Sir Thomas' books in to a sack, that he took no heed to their talk. Sr. Richard Southwell also said likewise, that because he was appointed only to look to the conveying of the books, he gave no ear unto them. And after all this Sir THOMAS alleged many other reasons in his own defence to the utter discreditt of Mr. Riche's foresaid evidence, and for proof of the clearness of his own Conscience. 4. 4. The jury verdict, guilty. But for all that ever he could do or say, the jury of Twelve men, whose names were Sr. Thomas Palmer, Sr. Thomas Peirt, George Lovel esquire, Thomas Burbage esquire, Geoffrey Chamber gentleman, Edward Stockmore gentleman, William Brown gentleman, jaspar Leake gentleman, Thomas Billington gentleman, john Parnel gentleman, Richard Bellame gentleman, George Stoakes gentleman. These, I say, going together and staying scarce one quarter of an hour (for they knew what the king would have done in that Case) returned with their verdict, Guilty. Wherefore the Lo: Chancellor, Excepted against by Sir Thomas. as Chief judge in that matter, began presently to proceed to judgement; which Sir THOMAS hearing said unto him: My Lord; when I was towards the law, the manner in such cases was, to ask the prisoner before sentence, whether he could give any reason, why judgement should not proceed against him. Upon which words the Lo: Chancellor staying his sentence, wherein he had already partly proceeded, asked Sir THOMAS what he was able to say to the contrary, who forthwith made answer in this sort: The act of parliament against God's law. For as much as, my Lords, this Indictment is grounded upon An act of Parliament directly repugnant to the laws of God and his holy Church the supreme government of which or of any part thereof no Temporal person may by any law presume to take upon him, that which rightfully belongeth to the Sea of Rome, which by special prerogative was granted by the mouth of our Saviour Christ himself to S. No lay man can be head of the church. Peter and the Bishops of Rome his successors only; whilst he lived, and was personally present here upon earth; it is therefore amongst Catholic Christians insufficient in law, to charge any Christian man to obey it; And for proof of this sound assertion, he declared amongst many reasons & sound authorities, that like as this realm alone being but one member and a small part of the the Church, might not make a particular law disagreeing with the general law of Christ's universal Catholic Church, no more than the City of London being but one member in respect of the whole realm may enact a law against an Act of Parliament, to bind thereby the whole kingdom, Against the lawer of the realm. So shown he further that this law was even contrary to the laws and statutes of this our realm not yet repealed, as they might evidently see in Magna Charta, where it is said, that Ecclesia Anglicana libera sit, & habeat omnia iura integra & libertates suas illaesas: And it is contrary also to that sacred oath, Against the kings own oath. which the king's highness himself and every other Christian prince always receive with great solemnity at their Coronations. Moreover he alleged that this realm of England might worse refuse their obedience to the Sea of Rome, Against the peculiar obligation of England to Rome. than any child might to their natural father. For as S. Paul said to the Corinthians: I have regenerated you, my children, in Christ, so might that worthy Pope of Rome S. Gregory the Great say to us Englishmen: ye are my Children, because I have given you everlasting salvation; For by S. Augustin and his followers, his immediate messengers, England, first received the Christian Faith, which is a far higher and better inheritance, than any carnal father can leave to his children; for a son is only by generation; we are by regeneration made the spiritual Children of Christ and the Pope. To these words the Lo: Chancellor replied, that seeing all the bishops Universities & best learned men of this realm had agreed to this Act, it was much marveled that he alone should so stiffly stick thereat, and so vehemently argue there against it. Against all Christendom that ever was. To which words Sir THOMAS answered, that if the number of bishops and universities were so material, as his Lordship seemeth to make it, then do I, my Lord, see little cause why that thing in my conscience should make any change; for I do not doubt but of the learned and virtuous men that are yet alive, I speak not only of this realm, but of all Christendom about, there are ten to one that are of my mind in this matter; but if I should speak of those learned Doctors and virtuous Fathers, that are already dead, of whom many are Saints in heaven, I am sure that there are far more, who all the while they lived, thought in this Case, as I think now: And therefore, my Lord, I think myself not bound to conform my conscience to the Council of one realm against the general consent of all Christendom. 5. 5. The condemnation of S. Tho. More. Now when Sir THOMAS had taken as many exceptions as he thought meet, for the avoiding of this Indictment, and alleging many more substantial reasons, then can be here set down, the Lo: Chancellor having bethought himself, and being loath now to have the whole burden of this Condemnation to lie upon himself, asked openly there the advice of my Lo: Chief justice of England, Sr. john Fitz, james, whether this Indictment were sufficient or no; By yfs, & and's; but no proofs. who wisely answered thus: my Lords all, by S. Gillian (for that was ever his oath) I must needs confess that if the Act of Parliament be not unlawful, than the Indictment is not in my conscience insufficient: An answer like that of the Scribes and pharisees to Pilate: If this man were not a malefactor, we would never have delivered him unto you; And so with yfs and and's he added to the matter a slender evasion. Upon whose words my Lo: Chancellor spoke even as Caiphas spoke in the jewish Council: Quid adhuc desideramus testimonium, reus est mortis, & so presently he pronounced this sentence. The sentence. That he should be brought back to the Tower of London by the help of William Bingston Sheriff, and from thence drawn on a hurdle through the City of London to Tyburn, there to be hanged till he be half dead, after that cut down yet alive, his privy parts cut of, his belly ripped, his bowels burnt, and his four quarters set up over four gates of the City, his head upon London-bridge. This was the judgement of that worthy man, who had so well deserved both of the king and Country; for which Paulus jovius calleth king Henry another Phalaris. The sentence yet was by the king's pardon changed afterwards only into Beheading, Mitigated by the king. because he had borne the greatest office of the realm: of which mercy of the kings, word being brought to Sir THOMAS he answered merrily: God forbid, the king should use any more such mercy unto any of my friends; and God bless all my posterity from such pardons. 6. 6. Sir Thomas fully delivereth his judgement of the act of suoremacy to be unlawful. When Sir THOMAS had now fully perceived that he was called to Martyrdom, having received sentence of death, with abolde and constant countenance he spoke in this manner: Well seeing I am condemned, God knows how justly, I will freely speak for the disburthening of my Conscience, what I think of this law; When I perceived that the king's pleasure was to sift out, from whence the Pope's authority was derived, I confess I studied seven years together to find out the truth thereof; & I could not read in any one Doctour's writes, which the Church alloweth, any one saying that avoucheth that allay man was or could ever be the head of the Church. To this my Lo: Chancellor again: Would you be accounted more wise and of more sincere conscience than all the bishops, learned Doctors, Nobility and Commons of this realm? Against all the church of God. To which Sir THOMAS replied: I am able to produce against one Bishop, which you can bring forth of your side one hundred holy and Catholic bishops for my opinion, and against one realm, the consent of all Christendom for more than a thousand years. The Duke of Norfolk hearing this said Now, Sir THOMAS, you show your obstinate and malicious mind. To whom Sir THOMAS said: Constancy no obstinacy. Noble Sir, not any malice or obstinacy causeth me to say this, but the just necessity of the Cause constraineth me for the discharge of my Conscience, and I call God to witness, no other than this hath moved me hereunto. Sir Tho. Moor's blessed charity to his judges. After this the judges courteously offered him their favourable audience, if he had any thing else to allege in his owns defence; who answered most mildly and charitably: More have I not to say, my Lords, but that like as the blessed Apostle S. Paul, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles, was present & consenting to the death of the protomartyr S. Stephen, keeping their clothes that sloned him to death, and yet they be now both twain holy Saints in heaven and there shall continue friends together for ever; so I verily trust, & shall therefore heartily pray, that though your Lordships have been on earth my judges to condemnation, yet we may hereafter meet in heaven merrily together to our everlasting salvation; and God preserve you all especially my Sovereign Lord the king, and grant him faithful Counsellors; in which prayer he most lively imitated the example of holy S. Stephen: ne statuas illis hoc peccatum; yea of our Saviour himself speaking on the cross: Pater dimitte illis, quia nesciunt quid faciunt. The truth of this relation from present witnesses of credit. All these of Sir THOMAS his speeches were faithfully delivered from Sr. Antony Sentleger, Richard Haywood, and john Webbe gentlemen, with others more of good credit who were present and heard all, which they reported to my uncle Rooper, agreeing all in one discourse. THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER. THE HOLY DEATH and glorious martyrdom of Sir THOMAS MORE. 1. The manner how Sir Thomas was led back to the tower from his arraignment; where his son publicly demanded his blessing. 2. Mistress Margaret Roper, his daughters noble and laudable love to her father Sir Thomas, now condemned. 3. How devoutly and magnanimously Sir T. M. expected his execution. 4. Advertisement of the day of his death sent him from the king. 5. The manner and form of his glorious death and martyrdom. 6. The king's sadness upon report of his death: withsome notable circumstances of his burial. 7. A consideration of the last blessing which he gave to his heirs, and their progeny after them. 8. Physiognomy of Sir Thomas More. 1. The manner of Sir Thomas his return to the tower. 1. AFter his Condemnation he was conducted from the bar to the Tower again, an axe being carried before him, with the edge towards him, and was lead by Sr. William Kinston a tall strong and comely gentleman, Constable of the Tower, and his very good friend; but presently a doleful spectacle was presented to Sir THOMAS and all the standers by; His sonne asketh him blessing. for his only son, my grandfather, like a dutiefull child, casteth himself at his father's feet, craving humbly his blessing, not without tears, whom he blessed and kissed most lovingly, whose love and obedience Sir THOMAS in a letter praised saying, that this his behaviour pleased him greatly. When Sr. Great constancy, courtesy, and charity. William had conducted Sir THOMAS to the Old Swan towards the Tower, there he bade him Farewell with a heavy heart, the tears trickeling down his cheeks: but Sir THOMAS with a stayed gravity seeing him sorrowful, began to comfort him with cheerful speeches, saying: good Mr. Kinston, trouble not yourself, but be of good cheer; for I will pray for you, and my good Lady your wife, that we may meet in heaven together, where we shall be merry for ever and ever. Soon after this Sr. William talking hereof, to my uncle Rooper, said: In good faith Mr. Rooper, I was ashamed of myself, that at our parting I found my hart so weak, and his so stout, that he was fain to comfort me, who should rather at that time have comforted him: but God and the clearness of his Conscience is a comfort, which no earthly prince can give or take away. 2. 