A WORLD OF WONDERS: OR AN INTRODUCTION TO A Treatise touching the Conformity of ancient and modern wonders: OR A Preparative Treatise to the Apology for HERODOTUS.  
The Argument whereof is taken from the Apology for HERODOTUS written in Latin by HENRY STEPHEN, and continued here by the Author himself.  
Translated out of the best corrected French copy.  Plutarch. in Sympos. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
·ANCHORA SPEI·   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON, Imprinted for JOHN NORTON. 1607.   

Non juuat assiduè libros tractare severos,  
Bartole sive tuos, sive Galene tuos.  
Sed libet ad dulces etiam descendere lusus,  
Atque animum doctis exhilarare iocis.  
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORDS, WILLIAM Earl of PEMBROKE: PHILIP Earl of MONTGOMERIE: Patrons of learning: patterns of Honor.  
RIGHT noble Lords:  
La●rtius telleth us, that in old time there were but seven wise men to be found in the world: but now it seems there are hardly seven ignorant. For a man can no sooner set a fair mark, but every bungler will out with his bolt (as though he could cornicum oculos configere) and like a Roman Censor will give his censure, though (often) no more to the purpose than Magnificat for Matins, as it is in the French proverb. We are now fallen into that critical age, wherein Censores liberorum are become Censores librorum; Lectores, Lictores: and every man's works and writings (both prime inventions, and second hand-translations) are arraigned at the tribunal of each pedantical Aristarches understanding. For if a man follow the point orderly and well, he is curious: if he digress never so little, he is frivolous: if the style be elaborate, it smelleth of the socket: if somewhat neglected and incult, it is good for nothing, but to be paper for his pocket. If the work swell with quotations and carry a large margin, it is nothing but a rhapsody. If it be naked, without all allegations, it's plain Dunstable, and a mere foppery. If the author write in praise of any, they fine him for a flatterer: if of none, for a maligner. Our ancestors called HERODOTUS Patrem Historia: these censorious Sirs, Patrem Fabularum. They thought him worthy to be read at the games of Olympus▪ these men read him but as a Canterbury tale, to hold children from play, and old folks from the chimney corner. Notwithstanding, if the Readers were only censorious, the matter were the less; but they are also humorous: For men's faces are not more differing then their fancies and affections. ZENO hath still two sorts of scholars in every school, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; some affecting nothing but subiectam scientiam, solidity of matter: others respecting nothing but subiectam sententiam, quaintness in regard of the manner. The former being (like unto CATO) heluones librorum (men of steel stomachs) can digest any discourse (though never so course) that comes to hand. The later (like our dainty dames) can away with nothing, except they have finer bread than can be made of wheat. Some are like SOCRATES, whom nothing can please but Ethics, some discourse of moral Philosophy. Others (like EPICURUS) can relish nothing but Physics, some subtle disputation of natural Philosophy. Some take pleasure in nothing, except it be full of plainness and perspicuity. Others (of a more refined and sublimate temper) can savour nothing but that which exceeds the vulgar capacity. Some with PLUTARCH cannot fancy ARISTOTLE'S Metaphysics. Others with CAPELLA & POLLIO find Solecisms in TULLY, and I know not what Patavinitie in LIVY. So that it may be truly said, Vt rerum omnium, sic literarum quoque intemperantiá laboramus: As we are sick of a surfeit of all other things, so of learning also. Therefore considering there are so many thieves lying in the way, and so many pirates in this our paper-sea (as well seadogs as land critics) it cannot be that any man's writings should safely travail into any country without safe conduct, nor arrive at any coast without a convoy.  
Vouchsafe therefore (Right honourable Lords, and by right most worthy to be honoured, because deserts have made you truly honourable) to give your pass to this Apology, now that it is to pass the file of so many and so diverse judgements: and to let the Sun of your favourable aspects give shine to this new world: the Author whereof being a man so well known to the learned, and so dear to your renowned Uncle (that worthy Knight of famous memory Sir PHILIP SIDNEY) cannot be unknown nor unwelcome to your Lordships. Of whom albeit I cannot say as NAZIANZEN doth of BASIL, that there is no more comparison between him and his fellows, then between the pillars in the Church and their shadows: Yet thus much I hope I may speak without offence, that as he was a man of the rarest skill in the Greek tongue; so of the finest conceit in pleasant discourse that ever this age afforded. I appeal no further then to this Apology, wherein (to parallel those histories in HERODOTUS, which seem to some so incredible, and so to stop the mouths of those Didymists, who will believe nothing except their senses say Amen) he hath so artificially couched divers Centuries of our strangest modern histories (as an abridgement of the wonders of former Ages) and that with such festivity, variety, brevity and perspicuity, as the like (I persuade myself) is not to be found in the French, and I dare boldly say was never in the English tongue before. Here your Lordships shall see the rusticity of former times, and the fashions of foreign countries: as also the cheating cunnicatcher, the quacksaluing mountebank, the kind cuckold, the rigging housewife, the merciless murderer, the griping usurer, the lawless Lawyer, the ignorant, covetous, and fantastical Physician, etc. so lively described & laid forth in their colours, as if APELLES had been here with his pencil. But especially (as a garland to all the rest) the gluttony, lechery, cruelty, felony, blasphemy, stupidity, and the like cardinal virtues of our good Catholics of the Romish Hierarchy: and that (how ever they bear it out with a Roman resolution, in arrogating to themselves the glorious name of Catholics, and branding their opposites with the odious term of Heretics, as certain Heathen in old time called themselves Deists, and all men else Atheists; and the Turk at this day, who will needs be the true mussulman, and all the world besides Pagan;) that (I say) their Catholic religion is nothing but catholic corruption, and Catholic Papists, catholic heretics.  
Seeing therefore (most noble and my most honoured Lords) the qualities of the mind (as Philosophy teacheth) do commonly run on a blood, (as in Rome the Lelij were wise, the Publicolae courteous, the Piso's frugal, the Metelli religious, etc.) I am in good hope that as your honourable Uncle highly esteemed the Author of this Apology in regard of his excellent parts, and incomparable knowledge in the Greek tongue, and kindly entertained him in his travail, and that at sundry times; as first at Heidelbergh, after that at Strasburgh, and last of all at Vienna in Austria: and courteously accepted the two books which he dedicated unto him, the one 
* Graec. Test. An. 1576.  coming out of his press, the 
* Gnomolog. Graec. M.S.  other only from his pen: so you (who forerun all as far in courtesy as in pedigree) will as kindly entertain this his poor Orphan newly come into a strange country, and having lately learned the language of the place. And were it but only that your renowned Uncle (I can never name him too often whom I can never sufficiently honour) and your honourable Mother (the virtuous Lady, and thrice renowned Countess of Pembroke) have travailed in this kind, 
De veritat. Christ. relig. by Sir Philip Sidney. His discourse of life & death by the Countess of Pembroke.  in translating some of the works of that Phoenix of France, the Lord du Plessis, into our English tongue; I persuade myself, it would not be ungrateful to your Lordships: especially being dedicated by him who hath dedicated and devoted himself, to employ his pen and pains, and what service he can else perform for the honour of your house. In confidence therefore of your accustomed clemency, as the Author dedicated his WORLD OF WORDS (I mean his treasury of the Greek tongue) to the greatest Princes of Europe; that under their names it might pass with greater applause to their Universities: So I do here humbly commend this his WORLD OF WONDERS (a work of far less volume, but no less value) to your honourable protection, that under your patronage it may pass to the universe of our British nation. And verily among those many radiant Diamonds which do so beautify his highness Crown & Diadem, I could see none more resplendent, and consequently fitter to be placed in the Frontispiece of this work (like two great lights to shine in the heaven of this new world) than your two Lordships. For who more fit to patronage so conceited a work, than they who for their sufficiency are best able to judge of conceits? and by their excellent discourse (as it is said of ASHER) to afford pleasures for a King? 
Gen. 49.20.  And to whom should students have recourse, but to those who are amici studiorum & studiosorum, both lovers of learning and of learned men? (whose recompense in this barren Age, were it not for such bountiful benefactors, would be but small; their bed might be upon the straw at the sign of the Star, and they get nothing but their labour for their pains.) And if it be a true saying, Temples are to be dedicated to the Gods, and books to good men; to whom may I better dedicate this Apology, then to your good Lordships, in whom those eminent parts and almost heroical virtues of your dearest Uncle (whose untimely death hath been so infinitely regretted) are now (as out of the ashes of the Phoenix) quickened and revived again? and in whom the blossoms of many rare virtues putting forth so timely in this April of your age, do promise more than ordinary fruit of great good in time to come?  
But lest I should seem to gild gold: and for that you are not wont to feed upon the wind of men's words; I cease to be further troublesome: though never ceasing in my best wishes and desires to pray to the highest Majesty, that great God of heaven and earth (who is great without quantity, good without quality, infinite without place, eternal without time; whose providence reacheth from the Centre to the Circumference; from the silliest Scyniph, to the highest S●raphin,) to bless your Lordships with health of body, peace of conscience, increase of honour, and length of days: that his most excellent Majesty may long enjoy such faithful ACHATESES, and learning such bountiful MECAENATES: and that in the end of mortality (after the revolution of many happy years) you may attain to that happiness that never shall have end.  
Your Lordship's most humbly devoted in all duty and service, R. C.   

THE TRANSLATOR to the Reader.  
THere offer to thy view and censure (gentle Reader) the Translation of Stephen's Apology, written in defence of Herodotus his (strongly conceited, but falsely supposed fabulous) History▪ which I present unto thee under the name of A World of Wonders. When I call it a World of Wonders, think not that I go about to gull thee with an happelourde some counterfeit work, having only a glorious title, and performing nothing less than that which the title doth promise and pretend; like Lucian's Verae historiae, or our peddling pamphlets, which have plus salis quam sumptûs, More conceit than cost, cozening the world with copper for gold, with glass for pearl, and seeming for substance. And when I say Stephen's Apology, imagine not that thou hast either Palaephatus his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in hand, or Goularts Admiranda, or Wolfius his Memorabilia, or Torquemeda's Mandevile of miracles; or any such rhapsody of an indigested history, whose authors are at cost to print us new Almanacs of the last year: but a learned, pithy, and pleasant Apology, whose title doth neither belly the text, nor the text shame the title. For as it is called A World of Wonders: so it containeth a world of matter, and that beyond all marvel. So that if Poets do rightly call Iriden Thaumantis filiam, the rainbow, the daughter of wonder; we may well call this Apology A World of wonders, considering the rainbow hath not half the variety of colours, that this Apology of strange and pleasant histories. And though a wonder last but nine days, as the common saying is: yet a World of wonders will last to all posterity. And verily, if we may conjecture of future events by former precedents, I see not but that it will remain (more durable than the seven wonders of the world) even to many generations: sith it hath already passed the press (if I have counted right) well near fourteen times within these forty years. And now this Mart (if the Catalogue deceive us not) we are to receive a new impression. So that if it have but half that kind entertainment here, that it hath had, and still hath, in it own country, the Printer will be no loser by the bargain.  
But it is not my purpose (gentle Reader) to detain thee with impertinent discourse about terms and titles, nor yet to abuse thy patience with a second Apology for Herodotus, (for that were but to deflower the time, and to write Iliada post Homerum, considering it hath been sufficiently performed by Manutius, Camerarius, and this our Author.) Howbeit something of necessity must be spoken in way of Apology for this Apology, to clear it of those many imputations and aspersions that are cast upon it; as well upon the matter of the book, as the manner of writing: the truth of the history, as the modesty of the historian. And first to begin with crimen falsi: Our good Catholics abroad and corner-creepers at home, stick not to cast out such speeches as these; That it is an easy matter to make the tale run which way shall please the teller; that as under the fairest face lieth the foulest heart, so (often) in the smoothest tale the smallest truth. In a word, that Stephen's Apology is nothing but a rhapsody of fables of Friars, devised of his fingers, and therefore the Translator had need to look to his proofs. But what writer should be innocent, if such senseless prating might pass for proof? They are therefore to know, that the greatest sticklers are not alway the greatest strikers, nor the loudest barkers the sorest biters; We have lived too long to be scared with such bugs. And I doubt not, but (for all these cracks and bravadoes) they will take counsel of their pillow, and (perhaps) struck their beards five times (as the Doctors of Sorbonne that disputed with Erasmus did, ere they could bring out one wise word) before they will disprove it. For had it been so easy a pill to have been swallowed, we should have heard of them long ere this, considering they have had it lying by them full forty years and more. But this is the matter: if Stephen or any other orthodox writer trip never so little, and mistake but the least circumstance, they cry out by and by that they do nothing but bely them, that they misreport their actions, and falsify their positions, etc. Wherein they deal like certain thieves, who robbing a true man, and finding more money about him than he would be known of, cried out of the falsehood of the world, that there was no truth to be found among men. They may do well to look a little nearer home; 
Walsing. in Rich. 2. pag. 281.  where Walsingham (one of their own writers) will tell them that Friars in the reign of King Richard the second, were so famous (or rather infamous) for there lying, that it was held as good an argument to reason thus, Hic est Frater, ergo mendax: He is a Friar, ergo a liar: as, Hoc est album, ergo coloratum: This is white, therefore coloured. And that they have not yet lost the whetstone, nor left their old wont, may appear by those infinite lewd lies which they have published in their Legends, Festivals, Breviaries, Specula Histor. Vitae Patrum, Hours, Offices, Pies, Portifories, Portuises, etc. For whereas 
a Zigaben. in Saracen.  Mahomet left but 113. fables in his Alcoran: they have left more than so many thousand. For hardly shall a man find a leaf (I had almost said a line) without a lie. To give a taste of some few: What more common in their writings then such fables as these? That 
b Breu. Rom. Pij 5. Fest. Octob. Lect. 6.  Saint Denis the Areopagite took up his head after it was stricken off, and carried it in his hand two miles. That 
c Nou. Legen. Angl. fol. 90. col. 1.  Saint Dunstane took the devil by the nose with a pair of pincers as he looked in at a window, and made him cry most pitifully. That 
d Ibid. fol 37.  Saint Bernac turned oak leaves into loaves, viz. by changing one letter, stones into fishes, water into wine: and that he sailed over the sea upon a stone; as 
e Ibid. fol. 197 col 3.  an hundred and fifty of joseph of Arimath. company did upon his son's shirt, and 
f Alcoran Franc. l. 1. pag. 144. & Sedul Apol. advers. Alcor. li. 3 c. 28. §. 11.  Friar Herueus upon his mantle. That 
g Engl. Fest. de S. Nicol. fol. 61. col. 3.  Saint Nicholas while he lay in his cradle fasted Wednesdays and Fridays, on which days he would never suck above once. That 
h jacob. de Vorag. §. 95. lit. C.  Saint Christopher pitched his staff in the ground, and forthwith it budded and brought forth leaves: at the sight whereof eight thousand Pagans became Christians. That 
i Nou. Legen. Angl. fol. 261. col. 4.  Bishop Trian having killed his cow and his calf to entertain Saint Patrick and his company, the next morning both of them were seen feeding in the meadow. That a 
k Lomb. hist. de S. Patric. sect 49. lit. A.  sheep being stolen, and not restored to the owner as Saint Patrick had commanded, he caused it to bleat in the belly of him that had eaten it. That 
l Discip. de Temp. in Promp. Exempl. lit. E. Exemp. 16.  Saint Briccius being but a boy, saw the Devil behind the Altar, noting the misdemeanour of the people in a piece of parchment: and that when he wanted parchment to write on, he pulled it so hard with his teeth, that the parchment rend, and he knocked his head against the wall. And that Saint Martin conjured him so, that he caused him to blot out what he had written. That when the 
m jac. de Votag. in vita Georg. lit. A.  King's daughter of Silena cast her girdle about the Dragon's neck (as Saint George had commanded her,) he followed her up and down like a gentle dog. That 
n Ibid. lit. B.  S. George being cast into a copperful of boiling lead, by making the sign of the cross was refreshed therein, as if he had been in a bath. That 
o Legen. nou. Angl. sol. 161. col. 3.  Saint Goodrick (that good Norfolk Saint) ten years before his death saw clearly whatsoever was done within ten miles of him round about: and that he often saw what ever was done in all the world. That 
p Legen. aur. de S. Dominico. lit D.  Saint Dominicks books being fallen into the river, and lying there three days, were found by a fisherman, and taken up as dry as a feather. That 
q Capgr. in Romualdo.  Saint Romuald delivered high points of divinity as soon as he was borne; and presently after he was baptised made a learned Sermon. That 
a Lomb. hist. de S. Christina lit B.  Saint Christina spoke when her tongue was cut out. That 
b Ibid. de S. Margareta lit. 8.  Saint Margaret being swallowed by a Dragon, had no sooner made the sign of the cross, but the Dragon burst asunder, and out she came as sound as a trout. That 
c Engl. Festiu. in die Corp. Christi. fol. 55 col. 3.4.  Sire Ambright Earl of Venice (or of Utopia, whether you will) desirous to receive the Sacrament, and being not able to take it by reason of continual casting, laid it on his side, upon the place next his heart, saying, Lord thou knowest that I love thee with all my heart, I would feign receive thee with my mouth if I durst; but because I may not, I lay thee on the place that is next my heart: and having so said, his side opened, and when the host was gone in, it closed again. That 
d Capgr. Leg. fol 35. col. 4.  Beda's boy (who led him up and down to preach because he was blind) being disposed to play the knave with him, brought him into a valley full of great stones, telling him that there were many there assembled to hear him: and that when he had made his sermon, and concluded with per omnia saecula saeculorum, the stones answered aloud, Amen venerabilis Pater; which was one special reason why he was ever after called Venerable Bede. That when 
e Rogerus Hou●d. hist. part. 2.  Thomas Becket (who never drank any thing but water) sat at table with Pope Alexander, and that his Holiness would needs taste of his cup; lest his abstemiousnesse should be known, God turned the water into wine: so that the Pope found nothing but wine in the cup. But when Becket pledged him, it was turned into water again. For it were half heresy to think (notwithstanding the Pope found it to be wine) that Thomas drank any thing but water. With these and infinite the like fables (which a man would think should come rather from the wise men of Gotham, of the posterity of them that drowned the Eel, then from any in their right wits) do their pulpits daily sound, and their writings swell again. And therefore if you do not believe them, take heed you be not burnt for an heretic.  
Now it would be tedious to give but a light touch to those manifold fables which they have broached of their lying Saints, as of Saint Christopher, Saint George, Saint Catherine: which never saw the light, nor ever had being, save only in picture and imagination. And which they shame not to tell us in their lying Traditions, as namely of the bodily assumption of the virgin Mary into heaven, etc. In their lying revelations, as of the deliverance of Traian's soul out of hell, etc. And which they daily broach in their lying reports, as that 
f Maffae. in vita Ignat. lib. 1. cap. 7 Et Ribad. l. 2. c. 7.  Ignatius Loiola was rapt up into heaven, and saw the holy Trinity in three persons and one essence: and that God showed him the pattern which he laid before him when he made the world. And lastly in their lying letters, of the miracles done by the holy Fathers of their society in the West Indies: as that 
g Tursil. lib. 1. cap. 16.  a burning taper of a cubit length being set before Xaviers tomb, burnt above three weeks day and night, without wasting. That 
h jesuit. Catec. lib. 1. cap. 17.  a man (who never saw further than the length of his nose) opening Xaviers tomb, and rubbing his eyes with his hand, recovered his sight. That 
i Ibid.  a piece of his whip and girdle cured all sorts of diseases: and a thousand such like: which our holy Mother calleth 
k Marnix. Alueat. lib. 5. c. 1.  Pias frauds, godly cosinages: and the milk which Saint Paul gave the Corinthians to drink, being unable to digest stronger meat, as a Friar at Gaunt was wont to say. And no marvel they should send us over so many Legends (or rather legions) of lies, and such a farthel of fooleries out of foreign countries, when they are not ashamed to feed us at home with as fine fables: and that not only in print, but also in picture; as namely▪ that 
l Theatre of Cruelties in Engl. printed in the English College cum Priuil. Greg. 13. Ann. 1584.  some for the Catholic cause have been here in England put into bears skins and baited with mastiffs. That 
m Coster. orth. fid. daemon. in prin.  others have had boots full of boiling grease pulled on their legs. And that others have been shod with hot iron shoes, etc. That 
n Cochlaeus Staph. etc.  Luther was begotten by an Incubus, and strangled by the devil. That 
o Bolsec. in vita C●luini.  Calvin was a stigmatick, and banished for a Sodomite. That 
p Coster. Compend. orth. fid. demonst. concls gener. cap. 4.  Bucer renounced Christian religion at his death, and died a Iew. That 
a Putean. de morte Bezae. ●t Catech. jesuit. lib. 1. c. 17.  Beza reconciled himself to the Church of Rome, and died a Catholic. That 
b Coster. comp. orth. fid. demonst. gen. concls. cap. 5.  jewel after his challenge at Paul's Cross, being requested by a Catholic to show his opinions out of the Fathers, should answer, that he spoke not as he thought, but ad faciendum populum, as they say. That 
c Idem. ibidem de matrim. Sacran. cap. 30.  Doctor Sands Archbishop of York should entice his hostess to unlawful lust: when as the world knows she was brought to his bed, as Lais the famous strumpet was to Xenocrates. That 
d D List. ex ●um. Ital.  Queen Elizabeth had a black beard. That when 
e Canoniz. Camp Aquipont. etc.  Campion was drawn to the place of execution, the water in Thames stood still. That a 
f jesuit. Belg. pro conc. Ex fam. mere. Lond. present.  Preacher in London speaking against the holy virgin Hallensis, was suddenly twicht out of the pulpit, and carried away by the devil. These few examples I have here alleged out of their old Legends, and late worthy writers, as Cochlaeus, Staphylus, Bolsec, Surius, Coster, Puteanus, and such like, the Pope's parasites: partly to show their diffidence in defence of a bad cause: that as foul gamesters when they cannot make their part good by fair play, begin to quarrel with their fellows, or to cog with a di●: so they, not able to maintain their Catholic cause by plain dealing, are driven to defend it with a trick of a false finger: namely with one of these three figures of Roman Rhetoric (to which they are so much beholding,) Auxesis, in advancing their favourites: Meiosis, in debasing their opposites: and Pseudologia, which in Latin is termed mendacium; we Englishmen call it a lie. Partly to show that they have small reason to lay lies in other men's dishes, seeing all the pack of them, from the proudest Pope, to the poorest hedge-priests, are but a lying generation. 
2. Thess. 2.9.  For as lying wonders are his part (as the Apostle saith:) so wondrous lies are theirs, as the former examples do sufficiently declare. And lastly, to let the Reader see what a spirit of giddiness, what strong delusions, what efficacy of error, God in his just judgement sends upon them to believe lies, because they receive not the love of the truth. 
Vers. 10.  We were in good hope they would at the last have been ashamed of these Legendary lies, when as their own writers began to distaste them. For 
g Cap. de ref. Praelat. Fascic. ret. expetend. fol 206.  Petrus de Alliaco exclaimeth against them in his book de Reformatione Ecclesiae. And it was one of the 
h Cravam. 21.  hundred grievances which the Germans complained of, that their Friars fed the people with fables, and told them nothing but tales out of the pulpit. And 
i De cause. corrup. art. lib. 2.  vives writing of the Lombardica historia, saith, that it is not fit to be read by any Christian; and that he cannot imagine why it should be called the Golden Legend, considering it was written by a man ferrei oris, plumbei cordis. And 
k Motiu. 5.  Bristol himself rejects certain of their miracles, which (saith he) we read in I know not what Legenda aurea. And as for that execrable book of Conformities, written by Bartholomew de Pisis (for that of johannes Capella one of Saint Francis his scholars, and that other of jeremy Bucchius, are not altogether so notorious) even the Friars themselves after the light of the Gospel began to dispel the darkness of Popery, were so ashamed of it, that they called it in again, and laboured to suppress it by buying up all the copies they could hear of: that the world might never (for shame) know, how shamefully they had abused our forefathers. But behold the malice of the devil, who of late is grown far more impudent; as he who knowing his time to be but short, means to use it to the full proof. For that which our good Catholics in former ages were ashamed once to hear of: his imps at this day stick not to defend. For now if a man do but once call the counterfeit history of Saint George, Saint Christopher, or Saint Catherine into question, 
Balae. Act. Rom. Pontif. lib. 7. in Marcello 2.  he shall strait with Virgerius be suspected of heresy, and expelled their society. And it is no longer since then the other Mart, that we received an Apology in defence of this worthy work of Conformities, written by one Henry Sedulius a Minorite Friar, against the Alcoran of the Franciscans; yet so performed, as that it doth not only call his modesty, but his wits also into question. Therefore seeing they are not ashamed to thrust upon us such rotten wares, and to rake up such rusty stuff out of the dead dust and darkness, wherein time and shame have suffered them to rest. Necessary it is we should 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, cast some of their filth in their faces again, and answer fools according to their follies; that so they may have a qui pro quo, a Rowland for an Oliver; at leastwise, oil for their vinegar.  
But lest they should say (as their manner is) that our loading of them with lies, doth nothing lessen the farthel of our own faults and fables; and that to make long invectives (how truly soever) against the old Legends, doth make little for justifying of this Apology: I would have them to know that there is no one history in the whole Apology (excepting those which the Author had by credible information, 
Read the Epist: to his friend. sect 2. & Chap. 36. sect 7.  or his own private observation, which are but very few, and wherein there is no indifferent man (I think) but will rather credit him, protesting to deliver nothing but the plain truth, than the Pope's prentices, who are bound to a lying occupation) which may not be proved by good authority; and most what out of their own writers: as namely out of Boccace, Petrarch, Pontanus, Fulgosius, Poggius, Menard, Benno, and the like: especially out of the Queen of Navarres Heptameron, which she writ in imitation of Boccace his Decameron. A book which (besides that it was penned by one of their own profession, for Lady Margaret author thereof, was the Duke of Angoulesmes daughter, sister to King Francis the first, aunt to King Henry the second, and grandmother to King Henry the fourth that now reigneth) is authorized by King Henry the second, 
Mount. Essay. lib. 2. cap. 11.  with a large privilege: and highly commended by your devoutest Papists: and was so generally applauded at the Court in the reign of King Francis the first, that such as spoke against it were severely punished. Witness Friar Tossan, 
Vit Fran. jun. pag 3, 4.  Warden of the Franciscans Covent at Vlixodunum, who for preaching against her, and saying that she was a Lutheran, and that she deserved to be sewed in a sack, and cast into the river (for that she had discovered the knaveries of his fellow-Friers,) was banished France by the King, and sent to be a galley slave in the Mediterranean sea, for the space of two years. Now against that which Stephen hath here delivered touching the lewdness of their lives, I hope they will not greatly except. For though our new Apologist 
* Epist. Dedic. Praelat. Apol. advers. Alcor. Francisc.  Sedulius (the great Proctor for the Franciscans) stick not to say, that there is no more comparison between their Friars and us in regard of holiness of life, then between light and darkness, Christ and Belial: yet if the matter once come to curious scanning, it will be found that they have no such cause to insult over their neighbours; they being such a viperous brood, whose venom lies not only in their tongues, but also in their tails, that is to say, as well in their lewd lives, as in their devilish doctrine: and that if the life of our Ministers be compared with that of their Friars, it will be found to exceed theirs as far as York doth foul Sutton, to use a Northern phrase. And that if holiness of life be a true note of the Church, ours will be found Apostolical, theirs Apostatical. For if they put their hands into their own bosoms, oh how leprous shall they pull them forth again? They are indeed often praying, yet where less devotion? vowing obedience, yet where more contention? chastity, yet who more luxurious? poverty, yet who so covetous? It were infinite to recount what we find in their own writers of their Popes. joannes Salisb. saith, 
De nug. curial. lib. ●.  that the reason (in God's providence) why Popes die so fast, is, lest if they should live any long time they should corrupt the whole Church. Budé saith, that in gluttony and lechery, 
De ass.  pessimum quemque superant. Warnerus author Fascic. Temp. Heu, heu, Domine Deus, quomodo obscuratum est aurum? mutatus est colour optimus. Qualia contigisse circa haec tempora etiam in sancta sede Apost. quam usque huc tanto zelo custodisti, scandala? quales contentiones, sectae, invidiae, ambitions, intrusiones, persecutiones? O tempus pessimum, in quo deficit sanctus & diminutae sunt veritates à filijs hominum. Eia quis conventus? quae congregatio? quis homo iam securus erit, 
Epist. sine Tit. Ep. 12.  si sic deficit sanctitas Apostolica? Petrarch wishing his friend not to come at the Pope's Court (which lay then at Auinion in France) hath these words: Loco te si movere volveris, ad nos veni: vide Romam, vide Mediolanum, vide Venetias, vide Florentiam, vide Patavium tuum, vide Bononiam: postremò quidlibet vide, Indos quoque, modò ne videas Babilonem, neque descendas in Infernum vinus. If thou wilt travail, come to me: or go to Rome, or Milan, Venice, or Florence, or to thine own city Padua, or to Bononia: in a word, go whither thou wilt (though it be to the Indies) so thou come not at Babylon, and so quick to the devil. And he giveth a reason of this his dissuasion in another place, where he saith: 
Epist. 7.  Quicquid de Assiria vel Aegyptia Babylone, quicquid de quatuor Labyrinthis, quicquid denique de Auerm limine, deue tartareis syluis, sulphureisque paludibus legisti: huic Tartaro admotum, fabula est. Hîc turrificus simul atque terrificus Nembroth, hîc pharetra Semiramis, hîc inexorabilis Minos, hîc Rhadamanthus, hîc Cerberus universa consumens, hîc Tauro supposita Pasiphaë, mixtumue genus (quod Maro ait) prolesque biformis Minotaurus inest, Veneris monimenta nefandae: hîc postremò quicquid confusum, quicquid atrum, quicquid horribile usquam est aut fingitur, aspicias, etc. That is, That which thou readest of Babylon in Assiria, or of that in Egypt, or of the four Labyrinths, or of the gate that leads down to hell, or of those tartarean woods, and sulphurean lakes, is nothing in comparison of this hell. Here dwells that towering & terrible Nimrod, that hunting rigsby Semiramis, that inexorable Minos and Radamanthus, that alldevouring Cerberus: here is Pasiphaë who prostituted herself to a bull, that mongrel and monstrous kind, of which Virgil speaks of: that two form misshapen Minotaurus: the monuments of lawless lust not to be named. In a word, nothing is or can be imagined so confused and out of order; so ugly, horrible, & hideous which is not here to be seen. But to leave their Popes, and come to their Priests: what saith 
* Innoc. 3. in die Ciner. Serm. 2.  one of their holy Fathers of them in general? 
Noctu filium Veneris agitant in cubili,  
Mane filium Virgins sacrificant in Altari.  
Nocte Venerem amplexantur:  
Mane Virginem venerantur.  And what saith 
* In Sagitt.  Palingenius? 
Proh dolour! hos tolerare potest Ecclesia porcos,  
Duntaxat ventri, veneri, somnoue vacantes?  
* Sup. lib. Sap. Lect. 182.  Holcot calleth the Priests in his time Sacerdotes Priapi: and saith moreover that they are Angeli Sathanae per discordiam; Angeli Apostatici per superbiam; Angeli incubi per luxuriam; Angeli abyssi per avaritiam. Hence it is that Erasmus being demanded what charity was; answered, that it was a friars cowl, because it covereth a multitude of sins. And that it doth so, hear what Walter Mapes saith: 

Est nullum Monacho maius Daemonium,  
Nihil avarius, nil magis varium;  
Cui si quid datur, est possessor omnium,  
Si quicquam petitur, nihil habet proprium.   

Si prandet, competit, ut loqui nesciat,  
Ne lingua dentium opus impediat.  
Si bibit, expedit, ut sedens hauriat,  
Ne pes sub pondere ventris deficiat.   

Die devotus adorat dolia,  
Nocte cum bipede laborat bestia:  
Tali discrimine, tali molestia,  
Meretur vir Dei regna coelestia.   And what honest men these Jesuits are, may appear by the late Gunpowder. Treason against his Majesty and the State; 
Wats. Quodl. jesuit Catech. in French. Sparing Disc●● etc.  and by that which Watson and other secular Priests as well without as within the land have written to their great commendation. But though men were silent, yet the very stones would speak (as Christ saith in another case) and show the lewdness of their lives. Witness (among the rest) a picture in a stone wall in the Library of the Monastery at Fulda (which remains as a monument to the world of their everlasting reproach and ignominy) of a Wolf in a Monk's cowl, 
Catal. Test. vent lib. 16.  with a shaven crown, leaning on a staff, and preaching to a company of geese, and saying, Testis est mihi Deus quam cupiam vos omnes in visceribus meis. And that of a Cat with a mitre on her head, and a crosier staff in her foot, preaching to the mice. To whom one of them answereth in this sort: Charius est mihi ut moriar Paganus, quam sub vestra manu fiam Christianus. The Cat replies, Quod fueram non sum, frater, caput aspice tonsum. She answers again, Cor tibi restat idem, vix tibi praesto fidem. Which pictures being above 200. years old at the least (though Wicelius call them Lutheranissimas) do notably set forth the fraud and felony, the covetousness and treachery of the Popish prelacy. For never did greedy Wolf so raven for his prey, nor the cat so narrowly watch the mouse, as these false Friars have done to prey upon the poor people. Witness the Romant of the Rose, 
Coster. Compend. daemon. orthodox. sid. Praef. ad Lect.  Mapes his Goliath, Chaucer's jack Upland, Taxa Apostolica, etc. And whereas they say that the loose life of Catholics proceeds only from human frailty: and that in us heretics it flows from the principles of our new divinity; which permits usury, dispenseth with polygamy, & grants liberty to a man to company with his maid when her mistress is too coy: They keep their old wont of lying and slandering: For none of all these can be deduced by just consequence out of the principles of our doctrine: the first being a mere mistaking of Calvin: the second, the singular opinion of Ochinus: the third, a shameful slander and wilful wresting of Luther. The sins rather of the Popish Clergy and Laity do flow from the principles of their divinity, and are as well praedicationis as conversationis, as well Cathedral as Personal. For venial sins (to use their own distinction) are easily done away with a short shrift, an ave Mary, or a holy water sprinkle. Witness their own verses here ensuing: 
Confiteor, tundo, conspergor, conteror, oro,  
Signior, edo, dono: per haec venialia pono.  That is, 
I am confessed unto the Priest,  
I knock mine heart and breast with fist;  
With holy water I am besprent:  
And with contrition all rent.  
I pray to God and heavenly host,  
I cross myself at every post.  
I eat my Saviour in the bread:  
I deal my dole when I am dead.  
And doing so, I know I may,  
My venial sins soon do away.  And as for mortal sins, any man that hath money may have a warrant dormant, to do what he list, even to commit sins against nature, to marry his Aunt with Ferdinand, his brother's wife with Henry the eight, his niece with Philip the second: nay to mary his own sister: 
Pineda lib. 23 cap. 20. §. 4.  for Martin the fifth (of whom the boys at Florence were wont to sing as they went in the streets, 
El Papa Martino non vale un 
* A farthing.  quatrino:  
Martin the Pope is not worth a rope:)  dispensed with one to marry his own sister, as their own 
* 
Anton. sum. p. 3. tit. 1. cap. 11.  
Angel. de Clau. & Sylv. in verb. Papa. Fumus in verbo Dispens.   writers do record. Et quid (to use 
* Saxon. lib. 5. cap. 8.  Crantzius his words) hody per dispensationem Apostolicam non obtinetur? What may not a man do now a days by warrant from the Apostolic Sea? Now whereas some are wont to object, that in speaking against the cunning and sleight of merchants, cheaters, mountebanks, the covetous practice of usurers, the knaveries of Friars, etc. he doth nothing but teach them, and therefore might have done better to have concealed them: I answer, that herein he hath but followed the example of Aristotle and the Lacedæmonians: of Aristotle who delivereth the doctrine of Fallacies, or Sophistical Syllogisms, not to teach men how they may play the Sophisters, but how they may espy and avoid their sophisms. (And verily if the Translation had been out but one half year before, a friend of mine might have had more money in his purse.) Of the Lacedæmonians, who were wont to bring forth their servants being drunk, and to show them to their children, that seeing their beastly behaviour they might grow to a greater loathing and detestation of their drunkenness. And thus much for the matter of the Book.  
Touching the manner of writing: because the most do fancy and affect nothing but that which is candied with pleasure and de●●ght; he hath of purpose penned this Apology both pithily like a Logician, and pleasantly like a Rhetorician: yet not following the example of the Lord of Saint Aldegonde, who useth jests and pleasant conceits as saoule, and not as sauce, and can never take manum de tabula: but rather the precept of Aristotle, 
In Alvear. & au Tableau des differens.  who would have matter of merriment (as it were) sprinkled in a discourse, and used 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, only as a condiment, and not as nourishment: purposely shunning all filthy, rotten, and unsavoury speeches, as being not only condemned by the Apostle, but by the very light of nature itself. But doth not the Apostle (may some say) condemn as well 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, jesting as filthy speaking? No verily: 
Ephes. 5. v. 4.  For Paul's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is nothing else but Aristotle's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And therefore it is not so well translated jesting in the English, nor plaisanterie in the French: it should rather be turned scurrility, as it is in the old Latin Interpreter. For so the Syrian Metaphrast understands it, when he expresseth it by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, lusus & fabulae, as a man would say, toys and trifles, fables and fooleries. And Bruciolus by le ciancie, that is, idle iergon and vain babbling. And Luther by leichtsertiger schimpff, light talk, and prittle prattle. Therefore Theodoret saith, that the Apostle condemns not all manner of jesting and merriment, but only immoderatum risum, immoderate mirth: such (saith Primasius) as cannot stand with Christian gravity: (such as was the scoffing & scurrilous vain of that famous should I say, or rather infamous lewd libeler Martin as well marre-Church and mar-Prince as Mar-Prelate.) We must therefore distinguish inter salem Mercurij, & salem Momi, between festivity and scurrility, urbanity and ribaldry: Inter iocos cruentoes & eruditos, between such jests as will suffundere sanguinem, and those that will effundere, that is, between such as will make our adversaries blush, and those that will make them bleed. So that jesting being rightly leveled in regard of his object (for it is no new saying, Non patitur lusum, fama, fides, oculus:) and rightly bounded, I mean kept within the banks of Charity & Sobriety, may well be used, & that in two cases: either in way of honest recreation: or in dealing with obstinate heretics and enemies of the truth, who having been confronted & confuted a thousand times over, persist still in their former follies, albeit they bring nothing but the painted face of jezabel, rotten stuff newly varnished over, and old coleworts in a new dish: that so they may be (as the Lord threateneth the obstinate jews) a byword and a proverb, 
jer. 24.9. & 25.9.  a hissing and a derision to all that are round about them. For proof whereof (to pass over profane writers, as 
* De Orat. l. 2.  Cicero, 
* Serm. l. 1. sat. 10.  Horace, 
* Instit Orat. lib. ● cap 4.  Quintilian, and the like; who in some cases prefer a pleasant conceit before a sound argument: as when Horace saith, 
— ridiculum acri  
Fortius, 
Serm. l. 1. sat. 10.  & meliùs magnas plerumue secat res.)  The current of the ancient Fathers is in this point concurrent: some teaching the lawfulness of it by precept; 
Adu. haeres. lib. 1. cap. 5.  others by practice. Irenaeus derides the Valentinians, calling them pépones sophistas; and their Aeônes, cucumeres & cucurbitas. The like doth Clemens Alexandrinus, 
Adu. Valent. cap. 6.  Strom. lib. 7. And Ignatius epist. ad Tral. Tertullian saith that if he laugh them to scorn, and deride their dreams and dotages, he serves them but right: Nam multa (saith he) sunt sic digna revinci, ne gravitate adorentur. And Hermias (a Christian Philosopher) hath written a book which he calls Gentilium Philosophorum irrisio; 
Biblioth. sanc. Tom. 4.  wherein he finely stouts the folly of the heathen Philosophers. Why then shall it not be lawful for us to do the like in jesting at those who jest at God and his holy truth? Experience teacheth, that an Ironical speech doth often pierce deeper and stick closer to a man then a sound argument. It is the Physicians 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: for as that serves to cure the diseases of the body; so this the maladies of the mind. It is the corrosive which Elias applied to the gangreine of Baal's Priests that had so dangerously infected the people of the jews; 
1. King. 18.27.  Cry aloud for he is a God: either he ●alketh or pursueth his enemies, or is in his journey, or (it may be) he sleepeth and must be awaked. It is the salt which Elizaeus cast into the barren waters of jericho: 
2. Kin. ●. 21.22  For as they could not be cured but by the salt which he cast into the fountain: so neither can the waters, upon which the Scarlet strumpet sitteth (being people, 
Apoc. 17.15.  and multitudes, and nations, and languages) be cured of their spiritual barrenness, or of the Romish pock and Egyptian scab, except the salt of the Sanctuary (as I may say) be applied to their sores. What more frequent in Scripture then such kind of Ironies? 
Cen 3.22.  Behold man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: Now therefore (we must look to it) lest he put forth his hand, and take of the tree of life, and eat thereof, 
1. Kin. 22.15.  and so live for ever. Go up and prosper, for the Lord will deliver the city into the hands of the King. The Prophet Isaiah is commanded to take up a parable (or a taunting speech as the word signifieth) against the King of Babel, and to say, 
Isa 14. 1●.  How art thou fallen from heaven o Lucifer, son of the morning? And he derideth the brutishness of Idolaters, 
Isa. 44.15.16.17.  who of the same wood whereof they make a fire to warm themselves, to bake their bread, and roast their flesh: make a God to worship. And how doth the holy Ghost play upon the very places of Idolatry, as namely upon mount Olivet, when he nicknameth it (as I may say) calling it no more Mons mishchae, the mount of Olives or of unction, 
2. Kin 23.13.  but (by an excellent Antonomasy) Mons mashchith, the mount of corruption: 
Hos. 4.15.  And Bethel is no more called Beth-el, the house of God, but Beth-aven, the house of iniquity.  
Now if any modest mind shall (haply) take offence at some of his broad speeches, or shall think that they might have been better spared: I shall desire him to consider that it is not so easy a matter to find modest words to express immodest things: as himself saith Chap. 34. §. 2. that he hath but laid forth the lives of Popish Prelates, as Suetonius is said to have written the lives of the Emperors, E●dem libertate qua ipsi vixerunt: and that there is no reason that some should commit their villainy with impunity; and that no man may speak against it with modesty: or that writers should be counted bawdy Bales (that is, knaves) for publishing it, they honest men who practise it. As for those wit-foundred and letter-stricken students, I mean those cloudy spirits that are so wedded to the Muses, that they become enemies to the Graces, and can relish no discourse except it be full fraught and farced with Ob. and Sol. Videtur quod sic: probatur quod non, etc. Let them (a God's name) enjoy their Dunces and Dorbels, their Banes and Bambres, their Royards and blind bayards▪ so they measure us not by their own meatwand (making their minds the model for all men) but give us leave to use our liberty, and to imitate the practice of prudent Physicians, who apply the medicine to the malady, with particular respect of the patient's temper; not giving the same potion to a queasy and a steel stomach. For every plummet is not for every sound, nor every line for every level. All meats are not for every man's mouth: nor all liquors for every man's liking. The ignorant multitude and profound Clarks are not to be persuaded with the same arguments. For popular persuasion the learned prize not: and deep demonstration the simple pierce not. They must also remember what Saint Augustine saith, utile est plures libros à pluribus fieri, diverso stylo, non diversa fide, etiam de quaestionibus ijsdem, 
De Trinit. lib. 1. cap. 3.  ut ad plurimos res ipsa perveniat, ad alios sic, ad alios autem sic. That is, It is good that many books should be written by many men, & that of the same argument, in a different style, but not of a different faith: that so the same truth may be conveyed to many: to some after this manner, to some after that.  
Touching the Translation, I have not much to say: for I do not profess myself a Translator, neither do I arrogate any extraordinary skill in the French tongue. (I leave both to the skilful Linguists of our modern languages, as stately Savile, flourishing Florio, grave Grimeston, facile and painful Holland, etc.) Yet this I hope I may truly say, that I have expressed the meaning of my Author both truly and fully: and that I have not lost either the life or the grace of any conceit, where it was possible to be kept. Which I speak not as doting upon mine own doings: for I am not so in love either with the work or workmanship, with the matter of the book, or the manner of handling, nor the gay coat that I have put upon it, as Heliodorus was of his amorous discourse of Chariclea (called the Aethiopian history) who chose rather to leave his Bishopric, then to call in his book. I am rather of Marcilius Ficinus his mind, who having translated Plato into Latin, 
Niceph. Callist. Eccle. hist. lib. 12. ca 34.  came to his learned friend Musutus Candiot to know his opinion of it: where Candiot after he had perused some few leaves, perceiving that it would not satisfy the expectation of the learned, considering it was but slubbered over, and that it resembled the original (as Cicero the younger did his father) in nothing but in name: takes a sponge, and having dipped it in an ink-pot, blots out the first page: then turning him to Ficinus; Thou seest (quoth he) how I have corrected the first page: if thou wilt, I will correct the rest in like sort. To whom Ficinus very mildly answered: No reason that Plato should be disgraced through my default: and so refined it again. (Who notwithstanding having done the best he could, by his rustical simplicity resembles the majesty of Plato's style (if we may believe Scaliger) no otherwise then as if an Owl should represent an Eagle.) If therefore any candid Candiot (for I appeal only to such as have skill in the French tongue) shall show me that I have done the like in translating this Apology, and that I have not attained to the Venus of the French, the fineness, fitness, and featness of the phrase; I refuse not the sponge: so that he will correct me, and not control me. As for the rest, I shall desire them to spare their censure till they have learned their Littleton. But lest any carping companion should brag that he had found a hole in my coat, and that he could show where I have miss the cushion: I do here correct myself and confess a fault in the translation, Chap. 15. §. 1. which as (in my necessary absence) it passed the press before I was aware: so if it come to a second review, shall have his due correction. As for other 'scapes (saving such as have escaped the Correctors care) I know none: except some sciolus shall judge it a fault to translate à pain & à pot, at bed and board: à pot & à cueillier, at rack and manger: Entre Paris & Lion, betwixt York and London. Chien de S. Roch: Tobies dog, etc. As though it were never lawful to translate sexcenta, five hundred? And albeit it be bootless to complain of those infinite rubs that lay in my way, and those many difficulties which encountered me in my course: yet he that shall duly consider the Author's intricate notions, his obscure allusions, his manifold (though not impertinent) excursions, his continual repetitions of the same phrase in divers senses, (for Homer's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 noted by 
* Epigram. l. 1▪ sect. 46.  Martial, and Tully's esse videatur by 
* Essay. lib. 2. cap. 10.  Mountaigne, are not so frequent as Stephens à se propos) and last of all his infinite parentheses, which were enough to exercise the patience of a Saint: will no doubt (if he have but a grain of candour) aswell with connivency pass over such faults as are trivial, as tax those with some easy censure which he shall find to be material. As for the rigid censurer (who is crudelis in animaduertendo) I shall desire him but to make trial himself in translating of two or three paragraphs, and then I doubt not, Quin fuerit studijs aequior ille meis. Touching the phrase, I desire the less favour: for albeit I am not ignorant that tailors and writer's are now in like esteem; that if they have not new fashions, they are not fancied; and if the style be not of the new stamp, the author is but a simple fellow, and may put up his pipes: yet I have of purpose so tempered my style, as that it might content the judicious: nothing respecting the judgement or censure of our finical affecters, who are so humorous: leaving inkhorn phrases and tapsterlike terms for the tavern; and affected strains of Oratory for the stage: and avoiding especially the French frippery, because I would not have it seem to be a translation.  
Now before I conclude, I am to advertise thee (courteous Reader) that of two editions of this Apology, I have here followed the latter, (viz. that of Rigauds Anno 1592.) the rather because I was given to understand, that the Author himself not long before his death, did review the former edition of Marese, and left it corrected as here thou hast it. I have also observed the several sections in every Chapter as they are in that Edition, & have added the figures, for thy ease, and for more distinct reference in the quotation of places: which notwithstanding through the Printers oversight hath not been observed till the 12. Chapter. And whereas thou mayst (haply) expect another book to second this, because the Author calls it The first book of the Apology, (for as Demonax saith in Lucian, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) Thou art to know that as Francis de l'Isle intending to write three books of the life of Charles Cardinal of Lorraine, and the house of Guise, concluded all in one: so our author purposing to have added a second (and it may be a third) unto this first; by reason of his great employments and manifold distractions, hath shut up all in one, making the Preface to the Reader serve not only as a specimen but as a supplement in stead thereof: as thou mayst better understand, if it please thee to read the Preface to the second part, §. 2. The material faults which corrupt the sense, I have corrected according to the page and line; as thou mayst see in the end of the book, where I shall desire thee to begin to correct before thou begin to read. In the Preface to the Reader pag. 12. lin. 1●. thou mayst (if thou please) for The cudgel mars love, The cudgel made love, read The cudgel kills love, The cudgel kindled love. Other literal and less faults, which have escaped either my pen in writing, or the Printer in correcting, I leave to thy judicious candour. And thus much (if it be not too much) shall suffice for the present; till this world being ended, I bring thee further news out of another world. London, Novemb. 6. Anno 1607. This very day just one and forty years since the first Edition of this Apology: and the day after the gunpowder Treason.   

HENRY STEPHEN TO THE READER.  
THUCYDIDES in the Preface to his history, hath an excellent saying worthy our serious consideration, teaching us to condemn that in ourselves, which he condemns in the ancient Grecians, for speaking vainly of sundry accidents which fell out before their time, grounding their belief upon an uncertain brute blazed abroad without taking further pains to search thereinto: which was the cause they so often entertained falsehood in stead of the truth. Which should teach us to bridle our levity, as often as we are drawn to credit any report, especially in matters of importance. But this evil hath made so deep impression in many men's minds, that before it can be beaten out of them, I fear me, they must be cast in a new mould. Notwithstanding, the reasons hereof are different, for the cause of some men's overgreat incredulity, is weakness, and want of judgement, in that they are not able to discuss what they hear. The overlight belief of others proceedeth from hence, in that they neglect, at leastwise do not seriously consider what is said, but rely more upon the authority of the speaker, than the truth of that which is spoken, according to that of Euripides: 
In rich men's mouths the sentence of the poor,  
Soundeth alike (perhaps) but weigheth more.  Which common experience proves true in those who are wont to say, I believe it, for I heard it of such a Gentleman, or such a Lord, or (to express Euripides his own term) of such a man of credit and account. Seeing then this overgreat credulity entertaineth all reports alike without judgement or discretion, to exemplify every branch in particular, would be a thing not only tedious, but even endless, and such as would neither be pleasant nor profitable to the Reader. I will therefore content myself with the relation of one of them, which may serve as an introduction to the argument I have here undertaken to entreat of.  
First therefore I will begin with the rashness of certain critics in censuring the writings of ancient authors, which as it is now grown far greater than ever it was in former time, so the levity of others in believing their censures, was never so great. Indeed some of these self-conceited censurers, who have not lost all modesty, shoot their bolts in private only among their friends: others suffering themselves to be transported with presumption and vainglory, not herewith content, publish them in print, to the view of the world. Whereof we have an example in an Italian, whose judgement (or censure) of certain Latin Poets, if it were true, he only among all the students of Poets and Poetry for these divers hundred years, was sharp sighted and Eagle eyed, the rest as blind as Moles & Beetles. And what (I beseech you) say these credulous men hereupon? Such & such a one (as I take it) is no such good Poet. And why Sir, I bseech you? Because (forsooth) such a learned and famous writer saith so. In like manner, we have heard of some within these few years, who have held strange opinions of Latin authors: some giving the pre-eminence (for a pure and elegant style) to three; others to one only. For some make a triumvirate of Terence, Cicero and Caesar. Others make Cicero the Prince or rather monarch and sovereign Lord of all the Latinists. And then God knows how finely they who allege no other reason then the authority of such jolly judges come in with their I believe. In spite of all which, there was a bold Briton who proscribed Cicero with all his eloquence to perpetual banishment. Howbeit, he was strait recalled by another of greater account. See here (gentle Reader) how these learned Latin authors have been trounced by these dangerously conceited and proud presumptuous censurers. But what shall we say of Greek Authors? Are they exempt from the sharp censure of such critics? No verily. For this worshipful writer of whom I have spoken, spareth the Greek writers no more than the Latin. And who knows not, how that famous and thrice renowned Aristotle, with all his Philosophy, hath been scourged by a pedant of Paris?  
But to come somewhat nearer to Herodotus (the author of whom I am to speak) I will here enter discourse as well of Greek as of Latin Historiographers, seeing they are the men who are most read and perused by all sorts of censurers, by reason of their translations. What historian then is there extant at this day, on whom these hasty hotspurres spend not some bywords and taunting quips? As when they say, Herodotus doth nothing but lie. Thucydides can pen an oration prettily well, and that is all. Xenophon is not like himself in his history. And some show themselves yet more ridiculous in giving peremptory judgement of the style of the historian by the translation; as when they say, Thucydides hath no such grave and exquisite style as some affirm him to have: for a man can see no such thing neither in the Latin, French, nor any other translation. These men (me thinks) speak to as great purpose, and with as good reason, as if a man should guess at the beauty of one long before departed, by his skull taken out of the charnel-house: or as if one seeing a sick man, reported to have been very fair and beautiful, of a vermilion hue, and ruddy as a rose (as we commonly speak when we would express a fair complexion) should call the truth of that report into question, or should affirm it to be as false as contradiction can make it only upon a silly supposal and mere imagination, that if there had been any such thing, either the lineaments of his fine feature, or some rays and relics of that vermilion tincture would remain to be seen. If any shall here ask me, why I make choice of this comparison, and deliver my notion rather in this then in any other allusion: I answer, because I find none so fit nor pertinent to my purpose: for I dare confidently affirm, that the greatest part of Greek writers, who in their own language are sound and succulent, and of such excellent form and feature, colour and tincture, that the beams of their beauty do draw us into an admiration of them, and are (as it were) an allective to make us in love with them: look very sickly, as being much shrunk, and almost disfigured in French, Italian, Spanish, and other languages, by reason of the bad entertainment they have found by the way. That is (to speak plainly without allegorizing) that the greatest part (especially of Greek authors) who being read in their own language by such as understand them, have excellent good grace, and do not only please the ear, but even ravish the mind with delight, are so poorly and pitifully translated into French, Spanish and Italian, that a man shall find as great difference between the original Greek and their translations, as between a body in perfect health, and the same when after a long & lingering sickness it is ready to give up the ghost. And from whence (I beseech you) cometh this, but only from hence, that they which translated them into their mother tongue have been translators of translators, that is to say, have translated them out of the Latin translation; and having no knowledge in the Greek, have not only retained the errors of these translations, but often mistaking even them also, have fallen into sundry other more gross and palpable. Whereof I have given some few examples in my Thucydides, showing how Laurentius Valla hath guessed, and (as it were) deuined at Thucydides his meaning: as also how the French translator Claudius de Seyssel bishop of Marse●le hath guessed at Vallas translation. But as Valla did much mistake the meaning of Thucydides, so Claudius de Seyssel did guess amiss at Laurentius his meaning. So that look how much the number of those is greater, which have been wronged in this kind (which is more truly verified of Thucydides and Herodotus then of any other,) so much is Plutarch the more beholding to two learned translators, who to array him in French, have only changed his garment and attire. Whereas these tinkerly translators (of whom I have spoken) change not only the author's attire, but put him also into another fashion.  
But to return to those who judge not of authors by their translations, but by a certain notion which they have of their phrase and idiom. Verily such censurers are rather to be regarded, as not being so impudent as the former: nor yet like Rabbi Beda, who to the end he might avert king Francis the first from his most noble and princely resolution touching the establishing of professors of the languages, alleged in the presence of the now deceased M. Budé against the Greek, that it was the fountain of all heresies; whereas he (on the contrary) encouraged the King by all possible means to go forward with that so worthy a work. But after it was once known that Beda condemned a language whereof he scarce knew the first letter, he was condemned of all for a very bedlam. Those (I say) which rely upon some smattering knowledge they have of the language, are not in the same degree of impudency with the former; notwithstanding they show that they have eaten too much of the critical cream, when they censure a whole work because they understand some part thereof. But that we may the less wonder at this rashness, we must remember an excellent saying of the foresaid Thucydides, There are none so bold as these blind bayards. The reason is plain, because they cannot so well foresee the difficulties which they are to encounter with, as those who have waded through them. And verily this proverbial sentence is verified at this day in all bold and rash adventurers, but especially in such as take upon them to censure classike authors, a thing as well dangerous as odious. How ever it be, certain it is that they who for their sufficiency might best play the Aristarchi, and thereby purchase to themselves immortal fame, do least of all others intermeddle therewith.  
But to descend to particulars: if the common proverb, A fools bolt is soon shot, was ever verified in Greek or Latin writer, it may be truly said of Herodotus above the rest: for he (poor author) is ever brought upon the stage, no● only by such as have read him rather in a strange language then in his own; but even by those who have not read so much as one line or letter in him, but are altogether ignorant of the very inscription and title of his history. How then (may some say) do they sentence and censure him? Verily by following the example of others, who (it may be) know nothing but by hearsay neither. But leaving such censorious Sirs, I come to those who ground not their opinion upon so sandy a foundation, but seem to be able to justify what they affirm. I demand then, what reason they have to condemn his histories as false and fabulous? Will they say, they know them better than the author himself? They are not (I hope) so devoid of shame. Why then do they suspect them? Because (forsooth) they have no show nor semblance of truth. Consider here (gentle Reader) how Logically they reason, when they infer, that therefore they are not true, because they seem to be false.  
But this is not all I have to say: for I further deny that to be true which they take as granted and already proved, viz. that these histories have neither substance nor shadow of truth in them. Yet admit it were so: whereon (I beseech you) do they ground their opinion? Verily upon these two reasons. First, the exceeding great impiety which is to be seen in some particulars described by Herodotus, and the extreme folly which bewrayeth itself in othersome seem to them altogether incredible. Secondly considering that most of that which we read in his history, hath no correspondence to the customs and fashions of these times, they suppose ancient stories to be as dissonant from truth, as they are from that which they daily hear and see. The former of which two reasons, branching forth into two stems or heads, I have encountered before: for doubtless we shall find some as notorious facts as any mentioned in Herodotus, which we cannot but believe as having been eye-witnesses thereof. The like I affirm of the sottishness of those times. For though it may seem incredible to some, yet I doubt not but if it be compared with the simplicity of our late forefathers, it will be found but as a molehill in comparison of a mountain, or a dwarf of a giant. I am not ignorant how the poor Egyptians in Herodotus are derided and laughed to scorn for their religion (if it may be so called) and deservedly I confess, as may appear by their exceeding trifling ceremonies. But if we come to the superstitious mass-priests, which have been within these threescore years, and narrowly search all their trash and trinkets, we shall be (in a manner) enforced to confess, that the Egyptians might (in comparison) even glory and boast of their religion. I say in comparison, as willing of two evils to point at the less. Notwithstanding lest any man should say that I speak of the last years snow, I will come to that which is plain & manifest to all that have their eyes in their heads. O (will some say) what great fools were these Egyptians to worship bruit beasts! I confess they were great fools indeed; yet so, as that they also confess, that worshippers of lifeless creatures are greater fools than those that worship living creatures. Which being granted, the mass-priests cake is all dough. For they worship both dead and lifeless things. And of those things which never had life or sense, not only creatures of account, but even vile and base things, as not only silver and gold, but wood and stone also. For if they did prostrate themselves only before gold or silver, their worship would be somewhat more honourable: (as the heathen when they would have a god carrying some majesty with him, framed him of one of these two metals.) And they might allege that jupiter transformed himself into a shower of gold. As also that in all ages (even in those countries where Images were not in use) covetous men have worshipped these metals as their gods: which cannot be said of wood and stone. Howbeit we have a story in this author, which shows what disgrace may befall the worshippers of gold and silver, as well as of wood and stone. For we read how that Amasis of a golden basin (wherein he was accustomed to wash his feet) made a god. And why might he not as well make a basin or chamber-pot of his god, as a god of his basin? But I leave it to the Readers consideration, what a grief and shame it ought to be to a man to see that, before which he hath prostrated himself, converted to so base and sordid uses as cannot once be named with modesty. And here doubtless the Egyptians would allege for themselves, that their worship being directed to, and terminated in living creatures (though they had pictures also and graven images) was not liable to such disgrace and infamy. I omit such reasons as common sense leadeth us unto, to prefer a living thing (whatsoever it be) before that which is void of life, or which never had life, and come to the other point, viz. that as the Egyptians were not so sottish in their worship, neither were they so foolish in defending it. And therefore that which Diodorus Siculus reporteth of the Alexandrians, who would not pardon a Roman for killing one of their cats, is more excusable and tolerable than the dealings of our Massmongers (whereof we have been eye-witnesses) when they cruelly massacred those that maimed their Images. For a living creature maimed in some member, is hindered of the natural motion whereof that member is an instrument. But doth he (I beseech you) that cutteth off the legs of an Image, deprive it of walking? or doth he that puts out the eyes of it (if I may so speak) bereave it of sight? And yet the Egyptians never took such cruel revenge upon any for killing their cats, as they have done of late time in wrecking their malice upon such as maimed any of their marmousets or puppets.  
But sith the comparison standeth between these two follies, whether should be the greater, and that all Massmongers do not worship Images, we will come to that which all the professors of that religion generally worship, which is their great goddess Diana, the pillar (as it were) of Popery, & the foundation of all their foolery, which they maintain with fire and sword: let us therefore weigh without partiality or passion, what we would think or say if Herodotus or some other ancient historian should tell us, that men in certain countries were Theophages (that is, God-eaters) as they report of Anthropophages, Elephantophages, Acridophages, Phthirophages, and such like; would we not strait say, that this Theophagie were incredible, and that these fablers devised it of their fingers, and fathered it upon them, though otherwise most barbarous? Notwithstanding we daily hear certain report of these Theophages; nay (which is more) of Theochezes. What say I, report? seeing we dwell in the same countries, towns, and houses with them? Concerning other mysteries as well Morological as Hyperbadinomorological, which accompany this Theophagie, I leave them to the discretion of the Reader, from whose eyes God of his goodness hath removed the veil of superstition: not doubting but that when he hath well weighed them, he will confess with me, that in comparison of them, there is nothing base in the religion of the Egyptians, I mean in their superstitious ceremonies, which they otherwise call Religion.  
The second thing that cracks the credit of Herodotus, is, in that we read sundry particulars in his history, which suit not with the fashions of these times. For some there be (as hath been said) who never observing the great alteration that is to be seen almost in all things since those days, would have the disposition, customs and manners of our ancestors so to suit and jump with ours point-device, that nothing could please●● them but what pleaseth us. And not so only, but would find a correspondence between the States of commonwealths, kingdoms and governments of those times with these of ours. Nay, some in reading of ancient histories go yet a step further, in measuring the climates of foreign and far remote regions by their own, such simple souls they are. And for conclusion they allege divers reasons, for which sundry things related by Herodotus seem improbable at the least. Well, be it so: yet what Logic teacheth us such a consequent? It is not probable, therefore it is false. If this were a good argument, nothing would seem either strange or wonderful. For what do we use to wonder at, but at that which falleth out against our expectation or opinion? that is, at that which we find to be true, and yet seemeth to be false, because it is not usual, or above our reach, or against reason; I mean our mental discourse grounded upon such or such reasons. In the mean time consider whether this be not to tyrannize over historians, to subject them (as it were) to this servitude and slavery, that they report nothing but what we shall think probable, for fear of being accounted lying, fabulous, and dreaming fellows.  
But it will be more expedient (in my judgement) to instance this by examples. Herodotus therefore reporteth very strange things I confess: and moreover affirm, that they are of two sorts. For in some of his histories we admire the works of nature: in other some we wonder at the actions of men; and not so only, but hold them altogether incredible. First then we may not think any thing incredible in nature, if we consider the almighty power of the author and governor of nature. It were enough to make us all at our wit's end, if we should see the Sun stay his course and stand still in the firmament: and who would not say that it were clean against the order of nature? Notwithstanding we have such authentical proof hereof, that we cannot once call it into question. True it is, nature now a days produceth neither Giants nor Pigmies: doth it therefore follow, that it never brought forth such? Touching Giants, the Scripture giveth sufficient testimony: and dead men's bones may well induce us to believe there have been such. And Pigmies (as authors have described them) were not much differing from the dwarves and elves we daily see. Men at this day live not ordinarily above 80. or 90. years: and yet we dare not deny but that some (not to speak of Methuselah) have lived six or seven ages longer. And besides those mentioned in the holy writ, we find that many (long since their time) have lived so exceeding long (though not so long as those mentioned in Scripture) that there is no comparison between their years and ours. Women at this day go but nine months for the most part: and therefore Herodotus must be sent packing with his ten months. See how easy a matter it is for those who credit the common report (which hath often a blister on her tongue) to condemn Herodotus as a fabulous fellow and lying Legendary. But let us see how many authors they here encounter. For if Herodotus must not be heard with his ten months, neither must Hypocrates, Galen, Plutarch, Pliny, sundry lawyers, nor the greatest part of Poets, as Theocritus, Plautus, Cecilius, Virgil and Propertius, who affirm as much. But certain it is, that they which condemn Herodotus in this particular, either have not read him, or do not remember that they have read as much in these writers; and being forestalled with this prejudicate opinion, that he maketh no conscience of a lie, they scorn any further information; to which if they would but lend a patient ear, they should (without foraging so far) find the like, nay some far greater and more wonderful things in the extraordinary works of nature then any mentioned by him. For clearing of which point, I will add an objection of another kind. That which he reporteth of the fertility of the territory of Babylon, that one grain yieldeth for the most part two hundred and oftentimes three hundred, far surpasseth the fruitfulness of our soil, and therefore (say they) it is out of question he here lied for the whetstone. But let these horned Logicians which frame such crooked arguments, answer whether nature can bring forth fruit any more of herself, than the knife can cut of itself? They will answer (I am sure) that it cannot. I demand then, what is that overruling hand which guideth and disposeth all these things? They dare not deny but that it is Omnipotent▪ which if they grant, why should they think that to be impossible to him, which is here affirmed by Herodotus? If they shall further say, that he and other historians tell us strange tales of the fertility of certain countries, whose plenty consisteth at this day only in scarcity, want and penury, and hereupon shall accuse him of forgery; let them beware lest they involve the holy scriptures in the same accusation. For they make some places fertile, which are now in a manner barren. But if we consider the hand, which sometimes stretcheth forth itself, and sometimes draws itself in again, which now sendeth forth a blessing, and now a curse upon one and the same country. In brief, if we call to mind the saying of David, Psal. 104. and refer the reason of such alterations to that supreme and sovereign cause, we shall find the true answer to such objections. Moreover, those who for the former reason will not believe Herodotus his report of the fruitfulness of Babylon, will never believe that the city Babylon was so great as he reporteth it to have been, viz. that those which dwelled in the suburbs were surprised and taken before they in the heart of the city had knowledge thereof. For if we measure the largeness of it by the greatness of our cities, it cannot choose but seem false and fabulous.  
I proceed now to prosecute the second part, touching the actions of men. First then as Herodotus is suspected of falsehood and forgery, for reporting that Babylon was so beautiful, great & rich, and situate in so fertile a soil: so is he also for the large report which he maketh of the puissance of the Persian Kings, Lords of that city. For who can believe that a King of Persia ever led such an army as drunk rivers dry? I mean such small rivers as he speaketh of. True it is (I confess) if the Reader shall consider the power of our modern Kings, and thereby judge of the puissance and power of the Persian Monarches, he cannot but hold Herodotus for the fondest fabler that ever writ. But to make this comparison, were to demand (as one did) whether the Sea were greater than the Lake of Newcastle: and it were to speak with as good judgement as he that said (as it is reported) Se le Rey de Franse se fousse been gowerna, è fousse maitre d'houta de n●utron seigna●. It were (I say) to measure the power of Princes with his mete-wand, who said, More, l'è pur matto'sto ré, à ●olerse ●uffar con san Marco. L'è person, che i signori ha deliberato di mettere in terra cinquecenti cavai fottili. For look how much these fond fools debased the King of France by such ignorant and doltish speeches: so much do they decase the King of Persia, who compare him with our modern Kings. But as he which asked whether the Sea were greater than the Lake of Newcastle, would never have demanded this question if he had seen Danubius or Nilus, but would (at least should) have gathered, that if these rivers do incomparably exceed this Lake in bigness, the Sea (into which all rivers do run) must needs be of a huge and spacious greatness: so he that hath but read what forces Tamburlaine levied of late years in comparison (being at the first but a Neatheard) will (no doubt) if he have but a dram of judgement thereby gather, that the power of the Persian Kings did infinitely surpass the forces of our modern Kings. For Tamburlaine had six hundred thousand footmen and four hundred thousand horsemen when he encountered Bajazet the Turkish Emperor; and having discomfited two hundred thousand of his men, led him away prisoner in fetters of gold. Now than if Tamburlaine of a neatheard became so puissant a Prince, to what height (may we think) mounted the Kings of Persia, considering that even from their cradles they were men of matchless might, which at their dying day they left much more increased? For confirmation whereof, though many pregnant proofs might be produced, yet I will content myself with such as historians do afford, as namely how Xerxes (one of these Emperors) gave to Themistocles five great cities, the first for his pantry, the second for his cellar, the third for his kitchen, the fourth for his wardrobe, and the fifth for his bedchamber. And what great thing was this for the King of Persia to give? Verily no more than for a King at this day to give one or two small villages.  
They further affirm, that it is not probable that ever any King should play such pranks as Herodotus reporteth, not only not beseeming their places and persons (being Princes) but any simple swains or corridons of the country. Whereunto I answer, that if it were a new thing to see Kings commit facts unbeseeming their places and persons, we might well suspect his report in this behalf. But if it be common and ordinary in every child's mouth, why should we not believe it? What (may some say) is it credible that a King should so far forget himself, as to expose his naked wife to the view of his servant, as Herodotus affirmeth of King Candaules? To which I answer, that if Candaules were the only King that played so shameful a part, we were in some sort to be pardoned, if we did not subscribe hereto; (though other as vile parts and practices of theirs might induce us to believe it) but when we find in other undoubted histories that Kings have done the like, why should not his testimony go for currant with us? Nay, we read of some who have not only committed the self same fact, but others also far worse. Albeit my memory furnisheth me only with two examples at this present. The first is of one who committed the very same: The second, of another who did well worse. For the first, consider what Suetonius writeth in the life of Caligula, where he discourseth of that which this King (or Emperor as the Romans speak) did to his wife Cesonia, Vt sape chlamyde, peltaque & galeâ armatam, & juxta adequitantem, militibus ostenderit, amicis verò etiam nudam. Yea but Caligula was a man given over to all kind of villainy. And what then? as though Candaules was not as very a villain as he? For the second, consider how a King (not registered among the rest as famous, or rather infamous for his villainies) hath committed a far more shameful fact than the showing of his naked wife. For Baptista Fulgosius reporteth how that Henry King of Castille, son to king john, being frigid and unable to get children, had one by the help of a goodly young man of the country, one Beltramus Cueva. As who so will not credit my report, may read in the third chapter of the ninth book of the said Fulgosius. And it is further to be noted, that he did not this in heat of affection, in some sudden mood or passion, but after long and mature deliberation, having advanced him from the bottom of baseness to the height of honour, from the dunghill even to a Dukedom, to the end he might the last draw from▪ him this service in recompense of so many benefits. And if I were disposed to speak of private men, I could allege examples of sundry sages, possessed with this King's humour, cosingermen to that wittal, who is so famous by these verses of Juvenal, 
— doctus spectare lacunar,  
Doctus & ad calicem vigilanti stertere naso.  But among other stories impugned by many, and reckoned in the number of ridiculous tales, that is not to be forgotten which is recorded in his first book, of certain that came to King Croesus, requesting him they might have his son's company to assist them in taking a great wild Boar which wasted the country. See (say they) a fine fable, and easy to be believed, that a King's son should be entreated to perform such an exploit. Verily if this history were to be examined by the custom at this day, I grant they had reason thus to except. For example, in the year 1548. when a cat of mount which came out of the forest of Orleans did infinitely endamage the country of Berry (as another beast had done elsewhere in the year 1546.) the inhabitants were far from requesting the King of France his son (though he had been of years) to help them. But if we consider (as we ought) that Kings in those days were exceeding jealous of their honour in performing braver exploits in hunting (especially in striking fierce and furious beasts) than any of their subjects, we shall have no cause to think this history strange. Now that they were indeed jealous hereof, in such sort as hath been said, may appear by that which Ctesias, Xenophon, and Herodotus also (as I remember) report hereof, viz. how they put some of their huntsmen to death for striking the beast they had in chase, and so depriving them of that honour which (as they thought) was due to none but to themselves. But leaving the further prosecuting of this point, we understand by this story what great desire they had to become famous and renowned for their prowess and activity.  
I have likewise heard the story of the Magician who feigned himself King of Persia, and for seven months was reputed for no less, accounted fabulous. For is it likely (say they) that this counterfeit should not have been discovered in so long time? To which I answer, that we have sundry examples of this kind of cozenage (as I have showed in my Latin Apology) where I have alleged two notable examples of the like imposture, viz. of such as have enjoyed the name and room of those whom they counterfeited, as though they had been the parties themselves, which in all reason ought not so easily to be credited: and yet are so authentically verified, that we cannot doubt thereof. One is of dame joan (the she Pope) who was held for Pope john, till that a butterfly came out of her belly. The other is of one Arnold du Tilh, who played the cunning counterfeit so well, that he was acknowledged and received as husband to the wife of one Martin Guerre, who was then absent, keeping her company both at bed and board as though he had been her true husband, for the space of three years and more, during which time he had certain children by her: neither she nor any of her kindred and friends ever dreaming that she had companied with any save her own husband. But in the end her true husband returning home (but not known) commenced suit in the court of Parliament at Thoulouse against this Arnold, who disturbed him so grievously in his possession in the year 1559. as is to be seen in that strange manner of proceeding afterwards published in print.  
Touching the different dispositions and behaviours of men in sundry countries described by Herodotus, it is strange they should be found so strange as not to be believed; especially considering the difference and dissimilitude which is to be seen between us and our near neighbours, as also the continual strange alterations of customs and fashions in one & the same country. For as for the difference betwixt us and our next neighbours, who sees not, how in their manner of life, attire, and ordinary affairs, they have nothing common with us? If we should see a a man of worth in France, appareled in green, we would surely think he were somewhat fantastical: whereas in many places of Germany this attire is generally approved of all as decent and seemly. Again, if we should see a woman in France wear a gown of divers colours with broad guards, we would think she meant to come upon the stage, or that she did it for a wager: whereas in that country they hold this kind of attire very civil. Further, we in France (and others also in other countries) would have a hard conceit of a woman that should go up and down the streets with her breast laid open, showing half her dugs: whereas in some places of Italy (especially at Venice) not so much as old filthy hanging dugs but are set out (as it were) to show and sale. Moreover, in France and elsewhere women go to market to buy their provision: whereas in Italy their husbands go themselves, keeping their wives mewed up as it were in a cage. Furthermore, kissing in France between gentlemen and gentlewomen, etc. is permitted and held as honest, be they kinsmen or others: whereas such a kiss in Italy would not only be scandalous, but also dangerous. In recompense whereof, Italian dames make no conscience to paint themselves as French Ladies do, those at leastwise that are not Italianized. These few examples (which may serve us as a pattern of that which hereafter (God willing) shall be handled more at large) shall suffice for this present: and herewith I will conclude, that if in so near neighbouring nations, and in the same age, the manners of men are so dissonant and disagreeing one from another, we may not imagine the difference between us and those of whom Herodotus speaketh so incredible, they being so far remote from us, not only in distance of place, but also of time. But because the difference between our customs and those of our predecessors may easily be discerned, I spare examples.  
Yet one thing further is to be noted, viz. that some which at the first blush may haply seem foolish and ridiculous (and are therefore thought forged and fabulous) if they be thoroughly considered, will be found to be grounded upon good reason. Among the rest, that of the Babylonians recorded in the first book may well be numbered. In every market town (saith he) once a year they assemble all the marriageable maids, and lead them to a certain place appointed for the purpose, where a multitude of men come flocking about them: and there they are sold by an officer to him that offereth most, the fairest of all being cried first, and she being sold at a high rate, the next to her in beauty, and so the rest in order; yet upon condition that they marry them and take them for their wives. Whereupon the richest Babylonians intending to marry, but the fairest and most beautiful virgins in the company, one out-bidding another in the bargain. The country swains contenting themselves though they have not the fairest, take the woodden-faced wenches, and the ill-favourd-foule-fustilugs for a small sum. For when the officer hath sold all the handsomest, he comes to the foulest of them all (her especially that is lame, or hath but one eye, or some such deformity) and cries aloud, Who will have her for such a price? In the end she is delivered to him that will be content to marry her for the smallest sum. The money which is given for the marriage of the foulest, acrewing of the sale of the fairest. And thus the fair marry the foul, and such as have any bodily blemish or imperfection. Neither is it lawful for any to give his daughter to whom he thinks good; nor for him which hath bought her, to carry her away before he hath given his word that he will marry her. This story at the first sight seemeth not only strange, but also ridiculous: howbeit if we consider the causes and inducements which moved the Babylonians to marry their daughters in this sort, we shall find that there is more reason and less sin in this custom, then in sundry laws devised by those great Philosophers Plato and Aristotle.  
Now as it cannot be denied but that there are in Herodotus sundry customs and fashions, both wild and wicked, which for this cause carry small credit with them: so must it needs be granted that he recordeth many noble enterprises, famous acts and valiant exploits, undertaken, managed and achieved with such courage, prowess and valour, as may well deserve admiration. And that there is nothing in ●his history so abhorring from truth or so incredible, but may win credence if we compare it with that which other historians have written in the like kind. For they report far stranger facts, I mean such as were achieved with infinite greater prowess and valour. And verily since the first invention of guns it was necessary men should (as it were) double and treble their valour, in exposing themselves against their merciless fury and rage. And we have daily events and occurrences which do in a manner compel us to believe that to be true, which before we held to be false. The fact of Cocles always thought so strange and incredible, was confirmed Anno 1562. by a Scot, who being pursued by certain Reisters' (from whom he could not wind himself) leapt with his horse from the top of the mountain Caux (near to Haure de Grace, called Able) into the Sea, and so escaped safe to land: which is a story confirmed by innumerable testimonies.  
I am further to advertise thee (gentle Reader) that some stories recorded by Herodotus, which seem very strange, and which a man would think were written for the whetstone, are confirmed not only by the testimonies of approved later writers, but of our modern historians, as I have showed in my Latin Apology. Of which number that of the women of Thrace may well be reckoned, who contended when their husband was dead (for one man had many wives) which of them should die with him for company. For each of them affirmed that they were best beloved: and thereupon great suit was made by their kinsfolks and friends, that they might have the honour to accompany him at his death. For she that was thus graced, was accounted happy, the rest going away with shame enough all their lives after. Verily this history cannot be sampled nor paralleled by any example of women in these countries: for even those kind hearts which love their husband's best, would look strangely upon him that should ask them whether they could not be contented to lay down their lives for their husbands▪ as Alcestis did, (a fact grounded upon better reason than that of the Thracians.) And I persuade myself they would ask so many three days respite, and so many terms to answer in one after another, that there would be no end. But shall we therefore say it is a fiction? For my part, though there were none but only Herodotus that affirmed it, I would not hold it incredible, considering what Caesar and other ancient historians write of those which suffered voluntary death with the Kings of Aquitane. For the King of that country (saith he) had six hundred men with him, whom he entertained in his Court, permitting them to have a hand in managing the affairs of the State, upon condition they should bear him company at his death: which (without further entreaty) they were ready to perform. This history (I say) maketh the other much more credible. But to omit this known example, we find this very thing which Herodotus reports of these Thracians, recorded by other historiographers, who (as we know) never took it out of him: and testified also by others who were eye-witnesses thereof: albeit they report it of the Indians and not of the Thracians.  
I further affirm that our modern historians report some stranger things than any is to be found in Herodotus, which hath purchased him so ill a name; which notwithstanding go for currant from hand to hand, because the authors thereof are men of credit and account. Those especially which write of barbarous countries, tell us certain strange stories, far surpassing any in Herodotus. I mean such strange wonders as are to be seen in the works of nature, and the actions of men's lives, as well in their manners as dispositions. Whereof we have examples in those who have written of Muscovy (in ancient time called Scythia) especially in Sigismundus Liber; who discoursing of strange humours and dispositions, hath one thing amongst the rest which is more than incredible. And though all men should subscribe unto it, yet I see not how any woman could be brought to credit it: and yet he speaketh nothing but upon good evidence. It is of a woman borne in a country bordering upon Muscovy, who though her husband entertained her in the kindest melting manner that might be, yet persuaded herself he cared not for her. Whereupon he demanding on a time what reason she had to think so? she answered, because he showed not the true tokens of his love. He then requesting her to expound her meaning: How (quoth she) can you say you love me, sith since the time we came first together you did never beat me? He wondering at this so strange a humour and extraordinary desire, promised to give her her belly full. Which when he had done, both parties took greater contentment than ever before: for she found herself well by being beaten, and he by beating of her. For where as it is said, that the cudgel mars love, the cudgel made love. And thus he kindly entertained her for a long time. Howbeit in the end he entertained her so exceeding kindly with blows, that he killed her with kindness, causing love and life to give their last farewell.  
There remain yet other things to be spoken concerning Herodotus; but it shall suffice that they have been discussed in my Latin Apology. And here I will take my leave of thee (gentle Reader) only desiring thee to hold me excused if haply thou find any thing slubbered up or posted over. For as touching my rude and unpolished style, and abuse of certain terms, besides that the great variety of matter might excuse me (the bare contriving whereof would have required greater leisure) I hope my profession will plead for me: for it distracted my mind, and constrained me to divide the same half hour to the study of the Greek, Latin and French. But I will confess mine ignorance, that I know not where a man may furnish himself with such a French phrase as may go for currant in all places, seeing the best French words are daily rejected and cried down by our new mint-masters, who though they think they use a fine filled phrase, and speak in print after the Court fashion, yet speak harshly & barbarously in the judgement of the sager and soberer sort who retain the ancient phrase of speech. True it is (I confess) I have here coined some new words, howbeit very sparingly, there only where the ancient failed, and such as any man may perceive I have forged of pleasure, that I might speak ridiculously of ridiculous things, which notwithstanding through the simplicity of some silly souls are accounted very serious. And albeit (gentle Reader) I am not ignorant that it will be thought that I am very forgetful and much wanting to myself, in that I make no other excuse nor Apology touching this edition: yet I hope I shall not need to entreat further hereof by the grace of God, to the which I heartily commend thee.   

HENRY STEPHEN to his friend.  
WHen I first took pencil in hand to draw the lineaments of this present Apology, wherein I have shadowed out a world of wonders, I persuaded myself that such as were acquainted with my daily employments (whereof the weal-public, I mean such as love and like good literature may reap less pleasure, but more profit, then by this discourse) would reckon this work for none of the least wonders. And nothing doubting but that you (Sir) were one of that number, I was the more willing to ease you of that pain, (pain I say, seeing admiration is counted a passion by Philosophers) and to satisfy you touching the inducements which moved me to undertake this present business. Mark then in what terms it stands. Having set forth Herodotus translated by Laurentius Valla, and corrected by myself, and prefixed an Apology in behalf of his history, I had intelligence not long after of one who was minded to translate it into French: which I did the rather believe, and the more fear, for that I remembered a like prank which had been played me about eight years before. For I had no sooner published a little Pamphlet, but it met with a tinkerly translator, who Pigmalion-like doted upon his own doings, thinking he had put out the Pope's eye; whereas to my thinking he roved at random, and erred the whole heaven; in such sort that I could neither conceive what I had written, nor yet perceive any footsteps of my wont style. So that I may well say with the Italian, that he performed not the office of a traduttore, but of a traditore, that is, that he played not the part of a translator, but of a traitor. Which notwithstanding I pardoned in that nameless author, not doubting but that in doing amiss he did his best endeavour. Fearing therefore lest the like inconvenience would befall this mine Apology, I thought good to take order for it betime. And after a short summons of my thoughts, I soon perceived that it was my only course to prevent these turkishers, by being mine own interpreter; as knowing I could not only understand mine own meaning better than another, but also take that liberty to myself, which would neither be permitted them, nor yet beseem them. Notwithstanding all fell out cross and contrary to my expectation. For the translation which I had begun, disliked me so much, that I gave it over in the plain field, and in stead thereof (for mine own satisfaction) began to prosecute this present work, or rather some shadow or semblance thereof. For certes it was not my purpose to launch so far into the deep; but going about to sail by the shore, I strait found that I was floating in the main. And then I remembered the Greek proverb, that a man ought to be well advised before he take ship, but when he hath once hoist up the sails, it is too late to entreat the winds. Notwithstanding I am arrived (God be thanked) at the last, if not at the wished haven, yet where I rest content. But to leave these flourishes of Rhetoric, and to speak plain English, whereas my purpose was not to exceed the particulars handled in the Latin Apology, I fell by little and little into other discourses, the prosecuting whereof I found to be more tedious than I had thought, and such as you here see. Howbeit I am in good hope that this work (once come to perfection) will be both pleasant and profitable; so as the Reader may not only reap benefit by every particular here recorded, but further learn to parallel ancient stories with modern, by observing their conformity and Analogy (if this word sound not too harshly in English ears;) and consequently to speak with greater reverence and respect of ancient historians: as also to omit no remarkable thing (which may stand him in stead when occasion shall serve) without due observation. I say, this work once come to perfection, because this is but an Introduction or Preparative treatise, as the title purporteth: albeit a man may here take a taste of that which hath been said, which is the cause why I call it A preparative Treatise, or The first book of the Apology. But you may here haply demand the reason that moved me first to pen the Latin Apology, which was my first Essay? Verily (to deal plainly with you) the great pleasure which I took in reading the Greek story, made me not only forget my pains in correcting infinite 'scapes in the Latin translation: but further so obliged me unto it by the great content it gave me, that I could do no less then plead for it in these my Apologetical discourses, against the Philippics and sharp invectives of such severe and rigid censurers as cease not to accuse it of falsehood, forgery and fabulositie: and that the great desire I had to testify my good will and affection towards this author, should banish all fear of mine own insufficiency to undertake the penning of such an Apology, till some other, better able to furnish out this argument, should take it in hand. Moreover I confess (for I can conceal nothing from my friend) that one reason among the rest which moved me to affect this story (being common to me with all Frenchmen who are seen in the Greek tongue) was not only the great affinity the French hath with the Greek above any other language (as I have showed at large in a treatise which I published touching the conformity of these two languages) but for that there is not a Greek author extant at this day, nor any to be found in the best Libraries in France or Italy, which agreeth so well with the French phrase, and to the understanding whereof the knowledge of the French is so necessary and available, as Herodotus is.  
Now as I have taken upon me to be Herodotus his advocate: so I am to entreat you to be mine, in pleading for me, against such supersilious censurers as not content to lash me for my faults (for I fear me I have given them just cause in many places) shall strain themselves to go a note above Ela, and to correct Magnificat, in calumniating that which their consciences tell them cannot be bettered. And albeit it may be thought that I have stretched every story upon the tainters, and made mountains of molehills, in enlarging each other narration, thereby to win the greater applause and admiration: yet you (who know me so well) can witness with me, that I make conscience of enhancing the meanest history. And verily I was so far from taking this liberty to myself, that where I found my authors (who are for the most part classic writers, or historians of note) jarring and at discord, I left all circumstances doubtful and uncertain, contenting myself with the substance of the story fully resolved and agreed upon. You may also boldly speak it upon my word, that if I have brought in any like mummers in a mask, concealing their names, it was not because I was ignorant of them, but for that I knew it would be more odious to some, and less profitable to others. How profitable? (may some say) Verily the examples in the first part of the Apology serve in stead of crystals, wherein we may see the waywardness and untowardness, the peevishness and perverseness of our nature, how backward it is to any thing that is good, and how prone and propense to that which is evil; as also what we are of ourselves when we are destitute of the fear of God, which as a bridle should curb and keep us in; which point is handled more at large Chap. 11. sect. 4. Again, they serve in stead of advertisements or warning-peeces, to admonish us of sundry subtle sleights and deceits, so common and rife in the world. Those in the second part show how far one age exceeds another in clownisme and rusticity: more especially they serve us in stead of so many mirrors, wherein we may behold the natural blindness of the multitude in the main matter concerning their salvation, and consequently in what great need they stand of divine illumination. True it is indeed, I have there also blazoned the virtues of our good Catholics of the Popish Clergy, who feed themselves fat by famishing of others, in debarring them of the food of their souls, and wickedly profaning that which they bear the world in hand, and urge upon others as the only true religion. Whose indictment I have so hotly pursued, and traversed every point thereof, that (I fear me) I have somewhat overshot myself in setting down some of their sweet sayings and doings in the dark, not worthy to be heard but by their own ears: which, I persuade myself, not you only, but all that know me, will interpret no otherwise. Notwithstanding let me entreat you to do the part of a faithful friend, in informing those with whom you shall converse, of the sincerity of my meaning herein: lest haply they stretch my words beyond the level of my thoughts, or make some other construction of my meaning then indeed was meant. And thus Sir, accordingly I recommend my suit unto you, and myself to your favour, desiring the Lord you may rest in his.  
From our Helicon the sixth of November. 1566.   

AN INTRODUCTION TO A TREATISE, TOUCHING THE CONFORMITY OF ANCIENT AND MODERN WONDERS: OR A Preparative Treatise in defence of HERODOTUS. Which may also be called, The first book of the Apology for Herodotus.  

The Preface to the first Part.  
AS there are many who do highly esteem of Antiquity, and have it in great admiration, and are (if I may so speak) so zealously affected towards it, that the reverence they bear it, is in the nearest degree to superstition: so there are others (on the contrary) who are so far from giving it that which of due belongs unto it, that they do not only disgrace it what they can, but even tread it under foot. Now that these two opinions (be they fancies or humours) have borne sway among the ancient, shall appear hereafter by pregnant proofs. But for the better manifestation of the reasons whereon they ground their opinions, I thought it not impertinent to treat in general of the virtues and vices of ancient times, searching out the first source and spring thereof: that so in the sequel of this discourse I may come to examine and try the truth of the old proverbial sentence, which saith by way of equivocation, Le monde va tousiours à l'empire, The world grows daily worse and worse. And so descending (as it were) by steps and degeees, may note and observe the examples of alterations which have happened in this age or somewhat before, as an Introduction to the Preparative treatise of the Apology for Herodotus.  
And first I will begin with the description of the first Age, not as it is recorded in Canonical Scripture, which cannot lie; but in the Apocryphal writings of Poets, who cannot speak the truth; being as false, fond and fabulous, as it is true, certain and unfallible. And I begin with Poets the rather, because most men have ever been addicted to the reading of Poems, being thereunto alured by their pleasant fictions, which insinuating themselves by little and little into their ears, have in process of time so settled in their minds, that they have taken deep rooting therein. Whereby we perceive, how men in old time by entertaining of fables, and suffering them to lodge and harbour in their minds, have been brought to believe many fond fooleries, which have been conveyed from hand to hand, and delivered by tradition from father to son. Whereas the Scripture hath been locked up (as it were) in an unknown tongue, as well from these great admirers and scorners of antiquity, as from those of whom I am about to speak. Nay, many who have had some smattering knowledge therein, have rejected them as more fabulous than mere devised fables. For some poetical fictions taken originally from the sacred fountain of verity (as a true story may be disguised sundry ways) seem more probable in some men's corrupt judgement then the truth itself, as shall be exemplified in the Chapter following.  

CHAP. I. A description of the first Age of the world, called by Poet's Saturn's, and the golden Age: and how they have depraved it with their foolish fictions, as they have done other histories in the Bible.  
IF we will give any credit to Greek and Latin Poets, we must confess that the first age (called by them the golden age) was as happy as a man could wish. For the ground without tilling or manuring plentifully afforded all commodities for the life of man; which were common to all, seeing no man knew what mine and thine meant: and consequently were not acquainted with hatred, envy and stealth, much less with war; and therefore needed not to bear arms against any, save only (as some are of opinion) against wild beasts, which they were not greatly to fear neither, considering their walls were so high that they could not spring them, and so strong that they could not demolish them. I say as some are of opinion: for others make no exception at all, but affirm that wild beasts were then more gentle and tractable then tame ones are at this day: and that those which are now poisonful and venomous (as experience shows) were then nothing dangerous. But to leave this dispute, and to prosecute my former description touching the particular, wherein all generally accord; we shall further believe (I say) that as there were then no laws, so neither was there need of any, seeing no man wished the hurt or hindrance of his neighbour, neither was solicited thereto by any means. Besides, they knew not what sickness meant: and as they were of a strong and sound constitution, so did they abound with all things necessary for the sustentation of man's life, albeit they knew not of what colour gold, silver, copper, or other metals were. For men were not then so curious to dig the earth to know what nature had hid in the bowels thereof. Besides, they minded not the sea, neither took they trial in what sort the winds did toss the waves; for every man abode at his own home, like the snail in her shell, or the Monk in his cell, nothing curious nor careful to know what his next neighbours did; no more than the old man in Claudian, who though he dwelled within a quarter of a mile of Verona (or thereabout) yet never went thither in all his life: nor then the Venetian gentleman, who being almost four score and ten years old, never desired to go out of Venice until he was confined therein as in a prison. This (to omit the honey and milken rivers with such like toys) is the sum of that which Poets have delivered touching the felicity of that age, and of that plain, honest, and upright dealing which was then in use, notwithstanding the great plenty and abundance of all things, contrary to the old Greek proverb, which hath been found too true of other ages, A good land, a bad people.  
Now that this Poetical description of the felicity of the first age is true in general (if we consider the state of man before the fall) we may not deny, except we will call the Scripture into question: I say in general, not insisting upon particulars, though Poets like wire-drawers extend it further than they are warranted by holy writ, which shows how that immediately after the fall of our first parent's man did eat his bread in the swerte of his brows, of which Poets also speak, though turkishing the story, or (to speak more properly) turning it into a mere fable: affirming that the great God jupiter created the world of a huge confused mass, which they call Chaos (wherein the elements were mingled pelmell) and that Prometheus afterwards form men of earth tempered with water, in the likeness and similitude of the Gods. They add moreover, that he stole fire from heaven, and conveyed it down to the earth; wherea● this great God was so highly offended (in that men by this means found out mechanical arts and sciences) that for a punishment he sent them a young damsel framed by all the Gods, (each of them having bestowed something upon her, some to perfect her in beauty, others to make her wanton, subtle, crafty, and full of alluring freights; Vulcan having formerly framed the body of clay, and after infused the soul into it) and directed her first to Prometheus, who being wary and wise▪ would not receive her, mistrusting some treachery: but his unwise brother Epimetheus willingly accepted of her, & gave her entertainment. Howbeit he felt the smart of it shortly after, and not he only, but all his posterity after him. For this Minion forthwith opened a box, whereout issued all manner of evils, mischiefs and miseries, which have ever since harboured in the world. Now under these fables and fictions lay the true story of the creation of our first parents, and of their Apostasy (as it were) masked and disguised. For by the first man framed by Prometheus, we are to understand Adam; and by the young damsel called Pandora, Eve, (who being brought to Adam, was the cause of his fall:) and by the fire which was stolen from heaven (by means whereof men came to the knowledge of mechanical arts) the forbidden fruit, whereby they had experimental knowledge of good and evil.  
True it is, all Poets stay not here; but (as it is the custom to amplify and enlarge men's reports) add that Prometheus fashioning the first man of earth, infused into him somewhat of the nature of every beast (for all of them were then created) as namely part of the Lion's fury, which he instilled into his breast. Howbeit poor Prometheus could not escape their sharp censures, for not having duly considered of all things appertaining to the constitution of a human body: as for not making windows in his breast, whereby we might see what was in his heart; seeing most men's hearts and tongues agree no better than harp and harrow. Again, whereas some say, that this Pandora was the first woman that was made: others affirm that Prometheus framed a certain 〈◊〉 number of women, immediately after the creation of man, and they blame him more for this second work then for the first: for he ought (say they) to have considered sundry things in the framing of this sex, which it seemeth he did not; alleging this among the rest, that he gave unto them as large a tongue as unto men; whereas if they had had but half a tongue, they would have prattled more than enough. But if Prometheus would make me his Proctor to plead his cause, me thinks I should not be unprovided of an answer: and though he give me not my fee, nor request me to speak in his behalf, yet I will answer in a word, that he knew not that women would prattle more than men; neither could he imagine how their tongue's could utter one thing, and their hearts conceive another. No marvel therefore if he did not prevent the inconveniences which he did not foresee.  
But to return to the arguments which all Poets have handled with one accord, borrowing them from the Scripture, they tell us strange tales of god-gastering Giants, who heaped mighty mountains one upon another, which might serve them in stead of ladders to scale the heavens: whereas the Scripture speaks only of such as would needs build a Tower whose top might reach to heaven: neither doth it call them Giants, though elsewhere it make mention of such. The flood likewise was a common argument with Poets, who agree with the Scripture in the cause wherefore it was sent, viz. as a punishment for the sin of man.  
Now in speaking of the golden Age, I thought it not amiss to proceed a little further, to treat of these Poetical fictions, to the end I may show (as occasion shall serve) that if these narrations, being no better than well qualified fictions (for as they are termed fables, so are they acknowledged to be no other) have notwithstanding some hidden truth in them, when they are diligently sought into, and sounded to the bottom: we ought not lightly to condemn ancient histories, those especially whereunto ancient writers have subscribed, as not having the least show or semblance of truth. In the mean time I confess, that as Poets have disguised, yea falsified sundry histories in the Scripture: so have sundry historiographers likewise done, as namely josephus, and Eusebius in his evangelical preparation. I remember also, that when I was in Italy I read in one of their Libraries a fragment of Diodorus Siculus, where he speaks of Moses, turning him like Proteus into every form and fashion. And what (I beseech you) have some historians written of the original and religion of the jews? What have they also spoken of our blessed Saviour? And though I should grant all these to be fictions in historians, yet they shall pardon me (if they please) if I do not grant that a man transported with a prejudicate opinion may condemn any history upon his mere (and it may be foolish) fancy. For as there is no reason that the good should suffer for the bad: so neither that true stories should bear part of the punishment due to the false. Thus than I return to the golden Age.   

CHAP. II. Another description of the first Age of the world (called by Poet's Saturn's, and the golden Age) as it is recorded in Scripture, after the fall of our first parents. And in what sense those two Epithets may be given to the Age wherein we live.  
Poets (as I have showed a little before) confine not the felicity of the first age of the world (described in the former Chapter) in so strait and narrow bounds as the Scripture doth, but give it a far longer time and term of years. For the murder committed by Cain, is much more ancient than that committed by Romulus, or any mentioned in profane story. Notwithstanding if we make the Scripture judge and Umpire of this controversy (as Christians ought) we must needs confess that simple and plain dealing continued long after the fall of our first parents, in as great and ample measure, if not in greater than ever it did since; and that men were not so loose and licentious, so wolvish and malicious in the golden Age, as in the ages following: in harmless innocency and simplicity, resembling the russet-coates of the country, in comparison of subtle citizens. So that the murder committed by Cain, may seem as strange (considering the time) as a murder committed at this day by a country Coridon, in comparison of one committed by a citizen or Courtier. But howsoever the mystery of that secret stand, certain it is that such dissolute demeanour and looseness of life, such riot and excess, such swearing and swaggering, was never heard of in the prime and infancy of the world as afterward towards the middle Age, and as now in the decrepit Age thereof; in the decrepit Age (I say) if we may believe our eyes, or judge by the course and carriage of things, or credit such as are better able to judge of such questions then ourselves. Nevertheless (under correction of better judgement) I am of opinion that it fareth with the universe or great world, as with man the little world; in that The older it waxeth, the more it doteth. For he that shall seriously consider the guise of the world at this day, cannot but say that it doteth extremely, and that it resembles the age of our good grandsire, gray-bearded Saturn, whose old and ancient name it may justly challenge to itself: though on the other side, it may well be called the golden Age, in the sense that Ovid applied it to his own, when he saith, 
Aurea nunc verè sunt saecula: plurimus auro  
Venit honos: auro conciliatur amor.  That is, 
Golden is our latest worlds age most justly reported:  
Gold alone our love buys: gold only purchaseth honour.    

CHAP. III. How some have ascribed too much to Antiquity, and others derogated too much from it.  
LEt us now consider, whether by our former description of the first Age, it may appear whereon these great admirers and contemners of antiquity rest and rely themselves. And let us in the first place examine the reasons which they allege for confirmation of their opinions. First then we are to observe, that the overgreat reverence which some have borne to antiquity, is sufficiently testified by certain Latin phrases, as when we say, Nihil antiquius habui (that is, word for word, I esteemed nothing more ancient) in stead of this, There was nothing in the world so near or dear unto me; or, I had greater care of it then of any thing in the world beside. And, Nihil mihi est antiquius illa re, that is, I account nothing more dear, I hold nothing more precious. So Plautus, when he would commend a young man to be well qualified, saith he was endued antiquis moribus. Again, the Latins call that prisca fides which the French call La bonne foy, that is, plain meaning, simple and honest dealing. And Cicero seems to call those men antiquos, who used old and ancient simplicity, and were (as a man would say) plain Dunstable. But the question is, what ground they have for their opinion, who by such phrases do so highly honour and magnify antiquity? To which I answer, that they who call good manners antiquos mores, and plain dealing priscam fidem, allude (no doubt) to the golden Age, and the plain simple dealing used in those days, as we have described it in the second chapter. Whereas it is certain that they which used this phrase, Nihil antiquius habui, I esteemed nothing more ancient, in stead of, I had nothing in greater account, etc. had an eye to a further matter. Some say they respected the honour which was given to aged persons, which seems to be more probable in that the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is all one with the Latin, both for sound and signification: for it is applied to old men, whereas the Latin word antiquus is never used in that sense. Wherefore (under correction) I am of opinion that it is a phrase borrowed from the great account and estimation which was had of antic works in former time, especially of painters and carvers. For when they spoke of a picture or ancient statue, they meant a rare and exquisite piece of work, which was much set by, and of great price: which they understood not only of the pictures of Apelles and Zeuxis, or of the statues of Scopas, Myron, Praxiteles, and like cunning artisans of those times (whose works were then in far greater request than those of Durer, Raphaël, and Michael Angelo are at this day) but of sundry other workmen of meaner note and later times. About which toys some have been exceeding curious. For Horace reporteth that one Damasippus was so carried away with curiosity in this kind, that it bereft him of his wits. And I leave it to thy consideration (gentle Reader) what the Poet (if he were now living) would say of these buyers, engrossers, and inhancers of Antikes, with whom the world is so pestered at this day, and at whose cost so many cheaters make such good cheer; who (poor souls) are so far from discerning between antic and modern, that they scarce understand the meaning of the word●, (which, such as it is, was lately brought hither into France by some fiddling Italian) and this it is which makes them put their hand so often to their purses, and pay for the pins. And verily the Savoyard did featly and finely, who going about to catch a sottish Antiquary, foolishly fond of such toys, after that the fantastic had courted him a long time, in the end for a goodly ancient monument showed him his wife who was four score years of age. But to return to the argument in hand. Many men in times past were strangely possessed and besotted with this humorous and itching desire of antiquity in matters of Poems and Poetry: a fault complained of in the second book of the Greek Epigrams, but much more by Horace, when he saith, 
Si meliora dies, ut vina, Poëmata reddit,  
Scire velim pretium chartis quotus arroget annus.  
Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter  
Perfectos, veteresque referri debet, an inter  
Viles atque novos?  That is, 
If Poems wont as wine receive their praise  
From longer days: feign would I know what year  
Our writings mote in dear? If he that wrote  
About the date of hundred years agone,  
Be deemed one of writers ripe and sage,  
Or of the modern age?  He further allegeth sundry other arguments to this purpose, Lib. 2. Epist. 1. Well, be it so (may some say) that this phrase, je n'ay rien eu plus antic, that is, I esteemed nothing more ancient, had his original from the great opinion which was had of antiques, whether building or pictures; but why were they had in so great account? To which (omitting Poets) I answer, that for as much as they had such exquisite and perfect workmen in old time, it seems they were of opinion, that the nearer their successors followed them, the more they retained of their perfection. Another argument of our ancestors faithful and plain dealing, in doing the works they took in hand more substantially than workmen are wont to do at this day, may be taken from the old and ancient manner of building, which seems to be of iron or of steel in respect of ours. I mean such buildings as were wrought with cement. It will here (I know) be answered, that cement is not now in use. And I answer again, that the small care which men have had to work sound and substantially, never respecting how sleight and slender their buildings be, hath marred all. Howbeit if any man shall think this reason weak or insufficient, he may hold him to the former; which notwithstanding I durst not allege of Poems, sith it holds not true in general, but only in particular. For though it may be truly said, that Homer's great fame made other ancient Greek Poets generally better thought of, by reason that this opinion possessed most men's minds, that the nearer they were unto him in time, the perfecter they were in Poetry. Yet the same cannot be said of the Latin Poets. For it cannot be denied but that Virgil excelled all the Epickes: that Tibullus and Ovid won the garland from all the Elegiacks: that Horace was the chief of choice among the Lyrics. And (if I may be so bold as to interpose an example of the Poets of our time) would it not be injurious (trow we) to our modern French Poets de la pleiade, if their ancestors should be preferred before them? Verily I am of opinion, that he that should prefer them before them, should do them as great wrong as they do sundry other Poets (their equals at least in time) in pearking before them, only because their Muse is too maidenly, as being nothing so wanton and lascivious as theirs, but resembling rather that of joachim du Bellay. But be this spoken as it were under Benedicite, and by way of parenthesis, and let this be the conclusion, that the reason formerly alleged, why ancient workmanship was so highly esteemed, and in such request, is not generally true of Poems and Poetry: the reasons whereof I should here set down, but that my occasions will not permit me to trifle away the time with such toys; I will therefore leave it to those that have more spare time and idle hours than myself.  
Now as we begun to speak of the extollers of Antiquity by the Latin phrase, so will we begin with the contemners of it by the Greek: for as there are certain Latin phrases which give testimony of the reverent opinion men were wont to have of Antiquity; so are there Greek words which show the contempt and disgrace wherein it was. For the professors of the Greek tongue cannot, at leastwise ought not to be ignorant, that by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (which in proper terms is as much as old and ancient) is meant a simple soul, or a novice who is but newly crept (as it were) out of the shell. The reason of this their opinion is very apparent and plain: for they called those 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (that is ancients) which were very simple, sottish, gross and blockish, as being persuaded that men in old time (especially in the golden Age) were but simple swains in comparison of those that came after. Thus than we see how Antiquity hath been admired by some, and contemned by others, for divers reasons, as hereafter shall be declared more at large.  
But here it shall not be amiss (for the winding up of this Chapter) to examine a few ordinary French phrases appertaining to this argument. First then when we speak of antic works (that is, of works made after the old fashion) we do it for the most part in scorn and contempt, contrary to the Latins, as if we should say Fait lourdement, rudely done; and (as our critical coiners of new French words speak at this day) goffement, grossly or absurdly; the common people at Paris say grosso modo. Contrarily, we honour Antiquity much, in call it Le bon temps, the good time. For when we say, those that were du bon temps saw not the vanities which we see; we mean the men of old time. The like honour we give to aged persons, when we call an old man Bon homme, and an old woman Bonne femme; for a man shall hear them now and then (when they are called Bons hommes, bonnes femmes) reply and say (alluding to this second acception of the word) that they go not yet with a staff. I observed before, that that which the Latins call Prisca fides, we Frenchmen call La bonne foy. To which let me add, that the Grecians signify the same by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which properly signifies a man of good behaviour, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, ancient. For by both these words they are wont to express and signify a simple soul. And the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 agreeth very fitly with our French phrase, Qui va à la bonne foy, or Qui va trop à la bonne foy, that is, one that is plain Dunstable, who hath neither welt nor guard, but is as plain as a pack-staffe, without fraud, coven or deceit. Whereof we have examples in Coridon's of the country, in whom we may see the simplicity of ancient times in some sort shadowed out unto us. Albeit a man might find (if need were) enough such swains even in your chiefest cities. Witness the Ambassador sent to the Pope by a German Prince, who taking his leave of his Holiness speaking unto him in Latin, and saying, Tell our beloved son, etc. was in such a chafe, that he had almost given him the lie, telling him that his Master was no Priests son, meaning that he was not a bastard. He likewise was plain simplicity, who being sent with a letter to the Queen of Navarre, and commanded to kiss it before he delivered it. Because his Lord told him in words of doubtful construction, Carry this letter to her Highness, and before you present her with it, 
* Kiss her, or, kiss it.  Baisez-la; (which may be understood either of the Queen or of the letter.) He was no sooner come into the presence, but he went to the Queen and kissed her (not doubting but that he had courted it bravely) and having so done, delivered her the letter without further complement. We say also Aller à la bonne foy, when a man speaks any thing in simplicity, which would be harsh or hardly taken being spoken by another: as when a gentle Gillian told king Francis the first, that when she saw him in such a suit, she thought she saw one of the nine lepreux (that is, lepers) as they are usually painted; whereas she would have said, One of the nine Preux, that is, worthies. To these I may add the example of the silly Savoyard, who taking the sentence of condemnation which passed upon him (whereby he was adjudged to be hanged) very unkindly, said, Hela messiau, ie vo priou per la pareille, fade me pletou copa la teste, that is, O good sirs, I beseech you, if you will have me requite it, let me be beheaded. For in saying, if you will have me requite it, he meant simply. It were easy to allege sundry other examples of like simplicity. But we are to consider, that though a sot and a swain be very near of kin, even cosingermen at the least, yet we must distinguish them, especially if we will follow the Grecians, who call the one 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and the other 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. For though every sot be a simple soul, yet every simple fellow deserves not the name of a sot. For example, incivility and rusticity is not sottishness, except it be accompanied with lurden-like loutishness: although it come far short of hers, who being chid by her mother because she did not thank her affianced lover when he drank to her; she telling her roundly of her fault, and saying, Canst thou not say the next time that he drinks to thee, I pledge you, you great fool? Thinking surely she had learned her lesson better, forgot not the next time he drank to her, to say, I pledge you, you great fool. He also meant not only simply, but played the fool in grain, who ate the physicians prescript, (I mean the paper wherein it was written) because he had bidden him take it. And I doubt not but the Reader will give me good leave to unroll a certain Switzar in this register (for I hope I shall do his worship no wrong) who with great importunity asked requital and satisfaction for the French pocks which he had gotten in the King's service. And if I durst be so bold as to speak of the Scots (who are all cousins to their King, as they say) I would here bring in a F. of this fraternity, who having heard none in his own good country but gentlemen of the better sort speak French, wondered not a little to hear the poor people in France beg their alms in French, and little children speak it so readily. But lest any man should say that I spare mine own countrymen, and spend my spirits upon others, I will here bring the silly Limosin upon the stage, who having seen a Spaniel gentle sold at Lions for four French crowns, highed him strait home again, for certain great mastiffs which he had left behind him, casting with himself what a dog of such a bigness would afford, if such a little puppet were sold at so high a rate. But a man had need to put on his considering cap, if he would find fit terms to express such fooleries. For we daily hear of sundry accidents, which at the first a man would think were sottish, whereas they are rather to be counted foolish, as being in a higher degree. For though every fool be a sot, yet every sot is not a fool: which I might exemplify in the Bishop (who was not only a sot but also a fool;) who after he had trounced his Canons in a tedious and troublesome suit, and tossed them from post to pillar, took order by his will that his tomb should not lie along, but stand upright in the Church, fearing lest after his death they should piss on his head in way of revenge. As foolish was he, who put out the candle that the fleas might not see him, and so might not bite him. He likewise deserved this name (what countryman soever he was) who burning his shins before a great fire, had not the wit to go back, but sent for masons to remove the chimney. Who also having seen some spit upon iron to try whether it were hot, spit in his pottage to know whether they were hot or not. The same sot being hit on the back with a stone as he road upon his mule, blamed the poor beast for kicking of him. It were easy to allege sundry like examples of such silly sots (they being more than a good many, and in such plenty that they are not dainty.) But these shall suffice to exemplify the former distinction, which hath been and aught to be made between a sot and a simple swain: which I was enforced, to make easy passage for that which followeth, the better to prosecute my intended discourse. Howbeit there are certain particulars which will puzzle a man shrewdly to tell to which of these three heads (or common places) they ought to be referred, those especially which seem equally to participate of sottishness and simplicity (I always take simplicity in the sense that we use it when we say, He meaneth simply.) Wherefore leaving it to the Readers judgement, I will only add this one thing, that it is held in France a greater indignity to be called sot then fool, notwithstanding my former discourse. The reason is, because that when we call a man a sot, we do it for the most part in earnest: whereas when we call him fool, we do it ironically and in jest; and therefore it is not taken in so ill part.  
And now that I am speaking of the French phrase, let me add one thing further, which I shall desire the Reader to consider, viz. that (if my memory fail me not) we cannot call a man fool in French, but by the word fol; whereas we have sundry synonimes for a sot. For Niais (in old French Nice) that is a novice; Fat, that is, a fool; Badaut (called in sundry places Badlori) a cockneigh; Nigaud, a noddy; Badin, a booby; and such like, are all sworn brethren (at least cosingermen) to a sot. We also use proper names in the same sense, as when we say C'est un Benest, He is a simple coxcomb (for in this phrase it is pronounced Benest, and not as it is commonly Benoist.) joannes is used somewhat otherwise; for when we say, C'est un joannes, it is as much as if we should say, He is a Pedant, or a acquaint Quanquam for Epistles. And when we say, un bon jannin (the vulgar sort saith Genin) we understand a wittald, who takes it patiently when his wife makes him a horned beast. We further use the word Gruë, that is, Crane, to signify a sot: for C'est un gruë, is as much as Ce'st un sot, C'est un niais; He is a simple sot, or a noddy. True it is, that a merry companion being sued for an action of trespass, and brought into the Court for calling one Bel oiseau, that is, fair bird, and then telling a tale of a Crane, was not so mad as to expound his meaning▪ but left it to the discretion of the judges. For the plaintiff accusing him for calling 〈◊〉 Bel oiseau, said that he had called him cuckold by craft, in calling him gosling. My Lords (quoth the defendant) I confess indeed I called him Bel oiseau, that is, fair bird, but I deny that I meant a gosling, neither is it probable I should so mean, seeing there are (as himself confesseth) many birds fairer than a Gosling, were it but a Crane. Whereupon the judges (hearing him fetch over his adversary so finely, and nettle him worse than before, the simple noddy never perceiving it) broke forth into such a fit of laughter, that they were glad to rise from the bench, not knowing whether of them had won the day. And thus much of a Sot. If any shall here object, that we call a man fool in French, and yet never use the word, and therefore that fol hath his fellow, as well as sot his synonime; I answer that it follows not; for my meaning was not that it could not be expressed by a periphrasis or circumlocution, but that it could not be expressed in one word; for I grant indeed, that when we would delay the harshness of this phrase, Il tient du fol, He is but a fool, we say, Il a le cerueau gaillard, He is light headed, or, Il a le cerueau un peu gaillard, He is somewhat giddy headed: whereas others say, Il n'a pas le cerueaubien fait, He is somewhat brainsick; or Il n'a pas la teste bien faite, He hath a cracked cranny; or, Il y a de la Lune, He is lunatik; or, Il y a de l'heumeur, he is humorous. The word Innocent, as when we say, C'est un pour innocent, He is a poor innocent, importeth not so much: and Transporté, incensé, distraught of his wits, mad, and such like, imply more, as coming nearer to the signification of fury. Now the reason hereof, viz. why we should have such variety of words to express a sot, and but one (if we speak properly) to express a fool, I leave to be discussed by others, (except this perhaps be the reason, that there are more sots than fools:) & will here add one thing more touching those phrases of which we spoke in the first place, viz. that (if I have rightly observed) we use the word Mouton, that is sheep, tropically, not so much to signify a sot, as a simple ●oule, who suffers himself to be led by the nose, as we say. Which is common to us with the Grecians, as with Lucian among the rest, save that he useth the word drawing & not leading. He hath also another proverb to the same effect, the meaning whereof is, as if one should say, He follows him as a sheep doth a green bough: which may serve to confirm the use of this metaphor in our tongue. Howbeit we have no need of Lucian's authority in this case, seeing Aeschylus (one of the ancientest Greek Poets) useth it in the same sense.  
But to omit the phrases formerly spoken of (which are so many pregnant proofs of the contempt of Antiquity) we will in the sequel of this discourse allege others when we come to speak of those Poets who (contrary to the current and common received opinion) thought it a far happier thing for them that they lived in their own age, then if they had lived in any other. And verily my purpose was here to have spoken of them at large, and to have added them as a supplement to this Chapter, but that I perceive I have already passed my bounds. Howbeit I have an excuse at hand, viz. that he which hath any dealing with fools can never have done.   

CHAP. FOUR How and wherefore certain Poets so earnestly desired the golden Age.  
WHen Poets (whose writings serve us in stead of mirrors, wherein we may behold men's turbulent passions) compared the fashions and customs of their own age with those of the golden Age, they could not but wish that it had been their hap they had been borne and lived in those days. We have an example hereof in Tibullus, who having recounted the happiness of those times (which, to omit other particulars, were not harried nor rend in sunder with wars and garboils▪) breaks out into this pathetical wish: 
Tunc mihi vita foret, vulgi nec tristia nossem  
Arma, nec audissem, cord micante, tubam.  That is, 
Lived I again, I never more would wear  
No deadly arms, nor never more would hear  
The trumpets warlike sound.  Neither are we to wonder at this his wish, seeing that Hesiod (who lived many hundred years before) sigheth and saith: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  That is, 
Would I mought live in this lewd Age no more,  
But or had since been borne, or died before.  But he greatly deceived himself (good man) in thinking he should not have been so unfortunate if he had lived in the Age following. For this is no new saying, which is commonly spoken by way of equivocation, Le monde va tousiours à l'empire: The world grows daily worse and worse: witness Aratus another Greek Poet, who in the Poem out of which Saint Paul took an hemestichion, hath these words: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  That is, 
Our golden Sires left as their last bequest,  
An age some deal impaired from the best:  
And you shall framen for your future heirs,  
A worse than theirs.  In imitation whereof Horace saith, 
Aetas parentum peior avis, tulit  
Nos nequiores, mox daturos  
Progeniem vitiosiorem.  That is, 
Our parent's age, worse than our ancestors,  
Hath borne us worse than they, and we shall breed  
A far more vicious seed.  But how cometh it to pass (may some say) that our parents should be more vicious than their fathers and grandfathers, and they likewise then their forefathers, and that we (in like sort) should exceed not only them, but all our ancestors, and our children us? The reason hereof (me thinks) is evident. For as he which is sole heir to many rich men, having besides the inheritance left him by his father, much more wealth accrueing unto him otherways, must needs be richer than they whose heir he is: In like manner, it cannot be, but that they who are left heirs the Ass of all their ancestors vices, and by their good husbandry improve the old, and daily purchase new, should in the end be more vicious than they whose heirs and successors they are. Seeing then it is plain and apparent by undoubted stories, that even those sins among the rest, against which God hath thundered out such fearful curses in his law, have been so rife in the world since the golden Age, and ever since running upon the score; can we wonder to see them now innumerable? When I say from the first age, I speak according to the Scripture, which confineth man's happy estate in far less compass then profane writers are wont to do, namely, during that short time that our first parents continued in the estate of innocency. And some among them confine it in far shorter bounds and limits than others; as Juvenal by name, when he saith, 
Antiquum & vetus est alienum Posthume lectuns  
Concutere, atque sacri genium contemnere fulcri.  
Omne aliud crimen mox ferrea protulit aetas,  
Viderunt primos argentea saecula moechos.  That is, 
Of ancient standing is that pleasing sin,  
By wanton stealth of warming others bed:  
Each other crime the iron Age did gin,  
The silver world itself some letch●●s bred.  But who would ever believe that Adultery should have been so common in the silver Age, and other vices not once known nor heard of till the iron Age? Verily though the Scripture were silent in this particular, and did not affirm the contrary in the story of cain's murder, yet I see not how any man should give entertainment to this conceit. His meaning therefore (I take it) was to show, that whoredom and adultery were the vices whereunto men in all Ages were most addicted. And how should the heathen and profane Pagans make conscience of such sins, when as Christians (even those that are otherwise unspotted of the world) account them but works of nature, and tricks of youth.  
Howsoever the case stand, certain it is, that the first Age was not wished for without cause. For whatsoever corruption was in those days, it was but small (in all probability) in comparison of that of later times, which like bad weed hath ever grown with speed. True it is, that as we (considering the corruption of these times, and the wickedness of man's nature) can hardly believe it should be greater: so did our ancestors judge of the corruptions of their own. Juvenal speaking of his own Age, saith that it did so degenerate, and was so debased from the purity of the golden Age, that it deserved no longer to be called by the name of any metal; thereby signifying that he should grace it much that should call it the iron Age, considering it did so far outstrip it in all excess of riot. And Ovid speaking of the unconscionable covetousness of the men of his time, saith, he could not imagine how it should be greater. But if Ovid were deceived, in thinking that the wickedness of his time was then in the ruff, much more was Hesiod, who lived so many Ages before. But sin and impiety did then so abound, and like a great deluge did so master the banks and overflow all, that he thought it a thousand times better to have lived either before or after the first Age, persuading himself that it was so unlikely there should come a worse, that he thought it not possible that any should match it. And therefore as we may not think that the golden Age was without all corruption (albeit Poets extol it to the skies, and sing forth a thousand praises in commendation thereof:) so neither are we to doubt but that the Ages ensuing retained some seeds and sparks (as it were) of the first, notwithstanding the clamorous complaints they make against 〈◊〉. For that which Juvenal saith in commendation of the golden Age, viz. that they accounted it a capital crime if a young man (were he never so rich) had not risen from his seat, and done reverence to an old man, though never so poor, was practised long after by the Lacedæmonians, who punished such an offence, either with death, or with some grievous punishment. And what great reverence the ancient romans bore to old age, we may read in Valerius Maximus.   

CHAP. V. How that whatsoever Poets have written of the wickedness of their times, might have been affirmed of the Age last passed.  
ALbeit it be a usual thing with Poets, so to amplify the matter they entreat of, as that they make mountains of molehills, and therefore their testimony may well be suspected, notwithstanding I dare be bold to say, that they have written nothing of the lewdness of their times which can justly be challenged, especially if we compare it with the practice at this day. And surely if Poets ought not to be suspected, much less Historiographers, who take not so great liberty to themselves, notwithstanding they make relation of such detestable facts as seem past all belief: Thucydides by name, who discoursed at large of the plague which swept away an infinite number of people at Athens; in whom we find the raging and furious lusts of some (miscreants rather then men) to have been such and so great, that they took occasion by that so terrible a scourge, to practise their villainies. If there be any that cannot subscribe to this his report, let him but inquire what was done in the year 1564. the plague being at Lions (a Christian city, not heathenish as Athens was) especially by the soldiers of the citadel, and he will no doubt, not only believe them to be most true, but will further judge them excusable and tolerable in comparison. To be short, to what outrage (may we think) would not they let lose the reins of their headstrong affections, who made it an ordinary thing 〈◊〉 deflower maids, and to force matrons even then when they were infected with the noisome and contagious disease of the plague and pestilence, and now ready to give up the ghost? What language is there under the cope of heaven (I except not the Greek itself, the most flowing and copious of all that are or have been) that can afford us a word sufficiently emphatical to express so brutish, so desperate and furious a fact. Questionless if the Turks had heard of such villainy they would have abhorred it as hell itself: and not so only, but would have doubled and trebled the hatred they bear us for our religion.  
But it shall not be impertinent before we proceed to a further and more ample discourse of the guise and fashion of this Age, to inquire how evenly our ancestors (which lived some three or fourscore years ago) carried themselves (where I confine this word Age within somewhat straighter bounds than others commonly do) considering the world waxeth daily worse and worse. ●o whom then may we have recourse to make inquiry hereof? Verily to the Preachers which lived in those days, and amongst others, for France, to Friar Oliver Maillard, and Friar Michael Menot: for Italy, to Friar Michael Barelete (aliâs de Bareleta:) who though they have infinitely corrupted Christian Religion with their doting dreams and foolish fancies, and with sundry wicked speeches, proceeding partly from blockish ignorance, partly from mere malice; notwithstanding they quit themselves like valiant champions, in encountering the vices which reigned in those times, as shall appear in the sequel of this discourse. I will then (as occasion shall be offered) begin each several argument with Oliver Maillard (as being Menots ancient) and after I will come to Barelete, one of another country. And first (because it suiteth so well with that which hath been said) I will show how all of them in general, and every of them in particular, find the wickedness of their times so intolerable and superlative, that they judge it infinitely to surpass the lewdness of all former Ages. Mark then the words of Oliver Maillard, fol. 96. col. 3. Audeo tamen asserere quòd multi sunt peiores in quarto anno nunc, quam aliâs in septimo: & nunc in septimo, quam aliâs in aetate perfecta. And a little before, viz. fol. 81. col. 2. Et quum nunquam fuerint maiores luxuriae, iniustitiae & rapinae, quam nunc, ideo, etc. Likewise fol. 217. O Deus meus, credo quòd ab incarnatione Domini nostri jesu Christi, non regnaverunt tot luxuriosi in toto mundo, sicut nunc Parhisius. Menot (who lived certain years after) saith as much in these words: Legatis historias, & non invenietis quòd mundus fuerit ita depravatus, sicut nunc est. To which (besides the former sentences already alleged out of Maillard, jumping with it in sense and meaning) he hath one which suits it both in sense and words. In another place he twits his auditors not so much for their non-proficiency in that they did not amend, as for their deficiency, in that they waxed daily worse and worse. Let us now come to Barelete. Nunquam (saith he fol. 261. col. 1.) mundus fuit tam malus ut nunc, neque tam separatus à Dei amore & proximi, ut nunc est. Thus we see how all three (though living in several countries) jump and accord in one, in taking up the same complaint against the wickedness of their times, as far surpassing all the outrages and enormities of former ages. Let us in the next place consider how they upbraid Christians with the same vice, affirming that Turks and other Infidels lead not so loose a life by many degrees. Maillard having reported how at Tours in the reign of King Lewis the eight, the jews reproved Christians for saying that Christ died for them, and yet blasphemed and cursed him, hath these words: Audeo dicere quòd plures insolentiae fiunt in Ecclesia Christianorum quam judaeorum. And fol. 147. col. 2. he saith he had conversed with 〈◊〉 Moors, and found them far honester men than the Christians then living in France. Friar Michael Menot saith no less: Sunt judaei in Auinione, & sunt Pagani in patria sua: sed firmiter credo, quòd secluso lumine fidei perfectiùs, moraliusque viwnt quam hody plures Christiani, nec tantae miseriae fiunt inter eos sicut inter nos. Nescio de quo vobis seruiat nomen Christianitatis, & fides Christi, quam recepistis in Baptismo. Let us now hear what Barelete telleth his Italians, fol. 24. col. 1. Non est plus erubescentia tenere publicè concubinas, accipere sacramenta falsa, & omnia illicita perpetrare: A Saracenis, ab Agarenis, ab Arabis, ab Idumaeis, à Mahometanis, à Barbaris, à judaeis, ab infidelibus, o false christian haec accepisti.   

