The Life and Gests of S. THOMAS CANTILUPE, Bishop of Hereford, and some time before L. Chancellor of England.  
Extracted out of the authentic Records of his Canonization as to the main part, Anonymus, Matt. Paris, Capgrave, Harpsfeld, and others.  
Collected by R. S▪ S. I.  
AT GANT, Printed by ROBERT WALKER, at the sign of the Annunciation of our B. Lady. 1674.   

To the Great Duke of Tuscany.  
Sr.  
YOur self, I conceive, as well as others, both may and will, at first sight, wonder more than a little at the title of this Dedicatory, and censure it, if not presumptuous, at least far fetched, by a stranger, by an English man, by one wholly unknown, neither in a capacity to deserve well at your hands, or oblige you by any service. All this notwithstanding, I come with confidence to your feet to make my address, and with so much the greater, as the pre-alledgd circumstances clear me of all self-endedness in the case. And why should I not, since I have to do with a Prince who is a cherisher of ingenuity, whose goodness promises an acceptance not only beyond but even without merit. Therefore I come as full of Religious simplicity as void of compliments, nor seek admittance but by my sincerity, which aims at nothing besides gratitude and an humble acknowledgement. But how come I engaged as to these? If I am not for my own sake, at least for my friends: if not in myself, at least in my Country: if not explicitly or personally, at least implicitly but yet really. With a small trespass on your Highness' patience I'll tell you all.  
Ever since you were pleased to grace England with your presence, many Princely expressions of your value for our Nation are reported to have fallen from your mouth, as indices of your affection, even to a more than tacit preference of the same before others. I dare not attribute this so much to its merits as your goodness; but however it were, it is both honourable to it, and obliging to us: out of the abundance of the hart the tongue speaks. Nor should we easily have believed reports had we not seen them under your hand and seal, and in such terms as import even a kind of passion both for the general, and much more divers particulars. It's inbred to Princes to Compassionate the afflicted; and with what a deep ressentment were you pleased to express yourself to my Lady of G. over the Sufferings of Roman Catholics even so far, as to profess so particular a kindness for all those of that Kingdom, that, say you, I could be Content to spill my blood to assist them, and contribute to their selicity in this world, since their invincihle Constancy in Suffering persecution usakes them merit an eternal Crown in the next. These are your own words and hugely significant. The truth is the Cause of Roman Catholics there is so clearly good, that no Prince of that belief can doubt of it, but he must together doubt of his own faith. Every such Prince owns this truth, but not every one with such a protestation: the protestation is glorious to you and encouraging to us. Why may we not then, nay why ought we not Sir, in a due return of Civility take notice of it, by Registering it to the world, that so it may be at least its own Monument to posterity if we can erect no other.  
Sr. this is one part of the Acknowledgement I am to make: the other is yet more Real; as much as deeds are before words. You were pleased not only to say much of English Catholics but also to do much for them: & this was verifyd by that noble supply of charity wherewith you relieved a distressed Religious Community of that nation ready to sink under the burden of its wants. If I could deem it fit to give scope to my pen, here is a large field and ample subject wherein to dilate. But I dare not presume to sound the trumpet, contrary to Scripture, to your alms deeds; charity loving to speak rather by hynts and intimations then boasting language on such a theme. And therefore Modesty bids me for bear to say much, as well as gratitude something, lest I may seem either to flatter, or to beg a new. The Charity indeed was as signal as unexpected, and as unexpected from such a hand as if it had dropped down from heaven, as surely it did; a mere piece of providence, and a Master one of that great Master of the Family to his Religious Servants. Sr. I pretend not here to make a panegyrics of your virtues; that requires a more refined pen: but yet neither must we shut our eyes against the Shining Sun though it dazzle them, but with reverence decline the sight. Yet I must not omit to reflect how well you placed your Charity: among all the little ones of our Lord who nearer or dearer to him then his Virginspouses, the noblest part of himself or his Mystical body, as S. Cyprian styles them, and least able to help themselves. Noble also even as to the world, and this renders their case more Compassionate: for what greater object of Commiseration than such nobility in a deep or necessitous decay; where shame retards, as much as want presses, from exposing their Condition, when every Common beggar can do it without blushing, and Consequently not so much to be pitied.  
And hence, great Prince, arises another part of my Obligation and present engagement; a Common tye of Spiritual interest linking me and that Community so into a Common unity, that I cannot but deem its good and bad Concerns my own, and be deeply Concerned in both. Obedience by my present employment for some years has entitled me to a relief of their Spiritual necessities, as Charity and Compassion did your Highness to their temporal. In this Spiritual interest I cannot but be sensible of their temporal: and though the former alone be my Concern, yet I cannot but be Concerned for the latter, as the former's necessary support, without which it cannot subsist: A spiritual tye as more partaking and nearer Relating to charity, is, or may be, equally if not more forcible to engage one than the temporal: and this is a further ground of my present presumption. The first Address I made as an Englishman, and on the score of my Nation; this second, as a Religious, and for their sake whom charity obliges me to wish as well as myself; and I know it will be grateful to them that I acknowledge the favour.  
Having thus far given some account of my Address, I must now apologise for the Present I make and that in more respects than one. The first is its slenderness, for which it may seem to resemble the Widow's Mite in the Treasury of so many rich Dedicatoryes as are and have been made to your Highness. And I do not mislike the resemblance; both because truly expressing its Worthlesnes, as also because as that, this not withstanding, found a gracious acceptance, so do I hope through your Princely goodness will this. That had nothing to Commend it but the Doners intention; if mine be not as good as hart can make it, I can only say I wish it so. Sr. I pretend not to present you with a piece of curious Witt, but a piece of homebred Sanctity: and I hope I mistake not my measures; the former as from me might suffer perchance its exceptions, as savouring a little of vanity: the second is but what becomes my profession, Religious, and that's beyond exception. And, I hope, I do not disparage Sanctity by Calling it home bred; the Sanctity of our Island having been in former times not only the staple Commodity, as I may say, of the same, but of Christendom; illustrating the Church of God with as many and noble lights in that Kind as perchance any of its neighbouring Kingdoms. I willingly come under the shadow of sanctity, as least liable to suffer in the esteem of the good; it being welcome to every one that's good: Since even those that are not Saints, yet love and admire them and their Sanctity. On this Score I confide it will not be unacceptable, especially to your Highness, so noted a Patron of the Virtuous as well as Virtuosos: I confide also neither the Saint nor I shall far the worse for being English. A Religious Present beseems a Religious man, nor shall I be taxed on that behalf; and as I come with a great deal of simplicity, so I beg to be received with Cordiality, and I cannot fail I know of my Request. If I aimed at rarities, they ought to be rare indeed if fit for Princes Cabinetts'; but aiming at Sanctity, the more simple it is, the more Commendable, a little of it is deemed precious and goes far, nor needs it any ascititious foils to set it off. Prince's indeed are above rarities, as cloyed with them; and it fares with such, as it frequently doth with Stomaches cloyed with dayntyes; they'll feed more savourly on a course dish then on the choicest viands. And to this purpose I have been informed from no mean hand (and I Comfort myself not a little in it) that a sleight Religious Present of a picture or Relic of an English Saint will find a gracious acceptance in your benignity; and what else is it I here tender then a rough draught of a great Saint?  
Not some but many will more then probably wonder at the language, nor spare to censure me for Dedicating an English Treatise to an Italian Prince: and those also I must satisfy, not your Highness. To wit, every one knows not your advance, I may say perfection, in the knowledge of the English tongue, nor has had the honour and favour, like me, to peruse your letters, in that language, the nativeness of the phrase, the property of the expression, besides the speaking and understanding part, and all to such a degree as few externs are wont to attain. And what an esteem and affection for our Nation doth this imply? or what greater argument of both, than the long patience in overcoming all the difficultyes of such a thorny undertaking for so inconsiderable a purchase? This affection, this argument, this patience, bids me confide, you will Sr. not only have patience with mine, but also that it may contribute something to your Content. And ought we not, in such a mean Competency as our Capacity affords, cherish such an affection in you, at least give a testimony of our endeavour? upon such motives as these, that which might seem a deterrment is to me an encouragement, to wit, its Carrying an English face and speech, in a word its being English. It will not relish worse but better, I hope, to your , especially since your natural appetite and inclination lies so much that way. Why shall not I hope that at spare hours it may prove a pastime to divert yourself now and then by reading a Chapter of the same, greater perchance than if it had been in your native language? at least I fear no just exception on this behalf.  
As to the subject of my Present, I am sure it is good in itself, however I have managed it: to wit, a Saint and his life, who was such all his life long, even from his baptism till his death, never forfeyting, still improving the first grace and Sanctity, he received therein. This will appear out of the Context of the History by Satisfactory prooffs: as also a fair Perspective of such Christian Virtues as make and model a Saint, and which well Copied out by imitation will make the Practitioner a Saint too. Who though he were a Prelate yet he was a Prince also, as all Episcopal Prelates are, and may serve for a pattern even to temporal Princes as well as Ecclesiastic. Episcopacy indeed Consummated his Sanctity, but I may say he was a Saint before he was a Bishop; he adorning the Mitre as much as the Mitre him: and so noble by descent, that no Prince need think it any disparagement even on that score to propose him to his actions for a sampler of imitation. Of this great Saint I have drawn a Picture on paper in black and white representing all the lineaments and features of his virtues and Sanctity that I have been able to discover. For the sincerity, integrity, and truth whereof I can only say this, that all or the chiefest parts and proportions are taken out of the authentic Records of his Canonization, which are not to be questioned. This homely black paper Picture, I presume, great Prince, upon the warrant above mentioned, to present you with all: because it is black it cannot blush at its own rudeness; and though it be homely; I doubt not the favour of your acceptance, not for its merits but your innate goodness, which rejects nothing that's good, as my intention at least, I am sure, is.  
But even your Princely Goodness set a side, I come not altogether at random and without claim, nay I know not who can lay a better. Sr. this great Saint died in your Dominions near Florence, and his Sacred Corpse were enterrd, say the Records in the Abbey Church of S. Severus near old Florence: and how does this Sacred Depositum entitle him to you and you to him? If he deposed his natural life with you, who can have better right to his Written life than you? If your Altars had, and harboured his Sacred Relics where can we more propperly Consecrate the Effigies or Votive Tablet of his Gests and Virtues? If he went from you to heaven and eternal happiness, he cannot but retain a grateful memory of the place which Consigned him over to the same: and even from his Patronage, not only from your Highnesses, I promise my self good success in this Dedicatory. This Congruity is not far fetched, nor forced, but gives a kind of intrinsique interest or propperty; and I am willing to make use of it to the honour of the Saint, at which alone I do and aught to aim.  
Nor is this glorious Prelate the only of our Island which has sanctifyd your Tuscany with a holy death, and enriched it with his Relics. Another Saint, and King also about the year 741. Richard by name, Father of the Saints Willebald, Wunnebald, and Walburga Virgin, renouncing both Crown and Kingdom for the love of Christ and a virtuous life, after a long pilgrimage to holy places Settled in fine at Luca and there concluded the whole journey of his life with great opinion of Sanctity; where he also was buried in the Church of S. Frigidianus, his Tomb being afterwards illustrated with many miracles, what ever memory may at this present remain there of him and them. So that, great Sr., you see our favours from Tuscany are not groundless, we having two such noble Pledges there of intercession: and who more powerful than they, that is, than the Saints, when the Concern relates to the glory of God and advance of Catholic Religion? And give me leave, Sr. to ascribe, and I think not rashly, these your present pious inclinations towards our Country and distressed Catholics to this Original source, the Saints seeming to have infused these noble Sentiments of a feeling ressentment which I mentioned before from your own pen, and cannot too often reflect upon. These pious inclinations have already produced great, and good effects, of which we are most sensible, and for which we shall hold ourselves obliged ever to be most thankful.  
And now I have said all as to the Apologizing part: what remains to be said further is only this; that your Highness will deign to accept what is said in good part, as also what is humbly offered by so undeserving a hand. If it be the first from an English pen the novelty will in some sort recommend it, in hopes it may draw more after it, who will suppley for its deficiencyes; and it is something to lead the way and break the ice. If others have, preceded, (and I wish they may) it willingly for their better merits begs admittance, at least for the Saints if for none of its own. As to him, as humbly as heartily I wish you his Patronage, and that he may be as fertile to you in heavenly blessings, as he was heretofore to his country in supernatural miracles; and what miracle but imports a blessing? And Sr. while you have this Paper-picture before you, if in the perusal of his virtues you find any thing for your advance or advantage in the same, I humbly propose it to your imitation, as I do to others. The world is witness of your endowments in this, but they must be more than very good that cannot be better: nor is it any disparagement to be still improveing in the science of Saints and Christian perfection, to which each one in his degree and quality, be he who he will, by that Estote perfecti of our B. Lord and Saviour, is obliged. What is there prizable in this life's intercourse but piety and the service of God, no body being more than he is in that: and what imprints this truth more lively in us then the lives and examples of Saints? we seeing by what was done by them, not only what is to be done, but what is fesible to and by us. This is the thing I endeavourd to aim at in this Narrative, by inserting reflections to that purpose, and chief of the 4. Cardinal virtues. as both  and common to all states and conditions. And if your Highness or any Reader may be benefitted thereby to a due discharge of their incumbent duty in the same, I have my desire, which is no other than glory to God, honour to the Saint, and advance of souls in virtue and piety.   

A Table of the Chapters.  
Chap.  Page. 1. THe time and Circumstances of his birth. 11 2. Of the Parents and Descent of S. Thomas. 23 3. Of his Child hood and Domestic Education. 33 4. His first Studies in Oxford. 48 5. S. Thomas his Study of Philosophy. 56 6. His Study of the Canon-Law at Oxford. 63 7. He is made Chancellor of the University of Oxford. 72 8. He is made Lord High Chancellor of England. 79 9 King Henry the 3. dyes; his Son Succeeds: S. Thomas with licence gives up his Seal and retires. 89 10. S. Thomas returns to Oxford; proceeds Doctor of Divinity; the testimony given of him, etc. 97 11. He is made Bishop of Hereford. 109 12. His Retirement and Union with God. 121 13. Of his Love to the Poor. 136 14. His Charity to all, and detestation of detraction. 149 15. His Courage in defence of Ecclesiastical Libertyes 162 16. His journey to Rome, and entertainment there. 173 17. His return homewards and death on the way. 186 18. The Burial of his H. Body, and return of his Bones into England. 200 19 The Translation of them into a more eminent place. 212 20. The multitude of miracles wrought by the Saint. 230 21. His Canonization, and general Devotion of all unto him both Prince and people till this unhappy breach. 258 22 His Humility and Abstinence. 270 23. His Discharge of Duty towards God and his Neighbour. 286 24. His Purity of body and mind. 301 25. His justice and Prudence. 314   

THE LIFE And Gests of S. THOMAS CANTILUPE. Sometimes Chancellor of England, and afterwards Bishop of Hereford in the same Kingdom.  
PREFACE.  
THe lives and memory of divers Illustrious persons seem to carry no small resemblance with those great Rivers, 
Nilus Ganges, Tigris Euphaates.  whose names and greatness are as generally frequent in the mouths of men, as the particulars of their course and original scarce kuowne to any. Nor need we wonder it is so, especially in the Saints of God; for Sanctity is always built upon humility, and with its mantle shrowds itself from the eyes of the world, never better content than when concealed; and the profounder it is, like the same Rivers, the less noise it makes; so that none but an observing eye can discover its course. And if this were true in any, it was, I may say, in our Glorious Prelate S. THOMAS CANTILUPE, Bishop of Hereford; who, the greatest part of his days, as he lived to the eyes of men a secular orderly but ordinary life, nothing extraordinary to outward appearance, so they knew no more of him then what could not be hid, a great uprightness, singular innocency, virtuous Conversation, set of with none of these surprising Commendatoryes, Raptures, Visions, Miracles, which usually accompany sanctity. True it is, that the Common Legends have left enough to convince that he was a great Saint, and wrought many Miracles; Yet if we decend further to particulars, we shall find that the greatest part of what we know o● him is the least part of what we are ignorant, and all comprised in a leaf or two. For though he were renowned both at home and abroad for his noble Extraction, Learning, Sanctity, yet he was little known as to most particulars of his heavenly life, and appeared rather visible to the world in certain summary and compendious lineaments, then in any exact and distinct expression of each several part or perfection. When a hidden Sanctity is scarce taken notice of, till it be blazed abroad with a full noise of Miracles, these so convince the owner to be a Saint, that no body needs to look after any other prooffs of his gests or virtues to attest it, and therefore these latter are scarce looked after or regarded. And if a more diligent search by public authority had not been made and left on record in order to his Canonization, we might still have grouped in the dark as to many particulars which it tells us: and I reckon it among none of the least providences, that an authentic Copy thereof came to my hands, while I had thoughts of prosecuting what a devout Client of this Saint had to his honour rather scarce well designed then half finished.  
There was not a Saint of our English Nation whose memory was received with a more universal applause both of Prince and people then that of this glorious Prelate, though the times when he lived were most unquiet & turbulent, and the employments wherein he was engaged were of highest dignity, and necessarily combined with the public interest: which in such a condition of times can have no more settlement than the waves of the Ocean in a raging storm. In the which to steer such an eeuen course as to run upon no rock of offence, argues a great deal of prudent dexterity in the Pilot: nor indeed was there found an envy (which yet never spares virtue, especially the highest) which durst fasten tooth on this B. man. Which may well be numbered among none of the least of his miracles wherewith it pleased Alm. God to honour him; which were so conspicuous both as to multitude and quality, that he may with rearson bear the name of Thaumatourge, or wonder worker of the wersterne Church.  
Now he being, as I may say, the Darling Saint of his age, so highly reverenced by all conditions, why no learned pen should set forth his virtues and interior perfections, as well as pencil paint his exterior Lineaments, I can say no more, but that those active times more employed with swords than books, had not the Convenience to perform this duty to so great a merit: Or that they thought it not so considerable in those days to preserve his memory; in ink and paper, as in monuments of brass and marble. Which honour was so fully paid our deserving Saint by pious antiquity, that one of these latter writers either out of a critical or perhaps more moderate motive, speaking of his Tomb in the Cathedral Church of Hereford, affirms, 
Cambd. ●●.  that in former times the place and our B. Saint Thomas was held in so high Veneration, that it did almost eclipse the glory of the King and Martyr Saint Ethelbert, in whose honour the said Cathedral had been built many years before, and dedicated to him as to a titular Patron and Protector, at the expenses of Milfrede a man of great Command and power in those parts.  
But those zealous and Religious times were not more forward to set uptrophees of piety, than our unfortunate age hath been to pull down and ruin them. Impiety and error, unseparable twins, borne at one birth, and which ever go hand in hand together, hate nothing more than light, which makes them see what they most abhor, their own Uglynes, and the beauty of virtue: to avoid both, their desire is to bury themselves and the world in darkness. They have not hands long enough to reach heaven, yet do their utmost, with as much folly as fury, to blot out those names on earth which stand upon record in the book of life. In fine their malicious attempts have no other effect, but to make us dig under ruins for treasure; and, as they were wont to gather their gold in Spain and Barbary, they force us to pick up here and there a grain out of sand and gravel. However what concerns the life of our glorious Prelate, S. Thomas Cantilupe, nothing shall be produced even in the midst of this confusion and darkness, which is not warantable both by Ecclesiastical and profane history, and especially by the undoubted record of his Canonization. Where besides a large list of his Miracles, an exact but short summary of his virtues is amply deposed by several witnesses: which though it give us not a full narrative of the same, yet affords sufficient grounds, as will be showed hereafter in the 22. Chap. to build an indubitable humane belief of their truth.  
If it be necessary to give an account of my undertaking this task, I shall only offer for motives; first, my devotion to God's Saints, and one so universally beneficial and deserving; in the honouring of whom God is honoured, and in this age especially in which many make it apart of their sanctity to unsaint Saints. 2. a desire through respect to my friend, to take up a design laudably by him begun, and therefore, I hope, not unlaudable in its prosecution. But chief to vindicate the pious memory of the Saint, and preserve it in a due veneration among the faithful, which by continual Miracles preserved itself so long as they faithfully venerated him. His Tomb then was a monument able to preserve the memory of him; now we must endeavour to erect another able to preserve the memory of it, the graces received requiring this gratitude: hoping that as his honour and veneration fell with the last, (for it lasted as long as did the Catholic Religion in our Island) so it will rise with the first in its restauration, when ever it shall please god in his mercy to send that happy hour.  

I. CHAPTER. The time and Circumstances of his birth.  
THe Church of God since the primitive times of Christianity scarce ever flourished under a happier Constellation of Saints then in the thirteenth Age, when conversation with heaven was not confined to caves and deserts, but found admittance both in Cities and Courts. When Christian humility sat as well upon the thrones of Kings as in Cells of Ermites'; and true poverty of spirit knew how to vest itself as in sackcloth so in purple. This was the age (and it was a golden one in this respect) when Virginity was preserved and flourished not only in the Sanctuaryes and enclosed gardens of Religious Cloisters, but, like a lily among thorns, in the very midst of word'y delights & 
Salomea Cune gundis, Kinga, & Bzou. Annal. 1234.  greatness, even in the state of wedlock and highest fortune. Then it was when Princes had no other interest of state but the Glory of God, nor any other ambition but to dilate his Kingdom, which they endeavourd at the expenses of their Crowns and lives, and were more employed in fortifying their country with Religious Conuents then forts and Citadels. When they held it a greater strength and honour to their Royal Families to espouse their daughters to Christ crucified, in the greatest rigour of Penance and poverty, then to see them seated on the highest Thrones of Monarches. When infine those two great Patriarches, S. Dominick and S. Francis, peopled the world with so many quires of Angels, and brought Evangelicall perfection out of unknown retyrements and solitudes to the Common habitation of men.  
Our country of England, though separated by nature from the rest of the world was not excluded from that universal influence of divine grace wherewith it pleaseed God to bless those times. The blood of the glorious Martyr S. Thomas of Canterbury, as the true seed of the Catholic Church, was not spilt in vain; and being in this age yet fresh and warm, brought forth special fruit both in Lay and Clergy. But in all none more eminent than another S. Thomas, another Chancellor of England, another Prelate, another Champion of Ecclesiastical libertyes and though not slain by the sword, yet lost his life in the cause. Thus the mercy of God poured down sweet showers of divine blessings upon that Kingdom by the merits of his H. Martyr: yet his justice laid not down the sword of due revenge for that bloody sacrilege, nor was it yet satisfied with the personal disasters of that unfortunate King, Henry the second, who having found as many Absoloms as he had Sons, ready to tear the Crown from his grey hairs, and to bury him alive, who had given them life; after he had seen two of them lead him the way to his grave, followed not long after, and left the other two his Curse for inheritance, of which they had each one their share by succession.  
The former of whom was Richard the first, third Sonn of the aforesaid King, who though otherwise a valiant and great Prince and therefore surnamed Coeur de Lion; yet for that curse entailed upon him by his father, (and much more if there were true cause of deserving it) had his Crown torn from his head by a violent and untimely death. And that it might not fall to a more innocent hand, left no child, but a brother far worse than himself; who, that his royal purple might be of a more lasting tincture, gave it the second die with the blood of his Nephew Arthur, next heir by birth to the Crown of England, as Sonn of Geffrey Earl or Duke of little Britanny in France, which Geffrey was fourth Sonn of Henry the second King of England. And though it is not certain that Arthur, was murdered by his Vncles own hands, as the French do tell us; yet all agree, that Arthur was put in prison in Roven by his uncle King John, and never appeared after: the manner of his death is best known to God alone, before whose invisible eyes all things lie visible. However King John fift Sonn of Henry the second and surnamed Sans terre, makes the land his own, and on this wrong builds all his right, which he ever managed withan equal tenor, as weakly as wickedly. Till at last called to an account by a stranger for oppressing his country, left the world like an Outlaw, and a poor child to pay his forfeit. Who, though otherwise most innocent, could not altogether plead not guilty, being he claimed all his right from so great injustice.  
In the midst of this dismal and dark cloud our morning star first appeared: in the height of this horrid storm which threatened no less than a total destruction of the nation, it pleased God to give a pledge of atonement between heaven and earth, to bless the world with our glorious S. THOMAS CANTILUPE, as a Rayn-bow after a deluge of blood and misery: whose birth not like another Benjamin purchased his life with his Mother's death, but finding his country in Agony restored life. Neither was he only a Common benefit and happy presage to the plublique, but a special blessing and reward of his father's loyalty; who when the greatest part and power, of the kingdom, either out of personal offence, and hatred, of the deceased king would yet pursue him in his image, or led by interest, the common Idol of the world, thought sit to combine with the stronger party, and rather adore the prevalent might and fortune of an a invading foreigner, then to support the weakness both in years, and forces of their native Prince. Yet William lord Cantilupe, father of our glorious Saint, looked upon the present state of things with another eye, and was resolved to lay down his life and fortune at the feet of justice leaving the event to the divine balance; whether he stood or fell being secure of victory, which ever crownes them who sacrifice themselves to truth and loyalty. Wherefore as a person of eminent ability and honour, he gives strength to the better but lesser party; and as he ever maintained his faith inviolable to the father, though a Prince of most odious and lawless government, he could never forget the respect of sovereignty so he continued the same unto the son with all the disadvantage of humane interest.  
The Barons with their French Protector were not only masters of the field both in strength and number, but also many months possessed of the head City of the Kingdom; a thing ever held of highest consequence, as being the ordinary residence and Court of Kings, & whosoever wins it seems to wear the Crown. The little king at nine years of age, being solemnly Crowned at Gloucester, was in a manner Confined to that City and other two, Bustow and Worcester: though some other particular places and Castles in several parts of the kingdom stood firmly to him. And chief Lincoln which was our Orleans, where a lady, not inferior to the french sheepardess in Courage, as she was far above her in birth and quality, defended the Castle of Lincoln the space of a whole year against Gilbert de Gant, a prime Commander of the french forces, though he had possessed himself of the Town, and pressd the Castle with a vigorous siege. The king's honour, Besides his interest was Conceived to be not a little Concerned in the relief of so much fidelity, especially of so rare and unusual example in the weaker sex. The Lord Cantilupe therefore with other Nobles of the Royal party, accompanied likewise by the legate of the see Apostolic, with what power they could make, marchd forth upon this design. Being arrived within 8. miles of Lincoln, they all Confessed and received the holy Eucharist, with a plenary Indulgence which the Legate granted them, and solemnly declared the adverse faction separated from the Communion of the holy Catholic Church.  
Thus armed and encouraged from heaven they fall on with such irresistible violence, that though the defendants exceeded the assaillants far in number, besides the advantage of their walls and trenches, the Town was soon ground with a total defeat of the Enemy. THOMAS Earl of Perche, a person of highest nobility and Command in the Baron's army, allied to both the Crowns of England and France, being with many others slain upon the place, besides 14. Earls and Barons, and 400. knights with their seruan●s, horse and foot, taken presoners. This victory cut the sinews of the Baron's confederacy, and blew off all foreign storms from our English Coast: the french Prince thinking fit at last to look back upon a safe retreat, and to quit another's right not to lose his own. In fine our young king was so settled hereby in his throne, that from this day no rebellion durst presume upon the minority of his years, nor attempt his Fortune. And for the space of 34. years as long as William Lord Cantilupe, S. THOMAS his father lived, no man had the power or Courage to make head against him.  
These happy tidings well-comd S. THOMAS into the world, or rather he brought them with him: these Laurels of victory crowned the Cradle of our holy Infant; or rather he was given from heaven as a Crown of his father's loyalty and as a pledge of the divine protection over the little king, who though a child was better read then most men in that maxim of wisdom, that crowns and kingdoms are disposed and swayed by the hand of God. 
Prou. 8 19  And therefore seeing himself at the first step into his throne, so strongly opposed or rather thrust out by the violence of a foreign Adversary, and faction of his native people, Can think of no other refuge but God. And 
Henr. K●ighten de euen●ib. Anglia.  as an Author of credit writing of those times, recounts, he betook himself to little jesus in his Virgin Mother's lap, and with as innocent as sweet a confidence, presents his Petition in these words: Rogo te puerum Regem, ut me Regem puerum de caetero regas & defendas. I beseech thee who art a king and child, govern and defend me henceforth who am a king and Child. That this petition was not in vain, is sufficiently manifest by the event and strange overthrow of such powerful designs, which could be only controlled by the hand of God. Neither did the divine mercy make a stop here, but gave a further assurance of his holy protection by the happy birth of S. THOMAS Cantilupe, who was not only a presage of better times, but in a particular manner designed for a main support and strength both to king and kingdom in the highest seat of government, and to be a mirror of justice in both Tribunals of church and state.   

