ANTISIXTUS. An oration of Pope Sixtus the fift, upon the death of the late French King, Henry the third. WITH A Confutation upon the said Oration, wherein all the treacherous practices of the house of Lorraine, are largely described and laid open unto the view of the world, with a brief declaration of the King's death, and of many other things worthy the noting, which never yet came to light before.  
Translated out of Latin by A. P.  
LONDON Printed by john Wolf. 1590.   

An Oration of Pope Sixtus the fift upon the death of King Henry the third, in Rome in the full assembly of the Cardinals.  
COnsidering oftentimes with myself, and applying my whole understanding unto these things, which now of late by a just judgement of God, are come to pass: I think I may with right use the words of the Prophet Abacuch saying: I have wrought a work in your days, and none will believe it, though it be told them. The French King is slain by the hands of a Friar, for unto this it may fitly be compared, although the Prophet spoke of an other thing, namely of the incarnation of our Lord, which exceedeth and surmounteth all other wonders and miracles whatsoever: as also the Apostle S. Paul referreth the same words unto the resurrection of Christ. When the Prophet said a work, his mind was not to signify by it some common or ordinary thing, but a rare and notable matter, and a deed worthy to be remembered, as that of the creation of the world, The heavens are the works of thine hands: And again, He rested the seventh day, of all the works which he had made. When he saith, I have wrought, with these words the holy Scripture is wont to express things not come to pass by casualty, fortune, or accident, but things befallen by the determined providence, will, and ordinance of God, as our Saviour said: The works which I do, ye shall do also, and yet greater, and many more such like wherewith the holy Scriptures are replenished. And that he saith that it is done in times past, herein he followeth the use and order of the other Prophets, who for the certainty of the event are wont to prophesy of things to come as if they were passed already. For the Philosophers say, that things past are of necessity, things present, of being: and things to come only of possibility. For which certainty the Prophet isaiah long before prophisying of the death of Christ, hath thus spoken: He was led as a sheep to the slaughter, and like a dumb lamb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth, etc. And this whereof we speak at this present, and which is come to pass in these our days, is a famous, notable, and an uncredible thing not done or atcheiued without the particular providence and disposition of the Almighty. A Friar hath killed a King, not a painted one, or drawn upon a piece of paper, or pictured upon a wall, but the King of France, in the midst of his army, compassed and enuiconed round about with his Guard and Soldiers: which truly is such an act, and done in such a manner, that none will believe it, when it shall be told them, and perhaps our posterity and the age to come will account and esteem it but a fable.  
That the king is dead or else slain, it is easily to be believed, but that he is killed and taken away in this sort, is hardly to be credited, even as we presently agree unto this that Christ is borne of a woman, but if we add unto it of a woman virgin, then following natural reason we can in no wise assent unto it. Even so we lightly believe that Christ died, but that he is risen up again from death to life, it falleth hard unto man's understanding, and therefore not lightly digested. That one is wakened again out of a sleep, ecstasy, or a sound, because it is not against nature, we naturally believe it, but to be risen again from death, it seemeth so uncredible unto the flesh, that S. Paul desputing in Athens of this point, was nushked greatly, and accused to be a setter forth of new Gods, so that many (as S. Luke witnesseth) did mock him, and many for the strangeness of the doctrine said, We will hear thee again of this thing. Of such things therefore which befall not, according to the laws of nature, and the ordinary course thereof, speaketh the Prophet, That none shall believe it when it shall be told them. But we give credit unto it by consideration of the omnipotency of God, and by submission of our understanding under the obedience of faith, and service which we own unto our Saviour Christ. And by these means this that was incredible by nature, cometh credible by faith: therefore we that believe not after the flesh that Christ is borne of a virgin, yet when there is added unto it, that this was done supernaturally by operation of the holy Ghost: then truly we agree unto it, and faithfully believe it. So likewise when it is said that Christ is risen again from the dead, as we are flesh only we believe it not, but when it is affirmed that this was done by the power of the divine nature which in him was, then without any doubting we believe it. In the same manner when it shall be told us that such a mighty King was killed by a poor, simple, and a weak Friar, even in the midst of his arnne, and environed with his Guardo and soldiers, to our natural reason and fleshly capacity it will seem uncredible, yet considering on the other side the great and grievous sins of this King, and the special providence of the almighty herein, and by what accustomed and wonderful means he hath accomplished his most just will and judgement against him, then most firmly we will believe it. Therefore this great & miraculous work I may but only ascribe it unto the particular providence of God, not as those that refer all things amiss unto some ordinary causes, or unto fortune, or such like accidentary events, but as those who (more near observing and looking in the course of the whole matter) easily see that here in this befell many things, which could in no wise have been brought to pass and dispatched without the special help of God. And truly the state of Kings and kingdoms and all other such rare and weighty affairs should not be thought to be governed of God rashly and unadvisedly. In the holy Scripture some are of this kind, and none of them can be referred unto any other thing, but unto God the only author thereof: yet there are none wherein the celestial operation more appeareth then in this whereof we speak at this present. We read in the first book of the Machab. the 6. chap. how Eleazar offered himself unto a certain death to kill the king that was an enemy and persecutor of the people and children of God. For in the battle espying an Elephant more excellent than any of the other beasts, whereupon it was like that the king was with a swift course casting himself in the midst of the troops of his enemies, here and there making a way perforce, came to the beast at last, and went under her, and thrust his sword in her belly and slew her, who falling with the great weight of her body priest him to death, and killed him out of hand. Here in this we see some things not unlike unto ours, as much as toucheth the zeal, valiantness of mind, and the issue of the enterprise, yet in the rest there is no comparison to be made. Eleazarus was a Soldier, exercised in weapons, and trained up in wars, set in battle, embouldened with courage, and inflamed with rage and anger: this a Friar not enured to the fight, and so abhorring of blood by the order of his profession, that perhaps he could not abide the cutting of a vain. He knew the kind of his death, as also the place of his burial, namely that he should be entombed under the fall of the beast, and so buried in the midst of his triumph and victory. This man did look for death only, and expected nothing but unknown and most cruel torments, and did not doubt before, but that he should lack a grave to rest within. But in this are yet many other things that can suffer no comparison. The famous history of the holy woman judith is sufficiently known, who took counsel with herself, that she might deliver her City and the people of God (no doubt by the inspiration of the holy ghost) to murder Holophernes chief Captain and Prince of the enemy's forces, which she also most valiantly accomplished. Wherein although appear many and most manifest tokens of heavenly direction, yet far greater arguments of God's providence, are to be seen in the kill of this king, and the delivering of the City of Paris, far more difficult and harder to be brought to pass, than was the enterprise of judith, for this holy woman disclosed part of her intention before unto the Governors of the City, and went not without great commendation of young and old, through the gates of Bethalia, and by the watch, in sight and presence of the Elders, and Princes of that place: and by that means was not subject unto their examination and searching which is always used so strictly in time of siege and war, that a fly can hardly without examining get by. She being come to the enemy, through whose camp and watches she was to go, and now oftentimes examined and searched, being a woman, carrying no letters nor weapons about her, from whence any suspicion might grow, & yielding probable reasons of her coming there, and abandoning of her country, was easily discharged. As also for the same causes, & for her sex and exquisite beauty being brought before this lewd Prince whom lust, wine, & good cheer had rocked a sleep, might lightly perform that which she had determined before. But this religious man had undertaken a matter of greater weight, and also performed it, which was compassed with so many impediments, difficulties & dangers, that it by no earthly means could have been brought to pass without the manifest ordinance, & special aid of the almighty. First letters of commendation were to be procured from the enemy, than was he constrained to go through that gate of the City, which directly went to the enemy's camp, the which without doubt was so narrowly kept and watched in the extremity of that siege, that every trifle bred suspicion, & none were suffered to go forth without curious searching before, touching their letters, business, and affairs they had. But he (a wonderful thing) went by the watch unexamined, yea with letters of commendation unto the enemy, which if they had been intercepted by the Citizens, without delay & further sentence he should have been executed presently, & therefore this is a manifest argument of God's providence.  