CHAP. VI How the former Age hath been reproved by the aforesaid Preachers for all sorts of vices.  
LEt us now consider how the aforesaid Preachers declaiming thus in general against the wickedness of their times, do in particular also reprove and censure men for all sorts of vices. And that I may proceed in order, I will begin with that which (as Juvenal would make us believe) is of all other vices the most ancient, and so much the more ancient, by how much the silver Age is more ancient than the iron Age. What is this vice, may some say? Surely whoredom, otherwise called carnality, sensuality or lechery. (For that which Juvenal saith of adultery, ought rather to be understood of simple fornication.) But for brevity sake I will allege their own words (where they reprove whoredom in general, calling it Luxuriam;) yet so, as I will not make a medley or mixture of Church-mens lubricity with laymens lechery, which method I will also observe in discoursing of their other virtues, lest it should be said that I did confound the spirituality with the temporalty, or that I did miscêre sacra profanis, mix sacred things with profane, (as it is in the Latin proverb.) I am therefore to entreat our holy mother the Church to have patience a while, till I have got our three good Latinists dispatch the temporaltitie: and then I will do her this honour, to place her apart by herself.  
Let us then hear Oliver Maillard, who (to omit other particulars concerning this sweet sin) is much offended with gentlewomen for making their husbands wear the horns. fol. 81. col. 2. Et vos domicellae quae habetis tunicas apertas, numquid mariti vestri sunt cornuti, & ducúnt vos ad banqueta? And thereupon saith, that the King of England consulting on a time with his Council, whether he should wage war against the French or not, it was concluded he should, because the English were appointed by God, to be as it were his scourge, wherewith he would punish the sins of the French. Whereupon he addeth, Et cum nunquam fuerint maiores luxuriae, iniustitiae, & rapinae, quam nunc: ideo decretum fuit ut venirent. We have already heard how he saith in his brave Latin: O good God, I am fully persuaded that there was never such riot in the world since the incarnation of Christ, as there is now at Paris. Further, he complaineth (fol. 136. col. 4.) of the Parisians, which let their houses to panders, whores, and bawds. And that whereas good King S. Lewis caused a brothel-house to be built without the city, there were then stews in every corner. And in the page following directing his speech to Lawyers, Ego non habeo nisi linguam: ego facio appellationem, nisi deposueritis ribaldas' & meretrices à locis secretis; habetis lupanar ferè in omnibus locis civitatis. Likewise fol. 84. col. 4. where are the statutes of holy King Lewis? He commanded that stews should be removed far from Colleges: but now the first place that scholars run unto when they step out of a College, is a bawdy house. Again, the foresaid King Lewis would have swept all whores clean out of ●his Realm, 〈◊〉 (to avoid a greater inconvenience) he was counseled to let them make their abode in the suburbs, or in some remote place without the city. And he showeth elsewhere, that himself was jump of the same opinion. So that he, who as a preacher of the word ought to have reform others, had need himself to be reform, as hereafter shall be declared more at large. But to proceed on in my discourse, this jolly preacher complaineth, that bawds made their bargains with strumpets in the very Church, and thereupon he calleth them sacrilegious persons. Moreover, he marveleth (which is a ridiculous conceit, albeit he spoke it in great simplicity) that the Saints there interred did not rise again and pluck out their eyes. Neither doth he spare those mothers that are bawds to their own daughters: as fol. 24. Súntne hic matres illae maquerellae siliarum svarum, quae dederunt eas hominibus de curia, ad lucrandum matrimonium suum? And fol. 35. col. 4. after he hath said, Where are you my masters, ye justices of Peace and Quorum? Why do you not punish the whoremongers, bawds, and ruffians of this city? and showed how they let such thieves as these go scotfree, whereas they severely punished common felons: he cometh to speak of bawdy bargaining, (a fact far more detestable than the former) viz. how they made their daughters get their dowries with the sweat of their bodies: & faciunt eyes (saith he) lucrari matrimonium suum ad poenam & sudorem corporis sui. And fol. 125. col. 2. Were it so hard a matter (think you) to find some in this town who in their younger years were arrant whores, and now being old crones are become common bawds? I charge you with it you Magistrates, for leaving such persons unpunished. If a man steal but twelve pence, he shall surely be punished for the first offence: and if he steal the second time, he shall leave his ears on the pillory, or otherwise be punished with the loss of limb (for he saith, esset mutilatus in corpore:) if the third time, he shall regain the loss of his ears by stretching of his neck. Now tell me ye justices of Oyer & Terminer, whether it be worse to steal a hundred crowns, or to sell a maids virginity?  
But let us hear what Menot saith (fol. 15. col. 3. of the second impression, which I follow) Nunc aetas iwenum ita dedita est luxuriae, quòd non est nec pratum, nec vinea, nec domus, quae non sordibus corum inficiatur. Likewise fol. 148. col. 1. Nunc aqua luxuriae transit per monasteria, & habetis usque ad os, loquendo de ea. And a little after: In suburbijs, & per totam villam non videtur alia mercatura, other ware. In cameris exercentur luxuriae, in senibus, iwenibus, viduis, uxoratis, filiabus, ancillis, in tabernis, & consequenter in omni statu. True it is indeed, he is somewhat troubled in assoiling a question which he propoundeth in the behalf of young married men, who by reason of their affairs and business abroad, are often enforced to go from home. Fol. 139. col. 4. Cognoscitis quòd non possumus, etc. You know we cannot always have our wives tied at our girdles, nor carry them in our pockets: in the mean time our young gallants cannot live without borrowing of their neighbours. Let a man come into Taverns, Inns, hothouses, and such like places, and he shall find wenches for the purpose, common as the high way, that will serve his turn for a small price. I demand whether it be not lawful for a man to use them as his wife? Lo here a question which he propoundeth in the person of certain good fellows: whence we may gather, what small conscience they made of such things in those days. For whereas he should have sharply censured the movers of such questions, and have cut them off in a word, he answereth as one who thought it a very serious matter, which required deep and mature deliberation before he gave his final resolution. Notwithstanding he shifteth his fingers very finely of all, without disparaging his reputation. Moreover he crieth out (as well as Friar Maillard) against bawdy bargaining, wicked wenching, and villainous plotting used in Churches. Fol. 94. col. 2. Si sit quaestio facere & tractare mercatum de aliqua filia rapienda, aut alio malo faciendo, oportet quarere mag●as Ecclesias, etc. And he showeth elsewhere, how the Church was made the rendezvous for all their merry-mad-meetings. Yet one thing there is which maketh him shed tears, viz. that mothers sell their daughters to bawds. Fol. 97. col. 4. Et quod plus est (quod & flens dico) numquid non sunt quae proprias filias venundant lenonibus?  
Barelete likewise complaineth hereof: fol. 28. col. 1. Non est amplius verecundia publicè tenere concubinas: sinitur uxor, & nutritur putana cum manicis rubeis. And in sundry other places he takes up the same complaint, especially against whoredom committed by Nuns (whereof I find nothing in Maillard or Menot) as fol. 42. col. 1. Ad moniales conventuales, quae habent filios spurios.  
But to proceed to other villainies, as incests, sodomies, and the like sins against nature: I do not remember that I have read much of them in Menot; howbeit Maillard saith in general, fol. 278. col. 3. Taceo de adulterijs, stupris, & incestibus, & peccatis contra naturam. And fol. 300. col. 1. Si credant fures, falsarij, fallaces, adulteri, & incestuosis, etc. And he inveigheth in particular against Sodomy, fol. 262. col. 2. Howbeit he speaketh not of it as of a thing whereof men made a trade and occupation, but only (having showed what the Scripture saith of such villainy) addeth that many Christians are so blinded and besotted therewith, that they are not ashamed to defend it. But Barelete (having to deal with Italians) crieth out often against it, as fol. 58. col. 2. O quot sodomitae, o quot ribaldi! And fol. 72. col. 1. he addeth another mischief which followeth in the neck of the former: Hoc impedimento impedit Diabolus linguam sodomitae, qui cum pueris rem turpem agit. O naturae destructor. Impeditur ille qui cum uxore non agit per rectam lineam. Impeditur qui ●um bestijs rem turpem agit. O bestiâ deterior. Likewise fol. 24. col. 1. he joineth Sodomias with Cardinalitates, under which word lieth hid (no doubt) some great mystery: but I leave it to some Delius or Oedipus: his words are these: Quis te conducit ad inhonestates, & ad libidines, & cardinalitates, & ad sodomias? Howsoever it be taken, certain it is, his meaning was to express some great cardinal virtue by cardinalitates, in placing it betwixt whoredom and sodomy.  
Thefts also are sharply censured by these three preachers, as also rapine and extorsion. Howbeit they insist longer (and not without cause) upon such thefts as are not accounted thefts, but go scotfree and unpunished, then upon others; and chiefly upon usury. First then Maillard having alleged this distinction out of Thomas of Aquin between theft and rapine; that rapine is when he that is spoiled of his goods doth not know it; yet afterwards he showeth another acception of the word, saying that rapine is committed openly, and theft (which he calleth furtum) secretly. He accounteth then that to be rapine or robbery, when a man having power and authority in his hands, doth deprive another (who is not able to withstand him) of his goods, as when a Prince or a gentleman taketh his subjects or tenants goods by force and violence. Further he saith, that the manner of stealing used by soldiers, is robbery. That is also called robbery (saith he) which ought rather to be called concussion, as when the master withholdeth his man's wages, the mistress her maids, etc. Of all which thefts he speaketh as one that wanted not store of examples. But let us proceed to greater polling, stealth and rapine, and first, that which is practised by usurers. Besides gross and palpable usury (saith he) there is cloaked usury, whereof he brings these examples. This cloaked usury is when one standing in need of money, cometh to a treasurer (to whom he is directed) to receive a thousand crowns; the Treasurer tells him, he cannot have it till after a fortnight, at which time he is to receive a certain sum of money. The poor man answers, that he stands in great need of it, and cannot stay. Well then (saith the Treasurer) sith it must needs be so, you shall have the one half of it in money, and the other half in wares: and so delivereth him wares for two hundred crowns which are scarce worth an hundred. He further allegeth this example. An usurer dareth a merchant-venturer an hundred pounds, upon condition that if the merchandise prosper and come to good, besides the principal he shall give him half of his gain; if not, he shall restore the principal again. Whereupon he addeth, Et sic quotiens ponitur capitale in lucro, & lucrum sub dubio, ibi est 〈◊〉 palliata. He further allegeth another example which I here omit, and come to treasurers, at whom he girdeth in sundry places, as fol. 83. col. 4. As for you Clerks of the Exchequer, and you Treasurers, do not Captains give you ten crowns to hasten their pay? This I tell you is usury. You say, your office is little worth of itself, but that your veils, practice, and dealing is good. The devil take such dealing: Ad omnes diabolos tales practicae. You say moreover your offices cost you much, and therefore you must help yourselves one way or another, and fill your bags again. All this is not worth a blue button; nay all such dealing (I can tell you) is very dangerous. And ye gentlewomen, do ye not wear rich furs and girdles of gold by this means? You must either make restitution for this gear, or be damned to the devil, choose you whether. Again, fol. 87. col. 3. speaking of filthy lucre, This (saith he) concerneth receivers and treasurers wives, etc. For when a man is to receive a sum of money, before he can get a farthing from them, he must present their wives with some fair ring, girdle, or gown. And fol. 83. col. 4. he twits Churchmen for giving their tithe corn upon usury: and he upbraideth common bankers with their lending of ten crowns upon a piece of land, that in the mean time they may have the possession of it: and merchants also, who lending their merchandise in stead of money, value them at twice so much as they be worth; which he formerly laid in the Treasurer's dish, as we have heard.  
Menot in like sort crieth out as well against close and cloaked usury (to use his own words) as open and manifest: when he saith, hody sunt publicae usura, non coopertae vel palliatae, sed omnino manifestae, ita ut videamur esse sine lege. And in another place, Poor men are peeled and polled with greater usuries at this day then ever were practised by the Lombard's or jews, for which notwithstanding they were banished France. Fol. 100 col. 3. Fuerunt aliâs Longobardi & judaei expulsi à regno Franciae, quòd totam terram inficiebant usuris: sed nunc permittuntur crassiores Diaboli usurarij quam unquam fuerint Longobardi sive judaei. (Suitable whereunto we may observe how Maillard saith, Vos dicitis quòd illi qui tenent banquos ad usuram sunt de Lombardia.) He addeth, Et adhuc quod fortiùs & vehementiùs ladit cor meum, sunt illi qui dicuntur sapientiores. So that his opinion concerning usurers is this, that if devils should come down from heaven by thousands upon the earth, they would not so endamage and spoil poor people as one great devilish usurer doth in one only parish. Fol. 17. col. 3. Credit mihi, si mill Diaboli descenderent de aëre in terram ad perdendum bona pauperum, non tot mala facerent quanta unus grossus diabolus usurarius in una parochia. Et tales sunt fugiendi sicut Diaboli. Further, in discoursing and laying open their wickedness to the world, fol. 196. col. 1. he saith, that if these wicked wretches chance to read a prognostication which foretelleth a dearth of corn or wine, they buy up all that comes to the market, or can be got for money; and having boarded it up, will not part with it, no not for the relief of the poor people, except they pay double the price. By which cruel and tyrannical dealing, they being so pinched with poverty, even yell for hunger, and die without mercy. And fol. 110. col. 4. These gross devilish usurers have so gnawed the poor people during the dearth, that they have nothing left whereon to live, except they should slay themselves and sell their skins. Where note the phrase which he useth, alluding to the place which he had before alleged, Pelli mea consumptis carnibus adhaesit os meum. Thereby showing that the poorer sort have just cause to take up this complaint. Likewise fol. 8. col. 2. & 3. O vos miseri usurarij, per vestras usuras destruitis pauperes, & ponitis eos nudos in magna miseria: homines sine misericordia & ratione. Vos habetis hoc anno vestrum Paradisum, quòd videtis hoc anno esse magnam indigentiam bladi; ideo vestrum pauperibus venditis in duplo plusquam emistis. Vestra horrea plena sunt, & populus fame oruciatur. And fol. 23. col. 3. Sic faciunt isti grossi usurarij, qui volunt decipere pauperem, dando ei bladum, ut tandem possint habere suam haereditatem. But he discourseth of this more largely elsewhere, showing how in a cheap year they would say to the poor farmers that brought them their rend corn, Sell it, sell it, and keep the money to yourselves, for we need it not yet: and so would watch these poor souls (as it were) by the way, and in the end would call for all the arrearages when it was dear; so that they being not able to pay their rent, were constrained to leave them their lands, and to give them for full payment in stead of corn. For these gallants (as we may gather by the writings of this Preacher) put their confidence in that which many now a days rely upon, viz. the founding of some Church, chapel, or some religious house, or otherwise upon the virtue of their alms, in being beneficial to the Church at their death. Fol. 5. col. 1. Vos usurarij putatis e●adere, dicentes, Ego committam usuras, sed hoc est cum intentione fundandi unam capellam. Barelete likewise doth now and then lay load upon these usurers, especially in the former particular mentioned by Menot, viz; that jews were banished out of France by reason of their usuries: and yet more villainous usurers were to be found among Christians then ever were among them. Men now adays (saith he) are nothing ashamed to put out their money to usury, no not to have dealing and traffic with the jews. Moreover he maketh a sermon of purpose De usuris & restitutione rei alien●, alleging sundry reasons why usury should not be tolerated: where (to omit other particulars) he cries out in this sort: O what a number are there, who in few years of very poor, are grown exceeding rich per fas & nefas? Such a poor man hath bought a cheese, which he never tasted of; another hath bought cloth, wherewith he was never clothed. O ye usurers wives, if your gowns were put in a press, the blood of the poor would drop from them. And fol. 63. col. 4. he telleth us of certain usurers, who for ten measures which they lend, cause sixteen or a greater number to be set down in the bill. And hereupon he shows what punishment was inflicted upon an usurer at cream in his time, who lend ten bushels of corn, caused fifteen to be set down in his book, viz. that the notary was punished with the loss of his hand, and the usurer with the loss of all his goods. And they could not choose (I suppose) but he even hoarse again with exclaiming against the thefts and polling practices of our lawless Lawyers, as Proctors, Advocates, judges and such like. Of Advocates Maillard saith, that they take à dextris & à sinistrin: and he relateth a very pleasant story of a suit canvased between two Lawyers in a certain city of France, in the reign of king Lewis the twelfth. A rich husband man (saith he) entreated one of these good fellows to be of his counsel, and to follow a suit which he had in the court; which thing he undertook. About 2. hours after came the adverse party (who was a very rich man) and entreated him in like manner to plead his cause against a certain husbandman: which he also took in hand. The day being come wherein the cause should be heard, the husbandman came to put his Proctor in mind of his suit; who answered him, My friend when you came to me the other day, I gave you no answer, because I was otherwise employed: and now I give you to understand that I cannot deal for you, having undertaken your adversaries cause; notwithstanding I will direct you by my letter to an honest man. Whereupon he wrote to another Lawyer as followeth: Two fat capons are fallen into my hands; having chosen the fatter, I send you the other; I will pluck the one, pluck you the other. And fol. 75. col. 1. Ye Counsellors, do ye not allege the laws to overthrow right judgement? Do ye not corrupt and falsify depositions as much as lieth in you? Do ye not frame appeals against God and your conscience to overthrow the adverse part? Do ye not require the judge to give sentence against equity? Do ye not take money on both hands? And a little after: As for you Gentlewomen (Counsellors wives) do ye not wear girdles of gold and silver, chains and ribbons with beads of gold and of jet, which ye have got by the cosining conveyance of these devils your husbands? It had been better for you to have married clowns. And fol. 185. col. 3. Ye wives of such Counsellors, Attorneys, and Masters of requests, it were better for you to be hangman's wives. Again, fol. 42. col. 3. O Domini de Parlamento qui datis sententiam per Antiphrasin, meliùs esset vos esse mortuos in uteris matrum vestrarum. And fol. 59 col. 1. he layeth open another notable piece of knavery. Ye Proctors (saith he) do ye not go to men in prison, and use such or the like speeches: My friend you have a house and two acres of vines; if you will give them to such a judge, you shall be set free. Menot likewise discourseth at large in sundry places of thefts committed by Proctors and Counsellors, those especially that sell to the rich the poor man's right; I mean, which draw from the poor what possibly they can, and in the mean time betray them to their adversaries, which come off roundly in paying their fees, and fill their purses better. When (saith he fol. 95. col. 3.) a cause hath hung in suspense four or five years, an Attorney will come to a rich man (who hath a poor man in suit, and hath the better end of the staff) and will say unto him; Sir, you must agree with your adversary, for in the end you will be cast. After that, he will say to the poor man, My friend, you overthrow yourself, it is not for you to go to law with such a great man; it is your best course to agree with him, and give him the land for a hundred crowns, otherwise he will beggar you, and strip you of all. Whereupon he (poor soul) fearing the worst, is glad to give the land for a hundred crowns, which is worth a thousand. And fol. 204. col. 1. hear what counsel an Attorney gives a silly fellow, O amice, oportet quòd tu accords cum isto, quia aliter nunquam habebis pacem: nam tu vides that he is not worth a groat, and that he hath a shrewd head, and is like to trouble thee much. Dicam tibi tu non perdes totum; tu dicis, quòd ipse debet tibi centum scuta; habebis decem, & eris contentus, si placet. Tunc dicet ille bonus homo, O quomodo possem facere istud? Nescirem: quia ego perdam rem meam nimis miserabiliter: ego non possem facere. O (dicet ille) my friend melius est quòd tu hoc habeas quam tu perdas totum: quia dicitur communiter: When a man hath lost his cow, and can but recover her tail, it will serve to make a handle for a door. Neither may we wonder at the matter, considering the report which goes of the Court of Parliament which was in those days. For he saith that the Parliament was wont to be the fairest flower in France: but since that time it hath been died in the blood of the poor, who run weeping and wailing after them. And lest any should think that I add any one syllable of mine own, these are his words: fol. 104. col. 1. Dico quòd est pulchrior rosa quae sit in Franciâ quam Parlamentum: id est, quod habet videre & super Ecclesiam, & super brachium saeculare. Sed ista rosa versa est in sanguinem: sic quòd est omninò tincta sanguine pauperum clamantium & plorantium hody post eos. Non mentior. Afterwards he saith, A poor man may be in Paris ten years following his suit, and yet still hang in the briars, and get nothing but his labour for his pains: whereas they might have dispatched him in a week. And a little before he inveigheth against all Lawyers in general, for that they make a number of poor people to troth after their mules tails, not once vouchsafing them audience, though it concern their utter undoing: whereby it cometh to pass, that these silly souls dying in the mean while in following their suits, leave their children beggars, and their daughters in stead of being well married are constrained to become Catholics. Likewise fol. 17. col. 2. we see rich men who having spent six or seven years in following their suits, and their goods also, yet could not wind themselves out of this endless and inextricable labyrinth, but have been constrained in the end to go naked with a white stick in their hand (for those are his words, Et exierunt omninò nudi cum baculo albo in manu.) Or having lost their cause, have been sentenced by the Court to pay the whole charges of the suit, and so in a manner forced to fly the country. And fol. 90. col. 1. Sic hody vos Procuratores, judicet, & Aduocati, facitis currere pauperes cum processibus vestris post caudas mularum vestrarum; manutenetis eos in his diabolicis processibus, ut semper possitis arripere pecunias, finger some money. And strait after, he mentioneth certain suits that had hung f●ll twenty or thirty years; so that two or three wranglers having spent both their lives and livings in following the law, and leaving their heirs nothing wherewith to follow it any longer, have hung them up at a hook or a nail. And fol. 114. col. 4. Domini de justitia, qui tenetis homines at a bay, clamantes, Sunt tres menses, vel tres anni, quibus habetis sententiam iam in capite vestro, quam potestis uno die far: sed semper ad augendum lucrum vestrum, facitis eos siccare post vos, ut incantatos sortilegi; & currere post caudas mularum vestrarum, cum suis sacculis. Which agreeth well with that which Maillard casteth judges and Attorneys in the teeth withal: who (notwithstanding all their wrangling, bawling, and outcries one against another in open Court) prolong a suit full four years for one only dinner. I return to Menot, who upbraideth Attorneys (fol. 125. col. 1.) for keeping children in suit against their mothers, being widows: and who crieth out against perifogging Proctors, for counseling debtor to stand stoutly upon the denial of the debt, when the creditor hath neither writ nor witness. The same preacher (speaking of such as enrich themselves at the poor people's cost) complaineth of Princes who overcharge their subjects with taxes and subsidies, as fol. 170. col. 1. Quantum ad populum, miseria in qua est, talis est: Moritur fame, quòd nunc patitur tallias, gabellas, rosiones, excoriationes; & nisi dimittat pellem non poterit amplius aliquid pati. Item fol. 108. col. 1. O utinam illud attenderent domini iusticiarij, qui favore Principum, ut eis obtemperent, obediunt nefandis eorum praeceptis, pauperem populum rodentes, excoriantes pupillos & viduas, novas quotidie exactiones suscitantes. Notwithstanding (saith he) Lawyers do more impoverish a poor man in a three-penie suit, than all toll, impositions and customs, yea then all the soldiers that could come to his house in a year. For these Lawyers (whom he calleth the King's officers) appointed for protection of the poor people, are like the Cat which keepeth the Mice from the cheese, who if she once fall of eating herself, will do more hurt at one bit, than a mouse can do at twenty. He also exclaims against judges for tolerating usury and the stews: and he upbraideth certain Lords of the Parliament, for making no conscience to let their houses to panders, whore mongers, and bawds. He recordeth also sundry other knaveries committed by other officers; as namely fol. 128. And directing his speech generally against all such as enrich themselves by unlawful means, he saith, Ye gentlemen and gentlewomen, that have all things according to your hearts desire, and wear Scarlet gowns, I verily think that if a man should press them hard, the blood of the poor (wherein they have been died) would drop out of them. Which Hyperbolical and lofty kind of speech, is almost word for word the same with that of Barelets (whereof we have already spoken) who forgets not Lawyers (especially Attorneys) no more than his fellows; albeit he speak but little of them in comparison. Fol. 109. col. 3. O persecutores viduarum, o lupi rapaces, o crudeles advocati. See what he also saith, fol. 262.  
I proceed to other thefts and pilfer committed by other tradesmen, and men of other callings, and reproved by these preachers, especially by Maillard, committed (I say) deceitfully either in false wares, or in false weights and measures, or otherwise by cunning conveyance. First then, fol. 70. col. 2. he saith, Vos domini notarij, fecistísne deceptiones in literis? unde dicitur communiter in communi proverbio, From three things good Lord deliver us, from a Notaries & caetera, from an Apothecaries Qui pro quo, and from an Italian fig: (where note by the way, that he keepeth a foul ado in sundry places with the Apothecaries qui pro quo.) And fol. 27. col. 2. as also fol. 66. col. 3. he is offended with divers of them for mingling ginger with cinnamon, to make spices, and with such as lay bags and bundles of ginger, pepper, saffron, cinnamon, etc. in a cellar or vault under the earth to make them weigh the heavier. Moreover, he inveigheth against Apothecaries for mingling oil with saffron, to give it a fairer colour, and better weight. Fol. 68 col. 3. Not forgetting merchants among the rest, who power water into their wools that they may weigh the heavier: nor Clothiers, who wet their clothes to make them stretch the better. He further reproveth infinite deceits in sundry other kinds, till he come even to Vintners, who sophisticate their wine in mingling water therewith: and to Butchers who blow up their flesh, and mingle swine's grease with other suet. But he chafeth extremely against the hucksters, who buy with a great measure or weight, and sell with a less: and he is horn mad at those which help the balance with their finger, to make it fall. Et quando ponderatis aliquid (saith he) datis de digito super stateram, ut descendat. He speaks also against Merchants who forswear themselves, to the end they may sell the dearer, Merces suas plus periurijs onerando quam pretijs: and against such as cut the poor people's throats with their Monopolies: where we are to take Monopolies (according to the proper signification of the word) for that which is usually practised by the engrossers who get into their hands any commodity the country will afford, and afterward sell it at their own price; which I do the rather insinuate, because the word Monopoly is commonly taken in another sense. But to return to the perjuries of Merchants. He upbraideth them (page 331. col. 2.) for that they make no bones to forswear themselves, and to damn their souls to the devil for an half penny. Estis hic (saith he) qui pro uno albo estis contenti damnari? But Menot telleth us of certain merchants who made no conscience to forswear themselves for a farthing. And he further showeth, that their manner was (in those days) to overprize their wares, and to sell that for a shilling, for which they were not ashamed to ask ten. He is also much offended with those merchants, who not contented to know cunning knacks of knavery, and to practise them daily for their own advantage, do also teach them their children, scarce crept out of the cradle, fearing lest they should want wit to devise them themselves: and how they teach them the trick of the balance (mensuram parvi ponderis) threatening them that their children thus taught and trained up by them, shall one day serve in stead of faggots and firebrands in hell to burn them; as fol. 115. col. 3. and elsewhere. Barelete is as busy as his fellows in blazoning the knaveries committed by these covetous caitiffs' in wares and merchandizes: where he bringeth in one of them alleging this proverb, I will (as the Florentine saith) have an iron arm, an Aunt's belly, a dog's soul: that is, to the end that I may become rich, I will take as much pains as I am able to endure: I will shift with as little cost as possibly I can: as for conscience, I will respect it no more than a dog. The last of which, agreeth well with this other proverbial saying, He that would quickly be rich, must turn his back on God. Both which are true and infallible testimonies of the profaneness & impiety which hath long since seized and taken possession of most men's minds, though especially applied to Merchants.  
They censure blasphemies as sharply as other vices (which come in here very fitly after perjury, whereunto many are egged on by covetousness.) First therefore to begin with Maillard, fol. 271. col. 1. O wicked wretches (saith he) which never cease swearing by God's flesh, by God's blood, by the body of God, by God's head, by God's wounds, by God's death. He elsewhere mentioneth other blasphemies, as I will have it in despite of God: I renounce God, etc. And gamesters (saith he) are wont to say, In spite of God, which he expresseth in these words, In mala gratia sit hoc factum: je desauoue Dieu, Gallicè; I care not a blue button for God. Moreover, he twits women with these their modest speeches and interpretations, The devil take me; I would I might never come in heaven; I would I might be damned if ever I did or said this or that. And that when their husbands took them tardy, as in talking with their paramours, or any whom they suspected, and had in jealousy (for which he gives them one or two Items) their manner was to say, The devil take me if ever he spoke to me of any such thing. And he crieth out against their hellish blasphemies, as swelling again not only with the venom and poison of impiety, but even of plain Atheism, as when they say, Let God keep his heaven to himself, and let us alone, and follow our pleasures, Fol. 125. col. 3. And coming afterward to speak of blasphemous oaths (much like the former) he saith, And you base Christians which swear by God's wounds, by the body of God, and God's blood; is not this the language of the infernal lake? And fol. 140. col. 1. he reporteth that it was enacted by holy King Lewis, that blasphemers for the first offence should endure a months imprisonment, and after to be set on the pillory, (for he saith, ponerentur in pilario: whereas Menot saith, Au carquan, or au collier:) for the second, that their tongues should be pierced through with a hot iron: for the third, that their under lip should be boared through: for the fourth, that their tongues and lips should be cut off. And we may not forget the place formerly alleged, where he reporteth how certain jews at Tours (in the reign of King Lewis the eight) hearing Christians swearing in most fearful manner, as if they meant to have pulled Christ out of heaven, said, they wondered they would ●o outrage him, if they did believe that he died for them. Menot also is hot against the blasphemers of those times, telling them that it is all one as if they should spit in God's face: alleging out of Saint chrysostom, that Christians sin as grievously which blaspheme Christ now being in heaven, as the jews did who crucified him when he was upon earth. He further allegeth sundry reasons why this sin of all others is most to be detested, where he saith, O miseri, nunquam Diaboli ausi fuerunt facere quod facitis. And showeth what a shame it is, that blasphemies should be punished by Turks and Saracens, and should remain unpunished among Christians. And a little after, In times past (saith he) they were set in the stocks, or on the pillory, or cast in prison, or had some great fine set upon their heads: and in the reign of holy King Lewis their tongues were pierced through according to the Law which he had made in that behalf. But the contrary is practised at this day: for they that should punish blasphemies, are of all others the greatest blasphemers, glorying therein, and saying that it is not for a peasant to renounce God, Quòd non pertinet ad rurales rennuciare Deum. Et ego dico tibi quòd ad te non pertinet intrare Paradisum: and I tell thee, thou shalt never come into heaven for this gear. In another place he maketh mention of a notorious swearer, whose tongue King Lewis caused to be cut out, fol. 183. col. 1. Sic S. Ludovicus de uno blasphematore Parisius, qui fecit ei abscindere linguam. But Barelete is more hot and vehement against his countrymen the Italians, than they against their country men the French, when he saith fol. 120. col. 2. O Italy infected with such a vice, O people polluted with such wickedness: I fear me God's vengeance will utterly overwhelm you in a moment. Neither is he to learn how to apply King Lewis his decree against blasphemers, alleged by the two former preachers. He saith moreover, that the Saracens had a law, that whosoever blasphemed Christ or the blessed virgin (his mother) should be famished to death between two boards. He telleth us also of another ancient law, which punished blasphemy and buggery with the same punishment. And is it not a lamentable thing (saith he) that Duke Galeace should hang a man only for murmuring against him? and that the Duke of Mantua should put another to death for the like offence: and that blasphemers should go scotfree and unpunished? He further shows that it is less excusable than any other vice, in that whereas men are drawn to commit sin through delight and pleasure which they take therein, (as the whoremonger by the pleasure he taketh in whoredom and dalliance; the glutton by the delight he hath in his full furnished table, in dainty morsels, and the laughter of his wine, etc.) the blasphemer can have no delight in swearing at all: adding moreover that it hath this proper and peculiar unto it, in that whereas all other sins cease after death, this only continues. For proof whereof he allegeth Apoc. 16. And men blasphemed God which hath power over these plagues. And a little after, And blasphemed the God of heaven for their pains and for their sores. And to the same effect also in the end of the Chapter. Lastly he laboureth with tooth and nail (at leastwise in show) to withdraw them from this sin, as by propounding sundry examples of Gods fearful judgements which have befallen swearers and blasphemers; as that when certain gamesters at Mantua broke forth into blasphemy against our blessed Saviour, their eyes fell on the table. That at Rome a child (but five years old) blaspheming the name of God, was carried away by the devil from between his parents arms. That a mariner at Ragouse, most fearfully tearing and rending God asunder with his bloody oaths, fell into the sea, and was not seen till certain days after that he was found on the shore, where his body was taken up entire and whole, the tongue only excepted. He further speaks of certain oaths proper to Italians, as when they call God traitor, and the virgin Marie whore, fol. 118. col. 1. Clamant Deum traditorem, virginem, putanam. Which I remember only for their sakes who have not been in Italy. For they who have continued there any time, and have traveled through the country (as myself have done) may by these two remember others far more horrible; except God have been more merciful unto them herein, then unto me, in giving them grace to forget them. And I persuade myself, that since Barelets time blasphemies have much more increased both in number and nature, I mean as well in quantity as quality. For I remember that in the last year of my abode in Italy, I heard certain oaths which I had not heard be-before, as at Bononia which I had not heard at Venice, Padua nor Vincentia; and at Florence, which I had not heard at Bononia nor at Luke: and so of other places, as at Rome, Naples, etc. But the most horrible terrible oath that ever I heard belched out in all my life, or ever heard of, was uttered by a Priest at Rome, who had been angered by a courtesan, which I will conceal for this present, and return to Barelete, who mentioneth a merry oath which a good fellow (an Italian) was wont to use, viz. A bots on the ass that carried Christ to jerusalem: a merry one I say, if any oath may be called merry. Howbeit it is rather to be termed a jest, than an oath. And yet if it be spoken with an intent to swear, it is work enough for Divines: as when Italians say in their fustian fumes Per la Potta of such or such a one; whereas they are otherwise wont to say, Per la Potta de la virgin Maria; or by way of exclamation, Potta de la virgin Maria; or leaving out Maria, as being easily understood; and when Frenchmen say in heat and haste vertubieu: as also when Germans in their curses and imprecations corruptly pronounce the word got, for which we call them dastipoteurs, because we do not understand them. But to close up this point, were it not for my former promise, I would here relate what I have read in the Sermons of Barelete, of a Bishop, who had taken up such a bad custom of swearing, that when Barelete came to admonish him thereof, saying, Reverend father, I have often heard that you cannot speak a word without an oath, or naming the Devil: he presently (to clear himself of that imputation, and to show that it was but a false slander and malicious defamation) said, And who reported that of me in the devils name? By G. body it is false. Then said he, Reverend father, I take yourself for witness. But if any desire to hear his pure Ciceronian Latin, thus it is word for word: Exemplum Praelati, quem novi januae, qui loqui nesciebat, nisi per corpus & nomen Diaboli. Quum nemo auderet movere, ego Gabriel officium suscepi, dicens, Pater reverend, plures de vestris nobis dicunt, quòd nescitis loqui sine juramento, & nomine Diaboli. At Episcopus in impatientiam versus, ait, In nomine Diaboli, & quis de me ita dicit? Per corpus Christi non est verum. Cui respondi, Reverend Domine, à vobis testimonium capio: sicque cum rubore discessit. Which hot bickering between Barelete and the Bishop I had no sooner related to a virtuous gentleman of good credit and account, but he paralleled it with another very like it, which he gave me in exchange, albeit his was new, and mine somewhat state. How that he having told a gentleman (his very good friend) that the wound he had received, aught to be a warning unto him to beware of swearing, (a sin to which he was much addicted) he should answer and say, By G. body I will never swear more.  
Moreover, they complain much of murders and manslaughters. And their manner is in speaking of the sins of their time, to range whoredom, theft and murder in the first rank: and they seem to be grieved to the very soul that they are not punished. Menot saith, if a man go to the magistrate, and inform him of a murder committed the last night in such a place, he will not stir a foot, nor move a finger, except he first know the accuser, and who will discharge the Court by paying the fees: of which neglect of justice, he speaketh in sundry other places. He complaineth also that men are no more moved then stocks or stone walls, when they see a man of worth slain in the open streets. And Barelete saith, Occiditur homo, & adhuc malefactor stat in terminis patriae sine pavore, quia non est justitia.  
But there are other murders, for which they weep water and snot: as those which women commit in causing an abortion: and (which is worse) for that Priests (as Maillard saith) persuade them that in so doing they commit no mortal sin. Fol. 74. col. 2. Súntne ibi mulieres, & sacerdotes qui dicunt quòd mulieres comedentes venenum ad expellendum materiam de matrice suâ, ne foetus veniat ad portam, antequam anima rationalis introducatur, non peccant mortaliter? Where he also telleth us of children cast into rivers, and privies. utinam haberemus aures apertas, & andiremus voces puerorum in latrinis proiectorum & in stuminibus. Barelete also crieth out against this sin, fol. 262. col. 2. O quot luxuriae, O quot Sodomiae, O quot fornicationes, clamant latrinae, latibula ubi sunt pueri suffocati. Pontanus also allegeth an example of this currish cruelty, affirming it to be more usual with Nuns then with others.  
These I hope may suffice to show the estate of the Age last passed. For (if according to the old saying, A word be enough to the wise) by these the learned Reader may conceive of the rest. For albeit we have spoken nothing of the gluttony and drunkenness of those times, yet we may not think that whoredom was without these two companions, especially considering what the old proverb saith, Sine Cerere & Baccho friget Venus. And the Greek verse saith proverbially, that when the belly is full, the mind is among the maids. Which agrees well with the French proverb, Apres la panse, vient la danse: After banqueting follows chambering. Ovid also saith, Non habet unde suum paupertas pascat amorem. And we may assure ourselves, that there was no manner of costly or sumptuous attire, no fond, fantastical, gaudy, or garish fashion, which the wit of man or the wickedness of the time could invent, but was then in use. For Oliver Maillard is at hot as a tossed with attorneys wives, who (notwithstanding their husband's poor estate, having not after they have paid for their offices so much as twenty shillings a year left them) are as stately as Princesses. Menot also is round with them, telling them that there need no other flags to display their folly, but their fans and verdingales: but especially for that they did not hide that which modesty would have covered. Fol. 61. col. 2. Vos iwenes mulieres que aperitis pectora vestra ad ostendendum mamillas. Menot also taketh on like an oister-wife, for that they wore their gowns so open before, that a man might have almost seen their bellies. And he reproveth them sharply for sundry like unseemly and uncivil behaviours: especially for this: If my mistress (saith he) be at Church, and there come in some gentlemanlike man; to keep the custom of gentility, she must rise up amongst them all, and give him a lick on the lips, though it be in the Sermon or prayer time, when every man is deep in his devotion. The devil (saith he) take such fashions. Ad omnes diabolos talis modus faciendi. But it is now high time we should hear how these preachers say Churchmen their lessons, or rather how they reprove them and give them the gentle correction: if the reproof of the mean may take place with the mighty: and if their loud cries and shrill voices lifted up like so many trumpets, may pierce the ears of these deaf adders, better stopped then ever were Vlysseses, lest he should hear the melodious harmony, or harmonious melody of the Sirens song, to use the phrase of our descanting and Pindarizing Poets.   

CHAP. VII. Of certain vices reproved in our good Catholics by the aforesaid Preachers.  
THat I may perform my late promise, I must bestow this Chapter upon my Masters of the Popish Clergy: beginning according to my former method, with their whoredom; yet not forgetting their secret thefts and cunning conveyance, whereby they were wont to maintain themselves in their dissolute demeanour and loose life, as they do at this day. First then let us hear Oliver Maillard (doing him this honour, as always heretofore, to give him first audience.) Fol. 327. col. 1. Have you any of those great men here, whose wives make them wear horns? Yes, there is store of such: so that we may well say, the Cuckoos song is now come into the Pope's Court. But before we come to Prelates, let us hear how he layeth out the knavery of poor Priests and simple Sir john's. They hear (saith he) women's confessions, and knowing who they be that use the occupation, they run after them. Which puts me in mind of that which I have read of certain Priests who would gladly have brought up this custom, that the poor penitents which came unto them for absolution, should show them those parts of their bodies wherewith they had offended. I return to Maillard, who hath these words usually in his mouth: Sacerdotes concubinarij, or fornicarij; as also, religiosi concubinarij. He further speaks against such as keep them in their chambers 
* At bed and board.  à pain & à pot: as fol. 61. col. 3. Súntne hîc sacerdotes tenentes concubinas à pain & à pot. In stead whereof Menot saith 
* At rack and manger.  à pot & à cueillier. To reture to Prelates, against whom Maillard inveigheth, fol. 22. col. 4. O ye infamous damned fat gotbellies, written in the devils book, thieves, and Church-robbers, (as Saint Bernard saith) do ye think that your founders gave you your livings to do nothing but to hunt whores, and to shoot at short butts? And fol. 107. col. 1. And ye my Masters of the Clergy, that spend your benefices upon horses, hounds and whores. He addeth also Histriones. Likewise pag. 84. col. 2. Ask S. Stephen if he went to heaven by leading such a life as you do, making great cheer, ever feasting and banqueting, giving the goods of the Church and Crucifix to harlots; keeping hounds and hawks with the goods of the poor? It had been better you had never been borne, then that you should lead this loose, lazy, and licentious life. Where he likewise addeth Histriones after meretices. All men know the signification of this Latin word; but because both he and his fellows deal with the Latin as they think good, using words arsy-varsy and kim-kam, I doubt whether by Histriones he meant not moriones, which will appear to be more probable, if we consider the practice usual at this day. In another place he saith that Prelates have no table talk but of obscenity and ribaldry. And he is the man (if my memory fail me not) who saith, that whereas Prelates in times past gave money towards the marriage of young maids (which were moneyless and friendless) they contrarily suffer them to play the strumpets under their noses, making them get their dowries by the sweat of their bodies. But let us hear what goodman Menot saith (who currieth the coxcombs of those gallants as well as the best of them.) Fol. 144. col. 2. I say the like de ancillis sacerdotum, quibus non licet dare hoc sacramentum Eucharistiae; quòd certè non sunt de grege Dei, sed Diaboli. And fol. 82. col. 3. Est filia seducta, quae fuit per annum inclusa cum sacerdote cum poto & cochleari, at bed and board, hody venit, etc. And in another place he saith, that when soldiers entered any town, the first thing they sought for was the Curates (or Parsons) Leman. And they might have done well (as far as we may gather by his words) to have given warning from one end of the town to the other: Look to your plackard Madam (or Mistress) for fear of these Prelates. For over and beside those which they kept at home, they had customers in every corner of the town. Albeit they took greatest sport in making Counsellors wear the horns. But here was the jest, that great rich men had ever one Prelate or other for their gossips: the goodman taking him for his son's godfather, who (unknown to him) was his father. Where note how in his copper Latin he calleth the committing of whoredom with a Bishop, facere placitum Domini Episcopi: to do my Lord Bishop a pleasure: as fol. 18. O Domina quae facitis placitum Domini Episcopi. And fol. 110. col. 2. If you shall ask how this child being but ten years old, got such a living: they will answer you strait, that his mother was very familiar with the Bishop, and for kind acquaintance dedit ei. He further mentioneth a cunning sleight practised by these sir john's, to have their pleasure of those with whom they were in love, that their manner was (if no other occasion were offered) to invite them to a feast among other modest maids and matrons. Last of all he showeth that Prelates in his time had both maids and matrons, both wives and widows, at command. We have already heard how Maillard (after Saint Bernard) calleth them thieves, and Church-robbers. Let us now hear what Menot saith of their thefts and simonies (though men now a days make but a jest of such sins.) First then, fol. 70. col. 1. he saith, O Domini Ecclesiastici, qui roditis ossa mortuorum, & bibitis sanguinem Crucisixi, audite. And fol. 5. col. 3. Non est cauda Praelatorum, qui hody post se ducunt canes, & mangones indutos ad modum armigerorum, sicut Suytenses: qui nullo modo curant de grege sibi credito. And strait after, Quid dicetis, Domini Ecclesiastici & Praelati, qui comeditis bona buius pauperis qui pendit in cruse, ducendo vestras vanitates? And fol. 132. col. 1. O si non viderentur magniluxus, great bravery, simoniae, magna usura patentes, notoriae luxuriae, quae sunt in Ecclesia, populus non esset scandaliza●us, nec vos imitaretur. O qualis rumour! dico secundum puram veritatem: O what a notorious shame it is! I say the plain truth of it: mill Praelati sunt causa quòd pauper & simplex populus peccat, & quarit infernum: that the poor people sin, and are damned ad omnes diabolos. And fol. 118. col. 1. he sends the dealing of all those Prelates packing to the devil, in the sense that men are wont to praise them for good husbandry. Nunc (saith he) si aliquem eorum vis laudare, hoc modo laudes, Est bonus pater-familiae, he is a good husband: benè aliter facit quam suus praedecessor. Ad omnes Diabolos tale menagium. Menagium pro animabus est magis necessarium, & principale. And speaking of their election, fol. 93. col. 1. Videmus quòd hody intrant Ecclesiam ut boves stabulum, cornibus elevatis: ut multi qui intrant non per Spiritum sanctum, sed vi armorum, & strepitu armigerorum & militum: by force of arms and dint of sword. Likewise fol. 110. col. 1. Sed unde provenit hoc? quia certè Spiritus sanctus est hody expulsus de concilio, synagoga, & capitulis Episcoporum, & electionibus Praelatorum. Quia, ut videtur, hody puero decem annorum datur parochia in qua sunt quingenti ignes: & pro custodia assignatur quandoque a Courtier, unus nobilis curiae, qui post Deum nil odit nisi Ecclesiam. Heu, Deus scit quomodo hody dantur beneficia Ecclesiastica. Si quaritis quomodo puer iste habuit beneficium: sciunt responsionem, Mater suae erat familiaris cum Episcopo, his mother was very familiar with the Bishop, and for acquaintance sake dedit ei. Nam hody verificatur & completur Prophetia Esayae 3. Populum meum exactores sui spoliaverunt, & mulieres dominatae sunt eorum. Videmus hody super mulas, habentes duas Abbatias, duos Episcopatus (Anglicè two crosses, two miters) & adhuc non sunt contenti. As also in another place, And you gentlewomen (saith he) that do my Lord Bishop the pleasure you wot of, and then you say, Oh, oh, he will do my son a good turn, he shall be the better provided for by some benefice or Ecclesiastical dignity. Also fol. 111. col. 2. Quòd hody non dantur beneficia, non, non, sed venduntur. Non est meum dare vobis. Antiquitùs dicebantur Praebendae, à Praebeo, praebes: sed hody dici debent Emenda, ab Emo, emis; quòd non est meum dare vobis. Which conceited allusion puts me in mind of that which he hath, fol. 100 col. 4. Secundò erit Prior, Abbas, Comendatarius, & potius comedatarius qui omnia comedit. Moreover, he often reproves and censures them for simony (to which we may refer certain particulars spoken of before) as fol. 94. col. 1. Nónne reputatis simoniam quando pro Episcopatu valente novem millia, facitis fasciculum plurium beneficiorum ascendentium usque ad summam novem millium, & datis hoc pro recompensa? Ad omnes diabolos tales recompensa. Likewise fol. 8. col. 3. Sic isti Protonotarij qui habent illas dispensas ad tria, imò ad quindecim beneficia, & sunt simoniaci & sacrilegi: & non cessant arripere beneficia, incompatibilia: idem est eyes. Si vacet Episcopatus, pro eo habendo dabitur unus grossus fasciculus aliorum beneficiorum. Primò accumulabuntur archidiaconatus, abbatiae, duo prioratus, quatuor aut quinque praebendae, & dabuntur haec omnia pro recompensatione. And fol. 100 col. 2. Dic de abusibus qui fiunt quando isti qui habent beneficia, daunt illa fratri uxoris, ut illa portionem haereditatum fratris habeat. I may not here forget what he saith (fol. 124. col. 3.) concerning Monks, viz. how they are ever following one suit or other in the palace at Paris: so that of four you meet with, it is a wonder if one be not a Monk. And if you ask them, what business they have there? One Clericus will answer, Our Chapter is in suit with the Dean, the Bishop, etc. and I dance attendance upon these Counsellors for this end. And thou master Monk, what dost thou here? I plead for an Abbey of eight hundred pound rend for my Lord Abbot. And thou white Monk? I plead for a small Priory for myself. And you beggarly Monks, that have neither land nor living, what do you sneaking here? The King hath granted us salt, wood, and the like, but his officers deny to give them: or such a covetous or envious Curate denies us burial, and will not suffer us to perform the will of one lately deceased: so that we are enforced to repair to the Court to seek a redress.  
Barelete indeed doth not so often inveigh against these two vices of Cleargie-men, as his fellows. But elsewhere he telleth us a very merry tale of a Venetian doctor, who being taken with a filthy drab at unawares in the very fact, and that by her mistress, and Barelete (than preacher in Venice) whom she had sent for to see this sport, and being admonished of this so heinous and scandalous a sin, made no other answer, but that he was so deep in love with this dirty droil, that he knew not what to think or say of himself, whether he were a man or a beast. He further cries out against Nuns for pestering the world with a brood of bastard brats, whereof his fellows speak nothing to my remembrance. Howbeit Pontanus tells us in plain terms of certain Monasteries of Nuns at Valentia in Spain, which differ nothing from stews. And lest any should suspect me of falsification or forgery, I will allege his own words, as they are to be found in his treatise De Immanitate, cap. 17. Valentia in Hispania citeriore, aedes quadam sacra, Vestaliumque Monasteria, ita quidem patent amatoribus, ut instar lupanariorum sint. Moreover, discoursing in general of Nuns, he saith, that they either kill their children in the womb by certain potions, or else strangle them as soon as they are borne, and after cast them into privies.   

CHAP. VIII. How the foresaid Preachers have discovered certain abuses in Popish doctrine; and of the covetousness of the Popish Clergy.  
But (to omit the loose lives of our good Catholics) the foresaid Preachers discover certain errors in doctrine (though themselves were greatly overseen in sundry things, so that we may well judge of them according to the proverb, He that hath but one eye is king among the blind:) where note, that they are such errors & abuses, as help to keep their kitchens hot. First then Maillard is full of invectives against peddlers of relics, as fol. 25. col. 3. Estis hic Domini bullatores & portatores reliquiarum? And fol. 25. col. 3. Dixi hody mane de lingua fraudulatoria, & credo quòd juggling Gipsies Anglice, portatores reliquiarum, caphardi, & mensuratores vultuum imaginum saepe comedunt de isto pastillo. Also fol. 3●. col. 3. Estis hic portatores bullarum? numquid linitis auditores vestros ad capiendas bursas eorum? Likewise fol. 45. col. 1. Et vos portatores reliquiarum & indulgentiarum, numquid iactatis vos de malis quae facitis in villagijs? But before I proceed to a further point, I will give a short exposition of this word pastillo, that is pasty; and that out of the author himself. We are therefore to know, that it hath relation to a tale that he told fol. 24. col. 4. It is reported (saith he) that the devil being very sick upon a time, his Physicians asked him to what his stomach would best serve him, to fresh water fish, or to sea-fish? He answered to neither. Whereupon they asked him if he had a mind to pork, beef, or veal? He answered, No. Well then (said the Physicians) have you a stomach to chickens, partridges, or venison? He answered, that his stomach could not away with them no more than with the rest: but that he would gladly eat of that meat which women eat of when they lie in childbed, to wit, of a pasty of tongues. Whereupon they asked him with what sauce he would eat it. I would have them (said he) first fried, and then baked. I leave the deduction and application hereof to those that have the book, seeing I have quoted the place where it is to be found. But those that have heard the chat & prattling of these gossipping housewives when they sit by a warm fire, may easily guess how their tongues wag when they are bathing themselves in a warm bath of a woman in childbed: which is a circumstance worthy the noting. For verily it is not probable, that their tongues should then be frozen, at leastwise I dare give my word for the good wives of Paris, who call their seats cacquetoires, that is, tattling benches; where sitting together after they have finely fetched over their husbands, brethren, sisters, kinsmen and friends (yea and their lovers also who are now called servants) at last fall foul among themselves, giving each other such privy nips and cross blows over the thumbs, that their husbands are hornified thereby. But now to the matter again (lest it be said that women make me forget myself) yet so as I will not give them a final farewell: for the fact whereof I am about to speak (reproved by Maillard) concerns them very nearly, viz. that notwithstanding the gloss affirm, that if a priest be found kissing a woman, we must suppose he did it to print a blessing upon her lips: yet we may in charity judge that it is a preparative to initiate them in some other mystery, especially if they be alone, and in a suspected place. He speaketh also very boldly (for those times) against Indulgences and pardons: yet so as a man may well perceive he speaketh not all he thinketh. In the mean time he flatly condemneth these peddlers of pardons (whom he calleth in another place bullatores) for saying, that if they were persuaded that their ancestors had not bought Pope's pardons (meaning such pedlary ware as they had in their packs) they would never pray for them. Among other things he saith, An creditis quòd unus magnus usurarius, plenus vitijs, qui habebit mill millia peccata, dando sex albos trunco, habeat remissionem omnium peccatorum suorum? Certè durum est mihi credere, & durius praedicare. He further reproveth such as preached only for gain. Are you here my masters (saith he) you Lent preachers, who preach only in hope of gain: and when you have gotten a round sum, say on Easter day, that you have had a good Lent? Where he compares them to adulterers for this reason: Adulteri enim de malo concubitu recipiunt prolem: ita & vos pecuniam. And Fol. 331. col. 1. Videte magistri venerandi, habuistis bonum quadragesimale, lucrati estis centum francos, congregastis multum; vos reddetis computum. He complaineth also that the Churchmen sell the devil and all, in refusing to bury one in the Church under a franc. I return to Menot, who calleth those peddlers of relics portatores rogationum, whom Maillard calleth portatores reliquiarum, & indulgentiarum, & bullatores. It is (saith Menot fol. 131.) the practice of these peddlers to make poor widows believe, that they and their family ought rather to starve for hunger, then to want their pardons. In like manner Fol. 174. col. 3. Shall I speak a word for all? Divines never meddled with these pardons, or very little. And presently after, None preach them but these false Friars, who add infinite thereto, to deceive the people: and being in taverns, keep revel rout, as though they were young devils, talking of nothing but of dallying and whoredom. Further, the said preacher (fol. 12. col. 4.) makes mention of certain cheaters, who having pawned their reliks' in a tavern, showed the people a brand, and made them worship it, as being one of those wherewith Saint Laurence was broiled. But of this more hereafter. Barelete also (as I remember) reproveth certain abuses, though very briefly, rather pointing at them, then dwelling long upon any point. Neither are we to wonder that he and his fellows should let so many abuses go scotfree, untouched, and uncensured. It is a wonder rather they could discover any, considering the course they took. Howbeit we are to observe this one thing, that whatsoever the ignorance of former times hath been, the doctrine, which tended directly to keep the kitchen hot, hath ever been suspected. Whence it is that some (even of our good Catholics) could never be brought to put any confidence in such pardons: for that they considered (albeit they should have ascended higher, and sought peremptory proofs) that if they took place, men should buy out the pardon of their sins at too easy a rate. Thus we see what the doctrine is, which tends directly to keep their kitchens hot. And in very truth there is no one conclusion in the Romish religion which pointeth not this way, though some more directly, others more obscurely. How ever it be, our old proverbs do sufficiently blazon the covetousness of our good Catholics. But this ensuing best of all: 
Trois choses sont tout d'vn accord,  
L'Eglise, la Cour, & la mort.  
L'Eglise prend du vif, du mort:  
La Cour prend le droict & le tort:  
La mort prend le foible & le sort.  That is, 
There be things three do well agree,  
The Church, the Court, and destiny.  
For none will aught to other leave:  
The Church from live and dead doth reave:  
The Court takes both the right and wrong:  
And death takes both the weak and strong.  There is also another proverb which saith, that three things are unsatiable, Priests, Monks, and the sea: whereof Barelete puts me in mind when he saith, Presbyteri, & fratres, & mare nunquam satiantur. Howbeit I have heard old folks name these three, Priests, women, and the sea. And verily Monks may well be comprised under Priests.   

CHAP. IX. Wherein is declared, that by how much the wickedness of the last Age doth exceed the former, by so much ours doth surpass the last: notwithstanding that vices are better detected, more sharply censured, and severely punished then ever they were.  
WE may perceive by the complaints taken up by the foresaid Preachers, that they saw the world in the wane, waxing daily worse and worse. For it is not to be thought but that they omitted sundry gross and heinous sins which reigned in those days, either because they knew them not, or remembered them not. For we may well think, that men in those days were not only good guardians, in keeping the vices whereof their ancestors left them inheritors, but improvers also in increasing their stock by adding of new. And verily I must confess that I have not reaped so great a harvest, nor gathered so plentiful a vintage out of their works and writings, but that many glean and after-gatherings remain behind for such as have more idle hours than myself. For who so shall diligently peruse the Sermons of these three Doctors, shall find that I have omitted a number of notorious and prodigious facts, which have been discovered in part by ancient Poets. For proof hereof, consider what Menot saith: The son would pluck out his father's eyes to enjoy his goods. And I persuade myself that the book in which children study least, and which grieveth them most, is the life of their fathers (where he alludes to a book called Vitae Patrum, written of certain Ancients who were thought to have led a strict and holy life.) And a little before, Alas, how is it possible to find friendship among enemies, when love is not to be found among kinsmen? no not between parents and children, brethren and sisters? Now that this sin is of great standing, may appear by Hesiod, whom Ovid hath thus expressed: 
Vivitur ex rapto, non hospes ab hospite tutus,  
Non socer à genero, fratrum quoque gratia rara est.  
Imminet exitio vir coniugis, illa mariti.  
Lurida terribiles miscent aconita noverca.  Which Marrot hath thus turned: 
On. vit desia de ce q●'on emble & host.  
Chez l'hostelier n'est point asseuré l'hoste:  
Ne le beaupere auecques le sien gendre.  
Petite amour entre freres s'engendre.  
Le mari s'offre à la mort de sa femme.  
Femme au mary f●●t semblable diffame.  
Per mal-talent les marastres terribles  
Meslent sowent venins froids & horribles.  That is, 
All live on spoil. One where the wary guest  
Suspects his falser host. Elsewhere the son  
His second father fears. Nor can one breast,  
One womb, shield brothers from dissension.  
The faithless wife conspires her husband's bane,  
And he in fell revenge seeks hers again.  
The cruel stepdame deadly poison brews. etc.  He afterwards speaks of children, who abhor to study or read in the book called Vitae Patrum. Filius ante diem patrios inquirit in annos. That is, 
The son for raising of his own estate,  
Wisheth his father dead ere nature's date.  True it is indeed, these words For raising of his own estate, are not in the Latin: howbeit they are added very fitly to make up the sense, as any man may perceive: and they accord with that of Menot, that children would pluck out their father's eyes to enjoy their goods. And as they complained in old time of other vices, so of the neglect and want of justice. For this is an ancient proverb (if we regard the sense rather than the words) Greater thieves hang the less: agreeable to that of Juvenal: Dat veniam Coruis, vexat censura columbas. That is, Poor Doves are paid, whilst Ravens s●●pen free. And it suiteth well with the saying of that famous Lawgiver Zaleucus, that laws are like to cobwebs: for as small flies 〈◊〉 caught in them, when as the greater break through them: so poor people, or such as cannot prattle apace, are ensnared in them; whereas the rich, or such as have glib tongues, break through them by force: not unlike to that in Terence: 
— quia non rete Accipitri tenditur neque Miluio,  
Qui malè faciunt nobis, illis qui nihil faciunt, tenditur.  
Quia enim illis fructus est, in illis opera luditur.  Which is spoken by a smell-feast (or good trencherman) called by this Poet a Parasite, who having boasted that he did strike and beat whom he listed, and played the pike in a pond, and that none durst once quinch or speak a word against him; being demanded the reason of this so great boldness, answered, Because the net is not spread for the 
* Al Sake●.  Sacre or Kite which annoy us, but for those harmless birds that do not hurt us: for there is some profit in these, as for the rest it is but labour lost. The Poet indeed (which I speak only by the way) useth a 
* Accipit●●.  word, which (as some are of opinion) signifieth all kind of hawks, whether sparrows hawks, faulkons, or others. But I rather use the word sacre, considering the common phrase in every man's mouth used in way of a proverb, C'est un sacre, as if a man should say, he is a spend thrift, or a devouring gulf. It is also taken for a glutton, or a wine-bibber. And good father Menot fol. 138. col. 1. forgets not those that exclaim against the poor, & have nothing to say against the rich. For examining the history of the woman who was taken in adultery, and brought before our Saviour Christ, he demandeth the reason why 〈◊〉 brought not the adulterer also? To which he presently answereth, It may be (saith he) he was a rich man. This is the common practice at this day: they accuse poor men, but have not a word to say against a gros goddon. Which word I 〈◊〉 of purpose, as being an excellent good French word (though now almost worn out of use) used also by Oliver Maillard his ancient: fol. 22. col. 4. O gros goddons, damnati, infames, & scripti in libro Diaboli, fures & sacrilegi. But to return to our former argument touching great and small flies. Some there be who make the Philosopher Anacharsis author of this comparison, affirming that his meaning was, thereby to let Solon (a lawgiver as well as Zaleucus) understand, that the pains he took in making laws, was but in vain. Now whereas they who father it upon Zaleucus, report he should say, that as the fly and the gnat falling into a cobweb are there entangled, whereas the Bee and the wasp break through and fly away: so the poor, etc. They who father it upon the Philosopher Anacharsis, in stead of great and small flies (signifying the poor and the rich) use a comparison between light and weighty bodies, which (in my conceit) hath not so good a grace. But the Fly is used fitly in another comparison, which will not be amiss here to relate. It is that by which Metrodorus counseled those that would live in any state or common wealth, or under any government, that they should be careful to avoid two extremes, viz. the bottom of baseness and the height of honour: that they be neither like gnats nor Lions; seeing gnats are quashed at the very first, and men ever watch to take the Lion at advantage.  
Further, we hear how these Preachers exclaim against the pomp and bravery of women; and how Maillard for his part calleth them femmes à la grand ' gorre, and femmes gorrieres, that is, women gorgeously appareled, finical and fine as fivepence: and how he findeth fault with their long trains, their furs of sable, their gold wherewith they all to bespangle their heads, and which they wear about their necks, and on their girdles: and how Menot saith, The poor starve for cold in the street, whilst thou stately Lady; and thou delicate Dame haste seven or eight gowns in thy trunk, which thou wearest not thrice in a year: and dost thou not think thou shalt be called to account for this vain superfluity before God's judgement seat? I know not what excuse a Lady can make, who seeing a poor man naked and crying for cold, traileth two or three else of velvet after her. But how women in all ages have desired to excel in bravery, (I should say in pomp and pride) Poets do sufficiently declare, who like heralds have proclaimed the folly of their sumptuous superfluities in this kind, whose testimonies (if haply they shall not satisfy any) they may have recourse to sundry others, recorded by historians, as namely by Livy, who reports that certain Roman Ladies and Gentlewomen (nobly descended, and otherwise accounted grave and chaste matrons) did murmur and mutiny against such as would not suffer them to return to their braveries again, and that in such turbulent and furious manner, as though they had been beside themselves. And wherefore (I beseech you) were laws enacted of old, to cut off the excess and riot of women, but because there was need of such bridles to restrain them, and curbs to keep them in? Menot also useth a word, which puts me in mind of a place in Terence, where he shows what pains women took in tricking and trimming of themselves. For whereas he saith hyperbolically, that a man might sooner make a stable clean where forty horses had stood, than a woman will have pinned all her pins, and settled her attire; Terence said long ago, Dum comuntur annus est. The same Preacher doth often fume and fret against those huswives who attired themselves so modestly, that a man might see even to their navels. His words are these, fol. 25. col. 1. Habebit magnas manicas, caput dissolutum, & pectus discoopertum usque ad ventrem, cum pectorali albo, per quod quis clarè potest videre. Which put me in mind of that which Horace saith: 
Altera nil obstat Cois tibi: pene videre est  
Vt nudam.  But some may haply say, As for this light, loose, and lascivious kind of apparel, I hold it to be a wicked thing indeed: but why should bravery and sumptuous attire undergo so sharp a censure? To which I answer, that in some persons it cannot be reproved: notwithstanding such costly array hath ever been condemned, because that for one that maintains it at her own cost, there are an hundred which maintain it at their cost that cannot do withal (as Barelete and Menot testify) though the money come out of their husband's purses, or accrue to them by cutting asunder the true loves knot. For proof whereof, consider the place formerly quoted out of Barelete, O ye such and such men's wives, I tell you, if your garments were put in a press, the blood of the poor would drop from them. And Menot also, who jumpeth with him, not only in judgement, but almost in words: Ye my Lords & Ladies, who are so addicted to your pleasures, and wear scarlet gowns, I verily think that if they were well pressed, a man might see the blood of the poor (wherein they were died) run out of them. Which proverbial phrases, though they may not be taken strictly according to the letter, but hyperbolically, the better to set out such impiety (as it were) in orient colours: yet Barelete not content to hover thus in generalities, bringeth for instance that which befell an usurer, no less strange than the former: for he saith that blood came out of the bread which he ate. As for those huswives that maintain their pomp and state by false play at the tables, in bearing a man too many, contrary to duty and promise, Maillard and Menot say them their lessons. But I will content myself with the testimony of Maillard, who having said, Tell me whether it be a goodly sight to see an attorneys wife, who hath not twenty shillings a year left him after he hath paid for his ffice, to go like a Princess? to have her head bespangled with gold, a gold chain about her neck, and a golden girdle? You say your places will maintain it. also●●●ddeth ●●●ddeth afterward, It may be you will say, Our husbands give us no such gowns, but we get them with the pain of our bodies. All the devils in hell go with such pains. For these are his words: Dicetis fortè, Maritus noster non dat nobis tales vestes, sed nos lucramur ad poenam nostri corporis. Ad trigenta mill Diabolos talis poena. Now it is easy to understand without further explication what this pain is: nevertheless if it seem so obscure to any, that it need a gloss, a man may fetch it out of Maillard, where he exclaimeth against such as are their daughter's bawds, and who make them get their dowry with the pain and sweat of their bodies. Faciunt ei lucrari matrimonium suum ad poenam & sudorem sui corporis, fol. 35. col. 4.  
But to apply these testimonies to the particulars which I have here undertaken to entreat of. If in Hesiods time there was small fidelity to be found among men, no not among brethren, nor yet in children towards their parents: doubtless there was less in Ovid's time, and much less in the ages following; and least of all in this wherein we live. And if charity did wax cold in former times, it is now altogether frozen: if justice did then halt of one foot, she now halteth downright of both. If she had then but one eye, she is now stark blind. If she was deaf but of one ear, she is now as deaf as a door nail (I speak according to the old proverb, There is none so deaf as he that will not hear: to which we may add this, There is none so blind as he that will not see.) And whereas she then took only with her hands, she now taketh both with hands and feet: and whereas bravery and effeminateness in attire, lasciviousness in speech and behaviour, and all such vices as are forerunners of greater mischiefs, went but on foot and slowly, now they go on horseback and in post. All which notorious and gross sins we may assure ourselves are now in the ruff, and (as it were) in the April of their age, (whereas the former were but in their winter:) having so much more vigour and strength now then they had in former time, as trees and plants have in the spring time, then in the winter season. The truth of all which shall be demonstrated hereafter in particular.  
Now we have so little cause to complain of the want of Christian reproofs, instructions, reprehensions and admonitions, or to judge it to be the reason of the looseness and lewdness of our times, that if we consider the great mercy and favour of God towards us in this behalf, we cannot but wonder how the impiety of men at this day should any way come near that of our ancestors. For where is the preacher now to be found (though many do nothing but flatter and bolster men up in their sins) who if he should say in open pulpit with Oliver Maillard (fol. 323. col. 2.) that whores ought to be tolerated, would not be afraid lest little children would spit in his face? Or where is the man to be found, that dare maintain that damnable paradox, which Priests (as he saith) defended in his time, That a woman killing the child in her womb, did not commit a mortal sin? And albeit it hath ever been an odious, and so consequently a dangerous thing, to reprove sin (as we may see in Menot, who complaineth that Preachers in his time were threatened with a red hat, and that they should be made Cardinals without going to Rome, for preaching the truth; like john Baptist, who for bringing the truth to Herod's Court, left his head behind him) yet it was never half so dangerous as at this day. And though flatterers, who are naturally carried with a hellish hatred against such as reprove and censure sin, swarm in greater multitudes than ever they did; and though the number of such as dare not speak the truth (for fear of hard measure, loss of goods, or future hopes) be as great as ever it was: notwithstanding vices are better detected and more sharply censured by preaching and writing, than they were in the days of our forefathers; which as it serves to aggravate our sins the more, so it will make us culpable of greater damnation when we shall give up our account at the general audite.  
Touching the last point which I propounded to entreat of in this Chapter (to wit, that God punisheth sin more severely at this day than he did in former time) because it deserves a larger discourse, I will here only add this one thing, that he which hath no sense nor feeling thereof, is neither Frenchman, Italian, Spaniard, nor German, but in the shape of a man, a very beast.   

CHAP. X. How that the foresaid Preachers have left sundry vices untouched and uncensured.  
BEfore I make a comparative estimate of the lewdness of former times with the looseness of our own, it will not be amiss to consider whether the foresaid Preachers (whose testimonies I have alleged) have omitted any particular, through oblivion, or otherwise. First then albeit Oliver Maillard and Menot (his punay) say little or nothing of incests, sodomies, and other prodigious vices, as murdering of father and mother, of wives murdering their husbands, and husbands their wives, parents their children, one brother another, and one kinsman another; we may not therefore think but that those times were stained with these sins: or (to speak more properly) that such infection which had continued festering so long, did then cease. I say which had continued so long, considering what we read, not only in profane Antiquity, but especially in the Sacred history, of these and the like vices. For it fareth not with God as it did with the lawgiver Solon, who being told that he had not prescribed what punishment should be inflicted upon parricides (there being then a malefactor taken who had murdered his father,) answered, he could not enact a law for the punishment of such a fact, as he could not imagine any man would so much forget himself as once to commit. The case I say is far otherwise with this great lawgiver, who seeth the most secret and hidden thoughts of men's hearts, and the motions of their minds more clearly than we see the feature of their faces. Neither may we think that any age hath been free from such prodigious vices, but that they were ever extraordinary in respect of other sins, as also more rare in some countries and ages then in others. And I here protest, it much misliketh me to enter discourse of such an argument. But as he who undertakes to extol the prowess of Achilles above that of Hector or ajax, is not to omit any of their heroical exploits if he would have Achilles more renowned and extolled to the skies: so considering the end of this discourse is to show that the viciousness of our time is a perfect pattern thereof, being compared with that of the age last passed (which notwithstanding surpasseth I suppose all former generations) I should not escape the sharp censure of just reprehension, if I should discharge one of these ages of some vices, the more to load the other: or if I should go about to keep the credit of the one entire and inviolable, by cracking the credit of the other. For as for the rest, I grant that though it was the will of God such prodigious sins should be recorded in holy Scripture; yet it is so much the better, by how much we speak or think the less thereof. And as for sodomy, I am easily drawn to believe, that the former Preachers were very sparing in speaking thereof, lest they should open a gap to men's curiosity which is naturally exorbitant in this kind. The more knaves are the Priests, who in their auricular confession (as they call it) stir the minds and awake the spirits of their confessionists by their interrogatories, occasioning them to muse upon such matters, and to feed their fancies with such facts, as otherwise they would never have dreamt of. For mine own part I confess, that for this very reason I have had much ado to persuade myself, that swinish Sodomites and beastly buggers should be executed publicly. True it is, sundry weighty reasons may be alleged on both sides: but I hold me to that which I see practised in well ordered cities. Furthermore, the reason which moves me to think that sodomy was not then (in all probability) so common as at this day, is, for that there was not such resort into those countries where it is made a trade and occupation as at this present. For proof hereof if we consider who those Frenchmen be that give themselves to such horrible and hellish sins, we shall find that most of them have been in Italy or Turkey, or (not to go out of France to seek them) have frequented their company, at leastwise have familiarly conversed with their scholars. For albeit Athenaeus tell us in his thirteenth book (which I remember I have read elsewhere under the name of Hermippus) that the Celtes in his time, notwithstanding they had fairer women than other Barbarians, were addicted to this sin: yet (God be thanked) before we could speak so good Italian in France, there was (almost) no speech of this villainy, as I have heard of divers old folks. And verily it is more pardonable in Italians then in Frenchmen (if pardonable in any,) seeing that they (who for the most part call it but peccatillo) are nearer their sanctities who do not only give a licence for it by way of permission, but a precedent also by way of example, as hereafter shall be showed. Notwithstanding the words wherewith we express such devilish and damnable dealing, being borrowed from the Italian tongue, are a pregnant proof that France learned all the villainy it hath of them, though it were hard to say from what particular place. For this is a common song in Italy, currant in every man's mouth: 
Sienna si vanta di quatro cose,  
Di torri, & di campane,  
Di bardasse, & di puttane.  Or thus, 
Sienna di quatro cose e piena,  
Di torri, etc.  That is, 
For these four things Sienna looks so high,  
For towers, for bells, for whores, for buggery.  But Master Pasquin showeth plainly in sundry of his satires, that notwithstanding that proverb, Rome in regard of the third particular aught to go before Sienna, as where he saith, Sed Romae puero non licet esse mihi. And were it but only for the reason I have now alleged, he cannot endure (and surely not without cause) that Rome should be deprived of this honour.  
Touching incests, Italy (no doubt) will afford us better store of examples than any other country; whether we speak of this age, or of that of the former preachers: which we shall the better perceive, if we shall consider the devilish proverb which is there so common of fathers who have marriageable daughters. But if I have well observed, there are more incests committed by Lords or men of note, then by meaner persons: which puts me in mind of that which is recorded by Pontanus, how that Sigismondus Malatesta Lord of Romagniola, had a child by his own daughter. True it is that other prodigious villainies committed by the same man (if he may be called a man) and registered by the foresaid author, will make us less to wonder hereat. For he reporteth how that he would have abused his own son Robert, and that he had made a buggering boy of him, if he had not drawn his dagger at him, and so escaped. As also how that being desirous to have his pleasure of a virtuous German Lady that traveled through his country to Rome, and perceiving that he could not work her to his will, he cut her throat, and afterward satisfied his lust. What can a man now find in Herodotus, I say not incredible, but hard to be believed? But it shall not be amiss to pause here a little, and to listen to that which Pontanus addeth after the narration of the incest committed by this wicked wretch. For he allegeth two examples well worthy the noting, of a certain natural honesty which is to be found even among beasts, which condemneth such prodigious practices among men. The first is of a little bitch he had, which would never suffer her whelp to line her. Nunquam (saith he) passa est matter à filio suo iniri, & quamuis meis à pueris comprehensa teneretur, nihilominus ea mordicus pueros à se reiecit, & in filium illata, illum dentibus malè habuit. The second is more strange; of a Mare that would not suffer her colt to cover her; but having been at the last covered by him (being disguised with a skin of another colour, & by other devices,) after she once perceived it, forsook her meat for very grief, and died shortly after: which (as he saith) was told him by one john Vingtmille an Italian marquess, whose the Mare and colt were. These be the two examples alleged by Pontanus, a man of so great credit, that I did not stick to relate them upon his word, albeit I am not ignorant they should be accounted of many but fond and fabulous: which (it seemeth) himself foresaw, and therefore useth this preface in the narration of the first example, Referam quae ego ipse ex adverso & vidi, & testor, & persancte etiam iuro: and for the second, he allegeth his author of whom he heard it. But seeing that incests are extraordinary sins, why should we not think that God would oppose the extraordinary honesty which is to be found in certain bruit beasts, to such villainy practised by men, to condemn the reasonable creatures by the unreasonable? Nevertheless I report myself to the thing as it is, especially considering the French proverb doth not account him a good dog that keepeth his kind. There is yet another kind of incest, according to those who have been of opinion, and are even at this day, that Nuns are holier than other women: and verily it may seem, that sith they keep the same place the Vestal virgins did in old time (in the judgement of such as call them by no other name in Latin but Vestales) we should call the whoredom committed with them, incest; and that he which defloureth them after they have once vowed virginity to God (or to such or such a Saint) were a sacrilegious person; I grant the one, but not the other. I grant (I say) that forasmuch as this doughty devotion is borrowed from the heathen, the word incest, whereby they were wont to express such a slippery trick committed with a holy Nun, may be kept, and that (to speak as heathen do) it may be called incest: but I deny that he that defileth a Nun is a sacrilegious person, to speak as Christians do. For hereupon it would follow, that such virginity should be a holy consecrated thing; and to the end it might be holy and consecrate, necessary it is, that either God or the Saint to whom it was vowed, consecrated or dedicated, should declare by solemn covenant and stipulation that he did accept thereof: But how can they accept of that at the hands of a Nun, which she cannot give? Or what reason is there she should offer that, to which she hath no right? And if continency be a special gift of God, how can any votary vow perpetual virginity either to God or the Saints, without a warrant from him so to do? To conclude then, certain it is that he that knoweth such a vow of virginity and single life to be but an abuse, and consequently that a Nun is no more holy than another woman, if he deflower her, he committeth neither sacrilege nor incest: whereas being otherwise persuaded he committeth both, in regard of conscience. And therefore the tyrant Dionysius was a sacrilegious person for robbing and spoiling of his Idols; which he was bound (according to his religion) to have holden for gods; whereas one of another religion holding them to be but Idols, should have been but a simple thief. And doubtless the folly which is committed with a Nun, after she hath once lost her virginity, because that of holy (according to her religion) she is made profane, is neither incest nor sacrilege in regard of either party. Another difficulty remains to be discussed, viz. whether a holy Monk having deflowered a holy Nun, aught to be accused thereof or not? But leaving the deciding of this question to the next Council, I will only add this one thing, that our kind Catholics are not (it seems) of this opinion, considering what small conscience they make hereof. The like I may say of those who were wont to lodge Nuns near unto Monks, that (as good fellows speak) the barn might be near the thrashers. How ever it be, it appeareth plainly by that which hath been alleged out of Pontanus, that Nunneries were little better than stews in the time of the former Preachers.  
Touching the sin against nature (of which I speak remembering my former protestation) we have examples even of those times. For the foresaid Pontanus writeth of a Briton who had the company of an Ass, whilst the French King Charles the eight held Naples.  
It were also easy to allege modern examples of wives murdering their husbands, and husbands their wives: as also of brethren and nearest kinsmen embrewing their hands in one another's blood: and of children murdering their parents, and parents their children, though this be more rare than the former. When husbands murder their wives, or wives their husbands, they do it (for the most part) of spite or rather rage and madness caused by breach of wedlock. For as histories make mention of divers men who at the very instant, and in ipso facto (as we say) have taken revenge of their wives who had played false with them: So they make report of women, who for the same reason have wreaked their malice upon their husbands, some by poison, others by other means; as we read in Baptista Fulgosius, of a woman near to Narbonne who in the night cut off her husband's privities because he had defiled the marriage bed. Notwithstanding the occasion of some murders proceeds from both parties, desiring to enjoy their unlawful lusts with greater liberty. The cause of fratricide, or murders committed by one brother upon another, arise for the most part from hence, in that they cannot agree whether of them should remain absolute Lord; and so are enforced to decide their right by dint of sword, whereof we have very ancient examples in the two Theban brethren, Eteocles and Polynices, in Rhemus and Romulus, in Artaxerxes and Cyrus: and in the age last passed (wherewith I compare the present) there was such hot bickering at Tunis in Africa between two brethren for the crown, that they did not only kill one another in the quarrel, but also massacred their children and offspring, as Pontanus testifieth. But histories afford us more examples of such as have murdered their brethren upon light occasions, by treason or otherwise, when once they had them on the hip, especially of Italians, as Volaterran reporteth of Anthony C●●signore, who slew Bartholomew his brother, to the end he might enjoy the Dukedom of Verona, which was divided between them by their fathers will. In like manner how one Pinus Ordelaphus upon the like occasion slew his brother Francis, and banished his children. As also how Francis and Lewis son of Guido Gonzagua Duke of Mantua slew their brother ugolin (pretending to make good cheer at a supper, to which they had invited him) because their father had left him sole heir of the Dukedom. Moreover we read of one Perinus Fregosa Duke of Genova, who slew his brother Nicholas, having him in jealousy that he aspired to the Dukedom. In like sort Lewis Marie put Galeace his brother's son to death, to the end he might the more quietly enjoy the Dukedom of Milan.  
Touching murdering of parents (properly called parricide, though the signification of the word be somewhat more large) we find in ancient histories that it was more ordinary with Kings, Princes, and great Lords, then with meaner men: and so it continues even to this day. For the Emperor Frederick the third was slain by his own son Manfred (his base son as some affirm) at leastwise he was the plotter and procurer of his death. And one Frisque murdered his father the duke of Ferrara, to the end he might come to the Dukedom, as indeed he did, though he enjoyed it not long; for his subjects shortly after, executing Gods just judgement upon him, cut his throat. And doubtless the age last part can never wash it hands of this wickedness, albeit I produce no examples for confirmation hereof, hastening to end such discourses as should not only be offensive to Christian ears, but also make their very hairs stand upright on their heads. What say I Christians? Nay the very heathen also; yea the most barbarous and savage among them.   

CHAP. XI. That the notorious and incredible lewdness of these times doth justify that which hath been spoken of the wickedness and impiety of the Age last passed.  
ALbeit there go strange reports of the heinous and horrible sins which reigned in the former Age; yet if we shall but a little consider the course of the world, and listen to the common complaints, we shall find (would to God it were not so) far fouler facts, which will not only induce us to subscribe to the truth of that report, but further to confess that the sins of those times were but sugar (as it is in the French proverb) in comparison of the villainies of these wherein we live. I have heretofore given a reason why sin like a river, the further it goes, the greater it grows, and still increaseth till it come to be a great sea. But we may give one more special touching these times. For besides that we have trod in the steps of our ancestors, and followed their examples, as well in the careful keeping of the vices whereof they left us their heirs and successors, as in improving the old and purchasing of the new by our good husbandry, we have further increased the number of them by our traffic and commerce with other countries, a thing more common at this day then ever it was in former times; to whom an hundred miles seemed longer than five hundred to us: and for one that was curious to know the fashions of foreign countries, there are now a days ten, whom this gadding humour of roving and ranging abroad, and coasting countries, carrieth away; causing them to give a farewell to their friends, and to forsake their dearest country, kinsmen and acquaintance. But what fruit reap they by such travel? at leastwise what do the most reap? It was Horace his old song, Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt. That is, 
They change the air that seas do pass,  
But mind remains the same that was.  But if in crossing the sea they haply change their mind, it is but as the weathercock doth with the wind; for they are so far from being bettered by their travel, that they are made much worse, mending their manners no otherwise then sour Ale doth in summer. The reason whereof is man's inbred corruption, which hath an attractive faculty to draw vice unto it, as Amber doth a straw, or the loadstone iron. Whence it is, that as ill weed (according to the old proverb) grows with speed: so vice hath his continual (though insensible) growth in us, and not virtue. Which the ancient Poet Hesiod seemeth to insinuate, when he saith, that Dame Wickedness is easy to be found, as dwelling near unto us; whereas Lady Virtue is inaccessible, and not to be spoken with, without great labour and pain, in that the way unto her house and honour is not only long and tedious, but also steep and cragged. And have we not daily experience hereof in the most of our great travelers? What shall we say of our Rome-rovers among the rest? Verily the old proverb hath long since concluded them in Bocardo: 
jamais ni cheval, ni homme  
N'amenda d'aller à Romme.  That is, 
Nor horse, nor man, ere turned home,  
Ought bettered by the sight of Rome.  Which though it be spoken of Rome in particular, yet it may well be understood of other countries also, seeing there is not one traveler among twenty (especially of the younger sort) who returneth home again, no not from his Holiness or the holy land, but seems to have frequented the devils rather than the divinity schools. And as Italy is the only country in the world, so Rome is the only city wherein an Abel may learn to become a Cain, where a lamb may be transformed into a Lion, and a man into a monster. And yet notwithstanding it is accounted a greater grace to a man to have been student in such a school, than it was in times past to have been trained up in Athens, stored with so many learned Philosophers. Nay, the more a Frenchman is Romanized or Italianized, the sooner he shall be promoted by great Lords, as having bestowed his time well, and as being a man fit for employment by means of the temper and mixture of two several dispositions. As though a Frenchman taken in his pure naturals were not bad enough to be employed in their sweet dealings, except he have learned the trick of the Italian trade.  
Now that men in these days must needs exceed their ancestors in wickedness, may hence appear, in that they are bound prentices to the trade, and practise it sooner. And whence comes this, but partly from hence, in that youth is set at liberty, and have the rain laid in their necks to run at random at their pleasure, before they come to be of age; and partly for that Iwenals rule was never worse kept: 
Maxima debetur puero reverentia, si quid,  
Turpe paras.—  And it is the common complaint of old men almost in all places, that young children who cannot speak readily, can swear roundly, and rap out oaths thick and threefold, in such sort, that men of years in time past were not able to vie with them. And therefore we are not so much to wonder to hear some of all sorts, as tailors and tinker's, carters and cobblers, and the rest of the rascality, swear, blaspheme, and renounce God (according to the French proverb, Apertient il à un vilain de renier Dieu?) as some of all ages, as well young as old. And yet it makes old folks wonder, and that not a little, to see young children who are scarce crept out of their cradles, to be sent to school, and to have some smack of learning: whereupon they judge us more fortunate than themselves, in that scholars at this day leave the school almost at the same age that they were wont to be sent thither in time past. Whence they are induced to believe, that children are far more ripe and pregnant now then they were in their younger years. But all things duly considered, it will appear that that which should be a help and furtherance to the greatest part of youth, is a let and hindrance unto them. I grant indeed that children at this day can conceive more at six or seven years of age (as experience shows) than they could in old time at nine or ten: which is not to be ascribed to the quickness of their wit in understanding, but to the more easy and facile method of teaching; whence it is, that they profit more in one year, than our ancestors did in two. But pity it is to see many, who having discontinued but three or four days from school, have need to return to their hornbook again: so that as they are more happy and fortunate than their ancestors in learning quickly; so are they more unfortunate in forgetting it as fast. The reason whereof is, for that they give over the school before they come to strength of memory, capacity and judgement.  
But this is far worse (for it redounds to the great contempt and derision of learning) in that many send not their children to school to learn, but only to sharpen their wits and to quicken their spirits, by means of continual company (youths being as it were a whetstone to sharpen one another:) and in a word to let them like untamed colts, have a little more scope and liberty to run at large, and to give them the first fleshing in wickedness; which some call liveliness, others fineness and featness, or gallantness, or pleasantness, or sharpness of wit, or civility, etc. For many now a days send their children to school only till such time as they be fit to be made pages, where they are sure to lose that little learning they had formerly gotten, if haply they had any beaten into their heads: being (in the mean time) so far from losing their first seasoning, that they add thereto a second and a third. Some send their children to school to learn three or four words of Latin, till they be of years to travel into Italy, where like resty colts they may be broken, and like haggar hawks learned to the lure, and absolutely accomplished in courtlike compliments. Howbeit some gentlemen send not their sons into Italy to learn fashions and gallant behaviour only, proper to the country; but in hope that when they are weary with visiting courtesans, they will find some spare time to visit Bartol. And I persuade myself that he who writing to his son at Padua, superscribed his letter (for fear he should bely him) studenti Patavij, aut studendi causa misso, mistrusted some such dealing, though it grieved him (poor man) not a little. Howbeit it were a wonder if one almost among twenty, returning home from travel, should remember any other laws than such as begin with La signora Lucretia, La signora Angela, La signora Camilla, or the like. Though I am not ignorant that in old time also (as Menot witnesseth) our young gallants left Bartol bawling in his chair, and went to the dancing school, and to court Ladies. But not to speak how those which travel into Italy are in danger to be infected with far worse vices (as daily experience shows) this mischief also follows in the neck of it, that they are not only restrained by the fear of God, but also by the fear of man, as being in foreign and far remote countries out of their sight who might control them. For I remember that whilst Odet de Selue was Ambassador for the French King at Venice (about thirteen years ago) there was a young gentleman some fourteen or fifteen years of age, sent into Italy by his father (than Counsellor of the high Court of Parliament at Paris) under the tuition of his old Tutor: who at his departure from his father's house, was of as meek, gentle and tractable a disposition as could be wished: but after he had continued certain days at Venice, and some few of Padua, he grew so stubborn and stout, that whereas his Tutor was wont to hold a high hand over him, and to keep him short, he was then glad not only to let loose the reins to his headstrong affections, but even to lay the bridle in his neck, and suffer him to run at large, and become a Tutor to himself. To wind up all in a word, certain it is, that whether it be for the reasons formerly alleged, or for some other, the impiety of these times far surpasseth all former ages: being grown to that height within these five and twenty years, that men make no bones to commit that, which they would then have loathed once to have spoken, or entertained in their secretest thoughts. As for the vices wherewith our ancestors were infected, there is as great difference between their dissoluteness and ours, as between those who are displeased with themselves for their slips and sins of infirmity, and such ●s glory in their wickedness. For what should we say of this age, when young Princes and noble men's sons have tutors and instructors for blasphemies and worse matters which for shame I cannot name? But this shall suffice to have spoken in general: I will now descend unto particulars.  
And here some may haply demand, what benefit a man may reap by such a discourse? To which I answer, that the benefit is greater than we may perchance imagine, if we consider that God lays a more heavy hand upon us now, than he did in former time (as shall be declared hereafter in a several Chapter) that we remembering his boundless mercy in the midst of his just judgements, might the more be moved to repentance. For here we shall perceive (if we will not soothe and flatter ourselves) that for one plague and punishment inflicted upon us, we deserve an hundred: and that whereas he correcteth us but with rods of men, he might shiver us in pieces with his rod of Iron. Besides, we are to hold this as a most undoubted truth, that it is not without cause that so many fearful examples and prodigious sins even of the Saints are registered in holy Scripture. For whence do we learn the frowardness and corruption of our nature, or the sleights of Satan, and his implacable hatred against mankind, or how he lies in ambush for us at every corner, and watcheth us at every turn, but by such accidents as have befallen them who without all hope of recovery have entangled themselves in his snares? And whence can we better know in what need we stand of all Gods helping hand, then by the daily dangers wherewith we are beset on every side, being so many warning pieces to admonish us to stand upon our guard? And seeing we cannot be ignorant, that all our help cometh only from above, and that there is none safely guarded but he that is guarded by the heavenly guard of God's holy Angels, every rumour and report of such heinous and horrible crimes▪ should be so many alarms (as it were) to rouse us from our security, and to stir us up to recommend ourselves more earnestly into his hands, and to ply him more effectually by humble and hearty prayer, that he would not leave us to ourselves, nor let lose the reins to our unruly and disordered affections, but bridle and keep them in compass, and ever take us into his holy protection: like little children, who the more they are afraid, the more carefully they hide themselves, and the further they creep into their mother's lap. For if seeing a man that hath any bodily blemish or imperfection, we have just cause offered us to lift up our hearts by thankfulness unto God for preserving us from the like, and to acknowledge withal that we are liable to as great, if not greater dangers. How much more when we see any that hath foully forgotten himself, and fallen into any fearful sin, to give him thanks for keeping us from falling into the like: and withal to acknowledge that we are made of the same mould, and that we have no patent to be exempted from such dangers, but so long as it shall please him to assist us by his grace, and keep us in his holy fear, restraining the rage of the devil our deadly enemy; that though he assail us, yet he may not prevail against us. Now then if this present discourse show evidently that this deadly enemy of mankind hath doubled his forces in these latter days, ought it not stir us up to greater vigilancy and watchfulness over our hearts and lives, to stand upon our guard, and to arm ourselves at all points with the complete armour of the Spirit? Vice (we know) was ever punished in all ages and religions. But where the heathen respected only exemplary punishment, in doing open execution upon malefactors, that others might hear and fear, and deal no more presumptuously: Christians have gone a step further, and have had a deeper insight thereinto, viz. that those that would not be kept in compass by the fear of God, should be kept in order and awe by the fear of man; I mean by fear of punishment which the law hath appointed to be inflicted upon them according to the nature and quality of their offence. For the heathen Poet said long ago, 
Odérunt peccare boni virtutis amore,  
Odérunt peccare mali formidine poena.  That is, 
The good for virtues love from ill refrain,  
The ill refrain from ill for fear of pain.  Whereunto Christians also accord, save that they deliver it in other terms, when they say, that the reason why the godly do not power themselves forth into pleasure, and let lose the reins to their lusts, is because they have the fear of God continually before their eyes. Fear (I say) proceeding from a love truly filial, and no way servile; as the good child feareth to offend his father for the love he beareth him. Moreover, this benefit we may reap by this discourse, that it will serve us in stead of a monitor, to give us warning of those many sleights and deceits so common and rife in the world.   

CHAP. XII. Wherein is declared by how much Whoredom is greater, and more notorious at this day, than ever it was.  
TO begin then where formerly I began (yet not tying myself precisely to the same method) we hear how mightily Menot exclaimeth against whoredom committed in his time. But if he were now living, neither his exclamations, nor the outcries of his fellows (though made with open mouth) would be sufficient. For since it was notoriously known, that the place where the Pope's Holiness makes his abode, is the chief harbour and hospital for whores (I should have said Courtesans) of all countries: he that kept a whore before with some remorse of conscience, thought he should then surely do a meritorious work, if he entertained one; and that if he kept many, he should perform works of supererogation: so that many began to keep whole droves of whores, as of horses. In a word, the new and strange punishments inflicted upon men for such filthiness, may sufficiently show how that since that time, the most have even plunged themselves over head and ears into this pit of whoredom. For as Physicians use new and desperate remedies, for desperate and incurable diseases: so God hath sent these displeing dames, the French-poxe and the Knave-bald disease, and all their train, as a just punishment upon the Age wilfully given over to all wantonness and villainy, without hope of recovery, to execute his just judgements. The which doth better discover the surpassing wickedness of these times: for as wicked children are hardened by the rod; so men are now so hardened against these diseases, which not long since were held so prodigious, that a man would have thought even wild and savage beasts would have been tamed thereby; that in stead of standing in fear of them, they even seek them out, and dare them in their dens. Albeit we daily see the most frolic youths and bravest gallants soon rot away by piece-meal; and many a Captain who hath been another Roland in sundry battles, at length to give up his last breath in their paws, having long encountered them with many potions: and yet for all this in divers companies, he is accounted but a dastard, a milksop, and a white livered soldier that hath not traveled five or six times into Sweatland, till he have been in danger to leave his skin behind him. To conclude, men are now so hardened with stripes, and do so eagerly pursue their pleasures in a brutish kind of sensuality, that they are nothing afraid of the French pox which hath been in former times, but only of the quintessence of the pocks, which is said to have begun within these few years. Indeed, I well remember, I was once at Padua at Michaël Falopp●o's lecture, where he promised to show his scholars the next day, how they might have their bellies full of whoredom and lechery, without any fear of Madam the French pocks, or any of her train.  
2 But if we compare this age with the age last passed, we shall (no doubt) find that in those times, only simple fornication and adultery were known and talked of; such (I mean) as were not incestuous: and that men made as great conscience to deflower a Nun, as the heathen did to deflower a Vestal virgin, putting as great difference between the defiling of Vestals and other virgins, as between simple theft and sacrilege: whereas now even those who account of Nuns as the heathen did of their Vestals, and think it incest to deflower them, cease not to make common stews of Nunneries. Touching the second kind of incest which Popish superstition suffered not to be accounted incest (albeit God's word hath condemned it) who seeth not how common it is grown? Is there not an Italian proverb which maketh but a jest at the incest of the father with his affianced daughter? Whereof I will give examples when I come to speak of Cleargie-men: and will here only add this one thing, how that some in these days have committed strange incests, and almost incredible. We read in the Queen of N●●●rres narrations of one who lying with his mother (thinking he had lain 〈◊〉 gentlewoman) had a child by her, which was his sister and daughter, and afterwards his wife; and so from one simple incest fell into two other, though as ignorant thereof as he was of the former: which happened through his mother's default, presuming too much of her constancy; for she not crediting her gentlewoman's report, that her son did entice and solicit her to folly▪ to the end she might know the truth, went at the time appointed in her room▪ where in stead of preventing a less evil, by this means, she kept her room so well (not making herself known) that she caused her son to fall into that so horrible and detestable a sin: who afterwards (not knowing nor once suspecting any such thing) married her whom he had begotten in such incest. But to omit incests committed of ignorance, we daily hear of others no less abominable, committed of set purpose, and that not by Clergymen only (as shall be showed hereafter) but by Lay men also. Nay, great men's houses (though otherwise honourable) are generally stained with incestuous marriages. Further, what shall we say to those of our time, who to go beyond their predecessors in all villainy, are come to this pass, to keep schools of whoredom, and by lascivious pictures (printed even at Rome) to read men a lecture, teaching them (as it were) by ocular demonstration? If the very heathen did detest and abhor that villain Elephantis for such pictures, what shall we say of our age, wherein men professing themselves Christians, have taken pleasure in such abominations?  
3 As for such as sold their daughters in former time, what strange thing did they in comparison of those who at this day sell not only their daughters, but themselves also? And what shall we say of those wittols, who lend, or pawn, or sell their wives for ready money? Verily such women are greatly to be pitted: but some of them (I warrant you) know well enough how to cry quittance with their husbands: as she did who was lent to a young Cardinal at the Council of Trent. For though at the first she was as nice as a nuns hen, and needed great entreaty to pleasure this young Prelate; saying, it went against her conscience to impart that unto him, which of right was due to none but to her husband: yet her kind heart being persuaded, at the last she gave her consent, and found such comfort in this Prelates first visitation, that the next morning she brought her husband the money which was promised him; saying, Here is the money which was promised you for the lone of me, but assure yourself it is a plain and simple sale, therefore you may do well to provide yourself of another wife; for whereas you would but lend me, I had rather be sold outright, that I may not change so often: and so it was concluded. Now as there are some women, whose case is to be pitied: so on the other side it is great pity to see some wittols wear horns to their great grief, and yet dare not for their ears complain to those that might redress it. For what have the most of them gotten, who have so long sued to be divorced from their adulterous wives, but to be flouted, laughed to scorn, and pointed at even by little children, who could say that such & such caused themselves to be canonised for cuckolds. Indeed I remember that a man of worth, after a tedious & importunate suit, was divorced from his light housewife: but by this means she had that which she desired, for she was put into a monastery, where in stead of punishment, she had opportunity to follow her occupation with greater liberty. I have also heard of one, who complaining of the wrong which his wife offered him, received this answer: Why sir, would you be more privileged than such a great Lord, a man of such valour, who knows full well that his wife makes him cuckold, as well when he is in the Court present with her, as when he is in the country absent from her, and yet dare not speak a word for fear of cracking his credit? Thus we see how long custom in sin hath so bereft many at this day of all sense of civil honesty, that they make but a jest at that, which their ancestors counted the greatest cross and corrosive in the world: I say their ancestors, including the heathen as well as Christians. For the Grecians and Romans (we know) punished adultery most severely, following the law of God therein. But not to seek far back nor far off for examples, we may judge by that which befell the high Stewards wife of Normandy (in the reign of king Lewis the eleventh) whether at that time they made but a jest of adultery, as they do at this day. For he having taken his Lady upon the sudden playing the whore with his steward, first slew the adulterer before her face, and after put her to the sword likewise (notwithstanding their children which she held in her arms:) and yet was never troubled by the King, nor called coram for the matter, albeit she was descended of a noble house, and of the blood royal, as some affirm. Would not such a fact seem strange at this day? No doubt it would, considering that the world is clean changed from that it was in former time, and (as it were) turned up side down. For they are now grown to this height of impudency, to make wanton songs of purpose to embolden and flesh Venus white livered soldiers, to violate their faith plight to their husbands; one of which beginneth thus: 
Ne void on pas les hommes  
Fair vertu d'aimer?  
Et sots que nous sommes,  
Nous le voulons blasmer.  
Ce que leur est lovable,  
Nous turn à deshonneur,  
Et faute inexcusable.  
O dure loy d'honneur.  
Pourquoy nature sage, etc.  That is, 
See we not men so honour wanton love  
With virtues style, which we fond fools reprove?  
That which in them deserves so fair a name,  
To us why should it turn to much blame?  
Hard law of honour, why did nature sage? etc.  This song likewise (which was common in every man's mouth at the Court) was made upon a Vandeville, beginning thus: 
Ne void on pas les hommes se iouer ça & là?  
Et sots que nous sommes, n'osons fair cela.  That is, 
How do our gallants swagger to and fro?  
But fools that we are, we dare not do so.  And there was another in as great request: the argument whereof was the licentious liberty and impunity of adultery, a sin so rife at this day: one strain of the song is this: 
Ami cocu, veux-tu que ie te die,  
Si tu m'en crois, ne di ta malady.  
Car si ta femme un coup est descowerte,  
Elle voudra le fair à port owerte.  
Estre cocu n'est pas mawaise chose,  
Si autre mal on ne luy presuppose.  That is, 
Cuckold my friend, if thou wilt me believe,  
Never express the thing that gars thee grieve.  
For if thy wife be known once for a whore,  
She then will jade thee at thine open door.  
It matters not so much to wear an horn,  
And if it might be free from others scorn.  The conclusion of the song is this: 
Ou si tu crois cocu estre une attach,  
guard toi bien au moins qu'on ne le sache.  
Le remedy est à qui les cornes port,  
De les planter ailleurs de mesme sort.  That is, 
If horns thou deemst a blemish to thy brow,  
See well that never man thy sorrow know.  
Horns have no cure, but when thyself is sped,  
To plant thy horns upon another's head,  I am not ignorant that this sweet song was made in imitation of Ovid; but the question is, whether he being a profane Pagan, be a sufficient warrant for Christians to oppose such notorious vile villainies to Gods holy commandments? And which is yet more, he was then accounted no body that could not sing this song; whereas if a man had sung the ten commandments, or one of David's Psalms, they would have sung him a song of frying a faggot, and committed him to the Lords of the burning chamber. Myself being in the Court, had mine ears often beaten with a like song coming out of some such shop, in which mention is made of a certain Lady, who perceiving herself to wrinkle and wax old, greatly lamented her former course of life, viz. that she had been honest, and kept touch with her husband: the song beginneth thus: je plain le temps de mon florissant age, etc. That is, I wail the time of my once flowering age, etc. Thus thou seest (gentle Reader) how they incite women to wantonness and dalliance, as if they were slack and backward of themselves, when they are entreated to play such pageants: those I mean especially who are brought up in all idleness, delicacy and wantonness; for whose good, these songs (containing such goodly instructions) were purposely made. I omit other trivial songs, many proverbs, as also sundry wanton and effeminate speeches and gestures, which aim at nothing else but the corrupting of maids and matrons. For (to wind up all in a word) there is no device so devilish or damnable, but hath been found out in these days, to make vices virtues: which I understand especially of whoredom. And to the end they might thoroughly corrupt us, they have erected Priapus his images again with all their train, in their pleasant gardens; witness that of Saint german des Prez at Paris, so finely trimmed by an Italian who was owner thereof, and who kept a brothel house in it for all comers. What remains there then to make the vices of this Age so superlative, but that it may outstrip and go beyond not only the age last passed, but all others since the world began? Verily nothing but the modest pictures of Philaenis and Elephantis. But hath not Italy (I speak it with grief) furnished us with as bad, or rather with worse than they? Yea, and with some such as were not heard of before: wherein that is lively presented to the eye, which whosoever hath but a spark of the fear of God in his heart, cannot so much as name with our horror. So that we may well say, Venimus ad summum: and yet all too little to set forth the exceeding great wickedness, & supersuperlative knavery of these times in this particular. For who of all the heathen are more lascivious, more loosely licentious and dissolute in speech, or (in a word) more deadly enemies to chastity, than the Poets, especially the Latin Elegiacks? And yet Propertius a captain among them complains of the like wickedness (though not altogether so notorious) when he saith: 
Quae manus obscoenas depinxit prima tabellas,  
Et posuit casta turpia visa domo,  
Illa puellarum ingenuos corrupit ocellos,  
Nequitiaeque suae noluit esse rudes.  
Ah gemat in terris ista qui protulit arte,  
jurgia sub tacita condita laetitia.  
Non istis olim variabant tecta figuris,  
Quum paries nullo crimine pictus erat.  And as concerning the last distich, with what else I beseech you are walls painted at this day (being always in the view of children, and those of the younger sort, who are yet under the rod) save with such pictures? Or with what pictures are halls and chambers garnished, save with these? I had thought I had been at an end, but I perceive I am yet to begin, in that sundry other offer themselves to my pen, which have been devised (at leastwise practised) by christian's 〈◊〉 these days. Notwithstanding I will content myself with one other, in comparison whereof these statues of Priapus erected in gardens and others, resembling those of Philanis and Elephantis, may seem to be but toys, not to be spoken of. It is a fine pageant which was played at Bloys, when King Henry the second made his entrance into that city, in which they caused a company of whores (those especially whom the Italians call Sfaciate) to be stripped naked, and to ride upon oxen in this modest manner; making this goodly show wheresoever these gallants which followed them (performing the office of pique-boeufs) thought good. Moreover, we hear how Menot (poor soul) exclaimeth against certain for making their bawdy bargains in Churches. But what would he say to those that commit whoredom in Chapels, taking all their Saints of both sexes there present for witnesses? Which wanton and wicked dealing, the Lord (no doubt) suffereth in judgement, to the end that those places which have been so long time spiritual brothel houses for men to commit spiritual fornication in, should be also real brothel houses, even stews and sties of sin, where they might defile themselves by bodily pollution. And what would he say (trow we) of another profane practice, yet more strange, viz. of such as apply the holy Scripture, and sentences of the ancient Doctors to their bawdy and beastly songs? as we see in these verses: 
Saint Augustin instruisant une Dame,  
Dit que l'amour est l'ame de nostre ame:  
Et que la foy, tant soit constant & fort,  
Sans ferme amour est inutile & morte.  
Saint Bernard fait une longue homely,  
Où il benit tous les coeurs qu'amour lie.  
Et saint Ambroise en fait une autre express,  
Où il maudit ceux qui sont sans mistress.  
Et de Lyra là dessus nous reconte  
Que qui plus aime, & plus haut au ciel monte.  
Celui qui sçeut les secrets de son master,  
Dit que l'aimant damné ne sauroit estre.  
Et dit bien plus le Docteur Seraphic,  
Que qui point n'aime, est pire qu'heretique.  
Pource qu'amour est feu pur & celeste,  
Qui ne craint point qu'autre feu le molest.  
Et c'est pour quoi (come dit saint Gregoire)  
un aimant fait ici son Purgatoire.  That is, 
Austin instructing a devouter Dame,  
Says, Love the soul is of our living soul,  
And faith how ever firm and resolute,  
Withouten love, all bootless is and dead.  
And Bernard writes a longsome homily,  
Blessing all hearts y bound with chains of love.  
And Ambrose writes another not unlike,  
Censuring all that do a mistress want.  
Whereon Lyranus in his learned gloss,  
Says, more we love, the nearer we aspire  
To heavens height. And he that in lie knew  
His mistress secret thews, could boldly say,  
The man that loves, can never damned be.  
And that Seraphic Doctor well defines  
Who loves not's worse than an heretic.  
And for love is a pure celestial fire,  
That cannot be by other fires annoyed:  
Wisely concludeth hence Saint Gregory,  
That lovers here do fry in Purgatory.  The conclusion is this: 
null de nous ne soit donques si dure  
Qu'elle resist à la saint Escriture:  
Puis qu'on la void de ce propos remplie,  
Que pour aimer, la Loi est accomply.  That is, 
Let none so hardy be to dare oppose  
The sacred writ; whose every page avows  
The law by love fulfilled.  See here the brazen faced impudency of these miserable miscreants, thus shamefully profaning the holy Scripture, in making it serve them as their bawd. A far fouler fact then that whereof Menot complaineth, when he exclaimeth against certain lechers for making their bawdy bargains in Churches. It is true indeed (may some say) but it haply never came to their ears that had either wit in their heads to perceive the impiety that lay masked under this vizard, or authority in their hands to punish those that sung it. To which I answer, that there was never sung in such request, or which better pleased, especially those kind of men. Others there are who have used sentences of Scripture, as namely certain verses taken out of the Psalms, in their wanton ballads and lascivious songs. For it is not of late time (as we know) that they took this liberty to make themselves merry, by using the Scripture phrase to grace a conceit or a jest. But we shall have fitter occasion to speak hereof in the Chapter of blasphemies. Let this now suffice for Menots complaint.  
4 Moreover, these Preachers cry out with might and main against the bawds of their time: and Menot hath a bout with the Lords of the Parliament for letting them their houses; being horn mad with them for giving their helping hand, or showing any countenance to such wicked wretches. But what would he say (may we think) of those, who for their good and faithful service in making bawdy bargains, have been in such favour with Princes, that they have not stuck to bestow castles, benefices, offices, and great dignities upon them? Witness a Bishop, who bragged in my hearing, that whereas men in times past came to great preferment by their learning, and by being good Latinists, he for his part understood not a word of Latin, but only passelatine, by means whereof he was advanced to that dignity. This his passelatine was (as most would confess, if I should name him) the office of a bawd, although he made no brags thereof.   

CHAP. XIII. Of Sodomy, and the sin against nature, committed at this day.  
Moreover, if there were nothing else but such swinish Sodomy as is committed at this day, might we not justly term this age the paragon of abominable wickedness? The heathen (I confess) were much addicted to this vice: but can it be showed that it was ever accounted among Christians as a virtue? Yet some in these days have not only accounted it a virtue, but also written in commendation of it, and published their writings in print, to the view of the world. For we may not forget how that john de la Case a Florentine and Archbishop of Beneuent writ a book in Italian rhyme, wherein he sings forth a thousand praises in commendation of this sin; which good Christians cannot so much as think of without horror: calling it (among other epithets which he giveth it) a heavenly work. This book was printed at Venice by one Troianus Nanus, as they who copied it out do testify. The author of which worthy work, was the man to whom I dedicated certain of my Latin verses, whilst I was at Venice. But I protest, I committed that fault before I knew him to be such a monster. And when I was advertised thereof, it was past recall and recovery. But to return to this so foul and infamous a sin: Is it not great pity that gentlemen, who before they traveled into Italy abhorred the very naming of it, should after they have continued there a time, delight themselves not only in talking and discoursing, but in practising and professing it, as a thing which they have learned in a happy time? As for those who through bad custom have only kept the Italian phrase there commonly spoken (though borrowed from such wicked villainy) they have (I grant) some colourable excuse. But what can the rest allege for themselves? Yet I dare not affirm that all who are tainted with this sin, learned it in Italy or Turkey: for our M. Maillard was never there, and yet he made profession of it. So that he, who like a great Sorbonical doctor caused so many silly souls to fry a faggot against all right and reason, equity and conscience, was the man whom the judges might justly have burned, not as a Lutheran (as they then called them) or an obstinate gospeler, but as a Sodomitical buggerer.  
2 But I were much to blame if I should forget Peter Lewis (or rather Aloisius, for he was called in Italian Pietro Aloisio) son to Pope Paul the third. This Prince of Sodom, Duke of Parma and Placentia, that he might not degenerate from the Popish progeny (whence he was descended) was so addicted to this horrible and hellish sin, and so carried away with the burning thereof, that he did not only forget the judgements of God, and the provident care he should have had of his good name (at least with such as make no conscience to give themselves to such villainy.) Nay (which is more) he did not only forget that he was a man, but even the daily danger of death itself, whereof bruit beasts do stand in fear. For not content to satiate his lawless lust with innumerable persons of all sorts, sexes and degrees, he went a wooing at the last to a young man, called Cosmus Cherius then Bishop of Fano: and perceiving that he could not otherwise have his pleasure of him, and work him to his will, he caused his men to hold him. Shortly after which fact, he received the reward due to such monsters: and as he had led a wicked and shameful life, so they made for him so infamous and villainous an Epitaph, that the Reader had need of a pomander in his pocket, or some preservative, lest his stomach should rise at the reading thereof.  
3 Concerning bestiality, or the sin against nature (which was ever more common among shepherds than others) who so list to make enquiry into the examples of later times, shall find as great store of them as of the rest. But if any desire examples of fresher memory, let him go to the Italian soldiers of the camp that would have beleaguered Lions, during the civil wars, and ask them what they did with their goats. Notwithstanding an accident happened in our time far more strange than any that can be alleged in this kind, of a woman burned at Thoulouse (about seven and twenty years ago) for prostituting herself to a dog, which was also burned with her for company: which I account a most strange fact, considering her sex. Now this sin I call the sin against nature, having respect rather to the common use and phrase of speech, then to the proper signification of the word, according to which, Sodomy is as well a sin against nature as bestiality. But not to enter into a warfare of words, let this suffice, that bruit beasts do condemn us herein.  
4 Now albeit the former example be very strange, yet we have here another far more strange (though not altogether so wicked) committed about thirty years ago by a maid borne at Fountains (between Blois and Rommorantin) who having disguised herself like a man, served as an ostler at an Inn in the suburbs of Foy for the space of seven years, and afterwards married a maid of the town, with whom she accompanied for the space of two years or thereabout, attempting much, but effecting nothing: after which time her cozenage and knavery in counterfeiting the office of a husband being discovered, she was apprehended, and having confessed the fact, was burned. By which examples we see that our Age may well boast, that (notwithstanding the vices of former times) it hath some proper and peculiar to itself. For this fact of hers, hath nothing common with that which was practised by those famous strumpets, who in old time were called Tribades. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.    

CHAP. XIIII. Of blasphemies and execrations used at this day.  
I Come now to entreat of blasphemies; in handling whereof, I will observe no other method then that which offereth itself to my memory, as it shall furnish me with examples. First then, what would the jolly Preachers, Oliver Maillard, Menot and Barelete say (may we think) if they should return back into their countries again, to see the devilish demeanour of these wicked wretches, & to hear them blaspheme, renounce, and reneigue God in such fearful manner? Or what would holy King Lewis say, if he were now living? Where might he find tormentors enough to pierce and cut out blasphemous tongues, except blasphemers should butcher one another? And what would they say (trow we) if they should hear this proverb, or proverbial comparison from the mouth of every peasant, He sweareth like a gentleman? (suitable to that we mentioned before, It is not for a villain to renounce God): or if they should hear the common sort say, He sweareth like an Abbot: or He sweareth like a carter: would they not wonder to hear so many of these likes? I make no question but they would. Yet I persuade myself they would wonder much more, if they should see how gentlemen and noblemen (be it spoken without disparagement to true gentry and nobility, which makes civility and piety the two moulds wherein they frame their actions) rather teach their children to say, I renounce God, than I believe in God. Doubtless if good King Lewis had heard such blasphemies, he would have thought himself among the infernal fiends in the very bottom of hell. And he would (no doubt) much more have abhorred it, if he should have seen young Princes have tutors for blasphemies (as for some good and commendable science) to teach them to vary, change, and diversify them every way, to pronounce them with their right accents, and to animate them with like audacity, without either hicke or hem.  
2 I might here show how we outstrip and go beyond our ancestors, as well in this as in other vices: I mean not only in blaspheming, but in the form and manner of blasphemy, or rather forms and manners, they being almost infinite. But it shall suffice to give a taste hereof in a word or two, and to show how besides old and new blasphemies, bred and borne (as I may say) in our native soil, they have made a hodge-podge of them with those of foreign countries: as though they alone were not sufficient to incense the majesty of God, and to pull upon us his fearful judgements. But not to insist upon these, there are some blasphemies in the Italian tongue so fearful, horrible and hideous, that they may seem to proceed rather from devils then from men. Of which number, that is one which I heard out of a Priest's mouth at Rome, which shall not be forgotten in his proper place. And it may well go hand in hand with this which was uttered by an Italian at Venice (no Priest, but a secular man) as he was playing at cards in the French Ambassadors house, Venga'l cancaro all lupo; what hurt in this? may some say. Verily his notable villainy herein appears, in that he spoke it (as appeared afterward) by a figure called Aposiopesis, or Reticentia, in stead of Venga'l cancaro all lupo, che non mangio Christo quando era agnello: calling Christ Agnello, by allusion to that of S. john, Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi: Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world. Likewise the blasphemy of the Italian who was wont to say, A bots on the Ass that carried Christ to jerusalem, was very wild, but not so wicked. I omit Putana di Christo, and sundry others of the like strain: for though they be very horrible, yet they are very frequent and usual.  
3 But for as much as the greatest blasphemies are commonly belched out at cards and dice, I will here allege a late strange example of a good fellow, who to recompense his loss with cursing and swearing (as the manner is) played such a trick, as the like (I persuade myself) hath not been heard of. For being weary with cursing, renouncing, and reneiguing of God, and swearing by all the oaths he could devise; he commanded his man to help him, and to hold on this gracious talk, till he had better luck. This one example (if there were no other) were sufficient to condemn our Age of greater outrage than all the former. Howbeit they are so plenty, that they are nothing dainty: for as some devised this new knack of knavery; so others invented others, as hereafter shall be showed.  
4 First then whereas our Ancestors did only impart the honour of God to their men and women Saints (as they term them,) such hath been the audacious impiety of the Gnathonical flatterers of this Age, that they have made no conscience to style Princes with the titles of Gods divine Attributes, as namely with that of Most sacred Majesty. And as the heathen styled their Emperor Diws Caesar: so have they styled Emperors and Kings in these days. Nay, some are come to this pass, to call a mortal man not only Our holy Father, but Our God on earth. And (as one vice draweth on another) they have further applied sundry things spoken of the eternal God in holy writ, to mortal men, and have honoured them with like titles: whereof I could allege manifold examples, if my occasions would permit: but I will content myself for the present with these two, Sub umbrâ alarum tuarum besiege me, or sperabo. And, Non est abbre●iata manus Domini: which I remember I have often heard thus applied. The last time I heard them, was from a Lawyer's mouth, pleading at the bar.  
5 Yet they rest not here: for they are come now at the last to apply sundry texts of Scripture to the praise of jack and Gill, men and women of all sorts and conditions, tag and rag. And as they have applied some Scriptures in commendation of those whom they honoured; so have they applied others to the disgrace and defamation of those whom they maligned: wherein M. Pasquin had a notable faculty. And verily it is not unlike, but that this invention came first from him: and that those who in the reign of King Francis the first, girded at the Lords and Ladies of the Court, with quips and taunts borrowed from Scripture, were trained up in his school.  
6 But the wickedness of the damned crew hath been far greater: of which sort, this Age hath had and hath many even at this day. For not so much as po●companions, but can apply the Scripture to their drunkenness, and bealch them out of their filthy mouths. It is too well known how they were wont to say for every glass of wine they rippled off▪ C●r mundum crea in the 〈◊〉, & spiritum rectum i●●o●a in viscerib●● meis. And when they would signify in their drunken guibbridg●, that some wine was better than other some, and that it was the right; they would say, Hic est, tenete eum. And when there is no more liquor in the pot, your mealemouthed Monks use this Allegorical speech as well as their fellows, Dat●●●bis de oleo vestro, quia lamp●des nostrae extinguuntur. And now that I am speaking of Monks, the Abbot of josaphat by Chartres comes to my mind, who was one of the greatest ●pholders of god B●cchus: This Prelate being asked on a time how he could drink so much, and in what school he had learned that liberal science: to show that he had read, at leastwise had heard some thing of the Scripture, alleged these words out of the Psalmist, P●tr●s ●ostri 〈◊〉 ●●erunt nobis. But what speak I of drunkards? Not so much as pocky villains▪ but would (as they were swearing out the pocks) apply the Scripture to their disease, in saying, 〈…〉. But this is yet applied more absurdly▪ ●labit spiritus ●ius▪ & 〈…〉. I remember also what one at Paris said▪ when his mother was dead, and he had gotten all her goods into his hands, Quasi nubes plwiae in tempore siccitatis: which he learned (I take it) of some scoffing Skoggins, as honest men as himself. And do not good fellows ever & anon make themselves sport with these words of S. Paul, Si quis Episcopatum desiderat, bonum opus desiderat, in saying, Si quis Episcopatum desiderat bonum, opus desiderat? To be short, they think that a jest is not worth a rush, except it be seasoned with the salt of the sanctuary: as the Abbot who speaking of the dry summer, when the grapes were dried up, and (as it were) roasted with the heat of the Sun, said, Spiritus vitae erat in rotis. Nay, these wicked blasphemers, and profane abusers of Scripture, have not spared their own Mass. For when one is hanged, they say, Sursùm corda: when a man taketh the cup to drink, Quia pius est.  
7 Hitherto I have said nothing of those varlets who so notoriously abuse this Scripture, Coelum coeli Domino, terram autem dedit filijs hominum: The heavens of heavens are the Lords, but the earth hath he given to the children of men; alleging it to infringe God's providence, whereby he ruleth all things according to his good pleasure: which I omitted not through forgetfulness, but for that the abuse and profanation thereof, is more ancient than this Age; yet questionless the contemners of God, blasphemers of his Son, villanizers of his Saints, scorners of his service, who do now (as it were) shield and shroud themselves and their Atheism under these words, as under ajax his buckler, are cosin-germaines to those of the damned crew, who in the time of the foresaid Preachers were wont to say, Let God keep his heaven to himself, and let us alone, and follow our pleasures. Ignorance perhaps gave the first occasion of this false interpretation, which scoffing Atheists applied afterwards to their own purpose: as our ancestors, who erroneously expounding this place in the Psalmist, Cum perverso perverteris; through ignorance joined with malice, would have paralleled it with the French proverb, Il faut hurler avec les loups. But to return to those who maliciously profane the holy word of God, I have not (I confess) mentioned the places of Scripture, applied by some to whoredom and lechery, as having spoken of it sufficiently before: where I have showed that whereas Menot complained only of the profanation of Churches by panders who made their bawdy bagaines in them; we might now take up a far more just and grievous complaint, in that they make the Scripture their bawd; a thing as full of wickedness and prodigious devilish abomination, as ever was heard and tolerated among Christians: and if I should say ten times more, I should not pass the bounds of truth. But I will leave it to thy consideration (gentle Reader) how much honester men they were, who during the last civil garboils in France, to anger the adversaries of the Romish religion, began their play at dice with the saying of the Psalmist, Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth: abusing it of purpose to spite and anger them the more, for that Protestant Preachers were wont to call upon God in this manner, in the beginning of their Sermons.  
8 And this puts me in mind of another blasphemy somewhat differing from the former, in all points suiting that of the jews in the Gospel, when in scoffing manner they mocked our Saviour, and said, He trusteth in God, let him now deliver him, seeing he loveth him. For the adversaries of the adversaries of the Roman religion gnashing their teeth, as often as they heard the Protestants sing the 50. Psalm: The mighty God, the eternal hath thus spoke, etc. When they thought they had them on the hip, could not contain, but would upbraid them and say, Where is now this mighty God? Ha sirs, we will make you sing a new song; we will make you sing, O Lord consider my distress. We also find this kind of blasphemy in the Prophet David, where he saith: 
For why, they pierce my inward parts  
with pangs to be abhorred:  
When they cry out with stubborn hearts,  
where is thy God thy Lord?  And in another place: 
Why should the heathen scorners say,  
where is their God become?  Both which blasphemies are much more tolerable than the former, and that for sundry reasons.  
9 Moreover, we shall find the blasphemies whereby they scoff and scorn, deride and mock at the worship of God and true religion far more abominable than the wickedest blasphemies of the profanest Pagans' in the earth. And verily I doubt whether the infernal fiends can add any thing thereto. And yet there are none more welcome to most courtiers than such companions, as being desirous to be instructed by them, thinking it necessary thus to be qualified, that they may be thought thoroughly accomplished in courtlike behaviour: as if the way for a man to brave it out with flouts and frumps, were to begin with God? Now blasphemers are of two sorts: some are flat Atheists, who by an Antiphrasis will needs be called Deists (forsooth) in spite of all that speak against it: and verily I dare give my word for them, that they are no hypocrites, but speak as they think. Others, notwithstanding the gnawing worm of an accusing conscience, counterfeit themselves to be Atheists. And whereas some Atheists confess that they are much grieved, because they cannot believe that there is a God; these contrarily are half mad at themselves, because they cannot obliterate this principle and persuasion out of their minds: and for that their conscience doth check them when they deny his holy providence. The Italian Lord, who leaving his country to dwell in France, and died in the wars of a pistle shot, may well be the ringleader of the dance: for whereas others (now ready to give up the ghost) commended themselves to God; he desired his friends that came to visit him, that they would commend him to the King, and tell him that he had lost a good servant. He often acknowledged (as I heard it reported by his own familiars) that he desired to believe in God, as others did, but that he could not. And yet for all this his great desire, it was his only delight to belch out such fearful blasphemies against God and his holy truth, that those of julian the Apostate may (in comparison) seem to be but small. For (to omit sundry of his other gracious speeches) he was not ashamed to say, that God dealt unjustly when he condemned mankind for a piece of an apple: and that he had learned nothing in the new Testament, but that joseph was a simple fellow in that he was not jealous of his wife, himself being so old, and she so young. Thus much for the first kind. Of the second sort of Atheists, who by reason of the sting of conscience wherewith they are so disquieted, are constrained to acknowledge a divine power and providence, we have sundry examples: for those Courtiers, who in the reign of the French King Henry the second, said, They believed in God, as the King believed; but if he believed not in him, neither would they: are by their own confession to be registered in this roll. But where shall we place those vile varlets who shame not to say, They believe in the King and the Queen mother, and know none other belief? Verily it puts me to a plunge to invent a name answerable to their nature: I mean a word sufficiently emphatical to express their wickedness. But for want of a better they may not unfitly be called thrice accursed damned Atheists.  
10 I come now to those helhounds of the damned crew, who not content to belch out their blasphemies among their mates (companions like themselves) or in presence of those whom they would gladly anger, by swearing and blaspheming; nor to furnish the table at great feasts and merry meetings with them, (where they pass for currant under the name of jests and pleasant conceits) do further set them forth in print, that all the world may take notice of them. Who knoweth not that this age hath revived Lucian again, in the person of Francis Rabelais, making a mock of all religion in his devilish discourses? or what a profane Scoggin Bonaventure des Perriers was in deriding of God? and what pregnant proofs he hath given hereof in his worthy work. The mark (we know) which these varlets aimed at, was outwardly indeed to make as though they would but drive away melancholic dumps, and pass away the time with pleasant discourse. But indeed and truth to insinuate themselves by variety of jests and quips, which they cast forth against the ignorance of our forefathers (which was the cause they suffered themselves to be abused, and as it were led by the nose by superstitious Priests) and by this means A ietter des pierres en nostre iardin (as it is in the French proverb) that is, to mock and gird even at Christian religion itself. For after diligent perusing of their discourses, it will easily appear, that it was their main drift, the only mark and scope which they aimed at, to teach the Readers of their books, to become as honest men as themselves: that is, to believe in God, and to be persuaded of his providence no otherwise then wicked Lucretius was: that whatsoever a man believeth, he believeth in vain: that whatsoever we read in Scripture of eternal life, is written for no other end but to busy simple idiots, and to feed them with vain hope: that all threatenings concerning hell and the last judgement denounced in the word, are nothing but mere bugs, like those wherewith we terrify young children, making them afraid of the fairy, hobgobling, or bulbegger: in a word, that all religions were forged and framed by the brain of man. And I fear me such masters have but too many scholars at this day, ready to listen to such instructions. For some there be who are not as yet plain Atheists, but only inclining that way, who deal with the knowledge they have of God, as sick men do with the licence of Physicians. For as sick patients, notwithstanding they have resolved to eat and drink what themselves think good, and not what the Physician shall prescribe, importune him to dispense with them against his prescript, for such and such meats, as though it would do them more good or less hurt when they have once obtained such a licence: so is there a generation of monsters rather than of men, who notwithstanding they have resolved to go on in their wicked courses, though their consciences check them never so much, yet could wish with all their hearts, they might follow them with consent thereof: and therefore labour by all means to extinguish and obliterate all sense and knowledge of God out of their minds, the light whereof doth show them the lewdness of their lives. And they can make no shorter a cut, nor take an easier course to come to the period of their intended purpose, then to go to school to the foresaid Doctors. To conclude, the books which have been written by these two worthy writers, and their pew-fellows, are so many snares or baited hooks laid to catch such simple souls as are not well guarded with the fear of God: being so much the more hard to be espied, by how much they are better sugared over with merry conceits, delighting and tickling the ear. And therefore all those that fear to go astray out of the right way wherein God hath set them, must be admonished to beware of such hunters. As for professed Atheists, they are the less to be pitied, considering they fall not into such snares at unawares, but voluntarily entangle themselves therein.  
11 But what shall we say of Postel and such like scribbling companions? Verily I know not what conceit others may have of them; for mine own part (to speak that which I have often said) since I was acquainted with Postels brainsick blasphemies, partly from his own mouth, and partly by his writings, and had seen so many silly souls deluded and bewitched by them: I have not a little wondered why any man should marvel that Mahomet could win so many countries & kingdoms to his fond fancies, and doting dreams. For is it not much more strange that Will●▪ Postel preaching in the face of the University of Paris (about thirteen years ago) that an old beldame (whom he called his mother joan) should save all women, as Christ did all men, should find so many disciples▪ then that Mahomet should make the world believe that men only went to heaven, and not women? If Postel had preached such fooleries, I say not to the citizens of Paris, but to the simplest sots of Awergne or the rudest Normans: not to learned men, but to silly idiots, which could scarce tell their fingers: not since the trash and trinkets of Popish trumperies were discovered, but whilst the darkness of ignorance and superstition was more gross and palpable then that of Egypt (which a man might have felt (as it were) with his finger) yet might we well wonder how ever it was possible that such devilish doctrine should find entertainment. How much more then, that it should not only be entertained, but highly esteemed, especially in that city which hath this long time bragged, and doth even at this present, to be the flower of all France, and the only paragon for matter of true riches, such as arts and sciences are. But some may here haply reply and say, that though many went to hear him in such multitudes, that for the very throng & press of people they were in danger to be smothered: yet is it not probable he should have any disciples or followers, except some of the simpler sort. To which I answer (and that confidently, as knowing it to be a most certain truth) that he gave such a relish to his words, that he made many men otherwise learned and wise, to savour them, who before they had heard him, scorned and derided them as the fondest impiety and foolishest foppery in the world. Further, this wicked wretch not content to utter these his monstrous blasphemies in private to such as resorted to him, hath set them forth in print, and therefore is in the number of those of whom we now speak. Howbeit I cannot well tell whether a man may find in any of his books certain speeches which he uttered in the Realte at Venice in my hearing, and in the hearing of sundry others, viz. that if a man would have a perfect & absolute religion indeed, he must compound it of Christian religion, judaizme, and Turcizme: and that there were many excellent points of doctrine in the Alcoran, if they were well considered. Who will not now confess that our age surpasseth all the former▪ as well in blasphemies as in other villainies? (blasphemies I say, not proceeding of ignorance, as in former time, but of a cankered malicious mind against the known truth.) How can this be, may some say? Though the argument in hand will not permit me to give a reason hereof▪ yet thus much I will say by the way, that it is, because the devil seeing himself more hotly and furiously assaulted now then before, provides himself of more furious soldiers to give the repulse. For whilst blindness and ignorance reigned far and wide in the world, and that his former forces were sufficient, he needed no such succour and supply as now he doth, being daily weakened by the loss of his strongest holds.  
12 I proceed to another worshipful writer, who thinking his penny as good silver, and his blasphemies as worthy to be registered as the best, hath set them forth in print: and I shall desire him not to take offence if I presume to name him, seeing himself thought it not amiss to set his name to his book, though full fraught with such fearful blasphemies: the title whereof is this, The invincible tower of women's chastity, written by Francis de Billon, Secretary; printed at Paris Anno 1555. cum privilegio Regio. And not content with this flourishing title, he hath set his hand and mark to every copy, as his verses to the Reader in the beginning of his book may testify: a thing (I take it) never done by any before. Howbeit his blasphemies are not once to be compared with these last spoken of, but with those rather mentioned in the beginning of this Chapter, where I have showed how the audacious impiety of fawning flatterers and pestilent parasites was come to this, to apply the divine attributes and sundry sentences, spoken of God in holy Scripture, to mortal men. But I will here set down his blasphemous words, leaving them to the Readers discretion to place them as they deserve. He therefore intending to show that there is an absolute conformity in all points between the Prophets of God (who were penmen of holy Scripture) and the French Kings Secretaries, saith fol. 239. At and before the coming of the Son of God, he appointed other Secretaries (which may be called his clerk, as being chosen by him, or registered in the book of his divine providence) which in special manner were called Prophets, under which the name Secretary is comprehended: all of them depending upon him and his beloved Chancellor, who was then to come, but now is come. And in that roll thus framed in the heavenly mind, they were enrolled and registered under the highest majesty, in the same manner that other Secretaries are registered in the French Kings roll, himself being first, and his Chancellor next. And a little after, as Moses is placed in the divine register in the third place, as penman and great Audiancier of God's word: so my Lord Huraut Secretary and great Audiancier of France is the third in the Kings. And somewhat after; like unto joshuah who succeeded Moses, is the Secretary Orne, who being Lord chief Baron of the Exchequer, resembles the Prophet joshuah in sundry things. Again, to joshuah succeeded the Prophet and Secretary Samuel, borne of an old and barren woman, long before his nativity consecrated unto God; an honest, upright, and sincere good man, most content with his own estate, who lived till he was very old: like unto whom Longuet principal Secretary to the King, and ancientest of them all, is registered in the King's records, in a higher rank than any of the rest, as Samuel was in Gods, who as, etc. And beginning afterwards to discourse of seven other Prophets, he saith, As Esdras was visited by the special grace of God: so the mighty Florimond Robertet, aliâs d'Alluye, was visited in his bed by Francis the French King his Lord and master. And strait after he addeth, among the Prophets and penmen of Scripture, the four great Prophets are to be numbered, by whom those famous notaries the four Evangelists are figured, viz. Esay or Matthew, jeremy or Mark, Ezechiel or Luke, Daniel or john, as God's Secretaries, who seem to have had greater employment than the rest; in resemblance of the four secretaries or notaries of the King's house otherwise called Masters of the Requests, surnamed (if I tell them in order) Bourdin, Sassi, etc. Afterwards he descendeth to the small Prophets, with whom he compareth the Lords, Newille, Courlay, Bohier, etc. And last of all he comes to those who in comparison may be termed Prophets or Secretary gager●, that is, hired Secretaries, as Semeya, Virdei, Elizeus, Ahias, jehn, etc. to the number of 59 comparing them to the 59 honourable Lords, viz. Babou, Picard, Forget, Gaudart, etc. And winding up his discourse, he breaks forth into this pathetical exclamation, O most certain and worthy correspondence, never known of any mortal man unto this day. This is the goodly invention of our architect of the invincible tower, by which he thinketh he hath played the man, and won the field as we say. Now let the Reader judge, whether I accused him wrongfully of blasphemy or not. And verily if he would take any counsel, I would advise him to leave this devilish discourse out of his book in the next impression, lest he wrong and shame many honest men, whom he (perhaps) thinketh he doth greatly grace, and honour thereby. I would further let his mastership understand against the second impression, that there is no such Prophet in the Bible as Virdei: but that vir Dei is (as I may say) the Epithet or surname of Semeia: as when we say Francis the fool, we mean not two distinct persons, but one and the same man, the word fool serving only to describe the said Francis by his proper Epithet.  
13 Another kind of blasphemy published in print by these goodly authors, remains yet behind; far stranger than the former▪ so that he which will not grant any of them to be proper and peculiar to this age, cannot but confess that this agrees unto it quarto modo (as Logicians speak) I mean the manner of translating used by Sebastian Castalion in turning the Bible into French. For whereas he should have sought out the gravest words and phrases fitting so worthy a subject; it is plain that he studied for absurd, base and beggarly words, at leastwise such as would rather stir the spleen, and provoke the Readers to laughter, then give them light to understand the meaning of the holy Ghost. For example, where S. james saith, chap. 2. v. 13. Gloriatur misericordia adversus judicium, in stead of translating it word for word (as others have done) Mercy glories (or insults) over judgement, he turns it thus, Misericorde fait la figue à judgement, that is, Mercy bids judgement kiss her tail. Give me that grave Cato, or sour Heraclitus, who in stead of weighing o● pondering this text of so great importance, can keep his countenance at the first view of this so trim a translation: and considering the mere malice of the translator (who hunted after trivial words taken from the tavern, of purpose to expose such sacred mysteries to scorn and derision) will not be offended with such a profane fellow, if he have but the least dram of devotion or spark of zeal in his heart. The like he hath done in other places, as who so list to trifle away the time in perusing that worthy work, shall easily perceive. Neither hath he only made his worship merry in using tapsterlike terms and phrases, but hath taken to himself more then Poetical licence in calling her arriere femme, that is, a back-wife (as we say arriere boutique, a back-shop) whom the husband keepeth under his wives nose, whom the Latins call pellex (borrowing it from the Greek tongue, as the Grecians have done from the Hebrew) and for Prepuce using this fine compound 
* Castalions Auant-peau is as absurd in French, as the Remists prepuce is in English.  Auant-peau, foreskin: for circumcised, ●ongné, that is chipped or pared off. For Incircumcised, Empellé, whole skinned: and making God all one with my Lord of Rocheford. In a word, there is not so much as Fair carouse, to drink a carouse, which he hath not used in this translation. Now this new devise hath the devil invented in these days, to infringe the authority of the Scripture: but that God of his goodness took order for it betime, in causing this trim translator (of whom there was once great hope) to condemn himself with his own mouth, and to let the world see with what spirit he was transported. Now before I come to the second thing that I propounded to speak of in this Chapter, I will briefly satisfy such as may haply think it strange, I should so far stretch & strain the word blasphemy: the which I did, for that the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (according to his true Etymology) signifies to blast or blemish hinder or hurt a man's good name (as if a man should say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 being the word which I have translated to hurt) and so is commonly taken in profane authors: albeit in holy Scripture, and the commentaries of the ancient Fathers, to blasphemè, is to speak any thing derogatory to the honour and glory of the highest Majesty. Now, if treason committed against a King (who is but a mortal man, and whose breath is in his nostrils) deserve death: doubtless blasphemy and treason committed against the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the immortal and the eternal God, must needs deserve eternal death.  
14 The next thing that we are to entreat of, is of cursing or imprecations. And as I have not trifled away the time in reckoning up the sundry sorts of imprecations and curses used at this day (a thing both tedious and odious to those that have but the least grain of grace or godliness:) so neither will I busy myself in numbering up those trivial and common imprecations which have no tack in them, to satisfy the fury and rage of many ruffians, except they be ever coining of new. It shall suffice to show, that as Frenchmen have borrowed certain set forms of braving and bearding their betters from Italians (thinking (belike) their own country too barren of this herb grace:) so have they not been ashamed to borrow of them forms of cursing and imprecations, as when they say, Te vienne le chancre. Albeit in most places of Italy, Te venga'l cancaro: and at Venice, Te venga la ghiandussa; Te venga'l mal di San Lazaro, are accounted but small and petty imprecations. And these put me in mind of a very pleasant story serving fitly to exemplify the matter in hand. A tailor of Florence having worshipped the image of S. john Baptist in the Church of S. Michael Berteldi, very devoutly for a long time; kneeling on a time before it early in the morning, after he had pattered over his ordinary prayers, he began in this sort, Glorioso Santo Giovanni benedetto, io ti priego che, etc. that is, Glorious and blessed S. john, I beseech thee grant me these two requests: Tell me whether my wife ever played false with me? and what shall become of my son? This was the prayer of that devout tailor. Now here it is to be noted, that a young fellow Clerk of the parish (who had sundry times observed him kneeling and praying in this sort, desirous to discover this secret, and to know what speeches he used to the Image) hid himself behind the Altar where the Image stood, that so he might hear the prayer which he made. He then answering in the person of S. john Baptist, said, Sappi charissimo siglivolo, etc. Know my dear son, that for the devotion and reverence thou hast borne me these many years, thou shalt be heard: Come again to morrow morning, and thou shalt have a certain answer. For this time depart in peace. The tailor exceeding glad of this answer, went home, and failed not to come the next morning at the time appointed: not forgetting after he had mumbled over his Matins, and done his devotions, to put Saint john in mind of his promise, saying, D●lcissimo Santo Giovanni, io ti priego che mi obserua la promessa: that is, Sweet Saint john, I pray thee keep touch with me, and perform thy promise. Whereunto the Sexton (who miss not to come again to make an end of his sport) answered in the person of S. john, servo & amico mio, sappis cheltuo figlivolo sara impiceato presto, & la tua donna ha fatto fallo con piu di uno: that is, My good servant and friend, be it known unto thee that thy son shall shortly be hanged, and that thy wife hath hornified thee more than once. The tailor hearing this, rose up, and departed, as mute as a fish, but as angry as a wasp: and when he was come to the midst of the Church, turned back, and neither kneeling down, nor using accustomed reverence, nay not so much as veiling his bonnet, began in this sort, What S. john art thou? The Sexton answered, I am thy good S. john Baptist. Whereupon he could not refrain, but cursed him with the foresaid curse, which put me in mind of this story: telling him withal, that it was not of late that he had had a wicked tongue, and that therefore Herod cut off his head. But I will here allege his own words, not altering so much as the Orthography: Sia col malanna & con la mala Pasqua che Dio te dia. Tu non dicesti may altro che male, & per la tua pessima lingua ti fu eglitagliat● el capo da Herode. And strait after: So i tu non hai detto el vero di cosa to ha' t'habi domandata: io sono venuto qui ad adorarti da vinticinque anni, o piu, non ti ho may dato impaccio alcuno: may io ti prometto che may piu ci ritornero à vederti. Which history (recorded by the Lord Piero di Cosmo di Medici) I was the more willing here to relate, to show how these silly souls (who are even blind and brutish in their superstitions) use this holy language in revenging themselves of the Saints as well as of others. We in France have certain curses proper and peculiar to our language, as Italians and other countries have to theirs. For this curse used by the foresaid Preachers, Ad omnes diabolos: Ad triginta mill diabolos, etc. 〈◊〉 is a kind of copper Latin cast in the mould of the French phrase: for Frenchmen are wont to heap up devils by many thousand cart loads together, as when they say, je le donne à trent mill chartees de Diables, ou quarante: Let thirty or forty thousand cart loads of devils take him. And here consider what long custom can do: for Michael Menot (one of the foresaid Preachers) doth father this phrase upon Saint Paul. His words are these, fol. 129. Saint Paul hearing that a wicked wretch had committed fornication, said presently, I give him over to all the devils in hell. Sanctus Paulus audience quòd quidam miserrimus fornicatus fuerat, slatim dixit, Et eum do ad omnes diabolos: which is yet somewhat more tolerable than that which he recordeth of one of the two harlots which came to plead before King Solomon, that she should swear by her faith, fol. 47. Altera superbè respondit, dicens Mentiris; est meus quem teneo; quaere tuum ubi volveris: & sic in illa camera verberabant se mutuò. Dixit altera, tu non habebis per fidem meam, nec tu, etc. Et sic venerunt ad Regem Salomonen, etc. By this the Reader may see whether I had not just cause to say, that that which he fathered upon S. Paul was more tolerable, seeing it is only false in forma; whereas this is false both in forma and in materia.  
15 Now as the imprecations wherewith men are wont to curse one another, are more usual at this day then ever they were in former time; so these which they use in cursing themselves, are no less frequent: as when they bequeath themselves to the devil (some add body and soul, guts and all;) or when they say, I would I might never come in heaven, etc. which puts me in mind of that which I observed once at Venice, how the election of Officers being made by plurality of voices (given by casting of bullets, as the manner is,) some of the competitors being elected, and some rejected; the custom is, that all of them, even those also that are disappointed and frustrate of their fore-framed expectation, thank the gentlemen as they come forth: who to keep corresponce with them, besprinkle them with Court holy water, and tell them one after another, that they are very sorry it was not their good hap to be elected to such or such an office, and that it was not their fault. And not contenting themselves with these simple insinuations and protestations, one useth this imprecation, another that: one saith, Se Dio me gardi st'almi. Another, See Dio me garenti la mia moglie. A third, Se Dio me garenti miei filroli. A fourth, See Dio me gardi st●occi. A fifth, See no, che siae appicato per la g●la. A sixth, See no, che me vegna il cancaro. But with what conscience most of them curse themselves in this sort, I make them their own judges. For seeing that some of the competitors were elected, and some not; certain it is that most voices were for them, and not for the other: whereas if we may judge by their protestations which they bind with such fearful imprecations, we must needs say that they gave with both. But leaving the resolution of this question to some Oedipus, let us call to mind that which hath been said, viz. that custom can do much. For doubtless long custom in evil, takes away the sense of evil in whole or in part: which lamentable experience proves too true, especially in these days, wherein men take pleasure in training up of youth (not yet of years to discern between good and evil) and in teaching them to swear, blaspheme, and curse after the Court fashion.  
16 There remaineth yet another kind of cursing a man's self, as horrible in it own nature, as it is common in the Court: I would I might lie with such a Lady or such a Gentlewoman upon pain of damnation. By which we may perceive, that as this age is paramount to all the former in all sorts of sins: so Princes Courts as far exceed all other places: and yet (that I may not deprive Italians of their due praise) it is less common in France and other countries of Christendom, then in Italy.   