2. His children's behaviour to him. When Sir THOMAS was come now to the Tower-wharf his best beloved child my aunt Rooper desirous to see her father, whom she feared she should never see in this world after, to have his last blessing, gave there attendance to meet him; whom as soon as she had espied, after she had received upon her knees, his fatherly blessing, she ran hastily unto him, and without consideration or care of herself, passing through the midst of the throng and guard of men, who with bills and halberds compassed him round, there openly in the sight of them all embraced him, took him about the neck and kissed him, not able to say any word, His daughter Matgarets' laudable passion. but: Oh my father, oh my father. He liking well her most natural and dear affection towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing; telling her, that whatsoever he should suffer though he were innocent, yet it was not without the will of God, and that she knew well enough all the secrets of his hart, counselling her to accommodate her will to God's blessed pleasure, and bade her be patient for her loss. She was no sooner parted from him, and gone ten steps, when she not satisfied with the former Farewell, like one who had forgotten herself ravished with the entire love of so worthy a father, having neither respect to herself, nor to the press of the people about him, suddenly turned back, and ran hastily to him, took him about the neck, and divers times together kissed him; whereat he spoke not a word, but carrying still his gravity, tears fell also from his eyes; yea there were very few in all the troop, who could refrain hereat from weeping, no not the guard themselves, yet at last with a full heavy hart she was severed from him: at which time Margarett Jigs embraced him & kissed him also; yea mine Aunt's maid one Dorothy Collie did the like; of whom he said after, it was homely, but very lovingly done; all these and also his son my grandfather wittnessed that they smelled a most odoriferous smell to come from him, according to that of Isaac: Odour filij mei, sicut odor agri pleni, cui benedixit Dominus. A ponderation upon this mutual passion of Father & daughter Oh what a spectacle was this, to see a woman of nature shamefast, by education modest, to express such excessive grief, as that love should make her shake of all fear and shame; which doleful sight piercing the hearts of all beholders, how do you think it moved her fathers? surely his affection and forcible love would have daunted his courage, if that a divine spirit of constancy had not inspired him to behold this most generous woman, his most worthy daughter, endued with all good gifts of nature, all sparks of piety, which are wont to be most acceptable to a loving father, to press unto him, at such a time and place, where no man could have access, hanging about his neck, before he perceived, holding so fast by him, as she could scarce be plucked of, not uttering any other words but oh my father, what a sword was this to his hart, and at last being drawn away by force, to run upon him again without any regard either of the weapons, wherewith he was compassed, or of the modesty becoming her own sex: what comfort did he want? what courage did he then stand in need of? and yet he resisted all this most courageously, remitting nothing of his steady gravity, speaking only that which we have recited before, and at last desiring her to pray for her father's soul. This and other his heroical acts made Cardinal Poole write thus of him: Cardinal Pools estimatio of Sir Thomas his death Strangers and men of other nations, that never had seen him in their lives, received so much grief, at the hearing of his death, that reading the story thereof, they could not refrain from weeping, bewailing an unknown person only famous unto them for his worthy acts: Yea, saith he, I cannot hold myself from weeping as I write, though I be far of my country; I loved him dear, who had not so many urgent causes of his love, as many others had, only in respect of his virtues and heroical acts, for which he was a most necessary member of his Country; and now God is my witness, I shed for him even whether I would or Noah, so many tears, that they hinder me from writing, and often blot out the letters quite, which I am franing, that I can proceed no further. 3. How devoutly & cheerfully he attended his execution. 3. So remained this unconquerable Conqueror of the flesh, the world, and the devil, some seven-night after his judgement, in the Tower, arming himself with prayer, meditation, and many holy mortifications, for the day of his Martyrdom, and walking about this chamber with a sheet about him, like a corpse ready to be buried, and using to whip himself very sore and long. In this mean time and space, came to him a light headed Courtier, talking of no serious matter, but only urging him this, that he would change his mind; and being wearied with his importunity, he answered him, that he had changed it, A pleasant conceit vpon a leight courtier. who presently went and told the king thereof; and being by him commanded to know, wherein his mind was changed, Sir THOMAS rebuked him for his lightness, in that he would tell the king every word that he spoke in ieaste, meaning, that whereas he had purposed to be shaved, that he might seem to others as he before was want, now he was fully minded, that his beard should take such part as his head did; which made the fellow blank, and the king very angry. In this while also he wrote a most kind letter unto Mr. His last letters: To Antony Bonvise. Antony Bonuise an Italian merchant, in Latin, calling him the half of his hart; which is to be seen amongst his other letters. Last of all; the day before he was to suffer, being the Fifth of july, he wrote a most loving letter with a coal, to his daughter Margarett, To his daughter Margaret sending therein his blessing to all his children; in which he writeth very affectionately, yet he knew nothing of his death as then, in these words: I cumber thee, daughter Margarett, very much; but I would be sorry, that it should be any longer then to morrow: for to morrow is S. His desito die vpon the octave of S. Peter, which was also S. Thom. of Canterburys commemoration. Thomas of Canterbury's eeve, and the vtas of S. Peter; and therefore to morrow I long to go to God; it were a day very meet and convenient. I never liked your manner towards me better, then when you kissed me last. For I like when daughter lie love and dear charity have no leisure to look unto worldly courtesy. Farewell, dear daughter, pray for me, and I will pray for you and all your friends, that we may meet together in heaven. Commend me, when you can, An blessing to his heir. to my son john; his towordlie carriage towards me pleased me very much. God bless him, and his good wife and their children, Thomas, (who was my father) and Augustine (who died unmarried) and all that they shall have. In which words I hope by God's help to have some part of his blessing. God granted him his desires, to die the day he wished. But oh good God voluntate labiorum eius non fraudastieum. For upon the eve of his special patron, and the vtas of S. Peter for whose supremacy he suffered martyrdom, God heard his petition, and he suffered death that very day most courageously. Together with this letter he sent also unto her his shirt of hair, and his whip, as one that was loath to have the world know that he used such austerity. His heir-shirt, and discipline. For he cunningly all his life time had with his mirth hidden from the eyes of others, his severe mortifications, and now having finished; his combat, he sent away his weapons, not being certain of any notice of the king's mind, but either taught by revelation, or having a firm confidence of God's great goodness, & desiderium cordis tribuit ei Dominus. 4. 4. Advertisement giuen him of the day of his death, from the K. For upon the next morning being Tuesday the sixth of july there came unto him Sir Thomas Pope very early in the morning, his singular good friend with a message from the king and the Council that he was to suffer death on that day before nine of the clock, & therefore he should forthwith prepare himself thereto. Mr. Pope, saith he, Most welcome unto him I most heartily thank you for your good tidings: I have been much bound to the king's highness for the benefits and honours that he hath most bountiefully bestowed upon me, yet am I more bound to his Grace, I assure you, for putting me here, where I have had convenient time and space to have remembrance of my end. And, so help me God, most of all I am bound unto him, that it pleaseth his majesty to rid me so shortly out of the miseries of this wretched world. The K. willed him to use but few words at his execution. The king's pleasure further is, said Sir Thomas Pope, that you use not many words at your execution. Mr. Pope, answered he, you do well to give me warning of the king's pleasure; for otherwise I had purposed at that time somewhat to have spoken; but no matter, wherewith his Grace or any other should have cause to be offended; howbeit, whatsoever I intended, I am ready obediently to conform myself to his Highness' command: And I beseech you, good Mr. Pope, be a means to his Majesty, that my daughter Margarett may be at my burial. His wife & children permitted to be at his burial. The king is contented already, said he, that your wife, Children and other your friends should have liberty to be present at it. Oh how much am I beholding to his Grace, that vouchsafeth to have so much consideration of my poor burial. Then Sir Thomas Pope taking his leave of him, could not refrain from weeping. His comfortable courage. Which Sir THOMAS perceauing comforted him in these words: Quiett yourself, Mr. Pope, and be not discomforted; for I trust we shall once see each other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love together in eternal bliss. And further to put him out of his melancholy Sir THOMAS MORE took his urinal in his hand, and casting his water said merrily: I see no danger but this man may live longer, if it had pleased the king. After which words they parted; He put on his best apparel that day. and when he was gone, Sir THOMAS as one that had been invited to a solemn bankett, changed himself into his best apparel, & put on his silk Chamlett gown, which his entire friend Mr. Antony Bonuise (a noble Citizen of the State of Luca in Italy, to whom he wrote the letter as is late spoken of before) gave him, whilst he was in Tower. Mr. Lieutenant seeing him prepare himself so to his death, counselled him, for his own benefit to put them of again, saying, that he who should have them, was but a javill. What Mr. Lieutenant, said Sir THOMAS, shall I account him a javel, who will do me this day so singular a benefit. Liberally to his execution. Nay I assure you, were it clothe of gold I would think it well bestowed on him. For S. Cyprian that famous Bishop of Carthage gave his executioner thirty pieces of gold, because he knew he should procure unto him an unspeakable good turn. Yet for all this Mr. Lieutenant so pressed him, that at last being loath for friendshipps sake to deny him so small a matter, he altered his gown, and put on a gown of Friese; but yet he sent of that little money which was left him, one Angel of gold to the hangman, in token that he maliced him nothing, but rather loved him exceedingly for it. 5. The form of his death and martyrdom. 5. He was therefore brought about nine of the clock by Mr. Lieutenant out of the Tower, his beard being long, which fashion he never had before used, his face pale and lean, carrying in his hands a read Cross, casting his eyes often towards heaven. As he thus passed by a good woman's house, she came forth and offered him a cup of wine, which he refused saying: Christ at his passion drunk no wine, but gall and vinegar. There came another woman after him crying unto him for certain books, which she had given to his custody, when he was Lo: Persons hired to disgrace him. Chancellor. To whom he said; Good woman, have patience but for one hower's space, and by that time the king's Majesty will rid me or the care I have for thy papers and all other matters whatsoever. Another woman suborned thereto, as some think, by his adversaries to disgrace him, followed him also crying out against him, that he had done her great injury, when he had been Lo: A good conscience. Chancellor: to whom he gave the answer, that he remembered her cause very well; and that if he were now to give sentence thereof he would not alter, what he had already done. Last of all there came a Citizen of Winchester, He freeth one from the tentation of despair by his prayers. who in times past having been greatly troubled with grievous temptations of despair, was brought by a friend of his to Sir THOMAS MORE when he was Lo: Chancellor; who though he could not before by any wholesome counsel alter this his mind; yet Sir THOMAS MORE promising him to pray for him, he was for the space of three years free from all such temptations. When Sir THOMAS was committed, and he could get no leave to have access unto him, his temptations grew so great that he often sought to have been the cruel murderer of himself; but now hearing Sir THOMAS was to be executed, he came to London, and ran to Sir THOMAS, as he was carried to execution, desiring him with great earnestness that he would help him by his prayers: for his temptation was come again unto him, and he could not possibly rid himself thereof; to