II. CHAPTER. Of the Parents and descent of S. THOMAS.  
NObility, hough in the most civilizd Nations it hath ever had a special prerogative in the general conceit of men, yet with this abatement and restriction, that the wiser sort never looked upon it otherwise then an extrinsecall and boriowd light, shining more by the reflection of others deserts, than any worth in itself. Which well interprets that ancient custom of the Roman Nobility, who wore the figure of a Moon upon their shoe, as a distinctive mark of their rank and quality. Neither had that golden Grass-hopper any other meaning, which the Gentlemen of Athens wore upon their garments as a badge of honour, but to admonish them that Nobility though it seemed a specious and glittering thing, yet was but a mere airy and idle fancy, if, like the silly grasshopper, they contented themselves to sing and chant their Ancestor's renown and greatness, and would not take the pains to lay up store, and make themselves a stock of true worth and honour by their own industrious and noble actions. Virtue like the sun shines with its own light, and needs no supply from any other: it life's not with the breath of other; fame, nor rakes up honour out of dead men's ashes.  
It may seem therefore a very unnecessary if not preposterous diligence, to be inquisitive of the pedigrees of Saints, whose purity and holiness of life hath raised them above all the height of flesh and blood, and by a strange adoption made them brothers and sisters and mothers of God himself. Nevertheless if the wisdom of God allows of a mutual reference and Communication between the Parent and the child, so as the shame and honour of the one reflects upon the other: if the eternal Providence hath a special and Mysterious design, even in that lineal succession of nature, as it appears by the stile of holy scripture, and remarkably in the Genealogy of the Word Incarnate, where the fingar of God points out all particulars with such exactness, name by name both good and bad: Infine if the excellency of virtue doth not seldom more appear by a parallel of former times, either in similitude and imitation of worthy actions or a generous renouncing and detestation of the contrary; it cannot but conduce to the better knowledge and esteem of Saints, to be informed of what stock and condition they are. If noble and of high extraction, like a diamond bred in a mine of gold, worthy to be observed, that by their own virtue they surpass the glory of their birth and Ancestor's, and not by idolising and adoring, but treading upon worldly greatness, they make it an ascent to raise themselves from earth to heaven. If of a mean and low degree, like an oriental pearl in a course and rugged shell, the workmanship of divine grace is the more to be admired that can raise children of Abraham from stones, and frame such precious rarities of gross materials: As the happiness and glory of the Saints themselves is likewise more remarkable, being they own nothing of their greatness to earth, but receive all from heaven. In a word it cannot be denied but that nobility and renown of Ancestor's (as an impartial witness well expressed it) is a visible light which 
Mar●. us in Sallust.  makes the actions of posterity more Conspicuous, be they good or bad.  
Having upon this occasion digressd thus far, give me leave to add one word more, and let our nobility know that this business of descent, be it never so noble, is a mere airy thing unless it be supported and illustrated with virtue and piety. When it is thus mated it both gives and receives great advantages, and the one sets off the other extremely. True it is that everywher, even alone, it ought to have its due respect, and none that I know denys it besides the Quaker: but when any brag of it they boast of what's not their own, and show thereby rather their own emptynes than its worth, and themselves to have more of the man than Christian. For Christian Nobility derives not its pedigree from flesh and blood but grace and sanctity, according to the saying of S. Ambrose, the lineage of a just man is virtue and perfection; for by it souls are ennobled and dignifyed, as families are by antiquity of blood; nor only ennobled, but deified to a participation of the divine nature. This is true nobility indeed, and worth standing on, and adds great lustre to the other, as the mixture of a nobler mettle doth to another of an inferior allay: yet still we must so commend this, as to leave the other in its due reverence and esteem.  
To come now to our B. S. THOMAS; his father was William Lord CANTILUPE, a person for his worth and greatness often mentioned in the English History and Records of Heralds. The father of this Lord was also another william, who jointly with his son stood ever firm in the Baron's Wars to both the Kings, whose favour in employments of highest trust and honour they well deserved. Though, as a known Historian of those 
Matt. Paris  times affirms, their family received not so just a measure as their merit required. Yet the father of our Saint bore no less a charge in court then that of great Master or Lord steward of the king's house. Which, as in other kingdoms, so in this of England, was ever esteemed of chief favour and dignity, being the eye and hand of the king, not only at a distance and in absence, but commanding all in his very presence, and in a manner seated upon the same throne. Neither was this honour or whatsoever else they received from their sovereigns above the rank of their birth and quality.  
The Cantilupes or Cantelowes (vulgarly so called from the original Champ de Loup, or Campus Lup●) were a noble family of special note and eminency among those brave Adventurers who-followd the Norman conqueror in his enterprise of our English Monarchy, and purchased him that crown with the hazard of their lives and fortunes. And as they brought with them a fair inheritance of estate and honour, so still continud their course with successive increase, as great rivers the further they go, the more they dilate themselves with the reception of other streams. The Heirs general of the Strong-bowes and Marshals, Earls of Pembroke, of the Fitz Welter's Earls of Hereford, of the Breoses or Breuses Lords of Abergavenny left their estates and greatness by right of marriage unto the Cantelupes. Such being the Paternal line of S. THOMAS, and his father a person of so high command and credit, the king upon an exigence being to make a voyage into france, could not think of a more powerful and faithful hand, beyond all exception and envy, to intrust with his crown and kingdom than William Cantelupe: it was an equal and happy match between this Lord and the Lady Millescenta countess of Eureux and Gloucester, Mother of our Saint.  
She was daughter of Hugh lord Gournay and the Lady juliana sister to Reginald Earl of Dammartin and Boulogne. The Gournay's were of the prime nobility of Normandy, nearly allied to the sovereign Dukes of that country; and as near to our gloirous and blessed King Edward the Confessor. The counts of Dammartin were of an inllustrious family in france, matched with the greatest Princes of Europe. And this Reginald uncle to the Lady Millescent in right of his wife lda, grandchild to Stephen king of England became Earl of Boulogne, which title he transferrd again with his daughter Matilde married unto Philipp Earl of Clermont, only brother to Lewis the 8. king of france, and uncle to S. Lewis. This the alliance and descent of that noble Lady: She was first married to Almerick Montfort Earl of Eureux in Normandy, as also of Gloucester in right of his mother Mabelle, eldest daughter, & heir to william Earl of Gloucester, Grandchild to Henry the first king of England. This Almerick being head of that illustrious family of the Montforts descended from Robert surnamed the Pious, king of france: and dying without issue, was the last of that race in Normandy; leaving his noble and virtuous Confort the Lady Millescente to be blessed with a happier and more fruitful marriage, especially in this her son, who alone illustrated that renowned family with more honour, than all the greatness and titles of their famous Ancestor's.   

III. CHAPTER Of his Childhood and domestic Education.  
TO look into the infancy or Childhood of Saints may seem as little pertinent to their merit, as to the glory of God: that part of the life of man being Commonly held for a mere Prologue or dumb show before a tragedy of miseries; a dream or slumber before the soul awake to the light of reason; a state of Neutrality betwixt man and beast, as uncapable of praise as blame, and only happy in this, that it is unsensible of all unhappiness. Yet experience and reason teaches us that this twilight of life is not so dark, but that we may read sundry characters, though written in a small letter, by the hand of God: This mute part of the age of man is not so speechless, but that it foretelleth us much of what will follow. In fine even childhood itself hath not so little of the man, but that it is capable of deep impressions both of grace and reason: as the lovely and sweet variety of colours in many flowers receive their first tincture in the very root; and the value of Pearls depends much upon the first drops of dew which falls into the shell when thy are newly engendered. That the divine Providence hath a special eye upon the infancy of man is an undeniable truth both in humane and divine history: neither doth this only consist in certain prodigies and dedemonstrations of a power above the reach of nature, but also, and that most usually, in a particular favour and protection of the divine hand by connatural means of Education and other circumstances, to with draw from evil and lead to virtue.  
The whole sequel of our S. THOMAS his life clearly shows how highly he was privileged with both these blessings from heaven. A nature he had elevated above the Common strain; a mind full of generous heat and vigour, ever tending to a higher sphere, like a fire without smoke or mixture of grosser elements: which met with so noble a temperature of body, that though of a prosperous and lively habitude, he never knew in his whole life what any thing meant which was not agreeable with the purity of Angels. He, the first fruit of that happy marriage, was borne at a Manor of his fathers in Lincolnshyre. Hameldone by name, where he alsoe received the Sacrament of Baptism, regenerated thereby to the precious adoption of the Children of God. In memory whereof Edmund Earl of Cornwall, sonn to Richard once king of the Romans, and a great admirer of out saints perfections, built there an Oratory to the honour of God and his; in the which Oratory our Lord is said te have wrought frequent Miracles by the intercession of the same saint. Besides him his Parents were blessed with a numerous offspring of 3. Sons and 3. daughters, which like so many young Olives enuironnd their table to their great loy; and the latter were all bestowed in an honourable wedlock.  
To cultivate duly these hopeful endowments both of nature and grace by a Good education was the care and endeavour of his pious Parents: who as in his infancy they had provided him of virtuous Nurse (the Process of his Canonization calls her devout, noble, and holy, insomuch that even together with his milk he suckd in Sanctity) so in his childhood they were no less wanting to furnish him with fit Masters for his instruction in these first rudiments; and this was to be done under their own eyes, that they might be witnesses of all. Thy knew right well how important the first impressions are in Children, and consequently how choice they ought to be, since that tincture is retained a long time, and gives ordinarily a relish to their proceed. His Parents were so chary in this point, and solicitous to have the blessing of heaven second their industry, that we may say they imitated daily the ancient Illyrians, who, when they gathered their sweet Flowers-de-luce lifted them up as an offering to heaven from whence they had received them: so these noble Personages looking upon this their first fruit as a gift of God, and acknowledging it to be more his then theirs, endeavoured with all gratitude to make him a fit present for the divine hand, and to raise him from earth to heaven by careful and virtuous breeding.  
Their usual habitation was at court by reason of the charge which the father of our saint bore, and the obligation he had of personal attendance for the daily service of the king. The reputation of Courts hath ever been as of a place where virtue is laughed out of countenance, and denied admittance, as too Coarsely clad for such fine company. Infamy is no where more in credit, nor vice so Canonised: it is a School of Egyptian Hieroglyphics where beasts and Monsters are supposed to signify heroic virtues. What care therefore and vigilancy were these pious and noble Parents to use in preserving this sweet flower from blasting under so malignant a climate? What caution and prevention to banish all folly and vanity from the sight of those innocent eyes? to stop his ears from the least whisper of charming pleasures? What a perpetual watch and ward, not to let a word fall, not the least action or gesture appear before this little one which might leave any noxious impression in his tender soul? Though to say the truth, and to guy those happy times their due (which is also to be observed as a special providence of God towards the advancement of our Saint in all perfection) the stile of that Court was far different from the usual Course of others, and might well be termed a Sanctuary of Piety and school of virtue.  
Such an influence hath the example of Princes over the hearts of men, drawing them whither they list with a kind of magnetic force either to good or evil. We had then a king who thought it not undervaluing of Majesty to visit spitals and Alms houses, to serve and feed the poor with his own hands, to embrace and kiss leper. Instead of revels and masks; his chief pleasure was in his Chapel, where he heard every day three Masses with solemn Music, and never omitted to be present at the rest, as long as there was a Priest at the Altar; where he ever used this Ceremony, in honour to the king of heaven, to support the Priest's arm whilst he elevated the Sacred Host; then with reverence kissed his hand. Insomuch as his near kinsman and brother in Law S. Lewis, than king of France, observing that out of his devotion to the holy Sacrifice of Mass, he left no Considerable time for Sermons, advisd him to allow some part of his pious Exercises to the word of God: to which he answered, that for his part he had rather see his friend then hear him spoken of. Our Queen, as long as this king her husband lived, agreed with him as well in piety as in Conjugal love: and as soon as his death left her free to her liberty, she retyrd to a Cloister of Consecrated Virgins, where the world might see her hart had ever been.  
The Consort of our Prince; Sonn of Henry the 3. now king, and after successor by the name of Edward the 1. was a daughter of Spain, who was so little read in the Platonique of our days, that she knew not how to love any thing but Christ and her husband; whom she followed through all hazards and terrors to the holy land: where the Prince being treacherously stabbd by a Saracen with a poisoned knife, when no skill of Surgery could prevail, the invincible love of this lady undertaken the cure, and gave her the courage to suck out the poison and putrefaction of the wound with her own mouth, to make it good that love is as strong as death. 
Cant. 8 6.  The piety of the whole court was answerable to their Souveraign's example: which appears evidently in that so many of the prime nobility devoted their lives and fortunes to the service of the holy land, and the greatest ladies ended their days in holy monasteryes.  
Nevertheless though that court than was such a Paradise, the pious and prudent Parents of our saint knew well that serpents might lurk even there: Vipers creep into gardens of balsam; poisons and antidotes often grow in the same bed. They were not strangers to the infirmity of humane nature especially in youth, which like a distempered Stomach longs for that which is most hurtful, and in such variety of objects, as at a full table, seldom or never feeds without a surfeit. They resolved therefore to place this precious treasure, which god had given them in a safe retreat; as nature or rather the Author of nature teaches the little Pearls, when they are soft and tender in the shell, to retire under shady & hollow rocks, being otherwise not only exposed to violence of waves and weather, but alsoe subject to change colour and be truly sunburnt if they float in the open sea. They followed therefore the advice of the holy Ghost given to all Parents, if they love the safety of their children, to put them under the shade and protection of wisdom, „ Statuet filios suos sub tegmine „ illius „; with a promise not only of security but also of glory: „ Protegetur sub tegmine illius a feruore, et in gloria eius requiescet. „ This holy and 
Ibid. 27.  prudent resolution of theirs, was it seems much furthered by a near kinsman & friend Walter Cantilupe Bishop of worcester, a person of mind and courage equal to his birth, and of such zeal that to advance the heroical design of Christian Princes in the holy land, he went himself thither accompanied with one of the greatest men of that age for piety and valour William Longuespee Earl of Salisbury, whose happy death in that quarrel was sollemnizd with a triumph in heaven, as it was revealed at that very instant to his Mother in England who then led a Religious life in a Monastery of her own founding.  
The said noble Prelate Walter Canti●ilupe being in familiar conversation with William Lord Cantelupe father of S. THOMAS, and the child being present, the Bishop asked him what course of life he would choose, what pleased him best? The child freely answered him, that he would be a Soldier: Well said, sweet hart, quoth the Bishop, thou shalt be a soldier to serve the highest of Kings, and fie under the colours of his glorious Martyr S. THOMAS. These words proved not only prophetical by the event but also had such efficacy, that the Parents, as in obedience to a divine decree, directed the whole education of the child to piety and learning. And the Child himself, as if he had learned a new lesson from heaven, thought no more of those glorious fancies, to which his own generous nature carried him, and the examples of his illustrious progenitors incited him; but with the same courage betook himself wholly to his book, and with the little Solomon preferred it before thrones and kingdoms. This resolution was truly to be admired in the child and no less in his parents, considering not only the vehement inclination of men to live after death in their image by posterity, but much more the height of their fortune, with so rich a stock of antiquity and honour, preserved and amplifyd for so many descents: whereas if he took a course of retirement from a worldly life and not compatible with succession, as his education seemed to dispose him, all must die with him and lie buried in the same grave.  
None of these respects could ever persuade the Parents of our Saint to let him run the common race of the world in liberty, in plenty, in wantonness, in excess of vanity and pleasure, without restraint of any thing that flatters the sensual appetite, foments' self love, and rejects all command of reason. These generally being esteemed in the depraved iudgment of men as  attributes of greatness, and on the contrary discipline, learning, and piety laughed at as a debasement of noble spirits and mere precisianism. But these pious & prudent Parents weighed things in another balance; they were fully satisfied of this truth, that nothing suits better with honour than virtue, and that nobility cannot live in a more immortal Monument upon earth then in the shrine of sanctity. They knew that the nobler the mind, the more need of cultivating, otherwise, like a rich soil, more subject to grow wild and degenerate. They were not so solicitous to propagate as to illustrate their family; the happiness whereof they placed not in long continuance but a good conclusion. And since families are mortal, and have their term of life, as well as each particular man, they cannot come to a better end then to die in the bed of honour with integrity of fame and virtue.   

iv CHAPTER. His first Studies in Oxford.  
OUr little S. THOMAS having now received the first tincture & elements of learning at home, both the authority of his Parents and his own propension led him to a place of higher improvement, the university of Oxford: which was at that time in the primitive vigour, and esteemed by all as great a school of virtue as learning, and therefore the common Nursery of our chief nobility of Engeland: a thing continued even to our days, though with different success, as but too true experience teaches us. It was hard to say whether Oxford in that age (though it ever bore the preeminence of antiquity) or Paris had the greater repute and fame of learning. Yet this noble strife bred nothing of that malignity to which the emulous nature of man is but too prone: yea rather maintained a friendly Commerce, and, as it were, free trade beweene these two great Marts of wisdom and sanctity. And as those times were fertile of great persons in all perfections, neither of these two renowned Academyes did engross any advantage to themselves, nor envy the others benefit; but mutually imparted to each other what was rare and eminent.  
The two glorious lights of the Catholic Church S. Dominick, and S. Francis his Orders illustrated the world at that time with their primitive splendour, and revived Christianity with new vigour of learning and piety. S. THOMAS of Aquine S. Bone, S. Bonaventure, & Doctor of Doctors Alexander of Hales borne in Glocestershyre, master of both these Saints, with many others of the foresaid holy Institutes, were the Oracles of that age; and particularly enriched and cultivated the French and English Universities with their admirable doctrine. Among the rest that famous & learned Prelate Robert Kilwarby was highly eminent; who bred and borne in England, was one of the first of that nation who Consecrated himself to God in the holy habit of S. Dominick.  
But his great abilities and learning gave him not leave to enjoy the sweet retirement of a Religious life. He was first called by the Sea Apostolic to the Primacy of England; in which charge he gave such testimonies of his incomparable worth, that, Nicolas the 3. who then sat in S. PETER'S Chair, a great admirer of learning, and virtue (which he only regarded in all preferments) to have his nearer assistance in the general government of the whole Church, thought fit to create him Cardinal and Bishop of Porto near Rome, which is the second dignity among those Princes of the Church. The holy Prelate having received this new addition of honour was so far from that Common disease and dropsy of Souls, who the more they have of greatness, the more they thirst; that the first thing he did was to disburden himself of his Metropolitan charge of Canterbury, not without resentment and repugnance of the king and all the nobility of England, who extremely affected and reverened him for his great learning and holiness of life. He left behind him a perpetual Monument of his piety and love to his Order, which is yet ex ant, though applied to a different use, Commonly known by the name of blackfriars in London. This place when he was Arch Bishop of Canterbury he purchased, and built both Church and Convent for his Religious, whom he transferrd thither from a less Convenient Residence in the suburbs. The modesty and humble Carriage of this great Prelate was no less admired in the Court of Rome then his eminent parts and excelling knowledge. He would not change his poor Religious habit for the purple of Princes, and was the first Cardinal that retained his habit in that dignity; as ever since his example was followed by those who were promoted to that degree of honour from Religious Orders of Monastique discipline. He never appeared in public but on foot, and never had other train but two of his own Religious to accompany him, and two other attendants in the nature of servants. In fine though he was admired and honoured as the Oracle of those times, and mouth of the See Apostolic, as appeared in that famous treaty and letters written by him in the Pope's name to the king of Tartary about the Conversion of that nation to the Christian faith; yet nothing could ever lift him the least thought above himself out of the profound humility and poverty of a Religious man.  
It was a special providence of God that this great person was chosen to be the Spiritual guide and Governor of our holy Saint from his tender years, which we may esteem a mutual happiness and honour to them both: being the wise child is the father's joy, as the father's worth is the children's glory. The learned and wise Prelate seeing how pure and generous a soul he had to manage, omitted no care and industry to set him forward to the highest perfection. Wherein finding his Angelical pupil so ready and pliable, and even to out-runn his wishes, he conceived such unspeakable joy and comfort, that all the days of his life he could never name him with out excessive admiration and praise. He never met with stone or bramble in that soul to choke or hinder the full fruit of the heavenly seed; he never found weed in that bed of Lillyes; he never saw spot in that virgin stole which he had received in baprisme: No flashes of levity, forwardness, or unconstant giddynes so incident to that age. All his soul in fine 
Apoc. 4. 6.  like that crystal sea of the Apocalypse, without wave or wind, not disturbed with the least blast of disordered passions; yet still in motion, abhorring nothing more than that canker and bain of virtue, sloth and idleness.  
He never omitted to be daily present at the holy Sacrifice of Mass with all reverence and attention, which he took for a common duty of all pious Christians: and therefore would oblige himself to a greater task, reciting daily, as young as he was, the Canonical hours or Priest's Office, which in him was a remarkable act of piety, and not only a presage of his future intentions, but also a token not improbable, that even then as much as lay in him he devoted himself to a Clergy life: having otherwise no tye at all either of Benefice or Orders; his years being uncapable of the one, and the discipline of those better times not allowing Ecclesiastical fruits and titles to any other but such as for ability and age could worthily perform the functions. In this manner did our B. Saint pass his first course of literature, with such success and profit in the Latin tongue, that it gave him new appetite and courage to apply himself to the study of higher sciences. As they who discover the first veins of a rich mine work on with more alacrity to attain the main treasure. Wherefore though at that time Oxford flourished with all advantage of learning both for knowledge and discipline, and could furnish other nations with choice masters in all sciences: yet considerable motives drew S. THOMAS out of his native country into France, and induced him to choose Paris for his school of Philosophy.   

V CHAPTER. S. Thomas his Study of Philosophy.  
THat Antiquity placed the Temples of their goddess of learning and wisdom in forts and Castles, seated upon a higher ground, and at a competent distance from the common habitation of their Towns and cities, did not only signify, that wisdom and knowledge is the chief protection and safeguard of men, and a thing highly elevate a 'bove the vulgar reach; but also that the proper seat of learned Exercises is to be at a convenient distance from the throng and tumult of the world: this being no less an enemy to speculative and studious minds than smoke and dust to the eye, and a confused and jarring noise to a delicate and harmonious ear. This considered, the most populous City of Europe, and the greatest court, might seem very improper for the improvement of S. THOMAS in his studies: especially for his particular, having more occasion of distraction than any other by reason of his near relation and alliance with the greatest Princes of that Court, namely Reginald Count of Dammartin and Boulogne, great uncle to our Saint, and Matilde Countess of Clermont daughter of the foresaid Reginald, married to Philipp only brother to Lewis the 8. and uncle to S Lewis who reigned at that present time. These circumstances might well have put a youthful Spirit upon other thoughts then serious and painful studies, and forced him even against his will to spend the greatest part of his time in receiving and paying courtly visitts. But the generous resolution of the Saint, and the great light which he received from heaven to make a true estimate of things, gave him strength and vigour to prosecute his course without diversion.  
And such were those happy times, that he found rather help then prejudice in court, where the king a Saint taught the world this truth, that the disorder of courts is not the fault of the place but men, and that virtue is ever at hand where it finds admittance. Neither did the court and Army, the two  spheres of this great Prince and Soldier of Christ, only partake of his holy influences; he was as great a Patron of learning as Arms; and as piety and discipline is the chief support and advancement of both, his powerful example and industry, and the concourse of so many great persons renowned for learning and Sanctity, invited thither by the fame of that happy reign, gave such life and vigour to the university of Paris, that it never flourishd more than in those holy times. The famous College of Sorbone, so esteemed even till this day, that it is a special mark of honour to be a member thereof, was then first founded, and owes the glory of so prosperous a continuance to that happy beginning which made them heirs not only of the name and patrimony, butt also of the eminent learning of their worthy Founder Robert de Sorbona. The persons also who then either taught or studied in that university are a sufficient testimony of the flourishing state of these times which bred them whom the Schools ever since have reverencd and admired as chief Masters and mirrors of humane and divine sciences, and observe continually their method and form of teaching, as the ready and only way to attain solid and perfect knowledge.  
That S. THOMAS made the best use of these advantages appears evidently by the effect, and that public testimony of his singular ability and learning, when having finished that course of studies he proceeded Master of Arts, which honour in those impartial times was not to be bought with favour, nor upon any other account than desert. Neither did he satisfy himself with that specious ornament of his youth, as commonly persons of his rank and quality are wont to do, and then apply the rest of their life to the designments of ambition and pleasure. As after his return into England he changed not his mind with the place, but still continued, like a faithful lover, his constant affection to wisdom, whose amiable beauty had so possessed his hart, that it wiped away all other impressions. And that he might enjoy his happiness without disturbance he retyrd from court and the restless noise of the world to his known repose and first nursery of his youth, the university of Oxford.  
But before he leave Paris and we conclude this Chapter, it will not be impertinent to our purpose to show what a lily he was at that time amidst those thrones of Philosophy, able enough to choke all spirit and sentiments of piety and devotion, if great care be not taken; that is, how pure and nice a conscience he kept, how sensible of the least blemish of imperfection; and this will appear by an example which stands on record, and happened in this interim. While he studied his Philosophy at Paris, the window of his closet was a little at fault, and to set it right without trouble or the help of a workman, he served himself of a stick or prop of a vine out of the next vineyard. The matter, God wot, so very inconsiderable, to an ordinary conscience would not have created any scruple at all; yet he, though otherwise not scrupulous, in his tenderness, apprehended the transgression so deeply, that even then for its expiation he enjoind himself a 7. year's penance, and each of them with great remorse confessed the same. From whence we may gather how Angelically pure that blessed soul was which checked so ressentively at so minute a thing, and how far it was from harbouring any great offence which deemed the least to be so heinous. A tender conscience is like a tender eye, which the least moat disturbs and annoys, making it water to wash of the stain, and express regrett that ever it came there.   

VI CHAPTER His study of the Canon-law at Oxford.  
THe resolution which S. THOMAS took after he had ended his Philosophy with such success and applause, sufficiently declares, that his intention was not to make use of those studies as an additional ornament of his other eminent parts and quality, that as his birth and fortune raised him above the vulgar sort, so he might also excel them in perfection of mind and knowledge. Which could not but be esteemed a motive worthy of a generous Spirit, in setting so true a value upon the better part of man, and not suffering the flower and vigour of his age to vanish and whither away without fruit. In prosecution of such happy beginnings, to carry all on before him, and perfect himself in each kind and for all Callings, he resolved for his next task to apply his thoughts to the Civil law: which, though a hard and knotty knowledge, yet he hoped to draw some honey out of these flints for his improvement. He took it as the Israelites did the spoils of the Egyptians, to apply it to the service of the true God: and hearing that there was a famous Professor at Orleans who read that lecture with much applause, he betook himself thither and frequented his School with such esteem of progress, that he far outstripped his fellow students being judged not only fit but fittest to supply the chair in his Master's absence. This knowledge enabled him much as to the mannagement of secular business, which though it were not the thing he aimed at, yet did good service thereby, and especially in the discharge of his double Chancelourship.  
Having possessed himself of this study he undertaken another of some affinity but more sacred, with the former, and that was the Canon-law. This suited more with his inclination and intentions, besides the special providence of God which led this Saint by the hand from his first infancy, and guided him step by step to that height of greatness to which he had designed him both in Spiritual and temporal government; for it seems evident that our Saint had even then devoted himself entirely to the service of the Church and a Clergy life; otherwise what pretention could a person of his condition have to apply himself to that sad and laborious study of Canon-law, as void of pleasure as profit, or any other ambitious interest, for his particular, being nature and fortune had raised him to such a pitch, that he had little need of skill and industry to advance him further. The motive then of lodging his thoughts upon this serious and learned study was to enable himself for that holy function to which God had called him from his very Childhood. He knew that a Clergy life ought to be a shining light not only in itself, but to illustrate others as well by doctrine as example. He was assured that ignorance in such a state was blindness in the eye, deaffnes in the ear, a palsy in the limbs, and a whole privation of life and vigour through all the body. That it was to play the Pilot without Card or Compass: to Command in war without practice of arms or Discipline; to undertake the cure of others without knowledge eyiher of the evils or remedies. Neither was the circumstance of time unseasonable to undertake that Study in the prime and vigour of his Years, when he had improved himself in the perfect knowledge of Philosophy, which quickens the mind with a new life, teaches men to speak and call things by their true names, gives them eyes to see what is invisible, and makes the senses own, what they never knew, upon the word of reason.  
Much about this time while he was delibirating to leave Paris, a General Council indicted at Lions in the same kingdom by Innocent the 4. was to take its beginning on the ensuing feast of S. John Baptist; it being summoned not only upon the score of the holy land, but also for redress of other Eccleasticall abuses. The emulous Spirit of our Saint, desirous to benefit himself in each degree, repayrd thither together with his younger brother Hugh; knowing well that such Assemblies summon, as to a general Muster what is valiant, so to this what is wise, learned, and in virtue eminent. He knew that a general Council is like a Constellation where many propitious lights Combine in one to the illuminating of the Christian world, as the great interpreters of Gods will; as an Oracle giving to know undoubtedly what we are to believe and do in the great practices of Christianity, and whither can one recur with more advantage and satisfaction then hither in doubts of this nature? These two lesser lights even then darted forth such conspicuous beams, that notice being taken of them they were both made Chaplans of the said Pope; and the rather for that besides their own Merits, the presence of their father, sent thiter by the King of England, Contributed not a little to this dignity. The Council ended, our B. Saint returned full fraught with what he had heard and seen, and taking Paris in his way hastened over to his Mother University of Oxford, towards the accomplishment of his fore mentioned task of canon-law; designing when he had Maisterd it to proceed forth with to his divinity. But we may say that in this he reckoned without his host, and while we propose, God disposes much otherwise: for about 14. year's interuened eer he could begin the latter and in the interim he was to undergo a double Chancelourship both of University and Realm; of both these we shall treat in the ensuing Chapters.  
Coming to this famous University, he met to his great comfort, and as great benefit of spirit, with his former Ghostly father Dr. Robert Kilwarby: who as he had before not only known him from his childhood, but also laid in him the first foundations, of a spiritual life, so now resumd again to the same charge, he willingly lent his best endeavours to a further advance. The spiritual advices of this good man were to our Saint as so many Oracles, and as such he receive them; animated thereby to a serious progress in both his undertake of learning and virtue. For we are to advert that it was his settled maxim to make these two always individual companions, keeping them in an equal balance, so that both learning adorn piety and piety learning, each giving other a mutual assistance; in so much that no application to studies could divert his mind, or lessen his fervour to devotion and virtue. He knew what the Apostle said to be most true, „ scientia inflat, 
1. Cor. 5. 2.  that knowledge is a swelling vapour, and puffs up to danger of bursting if it be not kept down by the weight of piety, and bounded with a profound humility. Want of this wholesome caveat makes many great wits miscarry while they will be more witty than wise, and learned then virtuous.  
As for the effect and success of these his present Studies, by consent of all both friends and foes, that is, enemies of God and themselves, (for on the saints part he never bade any, nor opposition at all, but in the behalf of God and his right, which he was obliged to maintain) by common consent, I say he proceeded Doctor of Canon-law; and so became incorporated into that noble and ancient University, as a principal and Conspicuous member with a mutual honour to them both: from whom he was not to part, till by a special providence of God not only, with common consent but universal joy both of King and University he was made their head.   