CHAP. XV. Of thefts and robberies committed at this day.  
BEfore I enter discourse of thefts and robberies, I am to entreat thee (gentle Reader) to give me leave to premise this short preface; that if this Age do so far excel and go beyond the former in other knacks of knavery: it doth it much more in this of cunning conveyance. For I dare boldly affirm, that if a man would make a narrow search into the thievish practices, filchings and robberies (at leastwise into the dealings of those good fellows who take without leave) so common and rise at this day; he should find that there are (almost) as many sundry sorts of notorious thefts, as in old time there were thieves. The reason hereof is evident, for that stealing of all other vices requireth most wit, wherein this age far excels the former (if we may judge of the tree by his fruits:) whence it is that the Lacedæmonians were permitted to steal by their laws, so they were not taken in the fact. Now this quick and nimble wit applieth itself rather to evil then to good, and that much more at this day (if all things be equally considered) then in former time: albeit this complaint was taken up long ago: unde habeat quarit nemo, sed oportet habere. That is, Needs must be had, but whence none list inquire. And it is an old and ancient saying, Lucri bonus odor ex re qualibet. That is, Gain hath a good favour, howsoever gotten. By which we may perceive, that men never wanted will to have. But men at this day, as they have a better will, so have they greater skill. For as they have been more vehemently inflamed with a desire of gain, so have they invented more effectual means for the compassing thereof; setting down this as a necessary principle to be holden in the first place, that he that would be rich must turn his back to God: which they can well enough put in practice when occasion serves. Besides, they have profited by all their predecessors inventions, and therein have employed the greatest cunning and skill they have. No marvel therefore if there have been some shifters in all ages, who have followed the occupation; sith there was never yet man to be found but sought out some means to live: so that many, when all other failed, have lived upon the fee-simple of their wits, and betaken themselves to this easy occupation, as to their last refuge. But how is it (may some say) that great thieves should ever escape, & petty thieves go to the pot? or rather (according to the old saying) that the greater should hang the less? The question (me thinks) is easily answered, if we consider that a petty pilfere● hath not wherewith to stop his accuser's mouth: whereas great ones are never without their sleeves full of gags. For I remember that Pinatel (who was first executed by order of law in the person of his picture (if I may so speak) and after in his own person) told me and certain others at Genova (whither he was fled) 〈◊〉 that he doubted not but to reconcile himself to the King again, by means of the high sheriffs wife (who had obtained the confiscation of his goods) in that he had a goodly present, wherewith to bribe her (besides the value of the confiscation) and yet remain rich all his life after. Notwithstanding I deny not but that great thieves are now and then brought to the gallows as well as petty thieves: but this hard hap commonly befalls those unthrifts, who having brought their twelvepences to ninepences, and their ninepences to nothing; have not wherewith they may either stop the mouths, or grease the fists of their accusers. For many (we know) who clime too hastily, fall as suddenly, those especially who have to deal with Prince's treasures, which are (as Frenchmen speak) suiet à la pince, that is, easy to be purloined. Whereupon King Lewis the eleventh used a very pleasant conceit: for looking upon a piece of tapistry, wherein a certain noble man (who from a very mean Clerk of the Exchequer, was advanced to great place, even to be Lord Treasurer of France) had pourtraited the steps and degrees whereby he had ascended from the bottom of baseness to the height of honour, himself represented sitting on the top of Fortune's wheel; told him he might do well to fasten it with a good strong nail, for fear lest turning about, it brought him to his former estate again: which was truly prophesied of him, as the event showed not long after. And verily not only great Lords who are advanced to such high honours; but generally all Courtiers, and such as have any dealing in Princes affairs, ought always to remember the similitude used by Polybius, who compareth Courtiers to counters. For as they stand sometime for ten, sometime for an hundred, sometime for a thousand, and sometimes again for one only, as it pleaseth the Auditor to place them: so Courtiers (as the toy takes Princes in the head) are honoured or disgraced, advanced or debased in a moment. And this they have as proper and peculiar unto them, that when they have used them as sponges to drink what juice they can from the poor people, they take pleasure afterwards to wring them out into their own cisterns. But to return to the distinction of great and petty thieves. It is a thing very remarkable, and proper to this age (at leastwise in this respect, that it is more practised) that greeat thieves rob the less, as great fishes devour the young frie. But my purpose is here only to speak of petty thieves, I mean such as commit qualified robberies, and whom the executioner graceth by putting a halter about their necks (where there is any face or form of justice) which afterwards serveth them in stead of a ruff.  
2 To begin therefore with pilferers and their petty larceny, see a strange device now lately invented, how since that Italians with their juggling tricks frequented France, there have been many cutpurses found disguised like gentlemen; yea some who have been hanged with their chains of gold about their necks: which I remember I heard reported of him whom King Francis the first hanged for juggling away the Duke of Nevers purse in his presence. And certain it is, that their iergon whereby they maintain themselves, and keep corresponcy each with other, was never in such perfection: a prerogative which they have above the greatest Princes in the world, who because they cannot cante, are ever devising new characters: which notwithstanding are often descried even by those from whom they labour to conceal them: whereas these noble cutpurses (never busying themselves so much) have so enriched their canting and gibbridge (especially now of late) and are so expert therein, that they can chat and chaffer one with another, without fear of being descried by any, save those of their own profession. As for sleights and subtleties, even Villon himself (who read a public lecture to those of his time) might learn more of the craft (I mean more feats of filchery and cunning conveyance) of the meanest scholar in his school, than ever he knew in all his life: yet I deny not but that he was a notable expert fellow in his profession, and of a ready wit: for it becometh not a citizen of Paris to speak otherwise of his worship. But since our cutpurses (or snatch-purses) haunted these juggling Gipsies (the Italians) and learned their tricks of cunning conveynance, we must needs confess that there have been stranger feats of agility seen, then ever before. I take the word cut purses in a more general acception than the proper signification will permit; namely for all such good fellows as can play so well at fast and loose, with their fine feats of pass and repass, that without offering a man the least violence in the world, they can juggle the money out of his purse, and make it pass into their own. For example, a Frenchman newly arrived at Venice (about thirteen years ago) lodging in an Inn called the Sturgeon, was told by an Italian (who lay in the same house) that it was not safe for a man in that country to show his money: and therefore counseled him that if at any time he did weigh his gold, or tell any money, he should not do it openly as he was accustomed, but should lock himself in his chamber. The Frenchman taking this advertisement as proceeding from a simple honest meaning, thanked him heartily, and thereupon took acquaintance of him. The Italian (not long after) having espied fit opportunity, came unto him, and told him that if he would change French crowns for Pistolets, he would gladly exchange with him: and whereas (quoth he) your crowns will go here but for single Pistolets, I will give you something over and above in exchange. The Frenchman answering, that it was the least courtesy he could show him: he desired him to remember what he told him the other day, concerning the close keeping of his money; wherefore (quoth he) I think it not amiss if we take a pair of oars, and carrying a pair of balances with us, row up and down the great channel, and there weigh our crowns. The Frenchman answered, that he was ready to do what he thought good. The next day therefore they took a pair of oars, where when the Italian had weighed the Frenchman's crowns (the better to colour his knavery) he put them in his purse and pocketed them up: and making as though he had been seeking for his Pistolets which he was to give in exchange, he caused the waterman (to whom he had formerly given the watchword) to land his boat. And because he landed in a place where there were many short and narrow lanes on either side, the Frenchman lost my gentleman in a trice: neither hath he yet (I suppose) heard any news of him, nor of his hundred crowns. Myself came to the Inn three or four days after that pageant was played. Another marking a Frenchman putting his purse into his bosom, and after taking a pair of oars to cross the water (an ordinary thing at Venice) leapt in after him with such violence that he caused the boat to lean so much on the one side, that the Frenchman fell into the water: where leaping in presently after, he pulled him into the boat again; yet not without pulling his purse out of his bosom by the way; which he did so nimbly, that the party perceived it not, till it was past recovery: and so the Italian departed with a thousand thanks, and a purse to put them in. Another used more speed, for feigning that a Scorpion was gotten into his back, he entreated another Italian to look if he could espy it; in the mean time juggling his purse out of his pocket. And here I may not omit a like trick of conveyance which another Italian played with a French gentleman newly come into Italy with Odet de Selue, Ambassador for the French King at Venice: for as he was in his Inn, looking upon two cheating Italians playing at cards (who were partners, as appeared afterward) one of them feigning that he had lost all his money, and had nothing left but certain pieces of gold, at which his fellow refused to throw, because they were not weight; he entreated the Frenchman to lend him a few crowns for them: who had no sooner drawn his purse, but they scattered all his money; and marking on which side of the table it fell, blew out the candle. We might well admit into this society a Sergeant of Paris (whose goods had been distrained and sold to the very straw of his bed) who going by a Goldsmith's shop, cast sand in his eyes, and having so done, put as much gold into his box as he thought good. But to return to our cunning cutpurses: how active & nimble (may we think) were they which cut forty or fifty before they could be descried? What say I forty or fifty? Nay I have heard of one of this thievish trade borne at Bourges, chief Clerk to an Attorney of the Parliament, called Dennis Gron, in whose trunk (after he had been taken and convicted of the fact) were found fourscore purses, and about three thousand crowns in gold: who (doubtless) would have obtained his pardon if his cause had been tried by the laws of the Lacedæmonians, which permitted theft (the better to enure their people to nimbleness and activity) so they were not taken in the fact: which (as Xenophon showeth) stood with good reason: for no man ought to follow a trade, wherein he hath no skill. Now these bunglers who are taken with the manner, show that they are not their craft's masters, in going no handsomlier to work then a Bear when the picks muscles. Which a Duke of Burgundy well observed (a man naturally given to this lurching legerdemain, which he practised more of wantonness then for any want, as knowing himself to have a notable filching faculty, and an answerable dexterity in cleanly conveyance; the rather for that by this means he was better acquainted with such companions) espying one of these light fingered gentlemen as he was juggling away a silver goblet at a great feast, and holding his peace for the present, sent for him shortly after, and told him roundly of it in this sort: Sirrah, you may thank God that my steward saw you not pocket up my plate; for I can assure you he would have hanged you all but the head. What? will you follow a trade to which you were never bound prentice, and wherein you have no skill? Well, you shall have it upon condition you will give over the occupation, and practise it no more upon pain of death, sith you go so grossly to work. By which we see how this Prince concurs in opinion with the Lacedæmonians. But why (may some say) should we think the Lacedæmonians would have pardoned him, considering they held such as were descried and taken in the fact, unskilful in the trade, and consequently unfit to follow it? Doubtless they would have pardoned him for his great dexterity in cutting the 80. purses, in that he was taken but with the 81. For it fared not with him as with those filching companions (born under the unlucky planet Mercury) who being pardoned the first offence, fall into it again and again. Which hard hap befell one Simon Dagobert (the King's attorneys son in Yssoudun) who having played the filching fellow a long time, and admonished to keep himself true, lest in the end he found the gibbet a jew; was taken at the last, and condemned to the gallows: where as he was led to the place of execution, the duke of Nevers chanced to pass by, and mediated to the King for him, because he heard him spout a little Latin; which (albeit it was not understood) made him and the rest believe that he was a man fit for some great employment. And as if he had been so indeed, the King having pardoned him, sent him with one Roberual into the new found land: in which voyage he verified that which Horace saith, 
They change the air that seas do pass, But mind remains the same it was.  Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt. For after his coming thither, he fell to his old trade of nimming more freely than ever before. So that being taken the second time, he went the way which before he had miss. And I persuade myself he would not have escaped better cheap, either with the Lacedæmonians or with the foresaid Prince, sith (in all probability) he had been often taken with the manner before; it being almost impossible, that committing thefts in this sort by the dozen, he should ever go closely and artificially to work. Howbeit if ever there were any, in whom we might see what a nature prone to theft may do, him we have as a lively mirror thereof. For I heard it credibly reported by his own citizen (a man of good worth) that notwithstanding he had dealt with him sundry times to reclaim him, and made means to get him out of prison, yet the knave to requite his kindness (as he protested to me) stole from him a new gown, (besides other apparel) wherewith he was taken, having it upon his back: and another also under it, which he had stolen elsewhere: as also with three shirts which he had on. The like he had done not long before, in stealing a gentleman's velvet cassock, who had kindly entertained and lodged him. But the most notable theft that ever he committed in this kind, was in stealing a bridegrooms new apparel (the King's attorneys brother of Poitiers) and his brides: for which he thought he might well adventure hanging, considering they were for the most part all of clean silk. Which cunning conveyance of his, is the more to be wondered at, in that he was of necessity to come and go six or seven times (at the least) before he could convey them away; which he did very slily, carrying them into his lodging in the Nunnery of S. Crosses in poitiers; where he remained when they came to call him coram, for that they suspected none but him. But the sly merchant looking through the window, and espying the Sergeants coming to apprehend him, conveyed himself away, after he had locked and barred all the doors. Where they breaking into his lodging, found beside the foresaid apparel, about forty pair of shoes of all sizes, with a number of breeches, and a great quantity of cut cloth, and some whole pieces, as also a pretty library of books, which he had stolen at sundry times from scholars. Moreover, his manner was to deal worse with his hostesses then with his hosts; for whereas he stole nothing from his hosts but their apparel, he took from these dames their goodliest relics in kind requital of their courtesies. Yet the finest feat that ever he played, was the theft he committed in the prison, where he was cast for the like offence: for being not able to contain himself, and to hold his fingers till he was set at liberty, he stole the jailers cloak whilst he was in the prison, and sold it to a good fellow, letting it down through the trellises of the prison window, looking into the street. Which verifies my former assertion, what a nature prone to theft may in time come unto, viz. to grow to such a degree of impudency as to steal in the very prison, where felons and other malefactors await their dismal doom, and from no meaner man than the jailer himself. But I do the less wonder hereat, in that myself have seen cutpurses at Paris rifling men's pockets, and juggling away their purses at the very gallows, and that hard by a cutpurse ready to be executed.  
3 I will now dismiss this arch-theefe Dagobert: and as I have alleged examples of those who have pardoned thieves convicted of the fact, and suffered them to go quietly away, and peaceably to enjoy their pilfer and pray; so I will here record one to the contrary, of a gentleman who punished a thief with his own hands, yet so as it brought him to a peck of troubles. For feeling a good fellow cutting his purse, as he was looking upon the King playing at tennis (the very same day that the now deceased john d● Belie was installed Bishop of Paris) and suffering him to do his pleasure, dissembling the matter as though he had felt nothing; yet in the end, not content to make him restore his purse, he further cut off his ear. But it repented him (poor gentleman) not long after, not for that he cried quittance with him, but for handling him in that sort: for if he had but stabbed him, he had never (questionless) been troubled; but because he cut off his ear, the hangman of Paris commenced suit against him for encroaching upon his office.  
4 But to return to our subtle sleights, more common and frequent at this day they ever they were, and that in all manner of thefts. Could a man desire to hear of a more cunning conveyance then that which was played at Paris about sixteen years ago, by one who kept his countenance so well, that he caused the owner of the featherbed which he was about to steal, viz. one Guerrier Proctor of the court of Parliament dwelling in S. Bennets cloister, to help him up with it. But I will here relate two felonious facts committed by a thief, which are nothing inferior, but rather far exceeding any of the former. A certain good fellow being desirous to have his neighbour's cow, rose very early in the morning before day, and coming to the house where the cow stood, drove her out (making as though he had r●n after her.) His neighbour waking at the noise, and looking through the window: neighbour (quoth the thief) come and help me to take my cow which is run into your yard, your door being carelessly left open. His neighbour having holpen him, he persuaded him to go along with him to the market (for if he had stayed at home, his theft would have been discovered) and as they went together upon the way, when the day began to dawn, the poor man knew his cow, and said, Neighbour, this cow is much like mine. It is very true (quoth he) and therefore I go to sell her, because our wives contend about them every night, not knowing which to take. Thus continuing their talk, they came to the market place; where the thief fearing he should be descried, feigned that he had some business in the town, and thereupon desired his neighbour to sell her in the mean time as dear as he could, promising to give him the wine. His neighbour therefore sold her, and brought him the money; whereupon they went strait to the taveuerne according to promise. Now after that they had made pretty good cheer, the thief conveyed himself away, leaving his neighbour in pawn for the shot. From thence he went to Paris, and being on a time in the market place, where many asses were tied (as the custom is) to hooks fastened in the wall; seeing all places taken up, he made choice of the fairest ass, got upon his back, and riding through the market place, sold him very dear to a stranger: who finding no other room empty save that whence the ass was taken, tied him there again. Whereupon when the true owner (from whom he was stolen) would have loosed him, and led him away, there arose such a hot bickering betwixt him and the stranger who had bought him, that they fell together by the ears. Now the thief, (who had sold the ass) being in the throng, and seeing all this sport, and namely how the buyer was thrown down and well beaten, could not forbear saying, Curry me, curry me well this stealer of asses, and spare him not. Which when the poor man, who was in that pitiful plight (desiring nothing more than to hear of him that had sold him the ass) heard, and knowing him by his voice; he cried out, That's he, that's he that sold me the ass: Whereupon my gentleman was apprehended, and (all the foresaid knaveries being verified by his own confession) was executed, as he well deserved. Hence we may learn these two things, first, what great wits, and how full of subtleties and sleights this Age affordeth. Secondly, what punishments befall wicked men through the just judgement of God, and how he taketh vengeance on them when the magistrate is at a loss, and destitute of all means whereby he might find and ferret them out: nay how he worketh and bringeth things so about by the hand of his providence, that guilty malefactors like fluttering gnats burn themselves (as it were) in the candle. I confess indeed, there are not many such subtle thieves as this to be found in a country. But many there are, whose mouths are their own accusers, and who (as we say) put the rope about their own necks, as they best know who by their places are to give judgement; who if they be any thing wary and wise, work so by their interrogatories, that they make these gallants (how good a face soever they set upon the matter) so to falter and fall foul with themselves, that in the end they cut their own throats, and sacrifice themselves to their own shame.  
5 And seeing there is nothing more worthy a Christian man's meditation then such judgements of God, I hope it will not be ungrateful to the Reader if I here digress a little, and allege two other examples; the one modern, the other ancient: both of them suiting with the former, and exemplifying that which hath been said. Erasmus therefore reporteth, that a thief having broken into a house in London, where he lodged, and entered in through the roof, to see if he could meet with some good boon, made such a noise, that he caused all the neighbours to flock thither; which when he perceived, he thrust himself amidst the throng, as though he had been one of the company that sought for the varlet; and by this means kept himself unknown. Not long after, perceiving that the uproar was past, and that they looked no more for the knave (supposing he had escaped) he went forth, nothing mistrusting he should have been descried. But the blab, not able to hold his tongue, bewrayed himself, and so brought his neck within the halter: for as he was going out at the door, meeting many talking of the thief, and cursing of him, he cursed him likewise, affirming that he had made him lose his hat. Where note, that whilst the rascal laboured to save himself, running now here, now there, his hat fell off his head, which they kept, hoping thereby to discover him. They then hearing him say that he had lost his hat, began to suspect him, and upon suspicion apprehended him: who after he had confessed the fact was hanged. Many like stories are recorded in profane writers, but (sith I promised only one other) I will content myself with that wherewith Erasmus hath paralleled the former. Plutarch then writeth that a certain temple dedicated to Pallas (in the city of the Lacedæmonians) having been robbed, there was an empty bottle found, which made all the people to wonder exceedingly; for no man could imagine what the thieves should do therewith. At the last, one in the company seeing them all in such an amazement, If you will hear me (quoth he) I will tell you what I conjecture, I imagine that the thieves being ready to execute their enterprise, drank some Aconite (a kind of deadly poison) and carried wine with them in this bottle, that if they brought their purpose to pass, they might preserve themselves from the danger of the poison by the wine; and that if they were descried, it might put them to a more gentle death, than the judges would have inflicted upon them. They hearing him render so sensible a reason, and perceiving that he spoke not as one that did conjecture, but as being well acquainted with the business, began to question with him, one after another in this sort: who are you Sir that can conjecture so well? where learned you the art of divination? what acquaintance have you in this city? In the end they pressed him so much, and urged him so far by their interrogatories, that they made him confess that he was guilty of the fact, and one of the thieves. Now as there are sundry examples of the like providence of God in detecting of thieves, so are there also of murderers, as hereafter shall be declared.  
6 But to return to thievish sleights: for, alleging out of Erasmus de lingua, the example of an English thief, I remembered other stories which he hath elsewhere of the tricks of these tradesmen; out of which I will only pick out such as I judge most notorious: I mean such as were performed with greater subtlety, dexterity and sleight. And I will begin with a story, cosin-germaine to that which I lately recorded of the thief who played his part so well, that he caused the owner of the featherbed which he was about to steal, to help him up with it: dispensing for this once with my former promise, in making a medley of secular men's virtues with Church-mens. For the fine feat which I am about to relate, was played by a priest of Louvain, called Antony, who having bidden two good fellows to dinner (whom he met by chance in the street) and understanding at his coming home, that there was not a morsel of meat in the house (and knew too well that he had never a penny in his purse) he devised this sleight, that he might keep touch with his guests: he went into his neighbour's house, with whom he was very inward, and the kitchen maid being absent, stole thence a brazen pot wherein the meat was boiling, and carried it home under his gown, commanding his maid to power out the meat and the broth into an earthen pot: and having caused her to scour it, he sent it back to the 〈◊〉 again, requesting him to lend him a certain sum of money, and to take the pot in pawn. The messenger brought good news to Sir Antony, viz. a piece of money that came in pudding time to furnish the table, and a short scroll, by which the creditor acknowledged that he had received a brass pot in pawn upon the sum which he had lent him. But being ready to go to dinner, and missing one of the pots, he began to chide and take on, so that all the house was in an uproar; the kitchen maid protesting that she never saw it after Sir Antony was there. Now albeit they made conscience to suspect him for such a fact, yet in the end they went to his house to see whether they could find it: and because they could hear no news of it, they asked him bluntly for it. He answered that he knew of no such thing. But when they laid it to his charge, and avouched to his face that he had stolen it, seeing none came into the house but he only: he made this answer, True it is indeed, I borrowed a pot, but I sent it back to the owner again. Which when the creditor denied: See my masters (said sir Antony) there is no trusting of men now a days without a bill of their hand; he would strait have laid it to my charge, had I not had his hand and seal to the contrary; whereupon he showed the scroll which the boy had brought him. So that the creditor was well mocked for his labour throughout all Louvain, it being blazed abroad, that such a man had lent a sum of money upon a pawn that was his own.  
7 After this thievish trick played by a priest, it is good reason that we give ear to another done unto a Priest, to requite the former. A good fellow in Antwerp having marked a Priest that carried a purse by his girdle, which (as he supposed) was sore troubled with a tympany; after low and humble obeisance, told him that he was entreated by the Curate of their parish to buy him a Cope, and because sir (quoth he) you are just of his height, I would desire you to go with me to a merchant's shop to try one: for I persuade myself, if it fit you, it will fit him. The Priest easily condescending to his request, went with him to a shop where these Copes were sold: where having tried one, the merchant affirmed that it was as fit as if it had been made for him. The knavish companion watching opportunity to show them a cast of his office, after he had well viewed M. Priest on every side, told him that it had one fault, viz. that it was shorter before than behind. Nay (quoth the merchant) the fault is not in the cope, but in this great purse which bears it out, and makes it seem so. The Priest therefore laid his purse aside: which done, they viewed him round the second time. In the mean while, this coney-catcher (to make an end of his sport) whilst the Priest had his back turned, nimbly snatched up the purse, and showed them a fair pair of heels. Whereupon he cried out, Stop the thief, stop the thief: the merchant crying as fast, Stop the Priest: and the thief, Stop the mad Priest, (for the people seeing him run in this strange habit, supposed he had been mad indeed.) But whilst the Priest and the merchant wrangled together, the thief escaped.  
8 There is yet another story recorded by the same author, not much unlike the former for nimbleness and good footmanship, albeit it come far short of it in acuteness and quickness of wit; being answerable to the country from whence it came, which breeds no great wits, except perchance by a miracle. For this pageant was played by a Hollander at Leyden. This good fellow walking through the city, w●nt into a shoemakers shop: where the shoemaker asked him what he would; and perceiving that he cast his eye upon a pair of 
* Buskins properly.  boots which hung hard by, demanded of him whether he would have a pair or not: he answering that he would. The shoemaker ma●● choice of such a pair as he thought would fit him best, and pulled them on; and having so done, he willed him to try a pair of 
* See the end of this section  shoes, which he said were as fit for him as the boots. These things thus passed over, the fellow in stead of agreeing of the price, & paying the shoemaker, began to question with him merrily in this sort, Tell me in good earnest, did never any man thus fitted for the race as I am, run away, and pay nothing? Never (said the shoemaker). But if perchance (quoth he) a man should run away, what wouldst thou do? I would run after him (quoth he). Dost thou speak in good earnest (quoth he)? Yes marry do I (said the shoemaker) and I would do it indeed. We must try a conclusion (said the other,) I will begin the course, come on therefore follow me: and forthwith ran away as fast as he could drive; and the shoemaker after, crying, Stay the thief, stay the thief. The fellow seeing them come thick and threefold out of their houses, fearing lest some would have laid hands on him, set a good face upon a foul fact, and as though he had been but in jest, said, Stop me not for the love of God, it is for a great wager. Thus the poor shoemaker returned home again very angry, that he had lost both his pains & his pence; for the other got the goal by overrunning him. Here, because Erasmus calleth them ocreas, I have translated them boots; yet we may not think that they were like French boots, but such as might be worn with shoes.  
9 But having spoken sufficiently of thieves that run away with the booty, let us now treat of those who stir not a foot after they have played a part of legerdemain, but look smoothly, as though butter would not melt in their mouths. A Scottish gentleman told me that when King james the fifth went over into France (which was Anno 1536.) the Earls of Errol, Argile and Mar●e having feasted the Ladies of Saint Antony's street, where they lodged; whilst the Earl of Argile was looking upon certain gamesters that played after supper, there was a gallant as brave as a Peacock, who in sporting manner untied about five and twenty or thirty Angels, and rose Nobles, which being bended together and folded one in another, served in stead of golden buttons to the cuts of a night gown, which the Earl had on, as the fashion was in those days. The Earl seeing him so sumptuously attired, and going about his business with such good grace, as one that meant no hurt, but only to make some sport, suffered him to do his pleasure. But when this roister thought he had enough, showing that that which he had done was in good earnest, he went slily away out of the hall. Whereupon the Earl (who had made as though he had known nothing, whilst he was fiddling about his gown) told the company how the knave had served him, and withal showed them evident signs thereof; which was not done without great laughter. Whereupon they (who were better acquainted with such sleights) gave him a caveat to be more wary another time, seeing for the present there was no remedy, but patience.  
10 I proceed to another good fellow, who was his craft's master as well as the former, at least had as good a grace in cunning conveyance. In the reign of King Francis the first, a gentlemanlike thief as he was groping the Cardinal of Lorrains pocket, was seen by the King as he sat at Mass right over the Cardinal; where he perceiving himself to be descried, beckoned to the King to hold his peace, and he should see good sport. Whereupon the King suffered him to do his pleasure: but shortly after he used certain speeches to the Cardinal, whereby he gave him occasion to feel for his purse. The Cardinal missing his money, stood in a maze, wondering at this accident: which ministered to the king (who had seen the whole pageant) matter of merriment. But when he had taken his fill of laughter, his pleasure was, the money should be restored to the Cardinal again: for he supposed the fellow had taken it of purpose to make sport. But he was deceived; for whereas he imagined that he had been some honest gentleman and of good note (seeing him so resolute, and setting so good a face upon the matter) he found afterwards that he was a notable thief indeed (disguised only like a gentleman) who meant not to jest, but counterfeiting a jester, to go about his business in good earnest, as the former had done. Whereupon the Cardinal turned the jest upon the King: who (as his manner was) swore as he was a gentleman, 〈◊〉 it was the first time that a thief had made him his fellow.  
11 And here the theft committed in the presence of the Emperor Charles the fifth, comes in very fitly after the former acted in the French Kings presence (as hath been said) and partly also with his consent. The Emperor having commanded his servants to truss up bag and baggage; whilst every man was busy in packing up his implements, there came a good fellow into the hall (where the Emperor was, with a small train, ready to take horse) who as soon as he was come into the room, and had done his duty, began to take down the hangings, making as if he had had other business in hand, and had been in haste. And though it was not his occupation to hang up, and take down hangings, yet he performed it so well, that when he who had the charge to take them down came into the hall, he found that another had eased him of that labour, and (which was worse) had carried them away. See what impudent thieves there are now a days.  
12 Howbeit the boldness of an Italian thief (who did the like) at Rome, in the time of Paul the third, was nothing inferior to the former. There had been a great feast in a Cardinal's house, and the plate being set up in a chest that stood in a chamber near to the hall, where the feast was kept: whilst divers waiting for their masters, walked in this outward chamber (or Anticamera as Italians speak) there came in a good fellow in a cassock, appareled like a steward, with a torch before him, who desired those that sat upon the chest to rise up, saying that he was to use it; and they were no sooner risen up, but he bade the porters that followed him to take it up and carry it away. This gallant trick was played after that the steward of the house and all the servants were gone to supper; at least it is to be thought that if any of them were then in the Anticamera (as their custom was) they did not mark it.  
13 But what shall we say to the boldness and impudency of another Italian, (hanged at Bononia about eleven years ago) who having served out a long prenticeship at Rome in learning to counterfeit men's hands and writings, and to take seals from one instrument to put to another; because he much resembled Cardinal Sermonet, went in a Cardinal's habit and train (though very small) through Mark d'Ancona and Romagna with a counterfeit Bul, whereby he said he had a commission from the Pope to gather the tithes of that country: albeit he came near no great cities for fear of being detected. But having had good success in his attempts (because the most took him for Cardinal Sermonet) he passed through Romagna and came somewhat near to Bononia. Now as soon as the Bishop of Ferm● (who was the Popes Vicelegate) heard thereof, he sent one of his gentlemen unto him (who had sometime attended upon Cardinal Sermonet) who certified the Vicelegate that he was not the man he affirmed himself to be; which caused him somewhat to suspect this gallant, the rather for that he had not observed accustomed solemnities and ceremonies which other Cardinals were wont to observe. Whereupon he sent him again with a troop of soldiers, giving him express charge and commandment to apprehend him, if he knew for certain that he were not the man he counterfeited himself to be. In the mean time this companion (being now discovered the second time by sundry privy marks) was better known by one of his ears, which he had lost for his good deserts, which he showed at unawares as he put off his little Cardinal's hat. The Captain therefore commanded his soldiers to lay hands on him. But he no less resolute, bold and impudent then before, charged them to take heed what they did, with his thundering threats making them all to quake for fear, braving it out with as high and lofty terms as the proudest Cardinal in Rome could have done, if the like violence had been offered him. The soldiers (who made scruple at the first to encounter him) were in the end encouraged by their captain to grapple with him. Where having apprehended him, they brought him to Bononia with two of his men who were not privy to this his knavery (the rest which were accessary being fled away.) And there he was condemned by the Vicelegate, and hanged at Saint Petronio's gate in a Cardinal's attire, wearing on his head a mitre of paper with this title or inscription, IL RE d'ye LADRI, The King of thieves, that is to say, The King of good fellows. He had six thousand crowns about him, which (as it was reported) was nothing to that which his two men (who were fled away) had carried with them. I do the rather set down this story at large, because it is a very notable and memorable fact. For albeit we have heard many who have usurped the name & held the place of those whom they resembled (as I have declared in my Latin Apology) yet they took such men's names as they knew were dead, or of whom a man could hardly hear any certain news. Which was far otherwise with this companion, seeing the Cardinal (whose name he borrowed) was then living (as he knew well) and not so far off, but that he might have heard from him in a very short time. Now sith I am come to the King of our modern thieves (even in the judgement of those that condemned him) I should do him wrong if I should proceed further, in hope to find any more notorious and cunning theft than his.  
14 Notwithstanding lest he should be left alone, and lest it should be thought that Italy only were furnished with such bold Britain's, I thought it not impertinent here to insert two other stories, one of a Frenchman, another of a Polonian, who for such feats (proceeding from like audacity) deserve not only to be of his Court and Counsel, but successors to his Crown. The Frenchman (as very a coney-catcher as the former) was borne at Saumur upon Loire, being so cunning in counterfeiting the King's seals and letters, that showing certain extraordinary commissions, which (as he said) he had obtained of the King, he got great sums of the King's receivers; & made a mighty mass of money by selling of certain woods which were felled for the King's use. But being in the end discovered, he went the same way that the king of good fellows had showed him: and as he was hanged in a Cardinal's habit, so this companion was executed at Paris in a gentleman's attire before the Church of the Augustine Friars, the same day that the Court of Parliament was kept in that Covent about sixteen years ago. Some are of opinion that he was the man that gave intelligence to king Francis the first (by means of a notable theft which he committed) of that which the Emperor Charles the fifth, and the King of England had plotted against him: and did not only advertise him thereof, but brought him their very tickets, instructions and letters. For meeting a Flemish gentleman upon the way traveling toward England, he took acquaintance of him, telling him that he was his countryman, and so road along with him to the haven where they w●re to take ship. Whither being come, when the Fleming was laid down to take his rest (waiting for wind and weather) the Frenchman (who had persuaded him to rest himself upon the bed) feigning to be sound asleep, rising softly, went and bought a budget like unto the Flemings, and having filled it with rolls of white paper until it was about the same weight, laid it upon the table in stead of the Flemings budget. And having so done, he awoke the Dutch man, and told him that he had left certain things behind him which he had forgotten, and therefore was of necessity to return back again, entreating him not to take it unkindly that he broke off company. The Fleming little suspecting what might be the meaning of this sudden change, but thinking he meant good sooth, could not but thank him for his good company, and after many kind embracings, recommended him to God's protection, and so betook him to his rest again: yet he left not his budget (I mean the budget which he supposed had been his own) any longer upon the table, but put it under his pillow. Wherein the simple fellow was like to that noddy, who when the steed was stolen, shut the stable door. Now whilst the Fleming slept, the Frenchman went post with his budget, which he should have put under his pillow, or in a surer place, before he had laid him down to rest. And you may easily conjecture whether the Frenchman brought not a welcome present to the French King (though he had stolen it,) and whether the Fleming brought not heavy news to the King of England. Some say that he beheaded him, saying that he would make him an example to all such sticklers as intermeddle in Prince's affairs, to teach them to be more wary and wise, and to handle the matter a little more cunningly. This is the fine fetch which was reported to have been played by him, whose cheating and knavery I have before recorded, both of them being practised against the same King. Which being so, we may well think that this cunning contriver of thefts, intended to benefit himself in endomaging the King as much by his last thefts, as he had done by his first. But many are of opinion that they came from two several men, and were coined in two several mints. Howsoever, I would not give less honour to the one then to the other. I come now to the Polonian called Florian, for boldness & audacity nothing inferior to the former: who having by the same cunning device counterfeited the seals and letters of the King of Poland, came over into England as the King's Ambassador, where he continued a long time, being respected and honoured as be seemed one of his place; and where he forgot not to use the King's credit in divers thievish practices as he had formerly done, and as he did since in dealing with great States: the King his master seeking in the mean time to have had his head.  
15 I will add yet one other example of thefts (albeit I was purposed here to have made an end) not like the three last, nor any formerly mentioned, but rather contrary unto them, as having nothing common with them; and therefore so much the more necessary to be spoken of, to the end it may appear that our Age may not only brag of sundry new thievish practices, but of all the rare sleights and subtleties mentioned in ancient stories. For here we have an example of one thief stealing from another. A year ago, or somewhat more, there was a merchant in an Inn at Paris, who had laid up a great sum of money (which he had received for certain wares) in a cupboard: where a servant in the Inn having marked him, watching his opportunity, opened the cupboard, and stole thence two bags, one full of gold, the other of silver; and being laden with them, went about two leagues from Paris towards Montargis, where being come to his Inn very late in the evening, and weary of his journey, he entreated his host to help him to a horse, which might be ready for him the next morning: who told him it would be a hard matter to hire one. The traveler after divers offers, at last promised to give him a French crown for one till dinner: which free offer made his host somewhat to suspect him, especially considering he had seen his two bags; whereupon he promised to provide a horse for him against the next morning. Having therefore got him on horseback by break of day, & accompanying him to the place where he thought it fittest to arrest him, he took him such a bastinado in the nape of the neck, that he struck him down to the ground, so amazed that he knew not where he was; and afterwards made such agreement with him (crying out only for mercy) that having taken as much of the stolen money as he thought good, he returned home again with his horse. Now it so fortuned, that one of those who went post to pursue the thief, found him with the remainder of his money going towards Montargis; and knowing him to be the man he sought for, he fed him so with fair words, that he drew him along with him to the next town, and there committed him over to the justices to be sent to Montargis; where being imprisoned, he confessed the fact, and accused his host, who was presently sent for, to the end they might be confronted together: and notwithstanding his denial of the fact, was condemned to the rack. But he appealed to the Court of Parliament at Paris, where he was broken upon the wheel, the servant escaping better cheap, being only hanged.  
16 Thus having alleged sundry examples of the cunning and boldness of our modern thieves, it will not be amiss to record an ancient story taken out of the Author, for whose Apology this treatise is a preparative. Though in so doing, I shall pass the bounds which I have prescribed to myself, and anticipate the argument of the books ensuing: notwithstanding because it will not be prejudicial, but rather beneficial to the Reader, I am easily drawn to dispense with myself herein. Mark then the story of the sleight and policy (or rather sleights and policies) of one Villon, not borne in France but in Egypt, and that not some few years since, but above five and twenty hundred years ago: which story (taken out of HERODOTUS) I will here translate with greater fidelity, then either Laurentius Valla in his Latin translation (such as it was before my refining of it) or the French, which is now extant. These therefore are his words. A King of Egypt called Rampsinit, minding to lay up his treasure in a safe place (whereof he had far greater store than ever any of his successors) he built a house all of hewn stone, a part whereof stood out from the other building, to which there was easy access. But the Mason being disposed to play the knave with him, left a stone loose in the building, which might easily be taken out of the wall by two, or (if need were) by one. The work being finished, the King laid up his treasure therein. After a time, the Mason perceiving that his glass was almost run▪ and the lease of his life well near expired, called unto him his two sons, and told them how (to the end he might leave them well provided for, and that they might have wherewith to make merry when he was gone) he had used a fine device in building the closet for the King's treasure: and having showed them in particular how they should take out the stone, he gave them the measure of it, assuring them that if they kept it carefully, they should be keepers of the King's treasure. Their father being dead, they stayed not long before they assayed the means prescribed. For coming shortly after to the King's palace in the night, and finding the stone, they took it out very easily, and stole the● 〈◊〉 ●ightie mass of money. The King coming thither not long after, and perceiving that his coffers were not so full as they were accustomed, wondered not a little; yet could not tell whom he might accuse, considering all the doors were surely locked, and all things sealed as he had left them. But coming thither the second and third time, and perceiving that his treasury diminished daily (for the thieves repaired thither continually) he caused ●innes and snares to be se● round about the place where the treasure lay. The thieves repairing thither as they were accustomed, one of them having entered in, and coming near to the coffers, perceived that he was entangled in a snare: and knowing in what danger he was, called to his brother, and told him what misfortune had befallen him, willing him to come in quickly, and to cut off his head: for (said he) if I be found here, and known, I shall be the cause of thy death also. His brother being ●asily persuaded (as liking well his advice) did as he had bidden him. And having laid the stone in his place again, returned home, carrying with him his brother's head The King coming to his closet early in the morning, was exceedingly amazed to see the thieves body in the snare without a head, especially considering there was no breach in the wall, by which he might enter in. Departing therefore thence, he did as followeth. He commanded that the dead corpses should be hung upon the wall, committing the custody thereof to his guard, straightly charging and commanding them, that if they espied any that did mourn, or bewray any grief or compassion at the sight thereof, they should attach them, and bring them before him. The man's mother, much perplexed that her son's body was thus hung up, came to her other son, desiring him to devise some means to take down his brother's body, threatening him, that if he would not, she would inform the King that he was the man that had stolen his treasure. He having been sundry times threatened and rated by his mother in this sort, and perceiving that she would not desist for all the reasons he could allege, devised this sleight. He saddled certain Asses, and lading them with roundlets of wine, drove them before him; and being come to the place where the guard watched the corpse, he let lose the hoops of the barrels, making way for the wine to run out, and then began to cry out and to beat his head, as not knowing to which of the asses he should run first. The guard seeing so much wine spilled, ran thither with vessels thick and threefold, thinking the more they saved the more they should gain. Where he in the mean time feigning as though he had been horn mad for anger, reviled and cursed them all. But seeing they spoke him so fair, and entertained him with so good language, he made show by little and little as though he had been pacified and had forgotten his former furious fit; and after much ado having gotten his Asses out of the way, he mended his barrels. Now among other speeches which passed between them in the mean time, one of the company being very pleasant, broke a jest upon him which made his worship laugh; in am whereof he bestowed one of his barrels upon him, which they resolved to draw dry, and to carouse of in the same place and plight they were in, entreating him to bear them company. Whereunto he condescended, and stayed with them. And because they had so kindly entertained him and made him such sport, he presented them with a second barrel: so that having that blessed abundance, even wine at will, they never left tippling and carousing, till their wits stood wetshod; and being in the end overcome with sleep, they rested in the same place. He then in the dead time of the night went and took down his brother's body; and to the further disgrace of the guard, shaved all their right cheeks: and laying the body upon one of his Asses, returned home again, having fully accomplished his mother's desire. The King hearing that the body was stolen▪ as highly displeased; and resolving by some means to find out the thief that had committed the fact, he used this device (which notwithstanding I can scarce believe.) He commanded his daughter to go to a brothel-house, and there to prostitute herself to all comers; upon condition they should first acquaint her with the most notorious fact, and cunningest knavery that ever they committed: and that he that should confess the stealing of the thieves carcase, should forthwith be attached by her, and sent to the Court. Whilst then the King's daughter addressed herself to fulfil her father's mind, the rumour of the King's intended resolution came to the thieves ears, who purposing to show that he was more crafty in preventing, than the King in inventing this wile, thus deluded his daughter: he cut off a man's hand newly dead▪ and keeping it close under his gown, went to visit her. Where she asked him the same question she had demanded of others. Whereupon he told her, that the most wicked and notorious fact that ever he committed, was the cutting off of his brother's head, who was taken in a snare as he adventured to rob the King's treasure; and the wittiest was the taking down of his corpses from the gibbet, after he had made the guard drunk. She hearing this, laid hands on him, with intent to apprehend him: but the knave (by reason of the darkness of the place) gave her a dead man's hand in stead of his own: so that whilst she thought she had him fast by the hand, he slipped away, leaving her this lifeless pawn to use at her pleasure. Which when the King heard, he was greatly astonished, as well at the craft, as at the boldness of the thief. In the end he sent his Heralds throughout all his dominions, commanding them to proclaim in the King's name, that he would not only pardon him that had done this fact, but highly advance him if he would repair to the Court. The thief reposing himself upon the gracious pardon of the Prince, went to the Court: where King Rampsinit having him in great admiration, gave him his daughter to wife, as being the wittiest man in the world. In that, as the Egyptians excelled all other men in wit and wiles, so he excelled all other Egyptians. This is the history as HERODOTUS relates it, which I have translated almost word for word as near as I could, to keep the propriety and grace of our tongue; a thing as difficult in translating of him, as of any Greek writer whatsoever, and that for sundry reasons not necessary here to be stood upon. Yet this I will not omit, how that in translating hereof, I have noted sundry 'scapes in Valla's translation, which notwithstanding I corrected not in my former edition. Neither is any man to wonder hereat, seeing I acknowledge in my Preface thereto, that I have left a number of 'scapes and oversights uncorrected, untouched and uncensured: considering also that the diligence which is seen in perusing a text when a man translateth it himself, is far greater, than when he correcteth another man's work, endeavouring to save the credit of the translator as much as may be: especially when he doth it in haste, as it is well known I did. Yet I deny not but that there are some places in the translation of this story, wherein I could not satisfy myself: and therefore I persuade myself I shall much less satisfy those who are skilful in the Greek tongue. But I presume, that they who are most cunning, and consequently do best conceive the difficulties with which I was to encounter, will of all others be most easily satisfied. Now this history suiteth so well with the argument in hand, that I could not well omit it, being written of a thief, whom the author graceth with the two properties specified in the former examples, to wit, craftiness and boldness, and both in the highest degree. Whereby we may learn what use there is to be made of paralleling of histories, especially of ancient with modern. For whereas the cunning and boldness of this old thief, may haply at the first seem strange and almost incredible; yet if we compare it with the craft and boldness of our modern thieves, we shall find that there is no such cause it should be thought so strange. And for as much as it may be thought somewhat hard, that the King could find in his heart to prostitute his daughter in such sort (as it is indeed very harsh I confess) yet soundeth it not so harshly in my ears, as this their censure of HERODOTUS doth (for I have heard many ever excepting, especially against this point) sith himself protesteth that he gives no credit thereunto, but only relates it as he heard it. And yet I could allege (if need were) sundry stories, which we must either account false and fabulous (whereas notwithstanding they are holden to be most certain and infallible) or confess that in this there is great semblance of truth.  
17 But whilst I was copying this story out of HERODOTUS, another came into my mind of a thief, or rather a cutter by the high way, infinitely more resolute than the former, and as bold and venturous as any of that cutting crew, whose fell and felonious attempts and actions have been before remembered. Dion the historian recordeth the history of this thief (or rather captain of thieves) who kept such a ruffling in the reign of Severus the Emperor about 195. years after Christ. A certain Italian (saith he) called Bulas, having gathered a troop of six hundred thieves, committed great robberies in Italy for the space of two years, maugre the Emperor and the many garrisons residing in those quatres. divers sought to take him, because the Emperor was desirous to have him apprehended: but he so handled the matter, that those which saw him, saw him not, those which found him, found him not, and those that had him, had him not; which he did partly by liberal and bountiful gifts, partly by crafty wiles: which he knew well how to put in practice in time and place. For he had intelligence of all such as at any time went out of Rome, or arrived at Brundisium (called by some Brendis) how many they were, so also of what quality and condition, and what substance they had. Some he forthwith dismissed after he had taken from them part of their goods: tradesmen he detained for a time, and when they had served his turn, he recompensed them for their labour and pains, and afterward sent them away. And understanding on a time that two of his men should be exposed to wild beasts, he came to the jailer and made him believe that he was the Provost-marshall of the country, and that he stood in need of the men whom he had in prison, and thereupon caused him to deliver them into his hands. Then going to the captain that had commission to discomfit him and his troop, he began (as if he had been some third person) to revile the thief, (that is himself) promising him that if he would follow him, he would deliver him into his hands. Whereupon drawing him along with him into a valley under colour as though he would apprehend Phaelix (for so was Bulas surnamed) he laid hands on him, and counterfeiting the person of the Provost-marshall, sat down in the judgement seat; where having called the captain before him, he caused one of his men to shave him; and having so done, he dismissed him, saying, Bid thy master have more care of his vassals, lest in the end they all turn thieves: (for he had of his crew at that instant a multitude of the emperors servants, some who for want of pay, and others by reason of their slender pay had left the emperors service to follow him.) Of which when Severus was particularly informed, he was mightily incensed, taking it in high scorn, that he who had been so victorious over his enemies in Britain by his Lieutenant, himself being in Italy in proper person, should be so bearded and braved by a thief. Whereupon he gave a new commission to one of his guard for the apprehending of him, and sent him with a great troop of horsemen, threatening him with death if he brought him not alive. The Captain having received such a peremptory commandment, understanding that he was wont to entertain another man's wife, caused her husband to persuade her to assist him in the business, that so he might be sure to surprise him. And by this sleight he was caught whilst he was asleep in a cave, & was afterwards brought before Papinian (governor of the Province) who asked him why he gave himself to robbing and spoiling? to whom he answered by propounding another question; And why (Sir) are you a governor? After this he was cast to wild beasts: whereupon his fellows (to the number of six hundred) were dispersed, as unable to do any thing without their captain.  
18 There remain two other sorts of thieves, of which I had rather here speak then defer them to the next Chapter, which I reserve for such as make no open profession of stealing, but cloak their knaveries under colour of their calling: which to speak the truth are none of the smallest (as most of those heretofore mentioned) but of the greatest and grossest, to wit, Pirates and bankrupts. First for Pirates; they are I confess no new upstarts, but of great standing, even from all antiquity, as may appear by certain verses of Homer, alleged by Thucydides. Yet our Age, number for number, hath had more cunning and skilful, more dangerous and hurtful thieves in this kind than any of the former. He amongst ancient pirates is famous for his boldness, who being brought before Alexander the great, and demanded how he durst be so bold as to play the pirate in the narrow seas? answered, Because I do this with a single ship, I am called a thief, thou that dost the like with a great fleet, art called a King. Which answer pleased Alexander so well (as the story reports) that he pardoned him. Here note that the word pirate which I have translated thief, signifieth one that robbeth by sea, whom we call a rover, or sea-robber: which general word I was the more bold to use, because it suiteth better with the other general, viz. robberies. But whether we use the general or the particular, it skilleth not: we have here the answer of a very bold thief, especially seeing he had to deal with such a mighty monarch as Alexander was. Notwithstanding I persuade myself, that he that shall well consider the dealing of Dragut (a pirate of our time) shall find that he was nothing inferior in boldness and subtlety either to him or a dozen of any of the most famous thieves mentioned in ancient stories. Concerning bankrupts, I will not say of them as I did of Pirates, that they are as old as the man in the Moon. For certain it is, there were no bankrupts till long after pirates began to rove, seeing it is necessary there should be banks before there could be any bankrupts: (for doubtless the coiners of this word, called them bank-rupts that kept not their banks, but broke them, which the Latins call foro cedere) and it was a long time (we know) before men knew what banks meant, namely before there was such traffic as now there is. And as banks are more in use at this day then ever they were, so breaking is more usual, there being as many bankrupts in some places as good bankers. In some places (I say): for I except France, as worthy to have this honour given unto it (not for that it is my native country, but because it is a truth cleared by daily experience) in that it is not so addicted to this kind of theft, as other countries are, and Italy above the rest. For it stands with good reason, that those who first brought up the use of banks, should be more expert therein then their scholars, and should reserve some secret or other to themselves, how they may break banks and become bankrupts, if they chance to be wearied with that occupation. For as they who are in good credit and account, and mistrusted by none, need no great cunning to become bankrupts: so they whose credit beginneth to crack, and to whom men have an eye, cannot handsomely break without many sleights and subtleties. Albeit these latter (as experience showeth) play the merchants herein more cunningly than the former. And verily the common saying, There would be no thieves if there were no receivers, aught to be extended to bankrupts. And it further gives us to understand, how transcendent the wickedness of this age is in comparison of the former. For now arrant thieves do not only scape scotfree, but find abettors even amongst those that should repress them, and who only have the sword in their hands to execute the law upon them. Nay there are some Churches in Italy which are professed sanctuaries of roguery: and rather harbour a thief that hath stolen ten or twenty thousand pounds, than one that hath cut a purse not worth a groat. And it is grown now to a custom to give days of payment, yea day after day; during which time, honest men who are cozened of all their goods in this sort, are constrained to see these conicatchers make good cheer at their own costs, and yet dare not speak a word. Now these days of respite, are strange alluring baits. I remember I was once in a place, where a side of a rich merchant's house (who was a banker) had been burned, where it was reported that himself had set it on fire, to the end he might with some colour obtain a longer day of payment, whereby he should gain twenty times as much as the fire had endamaged him. Yet I deny not but that such terms are sometime expedient, and that they were invented upon good consideration: I speak only against the abuse herein committed. But leaving the deciding of this controversy to more competent judges, I will add this one thing concerning these bankrupt thieves, that though I have spoken of bankrupts, taking the word bankrupt in his special and proper signification, yet I exclude not those that are comprised under the general acception, whether they become bankrupts by hiding their heads, or making over their goods, or otherwise.  
19 As for women's thefts, my purpose is to reserve them for th●● kind of theft whereof I am hereafter to entreat, as being that which makes them much more famous or rather infamous: and wherein if not all women (God forbid it should be so) yet some of all sorts have their hands. Whereas only some filthy queans, especially our puzzles of Paris use this other theft whereof we have spoken: whence I will borrow two examples which shall easily show that the number of cutpurses is not small. The first shall be of a woman taken as she was cutting a purse in the street, who perceiving that the party whose purse she had cut, would accuse her if she did not restore it again, took him aside, and leading him into a corner apart, told him secretly; True it is indeed I cut your purse, and put it in my basket among the rest, so that I know not which of them it is; see if you can know it better than myself. And thus she made him look for it in her basket which was almost full of them. I have also heard of an old woman, who seeing a poor wench much grieved for that her purse was cut, told her that she knew a good remedy for it: Deal (quoth she) as thou hast been dealt with. The wench easily persuaded to follow her advice, did so; and so it was, that in the first purse which she cut, she found her own purse again.  
20 But before I proceed to prosecute the second kind of theft, I will show a pitiful and lamentable thing accompanying these poor wretches executed for robberies, more to be bewailed at this day then ever. For where there is one that is touched with remorse of conscience, or confesseth his offence before he give his last farewell to the world, or call to God for mercy, there are ten that die like dogs; having no more feeling of the frown or favour, the justice or mercy of God, than bruit beasts. And how many are there (I beseech you) who are turned off the ladder whilst they are in their gibes and jests? One being in this case, said, Sirs, see you tell not my friends that you saw me on the gallows, for so you may chance make me run mad. Another; Masters, tell me in good faith, do you think I would ever have come hither if I had not been brought? Another, when his ghostly father bade him pluck up a good heart, for he should surely go that day to Paradise: O sir (quoth he) it will suffice if I come thither to morrow night. Another, when Sir john told him, My friend, I assure you you shall sup this night with God in heaven: answered, Go and sup there yourself, for I am purposed to fast to day; or, Go you in my room, and I will pay your shot. Another being upon the ladder, asked for drink, and because the hangman drank before him, he said he durst not pledge him for fear of the French pox. Another being led to the gallows, said he would not go through such a street for fear of the plague. Another, I will not pass through such a lane, for I am indebted to one there, who will arrest me. Another said to the hangman now ready to turn him off, look well what thou dost, for if thou tickle me, thou wilt make me start. But this of a Picard is most famous of all the rest, to whom (being upon the ladder) they brought a poor weatherbeaten wench that had miscarried, telling him that if he would promise upon his faith and salvation to take her to wife, they would save his life: whereupon desiring to see her go, and perceiving that she was lame and that she limped, he turned himself to the hangman, and said attack, attack, elle eloque: Dispatch, dispatch, she halteth. And I remember that being at supper in Auspurge with Charles de Marillac then Bishop of Vienna, and Ambassador for the French King, when this story was told; a Dutch gentleman who was at the table, paralleled it with another very like, of an accident that happened in Denmark, to wit, of a man adjudged to the block, to whom (being upon the scaffold) they brought a woman that had trod awry, offering him the same condition they had done the former: where the fellow having viewed her well, and perceiving that she had a sharp nose and flat cheeks, said he would not buy repentance so dear; uttering withal a Dutch proverb in rhyme, the meaning whereof is this, under a sharp nose and flat cheeks there is no good to be found. I remember also that it was concluded out of these examples at that supper, that whores in former times were more hated and abhorred then at this day. But to leave this discourse, and to return in a word to the jests and scoffs of these wicked wretches, I will only add this one thing, that if there were nothing else to show the power and efficacy of God's word where it hath free passage, this alone were sufficient to prove that where men's consciences are touched to the quick, such events are seldom or never seen; because the word of God teaching what eternal life and eternal death mean, and piercing through (as the Apostle saith) even to the dividing of the soul and the spirit, causeth the stoutest champions and most desperate ruffians seriously to bethink themselves of their future estate: whereas mens forged and devised doctrines, under colour of religion, dull some, and minister unto others matter of laughter.  
21 I proceed now to the second kind of theft, which I kept in store for women, I mean that whereby they hornifie their husbands. And here calling adultery theft, I follow the Latin, where furtum (which properly signifieth theft) is often taken for adulterium, that is, adultery. For which cause it is called by a periphrasis, furtiva Venus, furtiva voluptas, furtiva gaudia, and furtiva nox. The like circumlocutions being used also in Greek. And so a child begotten in adultery is called in French 
* A stolen child, word for word, or begotten by stealth.  un enfant desrobé. And verily (all things being duly considered) it will be found that there is no theft comparable to this, if we regard the common saying, That which is worth the stealing, is worth the restoring. Which cannot be said of the theft we now speak of: for how can a woman restore that unto her husband, which she stealeth not from him, but rather alienateth and loseth in suffering it to be taken from her? or what honourable satisfaction may make amends for such a fault? Therefore it was excellently said by the wittiest of all the Latin Poets, 
— nulla reparabilis arte  
Laesa pudicitia est, deperit illa semel.  Who also in a civil and modest manner doth not only express adultery by this or the like phrases, Laedere pudorem (which signifieth word for word, to hurt or wrong one's chastity) but by others also which properly signify theft, as when he saith, Auferre pudorem, and, rapere pudorem. Of the first we have an example in the second book of his Metamorphosis, in these words: Et silet, & laesi da● signa rubore pudoris. Of the second, in the sixth: 
Aut linguam, atque oculos, & quae tibi membra pudorem  
Abstulerant, ferro rapiam.  And in the first,— tenuitque fugam, rapuitque pudorem. And in the Epistle of Helena to Paris: Nec spolium nostri turpe pudoris habe. Which is spoken of a married man, and of her of whom he delivered that excellent saying formerly mentioned. In which phrases we are to observe the word pudor, shame, which signifieth, that a woman committing such a fact, doth not only lose her good name (as we say in French, Oster l'honneur à une fill, To take away a maids good name) but even all shame and modesty. We are here further to note, that our ancestors (to the end they might emphatically describe an impudent person, and show how great a vice they judged impudency to be) called an impudent man a dog, and an impudent woman a bitch. But how (may some say) do these examples taken out of Ovid and such like Poets, agree to the former discourse concerning theft, sith in the verses where married women are only mentioned, and not maids, it is not said that they defraud their husbands, but that, that is taken from them which properly belongeth to their husbands? To which I answer, that albeit women commit not this theft themselves, they are notwithstanding rightly called thieves; because that after they have defrauded their husbands of the love and loyalty which they promised them by solemn stipulation, and set it upon others, they yield and prostitute themselves unto them, that so they may steal that from their husbands which of right belongs unto them.  
22 I say they prostitute themselves: to put a necessary distinction between such as are alured by pleasure, and those who are compelled by force. For she that (for want of bridling her lust) is become bankcrupt of her honesty, hath (doubtless) a whore's forehead, and is in plain terms a very thief: whereas she that is not able to withstand the violence that is offered her, and so is constrained to yield to the wicked will of man; or is circumvented by subtlety, and so hath that taken from her which otherwise she would never have yielded, argues by her resistance not only that she is not accessary to the theft; but that her chastity is nothing impeached or impaired thereby. And what better guardian can there be of a woman's chastity then the love which she beareth to her husband? For if love be seated in the soul and not in the body; it must needs follow, that so long as the soul is not polluted with the body, chastity remains entire without either spot or blot. And how may we better know that the mind remaineth pure, the body being defiled, then by a woman's resistance? Now that chastity is not seated in the body, it is evident by that phrase which is usual in sundry languages, whereby she who before she was married was called a modest maid, is after marriage called a modest matron. Wherefore poor Lucretia did not judge aright of herself and her own estate, when she said, she had lost her chastity, considering it is not in the power of man to deprive a woman thereof. Therefore that which she afterwards added, that her body was defiled, but her mind was undefiled (as not consenting to the fact) doth control her former assertion, this being granted that the soul or mind is the seat of virtue, and not the body. Which point profane writers did not so well consider: for they do not only excuse this her foul fact, in imbruing her hands in her own blood; but have hence taken occasion to extol her to the skies, as a most virtuous and courageous woman, in revenging the outrage done unto her, by her own death. But before I make answer to the first objection, touching the violence and villainy, which (as they say) was offered and done to her chastity: I would desire them to show me what they mean by revenge; for in my understanding it is absurd, that an injury should be revenged by the death of him to whom it was offered, and not of him that offered it. I might further allege, that she said not, Mors ultrix erit, or, vindex; Death shall take revenge: but Mors testis erit, my death shall be a witness. As though she should have said, My death shall witness that to all the world, which lying hidden in my heart, I am not able to express. I was so far from being alured by lust and sensuality to yield mine assent, that my life by reason thereof is a burden unto me, and as bitter as death itself. For answer to the second. Be it that her death were vindicative, yet it were but a revenge of the injury done to the defiled body, and not of the wrong done to the undefiled mind, which is the seat of chastity. Whereupon an ancient writer (whose name S. Augustine concealeth) hath this excellent saying, O strange and admirable thing, there were two persons, and yet one only committed adultery. But S. Augustine disputeth the point further in this sort: If it were not light skirtednesse and levity that caused her to company with Tarqvinius, she is unjustly punished, considering she is chaste. For certes, the more her adultery is excused, the more is her murder condemned; and contrarily, the more her adultery is condemned, the more is her murder excused: this being granted, that it were lawful for a man to kill himself. The same father commending the fine conceit of the foresaid writer, hath a finer of his own in his second reason (if it be his) when as he saith, Si adultera, cur laudata? si pudica, cur occisa? that is, If she were an adulteress, why is she commended? if she were chaste, why was she murdered? Upon which words a friend of mine (an excellent scholar, and one whom God hath enriched with many rare gifts and graces of his spirit, the fruit whereof is reaped in many places of Christendom at this day) made not long since this pleasant Epigram, which I will here impart to the Reader: 
Si tibi fortè fuit, Lucretia, gratus adulter,  
Immeritò ex merita praemia caede petis.  
Sin potius casto vis est allata pudori,  
Quis furor est hostis crimine velle mori?  
Frustra igitur laudem captas, Lucretia: namque  
Velure furiosa ruis, vel scelerata cadis.  I will here also set it down in French as it was turned ex tempore by one of the Author's friends: 
Si le paillard t'a pleu, c'est à grand tort, Lucrece,  
Que par ta mort tu veux, coulpable, estre louée:  
Mais si ta chasteté, par force est violée,  
Pour le forfeit d'autruy, mourir est-ce sagesse?  
Pour neant donc tu veux ta memoire estre heureuse:  
Car, ou tu meurs meschante, ou tu meurs furieuse.  That is, 
Were that unchaste mate welcome to thy bed,  
Lucrece, thy lust was justly punished,  
Why seekest thou fame that didst deservedly?  
But if foul force defiled thine honest bed,  
His only rage should have been punished:  
Why didst thou for another's villainy?  
Both ways thy thirst of fame is too unjust,  
Dying, or for fond rage, or guilty lust.  But not to speak of Christians, I persuade myself that if this fact of hers had been propounded to heathen Philosophers, they would have given no other judgement. Sure I am of Xenophon, who in two several places gives this reason why husbands may lawfully kill the adulterer, viz. because he steals from them the love and loyalty of their wives, due to none but to themselves: For if (saith he) it so fall out that a woman be forced against her will, yet her husband will entertain her as kindly, and love her as dearly as before, so long as her love towards him is hearty and entire. Which saying of his agreeth well with my former assertion, that there is no better guardian of a woman's chastity, than her love to her husband. Now this point I was the more willing to handle, as a cordial for chaste and modest matrons; that if they chance either by fury of the wars, or insolency of the conquerors, to fall into the like inconvenience with Lucretia, they should not despair as she did, but rather remember that which hath been said, and make use thereof: lest otherwise they run from one mischief into another, casting the helue after the hatchet, as it is in the French proverb. Of which desperate courses we have daily examples, some whereof (as they come to my mind) shall be recorded in the Chapter of murders.  
23 But, for one that taketh the matter so to heart, that she stands in need of such advertisements, there are (I fear me) an hundred who had need of other manner of admonitions, to put them in mind how strait the band of matrimony is; and to withdraw them from the detestable opinion of the Philosopher, who labouring by all means to confound the order of nature, heartened on women by the example of an house, which is not a pin the worse, for lodging other guests and inmates beside the owner. Epictetus' also (whom with Musonius I take to be the honestest of all the Philosophers) saith, that women in his time defended themselves and their sweet doings with the saying of Plato in his politics, That women ought to be common; and therefore they had this book continually in their hands. Wherein though Plato did much overshoote himself, yet it was the least part of his meaning his words should be wrested to this sense, or have this construction set upon them, which these modest matrons made thereof to defend themselves, and justify their dealing in the dark. For he said not, that women were to plight their troth to their husbands, that so they might keep open house for all comers; but he aimed at another mark, which though it be not warrantable, no not in the judgement of the very heathen, yet thus much I dare say, that it is far more tolerable than the long tail of mischiefs and inconveniences which adultery draweth after it. How ever it be, we may plainly perceive by the testimony which Epictetus giveth of the Roman Ladies in his time, that they took no such great delight in reading the history of Lucretia: for if they had, questionless they would never have pleased themselves so much in reading Plato's politics, especially those places where such sweet sayings are recorded. And though women at this day have not Plato's works, it skilleth not, seeing they can say their lesson well enough without book. Wherein I report myself to the dames of Paris, and to them rather than to any of our good gossips, not because it is the city wherein myself was borne, but for that the praise of all subtle sleights possible to be invented (whereby they cuckolize and hornifie their husbands, sore God knows against their wills) doth properly belong unto them in the opinion of all upright, conscionable and indifferent judges. Which commendation he gave them, who being told that the time would come when he should wear horns as well as his neighbours, and be mocked as kindly as he had mocked others, said, he knew a good remedy for it. And being entreated to show what preservative he had in store against such cuckolizing, answered, That he would never marry in Paris: insinuating, that there was no place in the world where this inconvenience might worse be avoided. For my part, if I were to speak my conscience herein; as he said, that he loved Plato well, but loved truth better: so having made this protestation, that I prefer the truth before my native country, I must needs confess, that though I have traveled through divers countries and sojourned there no small time, yet was I never in place where cuckolds are better cheap, or (to speak more properly) where they may be made better cheap then at Paris. Some cuckolds are glad they have such horns, thinking themselves the better for them: others, who are not yet come to this preferment, watch opportunity to climb thereunto. A third sort are mal-content with their heavy heads: but alas poor souls, there is no remedy but patience: for if they complain of their wives never so little, they shall be sure, not only to wear longer and larger in spite of their teeth, but in stead of pulling them in and hiding them, shall be made to show them to the world; as we see in the example of certain kind cuckolds mentioned before, who commencing suit against their wives for such dalliance and double dealing, got nothing but their pains for their labour, viz. to be pointed at even by little children, who could say, these are they who caused themselves to be registered for cuckolds by the sentence of the Court. By which we may see, what difference there is between this and former ages; when (as Xenophon witnesseth) the law was so strict against adulterers, that they only of all delinquents were to die the death. But leaving the histories of former times, we see how men are permitted in many places of Italy (in such a case) to do execution upon their wives, without other form of justice. And I remember, that during mine abode at Naples (shortly after the beginning of the war of Sienna) a certain 
* An exile, or banished man  Forussite being secretly entered into the city killed his wife, whom he took at unawares in the fact. And it was told me some few days after, that he was not only acquit and cleared by the Court, but that the magistrates were about to enact a law, that all Forussites who stealing privily into the city could perform the like justice in doing execution upon their adulterous wives, should not only be exempt from punishment, but also redeem their banishment. Yet I cannot justly say that it was so concluded: but sure I am, that I heard it spoken by one of their chiefest counsellors, shortly after the death of their Viceroy. And though we had no other story but that of the Sicilian Evensong, it were sufficient to show, that cuckolds were then made dog cheap. But I fear me, all that I can say herein, will be but so many waste words spoken in the wind, especial being directed to those who rely so much upon the noddy like simplicity, and cuckold-like bounty of their trim husbands. For doubtless there are a number at this day, cosin-germans to that wittal, who suspecting that his wife played the wanton in his absence, came upon a time and took her at unawares in the fact, and seeing his lieutenant's shoes standing by the bed side; See (said he) a plain proof hereof. It is enough for me to have seen it: and having so said, went back again, leaving them to make an end of their sport. And coming the next morning to his kinsmen and friends, told them what had befallen him: saying withal, O Lord how may a man be transported with anger? for when I saw the knaves shoes standing by the bed side, I could have found in my heart to have pulled them in a thousand pieces. But to return to the argument in hand. Albeit this discourse would serve for no other end, yet it would serve to prove that those huswives, who because they can so easily plant horns on their husband's heads, are called gallant wenches, quick witted, merry, discreet, wise, well spoken, sociable, or (at the worst) good gossips; should be termed (as they were in old time) thieves, bitches, and mastive-whores, to omit their common epithet of salt-bitches. But it is now high time we proceed to the pranks which women have played so cunningly with their husbands, that it is not without cause that both Latin and Greek writers call them thefts: for if adultery (how ever it be committed) may truly be called theft; much more that which is accompanied with such subtleties and sleights.  
24 To prosecute therefore the examples of the fine fetches practised by our huswives in such like thefts, far surpassing (in my conceit) the wiles and subtleties of our ancestors wives: I will begin with a sleight which I have heard at Paris a thousand times, and have found it since among the narrations of the late Queen of Navarre, being so famous that it may well be the ringleader of the dance. A certain groom of Charles last Duke of Alençon's chamber, having intelligence that his wife (much younger than himself) was very familiar with a young gentleman; being at the first very loath to credit the report, yet at the last he resolved with himself to try the truth thereof. Whereupon he feigned business abroad for two or three days: where his wife being loath to let so good an opportunity slip, without having her lovers company, sent for him strait after her husband's departure. But he giving them not so much time as to be one half hour together, returned back again, and knocked hard at the door. She knowing it was her husband, told her lover; who was presently stricken with such a bodily fear, that he would have given all the points at his hose to have been gone, and could have wished himself with the man in the Moon. But she willing him to make himself ready in all haste, bade him be of good cheer, and let her alone, for she knew a ready way to let him escape without danger. In the mean time her husband continued knocking at the door, and calling to her as loud as he could. But she turning the deaf ear, made as though she heard nothing, and to colour the matter the better, called aloud to one of her men, and said, Why do you not rise to cause them to hold their peace, that make such a noise at the door? Is this a fit hour to come to honest men's houses? If my husband were at home, they durst not be so bold. Now albeit he cried as loud as he could, Sweet wife open the door, yet she opened it not till she saw her lover ready, watching fit opportunity to slip away. Then opening the door to her husband (who had but one eye) and bidding him (or dissembling rather to bid him) welcome in the kindest melting manner, she began in this sort: Welcome home sweet heart; O how glad am I of your coming? for I had a strange dream this night, wherewith I was so delighted, that I never took greater content in all my life: for me thought you had recovered the sight of your eye. Then embracing & kissing him, she took him gently by the head, and closing his good eye with her hand, Do you not see (said she) better now than you did before? And whilst she thus welcomed him home, blindfolding his good eye, she gave her lover opportunity to slip away. The said Princess further reports, how a husbandman's wife hearing that her husband was coming, caused M. Curate (her second husband) to save himself in an upper fit, by covering the trap door with a fan: who wearied with staying there so long, looked through the trap door, where he espied the woman's husband sleeping by the fire; but the great Lout leaned so heavily on the fan (as he stooped down) that both came tumbling down together hard by the good man: who awaking at the noise, and ask his wife what it meant; Sweet heart (said she) it is our Curate, who borrowed our fan, and hath now brought it home again. The simple sot took this as a sufficient answer; yet (said he) he returns it very churlishly, for I was afraid the house would have fallen upon my head. She further maketh mention of a maid, who to the end she might more securely enjoy the company of her lover, who was servant in the house with her (which house the Princess also mentioneth) scared her mistress out of her house (in the absence of her husband) by making her afraid of a kind of spirit called a Hobgoblin. But her husband coming home again about two years after, & finding that his wife had removed to another house upon this occasion, brought her back to her old home, telling her that he would not fear him a whit, though it were the devil himself. And indeed he played his part so well, that albeit the spirit (I mean the maid that counterfeited the spirit, who also overthrew and tumbled boards, trestles and stools up and down the chamber) buffeted him the first night; yet he made the white devil pay for it the night following, catching hold of her hand as she began to deal her blows. Which puts me in mind of a like story which I have often heard of my deceased mother, of a maid that served jocelin Badius her father, who to scare all out of a certain room, whither she used to resort to solace herself, and spend the time in dalliance with a serving man of the house, counterfeited a spirit; which knavery had not been detected but by means of the said Badius her master, a man of excellent parts, and great learning for those times, as appeareth by his works. We read also in Boccace, that spirits, hobgoblins and such like phantomes, have holpen women to play the wantoness in celebrating these mysteries. And verily since spirits and ghosts left walking by night, women which followed the occupation have lost much by the bargain, seeing this was their last and surest refuge. I remember well, that when I was but a child, a Parisian cozened her husband by means of such a Robin good fellow; which knavery of hers was the argument of a play, which many years after I saw acted by the Players of Roan. See here (gentle Reader) how Monks and their mates (I mean their kind Kates) have benefited themselves and made their trenchers fat (as it is in the French proverb) with this opinion and persuasion of the common people; at which notwithstanding (since abuses were detected) even they who before maintained sundry like trumperies with tooth and nail, have made but a mock and a matter of merriment. For we are not ignorant what Tragedies the jacobins of Berne, and the Franciscans of Orleans played by means of these spirits, whose help notwithstanding in getting new customers, Monks and Priests used not, because the good opinion which men had of their holiness, did furnish them sufficiently with sundry other devices, as hereafter shall be declared: which could not for all that (since their knaveries were discovered) help them at a dead lift, and serve them as a Delphian sword for all assays, as in former time. And can we now wonder, that true religion which hath opened men's eyes, and enlightened them with the knowledge of the truth, should have any more mortal enemies than Priests and whores? Where under the name Priests, because Monks shall not complain that they are forgotten, I include the whole fry and fraternity of fornicating Friars, tag and rag, whether they be black, white, or grey.  
25 But to return to our modest matrons: let us hear how a dame of Sienna kept both her own credit with her husband and Friar Rainalds also, to whom (although he was her gossip (as being godfather to one of her sons) before he became a Friar) she had prostituted herself, not once nor twice, but so often, that a man would have thought she should have been cloyed, at least should not have been so greedy of such meat. It fortuned that whilst the Friar was with this filthy quean, and his fellow with her maid in a fit of the house, her husband came knocking at the door, and calling for her. Whereupon she cried out, Alas, I am undone, it is my husband. Then musing a little with herself, she bade the Friar make himself ready in all haste, and he should see how finely she would gull her husband, and boar his nose with a cushion. And having told him what part he should play in this pageant, she answered him (who was all this while rapping and bouncing at the door) I come to you sweet heart, I come. (Now here you are to note by the way, that she had laid her child in the same place where the Friar and she had been dallying together.) And strait she whips out of bed, and had no sooner opened the door, but she begins in this sort: O husband, wot you what? I had little thought I should ever have seen this hour, that we should lose our son: for except our good gossip Friar Renald (whom God sent hither in this our extremity) help us, I persuade myself we shall never see him alive again. Her sottish husband had well-nigh swooned at the very first: but after a while taking heart again, he desired her to tell him what the matter was. Whereupon she like a false quean began to relate every circumstance in this sort: At the first (said she) I was almost dead to see the child swound in such sort; for I thought he would presently have given up the ghost, so that I could not tell in the world what to do: but (as God would) M. Renald our good gossip came at the very instant, and taking him in his arms, said, Gossip, the child is sick of chest worms, which gnaw upon his stomach, and will be his death except he take some remedy for them: but fear not, I will conjure them well enough I warrant you, and that quickly; for before I go hence, you shall see him as well again as ever he was. And because (said she) we wanted you to say certain prayers, and that the maid could not find you, he entreated his fellow to say them in an upper fit; M. Renald and I having shut ourselves here in this room, because none but he and the mother of the child may be present at such a mystery. And I persuade myself he hath the child yet in his arms, and stays only upon his fellow, who if he had said his prayers, all were ended, for the child is now well recovered. The simple sot, nothing mistrusting his wives knavery, sighed deeply and said, he must needs see him. But she fearing jest M. Renald had not been ready, and in such case that he might not be suspected, said unto him: O good now, go not in yet, except you will mar all; stay ●ut a little and I will see whether you may come in or not, and accordingly I will call for you. The Friar, who had the child in his arms, and heard their whole discourse, made himself ready at his leisure. And when he thought it time to let them in, he called aloud, Ho gossip, did I not hear your husband? The simple coxcomb answered, Yes marry did you Sir. Whereupon M. Renald bade him come in: and composing his countenance to gravity, said, Here take your son, whom by God's goodness I have recovered; I did verily think he would not have lived till night: but do you hear sir, you must erect a statue of wax just of his bigness to the honour of God before the image of blessed Saint Ambrose, through whose merits our Lord hath showed you his favour. He then taking the child in his arms (as though he had taken him out of his grave) began to kiss him, and to thank his good gossip for this great cure. In the mean time Friar Renalds fellow (to the end he might so play his part, as that it might be answerable to the pageant which he had heard from the place where he lay hid) came down from the fit, and told his brother Renald that he had said the four prayers which he had enjoined him. Which done, the simple fellow made them a banquet of the best wine, with store of preserves and sweet meats; and accompanying them out of his house with a thousand and a thousand thanks, recommended them to God's protection: and causing a picture to be made in all haste, set it up among his other pictures before the image of S. Ambrose.  
26 Moreover, we read of sundry women who have played strange parts with their husbands, through the counsel and advice of Priests (or Monks) who had some interest in them; but those I will reserve (as reason requires) to furnish out the legend of Ecclesiastical virtues here next ensuing, (lest it should be said, that for the great respect I have of women's credit, I should ascribe that unto them which of right belongs to Churchmen.) To prosecute therefore my former discourse (after I shall have once again entreated the Reader to pardon me, if I be over-tedious in the rehearsal of some of these stories, the better to discover these damnable devices, and to breed a loathing and detestation of them, the memory whereof aught otherwise to be buried) I will begin with a fine feat played by a woman of Florence, as it is recorded by two Florentines, who have written of it almost in the same manner. Whilst this Florentine was with her knave, there came another, to whom (though sore against her will, yet for certain respects) she gave entertainment. She then hearing him come up the stairs, desired him that came first, to hide himself behind the bed, till she had sent the second away; whom, because she could not dismiss so soon as she wished, it so fortuned that her husband came whilst both were with her in the house. Then if ever there was poor woman put to her shifts, it was she, seeing she was to answer for them both at once, and to give a reason of their coming: and as for the second, he could not choose but be descried, having left his horse in the court, thinking her husband had been gone from home. What doth she then? Mark the wile of a woman's wit: she requested him that came the second, to draw his sword, and with an angry frowning countenance to run down the stairs, and to say as he went, I vow here before God I will meet with him in some other place: which when he had done (not answering her husband a word, who asked him what the matter was, but that he would meet with him some where else, which he bound with a great oath) the good man went up the stairs, and finding his wife at the stairs head (pensive and sore afraid) asked her what the matter was, and why the man whom he met went in such threatening manner? She drawing back towards the chamber; that her knave behind the bed might hear her, answered, Alas husband I was never in such fear in all my life; for here is a young man within, a stranger whom I never saw before, who fled hither to save himself, being pursued by one with a drawn sword. To be short, she handled the matter so cunningly by her prittle prattle (the gallant which lay hid, afterwards affirming that it was so) that whereas she like a villainous quean had done her husband double wrong in one and the same action, yet she made him believe that she had done both honestly and wisely, in foreseeing that no such mischief should be committed in his house. The good man then having invited the knave to supper, and furnished him with a good horse, brought him safely to his house to Florence. This was the Florentines feat. Let us now hear how another housewife near to Florence gulled her husband with the like; which though it may seem at the first not half so cunningly carried as the former, yet it exceeds not only it, but all the rest I have remembered: so that I cannot sufficiently wonder how women should have such wits & wiles to save their credit & good name, and in the mean time should be so ill advised to hazard the same. But the providence of God is much more to be wondered at, in causing these shifts and devices (invented to cloak their knaveries) to be the only means to discover them to the world, and propagate them to posterity: which ought to teach us to walk before him in fear. This gentle Gillian then having hid her varlet under the bed, went forthwith to her husband (who came home when she little expected) and began to chide him exceedingly, telling him that it seemed he was purposed to commit her into the sergeants hands, who were but newly departed, having ransacked every corner of the house. The poor man quaking to hear such news, asked her advice what was best to be done, considering the gates of the city were already shut. She told him she knew no better course then to hide himself in the dove-coat: where having mewed him up, & taken away the ladder, to put him in greater fear, she caused her knave to counterfeit the Sergeant, and after he had made a great rumbling noise about the house, she slept with him securely, holding him close prisoner of whom she stood in fear. It were infinite to recount all the sleights and subtleties which are reported of these huswives (to omit those that are daily invented) though I should but only reckon up such as have been played at Paris, where notwithstanding women have no such need of a Robin good fellow to help them at a pinch, as in other places, considering the great liberty (or licence rather) which is granted them. Now as we have spoken of some thieves more cunning than bold, and of others more bold than cunning: so we have examples of two sorts of thievish queans to instance this kind of theft whereof we now speak. And to begin with their boldness and impudency: I remember a notable example of a woman whom I have seen sundry times at Paris, who hearing her husband knock at the door as she was in bed with her lover, would not once stir a foot, but charged the porter (to whom she had given the watchword) that he should not open the door till he had been sound wet a full hour by the clock, to the end she might enjoy her knaves company the longer, and commit her villainy at her pleasure. Where her silly husband (nothing mistrusting such false play) continued crying and calling, Wife open the door. But the more he cried, the more she cursed, saying, that he laboured but in vain, and that she was too cunning to be deceived by such a companion, though he knew well how to counterfeit her husband's voice, threatening him withal, that if he would not be gone, she would crown him with such a garland as he would not like of. In the end when she thought it fit time (having hid her sweet heart) she set the porter to open the door: to whom notwithstanding she cried out at the window (to colour the matter the better) Thou knave, why dost thou open the door to this ruffian? thou shall answer for this gear. This pageant (being much like to one formerly mentioned) was played at Paris about seventeen years ago.  
27 But as the seldom and rare apparition of spirits hath not a little endamaged popish Priests and wanton women: so doubtless both of them have lost much by the bargain, since pilgrimages grew out of request, those especially, who because they could have no children by their husbands, were wont to seek the help of some good Saint. True it is indeed they have recourse to processions also (which are yet in some credit.) But going on pilgrimage (I can tell you) was another manner of matter then going in procession; for our Lady of virtues would by one means or other make virtues of vices before they came home again. Concerning Priests, I remember a subtle sleight invented by a woman dwelling near Amboise, which hath nothing common with the former, being such a device as by God's judgement befell the Priest who followed her direction. The story (which is famous amongst five hundred) is this: The Curate of Onzain near to Amboise, persuaded by his hostess (whom he kindly entertained) to make as though he would be gelded (to prevent the suspicion and jealousy of her husband,) and the feat to be done by one M. Peter des Serpens, borne at Villantrois in Berry, sent for his kinsfolks, and having told them that though he durst never discover unto them his malady, yet he now found his case to stand in such tickle terms, that he was constrained to take that course: whereupon he made his will, and having told M. Peter (to colour his knavery the better) that if he chanced to die, he would forgive him with all his heart (albeit he had secretly agreed with him only to make a flourish, and for this end had given him four French crowns) he put himself into his hands, suffering himself to be bound, and in all points to be handled as one that desired to be cut indeed. But it is to be noted, that as the Priest had agreed with M. Peter only to make a flourish as though he would do something: so his host (who had intelligence of this pageant) had covenanted with him under hand to geld him indeed, promising to give him twice as much as he had received of the Priest to counterfeit and do nothing: so that being persuaded by him, and having this silly sir john at his mercy; after he had strongly bound him with cords and thongs, hand and foot, he went roundly to work, and showed him a cast of his office indeed, telling him withal, that he was not wont to make a mock of his occupation. Lo here into what a pitiful plight this poor Priest was brought through the device of this wicked woman, and how going about to deceive her husband more cunningly than ever he had done before, himself was overreached by a cunning deceit, much more prejudicial to his person. This accident happened about 35. years ago. Now this gelding of the Priest puts me in mind of another not unlike, caused also by a woman, albeit upon a far different occasion. For Poggius writeth that there was one in Eugubium a city in Italy, who being exceeding jealous of his wife, and perceiving that he could not learn whether she used the company of some other or not, threatened to do her a shrewd turn, and thereupon gelded himself; that if afterwards she chanced to be with child, she might be convicted of adultery. And as one narration draweth on another, whilst I was penning the second example, a third came to my mind, caused likewise by a woman, though upon an occasion differing from both the former, which I would not have related (it being so exceeding strange) but that I heard it credibly reported by one who is a deadly enemy to lying and levity. The story is this: The bastard of the house of Campois near to Rommorantin having solicited a gentlewoman for the space of two years, and in the end won her good will: finding himself not so disposed to execute his villainy when she yielded herself, as he desired; departed to his lodging at Chabris in such a rage and fury, that having got a barber's razor, he cut off his privities, the indisposition whereof had frustrated him of his hope, and of the fruit of that which he had so long desired: and having so done, locked them up in a cupboard. This accident (as I was informed) happened about five and twenty years ago. And because it serves so notably to discover unto us what moody, mad, and furious spirits this age affordeth, I would not omit it no more than the former. Albeit they make mention of two sorts of gelding, which appertain not to the subtle sleights of women as the former.  
28 My purpose was here to have ended the examples of women's stratagems, but that one comes now to my mind which I cannot omit, though tending to an other end. (Notwithstanding all of them proceed from that spirit which hath ever been accustomed to make men the instruments of their own destruction.) See then as fine and cunning a stratagem as can be devised (for I hope I may be bold to use this Greek word, seeing of late it hath found such good entertainment amongst us) used by a woman of Orleans, to come to the period of her purpose, which was to draw a young scholar to her lure, with whom she was in love. For finding not how she might signify unto him the great affection which she bore him, she came to seek her Confessor in the Church, and making as though she were in great perplexity and distress, having told him under colour of confession that there was a young scholar (to whom she pointed as he walked by chance in the Church, little suspecting such a matter) who ceased not to solicit her to folly, and so to bring himself and her also into a peck of troubles: she earnestly entreated him to give him such good counsel as he thought fit and requisite in such a case. And hereupon (as one who feigned all this of her fingers) to the end she might draw him to her bower and bed, whom she had falsely accused to haunt her house, she told him in particular what means the scholar had used, viz. that his manner was to climb over the wall in the evening, at such an hour as he knew her husband was abroad, & after that to climb up into a tree, and so to come in by the window: to be short, that he did thus and thus, using these and these means, so that she had much ado to save herself. The ghostly father failed not to tell the scholar hereof, using such remonstrances as he thought meet. The scholar, albeit his conscience told him that there was not a word true of all that she had said, and that he had not so much as once entertained any such thought: yet made as though he took all in good part, as one that stood in need of such reproof, and thanked the ghostly father. But (as the heart of man is prone to evil) he was not such an ass but that he could imagine that she accused him of that which she desired he should put in practice, considering she had showed him the way which he was to go, and the means he was to use; whereupon falling from evil to worse, he failed not to go the way which was showed him. Not long after, the ghostly father (who had dealt in the matter in good earnest) seeing himself so cunningly abused, could not contain, but cried out in the open pulpit, There she is, there she is, that made me her bawd.  
29 But it were infinite to recount all their dainty devices, those especially which they use in this behalf: yet one thing there is very worthy our consideration, viz. that the false idolatrous religion (compared in holy Scripture to whoredom or fornication) hath always been the principal breeder and nourisher of this vice; and therefore the Catholic Clergy (as they will needs be called) have not only wrought their wits and employed their five senses to invent sleights, as well for themselves as for their paramours (whom they meant to abuse,) but have used for this purpose that which they call divine service, as namely the Mass, the very marrow of their Matins. For it is notoriously known, that they use it ordinarily as a bawd. Nay they are come to this pass, to make their midnight Masses, or (for default thereof) their Matins and morow-masses to serve for the same end, for which the Pagans used their Sacra bonae Deae. Thus we see how besides these wicked wiles, devised by our wanton wenches and light-skirted huswives, many, nay infinite have been invented by the counsel and advice of these ghostly fathers: who like good Churchmen should have set them in the right way to heaven, whereas they like blind guides, led them the ready way to hell. But I leave it to thy consideration (gentle Reader) how even the mealemouthed Monks and maidenliest Priests of them all, behaved themselves in private; when they were not ashamed to defend the stews in public, even in their popular sermons: as we have heard before of Oliver Maillard, who goeth yet a step further, and allegeth a place out of S. Augustine in defence thereof, and would make that holy and learned father believe, that he did approve of that which profane Pagans have condemned even by the light of nature: for if we compare the dealing and demeanour of the heathen in this particular with that of many who call themselves Christians, we shall find that they have dealt Christianly, and Christians heathenishly, that is to say, profanely. For the heathen punished adultery very severely, and for the most part with death itself: whereas many Christians (as elsewhere I have showed) make but a jest of it, and a matter of merriment. And such are the times, and so great is the corruption of this age, that he that would have examples of rare chastity indeed, is to seek them rather in ancient then in modern stories. And here I remember that Baptista Fulgosius having recorded a story of the chastity of a maid of Alexandria called Pythomene, breaks forth into an exclamation, considering the difference betwixt maids in those times, & those at this day, which I will set down after I have related the history as followeth: Pythomene being a slave to a citizen of Rome, was so exceeding beautiful and of such excellent behaviour, that the Roman became in love with her: but perceiving that he could not win her neither by promises nor by menaces, he began to hate her as much as formerly he had loved her; and thereupon accused her to be a Christian (as in truth she was.) All which notwithstanding, she persisted constant in keeping her chastity, though it were with enduring a most cruel death, viz. to be sod in boiling pitch. After the recital of which story, Fulgosius saith, where are those maids to be found now adays, who may not well enough blush for shame to read this history? sith most are so far from making resistance when men offer violence (which notwithstanding they might do without danger) as that they leave father and mother, sister and brother, kindred and acquaintance, yea and expose themselves to infinite dangers, only to satisfy their beastly lusts: whereas she chose rather to lose her life, than her chastity. The same author records other like stories▪ which would (no doubt) be accounted very strange, especially to such as make no more of fornication or adultery, but a work of nature and a trick of youth.  
30 There is yet another strange thing worthy to be observed, viz. that they who have such quick and sharp wits in contriving of these sleights (wherein they go far beyond their ancestors) should on the other side not only be brutish, but (as it were) blockish and senseless in matters of common course or civil conversation, especially in things appertaining to their salvation, which are as it were riddles unto them, and cannot sink into their heads; and therefore they lie open as a prey to all that will abuse them, as we shall see more at large hereafter. Whereas there is no such subtlety or sleight but they can easily conceive it: what say I, conceive it? nay plot and practise it for the achieving of their wicked designments: which I speak not of women only (albeit I have alleged no examples but of them only) but also of men, who notwithstanding (all things considered) have not heads to invent such subtleties as women have: beside they take liberty to themselves (so great is their corruption) to do that publicly which they condemn in women, though it be done never so privately; as though God had given one law for one sex, and another for the other. Another reason there is why men have no such great need of these subtleties and sleights, in that many use force and violence, as we see in rapes, which are committed at this day with greater impunity than ever they were. Yet when I speak of fine fetches, I must except our good Catholics of the Popish Clergy; who as they have played sundry juggling tricks of fast and loose, by means of their filthy bawds and bitches, whom they have used or rather abused: so have they done also by their sweet selves. That of a Franciscan is memorable among the rest, who married his fellow Friar to a rich widows daughter (a gentlewoman of Italy) as hereafter shall be declared.  
31 But to return to the fine fetches and subtle sleights of these gentle Gillians: consider here a cunning conveyance which may well be called theft, at leastwise juggling and double dealing, devised by certain huswives, who knowing themselves to be barren, bombast their bellies with store of linen cloth and little cushions (yet so as that they may swell by degrees) and counterfeit women with child who have lost their taste, or are wayward, or long for strange meats, or are heavy and ill at ease; and at the end of nine months feign themselves to be delivered of a child, conveyed secretly from a poor neighbours house, or perhaps from the hospital. But this is not all. For as these barren Does have used this cunning carriage: so have they also, who when God sends them a daughter, desire rather a son, the better to content and please their husbands. It is well known that there was a dame of Dauphiné about fifteen years ago, who perceiving that her husband bore her no great good will, for that she had borne him none but daughters, devised this sleight to win his love again. She dealt with a poor woman, who counted much about the time with herself, and after she had obtained a promise of her that she should have her child as soon as she was delivered, and that she had practised all the fetches formerly mentioned (requisite to counterfeit a woman in that case) being now to play the last and principal part of the pageant, she no sooner heard that the poor woman was in travel of childbirth, but she began to groan, to lay her down upon her bed, as though the pains of travel had come upon her; & thus she continued groaning, & waiting for the woman's child that was promised her. Which was accordingly brought her by certain midwives, and that so secretly that her husband did acknowledge it for his own son, and so it was generally holden of the most. But here consider Gods just judgement upon her, viz. that she could never set her love and affection upon him, nor find in her heart he should have any thing to do in her house (though by means of the foresaid supposition he was left sole heir by his reputed father.) And her hatred against him increasing daily more and more, in the end grew to that pass that he was constrained to oppose himself against her, and to seek remedy by order of law: where he prosecuted the matter so hotly in following of his right (as being the sole heir) that he called her to account for all the goods that his father had left her. Which did so sting and cut her to the heart, that she went about to compass his death; at leastwise it is credibly thought that he was murdered by her means. But consider another prank which is oftener played by women with child, who desiring to be delivered of a son (to win the love of their husbands) make inquiry against the time of their travel for some poor women (who come near their count) that they may agree with them upon some reasonable conditions to have their sons, whom they may substitute in stead of their own, if haply they be delivered of a daughter. Yet this is not the only reason why women use these sleights. But this I say, that those who use these thievish practices for the end before mentioned, are far more excusable (if any may be excused) then those that practise them to the end they may enjoy their husband's goods, and so defraud the right heirs. On the other side, there be some who hide their great bellies, that so they may be accounted honest maids or matrons; or lest it should be known that those who are now their husbands, were formerly their harlots. For which purpose vertugals (invented by courtesan courtiers) serve them excellent well. Whereupon a certain Franciscan descanted not amiss, who preaching at Paris on a time, said, that when women began to wear vertugals, they abandoned virtue, but the gale remained with them still.  
32 And here I will conclude this Chapter, though I am not ignorant that this argument would afford store of matter to furnish a more ample discourse, and that I have omitted sundry particulars appertaining thereunto; as traitors among the rest, who of all other thieves are most to be detested. For doubtless whosoever shall seriously consider their plots & practices, shall find them as it were compounded of all manner of thievish practices. Nay I dare be bold to say, that he that will make an Anatomy of treason, shall find that it hath sundry veins (as it were) and sinews of sacrilege, except we shall give Philosophers the lie, who teach that friendship is a sacred thing, and therefore in no case to be violated: which notwithstanding traitors do, and that in the first place. Howbeit, I persuade myself, that there were not half so many treasons in old time, as there are at this day. Yet herein God is merciful unto us, in that as the number of traitors doth more increase, so doth the senate of wise and deep-reaching politicians, who firk and ferret them out. Whereof I remember I have read a memorable example in Erasmus his book de Lingua, of Pope julius the second his Ambassador, who by speaking two or three words bewrayed himself, at leastwise gave occasion of suspicion, which laid the first ground of his detection. The story, as I have translated it out of Latin, is this. During mine abode in England, there came an Italian to the Court, sent as Ambassador from Pope julius the 2. to move the King to war against the French. Who after he had delivered his embassage before the King's privy Council, answer was made him, that his Majesty was for his part willing and ready to yield to his Master's motion; but that it was not so easy a matter to levy such forces upon the sudden, as wherewith he might encounter so puissant a Prince; considering that England by reason of long peace had not been enured to the wars: In answer whereunto, a word escaped him, which he might well have kept in; for he said he had told the Pope as much long since: which made the Lords of the Council suspect that (notwithstanding he were the Pope's Ambassador) he favoured the French faction; whereupon they watched him so well, that they found him conferring by night with the French Ambassador: for which fact he was committed to prison, and had all his goods confiscate. Howbeit if he had fallen into the Pope's hands, it would have cost him not only his livelihood, but also his life. Now these words (so sottishly spoken by the Ambassador) gave King Henry occasion to hasten the wars: whereas if he had concealed and kept them to himself, he might perhaps have accorded both Princes, and set them at unity. This is the story as Erasmus relates it, speaking of it as of an accident which fell out during his abode in England; and therefore might have certain intelligence thereof, especially considering his great credit in the Kings Court. And I was the more willing to record it (though only by the way) for that it affordeth us a very rare example of traitors, whose teeth are knocked out of their heads before they can bite: I mean who are discovered before they can achieve their plots and projects, or bring their purposes to their period. I say (only by the way) because my purpose is not so to insist upon them as to prosecute them to the full: but to content myself with that which hath been spoken, leaving the Reader to search out other examples which he shall judge fittest for this purpose. A matter of no great difficulty, seeing our modern histories are (as it were) full fraught with them. And now I proceed to discover, and (as it were) to point forth other thefts with the finger, not so easy to be descried. For though I here end this Chapter (which is too long I confess) yet I do not bid adieu, nor give a final farewell to all thieves.   

CHAP. XVI. Of the thefts of Merchants, Physicians, Apothecaries, etc.  
Having formerly spoken of notable and famous thieves, who being discovered, are strait condemned by the law, and sent to the gallows, wheresoever justice is rightly executed: It is high time I should now entreat of those who cloak their thefts under colour of traffic or trade, office or vocation: or (to speak in a word more plainly) who steal not like thieves, but like merchants, or men of this or that trade and occupation. But before I enter discourse hereof, I must entreat those whose consciences witness, that they are not of their number to whom I direct my speech, that they would not go about to make their quarrel good, who shall haply feel themselves to be galled hereby. For I protest, my meaning is not to speak any thing to blemish the reputation of such as walk conscionably in their vocations and callings, and demean themselves therein as in the presence of God.  
2 First then to begin with Merchants, their proverb is this, Où marchand, où larron, that is, either a merchan● or a thief. Which many seem to use as a mask, to the end they may not be discovered in their thievish knaveries. Others swear they are losers by selling their wares at this or that price; in the mean while dispensing with their oath, be it never so false in the sense they would have others to understand it: holding it sufficiently warrantable, if in their own sense and meaning it may pass for truth. For there is another proverb which saith, The merchant that is no gainer, is a loser. Whereunto they have relation, when they swear that they lose by this or that merchandise. I have also heard of a starting-hole which certain of them have found out, when they swear they have refused thus much and thus much, for such and such wares. But I leave their words, and come to their deeds: for we may easily beware of their words, if we keep in mind the Italian proverb, Non ti sidar & non saray gabato, that is, Trust not, and thou shalt not be deceived.  
3 And seeing that thefts committed in selling of wares, are either in the quantity or quality, I will first begin with the quantity, consisting in weights and measures. And doubtless, I were worthy great blame (my conscience would also check me of untruth) if I should say that our modern merchants had forgotten either their cunning counterpoizing of the balance in weighing, or the quick dexterity of the thomb in measuring. Nay they are so far from yielding an ace to their ancestors herein, that they are able (in regard of their good proficiency in the art) to read a lecture to those mentioned by Oliver Mayllard, and to teach them divers subtle sleights and conveyances in weighing and measuring, invented since for their own advantage. For touching the balance, some can make it rise and fall as they list, and never be perceived: and as for measuring, they are not content to use the trick of the thumb, but of the ell also. And yet without the help of these sleights, they can make it come to their own reckoning. Witness those who having some loose cloth, and not well fulled by the list (which is commonly seen in narrow clothes) will be sure in measuring it, not to go far in the breadth, but measure it in the list as near as possibly they can. These few examples may suffice for those that use subtle conveyances in weights and measures. For if I were disposed to busy myself with such as give indeed good weight and large measure (but it is good weight by their own weight, and good measure by their own measure, both being false:) besides that I should tell you of a thing not unknown to little children, and which is common to this age with the former, I should speak of a theft wherein there is neither subtlety nor sleight. Neither will I mention such as bearing men in hand that they sell by a great weight, sell by a small: or making as though they did weigh and measure by the standard of such a city, weigh and measure by another. Both which belong to quantity, as hath been said.  
4 Touching the quality, I mean thefts committed by falsifying and sophisticating of wares, it is a boundless and endless argument. First, there is no doubt but that may sleights and cheating tricks have been practised heretofore in corrupting and adulterating of wares: and that many are committed at this day, which were never discovered before. And besides those that have been in former time, and are in use at this present, many new ones are daily minted, to be put in practice when others chance to be discovered: considering also that one country useth this sleight, another that. And note, that when I say wares or merchandise, I mean generally all such things wherein a man may traffic, comprising herein gold and silver coined, as being metals wherein merchants use to traffic, as in common wares: beside that they afford means to traffic in all other commodities. And because my purpose is (among other examles of falsification) to insist in these two metals, I will give them the first place which they seem to challenge of right: sith not only all other commodities, but gold and silver also are falsified, to get gold and silver. First then we are to know that the falsifying of these metals is very ancient, as may appear by certain Greek and Latin words serving to express sundry sorts of this deceitful knavery. Secondly, that as the custom of falsifying metals is ancient, so the means to discover such deceitful dealing is as ancient, as of gold by the touchstone: whence this French proverb grew, which I have often heard at Paris: Il est de bas or, ill craint la touch: He is a counterfeit, he is afraid of the touchstone. But how many pieces of gold are there to be seen at this day so cunningly falsified, that they infringe the former proverb, in fearing the trial of the touchstone never a whit? How many pieces are there to be seen which must be deeply graved into (especially in Portuguizes, and other pieces of the value of half a Portugese, as those of Saltzbourgh) or else melted to discover the deceit? Moreover, there was a time when gold was not suspected to be light, unless it were clipped. Whereas now the fairest French crowns which are not clipped at all, are often the lightest, by the cunning of those who have drawn out their quintessence by washing them. Further, we know how that not long since it was easy to know whether a piece were souldred or charged, whereas now there are some so cunningly souldred, that a man had need to put on his spectacles if he would not be deceived. And whereas heretofore a counterfeit piece of gold and a false piece of silver (which we call a slip) was never so falsified but that it was worth at least the two thirds of the value: they have now devised a trick to confound metals so cunningly together, that some crowns coined at this day are not worth eighteen pence, and some quart d'escus not worth two pence. I am not ignorant that there are divers other subtle sleights found out to falsify these metals, but I hope I have sufficiently spoken hereof, to give notice how far this kind of theft (now in use) exceeds that which was used in the days of our ancestors. And I persuade myself (if diligent inquiry were made) that Alchemy (which hath bewitched more at this day then ever it did, even Princes themselves) would be found to be the true cause thereof. For as for those suitors who spent much time in courting Penelope, were at the last contented to enjoy the company of her waiting maid: so those who could not with their Mercury become so great Lords are they promised themselves, were at the last contented to become false coiners, employing in this fine art all those secrets and mysteries which they had learned in blowing so many years together.  
5 Having now spoken of the falsifying of these two metals wherewith all sorts of wares and merchandise are bought, serving also as wares to traffic in: it will not be amiss in the next place to entreat of such things, the mutual intercourse whereof maketh most for the preservation of man's life. What are these (may some say?) Verily such as serve for back and belly. The number of which (albeit it be exceeding great and almost infinite, yet amongst those which serve for the nourishment of the body) I will single out such as are sold by the Apothecary, and of such as serve for attire, only woollen clothes and silks. But here some may haply ask the reason, why I should bid battle to Apothecaries in this particular, seeing the greatest part of that which they sell, is extraordinary sustenance, serving rather for the sick then for the sound? I grant indeed that Apothecary's wares are usually (and almost only) for sick folks (if we except some irish mouths.) But I make choice of them the rather, because the falsifying of them is more dangerous. For whether is more dangerous, to adulterate the meat of one that is in health, or of one that is sick? Doubtless it cannot be denied, but that there is greater peril in corrupting the diet of the sick, then of the sound and healthful person. If any shall say, that all drugs which Apothecaries sell for the use of the sick, are not meats, but being converted into nourishment, become most pernicious. I answer, that such reasons make rather with me, then against me. For if potions be not ministered for nourishment, but for an Antidote to the disease (which may well be resembled unto poison) how much greater must the danger needs be in falsifying medicines, then in corrupting of meats? Besides, it is not of late time that men began to cry out against the Apothecaries qui pro quo: and we have already heard what sentence Oliver Maillard hath given hereof, where he allegeth the proverb which was currant in his days. But to let them pass with the time past, this I dare affirm for the present, that the abuse then committed as well in this as in other respects, was never comparable to that which is now practised, not so much for want of knowledge as of good conscience (though the error herein committed by our ancestors, may well be imputed to their ignorance.) For doubtless, neither simple nor compound drugs were so well known in the time of the former Preachers, as at this day. But to what end serve the books which instruct us in the knowledge of them, except we read them? To what end do the Doctors teach them, if men have not care to learn them? What is a sick man the better if his neighbour's garden (who is very curious in searching out of strange herbs) be full of that simple whereof he stands in need, if the Apothecary minister some other unto him which will prove perhaps as hurtful as the right would have been healthful? To what end serves traffic (which is now greater than ever) if Apothecaries make no conscience to carry rotten and mouldy drugs to the sick, and as long as they have any such, never take thought for a new supply? Besides, to what purpose is it to have a learned Physician and fortunate in his practice, if his receipt fall into the hands of an Apothecary that cannot read it? I hope Apothecaries are not so strait laced, but that they will grant that there are many of their trade who have much ado sometimes to read the prescripts of Physicians. Of mine own knowledge I can say thus much, that being in place where an Apothecary was perusing a receipt, I perceived that he read a clean contrary thing to that which a few days before I had learned at one of Master Silvius his lectures: and thereupon wagering with him touching the particular wherein I found the contrariety, we referred it to the Physician who had prescribed the receipt: who having demanded of the Apothecary, whether he were not ashamed to make a question of the truth of my assertion, affirmed that the Physic so ordered as the Apothecary had intended, would have been his patient's death, though he had had a thousand lives. I have also heard it reported by a very skilful and honest Apothecary, that himself heard an Apothecary at Blois, in stead of Agarici optimi (mentioned in the physicians prescript, and written with an abbreviation (as the manner is) Agarici opti with a dash) read Agarici opij: which opium together with other drugs, wrought in the patient so contrary an effect to the physicians expectation, that except his skill and provident foresight had espied the error and prevented it in time, it would have proved the poor patients last sickness. But because (when any object against them this their accustomed kind of qui pro quo) they answer that they follow the example or practice of ancient writers, and do as those who in the absence of the Parson go to the Curate (as it is in the French proverb) I would gladly request their further answer to this question, viz. whom they imitate of all the ancient Grecians, Latins, or Arabians, and how their comparison can stand, when in stead of an hot herb or drug, they take one of a cold operation, and contrarily: And in stead of a drier they use a moister: and in stead of a loser, a binder? etc. For I am not ignorant that the ancient Grecians have written a catalogue of certain drugs which might in case of necessity be used in stead of others: howbeit they did it not without examining the correspondence of their qualities; in which point these hucksters follow them not. For proof whereof, I would gladly see them answer Matthiolus, who reckoneth up a number of simples which they use, mistaking one for another, and others which they falsify and sophisticate by their mixtures and blending. But thus it is, unlearned Apothecaries will be sure to make no reply, but will pull in their horns, and say, that they do as they have seen others do. Others who have studied the nature of simples (though slenderly, God knows) will not stick to compare with such a learned man as Matthiolus was: nay some of them are not ashamed to prefer themselves before him, and to brag that they know some one herb better than he did: and further, that they do nothing in using their qui pro quo, but they can give a reason for it. To be short, they cloak their negligence or covetousness, or both, with certain flight and trivial questions, which they move upon some simples, presuming like Empirics upon some experimental skill which they arrogate to themselves: but poor patients (who in the mean time die in their hands, and pay withal for the pins) appeal from such skill.  
6 But leaving this their qui pro quo, wherewith they cloak and colour their knaveries (though it may be truly said that they dance but in a net, and cover themselves but with fig-leaves) I will come in the next place to their other sleights, which though they be not so commonly practised, yet are such, as that those who are taken tardy in them, may assure themselves that process is already out to attach them, if it be in place where justice is rightly executed. And first I will begin with Saffron, concerning which Maillard complains of such as used to moisten it, to the end it might be the heavier, and of those that mingled oil with it▪ fol. 66. col. 3. Nunquid ponitis oleum in croco ad dandum sibi colorem & pondus? He had spoken before of this wicked custom of moistening not only bags of saffron, but also of ginger, pepper and cinnamon, fol. 27. col. 2. Et vos qui ponitïs bags gingiberis, piperis, croci, canellae (& sic de aliis aromaticis rebus) infra cavean super terram, ut magis ponderent. His former words are these: Et vos Apothecarij qui ponitis gingiber ad faciendum species, nunquid consilium datis seruitoribus vestris ita faciendi? And in the place which I first alleged, he saith of the same abuse. Habetis gingiber, nunquid permutatis cum canella ad faciendum species? These are (as I remember) the greatest complaints which this preacher taketh up against Apothecaries and Grocers of those days. But (alas) if he were now living to see the demeanours of some of them, he might well say that he complained without cause. For what is it (I beseech you) in comparison of that which is practised at this day? especially since the custom hath been every where so rife, to sell bags of spices ready garbled? who knoweth not that they dust ochre into it, and pieces of bricks beaten small, and oftentimes rice, coriander, and crusts of bread, to help the colour? And lest spices by such mixtures should lose the strength and sharpness, they mingle pepper of Calicut (commonly called Guinnie pepper) therewith: as also half grains of paradise, with powdered pepper, and beaten almonds with saffron. They also falsify Scammony sundry ways. And as for Theriack (called treacle) many Apothecaries take any rotten drugs of their shops that come first to hand, and having well beaten them, put ink unto them to help the colour. In a word, there is not so much as Muskand Amber, which they sophisticate not. Besides, they put hot herbs into certain salves and ointments in stead of cold. But I will refer other falsifyings or sophistications to be deciphered by those of whom I have learned those already mentioned, contenting myself with this which hath been said, which may suffice to give warning thereof.  
7 There is yet another dangerous qui pro quo, where they put the dose of one drug for the dose of another, as when in stead of six drams of a drug which is less laxative, and two of that which is more, they put the clean contrary.  
8 I proceed now to another kind of qui pro quo, more practised (I take it) in these days then ever it was by our ancestors, especially considering that Maillard maketh no mention thereof. What may this be, may some say? Verily when they minister to a man, physic prescribed for a woman, and contrarily: likewise to a young man physic for an old man, and to an old man physic for a young man: to one that is sick of the dropsy, physic for one in a consumption, & contrà. Whereof a young gentleman of Savoy could give sufficient testimony, to whom they ministered on his marriage day a potion prescribed for one that had a fever, in stead of a drink which should have made him more lusty and frolic; so that being in bed with his bride, he was constrained to purge all the night long the contrary way. But he at Lions scaped not at so easy a rate: for a barber having given him a bottle full of aqua fortis (which he had taken out of a cupboard in the night, in stead of another water) and the patient having drunk it, it brought him to his end in less than four and twenty hours; which accident happened about six and twenty years ago. Now if any shall ask what theft Apothecaries commit herein? I answer, that whosoever performs not his duty in his trade, and yet taketh money as though he performed it, is a thief; whether the fault proceed from his insufficiency and want of requisite knowledge, or from carelessness by reason of a chevril conscience. But I shall not need (I hope) to speak further of this matter, to prove that our age deserves to bear away the bell as well in this as in other thefts: neither is it my meaning that my former discourse should any way crack the credit of those who attend upon their callings as they ought, but rather to bring them in greater credit with such as fear to fall into the hands of such like hucksters.  
9 But I might haply be suspected to have dealt under hand with Physicians, if I should spare to speak of them, having spoken so largely of Apothecaries. I will therefore (to take away all such suspicion) enter some discourse of them also, beginning with that which I heard related in my father's house at Paris in the audience of many, by a doctor of Physic, a man of good account (although this his relation did not a little blemish his reputation in the judgement of all that heard him.) I had (said he) a fat Abbot in cure, and had brought him to so good a pass, that I could easily have recovered him in a short time; but well perceiving that whereas in the strength of his disease he promised mountains of gold, with abatement of his pain he abated the promised and deserved reward, scarcely affording me a merry look or a fair word of any reasonable contentment: I took this course for mine own satisfaction: I told him that I doubted a dangerous relapse, which would prove worse than the disease, and that I saw evident symptoms thereof, and therefore that it was necessary he should take another potion to prevent the worst. So I prepared and delivered it, and it wrought the wished effect so well, that, within two hours after, he found he had reckoned all this while without his host, and stood in greater need of me then ever before. Being in this pitiful plight, he sent for me again and again: but as he had been forgetful to content me, so was I unwilling to pleasure him. I was (at least would be) otherwise employed. At last comes one of his men, who greasing my fist reasonably well, told me that his master entreated me for God's sake to visit him, thinking verily he should never escape. This fellow having used the only means to dispatch my business, entreated so well, that I went to the Abbot, whom within three days I recovered again, and made him as merry as Pope john, neither did he afterwards stick to regret me with the said silver salutation. This is the story, almost word for word as himself reported it, not thinking to disgrace himself any whit thereby (though he did to his loss, as he well perceived afterwards, wishing, with a hundred lashes well set on, he might retract his over lavish disclosing of it, which so nearly concerned both his credit and commodity:) but imagining that those which heard him did little favour the Monkish fraternity, he thought (belike) their dislike of them and their bad dealings, would have moved them to favour his folly, or at least to dispense with his cheverel conscience in abusing the Abbot, and so much mirth would have ensued thereon. But it was the will of God that the testimony which he gave against himself should not be forgotten. Now then consider (gentle Reader) in what a dangerous case those patients are which fall into such men's hands. For if when they use all their skill and knowledge, yea and all their conscience, they often hurt intending to heal, not knowing what they have done till it be past remedy. What a lamentable thing is it, when of set purpose they hazard the lives of their patients, only to try some paradoxical receipt, which they have haply dreamt of? and (which is worse) when they purposely intent (the toy so taking them in the head) to wreak some revengeful humour upon those whom they have in their hands, as when the barber holds the razor to a man's throat? But leaving this argument (as belonging to the tractate of murder rather than to this of theft) I will speak only of those, who the more they fat the churchyard, the more they fill their purses, cloaking their ignorance with arrogancy and impudency. For I persuade myself that this age and that last past, will better furnish us with examples of the greedy covetousness and blockish ignorance of Physicians, than any of the former. First therefore concerning covetousness, where can a man find the like to that of one called Petrus Aponus or Petrus de Apono, professor of Physic at Bononia, who would never go out of the city to visit any patient under fifty French crowns a day: and being upon a time sent for by the Pope, before he would go, he bargained for four hundred French crowns the day. Which puts me in mind of that which Philip Commineus recordeth of a Physician called M. james Cottier, to whom King Lewis the eleventh gave fifty four thousand French crowns in ready money (which was above the rate of ten thousand French crowns a month) besides he gave unto his nephew the Bishopric of Amiens, and divers offices and lands to him and his friends: where he to recompense the King for these so great favours, used him as if he had been his slave, giving him such hard and outrageous words as a master would hardly give his servant. But I will here set down the historiographers own words, who (as it is well known) is famous above all that have written the French storie●, as being accounted another Thucydides. These therefore are his words in the Chapter where he showeth how he suspected all men a little before his death. He had (saith he) a Physician called M. james Cottier, to whom he gave for five months 54. thousand French crowns in ready money, which was after the rate of ten thousand crowns a month, and four thousand overplus: beside he gave the Bishopric of Amiens to his nephew, and other offices and lands to him and his friends. The said Physician used the King so roughly with hard outrageous words, as no man would have used his servant. Moreover the King was so afraid of him, that he durst not turn him away (telling many how it grieved him.) Howbeit he durst not adventure to cast him off, as he did all his other servants; because he told him boldly, I know (saith he) you will shortly turn me off, as you do your other servants, but (by a great oath he swore) if you do it, you shall never live a week after. These words did so exceedingly terrify the King, that he never left flattering of him, and giving him what he would demand; which was a great purgatory for him in this world, considering the great obeisance so many great Lords and men of worth had done unto him. See here what this historian reporteth of this physician: who in two other places maketh express mention of ten thousand French crowns which he monthly received. These few examples will make us less to wonder at that which Froissart reporteth of a Physician called M. William of Harsely, who cured the French King Charles the sixth, and restored him both to his wit & health; how that he died worth three thousand pounds in ready money. But it shall not be amiss to allege the words of the historian, seeing he speaketh as well of the covetousness of Physicians in general, as of the said William in particular. For having spoken of this his great cure, he further addeth, that it was thought expedient and requisite still to retain this William of Harsely in the Court, and fully to satisfy him to his contentment: (for this is the period of physicians purposes, to catch the rewards, and to pocket up the gifts of Lords and Ladies, great ones especially, whom they visit and have in cure.) Well, they entreated him to make his abode with the King; but he requested them to hold him excused, saying he was old, weak, and crazed, and could hardly accommodate himself to the fashions of the Court: in a word, that he would return to his own home. They perceiving him inexorable, would not retain him perforce, but suffered him to depart, with a fair reward of a thousand crowns in gold; offering him moreover, that if it would please him to make his repair to the Court, he should be furnished with four horses at the King's cost, when he thought good. But I suppose he never came thither after. For being come to Laon (where his most abode was) death intercepted his return. He died very rich, leaving behind him the sum of three thousand pounds in ready money. In his life he was most miserable, taking pleasure in nothing but in treasuring up store of Ark-Angels: his expenses in housekeeping usually not amounting the sum of two pence halfpenny the day, (for he would make bold with his neighbours for his diet.) All Physicians are sick of the same disease.  
10 But I may not overpass one who hath surpassed (I suppose) not only the rest of that profession, but the rest of that quality, I mean of that covetous disposition (who died nine years since or thereabout) called jacobus Silvius: one of whose tricks shall suffice to give a taste of the rest. He was a man endued with most profound knowledge in Physic, and an admirable dexterity in delivery of his mind, so that he could speak readily as good and pure Latin, as his profession would permit: in a word, he was so rarely accomplished in regard of the Theoric, that if it had been seconded by practice, he might well have been reputed another Galen. But cursed covetousness had so possessed and poisoned his heart, and had made him so to forget God and all goodness, that whereas (to manifest his gratitude to the giver of those gifts) he should have taught some poor scholars privately for the public good: he chose would not permit so much as five or six poor scholars to hear his public lecture gratis, no not among two or three hundred who paid him monthly a quart d'escu a piece. Nay, it struck him to the heart to see at his lecture (in the College of Tricquet in Paris, where he used to read before he was the King's professor) two poor scholars who had paid him nothing; so that he commanded them forthwith to get them gone: which they being unwilling to do, he told the rest, that except they thrust them forth, he would not proceed. Which I report not upon hearsay, but as being an eye and earwitness thereof. This fact was thought so strange, that a Scot (lest he should unprovided for at his death, which happened 〈◊〉 till long after) made him an Epitaph, in a distich of excellent good grace, to express this his covetous disposition, which brought him into so great disgrace. The distich is this: 
Silvius hic situs est, gratis qui nil dedit unquam:  
Mortuus &, gratis quòd legis ista, dolet.  That is, (as I have turned it) 
Silvius lies here in this grave,  
That never any thing gratis gave:  
And still it grieves him being dead,  
His Epitaph may be gratis read.  But besides his intolerable covetousness, he had this bad quality, to envy the students of his profession, seeming to affect nothing more than to bring them to a dislike thereof. For proof whereof I might here allege the oration which he made at his first and second lecture, when he was advanced to be the King's professor. But that I remember he would often say, that a man could not be a Physician without the knowledge of all arts and sciences; and that it was absolutely necessary he should be of a good and strong constitution. Yea, that it was mere madness for poor scholars to study Physic: alleging for this purpose (besides sundry other arguments) the saying of Juvenal: 
Haud temerè emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat  
Res angusta domi.  It being requisite (and that for many reasons) that students in this art should have wherewith to maintain themselves. But no more of this man. To come therefore to the covetous humours of others of his profession: we have already recorded the story of King Lewis his Physician (as we found it in Philip Commineus) in whom this vice (as we have heard) was accompanied with incredible arrogancy: yet those who have read the story of a Physician of 
* 〈◊〉 Syracuse.  Sarragose in Sicily (called Menecrates) will not think it altogether incredible: for he was not ashamed, when he writ to any Prince, to style himself Menecrates, otherwise God jupiter. This Epistle among others he writ to Philip of Macedon, father to Alexander the great: Thou art King of Macedonia, and I am King of the Art of Physic: thou mayst (if thou wilt) put those to death that are in health, and I can save the life of such as are sick, and to the healthful I can give long life without sickness. Therefore the Macedonians which are living are thy subjects; but those that shall live, are mine. For I jupiter give them life. To this King Philip answered very fitly and finely in a word; which being translated into English, cannot have the like grace that it hath in Greek. For all his Letter was nothing else but a salutation, which the Grecians were wont to use when they writ to any, wishing them all health; as if he should say, Philip unto Menecrates wisheth all health: there being an equivocation in the salutation; for he referred that to the health of the mind, which seemed to be spoken (as it is commonly taken) of the health of the body: as though he should have said, This shall suffice for a full answer, that thy brain is out of temper. But let us hear another manner of bravado used by this devilish Physician, who would needs be called God. For seeing none but he (as himself bragged) could cure certain diseases which were thought to be incurable; he bound his patients, that for the benefit of their health once recovered, they should ever after obey and serve him as slaves and vassals: which they did, all yielding their sworn service to their said Sovereign; and in their several habits, one like Hercules, another like Apollo, a third like Mercury, another like Aesculape, some like one god, and some like another, attended on this jolly jupiter clothed in his royalties. But as the answer of King Philip well befitted this glorious fool; so the service he did him afterwards, no less became his godhead. For, having invited him to supper with all the gods of his retinue, in stead of such meats as others which sat at the table with him were served with, he caused oblations to be offered upon their table (whereon an altar was erected) and store of perfumes, frankincense, and sweet odours to be burned before them: which when these new gods saw, they stole away one by one, monstrously ashamed, but more an hungered. We further read in Ctesias of a Physician who had such a conceit of himself, that he presumed to make the daughter of a King of Persia his leman, under colour of curing her of a disease. As also in other historians, how that certain Physicians under the like colour abused divers Roman Ladies. Now let the Reader consider how many honest men may be made cuckolds by this means. True it is indeed, that a tailor of Florence (thus abused by a Physician) was kindly revenged of him for this injury: for coming home and finding his wife weeping and exceedingly perplexed for the outrage which the Physician (entreated by him to visit her) had done unto her never making show or semblance that he knew of any such thing, he went to the physicians house about a week after, when he was from home; and taking a fair piece of cloth with him, brought it to his wife, telling her that he was sent to take measure of her for a petticoat; whereupon she going with him into a by-room to undress herself, he used her, as her husband had used his wife. But to return to covetousness, one of the two vices wherewith I began this present discourse; is it not strange to consider that there should be such covetous Physicians at this day, as are not ashamed to importune and solicit their patients (being as yet in no danger of death) to make them their heirs, though no soul sibbe unto them? And is it not yet more strange, that they should so inveigle them as to obtain it of them.  
11 I come in the next place to the ignorance of those horseleeches which take upon them the profession of Physic: an argument so large and ample, that it might furnish us with sufficient matter to fill up a large volume, being also common to this age with the former. But I dare boldly affirm, that it is so much the more admirable and less excusable in this then in the former, in that the light of learning shineth now more clearly than it did in former time: or (to speak more properly) in that the palpable darkness of those times is now turned into a bright Sun shine. For if ever there were art or science poorly arrayed, and pitifully handled, doubtless it may truly be said of Physic above the rest: on the other side, if ever there were art or science richly decked, beautified, adorned, and restored to it former splendour and dignity; Physic questionless hath the prick and the prize: especially since students began to draw that out of the clear fountains, which they had taken before out of troubled streams; considering also that many stand in no need of interpreters to expound their teachers. What a shame is it then (for I am ashamed to utter it) to hear some Physicians even at this day call a clyster a cryster? For if it do not become a poor tradesman, who never learned his A, B, C; and if being pronounced by him, it sound harshly in the ears of such as have but only learned to speak in some tolerable manner: what ears (but those of an ass) can endure to hear it thus pronounced by those who do not only profess this science, but every and raise themselves thereby? And let the Reader consider how they pronounce other words, who are so barbarous in this which is so common, and how they use them crisse-crosse and kim kam. But what is it to me (may some say) though a Physician be ignorant of the tricks and terms of art, so he be skilful in his profession? I grant indeed, that ignorance of the terms might well be borne with, if it were so: yet thus much I dare say, that those who are barbarous in the terms of Physic, do commonly practise the Art barbarously. (Howbeit when I speak of the barbarousness of the tongue, I include not the Arabian herein, so it remain entire and in his purity.) But how (I beseech you) should they be good practitioners in Physic, who are not only ignorant of the terms, but of the very things themselves belonging to the Art signified by these terms? For example, though a Physician could not give the proper name to such or such an herb, it were not greatly material, so he knew it, and could show it (if need were) to the ignorant Apothecary. But how should they do this, when as many who know the right names of simples, and who in all reason should have more knowledge than any Apothecary, content themselves with this, that their Apothecaries know them? So that whereas they should control Apothecaries, they are often controlled even by Apothecaries themselves. Nay, some are so impudent, that they stick not to say, that the knowledge of simples belongeth not to their profession, and that they must needs trust Apothecaries therein. Wherein (me thinks) they do as one, who giving good advice, should leave it to be practised by the first comer, not knowing whether he were able to perform it or not. For undoubtedly the good receipt of a Physician, is a good advice which he giveth his sick patient. But what a miserable thing is it, if he must trust an Apothecary therewith, himself being not able to judge whether he do well or ill: nay, being altogether ignorant whether in stead of using such or such simples which are sovereign and medicinal, he use others which are dangerous and mortal? And I would gladly ask them (if I thought they would answer me) what name they best deserve in the opinion of the most competent judges that ever were, to wit, Hypocrates and Galen; who are neither good Herbalists nor Anatomists? For if in ancient time they thought it absurd to separate Chirurgery from Physic (seeing that a Chirurgeon, to speak properly and according to the Etymology of the word, is nothing else but a Physician that worketh with the hand) what shall we say of those Physicians who have no care to know either the fabric and frame of the body, or the nature and quality of those drugs and simples which they prescribe? but leave the one to Anatomists, the other to those whom they call Herbalists. Nevertheless I am not ignorant that these different offices are not used every where. Howbeit I persuade myself that all truly ingenuous who are not forestalled with a prejudicate opinion, will grant me that there are many to be found almost in every place, who take upon them the practice of Physic, and yet have need of such officers and attendants to troth after their tails (if I may use so homely a phrase.)  
12 I proceed now to other practices of ignorant Physicians, no less dangerously pernicious then impudently audacious. Some there be that bargain with Apothecaries to keep the receipts of learned Physicians, and to write in every of them for what disease it was prescribed. Then, not considering whether their patient's sickness proceed from the like cause, whether they be of the same temperature and age, and keep the same diet; nay, not respecting whether the patient be a man or a woman, cause them to swallow the same pills, and to drink the same potions. Others use the receipts of ancient Physicians, having no regard of our climate and manner of life, altogether differing from theirs. Others follow their own appetite in prescribing their patients a diet of such or such meats▪ so that a Physician who naturally loveth or misliketh these or these meats, will prescribe them or forbid them his patients accordingly. Others again, being afraid to lose their reputation, prescribe presently upon the first view of the urine, not ask whereof the patient doth complain: albeit many learned Physicians acknowledge that a man ought not to trust too much to the crisis of the urine, but to use it only as a help, being jointly considered with other symptoms. And if the learned have small insight into urines (as themselves confess) how skilful are the ignorant therein, may we think? Verily we assure ourselves that they have no skill in them at all: yet they are the men (forsooth) who as soon as they have looked upon the urine, strait put pen to paper, to prescribe some receipt for their patients, without any further inquiry after such symptoms as might bring them to the knowledge of the disease. At least, that Physician ought ingeniously to have acknowledged himself to have been altogether blind in such matters, or to have put on a false pair of spectacles; who when one brought him a man's state, and told him that it was a woman's who was thought to be with child; answered, that he knew very well by her urine, that she was with child indeed, and that she might assure herself thereof.  
13 But leaving their other devices to be discussed by those who have more leisure than myself, I will speak a word or two of Barbers & Chirurgeons: yet recording no extraordinary thing, but only that which many upbraid them with and lay in their dish, viz. how they defer that to the twentieth or thirtieth dressing, which they might have applied at the third or fourth, keeping the wound fresh & green, yea sometimes renewing them in steed of consolidating and healing them; as also how their gross ignorance is often the cause of the cutting off of an arm or a leg. Moreover I were greatly to blame, if I should not hold them as barbarous (at least in their kind) as the Physicians formerly mentioned. Now this puts me in mind of a Barber who after he had cupped me (as the Physician had prescribed) to turn away a Catarrh, asked me if I would be sacrificed. Sacrificed said I? did the Physician tell you any such thing? No, (quoth he) but I have sacrificed many, who have been the better for it. Then musing a little with myself, I told him, Surely (Sir) you mistake yourself, you mean scarified. O Sir, by your favour (quoth he) I have ever heard it called sacrificing, and as for scarifying I never heard it before. In a word, I could by no means persuade him, but that it was the Barber's office to sacrifice men. Since which time, I never saw any man in a Barber's hands, but that sacrificing Barber came to my mind. But seeing their ignorance & blockishness may be sufficiently discovered by such like errors, I will not prosecute this argument any further: but only call to mind that which hath been said, how I hold them no better than thieves, who being unskilful in their profession, make no conscience to take the reward due only to such as are expert and skilful in the Art. And verily, if we look a little more narrowly into the matter, we shall find them to be no simple thieves, but thieves in grain, seeing by their ignorance they deprive those of their lives, whom they had formerly bereft of their money. Now all this which hath been spoken, makes not a little for the credit and benefit of such as are Artists indeed, and practise it faithfully (whether they be Physicians or Surgeons, Barbers or Apothecaries) to the end they may be more carefully sought after: and on the other side that such horseleeches may the better be shunned and avoided.  
14 Concerning the second thing which I propounded to speak of, viz. commodities or wares serving to clothe the body: doubtless the subtle devices invented to falsify them, are neither so many nor so dangerous. And as I have spoken summarily of the former, so will I speak as briefly of this, and will only mention (as I promised) certain fraudulent dealings practised in woollen clothes and silks, to the end I may show that our age could teach the former wherein Oliver Maillard lived, some trick or other of cunning conveyance as well in this as in other particulars. And first I will begin with Merchants, who not content (by their subtle manner of measuring formerly spoken of) to get upon the measure, have devised a way to falsify clothes in regard of the matter, putting in flocks in steed of will: so that whereas chapmen think they have their cloth of like will within, as it appeareth to be without; they find by experience (after they have worn it but a little) that they bought plain flocked cloth. Now under the name Merchant I comprehend Clothiers, using the word in a general acception: and though there were nothing else, the common french proverb confirmeth it, which saith: Il fait assez qui fait fair. So that if I should speak of the deceit used in dying, I think I should offer Merchants no wrong to lay it to their charge. For though all false divers have not the watchword from Merchants: yet, as if there were no receivers, there would be no thieves; so if Merchants would receive no wares but good and merchantable, doubtless Clothiers and dyers would not falsify them. If they shall answer, that themselves are the first that are deceived: I answer again, that if they be not skilful in their trade, they should shut up shop. But to proceed to another argument; what will they say (trow we) to that late device in coining of new phrases and forms of speech, and making them go for currant almost in every man's mouth; whereby we are drawn to acknowledge that we receive better wares of them then indeed we do? I will instance & exemplify this with the stuff which they call Florence Serge, and will speak of it as of a thing which I learned to mine own cost. About ten years ago when men spoke of Florence Serge, they meant such as was right Florence Serge indeed, made in that city; but since that time, they have caused counterfeit Serge to be made very like unto it, which at the first they called Serge after the fashion of Florence (by which no man could be deceived.) Howbeit they have by little and little through long custom left out these words: After the manner, and have called it in plain terms Florence Serge for brevity sake; which abridging or rather clipping the kings English makes much for the profit of the seller and the cost of the buyer. I mean, when a Merchant of a good large conscience meeteth with a chapman, who is unacquainted with this new style. Which thing I confess happened unto me when this new phrase came first in use, and therefore I said I would speak of it, as of a thing which I learned to mine own cost. For having sometimes bought Florence Serge at Florence, and knowing it to be very excellent good stuff indeed, I had ever after a mind to wear it, and no other, if it might be had for money. Meeting therefore with a Merchant, who found Florence in France, I quickly agreed of the price, (though it was very dear) and departed glad of the bargain. But he met with me, and not I with him: for after that I had worn a short cloak (which I made of it) some few days, I perceived that I had not found Florence in France: and then you may assure yourself, I was not mute nor tongue tied, when I came to expostulate the matter with my Merchant for the cheating trick he had played me: who seeing he could not deny it, used no other excuse, but that it was the usual manner of speech. And what should a man say to this gear, (to speak Maillard-like) but Ad triginta mill diabolos talem modum loquendi? Now albeit I have instanced in this one example of Serge, yet it is not without a fellow; sure I am that Spanish felts may bear it company. For the case is not alike with these wares, as with those which they say were brought a hundred, two hundred, or three hundred miles off; albeit they were made but two or three houses off: but they are on the sure side of the hedge. For if they tell one that knoweth it not, that it is Florence Serge, it will be sold for Florence Serge: and if they tell another that knoweth it, they will answer him strait, it is the common and usual phrase of speech: the like may be said of Spanish felts.  
15 Notwithstanding I were to blame, if I should say that Silkmen are not as witty as woollen Clothiers. Nay contrarily I persuade myself that by how much silk threads are finer than woollen threads: by so much are silke-mens' wits more fine & subtle to devise cunning sleights to deceive. For first as woollen clothiers flock their cloth: so silkemen weave cruel with their velvet, which is to silk as flocks are to wool. Nay, I have heard that the ground of some of their velvet is plain thread. But they have a trick which clothiers have not; for by steeping them in water, they make them seem more substantial and better wrought then indeed they are. And if they can play the merchants so well in velvet by means of the water, they can do it much more in Satin by the same means. As for Taffeta, they steep it not only in water, whereby they deceive, but have a further device, whereby they make a piece of Taffeta which hath but two threads, seem as though it had four, that which hath four, as though it had six, that which hath six, as though it had eight, and that which hath eight, as though it had twelve: So that for ten else of Taffeta which is right grograine indeed, and wrought as it should be, you shall have ten pieces of counterfeit. Farther, we are to note that as Florence Serge which is sold in other countries to them that know not what belongeth unto it, goeth for Florence Serge, but to them that are acquainted with it, is sold for Serge made after the manner of Florence: so the Satin which they call Satin of Bruges, is but une hapelourde (as the French man speaketh) that is, a false and counterfeit stuff; & as I may say a meet bai●e to coney-catch those who either have not dea●● with any of long time, or have forgotten it: for to those that know it not, it is good Satin, to others that know it, it is Satin of Bruges. This short advertisement therefore shall suffice to stir up those, who by reason of their practice in the trade, are better acquainted with them than myself, to discover the like impostures: For there are ever two sorts of tradesmen of the same trade, fair chapmen and false cheaters. Otherwise I could not have discovered so many of their secrets and mysteries, if some honest Merchants of whom I learned the former, had not first acquainted me therewith. Therefore I protest it was the least part of my meaning to hover in generalities in my former discourse, neither is it my purpose to do it in that which followeth.  
16 Notwithstanding I may not in any wise forget Usurers, lest it be said that I favour them. True it is that when I first read in Menot and Maillard such a number of their subtle sleights and crafty conveyances, I thought it almost impossible to add any thing unto them: but when I begun to entreat of this argument, I perceived that I needed not go far, or trouble myself much in discovering of others, coming newly sparkling from the forge. Among which I will range this in the first rank (not because it is very witty, but because it is very pleasant) of an usurer of Vincence, who was very importunate with the preacher of that place to cry out lustily against usurers: and being demanded by him, why he was so earnest to have him preach against them; he gave him this answer: Sir (quoth he) I hope if you cry out mainly against them, and reprove them sharply for it, you will in the end make them leave it: and then if I can once be alone, or have but few fellows, I doubt not but I shall quickly grow rich, whereas now I can get nothing among such a multitude. But let us proceed to other wicked practices, much more pernicious, whereby they ensnare especially spend thrifts and bad husbands. For it is ordinary with bankrupts when they begin to break, to have their next recourse to usurers, though this be the breakneck of all, and the ready way to overthrow them horse and foot. See then here a trick very common at this day: If a rich merchant-usurer be entreated to lend a sum of money; his answer will be, that he hath none, but he hath wares which he cares not to part withal, so he may have the value of them in money, but that he shall be sure to lose by them if he sell them over quickly: whereupon he will direct the borrower to a good fellow (with whom he hath agreed underhand) who will not give above five or six hundred crowns for that, for which the borrower agreed to give a thousand; which thousand he is bound to pay, as though he had received the money in hand, and pursed it. Which trick hath affinity with that formerly spoken of by Menot & Maillard. But see here a far stranger device, which they mention not at all: for sometimes they deliver not the merchandise really, but by imagination; sending them only in their names to cause them to give a bill of their hand almost for twice so much as they receive. Moreover, there are such villainous usuries practised at this day, with such strange courses and proceedings, as (doubtless) the aforesaid Preachers never heard of: and it is not unlike but that they have been devised of late. For the means whereby usurers in some countries are wont to gnaw the borrower to the bones, are these: First note, that some are lender's by their occupation, and others sureties: when then a man cometh to an usurer who dareth for five in the hundred, and after much ado hath got a promise, upon condition he put in a sufficient surety, (the good wife also giving her consent by means of some good present) he must hire some good fellow to be surety for him, by presenting him with some thing; who will do nothing for all that, except he may have a pawn worth very near twice so much. And yet all this will not serve the turn neither, for that surety must get another surety, who must of necessity be won by some present at the borrowers cost. And after all is done, he (sparing nothing in the mean time to feast these conicatchers) bindeth himself in Derby bonds to give certain pledges at the terms end, if he miss payment at the time appointed. If then he break day, three or four under the name of pledges (more or less, as it was formerly agreed) come to an Inn, and there make good cheer at the borrowers cost. And beside, have a certain daily allowance mentioned in the bond, which comes often to twice so much as their charges: and there they run upon his score, till he come to take some other order; I mean, till he satisfy their host for all that they have spent, and content them for their wages: and by mediation of Angels renew the bond, both with the creditor and the sureties, to obtain a second term (for the first being expired, he must see them afresh, or se●ke for other sureties, such as his creditor shall like of) and so at the last, the land or house, or whatsoever was laid to pawn, is so deep in the usurers book, that the borrower is no way able to redeem it. But this is the devil and all, that they will not stay till he owe them so much as the pawn is worth, but cause the house to be adjudged them for the lone of 400. or 500 crowns, which is worth 1500. or 2000 whereof they are to have the use until it be plucked out of their claws, the usury notwithstanding of five in the hundred still running on, till it be paid, or till such time as at the request of other creditors the house or land may be sold at port-sale, that he may have the overplus of the true value. Albeit it falleth out many times in such selling by port-sale (the country being poor of itself; and the creditors men of power and might) that the house is sold or valued at half the worth, no man willing or daring to enhance the price. Besides all this, when the creditor lent his money, he delivered such pieces of gold as he thought good (whether they were weight or not, it mattered not) with hobby horses, and silver daggers, or such like toys, for such a price. Tell me now (good Reader) what sayst thou to this kind of usury? Dost thou think that the devil himself could do worse if he should become an usurer? for my part I am persuaded he could not. And yet the usury which is so common at this day, in grinding the faces of the poor people, makes their case much more lamentable, when griping extortioners do not only impoverish them (they being poor already) but even cut their throats, in taking their meat out of their mouths by their monopolies, daily devised by these wicked wretches going to meet the wagons and boats bringing in commodities, and corrupting the carters and watermen to make them stay by the way. I remember I was once in place where it was reported that these merchants for Monopolies caused the horses to be conveyed away, feigning that they had necessary use for them: where as it was well known, their drift was to take them from the watermen, that being unprovided of horses to draw their boats, they might be caused to stay by the way.   

