A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation
{"WorkMasterId":8022,"WpPageId":290239,"ParentWpPageId":193795,"Slug":"dialogue-of-comfort-against-tribulation","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/thomas-more/dialogue-of-comfort-against-tribulation/","RelativeUrl":"theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/thomas-more/dialogue-of-comfort-against-tribulation/","HasFullText":true,"RawHtmlLength":651907,"CleanHtmlLength":595146,"Kicker":"Philosophy Work","Title":"A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation","Deck":"More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure.","BackLink":{"Text":"Back to Thomas More","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/thomas-more/"},"AuthorCard":{"Label":"Author","Title":"Thomas More","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/thomas-more/","MediaHref":"","ImageSrc":"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/thomas-more-02-sir-thomas-more-1527.jpg","ImageAlt":"Sir Thomas More by Hans Holbein the Younger","FilterTerra":"Western Europe","ClickText":"Thomas More","ClickHref":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/thomas-more/","Copies":["1478 CE – 1535 CE","London","English Renaissance humanist, lawyer, royal councillor, author of Utopia, and Catholic moral thinker whose works join civic counsel, conscience, political imagination, religious controversy, and prison consolation."]},"ContextCards":[{"Label":"Period","Key":"Period:3","Title":"Early Modern History","DateText":"1500 CE – 1799 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/"},{"Label":"Era","Key":"Era:7","Title":"Renaissance and Reformation","DateText":"1500 CE – 1599 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/philosophers-of-the-renaissance-and-reformation/"},{"Label":"Composition","Title":"1534 CE","Url":"","DateText":""}],"DateNote":"Visible year is a prison-composition/display year; evidence preserves composition during imprisonment, manuscript transmission, and later publication.","GeoCards":[{"Label":"Region","Key":"Region:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita","Key":"TerraAvita:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita Region","Key":"TerraAvitaRegion:2"},{"Label":"Modern Country","Key":"Country:GBR:1"}],"OriginalTitle":"A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation","Language":"English","DisciplineCards":[{"Label":"Primary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:ethics"},{"Label":"Secondary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:philosophy-of-religion"}],"Tradition":"Renaissance Christian humanism, Tudor legal-political thought, civic counsel, conscience, Latin and English dialogue, religious controversy, prison writing, and Utopian political imagination","FullText":{"Title":"Full Text","Copy":"Public-domain full text from Project Gutenberg eBook #17075 .","Url":"","Label":"","Kicker":"","Cards":[]},"CoreThesis":["More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."],"Classification":{"AlternateTitles":"Dialogue of Comfort; Comfort Against Tribulation","KeyConcepts":"Dialogue of Comfort; Comfort Against Tribulation","Methodology":"Humanist dialogue, satire, legal-political argument, moral theology, scriptural controversy, and prison meditation.","Structure":"Work page with title, visible year, areas, summary, Date Note, and source-backed context."},"Arguments":["More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."],"Influence":{"InfluencedBy":"","InfluenceOn":""},"Significance":["Accepted as a direct prison work and one of More\u0027s central ethical and religious writings.","More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."],"EvidenceNote":["Accepted as a direct prison work and one of More\u0027s central ethical and religious writings."],"MainSections":[{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Versions","BodyHtml":"\u003cdiv class=\"dz-philo__full-version-grid\"\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-version-card\"\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-provider\"\u003eProject Gutenberg\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ch3 class=\"dz-philo__full-version-title\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #17075\u003c/h3\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-meta\"\u003eHtmlText · Imported\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ca class=\"dz-philo__full-version-link\" href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17075\"\u003eOpen full version\u003c/a\u003e\n \u003c/article\u003e\n \u003c/div\u003e"},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Core Thesis","Paragraphs":["More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Classification","Fields":[{"Label":"Alternate Titles","Value":"Dialogue of Comfort; Comfort Against Tribulation"},{"Label":"Key Concepts","Value":"Dialogue of Comfort; Comfort Against Tribulation"},{"Label":"Methodology","Value":"Humanist dialogue, satire, legal-political argument, moral theology, scriptural controversy, and prison meditation."},{"Label":"Structure","Value":"Work page with title, visible year, areas, summary, Date Note, and source-backed context."}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Arguments","Paragraphs":["More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Influence","Fields":[{"Label":"Influenced By","Value":""},{"Label":"Influence On","Value":""}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Significance","Paragraphs":["Accepted as a direct prison work and one of More\u0027s central ethical and religious writings.","More develops a prison dialogue on suffering, fear, temptation, courage, conscience, martyrdom, and spiritual comfort under political and religious pressure."]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Evidence Note","Paragraphs":["Accepted as a direct prison work and one of More\u0027s central ethical and religious writings."]},{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Text","BodyHtml":"\u003cp class=\"dz-philo__section-copy dz-philo__full-text-source\"\u003ePublic-domain full text from \u003ca href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17075\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #17075\u003c/a\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-text-body\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00000\"\u003eProduced by David McClamrock\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eDIALOGUE OF COMFORT AGAINST TRIBULATION\u003c/h1\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00002\"\u003eby St. Thomas More\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00003\"\u003ewith modifications to obsolete language by Monica Stevens\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00004\"\u003e______________________________\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003ePUBLISHED 1951\r\nBY SHEED AND WARD, LTD.\r\n110/111 FLEET STREET,\r\nLONDON, E.C.4\r\nAND\r\nSHEED AND WARD, INC.\r\n830 BROADWAY,\r\nNEW YORK, 3\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00006\"\u003e______________________________\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eNOTE\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00008\"\u003eThis edition of the Dialogue of Comfort has been transcribed from\r\nthe 1557 version as it appears in Everyman\u0027s Library. The Everyman\r\nedition is heartily recommended to readers who would like to taste\r\nthe dialogue in its original form.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00009\"\u003eThe first plan was to change only the spelling. It soon became\r\nevident that the punctuation would have to be changed to follow\r\npresent usage. The longest sentences were then broken up into two\r\nor three, and certain others were rearranged into a word order\r\nmore like that of today. Nothing was omitted, however, and nothing\r\nwas added except relative pronouns, parts of \"to be,\" and other\r\nsuch neutral connectives. Finally, obsolete words were changed to\r\nmore familiar equivalents except when they were entirely clear and\r\ntoo good to lose. Thus \"wot\" became \"know\" but \"gigglot\" and \"galp\r\nup the ghost\" were retained. Words that have come to have a quite\r\ndifferent meaning for us, such as \"fond\" and \"lust\" were replaced\r\nby less ambiguous ones—wherever possible, by ones that More\r\nhimself used elsewhere.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00010\"\u003eThe text has not been cut or expanded, re-interpreted or edited.\r\nAny transcription seems to involve some interpretation, conscious\r\nor otherwise, but an effort has been made to keep it to a minimum.\r\nPassages that seemed to make no sense have therefore been left\r\nunaltered. If other readers find solutions for them their\r\nsuggestions will be welcomed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00011\"\u003eThis is not in any sense a scholarly piece of work. That would\r\nrequire a very different method, as well as a far more thorough\r\nknowledge of sixteenth-century English. It would be a most\r\ncommendable undertaking, but it might result in an edition for the\r\nlearned. This one is for everyone who has the two essentials,\r\nfaith and intelligence, presupposed by Anthony in Chapter II.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch5 id=\"id00012\"\u003eMONICA STEVENS\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00013\"\u003eMiddlebury, Vermont.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nFeast of St. Benedict, 1950.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00014\"\u003e______________________________\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eBOOK ONE\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00016\"\u003eVINCENT: Who would have thought, O my good uncle, a few years\r\npast, that those in this country who would visit their friends\r\nlying in disease and sickness would come, as I do now, to seek and\r\nfetch comfort of them? Or who would have thought that in giving\r\ncomfort to them they would use the way that I may well use to you?\r\nFor albeit that the priests and friars be wont to call upon sick\r\nmen to remember death, yet we worldly friends, for fear of\r\ndiscomforting them, have ever had a way here in Hungary of lifting\r\nup their hearts and putting them in good hope of life.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00017\"\u003eBut now, my good uncle, the world is here waxed such, and so great\r\nperils appear here to fall at hand, that methinketh the greatest\r\ncomfort a man can have is when he can see that he shall soon be\r\ngone. And we who are likely long to live here in wretchedness have\r\nneed of some comforting counsel against tribulation to be given us\r\nby such as you, good uncle. For you have so long lived virtuously,\r\nand are so learned in the law of God that very few are better in\r\nthis country. And you have had yourself good experience and assay\r\nof such things as we do now fear, as one who hath been taken\r\nprisoner in Turkey two times in your days, and is now likely to\r\ndepart hence ere long.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00018\"\u003eBut that may be your great comfort, good uncle, since you depart to\r\nGod. But us of your kindred shall you leave here, a company of\r\nsorry comfortless orphans. For to all of us your good help,\r\ncomfort, and counsel hath long been a great stay—not as an uncle\r\nto some, and to others as one further of kin, but as though to us\r\nall you had been a natural father.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00019\"\u003eANTHONY: Mine own good cousin, I cannot much deny but what there\r\nis indeed, not only here in Hungary but also in almost all places\r\nin Christendom, such a customary manner of unchristian comforting.\r\nAnd in any sick man it doth more harm than good, by drawing him in\r\ntime of sickness, with looking and longing for life, from the\r\nmeditation of death, judgment, heaven, and hell, with which he\r\nshould beset much of his time—even all his whole life in his best\r\nhealth. Yet is that manner of comfort to my mind more than mad when\r\nit is used to a man of mine age. For as we well know that a young\r\nman may die soon, so are we very sure that an old man cannot live\r\nlong. And yet there is (as Tully saith) no man so old but that, for\r\nall that, he hopeth yet that he may live one year more, and of a\r\nfrail folly delighteth to think thereon and comfort himself\r\ntherewith. So other men\u0027s words of such comfort, adding more sticks\r\nto that fire, shall (in a manner) quite burn up the pleasant\r\nmoisture that should most refresh him—the wholesome dew, I mean,\r\nof God\u0027s grace, by which he should wish with God\u0027s will to be\r\nhence, and long to be with him in Heaven.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00020\"\u003eNow, as for your taking my departing from you so heavily (as that\r\nof one from whom you recognize, of your goodness, to have had here\r\nbefore help and comfort), would God I had done to you and to others\r\nhalf so much as I myself reckon it would have been my duty to do!\r\nBut whensoever God may take me hence, to reckon yourselves then\r\ncomfortless, as though your chief comfort stood in me—therein\r\nwould you make, methinketh, a reckoning very much as though you\r\nwould cast away a strong staff and lean upon a rotten reed. For God\r\nis, and must be, your comfort, and not I. And he is a sure\r\ncomforter, who (as he said unto his disciples) never leaveth his\r\nservants comfortless orphans, not even when he departed from his\r\ndisciples by death. But he both sent them a comforter, as he had\r\npromised, the Holy Spirit of his Father and himself, and he also\r\nmade them sure that to the world\u0027s end he would ever dwell with\r\nthem himself. And therefore, if you be part of his flock and\r\nbelieve his promise, how can you be comfortless in any tribulation,\r\nwhen Christ and his Holy Spirit, and with them their inseparable\r\nFather, if you put full trust and confidence in them, are never\r\neither one finger-breadth of space nor one minute of time from you?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00021\"\u003eVINCENT: O, my good uncle, even these selfsame words, with which\r\nyou prove that because of God\u0027s own gracious presence we cannot be\r\nleft comfortless, make me now feel and perceive how much comfort we\r\nshall miss when you are gone. For albeit, good uncle, that while\r\nyou tell me this I cannot but grant it for true, yet if I had not\r\nnow heard it from you, I would not have remembered it, nor would it\r\nhave fallen to my mind. And moreover, as our tribulations shall\r\nincrease in weight and number, so shall we need not only one such\r\ngood word or twain, but a great heap of them, to stable and\r\nstrengthen the walls of our hearts against the great surges of this\r\ntempestuous sea.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00022\"\u003eANTHONY: Good cousin, trust well in God and he shall provide you\r\noutward teachers suitable for every time, or else shall himself\r\nsufficiently teach you inwardly.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00023\"\u003eVINCENT: Very well, good uncle, but yet if we would leave the\r\nseeking of outward learning, when we can have it, and look to be\r\ninwardly taught by God alone, then should be thereby tempt God and\r\ndisplease him. And since I now see the likelihood that when you are\r\ngone we shall be sore destitute of any other like you, therefore\r\nmethinketh that God bindeth me of duty to pray you now, good uncle,\r\nin this short time that we have you, that I may learn of you such\r\nplenty of good counsel and comfort, against these great storms of\r\ntribulation with which both I and all mine are sore beaten already,\r\nand now upon the coming of this cruel Turk fear to fall in far\r\nmore, that I may, with the same laid up in remembrance, govern and\r\nstay the ship of our kindred and keep it afloat from peril of\r\nspiritual drowning.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00024\"\u003eYou are not ignorant, good uncle, what heaps of heaviness have of\r\nlate fallen among us already, with which some of our poor family are\r\nfallen into such dumps that scantly can any such comfort as my poor\r\nwit can give them at all assuage their sorrow. And now, since these\r\ntidings have come hither, so hot with the great Turk\u0027s enterprise\r\ninto these parts here, we can scantly talk nor think of anything\r\nelse than his might and our danger. There falleth so continually\r\nbefore the eyes of our heart a fearful imagination of this terrible\r\nthing: his mighty strength and power, his high malice and hatred,\r\nand his incomparable cruelty, with robbing, spoiling, burning, and\r\nlaying waste all the way that his army cometh; then, killing or\r\ncarrying away the people thence, far from home, and there severing\r\nthe couples and the kindred asunder, every one far from the other,\r\nsome kept in thraldom and some kept in prison and some for a\r\ntriumph tormented and killed in his presence; then, sending his\r\npeople hither and his false faith too, so that such as are here and\r\nstill remain shall either both lose all and be lost too, or be\r\nforced to forsake the faith of our Saviour Christ and fall to the\r\nfalse sect of Mahomet. And yet—that which we fear more than all\r\nthe rest—no small part of our own folk who dwell even here about\r\nus are, we fear, falling to him or already confederated with him.\r\nIf this be so, it may haply keep this quarter from the Turk\u0027s\r\ninvasion. But then shall they that turn to his law leave all their\r\nneighbours nothing, but shall have our goods given them and our\r\nbodies too, unless we turn as they do and forsake our Saviour too.\r\nAnd then—for there is no born Turk so cruel to Christian folk as\r\nis the false Christian that falleth from the faith—we shall stand\r\nin peril, if we persevere in the truth, to be more hardly handled\r\nand die a more cruel death by our own countrymen at home than if we\r\nwere taken hence and carried into Turkey. These fearful heaps of\r\nperil lie so heavy at our hearts, since we know not into which we\r\nshall fortune to fall and therefore fear all the worst, that (as\r\nour Saviour prophesied of the people of Jerusalem) many among us\r\nwish already, before the peril come, that the mountains would\r\noverwhelm them or the valleys open and swallow them up and cover\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00025\"\u003eTherefore, good uncle, against these horrible fears of these\r\nterrible tribulations—some of which, as you know, our house hath\r\nalready, and the rest of which we stand in dread of—give us, while\r\nGod lendeth you to us, such plenty of your comforting counsel as I\r\nmay write and keep with us, to stay us when God shall call you\r\nhence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00026\"\u003eANTHONY: Ah, my good cousin, this is a heavy hearing. And just as\r\nwe who dwell here in this part now sorely fear that thing which a\r\nfew years ago we feared not at all, so I suspect that ere long they\r\nshall fear it as much who now think themselves very sure because\r\nthey dwell further off.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00027\"\u003eGreece feared not the Turk when I was born, and within a while\r\nafterward that whole empire was his. The great Sultan of Syria\r\nthought himself more than his match, and long since you were born\r\nhath he that empire too. Then hath he taken Belgrade, the fortress\r\nof this realm. And since that hath he destroyed our noble young\r\ngoodly king, and now two of them strive for us—our Lord send the\r\ngrace that the third dog carry not away the bone from them both!\r\nWhat of the noble strong city of Rhodes, the winning of which he\r\ncounted as a victory against the whole body of Christendom, since\r\nall Christendom was not able to defend that strong town against\r\nhim? Howbeit, if the princes of Christendom everywhere would, where\r\nthere was need, have set to their hands in time, the Turk would\r\nnever have taken any one of all those places. But partly because of\r\ndissensions fallen among ourselves, and partly because no man\r\ncareth what harm other folk feel, but each part suffereth the other\r\nto shift for itself, the Turk has in a few years wonderfully\r\nincreased and Christendom on the other hand very sorely decayed.\r\nAnd all this is worked by our wickedness, with which God is not\r\ncontent.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00028\"\u003eBut now, whereas you desire of me some plenty of comforting things,\r\nwhich you may put in remembrance, to comfort your company\r\nwith—verily, in the rehearsing and heaping of your manifold fears,\r\nI myself began to feel that there would be much need, against so\r\nmany troubles, of many comforting counsels. For surely, a little\r\nbefore you came, as I devised with myself upon the Turk\u0027s coming,\r\nit happened that my mind fell suddenly from that to devising upon\r\nmy own departing. Now, albeit that I fully put my trust in God and\r\nhope to be a saved soul by his mercy, yet no man is here so sure\r\nthat without revelation he may stand clean out of dread. So I\r\nbethought me also upon the pain of hell, and afterward, then, I\r\nbethought me upon the Turk again. And at first methought his terror\r\nnothing, when I compared with it the joyful hope of heaven. Then I\r\ncompared it on the other hand with the fearful dread of hell,\r\ncasting therein in my mind those terrible fiendish tormentors, with\r\nthe deep consideration of that furious endless fire. And methought\r\nthat if the Turk with his whole host, and all his trumpets and\r\ntimbrels too, were to come to my chamber door and kill me in my\r\nbed, in respect of the other reckoning I would regard him not a\r\nrush. And yet, when I now heard your lamentable words, laying forth\r\nas though it were present before my face that heap of heavy\r\nsorrowful tribulations that (besides those that are already\r\nbefallen) are in short space likely to follow, I waxed myself\r\nsuddenly somewhat dismayed. And therefore I well approve your\r\nrequest in this behalf, since you wish to have a store of comfort\r\nbeforehand, ready by you to resort to, and to lay up in your heart\r\nas a remedy against the poison of all desperate dread that might\r\narise from occasion of sore tribulation. And I shall be glad, as my\r\npoor wit shall serve me, to call to mind with you such things as I\r\nbefore have read, heard, or thought upon, that may conveniently\r\nserve us to this purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00030\"\u003eFirst shall you, good cousin, understand this: The natural wise men\r\nof this world, the old moral philosophers, laboured much in this\r\nmatter. And many natural reasons have they written by which they\r\nmight encourage men to set little by such goods—or such hurts,\r\neither—the going and coming of which are the matter and cause of\r\ntribulation. Such are the goods of fortune, riches, favour,\r\nfriends, fame, worldly honour, and such other things: or of the\r\nbody, as beauty, strength, agility, liveliness, and health. These\r\nthings, as you know, coming to us, are matter of worldly wealth.\r\nAnd, taken from us by fortune or by force or the fear of losing\r\nthem, they are matter of adversity and tribulation. For tribulation\r\nseemeth generally to signify nothing else but some kind of grief,\r\neither pain of the body or heaviness of the mind. Now that the body\r\nshould not feel what it feeleth, all the wit in the world cannot\r\nbring that about. But that the mind should not be grieved either\r\nwith the pain that the body feeleth or with occasions of heaviness\r\noffered and given unto the soul itself, this thing the philosophers\r\nlaboured very much about. And many goodly sayings have they toward\r\nstrength and comfort against tribulation, exciting men to the full\r\ncontempt of all worldly loss and the despising of sickness and all\r\nbodily grief, painful death and all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00031\"\u003eHowbeit, indeed, for anything that ever I read in them, I never\r\ncould yet find that those natural reasons were ever able to give\r\nsufficient comfort of themselves. For they never stretch so far but\r\nthat they leave untouched, for lack of necessary knowledge, that\r\nspecial point which not only is the chief comfort of all but\r\nwithout which also all other comforts are nothing. And that point\r\nis to refer the final end of their comfort unto God, and to repute\r\nand take for the special cause of comfort that by the patient\r\nsufferance of their tribulation they shall attain his favour and\r\nfor their pain receive reward at his hand in heaven. And for lack\r\nof knowledge of this end, they did, as they needs must, leave\r\nuntouched also the very special means without which we can never\r\nattain to this comfort, which is the gracious aid and help of God\r\nto move, stir, and guide us forward in the referring of all our\r\nghostly comfort—yea, and our worldly comfort too—all unto that\r\nheavenly end. And therefore, as I say, for the lack of these\r\nthings, all their comforting counsels are very far insufficient.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00032\"\u003eHowbeit, though they be far unable to cure our disease of\r\nthemselves and therefore are not sufficient to be taken for our\r\nphysicians, some good drugs have they yet in their shops. They may\r\ntherefore be suffered to dwell among our apothecaries, if their\r\nmedicines be made not of their own brains but after the bills made\r\nby the great physician God, prescribing the medicines himself and\r\ncorrecting the faults of their erroneous recipes. For unless we\r\ntake this way with them, they shall not fail to do as many bold\r\nblind apothecaries do who, either for lucre or out of a foolish\r\npride, give sick folk medicines of their own devising. For\r\ntherewith do they kill up in corners many such simple folk as they\r\nfind so foolish as to put their lives in the hands of such ignorant\r\nand unlearned Blind Bayards.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00033\"\u003eWe shall therefore neither fully receive these philosophers\u0027\r\nreasons in this matter, nor yet utterly refuse them. But, using\r\nthem in such order as may beseem them, we shall fetch the principal\r\nand effectual medicines against these diseases of tribulation from\r\nthat high, great, and excellent physician without whom we could\r\nnever be healed of our very deadly disease of damnation. For our\r\nnecessity in that regard, the Spirit of God spiritually speaketh of\r\nhimself to us, and biddeth us give him the honour of all our\r\nhealth. And therein he thus saith unto us: \"Honour thou the\r\nphysician, for him hath the high God ordained for thy necessity.\"\r\nTherefore let us pray that high physician, our blessed Saviour\r\nChrist, whose holy manhood God ordained for our necessity, to cure\r\nour deadly wounds with the medicine made of the most wholesome\r\nblood of his own blessed body. And let us pray that, as he cured\r\nour mortal malady by this incomparable medicine, it may please him\r\nto send us and put in our minds at this time such medicines as may\r\nso comfort and strengthen us in his grace against the sickness and\r\nsorrows of tribulation, that our deadly enemy the devil may never\r\nhave the power, by his poisoned dart of murmur, grudge, and\r\nimpatience, to turn our short sickness of worldly tribulation into\r\nthe endless everlasting death of infernal damnation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00035\"\u003eSince all our principal comfort must come from God, we must first\r\npresuppose, in him to whom we shall give any effectual comfort with\r\nany ghostly counsel, one ground to begin with, on which all that we\r\nshall build may be supported and stand; that is, the ground and\r\nfoundation of faith. Without this, had ready before, all the\r\nspiritual comfort that anyone may speak of can never avail a fly.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00036\"\u003eFor just as it would be utterly vain to lay natural reasons of\r\ncomfort to him who hath no wit, so would it undoubtedly be\r\nfrustrate to lay spiritual causes of comfort to him who hath no\r\nfaith. For unless a man first believe that holy scripture is the\r\nword of God, and that the word of God is true, how can he take any\r\ncomfort in that which the scripture telleth him? A man must needs\r\ntake little fruit of scripture, if he either believe not that it be\r\nthe word of God, or else think that, though it were, it might yet\r\nfor all that be untrue! As this faith is more strong or more faint,\r\nso shall the comforting words of holy scripture stand the man in\r\nmore stead or less.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00037\"\u003eThis virtue of faith can no man give himself, nor yet any man to\r\nanother. But though men may with preaching be ministers unto God\r\ntherein; and though a man can, with his own free will, obeying\r\nfreely the inward inspiration of God, be a weak worker with\r\nalmighty God therein; yet is the faith indeed the gracious gift of\r\nGod himself. For, as St. James saith, \"Every good gift and every\r\nperfect gift is given from above, descending from the Father of\r\nlights.\" Therefore, feeling our faith by many tokens very faint,\r\nlet us pray to him who giveth it to us, that it may please him to\r\nhelp and increase it. And let us first say with him in the gospel,\r\n\"I believe, good Lord, but help thou the lack of my belief.\" And\r\nafterwards, let us pray with the apostles, \"Lord, increase our\r\nfaith.\" And finally, let us consider, by Christ\u0027s saying unto them,\r\nthat, if we would not suffer the strength and fervour of our faith\r\nto wax lukewarm—or rather key-cold—and lose its vigour by\r\nscattering our minds abroad about so many trifling things that we\r\nvery seldom think of the matters of our faith, we should withdraw\r\nour thought from the respect and regard of all worldly fantasies,\r\nand so gather our faith together into a little narrow room. And\r\nlike the little grain of mustard seed, which is by nature hot, we\r\nshould set it in the garden of our soul, all weeds being pulled out\r\nfor the better feeding of our faith. Then shall it grow, and so\r\nspread up in height that the birds—that is, the holy angels of\r\nheaven—shall breed in our soul, and bring forth virtues in the\r\nbranches of our faith. And then, with the faithful trust that\r\nthrough the true belief of God\u0027s word we shall put in his promise,\r\nwe shall be well able to command a great mountain of tribulation to\r\nvoid from the place where it stood in our heart, whereas with a\r\nvery feeble faith and faint, we shall be scantly able to remove a\r\nlittle hillock.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00038\"\u003eAnd therefore, as for the first conclusion, since we must of\r\nnecessity before any spiritual comfort presuppose the foundation of\r\nfaith, and since no man can give us faith but only God, let us\r\nnever cease to call upon God for it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00039\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, good uncle, methinks that this foundation of\r\nfaith which, as you say, must be laid first, is so necessarily\r\nrequisite, that without it all spiritual comfort would be given\r\nutterly in vain. And therefore now shall we pray God for a full and\r\nfast faith. And I pray you, good uncle, proceed you farther in the\r\nprocess of your matter of spiritual comfort against tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00040\"\u003eANTHONY: That shall I, cousin, with good will.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00042\"\u003eI will in my poor mind assign, for the first comfort, the desire\r\nand longing to be comforted by God. And not without some reason\r\ncall I this the first cause of comfort. For, as the cure of that\r\nperson is in a manner desperate, who hath no will to be cured, so\r\nis the comfort of that person desperate, who desireth not his own\r\ncomfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00043\"\u003eAnd here shall I note you two kinds of folk who are in tribulation\r\nand heaviness: one sort that will not seek for comfort, and another\r\nsort that will.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00044\"\u003eAnd again, of those that will not, there are also two sorts. For\r\nthe first there are the sort who are so drowned in sorrow that they\r\nfall into a careless deadly dullness, regarding nothing, thinking\r\nalmost of nothing, no more than if they lay in a lethargy. With\r\nthem it may so befall that wit and remembrance will wear away and\r\nfall even fair from them. And this comfortless kind of heaviness in\r\ntribulation is the highest kind of the deadly sin of sloth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00045\"\u003eAnother sort there are, who will seek for no comfort, nor yet\r\nreceive none, but in their tribulation (be it loss or sickness) are\r\nso testy, so fuming, and so far out of all patience that it\r\nprofiteth no man to speak to them. And these are as furious with\r\nimpatience as though they were in half a frenzy. And, from a custom\r\nof such behaviour, they may fall into one full and whole. And this\r\nkind of heaviness in tribulation is even a dangerous high branch of\r\nthe mortal sin of ire.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00046\"\u003eThen is there, as I told you, another kind of folk, who fain would\r\nbe comforted. And yet are they of two sorts too. One sort are those\r\nwho in their sorrow seek for worldly comfort. And of them shall we\r\nnow speak the less, for the divers occasions that we shall\r\nafterwards have to touch upon them in more places than one. But\r\nhere will I say this, which I learned of St. Bernard: He who in\r\ntribulation turneth himself unto worldly vanities, to get help and\r\ncomfort from them, fareth like a man who in peril of drowning\r\ncatcheth whatsoever cometh next to hand, and that holdeth he fast,\r\nbe it never so simple a stick. But then that helpeth him not, for\r\nhe draweth that stick down under the water with him, and there they\r\nlie both drowned together. So surely, if we accustom ourselves to\r\nput our trust of comfort in the delight of these childish worldly\r\nthings, God shall for that foul fault suffer our tribulation to\r\ngrow so great that all the pleasures of this world shall never bear\r\nus up, but all our childish pleasure shall drown with us in the\r\ndepth of tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00047\"\u003eThe other sort is, I say, of those who long and desire to be\r\ncomforted by God. And as I told you before, they undoubtedly have a\r\ngreat cause of comfort even in that point alone, that they consider\r\nthemselves to desire and long to be comforted by almighty God. This\r\nmind of theirs may well be cause of great comfort to them, for two\r\ngreat considerations.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00048\"\u003eOne is that they see themselves seek for their comfort where they\r\ncannot fail to find it. For God both can give them comfort, and\r\nwill. He can, for he is all-mighty; he will, for he is all-good,\r\nand hath himself promised, \"Ask and you shall have.\" He who hath\r\nfaith—as he must needs have who shall take comfort—cannot doubt\r\nbut what God will surely keep his promise. And therefore hath he a\r\ngreat cause to be of good comfort, as I say, in that he considereth\r\nthat he longeth to be comforted by him who, his faith maketh him\r\nsure, will not fail to comfort him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00049\"\u003eBut here consider this: I speak here of him who in tribulation\r\nlongeth to be comforted by God, and who referreth the manner of his\r\ncomforting to God. Such a man holdeth himself content, whether God\r\ncomfort him by taking away or diminishing the tribulation itself,\r\nor by giving him patience and spiritual consolation therein. For if\r\nhe long only to have God take his trouble from him, we cannot so\r\nwell warrant that mind for a cause of so great comfort. For a man\r\nmay desire that who never mindeth to be the better, and also may he\r\nmiss the effect of his desire, because his request is haply not\r\ngood for him. And of this kind of longing and requiring, we shall\r\nhave occasion hereafter to speak further. But he who, referring the\r\nmanner of his comforting to God, desireth of God to be comforted,\r\nasketh a thing so lawful and so pleasing to God that he cannot fail\r\nto fare well. And therefore hath he, as I say, great cause to take\r\ncomfort in the very desire itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00050\"\u003eAnother cause hath he to take of that desire a very great occasion\r\nof comfort. For since his desire is good, and declareth to him that\r\nhe hath a good faith in God, it is a good token unto him that he is\r\nnot an abject, cast out of God\u0027s gracious favour, since he\r\nperceiveth that God hath put such a virtuous, well-ordered appetite\r\nin his mind. For as every evil mind cometh of the world and\r\nourselves and the devil, so is every such good mind inspired into\r\nman\u0027s heart, either immediately or by the mean of our good angel or\r\nother gracious occasion, by the goodness of God himself. And what a\r\ncomfort then may this be to us, when we by that desire perceive a\r\nsure undoubted token that towards our final salvation our Saviour\r\nis himself so graciously busy about us!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00052\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, good uncle, this good mind of longing for God\u0027s\r\ncomfort is a good cause of great comfort indeed—our Lord in\r\ntribulation send it to us! But by this I see well, that woe may\r\nthey be who in tribulation lack that mind and who desire not to be\r\ncomforted by God, but either are of sloth or impatience\r\ndiscomfortless, or else of folly seek for their chief ease and\r\ncomfort anywhere else.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00053\"\u003eANTHONY: That is, good cousin, very true, as long as they stand in\r\nthat state. But then you must consider that tribulation is a means\r\nto drive them from that state, and that is one of the causes for\r\nwhich God sendeth it unto man. For albeit that pain was ordained by\r\nGod for the punishment of sins (so that they who never do now but\r\nsin cannot but be ever punished in hell) yet in this world, in\r\nwhich his high mercy giveth men space to be better, the punishment\r\nthat he sendeth by tribulation serveth ordinarily for a means of\r\namendment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00054\"\u003eSt. Paul himself was sorely against Christ, till Christ gave him a\r\ngreat fall and threw him to the ground, and struck him stark blind.\r\nAnd with that tribulation he turned to him at the first word, and\r\nGod was his physician and healed him soon after both in body and in\r\nsoul by his minister Ananias and made him his blessed apostle. Some\r\nare in the beginning of tribulation very stubborn and stiff against\r\nGod, and yet at length tribulation bringeth them home. The proud\r\nking Pharaoh did abide and endure two or three of the first\r\nplagues, and would not once stoop at them. But then God laid on a\r\nsorer lash that made him cry to him for help. And then sent he for\r\nMoses and Aaron and confessed himself for a sinner and God for good\r\nand righteous. And he prayed them to pray for him and to withdraw\r\nthat plague, and he would let them go. But when his tribulation was\r\nwithdrawn, then was he wicked again. So was his tribulation\r\noccasion of his profit, and his help in turn was cause of his harm.\r\nFor his tribulation made him call to God, and his help made hard\r\nhis heart again. Many a man who in an easy tribulation falleth to\r\nseek his ease in the pastime of worldly fantasies, in a greater\r\npain findeth all those comforts so feeble that he is fain to fall\r\nto the seeking of God\u0027s help.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00055\"\u003eAnd therefore is, I say, the very tribulation itself many times a\r\nmeans to bring the man to the taking of the aforementioned comfort\r\ntherein—that is, to the desire of comfort given by God. For this\r\ndesire of God\u0027s comfort is, as I have proved you, great cause of\r\ncomfort itself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00057\"\u003eHowbeit, though the tribulation itself be a means oftentimes to get\r\na man this first comfort in it, yet sometimes itself alone bringeth\r\nnot a man to it. And therefore, since unless this comfort be had\r\nfirst, there can in tribulation no other good comfort come forth,\r\nwe must consider the means by which this first comfort may come.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00058\"\u003eMeseemeth that if the man of sloth or impatience or hope of worldly\r\ncomfort have no mind to desire and seek for comfort of God, those\r\nwho are his friends, who come to visit and comfort him, must before\r\neverything put that point in his mind, and not spend the time (as\r\nthey commonly do) in trifling and in turning him to the fantasies\r\nof the world. They must also move him to pray God to put this\r\ndesire in his mind. For when he once getteth it, he then hath the\r\nfirst comfort—and, without doubt, if it be well considered, a\r\ncomfort marvellously great. His friends who thus counsel him must\r\nalso, to the attaining thereof, help to pray for him themselves,\r\nand cause him to desire good folk to help him to pray for it. And\r\nthen, if these ways be taken to get it, I doubt not but the\r\ngoodness of God shall give it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00060\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily methinketh, good uncle, that this counsel is very\r\ngood. For unless a person have first a desire to be comforted by\r\nGod, I cannot see what it can avail to give him any further counsel\r\nof any spiritual comfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00061\"\u003eHowbeit, what if the man have this desire of God\u0027s comfort: that\r\nis, that it may please God to comfort him in his tribulation by\r\ntaking that tribulation from him—is not this a good desire of\r\nGod\u0027s comfort, and a desire sufficient for him who is in\r\ntribulation?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00062\"\u003eANTHONY: No, cousin, that it is not. I touched before upon this\r\npoint and passed it over, because I thought it would fall in our\r\nway again, and so know I well that it will, oftener than once. And\r\nnow am I glad that you yourself move it to me here.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00063\"\u003eA man may many times, well and without sin, desire of God that the\r\ntribulation be taken from him. But neither may we desire that in\r\nevery case, nor yet very well in any case (except very few) save\r\nunder a certain condition, either expressed or implied. For\r\ntribulations are, as you know well, of many sundry kinds. Some are\r\nby loss of goods or possessions, some by the sickness of ourselves,\r\nand some by the loss of friends or by some other pain put unto our\r\nbodies. Some are by the dread of losing these things that we fain\r\nwould save, under which fear fall all the same things that we have\r\nspoken of before. For we may fear loss of goods or possessions, or\r\nthe loss of our friends, or their grief and trouble or our own by\r\nsickness, imprisonment, or other bodily pain. We may be troubled\r\nmost of all with the fear of that thing which he feareth least of\r\nall who hath most need to do so—that is, the fear of losing\r\nthrough deadly sin the life of his blessed soul. And this last kind\r\nof tribulation, as the sorest tribulation of all, though we may\r\ntouch some pieces of it here and there before, yet the chief part\r\nand the principal pain will I reserve to treat apart effectually at\r\nthe end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00064\"\u003eBut now, as I said, since the kinds of tribulation are so diverse,\r\na man may pray God to take some of these tribulations from him, and\r\nmay take some comfort in the trust that God will do so. And\r\ntherefore against hunger, sickness, and bodily hurt, and against\r\nthe loss of either body or soul, men may lawfully many times pray\r\nto the goodness of God, either for themselves or for their friends.\r\nAnd toward this purpose are expressly prayed many devout orisons in\r\nthe common services of our mother Holy Church. And toward our help\r\nin some of these things serve some of the petitions in the Pater\r\nNoster, in which we pray daily for our daily food, and to be\r\npreserved from the fall into temptation, and to be delivered from\r\nevil.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00065\"\u003eBut yet may we not always pray for the taking away from us of every\r\nkind of temptation. For if a man should in every sickness pray for\r\nhis health again, when should he show himself content to die and to\r\ndepart unto God? And that mind must a man have, you know, or else\r\nit will not be well with him. It is a tribulation to good men to\r\nfeel in themselves the conflict of the flesh against the soul and\r\nthe rebellion of sensuality against the rule and governance of\r\nreason—the relics that remain in mankind of old original sin, of\r\nwhich St. Paul so sore complaineth in his epistle to the Romans.\r\nAnd yet may we not pray, while we stand in this life, to have this\r\nkind of tribulation utterly taken from us. For it is left us by\r\nGod\u0027s ordinance to strive against it and fight with it, and by\r\nreason and grace to master it and use it for the matter of our\r\nmerit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00066\"\u003eFor the salvation of our soul may we boldly pray. For grace may we\r\nboldly pray, for faith, for hope, and for charity, and for every\r\nsuch virtue as shall serve us toward heaven. But as for all the\r\nother things before mentioned (in which is contained the matter of\r\nevery kind of tribulation), we may never well make prayers so\r\nprecisely but that we must express or imply a condition\r\ntherein—that is, that if God see the contrary better for us, we\r\nrefer it wholly to his will. And if that be so, we pray that God,\r\ninstead of taking away our grief, may send us of his goodness\r\neither spiritual comfort to take it gladly or at least strength to\r\nbear it patiently.