whom Sir THOMAS spoke thus: go and pray for me, and I will carefully pray for you. He went away with confidence, and he never after was troubled with the like again. Being now brought to the scaffold, whereon he was to be beheaded, it seemed to him so weak that it was ready to fall. wherefore he said merrily to Mr. His words at his death. Lieutenant: I pray you, Sir, see me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for myself. When he began to speak a little to the people, which were in great troops there to hear and see him, he was interrupted by the Sheriff. Wherefore briefly he desired all the people to pray for him, and to bear witness with him, that he there died in and for the faith of the holy Catholic Church a faithful servant both of God and the king. His prayers. Having spoken but this he kneeled down, and pronounced with great devotion the Miserere psalm; which being ended, he cheerfully rose up; and the executioner ask him forgiveness, he kissed him saying: Words to the executioner. Thou wilt do me this day a greater benefit than ever any mortal man can be able to give me; pluck up thy spirit man, and be not afraid to do thy office; my neck is very short; take heed therefore that thou strike not awry, for saving thy honesty. He covereth his eyes himself. When the executioner would have covered his eyes, he said; I will cover them myself; and presently he did so, with a cloth that he had brought with him for the purpose; then laying his head upon the block, he bade the executioner stay until he had removed aside his beard saying: that that had never committed any treason. So with great alacrity and spiritual joy, he received the fatal blow of the axe, which no sooner had severed the head from the body, His happy death. but his soul was carried by Angels into everlasting glory, where a Crown of martyrdom was put upon him, which can never fade nor decay. And then he found those words true, with he had often spoken; that a man may lose his head and have no harm, yea I say, unspeakable good and endless happiness. 6. The king's sadness vpon the news of his execution. 6. When news of his death was brought to the king, who was at that time playing at tables, Anne Bullen looking on, he cast his eye upon her and said: thou art the cause of this man's death; and presenrly leaving his play he be taken himself to his chamber, and thereupon fell into a fit of melancholy; but whether this were from his hart, or to seem less cruel than he was indeed, I can hardly conjecture; for on the one side the remembrance of his faithful service so many years employed for the whole realm's benefit, could not but make the king sorrowful; and on the other side, the unmerciefull dealing with his son and heir, his small allowance to his wife, his pittielesse cruelty against all his children, showeth that he had an implacable hatred against him, because that he would not consent unto his lustful courses; of which we will speak more largely, The place of his burial. when we have discoursed of his burial. His head was put vpon London-bridge, where as traitors heads are set up upon poles; his body was buried in the Chapel of S. Peter, which is in the Tower in the bellfrie, or as some say, as one entereth into the vestry, near unto the body of the holy Martyr Bishop Fisher, who being put to death just a fortnight before, had small respect done unto him all this while. But that which happened about Sir THOMAS winding sheet, A notable accident about his windnig-sheet. was reported as a miracle by my aunt Rooper, Mrs. Clement, Dorothy Colly, Mr. Harrys his wife. Thus it was: his daughter Margarett having distributed all her money to the poor for here father's soul, when she came to bury his body at the tower, she had forgotten to bring a sheet; and there was not a penny of money left amongst them all. wherefore Mris. Harrys her maid went to the next Draper's shop, and agreeing upon the price, made as though she would look for some money in her purse, and then try whether they would trust her or no; & she found in her purse the same sum, for which they agreed upon, not one penny over or under; though she knew before certainly, that she had not one Cross about her. This the same Dorothy affirmed constantly to Doctor Stapleton, when they both lived at Douai in Flanders in Q. Elizabeth's reign. His bloody shirt. His shirt, wherein he suffered all embrued with his blood, was kept very carefully by Doctor Clement's wife, living also beyond the seas, as also his shirt of hair. His head having remained some month upon London-bridge, His head. being to be cast into the Thames, because room should be made for divers others, who in plentiefull sort suffered martyrdom for the same Supremacy, shortly after, it was bought by his daughter Margarett, lest (as she stoutly affirmed before the Council, being called before them after for the same matter) it should be food for fishes; which she buried, where she thought fittest; it was very well to be known, as well by the lively favour of him, which was not all this while in any thing almost diminished; as also by reason of one tooth, which he wanted whilst he lived; herein it was to be admired, that the hairs of his head being almost grey before his Martyrdom, they seemed now as it were readish or yellow. His glorious Martyrdom, His martyrdom encouraged many other to the like. and his death strengthened many to suffer courageously for the same cause, because he was an eminent man both for dignity, learning, and virtues; so that Doctor Stapleton boldly affirmeth, that he was wonderfully both admired and sought to be imitated by many, as he himself had heard, when he came first to the years of understanding and discretion. Mr. Gardiner; And truly Germane Gardener an excellent learned and holy lay man coming to suffer death for the same Supremacy some eight years after avouched at his end before all the people, that the holy simplicity of the blessed Carthusians, the wonderful learning of the Bishop of Rochester, and the singular wisdom of Sir THOMAS MORE had stirred him up to that courage; but the rest seemed not so much to be imitated of lay men, being all belonging to the Clergy, as this famous man, Even his own Parish-priest. being clogged with wife and children. Yea his death so wrought in the mind of Doctor Learcke his own Parish-priest, that he following the example of his own sheep, afterwards suffered a most famous Martyrdom for the same cause of Supremacy. 7. A consideration upon the blessing. which he gave to his heirs children. 7. Thus have we according to our poor Talon laboured to set down briefly the life and death of Sir THOMAS MORE my most famous great Grandfather; whose prayers and intercessions I daily crave both for myself and all my little ones, who are also part of his charge, because he gave them his blessing, in his most affectionate letter, viz: God bless Thomas and Augustine & all that they shall have; immediate or mediate; those which they shall have usque ad mille generationes. This hath been our comfort, that the trial thereof hath been evidently showed in that Edward, Thomas, & Bartholomew, my father's brethren, being borne after Sir THOMAS my great Grandfather's death, and having not this blessing so directly, as my father and my uncle Augustine had, they have both degenerated from that religion and those manners, which Sir THOMAS MORE had left as it were a happy depositum unto this Children and family. For although mine uncle Bartholomew died young of the plague in London, and therefore might have by the grace of God excuse and remorse at his end; yet Thomas the yonger's courses were far different from all the rest; for he lived and died a professed minister, and for all that, very poor, bringing up his children, whereof his eldest son is yet living, in no commendable profession; as for mine uncle Edward, who is yet alive, although he were endowed with excellent gifts of nature, as a ready wit, tongue at will, and his pen glibbe; yet, God knows, he hath drowned all his Talents in self conceit, in no worthy qualities, and besides is buried alive in obscurity, for his forsaking God, & for his base behaviour. My father only right heir of his father and Grandfather, A praise of M. john More, son & heir to Sir Thomas. though he not long enjoyed any of their Lands, was a lively pattern unto us of his constant faith, his worthy and upright dealings, his true Catholic simplicity, of whom I have a purpose to discourse unto my children more at large, that they may know, in what hard times he lived, and how manfully he sustained the combat, which his father and Grandfather had left unto him as their best inheritance; The unmerciful dealing of K. Henry with Sir Tho. Moor's heirs. For all their land was taken away by two Acts of Parliament immediately after Sir Thomas' death; the one Act was to to take away the land, which the king had giuen him, and this was somewhat tolerable; the other most violent & tyrannical, to frustrate utterly a most provident Conveyance, which Sir THOMAS had made of all his lands and inheritance, which he had settled upon my father, being a child of two years old or more, without any fraud or covin, even when as yet no Statute had been made about the Oath of Supremacy; and therefore before Sir THOMAS could commit such a fault against such a Statute, much less Treason, having reserved to himself only an estate for term of his life; yet all this was taken away contrary to all order of law, and joined to the Crown: but that land, which he had conveyed to my uncle Rooper, and mine aunt for term of their lives in recompense of their marriage money, that they kept still, because that was done two days before the first Conveyance. The lady More also, With the Lady his widow. his wife was turned out of her house at Chelsey immediately, and all her goods taken from her, the king allotting her of his mercy a pension of twenty pounds by the year; a poor allowance to maintain a Lo: Chancellour's Lady. M. john More committed to the tower for denial of the oath. My grandfather was committed also to the Tower, and for denying the same Oath was condemned; yet because they had sufficiently fleeced him before, and could now get no more by his death, he got at last his pardon and liberty, but lived not many years after, leaving my father to the education of his mother, called before her marriage Anne Cresacre, the last of her family, by whose match he enjoyed after a competent living to keep him out of needy life. The imprisonment of his daughter Margaret Mine aunt Rooper, because she was a woman, was not so hardly dealt withal, but only threatened very sore, both because she kept her father's head for a relic, and that she meant to set her father's works in print, yet for all that after a short imprisonment she was at last sent home to her husband. Thus all his friends felt in part the king's heavy anger for his undaunted courage. 8. The favour and Physiognomy of Sir Tho. More. 8. Sir THOMAS was of a mean stature, well proportioned, his complexion tending to phlegmatic, his colour white and pale, his hair neither black nor yellow, but between both; his eyes grey, his countenance amiable & cheerful, his voice neither big nor shrill, but speaking plainly and distinctly; it was not very tuneable, though he delighted much in music, his body reasonable healthful; only that towards his latter end by using much writing, he complained much of the ache of his breast. In his youth he drunk much water; wine he only tasted of, when he pledged others; he loved salt meats, especially powdered beef, milk, cheese, eggs and fruit; and usually he eat of corpse brown bread, which it may be he rather used to punish his taste, then for any love he had thereto; for he was singular wise to deceive the world with mortifications, only contenting himself with the knowledge which God had of his actions: & pater eius, qui erat in abscondito, reddidit ei. THE TWELFTH CHAPTER. THE JUDGEMENT which all nations made of the death of Sir THOMAS MORE. 1. Cardinal Pools lamentation upon his death. 2. Erasmus of Rotterdam in Holland. 3. Doctor john Cochlaeus of Germany. 4. Paulus jovius, Bishop, in Italy. 5. William Paradin a learned historian of France. 6. john Rivius a learned Protestant. 7. Charles the fifth, Emperor; & K. of Spanie. 8. Circunstances' worth ponderation, in his death. 9▪ An apology for his merry apothegms and pleasant conceits. 10. The first lay man martyred for defence of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 1. 