CHAP. XVII. Of the thefts and injustice of Lawyers.  
COncerning thefts committed by Lawyers, especially by such as are termed Pettifoggers, though they be now far greater, and in greater number, and suits in law more chargeable than ever they were, (notwithstanding all politic courses and provisoes to the contrary) yet they are more tolerable than those of their predecessors. For if volenti & consentienti, non fit iniuria, and si nolentem qui servat, idem facit occidenti; what harm do pettifoggers, to hold out their hands and open their purses to such as desire to fill them, upon condition they make them some sport, and let them see a thousand fine fetches, and as many cunning conveyances and feats of theirs? In the reign of king Lewis the eleventh, there was a Bishop which took such delight in this sport, that when the King would have eased him of a number of suits, he earnestly besought his highness to leave him some twenty or thirty behind, wherewith he might merrily pass away the time. But that humour is now very common, and it is grown to this head, that men do not only delight in it, but seek no other pastime or recreation all their lives long: so that to live without suits, were a death unto them. What reason is it then that Lawyers should make them such good sport for nothing? Or that they should be weary of taking before they be weary of giving? And I am easily induced to think, that when they were called Pragmaticiens, that is, Pragmatitioners (by the original word) things were not so out of square; but since that a syllable of their name was clipped away, and they called Praticiens, that is, Practitioners, they knew well how how to make themselves amends for this curtailing of their name, as well upon their purses who were not in fault, as upon theirs who were authors thereof. Besides, these terms of pratique and praticiens were given them fitly for the purpose, to teach them how they were to handle those that came within their clutches. Further, most certain it is that Lawyers can get pounds more easily at this day, than they could crowns in former time: for whereas the Poytevin in times past commenced but one suit for a pin's point, he now commenceth half a dozen for as small a matter. The Norman who used to go by water for want of a horse, and to send his writs by land for fear of losing, rideth now on horseback, and carrieth his writings with him. And surely there is great reason, that horseman's practices should exceed footman's. But in earnest, I verily think that there are more pettifogging and coney-catching Lawyers to be found at this day, who do even slay, eat and gnaw the poor people to the very bones (especially where the Romish religion is in request) and use more crafty sleights, subtleties, cogging parts, concussions, and all manner of corruption, than ever were heard of in former time. Now it would the more grieve me for this age wherein we live (in which men are more given to wrangle at the law, than ever) if it were good going to law; then now it doth, seeing it is so chargeable. For as the sea, notwithstanding it be so boisterous and raging, hath many customers; if it were quiet and calm would have many more, even a hundred for one: so if Lawyers (who in kindness cut men's throats) do not discourage men from following them, what would they do if suits were not accompanied with so many miseries? doubtless the Poytevin who in old time commenced but one suit for a pin's point, and now (as hath been said) maketh half a dozen of it, would commence twenty (at the least) for as small a matter. In a word, it were good (in my judgement) for the ease of the poor people, if suits were so peppered and salted, that no man (no nor the devil himself) might swallow them. Notwithstanding, as when a wicked man is slain by another as bad as himself, we acknowledge the hand of God therein executing his judgements before our eyes, and yet we approve not the murderers fact: so when we see these busibodies who are ever wrangling with their neighbours, and following the law (albeit they might better sit still at home) to be so vexed and disquieted, and tossed from post to pillar, and so to receive their deserved reward by the just judgement of God; yet we may not approve those by whom they are thus molested. Let us therefore see whether Pettifoggers do more kindly entertain their clients at this day, than they did when Maillard and Menot were living: and for more brevities sake, let us hear what the most famous of all the French Poets saith hereof: 

Là les plus grands les plus petis destruisent:  
Là les petis peu ou point auxgrands nuisent.  
Là trouue-l'on façon de prolonger,  
Ce qui se doit, & se peut abbreger:  
Là sans argent powreté n'a raison:  
Là se destruit mainte bònne maison:  
Là biens sans cause en causes se despendent:  
Là les causeurs les causes s'entreuendent.  
Là en public on manifest, & dit  
La mawaistié de ce monde maudit,  
Qui ne sauroit sous bonne conscience  
Viure deux iours en paix & patience.   

There greater men the poorer swains devour,  
There never poor gainstood the mighties power.  
There means are found, short suits in length to draw:  
There needy clients wail the want of law.  
There famous houses find their fatal end:  
There fools in causeless suits their goods misspend.  
There wrangling pettifoggers wont to sell  
Their client's suits: there every cause can tell  
This cursed worlds mad guise, that are not able  
To live two days in peace without some brabble.   And a little after: 

Et cestui-là qui sa teste descoewre,  
En plaiderie, a fait un grand chef d'oeuure:  
Car il a tout destruit son parentage,  
Don't il est craint, & prisé d'avantage.   

Who doth but vail his cap the bar before,  
Hath done knights service in his client's cause:  
Though he have wrought his houses just disgrace,  
Yet he the more is feared and honoured more.   And then speaking of sundry sorts of suits, which he compareth to sundry kinds of serpents, he saith: 

De se froid là, qui lentement se train,  
Par son venin a bien seu mettre haine,  
Entre la mere, & les mawais enfans.   

And that cold serpent, with soft trailing gate,  
Hath learned to sow the seeds of foul debate  
Betwixt the mother and her impious brood.   Which agreeth well with that which Menot often reproveth in children, for going to law with their mothers. Further, the same Poet saith, that Cleargie-men, who ought to dissuade others from going to law, are the greatest wranglers of all others, in these verses: 

Pas ne diront, qu'impossible leur semble  
D'estre Chrestien & plaideur tout ensemble:  
Ainçois seront eux-mesmes à plaider  
Les plus ardans.   

They will not quite despair, that one self man  
Should be a Lawyer and a Christian:  
Yet who so hotly plead as they the while?    
2 To conclude all in a word, we are to take whatsoever the foresaid preachers have spoken concerning the miseries which accompanied their suits, and afterwards treble them, if we would know all the mischiefs and miseries which follow our wrangling in the law. And poor Menot needed not to have troubled his head so much about judges bribes (as though he could have cured this sore, which is Noli me tangere, that may not be touched:) for they learned this lesson many hundred years ago: and finding the practice pleasant and profitable, they have so well remembered it, that they could never since forget it. And if there were nothing else but tract of time since they first peaceably enjoyed this privilege, prescription doubtless would give it them. Tract of time I say: for if we duly consider what Solomon and the Poet Hesiod say, we shall easily perceive that even in their days justice (which is painted blind and without hands) was clean banished out of the world. Which custom though it be very ancient, yet our Age (I persuade myself) bears away the bell, not only in regard of the Theoric, but much more of the practic. For now they are not contented to take such bribes as may be eaten or drunken (as the cooks in Paris know well, with whom these Lawyers had to deal, fearing lest the great store of foul which came flying in at their windows, and dropping down their chimneys all at an instant, would be tainted before they came to the table.) Neither are they content that their wives should be presented with bracelets, chains, and rings of gold, winking at it as though they knew nothing: nor that their men should take under hand, to the end they may share with them in the booty: but are come to this pass, to say Come on, and forthwith put out their hands. Yea (notwithstanding the Proverb which forbiddeth to look a given horse in the mouth) they stick not to thing and peize the money, before they will say, Well then. And yet this doth not content them neither: for they are grown to this extremity, to cause many a poor Naboth to give them a vineyard of ten acres, to do them justice for a vineyard of five or six. Nay, they have gone a step further, and grown to harder terms: for they have not been ashamed to ask that which cannot be lent, sold, or pawned, neither by the Law of God, nor man; the loss whereof is far greater and as irrecoverable as the los●e of life itself: they are even come (I say) to enforce men to buy justice at such a rate, as is not only contrary to all civility and justice, but redounds also to the infamy of succeeding posterity. To speak in plain terms, there was in this Age within the reach of our memory a Precedent of the high court of Parliament at Paris, who did extend his right so far, as to request an honourable Lady, to lend him her placket piece, promising on that condition to give her audience. I will beware how I name that Precedent; yet thus much I dare boldly say, that it was he who was afterward metamorphosed into an Abbot: and being invested into that dignity, writ a book against the Lutherans, which he dedicated to the Pope: the style whereof was so hard and rough, that his Holiness carrying a leaf of it by chance to the close-stool, did all to chafe and excoriate his Apostolic seat therewith. To be brief, it was he, whose nose was enchassed in many fine Epitaphs, whilst the Pope (who had at that time many irons in the fire) should be at leisure to canonize him for a Saint. Howbeit I will not deny, but that if Communis error facitius, and if that be lawful for a Precedent of the Parliament which is lawful for other inferior judges; this judges advocates may allege the examples of some who have done little better, and of others who have done far worse. Among which the Provost called La Vouste may well be the ringleader of the dance, for the notable knavish part, which he played with a virtuous Lady, who coming unto him in hope to entreat him in her husband's behalf, (whom he kept in prison) he requested her to do him a small pleasure, only to give him a night's lodging, promising upon that condition to grant whatsoever she would ask. She (poor soul) was here put to a plunge; (and what woman is there who entirely loveth her husband, that would not have been in the like case?) For considering with herself on the one side, that if she yielded to his impotent affection, she should violate her faith plighted to her husband: and one the other side, that she should save his life by consenting unto him▪ she handled the matter warily and well. For although she was resolved to prefer her husband's life before her good name, yet she first acquainted him therewith; who easily dispensing with her, (as it is like he would) she let his Lordship take his pleasure, which he so much desired, persuading herself he would be as good as his word. But the next morning this wicked wretch, (yea supersuperlative knave, if I may so speak) having hanged him, said unto her; I promised (indeed) you should have your husband again: Well, I will be as good as my word, I will not keep him from you take him to you. If we here consider the difference which ought to be between Christians & heathen, can we say that the knaveries of Verres (for which he was so battered with the canon shot, and stricken down with the thunderbolt of Tully's eloquence) did any way come near this notorious villainy, committed notwithstanding in the sight of the Sun? I have often heard of another of his knavish parts, which (because it makes much to show his integrity) may well go hand in hand with the former, that so both of them may be registered in his chronicles. Whilst this jolly gentleman was about to hang a silly soul who was upon the ladder, a good fellow came unto him, and whispered in his ear, promising that if he would save his life, he would give him a hundred crowns in ready money: which words had so good a relish, and made his teeth so to water, that he presently gave a sign to the hangman to hold his hand, & (having devised a good scambling shift) came near to the place of execution, & said aloud in his gibbridge, Regardas', messeurs, en qual dangi● me mettio a quest malhurous: Car el a courone, & non m'oudisio pas: Lo mal de terre te vire. Davala, davala: tu seras menat davant l'official ton iuge. That is, See (my masters) into what danger this rogue hath brought me: for he hath 
* He aequiuocateth in the word courone, which signifieth as well a shaven crown as a crown in gold. His meaning was that he had a 100 crowns to give for his pardon: But he would have the people understand as though he had spoken of his shaven crown, viz. that he had primam tonsuram at the jest and therefore that he was in danger of Law, in going about to hang a clergy man, who was exempt from the power of the Civil magistrate. See chap. 40. ●ect. 5.  courone, and never told me. A plague light on thee. Come down, come down Sirrah, thou shalt be presented before the official thy judge. And here I remember another trick yet far more strange, played by another who had the same office. This good fellow desirous on the one side to save a thieves life that was committed into his hands, upon condition he might have a share in the booty (as was formerly agreed), and on the other side fearing lest the people should murmur and mutiny, if he suffered not the Law to have his course, and that himself should be in danger of his life, he shifted it thus. He apprehended a simple fellow, and told him that he had sought for him a long time, and that he was the man that had committed such a fact. The silly soul denied it stoutly, as one whose conscience acquit him of all that was laid to his charge. But the Provost being resolved to proceed on, and to prosecute the matter against him to the proof, suborned certain good fellows to deal with him under hand, and to show him that it was better for him to confess the fact (seeing that whether he denied or confessed it, there was no remedy, he was sure to lose his life): and that if he confessed it, the Provost would be bound by oath to cause so many masses to be said for him, that he might assure himself he should go to heaven: and though he denied it, he should be hanged nevertheless and go to the devil, because no man would procure him so much as one mass. The simple sot hearing that he should be hanged, and after go the devil, was terribly afraid, and said that he had rather be hanged and so go to God. In the end he told them he did not remember that ever he committed any such thing: notwithstanding, if any man did better remember it then himself, and were sure of it, he would die patiently: only he besought them in any hand to keep touch with him for his masses. He had no sooner spoken the word, but he was brought to the place of execution, to supply his room that had deserved death. Howbeit, being upon the ladder, he uttered certain speeches, by which he gave the people to understand, that he was sorry that ever he had confessed so much, notwithstanding the heaven and happiness they had promised him. To remedy which inconvenience, the Provost gave a sign to the hangman to turn him off the ladder, lest he should tell tales out of the school, which was done accordingly. But because I am come to the very height of these men's impieties, I will here strike sail and direct my course to another coast.  
3 And if I must needs speak of judges and justices wives, as well as Maillard and Menot, be it known unto all men, that they are not content to have their gowns died in the blood of the poor, nor to get their living by the sweat of their bodies (as those housewives mentioned by the foresaid preachers) but make their market better, and go a nearer way to the wood. For whereas they get nothing but brave apparel and jewels by such sweat, these get offices beside for their husbands. And what say these gentle Gillians and chaste Penelope's, Quae faciunt placitum Domini Abbatis, Domini Episcopi, Domini Cardinalis (as Menot speaketh) when they see their husbands advanced by their means, but that it is good to have the favour of great Lords, and that a man cannot tell what need he may have of their helping hand? Questionless, if Menot or Maillard were now living, they would answer them roundly (if they had not forgotten their old Latin) Ad omnes Diabolos talem favorem.  
4 Which being so, it cannot be but that that wicked kind of cheating and chaffering which was used in Menots time (as we may perceive by his complaints) should be much more common and ordinary at this day, viz. that Lawyers should lend their consciences to great Lords. For seeing they obtain offices of them at so easy a rate (viz. by their mere favour) they cannot choose (as they think who have as large a conscience as a shipman's hose, or a Franciscans sleeve which others call a chevril conscience) but make them win the day and carry the cause, though they should offer the greatest wrong in the world. Notwithstanding I do not affirm that all married men which are promoted by great Lords, are advanced by means of their wives: but this I say, that it is either a thing lately practised among them, or at least far more common and ordinary then in former time. How ever it be, our Age will afford us sundry examples of such as even with shipwreck of their consciences (if they had any) show great Lords that they are not unthankful, but that they so well remember the benefits and favours they have received at their hands, that they wholly become their most humble and affectionate servants. Howbeit I will not stand to exemplify this in those who do no better then damn their own souls in this behalf, but will record a very memorable example of a certain judge at Paris, to whom I hope I shall do no more wrong to put him in the rank among the rest, than they did him at Paris (Anno 1557.) in setting him on the pillory. This venerable judge purposing to show better than ever before, that he was a miller in conscience as well as in name (let not this crack the credit of those millers that keep a good conscience) & willing to show a great Lord how much he would do for him (being willing as it seemed to do much more than he was requested) not content to damn his soul to the devil in this case; flourished so with his Eloquence and Rhetorical insinuations, that he persuaded others to send their souls to hell for company. For he so hotly prosecuted the matter against the Countess of Senigan (who was unjustly accused to have holpen the Duke of 
* Al. A●scot.  Ascot to save himself out of the castle of Vincennes where he was imprisoned) that he suborned a number of false witnesses to depose against her, using for this purpose the help of a commissioner called Bowet: but both escaped at too easy a rate. For after they had been condemned for double dealing and false packing, in suborning false witnesses to further the suit commenced against the said Countess, they were adjudged to ask her forgiveness in way of honourable satisfaction, and after to be set on the pillory in the market place of Paris, and last of all to be banished. Neither do such base companions only stretch their consciences upon the tenters to pleasure their Lords and masters, (at whose command they are ready with life and limb) but to gratify others also. Witness the Chancellor who cried out upon his death bed, Ah Cardinal, thou hast sent us all to the devil. Which I speak not any way to blemish the good name of his successor; whose great knowledge (as all men know) joined with like integrity, may serve as a pattern and precedent to all posterity.  
5 But to return to false witnesses, and the suborning of them (because my purpose is to treat of them more at large). Albeit then this false packing in suborning of false witnesses be a sin of great standing, and almost as old as the man in the Moon: yet it never came (I take it) to the height it is come unto in these days, as may appear by an answer (which is now grown to be a byword in every man's mouth) made by a good fellow, who being demanded what trade he was of, answered, that he was a witness. Which answer could never have come from any, but from such a one as had had his abode in those places where men made witness bearing a trade or occupation, making merchandise thereof as of wares. And we may assure ourselves that his fellows would never have answered so simply. If any shall say, that the number of false witnesses is not (in all probability) so great at this day as it was some few years ago, considering there are not so many executed for it, as in former times. I answer that the reason followeth not: for experience shows that there are more put to death by order of Law in some places where less trespasses are committed, then in others where greater villainies are practised. The execution therefore of justice in one place often or seldom doth not argue the multitude or paucity of offenders in another▪ it shows rather the vigilancy and integrity of those that have the sword committed unto them. If they shall further reply and say, that though the number of false witnesses be now as great, and their punishment less than ever it was; yet it is not because there is greater impunity, but for that it is a point of greater difficulty, to discover them, considering their suborners teach them their lesson better, and they remember it better than their predecessors. I answer to the contrary, that it is as ordinary at this day for false witnesses to bewray, betray, and almost bewray themselves; yea and to beat themselves (as it were) with their own rods, as ever it was in former times. Among many other notable examples of false depositions (which have happened within these few years,) of such as had foully forgotten their lesson: that is commonly alleged (for proof hereof) which is of certain varlets suborned by a Lord of Berri against a citizen of Bourges called Boyverd, was who accused of murder: for whereas they were told that the best mark whereby they might know the said Boyverd, was that his nose was made like the handle of a razor: they being severally examined by the judge, and asked how they could know him; answered all with one accord, that they could easily know him by a cut of a razor, which he had upon his nose. So that when Boyverd (against whom they came to depose) was brought forth, they said he was not the man, because he had no scar upon his nose. And thus being detected, they were accordingly executed: the suborner and false accuser being beheaded and quartered only in effigy, which was no small advantage for him. Now albeit this be as notable an example of false packing as happened these twenty years. Yet we may not think that it is the only example, but that some of fresh memory may be found to match it. This at the least which happened (as most men know) within these seven weeks to certain false witnesses, suborned against one brought from Orleans to Paris fast bound & pinioned: how these wicked wretches so forgot themselves, that whereas they should have said, that the man against whom they deposed, had a red beard; they said he was swart, and had a black beard. Now what severe punishment hath been inflicted upon such companions. I leave the Reader to inquire; yet this I know (and who knoweth it not?) that during the last civil wars in France, and whilst the devourers of confiscations ruled the roast, this accursed trade was practised with as great impunity, as ever it was either in this or in former Ages.  
6 And is the lurry of Lawyers, who (as Maillard speaketh) take ab hoc & ab hâc, or à dextris & à sinistris, quite worn out? Nay would to God it were not much greater than before, and that it were not so notoriously known, that even little children could talk of it. Notwithstanding I will here allege one only example, which shall sufficiently clear this jolly manner of proceeding. The Attorney of my Lord Beauieu and heir of Miles d'Hyliers, Bishop of Chartres, (who is yet living, if he be not very lately dead) having received of the foresaid Lord a house standing in the place Maubert in Paris, (which he sold (as it is reported) for 150. or 200. pounds in ready money:) in recompense of the pains which he promised to take in advancing his business, in steed of promise, he like a villain betrayed him most perfidiously to his adversary (the Lord of Beaumond La ronce) in hope of a parcel of land worth three hundred pounds, which was promised him.  
7 As for cunning conveyances, subtle sleights, crafty devices, and cousining shifts used in Law, would to God they were but quadruple to those in former times, and that young beginners were acquainted with no more sleights than the craftiest Lawyers were in former ages. I will here allege only two examples to this purpose, which notwithstanding shall countervail two dozen of others. The first is of a crafty conveyance grounded upon a rigorous course in the formal proceeding of justice, not unlike to that in Terence, Summum ius summa saepè iniuria est: which is this. The Proctor and Counsel of a certain gentleman who was the plaintiff (as being the next kinsman) being corrupted, and having compacted under hand with the Counsel & Proctor of the adverse party, caused the said plaintiff to pay a certain sum of money, very fraudulently giving him the key of the budget back again in keeping, wherein the money was; to the end that when the defendant should come to receive his money at the time appointed, and that the depositary should answer, that he could not deliver him any till he had the key; he might take witness that he refused to pay it, and so sentence might pass on his side, that his adversary had not tendered the money according to covenant; and consequently that he might be cast in his suit, and wiped of all: which fell out accordingly. The second is of a most strange sleight devised to save the life of one imprisoned for a capital crime. The story is this. One William Kinsman being condemned by the under judge of Poitiers to be boiled in oil for a false coiner, appealed to the Court of Parliament at Paris; whither being brought, his proctor Belluchian gave him intelligence, that the next day he should be confronted with 20. witnesses. Whereupon Kinsman entreated him to send him some nimble headed fellow (promising to give him ten French crowns), and by him he directed the said Belluchian, that at night he should disguise himself, and repair to the house where the witnesses lodged, feigning himself to be one of the number: and that in supper time he should give it out, that William Kinsman (against whom they were come to depose) would escape as he had done sundry times before. The proctor did as he was enjoined; whereupon they growing hot upon his words, would needs wager with him to the contrary, and laid down every man his quart d'escu. Of all which particulars the proctor took a register by two public notaries, whom he had brought with him secretly for that purpose: which being authentically taken, he sent it to the said Kinsman; who being confronted the next morning with these witnesses, and demanded (as the manner is) whether he held them for honest men, and whether he would except against any of them? answered, that they were all as true to him as judas was to Christ; for (said he) they have sworn my death: for proof whereof, see this scroll. Now as this was (in any man's judgement) a most sublimate subtlety (as I may say:) so I think no man will deny but that albeit the defendant advised his proctor thereof, yet it may well be reckoned in the number of those which are daily forged in the Lawyer's shops (to use the French phrase,) and consequently may fitly be placed here among the rest.  
8 Now if there be haply any that will not rest satisfied with the former examples, but shall think that this age hath greater store of them: I will allege two others, which I hope will suffice to make up the whole number, and which (if I be not greatly deceived) were devised of late, at leastwise not mentioned by the foresaid Preachers. The first is, that whereas in former time, the definitive sentence of the judge did put an end to all suits; they have now found out a trick to continue, protract, and multiply them so much the more: for there are some suits which have been decided ten times by sentence of Court, and yet are as new to begin as ever they were. The second is, that for one head which is cut off from a suit, there forthwith spring out as many more, as there did in old time out of the serpent Hydra. To wind up all in a word, whereas our ancestors complained only of the length of suits (for it is no new saying, Lis litem serit) we have just cause to complain, that they can never have end.  
9 Now if it were necessary to particularise that which hath been spoken in general touching the corruption which is to be seen in perifogging practices, I could here allege a very strange practice, which (thanks be to God) was in request but only for a time, no longer than the credit of the author thereof, the self same man who was made so famous by a comedy acted in Artois, where it was said: Bertran di te lechon. Il nescé mie se lechon. Par me foy il luy faut bailler sur sès fesses. Non, non, il est trop grand pour avoir sur ses fesses▪ ill vault mieux luy bailler les seaux: that is, Bertram say thy lesson. He cannot say his lesson. In good troth he must be beaten. Nay, by your leave Sir, he is too old to untruss: we were better give him the keeping of the broad seal. This fine fellow (whom I will not make known by any other name) not content to seal hand over head whatsoever great men entreated him, granted writs out of the Court of Parliament at Paris to both parties, as well the plaintiffs as the defendants, with revocatory letters one upon another, sometimes to the number of six or seven. Now what age can boast or brag ever to have seen or heard the like?  
10 But if we should proceed further, and come to the fountain and original of these evils, we should (no doubt) find it to be so great, that we may well wonder they did not master the banks, and overflow in greater measure. For if we consider the great impunity and free liberty which is granted to prowling pettifoggers, chicken justices, and corrupt judges, who at this day wrest and pervert the law; we may wonder they do not ten times worse. But if we should see an exemplary punishment inflicted upon such malefactors, like unto that recorded by Herodotus, viz. that the son succeeding in his father's office (who had been a corrupt judge) should be forced to sit upon his father's skin, we may assure ourselves, they would look a little better about them; neither would they so eagerly pursue, nor so greedily gape after offices as they do. But I fear me, such Lawyers will answer, that when that punishment (mentioned by Herodotus) was inflicted upon this judge, offices were not set to sale and sold by the drum as now they are (seeing this customary buying and selling of offices began but of late years) and therefore that they had great reason to look a little better to their places: whereas the haste which men make now a days to fill their bags again, causeth them now and then to forget their duty. They may further allege, that whereas Herodotus reporteth that a young girl about 8. or 9 years of age, said unto her father, Look to yourself father, lest this man corrupt you with his bribes: they on the contrary are solicited by wife and children, by friends and kinsmen, to take every present that is offered. Now albeit this excuse may pass for currant with men, yet the question is, whether he before whom they must one day give an account of their stewardship, will take it for good payment; questionless they may assure themselves he will not. But to return to the impunity formerly mentioned: if we consider how the course of justice is perverted, and how they who should remedy and redress it, are the greatest agents for it, we shall not greatly wonder at the matter. And where they should begin to punish such as offend in this kind, I make them their own judges. For say they should punish some malefactors, yet what likelihood is there they should punish those to whom they secretly give the watchword, not to do as they enjoin them in their letters missive? But I will not prosecute this point any further, seeing a word is enough to the wise: only let me (for a conclusion of this chapter) parallel this ancient history in Herodotus with a modern example, which seems to suit and second it in this very point, touching rigour and severity in the execution of justice, much differing from the impunity which reigneth at this day. The story is recorded in Froissard, where he recounteth a fact of Baiaget the Turkish Emperor (whom he calleth Amorabaquin by the name of his father) being accompanied with certain French Lords, who upon the receipt of their ransom were newly set at liberty, in the reign of Charles the sixth king of France. His words are these. Moreover, it happened that whilst the Earl of Neuer● and other French Lords were in the Court with Amorabaquin, a poor woman came with a petition to the Emperor, desiring she might have justice against one of his servants (for it was his pleasure that justice above all things should be kept inviolably throughout all his dominions) who made her complaint in this sort: My Lord o King, I come unto thee as to my Sovereign, to complain of one of the grooms of thy chamber, who came lately into my house, and drunk up my goats milk which I had provided for myself and my children for all the day. I told him that if he did offer me that wrong, I would complain unto thee: and I had no sooner spoken the word, but he gave me two boxes on the ear; and would not forbear, though I threatened to complain unto thee. Do justice my Lord o King, and take order that I may be recompensed for the injury he hath done me, that all men may know that thy will and pleasure is to rule thy people with justice and equity, according to thy oath and promise. The Emperor gave good ear to her words, and said, With all my heart. And thereupon caused his Turkish servant to be brought before him, and the woman also, commanding her to renew her complaint. The man (who was terribly afraid of the Emperor) excused himself, and said, that there was not a word true of all that she had said. The woman replied both wisely and boldly, affirming that she spoke nothing but the truth. At these words the Emperor made a little pause, and said, Woman, be well advised what thou sayest; for if I find thine accusation to be false, thou shalt die a cruel death. She answered, Be it so my Lord o King: for if it were not true, I should have had no cause to have troubled thee: therefore do me justice, I ask no more. I will do justice (said the Emperor) for I am sworn to do it to all my subjects within my dominions. And immediately he caused certain of his jannizaries to apprehend his groom, and to open his belly (for otherwise he could not have known whether he had drunk her milk or not,) who finding it to be as she had said (for it was not yet digested in his stomach) informed the Emperor thereof. Who understanding that her cause was just, said unto her, Thou didst not complain without cause; now go thy way, thou hast justice for the wrong that was done thee: and forthwith caused her to be recompensed for her loss. Thus the man that had committed that fact was punished. The French Lords who were at the Court with Amorabaquin, saw this judgement executed. This history I thought good to parallel with that of Herodotus, for that in this point of severity they seem to have some similitude and agreement; albeit as well the actions as the persons upon whom the punishment was inflicted, be somewhat different. Howbeit I deny not but that this fact of Amorabaquin ought to be termed cruelty or temerity rather than severity, in that the theft which he punished was but petty larceny, and the party not convicted thereof by order of law. But like enough, the emperors intent was to terrify others by his example. I could further allege sundry other examples of like rigour and severity exercised by judges, and that upon their nearest kinsmen. And not to seek far off for examples, we read in the French Chronicles of certain Kings who have done the like. But that which should especially move Princes to execute justice (though they had no regard of him who will one day call them to a reckoning) is the example of those who through neglect or for default thereof, have first wasted, and after lost their countries. And if we consider the great change and alteration which is to be seen at this day, as well in this as in other things, we may well wonder thereat: for it is well known, that fifty pardons are granted with less suit at this day, than five could be obtained two hundred years ago. And we have heard how a judge of Paris (who was living within these hundred years) would use the same reasons for the due execution of justice, which men use now a days to hinder the same. For whereas we say, he is a young man, and in the April of his age, it were pity to put him to death, for he may do good service to his Prince and country; and on the other side, he is an old man, and hath one foot in the grave, it were great pity to hasten his death, which is ready to knock at the door: whereas (I say) those that bolster up malefactors, use such speeches: he (on the contrary) was wont to say of a young man, hang him, hang him, he will play the thief again; and of an old man, hang him, hang him, he hath played the thief too long. Which severe sentence of the judge concerning young men, puts me in mind of that which was once objected to the King of France refusing to grant a pardon to one that sued for the sixth or seventh murder, viz. that the fellow was guilty but of one murder, and that the rest were to be imputed to the King, considering that he had never committed the last, if the king had not pardoned the first. Which agreeth well with the saying of an heathen writer: Veterem ferendo iniuriam invitas novam. And, Inuitat culpam, qui peccatum praeterit. Which sayings ought duly to be considered of all such as plead or sue for the impunity of malefactors. And they ought further to remember that Bonis nocet, quisquis pepercerit malis. Now if heathen men did so well consider of these things, how much more ought Christians seriously to meditate hereon? Howbeit I deny not but that there are some who are ready to take the least occasion to practise their cruelty, and that from such things from whence others take occasion to be more slack and remiss. For example, during mine abode at Padua, I heard of one that had borne office in the city not many years before, who whipped a scholar so much the more, because he was his friend's son: for when the youth (after he had been sound beaten) told him that he was such a man's son: O (quoth he) he is my good friend: therefore because thou art his son, thou shalt have two lashes more.   

CHAP. XVIII. Of Murders committed at this day.  
COncerning murders, Menot keepeth a foul ado about nothing, in making great outcries against such as will not stir a foot when they see a man of worth slain in the streets. I say about nothing, not considering the thing in itself: but comparing it with that which is usual and ordinary at this day. For since that France was Italianized, I mean since it learned the trick of the Italian trade in hiring assassins' (for I must use new words to express new wickedness) to cut men's throats, as if they should agree with a Butcher to kill an ox or a calf; who can think the saying of Menot any thing strange? Nay, it were a rare thing if three or four days should pass over our heads without such accidents; whereas Menot (perhaps) never saw such a fact ten times in all his life. But what would he have said, if he had seen a murder committed at Paris about six years ago, in Saint john of Beanois his street, where myself was borne? where a Gentleman dining in a house right over against Saint john's Church, was entreated to speak with one at the door, about a matter of importance: who rising from the table went to the door with his napkin on his shoulder mistrusting nothing: whither he was no sooner come, but four men (whom he had never seen before) drew upon him, and played their prizes so well that they left him not, till they had laid him for dead in the place. The murderers departed at midday in the sight of a multitude there assembled, not a man among them so much as once opening his mouth against them. This murder I saw not myself, but only heard it constantly affirmed by very credible persons, who were there present. But I will here record another, whereof myself am eye-witness; which notwithstanding doth not so much concern murderers, and such as kill men for a set price, as the great impunity which is granted them in most countries at this day. During mine abode at Rome in the time of Pope De Monte called julius the third; an Italian meeting another in the street, asked him, when he meant to pay him that he owed him (which words I heard as I passed by.) And I had not gone a dozen paces further, but I heard a great noise, and I was no sooner come to them, but the party that had demanded his money, fell down dead, the other having stabbed him with his dagger. At the very instant came the Marshal's men (not mistrusting any such thing) who in steed of executing martial Law (as I expected) committed such a fact whereby there was no more difference between them and the murderer, then between a thief and a receiver. For in steed of apprehending him, and committing him to prison, they holp him and made way for him to escape. Which when I related to some of my acquaintance, they made me no other answer, but that it was an ordinary thing. And this puts me in mind of that which I sometime heard reported of a wag-halter of Bourges, whose surest refuge was the jail, by reason of the inward acquaintance he had with the jailor: so that whilst they were seeking him up and down the city (after he had played them one trick of conveyance or other,) he was already in the place where they would have lodged him, though entertained there after another manner than they would have used him. Yet we are the less to wonder, that one or two officers which should see justice executed, should harbour a notorious malefactor; then that a whole multitude should do it as it were with common consent; as they did at Rome towards this murderer, as hath been said. Moreover there is a custom in this country, which in many places would be holden uncouth & strange. For there are certain murther●▪ whereat justice doth not only wink, but also approveth, yea and often promiseth reward to the murderer. As when a Prince or weal public makes a law, and gives it out by proclamation, that if one exile can slay another within the confines of the country out of which he was banished, he shall not only redeem his banishment and be recalled, but also be rewarded and recompensed for his pains. I was (I remember) at Venice at the publishing of this proclamation some twelve years ago, and saw it put in execution the day after the publication thereof, as followeth. A banished man having secretly arrived and crept into the city the evening after the promulgation of this Law, had no sooner intelligence thereof, but he made diligent inquiry where he might find one whom he might murder according to the tenure of the said Edict: and being informed where such a one was, he watched him until the evening, and striking at him as he came out of a house, (but missing of his aim) he pursued him to the channel where he had cast himself, and there wounded him to death. I am not ignorant with what reasons they use to defend and justify this law. This is the principal, that it is a means to make banished men suspect each other, and consequently to keep them from assembling together. But Christians ought to leave such politic courses and considerations to Plato's commonwealth and Aristotle's politics, where a number of such devices are to be found, which ought to be so far from Christians, that they should not be once named without horror. However it be, I will here add another like historic of an accident which happened during mine abode in the same city, though I was not an eye-witness thereof as I was of the former. The Saffies of the city searching a ship (as the manner is) for wares de contrabando (for so they call all such wares as are forbidden upon pain of confiscation) they came to two Franciscans (at leastwise appareled like Franciscans) commanding them to open their chest; which they having sundry times refused to do, in the end they burst it open by force. Now the wares which they found in it were two men's heads newly cut off. Howbeit, after that the Franciscans had whispered them in the ear, they made no great matter of it, but turned it to a matter of merriment, and pleasant dispute, viz. whether these heads were forbidden wares or not. The report indeed went, that the matter should be hotly prosecuted against them: but within two days after, the storm was over, all was hushed and gone, which made the world suspect there was some false packing among them. Of which fact when speech was moved, I remember I heard it related, how that by this licence given by proclamation (much like to that formerly mentioned) a brother would bring in his brother's head. What would Menot and Maillard have said (may we think) of such Policy, if it may be so called? But howsoever we term or take it, I am to entreat the Reader to remember it, that therewith he may confront any strange Law recorded by Herodotus.  
2 But now to return to murderers and such as butcher men for a set price; a thing (doubtless) more to be lamented in Italy then in any other country: where those villains are many times so hasty to compass the death of those whom they have undertaken to make out of the way, (to the end they may finger a little money) that for want of taking a view, and marking them by the privy marks which are given them, in steed of them they murder those that resemble them: which the Italians call Amassar in fallo. I have further heard, that some being masked, have been slain in steed of others. And all the recompense which they could get, who have been thus encountered and set upon, yea so beaten & wounded, that they have been brought almost to death's door, hath been this: By your leave Sir, or I cry you mercy Sir, I took you for another. Indeed they bid those that are masked, unmask themselves, to the end they may see whether they be the men they seek for or not; which if they find them to be, they ease them of the pains of masking themselves again.  
3 But my purpose is here only to discourse of such murders as are punishable, and are indeed punished both by the law of God and man. To handle therefore the two principal kinds, there are (as we know) two sorts of murders: some are committed in way of revenge; others in hope of gain. Those that murder men in the heat of their rage, and in desire of revenge, either commit the fact themselves, or hire others to do it, whom they know they can draw with a silver chain, whether they be common assassins' or others. Those that kill men in their mad mood with desire of revenge, are likewise of two sorts: for some (as Frenchmen) t●ke present revenge in the heat of their passion when their blood begins to boil, at leastwise smother it not long: others (as Italians above the rest) nourish their revengeful humour, and suffer it to fester in their cankered stomachs a long time. Two things also are to be considered in the execution or act of revenge: for some revenging themselves upon their enemies, practise the saying of Virgil (not considering that he speaketh the host, not the inimico:) Dolus an virtus quis in host requirat? which is more practised by Italians then by any nation in the world. Others never do it, but openly, and as a man would say with drums and trumpets, never setting upon a man suddenly or at unawares, nor taking advantage of him, (which the French call supercherie) but giving him warning before hand to look to himself, and time to draw his weapon; making conscience to set two upon one. Which in old time was more strictly observed in France, then in any country the Sun doth circle; and is still practised by all true hearted Frenchmen, such I mean as do not degenerate. Notwithstanding I have heard many Italians make a mock at this custom. And no marvel, considering they profess and practise the clean contrary. For if once they bite their fingers ends in threatening manner, God knows, if they set upon their enemy face to face, it is because they cannot assail him behind his back. And they are not so mad as to bid him look to himself, or once to offer the encounter except they be the stronger, and so well guarded, that they will be sure to be two to one at the least: nay though they should set ten upon one, yet will they cry, Vittoria, vittoria. And which is worse than all the rest, besides all these advantages which they labour to get over their enemies, and the treason which they plot and practise to their uttermost, they make easy passage for themselves by means of dissembling treachery. Witness Simon Turk who slew an Italian at Antwerp (or caused him to be slain) about fifteen years ago, in a chair made by a most devilish device, having smothered his hatred for many years together, and given pregnant proofs of unfeigned reconciliation. Witness also (about the same time) the Italian who killed Vaudray the knight of the watch at Paris in S. Antony's street, in his own house: for having a long time borne him in hand that he had forgiven and forgotten the grudge which was between them, he came on a time to his house whilst he was at dinner, where Vaudray was no sooner ris●n from the table to embrace him, as one that professed great friendship & kindness, but he stabbed him with his dagger, and slew him. In like manner the Lieutenant criminal of Roan (about two years before) riding on his mule to the Court, was slain by an Italian, who stabbed him so nimbly into the breast, that his men perceived it not till he had conveyed himself away, and being mounted upon a lusty courser, saved himself by the swiftness of his beast. But because I am not ignorant that such examples as these are easy and at hand to every man, and that I should but cloy our dainty travailers who have been in Italy, with setting before them old coleworts in a new dish, I will here record a late murder, wherein we shall as in a crystal see the most devilish and damnable desire of revenge that ever entered into the heart of man. An Italian having nourished malice and rancour in his mind for the space of ten years together, dissembling all the while to be friends with his foe; as he was walking on a time with him, in a by-place came behind him and threw him down, and holding his dagger to his throat, told him that if he would not renounce God, he would kill him. The man being at the first very loath to commit so horrible a sin, yet in the end yielded to do it rather than to lose his life, and so renounced both God and the Saints, and all the Kyrielle (as they spoke in those days,) whereupon the wicked wretch having his desire, stabbed him with his dagger, which he held to his throat, and afterward bragged that he had taken the kindliest and the bravest revenge of his enemy that ever man did, in that he had destroyed him both body and soul.  
4 I proceed now to prosecute those murders that are committed of a covetous and greedy desire of gain; which are of two sorts. Some commit them in hope of reward, as I showed before when I spoke of assassins': others, in hope they may enjoy the spoil of travailers with more security, whom we call thieves and robbers. Of assassins', we have spoken sufficiently before. As for thieves, would to God they were not so frequent in all places: for it may truly be said of this age, that it surpasseth all the former in notorious thefts, as we may perceive by the new punishment inflicted upon such malefactors in the reign of king Francis the first, by his express edict. For seeing ordinary punishments would nothing move them, he devised an extraordinary kind of torture, viz. to break them upon a wheel, and there to leave them to languish and pine away. But neither was this sufficient to make them give over the trade and occupation, nor to keep others from following it: witness the many executions which have been since, especially at Paris. That of a gentleman called Villievineuf, of the County of Tonnerre, is famous among the rest, who kept a good fellow of purpose to cut men's throats, who was executed with him, and a young youth which was his lackey, who was whipped; and the cut-throat companion burned quick before his eyes, and himself afterwards broken upon the wheel. And this putteth me in mind of an Italian who committed his robberies (if they may be so called) in the very city within his own house, whereas others are wont to rob by the high way: (whence cutters by the high way side, and robbers are used as synonymies.) This Italiam called Francisquino having continued sometime at Bononia the fertile, in one of the best men's houses of the city, being held to be some great noble man, by reason of his state and bounty, was discovered in the end to lead such a life as followeth. Under colour of keeping open house for all gamesters at dice and cards (an usual thing with gentlemen in that country, though in some cities more than in others) and of having continual supply of fresh company, to show his bounty and magnificence, his manner was to send for such as newly arrived in the city, to visit him: and as soon as they were come, and that he had saluted and welcomed them (according to the manner) to call for the tables or cards, and to bid his man make dinner or supper ready in the mean time, or to provide a banquet according to the time of the day. But in stead of preparing it, the bloody butcher addressed himself to slay them when his master Francisquino should give him a sign: which course of life they had led so long, that (as the report goeth) when they were apprehended, and had confessed all their villainies, the carcases of ten or fifteen men which they had thus murdered, were found cast in privies. In fine, this was their punishment. After they had been pinched with pincers, they were ripped and bowelled, and their hearts being hastily pulled out of their bodies, were showed them. But to return to France, and to the boldness of these thievish companions: this is recorded as a most memorable fact of two brethren borne in a certain place between Nivernois and Burgundy, near to Vezeley, who were spitted upon a stake some fifteen years ago for stealing the King's treasure towards Briare: of whom this is worthy to be observed, that they verified the old saying, Conueniunt rebus nomina saepè suis: for their surname was Latro, that is, Thief; neither did they belly their name, for as they were thieves in name, so were they thieves in deed. The report goes, that when the King's officers came to apprehend them in a place whither they had retired themselves, they defended themselves very courageously, in such sort that one of them was slain in the place before he would yield. Their fellow thief called Villepruné was executed at Rome in the time of Pope Paul the third, to whom King Francis the first had sent his process to attach him.  
5 But what need we examples to prove that our age doth bear away the bell as well in this as in other vices, when we see that the weapons and instruments fit for the following of such a trade of life, have not only been invented of late, but are daily renewed and (as it were) refined by sundry devices: For, for whose sake (I beseech you) were guns invented by a devil in the shape of a Monk, but for thieves and robbers? For proof hereof, since harquebusses, pistols and pistolets of all sorts and sizes were in use, who were the first (trow we) who not content to carry three or four cases at their saddles, filled their sleeves and breeches with them? And by whom were those great slouching slops and swaggering hose (like little tubs or beere-barrels) first invented, but by such good fellows as wanted a commodious place to harbour such guests? Now look how much Germany is more famous than other countries for inventing these instruments, so much are we the less to wonder that there should be so many good fellows to be found at this day that should employ them to that wicked end: though through the great care and vigilancy of the Princes of Germany, the number of them is well abated within these few years. We are not (I say) to wonder hereat, no more then at that which we read in ancient writers of the Chalybes, who were the first smiths, at leastwise most expert and skilful in that art. Yet questionless French thieves go far beyond Germane thieves in subtle sleights and cleanly conveyance. Touching Italy (for I will now mention no other country) I have ever known it less subject to the danger of cutters: and verily during those three years and a half that I sojourned there (spending my time for the most part in travailing from city to city) I heard little or nothing of robberies by the high way. And I remember that being at dinner on a time with my Lord Odet de Selves, than Ambassador for the French King at Venice, and having asked him the reason hereof, we grew to this conclusion, that Illis quidem erat animus, sed non satis erat animi: that is, that their will was good, but their heart was nought. For if we consider what manner of men they be that intermeddle in this cursed occupation, we shall find that there are not more desperate ruffians in the world, nor more lavish of their lives than they: seeing that ten of them (as I have often heard it credibly reported) have adventured to set upon twenty or five and twenty. And that Italians are not so desperate, nor so prodigal of their blood, I report me to the answer which an Italian gentleman made to a foreigner with whom he was in deadly feud: for perceiving that it stood not with his credit to avoid the combat, unless he alleged some peremptory reason, he accepted the challenge. But changing his mind shortly after, when the time was come that they should meet in the field, his adversary now traversing his ground, and expecting when his antagonist would enter the lists, he told him that he was a devilish desperate fellow, and therefore would have no dealing with him. But if we should judge of all by one (may some say) we might twit all Frenchmen with that which was spoken by a Pickard bragging of his valour, who having vaunted that he had spent some years in the wars, and yet never drew his sword, and demanded the reason thereof, answered, Pource que ie n'entrois mie en colere: Because (quoth he) I was never thoroughly angry. But I dare be bold to say, that Italians have oftener borne away the blows and received the foil of fiery Frenchmen, then Frenchmen of desperate Italians. And though there were never a Pickard that could be moved to anger, yet the Gascoines are terrible fellows, and hot enough to make the Italians quake like an Aspen leaf, and bewray themselves for fear: though seven or eight fond and foolish terms of war which we have borrowed from them, may (haply) make posterity hold not only the Gascoines, but all other Frenchmen greater dastards then fainthearted cowards and white liuered soldiers; as though we had learned all our skill in martial discipline and warlike affairs of them, from whom we have have borrowed some inkhorn terms. But because I have spoken my mind more at large elsewhere, of the injury which we do ourselves in this behalf, selling our honour to those of whom we borrow some trivial and tapsterlike terms, I will not prosecute this argument any further. To return therefore to the matter in hand, whether it be for the reason formerly alleged, or for some other (for we commonly say, that there are some good and some bad of all sorts): the common opinion is, that there is less robbing in Italy then in any other country. By robbers I understand those good fellows, who trusting not so much to the sleight and subtlety of their wit, as to their strength and skill in their weapon, joined with brazenfaced boldness and audacity, set upon passengers with intent to borrow a bag or get a booty, though with hazard of their lives. For as for other sorts of thefts (as namely filchings and pilfer) Italians (I must needs say) have no fellows, especially in subtlety joined with impudence: which knacks of knavery and tricks of cunning conveyance, Frenchmen newly arriving, learn to their cost. Which I would not have understood of all Italy alike: for this I can say of mine own experience, that travailing from Rome to Naples with the ordinary post (whom they call Procaccio) I saw sundry passengers do that which I had not seen elsewhere in all Italy beside. For they were no sooner come to their Inn, but they unsaddled their horses, and carried their saddles unto their chambers, where they might have them ever in view, whilst they took their repast. Of which trouble, albeit myself and the rest of my company were well eased (for, for a crown a day, which each of us gave to the post (as the manner is) he mounted us well, and defrayed our charges) yet I could not but pity them who were put to those shifts: and I chanced to say that there could be no such danger as they imagined, in that it was not credible that any thief durst presume so much upon his cunning, as to undertake so bold an attempt. Which speech (though spoken in simplicity) was prejudicial to a certain Fleming in the company, who being thereby persuaded that there was indeed no such danger, neglected the next day to carry in his saddle as the rest did; for he found after dinner that another had eased him of that labour: and then I confessed that these devilish thieves were worse than I took than for. Now this calls to mind an objection which may be made against the rareness of robberies in Italy: for it may be said that there lie such sharp shavers in the high way between Rome & Naples (except the coast be scoured, and the world well amended of late) that travailers are glad to get into the company of the post, who doth not think himself safe enough neither, unless he have a troop of fifty or sixty horse at the least. To which I answer, that these foruscites which haunt the passages and high ways, are not worthy to be named the same day with those good fellows who brave it out in other places: for they fear no colours, but adventure to set upon twice or thrice so many as themselves; whereas these faint-hearted foruscites (as I was then informed) never set upon any (by their good wills) except they be two to one at the least. But I will leave them to end their own quarrels and controversies among themselves. For I protest I am so far from envying Italy her great foison of resolute thieves and robbers, that I could wish with all my heart, that all the good fellows which France and Germany will afford these dozen years, would repair thither.  
6 But leaving Italy (into which I have travailed further than I purposed) I will return back into France my native soil, taking it in a general acception for the countries bordering on every side, and will begin wtih a gentleman of Savoy who committed his robberies in or near his house, between Lions and Geneva (being called of the place Monsieur d' Auanch●) and I will speak of him as of a man of an odd disposition among a thousand good fellows, as being a more cunning and gentlemanlike thief (if I may so speak) then the vulgar sort, somewhat resembling that archtheefe who kept such a ruffling in the reign of Severus the Emperor, mentioned before in the Chapter of Robberies: for herein especially he excelled him, in that he would part stakes with those he rob, if they yielded their purses before his blood was up. Howbeit he was exceedingly hated for that he bore small affection to Monks and Nuns, and took pleasure in playing them many shrewd turns, which were (as the proverb saith) Princes sports, such as please those that act them. To omit the pranks which he played with the Nuns of S. Claire at Geneva, I will only relate two of his exploits, or rather of one divided into two branches, whereby he made two Franciscans first very merry, and after very mad. For having admitted them into his castle, and made them good cheer, to make an end of their good entertainment, he told them he would pleasure either of them with his pretty wench. Where they refusing his kind offer at the first, he requested them to make bold with him, telling them withal, that he well considered they were but flesh and blood as other men. In the end he locked them all up in a chamber together: and returning thither an hour after (or thereabout) he asked them how they had done in their new occupation. And understanding they had not been idle: O wicked hypocrites (quoth he) is this the way to overcome temptation? And having so said, he stripped them (poor souls) as naked as my nail; and having whipped them as long as himself and his men could lay on load, he sent them away all naked as they were, to teach them to fight another time more valiantly against such temptations, or not to give them the encounter. But whether this labour were well bestowed on them or not, I leave to be decided at the next Council.  
7 In the mean time I thank this good fellow with all my heart for putting me in mind of a story recorded by Pontanus of certain Arabian thieves, which is as memorable in his kind, and as rare an example as can be found (in my opinion) in any story, whether Greek, Latin, French or Italian. Wherein we shall on the one side see a point of admirable wisdom in a man falling suddenly into the hands of thieves and robbers: and on the other side, a part of great humanity in cruel cutthroats, who had addicted themselves to this damnable trade. This gentleman called Robert 
* Al. of S. Severin.  Sanseverin (who had been a brave and valiant captain in his days) travailing towards mount Sinai, to perform a vow which he had made (according to the great superstition which reigned in former times, and in part also within these hundred years) having descried certain horsemen coming towards him, demanded of his guide and guard (for he had safe conduct from the Soultan) who they were? They (poor souls) trembling for fear, answered that they were Arabians, the most desperate and dangerous thieves in the world. Where he was so far from being daunted with the fear of danger, that chose he encouraged his company to be of good cheer, telling them that it was their best course to lay open their carriage, that when they came they might find dinner ready, whereof he knew they stood in great need, considering they were toiled with the dust and heat. Mean time, whilst his men were making preparation as they were enjoined, he addressed himself to meet them, and saluting them very courteously (being a goodly man of person, as well for stature as feature) smiled on them, and bade them welcome; interlacing many pretty speeches by his interpreters, and thus kindly entertained them without bewraying his fear, or giving the least sign of sinister suspicion. The Arabians liking well of his speeches, willingly accepted his offer, and dined merrily with him, and after they had received some small presents departed, having so forgotten all their barbarous cruelties, that contrarily they thanked him heartily for their good entertainment. This is the story (gentle Reader) whereof I kept thee in so great expectation, by which I hope thou wilt take no less content than myself. For certes we way well wonder hereat, especially considering what stories report of these Arabian thieves above the rest, in cruelty resembling Lions and such like savage beasts: so that I persuade myself the Poets would no less have extolled this chieftain, than they did Orpheus for mollifying the hearts of savage beasts by the sweet sound of his melodious harp. And verily there are some thieves so cruel and currish, that it were better to fall amongst Tigers, or into the Lion's den, then into their hands. For that which Ovid saith, Obsequium Tygresque domat, rabidosque Leones. is found true by daily experence. And that which he saith in another place, 
Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrasse Leoni,  
Pugna suum finem cum jacet hostis habet.  cannot be called into question by any that have read or observed the nature of this beast; as myself once observed a Lion practising the precept of Virgil containing the duty and disposition of a generous mind, which is, Parcere subiectis & debellare superbos. For he made much (as a man would say) of little dogs which were put into his grate, and played the wanton with them; whereas he presently devoured the great curs, tearing them in pieces, even whilst he was playing with the little puppets. As also considering what we read of Orpheus his harp, by which he mollified the hearts of savage beasts, although it be spoken Poetically, and must (at least may) be meant of his eloquence, whereby he won the hearts of men, how barbarous soever they were. Howbeit we cannot deny but that Lions take delight in the melodious sound of musical instruments, of which myself have had experience in a great Lion in the Tower of London, where whilst I with certain others beheld him, there came in a Musician which played upon a violin (the number of such fiddlers being great in England) who had no sooner begun to play upon his kit, but the Lion leaving his flesh began to turn about, as though he would have danced: and when he left of playing, he left his turning, and betook him to his flesh again: & when he began to play again, he returned to his dance again. Which spectacle and sport pleased me so well, that I could not content myself to have seen it once, but came thither again the second time, bringing others with me, (who, notwithstanding I had told them what I had seen, and affirmed it to be true, yet would hardly be persuaded;) as also a Musician who played upon another instrument, where the Lion danced and leapt about, as he had done before, albeit he had then no flesh as formerly he had. By this therefore which hath been said, as also by that which sundry authors have written hereof, we may safely conclude, that there is more gentleness & generous nature in some savage beasts, then in some men, be they thieves or others. At leastwise the lamentable story of the voyage of Frenchmen into Florida of America (in the year last passed) doth, and so long as the world endureth will verify this of certain Spaniards: For (to omit infinite other treacherous cruelties) we read how that those who chose rather to yield themselves to the mercy of the Spaniards then of wild beasts, were pitifully massacred every mother's son; whereas they who chose rather to commit themselves to wild and savage beasts, and to expose themselves to infinite other dangers, escaped both with life and limb. Therefore by how much the cruelty of some men is greater than of others, and by how much we esteem these Arabians more cruel cutthroats than other thieves; by so much are we to think this story more strange and admirable. The rehearsal whereof hath made me somewhat to digress from the argument in hand.  
8 Therefore to pass over this just motive of digression, and to come in a word to the point of our purpose; as there is great difference between incest and single fornication: so nature teacheth that it is a far greater and more horrible sin for a man to murder his kinsman, than one that is no way allied unto him; and yet more heinous to murder father or mother, wife or children, brethren or sisters. Notwithstanding we must needs confess, that since the trade of assassins' (I mean this bloody butchering of men for a set price) came in use, our age doth no less abound with ordinary and extraordinary murders, then with the two kinds of whoredom formerly spoken of. Howbeit parricidie and fratricidie, and such like murders, were never so hot among Christians as between the Guelphs and the Gibelins: the heat (or fury rather) of which deadly feud remaineth in Italy unto these days, as well for the former quarrel as for other flaws and factions, as the histories of that country do sufficiently declare, and as they who travail into Italy may know more particularly. For as I travailed with two others from Florence to Sienna, two days after it was yielded up to the Duke of Florence, in the name of King Philip: I heard an old man (borne near Sienna) report very strange things, not impertinent to the argument in hand. For being demanded what were the most remarkable things that were to be seen at Sienna; Alas (said he) my sons, what do you think to see at Sienna? Sienna is no more Sienna: you shall see nothing there but the horrible vengeance of God. And being asked what he meant thereby; I have seen (quoth he) many a time and often with these eyes, kinsmen, yea brethren imbrue their hands in one another's blood for quarrels (God knows) arising upon small occasions. And he added, that their manner was to dip their hands in the blood of the slain, and having rubbed their faces therewith, to show themselves to their fellows in this butcherly and beastly manner. These and the like speeches this old father who was above fourscore and ten years old uttered not without many tears; thanking God withal, that in mercy he suffered him to live to see vengeance taken upon them. For (said he) I doubted whether there was a God or not, when I saw such horrible facts remain unpunished. This is the good report which this old man gave of his country. But would to God we were to seek for examples of such pitiful occurrences only in Italy, and that our civil wars had not eased us of this labour, in furnishing us with such store, that it is hard to say where we should begin such doleful discourses. Howbeit we find elsewhere more examples than were to be wished, of which I have alleged some few in the tenth Chapter. To which (before I come to modern examples) I will add one more out of Pontanus, (the author of whom I borrowed the rest;) and will make choice of such a one as shall fit the argument in hand, touching murders committed in Italy by one kinsman upon another, by reason of deadly feud and factions. This worthy learned writer therefore reports, how that his ancestors being forced to abandon and forsake their native soil by reason of the civil war, and having retired themselves into an odd corner of the country which they had fortified; so it was, that their enemies watching their opportunity, surprised it on a time when it was slenderly guarded: who when they had taken it, assaulted the tower wherein Pontanus his great grandmother was, where her two brethren (who were of the contrary faction) called upon her to yield herself; which she promised to do, upon condition they would not hurt her children. But they refusing to accept the condition, set the tower on fire, and so burned their sister and their young nephews for the devilish and damnable affection they bore unto their own faction.  
9 But to come to modern examples, and first to begin with fratricidie, we had in the year 1545. a very memorable (but a lamentable) example of one john Diazius a Spaniard borne in Cuence in the kingdom of Toledo, whom I knew at Paris, where all godly and learned men had him in as good account as any stranger that set foot in France these many years, being for his fair conditions and sweet behaviour as it were another Abel. But let us hear how he met with his Cain. After that he had made good proficiency in the study of Divinity, and attained to the knowledge of the Hebrew tongue, he could find no relish in the Romish religion; whereas before he had been plunged in it up to the hard ears, after the Spanish fashion (I always except the Marranes:) which change so displeased his brother Alphonsus, who was then at Rome, (where he had been a pettifogging sumner in the spiritual Court for divers years) that after he had intelligence thereof, he could never rest nor be at quiet with himself. For having sought for him at Ratisbone, and finding him not, he went to Newbourgh a city in Germany, under the dominion of the Count Palatine of Rhine, where after he had communed with him a long time, perceiving that it was not possible to draw or divert him from his opinions, neither by menaces nor promises, nor any other remonstrances; he made semblance as though himself had been caught by his brother's reasons, and won to the bent of his bow, purposing by this subtle device to draw him along with him to Trent (where the Council was then holden) and from thence to Rome, and so to Naples, telling him that he might benefit himself much better in those parts then in Germany. Which counsel of his, though john Diazius approved and liked well, in such sort that he was half persuaded to follow his carnal motion: Notwithstanding being loath to do any thing without the advice of those religious and learned men appointed for the conference at Ratisbone (of which number Martin Bucer was one) he acquainted them therewith; who having Alphonsus in jealousy, and doubting that it was but the copy of his countenance, and that he did but counterfeit a convert, to the end he might pervert his brother, they all with one consent utterly dissuaded him from it. Alphonsus' being thus frustrated of his hope, entreated him to bear him company only to Auspurge: from which also being dissuaded by them, he determined to leave him, having one only man with him, who afterwards served him in stead of an executioner, as by and by we shall hear. Having then exhorted him to continue constant in the profession of the truth, and showed him all tokens of brotherly love, kindly taking his leave of him, and forcing a piece of money upon him, he left him at Newbourgh, and took his journey to Auspurge; from whence returning back again to Newbourgh the next morning, and leaving his horses at the towns end with a good fellow (whom he kept for the purpose) he came to the house where his brother lodged about the break of day; where his man knocked at the gate, and inquired of a boy that came to the door for one john Diazius, saying that he had a letter for him from his brother Alphonsus. Whereof he had no sooner intelligence, but he leapt out of his bed from a friend of his, and casting his nightgown about him, went out of the chamber into a withdrawing room, whither he had appointed the messenger to come; his brother Alphonsus staying in the mean time at the stairs foot. The messenger being entered in, delivered his letter: where as he was reading it at the window (for it was not yet clear day) he standing behind him, struck him into the right temple with a hatchet which he had under his cloak: the violence of which blow was such, that it gave him no leisure to tell who had hurt him. The bloody butcher then fearing lest the body now ready to breath forth the soul, should make a noise as it fell to the floor, laid it down softly on the ground, and leaving the hatchet deep in his head, returned to Alphonsus his master expecting him at the stairs foot, as hath been said. Diazius his friend (who was all this while in bed) suspecting that all was not well, rose up to see where he was, and what he did. And he was no sooner come into the withdrawing room, but he heard the spurs of the murderers at the stairs foot: and because he knew not whether they came up or went down, he made the door fast at the stairs head. But (alas) it was too late, as he knew shortly after, by that pitiful spectacle which presented itself to his view, not without horror and fearful astonishment, as you may well imagine. But as soon as he could recover himself, he drew near to the corpse lying upon the ground, folding his hands & lifting up his eyes to heaven, as though he were praying. Then pulling the hatchet out of his head, he perceived that he had some life in him; in which estate he continued the space of an hour: so that when he heard any man call upon God, he made some little sign with his eyes. This done, he called to those of the house, to the end they might be witnesses of this so pitiful a spectacle. Now what punishment was inflicted upon these wicked murderers, it is uncertain, albeit most are of opinion that they escaped scotfree, for that the Emperor Charles the fifth at the Pope's entreaty writ in their behalf, that their indictment might be deferred for a time, and that he with his brother Ferdinando (under whose jurisdiction they were taken) would have the hearing of the matter themselves. How ever it were, the constant report goeth, that certain Spaniards at Inspruck were not ashamed to say that there was no evil in this murder, and that he which murdered an heretic, was ipso facto absolved by the Pope. Let us now hear another like unto this in substance, though much differing in circumstance: I say like to it in substance, in that one brother murdered another, but much differing especially in one circumstance, which may haply make it seem as strange as any murder committed these many hundred years. By this circumstance I understand the nonage of a Cain murdering his innocent brother Abel. For I heard it reported, that about the year 1547. a child in a village of France near Dammartin in Guole, who was but five or at the most six years of age, conceived such hatred against his brother because he had the greater piece of bread, that he stabbed him forthwith with a knife which he had in his hand, & slew him. In which story we may as in a crystal behold the wicked seeds of sin, which naturally breed and (as it were) spawn in our hearts, not only in our nonage or infancy, but as soon as we are crept out of the shell, and bewrayeth itself when we come to have the least use of reason.  
10 But the world is full of examples of men that have murdered their wives: Italy especially, and therefore I hold it needless to insist upon particulars. Notwithstanding I cannot omit two very strange murders, I mean such as for their plotting and acting were extraordinary: for whereas such executions are commonly done rashly in heat and choler, these were committed of set purpose upon a grounded and settled resolution. The one is of a citizen of Milan, who (as it was told me in a place near Milan, about a dozen years ago or somewhat more) being in France, and having intelligence that his wife played false at tables and bore a man too many, being (as we may suppose) sufficiently informed thereof, took horse and rid post to his house at Milan; whither he was no sooner come, but he called for his wife to the door, who coming in all haste to welcome him home, being (as it seemed) very glad of his return, received of him a counter-curtesie and a terrible cooling card with a stab of his dagger, after he had all to be rated her, calling her false, perfidious, disloyal, treacherous, and wicked wretch. And leaving her in such a case that he needed not to fear she would play false with him again, he took horse and departed. The second is of a Switzard, who having taken his wife at unawares playing the harlot, bore the injury patiently for a time; but having pardoned her in his heat (contrary to the common practice) he slew her a few days after in his cold blood, saying he could not endure a woman that would play him such false play: he slew likewise his children and himself also, as after we shall hear.  
11 Yet there are not (God be thanked) so many examples of women which have murdered their husbands, though there be more than a man would haply imagine. Among the rest an Italian Lady called Frances Bentivole is not to be forgotten, who perceiving that her husband (commonly known by the name of Galeot Lord of Favence) played the man and stood to his tackling, in defending himself courageously against the two murderers which she had suborned and hired to kill him, that they had much ado to dispatch him, took up a dagger, and with her own hands gave him his deadly wound. Now the hatred which moved her to commit this murder, was conceived upon a rumour blazed abroad in the city, and whispered into her ears, that before he married her, he had contracted himself to another citizen. A weighty reason no doubt. It is also reported, that a woman dwelling near Narbone being in bed with her husband, cut off his privities, for that he had defiled the marriage bed: of which example I have already spoken. But infinite are the examples of light housewives who have procured the death of their husbands, to the end they might more freely enjoy the company of their paramours. And many have poisoned them, that so they might more cunningly cover and conceal their villainy. For which crime my hostess of the Lantern at Paris was burnt about thirty years ago. For her husband being loath at the first to drink the wine which she had poisoned, because the colour of it was changed, yet adventured to drink of it after his man; and perceiving by his sudden death that it was of present operation, he preserved himself by an Antidote. The like punishment was inflicted upon a gentlewoman of Brie in the same city, and much about the same time, for killing her husband in his bed, with intent to marry her knave, who was executed with her for company.  
12 We have also late and fresh bleeding examples of Fathers murdering their children: but two are famous and memorable among the rest, which may well go hand in hand, in that they killed their children without any cause or colour at all, for a thing which they could not help. The one is of an Italian, the other of a Switzard. The story of the Italian hath been published before: howbeit I will not speak of it as fetching my authority from the printed pamphlet, but as being then at Padua myself where the murder was committed. About thirteen years ago a good fellow (named in, the printed story) being cast at Venice in a suit whereon depended his whole estate, was so out of taste with the world, and so despaired of God's providence, that he persuaded himself there was no remedy but that his daughters when they came to age, in stead of being honestly married, were of necessity to go to the common stews. For preventing of which so great an inconvenience, he was persuaded by one (whose counsel & advice he had asked in the managing of this business) that it was his only course to cut their throats whilst they were young. And so he did one night, having the evening before borrowed a Barber's razor. Being then at Padua (as hath been said) when this tragical event happened, I could hardly refrain from going to behold this rueful spectacle: I mean these silly souls lying in that pitiful plight. But when certain scholars, my companions (who had seen them) related unto me the manner of their death, and how they lay wallowing in their blood, it imprinted such a lively sense of compassion and commiseration in my mind, que non me bastava l'animo, (as the Italian speaks) that I could not find in my heart to see them. They further told me, that there were three in all, one of which had her hand almost cut off, which she had used (as they supposed) as a buckler against the fury of her father; who (as it was afterward reported) cast himself headlong from the top of a rock not far from Tirole, whither he had fled to save himself. The second is of a Switzard, who having taken his wife at unawares playing the strumpet, and pardoning her for the present, changed his mind not long after, and repealing his pardon, slew her with his own hands, saying he could not endure to see her live that had played him such false play. And having slain her, he dispatched his children also; saying, he would not have his children called bastards. And the report goeth, that after he had thus imbrued his hands in their blood, he laid violent hands upon himself also, throwing himself from the top of a house, or (as others say) of a tower, having first written in a paper (which was found about him) the fact which he had committed, and the reasons that moved him thereunto, viz. that knowing himself to be but a dead man in law, he chose rather to be his own executioner, then to undergo an ignominious death. By which examples we may perceive that the devil is as full of his subtle sleights and stratagems, and as cunning a knave as ever he was. Now these two examples do suit each other (as hath been said) in this very thing, that these men slew their children without cause or colour at all, for that whereof they were as innocent as the new borne babe.  
13 And have we not examples (on the other side) of parricides, that is, of children murdering their parents? Yes (God knows) and that even in France itself, which had lamentable experience hereof not long ago. For Anno 1565. Septemb. 28. this accursed enemy of mankind had such power and command over a young man dwelling in Chastillon sur Loing (a graceless griffe unworthy to grow upon such a stock) that he caused him to take unto him the heart, not of a man, but of a beast, nay worse than of any brute and savage beast, in committing so cruel and so unnatural a fact. And for as much as the Lord of the said place (a man for his virtues, especially his wisdom, admired at this day, and beloved of all men) hath thought good to publish this story in print: I hope it will not be taken amiss, if treading in his steps, I here make a short abstract and abridgement thereof. The story is this. john Guy the son of Emé Guy a 
* The word signifies either a cappet or a hatter, or a haberdasher of hats and caps.  capper in Chastillon sur Loing, had been a very loose lewd boy, and a notable vagabond even from a child: in which dissolute courses he had been fleshed and animated by the overgreat indulgence of his father. Now it happened upon a Saturday (the day before specified) that swaggering abroad and keeping revel rout (as his manner was) he came not home till very late in the evening: whereupon his father was exceedingly incensed against him, and told him, that seeing he continued his reveling in this sort, there was no remedy, he must thrust him out of doors. Whereunto he answered very boldly and saucily, that he was ready to be gone, if he had his apparel. These speeches thus passed over, his father went to bed. Howbeit he was no sooner laid, but he was enforced by menacing threats to command him silence, considering his round replies in that fierce and furious manner. In the end, seeing all was in vain, and that his menaces nothing availed; being no longer able to endure his long and proud replies, he rose in great anger to correct him for his sauciness. Now when he perceived his father coming towards him in that manner, with intent to beat him, he caught hold of his sword which hung in the chamber, and therewith ran him through in a trice, so that he sunk down presently, crying out that he was slain. The neighbours amazed at the cry, came rushing in, and the justice shortly after, where they found the poor man lying all along in the place, expecting nothing but present death, which arrested him not long after: and his son standing by him dressing himself (his sword lying by him all on a gore blood) who notwithstanding that his father moved with compassion, and forgetting his unnatural dealing and cruelty towards him, had willed him to save himself, saying, Save thyself, save thyself my son, I forgive thee this my death; and that his mother also had persuaded him thereunto, yet God in his just judgement so held him back by the reins of his providence, that he had not the power to stir a foot. Being then demanded by the justice, what had moved him to kill his father in that unnatural and barbarous manner; he answered, that he never meant to kill him, but that he might thank his own heat and hastiness, in running so desperately upon his sword which he held in his hand only for his own defence. This is the history as touching the fact. But forasmuch as the foresaid pamphlet, whereby it was first published, containeth many remarkable points which ensued hereupon till the time of his execution, very worthy our observation (for in the morality consists the fruit and profit which we are to reap by this history) I shall entreat the Reader not to take it in ill part, if I be somewhat more large and prolix in the rehearsal hereof then I have been in the rest. For assuredly considering the very name of parricide is so horrible and hateful to all, I would not have prosecuted this story so far, had it not been of purpose to speak something of his conversion, to the end I might show as well Gods great mercy, as Satan's great enmity against mankind; the poison of which passion he bewrays against such as keep not sentinel over their hearts, and stand not upon their guard. This murderer then thus attached, by course of justice was sent to prison, and witnesses were produced, who deposed that he had been very disordered and unruly of a child, despising for the most part his parents admonitions and reproofs, notwithstanding they had always received and entertained him in the kindest manner, whensoever he cried peccavi. His indictment being drawn, he was sentenced by the judge of Chastillon the Saturday following, to have his right hand cut off upon a scaffold in the market place, right over against his father's house, both his paps to be pinched with red hot pinchers, and afterwards to be hung by the feet upon a gibbet, and strangled with a stone of six and twenty pound weight tied to his neck, where he was to hang the space of four and twenty hours; and last of all to be hung upon the common town gibbet, there to remain. But he appealed from this sentence, being persuaded thereunto by a wicked wag-halter who had been a false coiner, and for his misdemeanour condemned with him, and sentenced to be sent to the galleys: from which he had also appealed. Whereupon they were sent to prison again, to the great tower within the Castle, till such time as they should be conveyed to Paris; during which time many resorted unto them, especially to visit this Parricide, to see if they could bring him to a sight and sense of his sin, and so to be the instrument of a soul's salvation. But perceiving that he conceived no otherwise of his offence then of a petty fault, they unfolded unto him the heinousness thereof, and the fearful judgements of God which would overtake him for the same, not only in this life by the sword of the magistrate, but likewise after death by his final doom, if he did not confess the fact and acknowledge his fault, that so he might have recourse to the throne of grace, ever open and of easy access to those who with a true sense and sorrow for sin unfeignedly desire pardon and reconciliation, in assurance to be heard. But he never gave the least sign that he was any thing moved with these remonstrances, but still answered that he had appealed, & that he had not slain his father, but that he ran upon his sword, the scabbard falling off to the ground. This was all that could be wrong out of him at that time. And albeit they plied and pressed him again and again, yet could they not bring him to a sight and sense of his sin: for the more they laboured to discover and lay open the enormity and heinousness of his fact, the more he excused and cloaked the same, saying to himself, Ah wicked wretch, I might have escaped if I would, and my father knowing he had received his deadly wound, counseled me so to do; but then (fool that I was) I would not listen unto him. They then told him that it was not in his power to stir a foot, or to move a finger without God's permission and providence, and therefore that he might assure himself it was the will of God he should not fly away, but tarry by it, and abide the trial, that so he might be brought (if it were possible) to acknowledge his offence, and that receiving condign punishment for the same, he might serve as an example of his divine justice. Moreover, they exhorted him to make use of this chastisement and correction, and to consider that the prison is God's school, wherein he was to learn how he hateth and abhorreth sin, manifesting his just judgements upon the wicked when it seemeth good unto him, either by the sword of the magistrate, or otherwise: whereunto he answered not a word. Howbeit in the end, after they had pressed him further by sundry like speeches, the more to aggravate his offence by every circumstance, he confessed that he had such a hard heart & cauterized conscience as was incredible: making signs in the mean time as well with his head as with his hands, whereby they perceived that God began to work in his heart, and thereupon they propounded the mercy of God as before. Now after they had spent many like speeches to rouse up his drowsy conscience from that dead slumber which had seized upon him, they were advertised that the false forger (formerly mentioned) had persuaded him to be of good cheer, and to lay nothing to heart, but to prolong his life by all means possible. Whereupon order was taken they should be sequestered one from the other, that so this wicked wretch might no longer poison him with such pestilent persuasions, who put them in some better hope when he heard no more of them. Neither was their hope in vain: for being solitary and alone by himself, he thought more seriously upon their speeches, in such sort, that he confessed to the jailor and others, that he had highly offended God, in that he had so wickedly and wilfully murdered his father, and that he had justly deserved death; desiring withal that the Bailiff might be sent for, saying he would desist from his appeal. Whereupon they exhorted him to make a holy use of those godly admonitions which had been given him, telling him withal that he did well to give over his appeal, seeing he should escape never the sooner, and that it was much to be feared lest appealing to the Court of Parliament at Paris, they would be so far from mitigating the severity of his punishment, that they would add to the rigour thereof. Mean time came a Minister of the word, who plied him so with pithy persuasions, that he brought him to acknowledge the heinousness of his sin, and to ask God forgiveness, in such sort that persevering in this acknowledgement, he ceased not to utter many good and godly sanctified and savoury speeches, by which he gave clear evidence that God had miraculously wrought in his hart. And persisting in his former resolution of forsaking his appeal, he advertised the Bailiff hereof: whereupon he was executed accordingly the Monday following. Where it is to be observed, that from that time forward, till the hangman had made an end, and parted two old friends, this poor patient (and now penitent parricide) had God and Christ ever in his mind and mouth, still crying to heaven for mercy and forgiveness: being armed in this his last conflict with such constancy and heavenly resolution, that he never twicht for any torment, nor once changed countenance; which struck an amazement into the minds of the multitude. He that desires to have a more ample discourse hereof, may have recourse to the foresaid pamphlet.  
14 As for women which have murdered their children, I persuade myself there are but few to be found which murder them after they are once grown in years. Howbeit many there are, as well of those which kill their newborn babes, as of those who execute their cruelty upon them in the womb before they see the light of the Sun. And doubtless this murdering of children in the womb (to begin with it in the first place) is a very ancient sin. For the Greek Poet Phocyllides gave a caveat to the women of his time to take heed of it. And Ovid likewise (another Pagan Poet) sharply censureth a housewife for the like offence: adding withal many excellent dissuasions to that end. And it was one branch of Hypocrates his oath (as we know) never to minister nor prescribe women any thing that might cause abortion, or any way endanger the fruit of their womb. Now there are two main reasons of this wicked practice. Some do it for fear they should be known to have played the wantoness and lost their virginity: or (to speak somewhat more generally) for fear of being disclosed to have had to do where they ought not, be they married women or widows. Others for fear of abridging and shortening their youth, especially for fear of that which Ovid speaks of. 
Scilicet ut careat rugarum crimine venture,  
Sternetur pugnae tristis arena tuae.  And as for the shortening of their youth, the same Poet saith. 
Add quòd & partus faciunt breviora iwentae  
Tempora—  Notwithstanding whose testimony, we find it true by daily experience. I have further heard of certain gentlewomen, and myself have known some who made no bones to wear poytrels or stiff stomachers, endangering thereby the life of their child: and to the end they might not lose the credit of having a fine slender body, made no conscience to destroy that which should have been as dear unto them as their own lives: I speak of such huswives as miscarried in the carriage. As for those murdering Medea's who made away their new born babes by casting them into ponds, privies, etc. Nunneries within these few years would have funished us with store of examples, as well as of those which murder them in the womb. Neither want we examples of former ages: for Pontanus saith of his time: Quod quidem execrationis genus maximè Sacerdotes attingit, qua Deo virginitatem quum voverint, pollutis tamen votis, rituque sacerdotali periurantèr atque incestè contaminato, gravidae factae, ne scelus pateat, execrabiliori conantur scelere id ipsum prohibere ac corrigere: dum aut medicaminibus adhibitis abortionem procurant, aut partum statim ipsum exanimant, terraeque aut cloacis clàm infodiunt. Now when I say that we might have found store of such examples within these few years; my meaning is not, that it is so hard a matter to find some at this present: but that the number was then far greater than now it is, as well in regard of the multitude of Nuns, as for that they were in greater fear of losing their good name, if once they should have been known to have played fast and loose, then now they are, considering their ghostly fathers are not so strict and stoical, but that they will (if need be) give them physic for the green sickness. Moreover, in that they see sundry Nuns leave their Nunneries, I mean their brothel-houses and beds, and betake themselves to the marriage bed, where they live orderly and well: it makes them look a little better to their consciences before they go about such murders. Yet it cannot be denied but that this wicked murdering of poor innocents extendeth itself beyond the Cloisters, not only to marriageable maids who are under the mother's wing, or in the government of their kinsfolks, (even to such as are worshipfully & nobly descended) but to widows also: which the said Pontanus hath not concealed touching those of his time. For he further addeth: Nec verò monstrosa hâc feritate sacerdotes tantùm, verumetiam viduae, ac nubiles puellae, splendidissimaeque etiam foedantur familiae. But maidservants of all other are oftenest taken tardy with this fault, and they only (poor souls) are called coram before the magistrate, according to the old saying alleged before out of Juvenal, Dat veniam coruis, vexat censura columbas. For I have often seen such at Paris hanged for this crime, and none but such. And I remember I once saw an Anatomy in the Physic schools of a maid that was hanged for casting her child into a privy. To this purpose it is which the said Pontanus addeth in the sequel of that history: Vir maximè notus, mihique perfamiliaris aedes quum emisset, emundaretque latrinarum sordes, interque emundandum accurrisset subitam ad exclamationem redemptoris operam eam facientis, animaduertit infantuli cadaverculum sordibus illis involutum. And verily none should be better acquainted with such secrets than midwives, were it not that the manner is to go to their houses, and after they have blindfolded them, to lead them to the place where the travailing woman lieth, whom they also mask or muffle for fear lest the midwives (who must of necessity have their faces uncovered) should know her. This I can say of mine own knowledge, that I once heard a midwife report, that she was not only thus hoodwincked (a practice that would be found common at this day, if diligent enquiry were made) but that the child also was murdered before her face, as soon as it was borne. And that she did no sooner begin to exclaim against that so heinous and horrible a fact, but she was in danger to have been served with the same sauce by these murderers and their complices. She further added, that they hung the chamber (in which the woman was delivered and the child murdered) with white cloth, to the end she might take no notice thereof: and that they conveyed her back again to her house hoodwinked as before. By this we may see what murdering minds some women bear. True it is indeed, our Ladies at this day need not to take so cruel a course, considering they have so many prophylactica to keep their bellies from tympanizing. Touching the currish cruelty or rather fury and fiery affection of women against their own blood: Pontanus recordeth a far stranger fact than any yet mentioned, of certain which stifled their children with their own hands as they were coming from between their feet; not so much for fear of having their whoredom and harlotry known, as to be revenged of their husbands. Whereof he seems to speak as of a thing which fell out in his own time. For having discoursed at large of the foresaid villainies committed in those days, he addeth, Compertas audio etiam uxores, quae ut viros hoc iniuriarum genere insectarentur, aut illatas ab illis iniurias ulciscerentur, hac potissimùm ratione in lucem venientem prolem proprijs eliserint manibus. Howbeit I cannot think that so desperate and devilish a desire of revenge could ever enter into the heart of any Frenchwoman: and God grant that France never find a race of such Medea's. But here I am in some doubt whether I should with silence pass over those women who commit their children to the first nurses they meet with, never inquiring of their qualities and conditions, nor of their skill and will to perform their duty; nor yet whether they be sound or sickly, of a good or a bad constitution, as rotten, pocky, leprous, etc. Who after they have once rid their hands of them, and committed them to their care and custody, seldom or never take thought for them, or remember them, till they hear the passing bell go for them, they being ready to give up the ghost. Notwithstanding I dare not call such mother's murderers, (especially when they have a just excuse to exempt them from the performance of this duty:) Yet thus much I dare say (let them take offence that will, it skilleth not, so that wise and modest matrons be not offended) that they are more cruel than the very heathen, who exposed their children to the wide world, recommending them (as it were) to the stars and destiny. If they shall allege for themselves, that all children which fall into the hands of such nurses, neither die, nor otherwise miscarry: I answer again, neither do all die that are exposed. For fortune is so favourable to some, that they may thank God, that ever they were exposed: whereas children committed to such nasty nurses, either die shortly after, or carry about them such diseases and maladies, as make them miserable all their lives long. By which we may see how far women at this day degenerate from the natural affection of the Queen (formerly mentioned) who was so highly offended with one of her Ladies for giving her child suck; so loathe she was it should have any nurse save herself, and so jealous (as it were) of imparting this honour to any other. But sithence I am come by good occasion to speak of the custom which in times past was common among the heathen of exposing children, my purpose is not to give it so general a pass, but to discourse of the difference between these Pagans, and those who have the name, and bear the badge of Christians. First then I confess, that this custom of exposing children hath had small or no entertainment among Christians, as sundry Greek and Latin authors do sufficiently witness. For it hath not been heard that enfans trowes (as the French call them) were ever exposed by any, but by such as were pinched either with poverty or fear of infamy. Albeit Monasteries at this day, stand many of these murdering Medea's (who are neither urged with the one, not pressed with the other) in the same stead that exposing did in old time: which unnatural and cruel course they take, lest through the multitude of children they should be constrained to keep a meaner house and carry a lower sail. And hence it is that many parents make their children believe, that they have vowed virginity, which (God knows) they never meant; and under colour hereof confine them in some monastery in their younger years, whilst they know no more what virginity means then little girls, who put the finger in the eye when they are called maids. But what curses and imprecations children thus mewed up, use against their parents when they come to years of discretion, is more than notoriously known. The question than is, whether they do not as good as murder them, when they force the stream against his course, in compelling them to enter into such a state of life, wherein they cannot live without falling into horrible pollutions, which cease not to pull the fearful judgements of God upon their heads. For mine own part I am of opinion, that by how much the soul is more precious than the body, by so much this murder is greater than the former.  
15 I might here add sundry other sorts of murders, at leastwise facts as heinous as any murder, as of griping usurers and such as by sinister means grind the faces of the poor people, and sift them to the very bran, as pettifogging proctor's, prowling promouters, and chicken justices, who are therefore rightly called common cut-throats, bloodsuckers, and cormorants of a country. But I will content myself with these before specified, and come to those that are felons de se (as Lawyers speak) whose examples ought the more to humble us, in that they show us what great power the devil hath over us, when we give him but the least advantage, and stand not upon our guard by holding him out at the staffs end: I mean when we quench not his fiery darts by the shield of faith, and beat them not back by the sword of the spirit. For though Pagans made little or no conscience to make away themselves, and though most Philosophers approved it by precept, & some also by their practice; yet the Christian world was never so corrupt, but that it hath ever condemned these felons de se, and razed them not only out of the number of Christians (by denying them Christian burial) but even of men; notwithstanding they have been frequent and common in all ages, as histories record. First therefore to begin with women (as we did before with the fact of Lucretia) we read how that the mother and her two daughters (in the reign of Diocletian the Emperor) under colour of doing their easement, light out of their chariot, in which they were carried to Antioch, there to forswear Christian religion, and to sacrifice to the emperors Gods, or shamefully to be entreated, and afterwards put to death; cast themselves into a certain river, and there were drowned. And profane story affords us sundry examples of maids, who chose rather to lose their lives then their virginity. Whereof we have sundry precedents even at this day, and that in both sexes. Among the rest I remember how a woman of Switzerland, about nine or ten years ago, understanding that he whom she had admitted into her bed, was not her husband, but a knavish companion that had deceived her, fell into such a sea of sorrow, that she drowned herself. And we read in the Queen of Navarres narrations, of the pitiful death of a gentlewoman who hanged herself for very grief that a Franciscan had had the use of her body. But more of this hereafter, when we come to entreat of the whoredoms committed by our good Catholics. I have also heard of certain women who dispatched themselves in great fury & rage, for that their husbands had cut in sunder the true loves knot, and profaned the nuptial bed, when they could not be revenged of them that were rivals of their love: as also of others, who upon other occasions have laid violent hands upon themselves. Neither doth this hard hap befall the weaker sex only; for we find that many men also have been drawn or rather driven to do execution upon themselves. And concerning the profanation of the nuptial bed, let us here again call to mind what happened in a town of Switzerland (about twenty years ago) how a man having taken his wife in the like fault, and pardoned her for the present, repented certain days after, and slew her; and not her only, but the children also which he had by her, saying, he would not have his children called bastards: and having so done, cast himself headlong from a high steep place, and broke his neck. In whose bosom a paper was found, wherein he had set down the reasons which had moved him to commit these murders, especially to make away himself, viz. that knowing himself to be but a dead man in law, he chose rather thus to end his days then to be put to a shameful and ignominious death. Which putteth me in mind of that which Pontanus relateth of an Italian Lord, who having slain him whom he suspected to have been nought with his wife, was watched so narrowly by his brother, that being out of all hope to escape, he first slew her with his own hands, and his children after; and having so done, threw himself from the highest tower of his castle. I have heard it also credibly reported, that a citizen of Padua having slain his daughters being but very young, some few days after cast himself from the top of a rock, in the self same place whither he had fled to hide his head. As for those bloody murderers of the double die, which make away not only their children but themselves also, I will here record as tragical a story as is to be found (in my opinion) in any historian, ancient or modern, which (as some relate it) was lately acted in Beausse, as followeth: A certain husbandman (who was reasonably well to live) binding sheaves in the field, sent his son of an errand home to his house, and being greatly offended with him at his return, for that he stayed longer than he expected, he threw a clod at him, and hit him such a blow on the head, that he struck him stark dead, so that he fell groveling down to the ground; whereupon having covered him with sheaves, he went home to his house in a desperate mood: where finding his wife bathing herself, and giving her young child suck (whereof she was delivered not many weeks before) he went into his barn and hanged himself. His wife having intelligence hereof by one who had occasion to go into the barn not long after, leaping out of the bath in great fear, left her child so heedlessly in the bath, that it fell into the water, and so was drowned. Where she (poor soul) amazed, and almost beside herself to see her husband hang in that ghastly manner, and finding at her return that her child was drowned, was driven into such an ecstasy of despair, that she went back again into the barn, and locking the door upon her, hanged herself by her husband. Where note the mischiefs that came thick and threefold, one in the neck of another: the father killing his son, & the mother drowning her child against their wills; and both of them in like desperate mood hanging themselves. Only here was the difference, that she drowned her child through mere oversight, and he killed his son by mere chance and casualty: for according to the common saying, He often killeth who thinks but to hurt.  
16 Now as men are driven to this extremity of distress and despair, not only upon these or the like, but upon sundry other occasions: so many there are who for other causes have made away themselves. For which purpose I might allege a pack of villainous usurers, who by the just judgement of God▪ have had no other executioners than themselves: And all such generally as are tormented with that inward fury of an accusing conscience, are subject to this so infamous and detestable kind of death. For after they have once judicially arraigned and condemned themselves in the Court of Conscience, by a strange kind of proceeding, they put the sentence in execution in as strange a manner. For example: A Secretary in a town of Switzerland having been sentenced by his conscience (in such sort as hath been said) understanding that his knaveries were too well known: albeit his heart had often failed him, yet in the end he did open execution upon himself, even then when his keepers thought him furthest from danger. For though they kept him for the present from hurting of himself, having found him in the bath stabbing and lancing his body with a penknife, yet the same day he made a escape from them, and leaping out of a window broke his neck. And here I may not forget Bonaventure des Periers (author of that damnable book called Cymbalum mundi) who notwithstanding the pains which was taken in watching of him, (for that they saw him in a desperate mood, ready upon every light occasion to sacrifice himself to his own shame) fell upon his sword, the point running in at his breast, and out at his back. But we have an example of a far more strange and dangerous distress (considering the occasion) in Francis Speira an Italian: and so rare in this kind, that it will hardly be paralleled either with ancient or modern: for he made himself away by such a death as other desperate and devilish minded miscreants would not willingly choose, viz. by a long and a lingering death; for he famished and pined himself away, obstinately abstaining so long from all manner of sustenance, till he had starved his soul out of his body, as we may read in Sleidan and other historians.   

CHAP. XIX. Of Cruelty practised at this day.  
ALbeit the murders formerly mentioned be not altogether void of cruelty; nay, though some of them breath forth (as it were) nothing but barbarous, savage, and cruel immanity: I will notwithstanding allege some few examples hereof apart by themselves; yet not all our modern examples promiscuously which offer themselves to my pen, but such only as are rare and extraordinary, exceeding the vulgar sort. And albeit our last civil wars might serve as a plentiful storehouse to furnish me with choice of matter, yet I will beware how I harp upon that string, lest rubbing of old sores, I should make the wounds of many to bleed afresh. Neither will I speak of the cruelties executed at Merindol and Cabriere, which being but barely related in the high Court of Parliament at Paris by the Attorney Aubery and other Lawyers, caused the auditors to stop their ears, they were so hideous and horrible. This one thing may give sufficient testimony of the enormity and heinousness thereof, in that john Me●ier Lord of Oppede, ringleader in this dance, as being chief Precedent of the Parliament of Province, and Lieutenant general for the King in that country in the absence of the Lord de Grignan, could not find soldiers cruel enough to his liking, notwithstanding he had made choice of the veriest bloody butchers that were in a country, commanding them (among other his Canniball-like cruelties) to rip up women with child before his face, & to tread their babes under their feet. O currish cruelty, well worthy that horrible death which befell him, not by the hand of man, but by the just judgement of God, the searcher and seer of all secrets! And this persecution raised against the poor people of Merindol and Cabriere, is so much the more famous, in that they led a great army against these poor souls, who never desired any thing more than to yield themselves, never attempting nor once intending to resist and make head against them: but humbly entreating that they might be suffered to use the liberty of their conscience in their private houses, and not to be enforced to admit of the Roman religion; at leastwise that they might be permitted to fly into some other country upon such condition as they should think good.  
2 But leaving this history, I proceed to other examples of cruelty, nothing inferior to that in Herodotus, which notwithstanding is thought by many so incredible. For where is the man to be found, who hearing what he reporteth of Herpanus, viz. how he was served with the flesh of his own son, and how he are thereof at a feast, to which he was invited by Astyages King of the Medes (never suspecting he should have been served with such a sauce, nor entertained with such a dainty dish) will not presently fancy it to be as very a fable as that which the Poets have feigned of Atreus, who made his brother Thyestes: eat his own children? Notwithstanding we find as great cruelties practised in these days. For Pontanus reporteth how that certain Italians having taken one of a family with which they were in deadly feud, chopped him forthwith into small pieces, and having pulled out his liver, broiled it upon the coals, and ate of it (every man his morsel) with great rejoicing, using sundry solemn ceremonies and merriments therewith: I will here set down his words at large: A●iam meam Leonardam, rarissimi exempli matronam, non sine multis lachrimis puer audi●bam referentem, quam inter digladiantes quasdam inter se familias inimicitia summis exercerentur odijs, captum quempiam factione ex altera, eumque è vestigi● concisum in minutissima etiam frusta: moxque exemptum illi iecur, in prunis candentissimisque carbonibus ab factionis eius principibus tostum, pérque buccellas minutim dissectum, inter cognatos ad id inu●tatos in ●entaculum distributum. Quae aut luporum tam exanhelut● rabbiss, aut savientis pro erepta prole tigridis hanc ipsam superaverit? Allata etiam post degustationem tan● execrabilem p●cula non sine collecti cruoris aspergine: congratulationes habita inter se, risus▪ juicy, leporésque cibum ipsum condientes. Denique & dijsipsis propinatum tanta vindicta fautoribus. Quid hic exclamem nihil habeo, ni ●ortè, etc. Which story calls another to mind to this effect. A certain gentleman bearing great affection to a married gentlewoman, went into the wars; where he entreated his fellow-soldiers, that if it were his chance to be slain in the field, or otherwise to die, they would take his heart and present it unto her with certain speeches which he delivered unto them. After his death (which happened not long after) his heart was taken and kept by the gentlewoman's husband (who had been informed of the request he had made to his fellows,) and he was no sooner come home, but he caused his cook to dress it in such curious manner that his wife a●e thereof, thinking of nothing less than of such meat. Whereupon ask her how she liked it: she answered, she liked it well. You cannot choose (quoth he) but like it well, for it is the heart of your best beloved. She strait perceiving his meaning, took the matter so to heart, that she never ate good morsel after: neither had she need; for she died shortly after for very grief. Which fact I have not here set down to parallel it with the former cruelty, but only to show his savage nature in causing his wife to eat man's flesh. For (all things being well considered) it will appear that this his currish kindness towards her, was rather rigorous severity then overgreat cruelty. In like manner a Dutch gentleman punished his wife for playing the strumpet, rather rigorously then cruelly: who having slain the gallant, (to whose lust she prostituted herself) appointed her his skull to drink in, in stead of a cup. The same (in my conceit) may be said of a gentleman of Piedmont, who having taken his wife in the fact, caused her together with the old bawd (which had holpen her in this business) to strangle the gentleman with whom she was found, and to bear the dead corpse company all their lives after: for he closed them round within a wall, leaving them only a little hole, by which they might receive bread and water. Such facts (I say) are rather to be reckoned in the number of overrigorous punishments, then of over-cruell revenge: as that which I have alleged out of Pontanus, which as it may be paralleled with the fact of Astyages recorded by Herodotus, and that of Atreus mentioned by the Poets; so are there sundry in this age which may as fitly be paragonized with that of Medea. At leastwise I can readily furnish the Reader with three. The first is that which I have already alleged out of Pontanus, of those murdering Medea's, who to avenge themselves of their husbands, stifled their children coming from them with their own hands. The second of a housewife of Milan, who (as Bandel reporteth) finding not how to wreak her malice upon her husband, who was divorced from her for adultery, being with child by him (albeit he knew not so much) let lose the rains to her rage, and wrought her wreak upon the fruit of her womb, whereof by violent means she was delivered three months before her time, and after so cruelly massacred it, that I had rather it should be read in the writings of Bandel, then in mine. The third likewise may be taken out of the same author, where he speaketh of a young Spanish damsel, who having prostituted herself to a gentleman in hope of marriage which he had promised her (although she was but of mean and base parentage) and hearing afterwards that he was married to another, conceived such hatred against him, that she wrought her wits how possibly she might compass his death: In the end she used this policy, she persuaded him by her flattering letters to come and visit her; and the time being appointed when they should meet, she earnestly expected his coming, having made all things ready (with the help of an old beldame) to welcome him to her house in such sort and manner, as her fierce and outrageous malice (inflamed with extreme desire of revenge) should counsel her. To the end therefore she might the better come to the period of her intended purpose, and accomplish her designs, though at the first she entertained him with complaints and grievances, yet by and by after making as though she rested fully satisfied with the reasons which he alleged, and that she was somewhat appeased, she yielded to his impotent affection, to play the wanton with him as before. Whereupon they went to bed together, where she still expected when to find him sound asleep, that she might execute her furious enterprise▪ Neither failed she of her purpose for not content to have given him many deadly wounds (being awaked at the first blow, and perceiving himself so entangled in the cord which the old trot had drawn, that he could neither move hand nor foot) she tyrannised over the dead corpse by sundry savage and barbarous cruelties, before she could quench the heat of her rage. For which cruel murder, she having voluntarily confessed the fact (at least bewrayed and betrayed herself by her words) was beheaded, and the old bawd also, as Bandel saith. Howbeit others (following Paludanus a Spaniard who hath written this story in Latin) affirm that she was never taken. How ever it were, we may see the fact of a right Medea in the glass of this example, as well as in the former: which whosoever shall duly consider, cannot think that strange which Herodotus reporteth of Amestris wife to King Xerxes, how she having procured her husband to deliver his concubine into her hands, cut off her dugs and cast them to the dogs, as also her nose, ears, lips and tongue; and having thus mangled and disfigured her, sent her back again to her house. To conclude, if the question be touching the greatness of women's cruelty, we are first to be resolved of that which Juvenal saith, that they are superlative in their revengeful desires: secondly of that which Ovid discourseth of at large, viz. of their mad malicious minds, especially when any encroach upon their free hold, and disturb them in their possession. His words are these: 
Sed neque fuluus aper mediâ tam saews in ira est,  
Fulmine● rapides dum rotat o'er canes:  
Nec lea, cum catulis lactentibus ubera pr●bet,  
Nec brevis ignaro vipera laesa pede:  
Foemina quam socij deprensa pellice lect●  
Ardet, & in vultu pignora mentis habet.  
In ferrum flammasque ruit, etc.  That is, 
More fierce and fell was never chafed Boar,  
While with his angry tusks he all doth gore  
The busy Mastiff: nor no Lioness,  
Whose suckling whelps her empty teats do press:  
Nor the short Viper hurt with heedless gate▪  
Then is the wife that finds a rival mate  
Unto her love and bed: and in her brows  
The signs of her conceived hatred shows.  For further confirmation hereof, I will allege one other example out of Philip Commineus, and that in his own words, as followeth. For shortly after, the said King Lancelot was poisoned at Prage in Bohemia by a noble woman (whose brother I have seen) with whom he was in love, and she also with him; who being out of patience because he had married King Charles the 7. his daugther (now called the Princess of Vienna) contrary to his promise, poisoned him in a bath by giving him an apple to eat, putting the poison in the haft of the knife. Thus far Comminens: where he further reporteth that the king of Hungary cast one Mathias into prison (who was King after him) having first slain his elder brother. Now we may well imagine how she would have entertained the Queen, if she had had her in her hands.  
3 But to return to these savage cruelties executed in way of revenge: Pontanus records a notable example which fell out (as it seems) in his days. A slave of Mauritania being buffeted by his master and almost beaten to death, to the end he might be avenged of him, and put an end to his wretched and miserable life, he took this course. Having espied his time when his master was gone far from his house (which stood in the country) he locked and barred the gates as well as he could, and having bound his wife hand and foot, he carried her and her three children to the top of the house, there expecting his master's return. Who coming home, and finding the gate shut against him, began to threaten his slave as he showed himself from the house top. The slave answered that he would by and by make him sing another song: and forthwith threw down two of his children. The poor man (their father) remaining for a time amazed and confounded at this spectacle, and more like a dead man then a living creature, yet coming at last to himself again, thought it his best course to entertain him with fair language, and to promise him not only pardon for the two murders already committed, but also manumission and freedom, to the end he might (at leastwise) save his third son. And so did. But the slave replied and said, Thou mayst fawn and flatter, and make fair weather with me as long as thou wilt, but I will not spare him for all that, except thou wilt cut off thy nose. The poor man (in hope to save his child's life) accepted the condition, and cut off his nose. Which he had no sooner done, but the slave cast him down from the top of the house, and his wife after. And having so done, seeing his master torment himself in that manner, and cast forth such horrible outcries, said, Thou mayst hang thyself if thou wilt, but I will keep myself (I warrant thee) out of thy fingers. And having so said, cast himself down headlong from the roof of the house.  
4 Now albeit the cruelty which is exercised in this and such like revenge, be exceeding great, yet it is much more increased, and (as it were) redoubled by those who in wreaking their malice upon their enemies, wrap in others also with them, who (to use an old English phrase) cannot do with all. As it fortuned about sixteen years ago in a city in Italy (at Boulongne if my memory fail me not,) where a malicious minded miscreant so extremely thirsted after revenge, that finding no other means how he might cry quittance with his enemy, laid gunpowder in his cellar, and afterwards set fire to it, and so blew up the whole house; where not only his enemy, but sundry others were murdered with him. Others, no less cruel than the former, in stead of revenging themselves upon those that have any way injuried them, either because the parties are dead, or for that they dare not encounter them, revenge themselves upon those that are mere innocents, only because they are allied unto them, or are their friends or countrymen. Whereof this age will afford sundry examples, not only in matter of common hostility, but also of private enmity. As the said Pontanus relateth how the Italian Lord having slain one who (as he supposed) had played the knave with his wife, was so straightly besieged by his brother, that having first made away his wife and children, he cast himself headlong from the highest tower of his castle. Hereupon (I say) he relateth, how that he which besieged him (called Corradus Trincius) perceiving that he had escaped his hands, and that he had lost his hint and opportunity of revenging himself, cruelly murdered all that he could meet with, who were either kith or kin unto him. And not so only, but chopped them in pieces like herbs to the pot, and scattered them in the fields and highways: the like he did with their bowels also. His words are these: Corradus Trincius, qui Fulgin●● Vmbria imperitavit, c●so Nicolao eius fratre à praefecto arcis Nucerin●, ob adulterij suspicionem, praefectum ipsumita expugnara aggressus est, ut ille, amissâ tandem omnispe evadendi, interfectis prius vicora & liberis, sese ● summa turri deiecerit, ne viws in Corradi potestatem perveniret. Itaque Corradus deceptus opportunitate in viwm illum s●uiendi, quot quot familiares, cognatos, amicos, notos, quique cum illo consuetudinem exercuissent aliquam, captos, cruciatosque ad excarnificationem, ad ultimum comminus in frusta, exenterarique imperavit, ac per sentes maximeque frequentium viarum sep●s ac margines eorum vis●era intestin●que suspendi ac passim dispergi: ut ●eque aut vindictam appellare hanc possis, aut punitionem. But some do worse than all this; when not content to revenge themselves upon their enemies, they wreak their malice upon their kinsmen and acquaintance.  
5 There is yet another kind of cruelty practised rather in sport and in a mad merriment then in way of revenge: whereunto Princes and great Lords are more addicted than men of base or meaner place. Whence grew the proverb, (applied to such as please themselves in keeping revel rout, and playing the pike in a pond): These be Princes sports, they please them only that do them. Which puts me in mind of that which I saw done by a young Nobleman, who was no sooner presented with two great English mastiffs, but the toy took him in the head, to make trial of them upon the legs of a poor boy, how well they could bite: and letting them lose at him, he quickly perceived what they could do: which was a pitiful spectacle to all save himself. And now (gentle Reader) consider how the Athenian judges would have censured such a fact, when they put a young man to death, only because he took pleasure in putting out of birds eyes; taking it as a pregnant proof of his future cruelty. But to return to those that play the bloody butchers with such as never offended them, (nay which are neither kith nor kin, nor yet countrymen to those that injured them) the said Pontanus writeth of an Italian captain whom he calleth Nicolaus Fortibrachius, who carried a dumb man with him whither soever he went, laden with halters▪ and when the fancy took the fool in the head to hang any that he met with (to the end he might have some sport) he would make a sign to the dumb man, and then the whoreson would strait put a rope about the party's neck, and truss him up at the next tree. In which pastime the kind captain took such pleasure, that if any one day had passed over his head, wherein he had not done some such execution, it grieved him as much as if he had lost so much time. He further maketh mention of one Riccius Monteclarius, whose manner was to kill men in kindness, and gently to cut their throats, tempering his cruelty with mimical conceits. For when he was minded to murder any, his manner was to entertain them very friendly, and to invite them to a feast, and to ask them how many glasses of wine they would drink with him, and how many morsels of such or such baked meat they would eat: and having demanded these frivolous & ridiculous questions, he would presently stab them with his dagger till he had killed them.  
6 Moreover, cruelty shows itself in excessive punishments, to which purpose the said Pontanus allegeth an example of the King of Naples Lieutenant, who not content with the punishment prescribed by law, caused malefactors to be sawn in pieces overthwart the back. It further bewrayeth itself in those that take pleasure in inventing of new torments, whether with intent to practise them themselves, or to teach them others who may put them in execution. Which puts me in mind of a good fellow who published a book about five and twenty years ago, full of pictures of racks, and all kind of tormenting instruments, which the wit of man could possibly devise. But we may not here forget the just judgements of God which have befallen the inventors of these cruel torments, as well in this as in former ages. For as Perillus having presented the cruel tyrant Phalaris with a brazen bull, which might serve him in steed of a furnace to burn men in, was constrained to take the first trial thereof, and to feel the smart of it himself (as befell Arnutius Paterculus with his brazen horse:) So Philip Commineus telleth us how the Bishop of Verdan, who first showed King Lewis the eleventh the invention of iron cages, was the first whom the King mewed up in one of them, and that for fourteen years together. We read also of sundry savages who first felt the smart of their cruel counsel given against others. And thus much touching the lewdness of the Laity. In the next place we are to borrow a word or two with our good Catholics of the Popish Clergy.   

CHAP. XX. Other examples of the wickedness of this age, especially of such as 
* The Popish Clergy.  term themselves Cleargymen.  
WE have already heard what invectives the good Preacher Menot maketh against the Clergy of his time: and we know how S. Bernard (long before) cried out against them. Let us now see if they did repent at the last, and turn from their wicked ways, making benefit of such reproofs. What say I, benefit? Nay, they were more obdurate and hardened thereby. For as light huswives before they have put off their petticoats are as nice as a Nun's hen, and show some few sparks of shamefastness and modesty; but when they once perceive that their licentious lewdness is brought to light, and that they are upon the stage, and their lives in every child's mouth, keep open house for all comers, and are more lavish both of their lips and lap, yea ten times more exorbitant, in spite of all that speak against them: Even so for all the world did Clergy men (at leastwise the greatest part) when they once perceived they could no longer conceal their simonies, villainies, whoredoms, lecheries, and such like loose and dissolute demeanour, of all which I am now to entreat. For as for their false juggling & erroneous doctrine, wherewith they have so pestered the world, I am to discourse hereafter apart, towards the end of this book.  
2 Neither will I now busy myself with their hawks & hounds, as Menot doth, nor with their whores and concubines, nor yet with their crosier staves & miters, viz. how many they should have (I speak according to Menot who calleth two bishoprics two miters, and two abbeys two crosier staves) neither with their election, as whether the holy Ghost be precedent there, or that spirit which had the greatest stroke in the election of Pope Sylvester (according to those historians who do not affirm that the devil was chosen Pope, & called Sylvester the second: but that he obtained the Popedom by the help of the devil, to whom he had given himself body and soul long before.) But will briefly show that which every man that hath his eyes in his head, may easily perceive, as well in these as in sundry other particulars, how that since the time of this Preacher they have in such sort made forcible entrance and taken possession of the things which they could not then peaceably enjoy, that if he were now living he would easily see it were but lost labour to dispute against them. For it is not to be thought that a Popish Prelate will beat his brains now adays to know whether his benefices be compatible or incompatible: how many livings, how many whores, how many hounds and how many hawks he may keep. For suppose he have three cart loads of benefices (if it were possible,) five or six herds of whores, and as many hounds as the Cardinal had whom the good Preacher Barelet mentioneth (which were near a thousand) yea and as many hawks as all the Princes in Christendom (provided always that he beware how he speak or do any thing for which the Pope his maker may be moved to deprive him:) he is in the mean time dispensed with, as being an honest man: and beside authorized to employ his five senses in whoredom and lechery, in despite of the French pocks and the knave-bald disease (for excommunication hath no power over these Ladies) and to keep (if need be) a dozen of bawds for the purpose. And when his stomach will not serve him for these, to seek out dainty bits for his tooth in the very midst of Nunneries (otherwise called monasteries of reformed women) into which it is not lawful for any secular man to set foot. But if 
* They for he, and so in that which followeth.  they chance to be weary with continual change, or through remorse of conscience betake themselves to one only, and pass their promise to marry her; then are they in danger (forsooth) to be deprived of their livings, & severely to be punished. Whereof we have late & fresh examples in two modern Bishops (both I take it yet living) who had no better excuse for themselves then to say, that she that was holden to be their wife, was but their concubine or whore. But whether this excuse will pass for payment before God's tribunal, let themselves judge. Howsoever, it is not much unlike that which I heard from the mouth of the late deceased Archdeacon of Hardas' (being at Padua with the Cardinal of Tournon) who said, The devil take all those married villains who are permitted to eat laced mutton their bellies full: which he spoke generally of all the Clergy, but it arose upon speech had of a Bishop, who was secretly married, as it was reported. This was the sentence of this charitable Archdeacon. Now whereas I have so often called the Pope their maker, be it known unto them, that in so speaking I use but their own phrase, save that they apply it rather to Cardinals then to Bishops: as when they say, Such or such a Cardinal is such a Pope's creature; as they know well who have been in place where such things have been debated. True it is indeed, that in a Council where this question was propounded, An sint Episcopi immediatè à Christo, an medtatè à Pontifice, a Bishop (who was in a pelting chafe for that they had moved his patience) cried aloud, Parcat mihi Dominus Christus, non sub abapso: which I heard related by a Bishop who told me that he heard it from his own mouth. Howbeit I do not well remember whether he said it was in the last Council or in the former. But sure I am that in a Council it was, where (as he further reporteth) a certain Doctor seeing himself encountered and foiled with certain texts of Scripture, alleged for his excuse: Ego non sum Theologus, ego sum Canonista.  
3 Howbeit we are not so much to wonder at the Pope's greater creatures (who are now grown to such power, credit and account, that they scorn to seek for a dispensation of their creator, to authorize them to live in all wantonness, riot and dissoluteness, as himself doth) as at his lesser creatures, who living in some sort under discipline, and (as it were) under the rod, aught in all reason to be more afraid to offend for fear of the whip. But if I shall demonstrate and show that even they also run with full swing after their lusts and pleasures, letting loose the rains to all licentiousness, notwithstanding all restraint which ought to withhold them, let the Reader judge what will become of the rest. By the Pope's lesser creatures I understand the single sole Priests, both black and white Friars, both Mendicants and Redituaries (if I may usurp this goodly Latin word Redituarij) and to be short, all such as are but mushrooms and baggage in respect of fat Abbots.  
4 But before I come to decipher and lay out their loose life and dissolute demeanour in orient colours, and instance the same by particular examples, I cannot omit that which is notoriously known at this day (which notwithstanding may haply seem incredible to posterity) how that not long since the weightiest arguments which they could allege to prove a man to be out of the right Romish Church (and therefore worthy to fry a faggot) were these: That he was no whoremonger, no drunkard, no swearer, nor blasphemer, and that he did allege the Scriptures. In so much that a certain Friar being accused to the Bishop his Diocesan to be a Lutheran, was acquitted by him as clear of the crime objected, because he wanted none of the foresaid qualities. Whereupon an Epigram was made, which for the good grace it hath, deserveth here to be inserted, especially considering that (to my knowledge) it never came to light before. 
Esse Lutheranum rumour te Gaurice clamat:  
Sed tuus Antistes te tamen esse negat.  
Tam scortaris (ait) quam si vel Episcopus esses,  
Et potas dubiam peruigil usque diem.  
Nec memor es Christi, nisi cum jurare libebit.  
Nec scis Scripturae vel breve Iota sacrae:  
Nempe per haec suevit nunquam fallentia signa  
Ille vigil sanas noscere pastor oves.  That is (if I hit it right) 
Rumour reports thee for a Lutheran,  
Thy ghostly father counts thee no such man:  
For whores thou hauntest (saith he) with lusty chase,  
As if thou worest a mitre by thy place.  
Thou revelst so (beside that wanton play)  
That evermore thou drinkest the night to day.  
Of Christ (save when thou swearest) thou thinkst no whit,  
Nor knowst one letter of the holy writ.  
By these sure signs (that never fail their master)  
Are all ●ound sheep known of their careful pastor.  But let us hear the description of the virtuous qualities of Friars, made by another Prelate. 
Pour nombrer les vertus d'un Moine,  
Il faut qu'il soit ord & gourmand,  
Paresseux, paillard, mal idoine,  
Folly, lourd, yurongne, & peu savant:  
Qu'il se creue à table eu bewant,  
Et en mangeant come un pourceau.  
purvey qu'il sache un peu de chant,  
C'est assez, il est bon & beau.  That is, 
If that I must in order tell,  
What virtues long to Monkish cell:  
He is not fit for Cell or Coven,  
That's not a glutton and a sloven:  
Sluggish, lecherous, for nought fit,  
A drunken dolt devoid of wit.  
He must eat at each repast,  
Until his belly well-nigh braist.  
He must guzzell in the wine,  
Till he be drunken as a swine.  
And if he can but chant it well,  
This man is fit for Choir or Cell.  To which testimonies these proverbial sayings agree very well, As fat as a Friar, As frolic as a Friar, etc. And these verses put me in mind of a poem which will ease me of some labour in gathering the sweet doings and demeanour of these displing Friars (though they have not the like means that Prelates have:) which notwithstanding I would not have vouchsafed once to have alleged, but that it hath as good a grace, and runs as roundly as a man would wish. 