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00067\"\u003eFor if we determine with ourselves that we will take no comfort in\r\nanything but the taking of our tribulation from us, then either we\r\nprescribe to God that he shall do us no better turn, even though he\r\nwould, than we will ourselves appoint him; or else we declare that\r\nwe ourselves can tell better than he what is better for us. And\r\ntherefore, I say, let us in tribulation desire his help and\r\ncomfort, and let us remit the manner of that comfort unto his own\r\nhigh pleasure. When we do this, let us nothing doubt but that, as\r\nhis high wisdom better seeth what is best for us than we can see it\r\nourselves, so shall his sovereign high goodness give us that thing\r\nthat shall indeed be best.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00068\"\u003eFor otherwise, if we presume to stand to our own choice—unless God\r\noffer us the choice himself, as he did to David in the choice of\r\nhis own punishment, after his high pride conceived in the numbering\r\nof the people—we may foolishly choose the worst. And by\r\nprescribing unto God ourselves so precisely what we will that he\r\nshall do for us, unless of his gracious favour he reject our folly,\r\nhe shall for indignation grant us our own request, and afterward\r\nshall we well find that it shall turn us to harm.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00069\"\u003eHow many men attain health of body for whom it would be better, for\r\ntheir soul\u0027s health, that their bodies were sick still? How many\r\nget out of prison who happen outside on such harm as the prison\r\nwould have kept them from? How many who have been loth to lose\r\ntheir worldly goods have, in keeping of their goods, soon afterward\r\nlost their life? So blind is our mortality and so unaware what will\r\nbefall—so unsure also what manner of mind we ourselves will have\r\ntomorrow—that God could not lightly do a man more vengeance than\r\nto grant him in this world his own foolish wishes.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00070\"\u003eWhat wit have we poor fools to know what will serve us? For the\r\nblessed apostle himself in his sore tribulation, praying thrice\r\nunto God to take it away from him, was answered again by God (in a\r\nmanner) that he was but a fool in asking that request, but that the\r\nhelp of God\u0027s grace in that tribulation to strengthen him was far\r\nbetter for him than to take that tribulation from him. And\r\ntherefore, perceiving well by experience the truth of the lesson,\r\nhe giveth us good warning not to be too bold of our minds, when we\r\nrequire aught of God, at his own pleasure. For his own Holy Spirit\r\nso sore desireth our welfare that, as men say, he groaneth for us,\r\nin such wise as no tongue can tell. \"What we may pray for, that\r\nwould be behovable for us, we cannot ourselves tell,\" saith St.\r\nPaul, \"but the Spirit himself desireth for us with unspeakable\r\ngroanings.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00071\"\u003eAnd therefore I say, for conclusion of this point, let us never ask\r\nof God precisely our own ease by delivery from our tribulation, but\r\npray for his aid and comfort by such ways as he himself shall best\r\nlike, and then may we take comfort even of our such request. For we\r\nmay be sure that this mind cometh of God. And also we may be very\r\nsure that as he beginneth to work with us, so—unless we ourselves\r\nfly from him—he will not fail to tarry with us. And then, if he\r\ndwell with us, what trouble can do us harm? \"If God be with us,\"\r\nsaith St. Paul, \"who can stand against us?\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00073\"\u003eVINCENT: You have, good uncle, well opened and declared the\r\nquestion that I demanded you—that is, what manner of comfort a man\r\nmight pray for in tribulation. And now proceed forth, good uncle,\r\nand show us yet farther some other spiritual comfort in tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00074\"\u003eANTHONY: This may be, methinketh, good cousin, great comfort in\r\ntribulation: that every tribulation which any time falleth unto us\r\nis either sent to be medicinable, if men will so take it; or may\r\nbecome medicinable, if men will so make it; or is better than\r\nmedicinable, unless we will forsake it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00075\"\u003eVINCENT: Surely this is very comforting—if we can well perceive\r\nit!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00076\"\u003eANTHONY: There three things that I tell you, we shall consider\r\nthus: Every tribulation that we fall in, either cometh by our own\r\nknown deserving deed bringing us to it, as the sickness that\r\nfolloweth our intemperate surfeit or the imprisonment or other\r\npunishment put upon a man for his heinous crime; or else it is sent\r\nus by God without any certain deserving cause open and known to\r\nourselves, either for punishment of some sins past (we know not\r\ncertainly which) or for preserving us from sin in which we would\r\notherwise be like to fall; or finally it is not due to the man\u0027s\r\nsin at all but is for the proof of his patience and increase of his\r\nmerit. In all the former cases tribulation is, if we will,\r\nmedicinable. In this last case of all, it is better than\r\nmedicinable.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00078\"\u003eVINCENT: This seemeth to me very good, good uncle, save that it\r\nseemeth somewhat brief and short, and thereby methinketh somewhat\r\nobscure and dark.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00079\"\u003eANTHONY: We shall therefore, to give it light withal, touch upon\r\nevery member of it somewhat more at large.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00080\"\u003eOne member is, as you know, of them that fall in tribulation\r\nthrough their own certain well-deserving deed, open and known to\r\nthemselves, as when we fall in a sickness following upon our own\r\ngluttonous feasting, or when a man is punished for his own open\r\nfault. These tribulations, and others like them, may seem not to be\r\ncomfortable, in that a man may be sorry to think himself the cause\r\nof his own harm. Yet hath he good cause of comfort in them, if he\r\nconsider that he may make them medicinable for himself if he will.\r\nFor whereas there was due to that sin, unless it were purged here,\r\na far greater punishment after this world in another place, this\r\nworldly tribulation of pain and punishment, by God\u0027s good provision\r\nfor him put upon him here in this world before, shall by the mean\r\nof Christ\u0027s passion, if the man will in true faith and good hope by\r\nmeek and patience sufferance of his tribulation so make it, serve\r\nhim for a sure medicine to cure him. And it shall clearly discharge\r\nhim of all the sickness and disease of those pains that he should\r\notherwise suffer afterward. For such is the great goodness of\r\nalmighty God that he punisheth not the same thing twice.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00081\"\u003eAnd albeit that this punishment is put unto the man, not of his own\r\nelection and free choice but by force, so that he would fain avoid\r\nit and falleth in it against his will, and therefore it seemeth\r\nworthy of no thanks; yet the great goodness of almighty God so far\r\nsurpasseth the poor imperfect goodness of man, that though men make\r\ntheir reckoning here one with another such, God yet of his high\r\nbounty in man\u0027s account alloweth it toward him far otherwise. For\r\nthough a man fall in his pain by his own fault, and also at first\r\nagainst his will, yet as soon as he confesseth his fault and\r\napplieth his will to be content to suffer that pain and punishment\r\nfor the same, and waxeth sorry not only that he shall sustain such\r\npunishment but also that he hath offended God and thereby deserved\r\nmuch more, our Lord from that time counteth it not for pain taken\r\nagainst his will. But it shall be a marvellous good medicine, and\r\nwork as a willingly taken pain the purgation and cleansing of his\r\nsoul with gracious remission of his sin, and of the far greater\r\npain that otherwise would have been prepared for it, peradventure\r\nforever in hell. For many there are undoubtedly who would otherwise\r\ndrive forth and die in their deadly sin, who yet in such\r\ntribulation, feeling their own frailty so effectually and the false\r\nflattering world failing them, turn full goodly to God and call for\r\nmercy. And so by grace they make virtue of necessity, and make a\r\nmedicine of their malady, taking their trouble meekly, and make a\r\nright godly end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00082\"\u003eConsider well the story of Acham, who committed sacrilege at the\r\ngreat city of Jericho. Thereupon God took a great vengeance upon\r\nthe children of Israel, and afterward told them the cause and bade\r\nthem go seek the fault and try it out by lots. When the lot fell\r\nupon the very man who did it—being tried by the lot falling first\r\nupon his tribe and then upon his family and then upon his house and\r\nfinally upon his person—he could well see that he was deprehended\r\nand taken against his will. But yet at the good exhortation of\r\nJosue saying unto him, \"Mine own son, give glory to the God of\r\nIsrael, and confess and show me what thou hast done, and hide it\r\nnot,\" he confessed humbly the theft and meekly took his death for\r\nit. And he had, I doubt not, both strength and comfort in his pain,\r\nand died a very good man. Yet, if he had never come in tribulation,\r\nhe would have been in peril never haply to have had just remorse in\r\nall his whole life, but might have died wretchedly and gone to the\r\ndevil eternally. And thus made this thief a good medicine of his\r\nwell-deserved pain and tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00083\"\u003eConsider well the converted thief who hung on Christ\u0027s right hand.\r\nDid not he, by his meek sufference and humble knowledge of his\r\nfault, asking forgiveness of God and yet content to suffer for his\r\nsin, make of his just punishment and well-deserved tribulation a\r\nvery good special medicine to cure him of all pain in the other\r\nworld, and win him eternal salvation?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00084\"\u003eAnd thus I say that this kind of tribulation, though it seem the\r\nmost base and the least comfortable, is yet, if the man will so\r\nmake it, a very marvellous wholesome medicine. And it may therefore\r\nbe, to the man who will so consider it, a great cause of comfort\r\nand spiritual consolation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00086\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, mine uncle, this first kind of tribulation have\r\nyou to my mind opened sufficiently. And therefore, I pray you,\r\nresort now to the second.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00087\"\u003eANTHONY: The second kind, you know, was of such tribulation as is\r\nso sent us by God that we know no certain cause deserving that\r\npresent trouble, as we certainly know that upon such-and-such a\r\nsurfeit we fell in such-and-such a sickness, or as the thief\r\nknoweth that for a certain theft he is fallen into a certain\r\npunishment. But yet, since we seldom lack faults against God worthy\r\nand well-deserving of great punishment, indeed we may well\r\nthink—and wisdom it is to do so—that with sin we have deserved it\r\nand that God for some sin sendeth it, though we know not certainly\r\nfor which. And therefore thus far is this kind of tribulation\r\nsomewhat in effect to be taken alike unto the other. For you see,\r\nif we thus will take it, reckoning it to be sent for sin and\r\nsuffering it meekly therefor, it is medicinable against the pain of\r\nthe other world to come for our past sins in this world, And this\r\nis, as I have showed you, a cause of right great comfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00088\"\u003eBut yet may then this kind of tribulation be, to some men of more\r\nsober living and thereby of more clear conscience, somewhat a\r\nlittle more comfortable. They may none otherwise reckon themselves\r\nthan sinners, for, as St. Paul saith, \"My conscience grudgeth me\r\nnot of anything, but yet am I not thereby justified,\" and, as St.\r\nJohn saith, \"If we say that we have no sin in us, we beguile\r\nourselves and truth is there not in us.\" Yet, forasmuch as\r\nthe cause is to them not so certain as it is to the others\r\nafore-mentioned in the first kind, and forasmuch as it is also\r\ncertain that God sometimes sendeth tribulation to keep and preserve\r\na man from such sin as he would otherwise fall in (and sometimes\r\nalso for exercise of their patience and increase of merit), great\r\ncause of increase in comfort have those folk of the clearer\r\nconscience in the fervour of their tribulation. For they may take\r\nthe comfort of a double medicine, and also of that thing that is of\r\nthe kind that we shall finally speak of, that I call \"better than\r\nmedicinable.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00089\"\u003eBut as I have before spoken of this kind of tribulation—how it is\r\nmedicinable in that it cureth the sin past and purchaseth remission\r\nof the pain due for it—so let us somewhat consider how this\r\ntribulation sent us by God is medicinable in that it preserveth us\r\nfrom the sins into which we would otherwise be like to fall. If\r\nthat thing be a good medicine that restoreth us our health when we\r\nlose it, as good a medicine must this one be that preserveth our\r\nhealth while we have it, and suffereth us not to fall into that\r\npainful sickness that must afterward drive us to a painful remedy!\r\nNow God seeth sometimes that worldly wealth is coming so fast upon\r\nsomeone (who nevertheless is good) that, foreseeing how much weight\r\nof worldly wealth the man may bear and how much will overcharge him\r\nand enhance his heart up so high that grace should fall from him,\r\nGod of his goodness, I say, doth anticipate his fall, and sendeth\r\nhim tribulation betimes while he is yet good. And this he doth to\r\nmake him know his maker and, by less liking the false flattering\r\nworld, to set a cross upon the ship of his heart and bear a low\r\nsail thereon, so that the boisterous blast of pride blow him not\r\nunder the water.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00090\"\u003eSome lovely young lady, lo, who is yet good enough—God seeth a\r\nstorm come toward her that would, if her health and fat feeding\r\nshould last a little longer, strike her into some lecherous love\r\nand, instead of her old-acquainted knight, lay her abed with a\r\nnew-acquainted knave. But God, loving her more tenderly than to\r\nsuffer her to fall into such shameful beastly sin, sendeth her in\r\nseason a goodly fair fervent fever, that maketh her bones to rattle\r\nand wasteth away her wanton flesh. And it beautifieth her fair skin\r\nwith the colour of a kite\u0027s claw, and maketh her look so lovely\r\nthat her love would have little pleasure to look upon her. And it\r\nmaketh her also so lusty that if her lover lay in her lap she\r\nshould so sore long to throw up unto him the very bottom of her\r\nstomach that she should not be able to restrain it from him, but\r\nsuddenly lay it all in his neck!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00091\"\u003eDid not, as I before told you, the blessed apostle himself confess\r\nthat the high revelations that God had given him might have\r\nenhanced him into so high a pride that he might have caught a foul\r\nfall, had not the provident goodness of God provided for his\r\nremedy? And what was his remedy but a painful tribulation, so sore\r\nthat he was fain thrice to call to God to take the tribulation from\r\nhim. And yet would not God grant his request, but let him lie\r\ntherein till he himself, who saw more in St. Paul than St. Paul saw\r\nin himself, knew well the time was come in which he might well\r\nwithout his harm take it from him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00092\"\u003eAnd thus you see, good cousin, that tribulation is double\r\nmedicine—both a cure of the sin past, and a preservative from the\r\nsin that is to come. And therefore in this kind of tribulation is\r\nthere good occasion for a double comfort; but that is, I say,\r\ndiversely to sundry diverse folk, as their own conscience is\r\ncumbered with sin or clear. Howbeit, I will advise no man to be so\r\nbold as to think that his tribulation is sent him to keep him from\r\nthe pride of his holiness! Let men leave that kind of comfort\r\nhardly to St. Paul, till their living be like his. But of the rest\r\nmen may well take great comfort and good besides.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00094\"\u003eVINCENT: The third kind of tribulation, uncle, remaineth now—that\r\nis, that which is sent a man by God, and not for his sin either\r\ncommitted or which otherwise would come, and therefore is not\r\nmedicinable, but is sent for exercise of our patience and increase\r\nof our merit, and therefore better than medicinable. Though it be,\r\nas you say (and as indeed it is) better for the man than any of the\r\nother two kinds in another world, where the reward shall be\r\nreceived, yet I cannot see by what reason a man can in this world,\r\nwhere the tribulation is suffered, take any more comfort in it than\r\nin any of the other twain that are sent him for his sin. For he\r\ncannot here know whether it be sent him for sin before committed,\r\nor for sin that otherwise should befall, or for increase of merit\r\nand reward after to come. For every man hath cause enough to fear\r\nand think that his sin already past hath deserved it, and that it\r\nis not without peril for a man to think otherwise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00095\"\u003eANTHONY: This that you say, cousin, hath place of truth in far the\r\nmost part of men. And therefore must they not envy nor disdain,\r\nsince they may take in their tribulation sufficient consolation for\r\ntheir part, that some other who is more worthy may take yet a great\r\ndeal more. For, as I told you, cousin, though the best must confess\r\nhimself a sinner, yet there are many men—though to the multitude,\r\nfew—who for the kind of their living and the clearness of their\r\nconscience may well and without sin have a good hope that God\r\nsendeth them some great grief for the exercise of their patience\r\nand for increase of their merit. This appeareth not only by St.\r\nPaul, in the place before remembered, but also by the holy man Job,\r\nwho in sundry places of his disputations with his burdensome\r\ncomforters forbore not to say that the clearness of his own\r\nconscience declared and showed to himself that he deserved not that\r\nsore tribulation that he then had. Howbeit, as I told you before, I\r\nwill not advise every man at adventure to be bold upon this manner\r\nof comfort. But yet know I some men such that I would dare, for\r\ntheir more ease and comfort in their great and grievous pains, to\r\nput them in right good hope that God sendeth it unto them not so\r\nmuch for their punishment as for exercise of their patience.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00096\"\u003eAnd some tribulations are there, also, that grow upon such causes\r\nthat in those cases I would never forbear but always would, without\r\nany doubt, give that counsel and comfort to any man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00097\"\u003eVINCENT: What causes, good uncle, are those?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00098\"\u003eANTHONY: Marry, cousin, wheresoever a man falleth in tribulation\r\nfor the maintenance of justice or for the defence of God\u0027s cause.\r\nFor if I should happen to find a man who had long lived a very\r\nvirtuous life, and had at last happened to fall into the Turks\u0027\r\nhands; and if he there did abide by the truth of his faith and,\r\nwith the suffering of all kinds of torments taken upon his body,\r\nstill did teach and testify the truth; and if I should in his\r\npassion give him spiritual comfort—might I be bold to tell him no\r\nfurther but that he should take patience in his pain, and that God\r\nsendeth it to him for his sin, and that he is well worthy to have\r\nit, though it were yet much more? He might then well answer me, and\r\nother such comforters, as Job answered his: \"Burdensome and heavy\r\ncomforters be you.\" Nay, I would not fail to bid him boldly, while\r\nI should see him in his passion, to cast sin and hell and purgatory\r\nand all upon the devil\u0027s pate, and doubt not but—as, if he gave\r\nover his hold, all his merit would be lost and he would be turned\r\nto misery—so if he stand and persevere still in the confession of\r\nhis faith, all his whole pain shall turn all into glory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00099\"\u003eYea, more shall I yet say than this. If there were a Christian man\r\nwho had among those infidels committed a very deadly crime, such as\r\nwould be worthy of death, not only by their laws but by Christ\u0027s\r\ntoo (as manslaughter, or adultery, or other such thing); and if\r\nwhen he were taken he were offered pardon of his life upon\r\ncondition that he should forsake the faith of Christ; and if this\r\nman would now rather suffer death than so do—should I comfort him\r\nin his pain only as I would a malefactor? Nay, this man, though he\r\nwould have died for his sin, dieth now for Christ\u0027s sake, since he\r\nmight live still if he would forsake him. The bare patient taking\r\nof his death would have served for the satisfaction of his\r\nsin—through the merit of Christ\u0027s passion, I mean, without help of\r\nwhich no pain of our own could be satisfactory. But now shall\r\nChrist, for his forsaking of his own life in the honour of his\r\nfaith, forgive the pain of all his sins, of his mere liberality,\r\nand accept all the pain of his death for merit of reward in heaven,\r\nand shall assign no part of it to the payment of his debt in\r\npurgatory, but shall take it all as an offering and requite it all\r\nwith glory. And this man among Christian men, although he had been\r\nbefore a devil, nothing would I doubt afterward to take him for a\r\nmartyr.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00100\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, methinketh this is said marvellous\r\nwell. And it specially delighteth and comforteth me to hear it,\r\nbecause of our principal fear that I first spoke of, the Turk\u0027s\r\ncruel incursion into this country of ours.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00101\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, as for the matter of that fear, I purpose to\r\ntouch it last of all. Nor meant I here to speak of it, had it not\r\nbeen that the vehemency of your objection brought it in my way. But\r\notherwise I would rather have put instead some example of those who\r\nsuffer tribulation for maintenance of right and justice, and choose\r\nrather to take harm than to do wrong in any manner of matter. For\r\nsurely if a man may—as indeed he may—have great comfort in the\r\nclearness of his conscience, who hath a false crime put upon him\r\nand by false witness proved upon him, and who is falsely punished\r\nand put to worldly shame and pain for it; a hundred times more\r\ncomfort may he have in his heart who, where white is called black\r\nand right is called wrong, abideth by the truth and is persecuted\r\nfor justice.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00102\"\u003eVINCENT: Then if a man sue me wrongfully for my own land, in which\r\nI myself have good right, it is a comfort yet to defend it well,\r\nsince God shall give me thanks for it?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00103\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay nay, cousin, nay, there walk you somewhat wide. For\r\nthere you defend your own right for your temporal avail. But St.\r\nPaul counseleth, \"Defend not yourselves, my more dear friends,\" and\r\nour Saviour counseleth, \"If a man will strive with thee at the law\r\nand take away thy coat, leave him thy gown too.\" The defence\r\ntherefore of our own right asketh no reward. Say you speed well, if\r\nyou get leave; look hardly for no thanks!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00104\"\u003eBut on the other hand, if you do as St. Paul biddeth, \"Seek not for\r\nyour own profit but for other folk\u0027s\" and defend therefore of pity\r\na poor widow or a poor fatherless child, and rather suffer sorrow\r\nby some strong extortioner than suffer them to take wrong; or if\r\nyou be a judge and have such zeal to justice that you will abide\r\ntribulation by the malice of some mighty man rather than judge\r\nwrong for his favour—such tribulations, lo, are those that are\r\nbetter than only medicinable. And every man upon whom they fall may\r\nbe bold so to reckon them, and in his deep trouble may well say to\r\nhimself the words that Christ hath taught him for his comfort,\r\n\"Blessed be the merciful men, for they shall have mercy given them.\r\nBlessed be they that suffer persecution for justice, for theirs is\r\nthe kingdom of heaven.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00105\"\u003eHere is a high comfort, lo, for those that are in this case. And\r\ntheir own conscience can show it to them, and can fill their hearts\r\nso full with spiritual joy that the pleasure may far surmount the\r\nheaviness and grief of all their temporal trouble. But God\u0027s nearer\r\ncause of faith against the Turks hath yet a far surpassing comfort\r\nthat by many degrees far excelleth this. And that, as I have said,\r\nI purpose to treat last. And for this time this sufficeth\r\nconcerning the special comfort that men may take in this third kind\r\nof tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00107\"\u003eVINCENT: Of truth, good uncle, albeit that every one of these\r\nkinds of tribulations have cause of comfort in them, as you have\r\nwell declared, if men will so consider them, yet hath this third\r\nkind above all a special prerogative therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00108\"\u003eANTHONY: That is undoubtedly true. But yet even the most base kind\r\nof them all, good cousin, hath more causes of comfort than I have\r\nspoken of yet.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00109\"\u003eFor I have, you know, in that kind that is sent us for our sin,\r\nspoken of no other comfort yet but twain: one that it refraineth us\r\nfrom sin that otherwise we would fall in; and one that it serveth\r\nus, through the merit of Christ\u0027s passion, as a means by which God\r\nkeepeth us from hell and serveth for the satisfaction of such pain\r\nas we should otherwise endure in purgatory. Howbeit, there is\r\ntherein another great cause of joy besides this. For surely those\r\npains here sent us for our sin, in whatsoever wise they happen to\r\nus (be our sin never so sore nor never so open and evident unto\r\nourselves and all the world too), yet if we pray for grace to take\r\nthem meekly and patiently; and if, confessing to God that it is far\r\ntoo little for our fault, we beseech him nevertheless, since we\r\nshall come hence so void of all good works for which we should have\r\nany reward in heaven, to be not only so merciful to us as to take\r\nour present tribulation in relief of our pains in purgatory, but\r\nalso so gracious unto us as to take our patience therein for a\r\nmatter of merit and reward in heaven; I verily trust—and nothing\r\ndoubt it—that God shall of his high bounty grant us our boon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00110\"\u003eFor as in hell pain serveth only for punishment without any manner\r\nof purging, because all possibility of purging is past; and as in\r\npurgatory punishment serveth only for purging, because the place of\r\ndeserving is past; so while we are yet in this world in which is\r\nour place and our time of merit and well-deserving, the tribulation\r\nthat is sent us for our sin here shall, if we faithfully so desire,\r\nbeside the cleansing and purging of our pain, serve us also for\r\nincrease of reward. And so shall, I suppose and trust in God\u0027s\r\ngoodness, all such penance and good works as a man willingly\r\nperformeth, enjoined by his ghostly father in confession, or which\r\nhe willingly further doth of his own devotion beside. For though\r\nman\u0027s penance, with all the good works that he can do, be not able\r\nto satisfy of themselves for the least sin that we do, yet the\r\nliberal goodness of God, through the merit of Christ\u0027s bitter\r\npassion—without which all our works could never satisfy so much as\r\na spoonful to a great vesselful in comparison with the merit and\r\nsatisfaction that Christ has merited and satisfied for us\r\nhimself—this liberal goodness of God, I say, shall yet at our\r\nfaithful instance and request cause our penance and tribulation\r\npatiently taken in this world to serve us in the other world both\r\nfor release and reward, tempered after such rate as his high\r\ngoodness and wisdom shall see best for us, whereof our blind\r\nmortality cannot here imagine nor devise the stint.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00111\"\u003eAnd thus hath yet even the first and most base kind of tribulation,\r\nthough not fully so great as the second and very far less than the\r\nthird, far greater cause of comfort yet than I spoke of before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00113\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, this pleaseth me very well. But yet\r\nare there, you know, some of these things now brought in question.\r\nFor as for any pain due for our sin, to be diminished in purgatory\r\nby the patient sufferance of tribulation here, there are, you know,\r\nmany who utterly deny that, and affirm for a sure truth that there\r\nis no purgatory at all. And then, if they say true, is the cause of\r\nthe comfort gone, if the comfort that we should take be but in vain\r\nand needless.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00114\"\u003eThey say, you know, also that men merit nothing at all, but God\r\ngiveth all for faith alone, and that it would be sin and sacrilege\r\nto look for reward in heaven either for our patience and glad\r\nsuffering for God\u0027s sake, or for any other good deed. And then is\r\nthere gone, if this be thus, the other cause of our further comfort\r\ntoo.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00115\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, if some things were as they be not, then should\r\nsome things be as they shall not! I cannot indeed deny that some\r\nmen have of late brought up some such opinions, and many more than\r\nthese besides, and have spread them abroad. And it is a right heavy\r\nthing to see such variousness in our belief rise and grow among\r\nourselves, to the great encouragement of the common enemies of us\r\nall, whereby they have our faith in derision and catch hope to\r\noverwhelm us all. Yet do three things not a little comfort my mind.\r\nThe first is that, in some communications had of late together,\r\nthere hath appeared good likelihood of some good agreement to grow\r\ntogether in one accord of our faith. The second is that in the\r\nmeanwhile, till this may come to pass, contentions, disputations,\r\nand uncharitable behaviour are prohibited and forbidden in effect\r\nupon all parties—all such parties, I mean, as fell before to fight\r\nfor it. The third is that in Germany, for all their diverse\r\nopinions, yet as they agree together in profession of Christ\u0027s\r\nname, so agree they now together in preparation of a common power,\r\nin defence of Christendom against our common enemy the Turk. And I\r\ntrust in God that this shall not only help us here to strengthen us\r\nin this war, but also that, as God hath caused them to agree\r\ntogether in the defence of his name, so shall he graciously bring\r\nthem to agree together in the truth of his faith. Therefore will I\r\nlet God work, and leave off contention. And I shall now say nothing\r\nbut that with which they who are themselves of the contrary mind\r\nshall in reason have no cause to be discontented.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00116\"\u003eFirst, as for purgatory: Though they think there be none, yet since\r\nthey deny not that all the corps of Christendom for so many hundred\r\nyears have believed the contrary, and among them all the old\r\ninterpreters of scripture from the apostles\u0027 days down to our time,\r\nmany of whom they deny not for holy saints, these men must, of\r\ntheir courtesy, hold my poor fear excused, that I dare not now\r\nbelieve them against all those. And I beseech our Lord heartily for\r\nthem, that when they depart out of this wretched world, they find\r\nno purgatory at all—provided God keep them from hell!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00117\"\u003eAs for the merit of man in his good works, neither are those who\r\ndeny it fully agreed among themselves, nor is there any man almost\r\nof them all that, since they began to write, hath not somewhat\r\nchanged and varied from himself. And far the more part are thus far\r\nagreed with us: Like as we grant them that no good work is worth\r\naught toward heaven without faith; and that no good work of man is\r\nrewardable in heaven of its own nature, but through the mere\r\ngoodness of God, who is pleased to put so high a price upon so poor\r\na thing; and that this price God setteth through Christ\u0027s passion,\r\nand also because they are his own works with us (for no man worketh\r\ngood works toward God unless God work with him); and as we grant\r\nthem also that no man may be proud of his works for his own\r\nimperfect working, because in all that he may do he can do God no\r\ngood, but is an unprofitable servant, and doth but his bare\r\nduty—as we, I say, grant them these things, so this one thing or\r\ntwain do they grant us in turn: That men are bound to work good\r\nworks if they have time and power, and that whosoever worketh in\r\ntrue faith most, shall be most rewarded. But then they add to this\r\nthat all his reward shall be given him for his faith alone and\r\nnothing for his works at all, because his faith is the thing, they\r\nsay, that forceth him to work well. I will not strive with them for\r\nthis matter now. But yet I trust to the great goodness of God, that\r\nif the question hang on that narrow point, since Christ saith in\r\nthe scripture in so many places that men shall in heaven be\r\nrewarded for their works, he shall never suffer our souls—who are\r\nbut mean-witted men and can understand his words only as he himself\r\nhath set them and as old holy saints have construed them before and\r\nas all Christian people this thousand year have believed—to be\r\ndamned for lack of perceiving such a sharp subtle thing. Especially\r\nsince some men who have right good wits, and are beside that right\r\nwell learned, too, can in no wise perceive for what cause or why\r\nthese folk who take away the reward from good works and give that\r\nreward all whole to faith alone, give the reward to faith rather\r\nthan to charity. For this grant they themselves, that faith serveth\r\nof nothing unless she be accompanied by her sister charity. And\r\nthen saith the scripture, too, \"Of these three virtues, faith,\r\nhope, and charity, of all these three, the greatest is charity.\"\r\nAnd therefore it seemeth as worthy to have the thanks as faith.\r\nHowbeit, as I said, I will not strive for it, nor indeed as our\r\nmatter standeth I shall not greatly need to do so. For if they say\r\nthat he who suffereth tribulation and martyrdom for the faith shall\r\nhave high reward, not for his work but for his well-working faith,\r\nyet since they grant that have it he shall, the cause of high\r\ncomfort in the third kind of tribulation standeth. And that is, you\r\nknow, the effect of all my purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00118\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, this is truly driven and tried unto\r\nthe uttermost, it seemeth to me. And therefore I pray you proceed\r\nat your leisure.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00120\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, it would be a long work to peruse every comfort\r\nthat a man may well take in tribulation. For as many comforts, you\r\nknow, may a man take thereof, as there be good commodities therein.\r\nAnd of those there are surely so many that it would be very long to\r\nrehearse and treat of them. But meseemeth we cannot lightly better\r\nperceive what profit and commodity, and thereby what comfort, they\r\nmay take of it who have it, than if we well consider what harm the\r\nlack of it is, and thereby what discomfort the lack should be to\r\nthem that never have it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00121\"\u003eSo is it now that all holy men agree, and all the scripture is\r\nfull, and our own experience proveth before our eyes, that we are\r\nnot come into this wretched world to dwell here. We have not, as\r\nSt. Paul saith, our dwelling-city here, but we are seeking for the\r\ncity that is to come. And St. Paul telleth us that we do seek for\r\nit, because he would put us in mind that we should seek for it, as\r\ngood folk who fain would come thither. For surely whosoever setteth\r\nso little by it that he careth not to seek for it, it will I fear\r\nbe long ere he come to it, and marvellous great grace if ever he\r\ncome thither. \"Run,\" saith St. Paul, \"so that you may get it.\" If\r\nit must then be gotten with running, when shall he come at it who\r\nlifteth not one step toward it?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00122\"\u003eNow, because this world is, as I tell you, not our eternal\r\ndwelling, but our little-while wandering, God would that we should\r\nuse it as folk who were weary of it. And he would that we should in\r\nthis vale of labour, toil, tears, and misery not look for rest and\r\nease, game, pleasure, wealth, and felicity. For those who do so\r\nfare like a foolish fellow who, going towards his own house where\r\nhe should be wealthy, would for a tapster\u0027s pleasure become a\r\nhostler by the way, and die in a stable, and never come home.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00123\"\u003eAnd would God that those that drown themselves in the desire of\r\nthis world\u0027s wretched wealth, were not yet more fools than he! But\r\nalas, their folly as far surpasseth the foolishness of that silly\r\nfellow as there is difference between the height of heaven and the\r\nvery depth of hell. For our Saviour saith, \"Woe may you be that\r\nlaugh now, for you shall wail and weep.\" And \"There is a time of\r\nweeping,\" saith the scripture, \"and there is a time of laughing.\"\r\nBut, as you see, he setteth the weeping time before, for that is\r\nthe time of this wretched world, and the laughing time shall come\r\nafter in heaven. There is also a time of sowing and a time of\r\nreaping, too. Now must we in this world sow, that we may in the\r\nother world reap. And in this short sowing time of this weeping\r\nworld, must we water our seed with the showers of our tears. And\r\nthen shall we have in heaven a merry laughing harvest forever.\r\n\"They went forth and sowed their seeds weeping,\" saith the prophet.\r\nBut what, saith he, shall follow thereof? \"They shall come again\r\nmore than laughing, with great joy and exultation, with their\r\nhandfuls of corn in their hands.\" Lo, they that in their going home\r\ntowards heaven sow their seeds with weeping, shall at the day of\r\njudgment come to their bodies again with everlasting plentiful\r\nlaughing. And to prove that this life is no laughing time, but\r\nrather the time of weeping, we find that our Saviour himself wept\r\ntwice or thrice, but never find we that he laughed so much as once.\r\nI will not swear that he never did, but at least he left us no\r\nexample of it. But on the other hand, he left us example of weeping.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00124\"\u003eOf weeping have we matter enough, both for our own sins and for\r\nother folk\u0027s, too. For surely so should we do—bewail their\r\nwretched sins, and not be glad to detract them nor envy them\r\neither. Alas, poor souls, what cause is there to envy them who are\r\never wealthy in this world, and ever out of tribulation? Of them\r\nJob saith, \"They lead all their days in wealth, and in a moment of\r\nan hour descend into their graves and are painfully buried in\r\nhell.\" St. Paul saith unto the Hebrews that those whom God loveth\r\nhe chastiseth, \"And he scourgeth every son of his that he\r\nreceiveth.\" St. Paul saith also, \"By many tribulations must we go\r\ninto the kingdom of God.\" And no marvel, for our Saviour Christ\r\nsaid of himself unto his two disciples that were going into the\r\nvillage of Emaus, \"Know you not that Christ must suffer and so go\r\ninto his kingdom?\" And would we who are servants look for more\r\nprivilege in our master\u0027s house than our master himself? Would we\r\nget into his kingdom with ease, when he himself got not into his\r\nown but by pain? His kingdom hath he ordained for his disciples,\r\nand he saith unto us all, \"If any man will be my disciple, let him\r\nlearn of me to do as I have done, take his cross of tribulation\r\nupon his back and follow me.\" He saith not here, lo, \"Let him laugh\r\nand make merry.\" Now if heaven serve but for Christ\u0027s disciples,\r\nand if they be those who take their cross of tribulation, when\r\nshall these folk come there who never have tribulation? And if it\r\nbe true, as St. Paul saith, that God chastiseth all them that he\r\nloveth and scourgeth every child whom he receiveth, and that to\r\nheaven shall not come but such as he loveth and receiveth, when\r\nshall they come thither whom he never chastiseth, nor never doth\r\nvouchsafe to defile his hands upon them or give them so much as one\r\nlash? And if we cannot (as St. Paul saith we cannot) come to heaven\r\nbut by many tribulations, how shall they come thither who never\r\nhave none at all? Thus see we well, by the very scripture itself,\r\nhow true the words are of old holy saints, who with one voice (in a\r\nmanner) say all one thing—that is, that we shall not have\r\ncontinual wealth both in this world and in the other too. And\r\ntherefore those who in this world without any tribulation enjoy\r\ntheir long continual course of never-interrupted prosperity have a\r\ngreat cause of fear and discomfort lest they be far fallen out of\r\nGod\u0027s favour, and stand deep in his indignation and displeasure.\r\nFor he never sendeth them tribulation, which he is ever wont to\r\nsend them whom he loveth. But they that are in tribulation, I say,\r\nhave on the other hand a great cause to take in their grief great\r\ninward comfort and spiritual consolation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00126\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, this seemeth so indeed. Howbeit, yet\r\nmethinketh that you say very sore in some things concerning such\r\npersons as are in continual prosperity. And they are, you know, not\r\na few; and they are also those who have the rule and authority of\r\nthis world in their hand. And I know well that when they talk with\r\nsuch great learned men as can, I suppose, tell the truth; and when\r\nthey ask them whether, while they make merry here in earth all\r\ntheir lives, they may not yet for all that have heaven afterwards\r\ntoo; they do tell them \"Yes, yes,\" well enough. For I have heard\r\nthem tell them so myself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00127\"\u003eANTHONY: I suppose, good cousin, that no very wise man, and\r\nespecially none that is also very good, will tell any man fully of\r\nthat fashion. But surely such as so say to them, I fear me that\r\nthey flatter them thus either for lucre or for fear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00128\"\u003eSome of them think, peradventure, thus: \"This man maketh much of me\r\nnow, and giveth me money also to fast and watch and pray for him.\r\nBut so, I fear me, would he do no more, if I should go tell him now\r\nthat all that I do for him will not serve him unless he go fast and\r\nwatch and pray for himself too. And if I should add thereto and say\r\nfurther that I trust my diligent intercession for him may be the\r\nmeans that God should the sooner give him grace to amend, and fast\r\nand watch and pray and take affliction in his own body, for the\r\nbettering of his sinful soul, he would be wonderous wroth with\r\nthat. For he would be loth to have any such grace at all as should\r\nmake him go leave off any of his mirth, and so sit and mourn for\r\nhis sin.\" Such mind as this, lo, have some of those who are not\r\nunlearned, and have worldly wit at will, who tell great men such\r\ntales as perilously beguile them. For the flatterer who so telleth\r\nthem would, if he told a true tale, jeopard to lose his lucre.