1. Cardinal Pools lamentation upon Sir Tho. Moor's death. NOw let us see, what most of the learned men of Christendom, not only Catholics but even Protestants thought and wrote of king Henry for Sir THOMAS MORE's death, who were not likely, being free from all partiality, but to speak their minds sincerely, not fearing him as his subjects, nor hating him for any private respects. First Cardinal Pole then living in the Court of Rome, and writing to the king in the defence of Ecclesiastical unity, saith thus by the figure of Apostraphe, of the complaints of other men: Thy father, Oh England, thy ornament, thy defence, was brought to his death, being innocent in thy sight; by birth▪ thy child; by condition, thy Citizen, but thy father for the many benefits done unto thee; for he showed more evident signs of his fatherly love towards thee, then ever any loving father hath expressed to his only and truly beloved child; yet in nothing hath he more declared his fatherly affection, then by his end, for that he left his life for thy sake; especially lest he should overthrow and betray thy salvation. Wherefore that which we read in the ancient stories of Greece, as touching Socrates, whom the Athenians condemned most unjustly to take poison, so thou hast now seen thy Socrates beheaded before thine eyes; a while after his death when in a play there was recited out of a Tragedy these words: You have slain, you have slain the best man of all Greece. Upon these their words every man so lamented the death of Socrates, calling to mind that injustice, although the Poet himself dreamt least of him, that the whole theatre was filled with nothing else, but tears and howling, for which cause the people presently revenged his death, by punishing grievously the chief authors thereof; those that were of them to be found, were put to death presently, and they that could not be found out, were banished. There was also a statue erected in his honour, in the very market place. If they therefore at the only hearing of these words upon the stage took an occasion to be revenged of that most innocent man's slaughter; what more just cause mayst thou, London, have of compassion and revenge, hearing the like words to these, not pronounced only by any stage-player at home, but by most grave and reverend men in all places of Christendom, when as they speak most seriously, exprobrating often unto thee thine ingratitude, & saying: You have slain, you have slain the best Englishman alive. This spoke this learned and wise Cardinal, who could testify this of his knowledge, by reason he conversed often with the greatest States of Christendom, being a man famous amongst them for his nobility of blood, for his dignity, his learning and excellent virtues, for which none have cause to suspect him to be partial. 2. Erasmus of Rotterdam. 2. Erasmus (as may be easily guessed by the stile) although he wrote it not in his own name, because he had then many friends in England, saith thus: This is Evident, that neither MORE nor the Bishop of Rochester erred (if they have erred at all) of any malice they had against the king, but for sincere conscience sake; This they persuaded themselves wholly, this was infixed in their marrows, that the matter which they defended, was good and lawful and honourable for the king, and wholesome for all the whole kingdom: If it had been lawful for them to have dissembled it, they would have done it willingly; but they took their death most patiently & peaceably, praying to God for the king and the whole realm's safety. In heinous offences a simple and pure conscience, and a mind not desirous of hurting any, but of well deserving, excuseth much the fault; besides due respect & honour hath been always had even, amongst barbarous nations, to eminent learning and excellent virtue. The very name of a philosopher rescued Plato from being beheaded by the Aeginetes, having transgressed the laws of their City. Diogenes without any fear came into Philipp king of Macedonia's army, and being brought before him for a spy of their enemies, freely reproached the king to his face of madness, that being not content with his own kingdom, he would cast himself into danger to lose all; yet was he sent away without any harm at all done to him: and not only so, but had a great reward given him for no other cause, but that he was a philosopher. And as the courtesies of monarchs showed unto learned men, do get them great fame, so to have used such men hardly, hath been occasion, that they have been much hated and envied. For who doth not hate Antony, for having Cicero's head cut of? who doth not detest Nero for putting Seneca to death; yea Octavius incurred some infamy for Ouid's banishment amongst the Geteses. When Lewis the twelfth of France now being peaceably settled in his kingdom, would have been divorced from his wife the daughter of Lewis the eleaventh; this matter displeased many good men; & amongst them john Standock and his scholar Thomas spoke of it in a sermon, desiring the people to pray to God, that he would inspire the king to do for the best; they were therefore accused of sedition, as men that had committed a fault against the king's Edict; yet for all this they had no other punishment but banishment, they kept and enjoyed all their goods; and when the controversies were ended, they were called home again with honour; by this his mildness the king both satisfied his Edict, & got no great hatred for molesting two men both Divines, both accounted holy men. But every man bewaileth the death of Sir THOMAS MORE, even they who are adversaries unto him for religion; so great was his courtesy to all men, so great his affability, so excellent was his nature, Whom did he ever send away from him, if he were any thing learned, without gifts? or who was so gregt a stranger unto him, whom he did not seek to do one good turn or other? Many are favourable only to their own countrymen; Frenchmen to Frenchmen, Scottishmen to Scots. This his bounty hath so engraven MORE in every man's hart, that they all lament his death, as the loss of their own father or brother; I myself have seen many tears come from those men, who never saw MORE in their lives, nor never received any benefit from him; yea whilst I write these things tears gush from me, whether I will or no. How many souls hath that axe wounded, which cut of More's head, etc. And a little after pulling of his vizard, he showeth himself Erasmus in these words: Therefore when men have congratulated me, that I had such a friend placed in such high dignities, I am wont to answer, that I would not congratulate his increase of honour, before he should command me to do so. 3. 3. Doctor Cochlaeus of Germany. john Cochleus a most learned Germane and a great Divine writing against Richard Samson an Englishman, who defended king Henry the eight for this fact, saith much of Sir THOMAS his praises; at last speaking of his death, he saith thus to king henry's Counsellors: What praise or honour could you get by that cruelty, which you exercised against Sir THOMAS MORE? he was a man of most known and laudable humanity, mild behaviour, affability, bounty, eloquence, wisdom, innocence of life, wit, learning, exceedingly beloved and admired of all men, in dignity besides highest judge of your Country, and next to the king himself, famous from his youth; beneficial to his Country for many Embassages, and now most venerable for his grey head, drawing towards old age, who having obtained of the king an honourable dismission from his office, lived privately at home with his wife, children and nephews, having never committed the least offence against any, burdensome to no man, ready to help every body, mild, and pleasant of disposition. You have given counsel to have this so good a man drawn out of his own house, out of that sweet Academy of learned and devoute Christian Philosophers, for no other cause but this that he would not justify your impieties; his guiltless Conscience resisting it, The fear of God and his soul's health, withdrawing him from it, Do you believe that this your wicked fact hath ever pleased any one of what nation, sex or age soever? or ever will please any? it will not surely: you have hurt yourselves murderers and guilty of shedding most innocent blood; him have you made most grateful to God, to the citizens of heauen & to all just men on earth, & a most renowned Martyr of Christ, he liveth and reigneth without all doubt with Almighty God; you will never be able to blot out this fault and infamy. It is written of God: job 12. He knoweth the deceiver, and him that is deceived; he will bring counsellors to a foolish end, judges into amazement, he unlooseth the belt of kings, & guirdeth their loins with a rope. Thus writeth Cocleus. 4. Bishop jovius of Italy. 4. Paulus jovius Bishop of Nuceria amongst the praises of divers learned men writeth thus of Sir THOMAS MORE'S unjust death: Fortune fickle & unconstant after her accustomed manner and always hating virtue, if ever she played the part of a proud and cruel dame, she hath lately behaved herself most cruelly in England under Henry the Eight, casting down before her Thomas More, whom the king, whilst he was an excellent admirer of virtue had raised to the highest places of honour in his realm, that from thence, being by fatal madness changed into a beast, he might suddenly throw him down again with great cruelty, because he would not favour the unsatiable lust of that furious tyrant, and for that he would not flatter him in his wickedness, being a man most eminent for the accomplishment of all parts of justice, and most Saintlie in all kind of virtues. For when the king would be divorced from his lawful wife, marry a Quean, and hasten to disinherit with shame his lawful daughter (Marry) MORE LO: Chancellor was forced to appear at the Bar guilty only for his piety and innocence, and there was condemned most wrongfully to a most cruel and shameful death like a Traitor and murderer, so that it was not lawful for his friends to bury the dismembered quarters of his body. But Henry for this fact an imitator of Phalaris shall never be able to bereave him of perpetual fame, by this his unlawful wickedness, but that the name of MORE shall remain constant and in honour, by his famous Utopia. He speaketh of his death, as his sentence did purport. 5. Now let us join to these, viz: 5. W Paradin a dearned historiam of France. an Englishman, a Low Country man, a Germane, and an Italian, a French man also that we may see how all Nations did lament Sir THOMAS MORE'S death, and what credit the king and his Council there unto, got by it. William Paradine writeth thus. The troubles and civil dissensions in England, now hath lasted a year or two, when in the month of july, john Fisher Bishop of Rochester was committed prisoner in London, because he seemed to disallow the king's divorce, & the law newly made against the Pope's Supremacy. Of that resolution was also Sir THOMAS MORE partaker, being Sheriff of London, a man famous for eloquence, and in all manner of learning, above the reach of all Courtiers, most expert and skilful; most faultless in all deeds. These two purposing rather to obey God then man, and confirming their minds with constancy, were condemned to death: from which constancy they could be drawn neither by entreaties, hope of rewards, fair promises, nor by any threats whatsoever, which corporal death both of them received most patiently and stoutly. Finally every writer of that age lamentably deplored the unjust death of Sir THOMAS MORE. Roverus Pontanus a German, in his Index of memorable matters; Laurence Surius a Low-Countrie-man upon the year of 1538. john fountain a Frenchman in his French history; Onuphrius Patavinus in Paulo III. an Italian; Nicolas Cardinal of Capua in his French letters; john Secundus of Hague, yea Carrion and Sleidan himself speak honourably of Sir THOMAS MORE's death. 6. 6. Rivius a Protestant But of all Protestants john Rivius speaketh most passiionately of K. henry's cruel fact, and Sir Thomas' piety, in these words lib. 2. de Conscientia: He that is in a Prince's Court, ought freely, if he be asked his judgement, rather to tell his mind plainly, what is most behooveful for his Prince's good, then to speak placentia, tickling his ears with flattery, neither ought he to praise things, which are not praise worthy, nor to dispraise matters, that are worthy of high commendations; yea although he be in danger of getting no favour by persuading it, but rather punishment and disgrace for gainsaying men's appetites; then bringing Papinianus that great lawyer for a lively example thereof, who chose rather to die, then to justify the Emperor Caraculla's killing of his own brother, against his own conscience, he addeth; Such a man was lately in our memory that singular and excellent for learning and piety, yea the only ornament and glory of his Country THOMAS MORE, who because he would not agree nor approve by his consent against his own conscience, the new marriage of the king of England, who would needs be divorced from his first wife; and marry another, he was first cast into prison, one that had singularly well deserved of the king himself, and of England; and when he constantly continued in his opinion, which he truly thought to be most just, most lawful and godly, emboldened to defend it by a sincere conscience, he was put to death, by that wicked parricide, that most hateful and cruel tyrant; a cruelty not heard of before in this our age. Oh ingratitude and singular impiety of the kings, who could endure first to consume and macerate with a tedious and loathsome imprisonment such a sincere and holy good man; one that had been so careful of his glory, so studious of his country's profit; he that had persuaded him always to all justice and honesty, dissuaded him from all contraries, and not convinced of any crime, nor found in any fault, he slew him (oh miserable wickedness) not only being innocent, but him that had deserved high rewards, and his most faithful and trusty Counsellor. Are these thy rewards, o king? is this the thanks thou returnest him for all his trusty service and good will unto thee? doth this man reap this commodity for his most faithful acts and employments? But, oh MORE, thou art now happy, and enjoyest eternal felicity, who wouldst lose thy head rather than approve any thing against thine own conscience, who more esteemest righteousness, justice and piety, than life itself; and whilst thou art deprived of this mortal life, thou passest to the true and immortal happiness of heaven, whilst thou art taken away from men, thou art raised up amongst the numbers of holy Saints and Angels of bliss. 