But this is a far greater miracle, that he without searching went also through the enemies camp, by diverse watches and sentinelles, and, which more is, through the guard of the King's body, and finally, through the whole army, which was compacted almost of none but Hugenotes and Heretics, he being a religious man, and appareled after the order of his profession, which was so odions unto them, that they killed, or at least greatly misused all those friars, whom they found in those places, which not long before they had taken perforce about Paris. judith was a woman, and nothing odious, yet examined oftentimes, she carried nothing about her that might have turned to her danger or destruction. This man, a friar, and therefore hated, and most suspected, having also a knife prepared for that purpose, not put up in a sheath, (which might have made his excusation probable) but bare and hidden in his sleeve, which if it had been found about him, presently without any further judgement should have been hanged. All these are such clear arguments of the particular providence of God, that they cannot be denied or disproved: and it could not be otherwise, but that God blinded the eyes of the enemies, so that they could not see nor know him. For as we have said before, although some absurdly ascribe this unto fortune, or unto some other such like accident, yet we think good to refer all this to none else, but unto the holy will and ordinance of God. And truly I could not believe this to have been done otherwise, unless I should captive and submit my understanding under the obedience of Christ his doctrine, who had determined by these miraculous means to unset and deliver the city of Paris (which as we have heard hath been in great danger and extremity) and justly punish the heinous and notorious sins of that king, and take him away out of this world by such an unhappy and infamous death. And we truly (not without great inward grief) have oftentimes foretold, that as he was the last of his name and family, so was he like to have, and make some strange and shameful end of his life. Which, that I have oftentimes said it, not only the Cardinals joiosa, Lenocurtins, and he of Paris, but also the Orator at that time here resident, can sufficiently witness and testify. We will not seem to call here to affirm our words, for those that are already deceased, but the living, and some of them at this time present do yet well remember them: yet notwithstanding we will not unrippe all that we are able and forced to speak against this unfortunate king, for the most noble realm of France it sake, which we shall prosecute and foster hereafter, as we have done always before with all fatherly love, honour, and affection. This therefore which we with grief have spoken toucheth only the kings person, whose unhappy and unlucky end depriveth and exempteth him also of those duties and honours which this holy sea (the tender and gentle mother of all faithful, but chief of christian Princess) is wont to offer unto all Kings and Emperors, which we most willingly would likewise have bestowed upon him, if the holy scriptures in this case had not altogether forbidden it. There is, saith S. john, a sin unto death; I say not that any should pray for it, which may be understood, both of the sin itself, as if he should say, for that sin or for the remission or forgiveness thereof, I will that none should pray, because it is not pardonable. Or else in the same sense, for that man who committeth such a sin unto death, I say not that any should pray for. Whereof our Saviour himself hath spoken in S. Matthew, saying, that he that sinneth against the holy Ghost, shall not be pardoned, neither in this world, nor in the world to come. Where he setteth down three sorts or kinds of sin, to wit, against the Father, the Son, and the holy Ghost, and that the two first are less heinous, and pardonable, but that the third is altogether unpardonable, and not to be remitted. All which difference proceedeth from the distinction of the attributes, as the divines teach us, which severally are appropriated unto every several person of the holy Trinity. And although as the essence of all the three persons is but one, so also is their power, wisdom and goodness, as we have learned in the symbol of Athanasius, where he saith, almighty is the father, almighty is the Son, and almighty is the holy Ghost: yet by attribution, power is ascribed unto the Father, wisdom unto the Son, and love unto the holy Ghost, whereof every several as they are termed attributes, so are they so proper unto every several person, that they can not be attributed and referred unto any other. By the contraries of which attributes, we come to discern the distinction and greatness of sin. The contrary to power, which is only attributed unto the Father, is weakness, and therefore that which we do amiss, through infirmity of nature, is said to be committed against the Father. The opposite unto wisdom, is ignorance and blindness, through which, when any man sinneth, is said to sin against the Son, therefore that which we commit through natural infirmity and ignorance, is more easier forgiven us. The thirds attribute, which is the holy Ghosts, is love, & hath for his contrary ingratitude, and unthankfulness, a vice most detestable and odious, which causeth men not to acknowledge the love of God, and his benefits bestowed upon them, but to forget, despise, yea and to hate them. Whereout briefly, and finally proceedeth, that they become altogether obstinate and impenitent. And this way sin is committed against God with greater danger and peril, then if it were done through ignorance and weakness of the flesh, and therefore it is termed, a sin against the holy Ghost. And because such sins are seldom and difficultly pardoned, and not without great abundance of grace, in some sort they are said to be unpardonable: whereas altogether through unrepentance only, they become simply unpardonable. For whatsoever is done amiss in this life: although it be against the holy ghost, by repentance it may be wiped out & defaced before death, but they that persevere therein till death, are excluded from all grace & mercy hereafter. And therefore for such sinners and sins the apostle hath forbidden to pray after their decease. Now therefore because we understand, not without our great grief, that the said king is departed out of this world, without repentance and impenitent, in the company, to wit, of heretics, (for all his army was made almost of none other but of such men) and that by his last will he hath commended and committed his crown and kingdom to the succession of Navarre, long since declared an heretic, and excommunicated, as also in his extremity, and now ready to yield up his ghost, desired of him, and such like as he was there standing by, that they would revenge his death upon those whom he judged to be the cause thereof. For these and such like most manifest tokens of unrepentance, we have decreed not to solemnize his death with funerals, not that we would seem to conjecture by these any thing concerning the secret judgements of God against him or his mercies, who could according unto his good pleasure in the departing of his soul from the body convert and turn his heart, and deal with him mercifully: but this we have spoken, being thereunto moved by these external signs and tokens. God grant therefore that all, being admonished and warned by this fearful example of heavenly justice, may repent and amend, and that it may further please him to continue and accomplish that which he hath mercifully begun in us, as we do put our trust in him, to the end we may give everlasting thanks to him, to have delivered his church from such great & imminent dangers. Whereof when his holiness had spoken, he broke up the Consistory, & having given his blessing, let them all departed.   

ANTISIXTUS.  
THe ages past have seen many that unnaturally have rebelled against their country, and with violence defiled their hands with the blood of their princes and parents: but none yet that ever approved or commended the fact. But now of late, and in our days a notorious murderer is come forth, the B. of Rome knoweth the cruel and bloody crime, and reproveth not the offendor, but praiseth him. This therefore is false, Sixtus, although it be an oldé saying, that villainy and mischief is more easier committed then excused: whether I compare thee with Papinian, or rather with Caracalla, both notable tyrants, yet it will hold in none of them both. With right than may I say with thee, fact 'em est opus in diebus nostris, there is wrought a work in our days, to the eye and ear most detestable and grievous, and horrible to be remembered and spoken of. The greatest and mightiest king of Europe lieth overthrown and slain by the treacherous fraud of a friar. But dost thou term this a work only? Nay, rather thou shouldest have called it a most heinous, execrable, and cruel act: and therefore the more heinous, that not one of the common people, but thou the ruler of christendom, Christ his vicar, the gate of heaven, hast been the advocate, defender, and commender of this great offence. Truly, who can suffer the hands of priests, which by their laws should be harmless, and undefiled of all christian blood, although most guilty, to be imbrued and stained with the blood of a prince? Who should not curse and detest the bloody butchar of the father of his country? Have not the incensed and angry people, reason then to cry, torture, torture, and all things else wherewith such cruel monsters are to be punished? Yet this is but small, Sixtus, and that which thou thinkest to be the greatest part of this villainous act, is the least. Thou with it only art to be charged, because thou alone art sound that commendest priuse murderers, and praisest manslaughter, and not only givest licence, without punishment to destroy, not a citizen, but a magistrate, not a magistrate, but a king, but dost also most impudently defend the deed, and teachest this to be the readiest and spéediest way to heaven, with poison, sword, fraud and treason to kill Kings, that are the majesty of mankind, the true pattern of Celestial power, and the lively Images of the King of Kings. And this is it, I think, Quod vix credat quisquam cum narrabitur, That none will believe it, though it shall be told them, because the like was never heard amongst the Turks. And the Tartarians, and barbarous nations when they come to hear it, will for the strangeness thereof, presently shake and tremble. Is not this then great, cruel and execrable, great truly it should be, if yet greater did not follow after. Why dost thou quake Sixtus, can there be said any thing more haynouser: I truly, we are fallen in those days, in the which the abundance of wickedness, maketh us destitute of words, and in the which it is scarce counted trespass, which in times past hat been most justly executed as high treason. So it is I say that the destinies of our age have brought forth a villainous deed, not the like red or heard before. No time ever hath seen a king slain by like treason, yet in the murder is something that will rather fret thee, then make thee to marvel. Why should not the casual hand of this enraged murderer accomplish the like, that the premeditated and forecast counsel of the traitor hath performed? There have been some whom the wild boar hath slain, some whom the stag bring entangled in the nets, some died by the unskilful cutting of a vain, some with the stroke of a horse heel, and finally if we look narrowly unto it, we shall find almost so many kinds and sundry deaths of kings, as there have been princes. And therefore, I tremble not so much at the strangeness of this as at the example thereof. I will not say, that thou the father of kings in Christ, (for so thou lovest to be termed) hast been grieved, mourned, wept, and called upon God, the strong revenger of all iniquity, for this most heavy chance, and misfortune of thy first begotten son, but (setting aside all piety and natural affection) to have undertaken voluntarily and without compulsion the defence of the murderer, maintained with thy authority, arguments, and laws, the nocent innocency, of this accursed cut-throat, and in remembrance of thy son, to have most cruelly inveighed against his dead body, and this it is, Sixtus, which I cannot hear, read, or remember, with a quiet and untroubled mind. Good God, I see in one crime, two offences, two heinous murderers, him first who most treacheroslic hath assaulted his natural Prince, then him who revengeth not the destroyer of his son, but excuseth him, and is not contented to excuse him, but defendeth him, and doth not only defend him, but praiseth him, yea by a most exquisite and singular comparison, canonizeth him amongst his Saints of Heaven. Avoid, avoid therefore hence, all natural affection, Sixtus hath banished thés out of the Roman Empire. As long as he reigneth go visit the Tartarians and Muskovites, and other more barbarous nations if there be any, here are none that will entertain thee, no not receive thee without thy peril. But O ye Frenchmen, it were not manfully done, to leave unrevenged the death of your most Christian King, who will suffer them to triumph with proud orations, over the treacherous murdering of your prince? Let me be nothing esteemed off, if I revenge it not, and requite this unto thee, Sixtus, give ear only unto me, and that our posterity may know thee, and thy vile and bloody excutioner, and all those that were of this conspiracy first hear in short and true words the chance of this mighty Potentate, that by the greatness of the murder, all our succession may judge him guilty hereof, that did defend it.  