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00129\"\u003eSome are there also who tell them such tales for consideration of\r\nanother fear. For seeing the man so sore set on his pleasure that\r\nthey despair of any amendment of his, whatsoever they should say to\r\nhim; and then seeing also that the man doth no great harm, but of a\r\ncourteous nature doth some good men some good; they pray God\r\nthemselves to send him grace. And so they let him lie lame still in\r\nhis fleshly lusts, at the pool that the gospel speaketh of, beside\r\nthe temple, in which they washed the sheep for the sacrifice, and\r\nthey tarry to see the water stirred. And when his good angel,\r\ncoming from God, shall once begin to stir the water of his heart,\r\nand move him to the lowly meekness of a simple sheep, then if\r\nhe call them to him they will tell him another tale, and help to\r\nbear him and plunge him into the pool of penance over the hard\r\nears! But in the meanwhile, for fear lest if he would wax never the\r\nbetter he would wax much the worse; and from gentle, smooth, sweet,\r\nand courteous, might wax angry, rough, froward, and sour, and\r\nthereupon be troublous and tedious to the world to make fair\r\nweather with; they give him fair words for the while and put him in\r\ngood comfort, and let him for the rest take his own chance.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00130\"\u003eAnd so deal they with him as the mother doth sometimes with her\r\nchild, when the little boy will not rise in time for her, but will\r\nlie slug-abed, and when he is up weepeth because he has lain so\r\nlong, fearing to be beaten at school for his late coming thither.\r\nShe telleth him then that it is but early days, and he shall come\r\nin time enough, and she biddeth him, \"Go, good son. I warrant thee,\r\nI have sent to thy master myself. Take thy bread and butter with\r\nthee—thou shalt not be beaten at all!\" And thus, if she can but\r\nsend him merry forth at the door, so that he weep not in her sight\r\nat home, she careth not much if he be taken tardy and beaten when\r\nhe cometh to school.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00131\"\u003eSurely thus, I fear me, fare many friars and state\u0027s chaplains too,\r\nin giving comfort to great men when they are both loth to displease\r\nthem. I cannot commend their doing thus, but surely I fear me thus\r\nthey do.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00133\"\u003eVINCENT: But, good uncle, though some do thus, this answereth not\r\nthe full matter. For we see that the whole church in the common\r\nservice uses divers collects in which all men pray, specially for\r\nthe princes and prelates, and generally every man for others and\r\nfor himself too, that God would vouchsafe to send them all\r\nperpetual health and prosperity. And I can see no good man praying\r\nGod to send another sorrow, nor are there such prayers put in the\r\npriests\u0027 breviaries, as far as I can hear. And yet if it were as\r\nyou say, good uncle, that perpetual prosperity were so perilous to\r\nthe soul, and tribulation also so fruitful, then meseemeth every\r\nman would be bound of charity not only to pray God send his\r\nneighbour sorrow, but also to help thereto himself. And when folk\r\nwere sick, they would be bound not to pray God send them health,\r\nbut when they came to comfort them, they should say, \"I am glad,\r\ngood friend, that you are so sick—I pray God keep you long\r\ntherein!\" And neither should any man give any medicine to another\r\nnor take any medicine himself neither. For by the diminishing of\r\nthe tribulation he taketh away part of the profit from his soul,\r\nwhich can with no bodily profit be sufficiently recompensed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00134\"\u003eAnd also this you know well, good uncle, that we read in holy\r\nscripture of men that were wealthy and rich and yet were good\r\nwithal. Solomon was, you know, the richest and most wealthy king\r\nthat any man could in his time tell of, and yet was he well beloved\r\nwith God. Job also was no beggar, perdy, nor no wretch otherwise.\r\nNor did he lose his riches and his wealth because God would not\r\nthat his friend should have wealth, but rather for the show of his\r\npatience, to the increase of his merit and the confusion of the\r\ndevil. And, for proof that prosperity may stand with God\u0027s favour,\r\n\"God restored Job double of all\" that ever he lost, and gave him\r\nafterward long life to take his pleasure long. Abraham was also,\r\nyou know, a man of great substance, and so continued all his life\r\nin honour and wealth. Yea, and when he died, too, he went unto such\r\nwealth that when Lazarus died in tribulation and poverty, the best\r\nplace that he came to was that rich man\u0027s bosom!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00135\"\u003eFinally, good uncle, this we find before our eyes, and every day we\r\nprove it by plain experience that many a man is right wealthy and\r\nyet therewith right good, and many a miserable wretch is as evil as\r\nhe is wretched. And therefore it seemeth hard, good uncle, that\r\nbetween prosperity and tribulation the matter should go thus, that\r\ntribulation should be given always by God to those that he loveth,\r\nfor a sign of salvation, and prosperity sent for displeasure, as a\r\ntoken of eternal damnation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00137\"\u003eANTHONY: I said not, cousin, that for an undoubted rule, worldly\r\nprosperity were always displeasing to God or tribulation evermore\r\nwholesome to every man—or else I meant not to say it. For well I\r\nknow that our Lord giveth in this world unto either sort of folk\r\neither sort of fortune. \"He maketh his sun to shine both upon the\r\ngood and the bad, and his rain to fall both on the just and on the\r\nunjust.\" And on the other hand, \"he scourgeth every son that he\r\nreceiveth,\" yet he beateth not only good folk that he loveth, but\r\n\"there are many scourges for sinners\" also. He giveth evil folk\r\ngood fortune in this world to call them by kindness—and, if they\r\nthereby come not, the more is their unkindness. And yet where\r\nwealth will not bring them, he giveth them sometimes sorrow. And\r\nsome who in prosperity cannot creep forward to God, in tribulation\r\nthey run toward him apace. \"Their infirmities were multiplied,\"\r\nsaith the prophet, \"and after that they made haste.\" To some that\r\nare good men, God sendeth wealth here also; and they give him great\r\nthanks for his gift, and he rewardeth them for the thanks too. To\r\nsome good folk he sendeth sorrow, and they thank him for that too.\r\nIf God should give the goods of this world only to evil folk, then\r\nwould men think that God were not the Lord thereof. If God would\r\ngive the goods only to good men, then would folk take occasion to\r\nserve him but for them. Some will in wealth fall into folly: \"When\r\nman was in honour, his understanding failed him; then was he\r\ncompared with beasts and made like unto them.\" Some men with\r\ntribulation will fall into sin, and therefore saith the prophet,\r\n\"God will not leave the rod of the wicked men upon the lot of\r\nrighteous men, lest the righteous peradventure extend and stretch\r\nout their hands to iniquity.\" So I deny not that either state,\r\nwealth or tribulation, may be matter of virtue and matter of vice\r\nalso.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00138\"\u003eBut this is the point, lo, that standeth here in question between\r\nyou and me: not whether every prosperity be a perilous token, but\r\nwhether continual wealth in this world without any tribulation be a\r\nfearful sign of God\u0027s indignation. And therefore this mark that we\r\nmust shoot at, set up well in our sight, we shall now aim for the\r\nshot and consider how near toward, or how far off, your arrows are\r\nfrom the mark.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00139\"\u003eVINCENT: Some of my bolts, uncle, will I now take up myself, and\r\nreadily put them under my belt again! For some of them, I see well,\r\nare not worth the aiming. And no great marvel that I shoot wide,\r\nwhile I somewhat mistake the mark.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00140\"\u003eANTHONY: Those that make toward the mark and light far too short,\r\nwhen they are shot, shall I take up for you.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00141\"\u003eTo prove that perpetual wealth should be no evil token, you say\r\nfirst that for princes and prelates, and every man for others, we\r\npray all for perpetual prosperity, and that in the common prayers\r\nof the church, too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00142\"\u003eThen say you secondly, that if prosperity were so perilous and\r\ntribulation so profitable, every man ought to pray God to send\r\nothers sorrow.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00143\"\u003eThirdly, you furnish your objections with examples of Solomon, Job,\r\nand Abraham.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00144\"\u003eAnd fourthly, in the end of all, you prove by experience of our own\r\ntime daily before our face, that some wealthy folk are good and\r\nsome needy ones very wicked. That last bolt, since I say the same\r\nmyself, I think you will be content to take up, it lieth so far\r\nwide.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00145\"\u003eVINCENT: That will I, with a good will, uncle.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00146\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, do so, then, cousin, and we shall aim for the rest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00147\"\u003eFirst must you, cousin, be sure that you look well to the mark, and\r\nthat you cannot do so unless you know what tribulation is. For\r\nsince that is one of the things that we principally speak of,\r\nunless you consider well what it is, you may miss the mark again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00148\"\u003eI suppose now that you will agree that tribulation is every such\r\nthing as troubleth and grieveth a man either in body or mind, and\r\nis as it were the prick of a thorn, a bramble, or a briar thrust\r\ninto his flesh or into his mind. And surely, cousin, the prick that\r\nvery sore pricketh the mind surpasseth in pain the grief that\r\npaineth the body, almost as far as doth a thorn sticking in the\r\nheart surpass and exceed in pain the thorn that is thrust in the\r\nheel.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00149\"\u003eNow cousin, if tribulation be this that I call it, then shall you\r\nsoon consider this: There are more kinds of tribulation\r\nperadventure than you thought on before. And thereupon it followeth\r\nalso, since every kind of tribulation is an interruption of wealth,\r\nthat prosperity (which is but another name for wealth) may be\r\ndiscontinued by more ways than you would before have thought. Then\r\nsay I thus unto you, cousin: Since tribulation is not only such\r\npangs as pain the body, but every trouble also that grieveth the\r\nmind, many good men have many tribulations that every man marketh\r\nnot, and consequently their wealth is interrupted when other men\r\nare not aware. For think you, cousin, that the temptations of the\r\ndevil, the world, and the flesh, soliciting the mind of a good man\r\nunto sin, are not a great inward trouble and grief to his heart? To\r\nsuch wretches as care not for their conscience, but like\r\nunreasonable beasts follow their foul affections, many of these\r\ntemptations are no trouble at all, but matter of their bodily\r\npleasure. But unto him, cousin, that standeth in dread of God, the\r\ntribulation of temptation is so painful that, to be rid of it or to\r\nbe sure of the victory, he would gladly give more than half his\r\nsubstance, be it never so great. Now if he who careth not for God\r\nthink that this trouble is but a trifle, and that with such\r\ntribulation prosperity is not interrupted, let him cast in his mind\r\nif he himself come upon a fervent longing for something which he\r\ncannot get (as a good man will not), as perchance his pleasure of\r\nsome certain good woman who will not be caught. And then let him\r\ntell me whether the ruffle of his desire shall not so torment his\r\nmind that all the pleasures that he can take beside shall, for lack\r\nof that one, not please him a pin! And I dare be bold to warrant\r\nhim that the pain in resisting, and the great fear of falling, that\r\nmany a good man hath in his temptation, is an anguish and a grief\r\nevery deal as great as this.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00150\"\u003eNow I say further, cousin, that if this be true, as indeed it is,\r\nthat such trouble is tribulation, and thereby consequently an\r\ninterruption of prosperous wealth, no man meaneth precisely to pray\r\nfor another to keep him in continual prosperity without any manner\r\nof discontinuance or change in this world. For that prayer, without\r\nother condition added or implied, would be inordinate and very\r\nchildish. For it would be to pray either that they should never\r\nhave temptation, or else that if they had they might follow and\r\nfulfil their affection. Who would dare, good cousin, for shame or\r\nfor sin, for himself or any other man, to make this kind of prayer?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00151\"\u003eBesides this, cousin, the church, you know, well adviseth every man\r\nto fast, to watch, and to pray, both for taming of his fleshly\r\nlusts and also to mourn and lament his sin before committed and to\r\nbewail his offence done against God, as they did at the city of\r\nNineve, and as the prophet David did for his sin put affliction to\r\nhis flesh. And when a man so doth, cousin, is this no tribulation\r\nto him because he doth it himself? For I know you would agree that\r\nit would be, if another man did it against his will. Then is\r\ntribulation, you know, tribulation still, though it be taken well\r\nin worth. Yea, and though it be taken with very right good will,\r\nyet is pain, you know, pain, and therefore so is it, though a man\r\ndo it himself. Then, since the church adviseth every man to take\r\ntribulation for his sin, whatsoever words you find in any prayer,\r\nthey never mean, do you be fast and sure, to pray God to keep every\r\ngood man (nor every bad man neither) from every kind of tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00152\"\u003eNow he who is not in a certain kind of tribulation, as peradventure\r\nin sickness or in loss of goods, is not yet out of tribulation. For\r\nhe may have his ease of body or mind disquieted (and thereby his\r\nwealth interrupted) with another kind of tribulation, as is either\r\ntemptation to a good man, or voluntary affliction, either of body\r\nby penance or of mind by contrition and heaviness for his sin and\r\noffence against God. And thus I say that for precise perpetual\r\nwealth and prosperity in this world—that is to say, for the\r\nperpetual lack of all trouble and tribulation—no wise man prayeth\r\neither for himself or for any man else. And thus I answer your\r\nfirst objection.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00153\"\u003eNow before I meddle with your second, your third will I join to\r\nthis. For upon this answer will the solution of your examples\r\nfittingly depend.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00154\"\u003eAs for Solomon, he was, as you say, all his days a marvellous\r\nwealthy king, and much was he beloved with God, I know, in the\r\nbeginning of his reign. But that the favour of God continued with\r\nhim, as his prosperity did, that cannot I tell, and therefore will\r\nI not warrant it. But surely we see that his continual wealth made\r\nhim fall into wanton folly, first in multiplying wives to a\r\nhorrible number, contrary to the commandment of God, given in the\r\nlaw of Moses, and secondly in taking to wife among others some who\r\nwere infidels, contrary to another commandment of God\u0027s written\r\nlaw. Also we see that finally, by means of his infidel wife, he\r\nfell into maintenance of idolatry himself. And of this we find no\r\namendment or repentance, as we find of his father. And therefore,\r\nthough he were buried where his father was, yet whether he went to\r\nthe rest that his father did, through some secret sorrow for his\r\nsin at last—that is to say, by some kind of tribulation—I cannot\r\ntell, and am content therefore to trust well and pray God that he\r\ndid so. But surely we are not so sure, and therefore the example of\r\nSolomon can very little serve you. For you might as well lay it for\r\na proof that God favoureth idolatry as that he favoureth\r\nprosperity; for Solomon was, you know, in both.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00155\"\u003eAs for Job, since our question hangeth upon prosperity that is\r\nperpetual, the wealth of Job, which was interrupted with so great\r\nadversity, can, as you yourself see, serve you for no example. And\r\nthat God gave him here in this world all things double that he\r\nlost, little toucheth my matter, which denieth not prosperity to be\r\nGod\u0027s gift, and given to some good men, too; namely, to such as\r\nhave tribulation too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00156\"\u003eBut in Abraham, cousin, I suppose is all your chief hold, because\r\nyou not only show riches and prosperity perpetual in him through\r\nthe course of all his whole life in this world, but after his death\r\nalso. Lazarus, that poor man, who lived in tribulation and died for\r\npure hunger and thirst, had after his death his place of comfort\r\nand rest in Abraham\u0027s—that wealthy man\u0027s—bosom. But here must you\r\nconsider that Abraham had not such continual prosperity but what it\r\nwas discontinued with divers tribulations.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00157\"\u003eWas it nothing to him, think you, to leave his own country, and at\r\nGod\u0027s sending to go into a strange land, which God promised him and\r\nhis seed forever, but in all his life he gave him never a foot? Was\r\nit no trouble, that his cousin Loth and himself were fain to part\r\ncompany, because their servants could not agree together? Though he\r\nrecovered Loth again from the three kings, was his capture no\r\ntrouble to him, think you, in the meanwhile? Was the destruction of\r\nthe five cities no heaviness to his heart? Any man would think so,\r\nwho readeth in the story what labour he made to save them. His\r\nheart was, I daresay, in no little sorrow, when he was fain to let\r\nAbimelech the king have his wife. Though God provided to keep her\r\nundefiled and turned all to wealth, yet it was no little woe to him\r\nin the meantime. What continual grief was it to his heart, many a\r\nlong day, that he had no child begotten of his own body? He that\r\ndoubteth thereof shall find in Genesis Abraham\u0027s own moan made to\r\nGod. No man doubteth but Ismael was great comfort unto him at his\r\nbirth; and was it no grief, then, when he must cast out the mother\r\nand the child both? As for Isaac, who was the child of the promise,\r\nalthough God kept his life, that was unlooked for. Yet while the\r\nloving father bound him and went about to behead him and offer him\r\nup in sacrifice, who but himself can conceive what heaviness his\r\nheart had then? I should suppose (since you speak of Lazarus) that\r\nLazarus\u0027 own death panged him not so sore. Then, as Lazarus\u0027 pain\r\nwas patiently borne, so was Abraham\u0027s taken not only patiently\r\nbut—which is a thing much more meritorious—of obedience\r\nwillingly. And therefore, even if Abraham had not far excelled\r\nLazarus in merit of reward (as he did indeed) for many other things\r\nbesides, and especially for that he was a special patriarch of the\r\nfaith, yet would he have far surpassed him even by the merit of\r\nthat tribulation well taken here for God\u0027s sake too. And so serveth\r\nfor your purpose no man less than Abraham!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00158\"\u003eBut now, good cousin, let us look a little longer here upon the\r\nrich Abraham and Lazarus the poor. And as we shall see Lazarus set\r\nin wealth somewhat under the rich Abraham, so shall we see another\r\nrich man lie full low beneath Lazarus, crying and calling out of\r\nhis fiery couch that Lazarus might, with a drop of water falling\r\nfrom his finger\u0027s end, a little cool and refresh the tip of his\r\nburning tongue. Consider well now what Abraham answered to the rich\r\nwretch: \"Son, remember that thou hast in thy life received wealth,\r\nand Lazarus likewise pain, but now receiveth he comfort, and thou\r\nsorrow, pain, and torment.\" Christ described his wealth and his\r\nprosperity: gay and soft apparel with royal delicate fare,\r\ncontinually day by day. \"He did fare royally every day,\" saith our\r\nSaviour; his wealth was continual, lo, no time of tribulation\r\nbetween. And Abraham telleth him the same tale, that he had taken\r\nhis wealth in this world, and Lazarus likewise his pain, and that\r\nthey had now changed each to the clean contrary—poor Lazarus from\r\ntribulation into wealth, and the rich man from his continual\r\nprosperity into perpetual pain. Here was laid expressly to Lazarus\r\nno very great virtue by name, nor to this rich glutton no great\r\nheinous crime but the taking of his continual ease and pleasure,\r\nwithout any tribulation or grief, of which grew sloth and\r\nnegligence to think upon the poor man\u0027s pain. For that ever he\r\nhimself saw Lazarus and knew that he died for hunger at his door,\r\nthat laid neither Christ nor Abraham to his charge. And therefore,\r\ncousin, this story of which, by occasion of Abraham and Lazarus,\r\nyou put me in remembrance, well declareth what peril there is in\r\ncontinual worldly wealth; and contrariwise what comfort cometh of\r\ntribulation. And thus, as your other examples of Solomon and Job\r\nnothing for the matter further you, so your example of rich Abraham\r\nand poor Lazarus hath not a little hindered you.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00160\"\u003eVINCENT: Surely, uncle, you have shaken my examples sorely, and\r\nhave in your aiming of your shot removed me these arrows,\r\nmethinketh, further off from the mark than methought they stuck\r\nwhen I shot them! And I shall therefore now be content to take them\r\nup again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00161\"\u003eBut meseemeth surely that my second shot may stand. For of truth,\r\nif every kind of tribulation be so profitable that it be good to\r\nhave it, as you say it is, then I cannot see why any man should\r\neither wish, or pray, or do any manner of thing to have any kind of\r\ntribulation withdrawn either from himself or from any friend of his.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00162\"\u003eANTHONY: I think indeed tribulation so good and profitable that I\r\nmight doubt, as you do, why a man might labour and pray to be\r\ndelivered of it, were it not that God, who teacheth us the one,\r\nteacheth us also the other. For as he biddeth us take our pain\r\npatiently, and exhort our neighbours to do also the same, so\r\nbiddeth he us also not forbear to do our best to remove the pain\r\nfrom us both. And then, since it is God who teacheth both, I shall\r\nnot need to break my brain in devising wherefore he would bid us to\r\ndo both, the one seeming opposed to the other.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00163\"\u003eIf he send the scourge of scarcity and great famine, he will that\r\nwe shall bear it patiently; but yet will he that we shall eat our\r\nmeat when we can get it. If he send us the plague of pestilence, he\r\nwill that we shall patiently take it; but yet will he that we let\r\nblood, and lay plasters to draw it and ripen it, and lance it, and\r\nget it away. Both these points teacheth God in scripture, in more\r\nthan many places. Fasting is better than eating, and hath more\r\nthanks of God, and yet will God that we shall eat. Praying is\r\nbetter than drinking, and much more pleasing to God, and yet will\r\nGod that we shall drink. Keeping vigil is much more acceptable to\r\nGod than sleeping, and yet will God that we shall sleep. God hath\r\ngiven us our bodies here to keep, and will that we maintain them to\r\ndo him service with, till he send for us hence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00164\"\u003eNow we cannot tell surely how much tribulation may mar the body or\r\nperadventure hurt the soul also. Therefore the apostle, after he\r\nhad commanded the Corinthians to deliver to the devil the\r\nabominable fornicator who forbore not the bed of his own father\u0027s\r\nwife, yet after he had been a while accursed and punished for his\r\nsin, the apostle commanded them charitably to receive him again and\r\ngive him consolation, \"that the greatness of his sorrow should not\r\nswallow him up.\" And therefore, when God sendeth the tempest, he\r\nwill that the shipmen shall get them to their tackling and do the\r\nbest they can for themselves, that the sea eat them not up. For\r\nhelp ourselves as well as we can, he can make his plague as sore\r\nand as long-lasting as he himself please.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00165\"\u003eAnd as he will that we do for ourselves, so will he that we do for\r\nour neigbour too. And he will that we shall in this world have pity\r\non each other and not be \u003ci\u003esine affectione,\u003c/i\u003e for which the apostle\r\nrebuketh them that lack their tender affection here. So of charity\r\nwe should be sorry too for the pain of those upon whom, for\r\nnecessary cause, we ourselves be driven to put it. And whosoever\r\nsaith that for pity of his neighbour\u0027s soul he will have no pity of\r\nhis body, let him be sure that, as St. John saith, \"He that loveth\r\nnot his neighbour whom he seeth, loveth but little God, whom he\r\nseeth not,\" so he who hath no pity on the pain that he seeth his\r\nneighbour feel before him, pitieth little (whatsoever he say) the\r\npain of his soul that he seeth not.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00166\"\u003eYet God sendeth us also such tribulation sometimes because it is\r\nhis pleasure to have us pray unto him for help. And therefore, the\r\nscripture telleth that, when St. Peter was in prison, the whole\r\nchurch without intermission prayed incessantly for him, and at\r\ntheir fervent prayer God by miracle delivered him. When the\r\ndisciples in the tempest stood in fear of drowning, they prayed\r\nunto Christ and said, \"Save us, Lord, we perish,\" and then at their\r\nprayer he shortly ceased the tempest. And now see we proved often\r\nthat in sore weather or sickness by general processions God giveth\r\ngracious help. And many a man in his great pain and sickness, by\r\ncalling upon God is marvellously made whole. This is the goodness\r\nof God who, because in wealth we remember him not, but forget to\r\npray to him, sendeth us sorrow and sickness to force us to draw\r\ntoward him, and compelleth us to call upon him and pray for release\r\nof our pain. When we learn thereby to know him and to pray to him,\r\nwe take a good occasion to fall afterward into further grace.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00168\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, with this good answer I am well\r\ncontent.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00169\"\u003eANTHONY: Yea, cousin, but many men are there with whom God is not\r\ncontent! For they abuse this great high goodness of his, whom\r\nneither fair treating nor hard handling can cause to remember their\r\nmaker. But in wealth they are wanton and forget God and follow\r\ntheir pleasure, and when God with tribulation draweth them toward\r\nhim, then wax they mad and draw back as much as ever they can, and\r\nrun and seek help at any other hand rather than at his. Some for\r\ncomfort seek to the flesh, some to the world, and some to the devil\r\nhimself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00170\"\u003eConsider some man who in worldly prosperity is very dull and hath\r\nstepped deep into many a sore sin; which sins, when he did them, he\r\ncounted for part of his pleasure. God, willing of his goodness to\r\ncall the man to grace, casteth a remorse into his mind, after his\r\nfirst sleep, and maketh him lie a little while and bethink him.\r\nThen beginneth he to remember his life, and from that he falleth to\r\nthink upon his death, and how he must leave all his worldly wealth\r\nwithin a while behind here in this world, and walk hence alone, he\r\nknows not whither. Nor knows he how soon he shall take his journey\r\nthither, nor can he tell what company he shall meet there. And then\r\nbeginneth he to think that it would be good to make sure and to be\r\nmerry, so that he be wise therewith, lest there happen to be indeed\r\nsuch black bugbears as folk call devils, whose torments he was wont\r\nto take for poet\u0027s tales. Those thoughts, if they sink deep, are a\r\nsore tribulation. And surely, if he takes hold of the grace that\r\nGod therein offereth him, his tribulation is wholesome. And it\r\nshall be full comforting to remember that God by this tribulation\r\ncalleth him and biddeth him come home, out of the country of sin\r\nthat he was bred and brought up so long in, and come into the land\r\nof behest that floweth milk and honey. And then if he follow this\r\ncalling, as many a one full well doth, joyful shall his sorrow be.\r\nAnd glad shall he be to change his life, to leave his wanton\r\npleasures and do penance for his sins, bestowing his time upon some\r\nbetter business.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00171\"\u003eBut some men, now, when this calling of God causeth them to be sad,\r\nthey are loth to leave their sinful lusts that hang in their\r\nhearts, especially if they have any kind of living such that they\r\nmust needs leave it off or fall deeper into sin, or if they have\r\ndone so many great wrongs that they have many amends to make if\r\nthey follow God, which must diminish much their money. Then are\r\nthese folk, alas, woefully bewrapped, for God pricketh them of his\r\ngreat goodness still. And the grief of this great pang pincheth\r\nthem at the heart, and of wickedness they wry away. And from this\r\ntribulation they turn to their flesh for help, and labour to shake\r\noff this thought. And then they mend their pillow and lay their\r\nhead softer and essay to sleep. And when that will not be, then\r\nthey talk a while with those who lie by them. If that cannot be\r\neither, then they lie and long for day, and get them forth about\r\ntheir worldly wretchedness, the matter of their prosperity, and the\r\nselfsame sinful things with which they displease God most. And at\r\nlength, when they have many times behaved in this manner, God\r\nutterly casteth them off. And then they set naught by either God or\r\ndevil. \"When the sinner cometh even into the depth, then he\r\ncontemneth,\" and setteth naught by anything, saving worldly fear\r\nthat may befall by chance, or that needs must, he knoweth well,\r\nbefall once by death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00172\"\u003eBut alas, when death cometh, then cometh again his sorrow. Then\r\nwill no soft bed serve, nor no company make him merry. Then must he\r\nleave his outward worship and comfort of his glory, and lie panting\r\nin his bed as it were on a pine bench. Then cometh his fear of his\r\nevil life and of his dreadful death. Then cometh his torment, his\r\ncumbered conscience and fear of his heavy judgment. Then the devil\r\ndraweth him to despair with imagination of hell, and suffereth him\r\nnot then to take it for a fable—and yet, if he do, then the wretch\r\nfindeth it no fable. Ah, woe worth the time, that folk think not of\r\nthis in time!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00173\"\u003eGod sometimes sendeth a man great trouble in his mind, and great\r\ntribulation about his worldly goods, because he would of his\r\ngoodness take his delight and confidence from them. And yet the man\r\nwithdraweth no part of his foolish fancies, but falleth more\r\nfervently to them than before, and setteth his whole heart, like a\r\nfool, more upon them. And then he betaketh him all to the devices\r\nof his worldly counsellors, and without any counsel of God or any\r\ntrust put in him, maketh many wise ways—or so he thinks, but all\r\nturn at length to folly, and one subtle drift driveth another to\r\nnaught.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00174\"\u003eSome have I see even in their last sickness, set up in their\r\ndeathbed, underpropped with pillows, take their playfellows to them\r\nand comfort themselves with cards. And this, they said, did ease\r\nthem well, to put fancies out of their heads. And what fancies,\r\nthink you? Such as I told you right now, of their own lewd life and\r\nperil of their soul, of heaven and of hell, that irked them to\r\nthink of. And therefore they cast it out with cards, playing as\r\nlong as ever they might, till the pure pangs of death pulled their\r\nheart from their play, and put them in such a case that they could\r\nnot reckon their game. And then their gamesters left them and slyly\r\nslunk away, and it was not long ere they galped up the ghost. And\r\nwhat game they came then to, that God knoweth and not I. I pray God\r\nit were good, but I fear it very sore.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00175\"\u003eSome men are there also that do as did King Saul, and in their\r\ntribulation go seek unto the devil. This king had commanded all\r\nthose to be destroyed who used the false abominable superstition of\r\nthis ungracious witchcraft and necromancy. And yet fell he to such\r\nfolly afterwards himself, that ere he went to battle he sought unto\r\na witch and besought her to raise up a dead man to tell him how he\r\nshould fare. Now God had showed him by Samuel before that he should\r\ncome to naught, and he went about no amendment, but waxed worse and\r\nworse, so that God would not look to him. And when he sought by the\r\nprophet to have answer of God, there came no answer to him, which\r\nhe thought strange. And because he was not heard by God at his\r\npleasure, he made suit to the devil, desiring a woman by witchcraft\r\nto raise up the dead Samuel. But he had such success thereof as\r\ncommonly they have who in their business meddle with such matters.\r\nFor an evil answer had he, and an evil fortune thereafter—his army\r\ndiscomfited and himself slain. And as it is rehearsed in\r\nParalipomenon, the tenth chapter of the first book, one cause of\r\nhis fall was for lack of trust in God, for which he left off taking\r\ncounsel of God and fell to seek counsel of the witch, against God\u0027s\r\nprohibition in the law and against his own good deed by which he\r\npunished and put out all witches so short a time before. Such\r\nfortune let them look for, who play the same part! I see many do\r\nso, who in a great loss send to seek a conjurer to get their\r\nbelongings again. And marvellous things there they see, sometimes,\r\nbut never great of their good. And many a silly fool is there who,\r\nwhen he lies sick, will meddle with no physic in no manner of wise,\r\nnor send his urine to no learned man, but will send his cap or his\r\nhose to a wisewoman, otherwise called a witch. Then sendeth she\r\nword back that she hath spied in his hose where, when he took no\r\nheed, he was taken with a spirit between two doors as he went in\r\nthe twilight. But the spirit would not let him feel it for five\r\ndays after, and it hath all the while festered in his body, and\r\nthat is the grief that paineth him so sore. But let him go to no\r\nleechcraft nor any manner of physic—other than good meat and\r\nstrong drink—for medicines would pickle him up. But he shall have\r\nfive leaves of valerian that she enchanted with a charm and\r\ngathered with her left hand. Let him fasten those five leaves to\r\nhis right thumb by a green thread—not bind it fast, but let it\r\nhang loose. He shall never need to change it, provided it fall not\r\naway, but let it hang till he be whole and he shall need it no\r\nmore. In such wise witches, and in such mad medicines, have many\r\nfools a great deal more faith than in God.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00176\"\u003eAnd thus, cousin, as I tell you, all these folk who in their\r\ntribulation call not upon God, but seek for their ease and help\r\nelsewhere—to the flesh and the world, and to the flinging\r\nfiend—the tribulation that God\u0027s goodness sendeth them for good,\r\nthey themselves by their folly turn into their harm. And those who,\r\non the other hand, seek unto God therein, both comfort and profit\r\nthey greatly take thereby.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00178\"\u003eVINCENT: I like well, good uncle, all your answers therein. But\r\none doubt yet remaineth there in my mind, which ariseth upon this\r\nanswer that you make. And when that doubt is solved, I will, mine\r\nown good uncle, encumber you no further for this time. For\r\nmethinketh that I do you very much wrong to give you occasion to\r\nlabour yourself so much in matter of some study, with long talking\r\nat once. I will therefore at this time move you but one thing, and\r\nseek some other time at your greater ease for the rest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00179\"\u003eMy doubt, good uncle, is this: I perceive well by your answers,\r\ngathered and considered together, that you will well agree that a\r\nman may both have worldly wealth and yet well go to God; and that,\r\non the other hand, a man may be miserable and live in tribulation\r\nand yet go to the devil. And as a man may please God by patience in\r\nadversity, so may he please God by thanks given in prosperity. Now\r\nsince you grant these things to be such that either of them both\r\nmay be matter of virtue or else matter of sin, matter of damnation\r\nor matter of salvation, they seem neither good nor bad of their own\r\nnature, but things of themselves equal and indifferent, turning to\r\ngood or to the contrary according as they be taken. And then if\r\nthis be thus, I can perceive no cause why you should give the\r\npre-eminence unto tribulation, or wherefore you should reckon more\r\ncause of comfort in it than in prosperity, but rather a great deal\r\nless—in a manner, by half.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00180\"\u003eFor in prosperity a man is well at ease, and may also, by giving\r\nthanks to God, get good unto his soul; whereas in tribulation,\r\nthough he may merit by patience (as the other, in abundance of\r\nworldly wealth, may merit by thanks), yet lacketh he much comfort\r\nthat the wealthy man hath, in that he is sore grieved with\r\nheaviness and pain. Besides, a wealthy man, well at ease, may pray\r\nto God quietly and merrily with alacrity and great quietness of\r\nmind, whereas he who lieth groaning in his grief cannot endure to\r\npray nor can he hardly think upon anything but his pain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00181\"\u003eANTHONY: To begin, cousin, where you leave off: The prayers of him\r\nthat is in wealth and him that is in woe, if the men be both\r\nwicked, are both alike. For neither hath the one desire to pray,\r\nnor the other either. And as one is hindered with his pain, so is\r\nthe other with his pleasure—saving that pain stirreth a man\r\nsometimes to call upon God in his grief, though he be right bad,\r\nwhereas pleasure pulleth his mind another way, though he be good\r\nenough.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00182\"\u003eAnd this point I think there are few that can, if they say true,\r\nsay that they find it otherwise. For in tribulation (which cometh,\r\nyou know, in sundry kinds) any man that is not a dull beast or a\r\ndesperate wretch calleth upon God, not hoverly but right heartily,\r\nand setteth his heart full whole upon his request, so sore he\r\nlongeth for ease and help of his heaviness. But when we are wealthy\r\nand well at our ease, while our tongue pattereth upon our prayers\r\napace—good God, how many mad ways our mind wandereth the while!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00183\"\u003eYet I know well that in some tribulation there is such sore\r\nsickness or other grievous bodily pain that it would be hard for a\r\nman to say a longer prayer of matins. And yet some who lie dying\r\nsay full devoutly the seven psalms and other prayers with the\r\npriest at their anointing. But those who for the grief of their\r\npain cannot endure to do it, or who are more tender and lack that\r\nstrong heart and stomach that some others have, God requireth no\r\nsuch long prayers of them. But the lifting up of their heart alone,\r\nwithout any words at all, is more acceptable to him from one in\r\nsuch a state, than long service so said as folk usually say it in\r\nhealth. The martyrs in their agony made no long prayers aloud, but\r\none inch of such a prayer, so prayed in that pain, was worth a\r\nwhole ell or more, even of their own prayers, prayed at some other\r\ntime.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00184\"\u003eGreat learned men say that Christ, albeit that he was true God, and\r\nas God was in eternal equal bliss with his Father, yet as man\r\nmerited not only for us but for himself too. For proof of this they\r\nlay in these words the authority of St. Paul: \"Christ hath humbled\r\nhimself, and became obedient unto the death, and that unto the\r\ndeath of the cross; for which thing God hath also exalted him and\r\ngiven him a name which is above all names, that in the name of\r\nJesus every knee be bowed, both of the celestial creatures and of\r\nthe terrestrial and of the infernal too, and that every tongue\r\nshall confess that our lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God his\r\nFather.\" Now if it be so as these great learned men say, upon such\r\nauthorities of holy scripture, that our Saviour merited as man, and\r\nas man deserved reward not for us only but for himself also; then\r\nwere there in his deeds, it seemeth, sundry degrees and differences\r\nof deserving. His washing of the disciples\u0027 feet was not, then, of\r\nlike merit as his passion, nor his sleep of like merit as his vigil\r\nand his prayer—no, nor his prayers peradventure all of like merit,\r\neither. But though there was not, nor could be, in his most blessed\r\nperson any prayer but was excellent and incomparably surpassing the\r\nprayer of any mere creature, yet his own were not all alike, but\r\none far above another. And then if it thus be, of all his holy\r\nprayers, the chief seemeth me those that he made in his great agony\r\nand pain of his bitter passion. The first was when he thrice fell\r\nprostrate in his agony, when the heaviness of his heart with fear\r\nof death at hand, so painful and so cruel as he well beheld it,\r\nmade such a fervent commotion in his blessed body that the bloody\r\nsweat of his holy flesh dropped down on the ground. The others were\r\nthe painful prayers that he made upon the cross, where, for all the\r\ntorment that he hanged in—of beating, nailing, and stretching out\r\nall his limbs, with the wresting of his sinews and breaking of his\r\ntender veins, and the sharp crown of thorns so pricking him into\r\nthe head that his blessed blood streamed down all his face—in all\r\nthese hideous pains, in all their cruel despites, yet two very\r\ndevout and fervent prayers he made. One was for the pardon of those\r\nwho so dispiteously put him to his pain, and the other about his\r\nown deliverance, commending his own soul to his holy Father in\r\nheaven. These prayers of his, made in his most pain, among all that\r\never he made, reckon I for the chief. And these prayers of our\r\nSaviour at his bitter passion, and of his holy martyrs in the\r\nfervour of their torment, shall serve us to see that there is no\r\nprayer made at pleasure so strong and effectual as that made in\r\ntribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00185\"\u003eNow come I to the reasoning you make, when you tell me that I grant\r\nyou that both in wealth and in woe a man may be wicked and offend\r\nGod, in the one by impatience and in the other by fleshly lust. And\r\non the other hand, both in tribulation and prosperity too, a man\r\nmay also do very well and deserve thanks of God by thanksgiving to\r\nGod for his gift of riches, worship, and wealth, as well as for his\r\ngift of need and penury, imprisonment, sickness, and pain. And\r\ntherefore you cannot see why I should give any pre-eminence in\r\ncomfort unto tribulation, but you would rather allow prosperity for\r\nthe thing more comforting. And that not a little, but in manner by\r\ndouble, since therein hath the soul comfort and the body too—the\r\nsoul by thanksgiving unto God for his gifts, and the body by being\r\nwell at ease—whereas the person pained in tribulation taketh no\r\ncomfort but in his soul alone.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00186\"\u003eFirst, as for your double comfort, cousin, you may cut off the one!\r\nFor a man in prosperity, though he be bound to thank God for his\r\ngifts, wherein he feeleth ease, and may be glad also that he giveth\r\nthanks to God; yet hath he little cause of comfort in that he\r\ntaketh his ease here, unless you wish to call by the name of\r\ncomfort the sensual feeling of bodily pleasure. I deny not that\r\nsometimes men so take it, when they say, \"This good drink\r\ncomforteth well mine heart.\" But comfort, cousin, is properly\r\ntaken, by them that take it right, rather for the consolation of\r\ngood hope that men take in their heart, of some good growing toward\r\nthem, than for a present pleasure with which the body is delighted\r\nand tickled for a while.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00187\"\u003eNow, though a man without patience can have no reward for his pain,\r\nyet when his pain is patiently taken for God\u0027s sake and his will\r\nconformed to God\u0027s pleasure therein, God rewardeth the sufferer in\r\nproportion to his pain. And this thing appeareth by many a place in\r\nscripture, some of which I have showed you and yet shall I show you\r\nmore. But never found I any place in scripture that I remember in\r\nwhich, though a rich man thanked God for his gifts, our Lord\r\npromised him any reward in heaven for the very reason that he took\r\nhis ease and his pleasures here. And therefore, since I speak only\r\nof such comfort as is true comfort indeed, by which a man hath hope\r\nof God\u0027s favour and remission of his sins, with diminishing of his\r\npain in purgatory or else reward in heaven; and since such comfort\r\ncometh of tribulation well taken, but not of pleasure even though\r\nit be well taken; therefore of your comfort that you double by\r\nprosperity, you may, as I told you, very well cut away the half.