VII. CHAPTER. He is made Chancellor of Oxford.  
SOme space of time elapsd here in preparing for this Graduation; some also affirm, that he presided for some time in that study: however that interuening space gave the learned Academy a sufficient knowledge of his singular worth and abilities, letting them know what a treasure they had got among them. In the mean time the University is deprived of its head or Chancellor, and was to be furnished: nothing seemed wanting in our saint towards a most satisfactory discharge thereof, either as to moral parts of learning, prudence, or what is also requisite for the support and countenancing of the same authority, splendour of birth, and great alliance. Having thus cast their eye upon him, by the joint vote and concurrence of that illustrious Body, the King is petitioned for his consent, and all parties concerned most readily yield to the choice besides himself, who never was ambitious of any preferrment.  
What a Chancellor of an University is can hardly be defined, being his power and office wholly depends upon the national customs and  institution of the founders. Buh this is generaly received by all, that the Chancellor is truly head of the University, not only in points of doctrine, but also in moral discipline and comportment both of Masters and Students. For England, as this office was ever of high esteem and honour, so even in these later times, it is for the most part borne by persons great either by birth and dignity, or of eminent power and fovour in court: this being held necessary to support and protect that learned and united Body from all disturbance and disquiett. Which that valiant and great Prince King Edward the 3. took so to hart, that though he seemed wholly employed in Arms and warrfare, yet upon an abuse & affront offered by the City to the Students of that Univisity, he Devested the Major and Magistrates of their power they had before, and gave the Chancellor 
Stow. anno Regis 29. 1355.  of Oxford the only view of the excise of bread, ale, and wine, and other Victuals, excluding the Major utterly from that office. This king though he was deeply engaged in wars abroad with such victorious success and conquests as none before or after him perhaps had the like; yet was so present in the government of his kingdom at home (especially what concerned the nobler and most important part of the Common wealth) that is, the education of youth both Clergy and Laity in learning and virtue, that it might seem the final mark he aimed at; and for all his successful prowess abroad, that he took it for the greatest honour to be a feudatary to the supreme Dominion of wisdom, and in real effect did profess that infallible and everlasting truth, per „ me Reges regnant, by me Kings rule and reign, from me they receive all 
Prou. 8. 15.  their power.  
In this Chair of authority was S. THOMAS Sett, and it was his singular integrity and upright demeanour which purchased him this great and general esteem. The truth is, there is no such purchaser of true worth and ascent to honour as virtue; and this is confessed both by friend and foe, even the latter where off deems it praise worthy though he can not imitate it, but beholds it as the Owl doth the light with disdaigne. Of his demeanour in this office the Record testifyes thus: In quo officio Cancellariae, & in omni statu suo, quem ante & post habuit, justè & sanctè se gessit, & viam veritatis quam prius inchoaverat non dimisit, sed semper de bono in melius profecit. In which Office of Chancellor as also in each other which he bore, he demeaned himself with such uprightness and integrity, that he never swerved from the path of truth which he once trodd, but went on always advancing from good to better. This advance was made by exalting vettue and learning and depressing vice, and idleness its nurse; by an impartial administration of justice to all, giving every one their due, by maintaining Discipline in its vigour without slackening the reins to a noxious liberty. And as his authority extended both to Masters and Scholars, and even to the Citizens themselves so far as to impede any abuse towards the former, so he carried an equal hand over all, and failed not thereby to please all. How resolute and active he was in this his proceeding is wittnessd by a scuffle or Riot which happened at that time betwixt the Southern and Northern Scholars upon some quarrel of emulation: in which the disorder grew so high that to part them he was feign to hazard his own person and to throw himself in to the middle of the throng, out of which he came though with a whole skinn yet not with a whole Coat, his gown being torn and he beaten: yet he Maisterd the multitude, reduced them to order, and made them do penance for their insolency.  
This of Chancellor was the First public office which S. THOMAS bore; this that Candlestick of gold which first showed that burning and shining light to the world; this that Hill, where that well built City by the hand of God himself first appeared and where there never was heard any other note but of joy and Comfort. And happy would that University have deemed itself, if it might still have been exhilarated with these sweet notes, enlightend with his knowledge, and refreshd with the streams of his wisdom; of which they drunk with much gust, and he no churl in Communicating them. But they like the fountain of paradise were not to be confined to so narrow a current, fit to water the surface of the whole kingdom; to which they were both sufficient, and the King at the loud report, which sounded even to the Court, designed them. He thought that famous University to little a sphere for so great abilities, and that it was an injury to the whole Realm to confine such a person to any particular place though never so honourable, and therefore resolved to make the whole partake of this universal benefit.   

VIII. CHAPTER. He is made Lord high Chancellor of England.  
KIng Henry the 3. a pious and gracious Prince, as you have heard before, loved te employ and prefer the virtuous to great Offices, as knowing that weighty affairs were never better mannagd, and consequently thrive better, then in the hands of such. For besides the peculiar blessing and light which they receive from Almighty God, virtue gives them both industry and application, and removes many impediments which lie in the others way towards a due discharge of their trust. And therefore since our holy saint carried in the opinion of all such a Commendatory of sanctity of life and integrity of conversation, and withal his natural abilities corresponded to his supernatural, completing him in both; I wonder not at all that the good King cast his eyes upon him, and entrusted him with the great office of Lord Chancellor. As to the Saint himself, as he nevet sought the employment, nay resisted what he could, so he came with a disinteressed hart, disburdened of all respects but what he ought to God and his King: but seeing himself in the eyes of the court and kingdom, he thought it stood him upon to be more circumspect in his actions and behaviour; and therefore the Author of his life says, Eo honore decoratus mores actionesque arctiori virtutis praescripto devinxit; raised to that dignity he endeavourd to square his actions and proceed according to a straighter line of perfection. He had learnt to be so far Master of himself, that no exaltation could raise him above himself: 
Psal. 130.  so that his hart and eyes were the same, nor did he now walk in mirabilibus super se, in the clouds of wonders above himself. He knew he was made the vicegerent of divine wisdom as to this pittance of trust, and therefore he said as it taught him, arrogantiam, & superbiam, & viam pravam & os belingue detestor, arrogancy, and pride, and wicked way, and a double tongued mouth I do detest: and I wish 
Prou. 8. 13.  all that bear the place would say the same; and especially the last of a double tongue, fit only for a double hart, destroying all sincerity and plain dealing. He owned and practised that which follows, Meum est Concilium & aequitas, mea est prudentia & fortitudo; Mine is Counsel and equity, prudence is mine, strength is mine: and how he behaved himself in these particulars shall be showed in the end of this Narratrue.  
To give now a small hynt at the nature of this office, it may be observed that the word Cancellarius or Chancellor signify not only now but many ages ago, an employment or trust of highest concern and honour, next the King himself, most eminent for power and authority; and till Sr. Thomas More's time, when worse changes and innovations followed, the dignity of Chancellor was conferred upon single or not married persons, though Laymen, as not to be uncapable of Ecclesiastical Prelacy, either Arch-Bishops or Bishops, as the ordinary stile of England was. As to the etymology of this word, Cassiodorus, that learned and grave person, derives it from Cancelli, that is, the grated enclosure wherein the Chancellor sat, separated from the common throng, not to be disturbed in his office, accessible only to men's eyes; and therefore the same Author calls these bars or Cancels lightsome doors, open Cloisters, gates with windows. This was a friendly admonition or caveat given by Cassiodorus to a Chancellor newly exalted to that eminent office: to put him in mind, that though he was raised and separated from the common rank of men, yet he was exposed to the common view of all, and therefore must proceed accordingly; not please himself as if he were to dance in a net, but to assure himself that he was like to have as many censures and sharp judgements of him, as men had eyes. Others say, he is so called because the Chancellor is, as it were, the mouth, the eye, and ear of the Prince or Sovereign, and hath the revie wing of all Memorials or Petitions presented to the Prince, and even decrees of the Prince himself; what he finds not convenient to Law, or prejudicial to the Princes or public good, it is his Office to cancel or cross out as void and wholly illegal, and not to sign it. From this Cancelling or crossing out with such uncontrolled authority, they will have the name of Cancellarius or Chancellor derived.  
As for the Chancellor of England's office, it is a dignity that makes him esteemed in the kingdom above all, and next to the King himself. In so much that on the other part of the King's Seal (whereof the custody belongs to the Chancellor) he signs his own Orders: that the King's Chapel be in his disposal and care; that vacant Arch. Bishoprics, Bishoprics, Abbeys, and Baronyes, falling into the King's hands be received and kept by him that is the Chancellor: who likewise is to be present when soever the King sits in Counsel; even when he is not called: that all things of the Clerk or Clergy man who carries the King's Seal, be signed by the Chancellor's hand; that all things be disposed of by the advice and Counsel of the Chancellor: in fine that by the grace of God, his desert and merit concurring, he never ends his days but in the See of an Arch Bishop or Bishop, if he will accept of it. And for this reason the office of Chancellor is never to be bought, as having so much connexion and Relation to a Clergy state, for danger of incurring Simony. The manner or ceremony of creating Chancellors in the Reign of Henry the 2. Grandfather to King Henry the 3., who enstalld S. THOMAS in that dignity, was to hang the great Seal about the chosen Chancello'rs neck. But afterwards both the ceremonies of enstallment and his court of Chancery was augmented, three seals, one of gold, two of silver a great one and a lesser; and for the Lawyer's abuses and quirks in the Common law the Chancello'rs court or Chancery erected to moderate all as Umpire, merely out of equity and justice, independent of sophistical tricks and verbal cavils. This was the office of the Lord Chancellor of England since the Norman conquest for the most part with some ceremonial changes, rather accidental then in substance, as the Kings who reigned thought fit.  
In the administration of this office as our Saint showed great wisdom, so did he also great integrity, and these two completed his justice; so that the former secured him against mistakes and ignorance, the latter against bribes and extorsions; neither of which either was or ever could be justly laid to his charge. Nay he was so scrupulously nice in the latter, that he would not have so much as the shadow of it to approach him. It is recorded particularly that certain Religious men who had a suit depending at Law applied themselves to him for his favour and furtherance in the dispatch of the same, and thereto presented him with a jewel of value: which he rejected not without indignation, ask them whether they thought him to be won with gifts. Nor was his courage inferior either to his wisdom or integrity; upon which account when reason and equity dictated that such a thing was to be done, he was undaunted as to the execution, even though the king himself stood in the way, yet none more observant of his Majesty than he. This may be confirmed by what happened at the council table and was driven on by many great ones who persuaded the king to confer an office upon a new converted jew whereby he was impowerd over the lives and persons of such subjects as were found to be coiners of false money. He opposed it with much earnestness, saying, it was too unlimited a power over Christians to be committed to a new converted jew, who might easily be tempted according to his former ill habits to abuse it: and therefore besought his Majesty with tears either to revoke it, or give him leave to absent himself, for he could not approve it. The king moved with his tears and candour as well as the force of his reasons bidding him sit still, changed there upon his determination. I shall say more relating to this in the last Chapter. Now how satisfactory his mannagement of affairs in this ticklish charge was both to Prince and people is evidenced by this, that the King upon urgent occasions being called into France, left to him, during his absence, the trust and charge of the whole kingdom.   

IX. CHAPTER. King Henry dies, his son succeeds, S. Thomas with Licence gives up his Seal and retires.  
IN this equal tract of justice, declining neither to the right hand nor the left, did our Saint walk all the respitt of King Henry's life. Full often during this space of time did he sigh after his former Retirement, and seized not upon fit occasions to importune the same: but the good King who had found his assistance and dexterity so serviceable in the dispatch of affairs would by no means hearken to that request, giving him leave to groan under his burden: and he in compliance with his will submitted to it, making the best of the worst and a virtue of necessity. At last, having finished the course of nature as well as of a virtuous life, he paid the common tribute of mortality to death, and Edward his eldest son, called the first of that name immediately succeeded in the throne: of whom it will not be amiss to give some short account, as also how things went in the course of affairs.  
This Edward was not only a warlike but wise Prince, and as he had received both Crown and life from his father, so he restored both again, by cutting off with his own hand the last and most dangerous Rebellion of all. This was raised by Simon Montfort a great soldier, and of a high Spirit, otherwise a pious and gracious person to most men, by reason of his forward zeal to engage in what he conceived did concern the common good: which cost him first expulsion out of France, and after his being received in England, and made Earl of Leicester, no less than his life. This great Warrior observing the march and approach of Prince Edward to give him battle, turned to his Commanders and thus advisd them; let us commend our souls to God, for our bodies are theirs; as it fell out and he died with the rest. The same great Prince Edward the first, after he had brought the kingdom of Scotland to the utmost extremity, but prevented by death could not complete the full conquest, he charged his son Edward the 2. or of Caernaruan (called so from his birth in that castle) not to enterre his body till he finished the work begunn by him, of which little remained to be achieved. But those court Parasites, the young King's favourites, hating as death the life of a Soldier, drew him of from that noble design to court again, to the shame and infamy of the English Nation, and wretched end of that unfortunate Prince. A sad example of disobedience to the last words of a dying father, and such a father as England had scarce his like for valour, conduct, and wisdom.  
In the very beginning of whose Reign and first step into the throne S. THOMAS as his place and office required brought him the great Seal of England, with most humble acknowledgement of his obligation to his Majesty's father for honouring him above all desert with that eminent charge, which he resigned into his Majesty's hands with this humble petition, that with his Majesty's approbation and leave, he may retire to that known mother of learning and wisdom Oxford, where he may more enable himself for the service of God and of his Majesty, and the assistance of his country. To which the King answered first with thanks, as the manner is, for the great service done to the King and kingdom; and for his petition, that he assented to it, and for the present gave him full liberty to dispose of himself as he thought fitting. This was it which our Saint, much more addicted to the Schools than the court, so earnestly breathed after, and as cheerfully hastend to them as a stone to its Centre or fire to its element; „ trahit sua quemque voluptas.  
And here I cannot but pause a while upon this noble and heroical act of S. THOMAS; which if we measure by a humane ell and man's natural inclination to greatness, was perchance one of the noblest of his life. For where in the world shall one find even virtuous and holy men who make not preferments a part of their aim and reward of their studies, much less who will divest themselves willingly of it especially the highest, when they have it in possession. Honour is called the Nurse of Arts, and suits much with the propension of man, who naturally love's precedency and preeminency, as the milk he suckd from his Mother Eve, and few part with●● but against their wills. It is moorhen probable for divers reasons, that S. THOMAS might have continued his Office had he not solicited a release from the same; and such a solicitation upon the prudential motives of a virtuous humility argues a profound sanctity, and contempt both of himself and worldly things. Had he continued in his charge the ordinary course of such proceed would have enstalld him in the Sea of somegreat Prelacy: of which if he had been more ambitious then of a private Retirement, he would have made it his business as he did this. But Saints see with other eyes then these of nature, they are guided by better lights, which partake more of truth and less of vanity: they see honour to be nothing else but a bubble and a burden, and on both scores worthy of despisement, since the former's as empty as the latter troublesome, 〈◊〉 say no worse. Honour, saith the Philosopher, is in him that conferrs it, the burden only passes to the Receiver or honoured: what is burdensome aught to be rejected. To discover the emptiness of honour is a point of wisdom; to contemn that which all do●● on, a point of sanctity: true wisdom makes them know it is but a shadow, and that they ought not to content themselves with shadows but solid substances; nor play the dog in the fable, who while he more greedily then prudently s'natchd at the shadow lost the bone. True sanctity tells them that the truest honour is to contemme all honour besides the honour of God; which while they labour to advance they honour both him and themselves, not with an empty airy honour but permanent and eternal, whose shadow the other is.  
Such good solid principles made our Saint do what he did, that is, pray the Saint, that is, despise and trample upon that Idol of the world for the love of heaven and a virtuous life. But though the King lisenced him at his request from the Chancellorship, yet he still retained him, during life, of his Privy Council, as I find upon Record in the Process of his Canonization, where his advice proved many times advantageous above others, as I shall here after have occasion to relate: and things were so ordered at present that no  or stop was put to the actual design of prosecuting his studies.   

X. CHAPTER. S. Thomas returns to Oxford, proceeds Doctor of Divinity, the testimony given of him.  
OUr Saint, as we said, being with licence and approbation of the King free from Court and Chancellor's office, so much admired and wished for by the rest of the world, sung with the Royal Prophet laqueus contritus est 
Psal. 123. ●. 7.  & nos liberati sumus, the snare is broken, and we set at liberty; and like a dove or pigeon with eyes sealed to the lower world soars upwards, as far as his wings can bear him, to enjoy God and what leads nearest to him, that is, true knowledge of him, which from the things it treats of, as propperly, as Commonly, is called Divinity. In which study, having exercisd himself with his wont application free from all other distraction and adhesion to terrene things, he made such progress, that by the votes of all in due time, he proceeded Doctor, of that highest of sciences, which, as the Angelical S. THOMAS explicates it out of the Proverbs chap. 9 v. 3. sits like a Queen in Court, and all other intellectual Arts serve her as hand maids. And what wonder if his flight were so soaring, since he had the wings of a dove, I may say of an Angel or bird of Paradise, by reason of his purest soul, cleanest hart, and Angelical conversation; and as the clean of hart see God best, and he so attractively amiable, why should they not make great advance towards him. As wisdom doth not enter into a malevolous soul, nor dwell in a body subject to sin, so when it finds one symbolising with its humour in point of sanctity, and Capacitated thereto, it Communicates light as plentifully, as the Sun his beams to the Crystal.  
How joyfully he was received in that University, and what welcomes he had from all the degrees of the same, as a thing of course is needles here to be expressed. He Coming now in the quality not of a public person but private Student to gain more time and set closer to his task, waved what he could all such diversions: his entertainment was among his books, and his content in his devotions; and there he never found himself less alone than when most. He knew what a precious treasure time is, and esteeming it as such, was loath to lose the least parcel thereof: this he did both for his own benefit and the example of others, to make them less wasteful of what the most part are lavish. To this good mannagement of time and his other devotions he joined works of mercy, and especially relief to poor scholars, to many whereof he gave a daily maintinance, enabling them thereby to go through with their studies; and to this kind of charity he was much addicted, as we shall further show in the 13. Chapter.  
His thoughts thus divided betwixt his studies and devotions gave him the fruits of the former's industry, and the blessings of the latters light. Amidst these he prepared himself for his great Act or Commencement, at which his ancient friend and Master in spirit, who had taught him many a good lesson in that kind, would be present, I mean Robert Kilwarby, who though at the time of his Presentment he were Doctor of the Chair, yet before the time he was to stand in the Act, his great knowledge and eminent virtue had received a condign reward of both, from the hands of Pope and Prince, the See of Canterburry. This made the new Prelate not stand upon his points, but as the truly humble, the more they are exalted the humbler they are, so this preferrment rather furthered than retarded him in the respect and honour he intended his friend. Friendship is never better grounded or supported then with piety; none knowing the laws of that better than this, or keeping them more inviolably, as least swayed by interest. Though the merits of our Saint were such that they needed no commendatoryes, yet to observe form and the usual custom, after his examen he is bid to withdraw: that done the Archbishop who came down purposely to perform the Ceremonies of his Creation, gave an ample testimony of him, and that upon oath to the present Auditory, at what time the saint was no less than 54. jeers of age. He commended him first from the 4. Cardinal virtues and his eminent perfection in each; next from his singular purity both of body and mind, as pure as to both, as he was the firstday he came into the world. And if, said he, you demand of me how I come to have such a confident assurance thereof; I answer in the presence of God, that I have read it all along as clearly in his life and conscience by hearing his Confessions even ftom his youth, as any of you in a book legibly writ can read characters laid open to your eyes: nor do I fear but God, a lover of purity, who has thus long preserved him without spot, will keep him spotless even till death.  
This was a rare Elogium of the virgin integrity of our Saint, well worth our admiration and veneration, I may also add imitation; it falling especially from the mouth of one who might be accounted an Oracle as to truth, and as free from flattery as interest by it. Why then should any one suspect such a disinteressed testimony of a sacred personage far above censure, and not rather censure those that censure him? Every thing is as it is taken: I read this Elogium of a venerable Prelate, and I think I do prudently in framing there upon a most high conceit of the Saints purity: why do I not? he being one of unquestionable credit: another comes and he censures all both Primate and Saint, both the testimony of this and the integrity of the other. I hold this discourse because Doctor Godwin once pretended Bishop of Hereford, and Recorder of all the English Bishops lives, upon the rehearsal of this very passage makes this reflection by way of a prudential note; „ Omnis homo, saith he, mendax; either Confessor or Confessed, or the reporter lied I doubt not. Whence may be seen what gloss this Historian puts upon so grave an asseveration, and how easily he waves any authority besides his own. What means the man by omnis homo mendax? doth he aim at the Saint or at the Primate or at himself; for if all be liars, by consequence he too; and how nonsensically is this thrust in? What need he doubt but such a point of perfection may be asserted, and neither Confessor nor Confessed, nor Reporter a Liar? by what Divinity doth Doctor Godwin conclude this? It may be a wonder beyond belief in the Protestant church, that any one keep his baptismal purity in an integrity of body and mind, but in the Catholic it is not at all; and I doubt as little of this as he of the other. How should we know the gests of Saints, since we have them not by Revelation, but by the Relation of creditable men? No more Certainly is required here then suffises to ground a prudent belief: if every grave historian pretend to this, even Doctor Godwin himself, how much more a Prelate a Primate? But enough of such stuff; he would only have showed a piece of his Divinity, and confirmed it with an I DOUBT NOT, and it suffises to have taken notice of its strength. I doubt not for all his doubt but the Primates testimony will stand good, since so many great virtues give force and warrant to his veracity, and upon the same, that our Saint, as he deserves, will be thought to have preserved his vnblemmished integrity in the candour of its first innocency.  
About this time it was while S. THOMAS was attending his Studies that Gregory the to. gave a beginning to the 2. Council of Lions, and that, an interruption to him from the said studies. The improvement which he found by the former would not let him slip the opportunity of redoubling the same by the latter. A General Council is the School of the age in which it is held; the great mart of knowledge where one may buy wisdom at an easy rate, and become acquainted with all the worthies of all Nations. An observant bee comes hither as into a garden of choicest flowers, where it may pick and choose the honey of all good improvement at pleasure; whether it be in point of virtue, or whether it be in point of science; here he may find patterns of the former, and no less of the latter: here he may hear the Orator perorate, the Philosopher discourse, the Divine dispute, the Interpreter expound, the Antiquary impart his hiddenest treasures of rites, customs, traditions and the like. In the year 1274. upon the Summons of the chief Pastor of God's church Gregory the 10. there met 700. Prelates in the City of Lions, Latin and Greek, gathered together from all the parts of the Christian world to Consider upon the State of the Church; not only to seek a second time relief for the H. Land and its oppressions by infidels, but also to Cement up the breaches of the same church, caused by that unfortunate schism of the Greeks about the Procession of the H. Ghost. 13. times had that perfidious Nation sworn and subscribed in full Council to an open Revokement and disclaim of that schism, and as often had it relapsd to vomit; nor dit it now any whitt less as to both, submission and revolt.  
Further account of this our Saint's journey then meerley of his going I find none: he went, I suppose, in the quality of a private person, because the Record which mentions it specifyes no more: and going as such (Saints do not use to carry any great noise or clutter along with them) he returned when he thought good as silently as he went. And this must probably have happened after the time of his Studies and Graduation; because that past and he commenced, I find he was immediately called to a chair in the same University where having read and presided 16. months the fame of the indicted Council called him away not by any other Summons then those of his own improvement. For pretensions of advancement were as far from his thoughts as they were from his desires or hart: yet honours are like shadows following those that fly from them, and so they did him. For shortly after this his return from the council he was chosen to shine in the Ecclesiastical Magistracy, as he had before in the Schools and secular Tribunals: and how this came to pass must be the subject of the next Chapter.   