The Historiographers have written divers causes of the original of the civil wars, in the time of Charles the ninth, according as they were led with love, and hate which they did bear unto the Potentates, and Nobility of France, yet it is known to every man, that after the departure of Henry the third into Polonia, the house of Guise chiefly the two brethren Francis and Charles, Cardinals, through a desire of reigning, have corrupted first their own, and then all the counsel of the Realm. For Empire's first of all must be troubled, and shaken before they can be overthrown and subverted. And from thence all these civil wars have taken their beginning. At that present the kings house, was yet mighty and strong, with divers brethren and kinsmen: unto whom the Crown without contradicttion after the decease of the King belongeth. And unless they were all dispatched, the Guises knew very well that their hope was but vain. Amongst the kings kindred, Lodowick prince of Condy was most feared, as one endued with singular graces, and alone sufficient to sustain all their attempts, and to break and bring to nought all their desperate enterprises. Who whether he now long since hath left this world, to the good or bad fortune of this Realm, through the pope's authority, and ancient Roman religion, having followed as they say the better, (for at that time there was a great talk over all christendom, of a reformation of all heretical errors and opinions) I know not. But first they set upon him accusing him of heresy, and corrupting of religion, which then was a difficult and heinous crime, & having him first sued in law, as an enemy of the apostolic Sea, presently after persecuted him with sword and fire. He on the other side not disprovided & destitute of courage, friends and help, (the new religion now being spread in all cities of France, and every day the number of his increasing, being likewise aided by the counsel of the chiefest and best of the Realm, who detested and hated the Guise's great ambition, and suspected their power) did valiantly withstand them. And here out is first come the unhappy distinction of the names of catholics and protestants, and the deadly & mortal division of this Realm, which I fear me, can never be agreed again, unless by a long peace, and great love, all causes of ambition, he removed and quite taken away: broils now being raised every where, which then might have been easily repressed, unless the fatal destinies of France had letted it, the Guises proclaim open war ayainst the prince of Conde and all heretics, and easily persuaded thereunto the king himself, and his mother, a very desperate and an audacious woman. And now seeing that they could bring his M. to consent unto all whereunto the thought good themselves, for the small experience which he dad, caused presently all those whom they thought were adversaries unto their subtle dealings, partly through fear and accusation of the like offence of heresy, to void the court, & by all means sought to stir up the rest to civil jars with a hope of spoil and such like novelties. Call moreover Philip King of Spain, and thy predecessor Sixtus, unto their aid. Promise unto the king then occupied in the Low Countries, that France should nothing hinder or molest him: and unto the Bishop of Rome an everlasting war against the enemies of the holy Sea. For they persuaded unto themselves that their intent could never, or hardly at the least be brought to pass, as long as the common wealth flourished with peace and quietness, but it being once troubled and with seditions, disquieted, should make it easy, and this their thought was not amiss. For the Princes of the Royal blood being all dispatched, the strongest and mightiest of whom, was now assaulted with open war, they hoped that the rest should either die in war or for the affinity which they had with the Prince of Conde in hope of the Crown, would soon departed from the Court, and finally that then, Charles and his brethren but children, might be without labour conveyed away and murdered. And to that effect they began war, and with these torches have kindled first the fire of civil discord in France: but the last destinies and extreme calamities of the Realm were not yet come, for as in our bodies a dangerous disease is oftentimes long felt before, and with divers pains and grieves the forces thereof are assaulted and wearied before they are broken and overcome: even so the like befalleth with Empires and kingdoms. But both the brethren departed first out of this world before they could accomplish and make an end of their long practised enterprises. Francis died at the siege of Orleans, at the threescore and three years of his age, having left behind him three sons, Henry Duke of Guise, Charles Duke de Maine, and Lodovick a Cardinal not yet come out of their childhoods. But in whom as there appeared sparks of domestical prowess, so in them seemed to be no fear of vice. Unto whom he left not only good store of treasure, and great revenues, but also a hope of a large Empire, his damnable practices, and sparkles 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 war. But in the mean while the king & his brethren grew in age, before the Lion's whelps were capable of their father's ferocity, and so France turning her former mind, began to worship, honour, & obey her Princes, now come to full age and full of courage & magnanimity, whom she never before had seen but children. But chief respected Henry, whom comeliness of body, perfect age, & valour in arms commended & advanced to the government of outlandish Nations. And thus by little and little their vain ambition hath been repressed, but in tract of time other occasions of evil were presented. Charles dieth, whether by destime or poison it is uncertain. And I have no leisure at large to discourse upon this point, & to rehearse from the beginning this tragedy: but yet this is most true, a little before his departure out of this world, seeing his estate greatly weakened by the tediousness of war & cruel murders & massacres every day committed upon his subjects, & the treasure of this Reamle consumed & spent, Italy & Spain laughing at it, invaighed with sharp & threatening words against the authors hereof, and this was peradventure the occasion of his untimely death. Henry the third succeeded him, whom whether Polonia hath suffered with greater grief to departed from thence, or France received him with more joy it is doubtful. He warned by his brother's example, as soon as he had set & established the affairs of his realm in good order, gave his mind wholly to the study of peace, knowing very well that rivill broils are always good for them that affect crowns and kingdoms, but nought to them the reign & wear them. From hence is come the first original of this mischief, for thou & thine Sixtus would never commend the kings most wholesome counsel, thy drifts tending to nothing else but by sword & fire to confirm thine own safeguard, little regarding by what law or with what condition one reigned so the those perished together with their crowns whom thou didst hate & couldst not abide. And so by little & little the remembrance of so many victories, and so many bloudsheds, committed for the Sea of Rome's sake, grew stolen, & presently after envy began to swell in the people's minds dasly corrupted by the seditious fermons of Friars, not delaying only the most godly vow of their Prince, but infecting it. And so it was easy to make an entry for mischief to follow. The Duke of Guise in the mean time with his two brethren increased in age power and favour by the Catholics, as their father was before, & at the first commended themselves sundry ways unto them, and having prospered reasonably under Henry being not yet come to the crown, saluted courteously every one that met them, although one of the simplest amongst the common people, spoke to them, & left nothing undone to steal away the hearts of the commonty, all true signs & tokens of an ambitious mind practising & attempting some novelties. Spread abroad false reports, to raise privy grudges & displeasures amongst the Nobility: and finally Francis the king's youngest brother being now departed out of this life either by sickness or fraud, jetted to & fro through all cities beraied yet with the blood of those of the reformed religion, fearing for their massacres a just revenge. Lamented the common misery, & unless there should be looked unto in time, affirmed that after the death of the king (which too true they said should be ere long) they all should become subjects again of an Heretic, & endure all bondage, misery, & flavery whatsoever. But that they would display their power against it, & the promised and ready succour of Spain & Italy, to defend & protect by it their liberties, and the Catholic religion: these things are known unto every man, & the king himself hath been advertised of them by divers spies since the year 77. & yet for lack of punishment, as it is often seen, grew marvelous strong. Let therefore the posterity judge whether this is come to pass through too great a clemency, or by some fatal negligence of all French men.  
In the year 1585. janus temple being shut up in France, & a happy peace flourishing in all the realm, no external or domestical enemy once known, the Duke of Guise withal the house of Lorraine having conspired together, take the weapons in haude, the only cause thereof was a crown, their cloak and probable occasion, piety & religion, a care for the realm, now ill governed, a pit to see the commonty with exactions pould and oppressed, and an intent to reduce all things in good order. They having put this vizard upon their rebellion, by their first writings published in their names, complained of the public calamities, of the weakness of the king's friends, of the realms treasure wasted and spent, notwithstanding the daily increases of tallages and tributes, and that the people were altogether unable longer to endure this beavie burden. Besides nothing. Something by the way as concerning religion and Heretics. For undoubtly they would not that so many enemies should be raised up at once, thinking that the king had drawn hatred and envy enough upon his head by the government of his realine, and that therefore they had sufficient matter and occasion of war. It is most evident truly through the private grudge which they did bear unto their king & the Duke Espernon, that some small and casual trifles of anger have been the first cause of these last troubles. In revenge whereof so many dead bodies, so many murders, and finally the death of the king himself, and the ruin of the whole Realine, have all scarce sufficed. But warned by a Spaniard who millioned the order of making the accounts of the Realine, as also by thee Sixtus, that looked for no benefit to fall unto thy share by this wars, but by the overthrow of the Heretics, they change their Ensignos, and proclaim open war against those of the reformed Religion.  
hereupon presently the Pope sent his thunderbolts, whereby he excluded the king of Navarre (at this present ruling in France) and the Prince of Cond●, unheard; innocent, and thinking nothing such, from his Apostolic blessing: but hereby may easily appear, that God and none of the Apostles were present at the rash judgement of the cause. They now having turned their long, spoke nothing more of the king, or his government but only in his singular commendation. Extolled the prime of his age, admonished him of his former valour and prowess, and with exquisite words showed that the memory of so many victories, wherewith he had so ostentimes repressed & abated the courage of the Heretics, was yet recont & fresh. That his time of rest was not yet come, and that unto such a valiant and strong Prince the victory of the battle, and the slaughter of a whole nation belonged. Moreover, they laid before his eyes his 〈◊〉 and want of children, and their miseries wherein they were like to fall, if after the disease of such a most Christian king (with dissembling wise they said that they greatly seared) they should be forced to submit themselves under the yoke and bondage of an heretic. Finally desired his Majesty, that it would please him, to appoint Charles of Borbon Cardinal, being weakened with age and sickening haste unto the Crown rejecting Navarre: And breaking the alliance and treaty of peace, with the heretics, should take arms against them: which if he liked & would perform, they never would refuse any due obedience unto him their lawful prince. Showed beside that they had their sword ready, and sufficient wealth and aid, wherewith they might not only revenge themselves ●ppon the Heretics, but also upon their favourers. The duke of Guise having spoken thus, not farrying if the King would further determine hereupon, having gathered forced for to assault those of the reformed religion, made them indeed to march against the King himself, dispossessed him partly by force and partly by policy, from such Cities as he could, where the name of Luther or Caluin had never been heard, rob their treasure, imposed new tributes upon them, and finally where no enemy was, exercised all hostshty and eruchresse. The king in the mean time destitute of courage and good counsel rather than of force, distristed himself, for his corrupted friends told him wonders of the Ginses power and army, and feared him that & the catholics should but once hear the name of Heretics, they would presently all retire, and go back from him. That he should linger therefore a while, until he had heard the counsel of his nearest friends, who with all speed if need required would soon provide all necessaries for the war: and overcome by the counsel of his mother, who always had favoured the contrary side, and freighted by the jesuits vain superstitions was not brought but drawn thereunto. And so the articles of peace were agreed upon, and concluded between him and the duke of Guise, and war intended against those of the reformed religion, unto whom by general proclamation was commanded to depart at the appointed time out of the realm, otherwise to stand to the adventure and hazard of their lives.  
About the end of the same year great forces were raised up and enroled, the duke de Maine was ordained chief over them, and being sent into Guyan or Aquitane, returned next year again with little good success, recalled, as they say, by his brother, who impatient of all delays was 〈◊〉 alike with envy, anger, and ambition, cried, that the enemy was not for to be sought for, that he was at hand, and stood before the door, that the head of a Prince only grieved him, and hindered his enterprises, and finally, that he only was to be assaulted, emitting and leaving the other. And so riseth again against the king, being occupied in other wars: and that he could not obtain by his first rebellion, by this he forceth it. Complaineth, that his brother was forsaken in Aquitane, frustrated, and destitute of men, money, and munition: as also that he was not sent sooner against the enemy, before all the treasure of the realm was spent for to lack nothing. That these were sure arguments, that the Catholics were betrayed, that his majesties mind was corrupted by ill counsel: and those whom he should love and embrace, that he hated and despised them, and that therefore it could not be but he had intelligence with the Heretics. And finally, if he rejected and disherited not the king of Navarre, and the Prince of Condy, and openly would appoint and declare a successor, that there was nothing remaining, that all good and godly catholics should any longer commit their lives and safety unto the protection of a dissembling Prince, who did all things with delay, and proclaimed war with his tongue against them, and called for peace with his heart. This was spread abroad, Soldiers are taken up, and again a new contract of Peace was to be made for agreement. The King at one time cumbered with two enemies, thought it necessary, that with one of them an appoynment was to be concluded, gave care again unto his mother's counsel: and again, by her means agreed with the Guise. He deemeth him little, delivereth unto him the demanded Cities, and commandeth new forces to be taken up, to invade Aquitane the dwelling place of those of the refournied Religion, and publisheth again new and cruel Ordinances and Statutes against them.  
The Guise now having obtained his purpose, and thinking that he was crept far enough in the people's favour, to undertake and enterprise whatsoever pleased him: and that the Prince was brought into sufficient hatred, that all things were set in a hurlie burlie, that the hearts of the Commonalty were dismayed, and that now but little hindered him to come unto his pretence, watched for a fit opportunity to bring to pass his long devised practices, when Fortime almost dashed and threw him down unawares. For report was spread, that a great army of high Germans was come already into the frontiers of the Realm, to the aid and assistance of the reformed Religion. And moreover, how the king of Navarre having repulsed and driven back nine armies in the spare of two yearus, and overthrown the Duke of joicuse, made haste for to go meet the Germans with his chrefest and chosen forces. Which report made the Duke, his allies, and conspirators not a little amazed, fearing that the king now better advised, and having gotten a fit opportunity to revenge himself upon their pride and arrogancy, might turn both the armies upon them, unsufficient and altogether unable to resist and withstand so great a power, as also that they might be discomfited before, ere ever they should perceive it. And their sear was not vain altogether. For at the same time the King of Navarre had sent his Ambassadors unto his Majesty, requesting him to use his, and the German forces against the common enemy of the Realm. But here it manifestly appeareth, that the King was never more betrayed then at that present. Here sure tokens are to be seen of his corrupted and disloyal counsel, which, if he had used the benefit of the time, should have without any danger recovered altogether his former liberty, restored his realm to her former grace, and established an everlasting peace amongst his Subjects. But God had otherwise appointed it.  