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00188\"\u003eNow, why I give prerogative in comfort unto tribulation far above\r\nprosperity, though a man may do well in both, of this will I show\r\nyou causes two or three. First, as I before have at length showed\r\nyou out of all question, continual wealth interrupted with no\r\ntribulation is a very discomfortable token of everlasting\r\ndamnation. Thereupon it followeth that tribulation is one cause of\r\ncomfort unto a man\u0027s heart, in that it dischargeth him of the\r\ndiscomfort that he might of reason take of overlong-lasting wealth.\r\nAnother is, that the scripture much commendeth tribulation as\r\noccasion of more profit than wealth and prosperity, not only to\r\nthose who are therein but to those who resort unto them too. And\r\ntherefore saith Ecclesiastes, \"Better is it to go to the house of\r\nweeping and wailing for some man\u0027s death, than to the house of a\r\nfeast; for in that house of heaviness is a man put in remembrance\r\nof the end of every man, and while he liveth he thinketh what shall\r\ncome after.\" And after yet he further saith, \"The heart of wise men\r\nis where heaviness is, and the heart of fools is where there is\r\nmirth and gladness.\" And verily, where you shall hear worldly mirth\r\nseem to be commended in scripture, it is either commonly spoken, as\r\nin the person of some worldly-disposed people, or else understood\r\nof spiritual rejoicing, or else meant of some small moderate\r\nrefreshing of the mind against a heavy and discomfortable dullness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00189\"\u003eNow, prosperity was promised to the children of Israel in the old\r\nlaw as a special gift of God, because of their imperfection at that\r\ntime, to draw them to God with gay things and pleasant, as men, to\r\nmake children learn, give them cake-bread and butter. For, as the\r\nscripture maketh mention, that people were much after the manner of\r\nchildren in lack of wit and in waywardness. And therefore was their\r\nmaster Moses called Pedagogus, that is, a teacher of children or\r\n(as they call such a one in the grammar schools) an \"usher\" or\r\n\"master of the petits.\" For, as St. Paul saith, \"the old law\r\nbrought nothing unto perfection.\" And God also threateneth folk\r\nwith tribulation in this world for sin, not because worldly\r\ntribulation is evil, but that we should well beware of the sickness\r\nof sin for fear of the thing to follow. For that thing, though it\r\nbe indeed a very good wholesome thing if we take it well, is yet,\r\nbecause it is painful, the thing that we are loth to have. But this\r\nI say yet again and again, that the scripture undoubtedly so\r\ncommandeth tribulation as far the better thing in this world toward\r\nthe getting of the true good that God giveth in the world to come,\r\nthat in comparison it utterly discommendeth this worldly wretched\r\nwealth and discomfortable comfort. For to what other thing tend the\r\nwords of Ecclesiastes that I rehearsed to you now, that it is\r\nbetter to be in the house of heaviness than to be at a feast?\r\nWhereto tendeth this comparison of his, that the wise man\u0027s heart\r\ndraweth thither where folk are in sadness, and the heart of a fool\r\nis where he may find mirth? Whereto tendeth this threat of the wise\r\nman, that he who delighteth in wealth shall fall into woe?\r\n\"Laughter,\" saith he, \"shall be mingled with sorrow, and the end of\r\nmirth is taken up with heaviness.\" And our Saviour saith himself,\r\n\"Woe be to you that laugh, for you shall weep and wail.\" But he\r\nsaith, on the other hand, \"Blessed are they that weep and wail, for\r\nthey shall be comforted.\" And he saith to his disciples, \"The world\r\nshall rejoice and you shall be sorry, but your sorrow shall be\r\nturned into joy.\" And so it is now, as you well know, and the mirth\r\nof many who then were in joy is now turned all to sorrow. And thus\r\nyou see plainly by scripture that, in matter of true comfort,\r\ntribulation is as far above prosperity as the day is about the\r\nnight.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00190\"\u003eAnother pre-eminence of tribulation over wealth, in occasion of\r\nmerit and reward, shall well appear upon certain considerations\r\nwell marked in them both. Tribulation meriteth in patience and in\r\nthe obedient conforming of the man\u0027s will unto God, and in thanks\r\ngiven to God for his visitation. If you reckon me now, against\r\nthese, many other good deeds that a wealthy man may do—as, by\r\nriches to give alms, or by authority to labour in doing many men\r\njustice—or if you find further any other such thing; first, I say\r\nthat the patient person in tribulation hath, in all these virtues\r\nof a wealthy man, an occasion of merit which the wealthy man hath\r\nnot. For it is easy for the person who is in tribulation to be well\r\nwilling to do the selfsame thing if he could. And then shall his\r\ngood will, where the power lacketh, go very near to the merit of\r\nthe deed. But the wealthy man, now, is not in a like position with\r\nregard to the will of patience and conformity and thanks given to\r\nGod for tribulation. For the wealthy man is not so ready to be\r\ncontent to be in tribulation, which is the occasion of the\r\nsufferer\u0027s deserving, as the troubled person is to be content to be\r\nin prosperity, to do the good deeds that the wealthy man doth.\r\nBesides this, all that the wealthy man doth, though he could not do\r\nthem without those things that are counted for wealth and called by\r\nthat name—as, not do great alms without great riches, nor do these\r\nmany men right by his labour without great authority—yet may he do\r\nthese things being not in wealth indeed. As where he taketh his\r\nwealth for no wealth and his riches for no riches, and in heart\r\nsetteth by neither one, but secretly liveth in a contrite heart and\r\na penitential life, as many times did the prophet David, being a\r\ngreat king, so that worldly wealth was no wealth to him. And\r\ntherefore worldly wealth is not of necessity the cause of these\r\ngood deeds, since he may do them (and he doth them best, indeed) to\r\nwhom the thing that worldly folk call wealth is yet, for his\r\ngodly-set mind, withdrawn from the delight thereof, no pleasure nor\r\nwealth at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00191\"\u003eFinally, whenever the wealthy man doth those good virtuous deeds,\r\nif we rightly consider the nature of them, we shall perceive that\r\nin the doing of them he doth ever, for the ratio and proportion of\r\nthose deeds, diminish the matter of his worldly wealth. In giving\r\ngreat alms, he parteth with a certain amount of his worldly goods,\r\nwhich are in that amount the matter of his wealth. In labouring\r\nabout the doing of many good deeds, his labour diminisheth his\r\nquiet and his rest, and to that extent it diminisheth his wealth,\r\nif pain and wealth be each contrary to the other, as I think you\r\nwill agree that they are. Now, whosoever then will well consider\r\nthe thing, he shall, I doubt not, perceive and see that in these\r\ngood deeds that the wealthy man doth, though it be his wealth that\r\nmaketh him able to do them, yet in so far as he doth them he\r\ndeparteth in that proportion from the nature of wealth toward the\r\nnature of some tribulation. And therefore even in those good deeds\r\nthemselves that prosperity doth, the prerogative in goodness of\r\ntribulation above wealth doth appear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00192\"\u003eNow if it happen that some man cannot perceive this point because\r\nthe wealthy man, for all his alms, abideth rich still, and for all\r\nhis good labour abideth still in his authority, let him consider\r\nthat I speak only according to proportion. And because the\r\nproportion of all that he giveth of his goods is very little in\r\nrespect of what he leaveth, therefore is the reason haply with some\r\nfolk little perceived. But if it were so that he went on giving\r\nuntil he had given out all, and left himself nothing, then would\r\neven a blind man see it. For as he would be come from riches to\r\npoverty, so would he be willingly fallen from wealth into\r\ntribulation. And in respect of labour and rest, the same would be\r\ntrue. Whosoever can consider this, shall see that, in every good\r\ndeed done by the wealthy man, the matter is proportionately the\r\nsame.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00193\"\u003eThen, since we have somewhat weighed the virtues of prosperity, let\r\nus consider on the other hand the afore-named things that are the\r\nmatter of merit and reward in tribulation—that is, patience,\r\nconformity, and thanksgiving. Patience the wealthy man hath not, in\r\nso far as he is wealthy. For if he be pinched in any point in which\r\nhe taketh patience, to that extent he suffereth some tribulation.\r\nAnd so not by his prosperity but by his tribulation hath he that\r\nmerit. It is the same if we would say that the wealthy man hath\r\nanother virtue instead of patience—that is, the keeping of himself\r\nfrom pride and such other sins as wealth would bring him to. For\r\nthe resisting of such motions is, as I before told you, without any\r\ndoubt a diminishing of fleshly wealth, and is a very true kind (and\r\none of the most profitable kinds) of tribulation. So all that good\r\nmerit groweth to the wealthy man not by his wealth but by the\r\ndiminishing of his wealth with wholesome tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00194\"\u003eThe most colour of comparison is in the other two; that is, in the\r\nconformity of man\u0027s will unto God, and in thanks given unto God.\r\nFor as the good man, in tribulation sent him by God, conformeth his\r\nwill to God\u0027s will in that behalf, and giveth God thanks for it; so\r\ndoth the wealthy man, in his wealth which God giveth him, conform\r\nhis will to God in that point, since he is well content to take it\r\nas his gift, and giveth God also right hearty thanks for it. And\r\nthus, as I said, in these two things can you catch the most colour\r\nto compare the wealthy man\u0027s merit with the merit of tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00195\"\u003eBut yet that they be not matches, you may soon see by this: For no\r\none can conform his will unto God\u0027s in tribulation and give him\r\nthanks for it, but such a man as hath in that point a very\r\nspecially good disposition. But he that is truly wicked, or hath in\r\nhis heart but very little good, may well be content to take wealth\r\nat God\u0027s hand, and say, \"Marry, I thank you, sir, for this with all\r\nmy heart, and I will not fail to love you well—while you let me\r\nfare no worse!\" \u003ci\u003eConfitebitur tibi, cum benefeceris ei.\u003c/i\u003e Now, if\r\nthe wealthy man be very good, yet, in conformity of his will and\r\nthanksgiving to God for his wealth, his virtue is not like to that\r\nof him who doth the same in tribulation. For, as the philosophers\r\nsaid very well of old, \"virtue standeth in things of hardness and\r\ndifficulty.\" And then, as I told you, it is much less hard and less\r\ndifficult, by a great deal, to be content and conform our will to\r\nGod\u0027s will and to give him thanks, too, for our ease than for our\r\npain, for our wealth and for our woe. And therefore the conforming\r\nof our will to God\u0027s and the thanks that we give him for our\r\ntribulation are more worthy of thanks in return, and merit more\r\nreward in the very fast wealth and felicity of heaven, than our\r\nconformity and our thanksgiving for our worldly wealth here.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00196\"\u003eAnd this thing saw the devil, when he said to our Lord of Job that\r\nit was no marvel if Job had a reverent fear unto God—God had done\r\nso much for him, and kept him in prosperity. But the devil knew\r\nwell that it was a hard thing for Job to be so loving, and so to\r\ngive thanks to God, in tribulation and adversity. And therefore was\r\nhe glad to get leave of God to put him in tribulation, and trusted\r\nthereby to cause him to murmur and grudge against God with\r\nimpatience. But the devil had there a fall in his own turn, for the\r\npatience of Job in the short time of his adversity got him much\r\nmore favour and thanks of God, and more is he renowned and\r\ncommended in scripture for that, than for all the goodness of his\r\nlong prosperous life. Our Saviour saith himself, also, that if we\r\nsay well by them or yield them thanks who do us good, we do no\r\ngreat thing, and therefore can we with reason look for no great\r\nthanks in return.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00197\"\u003eAnd thus have I showed you, lo, no little pre-eminence that\r\ntribulation hath in merit, and therefore no little pre-eminence of\r\ncomfort in hope of heavenly reward, above the virtues (the merit\r\nand cause of good hope and comfort) that come of wealth and\r\nprosperity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00199\"\u003eAnd therefore, good cousin, to finish our talking for this time,\r\nlest I should be too long a hindrance to your other business:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00200\"\u003eIf we lay first, for a sure ground, a very fast faith, whereby we\r\nbelieve to be true all that the scripture saith (understood truly,\r\nas the old holy doctors declare it and as the spirit of God\r\ninstructeth his Catholic church), then shall we consider\r\ntribulation as a gracious gift of God, a gift that he specially\r\ngave his special friends; a thing that in scripture is highly\r\ncommended and praised; a thing of which the contrary, long\r\ncontinued, is perilous; a thing which, if God send it not, men have\r\nneed to put upon themselves and seek by penance; a thing that\r\nhelpeth to purge our past sins; a thing that preserveth us from\r\nsins that otherwise would come; a thing that causeth us to set less\r\nby the world; a thing that much diminisheth our pains in purgatory;\r\na thing that much increaseth our final reward in heaven; the thing\r\nwith which all his apostles followed him thither; the thing to\r\nwhich our Saviour exhorteth all men; the thing without which he\r\nsaith we be not his disciples; the thing without which no man can\r\nget to heaven.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00201\"\u003eWhosoever thinketh on these things, and remembereth them well,\r\nshall in his tribulation neither murmur nor grudge. But first shall\r\nhe by patience take his pain in worth, and then shall he grow in\r\ngoodness and think himself well worthy of tribulation. And then\r\nshall he consider that God sendeth it for his welfare, and thereby\r\nshall be moved to give God thanks for it. Therewith shall his grace\r\nincrease, and God shall give him such comfort by considering that\r\nGod is in his trouble evermore near to him—for \"God is near,\"\r\nsaith the prophet, \"to them that have their heart in trouble\"—that\r\nhis joy thereof shall diminish much of his pain. And he shall not\r\nseek for vain comfort elsewhere, but shall specially trust in God\r\nand seek help of him, submitting his own will wholly to God\u0027s\r\npleasure. And he shall pray to God in his heart, and pray his\r\nfriends pray for him, and especially the priests, as St. James\r\nbiddeth. And he shall begin first with confession and make him\r\nclean to God and ready to depart, and be glad to go to God, putting\r\npurgatory to his pleasure. If we thus do, this dare I boldly say,\r\nwe shall never live here the less by half an hour, but we shall\r\nwith this comfort find our hearts lightened, and thereby the grief\r\nof our tribulation lessened, and the more likelihood to recover and\r\nto live the longer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00202\"\u003eNow if God will that we shall go hence, then doth he much more for\r\nus. For he who taketh this way cannot go but well. For of him who\r\nis loth to leave this wretched world, mine heart is much in fear\r\nlest he did not well. Hard it is for him to be welcome who cometh\r\nagainst his will, who saith unto God when he cometh to fetch him,\r\n\"Welcome, my Maker—spite of my teeth!\" But he that so loveth him\r\nthat he longeth to go to him, my heart cannot give me but he shall\r\nbe welcome, albeit that he come ere he be well purged. For \"Charity\r\ncovereth a multitude of sins,\" and \"He that trusteth in God cannot\r\nbe confounded.\" And Christ saith, \"He that cometh to me, I will not\r\ncast him out.\" And therefore let us never make our reckoning of\r\nlong life. Let us keep it while we can, because God hath so\r\ncommanded, but if God give the occasion that with his good will we\r\nmay go, let us be glad of it and long to go to him. And then shall\r\nhope of heaven comfort our heaviness, and out of our transitory\r\ntribulation shall we go to everlasting glory—to which, good\r\ncousin, I pray God bring us both!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00203\"\u003eVINCENT: Mine own good uncle, I pray God reward you, and at this\r\ntime I will no longer trouble you. I fear I have this day done you\r\nmuch tribulation with my importunate objections, of very little\r\nsubstance. And you have even showed me an example of patience, in\r\nbearing my folly so long. And yet I shall be so bold as to seek\r\nsome time to talk further of the rest of this most profitable\r\nmatter of tribulation, which you said you reserved to treat of last\r\nof all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00204\"\u003eANTHONY: Let that be surely very shortly, cousin, while this is\r\nfresh in mind.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00205\"\u003eVINCENT: I trust, good uncle, so to put this in remembrance that\r\nit shall never be forgotten with me. Our Lord send you such comfort\r\nas he knoweth to be best!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00206\"\u003eANTHONY: This is well said, good cousin, and I pray the same for\r\nyou and for all our other friends who have need of comfort—for\r\nwhom, I think, more than for yourself, you needed some counsel.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00207\"\u003eVINCENT: I shall, with this good counsel that I have heard from\r\nyou, do them some comfort, I trust in God—to whose keeping I\r\ncommit you!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00208\"\u003eANTHONY: And I you, also. Farewell, mine own good cousin.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00209\"\u003e______________________________\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eBOOK TWO\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00211\"\u003eVINCENT: It is no little comfort to me, good uncle, that as I came\r\nin here I heard from your folk that since my last being here you\r\nhave had meetly good rest (God be thanked), and your stomach\r\nsomewhat more come to you. For verily, albeit I had heard before\r\nthat, in respect of the great pain that for a month\u0027s space had\r\nheld you, you were, a little before my last coming to you, somewhat\r\neased and relieved—for otherwise would I not for any good cause\r\nhave put you to the pain of talking so much as you then did—yet\r\nafter my departing from you, remembering how long we tarried\r\ntogether, and that we were all that while talking, and that all the\r\nlabour was yours, in talking so long together without interpausing\r\nbetween (and that of matter studious and displeasant, all of\r\ndisease and sickness and other pain and tribulation), I was in good\r\nfaith very sorry and not a little wroth with myself for mine own\r\noversight, that I had so little considered your pain. And very\r\nfeared I was, till I heard otherwise, lest you should have waxed\r\nweaker and more sick thereafter. But now I thank our Lord, who hath\r\nsent the contrary. For a little casting back, in this great age of\r\nyours, would be no little danger and peril.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00212\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, nay, good cousin—to talk much, unless some other\r\npain hinder me, is to me little grief. A foolish old man is often\r\nas full of words as a woman. It is, you know, as some poets paint\r\nus, all the joy of an old fool\u0027s life to sit well and warm with a\r\ncup and a roasted crabapple, and drivel and drink and talk!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00213\"\u003eBut in earnest, cousin, our talking was to me great comfort, and\r\nnothing displeasing at all. For though we commoned of sorrow and\r\nheaviness, yet the thing we chiefly thought upon was not the\r\ntribulation itself but the comfort that may grow thereon. And\r\ntherefore am I now very glad that you are come to finish up the\r\nrest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00214\"\u003eVINCENT: Of truth, my good uncle, it was comforting to me, and\r\nhath been since to some other of your friends, to whom, as my poor\r\nwit and remembrance would serve me, I did report and rehearse (and\r\nnot needlessly) your most comforting counsel. And now come I for\r\nthe rest, and am very joyful that I find you so well refreshed and\r\nso ready thereto. But this one thing, good uncle, I beseech you\r\nheartily. If I, for delight to hear you speak in the matter, forget\r\nmyself and you both, and put you to too much pain, remember your\r\nown ease. And when you wish to leave off, command me to go my way\r\nand seek some other time.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00215\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, if a man were very weak, many words\r\nspoken (as you said right now) without interpausing, would\r\nperadventure at length somewhat weary him. And therefore wished I\r\nthe last time, after you were gone (when I felt myself, to say the\r\ntruth, even a little weary), that I had not so told you a long tale\r\nalone, but that we had more often interchanged words, and parted\r\nthe talking between us, with more often interparling upon your\r\npart, in such manner as learned men use between the persons whom\r\nthey devise, disputing in their feigned dialogues. But yet in that\r\npoint I soon excused you and laid the lack where I found it, and\r\nthat was even upon mine own neck.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00216\"\u003eFor I remembered that between you and me it fared as it did once\r\nbetween a nun and her brother. Very virtuous was this lady, and of\r\na very virtuous place and enclosed religion. And therein had she\r\nbeen long, in all which time she had never seen her brother, who\r\nwas likewise very virtuous too, and had been far off at a\r\nuniversity, and had there taken the degree of Doctor of Divinity.\r\nWhen he was come home, he went to see his sister, as one who highly\r\nrejoiced in her virtue. So came she to the grate that they call, I\r\nbelieve, the locutory, and after their holy watchword spoken on\r\nboth sides, after the manner used in that place, each took the\r\nother by the tip of the finger, for no hand could be shaken through\r\nthe grate. And forthwith my lady began to give her brother a sermon\r\nof the wretchedness of this world, and frailty of the flesh, and\r\nthe subtle sleights of the wicked fiend, and gave him surely good\r\ncounsel (saving somewhat too long) how he should be well wary in\r\nhis living and master well his body for the saving of his soul. And\r\nyet, ere her own tale came to an end, she began to find a little\r\nfault with him and said, \"In good faith, brother, I do somewhat\r\nmarvel that you, who have been at learning so long and are a doctor\r\nand so learned in the law of God, do not now at our meeting (since\r\nwe meet so seldom) to me who am your sister and a simple unlearned\r\nsoul, give of your charity some fruitful exhortation. For I doubt\r\nnot but you can say some good thing yourself.\" \"By my troth, good\r\nsister,\" quoth her brother, \"I cannot, for you! For your tongue\r\nhath never ceased, but said enough for us both.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00217\"\u003eAnd so, cousin, I remember that when I was once fallen in, I left\r\nyou little space to say aught between. But now will I therefore\r\ntake another way with you, for of our talking I shall drive you to\r\nthe one half.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00218\"\u003eVINCENT: Now, forsooth, uncle, this was a merry tale! But now, if\r\nyou make me talk the one half, then shall you be contented far\r\notherwise than was of late a kinswoman of your own—but which one I\r\nwill not tell you; guess her if you can! Her husband had much\r\npleasure in the manner and behaviour of another honest man, and\r\nkept him therefore much company, so that he was at his mealtime the\r\nmore often away from home. So happed it one time that his wife and\r\nhe together dined or supped with that neighbour of theirs, and then\r\nshe made a merry quarrel with him for making her husband so good\r\ncheer outside that she could not keep him at home. \"Forsooth,\r\nmistress,\" quoth he (for he was a dry merry man), \"in my company no\r\nthing keepeth him but one. Serve him with the same, and he will\r\nnever be away from you.\" \"What gay thing may that be?\" quoth our\r\ncousin then. \"Forsooth, mistress,\" quoth he, \"your husband loveth\r\nwell to talk, and when he sitteth with me, I let him have all the\r\nwords.\" \"All the words?\" quoth she, \"marry, than am I content! He\r\nshall have all the words with good will, as he hath ever had. But I\r\nspeak them all myself, and give them all to him, and for aught I\r\ncare for them, so shall he have them all. But otherwise to say that\r\nhe shall have them all, you shall keep him still rather than he get\r\nthe half!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00219\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, I can soon guess which of our kin she\r\nwas. I wish we had none, for all her merry words, who would let\r\ntheir husbands talk less!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00220\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, she is not so merry but what she is equally\r\ngood. But where you find fault, uncle, that I speak not enough: I\r\nwas in good faith ashamed that I spoke so much and moved you such\r\nquestions as (I found upon your answer) might better have been\r\nspared, they were of so little worth. But now, since I see you be\r\nso well content that I shall not forbear boldly to show my folly, I\r\nwill be no more so shamefast but will ask you what I like.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00222\"\u003eAnd first, good uncle, ere we proceed further, I will be bold to\r\nmove you one thing more of that which we talked of when I was here\r\nbefore. For when I revolved in my mind again the things that were\r\nconcluded here by you, methought you would in no wise wish that in\r\nany tribulation men should seek for comfort in either worldly\r\nthings or fleshly. And this opinion of yours, uncle, seemeth\r\nsomewhat hard, for a merry tale with a friend refresheth a man\r\nmuch, and without any harm delighteth his mind and amendeth his\r\ncourage and his stomach, so that it seemeth but well done to take\r\nsuch recreation. And Solomon saith, I believe, that men should in\r\nheaviness give the sorry man wine, to make him forget his sorrow.\r\nAnd St. Thomas saith that proper pleasant talking, which is called\r\n\u003ci\u003eeutrapelia,\u003c/i\u003e is a good virtue, serving to refresh the mind and\r\nmake it quick and eager to labour and study again, whereas\r\ncontinual fatigue would make it dull and deadly.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00223\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, I forgot not that point, but I longed not much\r\nto touch it. For neither might I well utterly forbear it, where it\r\nmight befall that it should not hurt; and on the other hand, if it\r\nshould so befall, methought that it should little need to give any\r\nman counsel to it—folk are prone enough to such fancies of their\r\nown mind! You may see this by ourselves who, coming now together\r\nto talk of as earnest sad matter as men can devise, were fallen\r\nyet even at the first into wanton idle tales. And of truth,\r\ncousin, as you know very well, I myself am by nature even half a\r\ngigglot and more. I wish I could as easily mend my fault as I well\r\nknow it, but scant can I refrain it, as old a fool as I am.\r\nHowbeit, I will not be so partial to my fault as to praise it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00224\"\u003eBut since you ask my mind in the matter, as to whether men in\r\ntribulation may not lawfully seek recreation and comfort\r\nthemselves with some honest mirth (first agreed that our chief\r\ncomfort must be in God and that with him we must begin and with\r\nhim continue and with him end also), that a man should take now\r\nand then some honest worldly mirth, I dare not be so sore as\r\nutterly to forbid it. For good men and well learned have in some\r\ncases allowed it, especially for the diversity of divers men\u0027s\r\nminds. Otherwise, if we were also such as would God we were (and\r\nsuch as natural wisdom would that we should be, and is not clean\r\nexcusable that we be not indeed), I would then put no doubt but\r\nthat unto any man the most comforting talking that could be would\r\nbe to hear of heaven. Whereas now, God help us, our wretchedness\r\nis such that in talking a while of it, men wax almost weary. And,\r\nas though to hear of heaven were a heavy burden, they must refresh\r\nthemselves afterward with a foolish tale. Our affection toward\r\nheavenly joys waxeth wonderfully cold. If dread of hell were as\r\nfar gone, very few would fear God, but that yet sticketh a little\r\nin our stomachs. Mark me, cousin, at the sermon, and commonly\r\ntoward the end, somewhat the preacher speaketh of hell and heaven.\r\nNow, while he preacheth of the pains of hell, still they stay and\r\ngive him the hearing. But as soon as he cometh to the joys of\r\nheaven, they are busking them backward and flockmeal fall away.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00225\"\u003eIt is in the soul somewhat as it is in the body: There are some\r\nwho are come, either by nature or by evil custom, to that point\r\nwhere a worse thing sometimes more steadeth them than a better.\r\nSome men, if they be sick, can away with no wholesome meat, nor no\r\nmedicine can go down with them, unless it be tempered for their\r\nfancy with something that maketh the meat or the medicine less\r\nwholesome than it should be. And yet, while it will be no better,\r\nwe must let them have it so.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00226\"\u003eCassian (that very virtuous man) rehearseth in a certain\r\nconference of his that a certain holy father, in making of a\r\nsermon, spoke of heaven and heavenly things so celestially that\r\nmuch of his audience, with the sweet sound of it, began to forget\r\nall the world and fall asleep. When the father beheld this, he\r\ndissembled their sleeping and suddenly said to them, \"I shall tell\r\nyou a merry tale.\" At that word they lifted up their heads and\r\nhearkened unto that, and afterward (their sleep being therewith\r\nbroken) heard him tell on of heaven again. In what wise that good\r\nfather rebuked then their untoward minds—so dull to the thing\r\nthat all our life we labour for, and so quick and eager toward\r\nother trifles—I neither bear in mind nor shall here need to\r\nrehearse. But thus much of that matter sufficeth for our purpose,\r\nthat whereas you demand of me whether in tribulation men may not\r\nsometimes refresh themselves with worldly mirth and recreation, I\r\ncan only say that he who cannot long endure to hold up his head\r\nand hear talking of heaven unless he be now and then between\r\nrefreshed (as though heaven were heaviness!) with a merry foolish\r\ntale, there is none other remedy but you must let him have it.\r\nBetter would I wish it, but I cannot help it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00227\"\u003eHowbeit, by mine advice, let us at least make those kinds of\r\nrecreation as short and as seldom as we can. Let them serve us but\r\nfor sauce, and make themselves not our meat. And let us pray unto\r\nGod—and all our good friends for us—that we may feel such a\r\nsavour in the delight of heaven that in respect of the talking of\r\nits joys, all worldly recreation may be but a grief to think on.\r\nAnd be sure, cousin, that if we might once purchase the grace to\r\ncome to that point, we never found of worldly recreation so much\r\ncomfort in a year as we should find in the bethinking us of heaven\r\nfor less than half an hour.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00228\"\u003eVINCENT: In faith, uncle, I can well agree to this, and I pray\r\nGod bring us once to take such a savour in it. And surely, as you\r\nbegan the other day, by faith must we come to it, and to faith by\r\nprayer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00229\"\u003eBut now, I pray you, good uncle, vouchsafe to proceed in our\r\nprincipal matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00231\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, I have bethought me somewhat upon this matter\r\nsince we were last together. And I find it a thing that, if we\r\nshould go some way to work, would require many more days to treat\r\nof than we should haply find for it in so few as I myself believe\r\nthat I have yet to live. For every time is not alike with me.\r\nAmong them, there are many painful, in which I look every day to\r\ndepart; my mending days come very seldom and are very shortly done.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00232\"\u003eFor surely, cousin, I cannot liken my life more fitly now than to\r\nthe snuff of a candle that burneth within the candlestick\u0027s nose.\r\nFor the snuff sometimes burneth down so low that whosoever looketh\r\non it would think it were quite out, and yet suddenly lifteth up a\r\nflame half an inch above the nose and giveth a pretty short light\r\nagain, and thus playeth divers times till at last, ere it be\r\nlooked for, out it goeth altogether. So have I, cousin, divers\r\nsuch days together as every day of them I look even to die, and\r\nyet have I then after that some such few days again as you\r\nyourself see me now to have, in which a man would think that I\r\nmight yet well continue. But I know my lingering not likely to\r\nlast long, but out will go my snuff suddenly some day within a\r\nwhile. And therefore will I, with God\u0027s help, seem I never so well\r\namended, nevertheless reckon every day for my last. For though, to\r\nthe repressing of the bold courage of blind youth, there is a very\r\ntrue proverb that \"as soon cometh a young sheep\u0027s skin to the\r\nmarket as an old,\" yet this difference there is at least between\r\nthem: that as the young man may hap sometimes to die soon, so the\r\nold man can never live long.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00233\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, in our matter here, leaving out many things\r\nthat I would otherwise treat of, I shall for this time speak but\r\nof very few. Howbeit, if God hereafter send me more such days,\r\nthen will we, when you wish, further talk of more.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00235\"\u003eAll manner of tribulation, cousin, that any man can have, as far\r\nas for this time cometh to my mind, falleth under some one at\r\nleast of these three kinds: Either it is such as he himself\r\nwillingly taketh; or, secondly, such as he willingly suffereth;\r\nor, finally, such as he cannot put from him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00236\"\u003eThis third kind I purpose not to speak of now much more, for there\r\nshall suffice, for the time, those things that we treated between\r\nus the other day. What kind of tribulation this is, I am sure you\r\nyourself perceive. For sickness, imprisonment, loss of goods, loss\r\nof friends, or such bodily harm as a man hath already caught and\r\ncan in no wise avoid—these things and such like are the third\r\nkind of tribulation that I speak of, which a man neither willingly\r\ntaketh in the beginning, nor can (though he would) afterward put\r\naway.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00237\"\u003eNow think I that, just as no comfort can serve to the man who\r\nlacketh wit and faith, whatsoever counsel be given, so to those\r\nwho have both I have, as for this kind, said in manner enough\r\nalready. And considering that suffer it he must, since he can by\r\nno manner of means put it from him, the very necessity is half\r\ncounsel enough to take it in good worth and bear it patiently, and\r\nrather of his patience to take both ease and thanks than by\r\nfretting and fuming to increase his present pain, and afterward by\r\nmurmur and grudge to fall in further danger of displeasing God\r\nwith his froward behaviour.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00238\"\u003eAnd yet, albeit that I think that what has been said sufficeth,\r\nyet here and there I shall in the second kind show some such\r\ncomfort as shall well serve unto this last kind too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00240\"\u003eThe first kind also will I shortly pass over, too. For the\r\ntribulation that a man willingly taketh himself, which no man\r\nputteth upon him against his own will, is, you know as well as I\r\n(for it was somewhat touched the last day), such affliction of the\r\nflesh or expense of his goods as a man taketh himself or willingly\r\nbestoweth in punishment of his own sin and for devotion to God.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00241\"\u003eNow, in this tribulation needeth he no man to comfort him. For no\r\nman troubleth him but himself, who feeleth how far forth he may\r\nconveniently bear, and of reason and good discretion shall not\r\npass that—and if any doubt arise therein, it is counsel that he\r\nneedeth and not comfort. And so the courage that kindleth his\r\nheart and enflameth it for God\u0027s sake and his soul\u0027s health shall,\r\nby the same grace that put it in his mind, give him such comfort\r\nand joy therein that the pleasure of his soul shall surpass the\r\npain of his body.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00242\"\u003eYea, and while he hath in heart also some great heaviness for his\r\nsin, yet when he considereth the joy that shall come of it, his\r\nsoul shall not fail to feel then that strange state which my body\r\nfelt once in a great fever.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00243\"\u003eVINCENT: What strange state was that, uncle?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00244\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, even in this same bed, it is now more\r\nthan fifteen years ago, I lay in a tertian fever. And I had\r\npassed, I believe, three or four fits, when afterward there fell\r\non me one fit out of course, so strange and so marvellous that I\r\nwould in good faith have thought it impossible. For I suddenly\r\nfelt myself verily both hot and cold throughout all my body; not\r\nin one part the one and in another part the other—for it would\r\nhave been, you know, no very strange thing to feel the head hot\r\nwhile the hands were cold—but the selfsame parts, I say, so God\r\nsave my soul, I sensibly felt (and right painfully, too) all in\r\none instant both hot and cold at once.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00245\"\u003eVINCENT: By my faith, uncle, this was a wonderful thing, and such\r\nas I never heard happen to any other man in my days. And few men\r\nare there out of whose mouths I could have believed it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00246\"\u003eANTHONY: Courtesy, cousin, peradventure hindereth you from saying\r\nthat you believe it not yet of my mouth, neither! And surely, for\r\nfear of that, you should not have heard it of me neither, had\r\nthere not another thing happed me soon thereafter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00247\"\u003eVINCENT: I pray you, what was that, good uncle?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00248\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, this: I asked a physician or twain,\r\nwho then considered how this should be possible, and they both\r\ntwain told me that it could not be so, but that I was fallen into\r\nsome slumber and dreamed that I felt it so.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00249\"\u003eVINCENT: This hap, hold I, little caused you to tell that tale\r\nmore boldly!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00250\"\u003eANTHONY: No, cousin, that is true, lo. But then happed there\r\nanother: A young girl here in this town, whom a kinsman of hers\r\nhad begun to teach physic, told me that there was such a kind of\r\nfever indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00251\"\u003eVINCENT: By our Lady, uncle, save for the credence of you, the\r\ntale would I not yet tell again upon that hap of the maid! For\r\nthough I know her now for such that I durst well believe her, it\r\nmight hap her very well at that time to lie, because she would\r\nthat you should take her for learned.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00252\"\u003eANTHONY: Yea, but then happed there yet another hap thereon,\r\ncousin, that a work of Galen, \u003ci\u003e\"De differentiis febrium,\"\u003c/i\u003e is\r\nready to be sold in the booksellers\u0027 shops, in which work she\r\nshowed me then the chapter where Galen saith the same.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00253\"\u003eVINCENT: Marry, uncle, as you say, that hap happed well. And that\r\nmaid had, as hap was, in that one point more learning than had both\r\nyour physicians besides—and hath, I believe, at this day in many\r\npoints more.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00254\"\u003eANTHONY: In faith, so believe I too. She is very wise and well\r\nlearned, and very virtuous too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00255\"\u003eBut see now what age is: lo, I have been so long in my tale that I\r\nhave almost forgotten for what purpose I told it. Oh, now I\r\nremember me: As I say, just as I myself felt my body then both hot\r\nand cold at once, so he who is contrite and heavy for his sin\r\nshall have cause to be both glad and sad, and shall indeed be both\r\ntwain at once. And he shall do as I remember holy St. Jerome\r\nbiddeth—\"Both be thou sorry,\" saith he, \"and be thou also of thy\r\nsorrow joyful.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00256\"\u003eAnd thus, as I began to say, to him that is in this\r\ntribulation—that is, in fruitful heaviness and penance for his\r\nsin—shall we need to give none other comfort than only to\r\nremember and consider well the goodness of God\u0027s excellent mercy,\r\nthat infinitely surpasseth the malice of all men\u0027s sins. By that\r\nmercy he is ready to receive every man, and did spread his arms\r\nabroad upon the cross, lovingly to embrace all those who will\r\ncome. And by that mercy he even there accepted the thief at his\r\nlast end, who turned not to God till he might steal no longer, and\r\nyet maketh more feast in heaven for one who turneth from sin than\r\nfor ninety-nine good men who sinned not at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00257\"\u003eAnd therefore of that first kind of tribulation will I make no\r\nlonger tale.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00259\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, this is very great comfort unto that\r\nkind of tribulation. And so great, also, that it may make many a\r\nman bold to abide in his sin even unto his end, trusting to be\r\nthen saved as that thief was.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00260\"\u003eANTHONY: Very sooth you say, cousin, that some wretches are there\r\nwho so abuse the great goodness of God that the better he is the\r\nworse in return are they. But, cousin, though there be more joy\r\nmade of his turning who from the point of perdition cometh to\r\nsalvation, for pity that God had and all his saints of the peril\r\nof perishing that the man stood in, yet is he not set in like\r\nstate in heaven as he should have been if he had lived better\r\nbefore. Unless it so befall that he live so well afterward and do\r\nso much good that he outrun, in the shorter time, those good folk\r\nthat yet did so much in much longer. This is proved in the blessed\r\napostle St. Paul, who of a persecutor became an apostle, and last\r\nof all came in unto that office, and yet in the labour of sowing\r\nthe seed of Christ\u0027s faith outran all the rest so far that he\r\nforbore not to say of himself, \"I have laboured more than all the\r\nrest have.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00261\"\u003eBut yet, my cousin, though I doubt not that God be so merciful\r\nunto those who, at any time of their life, turn and ask his mercy\r\nand trust in it, though it be at the last end of a man\u0027s life; and\r\nthat he hireth him as well for heaven who cometh to work in his\r\nvineyard toward night at such time as workmen leave work, and\r\ngoeth home, being then willing to work if time should serve, as he\r\nhireth him who cometh in the morning; yet may no man upon the\r\ntrust of this parable be bold all his life to lie still in sin.\r\nFor let him remember that no man goeth into God\u0027s vineyard but he\r\nwho is called thither. Now he who, in hope to be called toward the\r\nnight, will sleep out the morning and drink out the day, is full\r\nlikely to pass at night unspoken to. And then shall he with ill\r\nrest go supperless to bed!