7. Last of all I will recount, 7. Charles the Emperor. what the good Emperor Charles the fifth said unto Sir Thomas Eliott then the king's Ambassador in his Court, after he had heard of Bishop Fisher and Sir THOMAS MORE's martyrdoms; on a time he spoke of it to Sir Thomas Eliott, who seemed to excuse the matter by making some doubt of the report, to whom the Emperor replied: It is too true; but if we had had two such lights in all our kingdoms, as these men were, we could rather have chosen to have lost two of the best and strongest towns in all our Empire, then suffer ourselves to be deprived of them, much less to endure to have them wrongfully taken from us. 8. Circumstances notable in the death of Sir Tho. More. 8. And though none of these should have written any thing hereof, yet the matter itself speaketh abundantly that the cause was most unjust, the manner thereof most infamous, and Sir THOMAS MORE's patience most admirable, his piety, his learning, his virtues incomparable; famous was he for his noble martyrdom; infamous king Henry for his most unjust condemnation. From the king's part. These things do aggravate king Henry's fault: First, that he killed him by a law, wherein he never offended, either by word or deed, and by that which concerned not Temporal policy, but religion only; not rebellious against the king, but fearful to offend his own Conscience; which though he refused to approve, yet did he never reprove it, or any other man for taking it. Secondly, that he put to death so rare a man, so beloved of all, so virtuous, so wise, so courteous, and witty; which might be motives sufficient ever to pardon a guilty offender. Thirdly, for beheading a man that had done him so much service, yea the whole kingdom such good offices, his faithful Counsellor for twenty years together, his expert Ambassador, From Sir Thomas Moor's part. his just Lo: Chancellor, the very flower of his realm. Many things also do amplify and increase Sir THOMAS MORE's immortal glory; first, in that to all the king's demands he had behaved himself so sincerely and impartial, opening his mind ingenuously; so that the king seemed still to like him, though his opinion were contrary to his liking. Secondly, that he had suffered already the loss of all his goods, being condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and only for silence. Thirdly, in that he took all crosses for the love of God most patiently. Fourthly, that he died for a controversy in religion, Nota. never before called in question, by any precedent example: Finally, that he only of all the Council would not flatter the king, nor keep either goods, dignity or life, with the danger of the loss of his soul. All which prove what a rare man, how admirable and virtuous a Christian, and how glorious a martyr he is. 9 An apology for his merry jests. 9 But because one bald English Chronicler Hall termeth him a scoffing man because his writings and doings were full of witty jests, calling him a wise foolish man, or a foolish wiseman, let us see by his own writings the reason, why he hath used so many pleasant tales in his books; and it is this: Even as some sick men, saith he will take no medicines, unless some pleasant thing be put amongst their potions, although perhaps it be somewhat hurtful, yet the physician suffereth them to have it. So because many will not willingly hearken to serious and grave documents, except they be mingled with some fable or ieaste; therefore reason willeth us to do the like. And in his great Volume page 1048. he saith that jests are as it were sauce, whereby we are recreated, that we may eat with more stomach; but as that were an absurd bankett, in which there were few dishes of meat, and much variety of sauces, and that an unpleasant one, where there were no sauce at all; even so that life, were spent idly, wherein nothing were but mirth and jollity; and again that tedious and uncomfortable, wherein no pleasure or mirth were to be expected. Which mirth as it may become all men, so most especially did it become such a one as Sir THOMAS MORE was, being a married man, yea a Courtier, end a companion to a Prince, A fit comparison between Cato's severity and Sir T. M. his pleasant disposition. of whom that may worthily be spoken, which Titus Livius recounteth of Cato thus: In this man there was such excellency of wit and wisdom, that he seemeth to have been able to have made his fortune, in what place soever he had been borne; he wanted no skill either for the managing of private or public businesses; he was skilful, both in Country and City affairs; some are raised to honour, either because they are excellent lawyers, singularly eloquent, or of admirable virtues; but the towardlienesse of this man's understanding, framed him so to all matters, that you would deem him to be borne for one alone. In the practice of virtues, you would judge him rather a monk then a Courtier; in learning a most famous writer; if you would ask his counsel in the law, he was most ready to advise you the best; if he were to make an Oration, he would show marvellous eloquence; he was admirable in all kind of learning, Latin, Greek, Profane, Divine; if there were an Embassage to be undertook, none more dexterous to finish it; in giving sound counsel in doubtful Cases, none more prudent: to tell the truth without fear, none more free, as far from all flattery, as open and pleasant, full of grace in delivering his judgement, and that, which Cato had not, therein was he most happy. For Livy saith, that he had a sour carriage, and a tongue immoderate free and full of taunting: But Sir THOMAS being Christ's scholar, and not any Stoicks, was mild and of an humble hart, neither sad, nor turbulent, and besides of a pleasant conversation, never stern, but for righteousness; a great contemner either of unlawful pleasures, or of inordinate riches and glory. As Cato had much enmity with divers Senators, so many of them on the other side did exercise his patience, that one can hardly discern, whether the Nobility did press him more, or he the Nobility; but on the contrary side Sir THOMAS MORE never had any, private or public quarrel with any man; yea no man can reckon any to have been his enemy, being borne wholly to friendship and affability; wherefore being nothing inferior to Cato for gravity, integrity, and innocency, as exact a hater of all vice, and stern to all wicked men, as he, yet did he far excel him in mildness, sweetness of behaviour and pleasantness of wit; yea I do him injury to compare him to any moral philosopher whatsoever; for he was absolutely well seen in the school of Christ, & endued with all supernatural perfections, a great Saint of Christ's Church and a holy Martyr of his faith, and high in God's favour; which was well testified in his daughter my aunt Dauney, who being sore sick of that disease, of which she after died, fell into a long trance, and afterwards returning to herself, she professed with abundance of tears, that she had felt in that while most grievous torments, and should have suffered them for ever, had not her father's prayers and intercession begged of God a little longer space to repent her of her former life. It was also credibly reported that two of john Haywood's sons jasper and Ellis, having one of the teeth of Sir THOMAS MORE between them, and either of them being desirous to have it to himself, it suddenly to the admiration of both parted in two. 10. Now to conclude, let us consider, 10. Sir Tho. More a lay man martyr for Ecclesiastical authority, never before questioned. why God culled out this man above all other to preserve the unity of the Church, and to be an illustrious witness of the glorious cause, for the which he died: for least men should think that if only the Clergy had died, they might seem partial in their own Cause; behold God picked out this worthy lay man, such as I suppose, all Christendom had not the like, who should be as his especial Ambassador for the laiety, as was the famous Bishop of Rochester for the Clergy; such were these two for learning, as they could reach into all matters; such for excellency of wit, that no subtle dealing could entrap them unawares easily foreseeing any danger, such for virtue and integrity of life, that God of his great mercy would not suffer such men in so great a point, as this, to be deceived. And let no man think this was no Martyrdom, yea rather it was greater than that of those, who would not deny the faith of Christ, according as that worthy Bishop & Confessor Denis of Alexandria saith, that that Martyrdom which one suffereth to preserve the unity of the Church, is more than that which one suffereth, because he will not do sacrifice to Idols; for in this a man dyeth to save his own soul, in the other he dyeth for the whole Church. WHo with as curious care should view Each virtue of thy breast As was thy face perused by him Whose pencil it expressed With ease might see much to admire But hard to put in shapes As Xeuxes could express to life The fruitful bunch of grapes He sooner should his own life end Then he could finish thine Such store of matter would arise And gems of virtue shine. There must he draw a brow Of Shamefastness and Grace Then two bright eyes, of Learning and Religion, therewith place And then a nose of honour must Be reared, breathing sweet fame. Two rosy cheeks of Martyrdom With lilies of good name. A golden mouth for all men pleads But only for himself A chin of Temperance closely shaved From care of worldly pelf. The more that he shall look into The more he leaves unviewed And still more shows of noble worth Wherewith he was endued. But lo the fatal Axe upreared And at his very Chin By envy hath a severance made That More might not be seen. MORE like a Saint lived, he most worthy Martyr ended. MORE fit for heaven, which now he hath, whereto his whole life tended. OF SIR THOMAS MORE'S Books. AMong his Latin Works are his Epigrams, Epigrams. partly translated out of Greek, and partly of his own making, so wittily devised and penned, as they may seem nothing inferior, or to yield to any of the like kind written in our days, and perchance not unworthy to be compared with those of like writers of old. These Epigrams, as they are learned and pleasant, so are they nothing biting or contumelious. History of K. Richard the 3. in English, and Latin. He also wrote elegantly and eloquently the life of king Richard the Third, not only in English, which book is abroad in print (though corrupted and vitiated) but in Latin also not yet printed. He did not perfect nor finish that book, neither any sithence durst take upon him to set pen to paper to finish it, neither in the one or other tongue, all men being-deterred & driven from that enterprise, by reason of the incomparable excellency of that work; as all other painters were afraid to perfect & finish the image of Venus, painted but imperfectly, by Apelles for his excellent workemanshipp therein. But the book that carrieth the price of all his other Latin books, of witty invention, His Utopia. is his Utopia; he doth in it most lively and pleasantly paint forth such an exquisite plattforme, patience and example of a singular good Commonwealth, as to the same, neither the Lacedæmonians nor the Athenians, nor yet the best of all other, that of the Romans, is comparable, full prettily and probably devising the said Country to be one of the Countries of the Newfound Lands, declared to him in Antwerp by Hythlodius a Portugal, and one of the sea-companions of Americus Vesputius, that first sought out and found those lands; such an excellent and absolute an estate of a Common