XI. CHAPTER. He is made Bishop of Hereford.  
WE have hitherto accompanied our Saint through the private passages of his life, and beheld him for the most part immured as it were, within the walls of the Schools attending chief to the perfecting himself not others. Not but that he hath appeared, and very illustrious too, in the eyes of the world and glories of the Court, when made Lord Chancellor of England he divided justice with such an equal and satisfactory balance to the whole kingdom that none besides himself was glad at the resignment. This was but a forced lending himself to what he could not with stand; or a voluntary admittance of what was put upon him whether he would or no: otherwise if it had been as much according to his gust, as that of the rest of the world, he would neither have so earnestly sought his own release, nor joyed so much in obtaining it, as he did.  
Those great talents and abilities which rendered him so recommendable to this, did the same to Ecclesiastical promotions. It is a prerogrative which God hath annexd to virtue, that it meets, though not always, with many even temporal rewards when it looks the least after them; and indeed who deserves them better, or when they have them can use them with more integrity? His nobility also and great alliance gave no small furtherance: whence it was, that he enjoyed at the same time by dispensation many and fat benefices, all which according to the Collatours' intention he turned not so much to his own interest as to the maintaining and recovering of their rights, upholding privileges, conserving buildings, and relieving the poor of the respective neighbourhood. He was at the same time Canon and Chanter of York, Archdeacon and Canon of lichfield, Archdeacon of Stafford, Canon of London and Hereford: all which I rehearse not as so many Certificates of his Sanctity but as rewards of his merits, and pledges of respect and honour from such Chapters, ambitious to have him a member of the same; and it were to be wished that such were always in their hands who would use them to their improvement.  
While things were in this course, John de Breton a worthy Prelate grovernd the See of Hereford, one well seen both into the Canon and Common-Law of the Land which latter he illustrated with his writings. This man dying in this interim left his chair vacant to a successor, and the care of providing a fit one to the vigi lancy of the Chapter: the carriage of things as to the Election (as we find recorded in the Process of his Canonization) was after this tenor. It chanced while the Chapter was deliberating about that point, S. THOMAS, a canon of the same, though his ordinary Residence were at Londen, was accidentally called down thither upon the score of other affairs. The day prefixd for the election before his coming, happened while he was there, and he as a member thereof, and of great regard both for his virtue learning, and nobility, was desyrd to preach before the Chapter, and so give a happy entrance to the work. All proceeded Canonically according to method, but yet the result of the votes was not so clear and absolute that day as to decide the question; and tell them positively this is the man. The next meeting did it; and all the Chapter by joint decree, saith the Process, did conclude first that the party to be elected should be a THOMAS, and next that the ambiguity of that name should be resolved to the individual THOMAS Cantelupe: whence followed an unanimous acclamation of all, desiring and accepting and voicing him their Bishop. Hence he was carried to the high Altar, and a TE DEUM solemnly entoned by way of thanksgiving with the Universal applause and good liking of all besides himself. For he like one surprised at unawares, and expecting nothing less than what happened, broke forth into tears, bemoand his condition, deprecated the burden, alleged his own insufficiency, and used all the arguments he could divise to reverse the Election. He did as Saints use to do, who measuring themselves by the ell of their own mean-conceytednes, and poising the burden which such a charge draws after it, the eyes of their humility makes them deem themselves weaklings, and the burden like an Aetna insupportable, well knowing what it is to be accountable for so many souls. He did like an humble Saint, and they like a wise and and Sage Chapter, who knows those to be fittest for Prelacy, that are least ambitious of it; and them ablest to answer for others who are most careful over themselves: for he that is known to neglect his own soul, how can it be presumed that he will be vigilant over those of others, since charity begins at home.  
Farr was our Saint from those ambitious motives of preferrment which possess even good souls: and though 
Tim. C. 3●  the Apostle says, he that desires a Bishopric desires a good work, yet great Saints find good reasons why to wave, yea suppress such desires, especially when they find them to arise more from selfseeking than God's honour or the good of souls. No body ought 
Hebr. 5. 4.  to emulate this honour but he that is called by God as Aaron: it is want of interior light that makes many more forward than considerate in this kind; who seeing only by the glimmerings of self-love, (a false light issuing from an ignis fatuus) think that often gay, which has nothing suchbut what it borrows from false reflections. Where as Saints who are of a more refined sight, as seeing things by true lights, and measuring them accordingly by the Weights of the Sanctuary, make a far different estimate, and proceed quite contrary. As we ought not to censure the former unless their Sinister intention and self endednes condemn them first for mercenaries, so we cannot but admire those others who prefer an humble security before a splendid danger, and dread the honour by reason of the burden.  
As the H. Ghost, the great Precedent of the Church and its affairs, presides influentially in all its Canonical Elections, so we cannot doubt but that Fingar 
digitus pat. dextera.  of the Father's right hand, did here as it is his office, inspiringly point out this Shepherd whom he designed to govern that flock, and set up as a light in the Candlestick of the Church of Hereford to shine to all in learning and virtue. That this was an assured Decree of heaven, not only as all Canonical Elections are, but also peculiarly preordaynd by a special providence may be showed both by the whole steerage of his life, whose actions and behaviour seemed to be squared and moulded for such a course, as also by several predictions and prognosticons which intimated the same. The saying of Walter Cantilupe Bishop of Worcester and his kinsman, uttered in our Saint's childhood concerning his future state of life, cited in the 3. Chapter, seems by the event to have been Prophetic, and as such was received by his Parents, who there upon directed the whole education of their child to a perpetual advance in knowledge and piety, the two ornaments and supports of Prelacy. It was no less remarkable what passed while he studied the Law at Orleans, and for his excellency in that science supplied the absence of his Professor. When the night before he was to read, one of his fellow Students beheld him by way of dream not only in the Chair or Pulpit, but also Carrying a Bishop's mitre on his head, the circumference or border whereof was full of Crosses, as ominating that he was to walk by the way of the Cross full of hardship and contradiction. We may add to these a third prediction of his immediate Predecessor, who, two years before his own death and the others election, foretell he should succeed him in his charge.  
The choice being made and ratified to the satisfaction of all, the day and place of his inauguration was pitched on. The day was to be the 8. of Sept. sacred to the Nativity of the Virgin Mother of God, nor could any other have fallen more suitable to his desires, and the devotion he had for that glorious Queen: whose Nativity as it brought a deluge of joy and happiness to all mankind, so he might hope it would betide no ill presage to him, who was now to be borne as it were a new man; and most willingly did he come into this new world under her patronage, under which he was to live and die, as all they do who live and die happily. When he had resolved who was to consecrate him, it was easy to conclude on the place of Confecration: the former resolve was easily made according to his own inclination; for connaturally speaking on whom would he sooner pitch then on him to whom he was most beholding after God for what he had both in literature and piety: who as he had honoured him in his commencement of Doctor of Divinity, so also Crown and complete all with the Character of Episcopacy. This was Robert Kilwarby whom we mentioned in the precedent Chapter, installed now Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of England; who though so great, showed an humble readiness to comply with the desires of his friend in order to a consecration, what soever they were, or where soever to be performed: sealing up, as it were, with this concluding act (for shortly after he was called to Rome) all his former endeavours for the Saints advance in spirit and piety, specifyd in the 4. Chapter: only it is to be noted in a word that the Consecration was made in Christ church Canterbury in the year 1275. and of his age about 56.  
In testimony of the common content received by this Election, and the happiness as well as honour accrueing thence to his See of Hereford, it was agreed by all concerned, both Chapter and succssours, and for an attestation of the general Sentiment, that thence forward all the Bishops of Hereford should give his coat of Arms as the coat of their See, to wit, G. 3. leopards heads jeasant, 3. flouwer de luces Or. So true it is, that honour like a shadow follows those that fly it, and that no pursuit besides contempt is the ready way to its purchase.   

XII. CHAPTER. His Retirement and Union with God.  
THis new Character made him a new man, nor did he look on himself with the same eyes as before: not puffd up like many, with the fumes of a swelling exaltation, but purely on the score of his new Character, beholding himself as one consignd over thereby to the service of God. They are worse than purblind who look only on a man as a mere man, and make no distinction at all of states and callings, being able to penetrate no further than the exterior lineaments, nor distinguish in their levelling humour betwixt a man and a Priest, one with a crosyer and a Sword. Even such themselves, when qualifyd and raised to honours, look on themselves as some body, and will not bate an ace of State; why should not the same be done when raised to a state of Sanctity? Bishops are in a state of perfection, and set up as lights in the candlestick of the church to shine to others, you are, said Christ of them, the light of the 
Mat. 5. 14.  world, nothing not squaring with perfection is expected from them. This consideration makes them reflect on their duty, attend to yourselves and your whole flock, and so did it our 
Act. 20. 28.  B. Saint, giving him subject enough to busy his thoughts on, in order to a due discharge of his trust. Which the better to perform he recalls all his thoughts home, and as he had now contracted a new Espousalle, so he wedded all his endeavours to its interest. A shepherd till he have a flock of his own may divert himself more freely among his neighbours and spend some hours in visiting theirs; but when he himself is once Master of one he attends only to that, and may say, as did the man in the Gospel on another occasion, uxorem duxi & 
I●c. 14. 20.  ideo non possum, etc.  
When God calls one to a state he furnishes him with thoughts, desires, affections suitable thereto; he gives him light to consider it, to ponder its weightynes, to see for what he must be answerable when „ red rationem villicationis 
Luc. 16. 2.  tuae „ calls upon him; All these employ his mind sufficiently, and make him retire with in himself, and consequently with draw from less necessary exterior affairs. He never was in love with the world nor taken with its fooleries, and therefore easily retyrd from it as from what he little cared for: he was long ago like one glutted and surfeyting with its dilights even the choicest of the court, and saw too clearly its vanities to be deluded by them. The more he retyrd into himself, the more he loved Retirement, its sweetness being not known but by tasting it; and one truth he discovered thereby, that a gadding Spirit will never make a Saint, nor wandering thoughts which go all day on wool-gathering bring home much sanctity. He found all in God and contented himself with him alone, as well he might; who to a holy Soul is all in all: and it is in solitude that he speaks to such a hart, where the choicer sort of virtues dwell, not upon Roads or marketplaces; as Lions and Eagles and such generous Creatures are not found in common woods and fields but solitary Wildernesses, where they may rule and enjoy themselves uncontroulld by the vulgar of inferior Creatures. Here upon a great change was observed in him and his conversation; he was, and was esteemed a Saint before, but now more noys'dly; he had long ago the world in contempt, now in hatred.  
What lay not a little heavy on his hart, and was, as I may say, the burden of his thoughts, was his new charge, or the solicitude of its good discharge. To comply duly with this was all his care, and to do it well, a great supply he knew, of virtues was requisite, and those chief which attend such a function. Those he conceived to be in the first place and above others Vigilancy, he being now a Shepherd that was to keep watch and stand Sentinel over his Flock: a virtue so  to one thus entrusted, that on it the whole welfare and safety of the same Flock seems in a manner to depend as to its preservation and integrity, both for the preventing of mischiefs and giving redress when incurred. A vigilant Pastor withstands the incursions of wolves and other beasts of prey, not only when they appear in their  shape, but also disguised in the dress of sheep; nor is it his duty only to prevent and repel evil but also to implant good: It happened when men were a sleep that the enemy man found opportunity to sow tares upon the good wheat and spoil the harvest. To recommend this virtue the high Priest in the old law carried an Amythist enchased in his Rational as a symbol of watchfulness, the nature of that precious stone disposing much thereto: and nature inculcates the necessity of it both by the lions sleeping with open eyes, and the crane with a stone in her talon, not to over sleep themselves, as the foolish virgins did, but be ready for the least alarm; which lesson is taught us by the spouse and may serve for a Motto to all, Ego dormio & cormeum 
Cant. 5. 2.  vigilat. Upon the same score he considered himself not only as the Master of a great family, which he was to feed with the bread of the word of God, and keep in good order as beseemed the House of God; but also (which touched him nearer to the hart) a Common farther of so many children, whom, as such, he was to embrace with the arms of a fatherly charity, and tender their Spiritual welfare as much as any parent, for each one whereof he was to be accountable to him who entrusted them in his hands. This made him put on the bowels of 
Colos. 3. 12.  mercy, benignity, humility, modesty, patience, and bear with the faults and frailtyes of others, becoming all to all that he might win all to Christ. This humble condescendence gave him a powerful ascendant upon the hearts of the good to incline them much towards virtue and piety, and gained him so much esteem in their affections, that his words were, tanquam potestatem 
Matt. 7.  habentis, as of one that spoke with an awful authority. Yet he loved them as his Children and was so beloved by them, and feared accordingly; for that fear is best and most effectual to good which is grounded on and arises from love; when it is otherwise it is not so much filial as servile, that is,  to servants rather than children.  
This Retirement as it sequestered his hart and thoughts from the world and its affairs, so it gave him a fairer prospect of virtue and its anduantages to Christian perfection, and the necessity thereof towards the due ordering both of body and soul. To have all well, there must be a right understanding and subordination betwixt these two: the soul must be Mistress, and good reason why? the body handmaid and subseruient. Reason must command, sense obey; this will not be done but by a true subjection of the inferior man to the Superior; nor that, but by frequent penance and mortification interior and exterior, both in macerating the flesh, and subduing our passions and appetites. To effect this the servants of God make war upon them 
1 Cor. 9 17.  selves by chastizing their bodies, lest while they preach to others, themselves become reprobate, and to this purpose embrace the hardshipps of fasting, watching, hair cloth, and the like to further and complete the conquest of themselves. And this was the practice of our H. Saint as the Recorders of his life and gests do testify, and had also been through his former age, wearing a rough hair cloth next his body for many years together, pennancing his innocent flesh with frequent fasts and watch. But now he frequented all these in so much greater perfection, as he conceived the need he had of their present support to be more pressing, though not to suppress any rebellious mutinies, yet to obtain greater supplies of grace. Yea even in the hour of his death and amidst the encumbrances of a long and tedious journey he was found shrouded in one of these, as in a coat of male against the stings of death: as if he intended, according to the Proverb, „ clavum clavo pellere, to drive out one nail with another, or make a cordial for his sickness of that which seemed as ill as the sickness itself: But Saints esteem those cordials, which we do Corrosives. And his fervour in this kind was such, that by these and other the like austerityes he incurred great infirmities of body, and was much pestered with most sharp fits of the cholique, and pains of the Stomach, which with other sicknesses gave him a full exercise of his patience for many years with no small increase of merit.  
But the vigour of his mind Mastered all these, which served only to render his body or inferior part more pliant and supple in a due subjection, where by his Soul, perfect Mistress of the family, yielded a rational obsequiousness to God its Creator, by dilating itself in prayer, and meditating the divine perfections with the repose of so much devotion and sweetness, that he seemed to be there as in his Centre. And it is recorded of him peculiarly, that his exterior 
Capgrave,  Composure and recollection in the same was such that the very sight of him was sufficient to stir up both faith and fervour in the beholders: as also that in celebrating the H. Sacrifice of Mass, his hart and eyes were so dissolved into tears, as if he had actually beheld the bloody Mystery of the Cross represented to them, so lively was his faith so ardent his devotion. He carried a great love to this exercise of prayer, and deservedly, for by it all spiritual erterprises are achieved, that being the Source from whence we derive both light to discover, and strength to act, and courage to attaque, and perseverance to Crown our undertake. By this a soul converseth with God and he with it; Conversation we know, breeds familiarity, and this friendship or union of hearts; and when one is arrived to that, „ amicorum omnia Communia, what needs he more by way of supply then the store-house of God himself. Union is the result of love, that making the lover and beloved one, and love consists in a matuall Communication of goods and talents; if we give, we need not doubt but we shall receive, his very essence being goodness and bounty. All these are the effects of Prayer, and chief this union which who soever has attained, what wants he of perfection? Perfection consists in charity, which is consummated in unity; for then every thing is deemed perfect when it attaynes its end, and unites itself to that which is its ultimate Consummation; the Consummation of a rational Creature is God, and God is in us and we in him by charity. Being thus united to God by charity, or as S. Bernard calls it, married to his Word, Charitas maritat animam Verbo the sequel is, that as two Spouses are two in one flesh by Corporall espousals, so God and a soul become two in one Spirit by a spiritual: and all the consequences, advantages, participations of honours, riches, ennoblement, alliance, etc. which are Communicated by the other, are after a much more divine manner participated by this. What wonder then if our B. Saint endeavourd so earnestly an union with God, and took prayer so much to hart as the begetter of this union.  
To maintain and heighten the same was all his endeavour; and he endeavourd it by employing to that purpose the 3. powers of his soul memory, understanding and will in a perpetual presence of him. His memory by recounting his great and daily benefits in a thankfulness of hart; his understanding by meditating his divine truths, perfections, and attributes; his will by loving him in all, and conforming his to the divine: and this is the noblest employment of a rational soul and an imitation of what the Saints do in heaven. The more straight he united himself to God the more he did partake of his bounties, who scorns to be out-vy'd by any body in this kind; and this participation increased the flame of his charity, which dilated itself both towards God and his Neighbour, loving God for himself and his neighbour in, and for God, and as himself; and this is the fullness of the Law and prophets. Hence he became so Zealous both of the honour and House of God, which is his Church, and so sensible of the concerns of his neighbour both spiritual and temporal, that he seemed to be borne for their relief, and especially of the poor and needy: of both which parts of charity we shall treat more amply in the ensuing Chapters; and first   

XIII. CHAPTER. Of his Love to the Poor.  
TO think that one so groundedly maximd in perfection and the practice of all solid virtue as he was, would rather impair then improve by his Exaltation, is a paradox. Qui 
Apoc. 22. 11.  sanctus est sanctificetur adhuc, who is holy let him advance in holiness, said S. John, and so says every truly virtuous soul, whose glory is to be always mounting with the sun to the top of his Meridian. All our Saint's ambition and satisfaction was in a happy progress towards perfection, knowing that as to its pursuit we are, as it were, in a stream where there is no standing still for the Rower, not to ascend is to descend, and to go backward not to go forward. Even while he was yet a Churchman or Canon he was very much devoted to alms deeds and the relief of the poor; how much was this pious practice advanced when by the imposition of hands he had received the H. Ghost who is Father of the 
Veni Pater patiperum  poor, and made him such: but whether before or after matters not, the virtue being equally commendable in both states, and we will speak promiscuously of it in both.  
Though good words give but barren comfort to an empty stomach yet still it is true, that out of the abundance of the hart the mouth speaks, and then they are only expressions of a willing mind: and however even a Compassionate answer is in some sort satisfactory. The poor were sure at least of that from him, if nothing else, though he seldom stinted his charity there: and as he esteemed them the Patrimony of Christ so he spoke with all humility and respect to them, as he would to Christ himself, knowing that to be done to him which was done to the least of his members. Upon this account the esteem he had of them was such that he commonly called them his Brothers (a name of greatest love) and with his good will would have had all his domestics to have called them so too, and chidd them that they did not. Whence it is recorded that being set at table with half a dozen such guests, and finding yet place for more, he sent one of the waiters to the Palace gate te see whether any of his Brothers were there or no; if there were, that he should bring a couple of them along with him. He returning told his Lord there were no Brothers of any Order what soever; No, said the Bishop, not of this that sits here by me, pointing to the beggars: yes, my Lord, replied he, there are at least a dozen such; go then, said he, and bring 5. of the number along with you, which was forth with done, & impletae sunt 
Matt. 22. 10.  Nuptiae discumbentium.  
But words be they never so good are still inferior to deeds, these latter being a better proof of charity as costing more, and aftording more relief. This was the substantial part of his love to the poor, and he was not sparing of it: he had, to wit, learnt the great lesson of his Lord and Master beatius est 
Act. 20. 35.  magis dare quam accipere, it is a more blessed thing to give then to take; and he was resolved to practise it in this behalf. The recommendation of his own merits and noble descent had furnished him with a large proportion of Church Revenues even before the access of his Bishopric, which, besides a competency of maintenance beseeming his quality, and the discharge of other incumbencyes, he knew not how to bestow better then on the poor. He knew that the goods of the Church are the Patrimony of Christ, and where could he spend them better than on the living members of Christ, either to his own content of mind or satisfaction of conscience. This is the way to grow rich in heaven, and make friends of the Mammon of iniquity, 
Luc. 16. 9  that, when other means fail, these may receive us into the eternal tabernacles: nay even procure us temporal Commodities, since alms deeds laid up in the bosom of the poor (this is the best way of honouring our Lord by 
Prou. 2. 10.  them) fill both the press with wine, and barns with Corn, and the almes-giver with other blessings. He in deed had no great sins of his own to redeem by them, as having probably never lost his baptismal innocence, but he aimed at a treasure of merits due to such works of Corporal mercy, and was to be laid up in heaven against his reception there, out of the reach of rust or moth. Hence he took this virtue so to hart that it was very resplendent in his practice, and the poor resorted to him as to a common parent from whom they never departed empty handed. He found it no bad medium to work by the body upon the Soul; and true, that to gain this, charity must be showed to that: an indisposed body is like an indisposed mind, hard to be wrought upon while necessitous; fill the hand and you gain the hart, now flexible to any good impressions. Our corrupt nature is more sensible of hunger then of devotion, and ressents want of sustenance more than want of virtue or grace. It is as hard to hammer it to good as a piece of iron to a good shape unless it be first made supple by the fire of a subventive charity, this done you may form it as you please: Works of Corporal mercy must dispose for the spiritual. Therefore his custom was to seek admittance to the mind by relieving the body, and made it a part of his care to order things so, that while he refreshd this, that should not also want its food, partly by pious discourses and godly instructions, partly by causing some good book to be read suitable to the present exigence.  
To this so laudable and holy practice of his former life, he seems to have superadded this Circumstance after his Episcopal instalment, that what he did before in this kind by others, he would now do by himself, and with his own hands. This is particularly recorded of him, and deservedly worth noting, as a great super additional to the former virtue; for how could he employ his hands now Consecrated to God more piously then by consecrating them to such an exercise of charity? What is laudably done by another is more laudably by ourselves: God does 
Psal. 144. 16.  it by himself as the Psalmist tells us aperis tu manum tuam & imples omne animal benedictione thou opens they hand and fills each Creature with benedictions; the sun sends not a servant, nor the heavens also, to divide their influences to this sublunary world: besides that thus not only an act of charity but also of humility, and no mean one, is exercisd. It's good to give alms by others, but much better to do it by himself as more meritorious: one has the merit both of the alms, and of the manner of giving it, and the manner in some respect even doubles it: for who thinks not himself more graced by receiving a gratuity immediately from the Prince's own hand then from his servant: the more immediate the influence, the more it is prized. For these reasons it is accounted a praise worthy practice in parents, when they do it not themselves, to inure their children, a part of themselves, to be the Conueyers of their alms, unless other motives impede: it has not only a more Comfortable acceptance both from God and man, but also it habituates or rather seasons these new vessels, capable as yet of any tincture, with such a flavour of charity, that many times it sticks by them their whole life long. And perchance our B. Saint took his from such a rise of devotion, or document of his pious Parents, and grew up with him so palpably that of him it might be-sayd without rashness, ab infantiâ crevit 
Job. 31. 18.  mecum miseratio.  
How ever certain enough it is that the practice is very Christian, and much to be recommended, due circumstances being observed: and even while I am reviewing these papers a fresh example for its Confirmation comes from the Emperor's Court at Vienna with the acclamation, approbation and also edification of all that hear it. The little daughter of the present Emperor Leopold (piety being always hereditary to that Imperial family, which God long preserve) feasted a competent number of poor children of her own age and sex, nor content with this, to complete the charity, would serve them with her own hands. To wit, she and her noble Parents deemed it nothing unworthy either of themselves or her, to serve God in his meanest members; as being ascertaind of the truth of these words Matt. 25. what you do to one of these little ones you do to me. This I allege to show that parents need not be shy or nice in point of apprehending it a disparagement, since they see it practised by one of the most illustrious of the world: But it suffices to have hynted this.  
While he was in the Universityes (and in them he spent the greatest part of his years) his charity vented itself in a particular manner upon the relief of poor Students, thereby to enable them to a prosecution of their Studies. This was seen chief in relieving the hungry, clothing the naked, and providing necessaries for those in distress, who must otherwise have interrupted their course both to their own and the undoeing of many. It's most charity to help them who probably are like to be most beneficial to the public good, and consequently greatest promoters of charity: who having been sustained by it have learnt by experience and their own wants what it is to be charitable to others, non aliena mali miseris succurrere disco. And what fairer way towards this enablement than a good foundation of learning upon which the superstructures of preferrment may be built both in Church and Commonwealth by employments Spiritual and temporal: whence he might say, I by my charityes have enabled so many, and put them in a Capacity to do the same to others: and I think every one will applaud his placing them so well. Upon this score of love to the poor he was more ready at all times to hear their Confessions then those of the better sort, who could never want Ghostly Fathers, and those that would be forward to assist them, while those of a meaner condition were easily put by, though not by him who equally beheld Christ in all, and knew not what acception of persons signified. This was so remarkable in him, that a person of quality, who measured all by a worldly ell, objected it as a discredit to his birth and calling; but received no other answer then this: I must be accountable to Alm. God the great Judge, as well for the poor as the rich, ignoble as noble.  
To this he added another but in another kind, yet still to the poor; and with as much or more demonstration of love and devotion as the former. For who more poor than those who are deeply in distress, and cannot help themselves in the very least; those whom the H. Ghost calls by the Psalmist 
Psal. 40 2.  antonomastically THE POOR and needy, and gives not one but many blessings to those that are sensible of their necessitous condition. I mean the souls in Purgatory, who are a great object of charity, and beg compassion with a „ miseremini mei „ and they must be hard hearted that are not moved, since it will be one day theyrowne case. It is recorded of him, that even while Bishop if in travelling he met with a coarse, he presently lighted from his horse and together with all his train said on his knees a „ de profundis „ for the soul departed. So true it is that he was a lover of the poor both living and dead.   

XIV. CHAPTER. His Charity to all, and Detestation of Detraction.  
THe former Chapter gave us a scantling of his love and Charity to the Poor; this, indifferently to all. Virtue's as well as causes, the more Universal, they are also the more perfect, as most resembling those of the Saints in heaven. Charity is a fire whose activity is still dilating itself where it finds fuel to feed on: it knows no bound but discretion, and many times scarce that, though it ought always to be orderly; but it uses as little to keep a mean, as it is of its own nature much Communicative. S. THOMAS his hart was a heaven, and the Sun of this heaven was charity, as influential as any heaven, and as pure and simple as free from all self ended composition: like the Sun it regarded all equally without acception of persons, having latitude of hart to embrace all, and each one in their  quality both noble and ignoble, rich and poor. This Sun like our Material one rise equally to the good and bad, just and unjust: to the former for their improvement; to the latter for their amendment, beneficial to all, affording both light and heat by word and example: and as he loved all, so was he beloved generally by all, love as naturally exciting love as benefits do gratitude.  
It might truly be verifyd of him what 
1. Cor. 16. 14.  the Apostle so earnestly recommended to the Corinthians, „ Omnia vestra in charitate fiant „ that all their devoyrs should be done in charity, and so were all his actions, all his words and proceed: as issuing from a hart all made of charity they carried its relish and perfume, like the plants of Arabia faelix, because rooted in that parfumed soil, they did partake thence of the same fragrant odours. And to this purpose it was deposed in the Process of his Canonization that his daily conversation was such, that not the least excess either in word or gesture, yea though highly provoked thereto, could be discovered or forced from him contrary to charity. Causes are known by their effects and trees by their fruits: the fruits of charity and the H. Ghost, 
Gal. 5. 2●.  whose prime issue it is, are recounted by the Apostle among others to be patience, benignity, meekness, a peaceful disposition; and that he was eminently practised in all these, we shall make evident by examples. He looked on patience as the virtue in which he was to possess his soul, and for that reason was so deeply rooted in it, that no wind or weather by word or deed could shake its Constancy, or render him the least impatient: yea all the retaliation 
Rom. 12. 20.  he used to make was to pray for them, heaping thus the hit cowls of charity upon their head and overcoming evil in good, as most beseeming a Christian. He had divers controversyes relating to his Church with Friar John Peccham then Archbishopp of Canterbury which cost our Saint afterwards a journey to Rome; and what ever passed in fact, he had but hard measure in words, being treated with contumelious language and in a high degree: yet he did not so much as repine thereat, nor suffer any of his to recriminate in the least. These 3. proppertyes of charity, patience, meekness, and benignity, are so nearly allied and linkd together, that for brevityes sake we may treat them all under one, they being as it were twins of the same Mother, most like as in nature so infeatures, and consequently what Commends the one Commends the other.  
I have already exemplifyd in the 7. Chapter how patiently, while yet Chancellor of the University he carried himself in that bustle betwixt the Southern and Northern Scholars in an affront as contemptuous as could be put upon him; yet he never complained of the insolency, much less sought revenge, contenting himself with the merit of his patience: and this not out of any pusillanimity or want of courage, for he, as being of a vigorous spirit, had enough of that, but merely overswayed with motives of virtue he put all up, fullfilling what God bid him, mihi vindictam & ego retribuam 
Heb. 10 30.  leave revenge to me and I will see it repaid. He had a great suit at law with the Earl of Gloucester and his Officers, from whom in the open Court he received many unhandsome and reviling speeches little beseeming either him or them: all he said by way of reply was this, and he did it with much meekness; My Lord, say what you please of me, you shall never provoke me to say any thing against you misbeseeming; that's not the thing I come for, but to recover the rights of my Church. Yea this virtue of a patiented meekness was so remarkable in him, that if any of his servants, no just cause being given, fretted impatiently at his commands, his custom was to humble himself first to them towards a reconcilement, as if he, not they, had been in fault, giving them sweet and mollifying words, to show thereby that all was forgot and forgiven, as not proceeding from passion or spleen. While he lived at Paris, 4. jeers before he was Bishop, he had a Clerk in his Retinue who had this custom that, taking his after noon nap, whoever awaked him out of it, he would, half a sleep as he yet was, thank him with his fist and that very liberally with many a blow. It chanced one day, no other being at hand, that his Master, unacquainted with this ill habit, went himself to be his Caller; nor did he far better than others used to do: to wit, the man not fully himself fell on his Master, and among others gave him a shroud blow on the side. The Saint nothing moved or offended here with made only this short reply; take heed Child, what you do, it is a Priest whom you beat. Other examples of this nature might be alleged to show the absolute Mastery he had over his passions, standing Lord paramount to their Control when ever there was danger of over lashing, and what greater sign of an eminent sanctity?  
Charity is always as peaceful, so a peacemaker, in as much as it Ciments up all breaches, and concludes all in unity: and he took this much to hart as knowing that a beatitude was annexd to it, Blessed are the Peacemakers. 
Matt. 5. 9  He not only had no enmity with any one living, but made it his endeavour to piece up all discords wherever he found them, and reconcile parties to a true understanding of mutual charity. As to himself or his own person it was impossible to fix a quarrel upon him, he esteeming no loss greater than that of charity, and would part with any thing rather than infringe it. He knew not what it was to bear hatred or ill will; and to prevent all grounds of mistake in this kind which might be occasioned by ill mannagement of affairs, he used always to have able Lawyers and discreet Counsellors about him, by whose prudence and skill he so regulated his exterior judicial actions, that no place by such a prevention was left for Controversyes. Nor was he content to have them about him, but every day as soon as divine Office was ended he called them to Consult and scannd every cause which was to be decided. This must needs contribute much to peace, and such an upright prudential proceeding to the maintaining of charity: nor was he content with this care but over and above he burdened their Consciences, and taxed them with it if he found any false dealing among them. All the Controversyes he had with others were not on his own score but on the behalf of his Church, and consequently not to be deemed his own but hers: though in other respects he were a lamb, yet in her defence he was a Lion, and feared no colours or opposition what soever, nor refused either labour or danger for the preservation of her immunityes. Upon this account he undertaken a journey to Rome which cost him his life, nor could any temporal power, how formidable soever, appall him when he found justice his a bettour: in this a true imitator of his glorious Patron S. THOMAS of Canterbury; which his magnanimity since it is to be the subject of the next Chapter, I will say no more here then only to refer the reader to it.  
Now as charity had made him her victim, and as such a perfect holocaust of love, no wonder if loving it so entirely he hated as heartily its opposite and Rival detraction. The horror he bore to that vice was so signal that all the Writers of his life take notice of it, and in such expressions of aversion that greater can hardly be invented. And indeed how could these bowels all made of love do other wise then abhor its destructive, a compound made up of malice and envy? It is a murderer of its neighbours good name, a Robber of his merit and praise, a thief that's always pilfering something, a poisonous breath that seeks to blast what's not its own, a mere lump of self love repining at another's prosperity: He learnt this lesson of the great S. AUSTIN, who as he was charitably hospitable so he excluded none from his table besides the detractor, as the noted distich which he put up to that purpose doth testify. Our B. Saint as he perfectly detested this vice in himself, so he could not endure it in any of his domestics; nor did he omit, when he found them faulty, to give a severe reprehension. One of his Chaplans having been present at a passage betwixt the Archbishop Peccham and him, where in the Saint seemed to receive hard dealing both as to words and deeds, the Chaplain in time of table Complaining of it begann to inveigh against the court of Rome for its negligence in providing able and fit Prelates to govern thyer flocks, with much more than needed to that purpose. His Lord was presently moved thereat, and giving him a check wished him to speak more reverendly and charitably of all, and chief of his Superiors and betters.  
It may be expected that treating of his charity to all, some thing should be said of it in order to God, whom it regards in the first place. It is this love chief which is the fullfilling of the Law and prophets, by which we love God above all, and our Neighbour as ourself in and for God; so that this latter part of the Law Cannot subsist without the former on which it depends. As his whole life was, as I may say, one continued or vninterrupted act of charity towards God, by which he was incessantly not only tending towards him but alsoe united to him in his divine grace as will appear by the review of his vertves; so an ample scope of matter Cannot fail him that would dilate himself on this subject (for what are all moral virtues but so many issues or shoots of charity their root?) yet at present we will rather suppose this virtue of virtues than go about to prove it, and leave it to be drawn by the reader rather from his other perfections than make a formal draught of it; praising it perchance as much or more by an admiring silence then extenuating expressions: for what are the Commendatoryes of our words, to the lively colours of his virtues? Besides we shall have occasion to say something of it when we treat of his piety and devotion, true gennuine children of this Mother.   