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00262\"\u003eThey tell of one who was wont always to say that all the while he\r\nlived he would do what he pleased, for three words when he died\r\nshould make all safe enough. But then it so happed that long ere\r\nhe was old his horse once stumbled upon a broken bridge. And as he\r\nlaboured to recover him, when he saw that it would not be, but\r\nthat down into the flood headlong he must go, in sudden dismay he\r\ncried out in the falling, \"Have all to the devil!\" And there was\r\nhe drowned with his three words ere he died, whereon his hope hung\r\nall his wretched life.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00263\"\u003eAnd therefore let no man sin in hope of grace, for grace cometh\r\nbut at God\u0027s will, and that state of mind may be the hindrance\r\nthat grace of fruitful repenting shall never after be offered him,\r\nbut that he shall either graceless go linger on careless, or with\r\na care that is fruitless shall fall into despair.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00265\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, in this point methinketh you say very\r\nwell. But then are there some again who say on the other hand that\r\nwe shall need no heaviness for our sins at all, but need only\r\nchange our intent and purpose to do better, and for all that is\r\npassed take no thought at all. And as for fasting and other\r\naffliction of the body, they say we should not do it save only to\r\ntame the flesh when we feel it wax wanton and begin to rebel. For\r\nfasting, they say, serveth to keep the body in temperance, but to\r\nfast for penance or to do any other good work, almsdeed or other,\r\ntoward satisfaction for our own sins—this thing they call plain\r\ninjury to the passion of Christ, by which alone our sins are\r\nforgiven freely without any recompense of our own. And they say\r\nthat those who would do penance for their own sins look to be\r\ntheir own Christs, and pay their own ransoms, and save their souls\r\nthemselves. And with these reasons in Saxony many cast fasting\r\noff, and all other bodily affliction, save only where need\r\nrequireth to bring the body to temperance. For no other good, they\r\nsay, can it do to ourselves, and then to our neighbour can it do\r\nnone at all. And therefore they condemn it for superstitious\r\nfolly. Now, heaviness of heart and weeping for our sins, this\r\nthey reckon shame almost, and womanish childishness—howbeit, God\r\nbe thanked, their women wax there now so mannish that they are not\r\nso childish, nor so poor of spirit, but what they can sin on as\r\nmen do and be neither afraid nor ashamed nor weep for their sins at\r\nall.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00266\"\u003eAnd surely, mine uncle, I have marvelled the less ever since I\r\nheard the manner of their preachers there. For, as you remember,\r\nwhen I was in Saxony these matters were (in a manner) but in a\r\nmammering. Luther was not then wedded yet, nor religious men out\r\nof their habits, but those that would be of the sect were suffered\r\nfreely to preach what they would unto the people. And forsooth I\r\nheard a religious man there myself—one that had been reputed and\r\ntaken for very good, and who, as far as the folk perceived, was of\r\nhis own living somewhat austere and sharp. But his preaching was\r\nwonderful! Methinketh I hear him yet, his voice so loud and\r\nshrill, his learning less than mean. But whereas his matter was\r\nmuch part against fasting and all affliction for any penance,\r\nwhich he called men\u0027s inventions, he ever cried out upon them to\r\nkeep well the laws of Christ, let go their childish penance, and\r\npurpose then to mend and seek nothing to salvation but the death\r\nof Christ. \"For he is our justice, and he is our Saviour and our\r\nwhole satisfaction for all our deadly sins. He did full penance\r\nfor us all upon his painful cross, he washed us there all clean\r\nwith the water of his sweet side, and brought us out of the\r\ndevil\u0027s danger with his dear precious blood. Leave therefore,\r\nleave, I beseech you, these inventions of men, your foolish Lenten\r\nfasts and your childish penance! Diminish never Christ\u0027s thanks\r\nnor look to save yourselves! It is Christ\u0027s death, I tell you,\r\nthat must save us all—Christ\u0027s death, I tell you yet again, and\r\nnot our own deeds. Leave your own fasting, therefore, and lean to\r\nChrist alone, good Christian people, for Christ\u0027s dear bitter\r\npassion!\" Now, so loud and shrill he cried \"Christ\" in their ears,\r\nand so thick he came forth with Christ\u0027s bitter passion, and that\r\nso bitterly spoken with the sweat dropping down his cheeks, that I\r\nmarvelled not that I saw the poor women weep. For he made my own\r\nhair stand up upon my head.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00267\"\u003eAnd with such preaching were the people so taken in that some fell\r\nto break their fast on the fasting days, not of frailty or of\r\nmalice first, but almost of devotion, lest they should take from\r\nChrist the thanks of his bitter passion. But when they were awhile\r\nnursled in that point first, they could afterward abide and endure\r\nmany things more, for which, if he had begun with them, they would\r\nhave pulled him down.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00268\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, God amend that man, whatsoever he be, and God\r\nkeep all good folk from such manner of preachers! One such\r\npreacher much more abuseth the name of Christ and of his bitter\r\npassion than do five hundred gamblers who in their idle business\r\nswear and foreswear themselves by his holy bitter passion at dice.\r\nThey carry the minds of the people from perceiving their craft by\r\nthe continual naming of the name of Christ, and crying his passion\r\nso shrill into their ears that they forget that the Church hath\r\never taught them that all our penance without Christ\u0027s passion\r\nwould not be worth a pea. And they make the people think that we\r\nwish to be saved by our own deeds, without Christ\u0027s death; whereas\r\nwe confess that his passion alone meriteth incomparably more for\r\nus than all our own deeds do, but that it is his pleasure that we\r\nshall also take pain ourselves with him. And therefore he biddeth\r\nall who will be his disciples to take their crosses on their backs\r\nas he did, and with their crosses follow him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00269\"\u003eAnd where they say that fasting serveth but for temperance to tame\r\nthe flesh and keep it from wantonness, I would in good faith have\r\nthought that Moses had not been so wild that for the taming of his\r\nflesh he should have need to fast whole forty days together. No,\r\nnot Hely neither. Nor yet our Saviour himself, who began the\r\nLenten forty-days fast—and the apostles followed, and all\r\nChristendom hath kept it—that these folk call now so foolish.\r\nKing Achab was not disposed to be wanton in his flesh, when he\r\nfasted and went clothed in sackcloth and all besprent with ashes.\r\nNo more was the king in Nineveh and all the city, but they wailed\r\nand did painful penance for their sin to procure God to pity them\r\nand withdraw his indignation. Anna, who in her widowhood abode so\r\nmany years with fasting and praying in the temple till the birth\r\nof Christ, was not, I suppose, in her old age so sore disposed to\r\nthe wantonness of the flesh that she fasted for all that. Nor St.\r\nPaul, who fasted so much, fasted not all for that, neither. The\r\nscripture is full of places that prove fasting to be not the\r\ninvention of man but the institution of God, and to have many more\r\nprofits than one. And that the fasting of one man may do good unto\r\nanother, our Saviour showeth himself where he saith that some kind\r\nof devils cannot be cast out of one man by another \"without prayer\r\nand fasting.\" And therefore I marvel that they take this way\r\nagainst fasting and other bodily penance.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00270\"\u003eAnd yet much more I marvel that they mislike the sorrow and\r\nheaviness and displeasure of mind that a man should take in\r\nthinking of his sin. The prophet saith, \"Tear your hearts and not\r\nyour clothes.\" And the prophet David saith, \"A contrite heart and\r\nan humbled\"—that is to say, a heart broken, torn, and laid low\r\nunder foot with tribulation of heaviness for his sins—\"shalt thou\r\nnot, good Lord, despise.\" He saith also of his own contrition, \"I\r\nhave laboured in my wailing; I shall every night wash my bed with\r\nmy tears, my couch will I water.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00271\"\u003eBut why should I need in this matter to lay forth one place or\r\ntwain? The scripture is full of those places, by which it plainly\r\nappeareth that God looketh of duty, not only that we should amend\r\nand be better in the time to come, but also that we should be\r\nsorry and weep and bewail our sins committed before. And all the\r\nold holy doctors be full and whole of that opinion, that men must\r\nhave for their sins contrition and sorrow in heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00273\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, this thing yet seemeth to me a somewhat\r\nsore sentence, not because I think otherwise but that there is\r\ngood cause and great wherefore a man should so sorrow, but because\r\nof truth sometimes a man cannot be sorry and heavy for his sin\r\nthat he hath done, though he never so fain would. But though he\r\ncan be content for God\u0027s sake to forbear it thenceforth, yet not\r\nonly can he not weep for every sin that is past, but some were\r\nhaply so wanton that when he happeth to remember them he can\r\nscantly forbear to laugh.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00274\"\u003eNow, if contrition and sorrow of heart be so requisite of\r\nnecessity to remission, many a man should stand, it seemeth, in a\r\nvery perilous state.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00275\"\u003eANTHONY: Many so should indeed, cousin, and indeed many do so.\r\nAnd the old saints write very sore on this point. Howbeit, \"the\r\nmercy of God is above all his works,\" and he standeth bound to no\r\ncommon rule. \"And he knoweth the frailty of this earthen vessel\r\nthat is of his own making, and is merciful and hath pity and\r\ncompassion upon our feeble infirmities,\" and shall not exact of us\r\nabove the thing that we can do.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00276\"\u003eAnd yet, cousin, he who findeth himself in that state, let him\r\ngive God thanks that he is no worse, in that he is minded to do\r\nwell hereafter. But in that he cannot be sorry for his sin passed,\r\nlet him be sorry at least that he is no better. And as St. Jerome\r\nbiddeth him who sorroweth in his heart for sin to be glad and\r\nrejoice in his sorrow, so would I counsel him who cannot be sad\r\nfor his sin to be sorry at least that he cannot be sorry!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00277\"\u003eBesides this, though I would in no wise that any man should\r\ndespair, yet would I counsel such a man while that affection\r\nlasteth not to be bold of courage, but to live in double fear:\r\nFirst, because it is a token either of faint faith or of a dull\r\ndiligence. For surely if we believe in God, and therewith deeply\r\nconsider his high majesty, with the peril of our sin and the great\r\ngoodness of God also, then either dread should make us tremble and\r\nbreak our stony heart, or love should for sorrow relent it into\r\ntears. Besides this, because, since so little misliking of our old\r\nsin is an affection not very pure and clean, and since no unclean\r\nthing shall enter into heaven, I can scantly believe but it shall\r\nbe cleansed and purified before we come there. And therefore would\r\nI further give one in that state the counsel which Master Gerson\r\ngiveth every man: that since the body and the soul together make\r\nthe whole man, the less affliction he feeleth in his soul, the\r\nmore pain in recompense let him put upon his body, and purge the\r\nspirit by the affliction of the flesh. And he who so doth, I dare\r\nlay my life, shall have his hard heart afterward relent into\r\ntears, and his soul in a wholesome heaviness and heavenly gladness\r\ntoo—especially if he join therewith faithful prayer, which must\r\nbe joined with every good thing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00278\"\u003eBut, cousin, as I told you the other day, in these matters with\r\nthese new men I will not dispute, but surely for mine own part I\r\ncannot well hold with them. For as far as mine own poor wit can\r\nperceive, the holy scripture of God is very plain against them,\r\nand the whole corps of Christendom in every Christan region. And\r\nthe very places in which they dwell themselves have ever unto\r\ntheir own days clearly believed against them and all the old holy\r\ndoctors have evermore taught against them, and all the old holy\r\ninterpreters have construed against them. And therefore if these\r\nmen have now perceived so late that the scripture hath been\r\nmisunderstood all this while, and that of all those old holy\r\ndoctors no man could understand it, then am I too old at this age\r\nto begin to study it now! And I dare not in no wise trust these\r\nmen\u0027s learning, cousin, since I cannot see nor perceive any cause\r\nwherefore I should think that these men might not now in the\r\nunderstanding of scripture as well be deceived themselves as they\r\nwould have us believe all those others have been, all this while\r\nbefore.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00279\"\u003eHowbeit, cousin, if it so be that their way be not wrong, but that\r\nthey have found out so easy a way to heaven as to take no thought,\r\nbut make merry, nor take no penance at all, but sit them down and\r\ndrink well for our Saviour\u0027s sake—set cockahoop and fill all the\r\ncups at once, and then let Christ\u0027s passion pay for all the\r\nscot—I am not he who will envy their good hap. But surely,\r\ncounsel dare I give no man to adventure that way with them. But\r\nthose who fear lest that way be not sure, and take upon themselves\r\nwillingly tribulation of penance—what comfort they do take, and\r\nwell may take therein, that have I somewhat told you already. And\r\nsince these other folk sit so merry with such tribulation, we need\r\ntalk to them, you know, of no such manner of comfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00280\"\u003eAnd therefore of this kind of tribulation will I make an end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00282\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, so may you well do, for you have\r\nbrought it unto a very good pass.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00283\"\u003eAnd now, I pray you, come to the other kind, of which you purposed\r\nalways to treat last.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00284\"\u003eANTHONY: That shall I, cousin, very gladly do. The other kind is\r\nthe one which I rehearsed second, and (sorting out the other two)\r\nhave kept for the last. This second kind of tribulation is, you\r\nknow, of those who willingly suffer tribulation, though of their\r\nown choice they took it not at first.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00285\"\u003eThis kind, cousin, we shall divide into twain; the first we might\r\ncall temptation, the second persecution. But here must you\r\nconsider that I mean not every kind of persecution, but only that\r\nkind which, though the sufferer would be loth to fall in, yet will\r\nhe rather abide it and suffer than, by flying from it, fall into\r\nthe displeasure of God or leave God\u0027s pleasure unprocured.\r\nHowbeit, if we well consider these two things, temptation and\r\npersecution, we may find that either of them is incident into the\r\nother. For both by temptation the devil persecuteth us, and by\r\npersecution the devil also tempteth us. And as persecution is\r\ntribulation to every man, so is temptation tribulation to a good\r\nman. Now, though the devil, our spiritual enemy, fight against man\r\nin both, yet this difference hath the common temptation from the\r\npersecution: Temptation is, as it were, the fiend\u0027s snare, and\r\npersecution his plain open fight. And therefore will I now call\r\nall this kind of tribulation here by the name of temptation, and\r\nthat shall I divide into two parts. The first shall I call the\r\ndevil\u0027s snares, the other his open fight.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00287\"\u003eTo speak of every kind of temptation particularly, by itself,\r\nwould be, you know, in a manner an infinite thing. For under that,\r\nas I told you, fall persecutions and all. And the devil hath a\r\nthousand subtle ways of his snares, and of his open fight as many\r\nsundry poisoned darts. He tempteth us by the world, he tempteth us\r\nby our own flesh; he tempteth us by pleasure, he tempteth us by\r\npain; he tempteth us by our foes, he tempteth us by our own\r\nfriends—and, under colour of kindred, he maketh many times our\r\nnearest friends our most foes. For, as our Saviour said, \u003ci\u003e\"Inimici\r\nhominis domestici eius.\"\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00288\"\u003eBut in all manner of so diverse temptations, one marvellous\r\ncomfort is that, the more we be tempted, the gladder have we cause\r\nto be. For, as St. James saith, \"Esteem and take it, my brethren,\r\nfor a thing of all joy when you fall into diverse and sundry\r\nmanner of temptations.\" And no marvel, for there is in this world\r\nset up (as it were) a game of wrestling, in which the people of\r\nGod come in on the one side, and on the other side come mighty\r\nstrong wrestlers and wily—that is, the devils, the cursed proud\r\ndamned spirits. For it is not our flesh alone that we must wrestle\r\nwith, but with the devil too. \"Our wrestling is not here,\" saith\r\nSt. Paul, \"against flesh and blood, but against the princes and\r\npotentates of these dark regions, against the spiritual wicked\r\nghosts of the air.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00289\"\u003eBut as God hath prepared a crown for those who on his side give\r\nhis adversary the fall, so he who will not wrestle shall have\r\nnone. For, as St. Paul saith, \"There shall no man have the crown\r\nbut he who contendeth for it according to the law of the game.\"\r\nAnd then, as holy St. Bernard saith, how couldst thou fight or\r\nwrestle for it, if there were no challenger against thee who would\r\nprovoke thee thereto? And therefore may it be a great comfort, as\r\nSt. James saith, to every man who feeleth himself challenged and\r\nprovoked by temptation. For thereby perceiveth he that it cometh\r\nto his course to wrestle, which shall be, unless he willingly play\r\nthe coward or the fool, the matter of his eternal reward.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00291\"\u003eBut now must this needs be to man an inestimable comfort in all\r\ntemptation if his faith fail him not: that is, that he may be sure\r\nthat God is always ready to give him strength against the devil\u0027s\r\nmight and wisdom against the devil\u0027s snares.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00292\"\u003eFor, as the prophet saith, \"My strength and my praise is our Lord,\r\nhe hath been my safeguard.\" And the scripture saith, \"Ask wisdom\r\nof God and he shall give it thee,\" in order \"that you may espy,\"\r\nas St. Paul saith, \"and perceive all the crafts.\" A great comfort\r\nmay this be in all kinds of temptation, that God hath so his hand\r\nupon him who is willing to stand and will trust in him and call\r\nupon him, that he hath made him sure by many faithful promises in\r\nholy scripture that either he shall not fall or, if he sometimes\r\nthrough faintness of faith stagger and hap to fall, yet if he call\r\nupon God betimes his fall shall be no sore bruising to him. But as\r\nthe scripture saith, \"The just man, though he fall, shall not be\r\nbruised, for our Lord holdeth under his hand.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00293\"\u003eThe prophet expresseth a plain comfortable promise of God against\r\nall temptations where he saith, \"Whoso dwelleth in the help of the\r\nhighest God, he shall abide in the protection or defence of the\r\nGod of heaven.\" Who dwelleth, now, good cousin, in the help of the\r\nhigh God? Surely, he who through a good faith abideth in the trust\r\nand confidence of God\u0027s help, and neither, for lack of that faith\r\nand trust in his help, falleth desperate of all help, nor\r\ndeparteth from the hope of his help to seek himself help (as I\r\ntold you the other day) from the flesh, the world, or the devil.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00294\"\u003eNow he then who by fast faith and sure hope dwelleth in God\u0027s\r\nhelp, and hangeth always upon that hope, never falling from it, he\r\nshall, saith the prophet, ever dwell and abide in God\u0027s defence\r\nand protection. That is to say, while he faileth not to believe\r\nwell and hope well, God will never fail in all temptation to\r\ndefend him. For unto such a faithful well-hoping man the prophet\r\nin the same psalm saith further, \"With his shoulders shall he\r\nshadow thee, and under his feathers shalt thou trust.\" Lo, here\r\nhath every faithful man a sure promise that in the fervent heat of\r\ntemptation or tribulation—for, as I have said divers times\r\nbefore, each is in such wise incident to the other that the devil\r\nuseth every tribulation for temptation to bring us to impatience,\r\nand thereby to murmur and grudge and blasphemy; and every kind of\r\ntemptation, to a good man who fighteth against it and will not\r\nfollow it, is a very painful tribulation. In the fervent heat, I\r\nsay therefore, of every temptation, God giveth the faithful man\r\nwho hopeth in him the shadow of his holy shoulders. His shoulders\r\nare broad and large enough to cool and refresh the man in that\r\nheat, and in every tribulation he putteth them for a defence\r\nbetween. And then what weapon of the devil may give us any deadly\r\nwound, while that impenetrable shield of the shoulder of God\r\nstandeth always between?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00295\"\u003eThen goeth the verse further, and saith unto such a faithful man,\r\n\"Thine hope shall be under his feathers.\" That is, for the good\r\nhope thou hast in his help, he will take thee so near him into his\r\nprotection that, as the hen, to keep her young chickens from the\r\nkite, nestled them together under her wings, so from the devil\u0027s\r\nclaws—the ravenous kite of this dark air—will the God of heaven\r\ngather the faithful trusting folk near unto his own sides, and set\r\nthem in surety, very well and warm, under the covering of his\r\nheavenly wings. And of this defence and protection, our\r\nSaviour spoke himself unto the Jews, as mention is made in the\r\ntwenty-third chapter of St. Matthew, to whom he said in this wise:\r\n\"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killest the prophets and stonest unto\r\ndeath them that are sent to thee, how often would I have gathered\r\nthee together, as the hen gathereth her chickens under her wings,\r\nand thou wouldst not.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00296\"\u003eHere are, cousin Vincent, words of no little comfort unto every\r\nChristian man. For by them we may see with what tender affection\r\nGod of his great goodness longeth to gather us under the\r\nprotection of his wings, and how often like a loving hen he\r\nclucketh home unto him even those chickens of his that wilfully\r\nwalk abroad into the kite\u0027s danger and will not come at his\r\nclucking, but ever, the more he clucketh for them, the farther\r\nthey go from him. And therefore can we not doubt that, if we will\r\nfollow him and with faithful hope come running to him, he shall in\r\nall matter of temptation take us near unto him and set us even\r\nunder his wing. And then are we safe, if we will tarry there, for\r\nagainst our will no power can pull us thence, nor hurt our souls\r\nthere. \"Set me near unto thee,\" saith the prophet, \"and fight\r\nagainst me whose hand that will.\" And to show the great safeguard\r\nand surety that we shall have while we sit under his heavenly\r\nfeathers, the prophet saith yet a great deal further, \u003ci\u003e\"In\r\nvelamento alarum tuarum exaltabo.\"\u003c/i\u003e That is, that we shall not\r\nonly sit in safeguard when we sit by his sweet side under his holy\r\nwing, but we shall also under the covering of his heavenly wings\r\nwith great exultation rejoice.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00298\"\u003eNow, in the two next verses following, the prophet briefly\r\ncomprehendeth four kinds of temptations, and therein all the\r\ntribulation that we shall now speak of, and also some part of that\r\nwhich we have spoken of before. And therefore I shall peradventure\r\n(unless any further thing fall in our way) with treating of those\r\ntwo verses, finish and end all our matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00299\"\u003eThe prophet saith in the ninetieth psalm, \"\u003ci\u003eScuto circumdabit te\r\nveritas eius; non timebis a timore nocturno, a sagitta volante in\r\ndie, a negotio perambulante in tenebris, ab incurso et demonio\r\nmeridiano.\u003c/i\u003e The truth of God shall compass thee about with a\r\nshield, you shall not be afraid of the night\u0027s fear, nor of the\r\narrow flying in the day, nor of business walking about in the\r\ndarknesses, nor of the incursion or invasion of the devil in the\r\nmidday.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00300\"\u003eFirst, cousin, in these words \"the truth of God shall compass thee\r\nabout with a shield,\" the prophet for the comfort of every good\r\nman in all temptation and in all tribulation, besides those other\r\nthings that he said before—that the shoulders of God should\r\nshadow them and that also they should sit under his wing—here\r\nsaith he further that the truth of God shall compass thee with a\r\nshield. That is, as God hath faithfully promised to protect and\r\ndefend those that faithfully will dwell in the trust of his help,\r\nso will he truly perform it. And thou who art such a one, the\r\ntruth of his promise will defend thee not with a little round\r\nbuckler that scantly can cover the head, but with a long large\r\nshield that covereth all along the body. This shield is made (as\r\nholy St. Bernard saith) broad above with the Godhead and narrow\r\nbeneath with the Manhood, so that it is our Saviour Christ himself.\r\nAnd yet is this shield not like other shields of the world, which\r\nare so made that while they defend one part the man may be wounded\r\nupon another. But this shield is such that, as the prophet saith,\r\nit shall round about enclose and compass thee, so that thine enemy\r\nshall hurt thy soul on no side. For \"with a shield,\" saith he,\r\n\"shall his truth environ and compass thee round about.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00301\"\u003eAnd then incontinently following, to the intent that we should see\r\nthat it is not without necessity that the shield of God should\r\ncompass us about upon every side, he showeth in what wise we are\r\nenvironed by the devil upon every side with snares and assaults,\r\nby four kinds of temptations and tribulations. Against all this\r\ncompass of temptations and tribulations that round-compassing\r\nshield of God\u0027s truth shall so defend us and keep us safe that we\r\nshall need to dread none of them at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00303\"\u003eFirst, he saith, \"thou shalt not be afraid of the fear of the\r\nnight.\" By the night is there in scripture sometimes understood\r\ntribulation, as appeareth in the thirty-fourth chapter of Job: \"God\r\nhath known the works of them, and therefore shall he bring night\r\nupon them,\" that is, tribulation for their wickedness. And well you\r\nknow that the night is of its own nature discomfortable and full of\r\nfear. And therefore by the night\u0027s fear here I understand the\r\ntribulation by which the devil, through the sufference of God,\r\neither by himself or by others who are his instruments, tempteth\r\ngood folk to impatience as he did Job. But he who, as the prophet\r\nsaith, dwelleth and continueth faithfully in the hope of God\u0027s\r\nhelp, shall so be clipped in on every side with the shield of God\r\nthat he shall have no need to be afraid of such tribulation as is\r\nhere called the night\u0027s fear. And it may be also fittingly called\r\nthe night\u0027s fear for two causes: One, because many times, unto him\r\nwho suffereth, the cause of his tribulation is dark and unknown.\r\nAnd therein it varieth and differeth from that tribulation by which\r\nthe devil tempteth a man with open fight and assault for a known\r\ngood thing from which he would withdraw him, or for some known evil\r\nthing into which he would drive him by force of such persecution.\r\nAnother cause for which it is called the night\u0027s fear may be\r\nbecause the night is so far out of courage, and naturally so\r\ncasteth folk into fear, that their fancy doubleth their fear of\r\neverything of which they perceive any manner of dread, and maketh\r\nthem often think that it were much worse than indeed it is.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00304\"\u003eThe prophet saith in the psalter, \"Thou hast, good Lord, set the\r\ndarkness and made was the night, and in the night walk all the\r\nbeasts of the woods, the whelps of the lions roaring and calling\r\nunto God for their meat.\" Now, though the lions\u0027 whelps walk about\r\nroaring in the night and seek for their prey, yet can they not get\r\nsuch meat as they would always, but must hold themselves content\r\nwith such as God suffereth to fall in their way. And though they\r\nbe not aware of it, yet of God they ask it and of him they have\r\nit. And this may be comfort to all good men in their night\u0027s fear,\r\nthat though they fall in their dark tribulation into the claws of\r\nthe devil or the teeth of those lions\u0027 whelps, yet all that they\r\ncan do shall not pass beyond the body, which is but as the garment\r\nof the soul. For the soul itself, which is the substance of the\r\nman, is so surely fenced in round about with the shield of God,\r\nthat as long as he will abide faithfully in the hope of God\u0027s help\r\nthe lions\u0027 whelp shall not be able to hurt it. For the great Lion\r\nhimself could never be suffered to go further in the tribulation\r\nof Job than God from time to time gave him leave.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00305\"\u003eAnd therefore the deep darkness of the midnight maketh men who\r\nstand out of faith and out of good hope in God to be in far the\r\ngreater fear in their tribulation, for lack of the light of faith,\r\nby which they might perceive that the uttermost of their peril is\r\na far less thing than they take it for. But we are so wont to set\r\nso much by our body, which we see and feel, and in the feeding and\r\nfostering of which we set out delight and our wealth; and so\r\nlittle (alas) and so seldom we think upon our soul, because we\r\ncannot see that but by spiritual understanding, and most\r\nespecially by the eye of our faith (in the meditation of which we\r\nbestow, God knows, little time), that the loss of our body we take\r\nfor a sorer thing and for a great deal greater tribulation than we\r\ndo the loss of our soul. Our Saviour biddeth us not fear those\r\nlions\u0027 whelps that can but kill our bodies and when that is done\r\nhave no further thing in their power with which they can do us\r\nharm, but he biddeth us stand in dread of him who when he hath\r\nslain the body is able then beside to cast the soul into\r\neverlasting fire. Yet are we so blind in the dark night of\r\ntribulation, for lack of full and fast belief of God\u0027s word, that,\r\nwhereas in the day of prosperity we very little fear God for our\r\nsoul, our night\u0027s fear of adversity maketh us very sore to fear\r\nthe lion and his whelps for dread of loss of our bodies. And\r\nwhereas St. Paul in sundry places telleth us that our body is but\r\nthe garment of the soul, yet the faintness of our faith in the\r\nscripture of God maketh us, with the night\u0027s fear of tribulation,\r\nnot only to dread the loss of our body more than that of our\r\nsoul—that is, of the clothing more than of the substance that is\r\nclothed therewith—but also of the very outward goods that serve\r\nfor the clothing of the body. And much more foolish are we in that\r\ndark night\u0027s fear than would be a man who would forget the saving\r\nof his body for fear of losing his old rain-beaten cloak, that is\r\nbut the covering of his gown or his coat. Now, consider further\r\nyet, that the prophet in the afore-remembered verses saith that in\r\nthe night there walk not only the lions\u0027 whelps but also \"all the\r\nbeasts of the wood.\" Now, you know that if a man walk through the\r\nwood in the night, many things can make him afraid of which in the\r\nday he would not be afraid a whit. For in the night every bush, to\r\nhim that waxeth once afraid, seemeth a thief.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00306\"\u003eI remember that when I was a young man, I was once in the war with\r\nthe king then my master (God absolve his soul) and we were camped\r\nwithin the Turk\u0027s ground many a mile beyond Belgrade—would God it\r\nwere ours now as it was then! But so happed it that in our camp\r\nabout midnight there suddenly rose a rumour and a cry that the\r\nTurk\u0027s whole army was secretly stealing upon us. Therewith our\r\nwhole host was warned to arm them in haste and set themselves in\r\narray to fight. And then were runners of ours, who had brought\r\nthose sudden tidings, examined more leisurely by the council, as\r\nto what surety or what likelihood they had perceived. And one of\r\nthem said that by the glimmering of the moon he had espied and\r\nperceived and seen them himself, coming on softly and soberly in a\r\nlong range, all in good order, not one farther forth than the\r\nother in the forefront, but as even as a third, and in breadth\r\nfarther than he could see the length. His fellows, being examined,\r\nsaid that he had somewhat pricked forth before them, and came back\r\nso fast to tell it to them that they thought it rather time to\r\nmake haste and giving warning to the camp than to go nearer unto\r\nthem. For they were not so far off but what they had yet\r\nthemselves somewhat an imperfect sight of them, too. Thus stood we\r\non watch all the rest of the night, evermore hearkening when we\r\nshould hear them come, but \"Hush, stand still! Methink I hear a\r\ntrampling,\" so that at last many of us thought we heard them\r\nourselves too. But when the day was sprung, and we saw no one, out\r\nwas our runner sent again, and some of our captains with him, to\r\nshow whereabout was the place in which he had perceived them. And\r\nwhen they came thither, they found that the great fearful army of\r\nthe Turks, so soberly coming on, turned (God be thanked) into a\r\nfair long hedge standing even stone-still.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00307\"\u003eAnd thus fareth it in the night\u0027s fear of tribulation, in which\r\nthe devil, to bear down and overwhelm with dread the faithful hope\r\nthat we should have in God, casteth in our imagination much more\r\nfear than cause. For since there walk in that night not only the\r\nlion\u0027s whelps but all the beasts of the wood beside, the beast\r\nthat we hear roar in the dark night of tribulation, and fear for a\r\nlion, we sometimes find well afterward in the way that it was no\r\nlion at all, but a silly rude roaring ass. And sometimes the thing\r\nthat on the sea seemeth a rock is indeed nothing else but a mist.\r\nHowbeit, as the prophet saith, he that faithfully dwelleth in the\r\nhope of God\u0027s help, the shield of his truth shall so fence him\r\nround about that, be it an ass or a colt or a lion\u0027s whelp, or a\r\nrock of stone or a mist, the night\u0027s fear thereof shall be nothing\r\nto dread.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00309\"\u003eTherefore find I that in the night\u0027s fear one great part is the\r\nfault of pusillanimity; that is, of faint and feeble stomach, by\r\nwhich a man for faint heart is afraid where he needeth not. By\r\nreason of this, he flieth oftentime for fear of something of\r\nwhich, if he fled not, he should take no harm. And a man doth\r\nsometimes by his fleeing make an enemy bold on him, who would, if\r\nhe fled not but dared abide, give over and fly from him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00310\"\u003eThis fault of pusillanimity maketh a man in his tribulation first,\r\nfor feeble heart, impatient. And afterward oftentimes it driveth\r\nhim by impatience into a contrary affection, making him frowardly\r\nstubborn and angry against God, and thereby to fall into\r\nblasphemy, as do the damned souls in hell. This fault of\r\npusillanimity and timorous mind hindereth a man also many times\r\nfrom doing many good things which, if he took a good stomach to\r\nhim in the trust of God\u0027s help, he would be well able to do. But\r\nthe devil casteth him in a cowardice and maketh him take it for\r\nhumility to think himself unfit and unable to do them. And\r\ntherefore he leaveth undone the good thing of which God offereth\r\nhim occasion and to which he had made him fit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00311\"\u003eBut such folk have need to lift up their hearts and call upon God,\r\nand by the counsel of other good spiritual folk to cast away the\r\ncowardice of their own conceiving which the night\u0027s fear by the\r\ndevil hath framed in their fancy. And they have need to look in\r\nthe gospel upon him who laid up his talent and left it unoccupied\r\nand therefore utterly lost it, with a great reproach of his\r\npusillanimity, but which he had thought to have excused himself,\r\nin that he was afraid to put it forth into use and occupy it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00312\"\u003eAnd all this fear cometh by the devil\u0027s drift, wherein he taketh\r\noccasion of the faintness of our good and sure trust in God. And\r\ntherefore let us faithfully dwell in the good hope of his help,\r\nand then shall the shield of his truth so compass us about that of\r\nthis night\u0027s fear we shall have no fear at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00314\"\u003eThis pusillanimity bringeth forth, by the night\u0027s fear, a very\r\ntimorous daughter, a silly wretched girl and ever whining, who is\r\ncalled Scrupulosity, or a scrupulous conscience.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00315\"\u003eThis girl is a good enough maidservant in a house, never idle but\r\never occupied and busy. But albeit she hath a very gentle mistress\r\nwho loveth her well and is well content with what she doth—or, if\r\nall be not well (as all cannot always be well), is content to\r\npardon her as she doth others of her fellows, and letteth her know\r\nthat she will do so—yet can this peevish girl never cease whining\r\nand puling for fear lest her mistress be always angry with her and\r\nshe shall severely be chidden. Would her mistress, think you, be\r\nlikely to be content with this condition? Nay, surely not.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00316\"\u003eI knew such a one myself, whose mistress was a very wise woman and\r\n(a thing which is in women very rare) very mild also and meek, and\r\nliked very well such service as she did her in the house. But she\r\nso much misliked this continual discomfortable fashion of hers\r\nthat she would sometimes say, \"Eh, what aileth this girl? The\r\nelvish urchin thinketh I were a devil, I do believe. Surely if she\r\ndid me ten times better service than she doth, yet with this\r\nfantastical fear of hers I would be loth to have her in mine\r\nhouse.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00317\"\u003eThus fareth, lo, the scrupulous person, who frameth himself many\r\ntimes double the fear that he hath cause, and many times a great\r\nfear where there is no cause at all. And of that which is indeed\r\nno sin, he maketh a venial one. And that which is venial, he\r\nimagineth to be deadly—and yet, for all that, he falleth into\r\nthem, since they are of their nature such as no man long liveth\r\nwithout. And then he feareth that he is never fully confessed nor\r\nfully contrite, and then that his sins be never fully forgiven\r\nhim. And then he confesseth and confesseth again, and cumbereth\r\nhimself and his confessor both. And then every prayer that he\r\nsaith, though he say it as well as the frail infirmity of the man\r\nwill suffer, yet he is not satisfied unless he say it again, and\r\nyet after that again. And when he hath said the same thing thrice,\r\nas little is he satisfied with the last time as the first. And\r\nthen is his heart evermore in heaviness, unquiet, and fear, full\r\nof doubt and dullness, without comfort or spiritual consolation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00318\"\u003eWith this night\u0027s fear the devil sore troubleth the mind of many a\r\nright good man, and that doth he to bring him to some great evil.\r\nFor he will, if he can, drive him so much to the fearful minding\r\nof God\u0027s rigorous justice, that he will keep him from the\r\ncomfortable remembrance of God\u0027s great mighty mercy, and so make\r\nhim do all his good works wearily and without consolation or\r\nquickness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00319\"\u003eMoreover, he maketh him take for a sin something that is not one,\r\nand for a deadly sin one that is but venial, to the intent that\r\nwhen he shall fall into them he shall, by reason of his scruple,\r\nsin where otherwise he would not, or sin mortally (because his\r\nconscience, in doing the deed, so told him) where otherwise indeed\r\nhe would have offended only venially.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00320\"\u003eYes, and further, the devil longeth to make all his good works and\r\nspiritual exercises so painful and so tedious to him, that, with\r\nsome other subtle suggestion or false wily doctrine of a false\r\nspiritual liberty, he should be easily conveyed from that evil\r\nfault into one much worse, for the false ease and pleasure that he\r\nshould suddenly find therein. And then should he have his\r\nconscience as wide and large afterward as ever it was narrow and\r\nstraight before. For better is yet, of truth, a conscience a\r\nlittle too narrow than a little too large.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00321\"\u003eMy mother had, when I was a little boy, a good old woman who took\r\ncare of her children. They called her Mother Maud—I daresay you\r\nhave heard of her?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00322\"\u003eVINCENT: Yea, yea, very much.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00323\"\u003eANTHONY: She was wont, when she sat by the fire with us, to tell\r\nus who were children many childish tales. But as Pliny saith that\r\nthere is no book lightly so bad but that a man may pick some good\r\nthing out of it, so think I that there is almost no tale so\r\nfoolish but that yet in one matter or another, it may hap to serve\r\nto some purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00324\"\u003eFor I remember me that among others of her foolish tales, she told\r\nus once that the ass and the wolf came upon a time to confession\r\nto the fox. The poor ass came to shrift in Shrovetide, a day or\r\ntwo before Ash Wednesday. But the wolf would not come to\r\nconfession till he saw first Palm Sunday past, and then he put it\r\noff yet further until Good Friday.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00325\"\u003eThe fox asked the ass, before he began \u003ci\u003e\"Benedicite,\"\u003c/i\u003e wherefore\r\nhe came to confession so soon, before Lent began. The poor beast\r\nanswered him that it was for fear of deadly sin, if he should lose\r\nhis part of any of those prayers that the priests in the cleansing\r\ndays pray for them who are then confessed already. Then in his\r\nshrift he had a marvellous grudge in his inward conscience, that\r\nhe had one day given his master a cause of anger in that, with his\r\nrude roaring before his master arose, he had wakened him out of\r\nhis sleep and bereaved him of his rest. The fox, for that fault,\r\nlike a good discreet confessor, charged him to do so no more, but\r\nto lie still and sleep like a good son himself until his master\r\nwere up and ready to go to work, and so should he be sure that he\r\nshould wake him no more.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00326\"\u003eTo tell you all the poor ass\u0027s confession, it would be a long\r\nwork. For everything that he did was deadly sin with him, the poor\r\nsoul was so scrupulous. But his wise wily confessor accounted them\r\nfor trifles (as they were) and swore afterward to the badger that\r\nhe was so weary to sit so long and hear him that, saving for the\r\nsake of manners, he had rather have sat all that time at breakfast\r\nwith a good fat goose. But when it came to the giving of the\r\npenance, the fox found that the most weighty sin in all his shrift\r\nwas gluttony. And therefore he discreetly gave him in penance that\r\nhe should never for greediness of his food do any other beast any\r\nharm or hindrance. And then he should eat his food and worry no\r\nmore.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00327\"\u003eNow, as good Mother Maud told us, when the wolf came to Father\r\nReynard (that was, she said, the fox\u0027s name) to confession upon\r\nGood Friday, his confessor shook his great pair of beads at him,\r\nalmost as big as bowling balls, and asked him wherefore he came so\r\nlate. \"Forsooth, Father Reynard,\" quoth he, \"I must needs tell you\r\nthe truth—I come, you know, for that. I dared not come sooner for\r\nfear lest you would, for my gluttony, have given me in penance to\r\nfast some part of this Lent.