The Duke of Guise at this time was forced to rest and pause a while, but soon after encouraged again, by the counsel of his especial friends, whom he had always about the king's person, and who were privy unto all his secrets, setting aside his father's practices, had recourse unto his mother's policies. He writeth Letters unto his Majesty, and with an humble style, endeavoureth to prove his mind to have been gentle and tractable always, and never repugnant unto any contract of peace. Further prayeth him to impute rather all things passed unto the destinies, then unto the malice of men, protesting also, that he, and his, were always minded to honour, aid, and assist their Prince, whose death they feared therefore the more, because his successor was unknown, and like to be far inferior unto him, and if they were resolved of one doubt, that his Majesty needed not to doubt, but that all things than should prosper and succeed according unto his own wishing. Promiseth him also a strong aid against the invading and approaching Germans, & with many words declareth, that the ancient enemies of the Realm were to be driven out, who héeing once put to flight, they were like to enjoy an eternal and a joyful peace. This is easily persuaded unto the king, his greatest friends about him, and especially his mother stopping up the way always unto good counsel.  
And by these means the King of Navarre his advice most profitable unto the Realm, being rejected and neglected, an entry was made again unto all deceit and disloyalty. The king assembleth a great army together, and with his presence doth encourage it, sendeth the Duke of Guise before to stop the passage unto the Germans, and if he could not bring them to a battle, should at the least weary them with continual I kirmishes and invasions. The king remained in the mean time about the river of Loire. The Germane sources marched forward, and were come into the inward parts of the Realm without any resistance, to the great fear and terror of all the country. When the same fortune, which not long before had almost overthrown the Guise, presenteth unto him a far braver occasion luckily to proceed in his enterprise. For the enemy being brought by some cross luck between the Loire and the Seine, and wearied with a long winter, continual floods and rains, want and distress of all necessaries, were forced for their better safety without delay to go over the river to join themselves with the king of Navarre his forces. But the Duke of Guise prevented and surprised them upon a sudden in the night, made a great slaughter amongst them, and killed about twelve hundred of them, taketh many, and putteth the rest to flight: and if Monsieur chastilion had not been there at that present, all this great army should have been scattered and overthrown in one night: yet not withstanding the weak remnant marched forward. And the King jealous of the victory, committeth one part of his forces unto Espernon to pursue the enemy, and himself followed not far behind. But having understood the Germans shameful yielding, returneth again to Paris.  
All storms of fear now overblown and passed, the duke of Guise emboldened with this unlooked for and good success, thought good not to seek herehy so much praise, as thereby to procure all hatred and envy unto his Majesty. To that effect secret reports were spread abroad, whereby this new conquering Captain was exalted and lifted up unto the sky. The German spotless, to wit their horses, weapons, and all other array were led and carried in triumph through the Cities. And when the people were flocked together in great troops, to see this new sight, there were always certain declarors and tellers of the battle among them: The number of the dead persons and ensigns, was augmented, the manner of the fight was made very difficult, bloody, and dangerous for the conquerors: and most of this was falls, for it is well known that the companies of Colonel Donon now heavy with wine and sleep, were surprised and oppressed, where they had no place to fight, or to escape. And that not one of the duke of Guyses' soldiers were found wanting. Besides after the great overthrow of so mighty an army, that such small remnants have been able to overcome so many distresses, and come in safety to their journeys end: that it came not by any fault that might have been in the duke of Guise, but by the kings and the duke Espernons negligence and small care, unto whom he had left the chase of the weak remnand of pages and scullions only, having achieved himself all the difficulties of the war, and either slain or taten the chosen and valiant Captains and soldiers thereof, And notwithstanding all this, that by their means they were all safely arrived to the king of Navarre, to deprive the victory of her due honour and praise, and to hinder therewith the more the good commodities that might have ensued hereby unto the whole realm. That they at the first followed then for very shame, but so slackly, that they that were already vanquished, might easily escape without running. And now when they saw, that the hurt, weary, and sick men could not fly away or escape, who should have all been put to the sword, or at the least imprisoned, by the laws of arms and ordinances of the Realm, to have given and granted unto them (for a counterfeit yielding and submission only) their lives, horses, and furniture, therewith to invade the Realm again, and moreover unto some of them all their goods. By these devices, hatred and envy, being procured and provoked: the ill advised Prince, but to late, acknowledging his error, in vain began to wish for this most fit and neglected opportunity of revengement, yet being come to Paris, spendeth the rest of the winter in repairing and renewing of his forces, publishing an expedition against those of the reformed religion, which he himself prepared the next Summer following, either by these means to draw again unto him the hearts of the commonalty altogether affectionated under the colour of religion unto the Guise, or that he had determined to do it, importunated thereunto by the jesuits continual outcries, assuring him daily of certain arguments of God's wrath against the Heretics, and in brief a happy end and issue of all his wars against them.  
In the year eighty eight, which was feared should have been fatal unto all the World, the Guise taketh new advise and counsel, how to come to a happy end of his long continued hope, and to enjoy the fruits thereof. Complaineth that so oftentimes civil wars have been moved in deign against the king of Navarre, whereof the issue was doubtful, the profit uncertain, or to late at the least. That his Majesty could not be deceived, but could be oppressed, and the one of two enemies once being dispatched, that with less labour the other was to be overthrown and vanquished. That he had all things ready to suppliant the first, and then afterward would fall upon him who was yet remaining. That it was to be hastened, and not to be slept upon. Beginneth therefore now no less to hate and envy the King, then before he had done the Heretics. That Fortune had offered him this good opportunity, which if he should let it slip by, he might wish afterward for it, when it was past recovery. Moreover (the Germans now repulsed) that nothing was remaining that might cause him to fear. That all hope of out landishe aid and assistance was cut off unto the King of Navarre, by whose fault all Germany and England did cry out, that so great an army, so many Nobles, and such number of valiant Captains and soldiers were discomfited and slain. And that the king himself was sore wearied and broken with long during wars, and although Conqueror of many battles, yet had lost notwithstanding all the chiefest of his soldiers, and those that were escaped, either for want, and need, or for a desire of quietness, wished only for peace. And that with them therefore he should have but little to do: hereupon thinking most expedient not to make any further delays, furiously taketh now the third time the weapons in hand: message is brought unto his M. and reports every where spread abroad, not as before, that Cities are surprised, that the people rise in arms, that musters are taken, and such like signs of mischief yet far off, and to be prevented divers ways, but that the Duke commueth in person himself. And no sooner was it spoken, but he was seen in deed, arriveth in Paris very troublesomely (where the king was at that time) where he had laid long before ready and trusty ambushes, partly for the mutinous minds of that common people, as also for the great number of conspirators in that City: as it is most certain that no where kings and princes can be more easier oppressed then in their imperial Cities. But the first night of his arrival he was quiet, wearied (God having so disposed it, for the Prince his safeguard yet altogether unprovided) that all things were not yet currant and ready. But next day morning soundeth alarm, putteth the king's garrisons to the sword, and marcheth directly to the Lowre his majesties palace, with the mutinous & bloody people to besiege their sworn Prince. The king amazed at this sudden accident and upror, unto whose honour it stood not to fly away, not to his safety to expect his enemy with disadvantage in no indifferent place, yet with the lord chief justices soldiers, and with his guard of Swissers resisteth their assaults for a day or twain. But seeing the people to arm themselves against him, & all things to go backward with him and no hope of any help or succour, escaped safely among the enraged clamours of the desperate multitude, crying nothing but sword and fire, and came to Lions. The well-minded and affectionated subjects unto their King, could not brook and bear such an outrageous injury. Their hearts turned therefore upon a sudden, & the case now altered, do pity their Prince. The pillars of the Realm, the nobility, the commons, and the better and sounder part of the clergy came in post unto his Majesty. They exclaim all against the house of Lorraines great presumption, and said that punishment was to be done which should equal, or rather exceed the greatness of the offence. They pronuse unto the king all aid and furtherance, if it would only please him (giving over all other, yea rather the heretics themselves who never dared the like) to overgo this grief. The king subject unto his destiny, seemeth to be tourhed with this readiness of his affectionated subjects, but yet is nothing moved with it. But thanketh every one very soberly, as if he had had no need at all, answereth quietly unto them, that he wanted neither courage nor force to revenge his private injuries, and that it was not needful to sustain two civil wars in one realm, where one sufficed, & was rather too much. And herwith sent than all home again, intending again reconciliation. If the posterity will believe one telling the truth, let it without doubting believe this with me, that nothing more touched and moved the hearts of Frenchmen, then to see their Kings great patiency, not despising, but scarce approving the most ready minds of his subjects, in the revengement of the public and common shame and dishonour. Let the posterity also upon my word, holdly say that Ouéene Katherine his mother, was the only cause of his deadly sound and unsensibleness, unto whose faithful help and aid, the Guise took his refuge, as soon as he perceived that his matters would not forge, and that the common people were altered for this 〈◊〉 done unto the king, and that the Nobility, and the chiefest of his began to be discomforted, discouraged, and draw back from him. Now this third time Henry giveth place unto his mother's advice, and hearkeneth unto her counsel: now this third time an agreement is concluded with great joy of all the conspirators, who thought it to be no small favour thus easily to have escaped deserved punishment for their mutiny and rebellion. But the wise yet feared in general that this wound could not be closed up and healed without a foul searre remaining, or that he who had once presumed to beat his Prince out of his Imperial City, should not want audacity to attempt some further matter. All things now pacified, a parliament is proclaimed and published, generally to determine upon the common affairs of the land, upon an agreement of the administration of the Realm, for assurance of succession of the Crown: and finally that these small tinnults & jars (for so the conspirators of the king's overthrow and sworn his bane termed it only,) might have an end and rease among the Catholics, that a mortal war should be intended and concluded against the Heretics. But the king and the Guise, had far different and contrary meanings: the Prince his intent was, now having recovered again his authority, to bridle the common enemy of France condemned by full parliament. But how difficult and hards this was to do, and how full of trouble and danger, the event and issue thereof hath taught it unto us. The Guise on the otherside to exclude the king of all government by the authority of the whole estate, that unto him only (Navarre and the rest of the blood royal supplanted) the administration of the whole Realm might be committed. And so far he had almost brought it, none being come to this general Counsel, but those that were of the conspirarie.  