XV. CHAPTER. His Courage in defence of Ecclesiastical Libertyes.  
THe Church is the Bride of Christ espoused at the expense of his precious blood, dearer to him then his life, and who ever touches her to wrong her touches the apple of his eye. For her defence and propagation he settled a Hierarchy, in which he gave some Apostles, some Doctors, others Pastors; for the work of the Ministry and edification of this his Mystical body. In this Hierarchy, Ministry, edification, Bishops as the immediate successors of the Apostles Carry the first rank both in governing and feeding: in feeding is regarded the wholesomeness of the fodder and pasturage, in governing, direction and protection; and both these require that he be a true Shepherd not a hireling, and seek the good of his flock, not himself. If the hireling see a wolf Coming, saith the best of Sheapards, 
Joan. 10. 12.  he runs away because he is a hireling; while the good Shepherd exposes his life for his sheep, shunning neither pains nor danger for their safety and behoof; and so did our B. Saint, proving himself a good Shepherd indeed. His love to his espoused Church was as tender as aught to be to his own Spouse, now a Spiritual part of himself and the Spouse of Christ, and he embracd her as such, and together with her espoused all her Concerns whatsoever; and this is no more than is ordinarily done even in Corporal Marriages. It was his devoir to prove himself a faithful Menager of the family he was entrusted with all, and a valiant maintainer of all its possessions, privileges, Libertyes, immunityes, that in none of them it might suffer prejudice. This he took to hart exceedingly, as deeming it the prime part of his charge, resolved to expose and oppose himself as a wall for the House of God: and what we are to relate will show that he failed not in his resolution, sealing it even with the loss of his life; and what greater pledge of his fidelity?  
It had been the deplorable misfortune of our poor Country, that for many years, successively and by fits, it had been involved in an unnatural intestine war, which as it caused great Confusion in the civil state, so did it no little in the Ecclesiastical. In such times of liberty, abuses easily creep in, an unjust invasion being much sooner committed than redressd; for when the sword gives Law, it's in vain for the Crosyer to plead Conscience, or preach Restitution, a language little understood in in civil garboils. The weakest, they say, go always to the walls, and so does the Church as least able in such occasions to defend itself, since it cannot nor must not repel force by force; and so to redeem vexation is compelled to part with her right especially when the invaders are powerful. This was the case of the See of Hereford when our Saint entered upon it: it had been unjustly outed of divers large possessions, and, what made the Recovery harder, the possessors had quiettly enjoyed them divers years, even in time of peace, when the laws had their Course; his two predecessors knowing well the equity of their cause, but despairing to prevail against such potent adverfaryes; One whereof was the King's Sonn-in-law Gilbert Earl of Gloucester, another Lewellin Prince of Wales, and a third Roger Lord Clifford, besides the Archbishop of Canterbury and others.  
Our H. Saint having maturely considered all this, though he found the task very hard, yet relying on the equity of his plea, deemed himself bound, unless he would betray his trust, to attempt the recovery of these Lands. His courage was such that in God's cause he feared no colour of greatness, nor multitude of opposers; and why should he, since he was armed with the armour of the just, a true armour of prooff? having justice or a good Conscience for his 
Sap. 5. 20.  breast plate piece, sincere judgement for his helmett, and equity for an invincible shield. Courage and magnanimity is never better seconded then by virtue and sanctity, and a good cause; when these make the onsett, be the opposition what it will, they Carry all before them. Of his own nature he was so averse from suits or contrasts, that he would sooner have yielded up his private right to an adversary than sought to regain it by Law; in what belonged to his Church he could not, it being not his own but Gods who required it at his hands. But to moderate and facilitate all, the best he could, the first essay he made was a modest and peaceful claim of his right proposing an agreement on reasonable terms, and in case it were refused, a ready offer of a Reference; if that were rejected too, than he left the matter to a trial at law, in which he played the Solicitor so well, and was so diligently watchful, that he would be present at the decision though he were carried in a litter. This conscientious proceeding grounded on an equitable right, driven on by a studious attendance, made him never fail to win his plea.  
Hence such was the opinion which every one conceived of his zeal and courage in behalf of his Spouse or Church, that, during the time of 7. years which he sat in its Chair, no body durst presume to offer the least encroachment on its immunityes, knowing well that to offer such a thing were to awake a sleeping Lion. But this was not enough, his love and magnanimity aimed at a recovery of what was unjustly invaded and detained: in which behalf though the endeavours of his immediate predecessors Peter and John, had been little successful, being over powered with might, he also would try his chance, and began with the greatest first. Wherefore after a legal claim laid to Malbume Chase and other lands and woods there to adjoining, wrongfully withheld by Gilbert de Clare Earl of Gloucester, nor receiving any satisfactory answer towards a restitution, he commenced a suit against him, and followed it so close, that notw ithstanding all his greatness and countenance from the King, clear justice was ready to give verdict on his behalf. The Court was held near or upon the place controverted, and the Earl had armed men together with his Foresters, in case of being cast, to keep possession by force: and seeing things brought to this pass besought the King for a suspension of the final Sentence, which was granted. All this nothing abashd the H. Bishop; who going a side to gather with his Clergy into the wood, put himself in his Episcopal Robes, and them in theirs with lighted tapers; thus going before them he came to the place where the Judges together with the Earl made their abode; where the Candles being put out, he solemnly pronouned a sentence of Excommunication against all and every one who that day hindered and molested his and the Church of Hereford's right in the said woods and forest. This done, the Earl perceived who he had to deal withal, and presently, taking horse departed: nor was he sooner gone then the Judges proceeded to give sentence, and that given, the Bishop caused his servants to hunt as in his own libertyes through the same Chase to Regain possession; and he himself for the same purpose walked over the bounds, unarmed as he was, though it were not done without danger of his life. For divers of the Earls men obstinately persisting to maintain the quarrel, shot at random very near his person without any respect or reverence had thereto: one of whom more injurious than the rest he threatened with the divine revenge; and the same person shortly after, saith the Record, was miserably drowned, the Common voice of all going that it was a just punishment for his contemptuous carriage towards the Saint, and well for him if only a temporal.  
He proceeded much after the same fashion with Lewellin Prince of Wales, and to excommunication also, for unjustly detaining 3. villages situated near Montgomery belonging to the said his See. Who lying thus under the Censure came with the King, as fearing nothing under his shadow, into a Church where the Saint was going to Say Mass. He espied the Excommunicated person, and without further compliment warned him as such out of the Church: the King himself interpossd for his stay; but all would not do, nor he begin till the other had absented himself, nor could he be admitted into Communion before due satisfaction was performed. He was in like manner forced to use the same rigour both spiritual and temporal against some Welshmen who had usurped 3. villages of his Territory and defended them by strong hand, till proceeding to the like censures he frighted them into a restitution. Roger Lord Clifford a Neighbourer upon his Diocese had trenched so far upon the same in time of war as to drive bootyes of cattle and use extorsions upon some of the diocesans. He was too noble minded to deny the fact or put the H. Bishop to the prooff of it, but now willing to restore, all his endeavour was to make satisfaction in private by some Composition without undergoing the confusion of a public, and to obtain this he offered underhand no small sum of money. He knew not with whom he had to do, nor the principle, it seems, that a public fault must have a public penance: the offence being notorious, a private atonement could not be admitted, nor the scandal taken away till he in person in the Church of Hereford appearing in a penitential weed, barehead and barefoot, went in procession up to the high Altar itself, the Bishop following with a rod in his hand and according to the canons striking him.   

XVI. CHAPTER. His journey to Rome and entertainment there.  
THe last contest he had and which cost him dearer than the rest, as going more against the hair, (for he loved not debates with superiors) was with his Metropolitan john Peccham, Archbishop of Canterbury; a man of great learning and ability and a worthy Prelate, as grave Authors do testify of him. Nor is either he or our Saint to be the worse thought off for this their variance, since good and wise men may be of a different judgement, as to matters of right or fact, until a just umpyre decide the controversy; till then both the Plaintiff and Defendant may inculpably by course of law seek their right.  
This john Peccham succeeded Robert Kilwarby in the Chair of Canterbury; with whom he carried this reference, that as the other had been Provintiall of the H. Order of S. Dominick and thence chosen to that See, so this of S. Franciss; both signally eminent in knowledge and virtue, both great lights of their respective bodies. This john, his years of Government being expyrd, travelled through the Universityes of Italy to his great improvement, and lastly to Rome, where the forerunning fame having given a large character of his eminent parts he was in short time made by the Pope then sitting Auditor or chief judge of his Palace: in which employment he continued till upon the Promotion of Robert to his cardinalship, he succeeded him in his Archbishopric.  
No Record that I could meet withal give us any further account of this controversy, then that it was Ecclesiastical, and relating to the privileges and immunityes of private Sees, on which the Archbishop was thought to trench. A Council was held by him at Pedding; in the which he is said to have laid some injunctions on the particular Sees under his jurisdiction prejudicial to their libertyes and beyond the verge of his power, as was conceived; nor were they peculiar to that of Hereford, but jointly common to all that acknowledged him their Metropolitan. And though they were equally concerned, yet no one besides our Saint had the courage to undergo borh the labour and expenses and hazards that were annexd to such an undertaking. They were sure to have a very powerful adversary, the cause was to be tried in the court of Rome, for that end a journey thither was necessary, and a good purse to defray its charges; all which considered and the doubtfulness of the success, made the rest of the Bishops hold off and rather be content to sit still loser's in what they deemed their right, then to incur such encumbrances in seeking redress. This was the state of the question, and in this posture things stood when S. THOMAS weighing maturely the encroachment on their privileges and its consequences on one side, and the justice of the cause, of which he was throughly satisfied, on the other, resolved to lend his best endeavours, and spare neither pains nor cost for rectifying what was a miss, though it should cost him a journey to Rome.  
Those very motives which daunted the other Bishops were to him so many incentives; he vnderualued all labours, he contemned all dangers, and for what end were the Revenues of the Church allowed him, but for his own and the maintenance of the Church and her prerogatives? All this arose from the Zealous love he had for his spouse, much dearer to him then Rachel to Jacob; for whose preservation he neither feared to dye nor refussd to live and serve through heats and colds night and day another 7. years if so it pleased Alm. God. And finding that for the good mannagement of his suit a journey to Rome was necessary, since it could neither be determined else where, nor there well without a personal attendance, which is the life and vigour of such dependences, he resolved upon the fame, though now well struck into years, and often incumberd with great fits of sickness; both the one and other whereof might justly have pleaded his excuse, could his charity have admitted any. As in this he discharged his own conscience, so was his resolution accompanied with the acclamations of all sorts of people, extolling his courage and zeal now, as afterwards they doubted not to ascribe to it all the miracles which God was pleased to work by him, styling him a Martyr like S. THOMAS of Canterbury, as losing his life in defence of his Church, as shall be more fully showed in the next Chapter.  
He took his journey from England through Normandy, and making some stay in the Abbey of Lira in the Diocese of Eureux, this which I am to recount happened during that interim, nor must be ommitted as being a testimony of his present sanctity. A child of 3. years old wont to play with other children before the Abbey gates, falling into a brook which ran thereby, was drowned; the Child's Parents well known to the Saint gave him to understand the misfortune befallen them, to whom he said no more than these few words, the child by God's assistance will live; and stretching forth his hand towards the place, made there on the sign of the Cross. In the mean while the father of the Child taking it out of the brook found it stark dead, full of water and sand, no sign either of life or motion remaining in it: he opened the mouth with a knife and letting the water out to a great quantity, to omit no endeavour he chafed the body though hopeless of life before the fire. His endeavour found effect; life returned and motion appeared, and in a competency of time all came to its natural pass to the great astonishment of all present. The recovery was held even then miraculous, but to whom to ascribe the Miracle they knew not, and to S. THOMAS they durst not, though even then venerable for his Sanctity, yet his humility could not brook such extraordinaryes. But afterwards when the fame and number of his wonders was divulged through France itself, the father of the child before the Lords Commissioners upon the Saints making the sign of the Cross, and uttering the aforesaid words, deposed, that he verily believed life was restored by his merits and intercession.  
He began his journey in or about the 60. year of his age, and not with standing his bodily infirmities arrived there safe and well, Nicolas the 4. sitting then in the Chair of S. Peter. How welcome both the quality of his person, and character of degree made him is needles to insist upon, besides the fame of sanctity as well as knowledge which accompanied him; nor must we omit the supperadditionall of being Chaplain to his Holiness conferred heretofore upon him in the Council of Lions. Saints carry always with them Letter-Patents of a grateful Reception, and it is one of the temporal rewards of sanctity, especially where it is in vogue and has its due respect; which if it be not regardable in the holy city where will it? The court of Rome is the great Patronizer and promoter of Sanctity, where it is as in its centre; which though trampled upon else where, here finds redress, where it has as many assertors as it has persons of eminency, such as have an aim to rise by its Commendatoryes. Virtue is praise worthy even in an enemy, it's own native beams and intrinsecall worth rendering it so, how much more when it shines in its  hemysphere enuironnd with lights to set it off, not as foils but like the Moon among her stars. No body prizes virtue more highly than the virtuous, its worth being best known to such, and none Commends it more than those that practise it, its commendation consisting not so much in words as in deeds. It is ignorance that makes the world contemn it, who if they knew its pricelesses value would sell all to purchase it. This present Pope was a Frenchman by birth, who besides other great parts where with Nature had endowd him, was so far favoured by grace, as to be eminent in sanctity of life; in attestation whereof after death his sepulchre was graced with many Miracles, the blind, lame, and dumb finding there a present cure. Now what wonder if one Saint give another an honourable reception? this is no more than to give virtue its due; and from whom may that be more justly expected then from Saints?  
The legality of Appeals to Rome in Church affairs when a decision cannot be had in an inferior court, is ratifyd by the custom and practice of all nations and ages: to her all fly as to a common and disinteressd Mother who holds the weights of the Sanctuary, and without bias and partiality divides a distributive justice according to equity. This is no more than to appeal from an inferior court to a superior, which the course of justice deems lawful; nor indeed in our present controversy which was betwixt a Bishop and his Primate could any other court give a final verdict. To it therefore our Saint appealed, and in prosecution of it made his long journey; and as he was always happy in this that he undertook nothing but upon mature advice and circumspection, grounded on the sound judgement of wise Councillors so he seldom or never miscarried in any cause, but all being well digested the very laying it open proved its decision. Yet a legal course of law was to be observed, and things by degrees brought to an issue; and his was such as he desyrd, that is, an enjoyment of the rights he was invested in by the decrees of former Popes, without suffering any infringement therein by his Metropolitan, who had not power to explicate Papal Constitutions, as our Saint objected to him in the fore mentioned Council of Redding, and upon his own explication to lay a claim. Where all proceeds according to rigour of justice, favour pretends no place, nor did it here further, then to obtain a quick dispatch and removal of those delays, which render law-suites both costly and tedious. This was all the favour that was or could be showed him, and he took it for no mean one; longing as he did after a speedy return, his hart being at home, where was also the chiefest of his concerns, while the rest of his body was at Rome. He did, 'tis true, by an interior union of mind enjoy God every where having long habituated himself in the same, but yet his content was in Recollection: he loved not the Ceremonious visitts of courts nor the loss of time that's made in them, they being toylsomly fruitless and fruitlessly toilsome; while he was Lord Chancellor he felt the smart of that, and the surfeyt caused then, made him less able to digest them all his life after. Yet to omit them would have been deemed a solecism against civility, and argued at the best a stoical sanctity; therefore who can blame a servant of God if he endeavour to withdraw himself out of the concourse of such courtshipps: He that touches pitch shall be defiled by it.   

XVII. CHAPTER. Of his Return homewards, and death on the Way.  
Having thus obtained a favourable dispatch and taken leave of that great court, he put himself with joy upon the way as to himself, though he left it in a kind of regrett for his departure, and the privation of the sweet odour of his sanctity caused thereby: What is admired as present is regretted as absent, nor do we ordinarily know the worth of things better than by their privation. It cannot be prudently doubted but that according to his settled practice of piety, during the space of his abode there, he left many monuments both of his Wisdom and Sanctity most richly worth recounting had they come to our knowledge. But since they do not we must rather content ourselves with a patiented silence, than discourse upon less groundless conjectures, contenting ourselves that all is registered in the book of life or Annals of heaven to be publishd at the day of judgement. Nor can I doubt but according to the usual strain of sanctity, which has for its motto, „ ama nesciri, love Concealment, he played the silent Eagle, not the talkative parrot, and that the course of his virtuous actions the more profound they were the more silent like deep rivers and with less noise did they imperceptibly flow, and therefore no wonder if they escapd the record.  
Having put himself on his journey as soon as the heats would permit, all his endeavours now, after Alm. God, were to render it as speedy as he could; much rejoicing in the success of his negotiation, and longing earnestly to make the concerned neighbouring Churches at home, as well as his own, partake of the same. Thus do the Wisest many times project according to humane reasons and motives, while reckoning, as I may say, without their host, they propose and God disposes. Little did he dream that his journey was destined to a better home, and himself designed not for new labours but a fruition of the past, the evening being at hand when the Master of the Vineyard was to call his Workman to receive his hire, and invite him into the joys of our Lord; a thing if not sought for yet always welcome as being the much better home. He was resigned for life and death putting both in the hands of God; and having learnt to possess his soul in patience, he was not solicitous to die soon or live long, but to live and die well; which latter can be done but once, and gives the upshott to all.  
He was now in the Clymactericall year of his age 63. and his crazy body was worn out with former labours, and not only what he now did but what he had done these divers years was more by the vigour of his spirit then Corporal strength. This is a thing  to holy souls who measuring their ability, as indeed they ought, rather by the former than the latter, make this against its will keep pace with that, as hath been observed in S. Basil, S. Gregory and others, and either by Communicating a new force, or rejecting the sleeules' excuses of self love, or by a special blessing of God they do wonders in this kind. This vigorous resolution had now brought him as far as the state of Florence, and in it to a place known by the name of Monte Fiascone; but its stock or viaticum being spent could carry him no further. Here his debility destitute of vitals for a reinforcement, caused a distemper, that was heightened to a fever, this in its accesses, as a certain fore runner of death by its symptoms, told him that the days and ways of his pilgrimage would shortly be ended, and so they were, in not very many hour's Compass, all its periods concluding in one point, to wit, Alm. God, in whose sight the death of Saints is precious. Now we must look on him a while as death's victim, and learn of him how to die well, which is one of the most important arts in the world, for what avails it if we gain the whole universe and suffer shipwreck of our own Souls. This maxim was the study of his whole life, and on it all his principles were grounded, and so well, that he was not a frayed to look death in the face; he regarding it no otherwise then as a passage to a better life: and therefore amidst all its appalements he sat upon its Couch as the Phoenix on her pile of spices, expecting that the same flames which consumed his body should renew his soul to a better and immortal life.  
Of this his passage I shall say no more than I find upon authentic Record, the Process of his Canonization: reflecting on two things; first, his preparation to it, secondly the sequels of it. And as to the former, when he perceived that the evening of life was in a great decline and its sun near upon setting, though his whole life had been nothing else but a preparation to death, or disposition to the sleep of Saints, by which they rest in our Lord; yet the nearer it approached, the more it awaked him to a discharge of his last duties. And therefore with hart and eyes fixed on heaven, the first of his desires, according to the Rites of H. Church, were the last Sacraments or Viaticum of that great journey, doing himself as he had taught others to do in that passage. These are Confession, Communion, and Extreme Unction which as no good Christian doth omit, so no good servant of God, but has them in esteem and veneration, and the greater, the better insight they have into the Concerns of their soul and its happy passage. Having thus provided for the substantial part, all the rest of his minutes were let out at the highest exchange, and he, unmindful of all worldly things, invokd the Spirit both of life and light by a „ Veni Creator Spiritus, to be assistant to him in this last conflict against the Spirits of Darkness, when both life and light lie at the Stake. This done he armed himself with the sign of the cross or ensign of Christianity as formidable to the infernal powers as comfortable to a parting soul; who whilst he consignd himself by it over to Alm. God he added these devout expressions taught him probably in his child hood, „ Per signum Crucis de inimicis nostris libera nos Deus noster; and again,▪ Per Crucis hoc signum fugiat procul omne malignum; and lastly, „ Per idem signum saluetur omne benignum. All these are put down verbatim in the record, and teach us how to arm ourselves in our last Conflict towards a victory over our enemies. This done he called his retinue about him, and imparting to each, faith the lessons of his office, the kiss of peace together with wholesome instructions for a pious life, amidst these embracements he took and gave the last adieu. And now by this time the stock of life being quite spent the pangs of death came stronger upon him, and these increasing he betook himself more earnestly to his refuge of prayer making use of that verse of the Psalmist  in such a passage in manus tuas Domine commendo Spiritum meum, Domine Deus veritatis Commendo Spiritum meum: which words whilst he repeated thrice with his hands elevated towards heaven, he rendered his sweet Soul most acceptable to heaven, to be received according to its merits into the eternal tabernacles. This was the setting of this sweet Sun, showing much not only of the Christian but of the Saint, and verifying the old saying, „ ut vixit sic morixit, teaching us that general rule without exception, he that life's well dies well. Which Sun though he went down in a strange horizon yet found a welcome in the Ocean of bliss or a blessed eternity: the true Christian deems that his Hemisphere where God places him, we being all Citizens of the world, and like beggars never out of our way while we are tending to Paradise. Happy they that can make a happy Conclusion of so important an affair, which when thus concluded our work is done; and if not happily all's undone, and that without redress: that is a moment of greatest moment whereon depends eternity.  
Though his festivity were kept on the 2. of October, yet the day of his death happened on the 25. of August or the morrow to the Apostle S. Bartholomew. And since all Authors that I can find unanimously agree as to the place, to wit that it was near Monte fiascone, one would wonder why Bp. God win in contradiction here of without alleging any ground for his assertion, should maintain that he died at Civita Vecchi, and in his way to Rome; whereas there are undeniable prooffs, both of his arrival there and obtaining his pretensions, return by land, and holy death at the place aforesaid. To say the least this cannot but argue a spirit of contradiction  to one of his coat, and little beseeming the name of a Bishop (nor had he more besides the revenues:) Only it is a known trick of such (I can call it no better) to render the clearest truths disputable, and thence doubtful, and so by degrees enervate all faith both humane and divine by undermining the authority which is their basis.  
It happened the night after his decease that one of his officers whom he had left behind him in England, his name was Robert of Gloucester, than his Secretary, afterwards Chancellor of Hereford; being at that time at London and Lodging in the Bishops own Chamber, had this dream or vision, call it as you please. He thought himself to be at Lions in France where in the great street of that City which leads to the Cathedral, he seemed to behold his Lord and Master going towards that Church, whither himself was also bound. Both being entered, his Lord, he thought, went into the Sacristy, where putting of the upper garment which he wore, he vested himself with white Pontifical Robes and those most rich, and carrying in his hand the Body of our Lord or most B. Sacrament in form of a Consecrated Host, he appeared suddenly in the midst of a most solemn and stately Procession both of Clergy and religious, and those likewise clad all in white. The Procession seemed to move towards the Cloister of the Cathedral, while others of that choir entoned and prosecuted with delicate Music, that part of the Capitulum  to the Office of S. Peter ad Vincula, Occidit autem Jacobum fratrem Joannis gladio. But before all were entered the gate which led into the said Cloister, it on a sudden was shut, and Robert who with many others desyrd also to enter were excluded to their no small defeatment, and left to consider the dream, of which he as the ignorant of the Saints death could look upon no otherwise then a dream. But when immediately after certain tidings both of his death and the precise time of it came to be known, and that it and his dream jumped so patt together, he could not but think it more than a fancy, and that Alm God would intimate thereby that as he died, though not in persecution, yet in prosecution of the rights of his Church, and in some sort lost his life for the same, the Saint had not only deserved but received the reward of a Martyr.  
This Relation I have Coppy'd out of the Process of his Canonization where it was juridically deposed before the Examinants', and approved, as suiting well with what I said above of the Common apprehension of all, that God wrought Miracles by him for his actings and sufferings for his Church. And the same Relation adds yet further to let us know it was more a vision then dream, or rather a Vision by way of dream, (as is not unusual in H. Scripture both old and new) that after this first apparition the B. Saint was seen often to the same party, not indeed, saith it, as one in glory, but yet such, as that his joyful contentedness spoke him to be in a must happy Condition.   