1  
Mes freres, ie vous priez de suiure  
Quelque honneste façon de viure  
En simplesse & sobrieté▪  
Et laisser vostre ebrieté,  
Eguillon de toute malice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

2  
Voire, mais viuans sobrement,  
Vous seruiriez Dieu purement:  
Et puis chacun auroit envy  
De suiure vostre bonne vie.  
Mieux vaut suiure vertu que vice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

3  
Mais c'est choose à Dieu detestable,  
D'estre assis trois heures à table  
A yurongner & gourmander.  
Voulez-vous point vous amender,  
De peur que Dieu ne vous punisse?  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

4  
Mais ayant beu vingt fois d'autant  
Nul de vous n'est iamais content,  
Sentant vuider son gobelet.  
Car il demand à son valet  
Qu'incontinent il le remplisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

5  
Mais vos devis & vos propos  
Sont tous de putains & de pots,  
Aussi pleins de lasciveté  
Que vous estes d'oisiueté:  
Et tousiours songez à malice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

6  
Mais pensez-vous servingman à Dieu,  
Blasphemans son Nom en tout am,  
Et ne pensans pour penitence,  
for'rs qu'à croistre vostre pitance,  
Ou crocheter un benefice?  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

7  
Mais pensez-vous qui soit assez  
De prier pour les trespassez  
Qui ont fait du bien au convent,  
Si vous ne priez Dieu sowent  
Que sa grace vous soit propice?  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

8  
Mais quel service appelez-vous  
D'ainsi murmurer country nous,  
Tout confondre en piteux desordre,  
Et despiter Dieu, nous & l'ordre,  
Si vostre pitance appetisse?  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

9  
Mais dequoi seruent tous vos chants,  
Quand vous estes trompeurs meschans',  
Qui n'auez vertu ne science  
Qu'à regratter la conscience  
De quelque femmelette nice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

10  
Mais que sert d'aller au moustier,  
Et Psalmodier le Psa●tier,  
Et rechanter en cent façons  
Versets, Antiennes, leçons,  
Ayans le coeur à la saucisse?  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

11  
Mais quoi? vostre devotion  
N'est rien que simulation,  
Et vostre chant melodieux  
N'est à Dieu sinon odieux,  
Aimant pur coeur qui le benisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le'seruice.   

12  
Mais c'est peu de seruir de bouche,  
Si le service au coeur ne touch.  
Auoir l'esprit à la cuisine  
En chantant au temple matin,  
Ne sert qu'aux poulmons d'exercice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

13  
Mais pour le service diuin  
Vous faites service de vin,  
En fredonnant vos doux accords.  
Mais que nourrissiez vostre corpse,  
Peu vous chaut que l'ame perisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

14  
Mais vous estes si desreiglez,  
Et en vous maux tant aveuglez,  
Qu'il n'y a homme si savant  
Par ses raisons vous poursuivant,  
Qui de rien amender vous puisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

15  
Mais vous ne donnez iamais rien,  
Et ne vous chant quand ne combien,  
Ne qui, ne quoi, n'en quelle sort  
On vous donne & on vous apport,  
Mais que le convent enrichisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

16  
Mais vous n'auez ni soin ni cure  
De lire la saint Escriture,  
De l'estudier ni entendre,  
De la retenir, & l'apprendre  
An s●t & ignorant novice.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

17  
Pour responsè au Souprieur fair,  
Le convent dit, qu'il n'y a frere  
Qui n'accomplisse & ne consent  
A l'exhortation present,  
Et de bon coeur n'y obeisse.  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   

18  
Mais quand ie di, Frere Simon,  
Pourqu●● n'allez-vous au sermon?  
Frere Gring●ire & frere Gille  
Que ne preschez-vous l'Euangile?  
Chacun dit, je fai 〈…〉,  
Pater, en disan●● service.   

19  
Or ne sauroit-on tant prescher,  
Tant exhorter, tant reprocher  
Leur mawais train, pour les confondre,  
Que ne les ●yez tous respondre,  
Quelque chose que dire puisse,  
Monsieur nous faisons le service.   That is, 

1  
To you sir Friars this suit I make,  
That some good course of life ye take,  
In single heart and soberness,  
And leave your daily drunkenness,  
Which of all ill doth stir the fire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

2  
Ye do: but if you sober live,  
To God ye shall right worship give:  
And in the people breed a strife,  
To tread in steps of your good life.  
Virtue than vice hath better hire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

3  
But unto God 'tis detestable,  
To sit full three hours at the table,  
In drunkenness and belly cheer.  
Why do ye not amend this gear?  
Lest God you punish in his ire?  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

4  
But when y'have drunk carouses twenty,  
If once ye find your mazors empty,  
Not one of you doth rest content,  
But calls for fresh replenishment  
Unto his novice or apple-squire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

5  
But what's all your discourse and talk?  
Of queans, and how the pots may walk.  
As full of lust and wantonness,  
As you yourselves of idleness.  
Ye muse of ill in town and shire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

6  
But think you, God ye serve aright,  
His name blaspheming day and night?  
ne'er thinking of contrition,  
But how t'increase your pension,  
Or some fat benefice t'acquire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

7  
But think you 'tis enough at least,  
To pray for such as are deceased,  
And to your Covent something gave?  
While you ne pray that God ye save,  
And with his grace your heart's 〈◊〉,  
An't please you (Sir) we serve 〈◊〉 Quire.   

8  
But what a service call you this?  
If of your commons ought ye miss,  
In spite of God, us, and our calling,  
To make such murmuring and such brawling?  
Enough to set the world on fire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

9  
But wherefore serve your songs so grave,  
When each you plays the cosining knave?  
And hath no virtue nor science,  
Save to vex women's conscience,  
Which are full nice in their attire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

10  
But what auailethed to go to Kirke,  
To sing the book of David's work:  
To descant in an hundred sorts  
Your Lessons, Anthems, and Reports:  
When pudding is your chief desire?  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

11  
But this your invocation,  
Is deep dissimulation.  
And these your songs melodious,  
Are unto God but odious,  
Who doth the praise of th'heart require.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

12  
But little avails to sing with voice,  
Except the heart sing and rejoice.  
It is but exercise of lungs,  
To strain your sides and wag your ●ungs,  
The while your mind's at kitchen fire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

13  
But you in stead of work divine,  
Best service offer unto wine:  
Their Airs you chant most sweet and fresh,  
And, so you pamper may the flesh,  
You care not for the soul a brier.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

14  
But you are so inordinate,  
So hoodwincked in your foul estate,  
That not the wisest man alive,  
Can argument so well contrive,  
T'amend the life of Monk or Friar.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

15  
But nought you give, and all you take,  
Regardless how, and for whose sake,  
Of whom, or why, (so that you have  
The thing your greedy gut doth crave:)  
What care you so y'enrich the Prior?  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

16  
But never comes it in your head,  
The sacred scriptures once to read:  
To study them, or mark their frame,  
To think thereon, or teach the same  
Your novices, for thanks or hire.  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

17  
For answer unto the Subpriour,  
The Covent saith there's not a Friar,  
But well accepts and doth fulfil  
This exhortation, heart and will.  
Obedient as child to sire,  
And all say (Sir) we serve the Quire.   

18  
But when I say to him, or him,  
Why missed you sermon, Friar Sim?  
Sir Giles, and you sir Gregory,  
Why preach you not the Gospel? Why?  
An't please your worship, saith the Friar,  
I do my duty in the Quire.   

19  
And thus they answer all and each,  
(What ere we say, what are we preach:)  
Nor can the voice of man so sound,  
As their ill guises to confound:  
But still in answer they conspire:  
An't please you (Sir) we serve the Quire.   But seeing I have honoured the Laity so far as to register their lives and actions thus authentically (as it were) in the court rolls, from point to point, I fear me I should be holden an enemy to our holy mother the Church, some lurking Lutheran or odd Huguenote, if I should not make as honourable mention of her obedient children the Catholic Clergy.   

CHAP. XXI. Of the lechery and whoredom of the Popish Clergy.  
FIrst therefore to begin with whoredom: let us see to what height it is grown since Menots time. Est filia seducta (saith he, fol. 82. col. 3.) quae fuit per annum inclusa cum sacerdote cum poto & cochlcari (at bed and board) hody venit ad confessionem: vis dicere quòd cras debet ire ad dormiendum cum Canonico, vel cum alio sacerdote, & sic perseverare toto tempore vitae suae? Moreover he saith that the first prey that soldiers sought for when they entered any town, was Priests lemen (or concubines.) But if I durst be so bold, I would speak of the infamous tribute which was wont to be exacted of Priests, to the end they might be dispensed with for keeping of lemen, which hath also borne a shameful name. And such as desire to know the original of such sweet doings, may here see it. In the first Council of Toledo (which was held (as the story saith) in the reign of the Emperors Arcadius and Honorius:) to the end it might appear what holy spirit was then precedent in Counsels among a number of Prelates there assembled, this canon was agreed upon for the keeping of Concubines. Caeterùm is qui non habet uxorem, & pro uxore concubinam habet, à communione non repellatur; Tamen ut unius mulieris, aut uxoris, aut concubinae, (ut ei placuerit) sit coniunctione contentus. And about two hundred years after, Isidore (as Gratian quoteth him in his great dunghill of decrees, dist. 34.) hath written hereof in these words: Christiano non dicam plurimas, sed nec duas simul habere licitum est, nisi unam tantùm, aut uxorem, aut certè loco vxor●s (si coniux acest) concubinam. Whereupon Priests inferred, that seeing such liberty was granted to common Christians by virtue of this text, they which made others Christians had a larger privilege, and so have utterly rejected marriage, as too strict a rule. But as for keeping of concubines, they so notoriously abused themselves and their neighbour's wives, that Germany (in the reign of the Emperor Maximilian) amongst many other grievances against the Church of Rome (called Gravamina) exhibited two to this effect (concerning the foresaid tribute) grau. 75. Insuper etiam clericos religiososque & saeculares, accepto ab eisdem annuo censu, publicè cum suis concubinis, pellicibus & aliis id genus meretricibus illegitimè cohabitare, liberosque procreare sinunt. Again, grau. 91. Item in locis plerisque Episcopi & corum officiales non solùm tolerant sacerdotum concubinatum, dummodo certa persoluatur pecunia, sed & sacerdotes continentes, & qui absque concubinis degunt, concubinatus censum persoluere cogunt, asserentes Episcopum pecuniae indigum esse: quâ solutâ, licere sacerdotibus ut vel coelibes permaneant vel concubinas alant. But they not content with their concubines or whores, have further by subtle sleights abused honest and chaste matrons. For proof whereof the Queen of Navarre relateth a very memorable and tragical history, which I will here briefly set down. There was a Franciscan lodging in the house of a gentleman of Perigort (whom the Friar ruled at his pleasure, and by reason that he was his confessor, was very inward with him) who being privy and after a sort author of the purpose which the gentleman had to lie that night with his wife, (delivered but 3. weeks before) played his part so well, that he came before the appointed time in stead of her husband. And having satisfied his lust, went away unknown unto her, because he spoke never a word: & going presently to the porter, willed him to open the gate, and to help him to his horse, making him easily believe what he listed, by reason of the great credit he was in. Afterward came her husband at the time appointed; where she (thinking it had been he who was newly departed from her) could not refrain, but used certain speeches unto him, whereby he perceived the knavish part that had been played him. And because there lodged none in that part of the house but his wives brother & the Franciscan, he suspected the Friar, and hied him strait to his chamber, but found him not, which greatly increased his suspicion. But having spoken with the porter, he was fully persuaded that it was he indeed. Whereupon he returned back to bring his wife word how the matter stood: which did so exceedingly perplex her, and drive her into such a desperate & furious fit, that being there all alone (her husband having left her to pursue the Friar) she hanged herself: and as she struggled too and fro in the agony of this cruel death, she killed her little babe, with a blow of her foot. Who being ready to give up the ghost, cried out so loud, that it awaked a woman lying in the chamber, who having beheld this pitiful spectacle, all amazed and affrighted ran to look for her mistress brother: who being come, and seeing his sister in this lamentable estate, after many outcries and deep sighs asked her who it was that had committed that horrible fact; she answered she knew not, but this she knew for certain, that none came into the chamber but her master. Whereupon he presently ransacked every corner of the house to find him out: and finding him not, was the rather persuaded that he and none but he had committed the murder. Thereupon he took horse and hotly pursued him, and watching him by the way as he returned from following the Franciscan (whom he could not overtake) he no sooner saw him but calling him dastard and villain, drew upon him. The other (having no leisure to inquire the cause of such an assault) was feign to stand upon his guard. And thus they continued foining and fight, till in the end, what with bleeding, what with weariness, they were constrained to surcease. Then the gentleman understanding of his brother in law, that he was innocent and ignorant of the fact, and hearing what the Franciscan had done, and how that whilst he was pursuing him, this other mischief had happened, he cried him mercy for wounding of him, and getting him on his horse (as well as he could) brought him to his house, where he died the next morning, confessing to his kinsfolks and acquaintance that himself was the cause of his own death. Howbeit his brother in law was counseled for satisfying of the law, to sue for his pardon to King Francis the first, which he obtained. By which story we see that the inordinate lust of a Monk was the death of three persons. But we shall hereafter hear of a more horrible fact committed by another of the same coat: a Friar of the same fry, who with his own hands committed three murders to achieve his mischievous purpose, which was to have his pleasure of a gentlewoman of the house where he lay: for the effecting whereof, his purpose was to convey her to his covent. But I will reserve this narration for the Chapter where I intent to speak of murders and manslaughters. Mean while this one thing I must needs say by the way, that it was an usual thing with those displing Friars in former times to convey gentlewomen to their Cloisters, stealing them away either in the Church (when for devotion they stayed somewhat longer than their fellows) or in some other place where they might do it conveniently. As may appear by that known story, of a gentlewoman who was rescued by her husband as she passed by his house coming from a covent of the Franciscans (where she had been long time prisoner) to go to another, there to be exchanged for another woman; being conducted by certain ghostly fathers, appareled and pouleshorne as they were. But lest any should think that there neither is, nor ever was any such danger for gentlewomen to fall into the hands of these false Friars: I am not in such hast but that I can tell you what befell a butcher of Strasbourgh, some few years before the Franciscans were expelled thence. How that having lost his wife, & thinking she had been dead (and so she was indeed to him, but not to the Franciscans who kept her cum poto & cochleari, at bed and board, as Menot speaketh) seeing a Novice which came ordinarily to the shambles with a ghostly father, he was wont to say, that he did so well resemble his wife, that had he not been persuaded she were dead, he should think it was she disguised in strange attire. In the end it was well known that the poor butcher had good cause to think so: and that this novice, that is to say, one that wore the habit of a Franciscan novice, was his wife indeed, whom he thought he had lost. Which vile villainy God in his providence suffered not to be detected till that the abuses of Popish religion were discovered, for which as well the Franciscans as the other Monks, together with all the Cannibals of the Crucifix were expelled the city. Many other examples there are of the like feats which these good upholders and favourers of Saint Francis were wont to play. And the foresaid Queen of Navarre recordeth a pleasant story to this purpose, of two Franciscans, who (because they never carry money about them) would needs have ravished their ferrywoman, and paid their fare in that payment: howbeit their good will (which they could not put in execution) was for that time reputed for the deed. But sith this good Princess hath done us and succeeding posterity so great a pleasure, as to take the pains to record certain stories as pregnant proofs of the chastity of these venerable Friars, and to publish them in print, I will omit the most notable of all the rest, viz. of a Franciscan in a town of Perigord, who at the marriage of his host's daughter, caused meat to be served into his chamber for himself and his fellow Friar, making scruple to sit at table with the rest of the guests; yet made no conscience after supper to go to bed with the bride in humility, taking the same pains with her in charity which he knew the bridegroom meant to take. Notwithstanding I may not omit a fine feat played by a Franciscan, who married his companion to an Italian gentlewoman, and so cunningly handled the matter that he had five hundred ducats for his pains, which his fellow had received for his wives dowry: & brought it so about, that he peaceably enjoyed her, and received all kind entertainment at her and her mother's hands (who was a widow) which a new married man could in reason expect. This jolly Franciscan (being ghostly father to the widow) had brought her to so good a belief in his gods, that she verily thought her daughter had met with a better match then possibly she could have wished. And the better to persuade her (although he needed no great Rhetoric for this purpose, considering the good opinion she had conceived of him, by reason of the great devotion she bore to his order) he used this speech unto her, (suiting the request which she had made unto him to find out a fit match for her daughter:) I am fully persuaded (quoth he) that God hath sent his Angel Raphael unto me (as he did to Tobias) to find out a good husband for your daughter. For (I assure you) I have met with the honestest young gentleman that is this day in Italy, who hath sometimes seen your daughter, & is so far gone in love, that as I was to day at my prayers, God sent him unto me, to show me the great desire he hath that this match may go forward. And therefore knowing his house, kinsfolks, and honest demeanour so well, I promised him I would break the matter unto you. See here the preface which this ghostly father used to this silly widow. But to set a fair gloss upon the matter, and to take away all suspicion of double dealing, he further added: True it is, there is one fault which I find in him, & it is but one: The thing is this; going about to rescue one of his friends whom his enemy would have slain, he drew his sword thinking to have parted the fray: but it so fortuned that his friend slew the other, whereupon (though he had stricken never a stroke) he fled the Country because he was present at the murder: 
* The French word signifies murder, and therefore I have kept the propriety of the word: for otherwise it should be called manslaughter rather than murder.  and by the advice of his kinsfolks hath withdrawn himself into this city in a scholars attire, where he continues as a stranger unknown; & is so to remain till such time as his friends shall take order for his return, (which he hopeth they will do very shortly. And therefore the marriage must secretly be solemnised; and you must permit him to frequent public Lectures in the day time, and every night to sup and lodge with you. The silly old widow found great probability in all this tale, (for as the common saying is, It is an easy matter to deceive where there is no deceit) so that upon these conditions they were betrothed the same day, and at Mass after midnight were married, and the marriage being consummate, lived together (for a time) with mutual love and liking one of another: so that her mother said, she had great cause to thank God. But Dominus vobiscum uttered in the Mass by this so honest a young gentleman (who was both a Franciscan & a masspriest) began to mar the market. For this new married mistress going with her mother to hear Mass in the covent of the Franciscans (according to the great devotion which she bore to Saint Francis, as hath been said) as this gentle Sir john turned himself to say Dominus vobiscum, she poor soul was stricken with greater astonishment than ever bel-founder was, telling her mother that the Priest which said mass was her husband, at least one that much resembled him. Her mother making great scruple once to imagine that such holy men would use such false dice, and thinking withal that such a thought could not be entertained without a mortal sin, laboured to draw her daughter from that opinion. But Ite, missa est, struck it dead. For turning himself the second time, he did not only confirm her in her opinion, but made her mother also of the same mind: who notwithstanding would not fully believe it till the evening, that she came and found him in bed with his wife; where (according to the plot which they had laid) she held his hands as though it had been in sport, whilst her daughter pulled off his nightcap. Under which finding his shaven crown, they needed not to make any further doubt whether he was a Priest or no, but rather to devise how they might be revenged as well of him as of the ghostly father; whom the old gentlewoman sent for without delay, making as though she had some great secret to impart unto him. In the end she delivered them over into the judges hands, who (doubtless) would never have suffered them to have escaped so scotfree as they did, but that they were corrupt at the core: as the Queen of Navarre saith in the end of this narration. But I heard afterwards in Italy, that they acquit them upon small penance. For in times past they made conscience (as we know) to lay hands upon these holy men; nay they were glad to rid their hands of them, and to turn them over to their guardians, to be dismissed in pace, or otherwise dealt with as they should think good. And sithence we are speaking of Italy, I will here insert the history of that lecher who played the knave with one Berengers wife, an Italian marquess. This housewife (never respecting the noble house whence she was descended) played the harlot with one of her Chaplains (though a very dandiprat, and exceedingly deformed.) But this companion escaped not so scotfree as his fellows. For being bewrayed by the barking of a dog, he was taken and stripped stark naked, and had that part cut off wherewith he had offended. Which happened in the time of Pope Steven the eight, about the year of our Lord 941. But to return to Franciscans: I have not forgotten the history of the grey Friar (calling himself Saint Francis) who played his part so well with a silly superstitious woman, that she admitted him to her bed: but before he could bring his resolution to execution, the curtain was drawn, and the play ended otherwise then he expected, and by those whom he never suspected. For Saint Peter (as porter of Pararadise) and Saint Thomas (as one who would never have believed such a matter) came to seek him even to his bed's side, and sent him packing after another manner than he came thither. I have not (I say) forgotten this story, but reserve it to his proper place.  
2 Now these gallants not content to play the knaves in grain, and to exceed all the ruffians that ever entered the Huleu of Paris in obscenity of speeches and filthy conversation, have been bold (and that in open pulpits) before the crucifix and all the men and women Saints there present (keeping demure countenances in looking on and saying nothing) to use such modest talk as were enough to make all the whores (at least the courtesans of Venice and Rome) to blush for shame. Witness a Franciscan of Tours, who preaching upon Easter tuesday in a village called S. Martin le beau, nigh the city Bleré in Touraine, and recommending himself and his suit unto them, said, Madams, I am bound to give you thanks for your liberality to our poor covent. But shall I tell you? you have not considered of all our necessities. And then he used such a villainous speech, that is, so beseeming his cloister (according to the old saying, A man is not to look for grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles) and so unworthy all chaste ears, that I will not stain my paper therewith. And if perhaps I forget myself so much in other places as to blot paper with the like, I shall desire the Reader not to take offence thereat, nor to gather thereupon that I take pleasure in the recital of such hideous and horrible villainies; but to persuade himself that the only desire I have to decipher out villains by their villainies, and wicked men by their wickedness (to the end that the knowledge of them may breed a bitter detestation of such monstrous abomination) hath moved me to imitate the Lacedæmonians, who teaching their children sobriety and temperance, showed them their slaves drunken, that seeing their beastly behaviour, they might in their youth grow to a loathing and detestation of their drunkenness. Notwithstanding if there be any curious head, desirous to know what this rotten speech was, which the Monk uttered, he shall find it (with sundry others) in the narrations of the Queen of Navarre, whose meaning (in publishing those Nowelles) was to let posterity understand the notorious wickedness of these false Friars, who were reputed not only honest men, but even petty Saints. Now as the Satirist saith, Nemo repent fuit turpissimus: so it is certain that their loose licentious life & dissolute demeanour hath daily increased & grown by degrees. But we have seen it in the ruff, especially sithence this rascal rout is come to this pass, to desire (as one writeth) that they might be permitted in their confessions to handle those parts & members of the body, which had been instruments in committing the sin which they confessed. And when a Bishop told one of them (that had put up this petition) what an absurd and shameful thing it would be for men and women to show their privities: he answered, that if it were accounted no dishonesty for confessors to contemplate at the same instant with the eyes of the mind (which are far more pure and precious than the eyes of the body) not only the parts & members of the body which had committed filthiness, but the filthy fact itself disclosed and laid open unto them in holy ●hrift; much less ought it to be thought a dishonest or unseemly thing to behold and view them with their bodily eyes. Further, he alleged that the confessor resembling the spiritual Physician, aught to feel his patient as well as the bodily Physician doth his. And these his Scoggin-like scoffs he burnished with blasphemies, profanely abusing the words of our blessed Saviour, Go and show thyself to the Priest: as though the jews had been accustomed to strip off their clothes, and show themselves naked to the Priest. But to return to these jolly Preachers: what modest speeches (think we) use they in private, when they use such obscene scurrility in public? When I say in private, I mean not only their own cloisters, but the cloisters of their most dear, loving and well-beloved sisters: for their manner was to build them near together. Whereupon a merry companion took occasion to say, Here is the barn, and there are the threshers. Which puts me in mind of that which a jester once said to King Henry the second: for when it was debated which way they might best furnish the King with money, he propounded two. The first was, that if the King would let him wear his crown by course, he would furnish him with two millions of gold. The second, that he should give commandment that all Monks beds should be sold, and the money brought unto him. Whereupon the King ask him where the Monks should lie when their beds were sold? with the Nuns, quoth he. Whereupon the King replied; But thou considerest not, that there are nothing so many Nuns as Monks. To which he had this answer at his finger's ends; It is true, if it please your Highness (said he) but every Nun can well lodge half a dozen Monks at the least.  
3 But how comes it to pass (may some say) that these poor Franciscans are more commonly flouted and played upon then the other fry of Friars? Verily it is not for want of examples as well of other Monks as of simple sir john's; but because they bear the world in hand that they have ascended a note above Ela, and attained a greater degree of holiness than the rest of this rabble, therefore they are more narrowly looked into then the rest. And when the best of them all (who boast themselves to be most holy) are not worth a rush, it must needs follow that the rest are bad enough. Nevertheless, for his satisfaction who might haply make such an objection, I will allege some rare examples of simple Sir john's, that is, of such as are not Monks, but single sole Priests. First then we are not to wonder that these gallants (especially Curates and Vicars) should go into every man's house and take toll of their wives, seeing all men almost (at least the greatest part) kept open house for them, and put them in trust with their wives, making account that they had to deal with their souls only, and not with their bodies. In such sort that a simple sot finding a Sir john at work with his wife, durst hardly believe (for fear of committing a mortal sin) that he came thither for any bad intent. Which women knowing well enough, were not to seek for an excuse when they chanced to be found at unawares with their good Curate: as we have formerly alleged examples of their craft and subtlety in playing false with their husbands, when and as often as they were taken napping in the fact with one or other of their kind acquaintance. But let us see what subtle sleights Priests and Monks had in their budgets, to pass their wicked purposes, when they met with any obstacle or rub in their way. It is reported of two or three good fellows (one of which was a kind Curate in a burrough-towne situate in the mountains between Daulphiné and Savoy) who counseled the good wives of their parish to feign themselves to be possessed, that when their husbands went on pilgrimage for the dispossessing of them, they might commit them to their custody till their return, that so they might not be niggards of their stoles, nor their other instruments which might do their wives good. We read also of sundry others through whose counsel women have feigned themselves sick of one disease or other, whereunto their sex is usually subject, that under colour of applying to them their relics, they might apply unto them some other thing. As a Minorite Friar in Sicily served the young wife of an old Physician, named Agatha. For she having in her confession laid open to this Monk some part of her mind, as namely that she bore no great affection to her husband: and having given sufficient intimation (at least to one of so quick a conceit, as without casting of her water could soon perceive where she was pained) that she longed for change of pasture, was persuaded by him (before he had absolved her) that the next day when her husband was gone to visit his patients, she should feign herself sick of the mother (as indeed she was somewhat subject unto it) and that she should call for the help of my Lord S. Bernardine: which she did. Whereupon they entreated this Minorite to bring the miraculous relics of S. Bernardine, and apply them to this poor patient. The Friar being glad that his plot stood in so good terms, foreslowed not his business, but coming strait to her bed's side, and finding more witnesses there then he desired, told them that he must begin with holy shrift, which was enough to make them all void the room; so that there only remained his companion and the gentlewoman's maid. And then was it time both for mistress and maid to go about other matters than confession. Now as they were hard at work, the poor Physician came home (not giving the pedlar of relics so much time as to put on his breeches, but only to leap out of bed) and finding these two confessors so near his wife, began to scratch his head, not daring to speak all that he thought. But it struck him to the heart (poor soul) when after their departure he found one of the Confessors breeches under the bed's head, as he was tricking up his wives pillow. But as the moral was well handled, so the play was far better acted. For his wife presently preventing him said: Sweet husband, because the relic of blessed S. Bernardine hath recovered me, I desired the Confessor to leave it with me, fearing a relapse. The Friar being advertised by the maid of the starring hole which her mistress had found, (to the end that the Catastrophe might be answerable to the Prologue) returned to fetch his breeches with ringing and chiming of bells, with crosses and holy water, accompanied with all the fry of their fraternity, and namely with the Prior of the house: and having taken them out of a fair linen cloth (in which the sick soul had wrapped them) he caused all the standers by to kiss them, and first of all the silly noddy her husband: and having laid them up in a shrine, departed thence with this precious and wonderworking jewel. Others (as Poggius) report that the breeches of S. Francis covered the knavery of the breeches which the Minorite Friar had left behind him. To the same purpose Boccace writeth of an Abbatesse in Lombardy, who rising in haste from a Priest (with whom she had lain that night) to take one of her Nuns in bed with her Paramot: in stead of her veils (which some call the psalter) she for haste put on the Priest's breeches on her head; which the poor Nun strait perceiving, as she was to receive her benedicite (for the points of the breeches hung down on either side,) Madame (said she) first tie your coi●e, and then I will be contented to hear whatsoever admonition you shall give me: with that the Abbatesse perceived what it was, that she had inconsiderately put upon her head, and there upon changed the copy of her countenance, and was straight in another key. In this history there is one remarkable point, which I may not omit, wherein all agree which relate the same (although they vary somewhat in other circumstances) viz. how this jolly Minorite under pretence of shriving her, took occasion to lie with her. This I say is the rather to be marked, because it confirmeth the saying of that good old Preacher Oliver Maillard, who complaineth that after these gallants have heard women's confessions, and learned who they be that follow the occupation, they run after them. Qui auditis confessiones mulierum, deinde curritis post eas. Howbeit we have more ancient and authentical testimonies hereof. For Poggius a Florentine reporteth that there was an Eremite at Padua called Ansimitius (in the reign of Francis the seventh, Duke of that city) who being held to be a holy man, corrupted many women (those especially which were descended of noble houses,) and all under colour of confession. And he addeth a very pleasant jest, how that when this Eremite was detected, he was brought before the Duke, who having examined him, caused his secretary to know of him the names of all the women which he had abused. Who after he had reckoned up a great number, such especially as resorted to the Duke's palace, he said, he had told all. But the Secretary still urging him to confess more, and to conceal never a one. The poor Eremite fetching a sorrowful sigh, said, Why then (Sir) write down your own wife. At which words the Secretary was so astonished, that the pen fell out of his fingers. The Duke on the other side was almost resolved into laughter. But to omit these examples: daily experience doth sufficiently show, that auricular confession served Priests and Monks in stead of nets to catch women withal. For my part I remember well, I once heard a Priest at Paris upbraided for lying with a woman in the Church presently after he had shriven her. I have also heard of a Curate near to Vienne in Dauphiné, who was taken (about twelve years since) playing the knave behind the high Altar on good Friday, with a woman whom he had under benedicite, with whom he had often played the like prank. For punishment of which offence he was sentenced by the Bishop of the Diocese not to sing Mass for a certain time. Which puts me in mind of a grievous punishment which an Italian Bishop inflicted upon a Priest (about forty years ago) for his cruel handling of a poor tradesman, in beating him most barbarously beyond all mean and measure, viz. that he should not set foot in any Church for the space of three months. Which sentence the magistrate of the place perceiving to be overpartially given in the behalf of the Priest, so encouraged the poor man underhand, and heartened him so on, that he was fully resolved to be revenged. Neither failed he of his purpose: for meeting with his Sir john in a place where he was not able to make his part good, he beat him well and thriftily, restoring him his blows with advantage. For which fact being complained of to the magistrate, he commanded him that he should not set foot in any tavern for three months after. Which sentence of the magistrate when it came to the Bishop's ear, he was much offended. Howbeit the magistrate (who knew well what he had done) was not mute nor unprovided of an answer, but replied in this sort: Say, (I beseech you my Lord) do you not think it a greater punishment for him which is wont never to lie out of the Tavern, to be forbidden to go thither for the space of three months, then for a Priest to be debarred for three months from coming to Church, which he makes so little account of, that he could be content for a small matter never to come there all his life long? This story I was the more willing to record, because it doth so well exemplify the light penance which the other Bishop enjoined the wicked Priest, who was so impudent to play the fornicating Friar (I say not in the Church, but) hard by the high Altar; not upon Shrove-tuesday, but upon good Friday, golden friday, holy friday, when all men are weeping full sore and bitterly for the poor god which is kept in prison: wherein so much as to laugh, is accounted a venial sin: and which is more, in the sight of all the he and she Saints in the Church, who turning their faces aside for shame, could notwithstanding see them as well behind as before: To be short, who committed such a crime, for which he deserved (to speak according to their cannons) to die five hundred deaths, if it were possible. And notwithstanding this so light and slight a punishment, the Legate of Auinion thought it so great and so grievous, that he released him thereof. So that M. Curate played the knave again with the same woman, and in the same place more freely than ever before, in spite of all that spoke against it; neither did he surcease from singing his ordinary Masses, which were found as savoury and toothsome, yea as easy to be digested by those which greedily feed upon such froth, as the Masses of the maidenliest Priest of them all. Now who so lift to make diligent inquiry into all the knaveries committed by these Churchmen, shall find them almost infinite. But their punishments so exceeding rare, and (for the most part) so slight and slender, that it was, in a manner, nothing but mere mockery. Whereof to omit other testimonies, we have a notable precedent in the Franciscans of Orleans, after that horrible and execrable imposture of theirs, which was since notoriously known to all the world.  
4 But leaving this discourse, let us return to the whoredoms of these bon companions: and to the end it may appear that they thought scorn to be inferior to their Prelates in that occupation, let us hear an incest in the highest degree, committed by a Priest, as it is authentically recorded in the late Queen of Navarres narrations, yet more briefly than it is there set down. In a village near Coignac, called Cherues, a maid (that is, one that was a maid by her own assertion and in common opinion) sister to the Curate of the parish, was found to be with child. And because she led a very holy life (in outward appearance) she made the common people easily believe that she was great with child by the holy Ghost, and that she was another virgin Mary. This rumour blazed abroad, came to the ears of Charles Earl of Angoulesme (father to King Francis the first) who sent certain of his servants thither to make diligent inquiry thereof, because he doubted all went not well, but that there was some false packing amongst them. In whose presence the wench (being about 13. years of age) having been before adjured by the Curate (her brother) upon her salvation to reveal the truth, and then the second time sworn, answered, I take the body of our Lord here present upon my salvation, before you my masters, and you my brother, that never man touched me more than you. And having so said, she received the consecrated host. They hearing her take this solemn oath, returned back again and informed the Earl how the case stood: who hearing their report, thought upon that which they never dreamt of, viz. that it was not without cause that she used that form and manner of oath, that never man touched her more than her brother, and took it for certain that it would be found that her brother had gotten her with child. Whereupon he sent them back again, commanding them to imprison the Curate: which they had no sooner done, but he confessed the fact. So that both of them were burned certain days after she was delivered. We read also of one Thomas Abbot of Abingdon, who (not contented to keep three paramours) had two children by his own sister.  
5 But to ease myself of further labour, in collecting out of sundry authors that which might serve my purpose: I will for this present content myself with a short treatise in French (wherein this story is set down) taken out of an English book, containing an inventory (or catalogue) of the villainies discovered in the visitation of Monasteries, Covents, Collegiate Churches, and other religious houses in England, by the commandment of king Henry the eight: where (to let pass their other knaveries) the whoredoms, adulteries, incests and sodomies of Priests and Monks of those houses are set forth, with their names and surnames, as it here followeth. In the Monastery of bell or Battle in the Diocese of Chichester, these Sodomites were found at the first visitation, john Abbot, Richard Salchurst, Thomas Cuthbert, William March, john Hasting, Gregory Champion, Clement Westfield, john Cross, Thomas Crambrooke, Thomas Bayll, john Hamfield, john Iherom, Clement Grigge, Richard Tovey, and john Austin. Other Sodomites in the Church of Canterbury among the Monks of Saint Benet are these, Richard Godmershan, William Litchfield, Christopher james, john Goldingston, Nicholas Clement, William Cawston, john Ambrose, Thomas Farleg, and Thomas Morton. Other Sodomites in the Cathedral Church of Chichester, john Champion and Roger Barham. Item, in the Monastery of Saint Augustine, Thomas Barham sodomite. The catalogue of whoremasters and adulterers is too long, and therefore I will speak only of their stoutest champions, that is, of those who kept many whores: some of which, like towne-buls, not contenting themselves with a round half dozen, had nine, others eleven, (in remembrance of the eleven thousand virgins) others thirteen, and some twenty. But because I will not deprive them of the honour given to their fellows, these are their names. In the Church of Canterbury among the Monks of S. Benet, Christopher jamys played the whoremonger only with three married women, William Abbot of Bristol had but four whores, whereof one was married. In Windsor Castle Nicholas Whyden priest, had but four. In the same place George Whitethorne had five, Nicholas Spoter five, Robert Hun five, Robert Danyson six, Richard Prior of Maydenbeadley five. In the Monastery of Shulbred in the Diocese of Chichester, George Walden Prior had seven, john Standney seven, Nicholas Duke five. In the Monastery of bath, Richard Lincombe had seven, whereof three were married: he was a Sodomite beside. In the Cathedral Church of Chichester, john Hill had but thirteen. This is much (may some say:) but what is it to john White Prior of Bermondsey, who had twenty? It is commonly thought that there were above 400. Covents of sundry sorts of Monks and Nuns in England (besides those that belonged to the begging Friars, which were nigh two hundred.) Now let the Reader calculate, how many bastards there were then in England, I mean Monks bastards begotten of strumpets? And if there had been a visitation of Religious houses throughout France, Italy and Spain at the same time, let the Reader judge what sweet doings would have been found. At the same time I say, because their dealing in the dark was not then so plainly discovered and laid open, as it hath been of late time: and therefore they had far better means to defray such charges, and to blear the eyes of the world, than ever they had since. Hitherto I have said nothing of Germany: for albeit it be of greater extent than any of the former, yet it is thought to have been more barren of such bastard slips (I mean these friars brats) and less pestered with such vermin. Howbeit we need not doubt but that they also have followed the game as well as their fellows. At least this we read in the arraignment of the jacobins of Berne, that they were found feasting and making merry in the Covent among fine dames, not in the habit of Monks, but of gentlemen.  
6 Further, there go sundry other reports of Franciscans and jacobins, who have been taken leading their strumpets about with them attired like novices. And verily it was a politic course of theirs, to permit their displing Friars to lead novices about in this sort: for under that pretext they had always a Ganymede or a whore by their side. Howbeit I persuade myself that since a Franciscans novice was delivered of a child in a ferry boat, as they crossed over the river Garumna, (a fact almost as strange as the delivery of Pope joan) they have been a little more wary in observing the old rule, Si non castè, tamen cautè, If not chastened, yet charily.  
7 Now it is not of late years only (in this age, or in that wherein Menot lived) that these stoned Priests have manifested by their practices, how the poor people were abused, in believing that there was as great difference between them and Seculars in regard of fleshly concupiscence, as between cocks and capons. For in a book written against the Carmelites, about the year 1270. (called The fiery dart) this (to omit other particulars) was laid to their charge. The principal cause of all your gadding to and fro, in town and country, is not to visit the fatherless, but damsels; not widows which are in grief and anguish of spirit, but young wanton wenches and Beguines, Nuns, and naughty packs. He that thus reproved and admonished them, being the general of their order, who since that time resigned up his place, and forsook his cowl also, as some affirm. Guil. de sancto Amore, who lived about the year 1256. saith no less; The begging Friars (saith he) lead Beguines about the country with them, which way soever they go: grounding their practice upon the place of S. Paul, Have we not power to lead about a sister, a wife. See here (gentle Reader) what these silly souls said in those days. But what would they have said (may we think) if they had heard of such a fry of fornicating Friars, as hath been mentioned? Moreover, to the end they might more finely flout both God and men, they have made no bones, (that I may add one thing more touching their Beguines whom they carried about with them) to forge and frame a religion, according to which their Monks and Nuns (after they had made some proof of their continency) lay wallowing together like swine in the filth of their fornication: in the mean time bearing the world in hand, that though they companied together in this sort, yet that they were no more tempted with carnal concupiscence than two logs of wood lying one by the other.  
8 And thus much of the pranks played by these Frier-dockers. Now in winding up of this Chapter I will resolve this one question, Why Monks and Friars are called Beaux-peres, Ghostly fathers. One considering their doings in the dark, and insisting upon the word peers, that is, fathers, made these verses in imitation of a Latin Distich: 
Or ça jacobins, Cordeliers,  
Augustins, Carmes, bordeliers,  
D'où vient qu'on vous nomme Beaux-peres?  
C'est qu'à l'ombre du Crucifix,  
Sowent faisons filles ou filz,  
En accointant des belles meres.  That is, 
Ye jacobins, Carmelites, Cordeliers,  
Augustine's, and all ye fornicating Friars,  
How came ye by the ghostly father's names?  
For under the Crucifix and high Altars,  
We want to get us sons and daughters,  
In kind acquaintance with our ghostly dames.  But to leave jesting (for the author of this Hexastich was merrily disposed, albeit he slandered them (as we know) but with a matter of truth:) I am of opinion that Beaux-peres is all one as if a man should say Beaux-vieillards, Fair old men; which I do the rather think, because 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (a word of the vulgar Greek) seemeth to be corrupted of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is fair, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is an old man, which Epithet argues that they have always lived at their ease. For we call him a fair old man, who maugre his grey beard, is yet fresh and flourishing, the fair lineaments of whose face are not wrinkled with labour & care. And verily Monks, especially mendicants (those at Venice above the rest) are the fairest old men in all Italy: though there they be only called peers, fathers, and not Beaux-peres. And it would (no doubt) be as goodly a sight to see Monks in France, if they would let their beards grow as Italians do. Howbeit that which hath been spoken, is not that any man should envy them.   

CHAP. XXII. Of the gluttony and drunkenness of the Popish Clergy.  
IT is an old saying, Apres la panse, vient la danse, that is, After feasting follows dancing: and therefore it had been more convenient (as it may seem) first to have spoken of gourmandizing and drunkenness (as ringleaders to all wantonness) according to my former discourse grounded upon sundry ancient proverbs. Howbeit I have first spoken of lechery, relying upon the authority of Juvenal, who saith that whoredom is of all other vices the most ancient, though it be spoken more merrily then truly. First then to speak of the quality of meats before the quantity, (that is, of lickorishnesse before gluttony) we need to go no further then to Theological wine and chapter bread. For when we would express in one word, the choicest wine were even for a King, we must have recourse to Theological wine. Likewise if the question be touching the finest and daintiest bread, like unto that which was in the city of Eresus, for which Mercury thought his pains well bestowed to come down from heaven to make provision for the gods (if we may believe the Poet Archestratus;) when all is done we must come to Chapter bread, I mean the right chapter bread, whence that which bakers sell at Par●s hath borrowed the name but not the goodness, save in some small measure. Well then, this is a good beginning; for the feast cannot be bad where there is good bread and good wine. Concerning meats, certain it is, that when we say, Such a one fares like a Commissioner for flesh and fish, we ought rather to say, He fares like a Churchman. For, for whom are great Pikes bought at six French crowns a piece, but for the dainty mouth of our holy mother the Church? For whom (think we) did rippiers first troth up and down the country, but for our holy mother? Howbeit, they do not (I must needs confess) eat fish and flesh both at one meal, (for Physicians counsel them the contrary) but they commonly sit so long at meat, till they be so crammed with flesh, that they are ready to burst; much like to Dutchmen, who when they keep their grand gaudeamus, make conscience to drink a drop of wine, till they be drunk with beer. Nevertheless there are many now adays who keep their stomachs for fish till Lent. Howsoever, it is not without cause that we usually say Theological wine and Abbot's cheer, as we may perceive by the description not of a dinner or supper, but only of a breakfast; and that not of an Abbot, but of a Prior, in these verses: 
un gros Prieur son petit fils baisoit,  
Et mignardoit au matin en sa couch:  
Tandis rostir sa perdris on faisoit.  
See leave, crache, esme●tit, & se mouche.  
La perdris vire: au sell de broque en bouche  
La devora: bien sauoit la science.  
Puis quand il eut pris sur sa conscience  
Broc de vin blanc, du meilleur qu'on eslise,  
Mon Dieu (dit il) donne moy patience:  
Qu'on a de maux pour seruir saincte Eglise?  That is, 
A ●oggie Prior kissed his pretty son,  
And early danced him in his downy bed.  
Meanwhile his cook makes due provision,  
Of a plump Partridge for the purpose fed.  
He riseth, spits, and sneezeth, blows his nose:  
The smoking Partridge down his gullet goes,  
Hot from the spit.  
Then can he lay on his large conscience,  
Quarts of best wine that ever grape did make.  
O God (says he) but grant me patience,  
What toil we taken for the Church's sake?  What shall we say then to the dinners and suppers of those Prelates that have a dozen crosier sta●es and as many miters attending on them, if a paltry Prior have a Partridge to his breakfast? But mark how pitifully he complaineth of the hard service he endureth under his holy mother the Church? True it is, that another of the same coat made the like complaint, because they would needs have him eat partridges, woodcocks, and feasants without oranges. But you are to know (Sir) that this was a mytered Bishop, whereas the other was but a poor Prior. But to return to our proverbs, Theological wine and Abbot's cheer or prelates fare. Doubtless, without them we should never have understood this excellent place in Horace. 
Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero  
Pulsanda tellus: nunc saliaribus  
Ornare puluinar deorum  
Tempus erat dapibus, sodales.  Nor yet this in the same Poet: 
Absumet haeres Caecuba dignior,  
Seruata centum clavibus: & mero  
Tinget pavimentum superbo  
Pontificum potiore coenis.  And that we stand in need of these proverbs to give us the true meaning of these verses, hear what the Gloss saith upon the latter place word for word, Mero dicit potiore (id est, meliore) coenis Pontificum, id est, quam quo Pontifices in coenis suis quae semper sumptuosissim● fu●rant (unde nunc Theologicum dicunt vinum) usi sunt. Thus we see how greatly commentors upon Poets are beholding to Divines and Prelates. As for Theological wine, I am not ignorant that it is greatly controverted whether it should be called Vinum Theologale, or vinum Theologalis, per appositionem: for the common report is, that when they have drunk deep, they agree no better than cats and dogs. But I will leave the deciding hereof to the judicial Reader: for I am not very certain whether it be true that they go to fists when they are well tippled, or not. Notwithstanding I remember that when the Sorbonists kept their conventicle on a time with the Bernardines, and that before they had drunk (at leastwise as they protested, and indeed it was very early in the morning) after they had willed me, my Attorney and Proctor to avoid the room, for that they were to consult what answer to make to a letter which my deceased father had obtained of King Henry (wherein he had enjoined them something which did not please them very well): we saw them almost ready to go together by the ears, being wearied and hoarse again with chiding and chafing. Which fact of theirs I durst not have been so bold as to have related▪ had I not had two sufficient witnesses thereof, much more offended therewith then myself, who before their coming had som● inkling of their civility. And verily if they had plucked one another by the beard, it should not have been the first time; for they had done no more than the Bishop of Cava & the Bishop of Greguetto did once in a Council. Moreover, these two proverbs call another to mind, viz. the face of an Abbot, which being an ancient byword, persuadeth me that Abbots in old time had fiery faces. Touching the Cardinal of the bottles (or flagons) he may well think that I did him great wrong if I should here forget him▪ howbeit I will not make a custom of it, because it would make me remember the injury and disgrace which the Italians commonly offer us, in calling us tossepots. Now if these jolly Prelates shall say, that when they make good cheer, their table talk is nothing but good and honest; Oliver Maillard will tell them they lie in their throats, and that they talk of nothing but of whoredom and lechery: for these are his words, Vadatis ad mensam Praelatorum vel Dominorum magnatum, semper loquuntur de luxuria, vel aliquibus detrahunt, & ille qui viliùs loquitun, dicitur melior.  
2 But here we are to answer an objection which might haply be made against that which hath been said: for some may say that it is not unlike but that cannons, priors, Abbots, and other the Pope's gross gorbellies should make good cheer; and that they might well be accounted stark fools if they did not thus pleasantly pass away the time, seeing that all the travail they take, and suit which they make for the obtaining of benefices and Ecclesiastical promotions, is for no other end. As we read of one who before he was Pope, was the most crouching submiss Cardinal that ever was lodged in an oven: for his manner was to eat upon a net, as it were in way of devout humility; but after he had obtained the Popedom he commanded them to take away the net, saying, he had caught that which he fished for. But as for such a lurry and rabble of poor farthing Friars, who have neither rent nor revenue, nor a foot of land to live upon, who are therefore called pedlars of relics, because they live only upon the alms of well disposed persons and granmercies: and those who are called Mendicants, that is, begging Friars, what probability is there they should have wherewith to make good cheer? The objection (me thinks) is easily answered, if we call to mind the common saying, There is no life to the beggars when they have laid all their cantels together. But howsoever the mystery of that secret stand, it is not without cause that we say, he is a friar, as who should say, he is a good fellow and a bon companion, who mindeth nothing but merrily to pass away the time. Neither is it without cause that we say, He is as fat as a Monk, of which I have already spoken. Howbeit, we use (I confess) this word AS in our proverbs, as when we say, As fat as a hog, or As fat as a pig. And that there is indeed some correspondence, analogy or hidden sympathy between swine and Friars, (taking Friars in puris naturalibus) their good S. Anthony hath well declared, who being a swineherd in his life time, would needs at his death take upon him the charge of a heard of Friars: (though they who run up and down the country, crying, Have you any thing to bestow upon my Lord S. Anthony's swine, make him a very swineherd indeed: and as his Legend saith he was in his days an Archimandrite or governor of Monks:) witness the Epigram ensuing: 
Diceris Antoni porcos pavisse subulcus,  
Viws: adhuc Monachos lumine cassus alis.  
Par stupor ingenij est, ventrisque abdomen utrisque:  
Sorde pari gaudent, inglwieque pari.  
Nec minùs hoc brutum genus est, mutúmve suillo,  
Nec minùs insipidum, nec minus illepidum.  
Caetera conveniunt, sed non levis error in uno est,  
Debucrat Monachis glans cibus esse tuis.  Which one hath thus turned, 
Once fedst thou, Anthony, an heard of swine,  
And now an heard of Monks thou feedest still;  
For wit, and gut, alike both charges been:  
Both loven filth alike: both like to fill  
Their greedy paunch alike. Nor was that kind  
More beastly, sottish, swinish, than this last.  
All else agrees: one fault I only find,  
Thou feedest not thy Monks with oaken mast.  Another Scot also made a Latin Epigram, wherein he makes some doubt whether the swineherd and guardian of Friars be the same S. Anthony or not: but in the end he resolves the case thus: 
Credibile est Circen mutasse potentibus herbis,  
In Monachosque sues, inque sues Monachos.  That is, 
'tis like that Circe by her spells divine,  
Hath turned swine to Monks, and Monks to swine.  But to search no further for more testimonies, let us content ourselves with one of their own, comprised in these goodly verses, 
Sanctus Dominicus sit nobis semper amicus,  
Cui canimus nostro iugiter praeconia rostro,  
De cordis venis, siccatis antè lagenis.  
Ergo tuas laudes si tu nos pangere gauds,  
Tempore paschali, fac ne potu puteali  
Conueniat uti: quod si fit, undique muti  
Semper erunt fratres qui non curant nisi ventres.  See here (gentle Reader) the testimonies which themselves give of their Sardanaple-like sobriety. For doubtless it cannot be but that these verses were made either by a Friar speaking in sober sadness without hypocrisy, or by one into whose body some friars soul entered, causing him to speak so Friar like. At leastwise this testimony agreeth with it excellent well: 
O Monachi, vestri stomachi sunt amphora Bacchi:  
Vos estis (Deus est testis) teterrima pests.   
3 As for those silly souls the singlesoled priests which profess not so austere and strict a life, being only Massmongers by their occupation, they have great reason (questionless) to drink of none but of the best. And therefore I hold a certain Sir john (a gentleman's chaplain) excused, who desiring the Butler to give him of the best wine, but being served with the worst, took this cast of his office so to heart (thinking it so great a disparagement and so heinous an indignity) that when he perceived him on a time at Mass, he grew into such a mad mood that he lost his voice, he gentleman on the other side being in great haste, and desiring only a hunting the Mass (because his horses stood ready for him at the Church gate) fell into a pelting chafe by reason of so long a pause, seeing Sir john protracted that which he desired might have been abridged. But in the end he was glad to send his page to ask him what fly had so suddenly stung him. Sir john answered that there was one in the company that was excommunicate, which hindered his proceeding: and having told the lackey (sent unto him the second time to know the party) that it was his butler, he gentleman was easily persuaded to send him away: which done, he went on roundly with the Mass. Whereupon the poor Butler had his absolution, yet upon condition that he should not fail to give Sir john of the same wine that his master and mistress drank of. Now the reasons for which I say they will be sure to drink of none but of the best, are these. First, because it prevents crudities, which might make them slaver or snivel whilst they are deep in their devotion. Secondly, for that devotion is more ardent in a hot stomach then in a cold. Thirdly, because they are about to sing: for this they take from the Poets (called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which properly signifieth chanters or singers) and therein they follow their opinion, which hath been such in all ages, that a man cannot sing worth a button, except he have first drunk deep and that of the best. But some may haply say, that by this means they are in danger to be drunk. And what though they drink till they be drunk, so they do it for a good intent? For if it be no hurt to say, hoc est nasum meum, in stead of hoc est corpus meum, so it be done cum intentione consecrandi: And if it be no hurt to cast a child into a well, so it be done cum intentione baptizandi, as some Glosses affirm; what great matter is it if they drink themselves drunk come intention missificandi? And therefore they had reason to bear with a poor Curate near to Fere in Tartenois, who intending pleasantly to sing his Mass, and to sacrifice his breaden god the next morning, had so merrily sacrificed to God Bacchus the evening before, that whereas he should have baptised a child, he administered extreme unction. In like manner he is to be excused, who having taken his preparatives over evening, when all men cry (as the manner is) The King drinketh; chanting his Mass the next morning, fell asleep in his memento: and when he awoke, added with a loud voice, The King drinketh. Howbeit the Priest of S. Mary in Paris, who falling asleep in his memento, had his chalice and plattin stolen by one which holp him to say Mass●; and awaking ran into the street, crying a thief, a thief, was laughed at as a fond fool, not without cause: for he should first have agreed with him, whose help he desired in mumbling over his Mass. But it is to be noted, that he fell asleep (as the rest did) through the great devoir he had to prepare himself to sing well.  
4 And sith I have proceeded thus far in speaking of the jolly gaudeamus of these Churchmen: I will add one word more in the behalf of these poor five-farthing sacrificing Massemonging priests, not for any great good will I bear them, but for pity and compassion which I take upon them, viz. that if they knew how to plead their own cause, they might show that they have great wrong done them, in that they are cut so short of their allowance, and have such small pittances, in comparison of priors, Abbots, and the rest of that rabble. For if the sacrifice which they daily offer, be like unto that which the Priests (called Salij) instituted by Numa Pompilius celebrated, (as the author of the book entitled A brief collection of sacred signs, sacrifices and sacraments, both learnedly & sound proveth) what reason is there that they who perform the office of the Salij, should not have Saliares dapes, but should leave them to those which perform the duty but once in the year? But I will leave them to plead their own cause.   

CHAP. XXIII. Of thefts and robber is committed by the Popish Clergy.  
IF I should dive deep into this argument▪ I should but plunge myself into a bottomless gulf. For if it have been an old and ancient saying, The Church spoileth both quick and dead: and if the devices of pilling and polling have ever since increased, what store (may we think) must there needs be at this day? Now concerning great and notorious thieves, who are so far from hiding their heads, that they glory and take a pride in robbing and spoiling, and exposing their robberies to the view of the world, my purpose is not to entreat at this present, but only of Priests and Monks, who being as poor as Irus, notwithstanding far like Lucullus. For if the Egyptians and Solon also since their time (as Herodotus telleth us) having enacted a law, that every man should show what trade he followed, and what means he had to live, should allege no other reason but this, that he which spent freely, having neither rents nor revenues, nor any means to earn a penny, nor any to maintain him, must of necessity be a thief; what would our Mendicants (trow we) say, if they should be thus examined? For if they have not a foot of land, as they profess they have not, (for otherwise they should do ill to beg) and if they know not how to get their living; whereon then do they live? nay, not only live, but fare so like Epicures? If they shall answer, that they live upon the alms of well disposed people; that is clean contrary to the complaint which they commonly make, that men's charity towards them is not only cooled, but even as cold as ice. If they shall say, that they live upon borrowing, who will believe them? For all men know, that to lend to those who have nothing to pay, is all one with giving, according to the common saying, Where there is nothing to be had, the King loseth his right. Herein therefore I appeal to their own consciences, what means they have had now of late time (since they began to complain of the want of charity) to make their kitchens hot. But because I should stay too long, if I should hear their confession in that particular, I will undertake the matter, and answer for them myself, or rather rehearse some of their subtle devices, which shall serve in stead of an answer. Who knoweth not then, that they have holden the world in such servitude, as that they have violently taken not only from the rich, but also from the poor, either all or the greatest part of that which their children should have inherited? Or who can be ignorant that the reason of the tragedy acted by the spirit of Orleans, was, for that these ravens saw they had lost the prey which they thought they had seized upon? And doubtless it was a grea● good hap the matter should be so well handled, that it could be got out of their clutches. For when they came to shrive silly souls that lay at the point of death, their manner was to put them in no other hope of being saved, but by making S. Francis, S. Dominick, or some other Saint (patron of the Order that the Confessor was of) their heirs. Nay, they were so cunning in bewitching the consciences of those whom they had under benedicite, that they did not only make them give the moiety or two thirds of their goods, which their wives and children should have enjoyed; but (in case their children would not become Friars of the order of S. Francis, S. Dominick, or some such sweet Saint) these jolly Saints knew what they would have. So that if children after the decease of their parents, refused to become Monks, those holy Saints would take upon them to be their heirs, defeating them of all. Witness men's wills and testaments which are to be seen at this day. But this is a far fouler matter, in that they made such haste many times, that they would not tarry for them whom they held thus ensnared, until they were near their end, but by subtle means made them undress themselves before they went to bed.  
2 For what greater or more cruel theft and robbery, nay what more cruel rapine and ravening can be imagined, then that which they call the Croysado? Did ever thieves, which set their daggers to the throats of passengers to make them deliver their purses, use such robbery as the supposts of the Croysado? For doubtless poor men who have never a cross in the world to bless themselves withal, are in no danger of thieves, according to that of the Poet, Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator: whereas a poor man, who is made to believe that if he give such or such a sum of money, himself, his father, mother and children shall be saved; and in case he give nothing, all shall be damned, is in far worse case than if he fell among thieves? For if he have no money to give, rather than fail he will pawn himself to the Sarracens. And most certain it is, that many poor people have not only pawned, but even sold their souls outright to the devil, in getting money by unlawful means, whereas they were in good hope by this means to deliver themselves out of his paws. And as true likewise is it, that they have long since proclaimed to the world, that they had power and authority to sell even heaven itself: (witness the Latin verses in S. Stevens Church in Bourges, written upon a pillar in tables of stone, beginning thus, Hîc des devotè: coelestibus associo te.) Howbeit they enforced none to give money for it, as they did in the time of the Croysado. For confirmation and authorizing whereof, these pelting Preachers alleged many tickling texts to this purpose, not taken out of the Bible, but out of certain hypocritical Friars: interlacing therewith such fond fooleries, that it is almost impossible posterity should believe them. One amongst the rest is reported of a ghostly father, who preaching at Bordeaux, avouched that when any money was given for the dead, their souls in purgatory hearing the sound of the money falling into the basin or box, crying, thing, ting, began to laugh out heartily, and say, ha, ha, ha; high, high, hi.  
3 Besides, they have many subtle conveyances equipollent to robberies, yea some worse than robberies: albeit they cease not to commit other qualified thefts. For instance whereof, one at Casal (about ten years ago) finding a purse with three hundred French crowns in it, revealed it in his confession to a Friar; who told him that in conscience he ought not to keep it, but give it to a third person, till such time as the owner should inquire after it. But the false Friar handled the matter so cunningly, that in the end himself was the third man. Not long after came the owner of the purse, repairing to him that found it; who sent him to the Friar who had the keeping of it. But he who had before desired only to be the keeper, would now needs be the owner, and so was, (for all that the deceased Monsieur Brissac could do, being then the King's Lieutenant of Piedmont) seeing there was none to depose or witness against him, but he that gave it him. And what should we call that trick of conveyance which a Frier-docker (one of those which asked if they had any thing to give to Saint Anthony's pigs▪) played with a butcher's wife of Calabria, when for two acorns which he gave to two of her swine, he carried away a whole piece of linen cloth? But I will reserve this narration to another place, where I intent to speak of counterfeit miracles; contenting myself for this present with one other theft, yet such a one as cannot easily be sampled: so that if we were to compare Ecclesiastical thieves (if I may so speak) with secular, the Ecclesiastical for this alone would bear away the bell. For though in old time there was great talk of such as went to rob dead men's tombs (called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as a man would say, tombe-diggers,) yet of late time they (at leastwise the seculars) have been content to rob the living only. But the Monks of the Abbey of Bourgmoyen at Bloys have given evident proof, that they would not yield an inch to their ancestors herein, when they digged up a woman's corpse interred in their church, to rob the coffin of the lead wherein it was wrapped. Lo here how these false Friars verify the common saying, The Church taketh both of quick and dead, not only in the hid and mystical, but in the literal sense also.  
4 As for great Ecclesiastical thieves, that is a case by itself, which toucheth their head principally, in such sort, that any scabby Monk or fivefarthing Friar reproved by him for such a legerdemain, may answer him as the pirate answered Alexander the great: for the theft which their holy father (as they call him) committeth under the colour of Constantine's donation, as fare exceedeth the petty larrecine and pilfering practised by his imps, as Alexander's robberies the pirates or Sea-rovers. And therefore there is no reason why such as are chief in place next to this Arch-theefe, should busy themselves about petty thefts not beseeming their greatness. And hereof (doubtless) they have great consideration (as experience showeth): for the least which they commit, is the spoiling of Churches of their relics; I mean not dead men's bones, but gold and silver. For there was a pamphlet lately published (entitled Harengua) wherein is declared how certain jacobins summoned a great Cardinal to restore unto them their crown of gold.  
5 But in speaking before of the Croysado, I forgot a Franciscan of Milan, called Samson, who by that means had scraped together an hundred and twenty thousand ducats, which he offered for the Popedom.   

CHAP. XXIIII. Of manslaughters and murders committed by the Popish Clergy.  
I Will begin this Chapter with the story which I promised to relate when I spoke of the Franciscan, whose inordinate lust cost three persons their lives, one man and two women. For than I promised to relate a far more horrible fact committed by a Friar of the same order, who to compass his mischievous purpose (which was to have his pleasure of a gentlewoman of the house) committed four murders with his own hands. The story is this: In the reign of the Emperor Maximilian the first, there was within his dominions in Flanders a very famous Covent of Franciscans, near to which dwelled a gentleman who exceedingly affected the Monks of the Covent, and was very beneficial unto them, hoping by that means to be made partaker of their good works, fasts, and prayers. Among the rest there was a tall proper Franciscan, whom the gentleman had made choice of to be his Confessor, and had given him full power and authority over all his household: whose mind was so inflamed with the beams of his wives beauty, that he was almost beside himself. And purposing on a time to come to the period of his intended purpose, he went all alone to the gentleman's house, and finding him not at home, asked the gentlewoman whither he was gone? She answered, that he was gone to see certain lands of his, and meant to stay abroad two or three days; adding withal, that if he had any business with him, she would dispatch a messenger after him. He answered that it should not need, and began to walk up and down the house as one that had some weighty matter in hand: which the gentlewoman noted, and perceiving by his countenance that he was mal content, she sent one of her maids unto him to know if he wanted any thing. The ghostly father (who was walking up and down the court) answered that he did, and thereupon leading her into a corner, took a dagger out of his sleeve & thrust it into her throat. In the mean time one of the gentleman's tenants came on horseback into the court, bringing with him the rent of his farm: and he was no sooner lighted, but he saluted the Franciscan; who embracing him in his arms, stabbed him behind with his dagger, as he had done the maid, and having so done locked up the castle gate. The gentlewoman wondering that her maid stayed so long sent another to know the reason why she made no greater haste: who was no sooner gone down into the court, but the Friar took her aside into an odd corner, and served her as he had done the former. Then perceiving that there was none left in the house but the gentlewoman and himself▪ he went unto her and told her that he had been long in love with her▪ and that the time was come that she must needs yield unto him. She (who never mistrusted any such thing) answered in this sort▪ Father, I persuade myself, that if I were so lewdly disposed▪ you would throw the first stone at me▪ To whom the Friar replied▪ Come down into the court, and you shall see what I have done. Now when she saw her maids and her tenant lying slain before her eyes, she was so aghast, and stricken with such astonishment, as if Perseus with his Gorgon's head had transformed her into a stone, and was not able to speak a word. But forthwith this wicked wretch (who meant to have his pleasure of her more than once, and therefore would not force her) said, Mistress be not afraid, for you are in his hands who of all men in the world loveth you best. At which words he put off his long habit, under which he had a shorter, which he offered her, and withal told her that if she refused it, he would send her packing to Pluto with those whom she saw lying before her eyes. The gentlewoman more like a dead then a living creature, determined to make as though she would obey him, both hoping to save her life, and to protract the time, in hope her husband would come home: and so at the Friars command she undressed her head, making as little hast as she could. But in the end having her hair hanging loose about her ears, the Friar (not respecting how goodly and fair it was) hastily cut it off, and having so done, caused her to strip herself unto her smock, and arrayed her with the short habit which he had about him, and after put on his other again; and so departed thence with all speed possible, carrying with him his young novice whom he had so long desired. But by God's providence the gentleman her husband having dispatched his business sooner than he thought, returned homewards the same way the Franciscan went with his wife. Now when the Friar perceived him a far off, he said to the gentlewoman, See, yonder comes your husband, and I know that if you look upon him he will rescue you out of my hands; wherefore go on before me, and see that you turn not your face towards him; for if you give him but the least sign, I will cut your throat before ever he can help you. At these words the gentleman drew near, and asked him from whence he came? Sir (quoth he) from your house, where I left my mistress your wife in good health, expecting your coming. The gentleman went on, not perceiving his wife. Howbeit his man (who was wont to entertain the friars fellow called Friar john) began to call to her, thinking it had been Friar john. The poor gentlewoman (who durst not once turn her head aside towards her husband) answered not a word: whereupon he crossed the way to look her in the face; where she speaking not a word, gave him a twinch with a weeping eye. He then returning back to his master, said, Sir, as I crossed the way I marked the friars fellow, who (questionless) is not Friar john, but much resembles my mistress your wife, who looked very ruefully upon me. Tush (quoth the gentleman) thou talkest like a fool: and made no more of it. But his servant persisting in his opinion, entreated him to give him leave to go after them, and to stay a little to see whether he mistook himself or not. At his importunate entreaty the gentleman stayed, to see what tidings he would bring. Now when the Franciscan heard the man behind him calling for Friar john (doubting that the gentlewoman was descried) he came running upon him, and with a long pike staff which he carried, took him such a blow under the short ribs, that he struck him off his horse to the ground, and presently falling upon him, cut his throat. The gentleman seeing his man a far off falling down, thinking that he had fallen by some mischance, went back to help him up: whom the Friar had no sooner espied, but he struck him with his pike staff, as he had done his man, and bearing him down, fell upon him. But the gentleman (being lusty and strong) clasped his arms so fast about him, that he could neither stab nor hurt him, causing withal his dagger to fall out of his hand: which his wife forthwith took up, and gave to her husband, holding him down by the cowl with all her might, whilst her husband stabbed him in divers places, until he cried him mercy, and confessed all his villainy. The gentleman being loath to kill him, sent his wife home to call some of his men, who came running thither in all haste, and taking up the Franciscan, brought him to the gentleman's house, from whence he was carried to the emperors Deputy in Flanders, to whom he confessed this his notorious and felonious fact. Where it was also found partly by his own confession, partly by proof and information given to the commissioners appointed for that purpose, that a number of gentlewomen and other beautiful maids had been conveyed into that monastery, after the same manner that this Franciscan would have carried her away. Whereupon after that the women (detained by them in the monastery) were had out, both they and the Covent were burned together for a monument and example to all posterity.  
2 After this foul fact committed by this Monk, let us hear how a Priest of Lymoges (about eleven years ago) committed sundry murders one in the neck of another. A gentleman of Lymosin, Lord of S. john of Ligoures (kinsman to the Marshal S. Andrew) having committed incest with his wives mother, and having had children by her, declared it to a shaveling in way of confession. Whereupon the Priest (who was a false coiner) took occasion to persuade him (as having him in his lurch and at his lure, by this his confession) to play the knave as he had done, and to become a false coiner with him. Now after they had followed this occupation for a time, the Priest perceiving that the gentleman was still troubled in conscience with his incest (notwithstanding he had sundry times absolved him) and that he affected his wives mother more than his wife, persuaded him, that the mother was rather his wife then the daughter, and therefore that his marriage, his children and all were accursed. Whereupon he undertook to dispatch them out of the way, whilst the gentleman was absent, yet not without his consent. For coming one night (as his manner was) into the Castle (with certain cruel cut-throats which he had brought with him) he went directly to the chamber where the gentlewomen lay, and murdered them all in their beds; as also two young children, one of which called him by his name, and held up his hands unto him, as the Priest executed since in France, and the gentleman at Lauzanne, confessed at their deaths. Neither herewith content, with his crew of cut-throat companions he massacred the rest that remained in the house, and laying all the dead bodies together in a chamber, set the Castle on fire, thinking by that means to cover the murder. But (as God would) neither the bodies nor the chamber wherein they were, took fire, and so the murder was detected. Whereupon the gentleman knowing not well what course to take, nor which way to turn himself, fled into Savoye, where passing by Geneva he was descried, and from thence pursued and apprehended at Lauzanne, where he was executed according to law, acknowledging his offence and Gods great mercy towards him, in bringing him by this chastisement home to himself. This is the history, as I heard it credibly reported by those that saw him arraigned and executed: which albeit I have of purpose abridged (as I have done also the rest) yet I could not omit one circumstance, how that even then when the child called him by his name, and held up his hands unto him (as children are wont to do, smiling on those they look upon) he did most cruelly murder him. And it was not without cause that God would have this circumstance freely confessed both by the Priest and the gentleman, which otherwise would never have been suspected. For doubtless it doth much aggravate, and as it were double and treble his offence, especially if we compare it with the fact of heathen men, as of those ten whom Herodotus mentioneth in his fifth book, who being sent to murder a new borne babe, were so moved with pity when the child smiled upon them, that their hearts relented, and (as it were) melted within them. Howbeit, there are so many circumstances to be considered in this abhomninable fact, that it is hard to say where a man should especially insist.  
3 But because the naming of Lauzanne (where this execution was done) puts me in mind of Geneva adjoining, where another murdering Priest was executed, I will here relate that story. A certain Priest in Foussigny called Dom john (under the dominion of Thiez then governor of Geneva) having boared out his brother's eyes with an awl as he was asleep, and obtained his pardon of the then Bishop of Geneva: not long after he committed him to a gossip of his, to the end he might drown him, by casting him down from a bridge into the water, under colour of bringing him to Chambery to S. Suayre, a Saint then in great request. Which thing the assassin knowing not how to effect, whilst he was in his journey (seeing he had not the heart to commit such a cruel fact,) not long after under colour as though he would bring him to S. claud, he carried him in the night into a barn, where he with one of his companions murdered him: and having so done, cast him into a swift stream, where he was found by a woman which sought after a strayed calf. Whereupon the Priest was apprehended in his bed with his whore, and brought to Geneva, where his hand was first cut off, and after that his head; having before confessed the fact, and given no other reason of the hatred which he bore him, but only because he was a great spender. It is further reported, that this kind Kit having pricked his brother's eyes with a nawle, and perceiving that he was not stone blind, but that he could see a little; boared them the second time with a wooden pin. This punishment was inflicted upon this malefactor shortly after the reformation of religion in the said city.  
4 But among other murdering Priests, I may not omit one, of whom mention is made in the French Chronicles, who scaped not so scotfree as the former. In the year 1530. the nineteenth of April, a certain Sir john coming to Autuns' College in Paris, right over against Saint Andrew des Ars, to visit the Parson of the place where he was Curate, killed his man in the night, and after cut the Parson's throat. For which murder he was degraded in the Court of our Lady's Church, the same year, the fourth of May: and being appareled in a fools coat, was sent to a worshipful gentleman, one Master john Morin (than judge of criminal causes) by whom he was sentenced to have his hand cut off, and it together with the falchion wherewith he had committed the murder, to be nailed to a post before the said College, and after to be burned quick before the town house. This sentence being given in open Court, was put in execution the fifth day of the said month.  
5 But give me leave to speak a word or two more concerning Paris: for there (no doubt) we shall find sundry other examples of murders committed by Clergymen, and namely by Priests. But for this present I will insist in one only, which was discovered and punished by order of law, as followeth. In an Inn at Soyssons called The great head, the good man of the house his daughter played a slippery trick with one, and was delivered of a daughter. Her father, who could never abide the child, because it put him in mind of his daughters shameful fact, sent her to Paris to a Sempster to learn to sow. And coming afterwards to Paris himself, he fell in acquaintance with a priest called M. Hector, a bakers son, borne at Noyon; to whom he declared that he had a daughter about seven or eight years of age, whom he would gladly have bestowed in a monastery or some other place, he cared not where, nor how, so that he might never hear of her again; telling him, that for the effecting hereof he could be content to give an hundred crowns. The Priest being greedy of gain, undertook the matter, and causing the girl to be brought unto him, together with the money which they were agreed upon, he took his leave of him, and carried her home to his house. Whither he was no sooner come, but he cut her throat▪ and having so done, carried the corpse into the churchyard of S. Nicholas in the fields, where having cast it among certain nettles, he walked up & down as though he had been praying on his Portuise. Shortly after came a Sexton, and as he was digging a grave, the Priest came unto him, and told him that he had seen a pitiful spectacle, to wit, a young maid having her throat cut, and cast among the nettles; and desired him for avoiding of offence, to bury her, promising to give him a teston for his pains. The Sexton refused his offer, and further told him, that he would inform the Court thereof: which he did; (the Priest in the mean time flying to Noyon.) The Court having intelligence hereof, caused the corpse to be carried to a place called Chastelet, there to be exposed to the open view: whither (as God would) the Sempster (her old mistress) came to see her: who knowing her well, declared to the Court how an Innkeeper of Soyssons (her grandfather) had committed her to the custody of one M. Hector a Priest. The Sexton also informed the Court of the conference which had passed between M. Hector and him. The Court taking notice of these informations, sent his brother in law to prison, hoping by that means to learn what was become of him, (seeing he resorted often to his house.) Now during the time of his imprisonment, (they daily pressing him with interrogatories, to the end they might learn what was become of his brother, albeit he knew nothing) it fortuned that the Priest came to S. Denis near to Paris; from whence he sent a messenger to his brother in law (never dreaming of his imprisonment) to request him to come to him, and to inform him what rumour went of him. Where the messenger coming to the prisoners wife (the Priest's sister) was presently apprehended and brought before the Court; and having told them where M. Hector was, they sent a warrant for his apprehension. Where, after he had confessed the fact, he was condemned by the Court of Chastelet to be degraded, to have his hand cut off, to be broken upon the wheel, and after to be burned. But he appealed to the high Court of Parliament at Paris, which mitigating the sentence, condemned him only to be degraded, to have his hand cut off, to be hanged, and after to be burned. This tragical event happened about fourteen years ago. But I may not forget a jest of his: for having his hand cut off, and meeting with one of his acquaintance, as he was going to the place of execution, he said, Advice un peu, Herry men ami, ie ne saurai peu canter Mess; on m'a coupé une main: That is, See here friend Harry, I can say Mass no more; they have cut off my hand. The man to whom I am beholding for this story, dwelled in the same town with this malefactor, and told me that he heard him sing his first Mass, with all the ceremonies and solemnities thereto belonging.  
6 There was also a Priest at Orleans (about 37. years ago) who being jealous of a whore which he kept, brought her into a tavern, where leading her aside as though he would have dallied with her, he cast her on a bed, and with a razor (which he had in his sleeve) cut her throat. For which murder he was only condemned to perpetual prison, as it was told me by a famous lawyer, who was then a student in the same city.  
7 As for cruelties (though no murder be void of cruelty) where can we hear of a greater than that which is commonly practised by Monks, (as themselves confess) I mean their usual manner of pulling men over the perch in pace? True it is indeed, they utterly renounce and disclaim this word cruelty: for they will not grant that it is cruelty to send men into another world in pace. But if they deny it to be cruelty to murder a man in pace, they must needs deny that to die of hunger and thirst is a cruel death: which is ● p●●gnant to common sense. But leaving this dispute, let us come to other notorious cruelties, and among the rest to a kind of torment which laymen among Christians would never have inflicted upon Pagans or infidels, but would have left it for Barbarians, as being too barbarous to be practised by them. It is that which Plutarch (in the life of Artaxerxes) calleth Scapheusis: to which this is not unlike which I am about to relate. The last Duke of Lymbourgh being dead without issue, the Princes who were next heirs (as being nearest of blood) viz. the Duke of Brabant and the Earl of Guelderland waged war one against another, for the Dukedom. In the end the Duke of Brabant got the victory: where the Bishop of Collen (who had aided the Earl of Guelderland) was taken prisoner, and committed to the custody of the Earl of Mount in Haynoult, where he continued for the space of seven years, till he had agreed to all such articles as were demanded of him. Being set at liberty at the last, he besought the Earl of Mount to bear him company to Tuits (a town standing upon Rheyne right over against Collen) whereunto the Earl easily condescended. Now as they were going over a bridge which stood upon the river, an ambush of horsemen (which by the Bishop's appointment lay hard by) rushed out suddenly upon the Earl mistrusting no such matter: and thus he seized upon him, and kept him in perpetual prison: and to the end he might give him more kind entertainment, caused an iron cage to be made, which in summer was anointed over with honey and set in the open Sun, lodging the poor Earl therein, there to be assaulted by flies (you may well imagine how.) Consider here (gentle Reader) this Bishop's cruelty (joined with treason) coming not much short of the immanity of Busiris and Phalaris. For doubtless of all other cruelties those are the greatest, which cause men to languish and pine away for a long time in great anguish.  
8 Moreover, we read of two cannons of Collen, who used the like treachery: for having invited a bailiff of the town to dinner, called Herman Grin, and making great show of love and kindness (albeit they hated him to the death) they led him out to see a Lion, (which they kept in honour of their Bishop) whom they knew to be hunger-bit: and he was no sooner come into the place, but they shut the door upon him. The man seeing himself in this danger, plucked up a good heart, and winding his cloak about his left arm, thrust it into the Lion's mouth as he came rushing upon him, and with his right hand thrust his rapier into his belly, and slew him.  
9 But to return to Prelates: we read how one Henry Archbishop of Collen most cruelly tormented Earl Frederick: for having broken his arms, legs, thighs, back and neck upon the wheel, he caused him to finish the rest of his life in lingering pain, exposing him to the crows.  
10 But if any desire to hear of a cruelty not proceeding from revenge, but committed in a merriment against such as never gave the least offence: this it is. In the reign of the Emperor Otho the great, Hatto Bishop of Ments, took such pity upon the poor in the time of a great dearth, that he got a multitude of them together into a barn, and burned them all therein; saying that they differed nothing from rats which devoured corn, and were good for nothing. But observe the fearful, terrible, and horrible judgement of God which befell him whilst he was yet living: for he sent great troops of rats, which after they had grievously tormented him, ate him up quick. And it little availed him to go up to the top of his high tower to save himself: for the rats hunting him from place to place, pursued him thither also; whereupon it is called The rat's tower unto this day. And yet notwithstanding this fearful example, Heribert Archbishop of Collen, had a brother who used the poor after the same manner, in the time of a dearth.  
11 But what shall we say of a jacobine who poisoned the Emperor Henry the seventh with his breaden God, which he gave him in the consecrated host? What will the friars Devil do (trow we) if their God be so dangerous to deal with? Upon which argument I writ this sporting 
* A staff of eight verses.  huictain. 
Les Payens ne vouloyent mettre au number des Dieux  
Ceux qui au genre humain estoyent pernicieux.  
Si le Dieu de paste est un Dieu qui empoisonne,  
(Don't l'Empereur Henri tesmoignage nous donne)  
Queen diroyent les Payens de ces gentiles Docteurs,  
Qui les hommes ont fait de lui adorateurs?  
Car si leur Dieu ne fait de meurtrir conscience,  
Entre leur Diable & Dieu quelle est la difference?  That is, 
Never did Pagans 'mongst their Gods recite,  
Who ever mortal wight had ill bestead:  
If then the God of bread can poison hide,  
As hath been tried by Henry to his bane:  
What would our Pagans feign, that knew of yore  
How they do it adore with bended knee?  
For if their God be free to work such evil,  
What difference is betwixt their God and Devil?  If any shall haply object, that these savage cruelties were not committed in these days, but long before. I answer, that seeing the world hath ever grown worse and worse, and the Clergy rather than the Laity (as the three Preachers so often before alleged do sufficiently testify) those cruelties may well be accounted but small and tolerable in comparison. But if any be incredulous or hard of belief, he may read what Cannibal-like cruelties certain Monks and Popish prelate's have exercised of late against such as would not embrace the Roman religion, and how they handled them when once they came within their walk. As among the rest, the history of john de Roma a jacobine Friar, one of the holy house of Spain, a persecutor of the poor Christians of Merindol and Cabriere, who never left beating his brains, how he might invent new torments to inflict upon these poor people and their confederates: one of which was to fill boots with boiling grease, and to pull them on the legs of those whom he was to examine, that the extremity of pain might so distract them, as that they might make no pertinent answer to any demand. And we are not to wonder how they could play the bloody butchers, and exercise their tyranny upon these silly souls, seeing they usurped almost a sovereign power and princely authority over them. Not to go far back, nor far off for examples, we read how the said Friar under colour of his commission (as being one of the Inquisition) was both accuser, party, and judge; & how he carried with him through Provence a number of vile varlets well appointed; in all places where ever he came (especially in country towns) breaking open chests and trunks, and stealing thence gold and silver, and what else might easily be packed up, and carried away; pilling & polling those whom he could not otherwise spoil, either by impositions or amercements, or confiscations of their goods.  
12 I was here purposed to have ended this Chapter, but that I remember I have not spoken of those that imbrue their hands in their own blood, and sacrifice themselves to their own shame: which I had rather here add (though somewhat out of order) then altogether to omit them. Howbeit my meaning is not to busy myself with the examples of Clergymen who have laid violent hands upon themselves, therewith to parallel the examples of Laymen who have been moved to do the like. I will only insist upon one, which is proper unto them quarto modo (as Logicians speak.) For all the former examples of felons de se, are common as well to the Clergy as to the Laity. But this which I am about to relate, is peculiar to Cleargymen, and Laymen have no part therein▪ being a murder committed upon a proud conceit which popish priests had of their merits, that they (forsooth) did as far exceed laymens merits, as the pillars in the Church do their shadows. For though Laymen put great confidence in them, yet they never so relied upon them, as that they would adventure to cast themselves from the top of a high tower, or into a deep well: which befell this merit-monger of whom we speak. The story is this. A Monk called Heron, having lived fifty years in an Ermitage, and strictly observed the rules and orders of his founder, was so puffed up with pride & vain conceit of himself, in regard of the merit of his works, that the devil appeared unto him & tempted him, to take trial of the virtue of them by casting himself into a well; assuring him he should escape without harm. The fond Friar thinking it had been an Angel sent unto him from heaven for this end, cast himself into a well of that depth, that the bottom of it could not be seen; whence being drawn out again with much ado, they could not persuade him that it was the devil which appeared unto him and tempted him: and so he died the third day after, persisting obstinate in this opinion. This story I found in a fragment of a Latin book (the author whereof is not known) written fair in parchment, and seemeth to be of great antiquity, at leastwise of as great as such Ecclesiastical records may be. But who ever was the author thereof, certain it is, he was a favourer of the fraternity. For he speaketh of them, as being one of the same order, and gives them brotherly warning to look to themselves. I will therefore allege the Latin story word for word, as I copied it out of the said fragment, which (I take it) never came to light before: for otherwise I would have contented myself to have advertised the Reader thereof. Howbeit if it have passed the press, I shall do no man wrong but myself, sith I have eased the Reader of so much pain in the copying of it out. Certain of mine acquaintance to whom I showed it, are of opinion that it is to be found in a book called Vitae Patrum.  

DE MORTE HERONIS SENIS.  
Heronem post multorum laborem annorum deceptum,  
quòd non habuit discretionem.  
ET ut hanc candem definitionem antiquitùs à sancto Antonio & caeteris patribus promulgatam, recens quoque (sicut promisimus) confirmet exemplum, recolite id quod nuper gestum, oculorum vestrorum vidistis obtutibus: senem videlicet Heronem ante paucos admodum dies illusione Diaboli, à summis ad ima deiectum, quem quinquaginta anni● in hac Eremo commoratum, singulari districtione rigorem continentiae tenuisse meminimus, & solitudinis secreta ultra omnes hîc commorantes miro feruore sectatum. Hic igitur quo pacto quáue ratione post tantos labores ab insidiatore illusus, gravissimo corruens lapsu, cunctos in hac eremo constitutos luctuoso dolore percussit? Nónne quòd minus virtute discretionis possessa, suis definitionibus regi, quam consilijs vel collationibus fratrum atque institutis maiorum maluit obedire? Siquidem tanto rigore immutabilem 〈◊〉 continentiam semper exercuit, & solitudinis cellaeque ita iugiter secreta sectatus est, ut ab eo participationem in●undi confraternitate connivij, ne veneratio quidem dici paschalis aliquando potuerit obtinere: in qua fratribus cunctis pro anniversaria solemnitate in Ecclesia retentatis, solus non poterat aggredi, ne quantulumcunque, perceptione leguminis parvi, à suo videretur proposito relaxasse. Qua praesumptione deceptus, Angelum Satanae vel●ti Angelum lucis ●um summa veneratione suscipiens, eiusque praeceptis prono obediens famulatu, semetipsum in puteum, cuius profunditatem oculorum non attingit intuitus, praecipitem dedit: de Angeli videlicet sui sponsione non dubitans, qui ●um pro merito virtutum ac laborum suorum, nequaquam posse firmaverat ulli iam discrimini subiacere. Cuius rei fidem ut experimento suae sospitatis evidentissimè comprobaret, supradicto se puteo nocte intempesta illusus iniecit: magnum sc. virtutis suae meritum probaturus cum inde exisset ill●sus. De quo cum penè iam exanguis ingenti fratrum labore fuisset extractus, vitam die tertia finiturus, quod his deterius est, ita in deceptionis suae permansit obstinatione, ut ei nec experimentum quidem mortis suae potuerit persuadere, quòd fuisset daemonum calliditate delusus. Quamobrem pro meritis tantorum laborum & annorum numerositate, qua in eremo perduravit, hoc miseratione & humanitate summa ab his qui eius compatiebantur exitio, vix à Presbytero & Ab●ate Paphnutio potuit obtineri, ut non inter biothanatous reputatus, etiam memoria & oblatione pausantium iudicaretur indignus.   
And here I thought it not amiss to allege another place out of the same book, where mention is made of an Abbot, who was in like sort deluded by the devil, though not so dangerously as the former.  

DE ILLUSIONE ABBATIS JOHANNIS.  
IN quo etiam Abbatem johannem qui * lico commoratur, novimus nuper illusum. Nam quum exhausto corpore atque defecto, perceptionem cibi biduano jeiunio distulisset, accedenti ei ad refectionem die postero, veniens diabolus in figura Aethiopis tetri, atque ad eius genua provolutus, Indulge, inquit, mihi, quòd ego tibi hunc laborem indixi. Itaque ille vir tantus & discretionis ratione perfectus, sub colore continentiae incongruenter exercitatus, intellexit se ab hoc calliditate diaboli circumuentum, talique distentum ●eiunio, ut lassitudinem non necessariam, immò etiam spiritui nocituram, fatigato corpori superponeret: & paracharaximo scilicet illusus numismatis, cum in illo veri regis imaginem veneratus est, parum discutit an esset legitimè figuratum. Vltima verò obseruatio huius probabilis trapezitae, quam de inquisitione ponderis esse praediximus, taliter implebitur, si quicquid gerendum cogitatio nostra suggesserit, omni scrupulo retractantes, atque in nostri pectoris trutina collocantes, aequilibratione iustissima perpend●mus, an plenum honestate communi sit, an timore domini sit grave, an integrum sensu, aut humana ostentatione, aut aliqua novitatis praesumptione sit leave: an meriti eius pondus inanis cenodoxiae non iniminuerit, vel adroserit gloria, & sic ea protinus ad examen publicum trutinantes, id est, ad Prophetarum & Apostolorum actus, ac testimonia conferentes, vel tanquam integra atque perfecta, & illis compensantia teneamus, vel tanquam imperfecta, atque damnosa, nec illorum ponderi consonantia, omni cautione ac diligentia refu●emus.    

CHAP. XXV. Of Blasphemies uttered by Popish Prelates.  
THe blasphemies of our good Catholics of the Popish Clergy, I here handle apart from those of the Laity: not intending thereby to honour them, or thinking it more fitting and beseeming them, but yielding rather to my memory, which doth not always furnish me with fit examples as often as I could wish, but maketh me to attend and wait, whereby I am constrained in the mean time to entreat of some other argument, whereof I have examples more ready at hand. But the Reader can lose nothing by the bargain: for the longer my memory causeth me to stay, the more examples it affordeth me afterwards, which I communicate & impart unto him.  
2 But not to dwell too long in the preface, we have here first to note, that whereas it was said in old time as it were by way of a proverb, He sweareth like a gentleman: (for it was thought a thing unbeseeming a base peasant to renounce God, non pertinere ad rurales renuntiare Deum, as we heard before out of Menot) others were wont to say & do even at this day, He sweareth like a carter, or he sweareth like an Abbot, or he sweareth like a Prelate. But leaving the discussing of this question to others, (viz. which of all three is grounded upon best reason) this one thing I will say by the way, that gentlemen and carters have learned the trick or trade or art of blaspheming of Popish Prelates and other polshorne Popelings, and not they of them. And I doubt not but all men of good and sound judgement, and such as are not carried away with prejudice in regard of partiality or private respect, will jump with me in this opinion. If they shall say that Churchmen have been indeed masters in that trade, but that their scholars have excelled them; I easily accord that in some blasphemy they might far exceed them. But two sort● of blasphemies there are, which are proper and peculiar to them alone. For whereas Laymen blaspheme God but in word only, Churchmen blaspheme him also in deed: for they both dishonour him by their wicked lives, and tear him in pieces with their bloody oaths: (for I take the word here in a more general acception than it is commonly taken, being directed by the Greek Etymology formerly spoken of.) And though we should but speak of blasphemies in word only, how many sorts (may we think) are there to be found in the writings of these Sir john's, of which Laymen never dreamt?  
3 First therefore to begin with blasphemies common as well to Laics as Clericks, uttered in dishonour of God by these swearing swaggerers and fustian fools, it will not sink into my head, that secular men ever rapped out such wicked and wild oaths as Churchmen have done, but rather the contrary. How ever it be, this I am sure of, that though I continued long in Italy (where above all other country's blasphemy doth most fearfully abound) and was often in place (though sore against my will) where I heard very outrageous & detestable speeches against our Saviour Christ and the blessed Virgin (whom they handle after a far stranger manner than they do in France,) yet never heard I such a blasphemy as this, which was uttered by a Priest at Rome, Al dispetto di quel can che pendeva nella Croce. He had indeed belched out sundry other before he came to this which he reserved for the last to make up his mouth withal, as being most horrible of all the rest. And what moved him (may we think) to break forth into this blasphemy, but a strumpet of his (forsooth) who had played him a slippery touch, as himself affirmed. As 〈◊〉 this were not to play Will summers to strike his next fellow: that because the courtesan had angered him, he would revenge himself upon God, and so despite and villanize him, as neither Turk nor jew could have done worse. For he further added a most execrable speech, which I will here omit. As for blasphemies uttered in cool blood without choler, passion or heat of affection, our good Catholics of the Romish hierarchy are so far from being indebted to the Laity, that (except they will be very ungrateful) they must needs acknowledge themselves much beholding unto them: for proof whereof, as I have alleged examples of the blasphemies of the one, so I will here allege some few of the other. And first I will begin with that which is spoken in way of a proverb, Weep not, for perhaps it is not true. Which grew (as it is said) upon speech of one that preached of the passion, who after he had made the poor people shed tears by the pitiful exclamations which he made upon the cruel death which our Saviour suffered upon the cross▪ having had the pastime and sport he looked for, said, Weep not, for perhaps it is not true. And what shall we say of the ghostly father, who preaching at Tours (about three or four years ago) said, These wicked Huguenots do utterly renounce the Pope, and say, that we are only to hold that which Christ hath taught: But I tell you, that if Christ and the Pope should sit here either of them in a chair, and the one of them should enjoin me one thing, and the other another; I would obey the Pope rather than Christ. And this agreeth well with that which an Italian writeth of a Cardinal, who being sick unto the death, and desirous to be shriven, when his confessor told him (upon occasion) that he ought to worship one only God. So I do (quoth he) and that is the Pope. For seeing that the Pope is God on earth (and that both are not to be worshipped) I had rather worship him that is visible, then God who is invisible. His confessor replying again, and telling him, that the Pope was neither God nor Christ (albeit the simple seduced world did hold him for his vicar.) How (quoth he) can it be said, that the Pope is Christ's Vicar? if that were so, Christ should be greater than the Pope. But I would thou shouldst know, that if he should come in proper person to Rome, the Pope would not entertain him, except he would submit himself and kiss his pantoufle. Notwithstanding Pope julius the third (otherwise called john Maria de Monte) was content to be called God's Vicar, when ●he said, that if God was so angry for an apple, that for it he cast our first father Adam out of Paradise, then might he (who was his Vicar) well be angry for a Peacock which is a greater matter (I wisse) then an apple. This he meant of a Peacock served him in at dinner, which he had commanded should be kept cold for supper, but was not. For which oversight being in a wonderful chafe, a Cardinal sitting with him at the table, told him that he ought not to be so angry for such a trifle: to whom the Pope answered as is aforesaid. The same holy father missing his dish of pork, which was wont to be one of his standing dishes, (for he loved pork and peacock exceeding well) when his steward told him, that the Physician had given order there should be none served in, because it was hurtful for his health: he would not take this reason for good payment, but began to despite him whose vicar he boasted himself to be, saying: Porta mi quel mio piatto, all dispetto di Dio: Fetch me my 
* My dish of meat, ●●●lic●.  Pork in despite of God. In reading of which story, that came to my mind which I heard reported of Pope Paul the third, how that in procession at Rome, where the Corpus Christi (as they call it) was solemnly carried before him in procession, he should say, that if the company which went before stayed so long, they would make him renounce Christ. Whereupon one ran before, and willed them to march on faster: for his Holiness (saith he) is in such a rage by reason of your long stay, that he is ready to renounce Christ and all the Kirielle. Consider (gentle Reader) how handsomely these things hang together, that he which went in solemn procession in honour of the body of Christ (as they would make us believe) should deny Christ. But they who by the grace of God have their eyes opened to see such abuses, aught to consider what the Greek proverb saith of such speeches, that Often when the tongue trippeth, it telleth the truth. For (considering the abuse therein committed) were it not better to deny Christ, then to make him such a morris dancer in a May-game? An example of this tripping we have in him who said to a Priest, Come and say Mass in an hundred thousand devils names, for my master is angry. Another Masse-monging gentleman of Lorraine being angry with his son (who was a Masse-maligner) said unto him, Get you to Mass in the devils name, to Mass. Whereof his son took advantage, acknowledging that his father spoke truer than he was aware. But to return to our blasphemers, we find that the 
* Popes.  Vicar's aforesaid made no conscience to appropriate and apply to themselves (some in earnest, others in sport) those texts of Scripture, wherein he (whose vicar's they pretend themselves to be) speaketh of himself. Alexander the fifth lying on his death bed, used the same words to those that stood about him that Christ did to his Apostles, My peace I give unto you, my peace I leave with you. And Pope Paul the third knew how to apply the words of Saint Paul: I would wish myself separate from Christ for my brethren, which are my kinsmen according to the flesh. For being told upon a time by certain Cardinals in open Consistory, that he could not give Parma and Playsance to his bastards, except he would damn himself: he answered them in this sort, If Saint Paul bore so tender an affection to his countrymen (whom he calleth his brethren) that he desired to be separate from Christ to the end they might be saved; why should not I bear so tender an affection to my sons and nephews, as to labour to make them great with the hazard of mine own salvation? As for the speech of Pope Leo the tenth, it suiteth better with the atheist call speech of the gallant who said, Weep not, for perhaps it is not true. For when Cardinal Bembus alleged a certain place out of the new Testament, he answered him in this sort, O what wealth have we gotten by this fable of Christ? of which blasphemy, not only this Pope, but the greatest part of his pu●-fellows are guilty in the highest degree, if we may judge of the tree by his fruits.  
4 There are also sundry other blasphemies uttered by these Sir john's▪ as well in their disputations as in their sermons and writings, of which I will here allege some few examples. A popish Prelate disputing on a time against certain his adversaries, said he wondered that they understood not a text in the new Testament, very pregnant to stop the mouths of the Lutherans in the matter of justification by faith only. For mark (said he) when the Apostles were on the sea in a sm●ll ship▪ tossed with the wind, Saint Peter (being a Lutheran, and believing that his b●●e ●aith was able to save him) said unto Christ, Bid me come unto thee upon the waters. And (he having bidden him come) leapt into the sea with his naked f●ith and hardly escaped drowning: Nay, he had been drowned out of question, if Christ had not miraculously assisted him and pulled him into the ship, causing him to return to his work again, viz. to his rowing. Now then let these fellows who rely so much upon their faith, go and drown with S. Peter if they wil For my part I am not determined to forsake the small vessel, but to abide in it rowing at one oa●e or other, still labouring and exercising myself in good works. If we had no other example, this alone were sufficient to show how these Sir john's dallied with the Scriptures. Howbeit there are infinite like to be found. Among which, that of a Popish Prelate is very common, who was not ashamed to say, that Saint Paul spoke many things which he might well have concealed, and that if he had considered the offence which might have been taken thereat, he would have been better advised before he had spoken them. But what greater blasphemies could all the devils in hell devise and forge, than those which we read in the book of Conformities, printed at Milan by one Gotard Pontice, in the year 1510. and after that in other places? where sundry things are recorded more like dreams and dotages then true stories. For though the world in old time was marvelously blinded (as we know) in such sort that a man would have thought they had (through the just judgement of God) shut their eyes, that they might not see the truth: yet was it nothing to the blindness of those blind bayards, who published the book of Conformities, containing such horrible, hideous and hellish blasphemies, that it is almost incredible there should any be found so graceless as once durst breath or belch them out. For proof whereof consider these particulars: Christ was transfigured but once, S. Francis twenty times. Christ changed water into wine but once, S. Francis did it thrice. Christ felt the pain of his wounds but a short time, S. Francis felt the pain of his for the space of two years together. And as for miracles, as giving sight to the blind, restoring limbs to the lame, casting devils out of men possessed, and raising the dead, Christ hath done nothing in comparison of S. Francis and his brethren. For they have given sight to above a thousand blind; they have made above a thousand lame to walk, as well men as beasts; they have cast devils out of more than a thousand demoniacs, and have raised above a thousand from death to life. Is it possible that a man should hear these false Friars teach and preach such stuff as this without spitting in their faces? what say I, without spitting in their faces? nay without tearing them in pieces? True it is indeed, they durst not say in plain terms, that Christ was not worthy to wipe S. Francis his shoes for they are content to say that ●e excelled the Apostles, the Saints, and the Angels:) But having confidently avouched that his miracles did infinitely surpass Christ's miracles: they thought there was none so simple but could easily infer the conclusion, though he had never studied the principles of Logic. But I shall desire thee (gentle Reader) to lend thy patient ear to other sayings in this book, Fol. 5. of the foresaid impression: Beata Maria, ut Franciscus mitteretur in mundum, Patri supplicavit. Item, Maria Francisci precibus indulgentiam pro peccatoribus in Ecclesiae Sanctae Mariae de Portiuncula impetravit: that is, The virgin Mary prayed to God the Father that he would send Saint Francis into the world: and by his intercession obtained pardon for sinners in the Church of Saint Mary de Portiuncula. But herein consisteth the very quintessence of impudence, in that they make the Scripture to come at their whistle, and serve their devilish legendary lies, which they have coined of their S. Francis. As when they say (in the same place) Franciscus est in gloria Dei Patris, Phil. 2. that is, S. Francis is in the glory of God the Father. He that desireth to hear more of such abuses, depravations and falsifications of holy Scripture all on a thrum, far more incredible than the former, let him read that which is written fol. 4. Christus fecit Franciscum sibi similem: primò in vita virtuosa: deinde impressione stigmatum. Hinc de beato Francisco illud Ecclesiastici 44. dicitur, Non est inventus similis illi, qui conseruaret legem Excelsi. Quibus verbis, beati Francisci celebritas, praeclaritas, sanctitas, & fama radiosa declaratur. Fuit enim homo syncerissimus. Item, qualiter, quomodo, & ad quid Deus fecit Franciscum, ostenditur Genesis 1. & 2. ubi sic scribitur, Faciamus hominem (id est Franciscum) ad imaginem & similitudinem nostram: & praesit piscibus maris, & volatilibus coeli, & bestijs terrae, universaeque creaturae, omnique reptili quod movetur in terra. Et sequitur, Formavit Deus hominem de limo terrae: & inspiravit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae, & factus est homo in animam viventem. Sequitur, Posuit ●um in Paradiso, ut operaretur & custodiret illum. Et ibidem, Ex omni ligno Paradisi comede: de ligno autem scientae boni & mali ne comedas. Et subditur, quòd Deus ait, quòd non erat bonum esse hominem solum: & fecit ei adiutorium simile sibi. Et tulit unam de cos●is eius, & ex ea Euam aedificavit. In quibus verbis ostenditur quòd B. Franciscus fuit homo, primò singularissimus, & à Deo in mundum destinatus, non casis fortuito, aut hominum consilio: sed divina providentia, qua regulantur omnia. Ideo ad hoc ostendendum dicitur, Faciamus. Verbum est totius Trinitatis beatum Franciscum ad mundum dirigentis. Secundò, quod fuit homo syncerissimus, & à corporis brutalitate segregatus: quia homo fuit, & per consequens non sensualis, aut sensualitati corporis deditus, sed ab ea separatus, rationabilis, & rationi subditus & subiectus. Sic enim motus sensuales refrenavit poenitentia arctiori ut hostem domesticum perfectè subijceret, & sine difficultate rationi pareret. Tertiò, quod fuit homo perfectissimus: quia ad imaginem Dei. Quartò, homo exemplarissimus: quia ad Dei similitudinem. Quintò, in vita rigidissimus: quia piscibus maris praefuit. Sextò, Angelis dilectissimus: quia volatilibus coeli iunctus fuit. Septimò, cunctis peccatoribus amicissimus: quia bestijs terrae. Octauò, Deo unitissimus: ideo praefuit universae creaturae. Nonò, diabolo infestissimus: quia omni reptili terr●. Decimò, sua reputatione abiectissimus: quia de limo terrae. Vndecimò, gratia plenissimus: quia inspiravit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae. Decimosecundò, operatione virtuosissimus: quia factus est in animam viventem. Decimotertiò, Dei contemplatione intentissimus: quia in Paradiso semper erat. Decimoquartò, verbo efficacissimus: quia operatus est salutem multorum. Decimoquintò, in omnibus ordinatissimus: quia custodivit se & alios. Decimosextò, imitator Apostolorum & perfectorum: quia ex omni ligno comedit. Decimoseptimò, excecrator scelerum contra Deum commissorum: quia de ligno mali non comedit. Decimooctauò, paupertatis desponsator, & abdicator terrenorum: quia adiutorium simile sibi, videlicet, contubernium paupertatis est sibi datum. Vltimò, ordinator omni● sanctitatis & religionis: quia ex eo Ecclesia quoad tres ordines est formata. Tres enim propagines ex ipso sunt, velut ex lateris costa germinatae & productae.  
That is, Christ hath made S. Francis like to himself: first, in his virtuous life: next in imprinting his wounds in his body. Whereupon it is said, Ecclesiast. 44. There was none like unto him in keeping the law of the most high. Which words set forth the fame, the excellency, sanctity, and glory of S. Francis. Item, of what quality, how, and to what end God created S. Francis, is set down Gen. 1. &. 2. chap. where it is said, Let us make man (that is S. Francis) after our image and similitude: and let him have dominion over the fish of the sea, the fowls of the air, the beasts of the field, and all creeping things which move upon the earth. And then it followeth, God made man of the slime of the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man was made a living soul. Item, the Lord God took man and placed him in the garden of Eden to dress it and keep it: and commanded him, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou shalt eat, but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat. After it is said, It is not good that man should be alone: and he made him an helper like unto himself, and took out one of his ribs and thereof made Eue. By which words it is manifest, first that S. Francis was a most singular man, one whom God had preordained should come into the world, not by chance, or by the counsel of men, but by his own providence, whereby he disposeth and governeth all things. And therefore it is said, Let us make: A speech uttered by all the persons in the Trinity, appointing S. Francis to come into the world. Secondly, that he was most pure, void of all carnality, brutishness and sensuality: for he was a man, and so consequently not carnal nor addicted to fleshly lusts as beasts are: but exempt from it, as having an understanding soul, obedient & subject to reason. So that through his strict penance, he so well kerbed and kept in his sensual appetite, that he perfectly foiled and brought under his intestine enemy, obeying reason without difficulty. Thirdly, most perfect, because he was created in the image of God. Fourthly, a most perfect exemplar or Idea of all goodness, because he was made after the similitude of God. Fiftly, of a most austere and strict life, because he had sovereignty over the fishes of the sea. Sixtly, most beloved of the Angels, because he was joined to the fowls of the air. Seventhly, a great friend to all sinners, because he had Lordship over all the beasts of the field. Eightly, most nearly united to God, because he was ruler and governor of all creatures. Ninthly, a mortal enemy to the devil, because he had power over all that creepeth on the earth. Tenthly, of all men most base in his own conceit, because he was made of the dust of the earth. 11. Most replenished with grace, because God breathed into him the breath of life. 12. Full of virtue and operation, because he was made a living soul. 13. Ravished with the contemplation of God, because he was always in Paradise. 14. Most mighty in word, because he saved many. 15. Most orderly in all his actions, because he kept others and himself also. 16. An imitator of the Apostles and of the perfect; for he did eat of every tree. 17. A detester of all wickedness committed against God, because he did not eat of the tree of knowledge of evil. 18. One that had (as it were) betrothed himself to poverty, renouncing the world; because God gave him an helper to assist him, viz. poverty to be his companion. And lastly, a dispenser of all sanctity and religion, because of him the Church was form, as concerning the three orders: for those three branches sprang out of him, as from a rib taken out of his side. Nay there is no testimony of Scripture from the first chapter of Genesis to the end of the Apocalypse, which is not used or rather abused to magnify and set out the order of S. Francis. Fol. 83. Et ideo johannes evangelista, postquam Apoc. cap. 7. descripsit tempus missionis ●. Francisci, scilicet sub apertione sexti sigilli, & quomodo est missus: quia ut Angelus habens signum Dei vivi: subdit de multitudine, Francisci praedicatione, vita & exemplo, & suorum sociorum, ad Christum conversa & convertenda. Quum dicit, quod vidit numerum signatorum, centum quadraginta quatuor millia ex omni tribu filiorum Israel: hoc potest exponi, quod in hoc ordine tot essent futuri fratres, sive convertendi per fratres, deducto populo ad Dominum, & hoc in ordinis processu. Vel tempore Antichristi, quando hic ordo, destructis aliis ordinibus, praedicabit contra Antichristum. Et tunc juxta dictum Apostoli & Scripturae, & Apoc. cap. 8, reliquiae Israel ad Dominum convertentur. Vel potest dici, quod per numerum certum (juxta modum loquendi Scripturae) accipit incertum: ut non solùm sint signati, scilicet habitu Francisci & crucifixi, centum quadraginta quatuor millia, sed infiniti alij. Et hoc videtur johannes innuere, quum subdit, quod vidit post praedicta turbam magnam, quam nemo dinumerare poterat: ex omnibus tribubus, populis & linguis, etc. Sic ergo multitudine locorum per angulos mundi diffusorum, apparet multitudo fratrum qui sunt istius ordinis.  
That is,  
And therefore Saint john the Evangelist (Apocal. 7.) having set down the time when Saint Francis should be sent into the world, namely, at the opening of the sixth seal: and in what sort, viz. as an Angel having the sign of the living God: He telleth us of the multitude which should be converted to Christ by the holy life and doctrine of him and his fellows. When he saith, that the number of those which were sealed was an hundred forty and four thousand of all the tribes of Israel: which may be thus expounded, that there should be so many Friars of that Order, or of such as were to be converted by their means, (the people being brought unto the Lord) and that in the continuation of the order; or rather in the time of Antichrist, when this order should preach against Antichrist, the rest being abolished. And then (according to the saying of the Apostle, the Scripture, and the Apocalyp. chap. 8.) The remnant of Israel shall be converted to the Lord. Or it may be said, that by a certain number (in the Scripture phrase) is meant an uncertain: to wit, that there shall not only be an hundred forty and four thousand Franciscans and Crucigeri sealed, but an infinite number of others also. And this seemeth to be Saint john's meaning when he saith, that he saw a great multitude which could not be numbered, of all tribes, people & tongues, etc. So that the multitude of Franciscans may be gathered by the multitude of their Covents in all quarters and corners of the world. And fol. 4. in the same page before the former place, we have these words: Quibus & aliis quae hîc omittuntur, quanta est gloria beati Francisci, evidenter astruitur & monstratur: & consequenter apparet, quod beatus Franciscus in coelo praemium habet magnum: & in sede celsa sublimatur: ut de ipso dicatur Domino jesu illud Psalmi octavi, Gloriâ & honore coronasti eum, & constituisti super opera manuum tuarum. Dedit enim illi gloriam regni qualem nullus ante eum habuit. 1. Paral. 29. that is, by which (and sundry other particulars here omitted) it may appear how great the glory of Saint Francis is, and consequently how great a reward he hath in heaven, and how he is exalted and set in a high throne. For Psal. 8. the holy Ghost saith to Christ concerning him, Thou hast crowned him with glory and honour, and hast set him over the works of thy hands. For he hath given him a greater measure of glory in his celestial kingdom, than ever he gave to any before him. 1. Paralip. 29. And fol. 14. Fuit etiam beatus Franciscus ministris pluribus etc. that i●, Saint Francis was also manifested to many provincial ministers, when he established the last rule. At which words of Saint Francis, Christ bowing himself, said, that that was his meaning touching the observation of the rule; and thereupon cried with a loud voice in their hearing, that himself and not S. Francis was author thereof. It is there further said, that Saint Francis kept every jot and ●ittle of the law. And fol. 17. that he was Patriarch, Prophet, Apostle, Martyr, Doctor, Confessor, Virgin, Angel, nay above all Saints whatsoever, most conformable to Christ. And fol. 46. he setteth down the names and surnames of his twelve Apostles, viz. Petrus Cathanei, johannes de Capella, Philippus Longus, etc. And strait after he saith, As judas Iscariot wrs cast out of the office of Apostleship under Christ, so johannes de Capella was put from his Apostleship under Saint Francis. And what would we more? when they stick not to say (fol. 220.) Beatus Franciscus titulatus fuit titulo JESUS per conformitatem quam habuit ad vitam jesu: NAZARENUS quia vigo purissima: REX, sensuum interiorum & exteriorum custodia & regulatione. JUDAEORUM, quia iubilo & gaudio plenus creaturas omnes ad Deum laudandum solicitavit: that is, Saint Francis was called jesus in regard of his conformity with him in his holy life. A Nazarite, because he was a most pure virgin. A King, as having power and dominion over his inward and outward senses. Of the jews, because that being full of spiritual and heavenly joy, he stirred up all creatures to praise God. But enough of these diabolical and damnable speeches: for I suppose I am come to the height of the blasphemous impieties of these Monkish miscreants, if I may so call them to express the impiety, whereof their blasphemies give sufficient testimony.  
5 Touching blasphemies which have been uttered in the pulpit by Popish Preachers, I will here allege some few examples as an additament to the former, yet so as if I haply omit any which shall afterward come to my mind in the second part of the Apology (where I am to show how our ancestors suffered their Preachers to lead them by the nose) I will not miss there to insert them. For the present, I remember a speech which Menot a French man, and Barelete an Italian delivered in the pulpit, containing such a blasphemy as were enough to make the hair of a man's head stand upright, viz. that rather than Christ should not have been crucified, the virgin Mary would have crucified him with her own hands. True it is, they allege their authors, and further add that it proceeded of an earnest desire she had of the salvation of mankind. But because it might otherwise haply seem incredible, I will here set down their own words, quoting the place where they are to be found. First then in the sermons of Menot fol. 169. col. 3. towards the end, somewhat before these words, Finis evangeliorum quadragesimalium, we read as followeth: Audivi ab ore magistri Huet, in conventa Parisiensi praedicantis, quod si non alius se obtulisset, virgo Maria tanto zelo amabat redemptionem generis humani, quod proprijs manibus filium crucifixisset. As for Barelete, mark what he saith of the blessed virgin, fol. 115. col. 2. Quia tempore passionis, quamuis sui dolores essent intensi, videndo filium affligi, tamen volebat filium mori pro humanae generationis salute. Et ut dicit Archiepiscopus, Si alius modus non fuisset, ipsamet filium proprium occidisset: quia non minor erat charitas sua quam Abrahae, qui filium suum erat paratus occidere. Moreover he saith that the Apostles went to complain to her of her son, because he kept not touch with them in sending the holy Ghost: and that there was a dissension between the Father and the holy Ghost, who feared to come into the world, lest they should be dealt with as the jews dealt with Christ. unde isto mane veniunt ad Mariam, dicentes, Heu, filius suus nobis promisit mittere spiritum sanctum: hody sunt decem dies quod ascendit, & adhuc spiritum sanctum non misit. Et virgo, Non dubitetis quòd hody omninò mittet: nec a●● mittere debuit. Et ratio, Quando Deus traxit populum de captivitate Aegypti, quinquagesimo die descendit in forma ignis in monte Sinai, dando legem: fuit figura, quod quinquagesimo die resurrectionis suae, nos liberaret & vivificaret, unde ponamus nos in oratione. Petrus cum aliis se ad unam partem posuit: Lazarus cum Lxxij. ad aliam: & Magdalena cum aliis mulieribus ad aliam: & virgo Maria in medio. In coelesti palatio facta est dissentio inter Patrem & Spiritum sanctum. O pater (inquit filius) promisi Apostolis meis paraclitum & consolatorem: tempus advenit ut promissionem attendam. Cui pater, Sum contentus: indica ●piritui sancto. Cui Spiritus sanctus, Dic mihi quomodo te tractauêre? Cui filius, vide me per charitatem: ostendit ei latus & manus & pedes perforatas. Heu mihi, sed vadam in aliam effigiem, quod non audebunt me tangere. Qui descendit cum maximo strepitu. Factus est repent de coelo sonus tanquam advenientis, etc. See fol. 178. col. 1.  
6 But let us hear another discourse of the same Preacher, stuffed with far greater and more incredible blasphemies, especially considering that the chiefest mystery of Christian religion is thereby profaned. Fol. 229. col. 4. these be his words: Quamuis ab aterno Deus praedestinaverit, etc. (which because they are somewhat long & tedious, it shall suffice to translate them into English, abridging them in some places:) Though God (saith he) had decreed the incarnation of his Son, and the salvation of mankind from all eternity; yet it was his will and pleasure that it should be impetrated by our prayers, and the prayers of holy people: so that the holy fathers even with tears desired to see that day; and how great their desire was, the Scriptures declare. Now Adam, Enos, Enoch, Mathusalem, Lamech and Noah (who lived so long) seeing they could not obtain the thing which they desired, resolved to send Ambassadors. First Esay, saying chap. 16. Lord send the Lamb the governor of the land (Agnum dominatorem terrae.) And chap. 45. You heavens send down your dew from above, etc. And in the 64. chapter, O that thou wouldst break the heavens and come down, and that the mountains might melt at thy presence. After that, the Prophets send Moses, Exod. 4. Obsecro Domine, mitte quem missurus es: that is, I beseech thee, O Lord, send him whom thou shouldest send: that is, thou hast sent me before for a particular deliverance, now send for the general deliverance. After that, the Kings sent David, who spoke thus, Lord show us ●hy mercy, and give us thy saving health. After all these came Aaron, sent by the Priests, who said, Lord bow the heavens and come down. In the last place came the Church, which said, Stir up thy strength and come, O Lord lift up thyself. The patriarchs seeing that these requests took no place, sent women. First Madam Eve went and spoke thus, Thou hast condemned us for our sin, yet remember it not O God, but deliver me out of this dark dungeon. To whom God answered, Eve thou hast sinned, and therefore art unworthy my son should be sent into the world for thy sake. The second was Madam Sara, who said▪ O Lord help us: to whom God answered, Thou art not worthy: for thou didst not believe that thou shouldst conceive and bear a son. The third was Madam Rebecca, to whom God said, Thou showedst thyself partial between jacob and Esau. The fourth was Madam judith, to whom God answered, Thou hast been a murderer. The fifth was Queen Esther, to whom he said, Thou lovedst vanity to much, when thou deckedst thyself to please King Assuerus. At last they sent a maid of fourteen years of age, who with a deject and shamefast countenance kneeled down and said, I beseech thee (O my God) that my best beloved may come into his garden, that he may eat of his apples. (This garden was the virgin's womb.) Which when the son heard, he said unto his father, O my father, I have from my youth loved this maid, and have laboured to have her to my spouse. Whereupon God the Father presently calling the Angel Gabriel, said unto him, Gabriel go quickly to Nazareth to Mary, and carry her these letters from me, and tell her that I have chosen her to be my wife. Then said the Son, And tell her from me, that I have chosen her to be my mother, and that I will be incarnate in her womb; I will be her son, and she shall be my mother: Deliver her this message. Then spoke the holy Ghost, and said, I will dwell in her, and she shall be my Temple; Carry her this message from me. Then Gabriel coming to her▪ said, ave gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Ab A (quod est sine) & We, culpa; immunis à triplici Ve. De quibus Apoc. 12. We, ve, ve, habitantibus in terra. Gratia plena. Hieronymus, Benè, Gratia plena, quod caeteris per parts, etc. At these words of the Angel she was sore troubled. Now she had three gentlewomen with her, Prudence, Virginity and Humility. And first she went to Prudence to have her counsel, saying, O my love, tell me your opinion, what I were best to do. Prudence answered, Mary, I consider that which is written in the 29. chap. of Ecclesiasticus, He that is hasty to give credit is light minded. And therefore it is well said in the Gospel, that Mary mused in herself what manner of salutation that might be. Ecclesiasticus 32. Audi tacens, & pro reverentia accedit tibi bona gratia. Give ear and be still, and for thy good behaviour thou shalt be loved. The Angel seeing her thus troubled, said unto her, Fear not Mary: why art thou afraid? After this she asked counsel of her second gentlewoman Virginity, who said unto her, Mary ask the Angel how thou shalt conceive: if he answer and say, By the seed of man; beat him away with a cudgel. O iwenculae, quando vestri amatores nominant impudica, etc. How can this be, seeing I never knew man? The Angel answered, The holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most high shall overshadow thee, and therefore, etc. And a little after, There was a disputation who should work this redemption, whether the Father, the Son, or the holy Ghost; and it was agreed that the Son should be the Redeemer. And the reason, etc.  
7 And if it were possible for thee (gentle Reader) to have so much patience, I would further desire thee to read this other discourse of the same Preacher, that thou mayst see how he is like himself in all things, and how one blasphemy draweth on another▪ For fol. 168. col. 4. he saith, Altercatio facta est, quis debebat ire ad matrem, nuntiare hanc resurrectionem: Adam dixit, mihi incumbit, etc. The meaning of which words (as also of the rest which ensue touching the same argument) is this. It was debated amongst them, who should go to the blessed virgin Christ's mother, to signify her sons resurrection: Adam said, that it was his duty to go; For (said he) I was the cause of the evil, and therefore I ought to be the cause of the contrary good. But Christ answered him, Thou wouldst (haply) tarry by the way to eat figs. Abel said that that office belonged to him: Christ answered, No verily; for thou mayst (perhaps) meet thy brother Cain by the way, who will kill thee. Noah also offered himself, saying, that that honour was due to him: to whom Christ answered, Surely thou shalt not go; for thou lovest drink too well. john Baptist said, I will go: Nay said Christ, thou of all other shalt not go; for thy garment is but of hair. The thief said, that that office belonged to him: but Christ rejected him; For (said he) thy legs are broken. In the end an Angel was sent, who began to chant it out in this sort, Regina coeli, laetare: hallelujah▪ Resurrexit sicut dixit, hallelujah. And strait after came Christ with all the Saints, and the Virgin, etc. There are also sundry other blasphemous speeches as well in this as in the rest of their jolly Preachers, (though principally in this:) but because those (which now come to my remembrance) are more tolerable, and for that I am not at leisure to seek after others, I will content myself for this present with these above mentioned. The texts of Scripture I have here alleged, as they are to be found in the vulgar Latin Bible. But with what brazenfaced impudence they were wont to abuse them, shall be showed hereafter.  
8 And now I proceed to those who baspheme God indeed; which vice I said was proper to Churchmen: where I advertised the Reader, that I took the word blasphemy in a more general acception than it is commonly taken, having respect to the Greek Etymology. For as he that usurps the King's crown (being but his vassal) or sets himself in the throne of the kingdom or chair of estate, doth commit no less treason against the majesty of the Prince, than he that uttereth some contemptible speech derogating from his sovereignty, crown and dignity: so (doubtless) he that arrogateth to himself divine power in word or deed, may as properly be called a blasphemer of God. But forasmuch as the signification of the word hath not been usually stretched so far, I will not greatly stand to argue the case, whether it be lawful to use it so or no: it shall suffice that I have showed upon what ground I thus used it. But if any man shall think that it may more fitly be called high treason against the highest Majesty, I will not greatly contend with him. Now I would here instance this with examples, but that they are so obvious and ordinary, highways so plain, that a guide were needless. For, to say nothing of that man of sin, who calling himself God on earth▪ causeth (as much as in him lieth) as great homage to be done unto him as unto God: are not they (I beseech you) usurpers of the honour proper only to God, who take upon them to consecrate, bless and absolve? nay to open heaven to some, and shut it against others? Notwithstanding the world (we see) swarmeth with such vermin in all places where the Church of Rome hath lost nothing of her credit. And albeit this kind of blasphemy be peculiar to Churchmen (as hath been said) yet I am not ignorant that Princes also (who of their human would make a divine majesty) may well be enrolled in this register. But to show how many ways they offend in this kind, would be an argument no less odious than tedious, and chiefly for me, who by all means labour to make speedy dispatch of this present treatise.   