And so the parliament was kept at Bloys, where the king showed at large in the face of the full assembly, his great affection towards the Catholics, his benefits sundry times most largely bestowed upon them, how many victories be had gotten upon the Heretics, how oftentimes he had altogether discomfited and put them to flight, how many thousands of them he had sent to Hell, being in manner but a child: and now a man that he had no less stomach & courage than he had in his younger age. And that he never was minded to suffer in his realm any religion, contrary to the service of God. But that he had been forced through the people's great misery & want, wearied, and discouraged with so many civil wars to dissemble his desire and meaning. And to delay all things till a fit time and opportunity, which could not have been urged at that instant without great danger. But that he had also learned by sundry tryalles, and long experience, that by peace and general quietness, the corrupted minds of the inconstant people were with less labour drawn unto godliness, then when by the sound of war once noised abroad, and by the brightness of sword and armours once seen and perceived great liberty to all licentiousness, was given to mutinous & seditious heads: that the church was not to be reform and purged by villainies, wherewith all wars were for the most part infected, but chief the domestical & civil broils: But that it was to be done, by godly manners, good examples, by the preaching of the word of God, by humility, and fervent prayers. That this hath been his only mind, even when the Guise in the year 1585. took first the weapons in hand, troubled the people & common peace, whereunto he was not yet altogether repugnant: but forced for the general welfare of his subjects, that he armed himself full sore against his will, & that nothing now was remaining which was not consumed & wasted by wars. He reckoned them the armies since the time of 3. years, and how much money there was spent in: and that it grieved him very much, that so many valiant soldiers were destroyed, so great a treasure consumed in waste, wherewith a great kingdom might have been joined to his. But thus far more, that he had in the mean time received more harm and damage by his friends, than ever he had done by his enemies, and that the issues of his wars & victories had been rather hindered and stopped by the ambition of some, then by the forces and power of the enemy prevented. That he was notwithstanding fully determined not to lay down the weapons, before he had overthrown & quite rooted out all the rebels, although they all should stand against it, & should be feared that it might turn to the utter ruin & destruction of the whole realm: that at the least this cloak and colour being taken away, he might be able to hold & keep every man from hence forward in their duty & obedience. That therefore they should determine by what means, what money, & soldiers this might be done most commodiously. That they were called to that intent. As touching the other affairs of the realm, as the reformation of the Clergy, of the treasure, easy subsidies, tributes, and fallages, setteth down ordinances and causeth thereof writings to be made. The Commissioners & assigns barken unto the King's doubtful Oration with a merry and gnathonical countenance, & with many flattering words having praised him in whose overthrow & undoing they were assembled and sworn, demanded a certain time to determine upon it. And in the mean while the this was a doing not without the great expectation of all men, ludos hominibus dens facit, they feed the king only with fancies.  
The Guise fearing that the Prince (provoked with so many injuries) would not suffer long these delays, and that he would seek, and find means for revenge: and seeing that all had bended their eyes upon him, and expected for some greater things which should far exceed the first: that Naua●●e without justice and law unheard and not to be heard 〈◊〉 rejected and condemned: that nothing was wanting but to dispatch the Kings simul ardet & audet, both most 〈◊〉 desires it, and dares it.  
He charged every man being of the conspirators to provide, and prepare the rest. This charge he undertook himself, this burden he laid upon his own shoulders: And thinking the now the time was come to make a happy end of his fathers before, but now his enterprises, calleth the chief of the conspiracy, amongst whom were Ledonick the Cardinal his brother and the Archbishop of Lions the chiefest. Unto them and unto some few other he declareth and showeth in what state his matters stand, saith that all things are brought to some effect, that nothing is obstant but the Prince only, besides that he was driven to such extremities, that either he or the king must perish. That they therefore should see, whether he were to be dispatched, or until such times imprisoned till all things were confirmed and established for a new government. And that there was no other mean or medium to be found. They cry all that this is not to be delayed, that fetters and prison are altogether unprofitable, that no cave or den how deep soever, were able to keep close so great and mighty a potentate, as long as he lived would always thirst after revenge, but as soon as he should be dispatched, that new devices should be practised, new counsels taken, and that every man would rather fall again to their private, present, and sure commodities, then to attempt old and dangerous enterprises. But contrariwise if he were kept prisoner, it would seem cruel and strange unto the common people, and altogether untolerable. That they of late after the kings flying away from Paris, had found and learned by experience that pity prevailed more than favour. Finally that hereupon they needed not long to beat their brains: but that he was to be conveyed away and dispatched out of hand, Hereunto they all condescend. Now upon the death of their Lord the servants determine, the anointed of the Lord and reverented of so many Nations is bequeathed unto their bloody sword. The day now appointed, and their desperate wickedness sealed with an oath, they all departed. It was not needful to have any bewraying hereof, for it was not unknown, but unto them which were removed into the utmost parts of Europe, that this was the Guise's pretence, and had been long since. To what end tended else the arming of his rebellious bands, so often against his Prince? But certain it is that he was advertised by the Duke de Maine yet living of his brothers ungodly practices with these words: that his Majesty should take heed of a furious and desperate mind. And one of the conspirators (as it is most always seen in suchlike actions) moved in conscience, disclosed unto his Majesty the whole conspiracy, the day appointed, the tokens, the conspirators themselves: but in so short a time, that he had scarce opportunity to escape this imminont danger. The king now destitute of all means of deliberation, and beaton with his own rod, overthrowed not the conspirators, but prevented them in one day.  
There was hope that this burning fire of civil broils should have been quenched, seeing that the flaming torches of these tumults were now extinguished. And it pleased God, Sirtus, that France should now enjoy peace, but not thy Holiness. Hereupon the conspirators, who were not the better, but the greater part began to hang down their heads, to seek holes to hide themselves, and through fear to run to their holds and places of defence. One part gave over their enterprise, and broke their faith given. But shortly after when they saw, that the Prince by some fatal and disastrous levity, used no further rigour against them, that he was satisfied with the punishment of two only, that he had but imprisoned six, and had sent away the rest untouched: and that the siege of Orleans which he had begun to batter but slackly, was raised by the coming of the Main. Then suddenly they began to run as mad men, began to strike alarm, to surprise Cities, to slander the name and credit of their Prince, with diverse outrageous speeches: To disannul and abolish the Laws, the Magistrates, and all that was royal in the Realm, all that was sacred and ancient, and to induce new, strange, and intolerable ordinances. Finally, driven with a senseless fury, to exercise tyranny and cruelty against themselves: insomuch, that almost no City or town hath escaped, their own Citizens massacres, robberies, banishments, proscriptions, and yet far greater cruelties than the enemy himself could have imagined. And this through a just judgement of God, justly taking vengeance, for so many murders, shedding of innocent blood, and innumerable villainies by them committed. And by these moans, a more desperate, and bloody war then ever was before, is now renewed. The Main who a little before had been the bewrayer and accuser of his brother's treason, is chosen chief of these enraged and desperate companies. When upon suddenly the whole Realm beginneth to rebel. And truly (freely I would have it to be spoken) by the kings own fault, who ever had rejected all good, wholesome, and profitable counsel, before he was driven to these extremities. Parts gave unto the rest an example of rebellion, as it was reason, she being the first, enriched with sundry gifts of kings, and the imperial of the Realm. All the rest followed, few only excepted. And as they were before striving who should be more affectionated unto his prince, so now they contend who shall exceed in outrageousness against him. And to the end that nothing should be wanting to the fullness of their treachery, they require and seek for thy authority Sixtus, for the judgements, of the divines, for the consent of the clergiss, and all was presently at their command. Urban, one of the Magistrates in Paris, demanding in the full assembly of th●se of the Sorbonne, Whether the Frenchmen could be godly and honestly released from their other made unto the king. Answer was made, that they could. This answer is brought unto the Magistrate, and with drawn swords is commanded to approve the same. The Senate flatly denieth such a wicked act to be lawful & worthy of the ancient loyalty of France. And sitting a little upon it, the mutinous people broke open the gates of the palace, and self not upon one or two of the Magistrates, but upon them all, and cast the whole bench in prison, the only majesty of the Realm. Presently a new Counsel is chosen, which approving the answer of the ungodly divines, dischargeth the people of their oaths: thrust the king out of his kingdom. The Clergy commendeth this new counsel, and presently hereupon the noise of the Pope's thunderbolt is heard, rolling from the high Capitol, and threatening forthwith, as they said, the overthrow of all the principal mountains of France.  
In the year 1589. the king being at that instant at Blois, tidings was brought unto his Majesty, that Paris, Rouen, Lions, Tholouse, and the cities of the Realm were all revolted, and that not one was remaining which was not infected with some notable treachery. It was told unto his majesty also how Brisac, Boidaulphin, and the lord Chastre, whom he had suffered to go home untouched upon their oaths upon the Guyses' death, had broken their promise so solemnly confirmed, & were revolted to the enemy. Moreover, that the Spaniard, the Italian Princes, the Dukes of Lorraine and Savoy, together with the enraged & furious people had sworn the Guise's revengement. That he was not in safety in Bloys, wheresoever be turned himself, that all places were surprised, and untrusty. That at the one side the conspirators did press him, at the other side the king of Navarre with a great power came to invade the realm, being already at Samure, and had taken all the cities thereabout.  
The king thus crossed with so many troubles and adversities at once, pensive what to do, and put aside from all other hope, is forced to apply the uttermost remedy to an extreme fore & disease, and that which he had neglected in the full prosperity of his wealth, power, and government, craveth now voluntarily, being almost dispossessed of his crown & kingdom. Calleth (not without god's appointment) to his aid the king of Navarre his mortal enemy, but his most necessary and profitable friend, if long before he had used him. He, although greatly-iniured and offended, although so oftentimes at the Guyses' request, by him assaulted with war: presently unlooked for, cometh to the king his brother, with a chosen army, not only great in number, but also in valour, so that every common soldier might have supplied the room of any officer. A great change is now again to be seen: for at the arrival of this mighty prince and unlooked for army, the hearts of all the good, being herewith encouraged, and of the conspirators terrified: de Main himself (to repress and stay by his presence the common report of the people, complaining already against the intolerable insolences of the soldiers, and feeling a dearth of all manner of victuals and necessaries, commonly the only causes of uproars and sedisions in great cities) is constrained to return again to Paris, with his mutinous companies which he had brought from thence into the territories of Tours, to place them every where in garrisons. His departure was not unlike a cowardly running away, the K. of Navarre following him so near upon his heels, that he put all the hindermost of them & all stragglers to the sword. His majesty in the mean time fortified with a power of Swissers, & encouraged with some good success against the rebels, cometh in person in his camp, and marcheth directly to Paris with all his forces, to punish them for their treachery & rebellion. Help cometh to him from all parts, his bands increase daily in number, fame, and power. The state of the realm thus suddenly changed (as the hearts of men are commonly inconstant and wavering) the chief cities begin to entreat upon peace: the Germane and Italian Princes, to send ambassadors, to wish well to his M. to promise him money and men, and some of the first conspirators also through despair fly to his mercy. All things finally, fall contrary unto the Guise's expertations, now out of all hope to look any more, as long as the King lived, for any condition of agreement, or surety of life.  