XVIII. CHAPTER. The burial of his H. Bowels there, and Return of his sacred Bones into Engalnd.  
THus much as to his sacred death and other Circumstances which accompanied or related thereto; now we must pass to the other part, to wit, the sequels that followed thereupon. He died a passenger in this life's pilgrimage, and in a Common Inn; and indeed what other are all the lodgings in this world? we take them up, we bespeak supper, we forecast our future journey, we go to bed and rest, promising ourselves, like the man in the Gospel, many days of life, when, called fools for our pains, we are surprised with a fever, and all the journey we make afterwards is only to our grave. Our B. Saint was too watchful to be stolen upon by that ngihtthiefe; they only are so surprised who are found unprepared, that is, keep no watch and ward, and Consequently are unprovided for the assault: and therefore we pray together with the Church to be delivered not from death, nor from sudden death, but from sudden and unprovided death; for indeed to one that is provided no death is propperly sudden.  
The Records tell us that his sacred Corpse lay exposed in the same place for 6. days together; and this is but suitable to what is done to persons of his extraction and quality, according to the respect every where given them. Though here another reason occurrd which might more than probably autorize the same: for no sooner was the sweet soul departed like the extinct flame of a stick of perfume, but such a heavenly fragrancy filled the whole room, that it was most dilitious to the sent, and recreative to all that were present. This, to wit, was a blessing redounding to the body for the joint concurrence that copartner afforded it in his virtuous exercises in the service of God and his Church; and a testimonial of the odour of sanctity of that holy guest which lodged therein. Such sensible witnesses of an innocent integrity in his servants doth Alm. God sometimes impart for their glory and our incitement, we being not easily moved but by our senses either to conceive highly of them, or be eggd on to imitation, though the odour of virtue and sanctity in itself far surpass what ever is of sense. In the mean time the same heeroff together with his death being bruited abroad, as virtue and nobility is ever in esteem with the noble and virtuous, it made many great Personages resort thither and some Cardinals among the rest, who acquainted with him during his abode at Rome, or the opinion that went of him, had been no strangers either to him or his perfections. By their Concurrence chief an honourable funeral was prepared for his Enterrment the sunday following, when he was buried in the Church of S. Severus belonging to an Abbey of that name situate near the old City of Florence: at what time a funeral Sermon was preachd by one of the Cardinals, who could not want matter to dilate upon while he commended him for his noble descent, exquisite learning, and eminent sanctity.  
All these particulars are thus far minutely specifyd in the Record; but its warrant carries us no farther, nor any other that I could meet with as to the sequels of his Enterrment. And consequently we are at a loss both as to that present and future times how to know whether any or what public Veneration was there given at any time to his sacred Corpse: or whether graces and Miracles were wrought there at, as in England at his Sacred Bones; what memory remained of him and how long: all this must be left to Doomsday book and its Register, when all will be publishd to the glory of God and the Saint, and satisfaction of all. In the interim we may know, that in the Catholic Church not every one that dies with opinion of sanctity is forthwith honoured as a Saint, the public Declaration of the Church, to prevent abuses and regulate all in an orderly way, is thereto requisite, and nothing permitted but under this warrant. He died, 'tis true, a Saint but his sanctity was not autorizd: he died a stranger and an alien, and how little notice is taken of such; 5. years elapsd before any Miracles were noysd abroad even in England itself, and 25. before his Canonization: what wonder if the memory of him not preserved by any special graces or signs grew cold, and in that coldness vannishd to oblivion. Though God were pleased at his mediation for the comfort of the people, incitement of their devotion, and other reasons best known to himself, to work such wonders at his Sacred bones; yet he does this when, and where, and how long he thinks good, and no body must presume to ask, why do you so? All these are the secrets of his Dispensations, and he says to us as he did to the Apostles „ Non est vestrum, etc. it is not for you 
Act. 1. 7.  to know times or moments which the Father has put in his own power.  
The news of his death we may imagine brought heavy tidings to his flock at Hereford; who as it was most happy in his government during life, so sustained an imcomparable loss by his death, the sorrow of the privation answering proportionably to the joy of the possession. But these are blows which all must be content to suffer when God inflicts them; nor is there any redress besides an humble acquiescence in his holy will: when we have paid a little tribute to nature all the rest is a submissive resignation; who dare say to him why do you so? Yet though his people could not have him alive, it would have been some comfort to have had him dead, that is, him in his Corpse; to the end they might have enjoyed him in his Relics, which even then, for the great opinion they had of his sanctity, were esteemed for such. In the present circumstances that could not be conveniently done; but care was thus far taken, that the bones being separated from the fleshy parts they together with his head and hart were transported into England, and deposited as a most precious treasure in the Church of Hereford. These were received with much Devotion by the people who went forth together with the Chapter and Clergy to meet them, and were enshrynd in the Chapel of our B. Lady in the same Cathedral that they might repose in her bosom after death to whom living and dying he was so singularly devoted, and where could his hart rest better than in her hands, to whose honour he had sacrificed both hart and hands?  
Among others whom either devotion or curiosity moved to meet this welcome pledge, one was Gilbert Lord Clare Earl of Gloucester; betwixt whom and our Saint, as we insinuated heretofore there was no good understanding upon the account of some lands which the Earl detained, and the Saint claimed as due to his Church, and recovered from him by force of law with much both cost and pains. He now approaching to the sacred pledge it was very remarkable and looked on as a Miracle by all the Company, that the dry Bones in his presence began to bleed a fresh and in such a quantity, that he and all might see the Cask in which they were carried imbrued with the same. The Earl much amazed heerat was struck with compunction, and acknowledging his fault made a full restitution of all to the Church, expiating by penance what he had rashly committed, as the only way to make the best of an ill bargain.  
In the retinue of the deceased Bishop the chief mannager of affairs was Richard Swinfield his Secretary, first in authority above the rest: he was a Priest of great parts and virtuous conversation for which he was afterwards promoted to succeed in that vacant See, and in process of time chief solicitor and informer in order to the Saints Canonization. To him as such belonged the charge of conveying the Sacred Depositum; and he tells us in his deposition before the Commissaries Apostolical what happened to himself the night before he with it arrived at Hereford. To the end all things might be the next morning in a better readiness, he cast his journey so as to lodge with his Company that night in a village 2. miles distant from the City: where weary with journeying and going late to bed he oversleept himself beyond his time the next morning. His chamber was remote from all Company, and so high that without a ladder there was no access to the windows: and yet 3. knocks were given as with the knuckle of a bended fingar on the same, and soloud that they served for an alarm to awake and tell him it was time to rise. And in that sense he understood them, and there upon called up his Company; concluding within himself, that this was a favour done him by the Saint towards the pursuit and furtherance of what they had in hand, to wit the solemn Reception and placing of the same bones. And what indeed could it be else; since humanely speaking no body without a ladder could come there, and looking curiously about he saw there was none: therefore he ascribd it to the merits of the Saint, and very thankful for such an extraordinary favour, to his honour he recorded it to posterity; making thence a conjecture that this piece of service, the conveyance of his bones, was acceptable to him, since he had been pleased to give it such an unusual concurrence.  
While S. THOMAS was yet alive no body seemed to carry a greater respect and Veneration for his sanctity then Edmund Earl of Cornwall, Sonn to Richard King of the Romans. He it was that invited the Saint to keep his Whitsontyde with him at his Castle of Wallingford: where whilst he sung the „ Veni Creator Spriritus the strange Miracle of the birds happened, which we shall relate here after in the 23. Chapter. However it was procured, this great Devotist made means to get his Hart, a treasure he esteemed above any jewels; and to testify this esteem thought he could not honour it sufficiently any other way then by enclosing it in a most costly shrine together with a parcel of our Bl. Saviour's Blood, and founding a Monastery of Bons-Hommes at Ashridg in Buckingham shire to its honour, where it might be daily and duly venerated to the praise and glory of Alm. God, who had raised his Servant to such an eminency of perfection. This devout Earl had such a Confidence in his patronage and intercession, that he was wont to profess he had not greater in those of our glorious Apostle S. Austin.   

XIX. CHAPTER. The Translation of his H. Bones into a more eminent place.  
THe near approach of the most welcome Treasure being known at Hereford stirred up the Citizens both ecclesiastics and laymen to join, as we said, in a solemn Procession to fetch it in; so showing by their Veneration to the dead how much respect they had for him alive, and how deeply they ressented their incomparable loss. It was done with as much splendour as the shortness of the time would permit; and so amidst all the festivals of devotion it was brought into the Cathedral, a small parcel, God wot, of what they desyrd, yet even as such most welcome. They wished him such in his return home as they sent him abroad, alive and governing as their Pastor: they wished, if dead, not only his Bones but whole body; for a treasure the greater it is the better and more precious: but as it was, content with what necessity imposed, they lent their concurrence towards a solemn enterring it in the Chapel of our B. Lady, the place designed for its Reception. Here it was laid in a Coffin of stone, and a fair Gravestone, such as beseemed his quality, placed for a Cover to the Orifice, cemented, on all sides as close and handsomely as art could make it.  
Here it lay 5. years amidst the private veneration of devout persons partaking of no more honour than their Devotion gave it, each one according to the opinion they had of his Sanctity. For though divers things more than ordinary, and such as begot much wonder and Veneration were related on several passages, as, the fragrant oudour it exhaled, the blood it sweat, morning call, etc. Yet formal Miracles none were wrought nor pretended to; and the Catholic Church hath always used a special warynes to prevent disorders of this nature, that nothing may be publicly ascribd before attested by legal authority; and we need not doubt but the Saint himself among so many decrees as he made, had left this enacted. During this interval of time the Vacant Chair was provided of a successor; the party elected was Richard Swinfeld of whom we said something in the precedent Chapter; the same that accompanied our Saint to Rome, and by his good services there on his Church's behalf, as also by the safe Conveyance of his Relics had much improved himself in the opinion and esteem of that Chapter. And the providence of God, as to this, seems remarkable in the Election, both that none could have concurrd more to the glory and illustration of our Saint, none knowing him and his merits better than he, and consequently could be more zealous in that behalf; as also because he was both a great Preacher, truly virtuous, and throughly versed in the affairs of that Bishopric, as bred up under the Saint. The profound respect and zeal he had for his H. Predecessor took little content to see his bones so worthy of greater Veneration lie so obscurely beneath their desert even as he was a Bishop, not only a Saint. Where upon he determined a solemn Translation of the same to a more eminent and conspicuous place of the same Cathedral; where he resolved to erect a stately Monument of Marble, and have the action solemnised with the greatest magnificence he possibly could.  
The time pitched on for this purpose was Mandate thursday in holy week; the report whereof blazed abroad invited both court and country to honour it with their presence, nor needed many motives, the opinion they had of him was sufficient. It was made in the year 1287. the 6. of April, the Bishop and Chapter jointly concurring thereto: and the place to which it was Translated, saith Godwin, was the east wall of the North-Cross-Ile where yet is to be seen, saith he, a tomb of Marble. King Edward the 3. in whose Reign it was made was then at Calais, which he had not long before taken from the French King; but purposely came over out of his devotion to the Saint, and to grace the solemnity with his presence. He and his Nobles, saith John Stow, were entertained at the charges of Nicolas Cantilupe, Baron, Cousin to S. THOMAS; Nor did the King miss of a due reward from the said Saint in recompense of his religiousness. For while he was attending to that action he received private intelligence of a design on foot for the delivery of that Town by a Genowayse, Emericus of Milan, who lived there and was a private Pensionayre of the French King, to him: he played lack on both sides being also in see to King Edward, who suspecting nothing less kept him and his men there for the defence of the Town. Nor was here an end of the blessing: for the King hastening to its succour, not only forestalld the others treachery, but with a handful of men repulsd the numeros enemy, took many prisoners, and put all in a posture of safety.  
The sacred Depositum, as we hynted before, was put into a stone Coffin shut up under a fair great Gravestone, which was to be removed eer the Coffin could be taken out, and how to remove it so great and massy as it was, gave no small difficulty naturally speaking in that narrownes and situation of place. While their wits were thus contriving, two of the Bishop's Pages who stood by, put their hands to it as it were in sport to try their strength, where 4. of the ablest could have done nothing. And here behold a strange accident: at the slender impulse of these two alone the massy stone yielded and gave place as far as was necessary for the present purpose, as if it had been a thinn board not what it was. All the Company cried out a Miracle (for they could ascribe it to nothing else) wrought by the Saint to attest his Sanctity, and show how grateful the Translation was to him. But here was not an end of their amazement; yea it was much increased, when after the Mass of Requiem and solemnity ended, trial was made again in the same manner to put the said stone into its former posture; which now thought they had the advantage of the ground much more than before, not these two but neither teen more joined with them, endeavouring with all their might and main, were scarce able to set in its place.  
This was an essay or prelude to the manifold Miracles which immediately followed: for such was the wonderworking power of Alm. God to evidence the glory of his Servant S. THOMAS, that that very day of his Translation 5. Miracles were wrought at his Tomb, and as many each ensuing day for divers together. Nay there was a perpetual continued stream, the source being once opened, without surcease for many years, of which we shall speak more in the ensuing Chapter. Great was the Devotion of the people in this solemnity, heightened we may imagine not a little by these fresh foregoing wonders: and where there is Devotion God is never sparing of his graces and mercies; that his Sovereign Oil ceases not still to run, so long as there are such fresh pots disposed to receive it. Why he reserved these extraordinary blessings for this feast let us not curiously inquire of him in whose hands is the free disposal of times and moments; but let us take his dispensations when they come humbly and thankfully, being assured that he knows better what and when things are to be done than we can tell him.  
In the Translation itself and time of Mass of Requiem said at the new Tomb for the dead (for as yet the Saint was neither Beatifyd nor Canonized) a man who had been two years blind, and a Woman 8. both of them received their Sight in the presence of all the people who were spectators, admirers, and witnesses of the Miracle. To give a particular account of all the rest that were wrought (though they be all upon Record and attested) would be too tedious, and especially all that were wrought during the Octave of the solemnity (40. in number;) but as Easter day by reason of its glorious festival claimed to itself a peculiar splendour above the rest, so Alm. God seems to have kept a noted and particular Cure for it, much redounding to the honour of our Saint, as wrought upon one both noble of himself and well known to all the Nobility of the land, and consequently more famed abroad and divulged then many others. This was one Milis a famous warrior, renowned far and near for his exployt● in Tilting: with frequent falls and bruises and other misfortunes such a weakness came upon him, that he became contracted in his limbs and they all useless to him. And thus he remained 6. whole years, all art of Physicians labouring in vain, now an object of compassion as much as he had been before of Congratulation. This man familiarly known to Bishop Richard was by name invited to the Translation and particularly on Easter day when celebrated with greater Solemnity: the good Bishop intimating with all that divers great Miracles were then daily wrought at the Saint's Tomb, and who knew but he might have a blessing in store for him. He like one in misery harkend willingly to any advice that rellishd of redress: he made himself be carried to the Tomb on Easter Eeve he prayed there devoutly the whole night, beseeching the Saint that as he was noble themselves he would be propitious to a noble knight commiserating his present pitiful condition, and vouchsafing him the gracious favour of a Cure. To render himself better disposed like a good Christian he frequented the H. Sacraments of Confession and Communion, and at the time when in the said Church the Mystery of the Resurrection saith the Record, was that morning represented, he found himself so perfectly cured at the said Tomb, that the same day, exulting in our Lord, whole and sound, he played the Servingman at the Bishop's table, waiting on him and his other guests.  
For a conclusion of this Chapter I must insert a remarkable Cure which was wrought while the sacred Relics remained yet in our Lady's Chapel, six days before the Translation, that is, the day before Palmsunday, and therefore may deservedly claim to be here inserted: it is thus recorded in the forementiond Process. One Edith wife to a Citizen of Hereford in the beginning of that same lent was seized with a furious frenzy, and all humane means falling short, so she continued till the day before Palmsunday. The recourse to S. THOMAS not being as then famed by any Miracles, her husband caused her to be measured to a Relic of the H. Cross much venerated in that Cathedral, at whose Altar she was kept night and day bound, and attended by two of her sex: though at the same time she were advisd by a Priest of the Church to have recourse to S. THOMAS and to be measured to him, giving her great hopes of a recovery by his intercession. All this was done at his suggestion, and a Candle was made of the thread that measured her, and set at her head as she lay bound hand and foot, her ordinary Station being all this while at the Altar of the H. Cross. The friday before Palm sunday as she was there hearing Mass, not only the candles on the Altar but all through the Church were on a sudden put out, no body knew how, and a great noise like the murmur of a great river was heard at the same time: this lasting the space of ten Pater's and Aue's, visibly before them all fire came from heaven and lighted the Candle standing at her head whose week was made of the thread that measured her to the Saint. At the lighting of this she recovered her senses and became well, the Saint at that instant appearing to her and bidding her be well: at the same time also the Cords which bond her of themselves became lose, and she in the presence and hearing of all, repeating it over and over again said aloud where is this S. THOMAS that bids me be well. She went to our lady's Chapel, prayed before his Relics, a „ Te Deum „ was sung in thanksgiving for the cure, she continued as well and sensible as ever before; and this was the first miracle which the Saint wrought in the Church of Hereford.  
Upon the Relation of this Miracle it occurrs to me that some peruser of the same may check perchance (as it is always easy to find fault) at one or two passages mentioned therein: the which to clear up by way of prevention will happily not be unacceptable. One may be, her leaving the H. Cross and its Altar to betake herself to S. THOMAS: in which if there were any fault, it was was the Priests who advisd her to it; which could not be great, it being warranted by the good miraculous effect immediately ensuing. Neither did he dissuade her from the H. Cross whose efficacious virtue is venerable to all Christians, but only persuaded her (whether by divine instinct or the impulse of his devotion matters not much) to make her recourse to God and it by the mediation of the Saint. His devotion to S. THOMAS moved him to urge this recourse, which, if upon the opinion had of his Sanctity, he advisd, where is the error? Nay it's glorious to the H. Cross, as it is also to honour God in his Saints, (so far is it from disparagement to see its servants honoured and invokd: besides that a new Star may many times and without prejudice to the Sun, draw more eyes to it then the Sun itself, and have its influences more cried up: both devotions were compatible and good, nor doth the latter derogate from the former.  
Another perhaps will be dissatisfyd, yea even a little scandalizd at this measuring to the Saint, and ask what it means? Truly I do not remember to have read it elsewhere, nor is it any Ecclesiastical Ceremony of any Church, much less of the Catholic: it seems to have been taken up by the devotion of the people thereabouts, and, as an innocent harmless expression of their devotion and recourse to the Saint, approved by custom; and though frequently used, yet not so of necessity, but that it was and with equal success as frequently omitted, at least not mentioned. This their recourse and application to the Saint was twofold; and the miraculous effects as to both show its acceptableness to him: either by bending a piece of siluercoyne over the patient's head who sought redress to the honour of the Saint, appropriating the party by this expression to him and his peculiar patronage for redress: or else by measuring the said client by a thread or some such thing, that is, by taking his length and breadth with the same intention as in the former, and depositing them at his Altar or to his honour. The manifold miraculous effects ensuing here upon vindicate the fact from all suspicion of irreligiosity and superstition: and if the Saint was pleased to accept it, let not us harbour a prejudice against it. When we see the Candle whole week was made of this measure miraculously and before all the rest lighted from heaven, let us take that Miracle for an approvement of its innocency; all's well when all's meant well: alius quidem sic, alius autem 
1, Co●▪ 7.  sic; thus much I thought good to premitt for the scandal of the weak.   

XX. CHAPTER. The multitude of Miracles wrought by the Saint.  
WE may indeed call them a multitude and of the greatest size, for few Saints perchance in God's Church have wrought more; and therefore he was not undeseruedly called in the Preface, the Thaumaturgus of that age. And their quality is no less remarkable than their quantity, it being such as renders them unquestionable in their kind, that is, evident and patent like those of the Gospel, and such as our B. Saviour both wrought and alleged for testimonials of his Reception as Messiah, by giving sight to the blind, healing the lame, raising the dead etc. and these as well as others in great abundance. For the Readers satisfaction, and the Saints greater glory I will summarily put down here what the several Authors of his life say in this behalf; that the authority of his Miracles may remain as questionless as they are numerous. Which Authors when they have consignd his virtues over to us with this seal of deeds and delivered them under such a Consignment, (they having before signalizd them with words;) it cannot be denied but all legal formalityes are observed, and that they ought to stand in force as a deed signed sealed and delivered, according to the tenor of our Courts of justice: and why should not Saints in heaven partake theroff as well as Sinners on earth? to deny it them were a great inconsequence.  
These Miracles took their rise or source from his Translation, and continued their stream some ages together: in treating of them we will not launch forth into their main of all particulars, for so we should lose ourselves without end, but only cruzing near the Shore pass as swiftly as safely through such an Ocean. The first I cite in this behalf is Laurentius Surius a grave and exact Author; who out of one Anonymus or Concealed ancient Writer but judicious, testifyes that among the Miracles which stand upon record, our B. Saint is found to have restored from death to life 66. sight to the blind 41. use of their limbs to the Contracted or sinew-shrunk 52. Palseystruck 21. and he recounts only what came to his knowledge, not that he professes to know all. Doctor Nicolas Harpsfield Prebend of Canterbury and a diligent collector of the Gests of our Saints makes such a like Relation; who speaking of our glorious Saint and his eminent virtues tells us they were recommended to us and future posterity under the attestation of frequent Miracles, 163 whereof were wrought, saith he, in the Compass of a few years, and rendered his merits famous far and near for the same. John Capgrave expresses himself in this sort as to the Saint and this point of his Miracles, where he saith: The Miracles which after his death Alm. God was pleased to show to us Sinners in evidence of his sanctity and to the honour of his own name, (for God is honoured in his Saints) I saw, saith he, at his Tomb, registered in divers volumes, and they were in a manner infinite. In one whereof, saith the same, I counted 425. wrought by S. THOMAS at his Shrine, all miraculous effects, many whereof were in the cure of different diseases: and even Bishop God win himself, a mere pickpocket in this Kind filching away what ever he can, grants that many Miracles are said to have been wrought at the plare of his burial, in regard whereof it pleased the Pope to make him a Saint. Thus doth he mince the matter which he dares not deny, not yet can Confess without a clear condemnation of himself and his brothers, who pulled down a Church and faith, so stored and confirmed with Miracles, to set up a Chapel of their own building, to verify the old Proverb, where God has a Church the Devil will have a Chapel.  
The last Confirmation which I bring of his miracles and their multitude is be yond all exception to any unprejudiced judgement, for I borrow it from the very authentic Acts and Records juridically proved and approved in the Process of his Canonization. A copy of these same Acts and Records taken by a friend of mine of unquestionable sincerity out of the Original which is kept in the Vatican Library I have at this present lying by me; and whatsoever I have or shall say concerning his miracles is all or in greatest partly borrowed from thence. There I find upon Record in all 429. and them examined and approved partly by the Lords Commissioners deputed by his Holiness then living, for that end; and partly by 4. autorized notaries. The Lords were the Bishop of London and Bishop of Miniat, who sat some times at S. Catharines' London, some times at Hereford, to avoid charges in the Citation of witnesses: they were commissiond only for 4. months and in that time they could examine no more than 39 miracles all which they subscribed. The 4. notaries were a kind of standing Committee for that purpose, whose power stood good without limit of time or stint of authority; and all the force of approbation which the rest have is derived from them. And thus much in general is sufficient to ascertain us both of the creditableness of what we allege, and to show how highly he was in favour with Aim. God: for all these being things above the ordinary Course of nature they require a special and supernatural concurrence, a thing merely of grace, and not granted but upon extraordinary exigencyes for the illustration of the power of God in his Saints and to let the world know how wonderful he is in them; „ Mirabilis Deus in Sanctis 
Psal, 67. ●6.  suis.  
Miracles when frequent are an evident conviction of true sanctity as being the Seal, not to be counterfeited, which God himself sets upon it for its manifestation and autorizement to the world; which seal whosoever can exhibit under test, his virtue needs no other touchstone to prove it Currant and genuine. Not that all that doth not carry them is spurious, or that all Saints to be such must work miracles, or that they are of the essence of sanctity, it being of itself too nobly divine to need any such support besides itself: and many great Saints, as the H. Baptist, S. Joseph and others, have during life wrought none at all, and yet were held for such; unless we will say the whole tenor of their life was a continual miracle. Yet still where found, they are deservedly esteemed so many pled'ges of God's favour to the worker, and infallible attestations of his sanctity; it being against the divine-goodnes to permit hyprocrisy to be accompanied and autorizd by those distinctive marks with, which he has signalizd the true faith and Sanctity. But it is not in point of faith as it is in point of sanctitity, as to this; that true sanctity may be 
C●●l vident, claudi ambulant, etc.  found without Miracles, though the true Church or faith Cannot, Christ having entailed them upon it: insomuch that that Church which cannot show miracles Cannot be the Church of Christ. But he has not annexd miracles to true sanctity, nor are they of its essence, and consequently though they grace it extremely when present, yet it may be as perfect and grateful to God when absent, because not an intrinsesecall Commendatory but merely extrinsecall and as to us by way of testimonial, a grace gratis given by Alm. God.  
Now to satisfy the Devotion of the Reader, or rather to inflame it the more, we will descend in particular to relate some few of so many miracles, and give a little scantling thereof; which as they are particular pledges of Gods special favour towards his servant, so they cannot but be special incentives to us of a peculiar reverence towards the same.  
One Juliana living not far from Hereford in her Childbed fell into such a Contraction of all her limbs, that she became wholly destitute of their use, and this for the space of 9 years together. All humane remedies proved unuseful to her cure, and how to obtain divine she knew not: the fame and name of S. THOMAS was then not blazed abroad, though it happened after his death, and while his sacred bones lay buried in our Lady's Chapel. Yet the charitable Saint had a kindness for the poor Creature, and appearing 6. several times to her, wished her to go to the Tomb of Bishop THOMAS which was in our Lady's Chapel at Hereford, and there she should be cured. She neither knew what Bishop THOMAS nor Lady's Chapel meant, but upon so many warnings resolved to send her husband to Hereford to learn by enquiry what they might mean. He went, he informed himself, he returned, yet the disabled wretch lay languishing a whole year before she could resolve to be carried thither. The bruit of the solemn Translation quickened her devotion a little, and being carried in a baskett was placed in our Lady's Chapel at the Saints Relics: there falling into a slumber he appeared to her again bidding her rise and go to the new Tomb; she made what shift she could to get to it, nor had she sooner touched it and said a few prayers, but by leaning on it she risen, found herself well, and walked thrice about it, and the next day home without any help. The baskett in which she was brought she left behind her at the Tomb; but it being borrowed of a poor neighbour who demanded her baskett again, juliana the next morning sent for it and restored it to the owner. But what much heightened the Miracle was this; the baskett was no sooner taken away but the woman relapsd into her former Contraction: it seems the Saint required it for a monument of his charitable redress. What remedy now? she is carried again to his Tomb and in the same baskett, remaining so amidst tears and prayers a whole day and night: the next morning her good Benefactor mindful of his patiented restored her limbs once more to a full and perfect use of them, and lest she might incur a second forfeiture she presumed no more to take away the baskett.  
A public Incendiary was taken in flagrante, and deservedly by the Lord of the Manor, who had legal power, sentencd to the gallows which was executed, and he lay there a sad spectacle of justice with all the certain signs of a dead man in so much that now they thought of nothing more but his burial. The lady of the Manor a very virtuous matron, and her daughter like herself, having their charity not tied to merit, much beyond his deserts, had a great mind to have him thus as he was measured to S. THOMAS in hopes of a reviuall; Confiding surely that the latter part of his life would be more edificative than the former. In fine she did it and not once or twice but thrice with much devotion seconded with the fervent prayers of all that were present. Her faith was equal to her hope and charity, and all three so acceptable to the Saint that upon this devout petition, as a prelude to what would follow, the dead body moved first one foot, than began to breath; the eyes which hung ghastly upon his cheeks fell back of themselves to their  place, and so did his tongue to its: in fine there was a perfect recovery from death to life; and he is said, (and no great wonder it should be so) to have mended his manners very much, and behaved himself through all like a good Christian. It is not granted every one to die twice.  
The palpablest of miracles or raising the dead was so ordinary with our glorious Saint that 40. such like resuscitations stand upon a juridical record. Our Lord and saviour has the sole Dominion of life and death, keeping in his own hands the keys of both without control; yet so, as that he lends them sometimes to his servants who, what they do, is by his power and dispensation, as are also all the miracles which they work, not done by their  virtue but his Concurrence who communicates it: and thus he wrought with our Saint, who will say, as did S. Peter to the jews, Viri Israelitae quid admiramini, 
Act. 3. 12.  aut quid nos intuemini, etc. Ye men of Israel why marvel you at this, or why look you upon us as though by our power or holiness we have made this man to walk, the God of Abraham, etc. In this kind a little Child scarce 3. years old playing with another of the same age on the bank of a fishpond, the other to frighten this, made as if he would thrust her in, and she out of fear fell in indeed, and was actually drowned before the mischance known or help could be given. This pond belonged and was near to an Alehouse where store of Company, was at the same time making merry, and among the rest the Parents of the child: so close many times and unexpectedly doth sorrow follow mirth at the heels, dashing the wine of comfort with the water of tears, suitable to that of the wiseman, „ Extrema gaudii luctus occupat; and thus many times is all the sport 
Prou. 14. 13.  spoilt. The Child is taken out lifelesses, and while they are all lamenting over it, the Father, who had heard much of the miracles wrought by S. THOMAS, together with all the company recommended the matter with much Devotion to the Saint, and with his girdle measured her to him according to custom. Thus they all perseverd praying, and on their bare knees, saith the Record, till next morning without any sign of life: in the morning natural heat came into her body, motion of her limbs followed that, and speech motion, and so by degrees came perfectly to herself. This miracle was among the first which Alm. God wrough by his Saint, and it being noysd abroad people came far and near to behold the Child: it was also the first which was solemnly examined and approved by the Lords Commissioners. She lived till she came to woman's estate, but could never be persuaded by her Parents to marry though much urged thereto; and therefore was Commonly called by the name of S. THOMAS his Vingin.  
A poor man by an unjust oppression of his Landlord was cast into prison and so loaden with irons that the weight of them broke his left arm. In this sad Condition both of want and torment, all humane means failing him he sought divine, and had recourse to our Saint; making a vow that if he cured his arm and restored him to liberty, himself would make a pilgrimage to his Tomb. He found a propitious Patron; his arm was forth with Curd, and he eerlong released from hold. But alas! a good purpose is sooner made then kept; he that said VOVETE said also REDDITE, which latter part was wholly neglected by this ungrateful Client, who now having obtained what he desyrd thought no more of what he promised, and so it fares with a great many. The Saint sent him a Remembrancer, and he fell into a grievous fit of sickness, and in it into a frenzy, in a raving transport whereof his arm is broken again and in the same place. Being fallen a-sleep he seemed to see the most glorious Mother of God, and hear her saying to S. THOMAS who stood by her, friend, help this poor caitiff: help him? replied he; he made a vow to visit me before this, and has not been so good as his word. Ah, said the sweet Mother of mercy, he will come to you, help him, I pray: Let him then come, replied the Saint on Whitsunday and he shall be cured in the name of our Lord. Which said they both disappeared: and the sick man relating the Vision to the bystanders was carried by them on that day to the Saints Shrine where he found redress of both his maladies by the intercession of the most glorious Virgin and the merits of the Saint.  
One of Stains not far from London became so infirm that all present judgd he could not live one hour to an end. This extremity or infirmity was the least part of his misery: for he found himself haunted and obsessed over and above with multitudes of Devils in most hideous Shapes which not only beset him, but some taking him by the head others by the feet they haled and pulled him almost to pieces. The poor sick-man half distracted had recourse as well as he could to Alm. God, beseeching him by the merits of his devout Servant S. THOMAS of Hereford to afford some assistance in this dreadful agony. And behold, while he silently thus recommended himself he saw the man of God forth with approaching him, and clasping his head betwixt his hands stood in his defence against these wicked Spirits the greatest part of that night. About break of day put to flight they all vannishd, the Saint still holding the Sick-man's head as before; who suddenly awaking out of his sleep, and his aid or helper withdrawing at the same instant, he found himself perfectly restored to health both of body and mind by the powerful mediation of his heavenly Champion who came so seasonably to his rescue. To whose Tomb therefore by way of thanksgiving he with his Neighbours undertaken barefout a long pilgrimage, and there in each one's hearing attested the cure.  
To let us know how dangerous it is to meddle with edge tools, that is, to jest profanely with the proceed of Saints, making a piece of drollery of what we ought humbly to venerate if we do not understand; a youngman Fleming by nation and servant to an English Lady of quality, (he was better fed then taught) being in a Citizen's house in Hereford, among other Raillery, began to speak scurrilously of our B. Saint, saying, that while he hued he was certainly of a covetous humour, since after his death he receives so many precious gifts refusing nothing that was offered him. While he presumed to go thus on, one of his hands suddenly shrunk up with such violence of pain, that acknowledging his fault he was forced before all present to invoke the Saint for redress: which no sooner desyrd then obtained so charitable was he towards him, the hand being presently restored, and all as well as before. But see the inveteratenes of an ill custom! shaken off, it recurrs again and clings to us like a second nature. The ungrateful wretch thus cured attributes both the pain and cure to a natural cause, and neither the latter to his benefactor nor the former to a punishment of his profane scurrility. While he was uttering these words, so violent a pain and Contraction seized the same hand a second time that no stroke but one from heaven could cause it. Affliction gives understanding, and so did it him; he acknowledged the hand of God upon him for his ingratitude, and now heartily penitent called upon the Saint and desyrd all the standers-by, to do the same. Their prayers were presently heard, his hand restored, and he learnt more wit then to relapse the third time. Let us learn hence to detest atheistical drollery, and serve God and reverence his Saints in whom he is so admirably admirable.  
The next I will relate happened in the person of Bishop Richard the so often mentioned successor to our Saint: He in the first years of his Episcopacy was so ill of the stone that both Physicians and others looked on him as a dyingman, nor for the space of 5. or 6. weeks did he stir out of his Chamber. His Chamberlain who deposed this cure, sleeping one night in his Lord's Chamber to be ready on all exigences, seemed in his sleep to hear one say to him, arise, take the Relic which thou hast of S. THOMAS (it was the first joint of his right thumb, and no body besides himself knew of it) wash it in the wine which in a silver Cruett stands in the window, give thy Master to drink of it, and he shall be cured. The Chamberlain either mistrusting the call and its effect, or fearful that the wine might not be good for his Lord, dissembled the matter nor took notice of it, chief indeed for fear of losing his precious Relic, which he deemed to precious for him to keep were it once known to others. The next night he heard the same call with a menace for his former neglect; yet he out of the precedent motives forbore also the second time: the night following or 3. he seemed to behold our B. Lady accompanied with many Virgins all which were clad in white and enuironnd with great brightness entering the Chamber in which the Bishop and his Chamberlain reposed, and coming near to the latters bed, who for some days before had with much devotion besought her attistance by the meritrs of S. THOMAS for his Master's Recovery; said to him in French, saith the Process, Deynse (that was the Chamberlains name) art thou asleep? he answered no: rise then, said she, take the wine above mentioned, and if thou dost it not, at they peril be it. This last threat made a deeper impression; and as soon as it was light he Communicated the matter with the Bishop's Confessor and Physician to know their judgement upon the matter: with their approbation and in their presence he washed the foresaid Relic, and the Physician gave 3. spoonfuls of the said wine to the Bishop wishing him to drink it: he making the sign of the Cross did so, rise immediately, went down to the Chapel which he could not do for so many weeks, heard Mass, and remained all that ensuing year as free, as if he had never been molested there with.  
I will conclude this present Narrative with another deposed juridically before the Lords Commissioners by the party concerned then living, who in his younger days had once been a menial servant of the Saint, but marrying afterwards lived at London and by trade was a Barber. This man upon the sudden without any visible occasion lost first one eye then the other, and both with such excess of pain that it made him seek all humane redress, though in vain, and try the skill of Chirurgery, which not withstanding he remained 3. years stark blind, feign to be led whither ever he went and he daily did to S. Paul's Church to hear Mass. Much discomforted with this accident he called to mind his old Patron and great well wisher S. THOMAS now Canonized a Saint and working Miracles. He recommends himself most earnestly to him and our B. Lady; beseeching her by the devotion he had to her to obtain of Alm. God a cure of his misery and restorement of sight that he might again to his comfort behold her Sonn in the Consecrated Host, while it is elevated for all to adore. For this end he caused himself to be measured according to custom to S. THOMAS, and sent the measure and two Eyes of wax with it to Hambleden in lincoln shire, the place where our Saint was borne and Christened. Two days after he found some glimmerings of light so as to distinguish imperfectly motion and colour, and there upon caused himself to be measured the second time, and that measure he sent to Hereford to the Saints Shrine; and there upon found such help that with in 8. day's space he could walk any whither without a leader, and could discern, as he desyrd, the elevated Host at a Competent distance. The cure he ascribd to the Saint, as also in this respect, the cause of his blindness; for that he in his youth when he served S. THOMAS being of a lose life and wanton behaviour, and chid therefore frequently by him for his amendment, the Saint obtained of Alm. God this temporal affliction (it many times gives unsterstanding and such blindness light to see ourselves) towards an amendment of his spiritual: and he acknowledged that he had reahd great benefit thereby, and heartily thanked Alm. God and the Saint for the same.  
It were as easy for me to cite some hundreds as these few, were it any part of my design to swell this little Summary into a great volume. It doth not aim at a Rehearsal of his miracles but of his virtues which are the noblest kind of miracles: for in this corrupt nature of ours so prone to vice, I esteem every soul eminent in sanctity so many miracles of God's grace working in it. And these miracles are more for our purpose, that is, for our imitation, to which purpose if we do not apply them we swerve from the purpose; the greatest honour and devotion we can show towards a Saint being to imitate his virtues, as also the most beneficial to us. Miracles are good witnesses of Sanctity, ascertaning us how high the Saint stands in the favour of God, and they stir us up also to a due recourse towards him in our necessities: but to profit otherwise then by their imitation we cannot pretend, since being above the course of nature they are objects rather to be admired then imitated: set yourself to a generous imitation of their virtues and you may probably work miracles yourself.   