\" \"Nay, nay,\" quoth Father Fox, \"I am\r\nnot so unreasonable, for I fast none of it myself. For I may say\r\nto thee, son, between us twain here in confession, it is no\r\ncommandment of God, this fasting, but an invention of man. The\r\npriests make folk fast, and then put them to trouble about the\r\nmoonshine in the water, and do but make folk fools. But they shall\r\nmake me no such fool, I warrant thee, son, for I ate flesh all\r\nthis Lent, myself. Howbeit indeed, because I will not be occasion\r\nof slander, I ate it secretly in my chamber, out of sight of all\r\nsuch foolish brethren as for their weak scrupulous conscience\r\nwould wax offended by it. And so would I counsel you to do.\"\r\n\"Forsooth, Father Fox,\" quoth the wolf, \"and so, thank God, I do,\r\nas near as I can. For when I go to my meal, I take no other\r\ncompany with me but such sure brethren as are of mine own nature,\r\nwhose consciences are not weak, I warrant you, but their stomachs\r\nare as strong as mine.\" \"Well, then, no matter,\" quoth Father Fox.\r\nBut when he heard afterward, by his confession, that he was so\r\ngreat a ravener that he devoured and spent sometimes so much\r\nvictuals at a meal that the price of them would well keep some\r\npoor man with his wife and children almost all the week, then he\r\nprudently reproved that point in him, and preached him a sermon of\r\nhis own temperance. For he never used, he said, to pass the value\r\nof sixpence at a meal—no, nor even that much, \"For when I bring\r\nhome a goose,\" quoth he, \"it is not out of the poulterer\u0027s shop,\r\nwhere folk find them with their feathers ready plucked and see\r\nwhich is the fattest, and yet for sixpence buy and choose the\r\nbest; but out of the housewife\u0027s house, at first hand, which can\r\nsupply them somewhat cheaper, you know, than the poulterer can.\r\nNor yet can I be suffered to see them plucked, and stand and\r\nchoose them by day, but am fain by night to take one at adventure.\r\nAnd when I come home, I am fain to do the labour to pluck it\r\nmyself too. Yet, for all this, though it be but lean and, I know,\r\nnot well worth a groat, it serveth me sometimes both for dinner\r\nand for supper too. As for the fact that you live of ravine, I can\r\nfind no fault in that. You have used it so long that I think you\r\ncan do no otherwise, and therefore it would be folly to forbid it\r\nto you—and, to say the truth, against good conscience too. For\r\nlive you must, I know, and other craft know you none, and\r\ntherefore, as reason is, must you live by that. But yet, you know,\r\ntoo much is too much, and measure is a merry mean, which I\r\nperceive by your shrift you have never used to keep. And therefore\r\nsurely this shall be your penance, that you shall all this year\r\nnever pass the price of sixpence at a meal, as near as your\r\nconscience can guess the price.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00328\"\u003eTheir shrift have I told you, as Mother Maud told it to us. But now\r\nserveth for our matter the conscience of them both in the true\r\nperforming of their penance. The poor ass after his shrift, when he\r\nwaxed an-hungered, saw a sow lie with her pigs, well lapped in new\r\nstraw. And he drew near and thought to have eaten of the straw, but\r\nanon his scrupulous conscience began therein to grudge him. For\r\nsince his penance was that, for greediness of his good, he should\r\ndo nobody else any harm, he thought he might not eat one straw\r\nthere lest, for lack of that straw, some of those pigs might hap to\r\ndie for cold. So he held still his hunger until someone brought him\r\nfood. But when he was about to fall to it, then fell he yet into a\r\nfar further scruple. For then it came in his mind that he should\r\nyet break his penance if he should eat any of that either, since he\r\nwas commanded by his ghostly father that he should not, for his own\r\nfood, hinder any other beast. For he thought that if he ate not\r\nthat food, some other beast might hap to have it. And so should he,\r\nby the eating of it, peradventure hinder another. And thus stayed\r\nhe still fasting till, when he told the cause, his ghostly father\r\ncame and informed him better, and then he cast off that scruple and\r\nfell mannerly to his meal, and was a right honest ass many a fair\r\nday after.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00329\"\u003eThe wolf now, coming from shrift clean absolved from his sins,\r\nwent about to do as a certain shrewish wife once told her husband\r\nthat she would do, when she came from shrift. \"Be merry, man,\"\r\nquoth she now, \"for this day, I thank God, I was well shriven. And\r\nI purpose now therefore to leave off all mine old shrewishness and\r\nbegin even afresh!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00330\"\u003eVINCENT: Ah, well, uncle, can you report her so? That word I\r\nheard her speak, but she said it in sport to make her goodman\r\nlaugh.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00331\"\u003eANTHONY: Indeed, it seemed she spoke it half in sport. For in\r\nthat she said she would cast away all her old shrewishness,\r\ntherein I daresay she sported. But in that she said she would\r\nbegin it all afresh, her husband found that in good earnest!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00332\"\u003eVINCENT: Well, I shall tell her what you say, I warrant you.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00333\"\u003eANTHONY: Then will you make me make my word good!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00334\"\u003eBut whatsoever she did, at least so fared now this wolf, who had\r\ncast out in confession all his old ravine. For then hunger pricked\r\nhim forward so that, as the shrewish wife said, he should begin\r\nall afresh. But yet the prick of conscience withdrew him and held\r\nhim back, because he would not, for breaking of his penance, take\r\nany prey for his mealtide that should pass the price of sixpence.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00335\"\u003eIt happed him then, as he walked prowling for his gear about, that\r\nhe came where a man had, a few days before, cast off two old lean\r\nand lame horses, so sick that no flesh was there left upon them.\r\nAnd the one, when the wolf came by, could scant stand on his legs,\r\nand the other was already dead and his skin ripped off and carried\r\naway. And as he looked upon them suddenly, he was first about to\r\nfeed upon them and whet his teeth upon their bones. But as he\r\nlooked aside, he spied a fair cow in an enclosure, walking with\r\nher young calf by her side. And as soon as he saw them, his\r\nconscience began to grudge him against both those two horses. And\r\nthen he sighed and said to himself, \"Alas, wicked wretch that I\r\nam, I had almost broken my penance ere I was aware! For yonder\r\ndead horse, because I never sad a dead horse sold in the market,\r\neven if I should die for it, I cannot guess, to save my sinful\r\nsoul, what price I should set on him. But in my conscience I set\r\nhim far above sixpence, and therefore I dare not meddle with him.\r\nNow, then, yonder live horse is in all likelihood worth a great\r\ndeal of money. For horses are dear in this country—especially\r\nsuch soft amblers, for I see by his pace he trotteth not, nor can\r\nscant shift a foot. And therefore I may not meddle with him, for\r\nhe very far passeth my sixpence. But cows this country hath\r\nenough, while money have they very little. And therefore,\r\nconsidering the plenty of the cows and the scarcity of the money,\r\nyonder foolish cow seemeth unto me, in my conscience, worth not\r\npast a groat, if she be worth so much. Now then, her calf is not\r\nso much as she, by half. And therefore, since the cow is in my\r\nconscience worth but fourpence, my conscience cannot serve me, for\r\nsin of my soul, to appraise her calf above twopence. And so pass\r\nthey not sixpence between them both. And therefore may I well eat\r\nthem twain at this one meal and break not my penance at all.\" And\r\nso thereupon he did, without any scruple of conscience.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00336\"\u003eIf such beasts could speak now, as Mother Maud said they could\r\nthen, some of them would, I daresay, tell a tale almost as wise as\r\nthis! Save for the diminishing of old Mother Maud\u0027s tale, a\r\nshorter sermon would have served. But yet, as childish as the\r\nparable is, in this it serveth for our purpose: that the night\u0027s\r\nfear of a somewhat scrupulous conscience, though it be painful and\r\ntroublous to him who hath it, as this poor ass had here, is yet\r\nless harm than a conscience that is over-large. And less harm is\r\nit than a conscience such as a man pleases to frame himself for\r\nhis own fancy—now drawing it narrow, now stretching it in\r\nbreadth, after the manner of a leather thong—to serve on every\r\nside for his own commodity, as did here the wily wolf.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00337\"\u003eBut such folk are out of tribulation, and comfort need they none,\r\nand therefore are they out of our matter. But he who is in the\r\nnight\u0027s fear of his own scrupulous conscience, let him well\r\nbeware, as I said, that the devil draw him not, for weariness of\r\nthe one, into the other, and while he would fly from Scilla draw\r\nhim into Charibdis. He must do as doth a ship coming into a haven\r\nin the mouth of which lie secret rocks under the water on both\r\nsides. If by mishap he be entered in among them that are on the\r\none side, and cannot tell how to get out, he must get a\r\nsubstantial clever pilot who can so conduct him from the rocks on\r\nthat side that yet he bring him not into those that are on the\r\nother side, but can guide him in the mid way. Let them, I say\r\ntherefore, who are in the troublous fear of heir own scrupulous\r\nconscience, submit the rule of their conscience to the counsel of\r\nsome other good man, who after the variety and the nature of the\r\nscruples may temper his advice.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00338\"\u003eYea, although a man be very well learned himself, yet if he be in\r\nthis state let him learn the custom used among physicians. For if\r\none of them be never so learned, yet in his own disease and\r\nsickness he never useth to trust all to himself, but sendeth for\r\nsuch of his fellows as he knoweth to be able, and putteth himself\r\nin their hands. This he doth for many considerations, and one of\r\nthe causes is fear. For upon some tokens in his own sickness he\r\nmay conceive a great deal more fear than needeth, and then it\r\nwould be good for his health if for the time he knew no such thing\r\nat all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00339\"\u003eI knew once in this town one of the most learned men in that\r\nprofession and the most expert, and the most famous too, and him\r\nwho did the greatest cures upon other men. And yet when he was\r\nhimself once very sore sick, I heard his fellows who then took\r\ncare of him—every one of whom would, in his own disease, have\r\nused his help before that of any other man—wish that yet, while\r\nhis own sickness was so sore, he had known no physic at all. He\r\ntook so great heed unto every suspicious token, and feared so far\r\nthe worst, that his fear did him sometimes much more harm than the\r\nsickness gave him cause.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00340\"\u003eAnd therefore, as I say, whosoever hath such a trouble of his\r\nscrupulous conscience, let him for a while forbear the judgment of\r\nhimself, and follow the counsel of some other man whom he knoweth\r\nfor well learned and virtuous. And especially in the place of\r\nconfession, for these is God specially present with his grace\r\nassisting the sacrament. And let him not doubt to quiet his mind\r\nand follow what he is there bidden, and think for a while less of\r\nthe fear of God\u0027s justice, and be more merry in remembrance of his\r\nmercy, and persevere in prayer for grace, and abide and dwell\r\nfaithfully in the sure hope of his help. And then shall he find,\r\nwithout any doubt, that the shield of God\u0027s truth shall, as the\r\nprophet saith, so compass him about, that he shall not dread this\r\nnight\u0027s fear of scrupulosity, but shall have afterward his\r\nconscience established in good quiet and rest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00342\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, you have in my mind well declared\r\nthese kinds of the night\u0027s fear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00343\"\u003eANTHONY: Surely, cousin, but yet are there many more than I can\r\neither remember or find. Howbeit, one yet cometh now to my mind,\r\nof which I thought not before, and which is yet in mine opinion.\r\nThat is, cousin, where the devil tempteth a man to kill and\r\ndestroy himself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00344\"\u003eVINCENT: Undoubtedly this kind of tribulation is marvellous and\r\nstrange. And the temptation is of such a sort that some men have\r\nthe opinion that those who once fall into that fantasy can never\r\nfully cast it off.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00345\"\u003eANTHONY: Yes, yes, cousin, many a hundred, and else God forbid. But\r\nthe thing that maketh men so to say is that, of those who finally do\r\ndestroy themselves, there is much speech and much wondering, as it\r\nis well worthy. But many a good man and woman hath sometime—yea,\r\nfor some years, once after another—continually been tempted to do\r\nit, and yet hath, by grace and good counsel, well and virtuously\r\nwithstood that temptation, and been in conclusion clearly delivered\r\nof it. And their tribulation is not known abroad and therefore not\r\ntalked of.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00346\"\u003eBut surely, cousin, a horrible sore trouble it is to any man or\r\nwoman whom the devil tempteth with that temptation. Many have I\r\nheard of, and with some have I talked myself, who have been sore\r\ncumbered with it, and I have marked not a little the manner of\r\nthem.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00347\"\u003eVINCENT: I pray you, good uncle, show me somewhat of such things\r\nas you perceive therein. For first, whereas you call the kind of\r\ntemptation the daughter of pusillanimity and thereby so near of\r\nkin to the night\u0027s fear, methinketh on the other hand that it is\r\nrather a thing that cometh of a great courage and boldness. For\r\nthey dare with their own hands to put themselves to death, from\r\nwhich we see almost every man shrink and flee, and many of them we\r\nknow by good proof and plain experience for men of great heart and\r\nexcellent bold courage.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00348\"\u003eANTHONY: I said, Cousin Vincent, that of pusillanimity cometh\r\nthis temptation, and very truth it is that indeed so it doth. But\r\nyet I meant not that only of faint heart and fear it cometh and\r\ngrowth always. For the devil tempteth sundry folk by sundry ways.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00349\"\u003eBut I spoke of no other kind of that temptation save only that one\r\nwhich is the daughter that the devil begetteth upon pusillanimity,\r\nbecause those other kinds of temptation fall not under the nature\r\nof tribulation and fear, and therefore fall they far out of our\r\nmatter here. They are such temptations as need only counsel, and\r\nnot comfort or consolation, because the persons tempted with them\r\nare not troubled in their mind with that kind of temptation. but\r\nare very well content both in the tempting and in the following.\r\nFor some have there been, cousin, such that they have been tempted\r\nto do it by means of a foolish pride, and some by means of anger,\r\nwithout any fear at all—and very glad to go thereto, I deny not.\r\nBut if you think that none fall into it by fear, but that they\r\nhave all a mighty strong stomach, that shall you well see to be\r\nthe contrary. And that peradventure in those of whom you would\r\nthink the stomach more strong and their heart and courage most\r\nbold.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00350\"\u003eVINCENT: Yet is it marvel to me, uncle, that it should be as you\r\nsay it is—that this temptation is unto them that do it for pride\r\nor anger no tribulation, or that they should not need, in so great\r\na distress and peril, both of body and soul to be lost, no manner\r\nof good ghostly comfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00351\"\u003eANTHONY: Let us therefore, cousin, consider an example or two,\r\nfor thereby shall we better perceive it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00352\"\u003eThere was here in Buda in King Ladilaus\u0027 days, a good poor honest\r\nman\u0027s wife. This woman was so fiendish that the devil, perceiving\r\nher nature, put her in the mind that she should anger her husband\r\nso sore that she might give him occasion to kill her, and then\r\nshould he be hanged because of her.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00353\"\u003eVINCENT: This was a strange temptation indeed! What the devil\r\nshould she be the better then?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00354\"\u003eANTHONY: Nothing, but that it eased her shrewish stomach\r\nbeforehand, to think that her husband should be hanged afterward.\r\nAnd peradventure, if you look about the world and consider it\r\nwell, you shall find more such stomachs than a few. Have you never\r\nheard a furious body plainly say that, to see such-and-such man\r\nhave a mischief, he would with good will be content to lie as long\r\nin hell as God liveth in heaven?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00355\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, and some such have I heard.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00356\"\u003eANTHONY: This mind of his was not much less mad than hers, but\r\nrather perhaps the more mad of the twain. For the woman\r\nperadventure did not cast so far peril therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00357\"\u003eBut to tell you now to what good pass her charitable purpose came:\r\nAs her husband (the man was a carpenter) stood hewing with his\r\nchip axe upon a piece of timber, she began after her old guise to\r\nrevile him so that he waxed wroth at last, and bade her get\r\nherself in or he would lay the helm of his axe about her back. And\r\nhe said also that it would be little sin even with that axe head\r\nto chop off the unhappy head of hers that carried such an\r\nungracious tongue in it. At that word the devil took his time and\r\nwhetted her tongue against her teeth. And when it was well\r\nsharpened she swore to him in very fierce anger, \"By the mass,\r\nwhoreson husband, I wish thou wouldst! Here lieth my head, lo,\"\r\nand with that down she laid her head upon the same timber log. \"If\r\nthou smite it not off, I beshrew thine whoreson\u0027s heart!\" With\r\nthat, likewise as the devil stood at her elbow, so stood (as I\r\nheard say) his good angel at his, and gave him ghostly courage and\r\nbade him be bold and do it. And so the good man up with his chip\r\naxe and at a chop he chopped off her head indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00358\"\u003eThere were other folk standing by, who had a good sport to hear\r\nher chide, but little they looked for this chance, till it was\r\ndone ere they could stop it. They said they heard her tongue\r\nbabble in her head, and call, \"Whoreson, whoreson!\" twice after\r\nthe head was off the body. At least, thus they all reported\r\nafterward unto the king, except only one, and that was a woman,\r\nand she said that she heard it not.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00359\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, this was a wonderful work! What became, uncle,\r\nof the man?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00360\"\u003eANTHONY: The king gave him his pardon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00361\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, he might in conscience do no less.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00362\"\u003eANTHONY: But then was there almost made a statute that in such a\r\ncase there should never after be granted a pardon, but (if the\r\ntruth were able to be proved) no husband should need any pardon,\r\nbut should have leave by the law to follow the example of that\r\ncarpenter, and do the same.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00363\"\u003eVINCENT: How happed it, uncle, that that good law was left unmade?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00364\"\u003eANTHONY: How happed it? As it happeth, cousin, that many more be\r\nleft unmade as well as that one, and almost as good as it too,\r\nboth here and in other countries—and sometimes some that are\r\nworse be made in their stead. But they say that the hindrance of\r\nthat law was the queen\u0027s grace, God forgive her soul! It was the\r\ngreatest thing, I daresay, that she had to answer for, good lady,\r\nwhen she died. For surely, save for that one thing, she was a full\r\nblessed woman.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00365\"\u003eBut letting now that law pass, this temptation in procuring her\r\nown death was unto this carpenter\u0027s wife no tribulation at all, as\r\nfar as men could ever perceive. For she liked well to think upon\r\nit, and she even longed for it. And therefore if she had before\r\ntold you or me her intent, and that she would so fain bring it so\r\nto pass, we could have had no occasion to comfort her, as one that\r\nwere in tribulation. But marry, counsel her we might, as I told\r\nyou before, to refrain and amend that malicious devilish intent.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00366\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, that is truth. But such as are well willing to\r\ndo any purpose that is so shameful, they will never tell their\r\nintent to nobody, for very shame.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00367\"\u003eANTHONY: Some will not, indeed. And yet are there some again who,\r\nbe their intent never so shameful, find some yet whom their heart\r\nserveth them to make of their counsel therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00368\"\u003eSome of my folk here can tell you that no longer ago than even\r\nyesterday, someone who came out of Vienna told us, among other\r\ntalking, that a rich widow (but I forgot to ask him where it\r\nhappened), having all her life a high proud mind and a malicious\r\none—as those two virtues are wont always to keep company\r\ntogether—was at dispute with another neighbour of hers in the\r\ntown. And on a time she made of her counsel a poor neighbour of\r\nhers, whom she thought she might induce, for money, to follow her\r\nintent. With him she secretly spoke, and offered him ten ducats\r\nfor his labour, to do so much for her as in a morning early to\r\ncome to her house and with an axe unknown privily strike off her\r\nhead. And when he had done so, he was to convey the bloody axe\r\ninto the house of him with whom she was at dispute, in such manner\r\nas it might be thought that he had murdered her for malice. And\r\nthen she thought she should be taken for a martyr. And yet had she\r\nfarther devised that another sum of money should afterward be sent\r\nto Rome, and there should be measures made to the Pope that she\r\nmight in all haste be canonized!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00369\"\u003eThis poor man promised, but intended not to perform it. Howbeit,\r\nwhen he deferred it, she provided the axe herself. And he\r\nappointed with her the morning when he should come and do it, and\r\nthereupon into her house he came. But then set he such other folk\r\nas he wished should know of her mad fancy, in such place appointed\r\nas they might well hear her and him talk together. And after he\r\nhad talked with her so much as he thought was enough, he made her\r\nlie down, and took up the axe in his own hand. And with the other\r\nhand he felt the edge, and found a fault that it was not sharp,\r\nand that therefore he would in no wise do it, till he had ground\r\nit sharp. He could not otherwise, he said, for pity, it would put\r\nher to so much pain. And so, full sore against her will, for that\r\ntime she kept her head still. But because she would no more suffer\r\nany more to deceive her and put her off with delays, ere it was\r\nvery long thereafter, she hung herself with her own hands.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00370\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, here was a tragical story, whereof I never\r\nheard the like.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00371\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, the party who told it to me swore that he knew\r\nit for a truth. And he is, I promise you, such as I reckon for\r\nright honest and of substantial truth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00372\"\u003eNow, here she forbore not, as shameful an intent as she had, to\r\nmake someone of her counsel—and yet, I remember, another too,\r\nwhom she trusted with the money that should procure her\r\ncanonization. And here I believe that her temptation came not of\r\nfear but of high malice and pride. And then was she so glad in\r\nthat pleasant device that, as I told you, she took it for no\r\ntribulation. And therefore comforting of her could have no place.\r\nBut if men should give her anything toward her help, it must have\r\nbeen, as I told you, good counsel.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00373\"\u003eAnd therefore, as I said, this kind of temptation to a man\u0027s own\r\ndestruction, which requireth counsel, and is outside tribulation,\r\nwas outside of our matter, which is to treat of comfort in\r\ntribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00375\"\u003eBut lest you might reject both these examples, thinking they were\r\nbut feigned tales, I shall put you in remembrance of one which I\r\nreckon you yourself have read in the Conferences of Cassian. And\r\nif you have not, there you may soon find it. For I myself have\r\nhalf forgotten the thing, it is so long since I read it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00376\"\u003eBut thus much I remember: He telleth there of one who was many\r\ndays a very special holy man in his living, and, among the other\r\nvirtuous monks and anchorites that lived there in the wilderness,\r\nwas marvellously much esteemed. Yet some were not all out of fear\r\nlest his revelations (of which he told many himself) would prove\r\nillusions of the devil. And so it proved afterwards indeed, for\r\nthe man was by the devil\u0027s subtle suggestions brought into such a\r\nhigh spiritual pride that in conclusion the devil brought him to\r\nthat horrible point that he made him go kill himself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00377\"\u003eAnd, as far as my mind giveth me now, without new sight of the\r\nbook, he brought him to it by this persuasion: He made him believe\r\nthat it was God\u0027s will that he should do so, and that thereby he\r\nshould go straight to heaven. And if it were by that persuasion,\r\nwith which he took very great comfort in his own mind himself,\r\nthen was it, as I said, out of our case, and he needed not comfort\r\nbut counsel against giving credence to the devil\u0027s persuasion. But\r\nmarry, if he made him first perceive how he had been deluded and\r\nthen tempted him to his own death by shame and despair, then it\r\nwas within our matter. For then was his temptation fallen down\r\nfrom pride to pusillanimity, and was waxed that kind of the\r\nnight\u0027s fear that I spoke of. And in such fear a good part of the\r\ncounsel to be given him should have need to stand in good\r\ncomforting, for then was he brought into right sore tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00378\"\u003eBut, as I was about to tell you, strength of heart and courage are\r\nthere none in that deed, not only because true strength (as it\r\nhath the name of virtue in a reasonable creature) can never be\r\nwithout prudence, but also because, as I said, even in them that\r\nseem men of most courage, it shall well appear to them that well\r\nweigh the matter that the mind whereby they be led to destroy\r\nthemselves groweth of pusillanimity and very foolish fear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00379\"\u003eTake for example Cato of Utica, who in Africa killed himself after\r\nthe great victory that Julius Caesar had. St. Austine well\r\ndeclareth in his work \u003ci\u003eDe civitate Dei\u003c/i\u003e that there was no strength\r\nnor magnanimity in his destruction of himself, but plain\r\npusillanimity and impotency of stomach. For he was forced to do it\r\nbecause his heart was too feeble to bear the beholding of another\r\nman\u0027s glory or the suffering of other worldly calamities that he\r\nfeared should fall on himself. So that, as St. Austine well\r\nproveth, that horrible deed is no act of strength, but an act of a\r\nmind either drawn from the consideration of itself with some\r\nfiendish fancy, in which the man hath need to be called home with\r\ngood counsel; or else oppressed by faint heart and fear, in which\r\na good part of the counsel must stand in lifting up his courage\r\nwith good consolation and comfort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00380\"\u003eAnd therefore if we found any such religious person as was that\r\nfather whom Cassian writeth of, who were of such austerity and\r\napparent ghostly living as he was, and reputed by those who well\r\nknew him for a man of singular virtue; and if it were perceived\r\nthat he had many strange visions appearing unto him; and if after\r\nthat it should now be perceived that the man went about secretly\r\nto destroy himself—whosoever should hap to come to the knowledge\r\nof it and intended to do his best to hinder it, he must first find\r\nthe means to search and find out the manner and countenance of the\r\nman. He must see whether he be lightsome, glad, and joyful or\r\ndumpish, heavy, and sad, and whether he go about it as one that\r\nwere full of the glad hope of heaven, or as one who had his breast\r\nstuffed full of tediousness and weariness of the world. If he were\r\nfound to be of the first fashion, it would be a token that the\r\ndevil had, by his fantastical apparitions, puffed him up in such a\r\nchildish pride that he hath finally persuaded him, by some\r\nillusion showed him for the proof, that God\u0027s pleasure is that he\r\nshall for his sake with his own hands kill himself.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00381\"\u003eVINCENT: Now, if a man so found it, uncle, what counsel should he\r\ngive him then?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00382\"\u003eANTHONY: That would be somewhat out of our purpose, cousin, since\r\n(as I told you before) the man would not be in sorrow and\r\ntribulation, of which our matter speaketh, but in a perilous merry\r\nmortal temptation. So that if we should, beside our matter that we\r\nhave in hand, enter into that too, we might make a longer work\r\nbetween both than we could well finish this day. Howbeit, to be\r\nshort, it is soon seen that in such a case the sum and effect of\r\nthe counsel must (in a manner) rest in giving him warning of the\r\ndevil\u0027s sleights. And that must be done under such a sweet\r\npleasant manner that the man should not abhor to hear it. For\r\nwhile it could not lightly be otherwise that the man were rocked\r\nand sung asleep by the devil\u0027s craft, and his mind occupied as it\r\nwere in a delectable dream, he should never have good audience of\r\nhim who would rudely and boisterously shog him and wake him, and\r\nso shake him out of it. Therefore must you fair and easily touch\r\nhim, and with some pleasant speech awake him, so that he wax not\r\nwayward, as children do who are waked ere they wish to rise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00383\"\u003eBut when a man hath first begun with his praise (for if he be\r\nproud you shall much better please him with a commendation than\r\nwith a dirge) then, after favour won therewith, a man may little\r\nby little insinuate the doubt of such revelations—not at first as\r\nthough it were for any doubt of his, but of some other man\u0027s, that\r\nmen in some other places talk of. And peradventure it shall not\r\nmiscontent him to say that great perils may fall therein, in\r\nanother man\u0027s case than his own, and he shall begin to preach upon\r\nit. Or, if you were a man that had not so very great scrupulous\r\nconscience of a harmless lie devised to do good with (the kind\r\nwhich St. Austine, though he take it always for sin, yet he taketh\r\nbut for venial; and St. Jerome, as by divers places in his books\r\nappeareth, taketh not fully for that much), then may you feign\r\nsome secret friend of yours to be in such a state. And you may say\r\nthat you yourself somewhat fear his peril, and have made of\r\ncharity this voyage for his sake, to ask this good father\u0027s counsel.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00384\"\u003eAnd in the communication, upon these words of St. John, \"Give not\r\ncredence to every spirit, but prove the spirits whether they be\r\nof God,\" and these words of St. Paul, \"The angel of Satan\r\ntransfigureth himself into the angel of light,\" you shall take\r\noccasion (the better if they hap to come in on his side), but yet\r\nnot lack occasion neither if those texts, for lack of his offer,\r\ncome in upon your own—occasion, I say, you shall not lack to\r\nenquire by what sure and undeceivable tokens a man may discern the\r\ntrue revelations from the false illusions. A man shall find many\r\nsuch tokens both here and there in divers other authors and all\r\ntogether in divers goodly treatises of that good godly doctor,\r\nMaster John Gerson, entitled \u003ci\u003eDe probatione spirituum.\u003c/i\u003e As,\r\nwhether the party be natural in manner or seem anything\r\nfantastical. Or, whether the party be poor-spirited or proud. The\r\npride will somewhat appear by his delight in his own praise; or\r\nif, of wiliness, or of another pride for to be praised of\r\nhumility, he refused to hear of that, yet any little fault found\r\nin himself, or diffidence declared and mistrust of his own\r\nrevelations and doubtful tokens told, wherefore he himself should\r\nfear lest they be the devil\u0027s illusion—such things, as Master\r\nGerson saith, will make him spit out somewhat of his spirit, if\r\nthe devil lie in his breast. Or if the devil be yet so subtle that\r\nhe keep himself close in his warm den and blow out never a hot\r\nword, yet it is to be considered what end his revelations tend\r\nto—whether to any spiritual profit to himself or other folk, or\r\nonly to vain marvels and wonders. Also, whether they withdraw him\r\nfrom such other good virtuous business as, by the common rule of\r\nChristendom or any of the rules of his profession, he was wont to\r\nuse or bound to be occupied in. Or whether he fall into any\r\nsingularity of opinions against the scripture of God, or against\r\nthe common faith of Christ\u0027s Catholic Church. Many other tokens\r\nare spoken of in the work of Master Gerson, by which to consider\r\nwhether the person, neither having revelations of God nor\r\nillusions from the devil, do feign his revelations himself, either\r\nfor winning of money or worldly favour, and delude the people\r\nwithal.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00385\"\u003eBut now for our purpose: If, among any of the marks by which the\r\ntrue revelations may be known from false illusions, that man\r\nhimself bring forth, for one mark, the doing or teaching of\r\nanything against the scripture of God or the common faith of the\r\nchurch, you may enter into the special matter, in which he can\r\nnever well flee from you. Or else may you yet, if you wish, feign\r\nthat your secret friend, for whose sake you come to him for\r\ncounsel, is brought to that mind by a certain apparition showed\r\nunto him, as he himself saith, by an angel—as you fear, by the\r\ndevil. And that he cannot as yet be otherwise persuaded by you but\r\nthat the pleasure of God is that he shall go kill himself. And\r\nthat he believeth if he do so he shall then be thereby so\r\nspecially participant of Christ\u0027s passion that he shall forthwith\r\nbe carried up with angels into heaven. And that he is so joyful\r\nfor this that he firmly purposeth upon it, no less glad to do it\r\nthan another man would be glad to avoid it. And therefore may you\r\ndesire his good counsel to instruct you with some substantial good\r\nadvice, with which you may turn him from this error, that he be\r\nnot, under hope of God\u0027s true revelation, destroyed in body and\r\nsoul by the devil\u0027s false illusion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00386\"\u003eIf he will in this thing study and labour to instruct you, the\r\nthings that he himself shall find, of his own invention, though\r\nthey be less effectual, shall peradventure more work with him\r\ntoward his own amendment (since he shall, of likelihood, better\r\nlike them) than shall things double so substantial that were told\r\nhim by another man. If he be loth to think upon that side, and\r\ntherefore shrink from the matter, then is there no other way but\r\nto venture to fall into the matter after the plain fashion, and\r\ntell what you hear, and give him counsel and exhortation to the\r\ncontrary. Unless you wish to say that thus and thus hath the\r\nmatter been reasoned already between your friend and you. And\r\ntherein may you rehearse such things as should prove that the\r\nvision which moveth him is no true revelation, but a very false\r\nillusion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00387\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, uncle, I well allow that a man should, in this\r\nthing as well as in every other in which he longeth to do another\r\nman good, seek such a pleasant way that the party should be likely\r\nto like his communication, or at least to take it well in worth.\r\nAnd he should not enter in unto it in such a way that he whom he\r\nwould help should abhor him and be loth to hear him, and therefore\r\ntake no profit by him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00388\"\u003eBut now, uncle, if it come, by the one way or the other, to the\r\npoint where he will or shall hear me; what be the effectual means\r\nwith which I should by my counsel convert him?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00389\"\u003eANTHONY: All those by which you may make him perceive that he is\r\ndeceived, and that his visions are no godly revelations but very\r\ndevilish illusion. And those reasons must you gather of the man,\r\nof the matter, and of the law of God, or of some one of these.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00390\"\u003eOf the man may you gather them, if you can peradventure show him\r\nthat in such-and-such a point he is waxed worse since such\r\nrevelations have haunted him than he was before—as, in those who\r\nare deluded, whosoever be well acquainted with them shall well\r\nmark and perceive. For they wax more proud, more wayward, more\r\nenvious, suspicious, misjudging and depraving other men, with the\r\ndelight of their own praise, and such other spiritual vices of the\r\nsoul.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00391\"\u003eOf the matter may you gather, if it has happened that his\r\nrevelations before have proved false, or if they be strange things\r\nrather than profitable ones. For that is a good mark between God\u0027s\r\nmiracles and the devil\u0027s wonders. For Christ and his saints have\r\ntheir miracles always tending to fruit and profit. The devil and\r\nhis witches and necromancers, all their wonderful works tend to no\r\nfruitful end, but to a fruitless ostentation and show, as it were\r\na juggler who would for a show before the people play feats of\r\nskill at a feast.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00392\"\u003eOf the law of God you must draw your reasons in showing by the\r\nscripture that the thing which he thinketh God biddeth by his\r\nangel, God hath by his own mouth forbidden. And that is, you know\r\nwell, in the case that we speak of, so easy to find that I need\r\nnot to rehearse it to you. For among the Ten Commandments there is\r\nplainly forbidden the unlawful killing of any man, and therefore\r\nof himself, as (St. Austine saith) all the church teacheth, unless\r\nhe himself be no man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00393\"\u003eVINCENT: This is very true, good uncle, nor will I dispute upon\r\nany glossing of that prohibition. But since we find not the\r\ncontrary but that God may dispense with that commandment himself,\r\nand both license and command also, if he himself wish, any man to\r\ngo kill either another man or himself, this man who is now by such\r\na marvellous vision induced to believe that God so biddeth him,\r\nand therefore thinketh himself in that case discharged of that\r\nprohibition and charged with the contrary commandment—with what\r\nreason can we make him perceive that his vision is but an illusion\r\nand not a true revelation?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00394\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, Cousin Vincent, you shall in this case not need to\r\nask those reasons of me. But taking the scripture of God for a\r\nground for this matter, you know very well yourself that you shall\r\ngo somewhat a shorter way to work if you ask this question of him:\r\nSince God hath forbidden once the thing himself, though he may\r\ndispense with it if he will, yet since the devil may feign himself\r\nGod and with a marvellous vision delude one, and make as though\r\nGod did it; and since the devil is also more likely to speak\r\nagainst God\u0027s commandment than God against his own; you shall have\r\ngood cause, I say, to demand of the man himself whereby he knoweth\r\nthat his vision is God\u0027s true revelation and not the devil\u0027s false\r\ndelusion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00395\"\u003eVINCENT: Indeed, uncle, I think that would be a hard question to\r\nhim. Can a man, uncle, have in such a thing even a very sure\r\nknowledge of his own mind?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00396\"\u003eANTHONY: Yea, cousin, God may cast into the mind of a man, I\r\nsuppose, such an inward light of understanding that he cannot fail\r\nbut be sure thereof. And yet he who is deluded by the devil may\r\nthink himself as sure and yet be deceived indeed. And such a\r\ndifference is there in a manner between them, as between the sight\r\nof a thing while we are awake and look thereon, and the sight with\r\nwhich we see a thing in our sleep while we dream thereof.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00397\"\u003eVINCENT: This is a pretty similitude, uncle, in this thing! And\r\nthen is it easy for the monk that we speak of to declare that he\r\nknoweth his vision for a true revelation and not a false delusion,\r\nif there be so great a difference between them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00398\"\u003eANTHONY: Not so easy yet, cousin, as you think it would be. For\r\nhow can you prove to me that you are awake?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00399\"\u003eVINCENT: Marry, lo, do I not now wag my hand, shake my head, and\r\nstamp with my foot here on the floor?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00400\"\u003eANTHONY: Have you never dreamed ere this that you have done the\r\nsame?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00401\"\u003eVINCENT: Yes, that have I, and more too than that. For I have ere\r\nthis in my sleep dreamed that I doubted whether I were asleep or\r\nawake, and have in good faith thought that I did thereupon even\r\nthe same things that I do now indeed, and thereby determined that\r\nI was not asleep. And yet have I dreamed in good faith further,\r\nthat I have been afterward at dinner and there, making merry with\r\ngood company, have told the same dream at the table and laughed\r\nwell at it, to think that while I was asleep I had by such means\r\nof moving the parts of my body and considering thereof, so verily\r\nthought myself awake!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00402\"\u003eANTHONY: And will you not now soon, think you, when you wake and\r\nrise, laugh as well at yourself when you see that you lie now in\r\nyour warm bed asleep again, and dream all this time, while you\r\nbelieve so verily that you are awake and talking of these matters\r\nwith me?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00403\"\u003eVINCENT: God\u0027s Lord, uncle, you go now merrily to work with me\r\nindeed, when you look and speak so seriously and would make me\r\nthink I were asleep!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00404\"\u003eANTHONY: It may be that you are, for anything that you can say or\r\ndo whereby you can, with any reason that you make, drive me to\r\nconfess that you yourself be sure of the contrary. For you cannot\r\ndo or say anything now whereby you are sure to be awake but what\r\nyou have ere this, or hereafter may, think yourself as surely to\r\ndo the selfsame thing indeed while you be all the while asleep and\r\ndo nothing but lie dreaming.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00405\"\u003eVINCENT: Well, well, uncle, though I have ere this thought myself\r\nawake while I was indeed asleep, yet for all this I know well\r\nenough that I am awake now. And so do you too, though I cannot\r\nfind the words by which I may with reason force you to confess it,\r\nwithout your always driving me off by the example of my dream.