The conspirators all begin to tremble at this new and sudden chaungement doubtful what to do, or to undertake: yet the ringleaders of the rebellion assemble together in counsel, to determine upon the extremity of their affairs. One among the rest, whose name shall be known and spread abroad by his execution, declareth the danger wherein they live, what they have in France less trusty. That the minds of the nobility were mutable and inconstant, falling always on fortune's side. That the fearful Cities could not be kept faithful unto them, unless they were partakers of the like rebellion and treachery, & if liberty were given unto them, that ere long they would revolt to the king again. That the clergy was covetous and never did give but little of their own unto their kings, that therefore there was but small hope that they would give more unto them that could and might but entreat for it. That this was their case at home: from abroad less hope was to be looked for. That the Spaniard was old, & careful for the quietness of his own family, unto whom it was more surer, that France were troubled, then usurped by any, but himself. That the Italian Princes were circumspect and wise, and those of Germany covetous and misers. That the Pope was subtle, crafty, and inconstant, greedy for his own gain, & turning with every blast of Fortune. That therefore all his hope stood in himself, if they had any good success that they should want nothing, but otherwise, that they needed not to look for any help & safety but in their heels and flight. Finally that by the death of one King all their affairs might be repaired, and that only was to be intended and laboured, how & by what means the Prince was to be dispatched or murdered. That there was no other remedy for the redress of their distressed estate Hereunto they apply all their wit and industry, and there are not found wanting some, who offered themselves to be ministers of this villainous treachery. Many are solicited and provoked thereunto by great promises, according as they had a quickness of hand to perform such an act, & a desperate audacity of mind to dare undertake it. Amongst them all, Sixtus, is found Clement th● well-beloved, a Friar jacobin, fit and ready for such a treacherous enterprise, yet trusting not so much upon his own boldness, wherein not withstanding he greatly did excel all his fellow-friars: then knowing that Friars, but chiefly those of his order, had always had a free acces unto his Majesty, where other very seldom were admitted but at certain hours. This from his youth of having been brought up in the monastery very-poorely, hath given oftentimes notable tokens of his ungodly inclination and wild disposition (which many have heard out of the Deans own mouth) and for his lewdness, by their order of discipline hath been often diversly punished, yet nothing to his amendment, was most often taken in stews and whore houses, oftentimes assayed to run away. No godliness, piety, or learning he had, no not so much as the knowledge of the French letters, which any ways might have commended him. Which I think good to be spoken of this accursed murderer, that our posterity may judge, whether thy words are worthy of a sacred mouth, that doth not make God only himself privy of manslaughter, (pardon I crave O jehova) but farther dost presume to say, that he hath communicated unto a desperate bloudshedder the gifts of his spirit, and such motions of the mind, which have been granted only unto his Prophets and Apostles. This Friar now sent out of Paris, goeth directly to the Camp, upon this proviso notwithstanding, that all those that were suspected to be of the kings side, should be kept fast within the City, whereupon his life did stand altogether. Those whom be met first, sold them, that he brought letters and writings from certain Parisians who were greatly affectionated and known unto the King, that they contained matters of great importance. And that he beside had other things, to be disclosed unto none but unto his Majesty: heruppon was brought unto the king with like facility, as all the rest of his order were before. Greeteth the king but risen, and yet scarce ready, and at such a time, as he was wont to be alone, delivereth the letters, the which when his M. had perused, demanded him what news he brought. The Friar falleth upon his knees (the king at that present sitting in a chair, and inclining his ear to hear what he would say) stabbed him with a knife which he had made & poisoned for that purpose. The prince hereupon crieth out, the Lords presently come running into his chamber, after many wounds slay this cursed and most miserable wretch Clemens, as also him that came with him, although the king did most earnestly forbid it, for to learn by them, the order of the conspiratis, the signs tokens, and conspirators, who if they were known, as no double they shall be yet hereafter: I can not tell, Sixtus, whether● thou shalt be able to shake from thy soldiers the suspicion of this bloody crime, or at the least to have been the inventor of this ungodly counsel. But the author of truth hath kept it to himself till the time of thy punishment. Great heaviness and sorrow was seen in all the Camp, but great joy among the enemy, whose rejoicing voices were heard at that instant, demanding one of another whether the Friars knife was sufficiently sharp or not. The King thus wounded was laid in his bed, where he yielded by his ghost unto God the next night following, having before made his will and set all things in good order.  
Here have you heard the end of this mighty Prince, and here may you behold as in a looking glass, the overthrow of a whole Realm. I see many things in it to be lamented: Wheresoever I turn myself, I can perceive nothing but a dreadful horror, a cruel, and bloody spectacle, yet nothing more heavily doth present itself afore us, than thine Oration, Sixtus, an overplus to the common grief. far be such a shame from us (let it suffice us, to have lost a good Prince, and that by our own fault and negligence) as to suffer the name of the dead to be slandered and defamed, and the Monuments of so many worthy acts destroyed. Therefore I demand first of thee Sixtus, by what laws that I shall contend with thee? With Christian laws? But what hast thou to do with Christ, whose birth and burial thou ●landerest with a most detestable murderers comparison? With the laws of nature? but by what bands of nature can be upholden the maintainer of wilful murder? How then, with the civil laws? The statutes of Princes and the civil laws have enacted divers and severe punishments unto those that offended but by chance: but unto those that revenged their private quarrel by their own authority, fearful torments. What punishments do they allot then unto those who violate & overthrow the welfare of a common wealth, truly almost incredible. But I see that I am constrained to seek out new laws to deal with thee, I am ready for it. Thou the author of new offences, shalt be my law and witness, Europe the court, and the Heavens the judges, and upon these equal conditions I will plead against thee. Come then and hearken first unto this, It seemeth very strange unto me, and therefore make me somewhat better acquainted with it, that thou so oftentimes usurpest the word of God's judgement. Can not this suffice thee, to know God to be the best of all goodness? but to say that he willed such a detestable and wicked act. In deed we see every where his wonderful judgements: and we know that Princes the larger their government hath been, the greater accounts they have to make. Besides if kings had committed any offence, that not only themselves did smart for it, but sometimes all their subjects felt the punishment thereof. Both is to be seen in the holy Scriptures. I will not deny, but that this prince hath suffered deserved punishment, if thou dost regard God only, in whose eyes all things are corrupt, nought, and crooked, nothing entire, or undefiled,. But leave the judgement hereof unto God, not unto thyself, Sixtus. How knowest thou whether this is in steed of a blessing and benefit, which thou thinkest to be a curse, and a punishment. Did not josias also die an untimely death? doth not God most often call them first unto him whom he loveth: Are tyrants not seen oftentimes to reign and live longest? and good princes seldom come to great age? Superfluous, nay too curoius it were, Sixtus, to search & examine these things, & more impious to judge them. But let it be so, I grant this unto thee. Shall therefore the excuse and cloak of God's judgement, protect & defend the cause of a murderer? the king of France for his offences hath deserved some heavy punishment at God's hands doth it follow therefore the he is to he accounted godly, great, famous, happy, and worthy the title of an Emperor, whosoever of the common people the most abject and vilest, shall have murdered his Prince? Then with thee that son shall be accounted innocent, that is a revenger of his father's offence by his father's death: and the indignation of those children esteemed just spilling the blood of their parents in God's quarrel. What? is he worthy any longer to be reverenced and honoured with the title of a father, who liketh the example of natural affection violated and quite extinguished? Herewith thou art touched Sixtus, but wherefore art thou so soon afeard, thou hast no cause yet to tremble, these are but toys and trifles, come but near, for to hear that which shall not make thee pale, but altogether senseless. Let first the laws of blood and nature, which are the sacred bands of humane society departed and go aside, for as long as they are present I have no reason to speak any word at all. I grant again that it is lawful by thy laws to kill parents condemned by judgement, and an executioner not to be wanted in the city, as long as the offenders son is found present. Let thy judge then pronounce sentence and say, That lawfully the son may kill the father, but let him add unto it at the least, accused, noted, and condemned of a notorious offence, as an enemy unto the common wealth, that by these means the private laws of a family may be disannulled, by those which concern the public utility. But contrariwise if thou destroyest the public commodity by a public offence, away with thy laws, for they cannot be exogated with the welfare of a common wealth. Let us now see then: Here lieth wallowing in his blood, not the father of a private family, but he of a great kingdom: not the grief of one household, but the heaviness and sorrow of a whole realm most treacherously procured. And yet dost thou commend this? and sayest that he is murdered worthily? Well let it be so, so that he for whom we mourn be too worthy for to die after such a manner. But what was the offence in the revenge whereof, the divine, the civil, the common, and private laws did cease and loiter? Thou sayest that he hath commanded Lodovick the Cardinal, the Guise his brother to be executed, whose consecrated head was not to be touched but only by full authority from the Bishop of Rome. Thou cruel beast dost thou say that it is not lawful for a King, ruling only by God's grace and authority to punish traitors against his Majesty, and convicted so oftentimes to have troubled the public peace? and that it is permitted unto a graceless Friar to stab a Prince, for to have justly executed a Cardinal? What say ye to this O ye Princes of Europe, upon whose necks this cruel and bloody Lion treadeth. If he were to be punished, it was not to be done after that order, witnesses were to be produced, the offender was to be heard, judges to be chosen & no haste was to be made upon the execution of so great a Potentate. As if he wanted witnesses, by whose ambition now 3. years together France hath been disquieted with civil wars: but his execution was to be delayed, to what end? To the troubling of good men, to the murdering of his Prince, & to the ruin and overthrow of the whole realm, all which but a day before was prevented. But hear sirrah, by what law dost thou exempt thy disciples of common justice more than any other? Forsooth that the laws should show rigour against every poor wretch for every small trespass, & that it should be lawful, unto Priests, Bishops, and Cardinals to commit great and heinous crimes without offence? That Prince's ordinances should have no jurisdiction over them? If they offended that they should make laws for their own purpose? The example pleaseth me, and verily I think it to be so altogether, after the saying of the Evangelist, that we should flollow the words but not the works of those that sit in the cheer of Moses. But he, Sixtus, that was both God and man, thy better and greater, scorned not to appear before the tribunal seat of an earthly judge, and being brought into judgement, complained not of the judge. james and Andrew Apostles, and Saint Stephen a Martyr, have submitted themselves under the laws, And Saint Paul being imprisoned defended not his liberty by the pre-eminence of an Apostle, but by the title of a Citizen of Rome. But I know what thou wilt answer hereupon that Christ and his Apostles had not so great a liberty, as the Church hath at this day, it is true: Well, seeing that the blind and ignorant ages have ordained this, let us bear the burden which our ancestors have laid upon our shoulders, let the Clergy rejoice in her freedom, but let them exercise their liberty of offending only between and upon themselves, and let Princes and their subjects be safe from their audacity, and the common wealth void of treachery and such like devilish practices. If not, hear our laws and the severe ordinances of our Kings, who have exempted always from your privileges, public crimes and offences of treason, and such other like conspiracies which might turn to the damage of the common wealth. Hear the words of thy predecessor Innocent. Qui de Ecclesia aliquem exemerit, vel in ipsa ecclesia, vel loco, vel cultui, Sacerdotibus, & ministris aliquid iniuriae importauerit ad instar publici criminis & laesae Maiestatis accusabitur, & convictus seu confessus capitali sententia a Rectoribus provinciae puniatur. What dost thou answer hereupon, art thou not yet convicted, dost thou demand examples to confirm it. Peruse the monuments of thy Predecessors, and then yield some reason wherefore it be not as lawful unto a king to do the like in his Realm, which was permitted unto Nicholas the fift in the Church against Porcarius and Sarra, both famous knights of Rome, unto Plus against Carrapha and Rebiba Cardinals, against Palian and Alphius noble Earls of Italy, which unto many other? Whose steps are yet to be seen in diverse places: nay unto thyself? that hast seen Rome slowing with running streams of blood, and many Noble men's heads to stand upon poles upon the gates of the City. But lo yet once I am mistaken, and now the third time I confess that thou hast right.  