XXI. CHAPTER. His Canonization, and general devotion of all unto him both Prince and people till this unhappy breach.  
THe multitude of extraordinary graces and favours which Alm. God imparted to all sorts of people by the merits of his glorious Servant an Bishop S. THOMAS was the reason why the whole Kingdom solicited the then Pope for his Canonization. Now 25. years or there abouts were elapsd since the Translation of his Sacred Bones into his new Sepulchre, since which time the current of miracles never seized; and the daily Monuments thereof hanging at the same were so many Remembrancers minding them as much to glorify him, as he was beneficial toward them. One good turn requires another; if Saints obtain us temporal blessings, let us give them the glory theroff: glory is a celebrious knowledge with praise; nor can this be better had in this world then from the mouth of the Church whose words in this; matter are Oracles, and her public declaration in point of Sanctity a Canonization. Hence it was that Prince and people, Clergy, Religious, Secular, all intere●sd alike in his favours, (yet above others the Bishop and Chapter of Hereford) became joint solicitors, that as heaven had owned his piety by so many prodigies, the Church would authentically declare it, autorizing them to honour him as a Saint, who had exhibited so many undeniable prooffs of Sanctity. The generalitty of the Bishops of our Nation Concurrd to this, and I find a Transscript in the Process itself exhibited by the procurator of the Chapter of Hereford to the LL. Commissioners, which Transcript was subscribed by the LL. Bishops, John Archbishop of York, Antony of Durham, Godfrey of Worcester, John of Landaff, john of Winchester, Ralph of Norwich, Walter of Bath, Aluian of Bangor, john of Carlisle, Thomas of Excester, and was directed by them to his Holiness, containing their esteem and sentiment both of his life and virtues, and the wonders daily wrought at his Shrine.  
Upon this and other such Solicitations it was that a public Process of the Saints life and Miracles was instituted, and Commissaries Apostolical deputed thereto the two Bishopps and Arch Deacon specifyd in the precedent Chapter. procurator for the Chapter of Hereford was one Henricus a Schorna, and Bishop Richard who best knew the Saint living and dying, as one that was bred under him, Conscious to all his secrets, was the first and chief Deponent. The Commission took date the 13. of july 1307. and was to continue but 4. months: which limitation of time and multiplicity both of Witness and Miracles was the reason why they could not insist upon or pass through all: but as many as were examined by them either in order to his virtues or miracles, all Depositions passed under oath, the H. gospels lying open before them, and they swearing to speak nothing but truth. Which depositions were duly Registered by appointed notaries, reviewd by the Commissioners, and by them Consignd up to his Holiness and kept to posterity in the Vatican Library: the perusal of an authentical Copy whereof, by the favour of a special friend and diligent Searcher into the gests and Legends of Saints was Communicated to me, and therefore I can aver much for the undoubted truth of what I say. The information being taken as above, and a due return made to the Congregation of Rites whom such matters concern, all being adjusted according to form, HIS HOLINESS john the 22. at the instance of our King and Prelates, proceeded to a Canonization, which was solemnised both at Rome with usual festivals, and to the universal joy of the whole Kingdom, much more in England, and chief in the Church of Hereford. Though the day of its solemnisation be not specifyd, yet we may credibly think it was on the 2. of October, on which day the Church celebrates his yearly memory, though it be otherwise certainly known, as we said above, that the day of his deposition or death were on the 25. of August.  
The fame of his sanctity attested so many years by a world of miraculous Cures of all Kind's to all sorts of people, did not bound itself with in our own Island, but working at Sea as well as at Land, and passing our straits it filled both France and Italy as well as Scotland and Ireland: and as all received a new access of joy by this new access of honour, so every one strive to put on a new fervour of devotion suitable to his merits and their obligation. A new declared Saint is like a new Star in the Pirmament, he draws as many hearts as that doth eyes, and if the influences of the latter be more visible the Communications of the former are more benign and obliging. A flame of devotion which is continually nourished with the oil and fuel of successive blessings need not fear a decrease of heat, and such was the peoples towards our Saint. One King and two Queens have. been seen prostrate Pilgrims before his Tomb, nor was their Majesty ever more gloriously great, then when thus humble before God's Servant: there's no truer greatness then that which accrues from a profound humility. All the Princes and Nobles of the Land imitated their example with votaries in their hands: the greatest Prelates and their Clergy were the first in this Religious Worship, nor was it then accounted superstition or idolatry to honour God in his Saints. How happy was the people of this Kingdom in such a propitious Patron where in their greatest plunges of necessity, they needed only as it were to ask and have, if the grace were fit to be imparted, and they disposed to receive it: his Shrine alone being a Pharmacopaea or Dispensatory of Receypts' for the Cure of all maladys' even death itself. And thus it continud many years to the Common Comfort of all, and doubtless would longer, had we remained still in the Union of God's Church and Communion of his Saints, members of that mystical body which only partakes of the divine Influences of itts' head Christ JESUS. The breach of which union broke all our happiness, and us into division from our Mother the Church, from whom to be divided is an utter disinheriting from the birthright of the Children of God, since he shall not have God for his father who has not the Church for his Mother as wittness S. Austin and S. Cyprian. A most unfortunate breach, which as it unsainted Saints and demolishd the Shrines their Forefathers Devotion had erected to their sacred memory, what wonder if it obstructed thereby the stream of their favours, it being not fit to give holy things to dogs, or Cast such pearls to swine to feed on.  
Yet to sbew that the Saint is still in heaven and powerful with Alm. God if we were but worthy to deserve his favours, even in our time not many years ago a furious plague sweeping all before it in the Town of Hereford and threatening utter destruction to the inhabitans, that pestilential Contagion received such a check from our Saints Relics carried in a private Procession, that it gave a total surcease to the same, and so suddenly, that it was ascribd to Miracle. Such reserves of his ancient bounties Alm. God is now and then pleased to Communicate, to keep our devotion on foot, and give us hereby a pledge that when he fees time he will restore both our distracted Country to unity of faith, and the current of his graces to their wont channel.  
The generality of devotion had to this Saint may in part also be showed by the numberless Number of Donaryes offered at his Tomb: nor can I give my Reader a more satisfactory account of them then by relating what I find specifyd in the Register of the Lords Commissioners. As they were exact in all so in this particular also; and what they found extant they caused to be listed in a schedule, and to give here a review of it will perchance not be ungrateful: thus than it specifyes. Inprim: a hundred and 70. votive Ships in silver; and in wax 41. Item divers images of silver, some of the whole body others of several parts, in all 129. Of the whole body in wax 436. of several parts very near upon a thousand; and among them figures of horses, other beasts and birds 77. besides innumerable of eyes, ears, teeth, breasts etc. Item children's coats some of silk, some of linen to the number of 95. Three little carts of wood which the lame upon their cure left for a monument of the same, and one of wax. Crutches 108. Great Waxed Tapers 10. Webs of silk and cloth of gold 38. They found also many Pendants, Earrings, Bracelets, and other Ornaments belonging to women many pearls and other jewels which were said to have been offered out of devotion. among which there were 450. gold rings, 70. silver rings, 65. necklaces of gold, 31. of silver, and divers precious stones. Nor must we omit other chains though of iron, anchors, pikes, arrows, swords, fauchons, etc. instruments of hurts received and now monuments of miraculous cures.  
And all these with in the space of little more than the first 20. years after his Translation, and before his Canonization. What may we conceive of the whole age or two next ensuing? to what a mass would they probably swell in two Centinaryes, when by his Canonization, and consequently increase of devotion, he came to be better known and more religously worshippd, and consequently more profuse of his graces. Those to whom the forfeiture of all did escheat, when of Catholic worship all became Protestant profanation, those, I say, could have informed us more exactly if they pleased: for though they love not Saints nor their Shrines; yet they can both fingar and devour all the Donaryes which hang at them of what mettle soever they be, without the least scruple of Conscience or indigestion.  
According to the drift of my first design here should my Narrative make an end, it being no part of my intention to bulk it further with his Miracles; and we have touched upon all the chief passages of his life which have come to our knowledge. But because divers particulars relating to his virtues could not be inserted in the said former passages; and that part of his life, his virtues I mean, imports us most for our instruction and imitation (for why do we write or read the lives of Saints but that we many imitate them) therefore I will make a brief but fuller review of some of the said his virtues, and illustrate and confirm them with such examples as I find upon Record, with which I am furnished by the forementiond Process, it being great pity to deprive them of light.   

XXII. CHAPTER. His Humility and Abstinence.  
I Will heginn with his humility as the foundation and preserver of all virtue and sanctity; the ground work on which all spiritual edification, that is, the House of Perfection is to be raised. Nor is it only the foundation but also the cement or mortar of this building which gives a combynement and both unity and union to all the parts by making it one House; and this union is both the order and beauty of the structure or whole. And in this it squares very propperly; for as the mortar not only combynes, but lies concealed and is not seen, so humility though it give lustre to other virtues yet it conceals itself, carrying for its motto, „ ama nesciri „ love to lie concealed. What charity is in Theologicalls the same is humility in Morals: as that perfects the former, so this the latter; in so much that neither the virtue of penance, nor mortification, nor obedience, of which S. Leo saith, that nothing is hard to the humble, nor poverty, nor patience, nay nor even charity itself can subsist without humility, since this alone can cement up the breaches of that, according to S. Bernard, Sola humilitas lae●ae charitatis est reparatio. To build without this foundation is to build to ruin, since no other without this can sustain the Stress of such a machine as is spiritual perfection: who builds not on it builds on the superficial sands of self conceit or some such like; and Consequently when a storm 
Luc. 6. 49,  comes, and the winds blow, and the rain fall, great will be the ruins of that House, as our Saviour said, because it is not built on this Rock or groundwork.  
It is  to this virtue to empty ourselves of ourselves, that is, of self love and self ease, a lazy humour which sows a pillow, to every elbow, and is always leaning homewards, that is, not to seek God and his greater glory, but itself, hating to take pains and use diligence which is called the mother of good success, a good issue seldom failing the diligent. And humility is always such, nor indeed can it be otherwise, since the care and solicitude of the humble man is not bend upon himself, whom he deems unworthy of any good, but on God, whose beneplacitum is his sole joy, and to be accounted a good servant his only happiness. Pride on the contrary always seeks itself, as prising nothing but itself, it being a mere lump of self love; and proceeds towards God as did that man towards jupiter, who, giving him half of all he had, eat the kernels of his nuts, and gave him the shells. As humility emtyes us of ourselves so doth it replenish us with God and his graces: for when we put off ourselves we put on Alm. God, and where the Creature ceases to be, there succeeds the Creator by a sequel morally necessary in the order of grace; as in that of nature, the air connaturally succeeds the substraction of another body to hinder a vacuity. For God who is every where by his immensity has his  mansion house, saith S. Austin, in the hart of the humble: but then he will have no inmate besides himself, he will not share Lodgings with any one, no not even with the Land Lord himself.  
I make this short Elogium of humility to give the less acquainted Reader a little knowledge of its worth: it was one of the glories of our Saint rendering him as acceptable to men as grateful to God, and it is expressly noted in his life, that it got him the love of all. And no wonder; for the humble man incurs no body's displeasure, since he trencheth neither on their profit nor credit: he contents himself with what he is, and deeming himself a mere nothing he rests in that, and consequently is beneath envy: where as the proud self lover is ungrateful as contemning all and caring for no body but himself, because he love's no body but himself, while the humble all besides himself; and to love is the way to be beloved. All his Comportment was seasoned with this ingredient and carried a strong relish of it in his words, his actions, and behaviour, so that it was a virtue, as it ought, transcendental through all. This gave him that Candour of an ingenuous simplicity so  to Christian Conversation and the Spirit of God, in 
Vir simpl●● & rectus. Gen. job. 1.  heritted from these ancient Patriarches Jacob, Job, and the rest, praised by God in the first place for this; a virtue so opposite to all duplicity or double dealing, and consequently the Mother of integrity and uprightness as well as all happiness, making his tongue and his hart go both together. There is great difference betwixt simplicity and simpleness as the world takes it, which is so ignorant of this virtue, that it cannot distinguish betwixt in and folly; where as it doth not exclude prudence but craft and duplicity. Prudence is its indiuduall Companion, and therefore our B. Saviour wished his Apostles to join the prudence of the Serpent with the Simplicity of the dove: and how eminently prudent our Saint was shall be showed in the last Chapter. This humble simplicity made him so obsequious to all just Commands; for what teaches obedience but tractability, and tractability but humility, the only disposition to subjection and subordination, as pride on the contrary is its opponent. We have showed already in the 13 Chapter, what a love and respect he had for the poor, how he called them his brothers, heard their Confessions before the Rich, made his table so open and Common to them that it entertained sometimes 30. sometimes 40. 50. yea a 100 together; who, as he was as poor of spirit as the most, so he loved like birds of a feather to sort with them: and all this was a result of his humility which naturally branches into charity, seeking others more than itself. From this also was sourced his singular contempt both of himself and all that is specious in point of employment or preferrment: hence he rejoiced so much at his deposing the Office of Lord Chancellor, as much, to wit, as others at its attainment; and was the cause that his promotion to the Bishopric of Hereford cost him so many tears, desirous rather to lie hid under a bushel then be set in the Candlestick of the Church. Hence he was ever ready to pardon any delinquent upon point of due submission and pardon demanded; and many times though the fault were theirs, he would prevent them by way of example seeking friendship when they had broken it: but to the stubborn and incorrigible he was not easily reconciled. This virtue taught him also patience, which is soon lost amidst the Crosses of this world if it be not supported by humility which fits our shoulders for every burden, and persuades us we bear no more than our due: whence it was that without repining he readily received all the personal affronts above mentioned in the 14. Chapter, without so much as offering at a Retaliation even in word.  
To his humility we may join his Mortification and these two suit well together, and lend a mutual hand to each other. For it is the humble man that is mortifyd, and the mortifyd humble; humility by self contempt making way for mortification, and mortification advancing humility. No man that is a self lover will set upon mortification unless it be to destroy self love, and who aims at that besides the humble self denier. The advantages of this virtue in order to sanctity, as it makes one truly master of himself and all his passions, appetites, inclinations, etc. are very great: for it is this unruly and mutinous populace which gives us all our disturbances and conflicts betwixt the spirit and the flesh, while these servants will needs be masters, and domineer over and against reason, putting all into a combustion. The Royal Prophett 
Psal, 31. 9  bids us bind fast their cheeks in bridle and bit, and this bit or curb is mortification, they must either be hampered thus or there is no ruling them. They are like fire and water good servants but ill masters; give them an inch and they'll take an ell; but keep them short, close to their task with in their bounds, and they'll do you good service. Our B. Saint in his light and experience found all this true, and therefore resolved to keep a strict hand and watchful eye over them and all their motions, ready to suppress any insurrections in this kind. And by internal mortification, which is much the nobler, he preserved his mind in such a peaceful calm that one could scarce discover any commotion to the contrary; in so much that he might seem to live in a Region above flesh and blood, where neither winds nor tempests have access. And this is a thing feasible enough to the Servant of God, if he make it his business and take it to hart, grace willingly seconding such endeavours; and our Saint profited so much in this Kind, that, considering the equal tenor of his Conversation, one might say he either never had passions, which is impossible in such a livelynes of nature, or else kept them in a perfect subjection to reason and virtue, which is no more than truth.  
To this interior Mortification he joined exterior, as much facilitating the former, and rendering the flesh duly subordinate to the Spirit; a thing necessary for those who aim at a perfect conquest over themselves; and this he practised in a triple kind. First by hair cloth and other austerityes to which he accustomed himself many years, and even at his death, not contenting himself with the incident sufferances of so long a journey, he was found with a hair shirt next his body and that of the rougher size. 2. by watching and subtraction of sleep even necessary, stinting himself to a very short pittance, which was much felt by those about him as cutting theirs too short also: yet he made this a daily custom, spending the remnant of the night in prayer and reading of H. Scripture, or other such like pious exercises. 3. by a wonderful abstemiousnes and sobriety of dyett, the  food of Sanctity and refection of virtuous souls, by which they gather more strength and vigour then by the choicest dayntyes. Experience teaches too truly what an enemy gluttony and fullfeeding is to devotion; how it indisposes the mind while it overcharges the body, and makes it think more on the fleshpotts of Egypt then the manna of Angels. A refection is necessary for the recruit of our decaying forces; a repletion, which rather oppresses than refreshes, never: he must content himself with necessaries, and even retrench them a little, who will avoid superfluityes; this was the prayer of the Wiseman and must be 
Tantum victui meo tribue necessaria. Prou. 30, 8,  ours.  
S. THOMAS knew well all the advantages of a sober abstinence, and therefore his dyett was so spare, that his familiars did wonder how it could give a competent sustenance to maintain life, and this usually. And thus much Bishop Richard deposed in his Process upon oath, assevering with all that his abstinence was such, that one might truly say his whole life was a continual fast. He made but one meal the day, and that with these short Commons, not for want of an appetite but to curb and mortify it; for being asked that question by the said his successor who then sat next him, he confessed ingenuously that his stomach served him for much more, and taking a good piece of a loaf in his hand, said, he could eat all that and with gust. To this rigour of quantity he added another of quality: if he tasted of any curious or costly dish that was all, then made it be carried either to the sick or poor: his ordinary fare was of the homelyer sort, such as would satisfy nature not please the , and his drink suitable, to wit, small bear. He seldom drunk wine unless in a very small quantity, or much tempered with water; he never willingly drunk betwixt meals, and when the quality of the persons was such that it required such a civility from him, he used pretty sleights and artifices to evade it, by seeming to drink when he scarce touched the Cup. In his younger days and better health he was wont to fast good Friday and all the Eues of our B. Lady with bread and water, but afterwards when his stock of strength would not bear that rigour, by the prescript of his Physician he was for▪ bid that, and apppointed to take a little broth. In Confirmation of this his temperance a pretty passage is related by the aforesaid Bishop Richard who then was present: A Kinsman of our Saint and his Companion for 20. years and uppwards, William of Albenack sitting once at table with him, when all had done and it was taking away S. THOMAS espied him still eating some bread; with which a little surprised, he said merrily to him; Old man, what art thou doing? I am eating, quoth he; and why now? replied the Saint. Because, said the other, I find an appetite. What, said S. THOMAS, and are you wont to eat as long as you find an appetite? yes, I profess, said William, and all do so that I know. All do so? said the Saint in a chiding tone, Marry God forbid: I can assure you in very truth that for 30. years till this day I have not rise from table with a less appetite then when I sat down. But this latter part he wisperd in his ear forbidding him to speak of it while he lived: and another story much to the same purpose stands upon authentic record, and both are a great testimonial of his abstemiousnes and sobriety.   