CHAP. XXVI. How that as there are stranger sins committed at this day then ever before, so God inflicts stranger punishments upon the authors and inventors of them.  
SAint Augustine among many his memorable sayings, hath one very notable and worthy so excellent an author, viz. that if God should openly punish every sin and transgression in this life, it would be thought he reserved no punishment for the last judgement. On the other side, if he should not inflict open and exemplary punishment upon some offenders, men would not believe that there were a divine providence. Therefore when we see any break forth into heinous enormities, and yet to scape scotfree, (at leastwise for aught we know) we should call not only our religion but our wits also into question, if we should hereupon infer, that wicked men escape the heavy hand of God, and that their sins remain unpunished. And verily I cannot but wonder what should be the reason that this point cannot sink into the heads of Christians, considering the very heathen have by the dim candlelight of natural reason attained to this secret of God's providence: as we may see in Plutarch, and in the greatest part of Poets, as namely in certain verses alleged by justin Martyr. Notwithstanding there is a further point to be marked, viz. that God doth not only inflict outward or civil punishments upon men, such as magistrates are wont to do▪ but reserveth some to himself which the bodily eye cannot see, which he manifesteth when it seemeth good unto him. These are the exquisite torments and tortures which wicked men endure in their consciences, not for an hour or a day, but for many years together. Nay he suffereth oftentimes the worm of conscience to gnaw upon them almost all their lives long. But if this punishment (may some say) be so secret and hid from the eye of man, how can we reason or speak thereof? Verily to omit infinite testimonies as well in sacred as profane stories, this hell of conscience discovereth itself in sundry persons by his effects, as Physicians do diseases by their symptoms, though never so secret and covered over with never so fair a skin. And as great men in times past were more obnoxious and liable to such distress of conscience (as stories record of sundry tyrants:) so we see it verified at this day▪ in such as are advanced to the highest honours, and set (as it were) on the top of fortune's wheel, after they once forget themselves: and how they are necessarily enforced by their continual carriage and course of life to verify the old saying, Needs must he fear many, whom many do fear▪ whereof we have a very pregnant proof and notable example of one in these days, who dealt with France for a time, as Diogenes did with his tub, when he rolled it, tumbled & tossed it, overturned it, and knocked out the head of it, or rather played at tennis with that kingdom and the King thereof. For what joy (may we think) can he have to live (what show soever he make) who feareth nothing more than arms, and yet hath nothing wherein he may put more confidence then in arms? who dare trust no living man, nor yet make show that he distrusteth any? Whose fear, which lodgeth with him at home, accompanieth him also abroad? who is constrained to put no difference between friends and foes, but equally suspecteth all? In sum, who the more he thinks upon the occasions of his fear, the more he hath cause to fear? May we not well think that such a man beginneth his hell in this world, in stead of enjoying some small pleasure in the remainder of his life? Could a man have desired of God a better revenge for his Cretismes, Catelinismes and Phalarismes, than this? But to come to other wicked men, who are not advanced to so high a degree of honour, but are glad to crouch to such gallants: All men might have taken notice (at leastwise heard) how the Lieutenant who was graced by a French Poet with the title of Radamanthus, and (who deserved in a double respect to be called Lieutenant criminal) was seized upon with a grievous disease (as I heard it reported by the College of Physicians which had him in cure,) during which sickness he had such a serious consideration of his life past, that he lay a long time before any man could persuade him but that he was condemned to be hanged. Alas (said he) I know I have deserved death: for I have committed such and such extortion: I had a hand in such and such rapine: I suffered myself to be bribed and corrupted by malefactors, to the end they might escape and go unpunished: I have too roughly and rigorously entreated poor innocents: to be short, I have made merchandise of my conscience every way. And not content to hover thus in generalities, he came in particular, to name those of whose death he thought himself guilty, and to ask them forgiveness. At last he remembered that the King had often showed mercy on malefactors, and thereupon conceiving some wan hope, he was ever harping upon that string. Now albeit they laboured to confirm him in this conceived hope of pardon, yet he no sooner considered the heinousness of his offences, but he was strait driven from his hold again, and said, that if the King should once know them, he would never pardon him. And in fear of this accursed death (whereunto he thought they were ready to lead him) had this poor patient died, had it not been for one of his Physicians who caused a man to come booted and spurred with letters patents in his hand, and to knock boldly at the door, and as soon as he was let in, to cry pardon, pardon: which was accordingly performed, yet not without putting him (poor soul) in danger of his life; for having heard him knock in that manner at the gate, he persuaded himself that it was the hangman. And though the party suborned knew well enough how to play his part, yet could he scarce make him believe that the King had pardoned him. But being brought in the end to believe it, & so to pluck up a good heart, he lived some few days after. Howbeit ere long he changed this miserable life into a more miserable death, as we shall hear in the sequel of this discourse. In the mean time let the Reader consider in what misery he must of necessity be, who was thus assaulted of his conscience. For then doubtless by reason of his disease which distempered his brain and intoxicated his understanding, he showed himself to be the man which in truth he was. And we may well think that the Chancellor of France felt no less conflict in conscience, when lying on his death bed he cried out, Ah Cardinal, thou hast sent us all to the Devil.  
2 But I pass from this secret punishment (which we may assure ourselves hath seized upon many) to that which we see daily before our eyes. First then, the holy Scripture teacheth us to acknowledge the hand of God in wars, pestilence and famine, executing his just judgements upon us for our sins. Whereof the preachers (before alleged) have not been unmindful to admonish us. As when Menot saith, Quae est causa quod ●ames toties regnat super terram, nisi peccata & iniquitates enormes quae nunc regnant? And Barelete, Nun vidisti temporibus clapsis, Italiam pest percussam? Verè hoc totum propter peccata inaudita hominum & multerun. Further, Menot saith of blasphemers in particular, that God sends them a red rose of Naples. Now than if such punishments be sure and certain testimoners of sins reigning in the world, and that they have increased even in these days: we may hereupon conclude, that sin is likewise much increased. Howbeit, my purpose is not to insist upon these ordinary chastisements, but rather to show (as the title of this chapter occasioneth me) that as our Age aboundeth with more rare villainies then ever were known or heard of in former time: So God inflicts far stranger punishments upon men for the same. For proof hereof, how many new & strange diseases are there at this day raging in all places? And surely great reason there is, that as men are not content with the sins of their ancestors, but add new to the old: so God in like manner should not content himself with ordinary punishments, but should add unto them extraordinary plagues. As he hath punished whoredom of late with that disease which the Frenchmen call the Neapolitan disease, they of Naples and other Italians, the French disease: But such hath been the frowardness of the wicked will of man, that that which should have been as a bridle to curb and keep him in, hath been as a spur to prick him forward, especially since there were remedies to cure such maladies. And now the report goeth, that there is a new kind of French pox, the Quintessence (as it were) of the former, which is simply incurable; which if it be so, we may assure ourselves, God would thereby teach us how dangerous a thing it is to harden our hearts against his heavy hand. And may we not well think these so many strange maladies (in which Physicians are not only put to their trumps, but even at a non plus) such and so many fearful judgements which God inflicts upon the meaner sort by the mighty: and upon great potentates by poor peasants: so many sundry sorts of death more sudden and fearful, yea and often accompanied with greater despair and rage than our Ancestors ever saw or heard of, to be new chastisements or rather punishments sent of God? Yes doubtless, whereof we might find sundry examples if we would but open our eyes to behold such spectacles, as often as they offer themselves to our view. I have heretofore showed (where I spoke of such as made away themselves) how Bonaventure de Periers (author of that detestable book called Cymbalum mundi) notwithstanding the pains that his friends took in keeping and watching him (for that they saw him in a desperate mood,) was found to have run upon his sword, having set the pommel to the ground, the point running in at his breast, and out at his back. I have further spoken of a secretary of a town of Switzerland, who pressed with a sense & feeling of his wicked life (having made a escape from his keepers) cast himself (with Razes) from a high rock and so died; since which time sundry like stories have come to my mind. But to omit those who by God's just judgement have been their own executioners; certain it is that there are many who die in their beds, in no less despair & rage then they: who doubtless, would have made the like end, if there had not been a narrow watch set over them. The number of which would be found to be great if inquiry were made. But I will here only speak of certain persecutors, who in the end have been pursued (as I may say) and persecuted by the just judgement of God, and that upon the open stage (as it were) in the view of the world. And I will begin with the Lieutenant Criminal (mentioned in the beginning of this chapter) who being recovered of a dangerous disease wherein he had been sore troubled in conscience, was shortly after stricken with another in his legs (called the wolf) in such sort that he lost the use of his limbs, and died in the end distraught of his wits, after he had a long time barked (as it were) at God, as the dog at the Moon, having nothing in his mouth but wounds, blood, and blasphemy. The Chancellor and Legate du Prat made no fairer market, notwithstanding his brave hospital (of which king Francis the first was wont to say, that it was not large enough to lodge so many poor people as he had impoverished. For he died at his Honour of Nantovillet, of a strange disease having his stomach eaten thorough with worms, not without fearful cursing of God through extreme impatience, occasioned aswell by extremity of pain, as through spite and anger to see all his coffers sealed up before his face: so that he could not refrain but break forth into these words: See what is gotten by serving the king with body and soul? This du Prat was the first that put up a bill in the court of parliament for the detection of heresies, because (as he said) they were full of blasphemy; who also being wearied with that long and tedious suit in the cause of Berquin, gave out the first commission for the examination, arraignment and condemnation of such as should speak against the Roman religion. And what befell the now deceased Steven Poncher Archbishop of Towers, whilst he laboured for the erecting of a new court, called the burning chamber? was he not seized upon by a fearful disease called Le feu de Dieu, which began at his heels, and crept along to his head, so that he was constrained to cut off one limb after another, and in the end died miserably, using no better language than his fellows? The like befell one john Ruzé counsellor of the Parliament; who was one of the greatest burners in his time (I mean one that raised the hottest persecution against the professors of the Gospel, that they might be brought to the stake) For as he returned from a court which he had kept against them, he was taken with the aforesaid disease in his stomach and privy parts, so that he had much ado to get home: the extremity whereof was such, that having in a manner burnt up his entrails, it caused him to end his days in great misery, the rather for that he did not once acknowledge the just judgement of God. And as the vengeance of God was speedily executed upon him, so was it also upon another counsellor of the same court called Claudius des Asses; for the very same day that he had sentenced a Protestant to fry a faggot, as he was playing the knave with one of his chambermaids, he was taken with an Apoplexy in the fact, and so died. Likewise one john Andrew, a Stationer (who served these persecutors and their complices, for a spy) as he was walking for his recreation, was taken with a frenzy which never left him to the hour of his death, which followed shortly after. We read also of strange judgements which befell those that were the chief agents in the persecution raised against the poor people of Cabriere and Merindoll; by all which we learn, that those who escape the hands of men, ought always to remember the old Proverb, He is not escaped that traileth his halter. For verily such wretches (though quit and cleared by earthly judges) if we respect divine justice, draw their halters after them, not only in this life, but after death also. Which I speak aswell in regard of john Menier Lord of Oppede, as of others, who were so sentenced for extortion, pilling and polling, spoiling and sacking, violence, and all manner of barbarous and savage cruelties which they exercised upon the inhabitants of those places, contrary to their oaths and promises, and the trust reposed in them; that whereas it was expected that after so many notable pleas & orations in which their knaveries were excellently displayed and laid forth (as it were) in orient colours, such exemplary punishment should have been showed on them, as might remain a memorial and perpetual precedent to posterity: It appeared in the end, that all was nothing but a fair flourish for fashion sake. Now albeit they escaped the punishment which justice allotted them, through the injustice of men: yet escaped they not the hand of the Just judge, as hath been said. Menier and the rest of that rout felt it very fearfully, by a strangury and a disease called Le feu de Dieu, which burned him from the navel upward: which grievous diseases he bore so patiently, that from the time they seized upon him till the last gasp, he ceased no to blaspheme and curse his creator; little remembering the examples of many holy Saints and servants of God whom he had heard singing Halleluiah in the midst of their torments, even then when he most cruelly butchered them. Neither is there any marvel to be made of this difference, considering he suffered as a felon and a murderer, they as Martyrs. But to omit these cruel cutthroates of the Popish Clergy, who persecuted the poor Protestants of Provence before the Lord of Oppede came amongst them; there was a jacobin Friar called de Roma (of whose cruelties I have spoken somewhat before) who felt the bevy hand of God as well as his fellows: for under colour of his commission (being one of the holy Inquisition) he tyramnized as well over the bodies as the goods of those whom he had found to serve from the Church of Rome, and withdrawing himself to Auinion, intended to make merry with the prey and pillage he had brought out of Provence. But the polling extortioner was spoiled of all that he had by his own servants, and brought to extreme beggary: and shortly after fell into a fearful disease unknown to the Physicians which bred ulcers in sundry places of his body so full of crawling worms that his flesh fell away by peacemeale, stinking so intolerably that no man (no nor yet himself) could endure the smell thereof. In the end it grew to that extremity that he desired some man would kill him; and perceiving that all was but in vain, he offered to lay violent hands upon himself, but finding not how he might put his wicked purpose in execution, he was constrained to undergo his torments unto the end; not without many outcries or rather howl, accompanied with cursing & blaspheming the name of God: the common and ordinary refuge for such wicked wretches when they feel themselves overwhelmed with dolour and grief. And here another story comes fitly to my mind, of one who is not wont to be forgotten, when we speak of the judgements of God, to wit, Petrus Castellanus, in whom we have as notable an example of divine justice as in any whosoever. For having been a zealous professor of the Gospel, in the reign of king Francis the first, in such sort that he incurred the ill will of the Sorbonists (which he then little respected, by reason of the great favour he was in with the foresaid Prince) he turned coat in the reign of king Henry the second, because he saw the professors of the Gospel had no countenance in the court: in such sort that a man would little have thought it had been he which professed true religion before; and not content to temporize and turn like the wether cock with every waft of contrary wind, he went to Orleans (having been newly installed Bishop of that See) to preach against the religion which before he had professed: whither being come, he gave them two or three strawberry sermons. And as he was on a time belching out his blasphemies against the truth and his own conscience, he was taken suddenly with a disease, which made his Lordship come down after another manner than he went up. The report goes, that one half of his body was as hot as fire, and the other half as cold as ice, joined with a bloody flux, whereof he died not long after, not without many throbs and fearful groans. I am here to entreat thee (gentle Reader) not to take offence that I point out some men in particular, and describe them by their names, contrary to the course I have taken almost throughout this whole treatise; desiring thee to remember that I am not the first that have broken the ice, seeing I deliver these things but at the second hand, as I find them set down in three several books lately published. I shall further desire thee to consider, that such stories as these, serving so notably to set forth the just judgements of God, ought authentically to be recorded. Notwithstanding I will spare the naming of two others, for that I find them no where named. One of which (I take it) is yet living, who albeit he made profession of the Gospel at the first, yet after he had courted it a while, he did so turn and temporize, so apply and accommodate himself to the fancies, fashions and humours of the Court, that like Hercules enthralled to Queen Omphale, or Samson besotted with his Dalila, he was so lulled asleep in his mistress lap, that he quite lost his former credit & reputation: so that he that had heard him, would little have thought he had been the man whom God had endued with such exact knowledge in the tongues and arts, that since that time his match could hardly be found. The second is of one who had been Counsellor to the French king Henry the second, and employed by him in sundry Embassages; who giving a final farewell to the truth which formerly he had professed (fearing lest it would lie as a block in the way to his preferment) lost forthwith his sense and understanding, in such sort that he became a mere sot and a senseless thing. And we have had within these few years such rare examples of God's judgements even upon Princes themselves, and of so late and fresh memory that they cannot easily be forgotten, and therefore I spare to name particulars.  
3 Now the reason which moved me to allege such examples of the judgements of God as have befallen persecutors rather than others, is for that such persecution is proper and peculiar to these days and times: wherein cruelty and all kind of impiety like a great deluge have broken the banks, and overflowed in more fearful manner then ever before: whereof we have seen what hath been the issue and event, and God grant that it may be both the beginning and the end of all such tragedies and turbulent garboils.     

THE SECOND PART OF THE PREPARATIVE TREATISE TO THE APOLOGY FOR HERODOTUS.  
ANCHORA SPEI   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON, Imprinted for JOHN NORTON. 1607.   

TO THE HONOURABLE KNIGHT SIR ROBERT RICH, AND TO THE WORTHY GENTLEMAN Master Henry Rich his brother: sons to the right honourable the Lord RICH.  
Having no other means out of my small fortunes to do you honour (right worshipful and worthy Gentlemen) and to make your worthiness known to the world, but only this paper present: I do here (according to my long intended purpose) present you with the second part of Stephen's Apology: desiring it may remain with you as a pledge and testimony of my thankfulness, for the continual flow of your manifold favours (far above the proportion of my deserts) and as an earnest of that propense mind and unfeigned affection which I bear to your house and name. The work you may justly challenge at my hands by a double right. First in that it was begun at my honourable good Lord your father's house in Essex: where being destitute of other books, and knowing not how to pass those long nights with better recreation: at your entreaty together with my entire friend Monsieur Beaufort (them your schoolmaster for the French tongue, and now Doctor of Physic in Basil) I first undertook the work: beginning (as you know) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, with the second part in the first place. Secondly in that it is done by him who oweth himself and all he can do, to your love and service. But as the first borne among the Jews had a double portion; so you Sir Robert have a double right herein above your brother. First, in that your helping hand hath not been wanting to the work, in translating (at my motion, and for your own recreation) the 36▪ Chapter: which without any great filing or fourbishing of mine, went to the press as it came from your pen: being done so faithfully according to the French, and so fitly and finely in regard of the English phrase, that I fear nothing so much, as lest (like a piece of velvet in a beggar's coat) it should shame the residue of the work. And this I both should and would have seconded with your other translation of D. Tylenus' his confutation of the Bishop of Eureux (which you left with me when you left the University) but that it was prevented by a worse. Secondly, in that you were not only Primus motor, the man that first set it on foot; but also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and he that kept it still on the wheels. For had I not been first moved by you, it had never been begun (at least by me:) and had you not so often called upon me, as well by word as writing, it had lain still in loose leaves as an idle toy, fitter to be ●udibrium venti, or meat for the moths, than matter for the Press. They therefore that shall reap either profit or pleasure by this my translation, are to thank you for your good motion, without which it had never seen the light of the Sun. And think not (M. Henry) that you are here excluded; for as it was begun, so was it also finished with special respect to your intended travail, that it might furnish you with matter for discourse, in keeping complement at the French Court, whither you have been so often sent for by your respective Godfather his Majesty of France. To you both therefore I send it, as well to do you honour, as to receive honour from you. Yet know this, that paper praises (being nothing but the wind of men's words) can neither eternize your name, nor blazon your fame to posterity (as that proud pedantic thought, 
Appion Grammatic.  who promised immortality to those to whom he dedicated any of his works.) Virtue only and valour are the highway to true Honour; which Marcellus signified by the two Temples which he dedicated to the Goddesses Virtue and Honour, being so contrived, that no man could enter into the Temple of Honour, but he that had first gone through that of Virtue. And the truth hereof may appear in the glass of these examples: For these four worthies of the world, Alexander, Caesar, Augustus, Constantine, of whose names cities were built and months denominated, continue famous even to this day. And so long as the two months in the year, july and August; and those two renowned cities, Alexandria and Constantinople remain, their memory shall never perish. Whereas Nero, Commodus, and such like monsters, 
Suet. in N●rone, cap ●5. Aurel. Vict. de Caesarib. c. 17. & Eutrop. ●i. 6  who attempted the like (the first labouring to have April called Neronius; the second, September Commodus) have fallen to the very counterpoint of that they aimed at, dying like a candle which leaveth the snuff stinking after it; being now no way famous but by the infamy of their wicked lives. And what can be said of the Kings of France called the idle, save only this, that they have left nothing memorable, but that they left no memory? The like inglorious end cannot but befall all those who either with the idle drone eat more than they earn; or waste the candle in idle play, which was allowed to have lighted them to bed. This I speak not as taking upon me to school you, or to read you a lecture as if you were still in the University; but in duty to your Father (to whom I am so infinitely indebted for his honourable favours) and in love to your persons, to encourage you on in a good course, by adding fuel to the fire, and oil to the flame: that as you are rich in name and in outward goods, but more rich in those of the body, so you may be most rich in those of the mind, and so be true inheritors not only of your Father's name and goods, but also of his virtues, in being the shadow of his mind; making his example and honourable courses the Cynosura by which you are to direct your course. For (doubtless) in so doing you shall not only avoid Scylla and Charybdis, those dangerous rocks and devouring gulfs which lie in your way, where so many are either swallowed up, or suffer shipwreck, (you know what I mean:) but arrive in the end at the haven of eternal happiness. And there I leave you.  
Your Worsh. most affectionate, R.C.   

THE SECOND PART OF THE PREPARATIVE TREATISE TO THE APOLOGY FOR HERODOTUS.  

The Preface.  
I Proceed now to prosecute the second part of this present Apology. For having in the beginning of this Discourse propounded to handle these two things; first the reverend opinion which some had of antiquity: secondly, the base conceit that others had thereof. And having showed how the former did honour and reverence it, in regard of the virtuous lives and valorous deeds of their ancestors; and how the latter (on the contrary) had it in high scorn and disdain, in regard of their rudeness and simplicity, I thought it not impertinent (the better to content and satisfy the Reader) to allege some few examples, by which he might see, as in a crystal, the particulars which I undertook to demonstrate. And hoping I have sufficiently acquit myself, touching the former point (as having showed how far the wickedness of these times doth exceed and go beyond that of former ages in sundry things) it remaineth I should endeavour the like in the second: which when I shall have fully finished, I hope I shall have made a reasonable good preparative to the Apology for Herodotus. But how (may some say) can these particular instances and allegations sufficiently serve to win credit and authority to Herodotus his history, considering they consist of modern examples, borrowed partly from this, and partly from the Age last passed? Mark therefore my answer, which will further show the scope which I aim at. Albeit we find strange stories in Herodotus, which seem to some altogether incredible, partly because they cannot conceive how men should be so notoriously wicked and profane; partly because it will not sink into their heads, that ever any were so rude and rustical: yet I doubt not, but when I shall have deciphered the villainies of this Age, how transcendent they are, in comparison of former times; we shall have just cause to say, that as we have seen sundry strange things in this last centenary of the world, which were not known nor heard of in the former (much less in the ages before) and yet are such as we cannot call into question (except we will distrust our senses, as having been eare-witnesses and eye-witnesses thereof:) so we are not to think but that the age in which Herodotus lived, and the precedent, had some proper and peculiar to themselves, which would not have been thought so incredible, had we lived in those days. I affirm the like of the second point, assuring myself that when I shall have showed how those that lived in the age last passed, were not only simple, but also rude and rustical in comparison; all men of judgement will easily grant, that as we cannot doubt of the rusticity of our late forefathers, it being so authentically witnessed (though otherwise perhaps it might seem incredible:) so neither are we to think but that they which lived so many hundred years ago had their clownishness proper to themselves, which would not have been thought so incredible (as now it is) had we been their next successors; seeing we might have had it confirmed by infallible testimonies. Now this argument my purpose is to handle generally, to the end it may serve as a preparative to the Apology for Herodotus, till I have more time and leisure, as also better means and opportunity to handle it more distinctly, and to find out modern examples to suit and parallel those which seem so strange in this our Historian.  
2 But what? (may some say) should a man think those stories in Herodotus to be incredible, only in regard of the two former reasons, viz. their notorious villainy, and sottish simplicity? No verily: for many men's incredulity proceeds from a third cause, viz. in that they consider not the great change and alteration which is to be seen almost in every thing since those times: but would have the natural disposition of men in diebus illis, and their course of life so to suit ours, as that they should take pleasure in those things wherein we take pleasure: and contrarily, that whatsoever disliketh us, should have been distasteful unto them. And (which is more) they would find an agreement and correspondence between the estates of ancient kingdoms and common wealths, with those at this day. Nay, some are so inconsiderate in reading of ancient stories, that they measure the climates of foreign and far remote countries by their own. No marvel therefore if finding such discord and disagreement in all these things, they judge ancient stories to be as far from truth, as the things they read are differing from those they daily hear and see. Knowing therefore this to be a third reason why many can hardly subscribe unto them, I have reserved for it the third part of this treatise. But I am to entreat thee (gentle Reader) to give me leave to omit that for the present, which my occasions will not permit me to annex, not doubting but I shall give thee a specimen hereof in the Preface which I am to prefix before this present work.  

CHAP. XXVII. How some Poets (contrary to the current) have preferred their own age before the former, as being much more civil, and of far better grace.  
THe sighs of Hesiod, and groans of Tibullus, uttered in the depth of their discontent, in dislike of the customs and fashions of their times, have been sufficiently witnessed before by their verses: wherein they affirm (as we have heard) that they had been happy men, if they had been borne before: whereas they thought themselves wretched and miserable, in being borne in so bad a time. But what shall we say of those who contrarily think themselves happy, in that they were borne in so good a time: good (I say) in regard of the former. For what saith Ovid? 
Prisca iwent alios, ego nunc me denique natum,  
Gratulor: haec aetas moribus apta meis.  
Let others praise the times and things forepast,  
I joy myself reserved till the last.  
This age of all doth best my humour fit.  Where though he cross and contrary Hesiod and Tibullus in his wish and desire, yet he concurs with them in the cause thereof. For the reason which made them wish they had been borne in some other age, was the exceeding great looseness & lewdness of their own. On the other side, the reason why Ovid contented himself with his own, and preferred it before the former, was not because there was less wickedness and impiety, but greater urbanity and civility. For he saith expressly, 
Sed quia cultus adest, nec nostros mansit in annos  
Rusticitas priscis illa superstes avis.  And if I were to prosecute this argument, I might particularise wherein his age was more civil than the former, and namely then those which came nearest to that of old dreaming Saturn, as Poets speak. I might also draw out a long thread of a little flax, and show how men's wits have been more and more sharpened, refined, and (as it were) sublimated from time to time. Whence it cometh to pass that they have had a further insight into the works they took in hand, and have daily added something unto them, to perfect and polish them the better, so that antic words and workmanship seem to be but rude and rustical in comparison. But if I should further proceed in handling of this argument, I should but entangle myself in an endless labyrinth: it shall suffice therefore, if (according to my former promise) I compare the age last passed with this wherein we live: yet not taking upon me curiously to scan every point of this comparison; but after I have handled some of less moment, to come to the main and most material point of all, which deserveth a far more ample and large discourse. Howbeit I am first to perform my former promise, and to allege certain French phrases, whereby we express the base conceit we have of Antiquity, and that for the same reason for which Ovid saith, Prisca iwent alios. I say then that besides this French phrase, Fait à l'antique, or fait à la vieille mode, that is, made after the old fashion, by which we signify a thing to be made rudely or inartificially, (though fait à l'antique be sometimes used without scorn or contempt, according as the subject is whereof we speak) we have other phrases whereby we declare the conceit which we have of the rusticity and clownishness of ancient times. For when we say, Cela se faisoit au temps iadis, that is, This was made in old time: our meaning is, that it is out of use, and quae obsolevit (as the Latins speak) and such as at this day would seem but rude and rustical. But this phrase Du temps des hauts bonnets, that is, when high hats were in use, or when high bonnets were in request, seems to have had his original from the rude and clownish apparel then in use, though it specify but one particular: as if we should say, When men arrayed themselves so clownishly, or, when men had not the wit to choose a fashion fit and easy for them. This likewise is spoken in way of derision, Du temps que les beasts parloyent, In old time when beasts spoke: as if we shou●●●y, In old time when there were such sots, that a man might have persuaded them that beasts could speak. Which is spoken (I take it) in regard of Aesop's fables, which were then turned into our mother tongue. We say also, Du temps qu'on se cachoit pour prester de l'argent: When men hid themselves to lend money: which (though it be spoken in way of derision as the former) is an argument rather of simplicity then of rusticity. For they (doubtless) were very simple, who in stead of lending their money before witnesses, and taking a bond of their debtor before public notaries (as the manner is now) lent it in secret; more respecting the borrowers credit, that it might not be known he stood in need, than their own security. And therefore it may well be numbered among the proverbial sentences formerly spoken of in the beginning of this treatise, which show the great good opinion generally conceived of the fidelity of men in former times. Besides all which, we have these three proverbial sentences spoken of Kings: Du temps que les Rois se mouchoient à leur manche: that is, When Kings wiped their noses on their sleeves: or, Du temps que les Rois faisoyent de leur manche●vn mouchoir: that is, When Kings made handkerchieves of their sleeves. And, Du temps que les Rois estoyent bergers: that is▪ When Kings were shepherds. And, avant que les Rois sortissent horse de page: that is, Before that Kings came out of their minority. The last of which is in some sort proper to the Kings of France. For King Lewis the eleventh was the first (as the French story saith) that cashiered the Lord Potectour, and disannulled the law of Minority: showing his heirs and successors how they might command Kings, and say, Sic volo, sic jubeo. The first of these, viz. When Kings wiped on their sleeves, is somewhat harsh and less in use: giving us to understand, that Kings in old time were so sordid and slovenly, that they would not stick to play the prank that children are wont to do when they cannot find their handkerchieves: or because they would make short work, and not be all the day in blowing their noses. For my part I make no question but that it is an hyperbolical speech, which I cannot affirm of the second, viz. when Kings were shepherds: and if I should, I might easily be confuted by infinite authorities. True it is indeed, there are few Kings to be found who have been shepherds: howbeit many have been graziers, and have gotten their chiefest wealth and riches thereby. And our historian telleth us in his eight book, that though Kings in old time had but small store of money, yet they had great store of cattle, wherewith they used to traffic. Where he also speaketh of a Queen who played the cook, and wrought pastry work with her own hands. How ever it were, we read of a Cardinal of Auinion who knew well how to make use of this proverb, in answering a King of France like for like. For when the King (seeing the Persian pomp of the Pope's Court, and the pride of the Cardinals) asked him whether the Apostles ever went with such a train after them? he answered, No verily: but you must consider sir (quoth he) that they were Apostles the same time that kings were shepherds.   

CHAP. XXVIII. Of the rudeness and rusticity of our Ancestors in sundry things.  
AS there be some Poets who commend former times, and extol them to the skies, in the mean time speaking basely of their own; and others contrarily who (in other respects) make greater reckoning of their own age then of the former: so we cannot but hear how old men praise the good days and times which they had in their youth, in comparison of the present: whereas the younger sort make no account of any age but of their own. Now if we consider the reasons which moved them to think and speak in 〈◊〉 sort, we shall find that they did it upon the same ground and for the same consideration. For as they who so highly honoured and extolled antiquity, did it in regard of virtue and valour, then far greater without comparison, then at this day; and they on the contrary which had it in such contempt, did scorn it in regard of the rudeness and rusticity which then reigned: so (doubtless) the thing for which old men either do or can with any colour prefer times passed before the present, is the simplicity and fidelity of those times. Whereas youth at this day esteem rather their own age then any other, for that they see greater cunning and dexterity, and a more civil and urbane kind of life. So that if any shall say, that when old men speak of the good times which they have seen, they understand it not only in regard of that honest, simple and plain dealing which was then used, but in other respects also, I will not greatly contend; so they grant withal, that they did it principally in that regard. For when Horace (describing the qualities of an old man) saith that he is 
— Laudator temporis acti,  
Se puero▪ censor, castigatorque minorum.  That is, 
Of his young times a man of large report,  
A sharp controller of the younger sort.  His meaning (no doubt) is to signify the usual speech of old men, viz. that all things stood in better terms in their younger years: and that there was not such excess and riot in the world as is to be seen at this day. Which they speak as being of opinion that the world waxeth daily worse and worse: and hereupon would rule and square, not only the manners, but also the actions of the younger sort accordingly. For if an old man speak of the youth of these times, he will tell you that it is no wonder to see so many mischiefs raging in the world, and that we are not to look for such golden days as he hath seen; the world being clean changed and turned up side down, so that he can hardly remember what he hath seen. And he will especially inveigh and declaim against pomp and bravery in apparel, and delicate fa●e▪ which he will affirm to be far greater now than it was in times past; and that it is the cause of the dearth and scarcity we now see: as also of many outrages and misdemeanours, and that it maketh men more effeminate. Nay they proceed sometime further, in making the youth of those times petty Saints, when they say (as the author of the Courtier doth relate it with excellent good grace) Io haveua vent' anni che anchor dormiva con mia madre, & mie sorelle: ne seppis ivi à gran●tempo che cosa fossero donne: & hora fanciulli non hamno à pena asciutto il capo, che sanno piu malitie che in que tempi non sappeano gli homini fatti. That is: I lay with my mother and sisters till I was twenty year old, and knew not of a long time what manner of creature a woman was: whereas children now scarce crept out of the cradle, know more knacks of knavery than men of years did in times past. Now as old men exceed the bounds of truth, by running so far into one extreme: so shall we likewise, if we deny that they had not reason to complain of a bad change, the world still declining from better to worse. To conclude then, we will easily grant these grey beards, that in their younger years the world was not so wicked: so that they yield to our green heads, that it was more rude and rustical; and that it was not so witty, because it was not so wicked.  
2 But lest they should say that my tongue runneth at random: I will instance it by examples. And because there is nothing, which we make greater account of, or judge more necessary for our bodies, than food to nourish them, and raiment to clothe them; and therefore are not only careful but even 〈…〉 providing such necessaries: I will enter discourse of them in the first place●●ouching the first, therefore (because I take it for a confessed truth, that our ancestors never showed themselves more curious in their diet, than many countries at this day,) I shall desire the reader not to take it amiss, if I compare some of their customs and fashions, with those in use at this present. And first I will begin with one which is so common and ordinary, that children of ten or twelve years of age may well remember it: and if I should say that it were yet practised in some places of France, I should not (it may be) speak without my book. It is a foolish custom taken up by certain gentlemen, who to the end they may cunningly deceive and finely fetch over their servants, cause their table to be furnished at the first service, with I know not what fried fritters, hotchpotches, sippets, sauces, and gallymalfrayes: and then with store of Mutton, Veal, and bouncing pieces of Beef, which pieces of Beef they will rather feed upon, then upon any other dish. And after that the stomach hath revenged his quarrel upon such gross meats, they serve in Capon, Chicken, Pigeon, and wild foul. Yet not all in one course: for they keep Partridge, Phaysant and other dainties, for the last service; the stomach being not only satisfied, but even closed up. So that it is great pity to see how the servitors (poor souls) are glad to eat such meats, as their stomachs were never accustomed unto, and to leave their ordinary fare for their masters and mistresses. I mean how they are to take the pains to eat the finer meats, as wild foul, and venaison, and to leave the grosser for them. What then can the old man answer, Laudator temporis acti se puero? Or what can he say (trow we) to defend or excuse the rusticity of former times? (for in that I call those that used this seemly service, but rude and rustical, I favour them much.) And were it not that I am afraid I should be over troublesome, I would gladly ask them yet another question, touching Partridge, & such like foul, viz. Whether those men had noses or not? and if they had, what noses they were, when they could find no goodness in wild foul, and venaison, except it were tainted a little, that is, (to speak plain English) except it stunk a little, this stink seeming to them to be 〈…〉 of venaison?  
3 But now to proceed to the fashions of other countries, which have been (perhaps) practised alike by our ancestors, as hath been said. Albeit then there be no Frenchman to be found at this day, if he be of the right stamp, and have wherewith to maintain himself, who hath so bad a taste, but can put a difference between tender and tough flesh: yet it were a wonder (I had almost said a miracle) to see a German who never travailed abroad, that either observed or cared to observe this difference. For example, Ne gallina malum responset dura palato, as Horace speaketh: that is, lest the pullet's flesh should be over tough, and unpleasant to the taste, the Frenchman who hath no leisure to kill it a day or two before, that it may wax tender of itself, will have twenty devices besides those mentioned in Horace. But when he shall leave France his native country, and come into Germany, he will not a little wonder to see a pullet (or some cock of the game, for want of a better) served to the table, which he had heard crowing in the court but half an hour before: which shallbe killed, plumed, and boiled, all in the suddenness of an instant. If our ancestors then (not to speak of Germans) have done the like, may we not truly say that they were very rude and rustical? Except some proctor shall haply plead for them, and tell us that their stomachs were hotter than ours; so that they could digest meat half raw, as well as we can flesh thoroughly roasted, boiled, or baked. But Physicians, which lived in those days, witness the contrary. This therefore may serve for an instance of cookery or dressing of meats. Let us see another in the choice of them: choice I say, not of divers sorts of meats, but of the same kind. And here (doubtless) we shall find many masters, whom Galen might as well laugh at, as he did at those suitors which courted Penelope (as Homer recordeth) for eating the great villainous swine, and leaving the young pigs for their servants. For considering the common saying in every man's mouth, Young flesh, and old fish: had not our ancestors small wit (in comparison) to eat the old dam, and to leave the young? to eat the old Partridge and to leave the brood? to eat the old Hare, and not so much as once to touch the leverets? Notwithstanding whatsoever can be spoken of our forefathers in this behalf, may truly be affirmed of many countries at this day. For when I was at Venice I heard certain noble men affirm, that they had learned of the French Kings Ambassador sent to the State, that young partridges and leverets were very good meat. And I remember, the Lord Conrade Resch told me, how that being at Basil, and demanded by certain Swissers what he would do with those leverets which were brought him for a present; answered that he would make distilled water for the gout: which they (simple souls) did verily believe. I might here also speak of the 〈◊〉- like rustics, who taking pigs ears and pigs skins, the rump, pinion▪ and neck of geese, (which Frenchmen call la petite oye, the goose giblet) as also calves and sheep feet, with capon's livers, and such like garbage; of all these put together, make a hodge-podge or gallimalfray: wronging themselves as well in this as in other things. But if I should enter discourse hereof, I doubt I should not be believed: and I fear me this argument would be thought too homely and base, and so would derogate from the grave and serious matters contained in this book.  
4 To come therefore to the rusticity which our ancestors bewrayed in their apparel, of which the pictures and statues yet extant, do give sufficient testimony. Were it not a goodly sight to see a man bigguined with a hood upon his head, like a great flasket, and a string under the chin: (a fashion not yet altogether worn out of use:) or one with a high hat like a spire steeple, or like a Turkish 
* Or tolibant●  turban, or a crossbow, or a Swissers swearing swaggering cap; of that bigness, that of so much cloth a man might make (as the fashion is now) three or four? Were it not (I beseech you) a seemly sight to see the fine feature of my finical fellow & gentle jack braggart, when he hath put on his jacket reaching a full handful below his knees, being of that size that a man might make a cassock and a pair of bases of it, or a great riding hood after the Spanish fashion? And were it not as goodly a sight to see, not only all his neck, but often all the upper parts of his shoulders and his breast also bare by reason of his fond fantastical apparel indented like a half Moon? And as for women, had not Madam N. 
* With her great gaping gorget.  à la grand gorre (as Preachers in those days were wont to speak) a very good grace, when she had her gown on, the very sleeves whereof were large enough to make a whole one? And was it not as goodly a sight to see their long tails tucked up, or trailing along, and sweeping the Church as they went? And if we speak of base botchery, were it a comely thing to see a great Lord or a King wear sleeves of two parishes, one half of worsted, the other of velvet? or a doublet of three parishes, the back and forepart of half worsted, the upper part of the sleeve of skin, and that toward the hand of velvet? True it is indeed, the forebody had a guard of velvet of some two fingers broad, which because it had never a whit on the back, was called Nichil au dos, a word which hath gone currant in many men's mouths, who understanding not the original thereof, have pronounced it Nichilodo, and applied it generally to all such things whose inside is not answerable to the outside, though especially to apparel: as at this day those petticoats or saveguards which have only the forepart of stuff and the rest of linen cloth, or such like, (as some gentlewomen use to wear) may in this sense be called petticoats à la nichilodo. But, as it were to be wished that this were our gentlewomen's worst housewifery; so we must needs grant, that (considering those times) there was no great hurt in such botchery. In speaking whereof I have extended my discourse as far as Ovid hath done his, in his verses formerly alleged; where he doth not only affirm that his age brought up a more civil carriage and course of life, but even courtlike and magnificent in outward comportment, such as was not to be seen in former time; as indeed they go hand in hand, for the most part. Notwithstanding we are not ignorant how many mischiefs and miseries attend upon bravery, and what benefit hath accrued to the weal public by means of frugality. We read in the French story how certain of the Nobility of France sent two messengers to king Charles the sixth, to inform him of the change and alteration that had been in the state since the days of his father Charles the fifth; among other things, how much the expenses of his house exceeded his father's expenses: but the main matter for which they complained, was, for that the Chancellor had spent twenty pounds in apparel in one year, which he had purloined out of the king's treasure: which was judged so heinous an offence, that he fearing to undergo the penalty, was glad to fly his country. I leave it therefore to thy judgement (gentle Reader) to consider how much the world is grown more miserable at this day, with all his pomp and prodigality, than it was in former time with all his frugality. For it is now come to this pass, that a paltry companion will not stick to bestow ten pounds (or very near) upon one only pair of bre●ches. Notwithstanding if all things be duly considered, it may well be doubted whether that which is called botchery, may fitly be termed frugality or not, seeing that when they would not be at the cost to wear sleeves of velvet, they made far more vain and needless expenses.  
5 Concerning the attiring & trimming of the body, was it not a goodly sight to see a man with a close shaven beard, wear a great periwig, bien esperlucat, that is, finely frezled? for that is the word which was then in use, and is to be found even in Menot himself, in stead of the Latin word calamistratus. And so in the rhyme made by a bon compagnon, long before Menots time, we read these verses, 
Plus fringant & esperlucat,  
Et cent fois plus gay que Perot,  
O● le valet d'vn Auocat.  That is, 
More spruce and nimble, and more gay to seen,  
Then some attorneys Clerk▪ or George a Greene.  And how should we excuse their rudeness & simplicity, in taking such pains to nourish that which putteth them to greater? For who is so simple, that knoweth not, I say not the inconveniences, but the diseases which are caused by these long periwigs? And yet some there are who take a pleasure and pride in them. But whether a beard become a man well or not, I appeal to those who are as much ashamed of themselves that they have none, as a dog that hath lost his tail. For proof whereof I report myself to these verses: 
— Turpis sine frondibus arbour,  
Turpis equus nisi colla iuba flaventia velent:  
Pluma tegit volucres, ovibus sua lana decor● est,  
Barba viros, hirt●que decent in corpore setae.  Notwithstanding all this, the poor Crucifixes then in use, were constrained to accommodate themselves to the humours of those times. For falling into the hands of such as wore their beards shaven, there was no remedy, they must have their beards shaven in like manner. And meeting with other good fellows, who chose rather to wear a tuft or two in stee● of a beard, they also must have the like. Whereas being in those countries where men use to wear their beards tied to their girdles, or reaching down to their knees, they must of necessity follow the fashion, though sore (God knows) against their wills. For every man would have his Crucifix hold that fashion comely, which himself thought comely. This is the reason of the sundry sorts of Crucifixes that are to be seen at this day.  
6 But let me not forget their manner of building whereby they deprived themselves almost of all those commodities, which we desire to have (and that not without just cause) in our buildings: and I had almost said, that they imprisoned themselves in their houses, in making them like prisons or dungeons. For whereas they cared not what their buildings were, so that they had thick and strong walls, in the mean time th●y deprived themselves of the benefit of the light, for want of wit to make such windows as are in use at this day. Besides, they made them straight and narrow, whereas they might have made them large and broad: and with many holes like rats nests, in steed of a number of lightsome, large and pleasant lights: and to foresee that one house might not overtop or drop upon another, or that their neighbours might not overlook them, was a thing nothing regarded. And touching the house which cannot so honestly be named as it is necessarily used, they have not followed nature, in setting it in a fit place. For whereas nature hath removed the basest and most unseemly parts of the body furthest from the sight & smell; they contrarily set it to the open view, of purpose (as it were) to be seen.  
7 And when we compare the workmanship used in old time, with that which is to be seen at this day, can we say that those artisans had any wit in their heads? For who so shall mark the fairest cupboard or bedstead made in those days, will (doubtless) judge it to be rather Carpenters then Ioyne● work. And he that shall observe their Iron works which are to be seen in cupboards, chests, or doors, may well doubt whether lockesmithes in former time used files or not, or rather what fashioned files they had. For we may well perceive, they have been filled, yet nothing so smoothly and artificially as at this day. True it is indeed (to make amends for this defect) they were no niggards in bestowing cost upon their work; I mean in enriching it with compartments and such like ornaments, though neither barrel better Herring. This I must need● say, that whereas men are now a days very sparing in bestowing cost upon their buildings: they then lavished it out (as it were) for the heavens, as if it had cost them nothing. Witness the harness then in use, which was so ponderous, that a man having it upon his back, was unfit almost for any service: whereas it is now not half so weighty, and yet of pistol proof. The like may be said of murrions or head pieces; I mean such harness and headpieces, as were made since the invention of harquebusses: for before the invention of guns, men contented themselves, if they had them of the thickness of iron plates. And to speak somewhat of our common and ordinary weapons, would not one of their swords make three of ours? And are there not some swords to be seen, the very handle of one of which is heavier than any two used at this day, blade and all? which notwithstanding are both easier for carriage, and more commodious for defence.  
8 And what shall we say of the phrase & manner of pronunciation used by our ancestors? what ears had they (may we think) who could with patientce endure to hear Mon frere Piarre, my brother Pete●? Mon frere Robart, my brother Robart, La place Maubart, The place Maubart? And yet the French Poet Villon (one that writ as eloquently as any in those days) speaketh so. This may serve for an instance of their Doric dialect in taking delight to speak broadly, much like the Dorians among the Grecians, and the Savoyards among the French. There are another sort of simper-de-cockets, who counterfeit puppets, in speaking so finely that they will scarce open their mouths; for making conscience to say François, Anglois, they say Francés, Anglés. Nay, there are some Courtiers which affect this nice pronunciation, following certain fine mincing minions rather than reason. For certes this pretty kind of puppet-parley was first taken up by women, who feared to open their mouths too wide in saying François, Anglois. How ever it be, I persuade myself, that neither they nor their followers are able to give any better reason of this their pronunciation, than the gentlewoman of Savoy could give of her singing magnificet in stead of magnificat; who thought by this means to shun the fault of her country dialect in pronouncing A in stead of E. Neither can these fine finical affecters allege the Italian tongue (which saith Francese & Francesi) to warrant their pronunciation: except they will do this wrong to their own language, to say that it hath borrowed from the Italian. Italians indeed use to say Inglese and Inglesi; but herein doubtless they imitate us, as not being able to judge whether we speak well or ill, purely or corruptly.  
9 Further, our ancestors have been as gross and absurd in their words and phrases, as in any of the premises. And verily considering the notorious absurdities committed at this day by such as will needs be too fine in their affected phrases (or rather foolishly finical) they seem to me very pardonable. For we have so purged and pruned the dead and rotten branches from the tree of the old French tongue, that we have lopped off the good together with the bad. And then like bad husbands have gone a begging (or borrowing) that of our neighbours which we had growing in our own orchyards (yea better than they had any) if we would have taken the pains to have sought it out: as I have showed more at large in my Conformity of the French tongue with the Greek.  
10 And how cunning and expert they were in making fine and well framed orations in their gross gibbridge, may appear by the stories of those times. As for their rhymes (I mean their rhythms) it is a world to see how rude and rustical they were. For they neither cared for rhyme nor reason, neither regarded they how hoblingly they ran, seeing they never respected the number of feet: which is the less to be wondered at, considering that Marot himself in his first Poems, played the rhymester at all adventure, knowing neither section nor caesure, nor yet observing the difference between E masculine and E feminine. And verily most of the rhymes clouted together (I cannot say composed) in ancient time, seem to have been made of purpose to move laughter, those especially which are of this strain: 
Priez pour Martin Preudom,  
Qui a fait fair ceste vie,  
Que Di●u●●● face pardon,  
En rhyme & en tapisserie.  That is, 
All good folk pray world without end,  
For Martin Preudom that made this legend:  
That he of God moght pardoned be,  
Both in good rhyme and tapistry▪  For the author of this goodly 
* A quatrain or staff of sour ver●es.  tetrastich, was so simple, that he thought his straining of himself to make rhyme doggerel, would be a sufficient excuse for him, though he spoke ridiculously and without reason, viz. that God would pardon him in rhyme and tapistry. Another old Elderton and right baladin-rimester made no bones to conclude an Epitaph in this sort: 
Et mourut quatre cens & neuf,  
Tout plain de vertu come un oeuf.  That is, 
And died in the year four hundredth and nine,  
Full (as an egg) of grace divine.  The like good grace had most of their Latin rhymes, especially their Epitaphs, as namely this which followeth: 
Qui jacet intus,  
Fuit Carolus Quintus:  
Dic pro illo bis vel ter,  
ave Maria, & Pater noster.  But it is now high time we should speak of their rudeness in matters of greater consequence, namely in the main point mentioned before, which is the salvation of men's souls.   

CHAP. XXIX. Of the gross and blockish ignorance of the Popish Clergy, especially of the mass-priests.  
IN the former Chapter we might plainly see the gross and palpable ignorance of the former Age. Notwithstanding though it had been ten times greater than it was (if it had been possible,) yet so long as the Clergy had not their parts therein, in being as blind bayards as the rest, the poor people's case had not been half so lamentable: whereas the most brutish and blockish ignorance was to be found in friars cowls, especially in the Masse-monging priests. Which we are the less to wonder at, considering that which Menot twits them in the teeth withal, that in stead of books, there was nothing to be found in their chambers but a sword, or a long bow, or a crossbow, or some such weapon. Sed nunc (saith he) quid in cameris Sacerdotum reperietis? An expositionem Epistolarum, aut Postillam super evangelia? Non: Faceret eis malum in capite magister Nicolaus de Lyra. Quid ergo? unum arcum, vel balistam, spatham, aut aliud genus armorum. But how could they send ad ordoes such ignorant asses? You must note (Sir) that they which examined them were as wise woodcocks as themselves, and therefore judged of them as penmen of pikemen, and blind men of colours. Or were it that they had so much learning in their budgets, as that they could make a shift to know their insufficiency; yet to pleasure those that recommended them, they suffered them to pass. One is famous among the rest, who being asked by the Bishop sitting at the table, Es tu dignus? answered, No my Lord: but I shall dine anon with your men. For he thought that dignus (that is worthy) had signified to dine. It is reported also of another, who going to the Bishop for his orders, and being asked this question (to try his learning and sufficiency) Who was father to the four sons of Aymond? and knowing not what to answer, was refused as insufficient. Who returning home again, and showing the reason why he was not priested; his father told him that he was a very ass, that could not tell who was father to the four sons of Aymond. See I pray thee (quoth he) yonder is great john the smith, who hath four sons: if a man should ask thee, who is their father, wouldst thou not say that it were great john the smith? Yes (quoth he) now I understand it well. Thereupon he went again, as having learned his lesson better. And being asked the second time who was father to the four sons of Aymond, answered, that it was great john the smith. Many such pleasant questions were asked them for sport and pastime sake, & to make my Lord Bishop merry (who sat by;) as also to take trial of them, whether they were plain noddies and coxcombs or not. As when one being asked what was the daintiest morsel in a pig, and having answered that it was the pig's coat; for this so good and fit an answer was thought worthy to have the order of priesthood. Whereas another (which came after) being demanded what was the best bit in a calf, and having answered that it was the skin (for he thought he would be sure to answer as the former had done) was holden unworthy to be made a parish Priest, as having made a calvish answer; thereby showing that he had not wit enough to be of that trade.  
2 But I am ashamed to employ my pen and pains about such sottish questions as were asked them, to try whether they were bons compagnons or not: asked (I say) only pro forma, to the end they might say they had been examined. Now if there be any so hard of belief as will not credit it, I shall desire him to consider how ever it was possible to get from these Priests (which were as blind as beetles) a pertinent answer to any demand touching their place and office: I mean the office into which they most of all desired to be invested. How blind and ignorant were they? (may some say.) Surely so blind that they could hardly see to read. And if this shall seem yet more incredible, I refer myself to their Canon law, where it is recorded that a Priest baptizing a child upon a time, used these words: Baptize te in nomine patria, & filia, & spiritua sancta. But because it is a very memorable fact I will set down the words at large. Mark then what is recorded word for word in the third part of the Decrees De consecr. dist. 4. canon 84. Zacharias Papa Bonifacio Episcopo: Retulerunt mihi nuntij tui quòd fuit sacerdos in eadem provincia, qui Latinam linguam penitus ignorabat, & dum baptizaret, nescius Latini eloquij, infringens linguam, diceret, Baptizo te in nomine patria, & filia, & spiritua sancta: & per hoc tua reverenda sanctit●s consideravit eos rebaptizare: sed sanctissime Frater, si ille qui baptizavit, non errorem inducens, vel haeresin, sed pro sola ignorantia Romanae locutionis, infringendo linguam (ut suprà diximus) baptizans dixisset, non possumus consentire ut denuò baptizetur. Which Canon hath done Peter Lombard knights service; for it hath served his turn excellently well: Lib. 4. sen. dist. 6. For, for a full and final resolution of this question, Si baptismus sit verbis corruptè prolatis▪ he allegeth nothing but this Canon. Quaeri etiam solet (saith he) si corruptè proferantur verba illa, an baptismus sit? De hoc Zacharias Bonifacio scribit. Retulerunt, etc. For my part, I remember well I have heard some Priest's administering baptism say Abrinuncio, in stead of Abrenuncio. And in consecrating (as they speak) hoc est corpum meum.  
3 But some advocate may haply stand up in defence of them, and say, that all of them neither are nor have been so ignorant, but that there are some which are but simple priests, who can not only legere ut Clerici, that is, readily and distinctly, but also understand what they read. I grant indeed that all are not such ignorant asses: but this I say, that the most ignorant are least dangerous. For proof hereof: who corrupted the text of the new Testament, but they that had a little smattering in learning? Who was he that corrected the place in S. Luke, which speaketh of a woman who having lost a groat, swept the house to find it? Who put evertit domum, she overturned the house, in stead of everrit domum, she swept the house? but he who had read over so many classicke authors, that in some blind corner he met with evertit in stead of everrit. They have also served the place in the Acts of the Apostles with the same sauce. For in stead of demissus per sportam, they have put demissus per portam. In honour of which correction, these four verses were made by one that heard a Popish preacher follow that translation in his Sermon: 
Par ici passa devant hire  
un tres-notable charpentier,  
Qui besongn● de tell sort,  
Que d'vn panier fit une port.  That is, 
This way the other day did pass,  
A jolly Carpenter as ever was:  
So strangely skilful in his trade,  
That of a basket a door he made.   
4 There be sundry other places corrupted after the same manner, in the first impression of the old translation. And I remember a Printer was in danger to fry a faggot for putting everrit into the text in stead of evertit. And as for sundry words of the New Testament, they have either changed their writing and orthography, or at leastwise their signification, in framing unto them significations according to their own conjectural imaginations. As in the place of Saint Paul, in stead of haereticum devita, that is, Shun or avoid an heretic: they (like profound divines) have divined the sense to be this, Put an heretic to death. Yet all this is nothing to the interpretation of this place, invenimus Messiam. john. 1. We have found the Mass. Nor of this, Signa autem eos qui crediderint, haec sequentur etc. Sign them with the sign of the Cross, etc. Amongst which brave interpretations, this may not be forgotten which was made by a Curate of Artois, who suing his parishioners for not repairing the Church, and namely for not paving it, took the 17. chapter of the Prophet jeremy for his advocate to plead for him, where it is said, Paveant illi & non paueam ego, etc. Whereas (quoth he) jeremy saith expressly, Let them pave it, and not I, doth he not give you to understand, that it belongs not to the Curate to pave the Church, but to the parishioners? But what shall we say to this interpretation, Confitemini alterutrum, Confess yourselves to the priest? For here I cannot see how the Latin word soundeth any thing near to the English, as in the former. And verily I do hear ingeniously confess my ignorance, that I know not how such interpretations could ever come into their heads.  
5 But having discoursed sufficiently of simple Priests or monks; let us in the next place come to Prelates; who (doubtless) have seconded the single sole Priests: witness that profound clerk, who hearing some allege certain laws called Clementina & Novella, fell into a pelting chafe, for that they urged him with the testimony of whores, and harlots. And as for Prat the Chancellor of France (if I may speak of him without offence, considering he was a clergy man in his days) he showed he had some learning, though no more than would serve his turn; when having read the letter which king Henry the eight had sent to the French king Francis the first, wherein this clause was: Mitto tibi duodecim molossos: I send you twelve mastiff dogs; he expounded it, I send you a dozen mules. And being confident in this interpretation, went (accompanied with another noble man) to the king, requesting his highness to bestow upon him the present which the king of England had sent him. The king (who as yet ●ad heard nothing of this present) marveled that Mules should be sent him out of England, affirming that it was a rare novelty indeed; and being desirous to see the letter, (〈◊〉 that others also might read it,) they found them to be duodecim molossos, twelve mastiff dogs. Whereupon the Chancellor seeing himself made a laughingstock (and you may well imagine how) found out a starting hole, which notwithstanding made him more ridiculous than before: for he said he had mistaken the word, in taking mol●ssos for muletoes.  
6 And lest any should take exception against their Latin for want of congruity, let him know that herein they are dispensed with by their father S. Gregory, who saith, Non debent verb● caelestis oraculi subesse regulis Donati. And therefore one of the foresaid Preachers was greatly to blame, to lay this in the Priest's dish, that they understood not their Donate. And he that should urge them to render a reason of their pronunciation, should press them too far, and sift them too narrowly. And I persuade myself, it was the least part of Saint Gregory's meaning, that ever they should trouble their heads about it. For he thought their mass was as effectual with Dominu vobiscon, as with Dominus vobiscum, and Peronnia saecula, as Per omnia saecula; which maketh me less to wonder that a Cannon should be called into question, because he would be singular and have his pronunciation apart by himself, in saying Per omnia saecula. They found fault also with those that pronounced Kyrie eleison, in stead of Kyrieleison, as by and by we shall hear.  
7 And as for the Greek, you must pardon them, though they understand not one jot; seeing greater clerk than they (I wisse) have not been ashamed to say, Graecum est, non legitur: & Transeat, Graecum est. And if any man accounted this their ignorance an evil thing, let him take this withal (for it may be truly affirmed) that this evil is the cause of some good. For by this means the number of men and women Saints hath been increased. Saint Lonchi (otherwise called Longi) may testify for men Saints: and Saint Typhaine for women saints; for this Saint's name cometh of the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifying a lance, or spear (albeit it was long since given to him that pierced our saviours side with a spear. And the name of the woman Saint, viz. Typhaine, cometh of the greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (as a man would say, The appearing of God.) And as true it is likewise on the contrary, that this ignorance hath augmented the number of devils. For of Macrobius and such like names, they have coined new names of devils. But as for poor Malchus (who had his ear cut off, and afterward his name taken from him, and given to a kind of sword) I will leave him to plead his own cause, lest it should be said, that I were the jews advocate. Besides, there is another benefit which accrues to the Church by this means. For their ignorance in not understanding the true and proper Etymologies of Greek words, no not so much as whether they were Greek words or not, hath made them ●●ke out many subtle notations which otherwise had never been dreamt of. For example, if it had been known, that presbyter had been all one with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an old man; certes, they would never have dreamt of the Etymology which we find in the book called Stella Clericorum, in the chapter beginning Quos ergo praelati & presbyteri, etc. viz. presbyter dicitur quasi praebens iter. And (as some wits are quicker and sharper than others, beside, Facile est addere inventis) they have not stayed here, but have found out a more subtle notation, namely this, Presbyter quasi prae aliis bibens ter. Albeit this, I must needs confess, is not so generally received. The like may be said of the word Diabolus, that is, Devil. For had they known that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 had signified a standerer, or backbiter, we had been yet to seek for this Etymology proceeding from a most profound and deep speculation, Diabolus▪ ex dia, quod est duo: & bolus, id est, morcellus. Quasi faciens duos bolos, de corpore & anima: that is, This word Diabolus cometh of dia▪ which signifieth two, and bolus a morcel; as making but two morsels of a man; one of his body, another of his soul. And this (as I remember) is the Etymology given by Hugo Carrensis, but followed by the foresaid preachers, and namely by Oliver Maillard. fol. 176. col. 2.  
8 Moreover, if we pardon them the ignorance of the Greek tongue, there is greater reason we should pardon their ignorance of the Hebrew, considering it hath (as we know) been always less common. And we must remember withal, that it hath been as a whetstone to sharpen the wits of many doctors, to find out pleasant Etymologies and to draw them out of the very words themselves. Thus we read that the name jesus hath two syllables, which signify the two natures of Christ: it hath further, five letters, three vowels, and two consonants, the three vowels signifying the Trinity, the two consonants the two substances of Christ's humanity, his body and soul; which subtle speculation is taken out of the book of conformities of Saint Francis with Christ fol. 193. where Pope Innocentius in his Sermons is said to be the author of it. But what? shall we say nothing of the notation of Cephas? which they have made Greek, Latin, French; rather than either Hebrew, or Syriac. Let us here what Baralete saith to prove that Saint Peter ought to be preferred before S. Paul▪ Quod ad praelationem verò, Petrus est maior quam Paulus, quia Papa maior est quam Legatus. Petrus fuit universalis Christi Vicarius, cui dixit Christus, tu es Petrus, tu es Simon: tu vocaberis Cephas, quod Gracè dicitur maior & primus, quià scilicet fuit Papa. As for those who maintain (for proof hereof) that it was a French word which our Saviour then used (because Chef in French, is as much as head in English, or Chieftain and principal commander in any enterprise or employment) they have gone clean against the hair. For they might with greater reason have fetched it from the Greek (if they had understood it) in cutting off the two last syllables from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whence the French borrowed their word Chef.  
9 See here (gentle Reader) how they played and sported themselves with the interpretation of Greek, and Hebrew words in the Bible. And seeing the Greek and Hebrew tongues are further remote from the common use; no marvel if they which were offended with the Cannon for pronouncing per omnia and not peronnia (so offended I say, as that they were ready to have had him into the Court) would have been much more offended if they had heard him pronounce Kyrie eleison in stead of Kyrieleison; especially if they had heard him say Allelulah (making therein an I consonant) in stead of their Alleluya. For whereas they said that this his pronunciation made them suspect him of Lutheranism, it was because he maintaining it to be good, alleged certain reasons whereby he gave sufficient testimony that he had studied the Greek and Latin tongue, which this long time have been thought to infect men with Lutheranism and heresy. Witness our good Master Beda who in the presence of king Francis the first, objected to the late William Bude (who laboured by all means to hold the king in his good resolution, and to draw him on to a greater forwardness, for the establishing of the professors of those languages) that the Hebrew and Greek would be the fountain of many heresies. But Bude stoutly withstood the foresaid Beda, proving him forthwith to be but a bedlam, and that it wa● not for him to judge of such things, whereof he had no more knowledge than a blind man of colours. And so the kings most godly enterprise was happily atcheeved in despite of Beda, and to the great infamy of him and his fusty fellows, as also to the great contentation and singular honour as well of the King as of Bude. And (no doubt) if these jolly Rabbins which withstood this good motion, durst have spoken the truth, they would have confessed that which a French Poet shortly after did finely flap them in the mouth withal, that it was to be feared lest the Latin, Greek and Hebrew would (in the end) lay open all their trumperies.   

CHAP. XXX. How our ancestors suffered the holy Scriptures to be buried in an unknown tongue, and corrupted by false glosses and interpretations.  
AMong the things which posterity will hardly be brought to believe, this (doubtless) will be none of the least, that our ancestors should not be permitted to read the Scriptures. I thought it therefore not impertinent to say something of this argument, the better to satisfy the simple sort, who may well wonder how men could ever lend their ears to such dreams and dotages, farlies and fooleries, as we have spoken of in part already, and are to speak more at large hereafter, considering they agree no better than harp and harrow. Let posterity therefore know, that the state of the Church stood in such terms within these thirty years, that he that had read the Scripture in his mother tongue, was in as great danger of the burning chamber, and had as great need to hide his head, as if he had been a false coiner, or had committed some greater offence. For he that was found reading the Bible, or had it only in his house, was sure to fry a faggot; especially if he did answer to such interrogatories as should be ministered unto him accordingly. Which rigorous dealing is witnessed by sundry sorrowful songs and doleful madrigals, published about that time, albeit without the author's names. Of which argument also there was one made Anno 1544. beginning thus, 
Vous per dez temps, de me vouloir defendre  
D'es●udier en la saint Escriture.  
Plus m'en blasmez, plus m'en voulez reprendre,  
Plus m'esiouit, plus me playst la lecture.  
Ce que Dieu nous command  
Faut-il qu'on le defend  
Par tourmen & menaces?  
Cessez vos gra●● auda●es.  
Que l'Eternel ne bransle sa main dextre,  
Pour vous monstrer que lui seul est le master.  That is, 
Ye lose your time that would for fend mine eyes  
The reading of the sacred histories.  
The more ye blame me for so blessed deed,  
The more I list, and more I like to read.  
What God himself directly shall command,  
Shall ye with threats and torments dare withstand?  
Leave off your proud audacious enterprise,  
Lest that th'eternal shake his ireful hand,  
And teach you what it is against God to rise.  For it fared with many of those Doctors, as it did with those whom our Saviour reproveth for taking away the key of knowledge, in that they would neither enter in themselves, nor yet suffer such as would, to enter. For neither would they read the Scripture themselves, nor suffer others to read it. Nay one of their Reverendissimi was not ashamed to say openly (as hath been heretofore witnessed by others) I cannot but wonder to hear these young fellows allege the new Testament: Per diem I was above 50. year old before I knew what the new Testament meant. But what reason had they to forbid the translation of the Bible into the vulgar tongue? Verily this goodly reason, because (forsooth) it was to be feared lest the simple people should read sundry things therein, which they would pervert to their own destruction, for want of sound understanding and judgement; and so would fall into manifold absurdities and errors. To which sleeveles reason this answer was made (about fifteen years ago) by a man of excellent parts in those days: upon whom God hath since doubled and trebled, and doth still multiply the graces of his spirit. 
Nos grans Docteurs au cherubin visage,  
On't defendu qu'homme n'ait plus à voir  
La saint Bible en vulgaire language,  
Don't un chacun peut cognoissance avoir.  
Car (disent-ils) desir de tant savoir  
N'engendre rien qu'erreur, pain & souci.  Arguo sic, 
S'il est donques ainsi  
Que pour l'abus il faille oster ce liure,  
Il est tout clair qu'on leur deuoit aussi  
Oster le vin, dont chacun d'eux s'enyure.  That is, 
Our learned Rabbins with their malmseynose,  
Forbidden men the holy writ to read  
In vulgar tongues: for learning (they suppose)  
Nothing but error, pain and care doth breed.  Arguo sic, 
If then for cause of this abusion,  
The Bible must be bard from looking on:  
Needs moat their wine be taken from their sight,  
Wherewith they been each one so oft mis-dight.  But how then is that to be understood which we read in Oliver Maillard (that good old Preacher,) where he telleth the burgesses and citizens of Paris, that they had the Bible in the French tongue? Verily he meant a kind of Bible which was first translated for the nonce, and fitted for their tooth: and after, glossed with the gloss of Orleans which corrupteth the text, yea so interlaced and interlarded therewith, as that they would be sure it should not cross nor contrary their false devised doctrine; and that nothing might be found in the whole Scripture, which might sound aught but holiness and honour to our holy mother the Catholic Church of Rome. These were the Bibles wherein they gave their Antidotes, in such places especially where they feared the poor people might be poisoned, as they speak. Of which argument I made these verses following, 
Comment ont nos Rabbis permis & defendu  
Le liure qu'ils ont craint de tous estre entendu?  
La Bible ont defendu en language vulgaire,  
Puis l'ont fait imprimer, pour au peuple complaire.  
Ceci s'accorde bien: car tout ainsi qu'on voit,  
Que nous ostons le vin, à qui par trop en boit,  
Ou qu'auecques force ●au tellement on l'appreste,  
Que fair mal aucun il ne peut à la teste:  
Ainsi ont nos Rabbis voulu la Bible oster,  
Ou bien leurs mixtions à la Bible aiouster.  That is, 
How have our Rabbins licensed and forbade  
The book so feared of laymen to be learned?  
For both they have forbade in vulgar tongues  
The Bible's use: and ●or they feign would please.  
It now comes newly ●●●oking from the press.  
All this may well agree: For as we see  
The wine o'er reaue● from the drunken man,  
Or else so tempered from the cooler spring,  
That nought may ●●reamen up to hurt the brain.  
So, or our Rabbins take this book away,  
Or with their mixtions can his strength allay.  Now these their mixtions they call counterpoison, albeit they deserve rather to be called deadly poison. For certes, the Scriptures being read in that holy manner that God hath commanded, will poison no man, (I mean they will not leaven our heads with erroneous opinions, but rather purge us of the leaven of false doctrine,) but it is their gloss which poisoneth such as are not provided of some sovereign Antidote or counter-poison.   

CHAP. XXXI. Of the paraphrastical expositions used by the foresaid Preachers, especially in expounding the history of the Bible.  
Having declared in the former Chapter, how these Doctors did ex-expresly forbid the reading of the holy Scripture in the vulgar tongue, except it had such a gloss as would mar the text, and such a cautionate interpretation, as that they would be sure their trumperies should not be discovered: I am now to show how they abused it in their Sermons sundry other ways. And first how they used a kind of paraphrase, wherein they play with the holy Scripture as Comedians are wont, or rather convert it into mere Comical conceits. For example, we find nothing recorded in Scripture of the woman (called a sinner) who came to our Saviour as he sat at table (Luke 7.) but only this, that being at dinner in the pharisees house, a woman of the city of Nai●, which had been a sinner (or a loose liver) came to seek him, that she washed his feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head: that she kissed them, and anointed them with sweet ointments: and how Christ showed by a similitude, that we should not wonder that her sins were forgiven her; and how that after he had said, Thy sins are forgiven thee, he added, Thy faith hath saved thee: Go in peace. Thus much we find in the Gospel touching this history. Let us now see into how wide and large a field these Preachers wandered, and amongst the rest Menot, (whom I have so often alleged.) First they can tell you this woman's name, (albeit the Evangelist hath concealed it,) and not that only, but her parentage also & pedigree: nay further, that she was at the Sermon which our Saviour made before dinner: neither that only, but what talk they had together, and in what terms. And which is more, Menot speaketh of it, as if he had seen it lively pourtraited before his eyes. For consider what he writeth, fol. 160. Quò ad primum, Magdalena (for he taketh it for a confessed truth that it is spoken of her) erat Domina terrena de castro Magdalon, tam sapiens, quòd erat mirum audire loqui de sapientia eius, & prudentia; O ergo Magdalena, quomodo venistis ad tantum inconueniens, quòd vocemini magna peccatrix? Et non sine causa: quod fuistis malè conciliata. Data est tribus conciliariis, qui eam posuerunt in talistatu: scilicet primus, Corporalis elegantia: secundus, temporalis substantia: tertius, fuit libertas nimia. De primo, Proverb. ult. etc. Primùm ergo quid fuit causae huius mulieris perditionis? Fuit elegantia corporalis (that is,) What was the cause of this woman's ruin and destruction? verily her surpassing beauty. Videbatur that she was made (as a man would say) of purpose, to be looked on. Pulchra, juvenis, alta; cherry-cheeked, soft and succulent, ruddy as a rose, Minion like-minsing, pleasantly warbling. Credo quòd non erat nisi quindecim vel sedecim annorum quando incêpit sic vivere, & triginta quando rediit ad bonitatem Dei. Numera, etc. Quando pater fuit mortuus, plena erat sua voluntate. Martha soror non audebat ei dicere verbum: & videbatur ei quòd faciebat magnum honorem illis qui veniebant ad illam. Quicquid faciebat, erat vivere at her pleasure, and to banquet, hody invitare, etc. And a little after, This silly sot who had prostituted herself to every come●, erat in castro suo: the bruit was noised already throughout all jewry and the country of Galilee. Omnes bibendo & comedendo loquebantur de ea & de eius vita. Martha soror timens Deum & amans honorem of her kindred, being very much ashamed of the shameless impudence of her sister, videns quod omnes loquebantur of her & her sweet doings, venit ad eam, dicens, O soror, si pater adhuc viveret, qui tantum vos amabat, & audiret ista quae per orbem agitantur de vobis, surely you would kill him with grief. Facitis magnum dedecus progeniei nostrae. 
* M. Magd. words.  What is the matter now? quid vis dicere? 
* Martha speaks.  Heu soror, non opus est ultrà procedere, neque amplius manifestare. Scitis benè quid volo dicere, & ubi iaceat punctus. Every child can talk of it. O 
* Magd again  hypocrite! what need you to take care for me? must you needs have an oar in every man's boat? what the devil mean you by this gear? (Lord save us all.) Nun estis magistramea? Quis dedit mihi this stout dame to trouble me? Vadatis precor ad domum verstram: scio quid habeo agere ita benè sicut una alia. Habeo sensum & intellectum to know how to demean and behave myself. 
* Meno● words.  Surely, it is so goodly a creature, that she cannot think of any thing save of herself. Martha rogabat eam ut iret ad sermonem, & consuleret aliquem hominem bonae vitae. Magdalena dixit ianitori, Non dimittas mihi intrare hoc castrum this mad sister of mine, who bringeth hither nothing but dissension, and unquietness, ubi non consuevit esse nisi cantus gaudij. After this he maketh a long narration of the means which Martha used to persuade her sister to come to our saviours Sermon: not telling her what he was, but only that he was a very goodly man. O soror, essetis valde foelix si possetis videre unum hominem qui praedicat in Jerusalem, Est pulchrior omnibus quos unquam vidis●●s: tàm gratiosus, tàm ●onestus: he is of so good behaviour, and knows so well to give kind entertainment, as you never saw the like. Credo sirmiter quòd si videretis eum, essetis amorosa de eo, est in flore iwentutis suae. And a little after, Illa cepit pulchra indumenta sua, aquam rosaceam pro lavando faciem suam, cepit speculum. Videbatur quòd esset unus pulcher angelus. Nullus ●am aspexisset, qui non fuisset amorosus de ea: ipsa ante se misit mangones portantes great store of crimosine cushions, ut disponerent sibi locum. Martha videbat haec omnia, fingens nihil videre: & sequebatur eam sicut si fuisset parva ancilla. Christus iam erat in media praedicatione, vel fortè in secunda part. After he showeth how all men honoured Magdalen, wondering to see her come to the Sermon. And that as soon as our Saviour perceived her, he began to preach how detestable a thing outward bravery & pompous attire was. Tunc (saith he) ipse capit detestari vitia, bragas, pompas, vanitates, & specialiter peccatum luxuriae, & contra has mulieres etc. Afterward, he shows how that notwithstanding Magdalen was touched to the quick with that Sermon, thinking of nothing so much as of repentance, and leading a new life: yet that she was in great danger to have been drawn away by her customers and old acquaintance, and brought to her old by as again. Venerunt (saith he) galandi, amorosi, rustici, roisters, qui dixerunt, surgatis, surgatis, facitis nunc yourself a superstitious hypocrite. Vadamus' ad domum. Quae dixit, O amici mei; rogo, dimittatis me: non audistis quid dixit ille bonus praedicator de poenis inferni vobis & mihi praeparatis, nisi aliud faciamus? And a little after, Habebat in suo armariolo sweet and precious water, quae vendebatur pondere auri. Coepit quaerere de loco in locum, de platea in plateam, de domo in domum, Quis hody dabit prandium praedicatori? Dictum est ei quòd in domo Simonis. And after, he relateth the speech which she used when she kissed our saviours feet, and washed them with her tears: and how she lay crouching under the table like a dog: as also how our Saviour said unto her, O Mary arise. And that she should answer, My Lord, I will never rise from hence, till you have pardoned all my sins, and given me your blessing. And how he should say unto her, Arise my dear, thy sins are forgiven thee, thy faith hath saved thee. Lastly he telleth us how Martha having brought Mary Magdalen to the virgin Mary, she kneeled down before her and said, Madam, I beseech you pardon me if I presume to speak unto you: I have been a lewd and wicked sinner, but by God's grace I will be so no more; your son this day hath pardoned me: happy are you that have such a son. See here how this jolly Preacher deciphereth this history, agreeing so well with the players of the passion, that it is hard to say, whether he borrowed it of them, or they of him. By players of the passion, I mean those Comedians which set forth the story of the passion in rhyme, to be played in stead of other moral matter, or in stead of some play and pageant, or both. And first, that this woman (which the Evangelist calleth a sinner) was called Magdalen (as we heard even now out of Menot,) and that she took her name of the castle Magdalon; see it here confirmed by one of these balladin rhymesters (save that in both names he useth E in stead of A) in these verses rightly smelling of the old vein: 
I'aei mon chasteau de Magdelon,  
Don't l'on m'appelle Magdelaine:  
Où le plus souuent nous alon  
Gaudir en toute joy mondaine.  That is, 
I have my castle Magdelon,  
Whence I am called Magdalen:  
Whither we to sport ourselves have gone,  
In all delight of worldly men.  He further makes her the wickedest wretch that ever was in the world, addicted to all villainies which the wit of man can possibly devise: and he brings her in singing wanton and lascivious songs; and a Squire named Rodigon courting of her. He further shows, that she would never give ear, nor once listen to her sister Martha, and last of all, the manner of her conversion.  
2 But to return to Menot, let us see how he setteth forth the history of the prodigal son in orient colours, and how like a wier-drawer he stretcheth that out in length, which the Evangelist had couched and wound up in few words, enriching it with all circumstances forged of pleasure, and couched in apt terms to make sport, and to move laughter. fol. 119. Pater quidam habebat duos filios, quorum junior se ostendit magis fatuum, quia inconstans fuit. This young man was wilful, fickle, and inconstant, a minion, and a lusty brave gallant. Ipse erat unus puer plenus suo velle, versatilis etc. qui quando venit ad cognoscendum seipsum, suam fortitudinem, suam iwentutem, suam pulchritudinem, & quòd sanguis ascendit frontem, his strength, his youth, his beauty, and that he thought himself no small fool: Venit ad patrem resolutus sicut Papa, & dixit ei; Pater, da mihi, etc. Pater, sumus tantùm duo filii: ego non sum bastardus: & sic, quando placeret Deo to do so much for your children as to call you to his mercy, non exhareditaretis me, sed haberem partem meam sicut frater meus: Scio consuetudines & leges patriae, quòd te vivente nullum ius habeo in bonis vestris: tamen sum filius vester, & me amatis; rogo detis, etc. And a little after, when this foolish and unadvised youth habuit suam partem de haereditate, non erat quaestio de portando eam secum; ideo statim he maketh chevissance thereof, he prizeth, and selleth it: & ponit the sale of it in sua bursa. Quando vidit tot pecias argenti simul, valdè gavisus est, & dixit ad se; Hô non manebitis sic semper. Incipit se respicere; & quo modo? vos estis de tam bona domo, & estis appareled like a beggar? Super hoc habebitur provisio. Mittit ad quarendun Drapers, whole salemen, silkmen, (who came thick & threefold to serve him) & appareled himself from top to toe: Quando vidit, emit sibi pulchras caligas of scarlet well drawn out, a fair shirt with a gathered band, a doublet guarded with velvet, a Florence cap, having his hair finely combed & smoothed, & quando sensit the damask waving at his back, ut sensit hunc damascum volantem supra dorsum; haec secum dixit, Oportét ne mihi aliquid? non, etc. Lack I any thing now? No: thou hast all thy feathers, it is now high time for thee to fly away. After, he reporteth how that he should say, he must needs abroad to see the world, & that they which were always kept under the mother's wing, were idiots and dolts. To be short, that he who had not travailed into foreign countries nihil videt. My father hath now laid the rains on my neck, Pater meus laxavit habenam supra collum. After, he relateth how that travailing through strange countries, he feasted this man, and that man, and kept king Arthur's round table, being always accompanied and attended on at his Innnes with players, naughty-packes and idle huswives. And in the end, how that postquam nihil amplius erat fricandun, when they had drawn him dry, mittitur pulchra vestis Domini bragan●is, caliga, bombi●inium: quisque secum ferebat peciam of my jolly jack braggarts hose and doublet, every man carried away a piece. Ita quòd in brevi tempore my gallant became an apple squire, appareled like a house-burner, as naked as a worm, etc. And with much ado, he kept his shirt as clean as a dishclout, (with a knot upon his shoulder) to cover his poor carcase. Thus well entertained they him in his prosperity, and in all his pompous jollities.  
3 We read also john. 7. that the high Priests sent officers to apprehend Christ, after he had cried aloud in the Temple, You both know me and whence I am: for I am not alone, etc. And how he said to the officers, Yet a little while am I with you, & then I go to him which sent me: you shall seek me, and shall not find me, and where I am can you not come, etc. And how there was a dissension among the people by reason of him, and how some of them would have taken him, but none laid hands on him. As also how the officers returned unto the high Priests and pharisees, who said unto them, Why have you not brought him? The officers answered, Never man spoke as this man. Whereunto they replied, Are you also deceived? Do any of the Rulers or of the pharisees believe in him? but this people which know not the law, is accursed. Lo here the purport of the words of the text in Saint john. Now let us hear what is patched hereto in the paraphrase of this gentle Preacher. They of the Synagogue heard that Christ was hid in the desert, and therefore purposing to make speedy dispatch, levied a great band of Sergeants, ruffianly rogues, vagabonds, and forlorn fellows, and said unto them, Go your ways and wheresoever you meet with him, bring him to us, as a disturber of the state. And if he resist you, kill him; you need not fear, you are well appointed. These gallants being gone into the desert, and having compassed the wood, found him all barefooted as he was, and upon his knees, praying for wicked sinners. The Lord hearing them behind him, turned back and said: O my children, you are come (I know) to apprehend me, & to put me to death, but let me entreat you that I may live a little longer; for yet a little while I am with you, etc. Take no care; all things shall come to pass which are looked for. After a while you shall do with me as you please. Now when they heard such gracious words, & saw so amiable a countenance, they fell all down upon their knees, craving pardon for their bold, presumptuous, and felonious attempt, and strait returned to jerusalem to their masters again: who said unto them, wher● is he? have you not found him? If you have found him, why have you not brought him? Did we not charge and command you, that you should bring him either living or dead? Tell us, is he escaped from you? How often hath he played us these pranks? Escaped? (said they) no, no: we were no sooner come before him; but he spoke unto us in such sort, as we were all amazed, & gave us such heavenly instructions, that we are persuaded, there was never man spoke like unto him. What? (said the pharisees) are you such white liuered soldiers, that words can beat you back? O my Lords and masters (said they) you speak merrily: would to God you had been with us; he is so gentle, and courteous: O good God, who would not love thee? when we came near unto him, he said not so much as who is there? but saluted us kindly, and offered himself readily. Then the jews answered, he hath a be in a box which helpeth him in all this gear; he hath enchanted, and suborned you.  
4 Moreover, they were as bold as blind bayard, in paraphrasing upon the old Testament as well as upon the new. For example, in the history 1. King. 3. which recordeth King Salomon's judgement of the two harlots, in giving the child to the right mother, the text saith not, that they debated the matter in the presence of the King, nor that one of them should swear by her faith; much less that the king should say, Hold your peace, hold your peace: for as far as I see, you never studied at Angiers nor poitiers to learn to plead well. And yet Menot would make us believe, that all this stuff is essential to this story.   

CHAP. XXXII. How the foresaid Preachers abused the Scriptures, partly through ignorance, and partly through malice.  
But they not content to patch to the history of the Bible, as tell-tales are wont to do, to enhance the report & enrich their tale, that it may carry the greater show, and so be a lie with a latchet; take further liberty to abuse it sundry ways beside; yea to quote places out of it for confirmation of their false devised doctrine. For there is no one conclusion in all their religion so absurd, foolish, or full of impiety, which they will not defend and maintain by one text or other. And with such pertinent quotations are their books full fraught and farced, who have encountered them at sharp, and given them the foil: where we may see their impudence to have been such, as that they would not stick to allege those places for them, which made most against them; which they did by confuting their true exposition. For they knew they had to deal with such as either could not, or would not understand; and therefore no marvel if they were so terribly afraid to have the Bible in the vulgar tongue: for they saw that if it once took place, they could no longer rule the roast, and lead the world in a string, as formerly they had done. Besides, they were not ignorant, they should be encountered on every side, and set upon thick and threefold, when men were once armed with a number of texts, against which they saw they had no armour of proof to defend themselves. Wherefore we may well think, that he which found fault with Saint Paul for uttering sundry things which he might well have concealed (considering the scandal and offence which he gave thereby) was no hypocrite, but spoke as he thought. The like may be said of another profound Doctor, who was not ashamed to say, that if he were persuaded that none had S. Paul's Epistles but himself, he would cast them into the fire: using this brave Doctor-like Latin, Per diem, si putarem quòd non esset nisi me qui haberet Epistolas Pauli, ego mitterem in ignes. Doubtless the good Spanish Doctor (mentioned before) needed not to wish S. Paul's Epistles burnt, seeing he had a sufficient excuse for answering either them or any other text, to say, Ego non sum Theologus, ego sum Canonista. But seeing the foresaid books are as full of these examples, as an egg is of meat, I hope the Reader will hold me excused if I allege them not pell-mell, but only cull out some few of them which may serve best to discover their impudence.  
2 And not to speak of invenimus Messiam, alleged for proof of the Mass, and such like places touched before in speaking of their ignorance (for questionless such profound Preachers and deep Divines, as the three Worthies so often before remembered, would have scorned such allegations) yet I cannot omit the Pycard who succeeded one of them, and eclipsed (as it were) the glory of them all in the judgement of our good Catholics. This famous preacher intending to prove that we are saved by our works, reasoneth in this sort. Is it possible that these wicked Lutherans should be so impudent as to deny that we are saved by works, when we have the flat and formal text of S. Peter for proof hereof? Let them tell me the meaning of these words, justus vix saluatur: Is not this the meaning, that the just man shall hardly be saved? And if he be hardly saved, is it not (I beseech you) by his works? Consider here (good Reader) before we pass on to a further point, how maliciously and impudently this fond fellow equivocateth; and think with thyself how many texts he will abuse, who maketh no conscience thus to dally with this? if such deceitful dealing may be called dallying, whereby so many poor souls are seduced, and in stead of wholesome doctrine, are fed with plain poison.  
3 But because my purpose is to insist upon foolish or malicious allegations, and to single out some few out of many, I will speak only of such as are authorized by a Council; which Popish Prelates have made their Achilles to bear off the great blows which might light upon their images. For in the Nicene Council (not that great and famous Council holden under Constantine the Emperor, but that which was assembled in the days of Charles the great, above eight hundred years ago, by an Empress who was so good a Christian, that she put out her sons eyes, and after caused him to pine away in prison, where he ended his days in great misery:) it was concluded that it was expedient not only to have Images, but also to worship them. Now the strongest arguments which they used for proof hereof, were these. First, a certain Bishop called john (Ambassador for the East Churches) alleged Gen. 2. God created man after his own image. Whence he inferred, that Images were to be used. And Canticl. 2. Show me thy face, for it is fair. Another labouring to prove that Images ought to be set upon Altars, alleged the saying of Christ, Math. 5. No man lighteth a candle to put it under a bushel, but upon a candlestick, and it giveth light to all that are in the house. A third, to prove that it was profitable to look upon Images, alleged the saying of the Prophet David, Psal. 4. Signatum est super nos lumen vultus tui, Domine (as the old interpreter doth translate it) that is, The brightness of thy face doth shine upon us. A fourth, alleged Psal. 26. v. 8. Domine▪ dilexi decorem domus tuae: that is, Lord, I have loved the beauty of thy house. In like case also would they help and advantage themselves with the saying of the Psalmist, Psal. 48. v. 9 As we have heard, so have we seen; saying that we know God not only by hearing of his word, but by looking upon Images. Another bishop named Theodorus was aware of this subtlety: It is written (said he) that God is marvelous in his Saints. And in another place it is said, in the Saints which are upon the earth: Ergo we ought to behold the glory of God in Images. Another alleged this similitude; As the Patriarches used the sacrifices of the heathen: so Christians ought to use Images in stead of the Pagan's idols. These are their goodly allegations, which (because they were authorized by this Council) have been canvased by these discipling Friars in every sermon: to say nothing of sundry other of as good grace, and proceeding from as good a wit and sound judgement.  
4 If any shall here wonder how it was ever possible there should be (especially in those days) such sottish Preachers, as would so doltishly apply the Scripture; I will here record a late sottish speech much more to be wondered at. In the conference holden at Poyssi (the bruit whereof was blazed throughout the world) a certain Magister Noster called Demochares, pleading for Images against a Minister of the word, and perceiving that his cause went down the wind, would needs maintain it by an argument taken from the glass windows in Saint Benet's Church, concluding very logically in this sort. This Church (quoth he) was built in S. Dennis his time, but ever since there have been Images in glass windows: ergo Images have been since S. Dennis his time. To whom the Minister answered in three words fitly and finely, that his argument was made of glass.  
5 But to proceed on in this discourse of the abuse of Scripture, let us come to those that abused it in such devilish sort, as great Mahomet himself could not have done worse: I mean in disgracing Christian religion more than ever Mahomet or the Mahometists did. Who may these be? Verily such as turn it to gibes and jests, and merry conceits; especially the deep dissembling ducking Friars, who are not ashamed to apply sundry places written expressly of our blessed Saviour to their sweet Saints; those I mean by whom they enrich themselves by preaching their miracles.  
6 We heard before in the Chapter of blasphemies, of such as made it but a matter of merriment to gibe at some, and to commend other some, in playing the Scoggins with the Scripture; a common thing at this day even among the Laity. Which device me thinks should first have come from our M. Pasquin (as being near his scurviness, who Lucifer-like usurps authority not only over God's word, but over his throne and sceptre) albeit it hath been practised since, especially by our gallant Courtiers. For in the beginning of the reign of king Henry the second, many jests were broken upon such Lords and Ladies of the Court, as were not in like favour and grace they had been in in the days of his father; but were as much debased as they had been before advanced. One of which I remember was applied to a noble man who had been in high place, but was then tak● a peg lower, Ecce Adam quasi unus ex nobis factus est. As also that of a certain Lady who had a prosperous wind in the stern, and was set (as it were) on the top of fortune's wheel, Regnum meum non est de hoc mundo: where I have also spoken of certain places of Scripture wherewith the Friars were wont to sport themselves and make their worship's merry. To which notwithstanding sundry others might be added, as this among the rest, Si non esset hic malefactor, non tibi tradidissemus eum, spoken by certain Monks of a pasty which their Abbot had sent them; by which they meant, that if the Cook had played his part in baking of it, and that the Abbot had liked of it, he would never have sent it. It is further said, that this goodly interpretation of these words of the Psalmist, Qui dat nivem sicut lanam: Which sendeth cold according to the cloth, came from the Monks cloisters.  
7 But now we are to speak of those buffoons who abuse the Scripture in their Sermons to move laughter. To return therefore to our good Preachers, we are to note that some even in these days have made (as it were) a practice and profession, a trade and occupation thereof. Of which number Menot is one. For fol. 209. col. 3. he saith, When men first sit down to meat, there is not a word among them, they ply their trenchers so hard, their tongues seeming to give place to the office of their teeth: In medio autem exit sermo inter fratres; dicunt enim here is good bread and good wine. But in the end, In omnem terram exivit sonus eorum. And fol. 196. col. 4. Dominae ancillis quae in●rant cameram earum, & non custodiunt se ab ipsis, saepè ostendunt quae non licet hominibus loqui. Nay, they do so highly honour and reverence the beginning of Saint john's Gospel, that they write it in parchment, enchase it in gold, and hang it about their necks to serve them in stead of Annulets against dangers; which powerful preservative (if they be not very forgetful of their Philosophy) they call Agnus Dei. Thus profanely abusing even the holy Gospel itself (which is Gods-spell) to charms and sorceries, and magical incantations (which are no better than Divels-spels) as we may see in Menots sermons.  
8 As for those who apply the Scripture written expressly of our blessed Saviour to their Saints, we shall not find neither can we desire more notable examples than those before mentioned, taken out of the book of Conformities. For what could the devil himself (if he were here in proper person) do more to profane the holy Scripture, than the author of that damnable book hath done, in applying not only texts of Scripture spoken expressly of Christ, to this devilish impostor, so as he sticketh not to say in the end of the book, Multa quidem & alia signa fecit Franciscus, qu● non sunt scripta in libro hoc) but those also which are written of the Patriarches, Prophets, Apostles and other holy Saints of God? But if these particular● applied to Friar Francis shall not (haply) give satisfaction to all, I will here allege others of S. Dominicke. Let us therefore hear what Barelet (not contenting himself with the former places) saith further of his Saint Dominicke and of his order. Haec (saith he) est illa religio quae in vn● veteri Testamento significata, Zachar. 6. Ecce quatuor quadrigae, etc. that is, (for I will only translate these words) See what an excellent religion this is, which was prefigured in the old Testament by Zachar: chap. 6. Behold there came four chariots out from between two mountains. In the first chariot were red horses, that is, MINORITES: In the second black horses, that is, EREMITES: In the third were white horses, that is CARMELITES: In the fourth lusty horses of divers colours, to wit, the PREACHING FRIARS.  
9 But these Doctors not content to abuse the Scripture to make sport (as when they made jests of certain texts) or to fill their purses and paunches the better (as when the Franciscan applied that to his Saint Francis, or the jacobin to his Saint Dominicke which was spoken of Christ) being accustomed to a wanton kind of licentious liberty in playing and dallying therewith, made it come at their whistle and serve them for all assays, even to confirm their dreams and dotages; though no more to the purpose, then Magnificat for Matins, to use their own proverb. In whose Postils and Dominicals, albeit there be almost as many examples as leaves or lines; yet two or three shall suffice. And first we will begin with the jolly Preacher Barelet, who upon these words in the last of Saint Luke, Art thou only a Pilgrim in jerusalem, and knowest not the things that have been done there in these days? saith, that Christ was a Pilgrim in three respects, (for to fit his purpose the better, I must translate peregrinus a Pilgrim) namely in regard of his apparel, his lodging, and the implements which he carried about with him. First for his habit and attire, a Pilgrim hath a bottle, a scrip, a hat, and a staff. So Christ had first his bottle viz. the flesh which he took of the virgin Mary; which was of three colours: First white, through the virgin's purity. Apoc. 19 After, I saw the heavens open, & behold a white horse. Secondly red, with the blood of the cross. Esay 63. Why are thy garments red? Thirdly, black, when his body became black and blue upon the cross. Esay the 53. Et livore eius sanati sumus. Secondly, he had a scrip, to wit his soul, full of the gold of grace and glory. Thirdly, he had a hat, namely a crown of thorns. Fourthly, a staff, viz. the cross. This is the reason why it is said, Art thou only a pilgrim in jerusalem? namely in regard of his attire. He was also a pilgrim in regard of his lodging: For pilgrims etc. And did not Menot reason with very good grace (save that his argument was not in forma) when he argued thus, Chorea est iter circular: Diaboli iter est circular: Ergo chorea est motus Diaboli: and proved the minor▪ that Diaboli iter est circular, by these places, job. 1. Circuivi terram (note that it is the Devil which speaketh) & perambulavi eam. 1. Peter. 5. Circuit quaerens quem devoret. And Psal. 11. In circuitu impij ambulant. But let us hear a more strange device hammered out of his own head; and consider how trimly he descanteth upon the ground of the Gammuth VT, RE, MI, FA, SOL, LA, in a mimical manner playing upon every note with some text of Scripture, as if the holy Ghost had purposely written it for that end. For he plays upon VT with a text beginning with VT, and upon RE with another beginning with RE, and so of the rest. Which fond and fantastical conceit because it could not be kept well in English, I have here set it down in his own words, in Latin▪ fol. 29. Col. 1. Vos mundani audite, quia ad vos dirigitur verbum, nec est meum, sed illius qui pependit in ●ruce. Luc. 6. Vae vobis qui ridetis, quia flebitis. Et timeo ne cante●is semel cantilenam damnatorum, qui (sicut columba) habet gemitum & fletum pro cantu. Hic cantus habet sex notas valdè miserabiles, scilicet, VT, RE, MI, FA, SOL, LA▪ Primam notam profer● quilibet damnatus dicens, utinam consumptus essem, ne oculus me videret, job. 10. Secundan verò addit dicens, Repleta enim malis anima mea. Psal. 87. Et omnes alij respondent cum eo, Repleti sumus despectione, Psal. 122. Tertiam omnes insimul cantant, dicentes, Miserabiles facti sumus omnibus hominibus. 1. Cor. 15. Quartam cantat quilibet eorum dicens, Fancies mea intumuit à fletu. job. 16. Item, faciem meam operuit caligo. job. 23. Quintam addunt omnes simul dicentes, Sol justitiae non est ortus nobis, & in malitia nostra consumpti sumus. Sap. 5. Sextam cantant simul dicentes, Lassati sumus in via iniquitatis. Sap. 5. Et iterum, Lassis non datur requies: & pellis nostra quasi clibanus exus●● est● & defecit gaudium cordis nostri, ac conversus est in luctum chorus noster; & cecidit corona capitis nostri: Vae nobis quia peccavimus. Thren. ultimo.  
10 They further abuse the Scripture in tying themselves to the words (like an Ape to his clog) never considering the scope and circumstances of the place, albeit their manner is not to stand upon the literal sense at all; but to reduce all they have to say, to certain Allegorical, Anagogical and Tropological senses. For example, Menot, to show that we are not to wonder that the most holy Saints & dearest servants of God should be so sore afraid, when death draws near and knocks at the door, hath these words: What? would you have us more certain of our salvation then S. Paul, who was ravished in a vision, and rapt into the third heaven, an elect vessel, chosen by our Lord to be an Apostle? True it is, he once said, I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. But when it came to the point indeed, he slunk back, and said, I appeal unto Caesar. Acts 25.  
11 But if further inquiry were made, it would (no doubt) be found that they have sundry other ways most wickedly profaned the holy Scriptures: but for this present I will content myself with these already mentioned. For in that they abuse certain places in following the old translation, and stand so stiffly upon the words, that they ground strange conclusions thereon▪ though it be a manifest fault, yet is it more pardonable than the former. For the Liripipium will not give these licentious (I mean our great graduates, the Bachelors and Doctors of Sorbonne) leave to busy their brains with the Greek and Hebrew, but to content themselves if they can serve out a mess (I should have said a Mass) with the Latin ladle: as for these learned languages, to leave them as they find them.  
12 I come now to the height of their villainy, the quintessence of their forgery should I say? or rather knavery, in foisting in a number of sentences under the name of Scripture, which are not to be found either in the old or new Testament. No marvel therefore if they have been so bold with the ancient doctors in alleging their testimonies to prove the virtue and efficacy of their Mass, as we may see in the end of that worthy work of Conformities; where we find a number of sweet sayings in commendation of their Mass▪ gathered (as it is there said) out of S. jerom. S. Augustin, S. chrysostom, and other ancient fathers, which are no where to be found in the●● works: nay, which are clean cross and contrary to the tenor of their doctrine. And we may well assure ourselves, they were never so le●d as to belch forth such blasphemies, as that which is fathered upon S. chrysostom Tantum valet celebratio Missae, quantum Christi passio: quia sicut mors Christi redemit nos à peccatis: sic Missae celebratio saluat nos; that is, The sacrifice of the Mass is of as great virtue, force and efficacy, as the passion of Christ: for as the death of Christ hath freed us from sin; so the sacrifice of the Mass saveth us. O the blasphemy of these filthy Friars.   

CHAP. XXXIII. Of other abuses of Scripture.  
WE heard in the former Chapter how the professors of the Roman religion were wont to wring & wrest the Scripture, and to allege them hab-nab without either rhyme or reason, and how some were faulty herein of ignorance, and others of malice: but here we shall see how they abuse it after another manner. First therefore we are to note, that when they saw they could not set any gloss upon their lies and Legends (in that they could not find a text though never so strained that might give any colour thereto) their manner was to face it out with shameless lies, as if they had had their budgets full of tickling texts. And how (I beseech you) did they manage the matter? They made (forsooth) every lying Legend a maxim and principle having sufficient light in itself, and needing no proof from any place of Scripture; though every place be a proof, and every text a sufficient testimony, as they would bear us in hand. For they knew that the poor people, whom they had enchanted with the whore of Babylon's filthy cup of abominations, did think them to be such, without all doubt or dispute. And that it is even so, tell me (gentle Reader) how often thou hast heard this Proverb, It is as true as God is in the Mass, spoken by our good Catholics, who were of opinion, that there was no article in Christian religion more certain and sure than this? For who was not persuaded in old time, that every page in the Bible did speak thereof? No marvel therefore if they entertained such fables hand over head, without demanding proof or place of Scripture for confirmation thereof. Howbeit they went a step further when they told the people in their sermons that the Lutherans (whom they afterward baptized Huguenots) were much like that wicked wretch Cain, who would not once hear Mass in all his life: whereas his brother Abel (that good Churchman) heard it every day. But a Curate in Savoy went beyond them all; for exhorting his parishioners to pay their tithes, he said, take heed (good brethren) how you follow the example of that cursed caitiff Cain: follow rather the example of good Abel. For Cain would neither pay his tithes nor yet hear Mass, whereas Abel paid them duly, and that of the fairest, and of the best; and never a day went over his head in which he heard not one Mass at the least. Now albeit I could easily name this gentle Curate, yet I will spare him for this once: only let me add this one thing, that he was not so well provided of an answer, when it was proved to his face, and that out of his own words, that Priests in those days were married. For he was as mute as a fish, when he was encountered with this argument. Good Sir, at that time whereof you speak, there were but four in all the world, to wit, Adam, Eve, Cain, and Abel: now Cain did neither sing nor yet say Mass; for he could not (you say) endure to hear it. And as for Abel, he could not both sing himself, and also hear it. It remains therefore that Adam sung it, and that Abel or Eve answered, and held the torch: whence it followeth that Priests were then married. But if he had had but one dram of wit, he might have answered that there were Martin Priests in those days who both sung and answered themselves. Another Curate (his pew-fellow) affirmed in open Sermon, that when the Angel Gabriel came to salute the virgin Mary, he found her saying our Lady's Psalter. And to suit the story of Abel who heard Mass every day, we may not in any wise forget, how that Abraham, Isaac, jacob, and other good Patriarches never went to bed without making the sign of the cross, and saying their Pater noster and their ave Mary. Now if a man should have asked these silly souls, how they knew this or that? It sufficed for a full answer, to say that they heard it of such a good preacher; witness the common saying, It is true, for I heard a Preacher say so.  
2 But the devil foreseeing that the simple people would one day search the Scriptures, and so perceive when our great sorbonical doctors strained the string too high, & went a note above Ela; fearing to lose his right for default of showing good evidence, hath foisted in a number of counterfeit Apocryphal writings, thereby to blear the eyes of the simple, who cannot perceive his false juggling: I mean a bundle of books fathered upon the Apostles or their disciples; and yet fraught and farced with devilish doctrine, flat contrary to that of the Apostles: nay with such fables, as Christian ears can no more endure to hear, than the fictions and fooleries of Mahomet's Alcoran. Neither is it of late time that he used this device to shake and (as much as in him lay) to overturn and ruinate the very foundations of our religion: for many years ago he vented abroad evangelium Nicodemi, evangelium Thomae, evangelium Bartholomaei, evangelium Nazaraeorum, Librum Pastoris, and such like: albeit he laboureth now afresh to the uttermost of his power to infect the world with the stench of them again. Whereof he hath given a pregnant proof in a damnable book, entitled Protevangelion, si●e de natalibus jesu Christi, & matris ipsius virginis Mariae. For the better authorizing whereof, he hath fathered it upon S. james, calling him cousin-german and brother to Christ. But what contains it, may we think? Verily such sweet stuff as this: how Anne the virgin Maries mother (and wife to joachim) makes her moan to God in regard of her barrenness, affirming that he dealt worse with her then with any other creature: worse than with the very elements, the water, and the earth, which brought forth fishes, herbs and plants. But first she allegeth the example of the birds, which she remembered by seeing a sparrows nest in a Laurel tree under which she sat: and she had no sooner ended her complaint, but an Angel took his flight towards her, (for it is expressly said, advolavit) and said unto her, O Anne, God hath heard thy prayer, thou shalt conceive and bear a child, and shalt be famous through the world. Whereupon she vowed to dedicate her child to God, whether it were male or female. The Angel having done his message, brought the same news to joseph her husband, who would not believe it, till he was by miracle confirmed in the truth of the Angel's report. To be short, at the end of nine months she was delivered of the virgin Mary; and (according to her vow) presented her to God, when she was but three years old: where she was received with many ceremonies by the high priest, who prophesied that mankind by her should be redeemed. It is further said, that he set her upon the third step of the Altar, where, as she stood (through God's goodness) she began to dance trimly. And this she did to win the love and liking of the Israelites. Now here it is to be noted, that during the time of her abode in the Temple, she was fed like a dove, receiving her viands from the hand of the Angel. But when she was twelve years of age, the Scribes assembled and consulted what course they should take with her (being now come to those years) that the sanctified of the Lord might not be polluted. Mean time Zachary the high priest had a revelation as he was praying, that he should assemble all widowers in town and country, and that each man should bring a rod with him, that she might be committed to his care and custody, whom God should choose by miracle. All which being done accordingly, a dove came out of Joseph's rod and light upon his head: whereupon the high Priest said, God hath hereby manifested that it is his will and pleasure thou shouldest have the custody of this holy virgin. But joseph refused, saying, I have a great charge, and now am old, and she but young; therefore (I fear me) the children of Israel would laugh me to scorn, if I should take her to wife. But when he heard of the fearful judgements of God which befell Core, Dathan and Abyram, being greatly moved therewith he said; Mary, I take thee here from the Temple of the Lord, howbeit I will leave thee at my house, and return to my Carpenter's occupation: and I beseech God bless and preserve thee now and ever. Now certain years after, as she went with a pitcher to draw water, she heard a voice from heaven, saying unto her, ave gratia plena, etc. Afterwards are inserted certain sentences taken out of the Gospel: and in the end it is added, how that being now 16. years of age, and great with child (as having gone six months) joseph returning from his work, wherein he had employed himself for certain years (coming not home so much as once in all that time) and finding her great with child, was much amated. And as he was communing with her about sundry things, an Angel appeared unto him, and certified him of all these proceedings. But it was great pity that a Scribe who came to speak with joseph, perceiving Mary to be with child, should make town and country ring of it again, in such sort, that they were forthwith apprehended and brought before the high Priest: where when joseph affirmed that he never used fleshly familiarity with her; and she again protested that she never had carnal company with him nor with any other man, he caused them to drink the water of jealousy: which when they had drunk, and felt no inconvenience; he said, that seeing God would not detect them, he would not be the man that should condemn them. After, follow the words of S. Luke chap. 2. how that joseph was of necessity to bring her to Bethlem by reason of the royal commandment which came from Augustus Caesar: but it is not done without a lie for the whetstone, and using such villainous speeches as these, That when Mary said to joseph, Depone me ab asina, quia quod in me est me urget ut progrediatur, he took her down, and said unto her, ubi te inducam ut tegam pudenda? quia locus desertus est. Lastly, it is said that she was brought in bed in a cave near Bethlem (saving the credit of S. Luke who writeth otherwise,) and that joseph found a midwife (by great good luck) who met with another afterwards called Salome, who not believing that a virgin could have a child, came to take trial thereof. But I had need of a brow of brass & a face of flint, the like bebauched impudence that the author of this story had, if I should set it down in English: I will therefore content myself with the Latin here ensuing, Exiitque obstetrix ex spelunca & obuiavit illi Salome, & dixit obstetrix ipsi Salome, magnum tibi spectaculum habeo narrare, virgo genuit quem non capit natura ipsius: & virgo manet virgo: dixitque Salome, vivit Dominus Deus meus, nisi scrutata fuero naturam eius, non credam quòd peperit. Et ingrediens obstetrix, dixit ipsi Mariae, Reclina teipsam, magnum enim tibi certamen incumbit. Quum autem in ipso loco palpavit eam Salome, egressa est dicens, Vae mihi impiae & perfidae: quoniam tentavi Deum viuent●m. Et ecce, manus mea igne ardens cadit à me. Et flexit genua ad Deum, & ait, Deus, etc.  
3 But to leave the rest to those steel stomachs that can digest it, considering there are many things there ripped up far worse without comparison than any of the former: consider with me (good Reader) a little, how the devil hath openly mocked and played (as it were) with the nose of Christendom, in publishing this book, blindfolding in the mean time the eyes of the world. For he used him as his instrument in the compiling and publishing thereof, who laboured tooth and nail, by word and writing, to make a hodge-podge of these two religions (if they may be called religions) viz. Mahometizme and judaizme with Christian religion: him I say he used as his Amanuensis, who publicly preached and stiffly maintained sundry gross heresies, not only full of blasphemy, but even repugnant to civil honesty: I mean that worshipful writer master William postel. But how (may some say) was it ever possible that this book, being composed by such a vile monster, was not suspected, as it should have been, had it been delivered by an Angel from heaven? For answer whereunto, we are to know that the devil (as I said) hath exposed Christendom as a laughingstock, and wonderment to the world, and hath (as it were) with Mercury's pipe lulled our Argosses asleep, whose office is to stand Sentinel over the State. True it is (I confess) the villainies of these varlets were not so well detected in those days as they have been since: notwithstanding so much was then discovered, as was sufficient to give warning thereof: which I will leave as being now (God be thanked) sufficiently well known: and will come to the phrase and style of the book. I say then, and will justify it to any skilful Hebrician, that he hath coined sundry Hebraisms, and feigned them of his very fingers, and foisted them among those which are usual and ordinary in the Scripture. As for the phrase it is so affected, that it doth plainly bewray itself. The matter also of the book was forged by such a spirit as Postels was (if he were not the author thereof) in scorn of Christian religion: where the author to make a fair flourish, and colour the matter with some probability, hath inserted certain sentences of the Evangelists in manner of a rhapsody, and shuffled in others to which he supposed he could give some lustre by certain texts of the old Testament, as namely that of the water of jealousy, etc. Thus thou seest (gentle Reader) to what impudency some devilish spirits are grown at this day. But if any curious Athenian desire to hear more of this stuff (I mean of such counterfeit books foisted in by the craft and subtlety of Satan) he shall find a great lurry of them in a book called Orthodoxographa Theologiae sacrosanctae (and garnished with sundry other flaunting titles) which seems to have been written of purpose in scorn and derision of Christian religion. For if the doctrine therein contained be orthodoxal, doubtless the doctrine of the Bible must needs be heretical. Necessary therefore it is we should have a special regard to what writings we give such glorious titles, seeing that in giving it to one, we take it from another, they being as contrary as day and darkness. If any shall here say, that some of them are translated out of Hebrew, and others out of Greek; yet when he hath proved the point, he may put the gain in his eye. For it is easily answered, that the devil can show himself a devil as well in Hebrew and Greek as in any other language. Now this Protoevangelium I have encountered rather than any of the rest, for that it is fathered upon Saint james, cosingerman and brother to Christ, as the title purporteth. For in the first impression (which is in a small volume with the annotations) it hath this title, Protevangelion, sive de natalibus jesu Christi & ipsius matris virgins Mari● sermo historicus divi jacobi minoris, consobrini & fratris Domini jesu, Apostoli primarij & Episcopi Christianorum primi Hierosolymis. Howbeit in the second impression, where it is made a part of the foresaid book, entitled Orthodoxographa, S. james is not called cosingerman, but only brother of Christ. I have, I say, encountered this book rather than any of that rabble, to the end the Reader by this may take a taste of the rest. For if they durst publish such stuff under the name of S. james, what would they not dare to do under the name of Nicodemus, and a number of such worshipful writers as are there to be seen? And thus much for a taste, for the whole tun is of the same liquor, colour and tang. There was likewise another damnable book published since that time under the name of S. james. The Acts also of the Apostles have been dispensed abroad into many hands, composed by one Abdias, whose writings (though altogether impious and profane) some have not been ashamed to gloss in sundry places as well in the preface as in the body of the book, and to affirm that he either took it out of S. Luke, or S. Luke out of him. Besides all these, the Ecclesiastical history itself hath been published by a devilish Monk called Nicephorus Calistus, whom I call a cloister devil not without cause. For besides that he was a cloisterer by his profession, he showeth himself as ignorant as a Monk, as impudent as a Monk, as wicked and profane as a Monk: so ignorant, that even young children may teach him his lesson: so impudent, that he is not ashamed to tell most shameful lies: and so profane, that he sticketh not to jest and gibe at God himself and his holy truth. All which particulars shall one day (God willing) be manifested and laid open to the world.  
4 Now albeit the foresaid Preachers might find in these and such like classicke writers, pretty store of trim tales, ever ready at hand when they meant to step into the pulpit to give their quarter blows: yet they were not negligent to furnish themselves with other manner of ware, which they might mingle with the old, and not ever cloy their auditory with stale stuff. Or if haply they alleged any author, they alleged such as were ●picke and span new, coming newly smoking from the press. Which puts me in mind of that which I once heard delivered by one Bonaventure (a Franciscan) in a Sermon which he made at Ipre in Flanders: where he affirmed, that when Christ was grown a pretty tall stripling, able to take pains and to follow his occupation, joseph employed him in his trade, commanding him to saw a piece of wood; where he missing the mark which he had made him to saw by, sawed it over short: whereupon joseph being very angry, would have beaten him; and he had lamskinned him indeed if he had not stepped aside and taken up a cudgel to defend himself: which made joseph take up another, either of them wielding their weapon and keeping their standing. And whence trow we (said the Friar) learned he this? Out of S. Anne's Gospel, I warrant you. And I remember I have read a like story of another Franciscan called Bardotti, which may fitly parallel the former, who preaching at Bourdeaux, of the good thief to whom our Saviour said, This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise: affirmed he had found in a certain Gospel the reason why he went strait to heaven, not so much as saluting Purgatory by the way; because that when Christ fled into Egypt, he would not suffer his fellows to rob him nor those that were with him: and that he should say unto him, I beseech you Sir remember me another time for the good turn I have done you: which he promised to do; and so did, when they hung together upon the cross. Thus we see these ghostly fathers could never be drawn dry, considering they had as many Gospels as they could desire: out of some of which, they took many fine fables to make their auditors some sport: out of others sundry miracles able to ravish them with admiration (I mean such miracles and lying wonders as the Evangelists never mention:) and out of others, answers to sundry objections, which might mar their mirth, by putting out the great fire of their greasy kitchen. As this Bardotti, who having much ado to maintain his Purgatory against the foresaid place of the Evangelist, alleged this story for a full answer. I have also heard of another Preacher who served his turn very well with this voyage into Egypt, to assoil a question wherewith he was sore troubled, viz. when that was fulfilled which was foretold by the Prophet Ezechiel, Et disperdam simulachra & cessare faciam idola de Memphis? for he said, it was then fulfilled when our Saviour fled into Egypt, being but a child. I come now to their lying legends and pretended revelations.   

CHAP. XXXIIII. Of fables taken out of their Legends, and such like baggage, wherewith they stuffed their Sermons.  
But the storehouse of most idle, most addle and Friar-like fables, hath been and is the book entitled The golden Legend of the Saints, containing such a number of absurd and ridiculous tales, that the Reader had need to hold hard behind, for marring his breeches: which Frenchmen do oftener in the vintage than any other season. Neither is he to be too nice or dainty; for he shall meet with many places, out of which he shall never be able to extricate himself, without doing that which freshwater soldiers do, as not having been used to the sea. Amongst which (if I may judge of other men's conceits by mine own) these may be numbered. Frater juniperus (whom S. Francis held for a very holy man) purposing on a time to play the cook very bravely, put chickens into a great pot, without either pluming, drawing or washing them; as also fresh and powdered beef, together with herbs, pease, beans, and such like pulse, neither washing or cleansing them: and boiling all these together over a great fire, served in this goodly dish of meat, and set it before his fellows. The same Frater juniperus (and here a man had need to have a strong stomach indeed) being lodged upon a time in a good bed, and fair clean sheets, laid pilgrim salve therein, which he left his host for full payment, without giving him any other farewell. Both which tales are taken out of the book of Conformities before alleged; the first, fol. 62. the second, fol. 63. both these modest stories being there recorded to show the humility of this holy Friar. But if humility did consist in the second prank here specified, questionless there would be none comparable to that of young children; for they play this slippery trick oftener than their nurses would have them: yet we must not judge rashly of this fact of juniperus; for he knew (it may be) by revelation that he was to set another hue upon the sheets before he went thence. And what can a man tell whether it was not a receipt which he had learned in some Legend? For let me but speak this one thing in his behalf, that it is scarce probable that the stink of these excrements should be like other men's, especially considering we read in the foresaid book of Conformities fol. 51. how that a Monk of the same Covent called Ruffian, drove away the devil by threatening to untruss a point into his throat: for it is there said, that when the devil heard this, he ran away in a marvelous rage, as if a tempest had been at his tail: whereas going back for fear of holy water, he doth not make a whit the more haste. Now if the devil was in such a bodily fear, to be so perfumed by Friar Ruffin, the perfume doubtless which Friar juniperus left behind him in his bed to pay his host withal, was more than Memphiticall.  
2 Pardon me good Reader, if I be too broad; for I am enforced to accommodate myself to the matter in hand. For (as the Greek proverb saith) It is hard to find modest words to express immodest things. Notwithstanding I do not (as thou mayst perceive) say the worst I can of these filthy Friars, for the respect I have of their holy mother the Church: but if I take them tardy the second time, let them assure themselves, I will curry their coxcombs for altogether.  
3 But who is such an Heraclitus that would not burst with laughter, when he shall read in the life of S. Dominicke, how he besieged the devils in a certain demoniac, and would not suffer them to depart without giving pledges: and how in the end they got the holy Martyrs which lay buried in the Church, to be their sureties? But that I may the better satisfy the Reader, I will here set down the very words of the story, as they lie in the old French tongue. un homme estoit demoniacle de plusieurs diables, lequel lui fut presenté (assavoir à S. Dominique) & il prit l'estole, & la mit sur son col. Et puis en ceignit le col au demoniacle, & commanda à iceu● que d'oresenauant ils ne tourmentassent celui homme. Et tantost ils furent tourmentez dedans lui fourment, & dirent, Laisse-nous aller. Pour quoi nous contrains tu à estre tourmentez? Et il dit, je ne vous laisseray iusqu' à tant que m'aurez donné plege que ne re●ournerez plus. Et ils dirent, Quells pleges vous pouuons-nous donner? Et il dit, Les saints martyrs qui reposent en ces●e eglise. Et ils dirent, Nous ne powons, car nos merites ne le requi●rent pas. Et il dit, Il convient que vous les donniez, ou ie ne vous laisseray pas aller quittes. Et ils respondirent, Qu'ils y mettroyent pain. Et apres un peu de temps ils dirent, laçoit ce que nous ne soyons p●s dignez, nous auons impetré que les saints martyrs nous plegerout. Et il requit avoir sign de ces●e chose. Et ils dirent, Allez à la cháce où les ch●●s des martyrs sont, & vous les trowerez renuersez. Adonc allerent, & fut ainsi ●●ouué come ils auoyent dit. That is, A certain man possessed with many devils, was brought to S. Dominicke, who took the stole and girded it fast about his neck, commanding them that from thenceforth they should not torment him: and forthwith they were grievously tormented within him, and said, Suffer us to depart, Why dost thou thus torment us? To whom he answered, You shall not depart, until you have gotten some to be your sureties, that ye will never enter into him again. They said, What sureties? The holy Martyrs (said he) which lie here in the Church. Whereunto they answered, Our merits do not deserve that. Well, you must procure them (said he) to give their words for you, otherwise you shall not be set free. They answered, they would do their endeavour: and returning again not long after, said, Albeit we be unworthy, yet have we gotten the holy Martyrs to be our sureties. Then he demanded a sign of them. If you go to the shrines (said they) where the s●uls of the Martyrs lie, you shall find them overturned. Whereupon 
* French they went▪ but not so suitable to the story.  he went, and found it as they had said. After which story (or fable rather) this other followeth, which for the grace it hath, deserves to go with it hand in hand. It happened that as this holy father preached on a time, certain simple seduced women fell down at his feet, and said: O thou man of God help us. If this doctrine which thou hast taught be true, an erroneous spirit hath this long time blinded our minds. To whom he said, Fear not, stay a little, and you shall see what master you serve. And immediately they saw a black cat leaping in among them, of the bigness of a great cur, with flaming eyes, a long, large and bloody tongue reaching down to her breast: a crooked writhe tail turning up on high, showing her posteriorums which way soever she went, whence came a horrible stinch: who having fisked this way and that way about these devout dames a long time, in the end went up by the bell-ropes, and left a filthy stink behind her. And so these women thanked God, and turned to the Catholic faith. But because such stories as these are but Friar-like fables, very harsh to all men's ears that are not Frierified: I think it good whilst they are now listening and attentive, to let them hear at once, the rest I do remember. First then (fol. 211. of the foresaid book of Conformities) we read how S. Francis, to show that he was a pure virgin, stripped himself naked before the Bishop of Assize; and others; and how he gave his breeches to the foresaid father, showing that he was not defiled with women. Thus much for the master. Let us now hear how well his scholars followed his example. Fol. 62. Friar Leonard putting off his breeches at the gate of Viterbe, put them upon his head, and binding his other apparel like a farthel about his neck, went stark belly naked through the streets, where he endured many villainies: afterwards he went into the Friary, where all the Friars cried shame upon him: but he was so holy a man, that he respected not what they said; telling them that he had done the like as he passed through two other cities. There is also mention made of another of his disciples, which took pleasure in playing the like pageant: who whether he resemble the doggish Diogenes or not, let the Reader judge.  
4 And now I come to those examples, which will not give a man his breakfast, (as the former) but only his belly full of laughing cheer, so as he may perhaps endanger that which I spoke of. And if you please to begin with S. Francis, let us listen a little to his great wisdom recorded fol. 114. of the said book; how he saluted the birds, spoke unto them, and called them his brethren, commanding them to hearken to the word of God: and how they hearing him preach unto them, rejoiced exceedingly, thrusting out their necks, and opening their beaks one upon another, ma●king him all the while very attentively: and how when the sermon was ended, he walked through the midst of them, and permitted them to depart. Whereupon they flew all away with a great noise, and divided themselves into four companies, according to the four quarters of the world, thereby signifying that the order of Saint Francis should be renowned, and dispersed throughout the earth. Again, fol. 149. we read that a Grasshopper abode eight days with him, in stead of Saint Mary, and that when he called her, she slew unto him and light upon his head, and so taking leave of him departed. As also how a Nightingale and he sung Anthems a whole day together by course. Again, fol. 114. how he made the Swallows to cease their chattering, calling them sisters. And in the same page, how he cured a man-keene wolf (which had hurt many in the city;) by making the sign of the cross, and how he made this agreement with him any brother wolf, thou must here promise me, that thou wilt not raven as heretofore thou hast done; and then the city will keep thee. Which the wolf promised to do, bowing down his head evidently. Then said Saint Francis, swear unto me upon thine honesty, and therewith put forth his hand; where the wolf lifting up his right foot, laid it gently in Saint Francis his hand. Who said my brother wolf, I charge thee in the name of our Lord jesus Christ, that thou follow me now presently which he did. We read also of sundry Saints, who took pleasure in talking with beasts: but this brotherhood with wolves is peculiar (I take it) to Saint Francis.  
5 Further, who can contain himself when he shall read how Saint Macarius did seven years penance among thorns and bushes, for killing of a flea? Which verily was another manner of penance then that which Saint Francis did for eating Coquinam de ●ardone. But I may not forget another prank played by Saint Dominicke, recorded towards the end of his legend, which was the fact of a bon-companion indeed, at leastwise so penned that it will make good fellows sport, and minister unto them matter of merriment; viz. that there was a holy Nun called Mary, who had a sore thigh, and had endured great pain of it for the space of five months, and was past hope ever to have it cured: who thinking herself unworthy to pray unto God, or to be heard of him, besought Saint Dominick to be a mediator for her, that she might be restored to her limbs again. Where falling asleep, shortly after she thought she saw Saint Dominicke close by her, and how he took from under his cope a strong smelling ointment, wherewith he anointed her thigh. And that when she asked him what it was; he should answer, that it was The ointment of love. Which riddle I leave to the Reader to read as his fancy shall give him: for my part I conceive no otherwise of it, then of the private familiarity which was between S. Francis and S. Claire (recorded fol. 84▪ book of Conformities) and of his inward and familiar acquaintance with Friar Mass, a beautiful young man, whom he once embraced and lifted up from the ground, in such sort, that he thought himself all on a fire.  
6 Moreover in the Legend of Saint Germine, it is reported, how that he preaching on a time in Britain, when the king would not entertain him, nor those that were with him; a herdman (who came from feeding his cattle) carrying an alms to his cottage (with was given him at the palace) and seeing this blessed Saint Germine and others with him hungry and cold, received them courteously into his house; and having but one calf, caused it to be killed and dressed for them. And that when supper was done Saint Germine caused the bones to be brought, and laid upon the skin, and having prayed over them, the calf rose up upon his feet. The next morning he went to the king, and giving him very hard language, asked him why he had denied him lodging? To which when he could not tell what to answer, Saint Germine said, get thee hence, and leave thy kingdom to thy better. Which done, he commanded the herdman should come (and bring his wife with him) whom he crowned king in the presence of them all; (who wondered at the fact) so that ever after, the herdman and his successors enjoyed the kingdom.  
7 Again, we read this fabulous story in the Legend of Saint Cosmas and S. Damian, word for word. Pope Felix (the eight after Saint Gregory) built a famous Church at Rome in honour of Saint Cosmas and Saint Damian. In which Church there was one which attended upon these holy Martyrs, who had his thigh almost eaten away with the canker. To whom as he was asleep these Saints appeared, and brought with them instruments and ointments. And the one said to the other, where shall we have wherewith to fill up the place, out of which we must cut this corrupt flesh? The other answered, there is an Aethiopian newly buried in the Churchyard of Saint Peter aux liens, fetch hither some of his flesh that we may put it in the place; who went presently into the Churchyard, and brought thence the dead man's thigh. They then cut off the sick man's thigh, and put the dead man's thigh in stead thereof, and having carefully anointed the wound, carried his thigh to the dead man. Now when the Secretine awoke, he put his hand to his thigh, but felt no pain, nor yet any scar or sign of his wound. And when he took the candle and saw his thigh well again, he doubted of himself, thinking he had been some other. But coming at last to himself, he leapt out of his bed for joy: telling his friends what had befallen him in his sleep, and how he had been healed; whereupon they sending in all haste to the dead man's tomb, to know the truth, found the dead man's thigh cut off, and his in the grave, in stead thereof.  
8 But if any desire to know more of these old wives tales, let him read the foresaid lying Legendary; or Nicephorus Calistus his Ecclesiastical story; who (to omit other fables) reporteth that Saint Chrysostom's body spoke after he was dead, and that Theodosius the Emperor sent letters unto it: as also the sermons of Oliver Maillard, and Michael Menot. And to the end he may furnish himself for all assays, let him read fructuosissimos atque ●●●●nissimos sermons Fr. Gabrielis Baraleti, à toto verbisatorum coetu diu desideratos: as also Sermons Dormi securè: where they are huddled together one upon another, thick and threefold. But the book of Conformities (mentioned before) containeth more of these fond fables, quantity for quantity, them any of the rest. There you shall find that it was as ordinary a thing with Saint Francis his novices, to raise the dead, as to drink a cup of beer, and as easy a matter as for a squirrel to crack a nut. As also how Saint Francis slew a man in his jollity, that he might in a bravery raise him from the dead again. Fol. 120. Locus est dictus de Nuceria, in quo Franciscus fecit illud ensign miraculum, quod cuiusdam medici filium primogenitum prius occidit, & contritum suscitando restituit. And not to rake up the filth, nor rip up the fooleries of their other lying Legends, you may see in the former chapter, which entreateth of our good Catholics of the Popish Clergy, how many miracles are fathered upon him. But the best is, that the most there spoken of are confirmed by the testimony of none, but of the devil (so far did those wicked wretches authors of that book over-shoot themselves) and that sundry miracles which are there said to have been wrought by him and his disciples, were wrought by no other means, then by Satanical operation & diabolical illusions. Which though it be not there recorded, yet it was the will of God, these fables should so be penned that they might easily be descried.  
9 I was here purposed to have ended this rhapsody taken out of the Legends, but that two other came afterwards to my mind, recorded in the book of Conformities, which in conscience I cannot omit. Fol. 72. A blind man rubbing his eyes with Friar Francis of Duratio's frock, recovered his sight. Fol. 74. A woman of Tholouze being grievously diseased with a bloody flux for the space of fourteen years, said in herself, O if I could but touch the hem of his garment I should be whole: which she did, and so was cured, etc. Fol. 64. Friar Bennet of Arezze bore great devotion to S. Daniel, whose sepulchre in Babylon guarded with dragons he desired to see; but could not, by reason of the long journey and fear of those serpents. Whereupon there appeared unto him a huge and monstrous dragon, who set him upon his tail, and carried him strait to daniel's sepulchre: where opening the tomb, he took one of daniel's fingers in devotion, and forthwith was carried by the dragon back again into his place. Many are of opinion that it was an Angel of God. The same Friar, like a second jonas, was cast into the sea in a tempest, and being suddenly environed with a little cloud, was carried to the terrestrial Paradise: whom when Enoch and Elias saw, they demanded of him what he was? And when they heard that he was Saint Francis his brother, they danced for joy, and led him about to show him every corner of Paradise. From thence he was carried back again over the sea in a little cloud, which marvelously astonished those that beheld it.  
10 But to return to Friar juniperus. Fol. 91. Friar john of the Valleys affirmeth, that he smelled the savour of juniperus twelve leagues off; and note that they were twelve leagues of good measure: for he saith, Huius odorem, seu adventum, frater johannes de vallibus, dixit se sensisse per viginti octo milliaria. And as Friar juniperus did all this in humility, so likewise (to show his humility) he played with a little boy at titter-totter. And touching sottish humility, see here as foolish a part as ever was played by the wise men of Gotham. Fol. 74. Frater Thomas pollicem sibi amputavit propter humilitatem, ne sacerdos fieret, claruit multis miraculis: that is, Friar Thomas cut off his thumb in humility, for fear of being made priest, and was famous for many miracles. I do the rather relate this tale in his original (viz. in the very words and terms wherein it is written) because I doubt not but it will seem as strange to the Readers as it did to me; especially if they shall consider the reason which is there given, that he did it through humility forsooth, that is, (as I conceive of it) because he thought himself unworthy to say Mass: whereas the poor Priest should not only have cut off his thumb, as willing to lose a member of his body, but should rather have died ten thousand deaths (if it had been possible) as abhorring to be of the number of those Massmongers, I mean those butchers of our saviours body, or tormenting executioners, as much as in them lieth. Now what punishment he deserved for such indiscreet, or rather sottish humility, I leave to the judgement of the Reader. But the punishment which King Francis the first adjudged two companions unto, who had cut off one another's hand for fear of being sent to the galleys, was, that they should be sent to the gallows, as I heard it credibly reported to Charles of Marillac, than Bishop of Vienne, and Ambassador for the French King at Ausbourgh.  
11 As for their other drugs and draff, mentioned in the title of this Chapter, by them I understand other tales not taken out of their lying Legends (as the former) but forged by fond Friars, and feigned of their fingers: some of them in the cells of contemplations, others in the cells of revelations, and others in other blind corners. For it is the custom of those profound Preachers, and namely of the four so often before alleged, in reporting any story of their he or she Saints, to say that they had it out of the story of his life (which they call his Legend,) or out of such or such an author: and sometimes that they borrowed it at the second hand from such as had it by contemplation or revelation: and sometime again (which sometime, is oftentime with them) they allege no author at all, but content themselves with a hearsay or a scriptum est. Which I speak not only in regard of the tales they tell us of the Saints, but of that which they report of meaner persons also: a usual thing with them when they speak of any miracle, as I might easily instance by sundry examples; but I leave the Reader to search for them in the satchels of these worshipful writers (who among the rest of their contemplative doctors, allege Landulphus and Bonaventure: as also certain omnigatherums, entitled Revelations, and among others Librum revelationum Elizabeth) and will content myself only with three histories or fables, one of which is of the rabble and riff-raff of those which the Friars and Priests have in high account, because they help to make their kitchens hot. The story is this (in the Sermons entitled Dormi securè, in dedicatione Ecclesiae, sermon 68) Legitur de quodam sacerdote, qui in quadam Missa liberavit de Purgatorio animas nonaginta nouem: & quum interrogaretur, etc. that is, We read of a certain Priest, who by saying a Mass, delivered ninety and nine souls out of Purgatory. And being demanded why he stayed there, and went not on to an hundred, to make up a round number: he answered, that a devilish door hindered him, which striking against the wall, made such a noise that he quite forgot where he was: and being then wrapped in contemplation, it put him clean out of the socket. The second story or fable (story for them, fable for us) is this▪ In Nativitate Domini, serm. 69. unde legitur exemplum, quòd fuerint duae Iwenculae, etc. that is, (somewhat to abridge the Latin Legend) There were two young maids which conversed very familiarly together, who on Christmas even at night, after they had heard the first Mass, sequestering themselves from the rest of the Nuns, went apart into an odd corner of the Cloister, there to chat of this child jesus, listening when they would ring to the second Mass. Where sitting together, the one said to the other, Why have you two cushions, and I but one? I will lay one of them (quoth the other) in the midst betwixt us, for the child jesus to sit upon: for he hath promised (as the Evangelist saith) that where two or three are gathered together in his name, he will be there in the midst amongst them. This done, they sat there together (taking great pleasure in such talk) from the Nativity of Christ to the Nativity of S. john Baptist, that is, from Christmas till Midsummer: all which time seemed to them as if it had been but two hours. In the mean time the Abbatesse and the rest of the Nuns were sore perplexed, wondering not a little what was become of these novices. Now it fortuned upon john Baptists eve, that a herdman passing by the place where they sat, and espying a goodly child sitting upon a cushion between them, went forthwith to the Abbatesse, and acquainted her therewith: who following him to the place, saw this child, which seemed to her to play with the girls. They then being found there by the Abbatesse, were much abashed, and asked her if they had rung to the second Mass? for they supposed they had not stayed there above two hours: where she having told them, that they had been there half a year, viz. from Christmas to Midsummer, they wondered exceedingly. And being asked whither the child was gone which sat betwixt them; they protested and swore they saw no child there. So I had bread & cheese, and came my way home. Let us now come to the third, taken out of Barelete. Saint Katherine saying on a time the fifty first Psalm, beginning Miserere mei Deus, and being come to Cor mundum crea in me Deus, Create in me, O God, a clean heart: our Lord appeared to her, and took out her heart: and after three days were expired (during which time she had no heart) he gave her a new heart, and said, Good daughter Katherine I have given thee a new heart, that thou mightest be clean in my sight. In sign whereof (although the place was closed up and healed again) there remained a little scar ever after. To which she having respect in her prayers, was wont to say, Lord I commend thine heart and not mine unto thee. Which tale of a tub he took as it seems out of the legend of this Saint, though like a filching fellow he cunningly conceal it.  
12 And now I hope (gentle Reader) I have fulfilled my promise which I made in the title of this chapter: for which cause I doubt not but I have deserved well of our holy mother the church; But to come to their works of supererogation: I will bestow some pains to show, how these Preachers applied their tales, stories or fables, in their sermons. First, they begin with a place of Scripture, which they call a theme (whence cometh this fine phrase, juxta thema praelibatum) which if it be suitable to the matter they intent to speak of, it is so much the better: if not, there is no remedy, they must take it as it is, and patience. Now here note, that though they were to preach of any Saint, yet would they take some text which speaks either of Christ, or of some other. For example, one of the sermons in that worthy work called Dormi securè, de S●ncto Andrea, sermone 1. beginneth thus; Christo confixus sum cruci, Galat. 2. Notate charissimi (dicit enim beatus Augustinus super verbo praedicto) quòd Christus etc. Certè hoc fecit sanctus Andreas, cum magno desiderio quievit per biduum in cru●e, & in eo obdormivit in Domino, ideo convenienter dicit, Christo confixus sum. And in the sermon de S. Augustino, Tu signaculum similitudinis Dei, plenus sapientiae, Ezech. 28. And a little after: Quare meritò dicitur de eo (sancto Augustino) tu signacuium similit. etc. In quibus quidem verbis tria notantur, in quibus sanctus Augustinus commendatur, primum est, etc. And in the 13. sermon De sancta Agnete. quam pulchra es & decora charissima in delitijs. Cant. 7. Notate charissimi: dicit enim sanctus Gregorius, quòd mos est amantium mutua collaudation● laetari. Hinc est enim quòd De● filius, qui, etc. advertens pulchritudinem sanctae Agnetis, quam habuit in corpore & anim●, benè commendat eam dicens, quam pulchra es, etc. In quibus quid●m verbis sancta Agnes tripliciter commendatur à Christo suo dilecto. Primò, etc. True it is (I must needs confess) he hath had more care and conscience in other places; not because he made any bones to abuse the Scriptures, but for that he ingeniously confesseth, that he applieth such or such places to some other then to him of whom they are written. For, serm. 6. De sancta Lucia, upon these words: Lux in tenebris lucet▪ & tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt. john. 1. he saith, Notate charissimi, quamuis istud verbum sit dictum de Christo, tamen convenienter potest dici de sancta Lucia. In quibus quidem verbis tria notantur, in quibus sancta Lucia nobis tripliciter commendatur, primum est nobilitas nominis, etc. But his impudence is much more intolerable, when he doth not only apply the text to another person, but wresteth and wringeth, choppeth and changeth that which maketh not for his purpose, or rather against him. For preaching of the conception of the blessed virgin, and going about to prove that she was not stained with original sin, he taketh a text which speaketh of the conception indeed, but that which is spoken of sin which accompanieth that conception, he leaveth quite out. Mark how David Psal. 51. saith, Et in peccato concepit me matter mea, And in sin hath my mother conceived me. Now this gentle Sir john, to the end he may apply this text to the virgin Mary, cutteth off these words & in peccato, and allegeth only these concêpit me matter mea, my mother conceived me. But what proper proofs he brings for confirmation hereof, shallbe declared in the chapter next ensuing, where we will entreat of their questions; and therefore I will here only allege this one example, unde benè dicitur illud. 1. joh. cap. 5. Tres sunt qui testimonium daunt, scilicet, virgini Mariae, quòd sit sine originali peccato concepta. Et Danielis tertio. Hi tres quasi ex uno ore laudabant Deum, scilicet quòd matrem svam praeseruavit ab originali peccato. After they have read the text, one handleth it one way, another, another. Some allege a moral or philosophical sentence, as the author of the sermons dormi securè, who after he hath read his text, is by and by over head and ears in Aristotle. For example, strait after the foresaid ●ext Psalm 51. Concepit me matter mea, you shall find these words, Notate charissimi, dicit Aristot. in lib. secundo de generatione & corruption, quòd melius est esse quam non esse. Quum igitur Deus voluit Mariam, etc. And in the sermon de sancto Augustino, Tu signaculum similitudinis Dei, plenus sapientiae, perfectus decore. Ezech. 18. Notate charissimi, dicit enim Aristot. 6. Topic. quòd imago est, cuius generatio est per immutionem; hinc est enim quòd sanctus Augustinus, etc. And in the sermon de sancto Laurentio, victoriam & honorem acquirit, qui dat munera, Proverb. 22. Notate charissimi, dicit Arist. 4. Ethicorum, quòd laus & gratiarum actio debetur danti à recipiente. Hinc est enim quòd sanctus Laurentius, etc. Now this quotation of Aristotle's Ethics puts me in mind of a deep divine, who said, that if the scripture were lost, we might find a great part of it in Aristotle's Morals. And we know that in old time, Aristotle and his expositors, were oftener alleged in Theological disputations, than the Scripture or the ancient fathers. But to return to the method which these preachers observed in their sermons; some of them after they had read the text, or theme (as they speak) divided the matter (which they were to entreat of) into certain heads. The old manner was, to make one part Allegorical, another Anagogical, and a third Tropological: whereas they should have made one part Morological, another Mythological, and a third Pseudological. Some began with canvasing of certain questions: others used some other entrance. But to come to that which I promised to speak of, namely how they applied these tales: their manner was (to the end they might apply their doctrine to the present occasion) to use certain divisions, and to bring in every branch of their division all the foolish fables they could possibly devise. For example, Barelete handling this text, Quum haec diceret, extollens vocem quaedam mulier dicit, beatus venter qui te portavit: shortly after his entrance, hath these words: Applica evangelium, de impedimentis confessionis erit sermo noster, in quo quinque impedimenta sunt videnda in praesenti. Primum dicitur pudor propalandi▪ secundum dicitur timor recidivandi: tertium, etc. All which points he handleth in order, alleging sentences, as well out of profane as Ecclesiastical writers, and all such examples as he could remember, whether true or false, fitting the matter or not. As in handling the second part, una maxima est in Theologia (saith he) quòd Deus novit omnia peccata nostra. Non debet peccator etc. And a little after, o Peccator, peccata tua sunt nota. Exemplo patet de Abbate Paphnutio, qui ad Thaidem meretricem perrexit in Alexandriam, fingens se esse mercatorem, & ipsam invitat ad turpem actum. Quumque ad secundam & tertiam cameram pervenissent, tandem ipsum conducit ad locum secretiorem. Possumus (inquit Paphnutius) videri; respondit, nisi nos Deus videat, alius non videt. Credis (inquit) à Deo videri? Imò heu filia, quantum debemus erubescere coram Deo, si erubescimus coram hominibus? Compuncta & lacrymis plena, acceptis rebus suis, quae erant pretio quadringentarum librarum, in medio Civitatis omnia consumpsit, invitans Iwenes ad actum illum. Sanctus Dei ipsam conclusit in quodam loco, sigillans plumbo per annos tres in poenitentia. Ad propositum. Non erubescas confiteri, etc.  
13 Now whereas I said, that they used the testimonies of profane writers, it is to be observed, that they quoted them not only to prove moral or philosophical, but sometimes also Theological conclusions. Barelete for example (upon these words of the virgin Mary, Beatam me dicent omnes generationes) saith, that the Pagans, the Sibyls, Ovid and Virgil did write in her commendation, (fol. 71. col. 4.) albeit he allege but this one verse out of Virgil, Vltima Cumaei venit iam carminis aetas. He saith moreover that the Saracens and Turks do worship her in their churches, and punish those that speak against her, as we may read in the Alcoran. The author likewise of the sermons entitled Dormi securè, not content most impudently to wrest this place. 1. joh. 5. There are three which bear witness in heaven: expounding these words which bear witness, of the virgin Mary forsooth, that she was conceived without sin: affirming that by those three we are to understand Alexander Niccam, Cardinal Bonaventure, and S. Bernard, of whom we are to speak more hereafter: Nor content to abuse this text, Daniel 3. These three as it were with one mouth praised God: in saying that they praised God, because he preserved his mother the virgin Mary from original sin. Not content (I say) with these false allegations and depravations of Scripture, nor resting in the testimonies of the Doctors of the Church, allegeth the Saracens, and Mahomet's Acoran for confirmation hereof. Nec mirum (saith he) quòd ista affirmatio à Catholicis teneatur, cum etiam Saraceni illud praeconium sibi attribuant: nam in quodam libro suo qui dicitur Alcoran, qui liber fuit aeditus per discipulum Mahometi, & est authenticus inter eos, sic inquit Mahometi discipulus: Audivi nuntium Dei dicentem, Nullus de filijs Adam nascitur quem non tangat Satan, praeter Mariam & filium eius. Quapropter & ipse Mahometus collaudans virginem in suo Alcorano sic dicit, O Maria, Deus utique deputavit te, & elegit te super foeminas saeculorum, O Maria, Deus annunciavit tibi verbum suum de se, nomen eius Messias, & jesus Mariae filius honorabitur in hoc saculo & in alio, etc. Now here note that before he came to the testimony taken out of the Alcoran, he had alleged all such texts of Scripture and testimonies of the Doctors as he thought would serve his turn, and had added thereto (the better to fortify and strengthen his opinion) Sancta synodus dicit, quòd dicta sanctorum doctorum, scilicet Augustini, Hieronymi, & aliorum, à cunctis fidelibus sunt retinenda, sicut quatuor Euangelistae. But what after all this? He than proceeds to fables and fictions, and lying Legends: of the application whereof I now entreat. Tertiò (saith he) dico quòd virgo Maria est sine peccato originali concepta, quia est exemplis confirmatum: specialitèr autem tribus exemplis, quae facta sunt in tribus magnis doctoribus sanctae matris Ecclesiae, scilicet in magistro Alexandro Niccam, in domino Bonaventura Cardinali, & in sancto Bernardo. And what (trow we) contain these tales? Marry Sir how the virgin Mary was offended with such as held opinion that she was conceived in sin; and namely with master Alexander Niccam, who having given it out three sundry times, that he would prove that she was conceived in sin, was ever prevented with sickness, so that he could not perform his promise: and how afterwards renewing his purpose, the night before he was to prove his assertion, he fell into a grievous disease. Where when he called upon the blessed virgin, she came presently unto him, and said, Hanc infirmitatem pateris, pre eo quòd me esse conceptam in peccato originali probare niteris: That is, This sickness is inflicted upon thee, because thou wentest about to prove, that I was conceived in sin. And having so said, she took her maid's knife, and therewith cut out a piece of rotten flesh out of his side, & with a needle and a silk thread (serico filo) sewed it up again. Whereupon he did not only renounce that damnable opinion, but wrote a great book for confirmation of the contrary. And as for the other two fables which I should here insert, I will defer them to the end of the next Chapter. Now for a small conclusion, he bringeth this goodly allegation, of which I have already spoken, Tres sunt qui testimonium dan● (scilicet virgini Mariae) etc. See here (gentle Reader) how Rhetorically he casteth and contriveth his matter, in keeping these tales for his last and surest proof. For mark how he marshalleth his arguments to prove quòd est concepta sine originali peccato: primò quia fuit à Deo praeseruata. Secundò, quia hoc est per sacram Scripturam praefiguratum, ac per dicta sacrorum doctorum approbatum. Tertiò, quia est exemplis praenunciatum ac confirmatum. But how they made these tales to serve their turns in the main matter concerning either the wealth or the honour of our holy mother the Church, or both, I am to show hereafter.  
14 As for the tales which they are wont to tell us in their Sermons, in honour of their Saints; their applications were such, that for every virtue which they ascribed unto them (and they would be sure to leave out none by their good wills) they would (for an unanswerable argument) add one fable or other of something done or spoken by them.   