Without doubt it was a heinous offence for a King to have punished a Cardinal, although a rebel, a traitor, laying ambushes to murder his Prince, tempering poison to dispatch him, heyring villains to perform the deed. All these are purged & quite washed away with the sacred oil of Chrism, wherewith whosoever is anointed is set free for ever from all authority and secular power. He therefore that shall have touched but with his least finger, one sealed with this noble and worthy caractar, I affirm with thee, that God himself is not able to deliver him from danger. But likewise grant this unto me, Sixtus, that all these offences, slanders, and accusations, wherewith in great heaps thou chargest the king, are contained and included in the death and execution of both the Guises, and this only excepted, him to be altogether blameless and innocent: which if thou dost grant me, I demand of thee likewise, wherefore didst thou not only foretell long before the doleful kind of death of this Prince, but didst wish for it. Wherefore callest thou joiosa and Lenocurtius Cardinals, and him of Paris witnesses of thy unluckily soothsaying: what curse of thee had the poor Prince deserved, at that time when thou didst see joiosa and Lenocurtius? At that time the Guises were not yet executed, Navarre was not yet sent for, no truce was made with the Heretics: for what occasion then, as a dismal and filthy Owl didst thou foreshow an unaccustomed and shameful end of his life? Did not he proclaim war against the Heretics in the year 85? Was not the Guise made chief of the whole army, to the ruin, and overthrow of the whole Realm? Were not the German forces discomfited? what was there omitted? because he would not forsake and be deposed from his crown, and go to prison, because he would not commit the government of his realm unto the Guise, or unto the Spaniard: only therefore by a pretty allusion thou hast destinated him to an extreme punishment, as the last of his name and family. Thou scorner and mocker of our grief, come hither: wilt thou go about with night-crows to mollify thy words, and hinder with a subtle eloquence the deserved rigour, & punishment due to a heinous offence? By these means thou defilest most filthly the remembrance of him, whom so long for his descent, for his worthy acts both done at home and abroad, the destinies of this Realm have advanced to imperial dignity and promotion, and so thou requitest him with slanders, by whose grandfathers and ancestors thy sea hath been overcharged and laden with innumerable benefits. Heyda Sixtus, thy advice pleaseth me, and thy wit worthy only of such a high Bishop as thou art. But here I appeal unto all these Princes that are living at this time, and also unto them that shall hereafter come to read these our writings, that they may acknowledge with me, the wonderful judgements of the Lord, and the mockeries and changes of fickle fortune. The mightiest Prince of Europe is murdered: and live he should yet, if long agone he had not nourished his bloodshedders with his own, and with the blood of the whole realm: and whose lives, manners, and exercises he loved more than his own welfare, by their fraud, sword, and treachery he is deprived of his life. He is gone (oh horrible) by their means, whose safety, when only he intended, neglected his subjects and his own welfare. And beside are not yet ashamed to say (but too too bold) that by their devices the Realm falling to decay, might have been repaired and supported? His ghost is accused but by him, whom he hath defended with all carefulness, being upon this world, whom he loved most dearly, & whom he reverenced above measure far more than he was worthy of. The doleful monuments of his love and loyalty towards thee are yet extant, whereof I would to God that the remembrance could be extinguished and quite defaced. To what end tended so many civil wars, so many massacres, so many proscriptions which France hath suffered, then only that thy wealth might remain untouched, and all thine might live in everlasting security. And yet funerals, and the last home of the body is denied him. Moreover, from yearly prayers (from whence no enemy ever hath been barred) he is excluded, and by those at whose request we have seen him so oftentimes humbly, but not Princely walk barefoot, without Sceptre or Crown, and his sword downward. For whose dwelling and abiding places he complained that his kingdom was not great enough, for whose welfare he himself hath not only prayed most oftentimes, but hath emoyned unto his people to do the like. I will now make an end in one word. None could meet him that were as welcome unto him as Friars, none loved the order of Priests more entirely than he: and of him no body was more esteemed of, reverenced, and honoured then the bishop of Rome. And unto him his destinies have procured a friar to be his murderer, priests his deadly enemies, and the Pope his accuser. I crave pardon of thee, O natural affection (if it be lawful to argue upon the death of my Prince in a public grief) if this be the argument of my meditations.  
I will come anon unto thee Sixtus, when I shall be resolved of this point: wherefore dost thou deny unto a dead Prince the gift of a little dust, and comfortable prayers unto his soul? What? Art thou so obstinately angry and offended with him, as to show extreme cruelty upon his ashes? Leave his body to be torn at pleasure unto thy bloody butchars, let his soul enjoy at the least eternal rest: to desire that both be cast away, is too unnatural, rigorous, and cruel.  
Can the high Bishop not be appeased with less punishments? I demand whether this be godly and christianly spoken, O ye Princes of the earth give ear unto me.  
The holy Bishop of Rome denounceth by Apostolical authority, that he hath opened the gates of heaven to james Clement, for to have murdered the most christian King of France, and that unto the dead body of the King worthily, the pomp of funerals, and the honour of burial may be denied; yea, that less is, prayers and songs. For to have denied unto the Guises the goveruement of the Realm at his request. Therefore what King soever, whether he be an Heretic or Catholic, if presently he disposeth not his Crown at the pleasure of the high Priest, to give it unto him, unto whom it shall be commanded him, let him look for no better end in this life, and in the life to come. And whosoever shall have oppressed, by sword, or poison, secretly, or openly, valiantly, or by deceit, any Prince, Emperor, or Monarch, not obeying our sacred thunderbolts. Let him as a star with a new shining light, increase the number of the stars in the firmament. This is the will of Christ his vicar. The successor of S. Peter and S. Paul Apostles.  
What need have we of thee (O Christ) if eternal life can be obtained not by thy blood, but by that of Kings and princes, if not by a cross, but a knife the way of heaven is opened unto Friars.  
Let the ghosts of Luther and Calum come to hear this, that by these joyful news and tidings they may ease at the least, and mitigate the grief of their pains if they suffer any. But now I come from the footepath unto the high way again. It seemeth but a matter of nothing unto Sixtus, to dally with the accusation of a most heinous offence, under the colour of God's judgements, and under a counterfeit and feigned authority drawn from the holy Scriptures: but he doth add examples thereunto, to the end the accursed traitor might become famous for ever, & not common only, and of such sorts of persons, but by whom the acts of Alexander and Cesar might be illustrated and commended. I let pass willingly that which he hath rehearsed of the conception, death, and resurrection of our Lord, ungodly to be spoken and shameful to be heard. I must pause a while before I can give an ear to hear such horrible blasphemies. First he praifeth Eleazarus his notable act in stabbing the beast. Whereupon he thought that Antiochus was, and little regarding his own life, so that he with the fall of the Elephant, might kill the rider and himself together. He praiseth the manly audacity and courage of judith, not respecting her own welfare and honesty, so that she might with the enemies head, preserve the lives, goods, and chastity of the Citizens of Bethulia. He extolleth both their zeal, constancy, and magnanimity, but so as the Poets did Hector's and Aeneas triumphs and victories, that the conqueror thereby might reap the more praise and glory. He cometh presently unto his son Clement whom he exalteth so high that he seemeth to repent himself to have produced these unfit and unequal examples, and to be angry that for want of better, hath been forced to use but weak comparisons. By these means let the noble fights and combats of Samson and David give place (Sixtus being judge) unto Cain, joab, and judas their infamous treacheries. Let there be no difference then whether one killeth, villaniously or valiantly, a tyrant or a king, an enemy or the father of his country? Let the Captains who are famous for their prowess, and renowned through many victories be equaled with a Friar but crept out of a cave. And finally let the constancy of Martyrs be commended by the audacity of a murderer. If this will stand for good, why dost thou not establish statutes and ordinances, and like as we use Gregorians and Gratians laws, that we may have thine also Sixtus, to deprive virtue of her due praise by them, and vices of their deserved shame and punishment: for none are or were ever to be found, that would have undertaken the defence of this act, thou only excepted. Besides is not contented to use a common praise, but to make the foolish people more astonished, showeth mirakles whereby the divine power is argued to have assisted and furthered this treachery, He telleth therefore how Clement went through the gates of the City being so narrowly besieged, and through the watches of both the Camps not marked, or as one should say invisible, he speaketh this as a wonder, the like whereof judith is not able to bring forth, although she be so highly exalted with sacred poesies, that she was a woman, that she had opened her pretence unto the Magistrate & the Elders of the City, and that in their companies she went by the Sentinels of the City without danger, & then afterward was brought before the watch of the enemy, and lastly before the chief of the army, and that by the exquisite beauty of her face she easily bewitched the heart and senses of the Prince which were overcome already with wine and lust, and that therefore all things were ready & easy unto her. But that all things crossed the Friar, that in every thing was great trouble and travel, but yet more danger, that he alone (surely without any bodies help or induction) had conceived secretly the boldness of this desperate enterprise. That he had not only to go through the watches of the enemy, but by the Citizens strait wards & Sentinels: and if his face, his words, or his pace, had bewrayed there any token of unconstancy, which oftentimes is seen in those that do attempt high and great matters, he had to look for nothing, but for present death & destruction. Here if the letters had been found about him, he had no less to fear the like of those that were ignorant of the matter and being besieged were afeard of every trifle. So that (as Homer saith) as Aeneas was carried by the help of Neptune out of the battle, even so Sixtus leadeth this Friar through the City, & the Camp covered with a cloud that he could not be seen of any body: I marvel that he hath not set him upon the wings of angels, to carry and bring him in safety to the kings tent. I appeal unto your authority O honourable and reverent antiquity: what is become of shamefastness? Who thinks now a days a lie to be a discredit? Come to hear a history & not a fable. Clement by a great sum of money, by further hope, & by a notorious harlot was solicited, taketh counsel with the chief conspirators of the king's death, and it is known now, who were present at that instant, who were the counsellors, & who were the furtherers. It were injurious that our posterity should be deceived & deprived of the memory of this cruel act, and (as I hope cre long) of the example of the execution thereof. They did counterfeit letters from certain prisoners unto the King, bewraying some great matters to be declared by the mouth of the Friar, the which when he had received, taketh the knise which he had made and poisoned to kill the king withal: and goeth out of the City, but first having lest charge that all those that were suspected might be kept within, that by these means the life of a bloody murderer should be in safety with the danger of thousand innocents, if he should have fallen alive in the enemy's hands. This is the first part of this miracle, these are the divine motions, this is the celestial inspiration, and this the infallible argument of the present assistance of God's power. He cometh in the king's camp no man letting him, and at that troublesome