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00406\"\u003eANTHONY: Meseemeth, cousin, this is very true. And likewise\r\nmeseemeth the manner and difference between some kind of true\r\nrevelations and some kind of false illusions is like that which\r\nstandeth between the things that are done awake and the things\r\nthat in our dreams seem to be done when we are sleeping. That is,\r\nhe who hath that kind of revelation from God is as sure of the\r\ntruth as we are of our own deeds while we are awake. And he who is\r\ndeluded by the devil is in such wise deceived as they are by their\r\ndream, and worse, too. And yet he reckoneth himself for the time\r\nas sure as the other, saving that one believeth falsely, the other\r\ntruly knoweth. But I say not, cousin, that this kind of sure\r\nknowledge cometh in every kind of revelation. For there are many\r\nkinds, of which it would be too long to talk now. But I say that\r\nGod doth certainly send some such to a man in some thing, or may.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00407\"\u003eVINCENT: Yet then this religious man of whom we speak, when I show\r\nhim the scripture against his revelation and therefore call it an\r\nillusion, may bid me with reason go mind my own affairs. For he\r\nknoweth well and surely himself that his revelation is very good\r\nand true and not any false illusion, since for all the general\r\ncommandment of God in the scripture, God may dispense where he will\r\nand when he will, and may command him to do the contrary. For he\r\ncommanded Abraham to kill his own son, and Sampson had, by\r\ninspiration of God, commandment to kill himself by pulling down the\r\nhouse upon his own head at the feast of the Philistines.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00408\"\u003eNow, if I would then do as you bade me right now, tell him that\r\nsuch apparitions may be illusions, and since God\u0027s word is in the\r\nscripture against him plain for the prohibition, he must perceive\r\nthe truth of his revelation whereby I may know it is not a false\r\nillusion; then shall he in turn bid me tell him whereby I can\r\nprove myself to be awake and talk with him and not be asleep and\r\ndream so, since in my dream I may as surely think so as I know\r\nthat I do so. And thus shall he drive me to the same bay to which\r\nI would bring him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00409\"\u003eANTHONY: This is well said, cousin, but yet could he not escape\r\nyou so. For the dispensation of God\u0027s common precept, which\r\ndispensation he must say that he hath by his private revelation,\r\nis a thing of such sort as showeth itself naught and false. For it\r\nnever hath any example like, since the world began until now, that\r\never man hath read or heard of, among faithful people commended.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00410\"\u003eFirst, as for Abraham, concerning the death of his son: God\r\nintended it not, but only tempted the towardness of the father\u0027s\r\nobedience. As for Sampson, all men make not the matter very sure\r\nwhether he be saved or not, but yet therein some matter and cause\r\nappeareth. For the Philistines being enemies of God and using\r\nSampson for their mocking-stock in scorn of God, it is well likely\r\nthat God gave him the mind to bestow his own life upon the\r\nrevenging of the displeasure that those blasphemous Philistines\r\ndid unto God. And that appeareth clear enough by this: that though\r\nhis strength failed him when he lacked his hair, yet had he not,\r\nit seemeth, that strength evermore at hand while he had his hair,\r\nbut only at such times as it pleased God to give it to him. This\r\nthing appeareth by these words, that the scripture in some place\r\nof that matter saith, \"The power or might of God rushed into\r\nSampson.\" And so therefore, since this thing that he did in the\r\npulling down of the house was done by the special gift of strength\r\nthen at that point given him by God, it well declareth that the\r\nstrength of God, and with it the spirit of God, entered into him\r\nfor it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00411\"\u003eSt. Austine also rehearseth that certain holy virtuous virgins, in\r\ntime of persecution, being pursued by God\u0027s enemies the infidels\r\nto be deflowered by force, ran into a water and drowned themselves\r\nrather than be bereaved of their virginity. And, albeit that he\r\nthinketh it is not lawful for any other maid to follow their\r\nexample, but that she should suffer another to do her any manner\r\nof violence by force and commit sin of his own upon her against\r\nher will, rather than willingly and thereby sinfully herself to\r\nbecome a homicide of herself; yet he thinketh that in them it\r\nhappened by the special instinct of the spirit of God, who, for\r\ncauses seen to himself, would rather that they should avoid it\r\nwith their own temporal death than abide the defiling and\r\nviolation of their chastity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00412\"\u003eBut now this good man neither hath any of God\u0027s enemies to be\r\nrevenged on by his own death, nor any woman who violently pursues\r\nhim to bereave him by force of his virginity! And we never find\r\nthat God proved any man\u0027s obedient mind by the commandment of his\r\nown slaughter of himself. Therefore is both his case plainly\r\nagainst God\u0027s open precept, and the dispensation strange and\r\nwithout example, no cause appearing nor well imaginable. Unless he\r\nwould think that God could neither any longer live without him,\r\nnor could take him to him in such wise as he doth other men, but\r\nmust command him to come by a forbidden way, by which, without\r\nother cause, we never heard that ever he bade any man else before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00413\"\u003eNow, you think that, if you should after this bid him tell you by\r\nwhat way he knoweth that his intent riseth upon a true revelation\r\nand not upon a false illusion, he in turn would bid you tell him\r\nby what means you know that you are talking with him well awake\r\nand not dreaming it asleep. You may answer him that for men thus\r\nto talk together as you do and to prove and perceive that they do\r\nso, by the moving of themselves, with putting the question unto\r\nthemselves for their pleasure, and marking and considering it, is\r\nin waking a daily common thing that every man doth or can do when\r\nhe will, and when they do it, they do it but for pleasure. But in\r\nsleep it happeneth very seldom that men dream that they do so, and\r\nin the dream they never put the question except for doubt. And you\r\nmay tell him that, since this revelation is such also as happeneth\r\nso seldom and oftener happeneth that men dream of such than have\r\nsuch indeed, therefore it is more reasonable that he show you how\r\nhe knoweth, in such a rare thing and a thing more like a dream,\r\nthat he himself is not asleep, than that you, in such a common\r\nthing among folk that are awake and so seldom happening in a\r\ndream, should need to show him whereby you know that you be not\r\nasleep.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00414\"\u003eBesides this, he to whom you should show it seeth himself and\r\nperceiveth the thing that he would bid you prove. But the thing\r\nthat he would make you believe—the truth of his revelation which\r\nyou bid him prove—you see not that he knoweth it well himself.\r\nAnd therefore, ere you believe it against the scripture, it would\r\nbe well consonant unto reason that he should show you how he\r\nknoweth it for a true waking revelation and not a false dreaming\r\ndelusion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00415\"\u003eVINCENT: Then shall he peradventure answer me that whether I\r\nbelieve him or not maketh to him no matter; the thing toucheth\r\nhimself and not me, and he himself is in himself as sure that it\r\nis a true revelation as that he can tell that he dreameth not but\r\ntalketh with me awake.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00416\"\u003eANTHONY: Without doubt, cousin, if he abide at that point and can\r\nby no reason be brought to do so much as doubt, nor can by no\r\nmeans be shogged out of his dead sleep, but will needs take his\r\ndream for a very truth, and—as some men rise by night and walk\r\nabout their chamber in their sleep—will so rise and hang himself;\r\nI can then see no other way but either bind him fast in his bed,\r\nor else essay whether that might hap to help him with which, the\r\ncommon tale goeth, a carver\u0027s wife helped her husband in such a\r\nfrantic fancy. When, upon a Good Friday, he would needs have\r\nkilled himself for Christ as Christ did for him, she said to him\r\nthat it would then be fitting for him to die even after the same\r\nfashion. And that might not be by his own hands, but by the hand\r\nof another; for Christ, perdy, killed not himself. And because her\r\nhusband would take no counsel (for that would he not, in no wise),\r\nshe offered him that for God\u0027s sake she would secretly crucify him\r\nherself upon a great cross that he had made to nail a new-carved\r\ncrucifix upon. And he was very glad thereof. Yet then she\r\nbethought her that Christ was bound to a pillar and beaten first,\r\nand afterward crowned with thorns. Thereupon, when she had by his\r\nown assent bound him fast to a post, she left not off beating,\r\nwith holy exhortation to suffer, so much and so long that ere ever\r\nshe left work and unbound him (praying nevertheless, that she\r\nmight put on his head, and drive well down, a crown of thorns that\r\nshe had wrought for him and brought him), he said he thought this\r\nwas enough for that year. He would pray God to forbear him of the\r\nrest till Good Friday came again! But when it came again the next\r\nyears, then was his desire past; he longed to follow Christ no\r\nfurther.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00417\"\u003eVINCENT: Indeed, uncle, if this help him not, then will nothing\r\nhelp him, I suppose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00418\"\u003eANTHONY: And yet, cousin, the devil may peradventure make him,\r\ntoward such a purpose, first gladly suffer other pain; yea, and\r\ndiminish his feeling in it, too, that he may thereby the less fear\r\nhis death. And yet are peradventure sometimes such things and many\r\nmore to be essayed. For as the devil may hap to make him suffer,\r\nso may he hap to miss, namely if his friends fall to prayer for\r\nhim against his temptation. For that can he himself never do, while\r\nhe taketh it for none.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00419\"\u003eBut, for conclusion: If the man be surely proved so inflexibly set\r\nupon the purpose to destroy himself, as being commanded by God to\r\ndo so, that no good counsel that men can give him nor any other\r\nthing that men may do to him can refrain him, but that he would\r\nsurely shortly kill himself; then except only good prayer made by\r\nhis friends for him, I can find no further shift but either to\r\nhave him ever in sight or to bind him fast in his bed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00420\"\u003eAnd so must he needs of reason be content to be ordered. For\r\nthough he himself may take his fancy for a true revelation, yet\r\nsince he cannot make us perceive it for such, likewise as he\r\nthinketh himself by his secret commandment bound to follow it, so\r\nmust he needs agree that, since it is against the plain open\r\nprohibition of God, we are bound by the plain open precept to keep\r\nhim from it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00421\"\u003eVINCENT: In this point, uncle, I can go no further. But now, if\r\nhe were, on the other hand, perceived to intend his destruction\r\nand go about it with heaviness of heart and thought and\r\ndullness—what way would there be to be used to him then?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00422\"\u003eANTHONY: Then would his temptation, as I told you before, be\r\nproperly pertaining to our matter, for then would he be in a sore\r\ntribulation and a very perilous. For then would it be a token that\r\nthe devil had either, by bringing him into some great sin, brought\r\nhim into despair, or peradventure, by his revelations being found\r\nfalse and reproved or by some secret sin of his being deprehended\r\nand divulged, had cast him both into despair of heaven through\r\nfear and into a weariness of this life for shame. For then he\r\nseeth his estimation lost among other folk of whose praise he was\r\nwont to be proud.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00423\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, in such a case as this, the man is to be\r\nfairly handled and sweetly, and with tender loving words to be put\r\nin good courage, and comforted in all that men goodly can. Here\r\nmust they put him in mind that, if he despair not, but pull up his\r\ncourage and trust in God\u0027s great mercy, he shall have in\r\nconclusion great cause to be glad of this fall. For before he\r\nstood in greater peril than he was aware of, while he took himself\r\nfor better than he was. And God, for favour that he beareth him,\r\nhath suffered him to fall deep into the devil\u0027s danger, to make\r\nhim thereby know what he was while he took himself for so sure.\r\nAnd therefore, as he suffered him then to fall for a remedy\r\nagainst over-bold pride, so will God now—if the man meek himself,\r\nnot with fruitless despair but with fruitful penance—so set him up\r\nagain upon his feet and so strengthen him with his grace, that for\r\nthis one fall that the devil hath given him he shall give the\r\ndevil a hundred.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00424\"\u003eAnd here must he be put in remembrance of Mary Magdalene, of the\r\nprophet David, and especially of St. Peter, whose high bold\r\ncourage took a foul fall. And yet because he despaired not of\r\nGod\u0027s mercy, but wept and called upon it, how highly God took him\r\ninto his favour again is well testified in his holy scripture and\r\nwell known through Christendom.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00425\"\u003eAnd now shall it be charitably done if some good virtuous folk,\r\nsuch as he himself somewhat esteemeth and hath afore longed to\r\nstand in estimation with, do resort sometimes to him, not only to\r\ngive him counsel but also to ask advice and counsel of him in some\r\ncases of their own conscience. For so may they let him perceive\r\nthat they esteem him now no less, but rather more than they did\r\nbefore, since they think him now by this fall better expert of the\r\ndevil\u0027s craft and so not only better instructed himself but also\r\nbetter able to give good advice and counsel to others. This thing\r\nwill, to my mind, well amend and lift up his courage from the\r\nperil of that desperate shame.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00426\"\u003eVINCENT: Methinketh, uncle, that this would be a perilous thing.\r\nFor it may peradventure make him set the less by his fall, and\r\nthereby it may cast him into his first pride or into his other sin\r\nagain, the falling in to which drove him into this despair.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00427\"\u003eANTHONY: I do not mean, cousin, that every fool should at\r\nadventure fall in hand with him, for so might it happen to do harm\r\nindeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00428\"\u003eBut, cousin, if a learned physician have a man in hand, he can\r\nwell discern when and how long some certain medicine is necessary\r\nwhich, if administered at another time or at that time over-long\r\ncontinued, might put the patient in peril. If he have his patient\r\nin an ague, for the cure of which he needeth his medicines in\r\ntheir working cold, yet he may hap, ere that fever be full cured,\r\nto fall into some other disease such that, unless it were helped\r\nwith hot medicine, would be likely to kill the body before the\r\nfever could be cured. The physician then would for the while have\r\nhis most care to the cure of that thing in which would be the most\r\npresent peril. And when that were once out of jeopardy, he would\r\ndo then the more exact diligence afterward about the further cure\r\nof the fever.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00429\"\u003eAnd likewise, if a ship be in peril to fall into Scilla, the fear\r\nof falling into Charibdis on the other side shall never hinder any\r\nwise master thereof from drawing himself from Scilla toward\r\nCharibdis first, in all that ever he can. But when he hath himself\r\nonce so far away from Scilla that he seeth himself safe out of\r\nthat danger, then will he begin to take good heed to keep himself\r\nwell from the other.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00430\"\u003eAnd likewise, while this man is falling down to despair and to the\r\nfinal destruction of himself, a good wise spiritual leech will\r\nfirst look unto that, and by good comfort lift up his courage. And\r\nwhen he seeth that peril well past, he will care for the cure of\r\nhis other faults afterward. Howbeit, even in the giving of his\r\ncomfort, he may find ways enough in such wise to temper his words\r\nthat the men may take occasion of good courage and yet far from\r\noccasion of new relapse into his former sin. For the great part of\r\nhis counsel shall be to encourage him to amendment, and that is,\r\nperdy, far from falling into sin again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00431\"\u003eVINCENT: I think, uncle, that folk fall into this ungracious\r\nmind, through the devil\u0027s temptation, by many more means than one.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00432\"\u003eANTHONY: That is, cousin, very true. For the devil taketh his\r\noccasions as he seeth them fall convenient for him. Some he\r\nstirreth to it for weariness of themselves after some great loss,\r\nsome for fear of horrible bodily harm, and some (as I said) for\r\nfear of worldly shame.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00433\"\u003eOne I knew myself who had been long reputed for a right honest\r\nman, who was fallen into such a fancy that he was well near worn\r\naway with it. But what he was tempted to do, that would he tell no\r\nman. But he told me that he was sore cumbered and that it always\r\nran in his mind that folk\u0027s fancies were fallen from him, and that\r\nthey esteemed not his wit as they were wont to do, but ever his\r\nmind gave him that the people began to take him for a fool. And\r\nfolk of truth did not so at all, but reputed him both for wise and\r\nhonest.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00434\"\u003eTwo others I knew who were marvellous afraid that they would kill\r\nthemselves, and could tell me no cause wherefore they so feared it\r\nexcept that their own mind so gave them. Neither had they any loss\r\nnor no such thing toward them, nor none occasion of any worldly\r\nshame (the one was in body very well liking and lusty), but\r\nwondrous weary were they both twain of that mind. And always they\r\nthought that they would not do it for anything, and nevertheless\r\nthey feared they would. And wherefore they so feared neither of\r\nthem both could tell. And the one, lest he should do it, desired\r\nhis friends to bind him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00435\"\u003eVINCENT: This is, uncle, a marvellous strange manner.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00436\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, I suppose many of them are in this\r\ncase.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00437\"\u003eThe devil, as I said before, seeketh his occasions. For as St.\r\nPeter saith, \"Your adversary the devil as a roaring lion goeth\r\nabout seeking whom he may devour.\" He marketh well, therefore, the\r\nstate and condition that every man standeth in, not only\r\nconcerning these outward things (lands, possessions, goods,\r\nauthority, fame, favour, or hatred of the world), but also men\u0027s\r\ncomplexions within them—health or sickness, good humours or bad,\r\nby which they be light-hearted or lumpish, strong-hearted or faint\r\nand feeble of spirit, bold and hardy or timorous and fearful of\r\ncourage. And according as these things minister him matter of\r\ntemptation, so useth he himself in the manner of his temptation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00438\"\u003eNow likewise as in such folk as are full of young warm lusty blood\r\nand other humours exciting the flesh to filthy voluptuous living,\r\nthe devil useth to make those things his instruments in tempting\r\nthem and provoking them to it; and as, where he findeth some folk\r\nfull of hot blood and choler, he maketh those humours his\r\ninstruments to set their hearts on fire in wrath and fierce\r\nfurious anger; so where he findeth some folk who, through some\r\ndull melancholy humours, are naturally disposed to fear, he\r\ncasteth sometimes such a fearful imagination into their mind that\r\nwithout help of God they can never cast it out of their heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00439\"\u003eSome, at the sudden falling of some horrible thought into their\r\nmind, have not only had a great abomination at it (which\r\nabomination they well and virtuously had), but the devil, using\r\ntheir melancholy humour and thereby their natural inclination to\r\nfear for his instruments, hath caused them to conceive therewith\r\nsuch a deep dread besides that they think themselves with that\r\nabominable thought to be fallen into such an outrageous sin that\r\nthey are ready to fall into despair of grace, believing that God\r\nhath given them over for ever. Whereas that thought, were it never\r\nso horrible and never so abominable, is yet unto those who never\r\nlike it, but ever still abhor it and strive still against it,\r\nmatter of conflict and merit and not any sin at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00440\"\u003eSome have, with holding a knife in their hand, suddenly thought\r\nupon the killing of themselves, and forthwith, in devising what a\r\nhorrible thing it would be if they should mishap to do so, have\r\nfallen into a fear that they would do so indeed. And they have,\r\nwith long and often thinking thereon, imprinted that fear so sore\r\nin their imagination, that some of them have not afterwards cast\r\nit off without great difficulty. And some could never in their\r\nlife be rid of it, but have afterward in conclusion miserably done\r\nit indeed. But like as, where the devil useth the blood of a man\u0027s\r\nown body toward his purpose in provoking him to lechery, the man\r\nmust and doth with grace and wisdom resist it; so must the man do\r\nwhose melancholy humours and devil abuseth, toward the casting of\r\nsuch a desperate dread into his heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00441\"\u003eVINCENT: I pray you, uncle, what advice would be to be given him\r\nin such a case?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00442\"\u003eANTHONY: Surely, methinketh his help standeth in two things:\r\ncounsel and prayer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00443\"\u003eFirst, as concerning counsel: Like as it may be that he hath two\r\nthings that hold him in his temptation; that is, some evil humours\r\nof his own body, and the cursed devil that abuseth them to his\r\npernicious purpose, so must he needs against them twain the\r\ncounsel of two manner of folk; that is, physicians for the body\r\nand physicians for the soul. The bodily physician shall consider\r\nwhat abundance of these evil humours the man hath, that the devil\r\nmaketh his instruments, in moving the man toward that fearful\r\naffection. And he shall proceed by fitting diet and suitable\r\nmedicines to resist them, as well as by purgations to disburden\r\nthe body of them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00444\"\u003eLet no man think it strange that I would advise a man to take\r\ncounsel for the body, in such spiritual suffering. For since the\r\nbody and the soul are so knit and joined together that they both\r\nmake between them one person, the distemperance of either one\r\nengendereth sometimes the distemperance of both twain. And\r\ntherefore I would advise every man in every sickness of the body\r\nto be shriven and to seek of a good spiritual physician the sure\r\nhealth of his soul. For this shall not only serve against peril\r\nthat may peradventure grow further by that sickness than in the\r\nbeginning men think were likely, but the comfort of it (and God\u0027s\r\nfavour increasing with it) shall also do the body good. For this\r\ncause the blessed apostle St. James exhorteth men in their bodily\r\nsickness to call in the priests, and saith that it shall do them\r\ngood both in body and soul. So likewise would I sometimes advise\r\nsome men, in some sickness of the soul, besides their spiritual\r\nleech, to take also some counsel of the physician for the body.\r\nSome who are wretchedly disposed, and yet long to be more vicious\r\nthan they are, go to physicians and apothecaries and enquire what\r\nthings may serve them to make them more lusty to their foul\r\nfleshly delight. And would it then be any folly, on the other\r\nhand, if he who feeleth himself against his will much moved unto\r\nsuch uncleanness, should enquire of the physician what things,\r\nwithout diminishing his health, would be suitable for the\r\ndiminishing of such foul fleshly motion?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00445\"\u003eOf spiritual counsel, the first is to be shriven, that the devil\r\nhave not the more power upon him by reason of his other sins.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00446\"\u003eVINCENT: I have heard some say, uncle, that when such folk have\r\nbeen at shrift, their temptation hath been the more hot upon them\r\nthan it was before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00447\"\u003eANTHONY: That think I very well, but that is a special token that\r\nshrift is wholesome for them, since the devil is most wroth with\r\nit. You find, in some places in the gospel, that the devil did\r\nmost trouble the person whom he possessed when he saw that Christ\r\nwould cast him out. Otherwise, we must let the devil do what he\r\nwill, if we fear his anger, for with every good deed will he wax\r\nangry.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00448\"\u003eThen is it in his shrift to be told him that he not only feareth\r\nmore than he needeth, but also feareth where he needeth not. And\r\nbesides that, he is sorry for a thing for which, unless he will\r\nwillingly turn his good into his harm, he hath more cause to be\r\nglad.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00449\"\u003eFirst, if he have cause to fear, yet feareth he more than he\r\nneedeth. For there is no devil so diligent to destroy him as God\r\nis to preserve him; nor no devil so near him to do him harm as God\r\nis to do him good. Nor are all the devils in hell so strong to\r\ninvade and assault him as God is to defend him if he distrust him\r\nnot but faithfully put his trust in him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00450\"\u003eHe feareth also where he needeth not. For he dreadeth that he were\r\nout of God\u0027s favour, because such horrible thoughts fall into his\r\nmind, but he must understand that while they fall into his mind\r\nagainst his will they are not imputed unto him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00451\"\u003eHe is, finally, sad of that of which he may be glad. For since he\r\ntaketh such thoughts displeasantly, and striveth and fighteth\r\nagainst them, he hath thereby a good token that he is in God\u0027s\r\nfavour, and that God assisteth him and helpeth him. And he may\r\nmake himself sure that so will God never cease to do, unless he\r\nhimself fail and fall from him first. And beside that, this\r\nconflict that he hath against the temptation shall, if he will not\r\nfall where he need not, be an occasion of his merit and of a right\r\ngreat reward in heaven. And the pain that he taketh therein shall\r\nfor so much, as Master Gerson well showeth, stand him in stead of\r\nhis purgatory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00452\"\u003eThe manner of the fight against temptation must stand in three\r\nthings: that is, in resisting, and in contemning, and in the\r\ninvocation of help.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00453\"\u003eResist must a man for his own part with reason, considering what a\r\nfolly it would be to fall where he need not, since he is not\r\ndriven to it in avoiding of any other pain or in hope of winning\r\nany manner of pleasure, but contrariwise he would by that fall\r\nlose everlasting bliss and fall into everlasting pain. And if it\r\nwere in avoiding of other great pain, yet could he avoid none so\r\ngreat thereby as the one he should thereby fall into.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00454\"\u003eHe must also consider that a great part of this temptation is in\r\neffect but the fear of his own fancy, the dread that he hath lest\r\nhe shall once be driven to it. For he may be sure that (unless he\r\nhimself will, of his own folly) all the devils in hell can never\r\ndrive him to it, but his own foolish imagination may. For it\r\nfareth in his temptation like a man going over a high bridge who\r\nwaxeth so afraid, through his own fancy, that he falleth down\r\nindeed, when he would otherwise be able enough to pass over\r\nwithout any danger. For a man upon such a bridge, if folk call\r\nupon him, \"You fall, you fall!\" may fall with the fancy that he\r\ntaketh thereof; although, if folk looked merrily upon him and\r\nsaid, \"There is no danger therein,\" he would pass over the bridge\r\nwell enough—and he would not hesitate to run upon it, if it were\r\nbut a foot from the ground. So, in this temptation, the devil\r\nfindeth the man of his own foolish fancy afraid and then crieth in\r\nthe ear of his heart, \"Thou fallest, thou fallest!\" and maketh the\r\nfoolish man afraid that he should, at every foot, fall indeed. And\r\nthe devil so wearieth him with that continual fear, if he give the\r\near of his heart to him, that at last he withdraweth his mind from\r\ndue remembrance of God, and then driveth him to that deadly\r\nmischief indeed. Therefore, like as, against the vice of the\r\nflesh, the victory standeth not all in the fight, but sometimes\r\nalso in the flight (saving that it is indeed a part of a wise\r\nwarrior\u0027s fight to flee from his enemies\u0027 traps), so must a man in\r\nthis temptation too, not only resist it always with reasoning\r\nagainst it, but sometimes set it clear at right naught and cast it\r\noff when it cometh and not once regard it so much as to vouchsafe\r\nto think thereon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00455\"\u003eSome folk have been clearly rid of such pestilent fancies with\r\nvery full contempt of them, making a cross upon their hearts and\r\nbidding the devil avaunt. And sometimes they laugh him to scorn\r\ntoo, and then turn their mind unto some other matter. And when the\r\ndevil hath seen that they have set so little by him, after certain\r\nessays, made in such times as he thought most fitting, he hath\r\ngiven that temptation quite over. And this he doth not only\r\nbecause the proud spirit cannot endure to be mocked, but also\r\nlest, with much tempting the man to the sin to which he could not\r\nin conclusion bring him, he should much increase his merit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00456\"\u003eThe final fight is by invocation of help unto God, both praying\r\nfor himself and desiring others also to pray for him—both poor\r\nfolk for his alms and other good folk of their charity, especially\r\ngood priests in that holy sacred service of the Mass. And not only\r\nthem but also his own good angel and other holy saints such as his\r\ndevotion specially doth stand unto. Or, if he be learned, let him\r\nuse then the litany, with the holy suffrages that follow, which is\r\na prayer in the church of marvellous old antiquity. For it was not\r\nmade first, as some believe, by that holy man St. Gregory (which\r\nopinion arose from the fact that, in the time of a great\r\npestilence in Rome, he caused the whole city to go in solemn\r\nprocession with it), but it was in use in the church many years\r\nbefore St. Gregory\u0027s days, as well appeareth by the books of other\r\nholy doctors and saints, who were dead hundreds of years before\r\nSt. Gregory was born.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00457\"\u003eAnd holy St. Bernard giveth counsel that every man should make\r\nsuit unto angels and saints to pray for him to God in the things\r\nthat he would have furthered by his holy hand. If any man will\r\nstick at that, and say it needs not, because God can hear us\r\nhimself; and will also say that it is perilous to do so because\r\n(they say) we are not so counseled by scripture, I will not\r\ndispute the matter here. He who will not do it, I hinder him not\r\nto leave it undone. But yet for mine own part, I will as well\r\ntrust to the counsel of St. Bernard, and reckon him for as good\r\nand as well learned in scripture, as any man whom I hear say the\r\ncontrary. And better dare I jeopard my soul with the soul of St.\r\nBernard than with that of him who findeth that fault in his\r\ndoctrine.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00458\"\u003eUnto God himself every good man counseleth to have recourse above\r\nall. And, in this temptation, to have special remembrance of\r\nChrist\u0027s passion, and pray him for the honour of his death, the\r\nground of man\u0027s salvation, to keep this person thus tempted form\r\nthat damnable death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00459\"\u003eSpecial verses may be drawn out of the psalter, against the\r\ndevil\u0027s wicked temptations—as, for example, \u003ci\u003e\"Exsurgat Deus et\r\ndissipentur inimici eius, et fugiant qui oderunt eum a facie\r\neius,\"\u003c/i\u003e and many others—which in such horrible temptation are\r\npleasing to God and to the devil very terrible. But none is more\r\nterrible nor more odious to the devil than the words with which\r\nour Saviour drove him away himself: \u003ci\u003e\"Vade Sathana.\"\u003c/i\u003e And no\r\nprayer is more acceptable unto God, nor more effectual in its\r\nmatter, than those words which our Saviour hath taught us himself,\r\n\u003ci\u003e\"Ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.\"\u003c/i\u003e And I\r\ndoubt not, by God\u0027s grace, but that he who in such a temptation\r\nwill use good counsel and prayer and keep himself in good virtuous\r\nbusiness and good virtuous company and abide in the faithful hope\r\nof God\u0027s help, he shall have the truth of God (as the prophet\r\nsaith in the verse afore rehearsed) so compass him about with a\r\nshield that he shall not need to dread this night\u0027s fear of this\r\nwicked temptation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00460\"\u003eAnd thus will I finish this piece of the night\u0027s fear. And glad am\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nI that we are past it, and come once unto the day, to those other\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nwords of the prophet, \u003ci\u003e\"A sagitta volante in die.\"\u003c/i\u003e For methinketh\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nI have made it a long night!\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00461\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, so have you, but we have not slept in\r\nit, but been very well occupied. But now I fear that unless you\r\nmake here a pause till you have dined, you shall keep yourself\r\nfrom your dinner over-long.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00462\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, nay, cousin, for I broke my fast even as you came\r\nin. And also you shall find this night and this day like a winter\r\nday and a winter night. For as the winter hath short days and long\r\nnights, so shall you find that I made you not this fearful night\r\nso long but what I shall make you this light courageous day as\r\nshort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00463\"\u003eAnd so shall the matter require well of itself indeed. For in\r\nthese words of the prophet, \"The truth of God shall compass thee\r\nround about with a shield from the arrow flying in the day,\" I\r\nunderstand the arrow of pride, with which the devil tempteth a\r\nman, not in the night (that is, in tribulation and adversity), for\r\nthat time is too discomfortable and too fearful for pride, but in\r\nthe day (that is, in prosperity), for that time is full of\r\nlightsome pleasure and courage. But surely this worldly prosperity\r\nin which a man so rejoiceth and of which the devil maketh him so\r\nproud, is but a very short winter day. For we begin, many full\r\npoor and cold, and up we fly like an arrow shot into the air. And\r\nyet when we be suddenly shot up into the highest, ere we be well\r\nwarm there, down we come unto the cold ground again. And then even\r\nthere stick we still. And yet for the short while that we be\r\nupward and aloft—Lord, how lusty and how proud we be, buzzing\r\nabove busily, as a bumblebee flieth about in summer, never aware\r\nthat she shall die in winter! And so fare many of us, God help us.\r\nFor in the short winter day of worldly wealth and prosperity, this\r\nflying arrow of the devil, this high spirit of pride, shot out of\r\nthe devil\u0027s bow and piercing through our heart, beareth us up in\r\nour affection aloft into the clouds, where we think we sit on the\r\nrainbow and overlook the world under us, accounting in the regard\r\nof our own glory such other poor souls as were peradventure wont\r\nto be our fellows for silly poor pismires and ants.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00464\"\u003eBut though this arrow of pride fly never so high in the clouds,\r\nand though the man whom it carrieth up so high be never so joyful\r\nthereof, yet let him remember that, be this arrow never so light,\r\nit hath yet a heavy iron head. And therefore, fly it never so\r\nhigh, down must it needs come, and on the ground must it light.\r\nAnd sometimes it falleth not in a very cleanly place, but the\r\npride turneth into rebuke and shame and there is then all the\r\nglory gone.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00465\"\u003eOf this arrow speaketh the wise man in the fifth chapter of the\r\nbook of Wisdom, where he saith in the person of them that in pride\r\nand vanity passed the time of this present life, and after that so\r\nspent, passed hence into hell: \"What hath pride profited us? Or\r\nwhat good hath the glory of our riches done unto us? Passed are\r\nall those things like a shadow . . . or like an arrow shot out\r\ninto the place appointed; the air that was divided is forthwith\r\nreturned unto the place, and in such wise closed together again\r\nthat the way is not perceived in which the arrow went. And in like\r\nwise we, as soon as we were born, are forthwith vanished away, and\r\nhave left no token of any good virtue behind us, but are consumed\r\nand wasted and come to naught in our malignity. They, lo, that\r\nhave lived here in sin, such words have they spoken when they lay\r\nin hell.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00466\"\u003eHere shall you, good cousin, consider, that whereas the scripture\r\nhere speaketh of the arrow shot into its place appointed or\r\nintended, in the shooting of this arrow of pride there be divers\r\npurposings and appointings. For the proud man himself hath no\r\ncertain purpose or appointment at any mark, butt, or prick upon\r\nearth, at which he determineth to shoot and there to stick and\r\ntarry. But ever he shooteth as children do, who love to shoot up\r\ncop-high, to see how high their arrow can fly up. But now doth the\r\ndevil intend and appoint a certain mark, surely set in a place into\r\nwhich he purposeth—fly this arrow never so high and the proud\r\nheart on it—to have them both alight at last, and that place is in\r\nthe very pit of hell. There is set the devil\u0027s well-acquainted\r\nprick and his very just mark. And with his pricking shaft of pride\r\nhe hath by himself a plain proof and experience that down upon this\r\nprick (unless it be stopped by some grace of God on the way) the\r\nsoul that flieth up with it can never fail to fall. For when he\r\nhimself was in heaven and began to fly cop-high, with the lusty\r\nlight flight of pride, saying, \"I will fly up above the stars and\r\nset my throne on the sides of the north, and will be like unto the\r\nHighest,\" long ere he could fly up half so high as he said in his\r\nheart that he would, he was turned from a bright glorious angel\r\ninto a dark deformed devil, and from flying any further upward,\r\ndown was he thrown into the deep dungeon of hell.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00467\"\u003eNow may it, peradventure, cousin, seem that, since this kind of\r\ntemptation of pride is no tribulation or pain, all this that we\r\nspeak of this sorrow of pride flying forth in the day of\r\nprosperity, would be beside our matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00468\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, mine uncle, and so seemed it unto me. And\r\nsomewhat was I minded so to say to you, too, saving that, whether\r\nit were properly pertaining to the present matter or somewhat\r\ndigressing from it, methought it was good matter and such as I had\r\nno wish to leave.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00469\"\u003eANTHONY: But now must you consider, cousin, that though\r\nprosperity be contrary to tribulation, yet unto many a good man\r\nthe devil\u0027s temptation to pride in prosperity is a greater\r\ntribulation, and more hath need of good comfort and good counsel\r\nboth, than he who never felt it would believe. And that is the\r\nthing, cousin, that maketh me speak of it as of a thing proper to\r\nthis matter. For, cousin, as it is a right hard thing to touch\r\npitch and never defile the fingers, to put flax unto fire and yet\r\nkeep them from burning, to keep a serpent in thy bosom and yet be\r\nsafe from stinging, to put young men with young women without\r\ndanger of foul fleshly desire—so it is hard for any person,\r\neither man or woman, in great worldly wealth and much prosperity,\r\nso to withstand the suggestions of the devil and occasions given\r\nby the world that they keep themselves from the deadly danger of\r\nambitious glory. And if a man fall into it, there followeth upon\r\nit a whole flood of all unhappy mischief: arrogant manner, high\r\nsolemn bearing, overlooking the poor in word and countenance,\r\ndispleasant and disdainful behaviour, ravine, extortion,\r\noppression, hatred and cruelty.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00470\"\u003eNow, many a good man, cousin, come into great authority, casteth\r\nin his mind the peril of such occasions of pride as the devil\r\ntaketh of prosperity to make his instruments of, with which to\r\nmove men to such high point of presumption as engendereth so many\r\ngreat evils. And, feeling the devil therewith offering him\r\nsuggestions to it, he is sore troubled therewith. And some fall so\r\nafraid of it that even in the day of prosperity they fall into the\r\nnight\u0027s fear of pusillanimity, and they leave the things undone in\r\nwhich they might use themselves well. And mistrusting the aid and\r\nhelp of God in holding them upright in their temptations, whereby\r\nfor faint heart they leave off good business in which they would\r\nbe well occupied. And, under pretext (as it seemeth to themselves)\r\nof humble heart and meekness, and of serving God in contemplation\r\nand silence, they seek their own ease and earthly rest unawares.\r\nAnd with this, if it be so, God is not well content.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00471\"\u003eHowbeit, if it be so that a man, by the experience that he hath of\r\nhimself, perceiveth that in wealth and authority he doth his own\r\nsoul harm, and cannot do the good that to his part appertaineth;\r\nbut seeth the things that he should set his hands to sustain,\r\ndecay through his default and fall to ruin under him, and seeth\r\nthat to the amendment thereof he leaveth his own duty undone; then\r\nwould I in any wise advise him to leave off that thing—be it\r\nspiritual benefice that he have, parsonage or bishopric, or\r\ntemporal office and authority—and rather give it over quite and\r\ndraw himself aside and serve God, than to take the worldly worship\r\nand commodity for himself, with incommodity of those whom his duty\r\nwould be to profit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00472\"\u003eBut, on the other hand, he may not see the contrary but what he\r\nmay do his duty conveniently well, and may fear nothing but that\r\nthe temptations of ambition and pride may peradventure turn his\r\ngood purpose and make him decline unto sin. I deny not that it is\r\nwell done to stand always in moderate fear, for the scripture\r\nsaith, \"Blessed is the man that is always fearful,\" and St. Paul\r\nsaith, \"He that standeth, let him look that he fall not.\" Yet is\r\nover-much fear perilous and draweth toward the mistrust of God\u0027s\r\ngracious help. This immoderate fear and faint heart holy scripture\r\nforbiddeth, saying, \"Be not feeble-hearted or timorous.\" Let such\r\na man therefore temper his fear with good hope, and think that\r\nsince God hath set him in that place (if he think that God have\r\nset him in it), God will assist him with his grace to use it well.\r\nHowbeit, if he came to it by simony or some such other evils\r\nmeans, then that would be one good reason wherefore he should\r\nrather leave it off. But otherwise let him continue in his good\r\nbusiness. And, against the devil\u0027s provocation unto evil, let him\r\nbless himself and call unto God and pray, and look that the devil\r\ntempt him not to lean the more toward the contrary.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00473\"\u003eLet him pity and comfort those who are in distress and affliction.