Wealth, that saving the people were un-christened, might seem to pass any estate and Common wealth, I will not say of the old Nations by me before mentioned, but even of any other in our time. Many great learned men, as Budeus, Many deemed Utopia to be a true nation and country. & joannes Paludanus, upon a fervent zeal wished, that some excellent Divines might be sent thither to preach Christ's Gospel; yea there were here amongst us at home sundry good men & learned Divines very desirous to take the voyage to bring the people to the faith of Christ, whose manners they did so well like. And this said jolly invention of Sir THOMAS MORE's seemed to bear a good countenance of truth, not only for the credit Sir THOMAS was of in the world, but also for that about the same time many strange and unknown nations and Countries were discovered, such as our forefathers never knew: especially by the wonderful navigation of the ship called Victoria, that sailed the world round about, whereby it was found that ships sail bottom to bottom, & that there be Antipodes, which thing Lactantius and others do flattely deny, laughing them to scorn that so did write. Again it is found, that under the Zodiac, where Aristotle and others say that for the immoderate & excessive heat there is no habitation, is the most temperate and pleasant dwelling, and the most fruitful country in the world. These and other considerations caused many wise and learned men nothing less to mistrust, then that this had been nothing but an Inuentive drift of Sir THOMAS MORE's own imagination; for they took it for a very sure true story, wherein they were deceived by Sir THOMAS as too witty, and as well learned as they were. In this book amongst other things he hath a very goodly process, how there might be fewer thieves in England, and a marvellous opinable problem of sheep, Sheep devour men in England. that whereas men were wont to eat the sheep, as they do in other countries, now contrariwise sheep in England pittiefully do devour men, women and children, houses yea & towns withal. Like a most thankful man he maketh honourable mention of Cardinal Morton Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lo: Chancellor of England, in whose house, as we have said, himself was in his tender youth brought up, albeit it be by the dissembled name of the said Hythlodius, whom he imagineth to have been in England, and to have been acquainted with the said Cardinal. And as this book in his kind is singular and excellent, Sir Tho. More his book against Luther. containing and describing a Common wealth far passing the commonwealth devised and used by Lycurgus, Solon, Numa, Plato and divers others: So wrote he in-another kind & sort a book against Luther no less singular and excellent. King Henry the Eight had written a notable and learned book against Luther's book De Captivitate Babylonica, most evidently and mightily refuting his vile and shameful heresies against the Catholic Faith and Christ's holy Sacraments, which did so grieve Luther to the hart, that having no good substantial matter to help himself withal, he fell to scoffing and saucy jesting at the king's book in his answer for the same, using nothing throughout the said Answer but the figure of Rhetoric called sawce-malepert, and played the very varlett with the king. To whom Sir THOMAS MORE made reply, and doth so decipher and lay open his wily wrested handling of the Sacred Scripture, his monstrous opinions and maniefolde contradictions, that neither he nor any of his generation durst ever after put pen to paper to encounter and rejoin to his reply: in which besides the deep and profound debating of the matter itself he so dresseth Luther with his own scoffing and jesting rhetoric, as he worthily deserved. But because this kind of writing (albeit a meet Cover for such a Cup, and very necessary to repress & beat him with his own folly, according to the Scripture: Respond stulto secundùm stultitiam eius) seemed not agreeable and correspondent to his gravity and dignity, the book was set forth under the name of one Gulielmus Rosseus, only, suppressing his own name. He wrote also and printed another proper and witty treatise against a certain Epistle of john Pomeran one of Luther's standard-bearers in Germany; His epistle against Pomeranus. And after he was shut up in the Tower he wrote a certain exposition in Latin upon the Passion of Christ, not yet printed, which was not perfited, and is so plainly and tightly translated into English, by his niece Mrs. Bassett, that it may seem originally to have been penned in English by Sir THOMAS MORE himself. Some other things he wrote also in Latin which we pretermitt; and now we will somewhat talk of his English Works, which all (besides the life of john Picus Earl of Mirandula, & the foresaid life of king Richard the Third, and some other profane things) concern matters of religion for the most part. His English writings. The dialog. with the messenger. The first book of this sort, was his Dialogues, made by him, when he was Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, which books occasioned him afterwards (as according to the old proverb, One business begetteth another) to write divers other things For whereas he had amongst many other matters touched and reproved William tindal's adulterate and vicious translation of the New Testament, tindal being not able to bear to see his new religion, and his own doings withal to have so fowl an overthrow, as Sir THOMAS MORE gave him, after great deliberation with his evangelical brethren, took in hand to answer some part of his dialogues, especially touching his aforesaid corrupt Translation; but what small glory he won thereby, is easy to be seen of every man, that with indifferent affection will vouchsafe to read Sir THOMAS MORE's reply, whereof we shall give you a small taste; but first we will note unto you the integrity, sincerity and uprightness of the good and gracious nature and disposition of the said Sir THOMAS MORE in his writing, Great sincerity in his writing: and love of the truth. not only against tindal, but generally against all other Protestants. First than it is to be considered in him, that he doth not, (as many other writers do against their adversaries, & all Protestants do against him & other Catholics,) wreath and wrest their words to the worst, and make their reasons more feeble and weak, than they are; but rather enforceth them to the uttermost, and oftentimes further than the party himself doth or perhaps could do. And he was of this mind, that he said, he would not let, while he lived, wheresoever he perceived his adversary to say well, or himself to have said otherwise, indifferently for both to say and declare the truth. And therefore himself after the printing, finding the books diuulged and commonly read of the Debellation of Salem and Bizanze, albeit many had read the place and found no fault therein; yet he finding afterwards that he mistook certain words of the pacifier, without any man's controlment, merely of himself reform them; The like he counselled his learned friends, especially Erasmus to do, and to retract many things that he had written; whose counsel (wherein he had a notable precedent in the worthy Doctor S. Augustine) if Erasmus had followed, I trow his books would have been better liked of, by posterity, which perchance shall be fain either utterly to abolish some of his works, or at least to redress and reform them. Here is now further to be considered in his writings, He writ neither for gain, nor report. that he never hunted after praise or vain glory, nor any vile and filthy gain, or commodity; yea, so that envenomed and poisoned books might be once suppressed & abolished, he wished his own on a light and fair fire. Yet did the evangelical brethren, after he had abandoned the office of Lo: Chancellor, as they otherwise spread and writ many vain and false rumours to the advancement of their new Gospel, and oppressing of the Catholic, lay to his charge in their books, that he was partial to the Clergy, and for his books received a great mass of money of the said Clergy. And tindal and divers others of the good brethren affirmed, His poverty almost incredible in so great a man. that they wist well that Sir THOMAS MORE was not less worth in money, plate and other movables than twenty thousand marks; but it was found far otherwise, when his house was searched, after he was committed to the Tower, where a while he had some competent liberty, but after on a sudden he was shut up very close, at which time he feared there would be a new & more narrower search in all his houses, because his mind gave him, that folks thought he was not so poor, as it appeared in the search; but he told his daughter Mris. Rooper that it would be but a sport to them that knew the truth of his poverty, unless they should find out his wiue's gay girdle, and her gold beads. The like poverty of any man, that had continued so long a Chancellor with the king, and had borne so many great offices, hath, I trow, seldom been found in any lay man before, and much less since his time. As for his partiality to the Clergy, saving the reverence due to the sacred Order of priests by whom we are made Christian men in Baptism, Sir Tho. M. no partial friend to the clergy. and by whom we receive the other holy Sacraments, there was none in him; and that they felt, that were naught of the Clergy, that had so little favour at his hands, that there was no man, that any meddling had with them, into whose hands they were more loath to come, then into his; but for fees, annuities or other rewards or any commodity that should incline him to be ever propense & partial to the Clergy none can be showed. First, touching any fees he had to his living, after that he had left the Chauncellourship, he had not one groat granted him since he first wrote, or began to write the Dialogues, & that was the first book, that ever he wrote in matters of religion. And as for all the lands and fees he had besides those of the king's gift, was not, nor should be, during his mother in law's life, (who lived after he relinquished the office of Chauncellourship) worth yearly the sum of 100 pound & thereof had he some by his wife, some left by his father, some he purchased, and some fees had he of Temporal men; & so may every man sound guess, that he had no great part of his living of the Clergy to make him partial to them. Now touching rewards or lucre, which rose to him by his writing, (for which good Father tindal said he wrote his books, and not for any affection he bore to the Clergy, no more than judas betrayed Christ for any favour he bore to the bishops, Scribes and pharisees) it is a most shameful lie and slander; as may appear by his refusal of the 4. or 5. thousand pound offered him by the Clergy. Concerning tindal's false translation of the New Testament; first it is to be considered, Tindals' false translation of the scripture. as these good brethren partly deny the very Text itself, and whole books of the sacred Scripture, as the book of the Machabies, and certain others; and Luther S. James' Epistle also; and as they adulterate and commaculate and corrupt the whole Corpse of the same with their wrong and false expositions far disagreeing from the Comment of the ancient Fathers and Doctors, and from the faith of the whole Catholic Church: So have they for the advancing and furthering of the said heresies of a set purpose perverted & mistranslated the said holy Scripture. And after such shameful sort, that amongst other their mischievous practices, whereas in the Latin Epistle of S. Paul is read in the old translation fornicarij, in the new they have Sacerdotes, that is, priests, for the good devotion they bear to the sacred Order of Priesthood. And their patriarche Luther with his translation of the said holy Scripture into the Dutch tongue, hath wonderfully depraved, corrupted and defiled it, as we could by divers proofs easily show. whom his good scholar tindal in his English translation doth match or rather pass; wherein he turneth the word Church into Congregation, Priest into Senior or elder; which word Congregation absolutely of itself, as tindal doth use it, doth no more signify the Congregation of Christian men, than a fair flock of unchristian geese, neither this word Presbyter for Elder signifieth any whitt more a Priest, than an eldersticke; many other parts of his Translation are suitable to this; as where in spite of Christ's and his holy Saints images, he turneth Idols into Images; and for the like purpose of setting forth his heresy, Charity into Love, Grace into Favour, Confession into repentance, and such like; for which as also for divers of his false, faithless heretical assertions, as well that the Apostles left nothing unwritten, that is of necessity to be believed, That the Church may err in matter of Faith, That the Church is only of chosen elects, Touching the manner