time, when Friars only were free, and had only safe conduct to go where they would themselves. But why go I about to spend my time in confuting Sixtus his lies, where so many blasphemies do offer themselves before me? All these are toys of the common people. Let every man's virtue separate and distinguish him from the common sort: but the Bishop of Rome let him be known by his notorious and extraordinary villainies. It is an old saying, where lawful things are only permitted unto governors, there they command by entreaty, a Priest doth not differ from a Lay-man, but only in liberty of offending. It is saith he (speaking of the murdering of the Prince) a most famous, and a memorable act, and not achieved without the particular providence and disposition of the Almighty (pardon me Oeverlasting, holy, and omnipotent God, pardon me Opietie, and natural affection, rehearsing words which are impious and full of blasphemy) what Sixtus if thou hadst only said that this befell by his permission, unto whom it is easy to hinder all things, although it be true, it were not godly, and less godly for thee to affirm this that knowest not all things that are present, and therefore the more that thou callest in witness and defence of thy villainies, him whom thou callest good and almighty. Hei thou Doctor in Israel art thou ignorant of this, that all good things are ascribed unto God only, and that all the rest is attributed unto ourselves? Who can suffer then that unto the same God who is good only, only omnipotent the bloody offence of an outcast from all man kind is referred? And yet thou dost esteem it but small to say that the King was slain, not only by thy knowledge, but by thy counsel, not dissembling at it, but commanding it, and having set a side all celestial and infernal care, that it hath been thy will only and procurement that at thy pleasure such a heinous and execrable murder was committed in France. Do the heavens hear this and suffer it? for whom are the gulfs of the earth, the unlucky rocks, and the fearful whirlpooles and deeps of hell reserved? Lightnings and thunderbolts should be wanting if no part of these villainies were left unpunished. Now long agone my ears are hardened and acquainted with these execrable words. And what is all this which I have said? but vulgar and common, nothing worthy of high jove his anger, nothing notorious, nothing pontificial. I would willingly follow children's fashions when they are to drink a medicine: they invent delays, they leave nothing undone, they turn the cup, and oftentimes put it unto their mouth to taste it, than they shake their heads as if they were angry, they ask for sweet things to overcome or to mitigate the bitterness of the potion. But finally they being wearied with the continual cry of the standers by, turning their head aside, & stopping their nostrils, do not drink the medicine but power it in. The like happeneth unto me at this time: I would if I might, Sirtus, pass by thy horrible blasphemies & impious words, wherewith thou hast polluted by an abominable comparison of a most villainous offence, the holy mysteries of our saviour's birth and burial. I would to God that Christian ears had only hard it, who are deeper grounded in religion & better persuaded of faith, & who never would have given credit to thy impious Dration, if it were unknown to the Barbarians Heathen, and Turks: who will hereafter make a mock of the true Christian doctrine, by thy authority, Sixtus, and example. Art thou not ashamed, that thou, being the Pastor of the redeemed flock, by whose guiding it draweth the water of life out of the holy well, whose words should have sounded nothing, but that which was saint, pure, and godly: that thou the lively interpreter of the written law of God, and the severe punisher of blasphemies, and of those that falsify and corrupt the sense of the holy Scriptures, and moreover of those that abuse, or use too freely words taken out of the book of GOD: I will not say haste deluded the Prophets and Apostles, hast called in doubt the truth of the history, hast corrupted the holy Scriptures, wrested and falsefied them by a false interpretation, by godly examples hast coloured impious offences, and hast protected them by thine authority, (these are but small things because they are usual unto thee) but to compare the eternal counsel of the redemption of mankind, which only was committed unto the second person of the Trinity, only of him suscepted, with the ungodly and detestable conspiracy of the murdering of a Prince? And to equal the cafuall audacity of an imaged and bloody butther unto the reverend miracles of our lords nativity, death, and resurrection? annoyed impiety, avoid blasphemy, infect not the holy Lamb with thy poisoned breath. What hast thou left untouched, whom hast thou spared? what hath not Mahomet now to object unto us? what hath the jew any longer to hold his peace? Loc ye Christians: if the Sarrisins, the Indians, and the Barbarous people of Calico, inveigh most bitterly against you, they have borrowed it of the Bishop of Rome. Didst thou lack profane examples, Sixtus, to compare them unto thy villaynie that thou hadst a refuge unto most holy and divine comparisons? I am glad, sir Bishop, that the world hath been void until thine age of such heinous and public murders, & that both were reserved unto thy time, to wit he that durst attempt such a detestable act, and he that was not ashamed to command it. Come forth all ye, whom the religious antiquity hath separated from the world to be addicted unto celestial meditations, whom the son never saw but throw some narrow ristes, bring shut up in high walls and iron doors. Arise I say and come forth Sixtus calleth you unto villennie, to the murdering of Kings and princes, now the gates are kept no longer by a severe and frowning porter. And those bars and doors that kept you from the friendly embracing of your fathers, and the sweet kisses of your affectionated mothers, are now freely removed and opened unto you, to shed by treachery and treason the blood of your parents, and dearest friends. I was determined Sixtus, to leave thy lies, surmises, and false accusations untouched: But I am provoked to the contrary through thy impudence, which deserveth no small indignation, as those may easily judge that are somewhat acquainted with our estate and affairs. Dost thou say that Monks and Friars were killed, or at the least ill used in the King's Camp? I would to God it had been so, if it be lawful and godly to desire it. But at the least I wish that all this idle and unprofitable cattle should have been pounded and imprisoned: then our Prince should live yet, worthy of a longer life, and then as a fearful hare thou durstest not tread upon the body of the dead Lion, and deride our grief and mishap. As if all the world knew not that unto these slaves he never was hard, where as oftentimes, he was unto his most familiar friends severe. Truly his untimely facility, hath hurt him, having had as yet no experience how much hypocrisy and deceit there lay hidden under a Friar's hood. As if thyself didst not know that he always had with him two Friars in his army, whose help he always used in his divine service. Let me be undone and cast away, if I would not have wished a Friar's weed, and forsaken my counsellors gown, if by that means I could have persuaded him to the best. Truly none were so mighty in the Realm, whose welfare and commodity, nay not his own, he esteemed not less than these people's delights and pleasures only. Thou hast no luck, Sixtus, with thy lie, it will not forge, thou mightiest more easier have made the world believe any thing else. The enemy himself dare not say, that Friars were ill used as long as he lived. Here I would make an end if I were but certified of one point. Resolve me, Sixtus, of this, I inquire no further causes of the murdered Prince, it sufficeth me to know that thou hast commanded it, thy will shall stand for a law. But wherefore dost thou persecute his shadow, wherefore dost thou accuse him of obstinacy, impenitency? unthankfulness, and to have sinned against the holy Ghost? Why dost thou compare him with Cain and judas? By what justice or equity canst thou do this? when he lay upon his death bed did he doubt of Christian faith? Did he deny the everlasting Son of the eternal GOD? Hath he neglected the ancient customs of the Church, and the most comfortable Sacraments unto those that he in their extremity? Yet once again herein thou art a notable liar. Why dost thou force me so oftentimes to repeat the remembrance of my bitter griefs? It is certain that the godly Prince, as soon as the Physicians and Surgeons had bound up his wound and had laid him upon his bed, having a little slept upon his pain and grief, that he pronounced with his own mouth his Prayers, and with a loud voice, made confession of his faith, and of the feeling which he had of his redemption: adding thereunto these words unto God. If it be to thy glory, O GOD, and the commodity of my people, grant me I most humbly desire, first pardon for my sins, and then some longer days of life. But if it be otherwise, I thank thee most highly, O Father, that thou dost bar me hence forth from the thraldom of sin, whereby we most oftentimes procure thy wrath against us. And therefore I am ready most willingly to come where thou callest me. Having made an end of his Prayers he sendeth for his brother the King of Navarre, and for the chiefest of his army, and unto his brother he commendeth the charge of the Realm, and the government of his subjects, the Laws of France, importing as much: and repeated oftentimes these words, whereby he charged him to have a special care to keep Christ's flocks in unity and concord: and as he was heir unto the crown, that he likewise would be heir to godly and ancient institutions. Desiring this most earnestly at his hands with a solemn protestation, showing that this had been his only desire from his childhood. They all depart very sorrowful, whereupon he confesseth his sins in the ear of a priest, & having craved pardon of God for his offences, he had a sensible feeling, that they were forgiven him for Christ's sake. And now ready to communicate of his sacred body openly that all might hears it, that grace which he had freely received of God in the forgiveness of his sins, that same he frankly imparteth to all his enemies, nay to them that had been the conspirators of his death, & his murderers. And thus having received his last due & farewell, departed joyful & glad out of this world, not without the great grief of all the standers by, bewraying the inward sorrow with outward abundant tears. Here Sixtus, I see no tokens of desperation, no signs of impenitency. And I think not, that thou art so far void of all reason, as to compare a most Christian prince unto K. Saul. But let him be compared yet to him, so that he hear no bitterer words, & suffer greater torments. Behold with what words God's indignation upon this impious king is expressed. The spirit of the Lord is gone from Saul, saith the prophet: And in another place the Lord speaketh unto Samuel, saying, How long wilt thou lament over Saul, when I have cast him off that he shall not reign? Doth he say, that he is miserable, unhappy, & worthy of eternal damnation? God forbidden. When the scripture speaketh of his death, mark the most christian words of David, directed unto the unlucky youngman, who boasted, but falsely, that he; with his own hands had slain the Prince in the battle: How wast thou not afraid to put forth thy hand, to destroy the anointed of the Lord? And in many other places, who shall stretch forth his hands upon the Lords anointed, and shall be innocent? Answer Sixtus, is not thy oration crueler whereby thou commandest wilful and public murder, in praisnig it: or say, that this example is not to be followed, and to be abolished by thine authority. Saul was slain in the battle, an Amalekite his enemy had done it, here is nothing that was forbidden by law, yet the Lord hath revenged the death of his anointed. See further what the holy Chronicles tell of joab, and Ammon, being murdered, although ungodly kings, authors of abominations, and hated of God. See, read, and peruse all the sacred and profane histories, and thou shalt find, that not only the law of nature, of men, and above all God's ordinances, but also the severe and horrible examples of the punishment thereof, debar impious and bloody hands, from the anointed bodies of kings and Princes. Rome fertile always in all villainy, hath féene of twelve her Emperors, eight murdered with the sword, but none unrevenged. He, Sixtus, therefore that succeedeth shall be, I hope, the revenger, and that which thou hast now long agone known by other histories, thou shalt come to learn it ere long by thine own. Avoid therefore, thou Bishop, and be proud with this answer: Go unto the Indians, or in some other corner of the world, a just punishment is reserved for thee under some greater enemy.  
FINIS.