XXIII. CHAPTER. His discharge of duty towards God and his Neighbour.  
HIs humility and abstemiousnes fitted and disposed him rightly towards this discharge; the former by withdrawing him from self-love, the latter from worldly, and these are the great obstructers of the love of God, and cause of our slackness in his service, it being certainly certain that no body can serve two Masters. This Religious discharge is the work of our whole life, and consequently of greatest concern, implying both parts of Christian duty, to decline from evil and do good, and do good not how ever but after a good manner and as beseems such a Majesty: for God love's not slubbered services, but will have them done as well with the hart as hand and tongue, or else they'll find a cold acceptance. By a due compliance in this Kind we show our love to him, and this compliance in our Spiritual functions is called Devotion which is esteemed greater or less as our performance is more fervorous or remiss. Devotion is an effect of love, and an issue of divine grace, which, if not sourced from these two is not esteemed genuine and currant, but to want of its grains of weight; and this may be counterfeited as well as other virtues.  
The subject of his devotion, or his spiritual exercises relating immediately to Alm. God were chief Prayer, the H. Sacrifice of Mass, his Canonical Hours or divine Office; and in the discharge of these, he was not only, saith the Record, devout but most devout, performing them with a most profound attention and Reverence. Prayer is called an Incense, and this inconse he was, I may say, continually offering according to the advice of S. Paul, sine 
Thess. 5. 17.  intermissione orate, be always praying, not only as each good work in the opinion of S. Basil, is a good prayer, but also by a more near, interior and familiar Conversation with Alm▪ God by the powers of our soul, employing them not only in a Consideration of his attributes but an union of will. And what could a pious hart nursed up in its baptismal grace, and consequently the throne and Altar of the H. Ghost, Sacrifice to so divine a guest besides prayers and praises? the former to beg new blessings, the latter in thanks giving, for them received. To attend the more freely to this, was the chief reason why he cut his sleep so short and rise by night that he might watch and pray, and offer early a morning oblation to God and his Saints in an odour of sweetness, killing, as the Royal Prophet did, in the fervour of his prayer all 
Psal. 100 8.  the sinners of the earth. He knew that in a spiritual life no great matter could be achieved or advance made without this; and therefore he made it his daily bread, and was much more frequently feeding his soul with it then his body with Corporall, deeming it the life which was to animate all his actions. We treated in the 12. Chapter of his Retirement and union with God, and this union was chief effected by Prayer, and intimates a frequent and constant practice of the same even to an intimate familiarity, whose result it is.  
Even before he was Bishop he was particularly noted for his singular Reverence and Devotion in reciting Divine office, which argues a true feeling of Spirit and the presence of Alm. God: in which his exterior Composure of body and attention of mind was such, that it was of great edification to the beholders. Thus he begunn, thus he perseverd until the end fullfilling exactly what our H. Mother the Church requires of us for a due discharge of that great function, and it were to be wished all those to whom this obligation is incumbent, were imitators of the same. He was most exact in the administration of the Sacraments, and performance of Ecclesiastical Ceremonies, so mixing piety with a Majestic gravity, that both the one and other begot a Reverential esteem towards those Sacred Rites in them that were present. But above all he was most singularly devoted to the H. Sacrifice of Mass; here his devotion seemed to triumph and he at the Altar to be in his Centre, so full was his hart fraught with pious affections, with such a spirit of humility and Contrition did he approach it, such an ample testimony heeroff did he give by his abundance of tears, that one would have thought he had rather, saith the Record, actually be held the bloody Sacrifice itself, and his Lord and Saviour therein immolated, than an unbloody and Mystical representation of the same; an argument both of his lively faith and ardent charity. To indulge the more to these pious affections he gave here ample scope to his devotion much beyond the ordinary stint of half an hour, letting his soul feed at leisure on these sweet mysteries; and Alm. God did so concur, that he was frequently alienated from his senses and as it were in a rapture, so that it was necessary for the server (who deposed this upon oath) to cough and make a noise to bring him to himself and make an end of his Mass: and this, saith the same, happened frequently while he lived at Roven, from the feast of S. Peter ad Vincula till the feast of S. Michael next ensuing.  
To show how acceptable this his piety in the H. Sacrifice and other spiritual devoyrs was to Alm. God, it pleased his divine Majesty to grace him particularly at the same with a favour which all that were present attributed to Miracle, and as such it was approved by the Lords Commissioners and those that beheld it. On the feast of Pentecost or Whitsunday he was invited by Edmund Earl of Cornwall, a great admirer of his Sanctity, to Celebrate the feast and say Mass at his Castle of Wallingford, and it happened in the second or third year of his Pontificate. While he was preparing and disposing himself thereto by singing the Hymn „ Veni Creator Spiritus; upon the entonement of the first verse, a flock of birds in the sight and hearing of all, with Musical notes and beating their wings against the Chapel windows seemed to applaud the Saint while he sung, and he having ended they retyrd while the Choir prosecuted what he had entoned till the end of the strophe. But he entoning the first verse of the second they returned again, and while he sung, both with voice and wing they accompanied him and applauded as before; and so strophe after strophe till the hymn was ended. This seemed a great Novelty to the said Earl and all that beheld it which were many; and to satisfy themselves the better, they went out of the Chapel abroad, and had a full sight of them judging them to be about 40. and beheld them Coming and going as before, nor could interprett such an unusual thing never observed before nor after, otherwise, then as ordered by God to witness the sanctity of our Saint and the acceptableness of the great work he was about. Then it was that the Earl in the hearing of all, Bishop Richard then Chancellor of Hereford being present, made that expression cited in the end of the 18. Chapter of his singular Confidence in the prayers and patronage of S. THOMAS, no less then in those of our great Apostle S. Austin.  
The lively faith and high esteem he had of the dignity of this divine Sacrifice, as it made him recollect all his powers and attention for its better performance, so it made him wave all humane respects when he was about it, not admitting any interruption whatsoever, not even from the King himself, though otherwise most observant and submissive to his Commands. It happened once that while he was ready to vest, a Messinger came in all haste from the King to call him to Council without delay upon matters of great importance, (and it was his office to attend he being of the Privy Council:) What must he do? after a short pause he calls the Messinger, who was a Priest, wishing him to tell his Majesty, if he pleased, in these terms; That he was now engaged in the service of one greater than himself, who required his present attendance; but when I have, said he, discharged my duty to him I will not fail to wait on his Majesty. After all done and his devotions ended he repayrd immediately to Court then kept at the Palace at Westminster; and receiving a gentle rebuke for his delay, the matter was proposed and discused: in the handling whereof he delivered his advice so pertinently, and suggested beyond the rest such expedients so patt and feasible, that all without reply embracd them as sent from heaven. And the King over-ioyd here with, is said to have spoken to him in these words: Many blessings, my Lord, light upon you, and ever praised and magnifyd be that highest master whom you serve, and long may you serve both him and us. So true it is that if we seek in the first place the Kingdom of heaven and its justice, not failing of our duty in that, all these secondaryes will be cast into the bargain.  
I will conclude the love he showed to God by the religious performance of these his Spiritual obligations, with the devotion he carried to his Saints, and chief to the Queen of Saints the Virgin Mother. The Proverb saith, love me and love my friend; and God saith, love me and love my Saints, my dearest friends; and deservedly: for how can they be said to love him who love not those that are one with him? In his love to our B. Lady I will comprise all the rest, and although this were notedly great, that is, so great, that he was publicly noted for it, yet we have not much left upon Record whereby to illustrate and amplify it. This not withstanding, if we may measure the Lion by his Claw, and guests at Hercules by his foot, we have sufficient hynts or grounds both to inform and inflame us to his imitation in this particular. I have showed above out of authentic Records, that in his younger days he was wont to fast the Vigils of her feasts with bread and water, which custom he continued till want of health disabled him thereto: and what greater expression of a tender devotion could he exhibit? The expression is as extraordinary as is the fast, and the fast speaks as much devotion as a fast can do, and ranks it with the tenderest. He choose her Nativity, as I noted above, for his Episcopal Consecration, receiving that sacred Character under her patronage; and divers apparitions of her with him after death in a joint Concurrence of both to the cure of many, show how dear he was to her during life. And I find that abroad he carried the Common esteem of one singularly devoted to her, and was pointed at as her particular client; and this persuasion wrought so far with some, that they used it for motive of mediation to obtain what they desyrd, beseeching him for the love and devotion he bore her to grant their request. And to this purpose it is recounted of one who before had been of his household, and falling into a great fit of sickness for ten week's space, 3. whereof he passed sleeples, turning himself to the Saint, he earnestly besought him for the love he bore to the Mother of God, that he would obtain for him the benifitt of sleeping. This said, he fell into a slumber, and in it thought he saw two men bring into his Chamber a very fine bed, in which being laid by them he steeped sound and quiettly till the morning; when being awaked and missing the bed, though he was more than a little concerned that it should be carried away, yet never the less he found himself quite Cured of his infirmity, and upon the score of the Saints devotion to our B. Lady.  
As for his love towards his Neighbour, I had rather wave then mention it, as not able to treat of it in that due manner I ought and it deserves: not but that it was mainly great in itself, but time and records have been so injurious as not to convey the particulars to our knowledge; and in these things we must not go by guess but certain relation. Who can rationally doubt but that he who was a flaming furnace of love towards God, was enkindled with the same towards his Neighbour for love of God? Or he that played the good Shepherd for 7. years to gather in feeding his flock, had not a tender love for the same flock, without which he had proved himself rather a Mercenary hireling then good Shepherd? Or if he were so zealously courageous for the maintenance and Recovery of his Church Lands and Libertyes, would he not be much more solicitous for her children's souls and salvation? If he took her dead Concerns so much to hart, how much more would he her living; if he were so charitably charitable after death in the cure of their bodies, how much more while he hued in curing their souls? We know that he was assiduous in preaching and teaching, in reconciling enmityes, in hindering debates, in administering justice, in promoting piety, in depressing vice, in redressing abuses, in administering the Sacraments, etc. but what's all this to his boundless zeal, which not contenting itself with obligatoryes would branch into supererogatoryes: and none of these latter are come to our knowledge besides what is already specifyd. I cannot satisfy myself as to what I would and ought to say on this point, and therefore I pass to the next.   

XXIV. CHAPTER. Of his Purity of body and mind.  
AMong all the virtues which like so many Stars embellishd our Saint, 3. seem Conspicuously eminent above the rest, and as I may say, of the first magnitude. One was his zeal and courage in the vindication and maintenance of his Church's Libertyes; and of this we have treated in the 15. Chapter. The second his parsimony and sobriety of dyett to such a degree of Sparenes, and mortification of his appetite, that he might be said, as we mentioned a little before, to have observed for many years of his life a strict Ecclesiastical fast; and of this in the 22. The third was a wonderful innocency of life, by which he is thought to have preserved the baptismal garment of his soul pure and unspotted all his life long, at least from any mortal stain; a privilege granted not to many, and this I call his Purity of body and mind, and shall be the subjectt of this Chapter.  
This purity is that cleanness of hart to which our B. Saviour affixd a beatitude, and in its beams our B. Saint saw God so present in all his actions, that he was ashamed as well as reverentially afraid to offend him: whence it made him solicitous to walk like a child of light; and the Apostle tells us that their 
Eph. 5. 9  journey and progress is in all goodness, and justice, and truth. Whence it was that the Royal Prophett desyrd so 
Psal. 50. 62.  much to have a clean hart created in him; for such as is the hart such is the whole man, and God who so earnestly Covets our hart will either have a pure one or none. This is the eye of man which if it be simple the whole body will be lightsome, if troubled and obscure, darksome: and if the light that's in us, saith our Saviour, be darkness, 
Matt. 6. 23.  how great and lamentable must that needs be. This is the reason why the Wiseman advices us to guard our hart with all diligence, because it is the Original house of life as well Spiritual as Corporall, the chief seat of life and the H. Ghost, whose throne it is. What is engenderd here must be like that of pearls by the pure dew of heaven without speck or blemish, one drop of salt water causes a miscarriage: and as the Spouse feeds and lies not but among lilies, so if we covett his Company at bed and board, this must be his entertainment: even a discomposd cast of an eye will make him quit the Company; for Divine Wisdom will 
Sap. 1. 4.  not enter into a malevolous soul, nor dwell in a body subject to Sinn.  
To this due preservation of the hart and maintenance of purity, there must be a joint Concurrence of both the parts of man, body and soul, nor will the one be able to effect it without the other, it being a result of both. One flaw spoils the worth of a jewel, one distorted limb or wen a beautiful body; perfection Consists in an integrity of the parts and whole: and this was the care and solicitude of our Saint to combyne both his in this respect into a Common interest; nor did he endeavour it by fits and spurts, but was the constant practice of his life, and who ever aims at it, his solid resolution must be like that of the Ermine, Malo mori quam faedari rather die then suffer a blemish. To effect this was the grand work of our B. Saint, as it is of all those who intent to serve God in sincerity and purity: and to Compass it the better he kept a strict eye upon both and their proceed, by a due inquiry into them, and set for that end watch and ward upon all the avenues which lead thereto, securing himself thus against all surprises, by a due intelligence of all that past, admitting the good rejecting the bad. By this diligence he enjoyed a perfect peace both at home and abroad, nor in his interior did he find either mutiny or insurrection; and whoever will imitate this his mannagement of such affairs shall experience the same. By this wary watchfulness, and the assistance of a good Spiritual Director in his beginnings or younger days, he preserved himself so underild both in body and soul, the grace of Alm. God Cooperating, that he deserved from the same his Director in his now declining age that public Elogium of his integrity which I mentioned in the 10. Chapter: which by advancing from virtue to virtue he was still Consummating even till death.  
This was one reason why he treated his crazy body so severely both by abstinence and other chastisements; knowing right well that to have it a dutiful servant it must be kept under and at task, lest through idleness getting head it become unruly and play the wanton, debauching the soul to its licentiousness, to which our corrupt nature too much inclines it. This flesh of ours is the worst natured creature upon earth, a mere devil to our, and its own undoing; it cares for no body but itself, and that's the propperty of self love, never regarding what woe it work the soul so it can Compass its desires and please its appetites: it is little concerned either for heaven or hell, credit or discreditt, friend or foe; and what do we in pampering such a one, but make much of a churlish cur which will one day do his best to pull out our throat, that is, undo us: the way to cast out this Devil is that which our Saviour prescribes, „ in jejunio & oratione „ 
Matt. 17. 20.  in fasting and prayer. He added to this by way of prevention a shunning of conversation with women (occasion they say makes a thief, and he that touches pitch shall be defiled by it) even his own Sisters, as much as could stand with Common civility; not permitting them to lodge above one night in his palace, and then his custom was to leave it himself, and divert to some of his maunour houses. He had a horror of all speeches glancing at levity, nor durst any in his presence scatter such smutty jests, much less utter broad ribaldry without the penalty of a sound check: a language much unbeseeming Christian Conversation, as made up only of the dregs of wit, fit only indeed for the mouth of a bargman, though not a little in vogue among many world ling. The love of this virtue made him conceive a perfect hatred and horror of the contrary vice, and as both the impious and his impiety is abominable to God, so had he not only a loathing of the latter, but also an aversion from the former and those he knew to be given to the same, nor could he affect them further than Christian charity commanded, though otherwise his nearest allies. This he made evident by his Carriage towards a nephew of his one for whom he had a great kindness so long as he did well, maintaining him in the University, making him his Confident, and would certainly have done very much for him. But understanding that he was become lose of behaviour and not so chaste in his ways, he totally withdrew his affection, and though much pressd to take him along in his journey to Rome, no persuasion could prevail; on which subject he expressed himself to this effect. These young men, said he, are not now adays so bashful and modest as heretofore: for when I was such a one, if a handsome woman had looked me in the face, I should presently have been put to the blush, turned my eyes from her, (they are words of the Record) or pulled my hat over them, that either I should not have seen her or she me; but now things go far otherwise: nor could he ever be induced to receive him into favour or familiarity. This virtue of Angelical purity was so conspicuous in him that the Prayer used in the office of his feast petitions by it graces from God, and that by its merits we may deserve to be associated to the quires of Angels; and the first lesson of the same Office calls him Angelicus homo, an Angelical man.  
And the love and esteem he had for this virtue was not only verbal or from the teeth outwards, but he made good in deed what he professd in word: and Alm. God was pleased to permit 
Certamen forte dedit ei ut vinceret. Sap. ●0. 12.  some trials in this kind, and to give him a strong Combat for the greater glory of his victory. While he lived at Paris, he like another chaste Joseph was assaulted in the same as dangerously as impudently; and he like him forced to fly and leave his cloak behind him, nor can that flight by deemed disgraceful when by it we get the victory. He got it, and in this was more happy than Joseph that he won not only the Combat but also the Tempter into the bargain, reclaiming her to a chaste life from her impudent lubricity, and so deserved a double reward. Such a chaste body was fit to be the consort of so pure a soul to make up an Angelical Compound: and it's but meet that such a jewel of purity should be kept in a suitable Cabinett that both parts might bear proportion and mutually correspond. A Christian ought to train up his body to immortality, and labour to leave it such in life and death as he desires to find it in the Resurrection; such that it may be acknowledged and owned for a Member of Chtist as indeed it is, and what a shame than is it, as the Apostle argues, to make it the member of a harlot. Our B. Saint understood this right well both as to proportion, decency, and other advantages which thence accrued, and therefore he made it always his business to procure and maintain a good Correspondence betwixt both.  
Now he that was so industrious in the Cultivating and preservation of his body what would he be for his soul and Conscience? the other's but the servant, this the Mistress; that but the Shell, this the Pearl; and he knew very well how to give every one its due. All he was to do in this kind was to keep it to Christian duty according to his state, to cultivate it in piety and the service of God sowing in it the seeds of all virtues; and how he did this even in his youth, and in what a nice and delicate temper he kept it, maybe known by what we related in the end of the 5. Chapter of the vine-propp taken out of another's vineyard, and the 7. year's penance he did for the same.  
Whence we may gather how Angelically pure that delicate soul was which checked so feelingly at so small a matter, and how far it was from harbouring any great offence which deemed the least to be so great. Nor yet was it one of those which flay a gnatt and swallow a Camel according to the expression of our B. Saviour, or stumbles at a straw and leaps over a block; but pure illuminated souls in their quick-sightednes can espy a blemish where a dim eye of a grosser Complexion makes no discovery at all. This was the Constitution of his mind and tenor of proceeding when he was now in the flower of his youth, and nature pronest to lubricity, where nothing but the special grace of God in an eminent sanctity could work such effects so opposite to nature and above it. And as he went always advancing to Sanctity even till death, so did he also in purity, sanctity, as S. Anselme defines out of S. Denys, being a most perfect and unspotted purity free and entire from all blemish, and to what a pitch of eminency must he needs arrive! I shall conclude all in this, that he lived and died a pure Virgin both in body and mind.   

XXV. and last CHAPTER. Of his Justice and Prudence.  
BOth these are Cardinal Virtues, and when I have showed with what a rich stock our Saint traded in them, I shall have made him Conspicuous in in all four. As for his temperance and fortitude I have already given a character of them; the former while I treated of his abstinence, the latter of his courage and magnanimity in defence of his Church. As to what we treat of at present, he had great practice of the former, to wit justice, in both his Chancellorships, and discharged his trust with such integrity that all parties concerned were abundantly satisfied. And he took the true way to do it; for he sought it, not himself; and made its advance his end, not his own, nor the enrichment of his estate: while others perversely invert true order by taking the quite contrary course. The ordering of this depends much upon the well or ill ordering of their own Conscience, which must be the beam of the balance, and to be right, stand always perpendicular, inclining neither to one side or other but as the scales sway it, in the one whereof must be justice, in the other the thing controverted; to the end an eeuen and unpartial hand may be kept. It were much to be wished that all distributers of justice did this; more indeed to be wished then hoped for, while so many make a trade of selling what they ought to give, and gratis; their honesty becoming venal to avarice, and themselves imitators of judas, who as he sold his Master so they their Mistress, for what are all in office but her Servants and Ministers; that which Captivated the other Captivates them, perverts their sense, and misleads them from the paths of equity. This proceeds from being not so well principled in point of Conscience and justice, which go always hand in hand together, and are attended by uprightness and sincerity: and thus our B. Saint walked in them with the Common approbation of all, guided not by the dictamen of this world but Divine Wisdom, by whose 
Prou. 8. 15,  direction all both Lawgivers and Administers of justice decree and execute just things.  
Thus he purchased that vogue of integrity which every where accompanied his proceed, growing up with him even from his youth, and so habitually rooted and relucent in all his carriage, that it is noted as the prime Motive why he was chosen first to the Chancelorship of the University and then of the whole Kingdom. And Certainly such an integrity of justice is an excellent Cemmendatory to preferment, as giving great advantages to a full discharge of trust, and strange it is that men do not take this way to Compass it when they seek so greedily after it. If natural abilities be so much regarded, how much more in all reason ought supernatural? if wit, how much more virtue? Wit without virtue and grace degenerates for the most part into Craft, and turns public justice into private ends and selfseeking. Even those that are not virtuous are great admirers of it in others, as being praise worthy in a very enemy: and since no body but loves to have their things well done, and nothing Contributes more than it to their welldoing; as they willingly Covet the former so they are forward in preferring the latter. Besides that Honours and Offices are Commonly at the disposal of the honourable, or persons of honour and integrity; and who stand more clear in their eye, or are deemed better deserving, or lastly by whom are they like to have more credit and satisfaction then by the uprightly just and virtuous? This virtue is particularly specifyd in the ancient Lessons of his Office, where he is said to have been in justis operibus semper devotus always much devoted to the practice of justice: and elsewhere in the same, jura Ecclesiae suae viriliter defendebat indutus justitia ut Lorica he courageously defended the Rights of his Church armed with justice as with a breast plate. And this repute purchased him such a name that it set him as it were out of the reach of temptation; and he in reality so abhorred any thing in its administration which looked like a bribe, that he was a frayed even of its shadow. It is particularly recounted that certain Religious men, who had a suit depending at Law, applied themselves to him for his favour and furtherance in the dispatch of the same, and thereto presented him with a jewel of value; which he rejected not without indignation, ask them whether they thought him to be won with gifts. Their intention questionless was good, and aimed at no more than a reedeming of the delays of the Law, not a buying of it, which they knew could not be sold: but a judge must avoid even suspicions in this kind, choosing rather to sit without a lawful gain then have it with hazard of dishonesty; better is a good name, saith the Wiseman, then great 
Prou. 22. 1.  riches. One in that office who carries himself so religiously, where so many eyes are upon him, as not to be taxed by any, it is a great evidence that he discharges his trust uprightly. In the University he had the same Character, and that was a step to the other promotion where he gave as ample satisfaction by a just performance of his office in promoting learning, advancing virtue, exacting Discipline, redressing abuses, punishing offenders, maintaining priu●ledges, complying in fine with all points of duty, so that he also might carry for his discharge or motto, bene 
Marc. 7. 37.  omnia fecit he did all well. It was chief for the esteem they had of his justice and piety that he was made Chancellor of the University, and for these particularly was he praised publicly in the same by Robert Arch Bishop of Canterbury, affirming that in all his judicial Acts relating to the Students he was neither swayed with favour of fear, but regulated himself merely by justice and the merits of the cause.  
In administering justice, what he did by himself, the dictates of a good Conscience inusolably kept, would not let him swerve from a virtuous reason; and in what he was forced to entrust others with all, he burdened their Consciences (the only tye to him that owns one) to a faithful discharge, as they would answer it at God's tribunal. When complaints were made against his Bailiffs or other Officers, he took the matter to his own scanning, and if he found them faulty he was not content with punishing them, but revok▪ d and annulld what they had unjustly done, causing satisfaction to be made to the injured parties. When ever he apprehended a concern of justice in any cause he was so resolute for its vindication and maintenance, that he waned all other considerations: whence it was that in his Law-suites for the Recovery of his Church Lands, mentioned above in the 15. Chapter, though the power of his adversary's were formidable enough, and the issue on that respect doubtful, yet he could never be brought to hearken to any underhand composition, though more perchance for his private interest. The Earl of Gloucester when he preceiued himself cast in Law offered round sums of money to let the suit fall: Peter Corbett did the same on a like occasion; and Roger Lord Clifford, as knowing himself more liable to the Law (for he in time of war had taken the then Bishop of Hereford prisoner merely to extort a ransom from him) laboured to redeem his public penance with a 100 sterling (a great sum in those days,) but the Saint was inflexible to all such motions, resolved to leave all to the Course of Justice. In the public interest he as Counsellor had in affairs, he observed that the Jews, permitted then to live promiscously, were very pernicious to the State, not only for counterfeiting false Coin, but also by reason of their usurarious extorsions by which they eat-out the estates of their debtors to their utter undoing. Where upon he prevailed with the King that some fit men might be apppointed to preach to them, and if they would still remain obstinate, that then they should quit the Realm. They understood what was doing and 500 of them, saith the Record, came in a body to him, offering large sums of money if he would desist: but they missed much of their mark, nor found him like some others capable of a bribe; his answer was, they were enemies to God and Rebels to faith, nor could ever gain his good will but by becoming good Christians.  
I will conclude this Corollary of our Saints virtues and Narrative of his life with that which consummated all into perfection, his prudence: this deservedly accompany's justice and is its associate, since this orders what that executes. Prudence is styled by the Wiseman the Science of Saints, a Science without which the greatest learning is ignorance and Wisdom folly; and it Consists, saith the Prince of Divines, in a due Election of Mediums and ordering them to our final End, the Compassing whereof is our final beatitude, and consequently Consummate Wisdom. This is its great Act or Master piece, and from hence imparts its influence into the Common concerns and mannagement of all our proceed, giving them weight, and squaring them according to Christian virtue. This part of Divine Wisdom grew up with our Saint from his childhood; and that it might not degenerate into Craft (a handmaid Issue that will needs like Ishmael stand in Competition with the Legitimate Isaac) he joined simplicity with it to exclude all duplicity or double dealing, the only art by which craft thrives; knowing right well the truth of that Common saying, Prudens simplicitas densa felicitas Prudent simplicity fertile felicity, and what a rich Cropp is to be reaped thence! It is recorded of him that he was of an eminent prudence and had a deep insight into all sorts of affairs as well temporal as Spiritual: and why not? the light of grace doth neither dazzle nor overcast but rather clear up the sight of our judgement, and when supernatural light is added to Natural it must needs perfect and improve, since an inferior can never suffer an allay by mixing with a superior, as brass or silver with gold. Whence I conclude that the greatest Saints are fittest to make the gratest Statesmen, not only because they are freeest from Corruption, and least swayed with passion and interest (too great blinders of judgement) but also for the singular advantage their natural abilities receive from the light and assistance of divine grace. Whence it is observable in our Histories that in Catholic times Learned Bishops and virtuous Prelates were employed ordinarily both at home and abroad in the mannagement of weightyest affairs: and who, I pray, more knowing than they, or aught to be of greater integrity?  
As a general opinion acquird by his just and upright Carriage preferred him to the Chancellorship of the University, so his prudent demeanment in the same, made King Harry the 3. prefer him to that of the Kingdom. And though upon that good King's death at his own earnest request he were licenc'd by his son Edward to relinquish it, yet he kept him still of his Privy Council; and how much he esteemed his advice is seen by what we recounted in the 23. Chapter. He that could wade through the deep affairs of two Chancellorships and a Bishopric, and keep still above the waters of any dislike or dissatisfaction, where so many sink, must needs have been supported with a great prudence. The means he used for this support was to have knowing and conscientious men about him, who understood both what in prudence was to be done and would execute it honestly: and when, all Circumstances duly weighed, he found that according to the Dictates of prudence and Conscience this was to be effected or that omitted, he stuck so close to his principles that neither fear nor respect could move him in the least; and this we confirmed with an example in the 8. Chapter. We must also Consider the times in which he bore the aforesaid Offices most unquiett and turbulent, and to keep sure footing on such slippery ground argues a great prudence and wisdom: it argues that he could Master both the times and himself, not they him.  
And now having given as good á Character of this virtue in our Saint as my brevity and informations will allow, it is time to make an end: and though I have said little in regard of what might be said, yet I think I say much to its and his Commendation, when I show that by it he ordered both his Spiritual and temporal Concerns so, as to prove himself a great Saint in the former, and a great Statesman in the latter. In his declining age, especially after he was made Bishop, he withdrew himself as much as he could from all worldly employments, the more to apply himself to heavenly, and that was the greatest point of prudence which ever he exercisd, teaching him that the Kingdom of heaven was to be sought in the first place and above all. For what will it avail one to gain the whole world if he lose heaven and his own soul, or with what exchange will he be able to redeem that loss? What matters it if one enjoy all the pleasures of the world, all the treasures of the world, and all its highest preferments if he have not heaven at the end of them? that is to say, what matters it to enjoy here a seeming momentary happiness, and be most unhappy hereafter for all eternity? To be truly prudent is to be prudent to eternity, and so was our Saint, and who ever is not thus prudent proves himself a very fool.  
True prudence guides to true happiness; as there is no true happiness but eternal, so neither true prudence but which leads to this eternity. This is true prudence indeed, its great Act and Master piece; at which all our practical prudence in this great mannagement must level as at its final scope, and the purchase of all our endeavours in this life's Commerce. As nothing less than eternity will do our work, that is, make us eternally happy, so must we acquiesce in no other, none but that being truly satiative, and all the rest an empty shadow. The prudence of the flesh, saith the Apostle, is death, 
Rom. 8. 6.  and operates it: the wisdom of this world, saith the same, is folly with God; that Cannot be a guide of our 
1. Cor. 3. 19  proceed. Ours must be refined above the world and death, the issue of divine Wisdom, and therefore is called by it the Science of Saints, Scientia 
Prou. 10.  Sanctorum prudentia. This Science our B. Saint studied all his life long, and learnt more true knowledge out of it, than he did out of all the Philosophy of Aristotle, or Ideas of Plato. He learnt to be virtuous, to keep a good Conscience, his duty towards God, his Neighbour, and himself, to subdue sense to reason, and the whole man to the Obedience of the Divine Law. He learnt to prefer a solid happiness before a seeming one, eternity before time, the soul before the body, and God and his Service above all. Christ our B. Saviour 
Matt. 10. 16.  sends us to the Serpent to learn this prudence; and it teaches us a twofold: to expose the whole body to save the head, the seat of life; and so must we all our external goods, body and all, for the preservation of our faith and safety of our Souls. The Serpent, say Naturalists, stopps one ear with its tail the other it clapps close to the ground, so to become deaf to charms and enchantments; and prudence bids us imitate this amidst the enchantments of Sinful pleasures, (according to that of the 57 Psalm) to which our Corrupt nature inclines. Common errors lead the way, Custom like a torrent carries us head long, and engulfs us in a sea of Spiritual Miseries. To these two we may add a third; and it is, that the Serpent by forcing her passage through a narrow Cranny strips herself of her old coat and together of her old age and so becomes young. We by endeavouring, as our Saviour advices, to 
Luc. 13. 24.  enter by the narrow gate may effect the same, and, stripping ourselves of inveterate habits, put on a newness of life. Let us learn at least to avoid gross mistakes against prudence, if we cannot all. Even Common prudence bids us secure the main Concern when we cannot all particulars, it being accounted no indiscretion to hazard something to save the whole. What is our main Concern but our Soul? if we lose that we lose all: to venture a limb to save our life is a dictate of nature; and to exspose both body and estate to save our Soul is a Certain Maxim of grace. If we must quit either a lease for life, or an inhereritance, it would be deemed madness to part with the latter to secure the former, this being as much in its Kind as to exchange pearls for pebbles and gold for Clinquant; and is the same when ever Soul and body, time and eternity, heaven and this world come into Competency. To make here a right Election is the part of prudence; and our glorious S. THOMAS both did it and teaches us to do it, and of all the virtuous lessons of his whole life none then this is more important, none more prudent. God in his grace and light give us strength to make the same resolves, and execute them with an equal fidelity. Amen.   
FINIS.   

APPROBATIO.  
LIbellum, cui titulus, The Life and Gests of Saint Thomas Cantilupe, Bishop of Hereford, Anglicè conscriptum, à Theologo mihi noto lectum praelo dignum censeo. Actum Gandavi, 27. Augusti, Anno 1674.  
H. HESIUS. Libr. Censor.   

ERRATA.  
Fol. Lin.   17 12 glorions glorious 19 20 their they 23 11 hough though 31 29 inlustrious illustrious 33 5 chidhood childhood 45 9 fie fight 57 15 particulari particular 69 4 thiter thither 73 18 buh but 106 19 bee he 117 20 reccuid received 135 11 aftording affording 160 3 ove one 175 4 fitting sitting 186 20 the he 256 18 reahd reaped 270 7 many may 310 13 by be