and order of our election, Confuted learnedly by Sir Th. M. Touching his wicked and detestable opinion against the free will of man, Touching his fond and foolish paradoxes of the elect, though they do abominable heinous acts, yet they do not sin, and that the elect that doth once heartily repent can sin no more; he doth so substantially & pleasantly confute and overthrow tindal, that if these men that be envenomed and poisoned with these pestilent heresies, would with indifferent minds read the said Sir THOMAS MORE's answer, there were good hope, (as it hath, God be thanked, chanced to many already) of their good & speedy recovery. The wilfulness of heretics But alack the while and woe upon the subtle craft of the cursed devil, that so blindeth them, and the wretched, negligent and little regard, that these men have to their soul's health, that can be content to suck in the deadly poison of their souls by reading and crediting these mischievous books, & yet will not once vouchsafe to take the wholesome depulsive treacle, not to be fetched from Geneva, but even ready at home at their hands in Sir THOMAS MORE's books against this dreadful deadly infection. But to return now again to the said tindal, Lord! what open, fowl and shameful shifts doth he make for the defence of his wrong and pestiferous assertions, Tindal falsifieth Sir T.M. words. & with what spiteful shameful lies doth he belie Sir THOMAS MORE, and wretchedly depraveth his writings: not being ashamed, though his plain manifest words lie open to the sight of all men to the contrarie, to deprave his answers. And amongst other that he should affirm, that the Church of Christ should be before the Gospel was taught or preached; which things he neither writeth nor once thought as a most absurd untruth, but that it was, as it is very true, before the written Gospel. And the said Sir THOMAS MORE seeing that by tindal's own confession the Church of God was in the world many hundred years, before the written laws of Moses, doth well thereof gather and conclude against tindal, that there is no cause to be yielded, but that much more it may be so, and is so indeed; in the gracious time of our redemption, the holy Ghost, that leadeth the Church from time to time into all truth, being so plentiefully effused upon the same, The Church of Christ is and ever hath been in many things instructed necessary to be believed, that be not in any Scripture comprised. These & many other strong reasons to prove the common known Catholic Church, and none other to be the true Church of Christ, And seeing we do not know the very books of Scripture, which thing Luther himself confesseth, but by the known Catholic Church, we must of necessity take the true and found understanding of the said Scriptures, and all our faith from the said Church, which understanding is confirmed in the said Church from the Apostles time by infinite miracles, and with the consent of the old Fathers and holy martyrs, with many other substantial reasons, Tindals' maze. that Sir THOMAS MORE here layeth down, have so appalled and amazed tindal, that he is like a man that were in an inexplicable labyrinth, whereof he can by no means get out; And tindal being thus brought oftentimes to a bay and utter distress, he scuddeth in and out like a hare, that had twenty brace of grayhounds after her, and were afeared at every foot to be snatched up. And as Sir THOMAS MORE merrily, yet truly writeth, he did wind himself so wilily this way and that way, and so shifteth him in & out, and with his subtle shifting so bleareth our eyes, that he maketh us as blind as a cat; and so snareth us up in his matters that we can no more see, where about he walketh, then if he went visible before us all naked in a net, & in effect, playeth the very blind hob about the house; Tindals' manner of amending. sometimes when there is no other shift, than tindal is driven to excuse himself and his doings; as he doth for the word Presbyter, which he translated first Senior, then Elder; wherein for excuse of his fault at great length he declareth 4. fair virtues in himself: malice, ignorance, error and folly. And where that he said, he had amended his fault in translating Elder for Senior, this is a like amending, as if he would, where a man were blind on the one eye, amend his sight by putting out the other. As Sir THOMAS MORE answered tindal, Against Friar Barnes his invisible Church touching his unknowen Church, so did he also Friar Barnes; for in that point both agreed, and would have the Church secret and hid in hugger mugger; but in the mean season they handle the matter so handsomely and so artificially, that their own reasons pluck down their unknown Church. And albeit they would have us believe, the Church were unknowen, yet do they give us tokens and marks, whereby it should be known. And in perusing the unknown Church, they fall into many foolish and absurd paradoxes, that Sir THOMAS MORE discovereth. And this unknown Church would they fain rear up in the air to pluck down the known Catholic Church on the earth, and so leave us no Church at all; which Church to overthrow is their final and only hope; for, that standing, they well know, their malignant Church cannot stand, being by the Catholic Church both now & many hundred years condemned. These and many other things doth Sir THOMAS more at large full well declare, and setteth the limping and halting goodwife of the Bottle at Bottles wharf at disputation with F. Barnes; in which the indifferent reader shall see, that she did not so much limp and halt, as did the lame and weak reasons that F. Barnes brought against her of his unknowen Church which she utterly overthroweth, but yet as they do both Tindal and Barnes agree as we have said in their secret unknowen Church, so in other points touching their said Church, as in many other articles besides, they do jar and disagree, and not so much the one from the other, as from themselves, as Sir THOMAS MORE showeth more at large. For, saith he, as they that would have built up the Tower of Babylon, The notable disagreement of heretics among themselues had such a stop thrown upon them, that suddenly none knew, what another said; surely so God upon these heretics of our time, that go busily about to raise up to the sky, their fowl filthy dunghill of all old and new false skin king heresies gathered together against the true Catholic faith of Christ, that himself hath hitherto taught his true Catholic Church, God, I say, when the Apostles went about to preach the Catholic faith, sent down the holy spirit of unity, Concord, and truth unto them, with the gift of speech and understanding, so that they understood every man, and every man understood them, sent amongst these heretics the spirit of error and lying, of dissension and division, the damnable devil of hell, which so entangleth their tongues, and distempereth their brains, that they neither understand one another, Heretical scoffing. nor any of them well himself. The books of the said tindal and Barnes are more farced and stuffed with jesting and railing, then with any good substantial reasoning; and notwithstanding that a man would think that tindal were in fond scoffing peerless; yet, as Sir THOMAS MORE declareth Barnes doth far overrun him and oftentimes fareth as if he were from a Friar waxen a fiddler, and would at a tavern go get him a penny for a fit of mirth; & yet sometimes will the fool demurely and holily preach, and take so upon him, as if he were Christ's own dear Apostle, as do also the residue of the brethren, that write, Heretics Hypocrisy. and especially tindal, who beginneth the preface of this book, with the grace of our Lord and the light of his spirit, etc. with such glorious and glistering salutations, as if it were S. Paul himself; but Sir THOMAS MORE doth accordingly dress him, and doth discover to the world Fr. Luther's and Tindalls, and such other false, feigned and hypocritical holiness in their so high and solemn salutations and preachings: and concludeth not more pleasingly, that when a man well considereth these their salutations and preachings, he may well and truly judge those their counterfitt salutations and sermons to be a great deal worse than Friar Frapp (who first gapeth, then blesseth and looketh holily, and preacheth ribaldry) was wont at Christmas to make; And thus will we leave tindal and Barnes, Against the supplication of beggars. and speak of some other of their fraternity; amongst whom there was one that made The Supplication of Beggars, the which Sir THOMAS MORE answered very notably before he wrote against tindal and Barnes; this Supplication was made by one Simon Fish, for which he became penitent, returned to the Church again, and abjured all the whole hill of those heresies, out of the which the fountain of his great zeal, that moved him to write, sprang. Against john Frith. After this Sir THOMAS MORE wrote a letter impugning the erroneous writing of john Frith, and whereas, after he had given over the office of Lo: Chancellor, the heretics full fast did write against him, and found many faults with him and his writings, he made a goodly and learned Apology of some of his answers; Sir Tho. Moor's Apology which said Apology we have already touched, especially that they laid to his charge, the slender recital and misrehearsall of tindal & Barne's arguments, and showeth that they were calumnious slanders; and that himself used tindal and Barnes after a better manner, than they used him. For tindal rehearseth Sir THOMAS MORE's arguments in every place faintly and falsely, and leaveth out the pith and strength, & the proof that most maketh for the purpose. How heretics recite the catholic arguments And he fareth therein, as if there were one having a day of challenge pointed, in which he should wrestle with his adversary, would find the mean by craft before the day to get his adversary into his own hands, and there keep him, and dyett him with such a thin diet, that at the day he bringeth him forth feeble, faint, and famished, and almost starved, and so lean that he can scarce stand on his legs, and then is it easy, you wot well, to give the silly fool the fall. And yet when tindal had done all this, he took the fall himself; but every one may see, that Sir THOMAS MORE useth not that play with tindal, nor with any of those folk, but rehearseth their reasons to the best, that they can make it themselves, and rather enforceth, and strengtheneth it, as we have before declared, rather than taketh any thing therefrom; Whereas now they found farther fault with the length of his book, Touching the length of Sir Tho. Moor's books. he writeth amongst other things that it is less marvel, that it seems to them long and tedious to read within, whom it irketh to do so much as to look it over without, and every way seemeth long to him that is weary before he begin. But I find some men, to whom the reading of the book is so far from being tedious, that they have read the whole book over thrice, and some that make tables thereof for their own remembrance, and are men that have as much wit and learning both, as the best of all this blessed Bretherhood, that ever I heard of. And for the shortness of Barnes' book, that the adversaries did commend, he writeth that he woteth not well, whether he may call them long or short; sometimes they be short in deed, because they would be dark, and have their false follies pass and repass all unperceaved; sometimes they use some compendiors' eloquence, that they convey and couch up together with a wonderful brevity four follies & five lies, in less than as many lines; but yet for all this I see not in effect any men more long than they: for they preach sometimes a very long process to a little purpose, and sith that of their whole purpose they prove never a whit at all, were their writings never so short, yet were their work too long at last all together. Heretics blaspheming the fathers would themselues be reverently handled. Besides many other things, his adversaries laid to his charge, that he handled tindal, Frith and Barnes ungodly and with uncomely words, to which he this answereth; now when that against all the Catholic Church, both that now is and ever hath been before from the Apostles days hitherto, both temporal and spiritual, lay men and religious, and against all that good is, Saints, Ceremonies, Service of God, the very Sacrament of the Altar, these blasphemous heretics in their ungracious books so villainously wrest and rail: were not a man, ween you, far overseen and worthy to be accounted uncourteous, that would in writing against their heresies presume without great reverence to rehearse their worshipful names? When heretics rail are to be neglected. if any of them use their words at their pleasure as evil and as villainous as they list; against myself; I am content to forbear any requiting thereof, and give them no worse words again, then if they spoke me