CHAP. XXXV. Of sundry sorts of questions, and some no less impious than frivolous, wherewith the foresaid Preachers were always ready furnished.  
Moreover, they spent one part of their Sermons in canvasing of certain questions which were as fond and frivolous, as foolish and fantastical as those above mentioned. Some of them (I say) were curious; others, not only curious, but also vain and frivolous; yea for the most part sottish and ridiculous: notwithstanding such curiosity (as it is well known) hath been censured in all ages. For we see how greatly it offended S. Paul, and many ancient Doctors after him: among the rest, S. Augustine (as I remember) telleth us of one that shaped a fond fellow such an answer as his curious question well deserved. For having demanded, what God did before he created the world: he answered him, that he made hell for such curious companions. And Constantine the Emperor showeth in a certain Epistle what mischief such curious questions brought with them. Which notwithstanding could not keep Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, and other Schoolmen from broaching thousands of such unprofitable and frivolous quirks and quiddities; nay some pernicious and blasphemous. Neither hath it kept our modern Doctors from disputing of them in the schools, nor daily coining of new. And what (I beseech you) do these questions concern? They concern God, the divinity and humanity of Christ, and the Angels. As, Vtrum Deus posset peccare si vellet, etc. Whether God could sin if he would? Whether he can make those things which he could in times past? Whether he can know any thing which he knoweth not? Whether he could have taken upon him human nature in the weaker sex? But these are reserved for the most illuminate Doctors (I say illuminatis Doctoribus) Vtrum plures in Christo filiationes? Item, Vtrum Deus potuerit suppositare mulierem, vel diabolum, vel asinum, vel cucurbitam, vel silicem? Et si suppositasset cucurbitam, quemadmodum fuerit concionatura, editura miracula, & quonam modo fuisset sixa cruci? Item, what should Saint Peter have consecrated, if he had then consecrated when the body of Christ hung upon the cross? Iten, whether it shall be lawful to eat and drink after the resurrection? And concerning the Angels: whether they agree well together, or not? Whether God doth use the ministry and service of all, or not? Whether they be grieved at the condemnation of those which are committed to their custody, or not? I omit the questions which are moved about the names of Angels and Archangels, their pre-eminences and seats, to wit, how high one is advanced above another; and other speculations concerning their Hierarchy. They have also sundry questions de notionibus, relationibus, instantibus, formalitatibus, quidditatibus, ecceitatibus, and other such like bald and barbarous words, which seem to have been invented of purpose to conjure devils: which notwithstanding were ordinarily tossed up and down in the mouths of schoole-doctors, as well Nominals as Reals; as Thomists, Albertists, Occamists, Scotists, and the rest. They have also in former times vainly busied themselves; and do still beat their brains even at this day about fond and fantastical questions, which they move touching the articles of our faith and Christian belief: and namely touching the holy Sacrament of the Altar (as they call it) as we may see in a book called Cautelae Missae. And yet their skill was never such, in multiplying question upon question about this point, but that a man might move a number of others never heard of before. And surely no marvel, considering their sacrifice is liable to so many and great inconveniences. For albeit they have moved many doubts of the inconveniences that might befall their consecrated host, notwithstanding some such have befallen it, as they would never have dreamt of▪ For they speak not a word of such an accident as befell S. Francis (as it is recorded fol. 72. of the book of Conformities, so often before alleged) how he saying Mass upon a time, found a Spider in the chalice, which he would not cast out of the cup, but drank her up together with the blood; and afterwards rubbing and scratching his thigh where he felt it itch, caused her to come forth again. This verily is such an accident as might minister matter of sundry other questions never heard of before. For first it may be asked, whether the blood being so poisoned, had as great virtue in it as if it had not been poisoned? and whether it were of such a piercing nature that it could penetrate even to Purgatory? Item, whether the Spider came thither of her own accord, or rather by revelation, above the strength and against the course and current of nature? Item, whether she were partaker of the merits of the sacrifice? at leastwise whether she were sanctified or not? It may further be demanded, whether she could be made tipsy with this drink, or not? And they that are well seen in such subtleties may yet move two or three dozen of questions more: which made me say, that we are not to marvel, if hitherto they could never find how to make an end of these questions, which this strange, mystical, or mysterificall manner of sacrifice engendereth.  
2 Notwithstanding their case were not so greatly to be pitied, if they did but busy their heads and break their brains about the former points: but they are so far from resting there, that they will needs enter in Sanctum Sanctorum, even into God's closet and secret counsel. And this their curiosity hath excited them through their foolhardy invention, to patch to the historical books of the Bible a number of circumstantial fooleries, as we may see by that which hath been already spoken of their paraphrastical expositions. Nay, they have proceeded a step further, in subjecting the histories of the Bible (as they have done the fables in their Legends) to such servitude and slavery, that they come at their whistle, and tell them what was the name of Tobies dog.  
3 For exemplification of which particulars, to begin with curious questions wherein there is less danger: let us hear the pleasant conceited reason alleged by Menot (fol. 47. col. 4.) why Christ would not suffer Saint Peter to use his sword. Because (saith he) he was not cunning at his weapon, as having never learned at the fence school; as well appeared when he cut off Malchus his care, whereas he should have cut off his head. For is it a seemly sight (think ye) to see one carry a book at his belt, whereon he cannot read? Even so (saith he) it is as unseemly a thing to see a man wear a sword by his side, who knows not how to use it. But to omit this bold & blind assertion, let us here observe touching the cause which moved our Saviour to give this commandment to Peter (notwithstanding the true reason be most evident) two other points, which he holdeth as most certain truths, though no logician on the earth be able to conclude them out of the text upon which alone we are to ground our faith. First, that Saint Peter meant to have cut off Malchus his head when he cut of his ear, but that his blow somewhat miss. Secondly, that the blade wherewith he cut off his ear was a Rapier. I omit another particular no less pleasant than the former, viz. that Peter was then Pope: for he demandeth, Sed cur Dominus noluit quòd Petrus gladio uteretur, viso quòd Papa erat? And in very deed, this question hath exceedingly troubled many of their profoundest Doctors and Preachers. For even Pasquin himself objected this sentence of our Saviour against the Pope: albeit he knew well enough how to shape him an answer, as we may see in these two Epigrams.  
The question.  
Quum tibi non aetas habilis sit Caraphe bello,  
Et castris habeas cognita claustra magis:  
Quum desit miles, bellique pecunia neruus,  
Quis te praecipitem cogit ad arma furor?  
Infirmis humeris damnata quid induis arma?  
Quae tibi quum libeat ponere, non liceat  
Cur respirantem & curantem vuln●ra mundum  
Concutis, & Martem solus ad arma eyes?  
Da miseris requiem, & spatium concede malorum,  
Si nobis pater es, si tua cura sumus:  
Conde senex gladium, & Christi reminiscere verbi:  
Quod dixit Petro, dixit & ille tibi.  
The answer.  
Quod dixit Petro Christus, nolim esse putetis  
Dictum (Pontificum pace Petrique) mihi.  
Nam neque sum Petri successor, nec quoque talem  
Agnoscit bona pars Christicolarum hody.  
Pauli ego (successu coeptis meliore deinceps  
Dij faveant) sumpsi nomen & arma simul:  
Et Christi verbi memor intrepidusque minister,  
Non veni pacem mittere, sed gladium.  
4 And now to return to Malchus whose ear Saint Peter cut off, thinking to have cut of his head, but that he took his aim amiss; the same preacher saith, it was not without cause that Malchus was the high Priests servant, seeing that Malchus signifieth a king; and hereupon he maketh this Catholic collection; that as Malchus was servant to the high Priest, so the regal Majesty of Kings and Emperors is subject to the power of Priests. And here the naming of S. Peter puts me in mind of another question moved by the same Preacher; viz. Why Christ committed the keys of the Church rather to S. Peter then to S. john, who was every inch as good a man as he? Mark his answer. S. john (saith he) was Christ's kinsman, and cosingerman; and therefore he committed them not unto him, but to Saint Peter, to give a precedent in his own example, how in bestowing Ecclesiastical dignities we should not respect affinity or consanguinity, but holiness of life and conversation. To which also Moses had an eye, when in stead of resigning his sovereign authority to his sons, (though wise and sufficient men) he resigned it to joshua, who was no way allied unto him, as being of another tribe.  
5 Moreover, they have their budgets full of other curious questions concerning Christ and the virgin Mary, which they have borrowed of their contemplative Doctors (as they call them) as of Landulphus, Bonaventure, etc. as namely, whether Christ ever laughed? Oliver Maillard relying upon the authority of Landulphus, answereth that he wept often, but that he laughed not once in all his life: where he also patcheth together sundry curious questions, touching the garment which Christ wore; as that it was of ash colour, that it was round both above and below: that it had round sleeves, and phylacteries and borders beneath, after the jewish fashion. And that the virgin Mary wrought it all of needle work. And that as Christ grew in stature, so his garment grew proportionally; and that it did not wear nor wax old. Item, that the year before his passion he was accustomed to wear another slender garment under it. Menot again (on the other side) holds it for a most certain truth, that his flesh was exceeding tender, yea so tender that it grieved him more to hit his heel against a little stone, then if another had been smitten in the apple of the eye: but take this reason with you; Quòd corpus eius suit formatum ex purissimis sanguinibus Beatissimae virginis Mariae. Further, seeing it was necessary the Church should know what was the greatest dolour and anguish that Christ suffered: they have found that it was that bloody agony and painful pan, gwhich seized upon him when he went into the garden at the twelft hour, and there sweat water and blood in such abundance, that it made a pretty brook. But how came this secret to be known, may we think? verily not by the contemplation of these Doctors (as the rest) but by revelation, showed to a devout woman who hath ease● them of much labour in this behalf. Yet this is not all: for they will needs take upon them to know how the rods were made wherewith Christ was whipped in Pilat's Palace, (called the Praetorium) and how many stripes he had: as also how many thorns were in his crown. And some of them have been rapt into so high contemplation, that they have found out new stuff in all this gear: as first, that an instrument was tied to every twig, which cut like a razor. Though in the number of stripes all men's contemplations do not fully agree. For according to the speculation of some deep Divines, he had just five thousand: whereas others say he had six thousand, viz. five thousand on his body, and a thousand on his head. Touching his crown, Bonaventure saith, that there were a thousand thorns in it. But what kind of thorns were they? Dicit Lira, saith Oliver Maillard, fol. 108. col. 2. Quòd erant de iunco marino. Et quaesivit ab illis qui fu●rant cum Beato Lu●●uico rege in terra sancta, quòd quidam dixit quòd illae spinae penetrabant sotulares cum duplici semella, quantumcunque essent novi, & sortiter reparati. Corona erat sicut corona Imperatoris, in qua erant mill cuspides: & ponebant super caput eius, prementes cum magnis baculis & lapidibus  
6 But Saint john hath made them work enough in concealing what our Saviour writ with his finger upon the ground, when the woman taken in adultery was brought before him. And among sundry opinions touching this matter, Menot citeth certain, fol. 138. col. 4. where he affirmeth that the man which was taken in adultery with her, hid himself behind the throng. And all on a th●umme in the former column, you shall find an answer to a question touching the good thief▪ namely whether God can pardon any man's sins before he hath done penance, and made satisfaction.  
7 And it never troubled them to tell what our Saviour said to his Disciples, concerning the fig tree, which withered up by the roots; but imagined presently in their idle brains, that he told them that the figtree signified the Synagogue of the jews which should shortly be destroyed, because God had cursed it. And he that will not credit this report, may read Menot fol. 166. col. 3. where he giveth a reason why our Saviour was then hungry, viz. because he had had but a short supper. But why had he no better supper? Because (saith he) he came late to his lodging. For they that come late to their Inn, get commonly but a slender pittance: Howbeit, he confesseth that it was no corporal but spiritual hunger, as some Doctors affirm.  
8 Over and beside all this, they have made such diligent inquisition, as that they have found out almost all the names of the men and women recorded in the Gospels, (that I may parallel that which I affirmed even now concerning the name of T●bies dog) in such sort that there is not so much as the least half penny farthing Ganymede among them, but can answer readily to such questions. For example, they put it out of question, that the woman called a sinner, which came to anoint Christ's feet as he sat at table in the pharisees house, was called Mary Magdalen; and that she which said, Blessed is the womb that bore thee, etc. was called Marcelia, they hold as certain and sure, as if the Evangelist had said it. Barelete fol. 71. col. 3. Quum haec diceret, extollens vocem quadam mulier (scilicet sancta Marcelia, famula beatae Marthae, sororis Lazari) dixit, Beatus venter qui te portavit. Though Oliver Maillard say only, that it was one of Marthaes' gentlewomen, fol. 140. col. 3. But when they were put to it indeed to find out some of those names, they used a new kind of Metamorphôsis; for when they could not tell the name of the soldier that thrust our Saviour into the side with a lance, they call him in plain terms Lance: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek being as much as Lance in English: which name hath been corrupted since, and pronounced Longi. But after he had crept into that credit to be registered among the Saints (by doing so meritorious a work as the piercing of our saviours side) his name was augmented by a syllable, and he called (after the Latin termination) Longinus.  
9 But their curiosity ran over the brim, when they came to handle such questions as these: whether Christ had not been crucified, if judas had not betrayed him? whether the virgin Mary would have crucified him, if none other would? The former of which you shall find in the Sermons of Barelet, fol. 158. col. 4. The latter, not only in his Sermons, fol. 115. but also in Menots, fol. 169. col. 3. And (more the pity) they are never noubled with such questions as these, but can resolve them as easily as a squirrel can crack a nut: whereas they stick and stand (I mean they are not resolved, but waver like the weathercock) in handling of other questions, which the very heathen made conscience once to call into question▪ Menot (for example) saith, Sed quicquid fit de corpore, anima quae peccaverit, ipsa morietur. Sic relinquo quaestionem arduam de immortalitate animae. But these two questions are nothing in comparison of those which I cited before out of Barelete in the Chapter of blasphemies, viz. what reasoning there was in heaven when it was debated and afterwards concluded that Christ should be incarnate in the womb of the Virgin, fol. 229. col. 4. Item, what a stir there was among the disciples, when they contended which of them should bring the virgin Mary word, that he was risen from the dead, fol. 164. col. 4. Item, what the Apostles said to the virgin Mary, being offended that her son kept not touch with them in sending the holy Ghost. And what strife there was in heaven (o most execrable blasphemy) betwixt the Father and the holy Ghost, both of them refusing to come down upon earth, for fear of being handled as Christ was, fol. 178. col. 1. But what term I these questions? seeing he is as peremptory & resolute in avouching them, as if he had found them recorded in the Scripture.  
10 I proceed now to another question, not altogether so impious as the former (especially as the three last) which I have purposely kept for the winding up of this Chapter, reserving for it all the room that remained, as being a question which seems to challenge thus much at my hands, that I should make a more large and ample discourse thereof. For there was never yet controversy in Christian religion so stoutly, so vehemently, nor so virulently canvased and ventilated, tumbled and tossed, opposed and defended. The Doctors of the Roman religion never banded so one against another: never was there such hold and draw, such siding and parts taking, such heaving and shoving about any question as about this: whether the virgin Mary was conceived in original sin, or not? But the greatest stickling (which cost so many broken heads) was betwixt the jacopins (or jacobins) and the Franciscans: the jacobins maintaining the affirmative, the Franciscans the negative. And here I remember a story to this purpose recorded in the French Chronicles: about the year 1384. there were certain Doctors and others of the order of the preaching Friars, which taught publicly that she was conceived in sin; of which number there was one, who said, that if he did not prove it by pregnant proofs, he would give them leave to call him Huet. Whereupon when any of the foresaid preaching jacobin Friars were seen in the streets in Paris, the common people would run after them, crying in derision aux Huets, aux Huets: so that they were ashamed ever after to show their heads. And about this erroneous opinion, a great Council of Clergy men and others of note, was holden at Paris, where it was condemned in a full congregation by the University, and that in solemn procession. This is that which our Chronicles (such as they are) report hereof. Now let us see how both sides bestirred themselves, and sweat about this question. A jacobin of Francfort called Vigand, writ a book about threescore years ago, wherein he defended that the virgin Mary was conceived and borne in sin: confuting all that held the contrary, as well ancient Doctors as modern Divines▪ censuring (among the rest) one john Spengler a Franciscan; who being touched to the quick by the said Vigand, so belaboured the matter, that he procured a disputation to be holden at Heidelbergh: but Prince Philip Count Palatin of Rhein hindered it. Thereupon the jacobin cited the Franciscan to appear at Rome, where this question having hung a long time upon the hinges, was then hung up at a crook. Certain years after it so fortuned that the jacobins held a general Synod at Vimpssen, wherein it was debated how they might hold counterpoise against their adversaries the Franciscans, & maintain their opinion (notwithstanding it was rejected almost of all, and that many Doctors had written against it, and made the world believe the contrary by means of counterfeit miracles) seeing there was no remedy but they were of necessity to devise one means or other, which they might have in readiness to help them at a dead lift, to counterfeit some miracle as the Franciscans had done. And it being concluded in this conventual Synod, that they were to proceed by false miracles, it was agreed upon that this pageant should be played by four jacobins of Berne, whose names I will afterwards set down. To the end therefore they might come to the period of their purpose, having first communicated with the devil (to whom one of them which was a Necromancer directed the rest) and obtained a promise of aid and furtherance, they lay ever after in the wind to spy what occasion they might to advantage their cause. It happened not long after that a good fellow one john jetzer a tailor, borne at Zurzacke was admitted and matriculated as one of their order: who not long after he had taken the habit, was visited in the night by one of these ghostly fathers, who wrapped in a sheet, went to his cell, and began to counterfeit a spirit, making a great rattling noise by casting of stones, etc. Whereupon the poor novice complaining to the 4. principal of the order (the self same men who plotted this knavery, one of which counterfeited the spirit) he was comforted and encouraged by them, and exhorted to patience. And one night the spirit spoke to this poor novice, charging him to do penance for him: which when he had made the foresaid Friars acquainted with, they thought it their best course to cause him to do penance openly for the delivering of the said spirit. Whereupon one of them began to preach of the spirit, and to tell the people why he did this penance: which was not done without extolling of their order (which he had made choice of, that he might be relieved by their merits) and censuring that of the Franciscans. Now the spirit on a time did highly extol the order of the jacobins to this novice, as well for the honest good men that were of it, as for the good discipline that was observed in it: adding withal, that he was not ignorant how it was hated of many by reason of their Doctor S. Thomas, whom they follow in affirming that the virgin Mary was conceived in sin: yet that many of these their maligners and evil willers were grievously tormented by the just judgement of God: yea & that the town of Berne should utterly be destroyed if they expelled not the Franciscans from among them, for teaching that she was conceived without sin; and that Doctor Alexander of Hales and john Scot (the subtle Doctor, both Franciscans) suffered great pain in Purgatory for maintaining that opinion. In the end he feigned it of his fingers, that the blessed Virgin herself did assure him of her polluted conception, resolving him of sundry other points greatly controverted among the Doctors: and that she printed in his right hand the sign of her sons passion, by piercing it with a sharp nail: and after to assuage the pain of his wounds, gave him a little lint made of the swaddling bands wherewith she swaddled him in Egypt. Yet these four Preachers not herewith content, caused him to drink enchanted water, whereby they put him clean out of the socket, and made him as mad as a march Hare; and having so done, printed in his body four other wounds of Christ. Where the poor soul coming to himself again by means of another water which they gave him, wondered at his new wounds: notwithstanding they made him believe it was the handy work of God. After all this, they laid him in a little parlour apart by himself, which was hung about with tapestry work full of pictures, wherein the passion of Christ was pour●raited, by which he was to learn the countenances, gestures and behaviours of Christ: all which they did of purpose to delude the poor people, who had already heard of these goodly miracles. Besides, they caused him to play the passion before them, after they had made him serve out a long prenticeship. They gave him moreover a drink, which caused him to foam and froth at the mouth, making him believe that he encountered death most valiantly as Christ had done. To conclude, they played so many pranks with this poor Friar, that in the end he perceived part of their knavery. Notwithstanding they handled the matter so cunningly, that they persuaded him all was Gospel: and used him not long after as their instrument to counterfeit a miracle. But all their knavery (which was before greatly suspected) being at the last discovered and detected by this silly soul, (whom God had miraculously delivered out of their hands, they having attempted so many ways to bring him to his end) a round course was taken with these holy fathers. For after that the Clergy (who had laboured long to save their lives, but all in vain) had committed them over to the secular power: they were burned in the town meadow of Berne, right over against the Covent of the Franciscans. Their names were john Vetter Prior, Stephen Boltzhorst Preacher, Francis Vlchi Subpriour (who was a Necromancer and counterfeited the spirit,) and Henry Steniecker Receiver. I have here omitted sundry like pageants played by these jacobins, which the Reader may find at large in the history written of this Tragedy. See here (gentle Reader) how horn-mad these fond Friars were, in being driven to such ecstasies of devices to defend their opinions, and to hold counterpoise against their adversaries. Which (doubtless) they did, not for any great zeal they had of the truth, but in an ambitious humour which made them burst almost for anger, to see the opinion of the Franciscans (their utter enemies) in such request, embraced and applauded of all.  
11 Let us now hear how the jolly Preacher Barelete sends these Franciscans packing, together with their opinion, calling them aemulos of his order. First therefore having affirmed that he had nine and forty Doctors of his opinion (whereof he quoted the greatest part) he beginneth in this sort. Quid vobis videtur cives mei super hoc? Quare omnes religiones non pugnant pro doctoribus suis? Ecce quot doctores, quot sapientes hoc affirmant? Sed dicunt aemuli nostri quòd fuit privilegiata, quia à peccato praeseruata. Ostendant illud privilegium, & eye fidem dabimus. And he alleges a passage out of Alexander of Hales, where he setteth down his opinion clean contrary to that, for the which the foresaid spirit (suborned by the jacobins of Berne) gave it out that he was tormented in Purgatory. Si beata virgo Maria non fuisset concepta in peccato originali, non fuisset obligata peccato, nec poenae, nec habuisset reatum peccati. Sed qui non habet reatum peccati, non indiget redemptione (quia redemptio est solùm propter obligationem peccati, vel poenae, & propter reatum peccati.) Ergo beata virgo non indiguisset redemptione: quod non est secundum Catholicam fidem ponendum. Which being so, the foresaid spirit suborned by these jacobins had small reason to cause this poor soul to be so grievously tormented in Purgatory, considering he here yieldeth unto them what ever they desire. But I leave this controversy to Barelete, who in the beginning of his Sermon saith, Non solùm antiqui doctores, sed etiam posteriores tenuerunt, & in scriptures reliquerunt, quòd virgo beata, & omnes homines (praeter Christum) in sui conceptione peccatum contraxerunt: quod patet triplici testimonio inpraesentiarum. Primò Ecclesiae doctorum: secundò Canonistarum: tertiò Religionum.  
12 On the other side, Oliver Maillard in one of his Sermons bringeth in two dames, viz. truth and falsehood, delivering their opinions dialogue-wise touching this article, where first falsehood beginneth thus: I affirm that the virgin Mary was conceived in sin, during which time she was the child of wrath, and under the curse; and that if she had not been redeemed by the death of Christ, she had been condemned: which I will prove by sundry arguments. First, David saith, I was borne in iniquity, and in sin hath my mother conceived me. Now after that Falsehood had alleged sundry reasons to this purpose, Truth beginneth in this sort: Madam, I cannot endure to hear that the Virgin who bruised the Serpent's head, and was from all eternity chosen of God to be the mother of our Lord, should so much as for a moment be under the wrath of God. In the end, after that Truth had said that it was true indeed, that she was in danger to have fallen into sin, but that she had a special privilege. It was asked her, But what say you (Madam) to the opinions of so many Doctors, as S. Bernard, Thomas of Aquine, Bonaventure, Guydo, etc. To this she answered (to cut off all occasion of further disputation) that before the Church had determined it, it was lawful to hold either way; but now sith the Council of Basil is of another opinion, it is dangerous to hold the contrary: and for my part I think it no better then plain heresy. And the words of my text (saith Maillard) are plain and pregnant for it: Tota pulchra es amica mea, & macula non est in te: Cant. 4. That is, Thou art all fair my love, and there is no blemish in thee.  
13 But the author of the Sermons entitled Dormisecurè bringeth in other manner of proofs. For he allegeth three miracles which were wrought of purpose, for confirmation of this opinion: having first been so bold as with an impudent Satanical spirit to falsify the saying off the Psalmist, in cutting of that which made not for his purpose; and in stead of Et in peccato concêpit me matter mea, alleging only these words concêpit me matter mea; taking them for his text and subject of the discourse which he made of the conception of the blessed Virgin, & applying than unto her: whence he labours to prove that she was not conceived in sin: and that by three kind of arguments. First, because God preserved her from sin (for he beggeth the question, or rather takes that for granted, which is most of all controverted.) Secondly, for that it was prefigured in the Scriptures, and avouched by the Doctors of the Church. Thirdly, for that it was confirmed by examples. But by what examples I beseech you? Verily by lying wonders, & counterfeit miracles: the very same wherewith the jacobins were wont to upbraid the Franciscans. The first is of a certain Magister noster (called Alexander) who having given it out, that he would prove the blessed Virgin to have been conceived in sin, was three times together taken with an infirmity, so that he could not make good his promise. And afterward appointing a day wherein he would determine this question, he fell the night before into a grievous disease: where as he lay sore pained, he called upon the virgin Mary: who came to him forthwith, & told him, this cross was laid upon him, because he went about to prove that she was conceived in sin. And having so said, she took her maid's knife and therewith cut a piece of corrupt flesh out of his side, and with a needle and silken thread (Serico filo) sewed it up again, and so departed. Now she was no sooner departed, but he felt himself well amended, and revealed the whole matter to a scholar which lay in the chamber with him: and ever after renounced his former opinion: and not so only, but writ a great book as big as a dunghill, in defence of the contrary. The second fable is this: A devout Minorite, going every night into the Choir, to patter over his prayers, heard commonly a buzzing noise upon the virgin mary's Altar, much like the buzzing of a fly: and wondering what it should be, he spoke unto it on a time and said, I adjure thee in the name of our Lord jesus Christ▪ that thou tell me what thou art. By and by a voice answered, I am Bonaventure. O famous Doctor (quoth he) in what terms stands the matter with you? what is the reason you make this noise? who answered, I shall shortly be well and in happy estate, for I am one of those that shallbe saved. Only because I held that damnable opinion that the blessed Virgin was conceived in sin, I suffer here my Purgatory, and do penance upon her Altar; but as soon as I am purged hereof, I shall go strait to heaven. unde (saith he) Bonaventura potest de ista conclusione dicere illud Psalmi: Propter te mortificamur tota die. The third is of Saint Bernard, viz. that after his death he appeared to one with a mark upon him; and told him that he had that mark set upon him for maintaining her polluted conception. Thus we see (if we may believe these fables) how the virgin Mary was revenged on them which held any such opinion of her, as she misliked. But let us hear what great delight she took in those that celebrated the feast of her conception. A certain Abbot called Helsin being on a time near drowning, saw a man appareled like a Bishop in his Pontificalibus (who if we may believe Barelet, was an Angel at the least) who asked him if he desired to return in safety into his country again. The Abbot answering with tears, that he desired it with all his heart; he said: Understand then (quoth he) that I was sent unto thee by our blessed Lady (mother of our Lord) whom thou hast so instantly called upon: and that thou, and all that are with thee shall escape, if thou wilt promise me to celebrate the feast of her conception every year with solemn procession▪ and teach that it ought to be celebrated. Which the Abbot having requested him to appoint the time when, and the manner how he would have it kept, promised to perform. And so he and all his company escaped that danger. Which tale Barelet also telleth; adding withal, that it was an Angel which appeared to him: where he further brings another argument grounded upon this fable; That (saith he) which is revealed by an Angel, aught to be holden for a certain truth: but an Angel revealed that the virgin Mary was conceived without sin (as appeareth by the story of the Abbot Helsine) who, etc. therefore we must firmly believe that she was conceived without sin. He further allegeth three other arguments for confirmation hereof, of such excellent good grace, that I could not in conscience omit them. His first argument is this. That which most men affirm, is to be holden as a certain truth. But most affirm that the blessed Virgin was conceived without sin. Ergo we are to hold that she was conceived without sin. His second argument: No feast is celebrated but in remembrance of some holy thing. The feast of the Virgin's conception is celebrated. Ergô her conception was holy: and consequently she was not stained with original sin. His third argument; Pardons are not granted but for some holy end: Pope Sixtus the fourth gave pardon to all that celebrated the feast of the conception of the blessed Lady during her Octaves. Ergo, her conception was holy.  
15 I will hereunto add another, which will make us less to wonder at the former; viz. how she honoured those that honoured her. About the year 1470. under Pope Sixtus the fourth, one Allen of Roche a jacobin Friar forged the Virgin mary's Psalter (called the rosary and preached it in stead of the Gospel: and not herewith content, instituted a Fraternity thereof, which was approved by the Pope's bulls, with large grants of indulgences. And james Sprenger Provincial of Germany countererfaited sundry miracles for the authorizing thereof. Nay, they were not ashamed to publish a book of this blessed brotherhood: in the beginning whereof it is said, that the virgin Mary coming on a time into Allens cell, made a ring of her hair, wherewith she married him: as also that she kissed him, and offered him her paps to handle, and suck. In some, that she was as familiar with him as a woman is with her husband.  
16 And now (gentle Reader) I hope I have sufficiently informed thee touching the questions moved by these illuminate Doctors, and of their manner of disputation; as also what hard hold there was betwixt them, each side tugging for their order, and working miracles in despite of their opposites, for confirmation of their opinions. At leastwise what hot bickering there was about this last question: and how Truth in the end gave Falsehood the foil. Now albeit I am not ignorant that there are many cart loads of other questions which have been canvased by the school Doctors: yet these I hope may suffice to discover the folly which reigned in those days, and still swayeth the Popish clergy even at this day; who do not only busy their heads and beat their brains, about the foresaid questions, but about others also of as great moment: as whether ascension day, or Hallow-masse (otherwise called all Saints) be the greater Holiday? Some alleging that God is greater than the Saints. Others, that he can be no more without his Saints then a king without his courtiers.  
17 But it is high time I should here remember myself: for discoursing in this chapter of those wise masters who can tell you the name of Tobies dog, or any man or woman's name purposely concealed in the Gospel; I forgot to speak of those profound preachers, who affirm that the child which our Saviour set in the midst of his disciples (when they contended which of them should be the greatest) was Ignatius, afterwards called Saint Ignatius, Saint john's disciple, as some affirm: and of those fond Friars, who taught that Cleopas his companion, mentioned by Saint Luke, was Luke himself: and that it was Nathanael who was afterward called S. Vrsine. As also how they are not contented to know that the disciple (whose name is concealed john 18. was john himself: but will further search how he came acquainted with the high Priest: and they have made such diligent inquiry into old records (as witnesseth that lying devil Nicephorus) that they have found, that he came to be known of the high Priest, by selling him his father's house.   

CHAP. XXXVI. Of certain fine fetches and dainty devices used by the foresaid Preachers to make their auditors laugh or weep; to win an opinion of holiness, and to keep their kitchens hot: as also of their foolish and ridiculous speeches.  
ALbeit these jolly Preachers (formerly spoken of) held this opinion, and taught it as a most certain truth, that Christ never laughed in all his life: yet they followed not his example herein. What say I, followed? Nay, they took such pleasure in ridiculous and Scoggin-like speeches, as that they were not ashamed in preaching of the passion, to use sundry ridiculous jests, and divers sorts of quips and girding taunts: and some no● herewith content, have used many apish gestures tending to this end. Of which number there was a Franciscan, who having laid a wager that he would make the one half of his auditors laugh, and the other half weep, at the same instant, and that upon good friday; used this device: He put on a garment which was very short behind, leaving off his breeches. Then standing in the midst of his auditory in a pulpit which was open behind, he began to exclaim against the impiety of the jews, declaring the excessive torments which they inflicted upon our Saviour Christ: and withal bowed his head and his shoulders, and crossed his arms in such sort, that he laid open all his hinder parts; which those behind the pulpit had no sooner espied, but they broke out into a great laughter. Contrarily, those that stood before him could not forbear weeping by reason of his pathetical speeches and tragical gestures. And thus he won the wager, making the one half to laugh and the other half to weep at the same time.  
2 Another Franciscan (called by Erasmus, Robert Liciensis) having boasted at a banquet, that he could make his auditors weep when he listed: one of the company laughed him to scorn, and said, that he might haply make some silly souls, as women, idiots or young children to weep, but that it was impossible he should make any man weep that had any wit. At which words the Monk was half mad to be so mocked, and said, You then (Sir) that seem to be so grave, come to morrow to my Sermon, and stand in the place that I shall appoint you, right over against me, and if I do not make you weep, I will give this company a banquet; but if I do, you shall give me one. It being thus agreed upon, he went the next day and sat where the Monk appointed him. Then came in the Franciscan, provided to preach, and not unmindful of his wager, began to discourse of God's bounty and goodness towards men, and how they showed themselves ungrateful for his daily blessings bestowed upon them: and that they were so hardened in their wicked ways, that they could not be reclaimed by any means, nor drawn by any persuasion to repentance, or to mutual love and charity one towards another. Then pressing the point a little further, in the end he brought in God himself speaking on this wise: O heart harder than steel, o heart harder than the adamant: The steel is softened with fire, the adamant is dissolved with goats blood: but do I what I can, yet can I not make thee shed one tear. And not content to have spoken it once or twice, he repeated it again and again, raising his voice louder and louder: so that at the last the man that had laid the wager with him, could forbear weeping no more than his fellows. Which when the Franciscan espied, he stretched out his hand and said, I have won. These words his auditors took as spoken in the person of God; as if he should have said, I have prevailed, as having obtained that which I desired, viz. the mollifying and softening of their hearts.  
3 The same Robert kept a sweet heart by the dispensation of his S. Francis, who told him on a time that she liked him well in all points, were it not for his habit. I pray thee then (quoth he) tell me in what habit thou likest me best? In the habit of a soldier (quoth she.) Go to, said the Friar, fail not to come to my Sermon to morrow. Now the next morning he went into the pulpit with his sword by his side, armed soldier-like at all points, under his gown. And beginning his Sermon with an exhortation to Princes to wage war against the Saracens, Turks, and other enemies of Christendom, in the end he broke forth into these words: Is it not a lamentable thing that no man will offer himself to be Chieftain of so laudable an enterprise? If that be the matter, behold I am here ready to pull off this habit of S. Francis, and to serve as a captain or common soldier. At which words he cast off his gown, and preached half an hour in the habit of a captain. Not long after being sent for by certain Cardinals his friends, and demanded the cause of this his new kind of preaching: he answered, that he did it to please his sweet heart, as hath been said.  
4 The same Robert being to preach before the Pope and his Cardinals; when he had well considered all their pomp, and how they reverenced and adored the Pope, said never a word, but Fie Saint Peter, Fie Saint Paul: which when he had divers times repeated, spitting first on the one side, and then on the other (as those whose stomachs are overcharged,) he went out of the pulpit, leaving all his auditors much amazed; some thinking he had been bereft of his wits: others, that he had been tainted with some heresy. And as they were ready to imprison him, a Cardinal (who knew his humour better than the rest, and bore him some good will) made means to the Pope that he might be sent for, to give a reason before him and the Cardinals there present, of those words. Whereupon being demanded what he meant by such horrible blasphemy? he answered that his purpose was to have spoken of another argument (which he expounded unto them summarily) but considering (quoth he) that you so enjoy your pleasures in this world, and that there is no pomp nor magnificence like to yours: and on the other side, considering in what great poverty, anguish and misery the Apostles lived, I thought with myself, doubtless either the Apostles were great fools to take such a tedious and troublesome way to go to heaven, or these men are in the ready way to hell. But as for you (Sirs) which keep the keys of the kingdom of heaven, I cannot conceive amiss of you: as for the Apostles, I cannot but scorn them as the veriest fools in the world, in that living as you do, they might have gone to heaven, yet chose rather to lead such a strict and painful life.  
5 I now proceed to the inventions of other Popish Preachers recorded by the same author out of whom I had all my former stories, namely by Erasmus. A certain Preacher having a long time cried out against such as addicted and devoted themselves to the service of the devil, represented to them upon the sudden a man with a vizard on his face, having eyes like flaming fire, a great crooked beak, teeth like a wild Boar, and crooked nails, holding a fork of a strange fashion in his hand, casting out a hideous voice: who whilst they all looked steadfastly upon him, said, See what a master you serve, setting Christ aside. Which story I will here parallel with another very fit for this purpose, which was paid me or rather given me in exchange for the former, by a gentlewoman of Lorraine, my very friend, of one that preached in a village in Lorraine, who after he had showed his auditors that they should all go to hell except they did amend. And what (quoth he) do you think hell is? Do you see that hole? I tell you it stinks ill, but hell stinks far worse. Where note, that the hole which he showed them was the Sexton's posteriorums, who agreed with him to play this pageant.  
6 I return to Erasmus, who reports that he had seen certain Monks, who passing through the throng to go to the pulpit, covered their faces with their couls, and when they kneeled down to pray to the fountain of grace, and said their ave Maria, knocked their knees so hard against the bottom of the pulpit, that all the Church might hear the noise. He saith also that he heard report of an Italian preacher, who going into the pulpit, covered his head with a cloak▪ that he never preached in Churches but in the open air: that he would not admit any man to come and talk with him (for he denied that favour to Princes) that he lay upon the hard boards, contenting himself with bread and water; that he had a pale and lean face as if it had been the very picture of death: that he spoke by an Interpreter, and used strange gestures and outcries, by which he did affright the people; sometimes thrusting his head into an halter, counterfeiting with his eyes those that are strangled, and then better advised, and (as it were) coming to himself again, uncovering himself and striking his breast with his fist, cried in his Italian, Misericordia, Misericordia: that he used bitterly to inveigh against dice, cards, and tabor, as also against such as wore feathers, so that he pulled on a time a feather out of a gentleman's hat, who sat near the pulpit, & rend it in a thousand pieces, casting it here and there among the people, making horrible outcries. He also reports of another who having made a long and vehement invective against the wickedness of the people in crucifying Christ afresh, showed them a crucifix, whereunto were tied bladders full of blood, which sprang forth when he touched them, and thereof ●e took and sprinkled among the people.  
7 But let us now listen to the actions and speeches of these gentle Sir john's, of some of which myself am witness: others I have heard, and others I have read: some in the news of the Queen of Navarre, and others elsewhere. I have heard of one who preaching at Orleans, jested and gibed at his auditors, telling them that he would show them a cuckold, and thereupon made as if he would have cast a stone at him: where when they all stooped down for fear of being hit: Oh, oh, (quoth he) I had thought there had been but one, but now I see you are all cuckolds.  
8 Another in the country of Beawois preaching in a meadow, having mightily inveighed against the Lutherans, told his auditors that he was much afraid lest some of them were infected with the leaven of their devilish doctrine: & therefore desired those whose conscience told them they were not tainted therewith, but were good and sound Catholics, to kneel down and to take a mouthful of grass with their teeth, in honour of our holy mother the Church▪ which he seeing them do, and laughing at them, said, 
Depuis l'heure que Dieu me fit naistre,  
je ne vi tant de beasts paistr●.  That is, 
Long have I lived, and living have been heeding,  
So many beasts yet never saw I feeding.   
9 Moreover, when they were in a pelting chafe and fustian fume against their auditors: their manner was not to spare no not the devil himself; witness, M. john Fouët vicar of Villers in Tartenois, who said to his parishioners, seeing you will not amend, the devil will take you, and me after. Witness also another Curate who said, you make no reckoning of any thing I tell you, but grow every day worse and worse; in the mean time I am charged with your souls, which I bequeath to great Beelzebub. But when I speak of men's souls given in charge to Curates, I should do the Curate of Pierrebuffiere in high Limosin great wrong, if I should forget him. This profound preacher, to the end he might the better exhort his parishioners to live well, told them: At the day of judgement (said he) God will call me to give an account of you, and will say unto me, Curate of Pierrebuffiere, what hast thou done with thy sheep? Then shall I have never a word to say. Which words he repeated 3. times, hiding himself every time in the pulpit: and having so done, he lift up his head & said; I know what I will answer: Beasts, o Lord thou gavest them me, and beasts I return them. True it is, that this cannot have so good a grace being translated into English, as it hath in his proper dialect, being couched in absurd and barbarous Limosin terms; and therefore I caused it to be transcribed out of the original, as followeth, Quan se vendro lou iour deu iugamen, Diou me demandaro que you lie rendo conte de vou autre: & me apelaro, Chapelo de Peyrebusieyro, en qual eytat son ta olia? & you ny mot. Et eu ●● apelaro en quero, & diro, Chapelo de Peyrebufieyro, en quel eytat son ta olia? Et you ny mot. Et enquero eu me diro, Chaphelo de Peyrebufieyro, en quel eytat son ta olia? jusque a tree viague; Et you lie reypondray, Seigne, beytia la m● beylada, & beytia la te rendi. But to parallel the example of the Priest, who (as Erasmus reporteth) showed the crucifix to his auditors: I have heard it constantly affirmed, that there was a Monk at Blois (about twenty years ago) who preaching late upon All Saint's day, in a dark place, had a young novice behind him, who eftsoons held up a dead man's head fastened to the end of a staff, with a candle within it: which he did to make them the more afraid of the dead; as in truth it struck such a terror into the hearts of certain women, that (as it is reported) it caused them to travail before their time.  
10 And to quite the former story of Robert Liciensis (who so astonished the Pope and his Cardinals by these words which he spoke as soon as he was come into the pulpit, Fie Saint Peter, Fie Saint Paul; I remember one who began his sermon in this sort: By the blood, by the flesh, by the death of Christ, we are redeemed. Making his auditors much to marvel in that he made a little pause after he had said, By the blood, by the flesh, by the death of Christ. Which I heard reported by an ancient father, who said he heard it from his own mouth. Howbeit some say he spoke thus▪ By Gods blood we are saved, by God's death we are redeemed. Further, this putteth me in mind of the profaneness of two Canons of Blois, one of which being Godfather to one john God's son, called him Death; the other being Godfather to his daughter, called her Virtue; so that joining the proper names to the surname, the son was called Death God, and the daughter Virtue God. Howbeit these names (as some say) were changed at their confirmation.  
11 Now this kind of swearing puts me in mind of a Curate in Paris, whose Sermons served many players in stead of Comedies. This jolly gentleman made no conscience to swear by God in the pulpit, in despite of the Lutherans. For going about to prove that they were worse than the devil; The devil (quoth he) will run away as soon as I make the sign of the cross, but if I should make a cross before a Lutheran, by G. he would fly in my face and throttle me. And seeing I have begun to speak of this Curate, I will here prosecute the rest of his Legend, at least so far as I know. For (if we may believe his own testimony) he is a man (doubtless) whom God hath graced with excellent gifts: I say, if we may believe his own testimony: for in a certain Sermon he said, he marveled what should be the reason that other Curates in this town preached not so well as he; they will say (quoth he) they want learning, and you know well enough how that a year ago I knew nothing, and now you see how learnedly I preach. In another Sermon he purged himself of a false aspersion and imputation, by no other argument th●n the testimony of his sister. There are some (quoth he) which prate that I keep whores in my house; lo there is my sister (pointing to her with his finger) who should know if there were any such such matter, (for I must go through her chamber to come to my lodging) let her speak aloud whether it be so or not. The same Doctor (who became so learned in one year) having carried a paper into the pulpit, wherein the Bishop of Paris and the Official excommunicated certain of his parishioners, and having let it fall into a hole of the pulpit, he bethought himself of a dainty device never heard of before, and such it may be as never any man dreamt of: for having forgotten their names, and lost his paper wherein they were written, he said, I excommunicate all that are in this hole. But after he had better bethought himself of the names of those who were fallen into the hole (that is to say, who were written in the paper which fell into the hole) he said he excepted the Bishop of Paris and his Official. The same Preacher being angry on a time at little children, for going up and down the streets and singing filthy songs; A rabblement of bastards (quoth he) gad up and down the town, singing such and such songs: I would I were their father, o how I would curry them. He also jested merrily on a time as he was discoursing with Henry the second (who sent for him for that purpose:) for the King having asked him of his parishioners; he said they might be good enough, for he preached to them daily. The King having further demanded of him, how they carried and demeaned themselves: They are (quoth he) very demure in my presence, and ready to do all that I command them; but as soon as my tail is turned, Soufflez Sire: which answer the King took in good part, because it was not spoken in knavery, no more than his other descants which he used ordinarily in his Sermons. For if it had been perceived that he had aequiuocated of set purpose in the word Soufflez (which besides his proper signification, namely blow, is taken of the common people in the same sense with De belles, that is, Tush, he prates, or he talks idly,) I believe they would have taught him to have blown after another fashion.  
12 But to return to the Sermons of this idle Doctor, he showed on a time a fine conceit (although by his own confession he got all his learning in a year) when he used no other reason but the authority of his horse to confute those that denied Purgatory: whereas others have travailed both in petty and profound, yea in most illuminate Doctors, even Saint Patrick himself, and have alleged the apparitions of sundry cart-loades of souls coming out of another world, to prove the point; and yet have had their mouths stopped. For this gentle Sir john (inveighing against the Lutherans, for that they would not believe Purgatory) reasoned against them in this sort: I will tell you (quoth he) a story, whereby you shall see what wicked fellows they be to deny Purgatory. I am (as you know) the son of Master E.N. (now deceased) & we have a fair house at S. Antony's bridge; whither going on a time, as I was benighted, my horse which carried my mail (you must know he is a good one, and at your service, Sirs) stayed (against his custom) and began to cry Pouf, pouf. Whereupon I said to my man, Spur, spur. Sir (quoth he) I spur him; but certainly he seeth something. Then I remembered how that I had heard it told my deceased mother, that certain apparitions had been seen in that place; and thereupon I said my Pater noster and my ave Mary, which my good mother taught me, and having so done, I bade my man spur again, which he did. Then my horse going but three or four steps further, stood stone still, and cried again Pouf, pouf. And my man assuring me that he saw something, I said my De profundis, which my father taught me: and presently my horse went forward. But staying the third time, I had no sooner said Auete omnes animae, & requiem aeternam, but he went freely, and never stopped nor stayed after. Now then seeing these wicked heretics say that there is no Purgatory, & that we ought not to pray for the dead, I send them to my horse which carrieth my mail, I say to my mail horse to learn their lesson.  
13 Neither must this worshipful Curate bear away all the praise of such subtlety. For a jacobin Friar called Devolay may well match him, who used a very subtle comparison to prove a point, where all their Doctors had lost their Latin. These wicked Lutherans (quoth he) will not believe that the body and blood of Christ is in the Sacrament of the Altar. For (say they) if it were so, they should then see it. But come hither great fool; when thou hast a venaison pasty, dost thou not say it is such or such a pasty? and yet thou seest not what is within it.  
14 We daily hear of sundry other comparisons used by these Preachers: some of which are plainly ridiculous, others not only ridiculous, but also absurd & scurrilous; yea so many ways profaning Christian religion, that they may well be counted impious & blasphemous. For though we should pardon those which compared the grace of God to goat's dung (in saying that as a goat being got to the top of an oven dungeth here and there, so as it runneth down on every side: so the grace of God disperseth itself every where.) Yet what shall we say of those companions who so profane the mystery of the holy Trinity, as that they stick not to compare it to a pair of breeches? But how they applied it, (though I have often heard it) I tremble to write. And the comparison which was made by a good fellow, who bore no great good will to Friar Francis nor any of his Fraternity, was no less wicked, though much more witty and of far better grace than the former, when he resembled the holy Trinity to a Franciscan, in saying that as there were three persons in the Trinity & yet but one God: so a Franciscan was shaven like a fool, grey like a wolf, tied with a cord like a thief; and yet but one man. He spoke also very profanely (though ridiculously) who told four soldiers (whom he saw out of the pulpit in the midst of his sermon) that they were in all things like unto Christ. He was taken (said he) so shall you be: he was brought before the judge, so shall you be: he was bound with cords like a thief, so shall you be: he was whipped, so shall you be: he was led to the gallows, so shall you be: he descended into hell; so shall you I warrant you: but he came back again, so shall you never. But if we would have a very fit and proper comparison indeed, we must return to the Curate mentioned before, whose sermons served many in stead of play books or pleasant jests to pass away the time. For preaching on a time of the golden Image which Nabuchodonazor set up, Dan. 3. It was (quoth he) a villainous great Idol like our S. Eustace; but it was all of solid gold, would to God our S. Eustace were like it.  
15 If any desire to hear other comparisons of the like strain, he may have recourse to old folks, who have good memories, or he may read the worthy works which some of these jolly Preachers have left behind them; as namely the Sermons of Menot who saith (fol. 115. col. 2.) that they have the same custom in Paradise which they have in Inns in Spain. The custom (quoth he) of Paradise is to pay before meat, as they do in Spain, where the guests that come to an Inn must buy their meat beforehand, if they will any. Thus Lazarus first paid in this world, in enduring many miseries, and after feasted in Paradise. Whereas the custom of hell, is first to make good cheer, and after to pay for it, as they do in France. Thus the rich man feasted in this world, but now is gone to hell to reckon with his host. And fol. 140. col. 4. he is much more pleasant, discoursing of the repast which our Saviour gave to those five thousand mentioned in the Gospel. For first (saith he) seeing the text saith that there were five thousand men besides women and children, we must needs conclude that there were four thousand women at the least. For we see by experience, that there are always four women at a sermon for one man. Besides (quoth he) I believe that there was an infinite number of little children, if women in that country had as good a custom as they have in this, who would be sorry to come to a Sermon without their children hanging at their breasts, & a troop of others at their tails, which cry all the Sermon while, and hinder both the Preacher and the auditory. After this, he compares the dinner which our Saviour made to these people, to a Limosins' dinner. I would gladly know (quoth he) where he learned to make a dinner or a feast? I cannot think that he frequented the greedy guts of this town, who will not forget (I warrant you) when they are at a feast to drink with their meat. This dinner of our Lords was like the dinner of a Limosin. You know how beggars in Beausse and Champain will rear themselves against a wall, and pull six pound of bread out of their wallets, and drink never a drop therewith: and though they have a pint of wine standing by them, yet they think it a sin once to peep into the pot. The French do not so, especially the Picards, who after they have paid the shot can drink roundly every man his half a quart d'escu: and if there were a half penny loaf on the board, he should be sure to have a stab that did first cut it. But this day our Lord made the dinner of a Limosin. And a little after: I believe (quoth he) it was Lent (as it is now) and every man ate as much fish as he would. Our Saviour at the marriage of Cana gave wine only, and not bread; but here he gives bread only, and not wine. Wherein he showed his great wisdom, for he kept open house for all come●s. The Scripture saith not that the virgin Mary was there: for had she been there, she would (I warrant you) have said to her Son as she did at the marriage (joh. 2.) They have no wine. O my Son, you come very fitly to show your glory and power in feeding this great multitude: I see they eat apace, but the principal thing is wanting, They have no wine. Here is good cheer (thanks be to God) but they have no wine to drink, they have nothing wherewith to moisten their morsels. And why did not our Lord take care for drink as well as for meat? I answer, propter aquarum approximationem, miraculi ma●orem declarationem, sacramenti Eucharistiae praefigurationem: that is, because there was store of water at hand, because he would show the miracle more evidently, because he would hereby prefigure the Sacrament of the Eucharist. Touching the first, it is said, that they came from beyond the sea of Galily: that they sat on fair green grass, and after they had eaten their bellies full, were permitted to go to the sea and drink à tirelarigaud, that is, setting cock on the hoop, to drink till they burst. For he interlards his Latin with this fine French word, Et post comestionem habebant licentiam eundi ad bibendum in mari à tirelarigaud. Which passage I do the rather allege at large (albeit it had been sufficient only to have quoted the place) to the end the Reader might the better perceive how they toy and trifle with the Scripture: of which profaneness we have alleged sundry examples before. Howbeit they have some comparisons very pleasant, and nothing profane; as when Maillard saith, that Monks in their Cloisters, are like pease in the cod; and out of their Cloisters, like pease in the pot.  
16 Moreover, these jolly Preachers had an excellent faculty in begging their small necessaries in the pulpit, and blushing no more than a black dog, albeit some did it with far better grace than others, using equivocations or words of doubtful construction, very fit for the purpose: as when one said, En nostre cave on n'y void 
* The grace of the consent consisteth in that Amphiboly or ambiguity of the phrase on n'y void goutte, etc. which signifieth either a dark place where a man can see nothing: or a void & empty place where a man hath nothing▪ in the latter sense it is here used by this cunning beggar.  goutte, en nostre grenier on n'y void grain. Another: At the first when I began to preach among you, I was phlegmatic, but now I am sanguine; making an allusion betwixt sanguine and sans guain, that is, without profit or gain. Another preaching on a time when his parishioners were shearing their sheep, said, La lain me fault, I want wool: where the simple people understood him as though he had said, L'alene me fault, I have lost my breath. Suitable hereunto I have heard of one who told his parishioners in his Farewell Sermon, that he had been seeking for one all Lent long, but could not find him. And being demanded who it might be: he answered that his name ended in ette. Whereupon one asked him if it were not Toinette, another if it were not Perrette, a third if it were not Guillemette: he answered No. They then naming sundry other of like termination: he told them it was none of them all. In the end one asked him if it were not jaquette. You have hit him (quoth he) you have hit him, it is one jaquette indeed that I would gladly meet withal.  
17 But we are to note, that there was often great emulation and heartburning between these religious orders of Friars, especially between the Franciscans and the jacobins. For so it was, that they which preached best got away the others custom. For example, an Italian relates (in a book published about twelve years ago) how a Franciscan preaching on a time in a town of Sicily, made his auditors believe that Saint Francis descended into Purgatory once every year upon his holy day, and delivered thence the souls of all such as had been beneficial to his brethren. Whereupon the jacobins (who are there called the brethren of the virgin Mary) perceiving that this opinion which the world had of S. Francis marred their market, and cooled their kitchens, began to preach and persuade the people, that the virgin Mary (who had far greater charity and authority then S. Francis) suffered not those that had been devoted unto her, or beneficial to her Votaries, to lie frying in Purgatory a whole year long, as Saint Francis did, but only seven days, seeing that every Saturday (the day dedicated unto her) she went down thither to deliver such as had been bountiful or beneficial to her brethren. Which advertisements brought them in credit again, so that they had better custom than ever before. And suitable to this tale of Purgatory, I related one before, of a certain ghostly father who preaching at Bourdeaux, told his auditors that when any thing is given for the dead, the souls hearing the sound of the money falling into the basin or poor man's box, crying thing, ting, are so exceeding glad and ●o 〈◊〉▪ that they laugh out for joy, and cry ha, ha, ha; high; high, hi. Hitherto appertains the story of a Curate of Savoy (as I remember) who told his parishioners in a Sermon, that Abel went every day to Mass, and paid his tithes duly and truly, and that of the fairest and of the best: whereas Cain made no conscience to do either. And as for those who preached other points of Popish doctrine, or magnified such miracles of their Saints, as tended not directly to bring meal to their mill, (as when a Picard alleged in commendation of virginity, that because Saint Paul and Saint barb were virgins, they bled nothing but milk when they were beheaded▪) we have variety in sundry places of this book. But as for the means which they used to keep their kitchens hot, I am to speak hereafter.  
18 Now how familiarly they preached, we may perceive by that which M. Adrian Beguine Curate of S. Germine in Noyon said on a time to his parishioners in the pulpit: My friends, you must have patience with me for this time, for I am bid to dinner to master Mayor to take part of a pig▪ otherwise par l'arme du bon fiu men pere ie vous dirois, rouge, rage, enragée, that is, By the soul of my good sire, I would tickle you over a text. Another Curate in the town of Quercie speaking of Shrove-tuesday, commended to his parishioners these three good Saints, Saint Pansard, Saint Mangeard, Saint Crevard, that is, Saint Belligod, Saint 
* Al. S. Pamphagus.  Eat-all, Saint Burstenbelly.  
19 But they used more familiar and homely speeches when they fell in discourse of women, which they were wont to do in handling certain places of the Gospel, as where it is said, that Christ appeared first to women after his resurrection: for than no jest could peep forth, but babbling women would be sure to have it by the end. He therefore appeared first unto them, as knowing that this rumour would sooner be bruited abroad, then if he had first appeared to men. For my part, I remember I was at a Sermon where this argument was handled at large, and in such sort that it made all our modest maids and matrons blush for shame: since which time I have heard of sundry others of the like strain. Sometimes also they extolled women above men, because there was never any man so highly honoured as the virgin Mary. But a certain ghostly father served them finely in one of his sermons, contrary to their expectation. For having taken these words out of Luk. 24. for his text, O fools and slow of heart to believe, leaving the rest (as their manner was to shred the Scripture as they thought good,) he began to discourse how much men were disgraced in this place, and how no such disgraceful speech was uttered of women in all the Scripture. And yet if we consider to whom this was spoken, we shall find it was spoken to the proudest Prelates in the Church. Amongst other things which he alleged in honour of women, this is not to be forgotten, viz. that there was no village nor hamlet so small, but if you had asked for the house of a 
* The conceit cannot be expressed in English by reason of the homonymi● of the word sage femme▪ which signifieth as well a midwife as a wise & prudent woman.  sage femme, they would forthwith have showed it you: but a man should be well served, if he should ask for the house of a sage homme. And after he had graced women with many other titles of honour which were not given to men, perceiving by their countenances that they took great pleasure therein, and began to fleare and giggle, and to look at men over the shoulder; yet for all this (quoth he) be not so proud, for I shall soon take down your edge: and having so said, he began in this sort. First there are religious orders of good men, but none of good women: and then Secondly and Thirdly, etc. forgetting none of those fine conceits which our buffoons and Scoggin-like scoffers use in gibing at the weaker sex.  
20 Yet this is not all. For these venerable Preachers (those especially who are called ghostly fathers) never respecting the lesson which is taught them, Si non castè, tamen cautè, that is, If not chastened, yet ●●●rily, used for the most part such obscene scurrilous speeches in the pulpit, that it was a question whether they preached the word of God, or celebrated the Bacchanalian feasts in the presence of Margot and Alizon; which names I find in john Menard, who having been a Franciscan Friar for a long time, and a most zealous maintainer thereof in defending it with tooth and nail, yet when it pleased the Lord to open his eyes at the last, and to let him see his sin, he cast off his cowl, and writ a book against the whole pack of them, called the Declaration of the rule and order of the Franciscans: wherein he discovers part of their knavery. Among other things he writeth, how that beside their ordinary allowance and pension which they had of the Covent of Paris, their manner was to ask money for apparel, books, paper, ink, as also to defray the charges of their sickness, etc. that they might ever have some little overplus wherewith to visit the green basket near to the jacobins, or such like Taverns and suspected houses; where a man might have found apparel of all sorts, which these gallands took to go to the Tennis-court to play with gentlewomen, disguised in strange attire, yea even Lords wives, whose husbands were non-resident from their houses. He further addeth, that the Franciscans of Paris played certain games at Tennis with them, upon condition that if the Friars did win, they should choose the fairest gentlewoman and loveliest Lady in the company; and if that the gentlewomen or Ladies did win, they should choose the frolickest Franciscan. But to return to the argument in hand, these ghostly fathers made no conscience to use the same speeches in their Sermons, which they had used in a brothel house; to which purpose I could allege sundry stories, which some might haply think very pleasant: but (as I have often before protested) I abstain of purpose from the rehearsal of them; for doubtless it is enough and overmuch, that heaven & earth have been so long infected with the stink of them. For proof whereof though I should allege no other example but that which is recorded by the late Queen of Navarre (in the eleventh Nowelle) of certain speeches delivered by a Franciscan in a Sermon, my assertion should be strongly confirmed. Who to show how lightly he regarded the offence and scandal which he gave by his loose and lascivious speeches, said to the goodwives of his parish; Go to fair Ladies, by and by when you are prattling among your gossips, you will say, But what M. Friar is this (trow we) that speaketh thus boldly? It is some good fellow sure. I will tell you (Madams) marvel not if I speak boldly, for I am of Anjou, yours to command, etc. And what conscience made he of giving offence, when he mocked those who took offence at him? saying, O my masters and dames of S. Martin's, I marvel you should be offended at a thing the least of a hundred, and prattle of me every where, and say, O it is a foul matter, who would have thought the ghostly father would have got his hostess daughter with child? And is it indeed such a wonder that a Monk should get a wench with child? Tell me in good earnest, what would you have said if the maid had got the Monk with child? This is the sum of that news. And he that desires to see these particulars exemplified, may find them in the former part of the Apology, in the Chapter which entreateth of whoredoms committed by our good Catholics.  
21 I was purposed here to have ended this Chapter, but that I cannot in conscience omit a short story very pertinent to this purpose, concerning the gross speeches which these gorbellied shavelings used in their Sermons; to the end the Reader may perceive that they are ever like themselves, as being never cloyed with this clunch, nor any thing daunted, no not when they are among the dead. The story is recorded by a man of good credit who hath written annotations upon the Abstract of the Franciscans Alcoran; and is thus couched in his own words. For my part, seeing it cometh here so fitly, I will tell you what I saw at Paris: Four begging Friars being entreated on a time to bury a corpse, it was the Franciscans turn to sing Requiem & Libera, which they did very lustily (for they were in good hope to be well rewarded for their labour) the other three in the mean time talking merrily together. Where (as I came out of a house) I saw two young lusty Augustine's, who held each other by the hand, and sang, Brunette suis, iamais ne seray blanch. That is, 
Nutbrown I am, as you may see,  
And never fairer shall I be.    

CHAP. XXXVII. Of the subtlety and profoundness of the foresaid Preachers or professors of Divinity: as also of the traditions of the Franciscans, Dominickes, etc.  
WE have heretofore spoken of the gross ignorance of Priests and Monks, and exemplified it by sundry particulars; to which notwithstanding much more might be added, this at the least, of a Frenchman servant to a Scot; who being examined in Latin by the Bishop (who was to give him orders) and thinking that the Latin which the Bishop spoke had been Scottish, answered: If it please your Lordship; my master understands Scottish very well, but so do not I. As also this of another deep Divine, who being asked Quot sunt septem Sacramenta? answered, Tres, Aspergillum, Thuribulum, & magnum Altar. Howbeit, some of them I must needs confess (to make amends for this gear) have been so vengeably learned, and have found out such subtle speculations, that the most pregnant wits and ripest judgements can hardly conceive them. And first to begin with their language, certain I am that divers of them have delivered such abstruse things, and so far fetched, that Cicero himself never heard the like. Besides, they have found out a new device to make a medley and mixture of Latin and French, with such excellent good grace, that it is not possible almost a man should be wearied in reading thereof. For proof of which particulars, the places quoted before out of Menot and Maillard may suffice, especially for such as have not their books at hand. For there they may see the fine interlarding of these tongues, and that not without some subtlety. But yet there is a further matter then either of these: for they have so emphatically expressed their notions in their homespun Latin, that all the classicke authors of the Latin tongue may cast their caps at them: as when Oliver Maillard saith, fol. 6. col. 3. Primò venit ad primam in domo sua existentem, & percutit ad ostium, dicendo Trac, trac, trac: & ancilla venit etc. Tell me now (gentle Reader) whether Cicero or any author of the Latin tongue had either the wit or the heart to make a Latin word of this short conceited word Trac, which hath so good a grace, and doth so well express a man's meaning?  
2 But this is not all: for they have been so curious in rendering reasons of every word they spoke, as that they have overskipped but very few without knowing their Etymologies, nay they have found out such subtle notations, as cannot sufficiently be wondered at. For, who would ever have thought that there had been such a secret hidden under this word ave, as we find in sundry of those preachers and divines, and namely in Barelete, and in the author of the sermons entitled Dormi securè? Barelete fol. 230. col. 1. saith Ingressus Gabriel ad eam, dixit, ave gratia plena, Dominus tecum, ab a, quod est sine, & vae culpa. Immunis à triplici vae, de quibus Apoc. 12. Vae vae vae habitantibus in terra. as much also to the same effect writes the other (whom I named even now) in his first sermon De conceptione beatae Maria virgins. Neither was there less dexterity used in the anatomy of the word Sacerdos, as it is deciphered unto us in a book called Stella clericorum as followeth: Quinque enim sunt dignitates Sacerdotum praecaeteris. Primò dicitur sacerdos quasi sacris dotatus, scililet sacris ordinibus, quia ipse est in summo gradu, qui est Sacerdotum. Secundò Sacerdos, quasi sacris deditus, id est sacramentis, ad sacrificanda sacramenta; nam ipse sacrificat sacrosanctum corpus Domini cum verbis, signis, prodigijs, & caetera sacramenta. Tertiò, dicitur Sacerdos quasi dans sacra; dat enim baptismum, confessionem▪ poenitentiam, indulgentiam, eucharistiam, benedictionem, & extremam unctionem. Quartò, dicitur sacerdos, quasi sacra docens: docet enim verba sancti evangelii & articulos rectae fidei. Quintò, dicitur Sacerdos quasi sacer dux, quasi ducatum praebens & iter populo ad regna coelorum, verbo sacrae doctrinae & vitae bono exemplo, unde versus; 
Sacris dotatus & sacris deditus, atque  
Sacra docens, sacra dans, & dux sacer esto sacerdos.  And who would have thought that a man could ever have found such a mystery in the name Dominicus? Dicitur Dominicus (saith Barelet fol. 191. col. 4.) quasi totus Domini: vel Dominicus quasi cu●tos Domini, vel Dominicus quasi à Domino custoditus. And for Franciscus, what do you think they have found in his belly? Let us hear what his Legend saith, Franciscus dicitur ratione securitatis, ex virtute & operum perfectione, & honestatis in conversatione. Aiunt enim Franciscos dici quaedam signa instar securium, quae Romae ante Consules ferebantur, quae erant in terrorem & securitatem. True it is indeed, there are sundry other notations given of his name, but this is holden to be the soundest. Now this subtle and curious Etymologizing is not in these names only, but in all other names of the Saints, registered in the book called The golden Legend or Legends: For example, Gregory is compounded of Grex, that is an assembly, & of Goire, that is preacher. KATHERINE, of Katha, that is all, and of ruina overthrow, for the devils fort was clean overthrown in her: Katherine signifying as much as universal overthrow, he being dislodged and cast out of her. Quintine comes of quinque five, and teneo, tenes, to hold, signifying one which holdeth five things. If any shall reply and say, that it is not to be wondered that the ancient Latinists never mentioned these Etymologies, considering the names were not then in use; I answer, that they had as good dexterity in giving Etymologies of ancient latin words; witness the notation of Mulier, quasi mollis aër. It was also a very subtle invention, to fetch Etymologies of Greek and Hebrew words from the Latin, as we have showed before in presbyter, diabolus, and jesus.  
3 But now we are to prosecute other subtle speculations, concerning matters of greater moment. And first, what brains may we think had they, which coined so many acquaint questions as have been formerly mentioned? And what shall we say to their great pains in expounding the Scriptures, so as that they make a nose of wax of the●, as hath been showed▪ We have seen also how cunning Divines they were in divining & conjecturing at many things, whereof the scripture speaks not a word. Besides, we have given some taste of their witty comparisons and brave arguments: and yet if a man would take a little pains to turn over the books out of which they gathered all this gear, he might find other manner of stuff than this. For example, when Menot fol. 48. col. 3. maketh Christ to go through the twelve signs of the Zodiac, it is such a dainty device as hath not been heard of. But their wits were much more refined, and sublimated in other speculations; as in finding the old and new Testament in the two horns of Bishop's miters; simplicity and innocency in the friars cowl: and sundry like things, as by and by we shall hear.  
4 And if we come to the mystical expositions of all the tools and trinkets, as also the Apish tricks and turnings used in the Mass, we must needs confess that there lieth so great a mystery or secret subtlety hidden under them, that they (doubtless) are men of the sharpest wit, and best judgement, which understand least thereof. For is it not cunningly done, to make one Massmonger act twenty or five and twenty parts, as of Christ, of the virgin Mary his mother, of all the Apostles, yea and of the traitor judas? as also of the thief that was crucified, the Centurion, the Publican, & c? But how is it possible (may some say) he should act so many parts, and represent so many persons? I answer, one part is performed only with cross; for with one Cross which he maketh over the consecrated host and another over the chalice, severally, he playeth two parts: the one of Christ, the other of judas. By the three other crosses which are made before, are represented the Father, the holy Ghost, and Christ who was delivered to death by himself, and by them also. But if this were all the mystery that lay hid in these Crosses all were nothing▪ Mark then what followeth: After these two Crosses severally made, and that the Crosse● hath spread his arms abroad (whereby he representeth Christ stretched upon the Cross) and hath lifted up the host to be worshipped (which they call th● Elevation) by the three Crosses which he maketh, one over the host, another over the Chalice, and a third upon himself, he acteth the part of three several estates of men, viz. of those in heaven, in Purgatory, and in earth. As for the five Crosses which are made after the first three, besides that two of them being severally made, one over the host, and the other over the Chalice, do signify as hath been said; all of them together betoken sundry other things. As first, the five days, betwixt Palmesunday and Good Friday; or the five wounds of Christ, two in his feet, two in his hands, and one in his right side. Neither is this all: For the first three of the five, (being made over the Chalice and host together,) figure the delivery of Christ to the high Priests, the Scribes & pharisees: as also the price for which Christ was sold, viz. thrice ten, that is 30. pence. Now then consider (good Reader) if under these cross there be so many and so profound speculations, what sublimate subtleties there must needs be in all their trinkets, tr●ndals, gambols, knocking of breasts, and in the rest of that so trim and pleasant stageplay, apish tricks, and mummery? Moreover, every of these Doctors have had their particular revelations, for the confirmation of these speculations; I say every of these Alcoranists of the Mass, as Titleman, Gabriel Biel, Brunus, Philo, with others. For the Mass priest his ●lbe (according to some Doctors) signifieth the conversation of Christ in the flesh; according to others, the purity of his body incarnate in the womb of the Virgin; according to a third sort, the white garment wherewith Herod appareled him, when he sent him back to Pilate arrayed like a fool: and according to a fourth sort, the constancy of the most clear light. And for the fine linen whereof the Albe is made, it signifies (as they say) the subtlety of the Scriptures. The like may be said of the Amict: for some are of opinion, that it representeth the veil wherewith Christ was blindfolded when the jews mocking him in Caiphas' house, buffeted him: others are of opinion that it signifieth the divinity of Christ hidden under his humanity: some say that it comes in the room of the jewish Ephod. I omit to speak of the girdle, the maniple, and the stole, which are also diversly interpreted. The fire and burning tapers (as some affirm) figure Christ, who is the fire which consumeth the rust of our sins: others say that the fire signifieth the fire of charity, enuyroning Christian people; and the burning taper, the light of faith, as also the joy of Christ's coming and incarnation. The paten also (according to the judgement of some deep divines) signifieth the divinity of Christ, as well as the Amict: but according to others, it hath another signification. Gloria in excelsis uttered with a low and soft voice, signifieth (as some affirm) the childish puling voice of Christ lying in his cradle: but according to other Doctors, it hath another meaning. But what greater skill can a man desire then this, to tell what the masspriest saith, when he speaketh never a word? Doubtless this is an Abyssus or bottomless sea of subtleties: and yet this is not all; for hitherto I have only spoken of the play which is acted by one only. I leave it therefore to thy consideration (gentle Reader) what manner of play that is which is played by three: viz. when the Massingmate hath the Deacon and Subdeacon to assist him? For if there were no more but this, that when the Deacon (according to Titleman) playeth his part in singing some parcel of Scripture shred out of the Gospel, with his face towards the North, he should with his crossing chase away all the Northern devils; were not this a most monstrous mystery? But I will no longer insist upon these subtle speculations, for fear I should bring the Reader in love with the book, whereby he might be drawn to become a sworn brother to the guilded of the massmongers. Nevertheless, this one thing I will say for a final conclusion, let the Massemaligners, or Massemarrers call it as they list, either stageplay, or apish toy, or mommery, juggling or sorcery; they must needs confess, that Pythagoras with all his mystical numbers had never the wit to invent so pleasant and profitable a Morris-dance. And it is not without cause that I here allege Pythagoras: for besides that the Pythagorean Philosophy hath (as we know) some such lineaments of curious subtlety, we are not ignorant, that the book entitled The conformity of Saint Francis with Christ, nameth Pythagoras' first, before all the other Philosophers, whose example Christ hath worthily followed, in having Disciples, as fol. 43. of the foresaid impression. Dubium est isaad an Dominus noster jesus Christus decenter fecit, Apostolos eligendo, & discipulos habere speciales volendo, quia videretur melius fore, habere multos, quam paucos, & omnes, quam aliquos speciales. Respondetur, quòd Dominus decentissimè fecit, primò volendo habere discipulos. Ratio pri●●●, quia quum esset virt●osissimus, aliquos ipsius ad instar aliorum imitatores habere debeat: Pythagoras, Plato, Socrates, Aristoteles, & sic de aliis, johannes Baptista habuerunt discipulos, quare ipse à fortiori.  
5 Howbeit I find the allegories in the book entitled Quadragesimale spirituale, to be more miraculously subtle (if I may so speak) and to proceed from a far more pleasant and conceited head: which spiritual quadr●gesimall, otherwise called Lents allegory, was printed at Paris in the year 1565. after that it had been reviewed and corrected by two venerable Doctors of Paris: out of which book I will here extract certain periods, by which the Reader shall easily judge of the rest. The author therefore speaking in his first Chapter of the Salad which is eaten in Lent at the first service, saith, that by the salad which is made of divers herbs, and procureth a good appetite, we may understand in a mystical sense the word of God, which should give us both appetite and strength. And a little after, by the sweetness of the oil and sharpness of the vinegar equally mixed together, we are to understand the mercy and justice of God.  
Chap. 2. After the salad we eat fried beans, by which we understand confession. When we would have beans well sodden, we lay them in st●●pe, for otherwise they will never seeth kindly. Therefore if we purpose to amend our faults, it is not sufficient barely to confess them at all adventure (as some do) but we must let our confession lie in steep in the water of meditation, in distinguishing and rightly discerning all our offences in particular. And a little after: We do not use to seethe ten or twelve beans together, but as many as we mean to eat: no more must we steep, that is, meditate upon ten or twelve sins only, neither for ten or twelve days, but upon all the sins that ever we committed even from our birth, if it were possible to remember them.  
Chap. 3. Strained pease (Madams) are not to be forgotten. You know how to handle them so well, that they will be delicate and pleasant to the taste. By these strained pease our allegorizing flute pipeth nothing else but true contrition of heart, which is one part of penance. Note this further, that pease never seeth kindly in well water nor conduit water, but only in river water: which mystically signifieth that true repentance cannot seethe rightly, that is, cannot be made perfect with well water or conduit water, by which are meant tears of attrition: but he that would have them to seethe well, must of necessity take river water, that is, true contrition. For by well water which runneth not, is understood attrition: and by river water contrition. And so the doctors say, that there is great difference betwixt them: for attrition is uncertain, so that spiritual pease cannot seethe well in it: but contrition is certain, and maketh good decoction for the pease of penance. River water which continually moveth, runneth and floweth, is very good for the seething of pease. We must (I say) have contrition for our sins, and take the running water, that is, the tears of the heart, which must run and come even into the eyes.  
Chap. 4. The broth of pease is also greatly to be commended, for it furnisheth Lent dinners very well. By the juice of pease strained through a strainer, is understood a purpose and resolution to abstain from sin.  
Chap. 5. When the Lamprey is eaten, men fall to their other fish. I find that the Lamprey of all other fish is most nourishing, and therefore I compare restitution unto it. Some (perhaps) will say, they have not money enough to buy this Lamprey: indeed I must needs say that Lampreys are commonly dear, but yet this is true withal, that as they are dear, so they are very excellent meat. If you will eat of this noble Lamprey, which is the remission of your sins. viz. the love of God; you ought to buy it, were it never so dear. You must not think to buy it for a shilling or two, or half a crown, no no● yet for a crown: but you must restore all the money, goods, and what else you unjustly detain from your neighbours; you must empty your purses of it, therewith to make restitution. And further, you must empty your hearts of all rancour and malice, otherwise you shall never eat worthily of this Lamprey, together with his blood, wherewith that excellent sauce is made, which is the merit of the passion.  
Chap. 6. By Saffron which is put into all broths, sauces, and Lent meats, I understand the joys of heaven, which we must think upon, yea (as it were) smell, relish and ruminate of in all our actions; for without Saffron we shall never have good juice of pease, good strained pease, nor yet good sauce. Neither can we without thinking upon the joys of heaven, have good spiritual broths.  
Chap. 7. Oranges also are right good in Lent (as Physicians say:) By the orange I understand the love which we ought to have towards God, which is well noted by the colour of the Orange, & the kernels within it; being of a punic colour, that is, yellow drawing to a red, which in the holy Scripture signifieth charity of love which we owe to God, in loving him with all our hearts, without which all our actions should be unprofitable and vain. Si linguis hominum loquar & Angelorum, charitatem autem non habean, nihil sum. And by the kernels enclosed in the orange, I understand alms given in secret. And a little after; The kernels in the Orange do show and shadow out unto us the apple of love. Wherefore I say (and that truly) that God loveth this noble fruit exceeding well, the colour thereof pleaseth him: see therefore that you present him therewith; he loveth the taste thereof, wherefore let him feed upon it in this thy spiritual dinner.  
Cap. 8 You know (Madams) that a woman cannot have a pleasanter thing in her hand, than a goodly fair posy. This month of March yieldeth a jolly forwardness of trim posies: for in March groweth the sweet Violet of an heavenly colour, azure, and blue. Will you therefore carry this Lent and at all other times, a fair and pleasant posy in your hands, which shall always give a sweet smell▪ Then take the Violet in March, which is the virtue of humility; for I assure you, it is a virtue highly pleasing God, & profitable for the soul▪ The March Violet etc.  
Chap. 9 Prunes also are necessary to furnish out a dinner, and therefore they must be had. By these Prunes which are black and full of good juice, is understood abstinence from sin, mortification of the flesh, and bodily fasts.  
Chap. 10 After this they set Figs on the table for a second service, which are both good and wholesome, getting a man a good stomach and a sweet breath: By these figs may be understood the memory of the holy passion of Christ, which strengtheneth the stomach, and makes it able to digest tribulations, temptations, griefs, labours, melancholic passions, and yieldeth a sweet and pleasant smell.  
Chap. 11. Yet this is not all, for if we would feed more liberally, we must have Almonds also. Physicians say that the bitter Almond is wholesomer than the sweet, and therefore I will speak of them: I say then, that we must not forbear to eat these Almonds, albeit they be bitter. Some there are who take the sweet and leave the bitter: and yet they are not so wholesome. For that which is distasteful and unpleasant to the palate, may do the heart good. By these bitter Almonds I understand the remembrance of death, of the last judgement, and of the pains of hell, which must accompany our Lent dinner.  
Chap. 12. The honey which we eat in Lent is a precious thing, and chiefly for the dames. The Philosopher saith, that honey is like gold. By honey I understand nothing else but a heavenly life and conversation: for the life and conversation which we ought to lead, especially in this holy time of Lent, must proceed and distil from heaven as good and precious honey.  
Chap. 13. After our fine white manchet we may not forget simnels and wine: for they are the best part of the dinner. By bread and wine we understand the obtaining of the joys of heaven; and by the simnels faith, which we ought to have in one God. Creator of heaven and earth, distinguished into three persons. This appeareth plainly in the simnel which hath 3. horns or corners, all which are but one and the same thing by essence of nature. Further, there are simnels made of another fashion, viz. like the half Moon, having only two horns, signifying the two natures of Christ, his divinity and humanity. Now all this we must constantly believe upon pain of damnation: Besides, parents are to teach it their children, Preachers the people, and schoolmasters their scholars, especially in the holy time of Lent, according as simnels are then given children to eat. And a little after, There are two kinds of wine, white and red: the white signifieth the hope which is in Christ jesus; and the red, the love which he hath showed us in purchasing of the foresaid glory. The bread whereof we speak, was baked in the oven of this love which is his precious side, wholly inflamed with the love of mankind. Concerning the wine and the nature thereof (to omit his two colours) it is strong, and tasteth well. By the strength of it, we may understand the love which God hath borne us, in laying down his life for us: and by the taste, the hope which he hath given us to ascend to heaven, if we will be careful to perform good works and exercise ourselves therein. And a little after; This wine is of two colours, white and red: therefore it is said, Dilectus meus candidus & rubicundus, electus ex millibus. The white teacheth us the way to heaven, for it giveth good courage to a man, legs of wine and boldness of joy. The red sharpeneth the wit and understanding, and helps the memory, to remember that the precious blood of Christ gushed out of his side for our salvation. This wine is chief of choice among all liquors electus ex millibus.  
Chap. 14. Of the foresaid wine is made good and odoriferous Hippocras, clear and well spiced. King Solomon doth make of it and selleth it, as it is said in the Canticles, Dabo tibi vinum conditum. The merchant and factor for these Aromatic drugs, spices and confects, is my Lord Saint Paul, who like a painful merchant brought them out of a far country, viz. out of heaven. By these drugs, spices and precious confections, as Sugar, Cassia, Lignea, Grains of Paradise, Cinnamon and such like dainty delicates, we understand infinite diversity of glory in heaven, which S. Paul brought with him from thence, when he was rapt up into the third heaven; and that in such abundance, that it could not be contained in the shop of man's heart, as it is said, Vidit arcana quae non licet homini loqui. Nec in cor hominis ascendit quae praeparavit Deus diligentibus se. My Lord S. Paul saw the joys of heaven and the glory thereof in a vision, and that in such variety, state and magnificence, as the heart of man cannot by meditation conceive or understand. These celestial joys the Apostle sold to King Solomon, a true Apothecary, that is, to a man of peace, of an humble heart, and contemplative life.  
Chap. 16 If a man would have good broths and meats well and finely dressed, he must look to provide good cooks, for Gentlemen, Lords and great Merchants. The good cooks which should dress and season our meats in Lent, are the admonitions, inspirations, and persuasions of our good Angels, which we must believe rather in this holy time of penance than any other; for they inspire more good motions into our minds at this time then at any other: because the devil doth then more maliciously tempt us. We commonly feed upon more dishes in Lent then in any time of the year beside: and therefore we ought to eat, use, and learn more heavenly admonitions at that time, etc.  
Cha. 17. The servitors which should serve us at the table in Lent, are the examples of the holy Martyrs, which have suffered great affliction and misery in aspiring to glory: all which serve us in their course and place. Saint Laurence serveth in fish and herrings broiled on the gridiron. Saint john the Evangelist boiled sea fish. Saint Dennys and Saint Cosme, baked pasties out of the oven: for they were cast into furnaces. Sundry others there be which serue● in fried fish; & they are such as were boiled in great coppers and cauldrons, for the name of Christ.  
Chap. 18. In Lent all the vessel is scoured and made clean, pots, glasses, and cauldrons. The table is also covered with a fair white cloth, and clean napkins laid thereon; which duty belongs to young girls, women servants, and waiting maids: therefore in imitation of the Virgins of heaven, we ought to cleanse our vessels (as pots, glasses, and cauldrons) that is, our hearts. For doubtless we seeth carnal desires in our flesh. Wherefore chastity and cleanliness ought to bring in the white table cloth and cover the table.  
Chap. 19 When a man hath fed well of all these dishes, I suppose he hath had a competent refection: so that there remains nothing but to say grace. But in stead of giving thanks, they make the dice troll upon the tables: one desires to play at dice, or cards: another takes a lute and plays wanton & lascivious songs, tounds, and horn pipes. And so in stead of saying grace and giving thanks to God; they honour & derue the devil the inventor of all those games and sports. Do you know what the tables signify whereat you play? By the tables which you open after you are well refreshed with bodily food (not with spiritual) is understood hell, which shall be set wide open for you when you are satiate with your sins, and then shall the tablemen be turned, tumbled, and tossed one upon another: that is, the souls shallbe tormented with divers and sundry torments, specified by the sundry points of the tables, and the often removing of the tablemen from one point to another. Transibunt ab aquis nivium ad calorem nimium. For the pains of hell are diverse, etc.  
Chap. 20. And as for those which play upon the Lute, and sing ribaldry and bawdy songs, in stead of saying grace; doubtless they much forget themselves; seeing we are all bound to give God thanks for the benefits we receive at our repast from his liberal and bountiful hand. And here I will show those that love to play upon the Lute and other instruments, upon what Lute they ought to play. Mark then, as a Lute hath seven strings, so it is hollow: By the seven strings are meant the seven petitions of the Pater noster, with which we must give God thanks. For the Pater noster is the best form of prayer that ever was seen: for therein is contained whatsoever is necessary for us. Likewise the seven strings signify these seven virtues, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, justice, Faith, Hope, and Charity, (which we ought to have and to pray that God would give us:) or they signify the 7. virtues opposite to the seven deadly sins, viz. Humility, Charity, Abstinence, Diligence, Liberality, Chastity, and Patience. These are the seven strings which we ought to strike and play upon before God, rendering him thanks and praise, all the Lent long. The hollowness of the Lute signifieth that our hearts should be emptied of all things, save only of the resounding of godly thoughts, and heavenly praises. The Lute is hollow, having nothing in it but the sounding of the strings when they are stricken: so ought our hearts to be emptied of all earthly things, and to have no other resonance but of good thoughts and such heavenly meditations as are formerly mentioned. The melody of the strings of the Lute, etc.  
Chap. 21. As I was about to take my pen from the paper, purposing to shut my book, one of my nephews said unto me; o uncle, you have spoken of all save sweet meats and banqueting dishes which you have forgotten. Indeed (quoth I) thou sayst true my boy. Whereupon I took my pen again and writ as followeth. None can be ignorant that sweet meats are eaten at night, upon fasting days, in stead of a supper: we ought in the time of fasting to be spiritually exercised, and therefore I think it good when we are disposed to fast, to eat sweet meats at night, which I will here give you. By spiritual confects, I understand perseverance in a good course. He cannot be ●aid to fast all Lent, that breaketh off his fast for two or three days: but he must fast full forty days: that is, it is not enough for him to abstain from sin certain days only, but he must continue, and persevere in well doing. Qui perseveraverit usque ad finem, 〈◊〉 erit; qui verò non, condemnabitur. And because perseverance in obedience is so necessary, I may (in my poor opinion) not unfitly compare it to the round confect; for roundness signifieth perseverance, seeing that a round figure hath neither beginning nor end; as this letter O made in form of a confect.  
6 But leaving the rest of these Lenten subtleties to curious heads, which desire to understand more of this trim science (seeing I have showed them the place where they may find them,) I will come in the next place to the subtleties contained in the rules as well of the religious beggars, wallet carriers and rogue's, as of the rest of that rabble. Howbeit my purpose is not to discourse of the subtleties of every order particularly; it shall suffice to speak a word or two generally of them all, and after to entreat of some of them in special. Here then let us note, that when we see either white, black or grey Friar, be he besmeared or smoked, mitred or clean brushed; yet is there not so small a rag in all his array, under which there lieth not hidden some great mystery. But how is it possible (may some say) but that if they be contrary one to another in their attire, there should also be a contrariety in the mysteries themselves? For example, if girding with a cord note perfection, then doubtless a large broad thong with brave buckles, garnished with gallant tongues, must needs signify imperfection, as those which the Augustine's wear. And how should these subtleties agree in such contrariety of colours? Besides all this, wherein is it (almost) that one disagreeth not from another? For one goeth barefoot, another weareth half a pair of breeches, another a whole pair: one weareth laticed shoes, another clean covered: one hath shoes of the plain hide like Irish brogs, another hath wooden shoes properly called sabots or clogs: some ride, some go on foot. Some have their cowls pointed, others have them round: some long, others short. Some are but gentleman bald, others as bald as coats: some are shaven above the ear, some under; a third sort have but a tuft or two. Some have money, and some have none: some eat flesh, and some eat none. Howbeit they which brag of their skill in these speculative subtleties, devise all the means they can to make these contrarieties accord together: though I fear me it is but labour lost. True it is indeed, in some particulars they may easily be accorded: as in this, that the jacobins wear black in their upper garments, and white under; the Carmelites contrarily wear white above and black under: so that it may be said, that as the jacobins wear the virgin Maries livery (for she revealed it to S. Dominicke) so the Carmelites wear Elias and Elizeus liveries: So that as they with their attire please their founders; so these please their foundress. And if it be true, that by the subtle speculation (specially of the virgin Mary) the white hood signifies purity and virginity, doubtless they great exceeding well together: the jacobins being pure virgins inwardly, and the Carmelites outwardly. And verily if they could as well agree in other things as in this, we should have no cause to object against them the diversity which is in their sects: but there are such differences among them in some particulars, that the best answer (in my conceit) which can be made to stop the mouths of all gainsayers (touching the diversities or contrarieties in their orders) were to say, that as they hold not one way, so neither do they make account to go to one place, namely into the same heaven. And that there are indeed many Imperial heavens, according to the opinion and doctrine of the Friars, may appear by certain places in the book of Conformities: at leastwise we may boldly say, they held this opinion, 〈◊〉 ●hat there was one heaven for eaters of flesh, and another for eaters of fish.  
7 Notwithstanding leaving the censure hereof to others, I will only particularise the sect of the Minorite Friars (otherwise called Cordeliers or Franciscans) because it is holden to be the perfectest of all the rest, as being the only sect that is canonised and registered in the sixth book of the Decretals or Clementines. But considering that there are subtleties to be found as well in their habits as in their course of life, I will say nothing of their habits or attire, save only of the cord and breeches; because in them lieth the most profound speculation. First then, this cord is expounded by some to signify perseverance, in that we use to bind them with cords whom we fear will run away: and according to other speculative brains, it signifieth diligence, because that when a man is girded, his gown troubleth him not so much in running as when it is loose. Lo here the allegorical signification of the whole cord. Let us in the next place consider what every knot signifieth apart by itself. The lowest knot (which often traileth on the ground) mystically signifies canonical obedience: the knot in the midst (which by reason of often handling is commonly more greasy than the rest) by a mystical Antiphrasis, purity and chastity: and the knot above (wherewith they gird themselves hard) their straight and extreme poverty. And as for their breeches, albeit they be diversly allegorized, yet the common received opinion is, that they signify the sweet odour of the sacrifice of obedience, because they are usually perfumed with a most horrible smell.  
8 Touching their demeanour and actions in their order, I will make choice only of a few, without adding the expositions of their subtle significations, as having not found them in any Doctor. By their demeanour and carriage in their order, I understand the ceremonial customs of their order or rule. But because the foresaid breeches are (as it were) the fairest flower in their garland (either because they help to get women with child, or for some other reason) I will first begin with them. We are therefore to know, that it is expressly forbidden the Franciscans, upon penalty of a heavy curse, that they neither come nor go, eat nor sleeepe, preach nor say Mass without their breeches, as being mystically incorporate together with the habit; only when they gall them between the legs (as sometimes it falls out in travail) they are permitted to put them for a time into their sleeves. Moreover, in the year of probation, before they take upon them the profession of Monkery, they learn to hold one finger in the bottom of the glass when they drink, or to hold it with both their hands, to look down to the ground, to counterfeit wrynecks, to hide their hands close within their sleeves, to make an hypocritical inclinabo or ducking in the Church & elsewhere, bowing down the head and heaving up the tail, with an even proportion; as also to kiss the ground, to kneel down before the patres, when they chance to meet them: to kiss their hand, cord, or feet, if they make not offer to kiss them. I omit to speak of Cabbiges, which they cause their poor novices to set with the root upward: as also dead sticks, which they cause them to water; and great bones which they make them carry in their mouths; besides a number of other tricks described by the said john Menard (in a book entitled The rule and order of the Franciscans:) a man that could speak and write of this argument as well as another, considering he was one of this order. Albeit in the end (through the great grace and mercy of God) he left his cowl, after that he had founded the profundity of the foresaid subtleties, besides a number of others which he recordeth.  
9 To conclude, if haply (gentle Reader) thou be not yet fully satisfied with these subtle speculations, or that thou hadst rather hear them in rhyme then in prose: I have found some such to content thee, where mention is made of the signification of Bishop's miters, whereof I have spoken somewhat before. 
L'aube & le surplis blane denote  
Vie sans macule & sans note.  
La mitre de deux parts cornue,  
Science certain absolve  
Du vieil & noweau Testament.  
Les gans, des sacrez sacraments  
Sincere administration.  
La cross, sane attraction  
De brebis à uraye pasture.  
La croix, les livres, l'Escriture,  
Des humaines affections,  
Auecques les afflictions,  
Les avenemens signifient.  
Voi●a où caphars se confient  
Par belles contemplations.  That is, 
The Albe and surplise white, do note  
A life withouten stain or spot.  
The horned Mitre represents  
Full knowledge in both Testaments.  
The gloves that been all new and white,  
Handling the Sacraments aright.  
The Crosiers staff most plainly shows,  
Reducing of their strayed ewes.  
The cross, books, scripture, do portend  
Of men's desires the doubtful end.  
Behold what trust and deep devices  
These Prelates have in their disguises.    

CHAP. XXXVIII. How Churchmen gathered great store of riches by their five fetches, especially in the days of our forefathers: and of their shameless and intolerable covetousness.  
IF we consider a little more narrowly the cunning sleights wherewith the Popish Clergy abused our ancestors, and abuse many even at this day: we shall find that all of them, from the least to the greatest, have served them to this end, to bring the moulter to their mill. And that that which seemeth to us (and not without cause) to be foolish and absurd, (to say no more) seems to them very excellent, and grounded upon good reason, when they consider the profit that accrues to them thereby: so that whatsoever could possibly be alleged or said to the contrary, was but so many waste words spoken in the wind, because it was spoken against their bellies which had no ears: which is truly verified of others also, according to the old proverb. And we may well think that they kept this ancient saying always in memory: Lucri bonus odor, ex re qualibet: gain is good, whence soever gotten. Neither may we doubt but that those proud Prelates (who would needs be termed pillars of the Church) when they were finely flouted and nicknamed pillars and pollers of the Church, devourers of Crucifixes, Canuasers of Requiem, Abbey-lubbers, loitering and lazy lozel's, hypocrites and ravenous wolves, would say with the covetous Athenian in Horace, 
— Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo  
Ipse domi, simul ac nummos contemplor in arca.  For they were mocked and derided of old, as shall be declared in the chapter next ensuing; and verily they were then grown more impudent than old filthy bawds. And here comes to my remembrance, what a Monk at Blois told certain good fellows, who derided him and his order; The seculars (quoth he) shall never mock the churchmen so long as the Churchmen have mocked them. Which he spoke in regard of those fine tricks of conveyance, wherewith they had deluded the silly world so long, leading men by the nose, like Bears, or Buffs. True it is indeed that in so saying, he spoke not so outrageous wickedly as Pope Leo the tenth, who answering Cardinal Bembus (alleging a certain place out of the Gospel) said, o what riches we have gotten by this fable of Christ! Doubtless, as for riches this wicked miscreant lied not: howbeit he should have spoken most truly if he had said, o what riches have we gotten by abusing the name of Christ? And verily, it is almost incredible, how great the wealth and riches of the Clergy was: considering that which Baptista Fulgosius (though a favourer of the Roman religion) recordeth of one Peter Riarus, who being a Friar of the order of the Minorites, was created Cardinal by Pope Sixtus the fourth. For he saith that he was not contented to have his gowns of cloth of gold, and the coverings of his bed of cloth of gold likewise; but not so much as his featherbed ticks but were of cloth of gold; and his other furniture, all of clean silk. Besides, he affirmeth that at Rome he made a feast to Eleanor of Arragon, as she was on her journey going to marry the Duke of Ferrara called Hecules d' Est, wherein were so many sundry sorts of meats and dainty dishes, that it lasted for the space of seven hours. And lest his guests should have been wearied, he caused sundry plays to be acted whilst they were at table. And amongst other magnificences which he used, this was not the least, that every servitor at every new course took a new suit. Yet all this is nothing to that which afterward he reporteth of the said Cardinals where (or concubine) called Tiresia, viz. that he kept her publicly, in such sumptuous manner, that she wore shoes set full of pearls and precious stones. He that doubteth of the truth of this report, may read Fulgosius lib. 9 cap. 1. where entreating de hominum L●xu atque delicijs, he speaketh of it, as of a thing which at that time was notoriously known to all the word. But to return to Pope Leo, who marveled at the riches which this fable (as he said) had brought them; how (I beseech you) did he enrich himself and fill his coffers by one only Croisado, when a Franciscan of Milan (called Samson) by the money which he had scraped together by that means, could offer an hundred and twenty thousand ducats for the Popedom? And if he offered thus much, how much (may we think) had he gained beside? For it is not to be thought but that he would keep a mess for Allison in store, and reserve some pretty round sum against a hard winter. Now if the vassals were so rich, what may we judge of their Lords and Masters? How ever it be, they have verified (we see) the foresaid Proverb (jumping in opinion with the most villainous usurers) that the savour of gain is good, whence soever it ariseth: which was then more truly verified then ever before, when they would needs increase their revenues by the hire of harlots. And now (gentle Reader) consider a little, whether that be not true which Ovid saith (as we must needs confess) Turpe, tori reditu census augere paternos. That is, Base gain, to raise one's state, by loan of l●st. Consider (I say) what a shame it is, that the Romish Saint Peter's and Saint Paul's should have part of their revenues from them which get their living by such miserable sweat of their bodies; and that so profane a thing (which is a shame once to name) should be consecrated unto them as a holy thing. True it is indeed, in the time of Pope Paulus the third, the number of the foresaid lusty lasses was well abated; for there were in his register but five and forty thousand, as historians who have written of the lives of Popes do constantly affirm. And certain it is, that the name Courtesan (being the most honest Synonime that can be given a whore) had his original from the court of Rome; namely, from those religious Dames which conversed somewhat more than familiarly at bed and board with the Romish Prelates. Now this discourse of Popish riches puts me in mind of a sermon made by a Monk of Gascoine, wherein he affirmed that Antichrist at his coming would use large liberality, sparing no cost to win the hearts of men unto him: in a word, that he would sow silver & gold in the very streets. Which words made a Gascoin● teeth (who was one of his auditors) so to water, that he cried out aloud: E diu, quam biera ed aquet bon segno d' Antichrist, that is, O Lord, when will that good gentleman Anchrist come? If this poor Gascoine (whose case was to be pitied) had been informed who this Antichrist was, he would never have asked the question when Antichrist should come; but would have craved commendatory letters to carry to him. Howbeit, it behoved him to learn some craft (if he were not experienced therein before) of those, by whom men are wont to come in favour with his Holiness.  
2 But I leave these great Churchmen, so addicted to the world, and return to their upholders and abettors, using in this behalf the authority of the good preacher Barelete, who mentioneth the proverb which was current in his days, & had been long before, to wit, That three things are insatiable, Priests, Monks, and the Sea. And from whence arose this Proverb may we think? Certain it is that common experience brought it in use. For when the world saw, that Churchmen made gain of the very parings of their nails, they used that in common speech, which they saw daily practised before their eyes. For they did not only take of the living and of the dead (as it is in the French Proverb) but having peeled the parents both living and dead, they polled their children to the third and fourth, yea even to the last generation. But what great means had they to effect this? Surely, the fine fetches which they used, were the readiest way in the world for this purpose. The number of which we know is infinite: and therefore no marvel if their wealth and riches were infinite. Amongst others, this was most strange, that they should use the dead as a means to pill and pol both the living and the dead; of which only my purpose is to entreat at this present. Now this means hath two parts (as there are two sorts of dead men) the first is, by the dead which are canonised; the second by those which are not: And with these latter I will begin this present discourse. I say then, that whereas heretofore they made their kitchens hot, by using (or rather abusing) the bodies and souls of the canonised Saints: now of late time they have holpen their market only by the goods, and souls of such as they brought out of Purgatory, to menace and affright those that would not come off roundly in paying their pence. For the best sleight (we know) which single sole Priests and Monks had in their budgets, was taken in former time, and is at this day from their Requiem: Witness, that form and phrase of speech which is common amongst them, Allons boire sur le premier cuir qui viendra, Let us make good cheer at the cost of the first soul that goes to Purgatory. Witness also the Curate which complained to his parishioners in this sort. Alas, what would you have me to do, o my parishioners? you bring me no offerings, and I see none of you die: how shall I live then, think ye? But if after they had lustily chanted their requiem, they had not something given them (according to their desire) that they might sing Gaudeamus, they were hornemad, as if the devil had been among them; and then the souls of those poor Purgatorians for whose sake they had sung such a short and silly requiem, returned back to be revenged of their children, kinsmen, and friends, which gave not the priest's occasion to sing so lustily for them, that they might not be so cruel●y tormented in Purgatory: (as we see in ancient Poets, both Greek and Latin, now the souls of the dead return back to curse and revile those which have not done their best endeavour (as they should) in performing such rites, as to their funerals appertained.) Whereof we have a very memorable example in the ghost or spirit which the Franciscans of Eureux counterfeited: and another after that in the spirit of Orleans, that is, in a Franciscan novice, named Halecourt, who being hid under the vault of the Church, counterfeited the ghost of the Provost Marshal's wife. And why so? Because (forsooth) he gave but six crowns to the Franciscans of the place for interring of her: as also for that having asked of him a little wood, he would give them none. And here we are to remember the Franciscan of Bordeaux (whom I mentioned before) concerning the souls of Purgatory, which laughed as often as any offerings were made for the dead. But because the readers may haply be cloyed with such a rabblement of reports and tales of spirits walking by night, and of the rattling noises which they make (especially about those that are in bed) and of other fooleries which ensue thereupon: I will speak no more thereof, but proceed to prosecute another point.  
3 And that is touching canonised Saints, by whom the Clergy reaps a double commodity, partly by their bodies, and partly by their souls: by their bodies, in making relics of them; by their souls, in using them for divers offices and functions, out of which they suck no small advantage. And first concerning relics, they were not content to make men worship the carcases of such as were thought to have led a more holy and religious life than their fellows (as having some divine virtue in them,) but further caused them to adore the relics of the very damned themselves: witness an ancient Doctor, who saith, Multorum corpora adorantur in terris, quorum animae cruciantur in inferis: that is, The bodies of many men are worshipped on earth, whose souls are tormented in hell. Which is manifest by the Legend of S. Martin, where we read that a damned soul was worshipped with high devotion, as being thought to have been a Saint in heaven. I omit two other cozening knaveries, which were ordinary in this case; The one, in making some poor Saint (who (God knows) meant simply and thought no hurt) believe that when he was living he had half a dozen heads, two or three dozen of ears, as many hands, and as many arms and legs: which imposture was sufficiently discovered above fifteen years ago, in a book containing the Inventory of sundry relics of divers countries. The other, when the body, or at leastwise some member or bone of him that was called a Saint, could be kept no longer, in stead of it they put the first fair one that came to their hands, though of a malefactor that had been hanged: yea sometime the bone of an Ass, dog, or such like. As at Geneva, the relic which was worshipped a long time for Saint Anthony's arm, was found in the end to be the bone of a Stag. And though they had not used these sleights, yet to attribute the nature and property of the Godhead to carrions, was a point of notorious wickedness in the highest degree. For though it were true, that they had been indeed the bodies or the bones of certain men or women, which had lived in greater devotion towards God than the vulgar sort; yet they were but dead carcases for all that. Nevertheless considering we have already seen how vilely they abused the word of God, applying it to wicked and abominable writings: no marvel if they abused the Godhead also, attributing it to whatsoever themselves thought good. For not content to cause men to worship the bodies of the Saints departed, or some part and member thereof, they made their garments also, their movables, their tools, & ● partakers of the same worship. As it is reported that at Triers in the Abbey of S. 〈◊〉, ●. joseph▪ pantofles have been in request a long time. And at Ai● in 〈◊〉, they were accustomed to show his breeches, together with the virgin● Maries smock, by the same token that the smock was big enough 〈◊〉 giant; whereas the breeches were scarce big enough for a boy or a dwarf. It 〈…〉 said, that the pots and spoons which belonged to certain Saints, have been elsewhere reckoned in the number of holy relics. Nay, there is not so much as the tail of the Ass upon which our Saviour road, but it is at Genova accounted for a relic. And seeing I have made mention of the Ass, we are further to note that the holy hay (that is, the hay which was found in the cratch where our Saviour was laid as soon as he was borne) hath been very famous in some countries of Lorraine (as I remember.) But what shall we say to a more strange dotage of those wise woodcocks which caused men to worship stones, as being the very same wherewith Saint Stephen was stoned to death? As at the black Friars in Arles, at Vigand in Languedoc, and at Florence: As also of those wise masters which caused men to worship the arrows wherewith they affirmed Saint Sebastian was wounded to death: one of which was kept at the Augustine Friars in poitiers, another at Lambesk in Province, and others elsewhere. And surely if these stones wherewith Saint Steven was stoned, aught to be worshipped: how much more than they that stoned him? And if the arrows were worthy of this honour: how much more worthy were they which shot them?  
4 But lest the Reader should wonder too much at this foolery, or rather brutishness, I will here relate a certain story, by which we may perceive that the poor people (silly souls) in the matter of relics had neither sense nor reason: so that their estate and condition was worse than that of poor blind men who dare trust those that lead them. The story is this, (for we will do them this favour to call it so). When Nicodemus took our Saviour down from the cross, he gathered some of his blood, and put it in one of the fingers of his glove (note here that Nicodemus wore gloves as well as we) with the which blood he wrought many wonders: for which cause being persecuted by the jews, he was glad to rid his hands of it by a strange device, which was this. He took a piece of parchment, in which he writ all the miracles, and all that appertained to this secret, and closed up the blood together with the parchment in a great birds bill (the historian hath forgotten her name) which when he had bound up and settled as well as he could, he cast it into the sea, commending it to the providence of God, whose pleasure was (as the story saith) that a thousand or twelve hundred years after (or thereabout) this holy Bill having traversed all the seas from East to West, should arrive in Normandy in the very same place where the Abbey of beck is now situate; where being cast up by the violence of the sea into certain shrubs, it so fortuned that a good Duke of Normandy (one of the famous founders of religious houses in those days) hunting a Stag near to the place; when the huntsmen were at a loss, not knowing what was become either of the stag or of the dogs; at last they found him in a bush, kneeling upon his knees, and the dogs by him, all very quiet, and upon their knees also: (some write that they were saying their Pater noster.) Which spectacle did so stir up the devotion of this good Duke, that he caused the wood (where this precious Beak and the jewel therein contained was found) to be disparked incontinently, and there founded an Abbey, which for this cause is called the Abbey of beck (where they have this goodly miracle yet to be seen) being so rich, that it may truly be said that this Beak fed many bellies. Now if this one relic or some remnant and remainder thereof did keep and maintain so many idle bellies (yea fed these lubbers so fat, that they were nothing but belly) and not so only, but so enriched them: let the Reader judge what abundance of riches the rabble of other relics hath brought unto them, being so many, that hitherto they could never be comprehended in any Inventory. And we may well conjecture how great they were, by the shrines in which they were wont to be kept. For the ditches in which these carcases were laid, were of earth: to speak more plainly; of these pence which came by kissing and adoring of them (or adoration, to speak more properly) they bought for them fine silver houses, gilded over with gold. And though all relics neither have been nor are at this day enchased in silver or gold, yet I persuade myself that there have been few of them (at least of those which have had the better hap) which have not brought to these hucksters, the value of a shrine or very near. Now because all relics have not been equally gainful and commodious unto them, in that some had not the luck to light in a country so addicted to miracles; let us value the best sort of them but at an hundred thousand crowns (though some perhaps have been worth many millions) the meaner sort but at threescore thousand, the worst sort but at twelve thousand: and then gathering the entire sum of them all (and yet of none but of those that are in fresh memory) we may calculate how many thousand crowns these relics have gained them.  
5 Which account nevertheless, doth not in any sort comprehend particular relics, which these peddlers or their mates carried with them up and down the country: (for these were often disclaimed even by cleargymen themselves, residing in those parts through which the foresaid peddlers passed.) Which open disclaiming of them proceeded partly from envy, partly from fear; lest the simple people should have perceived their juggling in such open and palpable knavery, and so should have begun to have suspected all the rest. And it is to be noted, that the foresaid knavish companions did so openly mock and impudently abuse these simple souls, in causing them to worship relics; that if they had been let alone, their trade in the end would not have been worth a blue button, either to themselves or unto others. For they were not content, in opening their packs, to say (that I may omit common matters) Behold here in this vial is Christ's blood, gathered from under the cross by the virgin Marie. Item, see here in this other vial the tears of Christ. Item, behold here the swaddling bands, wherewith the virgin Mary swaddled him in Egypt. Item, see here the milk of the virgin Marie. Item, behold here the hairs of the virgin Marie. They were not (I say) herewith content, but grew to that height of impudence, that they made no bones to say, In this box (but it must in no case be opened) is contained the breath of Christ, carefully kept by his mother from his very infancy. Among the rest of this rout, we read of a priest of Genova, who coming out of the East, boasted that he had brought with him the foresaid breath from Bethlehem, as also the horns which Moses had on his forehead when he descended from mount Sinai. And albeit he had been told that he did too shamefully abuse the people in labouring to persuade them, that he had the breath of Christ indeed, and the horns of Moses: yet would he give them no other answer but this, that if they would not believe that he had the breath of Christ, and the horns of Moses, neither would he believe, that the milk which is openly showed at solemn meetings at Genova, for the milk of the virgin Mary, was her milk indeed. And this (I hope) may serve to discover unto us their particular imposture in the matter of relics: which we may well think had no less virtue to make their kitchen hot, then that which was commonly practised.  
6 Thus having seen what gain Churchmen got by the bodies of Saints departed (for we will for this once, comprise all relics under the relics of men and women Saints;) it remaineth that we show how they enriched themselves by their souls, showing themselves as good husbands in this as in the former. And as in the former, so in this I will do my best endeavour to the uttermost: notwithstanding I am to desire the Readers to pardon me, if in reckoning up the names of men and women Saints, I make not up the roll of the Kirielle. For we are not only to name them, but also to show what office or occupation hath been assigned to every of them, that so we may the better see what means they used to make the wind to blow so fortunately upon the Churchmen. And first, I hope they 〈◊〉 not so straight laced, but that they will grant that there is great similitude and conformity in sundry things between the heathen Gods, and their blessed he Saints, between their Goddesses, and their she Saints: conformity I say, not in respect of those that are true Saints indeed (lest any man should calumniate my speech) but only of their worshippers. For if the adoration of the heathen gods and goddesses, as also of men and women Saints by them of the Church of Rome, be well considered, we shall find them to suit in all points, save only in the manner of sacrifice. As may appear by these particulars. The heathen went to Apollo and Aesculapius, as to the gods which made profession of Physic and Chirurgery: and do not they (I beseech you) go to S. Cosmas & S. Damian? When S. Eloy (who is the Saint for smiths) doth hammer his irons, is he not in stead of god Vulcan? And do they not give the same titles to S. George, which in old time were given to Mars? And do they not honour S. Nicholas after the same manner that Pagans honoured god Neptune? And when S. Peter is made a porter, doth he not represent god janus? Nay, they would feign make the Angel Gabriel believe, that he is god Mercury. And is not Pallas the goddess of arts & sciences represented unto us by S. Katherine? And have they not S. Hubert the god of hunters, in stead of Diana? (which office some give to S. Eustace.) And when they apparel john Baptist in a Lion's skin, is it not to represent Hercules unto us? And is not Saint Katherine commonly painted with a wheel, as they were wont to paint Fortune? But there is yet a further matter to be considered, viz. that if we observe the fables which are written of the gods, we shall find that certain of their cousingermaines are recorded in the Legends of the Saints: except we will say, that it is but a fable being written of the Gods, and a true story being written of the Saints. For example, that the story of the Dragon which was slain by S. George is not fabulous, as that of Medusa who was slain by Perseus. But this they cannot deny, that Boniface the fourth, of the Pantheon at Rome, that is, the Temple of all the gods, made Panhagion or All Saints, that is to say, a church for all the Saints: and he further ordained, that the virgin Mary the mother of Christ, should have the place and office of Cybele the mother of all the gods. To proceed yet further, albeit I have exempted sacrifices from the resemblance that is between the adoration of Saints, and that of the heathen gods: yet a man might find some like sacrifices, if he would take but a little pains to compare them together. Howsoever it be, I remember one very fit for this purpose, of a cock which is offered (at least was wont to be offered) to S. Christopher in Touraine, for a certain 
* The white-flaw.  sore, which useth to be in the end of men's fingers. Wherein they observe another ceremony (to increase the superstition of the people) viz. that he must of necessity be a white cock: for otherwise in stead of making S. Christopher propitious and favourable unto them by this means, they should offend him. And as for the sacrifice of the Mass, sundry writers have plainly proved that it had his beginning from the heathen: as the greatest part of ceremonies patched to those that were in use in the Primitive Church, have been borrowed from them: yet so borrowed, as they would never return them again. And it cannot be denied but that the heathen Poets were the first inventors, and the great maintainers of Purgatory.  
7 But to leave this correspondence, which is betwixt the Saints and the Pagan gods (in such sort as hath been said,) we will now prosecute the functions and offices aswell of he as of she Saints, to the end it may appear, that the heathen have dealt more considerately herein then the Pope's creatures. For though they had a multitude of gods, as great, mean, and little gods (as there are of Saints) yet they made conscience so to divide offices and functions amongst them, that their sovereign god jupiter should have nothing to do, except he would go shoe the gosling; as though he had been a Nicholas Nemo, and had stood only for a cipher. Whereas the Pope's creatures without any respect of this at all, have so employed & busied their Saints with the managing of all their affairs (both great and small) that they have passed God over, leaving him nothing to do, but only to rain, snow, hail and thunder. And now at last they will needs have Saint Genneviefue (her especially at Paris) to bestir her stumps in hastening him to cause rain, when there is a great drought▪ as also to leave raining when it poureth down too fast, and continueth over long. And as for the thunder and the thunderbolts, Saint barb (whom they have made their Saint for harquebuziers) hath by the same means obtained this office to beat back the blows of the thunderbolt. True it is, all do not agree who that God should be which thundereth▪ and hurleth his bolts abroad, causing storm and tempest: for some have thought that all proceeded from the devil: and thereupon have used conjurations against tempests (opposing themselves to the devil herein) as though he were the cause of them indeed. According to which persuasion, a certain Priest of Savoy having brought the consecrated host to lay a tempest, and perceiving that he prevailed nothing, threatened to cast it into the dirt, if it were not stronger than the devil: taking it for a confessed truth that the devil was the cause thereof. Howbeit the common saying whereby we express a hideous noise, viz. There was such a noise that a man could not hear God thundering from heaven, doth confute this opinion. There is yet another particular wherein the heathen seem to deal more honestly than the Pope's creatures, viz. in that they have not so lightly esteemed any of their gods as they have done many of their Saints, in making one to keep geese, another sheep, another oxen, and another swine. Which Saints a French gentlewoman remembering in her sickness, could not but tell her Confessor, that she feared lest when she came to heaven some filthy beast should be committed to her charge and custody, wherein she took no pleasure: but should be right glad, if she might have some pretty puppies in keeping, to whom she had been already accustomed. But we must not be so nice as this gentlewoman was, who (so far as a man may conjecture) presumed too much of her merits: otherwise she would have thought herself well, to have been in heaven upon the same condition the foresaid Saints were, whose names I will set down in their proper place. For my purpose is to observe some method in numbering them up, at leastwise so far as possibly I can, in a matter so confused and out of order. And verily I cannot devise a better order, then to divide them by companies according as I have observed in my book entitled The conformity of the French tongue with the Greek, (where I have touched this point in a word or two). This then is my conceit of the matter. To some Saints they have assigned certain offices according to the signification of their names; for example, touching Saints which are Physicians, it was thought meet that such or such a Saint should cure this or that disease, which sounded likest, or came nearest unto his name. And hereupon they have made Saint Maturin Physician for fools, having relation to the Italian word Matto, coming from the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of which some Frenchmen have coined the word Mat. In like sort when it is said that Saint Acaire cureth the acariastres, that is, frantic or furious bedlams; I make no question but that they respected the original and derivation of his name. The like may be said of Saint Auertin who cureth the avertineux, that is, fantastical lunatic persons, cousingermen to the frantic: at least, it is holden that Saint Auertin cureth all the diseases of the head, the greatest of which is the Lunacy, as we know. So when Saint Eutrope is made Physician of such as are troubled with the dropsy, they have (I take it) confounded Eutrope with Hydrope. And I persuade myself, that for the same reason Saint Mammard is made a Physician des mammelles, that is, of the paps. Saint Phiacre of the Phy or emeroids, of those especially which grow in the fundament. And as for Saint Main who healeth the scab des mains, that is, of the hands, the words do not only sound alike, but are the very same. And whereas S. Genou is said to cure the gout, it is because this disease is for the most part au genou, that is, in the knee. And as for S. Agnan (or Aignan) it is very probable that they which pronounced it S. Tignan, made this poor Saint physician of that filthy disease called Latigne, the scurf. And there was the same reason (in my judgement) in assigning trades and occupations to some of the Saints: for example, when they made S. Crepin a shoemaker and patron of shoemakers and sowter's, they had (no doubt) respect to the Latin word crepida (borrowed from the Greek) which signifieth a pantoufle: so that S. Crepin is as much in good French as S. Pantouflier, that is to say, S. Pantoufle-maker. As for S. Medard, whose occupation (if it may be called an occupation) is to smirk and smile; it will not out of my conceit, but that it cometh of the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to laugh. As for their other Saints, they had respect (I take it) to the miseries which they suffered whilst they lived in the world: of which we have an example in S. Susanna, professing herself to take pity upon those which suffer the same or the like opprobry that she did, when she was here upon earth. And I dare be bold to say, that job upon the same ground was made a Physician: but yet (by their leaves) they were too blame to make him a Physician of the French pox (as if the botch which he had, had been the pox) which disease (we know) was not known in the world till a few years before our time. As for sundry other men and women Saints, I suppose they were directed by their Legends, when the question was of assigning them any function or trade of life. However it be, I will here set down a beaderole of others which I have not named as yet in this last catalogue, not forgetting their functions or vocations. And first, as Crepin is a shoemaker, so S. Roch (who also cureth certain diseases) is a souter or cobbler: S. Wendelin is a shepherd: S. Pelaud (or according to others, S. Pelage) a neatheard. Saint Anthony a swineherd. S. Gertrude a rat-catcher. S. Honore a baker. S. Eloy a smith. S. Hubert a huntsman or forester. S. Luke a painter. S. Nicholas a mariner. S. George a Knight at arms. S. You a lawyer. S. Anne helpeth men to find what they have lost. S. Leonard setteth prison doors open for prisoners, and causeth their fetters to fall from them. Besides, there are certain Saints which bear office in the Court of heaven: for one is Porter, another Yeoman of the Guard, another Groom of the chamber, another Steward, another Secretary, another Chancellor, etc. But I will leave the further prosecuting of this discourse to such as have more leisure than myself. Touching Saints which are Physicians, it must be remembered that they do not profess the cure of all diseases, as our Physicians do; but content themselves with the cure of one only. S. Eutrope (as hath been said) cureth the dropsy. S. john and S. Valentine the falling sickness (called also the Epilepsy or S. john's evil.) S. Roch and S. Sebastian the plague (though according to some Doctors S. Roch cureth only the scab and scurf.) S. Petronelle (S. Peter's daughter) cureth all sorts of fevers. S. Apollonia the tooth ach. S. Maturine the frenzy. S. Roman casteth devils out of men possessed. S. Cosmas and S. Damia are not Physicians but chirurgeons, as appeareth by that famous and excellent cure of theirs recorded in their Legend, of which I have already spoken, viz. how they undertaking to cure one of their friends thighs, to the end they might make quick dispatch, cut it off, and in stead thereof put the thigh of a poor black Moor, who (as we may imagine) died a little before (as it were) for the nonce, and very fitly for the purpose.  
8 As for other other men and women saints, he and she physicians, they must pardon me (if they please) though I do not here register their names: not because I scorn them, or do it to spare paper, but for fear lest I should purchase the displeasure of the College of Physicians: for if any of the Pope's creatures being sick, should leave them and go to the foresaid Saints, a thousand to one but they would accuse me to have marred their market. Another reason which moveth me to desist from making this catalogue, is for that those which have written of the several gifts, qualities and functions of the Saints, do not agree among themselves. For some affirm S. Ferioll to be the fittest in the world to keep geese: others, that this office belongs to S. Andoch: others will needs bear us in hand that neither of them have any skill therein, but that it wholly appertains to S. Gallicet, called by some sanctus Gallus, albeit others say that it is not the same. In like manner, albeit I said before, that it is Saint Wendalus occupation to keep sheep, yet I am not ignorant that many hold it to belong to S. Wolf. But I can allege for myself, unde versus, Wendlinus custodit oves, oviumque magistros: (where it is to be noted, that the Poet hath curtailed this poor Saints name, because it was too long for his verse.) And this is one of the authorities which I build upon, in assigning this occupation to this Saint. But if it be lawful for me to use conjectures in so weighty a matter, I doubt lest some reject S. Wendelin, for that his name savoureth too much of the high Dutch: others contrarily like him better than S. Wolf, because it seems to them a matter presaging some ill fortune to commit sheep to the keeping of one called Wolf, were he never so good a Saint. And in very deed, if S. Wolf would take my counsel, I would advise him to change his name. Moreover, there is some controversy amongst them, who it should be that keepeth lambs, (for when we speak of the office of the Saints, these are two several and distinct things, to keep sheep and to keep lambs) for some say it is S. john, others assign another guardian for them. The truth is, it is scarce probable that S. john should keep lambs, seeing that the Lion's skin which he weareth would make them afraid. Again, S. Hubert (as some affirm) keeps dogs: others say no; affirming that he is only a hunter or forester, and no dog-keeper. Besides, many assign the office which we gave to S. Roch, to S. Main, in healing the itch and scab. Howbeit his Proctors affirm that this office was not given to S. Main, but only by lusty rogues which kept high ways, suborned by him to counterfeit this evil. And as for healing of the gout (which we have assigned to S. Genou) many attribute it to S. Maure. And some affirm it to be S. Claire that healeth red eyes; others that it is S. Clayre the woman Saint: a third sort, that neither of them are employed herein, but that S. Otilie (commonly called Otlie) cureth all the diseases of the eyes. Whereas notwithstanding the good woman went to S. Claire for this end, and besought a Priest to say a Mass for her, wherein he should call upon S. Claire for the cure of her eyes, S. Auertin of her head, S. Anthony of her swine. Which putteth me in mind of a woman of Paris formerly mentioned (who is yet living, if she be not lately dead) who requested a certain sir john to put for her into his Mass a half penny worth or five farthing worth of the holy Ghost. But whether the testimony of this good woman be of any weight or not, I report myself to those who are better seen in the Legends of the glorious Saints: wherein I can say nothing but this, that they which have bestowed this upon S. Clair (or S. Clayre) to cure sore eyes, had an eye to the Etymology of their name (as they had to sundry others, as we have already showed:) for a man can no way better cure the eyes then by making them see clearly. Moreover, S. Quintin is one of those Saints which cannot peaceably enjoy his place and office: for there be other saints which challenge the curing of the cough, as proper unto them. There are others also who think it much amiss that S. Apollonie (commonly called S. Apolline) should cure the toothache: affirming Saint Christopher to be the true and natural Physician thereof. And surely for my part I subscribe thereunto, and withal affirm, that it is much better beseeming S. Christopher, considering his tooth (which is to be seen at Beawois in Beawoisin, in a little Abbey which beareth his name) which is of that size, that Godfrey with the great tooth could never come near it: for it is of that bigness, that the mouth which should lodge but a brown dozen of them, must needs be greater than the mouth of the greatest oven 
* Entre Paris & Lyon.  betwixt York and London. What infer you hereupon, may some say? Doth it therefore follow that he should be Physician for the teeth? Yes verily; because that when he cannot get a tooth to set in the room of that which he pulleth out, he needeth but to take a little piece of some of his own teeth. But I should presume too far if I should take upon me to decide such controversies: and I hope the gentle Reader knowing my profession, will not look for it at my hands: especially considering that the authors of all these fine fables can no more tell what they say then the man in the Moon. I will therefore content myself with this, that I have searched into the marrow of the matter as well as their greatest Doctors.  
9 Touching S. Michael, S. james, S. Claudius, (who lending their names to their pilgrims, have given them the names of Michaelians, jacobins and Claudians) they are not tied by their task to any certain work as the rest are; and therefore I leave the discourse of them to some other. There are also other Saints which seem to have been devised upon pleasure or malice, as S. Lickdish, which sold his gown (as they say) for I know not what liquorish meat.  
10 If any man shall here ask me, whether these worshippers of Saints are persuaded that they can cure certain diseases which ordinary Physicians cannot do; I answer, that they are so persuaded indeed. And first touching barrenness, (which doth so plunge Physicians and puts them to their trumps) there are many Saints which can easily cure it and make women become fruitful by one only devout embracing. For first S. Guerlichou (in the Abbey of the city Bourg de Dieu, near to Rommorantin, and in sundry places elsewhere) braggeth that he can get as many women with child as come, be they never so many; if whilst they are going with child, they fail not to stretch themselves devoutly upon the holy Idol which lieth all flat upon his back, and standeth not upright as the rest do: beside, that they drink every day a certain potion mingled with the scrape of the said image, and by name with the scraping of that part which I cannot name with modesty. Now whether this do get women with child or not, I leave to be decided by those that have forged it or approve of such devilish devotion: which would have been holden a wonderment to the world, if it had been recorded by any barbarous or heathen people; what shall we say then to see it in use even amongst those who profess themselves Christians? Yet I am not very certain whether this Saint be in as good credit at this present, as he was in times past: sith they which have seen him (to whom I am beholden for this report) affirm it to be about twelve years ago, since he had that part almost worn away by continual scraping. There is also in the country of Constantin in Normandy (commonly called Contantin) a certain Saint called S. Giles, which was no less famous for such matters (how old and decayed soever) according to the common saying, (especially of those who vainly busy themselves about such trumperies, and sell them unto others) there is no miracle comparable to that which is wrought by an old Saint. I have also heard of a certain Saint called S. René in Anjou, which busieth himself in this occupation. But how women behave themselves when they are in his company (considering that he shows them that which civility would have covered,) as I am ashamed to write it, so I am sure the Readers would blush to read it. I could further discover many other secrets appertaining to this mystery, which notwithstanding I will omit for the same reason: and will content myself with that which is reported of our Lady of gladness, viz. that those that cannot have children, do pull (at least were accustomed to pull) the bell ropes that are in her church with their teeth.  
11 And was there ever yet any Physician that could cure the sickness of jealousy? No verily: yet it is said that there is a Saint at Tou, that is a notable workman to cure it, though no Physician could ever turn his hand to it. We have also S. Auertin, S. Acayre, S. Maturin (I mean S. Maturin of Archant, whom others call S. Mathelin, whence cometh the old proverb used in way of a byword, Teste mathelineuse, a head full of crotchets) who cure the foresaid diseases which Physicians (we know) were never able to do, for all their Helleborum. These few examples may suffice to show what excellent Physicians these Popish saints are.  
12 There is yet another remarkable difference between the saints which are said to profess physic in heaven, and other Physicians here upon earth, viz. that each of these saints can inflict the same disease which they can cure, as may hence appear: for when we say S. Hands evil, S. john's evil, we signify as well the disease which they send, as the disease which they heal. True it is indeed, that some saints are more choleric and dangerous to deal with then others: of which number S. Anthony is the chief; for he burneth up all before him for the least displeasure done to him or to his minions. For if any injury be offered either men or swine (for he is Lord Protector of them both) they make their prayer to S. Anthony, that he would be avenged of them, and then the devil is among them. As for swine, they speak never a word, yet the whoresons think never a whit the less: for this Saint will not suffer them to remain such brute beasts as they are by nature. So that that may be said of this & other Saints (which are more choleric and dangerous to deal with) which the Latin Poet affirmed generally of all the gods, Primus in orb Deos fecit timor. For as that good woman, after she had given a candle to S. Michael, gave another to the devil which was with him: to S. Michael, to the end he might do her some good; to the devil, that he might do her no hurt: so it is not to be doubted, but that S. Anthony and other like Saints have been worshipped as much or rather more for fear of some mischief they might do unto them, then for hope of any good they expected from them. And this is the reason of that great contention and conflict which was betwixt those of the city of Arles and the Anthonians of Viennois about this question, both of them affirming that they had the body of S. Anthony in their custody, and each of them showing one of them, which they affirmed to be his. In fine, S. Anthony was left with two entire bodies, for default of one; and with many other parts and members in sundry places, with half a dozen of knees at the least; one of which was at Bourg, another at Mascon, another at Dijon, another at Chalons, another at Ouroux, another at the Augustins of Albi. See now what S. Anthony hath gotten by being so lusty, at leastwise by causing this report to be blazed abroad, that he was such a sharp shaver. This also ought to teach us to demean ourselves wisely towards those who are in danger to be canonised for Saints after their death, seeing that is not true which the proverb saith, 
* Mortui non mordent.  Les trespasses ne mordent plus, Dead men cannot bite, if we speak of canonised Saints; or if it be true, this Popish Philosophy is erroneous and false.  
13 But let us see whether there be not in this very point a conformity betwixt the heathen Gods and the Saints, that (all things being duly considered) we may perceive which of them have been more honoured of their worshippers. First then, there is no question but that the heathen were persuaded that their gods could as well hurt as help, kill as cure, (as the Papists have deemed of their saints.) But whereas the Pope's creatures are of opinion that every saint doth but cure one only disease, and that he cannot inflict any other in way of punishment or revenge, save that only: the heathen were persuaded that their gods had equal power over all diseases, either to inflict them or to remove them, in hurting or healing, making sick or making sound. By which we may plainly perceive, that the Papists come short of the heathen, in that they give not so much honour to their saints as they did to their gods: which we are to understand of women saints as well as of men saints, and of goddesses as well as of gods. But the Pope's creatures not content to give but this half worship to their saints (as well in this, as in that they bear men in hand, that they can skill but of one trade) are come to this pass, to do them the greatest dishonour in the world, in assigning unto ●●em so vile and abject, yea so filthy and sordid occupations, that it would make a man sick at the heart to name them: as when they make some shoemakers, others cobblers, others swineherd's, etc. For though the Pagans ranged Pan in the rank of the inferior gods, and of the meanest sort of those which were companions of the gods, yet they would have been ashamed to have made him a swineherd. And as for saints which are handicrafts men, to make armour (as Vulcan did) is a cleanlier occupation then to make shoes. True it is, that the Popish Preachers (at leastwise those that had any wit) have so cunningly contrived their knavery, and carried the matter so in a mystery, that the simple people have not desisted to give them as good and as great offerings, as if they had been of a higher rank: for they made this an argument of their greater praise and commendation. Witness the preacher who discoursing of the life of S. Crepin, affirmed that this glorious saint might have been Pope, that he might have been King (yea king of France) that he might have been Emperor, but that he chose rather to be a shoemaker. And yet my masters and dames (said he) consider (I beseech you) what a roguish trade it is, and how filthy and sordid an occupation: If there were nothing else but this, that they must ever be handling the shoemakers wax, and tugging at these stinking skins with their bare teeth. By which you may perceive how great the humility of this glorious saint was. Howbeit he was no sooner come out of the pulpit, but the company of the most noble shoemakers and cobblers of the place laid hold of him, and curried him so well, that they caused him to make a pitiful construction of his sermon from beginning to end. But leaving others to judge of this fact, (I mean whether the striker or he that was struck had the wrong) I think this Preacher had reason to say thus much of S. Crepin to save his credit. But one thing he affirmed which is almost incredible, and which (I persuade myself) is proper to this saint, viz. that he made choice of this occupation whilst he was here upon earth, which he meant to follow when he came into heaven.  
14 But some may haply reply against that which I have said, concerning the Pope's creatures, that they give less honour to their Saints then the heathen do to their gods, when they affirm that every saint hath not power over more than one only disease, and knows but one only trade. And they may object that they make their Saints patrons and protectors of cities and countries, as the heathen made their gods. And that as the Babylonians (for example) had Bell for their Patron, the Egyptians Isis' and Osiris, the Rhodians the Sun, the Samians juno, the Paphians Venus, the Delphians Apollo, the Athenians Minerva, the Ephesians Diana: So the Spaniards have Saint james for their Patron; the French Saint Denis; they of Limosin Saint martial above the rest: all the Germans in general Saint George; they of Augsburg Saint Vlrich; they of Colen the three Kings: they of Milan Saint Ambrose: the Venetians Saint Mark: the Romanists of these times Saint Peter and Saint Paul together with their Lieutenant. I omit the Saints who have given their names to cities, as Saint Quintin, Saint Di●ier, Saint Denis, Saint Agnan, Saint Paul, Saint Omer, which may be called in Latin (as the rest above mentioned) Tutelares sancti, as they were wont to call them Tutelares Dij: But what inference can hereupon be enforced? Surely this, that the Pope's creatures (putting their Saints in the room and place of the heathen gods) have given sufficient testimony that they had as reverent an opinion of their sufficiency, as the heathen had of the sufficiency of their gods, in commanding all sorts of maladies, either by sending them, or removing them, and in knowing all manner of occupations. (For albeit the heathen do not affirm that their gods do excercise trades: yet this they hold as a most certain truth, that they know them, and are well seen in them.) But this is no good consequent; for many men take works in hand which they afterwards put over to others, because they cannot effect or finish them themselves, as those who are called in latin redemptores; who though they take in hand to build an house, and to finish it, yet doth it not by & by follow, they should be Carpenters or hewers of stones, or Masons, or Tilers: but agreeing with sundry sorts of workmen in that which appertains to every man's trade, and trusting to their workmanship, took upon them the charge of the whole. And I make no question but that these great tutelary Saints, (protectors and patrons of cities) did the like in trafficking with other petty Saints of less account, touching the work which was proper to their trade, or office which was belonging unto them: and so having the furtherance of many, took upon them the government of the whole.  
15 But now (whereas I thought I had been come to the end of this discourse,) I find that there is yet more work behind: for I am aware of a legion of our Ladies, from whence the greatest part of the Clergies revenue doth arise. And verily the thing which made me forget them (for I will confess the truth) was, in that speaking of men and women Saints, I was afraid I should have committed an absurdity, if I should have ranged them in that rank, and afterwards the variety of matter made me forget them. And if any man shall haply think it a greater absurdity to place them at the tail of the Saints, I have what to answer for myself: for I can allege that which one holp himself withal in the like case, that he which goeth last in procession, hath the first and most honourable place. Nevertheless, if the Pope's creatures will not take this reason for good payment, but will needs move my patience, they shall find (peradventure) that they have to deal with another manner of man than they take me for. For I will never let them rest, till they have answered me categorically, whether so many of our Ladies be so many virgin mary's, mothers of our Saviour Christ? If they shall answer, that they are, they will run into gross absurdities. If they shall answer, that they are not, they will fall into greater. But because I am so persuaded of their courtesies, that they will easily pardon and excuse this incongruity in my last speech (if it were so,) I will not vex them with such a violent question, being such a one as might easily make them lose that little wit and understanding they have, in answering thereof. Only let me desire them to tell me, whether all our Ladies▪ which I am about to name, make one only Lady or not?  
16 It is therefore to be noted that some of our Ladies are named of the place where they reside, and have their abode. Others of the trade or occupation wherein they are employed. Concerning the first, some of them bear the name of some city or town, others show by their names what manner of place it is where they remain. Examples of those which have the name of the city or town where they reside, are these, our Lady of Loretto, our Lady of Bononia, our Lady of Wells in Au●ergne, our Lady of Aix, our Lady of Nan●ueill, our Lady of Francueil. Examples of the second kind, to wit of those whose names express the nature of the place where they make their abode, are, our Lady of the Valley, our Lady of the Mountain, (the name of the mountain being specified in sundry of them, as our Lady of Montferra, our Lady of Mont-gautier, our Lady of Mont-Roland: And in Languedoc, our Lady of Cabimont, (being in the Cape, that is, in the top of the mountain.) Our Lady of the Woods, our Lady of the Fields, our Lady of the fair Oak, (because she stood by the way side over against an oak,) our Lady of the fair Walnut-tree for the like reason, our Lady of the Well, because she stood hard by a well: our Lady of the Fountain for the same reason. And at Chartres, for that there are (at least were) two of our Ladies, whereof the one is within, the other under the Church; that within being called our Lady above; the other our Lady below, or our Lady under the earth, or our Lady of Crotes, that is, of the hollow vault; not because she is crottée dabbled and dirty (as the word signifieth) but because she is in a concavity under the earth made in manner of a cave; for the word Crote (taken in this sense) cometh from the greek crypta, whereupon some are wont to say croton és prisons, as if a man should say, the deep dungeon in the prison. Further, they call another our Lady of Carmel, meaning her that is in the Church of the Carmelites, another our Lady of Snow; for that in the hottest time of Summer the place was miraculously filled with snow as they say. I come now to our Ladies who have their names of the trades which they follow, and actions which they perform. For example our Lady of Recovery, our Lady of Comfort, our Lady of Gladness, our Lady of All joys, our Lady of Pity, our Lady of Virtues, our Lady of Good tidings, our Lady of Good wishes, our Lady of Help, and an infinite number of others.  
17 But this is not all. For we must know, that there is great difference betwixt our Ladies in other things as well as in their names. For one is old and very foul; another young and very fair, another of a middle age, and reasonable good countenance, (which yet is tolerable.) One is very big, another very little, (which also is not much material.) One hath a merry look, another a sad countenance (& herein also there is no great hurt.) Wherein consisteth it then? Verily in that they usually compose their countenances, and attire themselves like harlots, as they were wont to set out Mary Magdalen (whom they have not been ashamed to paint naked in some places) and as they have painted S. Mary the Egyptian. Which puts me in mind of that which I have read in john Menard of our Lady of all beauties at Tours, so called, for that they used the same devise in painting of her with an ancient limmer used in painting the goddess Venus. For they beheld all the fair maids and beautiful young women of Tours, taking from one a high forehead, from another pretty round eyes, well proportioned, comely and amiable, from another a proportionable nose, from another a pretty fine laughing mouth, and a dimpled chin, etc. Now, whether this object of so fair a Lady stir up devotion the better or not, I leave to be determined by such as are more competent judges. Howbeit this I can say, that I have books in parchment containing their Ma●ins, Evensong▪ and Complies, and other parts of such silly service, which have the pictures of fine young dames painted in them, being of such wanton and lascivious countenances and behaviours, that we may well apply unto them the saying of Propertius, Docta vel Hippolitum Veneri mollire negantem. But what Ladies pictures these were, whether the pictures of those whom the owners of these books had at command, or of those whom they desired they might have, I cannot define. Howsoever, certes they were some such to whom they bore so entire affection, as that they could not forbear the sight of them▪ no not whilst they were at their prayers, for fear they should forget them.  
18 But to return to the former question, to wit, whether all our Ladies which I named even now, be one and the same Lady or not. If they shall say, that they are one and the same: I would demand of them, why she doth so disguise herself into so many fashions? If they shall answer, that they be divers: I would desire them to show me which of them is the virgin Mary Christ's mother. But this were to fall again into the former question, wherewith I promised not to trouble them any more. It were better than (for the present) we should content ourselves with the opinion of the good woman of Montrichard, who said that our Lady of Nantueil and our Lady of Francueil were sisters: and that we take advice upon good and mature deliberation, if we can obtain so much that all of them may be either sisters or at leastwise of kin.  
19 But beside the sundry attires of our Ladies, there is such strange variety in the habits of the Saints, that he that should go about to describe them, had need have on his considering cap▪ to know where to begin. For one is stark naked, another half naked, another well appareled. One weareth a great hat, another a little one; a third sort, I know not what to call it, resembling the Turkish 
* Or, Turban.  turbante. Some are muffled, others are hooded, others cowled, others bigguined. One is armed at all points, another hath only sword and buckler; another but sword and dagger. One is on foot, another on horseback. Neither is this all; for one laugheth, another weary: one looks as though he had won all; another as if he had lost every cross. To be short, the difference between them is incredible, yea even infinite, not only in these, but in sundry other particulars. And therefore it is the more to be wondered (with which I will conclude) how they being so disagreeing, so cross and contrary one to another, should notwithstanding make so good harmony in the kitchens of our holy mother the Church; which all of them labour to uphold with one accord (employing all their happy and glorious miracle-mungering to keep them hot) and so maintain them, that our holy mother doth not envy the kitchens of Kings and Emperors. True it is, that she doth also keep them pretty and warm with the revenues of the Saints, (as hath been said) which though it be exceeding great (as may appear by the account that hath been cast only in gross,) yet if we consider how much the gain which she getteth by the souls of the saints departed, doth surpass that which she hath by their bodies; it will appear that the revenue which ariseth from the foresaid corpse, compared with that which accrueth by the souls, will not buy sugar to the wine.  
20 And now I come to the other point which I promised to handle in this Chapter, viz. how intolerable the covetousness of the Clergy was. But what? (may some say) May we not discover this impudent covetous dealing by sundry places of this book, as namely by that which hath been already spoken in this Chapter? It is true (I confess.) But now my purpose is to detect monstrous impudency, or (if I may so speak) the very quintessence of impudency, yea of impudence accompanied with most abominable impiety. And the example which I will produce for this purpose, is so authentical, that they cannot possibly deny it, except they will deny their own handwriting. For see here their own words which they have engraved in Gothian letters, in a table of stone, which is (at least was wont to be not long since) fastened to a pillar of S. Stevens Church at Bourges, near to the Altar where the high Mass was sung. 
Hîc des devotè: coelestibus associo te.  
Mentes aegrota, per munera sunt ibi lotae.  
Ergo venitote gentes, à sorde remotae.  
Qui datis, estote certi de divite dote.  
Te precor, accelera, spergas hîc dum potes, aera:  
Et sic revera, securè, caelica spera.  
O si tu scires quantum data prosit ibi res,  
Tu juxta vires donares quod dare quires.  
Te miser à poena, dum tempus habes, aliena.  
Huc dare te poena veniae, sit aperta crumena.  
Censors coelestis fabricae qui porrigit est is.  
Ex hoc sum t●stis, hîc vos mundare potestis.  
Fratres haurite de trunco pocula vitae:  
Hîc aliquid sinite, veri velut Israëlitae.  
Crede mihi, crede, coeli dominaberis aede.  
Nam pro mercede, Christo dices, mihi cede.  
H●c datur exponi Paradisus venditioni.  
Currant ergo boni, rapientes culmina thr●ni.  
Vis retinere forum? mihi tradas pauca bonorum,  
Pro summa quorum reserabitur aula polorum.  
Hîc si largè des, in coelo sit tua sedes:  
Qui serit hîc parcè, parcè comprendet in arce.  
Cur tardas tantum? nummi mihi des aliquantum.  
Pro solo nummo gaudebis in aethere summo.  
Denos sum quater, unum semel, haec sacra matter  
Annos condonat, sanctus Pater ista coronat.  
Tot quadragenas that & abluit hic tibi poenas  
Mil missis decies socius, si des ibi, fies.  The subject or matter of these verses (which I speak for their sakes who understand not Latin; not having translated them, because their grace consisteth in the rhyme) is nothing but this, that he which giveth to the box, goeth strait to heaven: (and the more he giveth, the higher shall his place be) and he that giveth nothing, shall never come there. For Hîc datur exponi Paradisus venditioni: which is thus much in good English, Here Paradise is set to open sale. But that the Reader who understandeth not Latin, may judge whether I had reason to censure these verses as I did, I will expound unto him these two, 
Crede mihi, crede, coeli dominaberis ●de:  
Nam pro mercede, Christo dices, mihi cede.  That is, 
For meed believe me, thou shalt gain a crown,  
Yea rule in heaven, and say to Christ, Come down.  Now if any man desire to have the sense of them word for word, see here what a fine lesson they teach us: Assure thyself thou shalt be Lord great master of heaven; for in am of the money which thou hast given, thou shalt say to Christ, Stand back, give place.   

