A SERMON, Preached on the occasion of A FUNERAL At Gabuly in Ireland.  By a Dominican Friar. JOB X. v. x. 
Thou hast poured out like Milk, and curdled me as Cheese.  
BEloved, you see here what Job says of himself, yea Job, that holy Man; he compared himself to Cheese, yes, he doth you Sirs, he doth to Cheese like Cheese, Thou hast curdled me or framed me. You know beloved, there are several sorts of Cheese, and several ways of making Cheese, which you, and you, and you understand.  
Like Cheese, yea, I say, like Cheese. You know when Cheese is first made, they take their Milk and let it stand till there come Cream upon it; if this Cream be not put into a clean Vessel, or if Dust fall into it, or if not handled with clean Hands, it will be bad Cheese, and stinking Cheese. The trial of good Cheese is by toasting; if you put a piece of Cheese to the Fire, and if it does not drop, you, and you, and you, will say, 'tis bad hungry Cheese, and you will not care to eat it; no, no; but if it drop 'tis a sign't was made by a good Huswife.  
Thou hast curdled me like Cheese. The Soul of Man is Cheese, be it good or bad: Yea, yea, harken to this, by good trout, if we believe Augustine or St. Ambrose too; and if ever the Soul hath Works in it, than it is like good Cheese, and will, and will drop at the Fire of Persecution; it will not burn or stink as that old Rogues Soul, and that old Hog's Soul, that is there, and there, and there.  
Thou hast curdled me like Cheese. You see what Job says is true; for he was good Cheese when all the Devils in Hell did bark at him and surrounded him, and that where his Wife tempted him, and I believe she was handsome too, yet notwithstanding them and her, she was still good Cheese; He was no dry nor lean Cheese, for he dropped, yea, and had Grace in him too; but show me a Man here that is such Cheese as he was, any of you all: I desire you, I desire you, St. Jerome, St. Thomas of Acquitaine, St. Dominick, St. Francis; those were brave Men, not like you a pack of Rogues.  
Thou hast form me like Cheese; but hold, I say, I knew nothing of my preaching on this occasion till last night, and so having not timely notice, am forced to speak less methodical, then otherwise I should have done. But let me tell you in short, the fire of Hell, is already burning for you if you do not have a care and make yourselves good Cheese, that hath Fat and Moisture in it; if you do not, the Devil take you all for Knaves and Rogues; and if you do not, you shall never go to Purgatory, no by God, you shall not; and what will you do then?  
Thou hast curdled me like Cheese. Last Sunday was St. Th— Day, a day that many Souls went ●●t of Purgatory, a day that the Gates of Heaven was opened, a day that such Villains as you might have shaken off the Chain of your Sin, if you had truly prayed to St. Francis, and freely given your Alms and Charity. But hold, hold I say, instead of that you went to the Alehouse, and played at Cards, and did Swear, and Whore, and was Drunk: O damned Rogues!  
Thou hast curdled me like Cheese. Nay, more than all this, is an aggravation to this business that lies before on you: The next day being Gabuly Fair, some of you that I am sure are hear at this time, stole a Bridle, a Bridle; I say, you stole. Such great Villains you are, that you care not from whom you steal; no, I say, not from whom: Nay, thou hadst as lief steal from a Gentleman as from a Clown. It is true, it is true, it is you, or you, or you, methinks is— Rogue. Does not he blush? Yes he does. Well, I shall find him out before I am much older, yea, and tie him with that bridle myself; then all shall be beaten: How like a damned Rogue he will look? I will take him, and put the Bit in his Mouth, and will set the Devil on his Back, and make him gallop with spur-galled Sides to Hell.  
Thou hast curdled me like Cheese. And now beloved, it is time for me to speak of the dead Gentlewoman that lies before me here, I assure you, She was good Cheese, and good fat Cheese too; for many a drop has she sweat in going to Mass: She was Threescore and seven years old, a good Gentlewoman of a good and noble Extraction; She had Cows and Sheep, and abundance of Horses; She was no poor mellow Cheese; She never stole a Bridle, no, she scorned it; and a virtuous Woman she was, that I have known her to go 5 miles to Mass in a Frosty Morning, and a foot too, and yet she had Horses many; She kept a good House, Bread and white Bread too, good Beer and Vsquebah; for many a Dram have I had of her: And now let us fall on our Knees and pray for her Soul, saying,  
Ave Maria.  
FINIS.   

London, Printed 1689.