fair, nor using themselves towards all other folk, as they do, fairer words will I not give them, then if they spoke me fowl; for all is one to me, or rather worse than better; for the pleasant oil of heretics cast upon my head, can do my mind no pleasure, but contrariwise, the worse that folk write of me for hatred they bear to the Catholic Church and faith, the greater pleasure, Heretics excellent railours. as for mine own part, they do me; but surely their railing against all other I purpose not to bear so patiently, as to forbear to let them hear some part of like language, as they speak, how beit how to match them therein, I neither can, though I would; but I am content, as needs I must, to give them therein the mastery, wherein to match them, were more rebuke than honesty; for in their railing is all their roast meat sauced, all their pot seasoned, and all their pie meat spiced, and all their wafers, and all their pottage made. He addeth further; if they, saith he, will not be heretics alone themselves and hold their tongues and be still, but must needs be talking, & corrupt whom they can, let them yet at the leastwise be reasonable heretics and honest, and write reason, and leave railing, and then let all the brethren find fault with me; if I use them not after that in words as fair and as mild as the matter may suffer. About this time there was one that had made a book of the Spiritualty and the Temporalty, The pacification. of which book the brethren made great store, and blamed Sir THOMAS MORE, that he had not in writing used such a soft and mild manner, and such indifferent fashion, as the same person did. Confuted by Sir T.M. By which occasion Sir THOMAS MORE discourseth upon the same book, the author whereof pretendeth to make a pacification of the aforesaid division and discord, and openeth many faults and follies and false slanders against the Clergy under a holy conclusion and pretence of pacification in the said books. To which discourse of Sir THOMAS MORE's there came an answer afterwards in print under the title of Salem and Bizanze; to the which Sir THOMAS MORE replied, and so dressed this pretty proper politic pacifier, that he had no list, The debellation of Salem and Bizance. nor any man for him afterwards to encounter with the said Sir THOMAS MORE. The pleasant and witty declaration of the title of the said book of Sir THOMAS MORE's, because the book is seldom and rare to be got, I will now, gentle reader, set before thine eyes. The said title is framed in this sort: The debellation of Salem and Bizanze sometime two great towns, which being under the Turk were between Easter and Michaelmas last 1533. by a marvellous metamorphose and enchantment turned into Englishmen, by the wonderful inventive wit and witchcraft of Sir john Somesay the pacifier, and so conveyed by him hither in a dialogue to defend his division, against Sir THOMAS MORE knight; but now being thus between Michaelmas and Allhallowntide next ensuing the debellation vanquished, they are fled hence, and are become two towns again with these old names changed Salem into Jerusalem and Bizanze into Constantinople, the one in Greece, the other in Syria, where they may see them that will, and win them that can: and if this pacifier convey them hither again, and ten such towns embatteled with them in Dialogues, Sir THOMAS MORE hath undertaken to put himself in adventure against them all; but if he let them tarry still there, he will not utterly forswear it, but he is not in the mind, age now coming on, and he waxing unwieldy, to go thither to give the assault to such wellwalled towns, without some such lusty company, as shallbe likely to leap ut a little more lightly. This is the title of the aforesaid book; and that indeed Sir THOMAS MORE hath most valiantly discomfited the pacifier and overthrown his two great towns, may easily appear to such as will vouchsafe to read Sir THOMAS MORE's answer; the circumstances and particularities whereof to set down, would make our present treatise to grow too big; I will only show you one declaration or two, whereby you may make some aim to judge of the whole doing of the said pacifier; if it were so, How the Pacifier reconcileth points in controversy. saith the said Sir THOMAS MORE, that one found two men standing together, and would steppein between them, and bear them in hand, that they were about to fight, and would with the word, put one party back, with his hand, and all to buffet the other about the face, and then go forth and say, he had parted a fray, and pacified the parties, some men would say as I suppose, he had as lief his enemy were let alone with him, and thereof abide the adventure, as have such a friend step in to parte them. Another, of a man, that were angry with his wife, and happily not without cause; now saith Sir THOMAS MORE, if the author of this book would take upon him to reconcile them, and help to make them at one, and therein would use this way, that when he had them both together before him, would tell all the faults of the wife, and set among them, some of his own imagination, & then would go about to avoid his words under the fair figure of Somesay; which he commonly useth in his book of Pacifing either by forgettfullnesse, or by the figure of plain folly; & then would tell her husband's parte-verse too, and say unto him, that he himself had not dealt discreetly with her, but hath used to make her too homely with him, & hath suffered her to be idle, and hath given way to her being too much conversant amongst her gossips, and hath given her overgay gear, and sometimes given her evil words, and called, her as I suppose, cursed quean and shrew, and some say that behind your back, she calls you knave and Cuckold, were not there a proper kind of pacification; And yet is this the lively pattern and image of Mr. Pacifyer's doings, with the which, and with the spinning of fine lies with flax, fetching them out of his own body, as the spider doth the Cobbewebbe, feigning and finding fault with Sir THOMAS MORE for these matters and words, whereof he saith the plain contrary, he had great cause to be ashamed, howbeit little shame could cleave to his cheeks, but that he would soon shake it away, while his name was not at his book. We have now one book more written in matter of religion, and that is of the B. Sir T. M. his book of the blessed Sacrament. Sacrament of the altar, by the said Sir THOMAS MORE. We told you before of a letter of his, wherein he impugneth the heresy of john Frith; albeit he was prisonner in the Tower of London, he found the means to make answer to that letter, and to convey it beyond the seas, where it was printed, and it was afterwards brought into this realm, as Sir THOMAS MORE, did certainly understand, who minded, when the book came to his hands, to answer it; but now in the mean season came there from beyond the seas, an Answer made to the same letter by another, and printed without the Author's name entitled: The Supper of the Lord. But I beshrew, The heretics supper of the Lord, wants the best dish. quoth Sir THOMAS MORE, such a Sewer, that serveth in such a supper, as he conveyeth away the best dish, and bringeth it not to the board, as this man would, if he could conveye from the B Sacrament Christ's own flesh and blood, and leave us no thing there in but for a memorial only bare bread and wine. But his hands are too lumpish, and this mess too great for him, especially to convey clean, sith the man hath his hart bend thereto, and therefore his eye set thereon, to see where it becometh. This naughty nameless author, Sir THOMAS MORE doth not only by the authority of the Sacred Scripture, and holy ancient Fathers, but by his own reasons and texts that himself bringeth forth, plainly and evidently convince. Now have we besides, Sir Tho. Moor's books written in the tower. Comfort in tribulation. Of Communion. Of the Passion. other excellent and fruitful books, which he made being prisoner in the Tower: as his Three books of Comfort in Tribulation; a Treatise to receive the B. Sacrament Sacramentally and virtually both; a treatise upon the Passion with notable Introductions to the same, He wrote also many other godly and devout Instructions and prayers; and surely of all the books that ever he made I doubt whether I may prefer any of them before the said Three books of Comfort in Tribulation, The excellencn of the booze of Comfort yea or any other man's either heathen or Christian that have written, (as many have) either in Greek or Latin of the said matter. And as for heathen, I do this worthy man plain injury, and do much abase him, in matching and comparing him with them, especially in this point: seeing that, were they otherwise never so incomparable, they lacked yet and knew not the very especial and principal ground of Comfort and Consolation, that is, the true saith of Christ, in whom and for whom, and whose glory we must seek and fetch all our true comfort and consolation; well let them pass, and let us further say, that as the said Sir THOMAS MORE notably passeth many learned Christians, that have of the same matter written before, so let us add, that it may well be doubted, all matters considered and weighed, if any of the rest may seem much to pass him: There is in these books so witty, pithy and substantial matter, for the easying, and remedying, and patiently suffering of all manner or griefs and sorrows, that may possibly en cumber any man by any manner or kind of tribulation, whether their tribulation proceed from any inward temptation, or ghostly enemy, the devil, or any outward temptation of the world, threatening to bereave or spoil us of our goods, land, honour, liberty and freedom, by grievous & sharp imprisonment, and finally of our life withal, by any painful, exquisite and cruel death; against all which he doth so wonderfully and effectually prepare, defend, and arm the reader that a man cannot desire or wish any thing of any more efficacy or importance thereunto to be added; The said book a preparation against the persecution which he did foresee. In the which book his principal drift and scope was to stir and prepare the minds of Englishmen manfully and courageously to withstand and not to shrink at the imminent and open persecution, which he foresaw, and immediately followed against the unity of the Church and the Catholic Faith of the same; albeit full wittily and wisely, that the books might the safer go abroad, he doth not expressly meddle with those matters; and covereth the matter under the name of an Hungarian, and of the persecution of the Turks in Hungary; and of the book translated out of the Hungarian tongue into Latin, Written when he had no book about him. and then into the English tongue. Of these books then there is great account to be made, not only for the excellent matter comprised in them, but also for that they were made, when he was most straitly shut up and enclosed from all company in the Tower: in which sort I doubt whether a man shall find any other book of like worthiness made by any Christian; and yet if any such be found, much Surely should I yield to the same. Written with coal But there is one thing, wherein these books of Sir THOMAS MORE by special prerogative surmount (or else I am deceived) all other of this sort: and that is, that they were for the most part written with no other pen, than a coal, as was his treatise upon the Passion; which Copies, if some men had them, they might & would esteem more than other books written with golden letters, and would no less account of it, then S. Hierome did of certain books of the martyr Lucian, written with his own hand, that by chance he happened on, and esteemed them as a precious jewel. And yet is there one thing, that in the valuing and praising of these books, he is not, as many great Clerks are like, to a whettstone, that being blunt and dull itself, Like Esaias his coal, that purified his lips. whetteth other things and sharpeth them; it was not so with this man; for though he wrote these books with a dead black coal, yet was there a most hot burning coal, such an one, as purified the lips of the holy prophett Esaias, that directed his hand with the black coal, and so inflamed & incensed his hart withal to heavenward, that the good and wholesome instructions and counsel that he gave to other men in his books, he himself afterward in most patient suffering the loss of his goods and lands, imprisonment & death for the defence of justice and of the Catholic Faith experimented & worthily practised in himself. And these be in effect the books he made either in Latin or English; which his English books if they had been written by him in the Latin tongue also, or might be with the like grace, that they now have, be translated into the Latin speech, they would surely much augment and increase the estimation, which the world already hath in foreign Countries, of his incomparable wit, learning, and virtue. FINIS.