CHAP. XXXIX. How our Ancestors were nuzzeled in ignorance of Christian religion: and how the Popish Clergy always maintained themselves, notwithstanding their wicked lives were notoriously known to the world, and that many of their juggling tricks and false miracles had been discovered.  
PVrposing to show in this chapter, how some even from the days of our forefathers, began to open their eyes and to espy the packing and conveyance of Churchmen; I thought it requisite in the first place, to consider how great the darkness and ignorance, as also the abuses of those times were. I am therefore to entreat the Reader to call to mind sundry examples to this purpose dispersed here and there in divers places of this book; besides which, (if need were) infinite more might be added: howbeit, three or four shall suffice. First then, is it not a strange foppery to think, that those men or women which their Church calendar hath marked with red letters, are men and women Saints, that is, gods and goddesses? or at leastwise petty gods, and (as I may say) subordinate gods? For if they had not judged them such, questionless, they would never have ascribed unto them divine power, which God reserves as proper to himself alone. So that here we may see not only their simplicity single and alone by itself, but accompanied with horrible impiety. But this is yet far more hideous and horrible, in that they dare affirm, that if the holy Ghost were bit by a mad dog, it is necessary he should go to Saint Hubert if he would be healed; which was averred by a peddler of the relics of the foresaid Hubert. And considering the great account and reverent opinion which they had of the Pope as well as of the Saints, was it not mere madness to think that as soon as a man became Pope, he became also god? That he had the keys of heaven and of hell, to let those into heaven that would give some thing to him or his: and to send them packing to hell that would give nothing? That it was a less sin to kill a man then to eat flesh upon a friday, or to violate any such commandment enjoined by this earthly god? But if we consider the sacrifice of the Mass and the abuses therein committed, what else can be said, but that many have been and are at this day strangely bewitched, in believing that there are certain souls in Purgatory which cannot be delivered thence, but by the means of many Masses? That a sir john having pronounced certain Sacramental words over all the bread in the market, makes so many loaves to become ●o many gods? That men eat their maker, and afterward cause him to pass through that place that cannot be named with modesty? And (which is a point worthy observation) can it never sufficiently be wondered at, that the things which should be means to root superstition out of their minds, should plant and root it in them more and more? For they should have had their breaden god in jealousy, and then at least have suspected him, when they saw his blood and flesh poison men: his blood poisoning William Archbishop of York, in the time of Pope Anastasius the fourth; and his flesh poisoning the Emperor Henry the seventh, by means of one Bernard of Montpolitian a jacobin Friar, being one of the faction of the Guelphs. Neither ought they only to suspect it, but altogether to reject it, with adieu in the devils name, seeing it suffereth itself to be devoured of beasts. For, it is well known that the magnificent Maygret (now deceased) had a little shag haired spaniel which ate fourscore of them to his breakfast, and all without drink. But how should it be revenged of dogs, when it cannot save itself from mice? For these pretty beasts have not only been so bold as to go into his pixe to nibble at him there, but have also presumed to run away with him, lying upon the Altar, whilst the Priest was asleep in his memento: which accident happened (as we know) at a town called Saint Marie, and at Paris in Saint Marries Church. Verily, such accidents as these should have taught them a little more wit, and to have thought with themselves how far they came short of their reckoning, in attributing Gods divine attributes to such a piece of past which suffers itself to be devoured of a mouse. Whereas they contrarily, as often as any such thing happened, added one foolery to another. For example, at Lodeve in Gascoine, whereas the mouse which had eaten up this breaden god, should have made them open their eyes to see the cozening tricks wherewith they had been abused: they notwithstanding were so far from surceasing to give to other pieces of past (his fellows) as great honour as before, that they canonised the mouse, calling her the holy mouse. The like brutishness was known to have been practised during the last garboils in France. For a certain gentleman Masse-marrer (whom I could name if it were needful) having heard the sound of the sacring bell in the streets (as he was on his way) asked what it meant: and having learned that it gave warning, that they were ready to the Elevation, as a man would say, to lift or raise up god; said to his men, Let us make haste that we may come before he get up, and serve him as grooms of his chamber; for my part I will bring him his clean shirt. Who being come thither, took this fine god and offered him to his horse before them all, who beheld this fact with exceeding great astonishment: but when they saw the horse thrust out his nose as soon as the br●aden god came near him, they said, it was an argument that he had been accustomed to receive his maker. And this puts me in mind of the holy penknife, that is, the penknife wherewith a consecrated host was pricked at Paris by a jew, which was afterwards reckoned in the number of holy relics, in one of the Churches of the said city, (at S. john's in grieve as I remember:) as if by such an action it had been hallowed. See here (gentle Reader) how these fellows in stead of scorning these gods which suffered themselves to be murdered, and eaten up of vermin, have not ceased to worship them as much as ever before: nay to adore the devourers and murderers of them: for I call the penknife wherewith this stab was given, a murderer.  
2 And we shall the less wonder how men could ever be so brutish, as to lend their ears to such doctrine, if we consider in what account they held the authors thereof. For though Angels descending in some visible shape from heaven, should have come & preached unto them, they could not have entertained them with greater reverence, than they did a rabblement of wicked and abominable lolling-lobbies, which fed them not only with plain lies, but with lies full of impiety, and worse without comparison then talmudical or mahometical fables. But to descend from the general to particulars, that is, from sundry sorts and sects of hypocritical shavelings, to come to one; will not this be a wonderment to posterity, that men should attribute so much to Franciscans▪ yea to their very attire, as to cause children to wear it for a time, that by this means they may come to man's estate? That some should wear it a little before their death, feeling themselves deadly sick? That others (who had no leisure to wear it before, should take order by their wills, to be interred in it? And who (I beseech you) were they that used this kind of Metamorphosis? Verily great Lords, as much or rather more than the common people: yea even kings and Emperors themselves. Indeed the Earl of Carpi (being one of the last that turned Friar in this sort) is left alone as a byword and laughing stock to all posterity. But the greater part not content with their habit, betook themselves to their covent, bequeathing unto them their goods, and so defrauding their children or kinsfolk, who in equity and conscience should have been their heirs. And as for those that would needs become Franciscans, will not posterity wonder to hear, that since this fancy took them in the head to become of this order of religious men, they were so far from taking advise and counsel of their parents, that if it had been necessary in entering into that order, to tread father & mother under their feet, they thought they were bound to do it? And to the end they might the more enrich themselves by this means, they were so impudent and shameless (in abusing the simplicity of the poor people) that they made no bones to tell them, yea to make them believe that there was no other means in the world whereby the devil could be saved, but by persuading him to take the habit of Saint Francis. Indeed I do not remember that I have read this in the book of Conformities: but sure I am that I have read in it far more impudent lies, in praise and commendation of their order.  
3 Now albeit the mishaps which daily befell (jean blank their breaden God) should have opened the eyes of these miserable idolaters, yet they shut them so much the more. The like may be said of their blindness and brutishness, simplicity and sottishness, in not espying the knavery of the false Friars. For that which should have discovered unto them the villainy & filthiness of these miscreants, did the more confirm them in the prejudicate opinion which they had of their holiness. I will record for example that which happened in our own time at the death of that famous Franciscan De Cornibus: It is well known that this knave died of the Neapolitan disease (otherwise termed the French pox) the buttons or pimples whereof breaking forth and making him look fiery red, the people which saw him as he was carried to the grave (for they carried him in his habit or cowl with his face uncovered) were persuaded that this redness came from hence, in that he was become a Seraphin. Sure I am that the death of a gentlewoman, who died of the stink of the feet of this venerable pocky villain, which she had kissed after his death (being unacquainted with such strong savours) was so interpreted, that it did in like sort confirm men in the opinion which they had of his holiness. And those (doubtless) who made no more of the redness of his French pox but the redness of a Seraphin, (such was their simplicity) if they had taken him in the fact by which he got them, would have persuaded themselves that they had seen some other thing then in truth they saw, or (as the Latin Poet speaketh) would have made their eyes believe they had seen something which they saw not. Much like that good fellow, who perceiving two other feet by his masters feet (who to the end he might strictly observe the Bishop's rules, had his pretty wench lying by his side) went so simply to work, that he cried out at the window, Come sirs, and you shall see my master who hath four feet. See here how all Christendom in stead of proceeding and going forward in the knowledge of these abuses, went backward through the just judgement of God.  
4 Nevertheless this great blindness was never so universal, but that there were some in all ages that did discover part of their trumperies, and perceive the wicked course of life which these Churchmen led. S. Bernard also (as hath been said) inveighed stoutly against it. And (as I remember) a certain passage taken out of a book written by Gulielmus de sancto amore, hath been alleged for this purpose. And at the same time (namely about the year 1260.) one Nicholas Gallique borne in Narbonne, general of the order of the Carmelites, being no longer able to endure the wicked life of his fellow Friars, did not only forsake them and utterly renounce their order, but also writ a book against them, called the fiery dart; wherein he tells them (to omit other particulars) that they were reprobates, citizens of Sodom, contemners of the holy Testament, seducers of those that then lived, and of those which should come after, the tail of the Dragon mentioned in the Revelation. As for the books of the foresaid Gulielmus de sancto Amore, Pope Alexander the fourth did what he could to abolish them, and that by express edicts and commandments: who also (as Platina recordeth) burned a book which the begging Friars had published, wherein they taught that the state of grace did not proceed from the law of the Gospel (as they speak) but from the law of the spirit: which he burned, not for any great conscience he had to see the simple world so abused, but for fear lest this so absurd and impudent a lie should be a means to discover their other villainies. This book was called the eternal Gospel, or the Gospel of the spirit; gathered out of the doctrine of joachim the Abbot, and the visions of a Carmelite Friar called Cyril, by the jacobins and Franciscans, who laboured by the authority thereof to make their parts good against the Waldenses (otherwise called the poor men of Lions) and other their adversaries which armed themselves against them with the sword of the spirit, the word of God. Of this book the foresaid Gulielmus de sancto Amore writeth as followeth. This accursed Gospel is already published in the Church, and therefore the destruction of the Church is to be feared. If this Gospel be compared with the Gospel of Christ (say they) it is so much more perfect and excellent than it, by how much the Sun is brighter than the Moon, and the kernel better than the shell, etc. Moreover, he mentioneth other like detestable sayings there recorded. And of these two comparisons honourable mention is made in the Rommant of the Rose, where the author speaketh in detestation of this book, and censureth the hypocrisy of the begging Friars who published it. 
Vous ne cognoistrez point aux robs  
Les faux traistres tous pleins de lobbes:  
Parquoi leurs faits faut regarder,  
Si d'eux bien vous voulez garder.  That is, 
For thou shalt never for nothing  
Con known aright by her clothing  
The traitors full of treachery,  
But thou her works can espy.  And a little after, 
Fut or baillé (c'est chose voire)  
Pour bailler commun exemplaire,  
un liure de par le grand diable,  
Dit, L'Euangile perdurable,  
Don't le sainct Esprit fut ministre:  
Si come il apparut au titre,  
Ainsi est-i● intitulé.  
Bien est dign d'estre brulé.  
A Paris n'eust homme ne femme  
Au parvis devant nostre-Dame  
Qu● lors bien avoir ne le peust,  
Pour le doubler, si bien luy pleust.  
Là trouuast par grans mesprisons  
Maintes tells comparaisons.  
Autant que par sa grand chaleur,  
Soit de clarté, soit de valeur,  
Surmonte le Soleil la Lune,  
Qui trop est plus trouble, & plus brune:  
Et le noyau des noix, la coque:  
(Ne cuidez pas que ie vous moque:  
Cela di sans bourde ne quill)  
Tant surmonte cest Euangile  
Ceux que les quatr▪ Evangelists  
Du Fills Dieu firent à leurs titres.  
De tells comparaisons grand mass  
Là trowoit on, que ie trespass.  That is, 
They broughten a book with sorry grace,  
To yeven example in common place,  
That said thus, (though it were fable)  
This is the Gospel perdurable,  
That fro the holy Ghost is sent:  
Well were it worth to been brent.  
Entitled was in such manner  
This book which I tell here,  
There was no wight in all Paris  
Before our Lady at parvis,  
That they ne might the book buy,  
The sentence pleased 'em well truly,  
There might he see by great treasoun,  
Full many a false comparisoun.  
As much as through his great might,  
Be it of heat or of light  
The Sun surmounteth the Moon  
That troubler is, and changeth soon:  
And the nut kernel the shell  
(I scorn not that I you tell:)  
Right so withouten any guile,  
Surmounteth this noble Euangile  
The word of any Evangelist,  
And to her title they token Christ.  
And many such comparisoun,  
Of which I make no mention,  
Might men in that book find,  
Who so could of hem have mind.  The same Poet makes further mention of the books which Gulielmus de sancto Amore writ against the feigned poverty of the begging Friars. For having after a long and large discourse showed what sort of begging Friars were to be tolerated, and what not; and having alleged the Sermons of the said S. Amore for confirmation of his assertion, he addeth in the person of False semblance, 
Qui groncer en voudra, si gronce,  
Et courroucer, si s'en courrouce.  
Car ie n'en mentiroye mie,  
Si ie denoye perdre la vie:  
Ou estre mis country droiture,  
come Saint Paul en chartre obscure:  
Ou estre banni du Royaume  
A tort, come master Guillaume  
De saint Amour, qu'hipocrisie  
Fit exiler par grand ' envy.  
Ma mere en exil le chassa.  
Le vaillant homme tant brassa  
Pour verité qu'il sustenoit.  
Verse ma mere trop desprenoit,  
Pource qu'il fit un noweau liure  
Où sa vie fit tout ' escrire:  
Et vouloit que ie reniasse  
Mendicité, & labourasse,  
Si ie n'auoye de quoy viure.  
Bien me powoit tenir pour yure.  
Car labourer ne me peut plaire:  
D'aucun labeur n'ai-ie que fair:  
Trop y a pain à labourer.  
Mieux vaut devant les gens orer,  
Et affubler ma renardie  
Du mantle de papelardie.  
A. O fol diable quel est ton dit,  
Et ce que tu as ici dit?  
F. Quoy? A. Grans desloyautes apertes.  
Ne crain-tu donc pas Dieu? F. Non certes.  
Car à pain peut homme atteindre  
Chose grand, qui Dieu veut craindre.  That is, 
Be wroth or blithe, who so be,  
For I will speak and tell it thee,  
All should I die, and be put down,  
As was Saint Paul in dark prison,  
Or be exiled in this case  
With wrong as master William was,  
That my mother hypocrisy  
Banished for great envy.  
My mother flemed him Saint Amour,  
This noble did such labour  
To sustain ever the loyalty,  
That he to much agylt me.  
He made a book and let it write,  
Wherein his life he did all write,  
And would each renyed begging,  
And live by my traveling,  
If I ne had rend, ne other good,  
What weeneth he that I were wood?  
For labour might me never please,  
I have more will to been at ease,  
And have well lever (sooth to say)  
Before the people patter and pray:  
And wry me in my foxery,  
Under a cope of papelardy.  
(Quoth Love) What devil is this that I hear?  
What words tellest thou me here?  
What sir Falseness that apert is,  
Than dreadest thou not God? No certis.  
For seld in great things shall he speed,  
In this world that God would dread.  These places I have here alleged for three causes. First, that the Reader might better perceive what is meant by this counterfeit gospel, as being a thing very memorable; albeit I omitted it in my former discourse. Secondly, that the contents of those books written by William de sancto Amore (which were afterwards burnt by Pope Alexander the fourth) might the better be known. Thirdly, to give the Reader to understand that his books were not only burned, but himself also banished France for speaking the truth. Notwithstanding, here we have to note, that if he, who was only banished about the year 1260. had but lived three hundred years after, he should not have scaped so scot free? for they would have set him to have disputed with fire and faggot, as they did infinite others within these fifty years. As for the history which I said was very memorable, I find it to be so, for this reason: in that by comparing that age with ours, we see the great subtlety and craft of the devil. For he hath dealt (me thinks) in this case, (I mean in bringing this false gospel into credit) as Princes many times do with their subjects, who when they see they cannot endure to hear of taxes, subsidies, or imposts, use the word borrowing: which in the end cometh all to one reckoning: as Solon the ancient lawgiver made that to pass for currant under the name of Sisachthia which under his own ancient name was thought too rigorous. The like policy hath the devil used in tampering with this his execrable gospel. For perceiving that the name progress, and proceeding of the eternal Gospel (in such sort as hath been said) displeased all men; he knew well how by changing the name, to retain the doctrine: so that he is come to the point and period which he first propounded to himself. And that it is (gentle Reader) even as I say, if ever thou hast read the holy Gospel, consider whether it were not high time for the devil to confront it with another of his own forgery (though under another name:) to bring in that which the Pope's creatures call the service of God, consisting of such a number of pompous, glorious, glittering shows and tricks of conveyance, that the greatest Doctor of them all, should should have work enough (thoug he took three days respite) to reckon up only their bare names: and yet peradventure in the end might come short of his reckoning. For let us consider a little, what a long tail of absurdities this one word Merits draweth after it, being flat contrary to the doctrine of the Gospel.) First, touching the divers sorts of them, and then the matter of every sort. For there is (as we know) meritum congrui, digni, condigni, or rather the congruo, digno, condigno, etc. And as for those which they call good works, affirming them to be the substance of merits; we know that there are simple good works, & works of supererogation: besides sundry others which I cannot stand upon. But wherein (may we think) do these good works consist? Verily in all manner of devotions and good intentions, by which the Clergy might have wherewith to fill their paunch, in ●inging, singing, quavering, mumbling, grumbling, pattering a million of Masses, great, little, high and low: Masses with a sop of wine, and dry Masses: Item, Masses for quick and dead, (called Masses the Requiem,) Masses of our Lady of Pity, our Lady of Virtues, our Lady of good News, our Lady of all Beauties, etc. Masses of Saint Sebastian, Masses of Saint G●degran, of Saint Guerlichou, of Saint Alivergo, of Saint Andoch; also Masses of all men and women Saints, men and women Confessors (if there be any such,) men and women Martyrs. To be short, Masses in the name of the eleven thousand virgins. And yet this is not all: for there are Masses for Fraternities▪ Masses for hunters: Masses for warriors: Masses for Deacons and Subdeacons', and for them that are neither: with a rabble of others which I cannot remember. 
* Here Steph. did either forget himself, or meant to speak the rhetorically without a reddition; for the sentence is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  After, if we come to the tools of one only Mass, as the Albe, the Stole, the Girdle, the M●niple, the 
* Al▪ amice.  Amict, the Cope, or Chasyble, etc. The Platine (or Patine) the Pixe, the Censor; (I speak not of the host, because it is not included within the number of the Massing tools. For, for it alone the stage is erected, and for it all this pageant or rather tragedy is played. As for their apish tricks, frisks and gambols, we have touched them before in a word or two: as also the miraculously subtle and more than Pythagorical secrets, which lie hid aswell under the said turning tricks, as under the tools and trinkets of the Mass. Consider now (good Reader) a little with thyself, out of what Gospel all this gear is taken, and what scripture they follow, who mix spittl●, salt, oil, and such like stuff (smelling so stinking strong of their sorcery) with the holy Sacrament of Baptism. Consider further, how exceedingly it aught to mou● and astonish him, who by the mercy of God hath been trained up in the doctrine of the Gospel: when conversing with those that make profession of the same religion: he shall hear not only of the former riffraff ceremonies (yea wicked and dangerous:) but of an infinite number of others also, as of suffrags of the Saints, of Images, of Relics, of Lights, of the Pope's pardons or Indulgences, of Bulls, of miters, of Crosier's staves, of Vows, of shavings, of Confessions, of Absolutions, of Extreme unctions, and of that so famous renowned missificall Purgatory, with all the appurtenances thereunto belonging. Verily, if he stand in a maze and mammering, to hear such gibbridge, and more to see all this mummery acted upon the stage, I blame him not. But when he shall read this story, touching this Infernal (called the Eternal Gospel) and shall consider with himself, how subtle and crafty the devil is, he shall have no great cause to wonder at the matter. For dobutlesse, the devil hath kept this damnable book in store (changing only the name) to the end that as there is one Christ, and one Antichrist▪ so there might be one Gospel, and one Antigospell, as I may so speak. Neither hath he used this craft and subtlety only in changing the name, but as we have seen in some cities, when the common stews have been burnt, the ashes thereof have flown abroad into all quarters and corners thereof, so that though there remained no more stews in name, yet indeed and truth, greater than eue● before: so he (after that this detestable book was burned) scattered the ashes thereof among all the books which have been published since by his slaves and complices; whereof the Decretals have had their part, the Sums also theirs, the Legends & Martyrologies theirs; the Questionall, Distinctionall, quodlibetical books, Mandestons, Tartars, Breviaries, M●ssalles, and Hours, theirs. Neither herewith content, hath further foisted in other wicked works and writings shrouded under the name of the Gospel, as hath been said. This (gentle Reader) will suffice (I hope) to put thee in mind of the Infernal (otherwise called the Eternal) Gospel, when and as often as thou shalt hear any question moved touching Popish doctrine. And verily (that I may say the same thing again and again) seeing men have endured a Counterchrist, it is no wonder if they suffer a Counter-Gospell.  
5 But to return to prosecute my former argument and to show how in all ages some abuses have been discovered: doubtless, if they who have observed them, would have advertised posterity of them, we should have had a number of such advertisements at this day: but some (God knows) were so simple that they could not commit such things to writing; others, though sufficiently well qualified, yet had not the heart to do it. Notwithstanding there are certain books come even to these times, (much more ancient than those I have so often mentioned) in which are sundry invectives against the Pope, aswell in regard of his life as of his doctrine. But (me thinks) it fareth now with Christian religion as it did sometime with Arts and sciences: for as the liberal arts flourished not so in the age last passed, as they did certain hundred years before, and as they have done since: so the ignorance of Christian religion was more gross and palpable in the last centenary then in the days of our grandfathers (at least of our great grandfathers,) and then it was ever since.  
6 But here is yet a further point to be noted concerning the Age last passed (to say nothing of such as proclaimed open war and hostility against the abuses and wicked lives of the Pope and his creatures, as Wicliffe, john Hus, Jerome of Prage, etc.) how that many have encountered our good Catholics of the Romish religion, who made no great show of hostility against them. For who would have thought that Petrarch would have so inveighed against the holy city, Già Roma, hor Babilonia falsa e ria? which we find in one of his sonnets (among other his Poems) containing only a description of the inordinate and dissolute life of the Court of Rome. Nay he goeth further in divers of his Latin Epistles, saying that Christ is banished thence, that Antichrist is Lord and master there, and Beelzebub the judge: That under the standard of Christ, they make war against Christ: That greater villainy is there done to him, then ever the pharisees did him: That the hope of eternal life is holden for a very fable: That the more a man is infected and even plunged over head and ears in wickedness, the more he is esteemed and honoured. And as for covetousness, there (saith he) for gold heaven is set wide open, and for gold, even Christ himself is sold. Item, if judas come thither, and bring with him his thirty pieces of silver (the price of innocent blood) he shall be admitted, and Christ shut out of doors. And as for Truth, There (saith he) truth is holden for folly. And in another place, I will not speak of truth: for how can truth have any lodging or abode there, where all is taken up with falsehood and lies? the air, the earth, places, houses, towers, etc.  
7 Sometimes also our Catholic chickens were so unmannerly as to censure their holy mother for false doctrine. For we read that the University of Paris openly condemned an article in one of the bulls of Clement the sixth, touching the year of jubilee, wherein he granted to all that had received the Croysado, full power to deliver three or four such souls out of Purgatory as themselves thought good. Howbeit the University censured not the mandate and commandment which in another bull he gave to the Angels of Paradise: the words whereof I will here set down. If any man be minded to come to the holy City, we give him free liberty from the day of his egress, to choose one or more confessors, as well in his journey as elsewhere, to whom by authority committed unto us, we give full power to absolve him in all matters reserved to ourself, as well as if we were there personally present. And further, we grant to him that hath truly confessed (if he die by the way) free pardon and remission of all his sins, and do clearly quit and absolve him of the same. And we further command all the Angels of Paradise, that they bring the soul of such a man into the glorious Imperial heaven, quite exempting him from the pains of purgatory, etc.  
8 Besides, we have certain proverbs which have been currant time out of mind, which are pregnant proofs that the Clergies credit was even then cracked, and their reputation much eclipsed. For in our old and ancient proverbs (which censure the vices and misdemeanours of men only in general) the Church is ever the ringleader of the dance, as in this which hath been alleged in the former part of this discourse: 
Trou choses sont tout d'vn accord,  
L'Eglise, la Cour, & la Mort.  
L'Eglise prend du vif, du mort:  
La Cour du droit, etc.  That is, 
There be things three do well agree,  
The Church, the Court, and destiny,  
For none will aught to other leave:  
The Church from live and dead doth reave.  
The Court takes both the right and wrong,  
And death takes both the weak and strong.  And likewise in this: 
L'Eglise fait la teneur sans droiture,  
Noblesse tient la country sans measure:  
Labeur ne peut à la taille fournir,  
Si le dessus ne vient à soustenir.  That is, 
The Clergy falsely sings the Tenors strain,  
The Peers ylike the Countertenor sing:  
The Commons toil the Tenors n'ote sustain,  
Unless the Countertenor aid do bring.  As also in this proverb (for I hope I may be bold to give this name to the common sayings which are or have been currant in every man's mouth, though it properly signify short and compendious pithy sentences) 
Depuis que Decrets eurent ails,  
Et que les dez vindrent sur tables,  
Gend'armes porterent des males,  
Moines allerent à cheval,  
Au monde n'y a eu que mal.  That is, 
Since that Decrees had wings ygot,  
And dice upon the board were brought,  
Sin●e Monks did fair on horseback troth,  
And soldiers were with nails yfraught,  
The world hath been too bad for nought.  In stead whereof Menot saith, Since Churchmen wore great velvet coats. There are also other proverbs which tax and censure their covetousness in particular, one of which (taken out of Barelete) we mentioned in the former chapter, viz. that Priests, Monks and the Sea are never satisfied. And of this number is that which we formerly alleged, The Church taketh both of quick and dead. But we may not forget in the history of the Curate (of whom we spoke in the same chapter) that phrase which is used in way of a proverb, to signify a thing which never was, and never should be: When Curates will take no more offerings: which when stood a certain bon companion in good stead, who writ long since in a certain pamphlet which he published, a prognostication of a good time. For he saith, that the good time shall be when women do whatsoever their husbands will have them, without gainsaying. When drunkards shall hate wine. When servants shall be loyal and faithful. When maids of fifteen years shall refuse to marry. When bakers shall give away their bread, and vintners their wine for God's sake. When a Picard shall leave his lying: a Normand his flattering: a rich Frenchman his haughtiness: and a German his beastliness. When Lawyers cease to make five or six suits of one. When France shall be rid of jealous persons, cuckolds and flatterers. Among the rest this when is one (of which I have spoken) and this other which I may not here omit: 
Quand vous verrez que les curez  
Defendront d'aller à l'offrande,  
Et porter escus, & deniers,  
Voire sur pain de l'amende:  
Et d'autre part, mais que l'on pend  
Tous larrons privez & estranges,  
Bon temps verrez (quoi qu'il attend)  
Accourir au travers des fangs.  That is, 
When those good sirs that serve the Parish cure  
Forbid repairing to their offering,  
And charge that no man crowns or pence shall bring,  
Upon the pain of some deep forfeiture:  
And when all thieves foreign or neighbouring nigh  
On lofty gallow-trees shall hang on high,  
Then shall you see (o who so long can 〈◊〉?)  
The good days coming of the blessed tide.  There are also ancient proverbs which tax the whoredom and drunkenness of the Popish Clergy, as also the place where the Pope's Holiness makes his abode: of which number this is one, 
jamais ni cheval, ni homme,  
N'amenda d'aller à Romme.  That is, 
Nor horse nor man ere turned home  
Ought bettered by the sight of Rome.  Neither are there only proverbial sentences, but sundry songs and sonnets also, made by our predecessors against the Pope's scurviness, one of which beginneth thus: 
Le Pape qui est à Romme,  
Boit du vin comm' un autre homme,  
Et de l'ypocras aussi.  That is, 
His Holiness that at Rome doth won,  
Drinks wine full well, as his neighbours done,  
And hippocras as also.  This also is very ancient, and seemeth to have been borrowed from the words of Christ. 
Loups ravissans & faux prophets,  
Portent habits de brebiettes.  That is, 
False Prophets and rank wolves for need,  
Can wear the sheep or shepherds weed.  For it was taken (if I be not mistaken) out of the words of Christ. Mat. 7. Beware of false Prophets which come to you in sheeps clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves. Which I do the rather think, because it hath been used against the Friars in particular (and namely against the Mendicants, but especially against the Franciscans) who long since (as we know) were gibed and gested at, being called dissemblers, bald shavelings, makers of apes faces, and chatemites, which is as much as counterfeiters of lambs. And whereas they are called ravening wolves, Saint Francis himself would (no doubt) have granted it, at leastwise that they were wolves, considering he said to a wolf (as we noted before) my Brother Wolf. Further, each of these 4. orders of mendicant Friars hath had his proper praise and commendation apart, even from our Ancestors days. For we say proverbially; a jacobin in the Pulpit, a Franciscan in the Choir, a Carmelite in the kitchen, and an Augustine in the stews. Which notwithstanding aught well and warily to be understood: not as though the jacobins and Franciscans were not sufficient and able men to deal in the occupation of the Carmelites and Augustine's: but for that (besides their sufficiency,) they do it with far better grace and dexterity: some of them prating like Parrots in the pulpit: and others roaring like bulls in the Choir, lustily thundering out an hallelujah. For it were plain heresy to say that the jacobins and Franciscans were not as valiant champions of the god Bacchus as the Carmelites, considering the ditty which was sung ten years (I take it) before my beldame was borne: 
jacopins, Cordeliers, Carmes,  
En bewant iettent des larmes,  
Disans, que c'est pour les ames, etc.  
The Carmelite and jacobine,  
And their brethren Cordeliers,  
When they have tippled in the wine,  
Till it come out in tears:  
Say strait, that's for the souls, etc.  And that they are likewise Venus' darlings, their actions (heretofore recorded) do sufficiently declare. This is the cause that makes me say, that it ought so to be understood.  
9 We read also in certain stories, of libels, which sundry sharp Satirists cast abroad against the Clergy, in the last centenary and in the age before; as also of divers jests and merry conceits which have been made of the sottish superstitions of the Church of Rome: as namely of holy water (as they term it) and Purgatory, called S. Patricius his hole, and by the common people S. Patrick's hole. As also of pardons or indulgences, and worshipping of Saints: in all which, those merry grigs who have made collections of pleasant conceits, have furnished us with examples. True it is indeed, they mention some libels which do so gibe and jest at Popish superstition, that they pass all mean and measure, and savour of plain Lucianisme. But leaving those of this strain, I will allege some of another note, which now come to my mind. First then I remember three merry jests, which were made of holy water: all of them of a fine conceit, and excellent good grace. The first is of one who being reproved for not veiling his bonnet when holy water was cast upon his head: answered, that if it had that virtue that it could penetrate even to Purgatory, there was no doubt but it would easily go through his hat. The second is of later time, the author whereof was one Godon a Counsellor of the Court of Parliament in Paris, a man that had an excellent dexterity in breaking of a jest. This Godon being one day in place where it was debated before King Francis the first, what course were best for him to take to encounter the Emperor, who was coming (as it was reported) with a great army, and hearing one wish the King such a number of good Gascoignes; another such a number of Lansquenets, (every man as he fancied:) Sir (quoth he) seeing we are all in our wishes, if it may stand with your majesties pleasure, I will wish my wish also, which shall be such a one as shall stand your Majesty in no charge, whereas theirs will cost your coffers. The King having demanded of him what it might be: Sir (quoth he) I would only wish to be a devil bu● for one quarter of an hour. To what end? (quoth the king.) I would (quoth he) strait to the Emperor and break his neck. Verily (quoth the king) thou art a very sot to say so, as though the Emperor had not store of holy water to drive away the devil. Whereunto he replied, and said, Sir (if it please your highness to pardon me) I think well that a young devil which is not yet his craft's master would 〈◊〉 for fear of holy water; but a devil which had been Godon heretofore, would not fly for all the holy water his Holiness can make. The third is later and of fresher memory, Lory the public notary being the author thereof, who when a certain Cardinal made report of a woman possessed with a devil, which by no means could be dispossessed: Why Sir (quoth he) it is an easy matter: give her but a clyster of holy water, and the devil will be gone I warrant you. There were also in old time many fine jests made of Purgatory, as being in very deed a mere ridiculous invention. Two whereof (which now come to my mind) I will here set down. When Pope Clement the 7. was besieged in his castle of S. Angelo, and certain Prelates his friends with him, a gentleman of Rome said, he was ever persuaded that the Pope could deliver souls out of Purgatory; but seeing (quoth he) he cannot deliver himself out of prison, I can much less think he should deliver souls from thence. The second was made long since at Florence. A Florentine being importuned by the Franciscans of the place to have certain Masses said for the delivering of his sons soul out of Purgatory, answered them in this sort; Well, go your ways, and if you deliver him by your Masses, I will give you a crown. The Friars had no sooner sung their Masses, but they returned to him again, demanding their crown. The Florentine answered, You must first make it appear unto me that ye have indeed delivered him, before I part with my crown. In the end (after they had a long time debated the matter and expostulated with him) they went to the Duke, humbly desiring his Highness that they might have justice. The Duke causing the party to be sent for, asked him why he detained from them that which he had promised them. The man answered, that he promised them nothing but upon condition, viz. that if it might appear unto him that they had delivered his sons soul out of Purgatory, he would give them a crown. The Duke hearing this his answer, turned to the Friars, and said, There is great reason for it, and therefore see you make the soul which you have delivered, to come unto me, and testify it own deliverance, or send me two other souls to witness the same: or let it send me a word or two in writing, subscribed with Christ's own hand, and then I will see you shall have the money paid you. Another in France did the like. For certain Priests having asked money of him for the Masses by which they had delivered a soul out of Purgatory, he demanded of them, whether souls once let loose and freed from the pains of Purgatory, were in danger to return back again or not? They answering, that they were not: Why then (quoth he) it were folly to give you money for this which is already delivered and in safety: it is more wisdom to keep it for some other, which haply may be detained there hereafter. An Italian likewise spoke as wittily and with as good a grace, when he told the Pope's legate at Venice, that if his Holiness had been well advised, he would never have said that he could deliver souls out of Purgatory; but that he could deliver them out of hell. For as for Purgatory (said he) there remain two things to be proved: first, that there is such a place: secondly, that he delivereth souls from thence: whereas all men believe that there is a hell: so that there remaineth nothing to be proved, but that he delivereth souls from thence.  
10 As for worshipping of Saints, it appeareth by certain ancient Proverbs, that some demeaned themselves more discreetly therein then others. For example This proverb, There is no miracle comparable to that which is wrought by an old Saint, could not arise but from those which were of opinion, that they ought rather to go to old experienced Saints then to young princocks and novices, which were but late upstarts. For these they secretly condemned, at leastwise showed they were to be suspected. But here is yet a further thing to be noted, viz. that our ancestors never made so great account of their Saints, but that they would both ring them a peal by threatening them, and grin at them (like a dog at a pitchfork) when they thought they wronged them: wherein they showed themselves more bold than their successors. Witness the Florentine who said to the image of Saint john Baptist, The plague of God light on thee, thou hast always had a foul slanderous tongue, and therefore Herod cut off thy head: The occasion of which speech hath been before remembered, where I have also set down the Italian words wherein it was delivered. And in the same book out of which I took that story, (entitled Piacevoleze del piovano Arlotto) this is recorded which here followeth, being in effect all one with the former. There was a cook of Florence who was accustomed to come and say his prayers, and to offer candles to the image of a young Christ (being about the age that he was of when his mother found him in the Temple disputing with the Doctors) and had continued in his favour for the space of twenty years and more: after which time it happened that a tile fell upon his sons head, and hurt him so sore, that there was no hope he should ever escape: which he had no sooner perceived but he went to his young jesus, carrying with him a goodly wax taper (whereas he was wont to carry nothing but candles) and began to pray unto him in this sort. Dolce Signore mio jesu Christo, io ti priego renda la sanita, etc. That is, O my sweet Lord jesus, I beseech thee restore my son his health again, whom I do so dearly love. Thou knowest that I have faithfully served thee, above these twenty years, during which time I never requested the least favour at thy hands, now therefore I am come to commend and commit myself and suit unto thee, my son being in such danger of death, who is all my joy & hope, my comfort and content: so that if he chance to die, I shall die shortly after for dolour and despair; at leastwise have regard to the devotion which he always bore thee aswell as myself. Having thus prayed, he returned home again, where he found his son dead. Whereupon he went the next morning, in great anger to his little jesus, carrying not so much as a candle with him, & neither kneeling down nor veiling his bonnet▪ began in this sort. I renounce thee and utterly defy thee, and I promise thee truly I will never come near thee, I have faithfully served thee above these twenty years, during which 〈◊〉 I never craved any thing at thy hands but this only good turn, and thou hast denied me. If I had made this request to the great Crucifix which standeth by me, I know he would have granted it. I promise thee faithfully, I will beware so long as I live, how I deal either with thee or any other stripling, for thy sake; and for conclusion of all, he added this Italian proverb, Chi S'impaccia con fanciulli, con fanciulli si ritrova. Which story (being there set down at large, specifying the Church and place where this cook dwelled) serveth very fitly to exemplify the foresaid proverb, with which that agreeth well which was spoken by a good fellow who prayed to one of our Ladies, holding her young babe in her arms. For having received such an answer as pleased him not well, by one that stood behind the Image (as the Florentine who stood behind john Baptists Image counterfeiting his voice) and judging by the tone, that it was not the mother but the child which spoke, said: Hold your peace you little lickdish, and let your mother speak who is wiser than you. But a Burgundian uttered far fouler words against a young Crucifix (son to an old Crucifix,) for hurting of him. The story is this. In Burgundy near to a village called Chaseule, a country clown going through a Church, inquired of the Ringers for whose soul they did ring. And he had no sooner learned his name, but he fell strait on his marrowbones, and began to pa●●er over certain prayers for his soul before a crucifix standing near the belfry: which in stead of giving him a nod with his head, fell full upon him and left him in such a pitiful plight, that the men were glad to leave their ringing, to take him up, and carry him in all haste home to his house, where he remained long time sick and sore. Now after he was recovered again, returning to the Church, and seeing a goodly young smiling crucifix in the same place; (for you must note by the way, that the old crucifix had broken his neck in falling upon this poor paysant:) he could contain no longer, but began in this sort: Cast as good a countenance towards me as thou wilt, I will never trust thee: for if thou live till thou be a man, thou wilt be as unhappy as ever thy father was, who would have killed me. These 3. stories do sufficiently confirm the truth of that which hath been said, viz. that our Ancestors made not so great account of their Saints, but that they would tell them their lesson, and giere at them, when they perceived they offered them any wrong: wherein they showed themselves more courageous than many since their time; howbeit the boldness of my neighbours of Ville new S. George by Paris) was far greater. For they not contented to rate and revile Saint George, because that upon his feast day he suffered their vines to be nipped with the frost: but having spoken all the villainy against him they could, they did him a worse turn by casting him into the river of Seyne, where he was frozen with their vines for company: their boldness being so much the greater, in that they durst encounter him who is Mars the great God of war among the Saints.  
11 Churchmen also were girded at in old time and flouted sundry ways, Monks and Fries especially; who were not only branded with those goodly nicknames before remembered (wherewith their hypocrisy was taxed & censured) but with sundry others also: some censuring their gluttony, others their lechery, others their stupidity. Among the rest, Laurence de Medicis was the man that knew how to do them the honour appertaining to their holiness. For being asked by the Turks Ambassador, what should be the reason that there were not so many fools to be seen in Florence, as in Cairo and other cities of Egypt? Answered, that they kept all their fools fast locked up, some in one place some in another, according to the diversity of their frenzies. And leading him out of Florence, he showed him a number of Monasteries, and withal told him, that in those houses they shut up all their fools, both men and women, whom they called Monks and Nuns. But his tale had been much better told (in my conceit) if he had said, that they suffered none but harmless fools to range abroad in the streets, and that they kept their hurtful and knavish fools within. But all that our Ancestors spoke against the Clergy is nothing, in comparison of that which was spoken against the Pope, I mean against his person and practice. For Pasquin girded at him long since, and that sundry ways, giving him such privy nips and cross blows over the thumbs, that better jests cannot be invented. Sundry poets also not long before our time spared not the Pope's one jot, as namely Pontanus, Sannazarius, and others. But I will begin this discourse with the answer which a limmer made to a Cardinal, who though he had drawn S. Peter and S. Paul so lively, that all which beheld them, approved the work, yet was there a Cardinal who said he had espied a fault in them, in that he had made them too high coloured: whereupon the limmer forthwith shaped him this answer: Sir (quoth he) this redness proceedeth of shame; for they blush to see the life which you lead, in comparison of that which they led when they were on earth. Which answer of his agreeth very fitly with this Epigram made by a learned man yet living. 
Semiviros quicunque patres radiante galero  
Conspicis, & rubrae syrmata longa togae:  
Crede mihi, nullo saturatas murice vestes,  
Divite nec cocco pallia tincta vides.  
Sed quae rubra vides, sanctorum cade virorum,  
Et mersa insonti tota cruore madent.  
Aut memor istorum, qua celet crimina vestis,  
Pro dominis justo tacta pudore rube●.  And this putteth me in mind of the Preacher formerly mentioned, who began and ended his Sermon with Fie Saint Peter▪ Fie Saint P●●l▪ I say he began and ended therewith: for he spoke never a word besides▪ though he often iterated them. But to return to Pasquin (who hath so well rubbed and curried the Pope:) by Pasquin, we are to understand (which I speak for the ignorant sort) many excellent quick wits, who having composed libeling verses in Latin or Italian▪ against any of the Popes, caused them to be fastened to an image called Pasquin. No marvel then if Pasquin hit them so often over the thumbs, and c●rried their coxcombs so well: seeing the inventions of many excellent wits have been fathered upon him. And yet I persuade myself he never did any thing with better grace, then when he said that he was ready to die for sorrow, in 〈◊〉 such an injury had been done him, as pierced him to the very heart. Whereupon when certain asked him, Friend Pasquin, what injury hath been done thee? hath any man called thee thief, or murderer, or poisoner? oh no (said he) but they have called me worse. What? hath any man called thee sacrilegious person, or parricide, buggerer or atheist? oh no (said he) they have called me worse. And after they had instanced in sundry other the greatest indignities they could imagine: alas (said he) you have not yet reckoned it, neither do I think you will ever guess what it is. In the end, having been often requested to utter his grief, breathing out many sighs with Alas, alas, he said that they called him Pope. The same Pasquin declared also in a Latin Epigram (which he made since) what conceit we should have of the signification of this word Pope, in these verses, 
Hic Carapha jacet; superis invisus & imis:  
Styx animam, tellus putre cadaver habet.  
Inuidit pacem terris, dijs vota precesque:  
Impius & clerum perdidit & populum:  
Hostibus infensis supplex, insidus amicis.  
Scire cupis paucis caetera? Papa fuit.  Hereunto also well acordeth the common saying, A good Pope, a wicked man. And who so would know how the said Pasquin extolled the virtues of Popes, let him read these verses: 
Sixtum lenones, julium rexere cinoedi,  
Imperium vani scurra Leonis habes.  
Clementem furiae vexant, & avara cupido.  
Quae spes est regni Paule futura tui?  (Where I confess he hath been somewhat bold in using Poetical licence in the quantity of julium.) There are also certain Epigrams which tax the covetousness of some Popes in particular, as namely this which was written of Alexander the sixth, 
Vendit Alexander claves, altaria, Christum:  
Emerat ille prius, vendere iure potest.  That is, 
Christ, altars, keys, doth Alexander sell,  
Why should he not? pardie they cost him well.  Mantuan also hath written to the like effect of the covetousness of Popes, albeit in general: 
Or voulez vous savoir quelle traffic mien  
La marchande portant nom d'Eglise Roman?  
Elle vend pour argent temples, prestres, autels,  
Couronnes, feux, encen●, messes, & ioyaux tells:  
Et en son avarice elle est si sort extreme,  
Que vendre ell'ose bien le ciel, voire Dieu mesme.  That is, 
Then would you know the traffic and the wares  
Wherewith this Marchandisse (height Rome) doth trade?  
For money sells she Churches, Altars, Priests,  
Crowns, incense, fires, and Masses: and what more?  
Yea so excessive is her covetise:  
Of heaven and God himself she sets a price.  The same author hath likewise blazoned their other virtues in these verses: 
Le saint champ du Seigneur est plain de parasites,  
Et l'autel precieux ne sert qu'aux Sodomites:  
Brief, les temples à saints usages ordonnez  
Par ces Ganymedes bougrins sont profanez.  That is, 
God's holy field is full of Parasites,  
The precious altars swarm with Sodomites:  
The Churches that were made for holy deeds,  
Are soiled by these buggering Ganymedes.  And what hath Pontanus said of Alexander the sixth, in an Epitaph which he writ of his daughter? 
Conditur hoc tumulo Lucretia nomine, sed re,  
Thais Pontificis filia, sponsa, Nurus.  Which Epitaph I find turned into French by two: one of which hath turned it thus, 
Ci gist le corpse d'vne certain dame  
De nom Lucrece, & d'effect (dont ie tremble)  
Du Pape fut ribaude tres-infame,  
Espouse, bru, & fill tout ensemble.  The other thus, 
Ci dort qui fut de nom Lucrece,  
De faict Thais, putain de Grece,  
Qui iadis d' Alexandre fill  
Et femme fut & belle-fille.  That is, 
Here lies Lucrece by name, Thais in life,  
The Pope's child and spouse, and yet his own sons wife.  The Poet Sannazarius also hath written an Epitaph of this Pope; where having declared these and sundry other villainies, he saith for conclusion, And yet hath he been Pope of Rome these eleven years. Go now, and speak of Nero's, Caligulaes' and villainous Heliogabali. But enough of such stuff (for I am ashamed to name the rest:) yet what (I beseech you is the commendation of Boniface in this Epitaph: Intravit ut vulpes, regnavit ut Leo, mortuus est ut canis: that is, he entered like a fox, reigned like a lion, and died like a dog? And to the end we may see how that they which could not write to their commendation in good Latin, have written in as good as they could, rather than they would be silent and say nothing: I will here set down the Epitaph of Benedict the twelfth, 
Iste fuit verò Laicis mors, vipera Clero,  
Devius à vero, 
* Al. cupa.  turba repleta mero.  Neither did they write all these goodly Epitaphs of the Pope's only; for some have also blazoned the virtues of their Cardinals, Bishops, and other Prelates: amongst which this hath an excellent grace which was written against a Popish Bishop, sometime a Franciscan. 
Nudipes Antistes, non curat Clerus ubi stes:  
Dum non in coelis, stes ubicunque velis.  But (to hold me only to the Popes) the means which they used to avoid the creating of a she Pope (as once it happened) in stead of a he Pope, hath been exceedingly derided of old. And hereof johannes Pannonius hath made an Epigram, (wherein he rightly blazoneth their trumpery) which I have thus turned into French, 
Nul ne pouuoit iouïr de saints clefs de Romme,  
Sans monstrer qu'il auoit les marques de uray homme:  
D'où vient donc qu'à present ceste pre●●e est cessée  
Et qu'on n'a plus besoin de la chair percée?  
C'est pource que ceux▪ la qui ores les clefs ont,  
Par les enfans qu'ils font, monstrent bien ce qu'ils sont.  That is, 
Of old times, none Rome's holy keys did ●eare,  
But by some marks had first his manhood shown:  
How comes this trial out of date whilere?  
Nor needs no chair to make his secret known?  
For that who ever now the keys have borne,  
Have by their bastards proved their sex before.  And as for Popish laws and constitutions, we find that our ancestors opposed themselves against them to the uttermost of their power: and forbore not to cry out mightily against the Clergy for not abolishing them: but principally against the forbidding of Priests marriages. Against which we find these verses in the first place simply and plainly made. 
O b●n● Calixte, nunc omnis Clerus odit te.  
Olim Presbyteri poterant uxoribus uti:  
Hoc destruxisti tu, quando Papa fuisti.  
Ergo tuum Festum nunquam celebratur honestum.  And others (after them) beginning thus, 
Prisciani regula penitus cassatur:  
Sacerdos per hic & haec olim declinatur.  
Sed per Hic solùm nunc articulatur:  
Quum per nostrum praesulem Haec amoveatur.  And a little after, 
Non est Innocentius, immò nocens ve●è,  
Qui quod facto docuit, verbo vult delere.  
Et quod olim iu●enis voluit habere,  
Modò vetus Pontifex studet prohibere.  
Gignere, etc.  Mantuan likewise condemneth this Popish decree, where he saith, 
N'eust-il pas mieux valu suiure la droite voye,  
Par où la Loy de Dieu nous mien & nous convoye,  
En ensuiuant les pa● des nos anciens peers,  
Desquels la vie estoit chaste & sans vituperes,  
Quand ils se contentoyent d'auoir chacun sa femme?  
Helas, & qu'estce au pris du celibat infame,  
Que maintenir on veut country Dieu & nature,  
Si non impieté pleine de forfeiture?  That is, 
Were it not better follow that right path,  
Wherein Gods royal law doth us conduct,  
Pressing the footsteps of our ancestors,  
Whose life was chaste and void of rightful blame,  
When each man was with his own wife content?  
Alas, what's this to that infamous life,  
Which singly they against God and nature lead,  
Full of lewd thoughts and many a beastly deed?  Neither was there so much as Master Allin Charretier, but cried out against this Canon or constitution. For (as john More witnesseth in his book called the Exile) he writ against it as followeth: There was long since a new Canon confirmed in the West Church, severing the order of holy Matrimony from the dignity of Priesthood, under the colour of purity and Chastity: but now contrarily runneth the Canon of Concubinage, with enticements to worldly pomp and dignities, to sensual and fleshly sins; and (which is more) the Clergy is grown extremely and unconscionably covetous, etc. A little after; What hath the constitution of forbidding priests marriages brought with it, but the changing of lawful generation into adultery and fornication? and the honest cohabitation with one only spouse, into multiplication of harlots and living in hot and burning lust? And if I should say all that I think, I would say, etc.  
12 But a wonder it is, that our ancestors should not perceive the villainies of that purple whore, the scarlet strumpet (which calleth herself The holy Catholic Church) seeing she never cloaked nor concealed them in the least manner, but set them to the open view to all that would behold them: as namely in the case of forbidding Priests marriages. For though Pope Hildebrand made it a Canon and constitution of the Church, yet some of his successors (as stories report) have been so far from keeping it, that they made no conscience to marry their own daughters: witness the Epitaph of Alexander the sixth, made by Pontanus: witness also the stories which have been written of his life. For herein I suppose he followed the example of his predecessors, not to speak of those whom historians (who have written of the lives of Popes) have severely censured. And as he was emboldened to commit incest with his own daughter, by the example of his predecessors: so by his example was Pope Paulus the third heartened to do the like. For he entertained his daughter Constantia, and perceiving that he could not have her at his whistle, & enjoy her company so conveniently as formerly he had done (considering she was married to a Duke called Sforza,) he poisoned her. I omit to speak how kindly he entertained his sister, because this incest is not altogether so unnatural and brutish as the former. And whereas he poisoned her also, because he saw that she took not so great pleasure in him as in others, it is less than nothing, considering the unconscionable largeness of Pope's consciences: witness Hildebrand who poisoned seven or eight Popes, that he might come to the Popedom. And which is more remarkable, after they had used their daughters or sisters as whores (as john the thirteenth did,) or other their kinswomen (as others have done) they married them to Princes; as it is reported, that the forenamed Alexander's Lucretia (I mean Lucretia who was his daughter, his daughter in law and his whore, that is, with whom he lay, (notwithstanding she was his own daughter) and his son also, who was her own brother) was married to three Princes successively: first, to Duke john Sforce: next (he being divorced from her) to Lewes' bastard son to Alphonsus' king of Arragon: & lastly to Alphonsus d'Est Duke of F●rrara. And yet these holy men (who have forbidden others lawful marriage) not content to use the liberty which jupiter used in such incestuous marriages, would needs after his example have their Ganymedes also. True it is, that some of them have had great Ganymedes, and others less. So that when Mantuan speaketh hereof in his verses which formerly I alleged, I cannot well tell which of them he meaneth: but sure I am that the Ganymede of Pope john Maria de monte, called julius the third, was in stature & feature like unto jupiter, somewhat resembling him in the proportion and lineaments of his face, as Poets have described him; which thing I speak the rather, because myself saw and advisedly beheld him, especially at once when he sat at table with his jupiter. But these earthly jupiterizing gods (those I mean that tread in the steps of jupiter) may not have it laid in their dish for dispensing with themselves in such a point, for which they would dispense with others also, rather than for marriage. For I persuade myself, if priests after they were forbidden marriage, had with common consent exhibited a petition to their Holiness, (holding the supplication in one hand, and a bribe in the other) that they might have recourse to the male sex seeing they would not suffer them to use the female, they would never have denied them. And that which more confirmeth me in this opinion, it, for that we read in the life of Pope Sixtus the 4. how he granted liberty to the whole family of the Cardinal of S. Luce to use carnal company with the male sex, during the three hottest months. As also that which we read in the life of Pope Alexander the sixth, how he permitted one Peter Mendoza a Spaniard and Cardinal of Valencia, to make a Ganymede of his bastard son the marquess of Zannet.  
13 Now besides that these devout Churchmen committed their villainies openly in the view of all men, as appeareth by that which hath been already said, and by sundry other places of this book; it is further to be observed that they make but a mock at sundry things, which notwithstanding they cause the poor people (silly souls) to hold and believe as articles of their faith. For when Pope Leo the tenth was told by his Confessor that he needed to fear nothing, considering he had the keys of heaven, and of the treasury of the Church, consisting of the merits of Christ and of the Saints: he answered in this sort: Thou knowest that he which hath sold a thing, hath no longer right nor interest therein; therefore seeing I have sold heaven and all to others, I have nothing to do there. The same Pope being reproved by certain Cardinals for his le●d life, as being exceedingly changed since he was created Pope, answered: If I be wicked, you are the cause thereof; for you have made me such a one as I am. They wondering at this answer, and demanding of him what he meant thereby: Because (quoth he) you have made me Pope; for it is not possible to be both a Pope and an honest man. Nay they go yet a step further, in profaning those things which they would have the world believe were holy and sacred: as when Pope julius the second cast his Saint Peter's keys into Tiber, and took Saint Paul's sword, saying, Saint Peter's keys would stand him in no stead for the wars, whereas Saint Paul's sword would help him well. Yet all this is nothing in comparison of that which Pope Gregory the seventh (called Hildebrand) did; who when his consecrated host (which the Pope's creatures call the blessed sacrament of the Altar, and the body of Christ) answered him not to his demands, being angry thereat, cast it into the fire in the presence of many Cardinals, who could not stay him from burning of his breaden God. The truth of which story might well be doubted of, if the person from whom it originally proceeded, were any way to be suspected: but the author thereof is Cardinal Benno, who further addeth, that john Bishop of Port (Secretary to Hildebrand, and very inward with him) affirmed in a Sermon which he made in S. Peter's Church in the audience of a multitude of people, concerning the profanation of the blessed Sacrament of the Altar:) Hildebrand (quoth he) & we with him, have done such a fact, for which we deserve to be burned quick; & he that will not credit this Cardinal's report, may find it confirmed by other testimonies. For my part I see nothing in this fact of Hildebrand, which is not more than probable. For if we read his life, we shall find that he hath profaned his religion after another manner: I say that he hath profaned his religion: for according to true religion, the said consecrated host might have been cast into the fire without any profanation at all; namely as a piece of paste, and in the same nature that it is of when it descendeth into the bellies not only of men, but also of beasts, & after into that place which for modesty I may not name. But some may here haply say, that it is no wonder if Hildebrand dealt in that sort with the sacramental host, considering he was a Necromancer, as in his life is discoursed at large: notwithstanding I persuade myself, that if he had asked counsel of him in whose school he learned the black Art, he would never have advised him so: which I do the rather think, for that the grand Negro of all Necromancers (who is also the great Sorbonist of Sorcerers, and master of Magicians) will in no wise hurt this god of paste, but very friendly and lovingly agrees with him. For proof hereof, in the year 1538. there were certain priests burnt in Savoy for enchantments and sorcery, one of which was burnt at roll a town four miles distant from Lausanna, and his whore with him for company, which was a sorceress; who confessed that he had been a sorcerer for the space of four and twenty years, during which time he never left saying his ordinary Masses. Which makes me say, that there is old acquaintance and good agreement between the god in the Mass, and the Bee in the box. For how else could this sorcering priest have been capable of this high honour and dignity of singing Mass, seeing that before he came to be initiated in the devils school and entered in his black book, he was to give himself body and soul, tripes and all unto him: as also deny God his creator, and renounce his baptism, as may appear by the arraignements, inditements and condemnations of sorcerers and witches. And therefore the devil (in my opinion) never gave Hildebrand that counsel to cast the consecrated host into the fire, but he was horn mad for anger, in that it being called and reputed a god, could not answer the questions which he demanded of him, as well as Apollo, Bacis, or Pythias, who gave answers by their Oracles.  
14 If any shall still doubt (notwithstanding the reasons that have been here alleged, and elsewhere, as namely where I spoke of the Sacramental empoisoner) whether there be indeed such good agreement and intelligence between the devil and the breaden God, I will hear allege the testimonies of his own priests, which shall likewise serve for the continuing of my intended discourse, touching the foresaid profanation. And first I will allege the testimony of a Priest of Savoy, named dom Anthony Goetrew (Dom in Savoy is as much as Sir with us) who when he was chanting his Mass, perceiving his gossip which holp him to sing, stay too long before he answered Amen: Say Amen (quoth he) in the devils name. And strait this gossip said Amen in the devils name. True it is indeed that he was not a little moved, for to his Amen he added these words; now a pox on thee gossip: for if thou hadst not called so loud, I had taken a mouse. For you must note that he watched a mouse which was come to hear Mass, or to eat the massmongers god. For divers of them have played such pranks as we know: but see his own words, which have a far better grace in their proper dialect. Amen, Le chancrou te rungzay compare: se te n'ousse tan cria, zusson prey la ratta.  
15 Further, concerning the good agreement which is betwixt this breaden god & the devil, we have the testimony of a Priest who said, For my part (I confess) I understand nothing of these Saints Masses: but I will tickle you over an ordinary Mass in the devils name. And here I cannot omit a like story of one, who chanting his Mass in a place where he might look into his garden; and perceiving a boy in the top of one of his cherry trees, as he was lifting up his breaden god over his head, cried aloud, Come down in a wannian, come down: speaking it (as it is most like) aswell to his god of past which he held over his head, as to the boy in the tree. And he concurs in opinion & practice with the foresaid Priest, who said, Come and say Mass in the devils name, for my master is angry. The same may be said of a gentleman of Lorraine, who said to his son (which had no great devotion to hear Mass (To Mass in the devils name, to Mass. But here, it may be demanded how it should be, that (seeing the devil and the god of pas●e do so well agree & are such great friends) that Priests should so often threaten him with the devil? as a certain Sir john in Lorraine did, who threatened to cast his poor god to the devil. The story is this, A good fellow owing this Sir john a displeasure, and resolving to beat him sound where ever he found him: meeting with him in the street as he was carrying his breaden god: Oh (quoth he) how I would curry thee, were it not for the reverence I bear to god in thy hands. Whereupon Sir john (thinking himself as good a man he) answered and said, If that be the matter, it shall not hinder us to try the mastery, and whether of us shall bear away the blows: see here is my God on the ground, (for he set him down to rest him there, and to judge of the combat) & the devil take him if he deal on either side. This question (to say the truth) is more than sorbonical: for many of no greater moment have been debated in Counsels. For seeing the breaden god and the devil are such great friends, (as hath been showed) how is it possible that the god of past should stand in fear of him, as it is manifest he doth, at lestwise in their opinion who thus threaten him? Some may also object a fact committed by a Priest of Savoye about thirty years ago, (either Curate or Vicar of a village called ●eling near to Bonne in Foussigns) to whom his parishioners came, to the end he might allay a great tempest (For he had bragged that they needed not to fear either tempest, thunder, or lightning within the parish, so long as he continued with them) who used first a number of conjurations which he had by 〈◊〉, and after took out of his Per●uise and Mass book the most horrible-terrible-words (being all this while shrouded under a tree, which kept off part of the tempest, and holden by four or five for fear of being overthrown:) but perceiving in the end that all was to no purpose, and that he laboured in vain, he brought forth his holy Sacrament, that is, his breaden god▪ and spoke thus unto it, Cour 〈◊〉 n'●ple ●or quo le diablou, 〈…〉 deg●ian le pa●o. That is, by G 〈◊〉▪ if thou be 〈◊〉 stronger than the devil, I will cast thee into the dirt. Here is (I say) another story liable to the same objection with the former: but because it would make my head ache to resolve it, I will refer it to the next Council: except they will in the mean time take this as a sufficient answer, that these breaden gods and the devil play now and then the parts of Advocates and Attorneys, who in open audience at the bar, look as though they would eat one another, crying Haroll for justice on their Client's side: but as soon as they are gone from the bar, shake hands and drink together at their client's cost. Wherefore it may well be, that these gods and devils abused the priests with like policy. At leastwise this is all that I can say herein for this present.  
16 As for other profanations wherewith the Massemonging priests (the Pope's creatures) profane that which they would have holden for a Sacrament, I will here give some few examples, leaving the Reader to judge what reverend opinion the poor Papists ought to have of other points of their religion, when the Mass priests so notoriously profane this which is the very marrow of their matins. And first to begin with a priest of Lorraine, who holding a pixe (or box) full of vnconsecrated singing cakes (as they term them) shuffled them together saying, Ribaudaille, ribaudaille, Ye little whoresons, ye little whoresons, which of you will be god to day? And from him I will come to a priest of Province, who being reproved for lifting up his breaden god with his heels upward, and his head downward: I did it (quoth he) for fear left his hose would have fallen of his heels. After these, I will tell you of a priest of Savoy, who bragged that himself and his fellows played with the god in the Mass, as the cat playeth with a mouse, viz. that after they had sported with it their fill, they devour it. I have heard also of other Sir john's who have put or rather incorporated into their Masses other manner of stuff: for hitherto we have only spoken of him that said to his gossip, Say Amen in the devils name: and of him who lifting up his god over his head, called to one whom he espied climbing his Cherry tree, and bade him come down in the devils name. Yet we have said nothing of the Chaplain of the late Marshal of Bié, who calling (as his manner was) for a cup of wine for his breakfast or morning draft, to one that holp him at Mass, and having set it in an odd corner at the end of the Altar (or there about) covered with a cloth, till such time as he had mumbled over his Matins: so it was that one of the said Marshals lackeys having a months mind to visit this pot, took his opportunity when he saw the priest in his Memento. But this gentle Sir john (for all his Memento) having one eye on his Portuise, and another on his pot, seeing it to be in that danger that it stood at the mercy of the lackey, added these words to his Memento, Let it alone thou bastards brat, let it alone. But of him who slept in his Memento, and when he awoke started up crying, The king drinketh, (remembering the Anthem he had sung all the night long, which made his head to ache) we have already spoken. Howbeit we have said nothing of that bon companion, who thinking he had been still at cards, cried, I am flush. And I persuade myself, they would never have inserted all these fo●d fooleries, had they not been in sober sadness: witness that hedge priest by Paris, who having found in his Almanac Sol in Canero written in red letters, thinking it had been the name of some Saint, took some pains to seek out the Mass that might fit it best: In the end when he had turned his Mass book over and over, and could not find him out, he made an end of Matins in this mad mood. Sol in Can●ro, Sol in Cancrus, nec est Virgo, nec Martyrus: venite adoremus. It were endless to allege all the examples of the ornaments of the massing Sacrifice: (for considering what the Mass is, and not what the Pope's creatures judge it to be, I call that an ornament, which according to them I should call a profanation) yet this one I cannot omit, the most famous of ten thousand, of Octavian of Saint Gelais, Bishop of Angoulesme (and yet a translator of Ovid's books de Arte amandi.) This prelate had laid a wager, that whensoever and wheresoever any should speak to him in rhyme, he would ex tempore answer in rhyme again: the wager being agreed upon, these three verses were propounded unto him whilst he was dandling his little breaden God. 
L'autre iour venant de l'escole,  
je trowai la dame Nicole  
Laquelle estoit de verd vestue.  That is, 
As I came from school alone,  
There I met with mistress jone  
Clothed all in green.  To which, without interrupting his missificall devotion, he answered readily in this sort: 
Ostez-moy du col ceste estole,  
Et si bien tost ie ne l'accole,  
I'auray la gageure perdue.  That is, 
Take but my cloak some one,  
If I kiss her not anon,  
I lose the wager clean.  Thus were their Masses garnished with merry conceits, uttered by the massmongers mates; as when they cried out aloud (o most shameless and impudent villains) To the offering Sirs, you that have any devotion, Come on ye women, turn up your tippets. But it was no jesting if the Priest did not post over his Mass as fast as they would have him. For than they were horne-wood, as if the devil had been among them. Some crying, The devil take thee Sir john: others, Haste thee in the devils name, for they will have broken their fast before we come. A pox on thee Sir john (would another say) thou canst not read half fast enough. All which charitable and devout prayers are nothing in comparison of that which certain French gentlemen said to a Priest, who when he should have made an extraordinary short Epitome and abridgement of the Mass, made it longer by the whole passion: but they may thank themselves. For whereas they should have bidden him say a hunting Mass, they bade him say a soldiers Mass, thinking it would have been much shorter. Whereupon the poor Priest having dreamt a good while what Gospel made mention of soldiers, in the end he stumbled upon these words in the story of the passion, cum fustibus & armi●, and so put the whole passion into his Mass: in the mean time making these gallants (who were all booted, and their horses in danger to be surfeited at the Church gate) stamp and stare, and curse as well the Mass as the masspriest. These examples (in my judgement) are more than sufficient to prove my former assertion, viz. that she which calleth herself the holy Catholic Church, never so much as concealed from our ancestors the least part of her lewdness, but laid it open to those that were not blind, and proclaimed it to such as were not deaf. And verily they serve notably to show how they profaned that which they held for the only true Catholic and Apostolic faith and right Roman religion: (for of their wicked lives and false doctrine, we have spoken at large before) But as for our ancestors, where one of them complained of their false doctrine, a hundred complained of their abominable lives: albeit the greater part found fault with them only for toys and trifles: suffering them in the mean while to run riot into heinous enormities, not once opening their mouths against them. As when they found no fault with them for their lewdness in keeping of benefices in this or that manner, but for enjoying of incompatible benefices, or for having over many. As we read of king Lewis the twelfth, who when a Bishop begged a benefice of him, (notwithstanding the great number he had already) answered, I shall (quoth he) give thee so long, till the devil carry all away. Tot dabo tibi quòd diabolus portabit omnia, as Menot hath it, who (good old Preacher) together with his fellow Friars (so often before alleged) will furnish us with store of such examples for the illustration of this point.  
17 I come now to false miracles, some of which our predecessors discovered, and others have been detected in our time: and I will first begin with joan the holy maid of Kent. This holy virgin was a long time holden to be a Saint and a Prophetess by the subtle device and cunning of the Franciscans, who made the world believe that she descended from heaven: giving it out (to colour the matter with some probability) that she neither ate nor drank; albeit she banqueted secretly, and played the strumpet stoutly with their ghostly father's holiness. Among other things, they made the poor people believe, that she knew all men's sins: and the truth is, she told those that resorted unto her, the secretest sins they had committed; but it was not without the knavery of the false Friars, who suffered none to come to her till they had first shriven them. Herself also might easily hear every man's confession from the room where she was: the Franciscans having chosen her a place very fit for the purpose. In the end when the knavery was discovered (after they had deceived many thousands) she and the gentle Friars, authors of the miracle, were executed. Some say the abuse was detected by a certain gentleman, who suspecting the cunning packing of the Franciscans in acquainting her with men's confessions, confessed certain things which he never did in all his life, which being afterwards told him again by her, the legerdemain was espied. Howbeit others say otherwise. There is also mention made of a crucifix, which the said Friars made to weep and to speak. As for the false miracle (or rather false miracles) of the jacobins of Berne and the Franciscans of Orleans, I will content myself to put the Reader in mind of them, hoping it will not be needful to make further recital thereof, considering these stories are in print, and in every man's mouth. Only let us remember that the spirit of the Franciscans of Eureux was before the miraculous spirit of the Franciscans of Orleans, as hath been said.  
18 john Menard in like manner records another false miracle (though wrought by no wicked spirit) in his book entitled A declaration of the order and state of the Franciscans. A pedlar of S. Anthony's relics being to preach under a walnut tree, had strewed gunpowder a little before in a Pies nest, which bred in the tree, and having so done, he tied a small string unto it, putting fire to the end thereof. Now whilst he was preaching his pardons, the Pie perceiving the powder, began to make a great chattering. The Franciscan (who listened to hear this sport) thinking it would not be long before it took fire above, began in this sort, Thou naughty bird, which thus interruptest this holy exercise, my Lord S. Anthony's fire will burn thee for this gear. He had no sooner spoken the word, but the fire which had already seized upon the nest by means of the string, burned both her and her young ones: which was not done without a solemn shout, the people crying aloud, A miracle, a miracle; by means whereof he got a good round offering. He further relates sundry like stories which he had heard of these peddlers of reliks', S. Anthony's Questors, as namely that their manner was to heat their little crosses or brazen images whilst the good wife went into the garner or cellar to fetch them something, and at her return would make her kiss the cross or image, and when she felt it hot, they would exceedingly terrify and affright her, saying, that their Lord Saint Anthony thereby showed that he was not well pleased with her alms: whereupon the silly soul would go back again to fetch them more, and by that time the image would be well cooled; which they would say was a sign that S. Anthony was appeased. He writeth also in the same place of a li●●e knavish part played in Italy a little before (viz. about the year 1530.) by one of the same craft, and servant to the same master, viz. how that this boute-feu being angry for that the poor labourer with whom he wrought, would give him nothing for his pains, set fire on the house where his kine stood, which burned not only that part, but all the rest of the building beside, and all the goods therein; making them believe that it came by a miracle wrought by S. Anthony▪ but for all his cunning and knavery, the truth was afterward known. He further adds a very notable story recorded by many of another of S. Anthony's treasurers, who burned a poor woman's piece of cloth, making the world believe that it came by S. Anthony's means, who did it to the end he might be revenged of her; which happened (as he saith) in the country of Vaux, but as others affirm in Calabria. The story is told thus: One of S. Anthony's treasurers traveling through the country (with a good fellow who led the Ass which carried the wallet) passed by a butcher's house, where, as soon as his man had rung the bell, the good wife forthwith opened the door, and having let them in, went to fetch them a piece of flesh: in the mean while this false Friar having marked two fair swine playing together upon the dunghill, turning him at her return toward his knavish companion, said, Is it not great pity that these two swine should die so suddenly▪ The poor woman listening to his speech, questioned further with him thereof. Whereupon the ghostly father said unto her, My good sister I can say nothing, but that I am very sorry that these two swine should die so suddenly, and there is no man living that can perceive it, except he be in the favour of blessed S. Anthony: howbeit there were some hope, if I had but two of the acorns which our Prior halloweth every year. The woman holding up her hands, besought him to give her some of them, promising not to be unmindful of that good turn. He then casting his eye upon his servant (who attended upon this trash and gain of the wallet) asked him if he had any of the acorns left, which he gave at the village whence they came last? The fellow having sought a good while, answered that he could find but two, which he said he kept for their Ass which was often sick: Though our Ass should die (quoth he) yet must we pleasure this good woman, whom I know to be well affected to our order. Mean while looking with a covetous leering eye at a piece of cloth which lay hard by, (continuing his speech) he said, My good sister, I am so persuaded of your liberality, that you will not deny me a piece of linen cloth for the poor sick folk of our Covent. She forthwith offered him linen cloth or what he would demand, so he would speedily remedy that evil. Then taking these two acorns in his hand, he called for a vessel full of water, and cast therein a little salt; and putting off his cowl, began to patter over a number of shor● prayers (his man still answering Amen, and the good wife with her children being solemnly all the while upon their knees;) and having ended his devotions, he beat the acorns to powder, and cast them into the water▪ and stirring them together like a mash, gave them the swine to drink, making many crosses, and pronouncing as many blessings over their backs, ever calling upon the good Baron S. Anthony for assistance in this miracle. This done, he told her that her swine were in no danger. She therefore to make good her promise, changed her piece of cloth for the grand mercies of this ghostly father. But the good man of the house (her husband) coming home shortly after, and hearing of all this pageant, as also how his cloth was an actor therein: taking two or three of his gossips with him ran after them. The Friar seeing them coming a far off with staves upon their necks, was amazed like a cutpurse taken in the fact▪ howbeit he thought it his best course to take an house (which was somewhat near) into which his man ran, and secretly conveyed thence two quick coals, which he folded up in the cloth: and having so done, they passed on their way, as though they mistrusted nothing. Anon the butcher overtook him, and laying hold of his hood (after a rude and rough manner) asked him for his cloth, call him thief, with many other threatening words. Sir quoth the Friar (very mildly) You shall have it with all my heart; and God forgive you this wrong you offer me, in taking that from me which was given me in recompense of a great good turn done at your house: it grieveth me not that you take away my cloth, yet I trust the glorious Baron Saint Anthony will work some wonder, and that shortly, to teach you how you entreat the faithful servants and friends of God. The butcher nothing regarding vain words, returned back, very jocund that he had gotten his cloth again. Howbeit he was not gone a bow shoot from the Friar, but he smelled the burning of some thing, and saw a smoke round about him; whereat he and his fellows were so amazed, that they cast down the cloth, and cried aloud, S. Anthony the hermit, S. Anthony of Padua. Which when the Friar and his varlet heard, they came running to them like sly merchants with demure countenances; his man presently putting out the fire, and the Friar discharging a number of blessings over the heads of these simple suppliants (being on their knees) instantly crying him and the good Saint mercy, till they were even hoarse withal. These things thus p●ssed over, he carried them to the parish Church to Mass, where the cloth being unfolded and well viewed (for so the story saith) it was solemnly avowed for a miracle. And it was enjoined the poor butcher in way of penance, to accompany the Friar throughout all Calabria to witness this wonder; who by this means did not only recover his cloth again, but gathered a round sum of money (every man thinking himself happy that gave him any thing:) whereas the poor butcher lost not only his cloth, but was further endamaged as well with the expense of his journey as the intermission of his trade.  
19 From Calabria I will pass over into France, a country second to none in fertility of false miracles: and will begin with Pudding Saint Peter in the country of Berry, of whom this story is recorded. A priests maid (to speak with reverence) having powered swine's blood into a great latin basin, (which had the Image of Saint Peter embossed in it, and wherinto the Curate was wont to put his offerings, & to set it for a show upon the Altar;) it happened on a time that a drop of blood was perceived upon Saint Peter's face; about which the Curate made no small ado, not forgetting (among other ceremonies) to ring the bells, as for a most certain and excellent well qualified miracle. Which caused all the neighbour parishes round about, to meet there at procession; which when his fellow Curate perceived, (being moved with envy) he made such diligent inquiry, that he found how that certain drops of blood which the curates maid had put into the basin, were fallen into the concavity or hollowness of the embossing, where it was not closely joined to the place, which being congealed and frozen, continued until the thaw; and then running down, were seen upon Saint Peter's face, which gave occasion to the rumour, that Saint Peter wept bloody tears: which rumour (the knavery being well known) was afterward turned into a matter of merriment and mockage of poor Saint Peter, who for this accident was ever after called Pudding Saint Peter.  
20 And to parallel it with one other like example (before I leave this country) In the Church belonging to the Castle without Bourges, it happened that a Bird (some say a Pigeon) bleeding of a wound, ●ested herself upon the head of our Lady of Colwort, so that some of the blood ran down her face. And than who for a penny could cry the loudest, a miracle, a miracle. But when the king's Lieutenant had caused the head to be looked upon and searched, the feathers of a bird and some of her blood were found in the crannies and hollowness of the Image; whereupon the miracle which had been before cried so loud, was cried down again as fast.  
21 I have also heard of one of our Ladies (called our new Lady) who being miraculously discovered, wrought many miracles, at leastwise they made her believe that she did them. They had hid her in a hollow vault under the grass which they watered with salt water, which by the grazing of the kine in that place, was discovered.  
22 The deceit also of the Rood of Mu●e● by Tholouze hath been very famous. For they made this Crucifix believe (about thirty year ago) that it wept, and did many miracles upon the lame, the blind, and such like impotent persons, in curing such infirmities as surpassed the Art of Physic. There are two opinions touching the distilling of the water out of the Crucifix eyes, which they call tears. Some say it was done by water mixed with oil; others, that it was by the branch of a vine thrust into the head of the Rood, at what time it putteth out the sap, or weary, as others speak. But the miracle continued longer than that season, and therefore though this device might serve them for that time, yet it was necessary they should find out some other for the time to come.  
23 These were the means which they used to bring a Crucifix or Saint into credit: but to the end it might hold the credit it had got, and increase it the more, they suborned certain sturdy beggars to sergeant the lame or the blind, or to fain that they had been dangerously diseased, and afterward cured thereby. Sometime they used this as a means only to make their Saint famous: of which kind of cozenage we have sundry examples, three of which come now to my mind. The first is of Saint Renaud at Paris in the suburbs of our Lady of the fields, whom the Friars of that Covent would needs make believe that he was become a Saint and the powerfullest wonder-worker within 50. miles of his head. For effecting whereof, they suborned certain crafty knaves, to whom they had given the watch word to counterfeit the lame, the blind, etc. One of which affirmed that he was borne blind: who after he had taken many frisks in leaping up and down, cried a miracle, a miracle, for that he was restored to his sight. At which words a certain goodfellow who lay in the wind to watch his opportunity to discover this abuse, hearing him say, he had recovered his sight, showed him the coloured lining of his coat, and said: If thou never sawest in all thy life, and now seest (which I can hardly believe,) Tell me, what colour is this? The counterfeit told him presently what colour it was, in the hearing of them all. The man having him where he would, said: See here my masters, if he could never see before, how can he judge of colours? By which policy this abuse was detected. The 2. is of them who feigning the falling sickness (called S. john's evil) went to him upon his festival day, & having foamed much with crying, o john, john, john, about his shrine or the place where he stood, made the word believe that they were cured. In which was a manifest & impudent deceit: sith they which have the falling sickness neither speak a word nor move a finger. The third is of the miracles wrought in Venice, about thirteen years ago, by a Monk called Fra Matthio (as I remember) who was almost as soon uncanonized as canonised▪ to whom beggars and rogues came flocking thick and threefold, some counterfeiting the lame, others the blind; some feigning themselves sick of the palsy, others that they had lost the use of their limbs, and others some other infirmity: which counterfeit companions came not thither for nothing, for they were well rewarded for their labour by the canonizing Monks. Oh (would some say at their return) how do I feel myself eased of my pain? Another▪ that he was as whole as a fish, and as sound as a bell, etc. Howbeit, this pageant was not played without great murmur: for many that went thither to see this imposture (of which number myself was one) could not but speak what they thought, pitying the simple seduced people; who perceiving not that these vagabonds were suborned, were fully persuaded that this false Friar was become a worker of wonders after his death. True it is indeed, he was in his life time accounted a very holy man: & therefore the people were more easily induced to believe that which was reported of his working of wonders. Among other things, I heard this reported of him, that he would inveigh mightily against the Court of Rome, when the toy took him in the head, and use Dyogenick-like dealing in scoffing and censuring those that came within his walk. And I remember what captain Franchot related to the now deceased Odet de Selue (than Ambassador for the French king to the state of Venice) concerning this gentle Sir john. I bade (said he) this Friar to dinner one time in Lent, that he might serve as a fiddle to the company which I had invited: (for I knew he could ●east and sport when it pleased him,) who needing no great entreaty, came at the time appointed, and being set down at table which was furnished with kids and sundry sorts of stewed meats, (as the manner is at Rome) plied his trencher and filled his paunch aswell as any in the company, not showing the least dislike. True it is, we perceived he chopped it up apace, as though he had been in great haste, as well appeared afterward: for he had made an end of dinner long before us, & rising from the table, left us still at meat: & he was no sooner in the street, but we might hear one cry with open mouth. 
* The devil take all those that eat flesh in Lent: or, they shall all go to the devil.  Allo inferno tutti quelli chi mangiano carne la quaresima; whose voice we thought was very like the Friars, howbeit we could not imagine it should be he, considering that in crying out against such as had eaten flesh in Lent, he should have exclaimed against himself also. But as we looked out at the window, we might perceive that it was he indeed. And, which doth more aggravate his fact, the more he was entreated to be silent, the more clamorous he was; so that we could devise no other means to make him hold his peace, but by threatening to beat him. The captain having ended his narration, other like stories were reported of him, suiting the former in all points: by which we might well perceive what humour it was that caused him to procure the foresaid canonisation.  
24 Moreover, I remember I have heard of many false miracles about restoring of children to life, which were still borne, at leastwise to some sense and feeling, till such time as they had been baptized. And verily, it was the easiest matter of a thousand, for the Clergy to make the poor people believe what they thought good: for according to the common saying, It is an easy matter to deceive him that thinketh no hurt. And what great conscience they made to think amiss of any thing they either said or did, yea to judge that the knavery of the Clergy (though notoriously known) was plain knavery, may well appear by sundry places of this book, and namely by that which hath been spoken in this chapter. Notwithstanding here is yet a further point to be noted concerning the false miracles wrought by these impostors: how that they used sometimes the help of charms; and sometimes again dazzled the eyes of the simpler sort by diabolical illusions. Now he that would see examples of such juggling (to omit that which hath been already alleged) shall find store of them in the book of Conformities so often before alleged) where we find so many to have been cured by S. Francis and his disciples, and raised from death to life, that (if it were so indeed) we might well say they had all miracles at command: and that to work a miracle (and namely to raise the dead) was as easy a matter as to drink when one is dry. For what could not he do, whose frock (or cowl) was such a worker of wonders, that it gave sight to three blind folks, one man and two women? And how miraculously Friars breeches made women's bellies (which were naturally barren) to swell and tympanize, not so much as little children but have heard thereof: and verily such actions are there registered for miracles, that a man would think the devil had employed all his charms, sorceries and illusions therein.  
25 To this knavery we may add the imposture formerly mentioned, practised by those hucksters who made the world believe, that the bones of the first malefactor they met withal (for want of better) were the miraculous bones of such or such a Saint; which they call relics. And because there is a notable example of this kind of cozenage, witnessed even by Popelings themselves (of which as yet no mention hath been made) I will here insert it. But forasmuch as I have heard it told otherwise then Boccace hath recorded it (albeit the difference be in the circumstance and not in the substance) I will relate it both ways, leaving the Reader to his choice. And first I will tell it as I heard it. A peddler of Popish wares having pawned his relics in a tavern, and being not able to redeem them, bethought himself of this device. He took up a coal in the presence of his hostess, of whom he had borrowed the money, wrapping it up in a fair linen cloth. Whereat she began to mock and make merry. Why hostess (quoth he) what is the matter? do you indeed make a mock at my coal? I will make you kiss it for all this before it be night. Whereupon she would needs wager with him, that he could not make her kiss it. Well then (quoth he) let the wager be for so much as I owe you, upon condition that if I win you shall deliver me my relics again. The bargain being agreed upon, this gentle Friar (whose wit was not gone of wool-gathering) went to the Church, where he told the people that he would not show them the relics he was wont to show them, but one far more precious: and therewith unfolding his fair cloth, he showed them his coal, saying, My good friends, do you mark this coal? I tell you it is one of those coals, upon which the glorious martyr S. Laurence was broiled; and it hath a certain secret property; for no maid that hath lost her virginity, nor any housewife that hath broken the bond of matrimony, may come near to kiss it: for if they do, they will be in great danger. He had no sooner spoken the words, but there was great thronging about him; she thinking herself happiest which could first come to kiss it: every silly soul, both maid and matron desiring to sh●w openly that their consciences did not accuse them secretly. His hostess on the one side well perceiving that if she kissed it her wager was lost; and knowing on the other side, that if she did not, she should be suspected to have played her husband a slippery touch, & should not be believed though she made never such report of the wager which she had laid; went after all the rest, & kissed this fools babble. By this device this jolly Friar redeemed his relics without disbursing one penny, and increased moreover the number of them, by adding this unto the old. Menot the Franciscan, whose testimony we need not to suspect (considering he was made of the same mould, a Friar of the same fry) toucheth this story but by the way, yet he agreeth with me in this circumstance, that the relics were left in the tavern: his words are these: Fol. 41. col. 4. Dic de illis qui reliquias suas in taberna perdiderunt, & stipitem inventum in sudario, loco reliquiarum suarum, dixerunt esse quo beatus Laurentius combustus fuerat. And now you shall hear it as Boccace hath it, but more briefly, yet so as I will not omit that which may make for the understanding of the papistical style, which these Friar dockers observe. One of S. Anthony's religious pigs, called Friar Onion, being accustomed to go to a village by Florence (called Certald) once a year to gather alms, went one Sunday morning into the chief Church, where both town & country was met to hear Mass: who when he saw his time, began in this sort: My masters and dames, you have been accustomed of your special love and favour, to send every year to the poor which belong to my Lord Baron S. Anthony, both wheat and oats, some more, some less, every man according to his ability and devotion: that blessed S. Anthony should keep your bullocks, asses, swine & sheep. Besides, you were wont (those especially that are written in our fraternity) to pay that small duty which they pay once only in the year. For gathering up of which things my Lord Abbot hath sent me; and therefore see ye miss not to come in the afternoon into the Churchyard (when you hear the bells ring) where according to the custom I will make you a Sermon, and give you the cross to kiss. Moreover, forasmuch as I know you to be most devout servants of my Lord Baron S. Anthony, I will show you of my especial grace and favour, a most holy & goodly relic which myself brought long since from beyond the seas out of the holy land, being one of the angel gabriel's feathers which he left in the virgin Maries chamber when he saluted her in Nazareth. And having thus said, he returned to hear Mass. Now there were two merry companions in the company, who determined to show this jolly Friar a trick of conveyance concerning the feather of the Angel Gabriel. For watching their opportunity, they went and ransacked all his packet of trinkets, amongst which they found a little coffer wrapped up in taffeta, wherein was a feather of a Parrots tail, which he would have made them believe had been the Angel gabriel's feather: as he might easily have done without much Rhetoric; seeing the most of them had not only not seen it, but not so much as once heard of any such thing. Now when these good fellows had taken away the feather (because they would not leave the coffer empty) they filled it up with coals. After dinner when the time was come that he should show this goodly relic, he called to his man for the trash he had given him to keep, willing him to ring the bells and call the people together. And when they were assembled, he began his sermon entreating of that which he thought would fit his purpose best in regard of his relic. In the end when he was come to the point to show it, he first made a solemn and devout confession, and then (having two lighted torches) he took off the taffeta very gingerly wherein the coffer was wrapped: and speaking in the mean while something in commendation of the Angel Gabriel and of his relic, he opened it. And perceiving the trick which was played him (blushing at it no more than a black dog, nor showing any sign of astonishment) he lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven, saying, o God, praised be thy power for ever. That done, he shut his coffer again, and turning him to the people, said; My Masters and Dames, you are to know, that my superior sent me (when I was a young man) into the East country, and it was given me in charge, etc. And making a long discourse of his travail, he told them, that the Patriarch of jerusalem had showed him (amongst other relics) a little piece of the holy Ghosts finger, as sound and whole as ever it was: and the snout of the Seraphin which appeared to Saint Francis: and one of the nails of the Cherubin, one of the sides of verbum Caro, the abiliments of the holy Catholic faith: some beams of the star which appeared to the three kings in the East, and a Phiall-full of the sweat of Saint Michael when he fought with the devil. These are the relics which (as he said) the Patriarch showed him. But behold others which he did not only show him, but also give him. One of the teeth of the holy Cross, a little of the sound of the b●s of Salomon's Temple, a feather of the Angel Gabriel, one of the clogs of Saint Gerrard of Gran-ville. Besides all these, I have (said he) some of the coals whereon the blessed Martyr Saint Laurence was broiled. All which I have brought into these parts in great devotion. Howbeit my superior would never suffer me to show them, till he was fully resolved whether they were true relics or not. But now being certified, partly by the miracles which have been wrought by them, partly by letters from the Patriarch, he hath permitted me to show them. And because I dare trust none with them, I carry them always about me: and for that I was afraid I should mar the Angel gabriel's feather, I put it in a little box, and the coals whereon Saint Laurence was broiled in another; which boxes are so like one another, that I often take the one for the other, as now it happeneth. For whereas my purpose was to have brought the box wherein the feather was, I brought that wherein the coals were. But I hope there is no hurt herein, sithence it is the will of God it should be so, he having put the box of coals into my hands. And now I remember the feast of S. Laurence is to be celebrated within these two days; and therefore, etc. I leave the rest to such as desire further information hereof: considering that this story is enriched (as the rest of the same author) but with accustomable lies, common and ordinary with these false Friars. For which cause I would not omit them.  
26 And thus thou seest (gentle Reader) how their false miracles have been discovered and laid open to the sight of the Sun, as well as their other trumperies. But as blind Bartimaeus saw no more in the clear Sunshine then in a gloomy day, nor at noonday then at midnight: so we are to think that the silly seduced world had so lost the use of reason, & was become so sottish and senseless, so blind and brutish in matters of religion, that none of these gross abuses though committed before their eyes, were once perceived by them. For it is well known how the heady multitude would break forth into plain murmuring and mutiny against those that durst say, that that which they held to be a miracle, was but a juggling trick of a quacksaluing mountebank, albeit it had been discovered by the Magistrate of the place. Nay, they have grown to harder terms; even to break open the prison doors where these companions were kept in hold; yea after the knavery was detected. And here we are to remember that which I touched before, how that that which should have served them as a crystal, wherein they might have seen their cunning conveyance, was so handled by them, that it was a means to keep them still in their former darkness. And as they were as blind as beetles, so were they as deaf as door nails: for we know what a silver trumpet Martin Luther was (to say nothing of Wickleffe, john Hus, Jerome of Prague, and the like his predecessors) and yet the shrill sound thereof spent itself and vanished away in the air, and was never able to pierce their ears of a long time, they were so thick of hearing. But in the end, the Lord who had sent this his trumpeter, charmed these deaf adders in such sort, that he caused them to lend their patient ear. But how (may some say) could churchmen maintain themselves since the sounding of this alarm; especially since the coming of Antichrist was proclaimed through the world, and that little children could see their knaveries, and touch them (as it were) with their fingers? For answer whereunto, let posterity know (how ever they may wonder to hear it) that they have kept their kitchens hot, and fed themselves fat by other means. For when they perceived that the truth of God made open war against them, and that it got ground of them by little and little, winning from them now one piece, now another: they showed themselves no less cruel and currish, fell and furious against those that stood in defence thereof (if once they fell into their clutches) than the Lion or Tiger, nay then the Lioness doth against those that rob her of her whelps, as shall be declared in the Chapter following.   

CHAP. XL. Wherein is declared how that after posterity shall have wondered at the long continued folly of Popish practices and abuses, it will further wonder how the open discovering of them should have cost so many men their lives, who were persecuted by the Clergy: and will judge this story no less strange than sundry recorded by Herodotus.  
IN the time of our Ancestors, whilst the folly of the former abuses was in the ruff, the Clergy not content to be reverenced and adored of the poor people, to have their purses at command when they thought good, and to terrify them with their excommunications, came to this pass, even to set their feet in their necks, not as it is commonly said by a figurative speech, but really and indeed. Nay, one of their Popes was not ashamed to set his foot in the emperors neck. For it is a known and famous history (neither hath it been forgotten by those that have written the lives of Popes) how that Alexander the third having commanded the Emperor Frederick to prostrate himself, and ask him pardon for his offence (before a multitude of people, in Saint Marks Church at Venice,) the Emperor at his command kneeled down; whereupon this gentle Pope, setting his foot upon his throat (or as some say, in his neck) said, It is written, thou shalt walk upon the Asp and the Basilisk, the young Lion and the Dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet. The Emperor highly offended at this so great contempt and outrage, answered, I do not this to thee, but to Saint Peter. Then he treading upon him the second time, said, ●oth to me, and to Saint Peter. Now here it is to be noted, that the chief cause of this Emperors coming, was, that he might be absolved from the Pope's excommunication. Further, we read how that the Venetians sent an Ambassador to Pope Clement the fifth, called Francis Dandalus, to entreat for absolution from the Pope's excommunication (for he had excommunicated them again and again, and cursed them with bell, book and candle; and (not content to thunder out all sorts of Ecclesiastical censures) had caused the Croysado to be published against them in Italy.) But he refused to absolve them, till that the Ambassador (in way of honourable satisfaction) had put a dogs collar about his neck, and therewith had crept upon all four, the length of the great hall in the palace of Auinion: for which fact he was ever after at Venice called dog. The said Pope walking upon a time through the city of Bogenci, upon the river Loire, in great pomp, had (amongst others) for his attendants, or rather serving-men and lackeys, the King of England and the King of France, one upon his right hand, and another on his left; one of them leading his horse by the bridle. We read also how the foresaid Emperor Frederick attended upon Pope Adrian the fourth (this man's predecessor) like a blew-coate; at least, that he held him the stirrup when he lighted off his horse, by the same token, that in am of this so great humility, he got nothing but a frump for his labour, and that by the Pope himself, for holding the left stirrup in stead of the right. With which flout the Emperor being somewhat moved, said, I was never brought up in such a trade: and thou art the first on whom I have thus attended. And what arrogant speeches used Boniface the eight to King Philip the fair, when he made no bones to tell him, that by reason of his disobedience and contumacy, the kingdom of France was fallen into the lapse, and devolved to the Church of Rome? The said Pope having his sword by his side, was not ashamed to brag and boast of himself (having refused now the third time to give to Albert Duke of Austria the title of Emperor of Germany) that himself forsooth was Emperor, and Lord of all the world.  
2 And suitable to that which hath been said of the excommunication of Frederick the Emperor by Pope Alexander the third, that is to be noted which Machiavelli saith, that Popes become great by three things, by excommunications, by pardons, by weapons; yea so great, that whereas in times past they were subject to Kings in civil causes, now they are above them, and take upon them to command them. For it is to be observed, that by reason of their pardons or indulgences they were worshipped as gods, and gathered Peter's pence apace: by reason of excommunication they were feared; whereof we may see infinite examples in the lives of Popes. And these words thunderbolt and thundering helped them well to play their parts with those who took the Pope to be the man whom he affirmed himself to be. Yet I will not say, but that they have enriched themselves by their excommunications. For as they forbade the use of sundry things, to the end men might buy dispensations: so they excommunicated men to the end they might buy absolutions. As we read how the foresaid Emperor Frederick bought his absolution of Pope Gregory the ninth, at the price of an hundred thousand ounces of gold. But what shall we say to Boniface the eight, who not content to excommunicate the French King according to the usual manner, excommunicated him and all his to the fourth generation? By which we may perceive how at their pleasure they trod Kings and Emperors (as well as meaner men) under their feet, openly mocking at the Lombard-like patience and sottishness of the world. For what colourable excuse or pretence could his Holiness have to excommunicate a man with all his posterity to the fourth generation? The like mockage used the foresaid Pope, when to spite the forenamed King Philip the fair, he nullified all the indulgences granted to the French by his predecessors. For had these pardons had such virtue in them as they were supposed to have, they should have delivered many millions of souls out of Purgatory: whereas being manifested to be but trumperies & mere nullities, it should follow that these poor souls were to return back into Purgatory again. As a malefactor who having got out of prison by means of the Prince's pardon, if it so fall out that his pardon be reversed or repealed, there is no remedy, he must be cast into prison again.  
3 Further, we may see how men excommunicate were driven to despair, and what cruel revenge was taken of the Laity for offending and wronging the Clergy, by a story recorded in the life of Honorius the third, where it is said, that Anno 1223. Adam Bishop of Cathnes in Scotland, being burned in his own kitchen by some of his diocese, for excommunicating certain of them, because they paid not their tenths: this Pope was never at quiet till for this one he had hanged four hundred of them, and gelded their children. Which history (to omit other particulars) shows into what a desperate case poor souls were driven by this means. For it is not probable that they which did so handle their Bishop (who had excommunicated them) would have broken out into so great outrage, but that formerly they had been instant suppliants and importunate suitors for an absolution; which being denied, caused them to fall into this mad mood.  
4 Consider now (gentle Reader) how these Antichrists made all the world to tremble under them: for if any shall reply and say, that all Churchmen were neither Popes nor Prelates, to keep the people in such awe, and to be so much feared: I shall desire him to remember what the proverb saith, De grand master, hardy valet. A great lord, a bold servant; which (if I be not deceived) hath been more truly verified, and better practised by them, then by any men in the earth. For hardly durst a man look a paltry priest in the face, for the great reverence and respect which was had of our holy mother the Church. Besides, it is to be observed that their Lord and Master did not reserve the thunderbolt of excommunication to himself alone, but afforded it them, when and as often as they stood in need: which they so little spared, that for half a quart d'escu, yea for a matter of three pence (as Menot saith) they would not stick to excommunicate poor men, who were thereupon driven to despair, as thinking themselves to be damned. And because the place in Menot serveth so fitly for this purpose, I will here insert it. He saith therefore fol. 143. col. 4. He that is excommunicated, is forsaken of God, and given up into the power of all the devils in hell: and therefore it is a great and grievous sin to put such a sharp sword into the hand of a foolish Prelate, seeing it is no small matter to send a man to the devil. Suitable hereunto a Cavalier said upon a time to one of our order: Softly father, I would gladly be resolved of you in a difficult point: I cannot sufficiently wonder at the dealing which is practised at this day in the Church, in that we secular men send those whom we cut off with the stroke of justice to heaven: you Churchmen send them strait to the devil. I will show you how: when we condemn any man to death (which he hath justly deserved) before we send him to the gallows, we procure some good man to shrive him, and when he is led to the place of execution, we comfort him and put him in good hope, and labour by all means to work him to a good disposition, that so he may die in a good mind: whereas you Clergymen (who have the cure, and should have the care of men's souls) for three single pence, or an old pair of shoes, send a man soul and body, clothes and all to the devil: such great zeal you have of the salvation of our souls. To which this ghostly father (as he confessed to me) could not answer him with all his divinity, seeing his conscience told him that he spoke nothing but the very truth: & he is yet to take counsel of his pillow what answer to make him. If this poor Franciscan was constrained to confess thus much, (who had affirmed a little before, that all that were excommunicated by Priests, were no longer under the protection of God, nor in the bosom of the Church, but were delivered up to Satan, in such sort, that even upon good Friday, when men pray not only for Christians, but also for jews, Pagans, and other infidels, they pray not for them.) If (I say) his conscience enforced him to confess this, in what a pitiful plight (may we think) were they, over whom they did so tyrannize, by terrifying them with the thunderbolt of excommunication?  
5 And no marvel if they stood in such fear to be excommunicated by a Priest, considering the opinion which they had of them (which was often beaten into their heads:) I mean the opinion which they had of their power & authority: for they would not stick to say, Potestas Mariae maior est potestate Angelorum, non tamen potestate sacerdotum. Which sentence is alleged by Menot, fol. 107. And God knows what goodly lying legends they alleged to prove the power, dignity and greatness of Priests. As when Barelete recordeth fol. 247. col. 3. that after that the Emperor Constantine had been baptised, he sent back two Priests which came to him for the deciding of a controversy which was betwixt them, and that he should say unto them, It belongs not to me to judge them that are my gods. And what would we more? when they apply sundry places of Scripture to their shavelings, which were written of Christ himself: neither herewith content, forge sundry fables touching the strange torments inflicted upon those that had any way wronged or offended Churchmen, or had called them by any term worse than their names. And as for Priests, their shaven crown (which might not be touched upon pain of excommunication) exempted them from the jurisdiction & authority of the secular power (yea of Kings and Emperors themselves) by many privileges of their Popes; in such sort, that certain thieves (as histories report) would needs be shaven in the Priests cut, that if they were taken, they might be sent to their competent Ecclesiastical judges, that is, might escape and be set at liberty as themselves thought good. Notwithstanding, even those Churchmen which had not their crowns shaved, but only some lesser mark and character of the beast, would boast and brag of this privilege of exemption from secular power.  
6 And touching their cozening conveyances, it is no marvel if they were so plunged therein over head and ears, considering the fear they were in of being excommunicated, if they did but once entertain any thing tending to the prejudice of the least ceremony established or received in their religion. Besides, they terrified them with the fear of certain torments which they were to suffer in Purgatory or in hell, according to the quality of their sins. As we read in the book of Conformities of Saint Francis with Christ, of a man who having but once omitted to make a leg at Gloria Patri, did undergo most cruel pain in Purgatory. They also alleged examples of certain punishments which have been inflicted upon men in this life: of which sort we read of one very ridiculous above the rest, viz. that in the days of Pope john the one and twentieth, it was blazed a broad over all Saxony, that there were certain which never ceased dancing a whole year together without intermission (by virtue of a curse wherewith the priest had blessed them) because they honoured not the breaden god which he carried about with him.  
7 We may also perceive how the poor people were nuzzled in ignorance, by that which at the first they made them believe concerning the Lutherans (as they term them:) for they were so far from letting them understand that they were like unto other men, and that they had no horns, that they were such as had been baptised, and armed themselves with texts of holy Scripture against the Church of Rome: as that they made them believe, that in shape and figure they differed from other men, that they made a mock of God and all religion, that they had wives common; and in a word, that they were worse than jews, Turks or Saracens. It is further to be noted, that a great part of the simple people knew not of a long time, whether a Lutheran were the name of a man or of a beast. For it is reported of one who being called a Lutheran, asked his friend what this name Lutheran meant, who told him that it was a disease ten times worse than the Leprosy: which he did so firmly believe, that falling sick not long after, he sent his state to the Physician, with this commandment, that they should inquire of him, if he were not a Lutheran?  
8 But at the last when their trumperies were so laid open, and their juggling tricks so well discovered, that even little children could laugh them to scorn, it was necessary for them to devise some other means whereby to maintain themselves. For how the Clergy terrified men with the thunderbolt of excommunication (when as they of the same religion feared it no more than a child's rattle, or the crack of a potgun) may appear by the Emperor Charles the fifth (who was not only a favourer but also a defender thereof.) for being menaced with excommunication by Pope Paulus the third, if he would not yield up pleasance into his hands (after the death of Peter Lewis,) he let him understand by his Ambassador, that he would thunder and lighten with his canons and artillery, if he would needs be thundering with his excommunications. What means then used they (may we think) to stop up the light of the truth, that it might not prevail against the darkness of their lying legends? Verily the same that we find registered of Phalaris, Busiris, Nero and such of the like strain. But what do I compare them with these gentle tyrants? For they never thought of the tenth part of the cruelties which these helhounds have practised against those that maintained the truth, and armed themselves with the word of God to uphold his credit and cause: for they chopped Logic with them, and answered them again with fire and sword, and all kind of torments: and in so doing were both parties and judges; taking it to heart as a matter that did sit very near them, because they foresaw that this light which some laboured to give entrance unto, would in the end put out the great fire of their greasy kitchen. And it was but lost labour to allege Scripture against them: for their bellies (which made buttons already for fear of paying their interest) had no cares, as we know no man's belly hath, according to the common saying. One brother was moved to accuse another, the wife to accuse her husband, the husband the wife; parents to appeal their own children, yea to be their tormentors, hangmen and executioners, for default of others. They of the Inquisition (as they are called) had their spies abroad in all quarters, to whom they gave the watchword. No witnesses might be refused though never such thieves, murderers, malefactors (nay contrarily they often escaped scotfree in recompense of their false depositions.) They gave their word to such as were accused or suspected, to the end they might toll them in, but thought it a sin to keep promise with them, alleging for themselves this goodly text, Haereticis fides non est servanda. Others were even half dead before they came into the tormentor's hands, coming forth of dungeons where they had been encountered by toads and such like vermin: yea sometimes they came old men out of prison, who were young when they went in. They that carried alms to the prisoners, were permitted to relieve all, save those that were imprisoned for matter of religion. And he that said, he pitied them, was in great danger, though he had no more pity of them then of a dog. Whereupon I remember a staff of a dozen verses made by a learned man endowed with rare gifts, which yet do flourish in him, in which regard he is greatly beloved of the godly, and extremely hated of the wicked.  
Liset monté dessus sa mule  
Trowe un pourceau demi brulé:  
Tout so●dain sa best recule.  
come s'ell'en ●ust appellé:  
En fin, tant y ●ut reculé,  
Que monsieur Liset en piquant,  
Parcillement & quant & quant  
Trencha un chemi● tout noweau.  
Vicil pourri au rouge museau,  
Deshonneur du siecle où nous sommes,  
Ta best a pitié d'vn porceau,  
Et tu n'as point pitié des hommes.  
That is, 
Liset mounted on his moil,  
As he went along the way,  
Came where an hog on burning lay.  
His mule began strait to recoil,  
As if she did the fact detest,  
Or feared to hurt her fellow beast.  
So long, so far she backward fled,  
That Liset spurred her till she bled.  
Yet still perforce she drew him back,  
Until he took another track.  
Thou measell wretch, with sauce-fleume face,  
Of this our age the just disgrace:  
Thy beast cannot abide an hog should bren,  
And yet thou tak'st no ruth on living men.  And now that we are speaking of Liset, what will posterity say (think we) when they shall hear of a burning chamber? We may assure ourselves it will be diversly construed. The greater part (no doubt) will judge it to be the name of some chamber in hell, at leastwise in our Ancestors Purgatory. I omit to speak of cruelties practised in secret, as also of the confiscation of the goods of the condemned, and often of those that were not condemned, yea sometimes of such as were not so much as accused (so easy a matter it was to arraign and condemn them.) Notwithstanding, I may not with silence pass over a kind of cruelty, which I am persuaded Phalaris himself would have wondered at, viz. that they inflicted the last and greatest torment upon them by fire (as Phalaris did,) but first they cut out their tongues, bereaving them of the ease they might have by speech, which Phalaris permitted to those whom he tormented: and not so only, but having cut out their tongues, they gagged them, that so they might make no noise at all, but be as mute as fishes. Neither was it safe for any to say, they pitied them, or to make any show or semblance thereof, much less to commend the constancy of those who had the means left them to manifest it in the midst of their torments.  
9 Now when I say that they used such and such cruelty, it doth not thereupon follow but that greater is practised at this day. But it is because this cruel persecution is not so universal: seeing there is not in some places (God be thanked) wood enough to be found, to continue the fires of former times. For our Saviour hath given the same virtue to the ashes of these Martyrs, which some affirm to be in the ashes of the Phoenix, and that in far greater measure: seeing the ashes of a Phoenix engender but a Phoenix: whereas the ashes of a faithful servant of Christ breedeth and bringeth forth a number of others.  
10 Now then let posterity judge (which can better judge without partiality or passion) whether Herodotus do record any folly so strange and extremely foolish as the forenamed, practised and endured by those who have so long lent their ears (and do even at this day) to such abuses. And on the other side, whether he report any thing half so strange or incredible as this, viz. that the detecting of such abuses (like to young children's sport) should cost so many thousand men their lives. To conclude, I beseech God in the name of his son jesus Christ our Lord, that posterity (to whom I appeal as to my competent judge) may never see such abuses as these be, otherwise then in paper, as here they are to be seen.    
Finis coronat opus.   

Faults escaped, thus to be amended.  
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