\r\nI mean not that he should let every malefactor pass forth\r\nunpunished, and freely run out and rob at random. But in his heart\r\nlet him be sorry to see that of necessity, for fear of decaying\r\nthe common weal, men are driven to put malefactors to pain. And\r\nyet where he findeth good tokens and likelihood of amendment,\r\nthere let him help all that he can that mercy may be had. There\r\nshall never lack desperately disposed wretched enough besides,\r\nupon whom, as an example, justice can proceed. Let him think, in\r\nhis own heart, that every poor beggar is his fellow.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00474\"\u003eVINCENT: That will be very hard, uncle, for an honourable man to\r\ndo, when he beholdeth himself richly apparelled and the beggar\r\nrigged in his rags.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00475\"\u003eANTHONY: If there were here, cousin, two men who were both\r\nbeggars, and afterward a great rich man would take one unto him,\r\nand tell him that for a little time he would have him in his\r\nhouse, and thereupon arrayed him in silk and gave him a great bag\r\nby his side, filled even with gold, but giving him this catch\r\ntherewith: that, within a little while, out he should go in his\r\nold rags again, and bear never a penny with him—if this beggar\r\nmet his fellow now, while his gay gown was on, might he not, for\r\nall his gay gear, take him for his fellow still? And would he not\r\nbe a very fool if, for a wealth of a few weeks, he would think\r\nhimself far his better?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00476\"\u003eVINCENT: Yes, uncle, if the difference in their state were no\r\nother.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00477\"\u003eANTHONY: Surely, cousin, methinketh that in this world, between\r\nthe richest and the most poor, the difference is scant so much. For\r\nlet the highest look on the most base, and consider how they both\r\ncame into this world. And then let him consider further that,\r\nhowsoever rich he be now, he shall yet, within a while—\r\nperadventure less than one week—walk out again as poor as that\r\nbeggar shall. And then, by my troth, methinketh this rich man much\r\nmore than mad if, for the wealth of a little while—haply less than\r\none week—he reckon himself in earnest any better than the beggar\u0027s\r\nfellow.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00478\"\u003eAnd less than thus can no man think, who hath any natural wit and\r\nwell useth it. But now a Christian man, cousin, who hath the light\r\nof faith, he cannot fail to think much further in this thing. For\r\nhe will think not only upon his bare coming hither and his bare\r\ngoing hence again, but also the dreadful judgment of God, and upon\r\nthe fearful pains of hell and the inestimable joys of heaven. And\r\nin the considering of these things, he will call to remembrance\r\nthat peradventure when this beggar and he are both departed hence,\r\nthe beggar may be suddenly set up in such royalty that well were\r\nhe himself that ever was he born if he might be made his fellow.\r\nAnd he who well bethinketh him, cousin, upon these things, I\r\nverily think that the arrow of pride flying forth in the day of\r\nworldly wealth shall never so wound his heart that ever it shall\r\nbear him up one foot.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00479\"\u003eBut now, to the intent that he may think on such things the\r\nbetter, let him use often to resort to confession. And there let\r\nhim open his heart and, by the mouth of some virtuous ghostly\r\nfather, have such things often renewed in his remembrance. Let him\r\nalso choose himself some secret solitary place in his own house,\r\nas far from noise and company as he conveniently can, and thither\r\nlet him sometimes secretly resort alone, imagining himself as one\r\ngoing out of the world even straight unto the giving up his\r\nreckoning unto God of his sinful living. There, before an altar or\r\nsome pitiful image of Christ\u0027s bitter passion, the beholding of\r\nwhich may put him in remembrance of the thing and move him to\r\ndevout compassion, let him then kneel down or fall prostrate as at\r\nthe feet of almighty God, verily believing him to be there\r\ninvisibly present, as without any doubt he is. There let him open\r\nhis heart to God and confess his faults, such as he can call to\r\nmind, and pray God for forgiveness. Let him call to remembrance\r\nthe benefits that God hath given him, either in general among\r\nother men or privately to himself, and give him humble hearty\r\nthanks for them. There let him declare unto God the temptations of\r\nthe devil, the suggestions of the flesh, the occasions of the\r\nworld—and of his worldly friends, much worse many times in\r\ndrawing a man from God than are his most mortal enemies, as our\r\nSaviour witnesseth himself where he saith, \"The enemies of a man\r\nare they that are his own familiars.\" There let him lament and\r\nbewail unto God his own frailty, negligence, and sloth in\r\nresisting and withstanding of temptation; his readiness and\r\nproneness to fall into it. There let him lamentably beseech God,\r\nof his gracious aid and help, to strengthen his infirmity—both to\r\nkeep him from falling and, when he by his own fault misfortuneth\r\nto fall, then with the helping hand of his merciful grace to lift\r\nhim up and set him on his feet in the state of his grace again.\r\nAnd let this man not doubt but that God heareth him and granteth\r\nhim gladly his boon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00480\"\u003eAnd so, dwelling in the faithful trust of God\u0027s help, he shall\r\nwell use his prosperity, and persevere in his good profitable\r\nbusiness, and shall have the truth of God so compass him about\r\nwith a shield of his heavenly defence that he shall not need to\r\ndread of the devil\u0027s arrow flying in the day of worldly wealth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00481\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, I like this good counsel well. And I\r\nshould think that those who are in prosperity and take such order\r\ntherein, may do much good both to themselves and to other folk.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00482\"\u003eANTHONY: I beseech our Lord, cousin, to put this and better in\r\nthe mind of every man who needeth it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00483\"\u003eAnd now will I touch one word or twain of the third temptation, of\r\nwhich the prophet speaketh in these words: \"From the business\r\nwalking in the darknesses.\" And then will we call for our dinner,\r\nleaving the last temptation—that is, \"from the incursion and the\r\ndevil of the midday\"—till afternoon. And then shall we with that,\r\nGod willing, make an end of all this matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00484\"\u003eVINCENT: Our Lord reward you, good uncle, for your good labour\r\nwith me. But, for our Lord\u0027s sake, take good heed, uncle, that you\r\nforbear not your dinner over-long.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00485\"\u003eANTHONY: Fear not that, cousin, I warrant you, for this piece\r\nwill I make you but short.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00487\"\u003eThe prophet saith in the said psalm, \"He that dwelleth in the\r\nfaithful hope of God\u0027s help, he shall abide in the protection or\r\nsafeguard of God in heaven. And thou who art such a one, the truth\r\nof him shall so compass thee about with a shield, that thou shalt\r\nnot be afraid of the business walking about in the darknesses.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00488\"\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eNegotium,\u003c/i\u003e the business,\" is here, cousin, the name of the devil\r\nwho is ever full of busy-ness in tempting folk to much evil\r\nbusiness. His time of tempting is in the darknesses. For you know\r\nwell that beside the full night, which is the deep dark, there are\r\ntwo times of darkness, the one ere the morning wax light, the\r\nother when the evening waxeth dark. Two times of like darkness are\r\nthere also in the soul of man: the one ere the light of grace be\r\nwell sprung up in the heart, the other when the light of grace\r\nbeginneth out of the heart to walk fast away. In these two\r\ndarknesses this devil who is called Business busily walketh about,\r\nand he carrieth about with him such foolish folk as will follow\r\nhim and setteth them to work with many a manner of bumbling\r\nbusiness.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00489\"\u003eHe setteth some, I say, to seek the pleasures of the flesh in\r\neating, drinking, and other filthy delight. And some he setteth\r\nabout incessant seeking for these worldly goods. And of such busy\r\nfolk whom this devil called Business, walking about in the\r\ndarknesses, setteth to work with such business, our Saviour saith\r\nin the gospel, \"He that walketh in darknesses knoweth not whither\r\nhe goeth.\" And surely in such a state are they—they neither know\r\nwhich way they go, nor whither. For verily they walk round about\r\nas it were in a round maze; when they think themselves at an end\r\nof their business, they are but at the beginning again. For is not\r\nthe going about the serving of the flesh a business that hath no\r\nend, but evermore from the end cometh to the beginning again? Go\r\nthey never so full-fed to bed, yet evermore on the morrow, as new\r\nthey are to be fed again as they were the day before. Thus fareth\r\nit by the belly; thus fareth it by those parts that are beneath\r\nthe belly. And as for covetousness, it fareth like the fire—the\r\nmore wood there cometh to it, the more fervent and the more greedy\r\nit is.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00490\"\u003eBut now hath this maze a centre or middle place, into which these\r\nbusy folk are sometimes conveyed suddenly when they think they are\r\nnot yet far from the brink. The centre or middle place of this\r\nmaze is hell. And into that place are these busy folk who with\r\nthis devil of business walk about in this busy maze, in the\r\ndarkness, sometimes suddenly conveyed, unaware whither they are\r\ngoing. And that may be even while they think that they have not\r\nwalked far from the beginning, and that they have yet a great way\r\nto walk about before they should come to the end. But of these\r\nfleshly folk walking in this busy pleasant maze the scripture\r\ndeclareth the end: \"They lead their life in pleasure, and at a pop\r\ndown they descend into hell.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00491\"\u003eOf the covetous man saith St. Paul, \"They that long to be rich do\r\nfall into temptation and into the snare of the devil, and into\r\nmany unprofitable and harmful desires, which drown men into death\r\nand destruction.\" Lo, here in the middle place of this busy maze,\r\nthe snare of the devil, the place of perdition and destruction, in\r\nwhich they fall and are caught and drowned ere they are aware!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00492\"\u003eThe covetous rich man also that our Saviour speaketh of in the\r\ngospel, who had so great plenty of corn that his barns would not\r\nreceive it, but intended to make his barns larger, and said unto\r\nhimself that he would make merry many days—he thought, you know,\r\nthat he had a great way yet to walk. But God said unto him, \"Fool,\r\nthis night shall they take thy soul from thee, and then all these\r\ngoods that thou hast gathered, whose shall they be?\" Here, you\r\nsee, he fell suddenly into the deep centre of this busy maze, so\r\nthat he was fallen full into it ere ever he had thought he should\r\nhave come near to it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00493\"\u003eNow this I know very well: Those who are walking about in this\r\nbusy maze take not their business for any tribulation. And yet are\r\nthere many of them as sore wearied in it, and sore panged and\r\npained, their pleasures being so short, so little, and so few, and\r\ntheir displeasures and their griefs so great, so continual, and so\r\nmany. It maketh me think on a good worshipful man who, when he\r\ndivers times beheld what pain his wife took in tightly binding up\r\nher hair to make her a fair large forehead, and with tightly\r\nbracing in her body to make her middle small (both twain to her\r\ngreat pain) for the pride of a little foolish praise, he said unto\r\nher, \"Forsooth, madam, if God give you not hell, he shall do you a\r\ngreat wrong. For it must needs be your own very right, for you buy\r\nit very dear and take very great pain therefore!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00494\"\u003eThose who now lie in hell for their wretched living here do now\r\nperceive their folly in the more pain that they took here for the\r\nless pleasure. There confess they now their folly, and cry out,\r\n\"We have been wearied in the way of wickedness.\" And yet, while\r\nthey were walking in that way, they would not rest themselves, but\r\nran on still in their weariness, and put themselves still unto\r\nmore pain and more, for a little childish pleasure, short and soon\r\ngone. For that they took all that labour and pain, beside the\r\neverlasting pain that followed it for their further advantage\r\nafterward. So help me God, but I verily think many a man buyeth\r\nhell here with so much pain that he might have bought heaven with\r\nless than half!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00495\"\u003eBut yet, as I say, while these fleshly and worldly busy folk are\r\nwalking about in this round busy maze of the devil called Business\r\nwho walketh about in these two times of darkness, their wits are\r\nso bewitched by the secret enchantment of the devil that they mark\r\nnot the great long miserable weariness and pain that the devil\r\nmaketh them take and endure about naught. And therefore they take\r\nit for no tribulation, so that they need no comfort. And therefore\r\nit is not for their sakes that I speak of all this, saving that it\r\nmay serve them for counsel toward the perceiving of their own\r\nfoolish misery, through the help of God\u0027s grace, beginning to\r\nshine upon them again. But there are very good folk and virtuous\r\nwho are in the daylight of grace, and yet the devil tempteth them\r\nbusily to such fleshly delight. And since they see plenty of\r\nworldly substance fall unto them, and feel the devil in like wise\r\nbusily tempt them to set their hearts upon it, they are sore\r\ntroubled therewith. And they begin to fear thereby that they are\r\nnot with God in the light but with this devil that the prophet\r\ncalleth \u003ci\u003eNegotium\u003c/i\u003e—that is to say, Business—walking about in the\r\ntwo times of darknesses.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00496\"\u003eHowbeit, as I said before of those good folk and gracious who are\r\nin the worldly wealth of great power and authority and thereby\r\nfear the devil\u0027s arrow of pride, so say I now here again of these\r\nwho stand in dread of fleshly foul sin and covetousness: they do\r\nwell to stand ever in moderate fear, lest with waxing over-bold\r\nand setting the thing over-light, they might peradventure mishap\r\nto fall in thereto. Yet, since they are but tempted with it and\r\nfollow it not, to vex and trouble themselves sorely with the fear\r\nof loss of God\u0027s favour is without necessity and not always\r\nwithout peril. For, as I said before, it withdraweth the mind of a\r\nman far from the spiritual consolation of the good hope that he\r\nshould have in God\u0027s help. And as for those temptations, as long\r\nas he who is tempted followeth them not, the fight against them\r\nserveth him for matter of merit and reward in heaven, if he not\r\nonly flee the deed, the consent, and the delectation, but also (so\r\nfar as he conveniently can) flee from all occasions of them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00497\"\u003eAnd this point is in those fleshly temptations a thing easy to\r\nperceive and plain enough. But in worldly business pertaining unto\r\ncovetousness the thing is somewhat more dark and there is more\r\ndifficulty in the perceiving. And very great troublous fear of it\r\ndoth often arise in the hearts of very good folk, when the world\r\nfalleth fast unto them, because of the sore words and terrible\r\nthreats that God in holy scripture speaketh against those who are\r\nrich. As, where St. Paul saith, \"They that will be rich fall into\r\ntemptation, and into the snare of the devil.\" And where our\r\nSaviour saith himself, \"It is more easy for a camel\"—or, as some\r\nsay, \"for a great cable rope,\" for \"camelus\" so signifieth in the\r\nGreek tongue—\"to go through a needle\u0027s eye than for a rich man to\r\nenter into the kingdom of God.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00498\"\u003eNo marvel, now, if good folk who fear God take occasion of great\r\ndread at so dreadful words, when they see the worldly goods fall\r\nto them. And some stand in doubt whether it be lawful for them to\r\nkeep any goods or not. But evermore, in all those places of\r\nscripture, the having of the worldly goods is not the thing that\r\nis rebuked and threatened, but the affection that the haver\r\nunlawfully beareth to them. For where St. Paul saith, \"they that\r\nwill be made rich,\" he speaketh not of the having but of the will\r\nand desire and affection to have, and the longing for it. For that\r\ncannot be lightly without sin. For the thing that folk sore long\r\nfor, they will make many shifts to get and jeopard themselves for.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00499\"\u003eAnd to declare that the having of riches is not forbidden, but the\r\ninordinate affection of the mind sore set upon them, the prophet\r\nsaith, \"If riches flow unto you, set not your heart thereupon.\"\r\nAnd albeit that our Lord, by the said example of the camel or\r\ncable rope to come through the needle\u0027s eye, said that it is not\r\nonly hard but also impossible for a rich man to enter into the\r\nkingdom of heaven, yet he declared that though the rich man cannot\r\nget into heaven of himself, yet God, he said, can get him in well\r\nenough. For unto men he said it was impossible, but not unto God,\r\nfor \"unto God,\" he said, \"all things are possible.\" And yet,\r\nbeside that, he told of which manner of rich man he meant, who\r\ncould not get into the kingdom of heaven, saying, \"My babes, how\r\nhard is it for them that put their trust and confidence in their\r\nmoney, to enter into the kingdom of God!\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00500\"\u003eVINCENT: This is, I suppose, uncle, very true—and otherwise God\r\nforbid! For otherwise the world would be in a full hard state, if\r\nevery rich man were in such danger and peril.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00501\"\u003eANTHONY: That would it be, cousin, indeed. And so I suppose it is\r\nyet. For I fear me that to the multitude there are very few who\r\nlong not sorely to be rich. And of those who so long to be, there\r\nare also very few reserved who set not their heart very sorely\r\nthereon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00502\"\u003eVINCENT: This is, uncle, I fear me, very true, but yet not the\r\nthing that I was about to speak of. But the thing that I would\r\nhave said was this: I cannot well perceive (the world being such\r\nas it is, and so many poor people in it) how any man can be rich,\r\nand keep himself rich, without danger of damnation for it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00503\"\u003eFor all the while he seeth so many poor people who lack, while he\r\nhimself hath wherewith to give them. And their necessity he is\r\nbound in such case of duty to relieve, while he hath wherewith to\r\ndo so—so far forth that holy St. Ambrose saith that whosoever die\r\nfor default, where we might help them, we kill them. I cannot see\r\nbut that every rich man hath great cause to stand in great fear of\r\ndamnation, nor can I perceive, as I say, how he can be delivered\r\nof that fear as long as he keepeth his riches. And therefore,\r\nthough he might keep his riches if there lacked poor men and yet\r\nstand in God\u0027s favour therewith, as Abraham did and many another\r\nholy rich man since; yet with such an abundance of poor men as\r\nthere is now in every country, any man who keepeth any riches must\r\nneeds have an inordinate affection unto it, since he giveth it not\r\nout unto the poor needy persons, as the duty of charity bindeth\r\nand constraineth him to.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00504\"\u003eAnd thus, uncle, in this world at this day, meseemeth your comfort\r\nunto good men who are rich, and are troubled with fear of\r\ndamnation for the keeping, can very scantly serve.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00505\"\u003eANTHONY: Hard is it, cousin, in many manner of things, to bid or\r\nforbid, affirm or deny, reprove or approve, a matter nakedly\r\nproposed and put forth; or precisely to say \"This thing is\r\ngood,\" or \"This thing is evil,\" without consideration of the\r\ncircumstances.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00506\"\u003eHoly St. Austine telleth of a physician who gave a man in a certain\r\ndisease a medicine that helped him. The selfsame man at another\r\ntime in the selfsame disease took the selfsame medicine himself,\r\nand had of it more harm than good. This he told the physician, and\r\nasked him how the harm should have happened. \"That medicine,\" quoth\r\nhe, \"did thee no good but harm because thou tookest it when I gave\r\nit thee not.\" This answer St. Austine very well approveth, because,\r\nthough the medicine were the same, yet might there be peradventure\r\nin the sickness some such difference as the patient perceived\r\nnot—yea, or in the man himself, or in the place, or in the time of\r\nthe year. Many things might make the hindrance, for which the\r\nphysician would not then have given him the selfsame medicine that\r\nhe gave him before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00507\"\u003eTo peruse every circumstance that might, cousin, in this matter be\r\ntouched, and were to be considered and weighed, would indeed make\r\nthis part of this devil of Business a very busy piece of work and\r\na long one! But I shall open a little the point that you speak of,\r\nand shall show you what I think therein, with as few words as I\r\nconveniently can. And then will we go to dinner.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00508\"\u003eFirst, cousin, he who is a rich man and keepeth all his goods, he\r\nhath, I think, very good cause to be very afraid indeed. And yet I\r\nfear me that such folk fear the least. For they are very far from\r\nthe state of good men, since, if they keep all, they are then very\r\nfar from charity, and do, as you know well, either little alms or\r\nnone at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00509\"\u003eBut now our question, cousin, is not in what case that rich man\r\nstandeth who keepeth all, but whether we should suffer men to\r\nstand in a perilous dread and fear for the keeping of any great\r\npart. For if, by the keeping of so much as maketh a rich man\r\nstill, they stand in the state of damnation, then are the curates\r\nbound to tell them so plainly, according to the commandment of God\r\ngiven unto them all in the person of Ezechiel: \"If, when I say to\r\nthe wicked man, \u0027Thou shalt die,\u0027 thou do not show it unto him,\r\nnor speak unto him that he may be turned from his wicked way and\r\nlive, he shall soothly die in his wickedness and his blood shall I\r\nrequire of thine hand.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00510\"\u003eBut, cousin, though God invited men unto the following of himself\r\nin wilful poverty, by the leaving of everything at once for his\r\nsake—as the thing by which, being out of solicitude of worldly\r\nbusiness and far from the desire of earthly commodities, they may\r\nthe more speedily get and attain the state of spiritual\r\nperfection, and the hungry desire and longing for celestial\r\nthings—yet doth he not command every man to do so upon the peril\r\nof damnation. For where he saith, \"He that forsaketh not all that\r\never he hath, cannot be my disciple,\" he declareth well, by other\r\nwords of his own in the selfsame place a little before, what he\r\nmeaneth. For there saith he more, \"He that cometh to me, and\r\nhateth not his father, and his mother, and his wife, and his\r\nchildren, and his brethren, and his sisters, yea and his own life\r\ntoo, cannot be my disciple.\" Here meaneth our Saviour Christ that\r\nno one can be his disciple unless he love him so far above all his\r\nkin, and above his own life, too, that for the love of him, rather\r\nthan forsake him, he shall forsake them all. And so meaneth he by\r\nthose other words that whosoever do not so renounce and forsake\r\nall that ever he hath in his own heart and affection, so that he\r\nwill lose it all and let it go every whit, rather than deadly to\r\ndisplease God with the reserving of any one part of it, he cannot\r\nbe Christ\u0027s disciple. For Christ teacheth us to love God above all\r\nthings, and he loveth not God above all things who, contrary to\r\nGod\u0027s pleasure, keepeth anything that he hath. For he showeth\r\nhimself to set more by that thing than by God, since he is better\r\ncontent to lose God than it. But, as I said, to give away all, or\r\nthat no man should be rich or have substance, that find I no\r\ncommandment of.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00511\"\u003eThere are, as our Saviour saith, in the house of his father many\r\nmansions. And happy shall he be who shall have the grace to dwell\r\neven in the lowest. It seemeth verily by the gospel that those who\r\nfor God\u0027s sake patiently suffer penury, shall not only dwell in\r\nheaven above those who live here in plenty in earth, but also that\r\nheaven in some manner of wise more properly belongeth unto them and\r\nis more especially prepared for them than it is for the rich. For\r\nGod in the gospel counseleth the rich folk to buy (in a manner)\r\nheaven of them, where he saith unto the rich men, \"Make yourselves\r\nfriends of the wicked riches, that when you fail here they may\r\nreceive you into everlasting tabernacles.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00512\"\u003eBut now, although this be thus, in respect of the riches and the\r\npoverty compared together, yet if a rich man and a poor man be\r\nboth good men, there may be some other virtue beside in which the\r\nrich man may peradventure so excel that he may in heaven be far\r\nabove that poor man who was here on earth in other virtues far\r\nunder him. And the proof appeareth clear in Lazarus and Abraham.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00513\"\u003eNor I say not this to the intent to comfort rich men in heaping up\r\nriches, for a little comfort will bend them enough thereto. They\r\nare not so proud-hearted and obstinate but what they would, I\r\ndaresay, with right little exhortation be very conformable to that\r\ncounsel! But I say this for those good men to whom God giveth\r\nsubstance, and the mind to dispose it well, and yet not the mind\r\nto give it all away at once, but for good causes to keep some\r\nsubstance still. Let them not despair of God\u0027s favour for not\r\ndoing the thing which God hath given them no commandment of, nor\r\ndrawn them to by any special calling.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00514\"\u003eZachaeus, lo, who climbed up into the tree, for desire that he had\r\nto behold our Saviour: at such a time as Christ called aloud unto\r\nhim and said, \"Zachaeus, make haste and come down, for this day\r\nmust I dwell in thy house,\" he was glad and touched inwardly with\r\nspecial grace to the profit of his soul. All the people murmured\r\nmuch that Christ would call him and be so familiar with him as, of\r\nhis own offer, to come unto his house. For they knew him for the\r\nchief of the publicans, who were custom-men or toll-gatherers of\r\nthe Emperor\u0027s duties, all which whole company were among the\r\npeople sore infamous for ravine, extortion, and bribery. And then\r\nZachaeus not only was the chief of the fellowship but also was\r\ngrown greatly rich, whereby the people accounted him in their own\r\nopinion for a man very sinful and wicked. Yet he forthwith, by the\r\ninstinct of the spirit of God, in reproach of all such temerarious\r\nbold and blind judgment, given upon a man whose inward mind and\r\nsudden change they cannot see, shortly proved them all deceived.\r\nAnd he proved that our Lord had, at those few words outwardly\r\nspoken to him, so wrought in his heart within that whatsoever he\r\nwas before, he was then, unawares to them all, suddenly waxed\r\ngood. For he made haste and came down, and gladly received Christ,\r\nand said, \"Lo, Lord, the one half of my goods here I give unto\r\npoor people. And yet, over that, if I have in anything deceived\r\nany man, here am I ready to recompense him fourfold as much.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00515\"\u003eVINCENT: This was, uncle, a gracious hearing. But yet I marvel me\r\nsomewhat, wherefore Zachaeus used his words in that manner of\r\norder. For methinketh he should first have spoken of making\r\nrestitution unto those whom he had beguiled, and then spoken of\r\ngiving his alms afterward. For restitution is, you know, duty, and\r\na thing of such necessity that in respect of restitution almsdeed\r\nis but voluntary. Therefore it might seem that to put men in mind\r\nof their duty in making restitution first, and doing their alms\r\nafterward, Zachaeus would have spoken more fittingly if he had\r\nsaid first that he would make every man restitution whom he had\r\nwronged, and then give half in alms of that which remained\r\nafterward. For only that might he call clearly his own.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00516\"\u003eANTHONY: This is true, cousin, where a man hath not enough to\r\nsuffice for both. But he who hath, is not bound to leave his alms\r\nungiven to the poor man who is at hand and peradventure calleth\r\nupon him, till he go seek up all his creditors and all those whom\r\nhe hath wronged—who are peradventure so far asunder that, leaving\r\nthe one good deed undone the while, he may, before they come\r\ntogether, change that good intent again and do neither the one nor\r\nthe other. It is good always to be doing some good out of hand,\r\nwhile we think on it; grace shall the better stand with us and\r\nincrease also, to go the further in the other afterward.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00517\"\u003eAnd this I would answer, if the man had there done the one out of\r\nhand—the giving, I mean, of half in alms—and not so much as\r\nspoken of restitution till afterward. Whereas now, though he spoke\r\nthe one in order before the other (and yet all at one time) it\r\nremained still in his liberty to put them both in execution, after\r\nsuch order as he should then think expedient. But now, cousin, did\r\nthe spirit of God temper the tongue of Zachaeus in the utterance\r\nof these words in such wise that it may well appear that the\r\nsaying of the wise man is verified in them, where he saith, \"To\r\nGod it belongeth to govern the tongue.\" For here, when he said\r\nthat he would give half of his goods unto poor people and yet\r\nbeside that not only recompense any man whom he had wronged but\r\nmore than recompense him by three times as much again, he doubly\r\nreproved the false suspicion of the people. For they accounted him\r\nfor so evil that they reckoned in their mind all his goods wrongly\r\ngotten, because he was grown to substance in that office that was\r\ncommonly misused with extortion. But his words declared that he\r\nwas deep enough in his reckoning so that, if half his goods were\r\ngiven away, he would yet be well able to yield every man his due\r\nwith the other half—and yet leave himself no beggar either, for\r\nhe said not he would give away all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00518\"\u003eWould God, cousin, that every rich Christian man who is reputed\r\nright worshipful—yea, and (which yet, to my mind, is more)\r\nreckoned for right honest, too—would and could do the thing that\r\nlittle Zachaeus, that same great publican, were he Jew or were he\r\npaynim, said that he would do: that is, with less than half his\r\ngoods, to recompense every man whom he had wronged four times as\r\nmuch. Yea, yea, cousin, as much for as much, hardly! And then they\r\nwho receive it shall be content, I dare promise for them, to let\r\nthe other thrice-as-much go, and forgive it. Because that was one\r\nof the hard points of the old law, whereas Christian men must be\r\nfull of forgiving, and not require and exact their amends to the\r\nuttermost.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00519\"\u003eBut now, for our purpose here: He promised neither to give away\r\nall nor to become a beggar—no, nor yet to leave off his office\r\neither. For, albeit that he had not used it before peradventure in\r\nevery point so pure as St. John the Baptist had taught them the\r\nlesson: \"Do no more than is appointed unto you,\" yet he might both\r\nlawfully use his substance that he intended to reserve, and\r\nlawfully might use his office, too, in receiving the prince\u0027s\r\nduty, according to Christ\u0027s express commandment, \"Give the Emperor\r\nthose things that are his,\" refusing all extortion and bribery\r\nbesides. Yet our Lord, well approving his good purpose, and\r\nexacting no further of him concerning his worldly behaviour,\r\nanswered and said, \"This day is health come to this house, for he\r\ntoo is the son of Abraham.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00520\"\u003eBut now I forget not, cousin, that in effect you conceded to me\r\nthus far: that a man may be rich and yet not out of the state of\r\ngrace, nor out of God\u0027s favour. Howbeit, you think that, though it\r\nmay be so in some time or in some other place, yet at this time\r\nand in this place, or any other such in which there be so many\r\npoor people, upon whom you think they are bound to bestow their\r\ngoods, they can keep no riches with conscience.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00521\"\u003eVerily, cousin, if that reason would hold, I daresay the world was\r\nnever such anywhere that any man might have kept any substance\r\nwithout the danger of damnation. For since Christ\u0027s days to the\r\nworld\u0027s end, we have the witness of his own word that there hath\r\nnever lacked poor men nor ever shall. For he said himself, \"Poor\r\nmen shall you always have with you, unto whom, when you will, you\r\nmay do good.\" So that, as I tell you, if your rule should hold,\r\nthen I suppose there would be no place, in no time, since Christ\u0027s\r\ndays hitherto, nor I think in as long before that either, nor never\r\nshall there be hereafter, in which any man could abide rich\r\nwithout the danger of eternal damnation, even for his riches\r\nalone, though he demeaned himself never so well.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00522\"\u003eBut, cousin, men of substance must there be. For otherwise shall\r\nyou have more beggars, perdy, than there are, and no man left able\r\nto relieve another. For this I think in my mind a very sure\r\nconclusion: If all the money that is in this country were tomorrow\r\nbrought together out of every man\u0027s hand and laid all upon one\r\nheap, and then divided out unto every man alike, it would be on\r\nthe morrow after worse than it was the day before. For I suppose\r\nthat when it were all equally thus divided among all, the best\r\nwould be left little better then than almost a beggar is now. And\r\nyet he who was a beggar before, all that he shall be the richer\r\nfor, that he should thereby receive, shall not make him much above\r\na beggar still. But many a one of the rich men, if their riches\r\nstood but in movable substance, shall be safe enough from riches,\r\nhaply for all their life after!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00523\"\u003eMen cannot, you know, live here in this world unless some one man\r\nprovide a means of living for many others. Every man cannot have a\r\nship of his own, nor every man be a merchant without a stock. And\r\nthese things, you know, must needs be had. Nor can every man have a\r\nplough by himself. And who could live by the tailor\u0027s craft, if no\r\nman were able to have a gown made? Who could live by masonry, or\r\nwho could live a carpenter, if no man were able to build either\r\nchurch or house? Who would be the makers of any manner of cloth, if\r\nthere lacked men of substance to set sundry sorts to work? Some man\r\nwho hath not two ducats in his house would do better to lose them\r\nboth and leave himself not a farthing, but utterly lose all his\r\nown, rather than that some rich man by whom he is weekly set to\r\nwork should lose one half of his money. For then would he himself\r\nbe likely to lack work. For surely the rich man\u0027s substance is the\r\nwellspring of the poor man\u0027s living. And therefore here would it\r\nfare by the poor man as it fared by the woman in one of Æsop\u0027s\r\nfables. She had a hen that laid her every day a golden egg, till on\r\na day she thought she would have a great many eggs at once. And\r\ntherefore she killed her hen and found but one or twain in her\r\nbelly, so that for a few she lost many.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00524\"\u003eBut now, cousin, to come to your doubt how it can be that a man\r\nmay with conscience keep riches with him, when he seeth so many\r\npoor men on whom he may bestow them. Verily, that might he not\r\nwith conscience do, if he must bestow it upon as many as he can.\r\nAnd so much of truth every rich man do, if all the poor folk that\r\nhe seeth are so specially by God\u0027s commandment committed unto his\r\ncharge alone that, because our Saviour said, \"Give to every man\r\nwho asketh thee,\" therefore he is bound to give out still to every\r\nbeggar who will ask him, as long as any penny lasteth in his\r\npurse. But verily, cousin, that saying hath (as St. Austine saith\r\nother places in scripture have) need of interpretation. For, as\r\nholy St. Austine saith, though Christ say, \"Give to every man who\r\nasketh thee,\" he saith not yet, \"Give them all that they will ask\r\nthee.\" But surely they would be the same, if he meant to bind me\r\nby commandment to give every man without exception something. For\r\nso should I leave myself nothing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00525\"\u003eOur Saviour, in that place of the sixth chapter of St. Luke,\r\nspeaketh both of the contempt that we should have in heart of\r\nthese worldly things, and also of the manner that men should use\r\ntoward their enemies. For there he biddeth us love our enemies,\r\ngive good words for evil, and not only suffer injuries patiently\r\n(both the taking away of our goods and harm done unto our body),\r\nbut also be ready to suffer the double, and over that to do good\r\nin return to those who do us the harm. And among these things he\r\nbiddeth us give to every man who asketh, meaning that when we can\r\nconveniently do a man good, we should not refuse it, whatsoever\r\nmanner of man he may be, though he were our mortal enemy, if we\r\nsee that unless we help him ourselves, the person of that man\r\nshould stand in peril of perishing. And therefore saith St. Paul,\r\n\"If thine enemy be in hunger, give him meat.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00526\"\u003eBut now, though I be bound to give every manner of man in some\r\nmanner of his necessity, were he my friend or my foe, Christian\r\nman or heathen, yet am I not bound alike unto all men, nor unto\r\nany many in every case alike. But, as I began to tell you, the\r\ndifferences of the circumstances make great change in the matter.\r\nSt. Paul saith, \"He that provideth not for those that are his, is\r\nworse than an infidel.\" Those are ours who are belonging to our\r\ncharge, either by nature or by law, or any commandment of God. By\r\nnature, as our children; by law, as our servants in our household.\r\nAlbeit these two sorts be not ours all alike, yet would I think\r\nthat the least ours of the twain—that is, the servants—if they\r\nneed, and lack, we are bound to look to them and provide for their\r\nneed, and see, so far as we can, that they lack not the things\r\nthat should serve for their necessity while they dwell in our\r\nservice. Meseemeth also that if they fall sick in our service, so\r\nthat they cannot do the service that we retain them for, yet may\r\nwe not in any wise turn them out of doors and cast them up\r\ncomfortless, while they are not able to labour and help\r\nthemselves. For this would be a thing against all humanity. And\r\nsurely, if a man were but a wayfarer whom I received into my house\r\nas a guest, if he fell sick there and his money be gone, I reckon\r\nmyself bound to keep him still, and rather to beg about for his\r\nrelief than to cast him out in that condition to the peril of his\r\nlife, whatsoever loss I should happen to sustain in the keeping of\r\nhim. For when God hath by such chance sent him to me and there\r\nonce matched me with him, I reckon myself surely charged with him\r\nuntil I may, without peril of his life, be well and conveniently\r\ndischarged of him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00527\"\u003eBy God\u0027s commandment our parents are in our charge, for by nature\r\nwe are in theirs. Since, as St. Paul saith, it is not the\r\nchildren\u0027s part to provide for the parents but the parents\u0027 to\r\nprovide for the children. Provide, I mean, conveniently—good\r\nlearning or good occupations to get their living by, with truth\r\nand the favour of God—but not to make provision for them of such\r\nmanner of living as they should live the worse toward God for. But\r\nrather, if they see by their manner that too much would make them\r\nwicked, the father should then give them a great deal less. But\r\nalthough nature put not the parents in the children\u0027s charge, yet\r\nnot only God commandeth but the order of nature compelleth, that\r\nthe children should both in reverent behaviour honour their father\r\nand mother, and also in all their necessity maintain them. And\r\nyet, as much as God and nature both bind us to the sustenance of\r\nour father, his need may be so little (though it be somewhat) and\r\nanother man\u0027s so great, that both nature and God also would that I\r\nshould, in such unequal need, relieve that urgent necessity of a\r\nstranger—yea, my foe, and God\u0027s enemy too, the very Turk or\r\nSaracen—before a little need, and unlikely to do great harm, in\r\nmy father and my mother too. For so ought they both twain\r\nthemselves to be well content that I should.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00528\"\u003eBut now, cousin, outside of such extreme need well perceived and\r\nknown unto myself, I am not bound to give to every beggar who will\r\nask; nor to believe every imposter that I meet in the street who\r\nwill say himself that he is very sick; nor to reckon all the poor\r\nfolk committed by God only so to my charge alone, that no other\r\nman should give them anything of his until I have first given out\r\nall mine. Nor am I bound either to have so evil opinion of all\r\nother folk save myself as to think that, unless I help, the poor\r\nfolk shall all fail at once, for God hath left in all this quarter\r\nno more good folk now but me! I may think better of my neighbours\r\nand worse of myself than that, and yet come to heaven, by God\u0027s\r\ngrace, well enough.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00529\"\u003eVINCENT: Marry, uncle, but some man will peradventure be right\r\ncontent, in such cases, to think his neighbours very charitable,\r\nto the intent that he may think himself at liberty to give nothing\r\nat all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00530\"\u003eANTHONY: That is, cousin, very true. Some will be content either\r\nto think so, or to make as though they thought so. But those are\r\nthey who are content to give naught because they are naught! But\r\nour question is, cousin, not of them, but of good folk who, by\r\nthe keeping of worldly goods, stand in great fear to offend God.\r\nFor the quieting of their conscience speak we now, to the intent\r\nthat they may perceive what manner of having of worldly goods, and\r\nkeeping of them, may stand with the state of grace.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00531\"\u003eNow think I, cousin, that if a man keep riches about him for a\r\nglory and royalty of the world, taking a great delight in the\r\nconsideration of it and liking himself for it, and taking him who\r\nis poorer for the lack of it as one far worse than himself, such a\r\nmind is very vain foolish pride and such a man is very wicked\r\nindeed. But on the other hand, there may be a man—such as would\r\nGod there were many!—who hath no love unto riches, but having it\r\nfall abundantly unto him, taketh for his own part no great\r\npleasure of it, but, as though he had it not, keepeth himself in\r\nlike abstinence and penance privily as he would do in case he had\r\nit not. And, in such things as he doth openly, he may bestow\r\nsomewhat more liberally upon himself in his house after some\r\nmanner of the world, lest he should give other folk occasion to\r\nmarvel and muse and talk of his manner and misreport him for a\r\nhypocrite. And therein, between God and him, he may truly protest\r\nand testify, as did the good queen Hester, that he doth it not for\r\nany desire thereof in the satisfying of his own pleasure, but\r\nwould with as good will or better forbear the possession of\r\nriches, saving them—as perhaps in keeping a good household in\r\ngood Christian order and fashion, and in setting other folk to\r\nwork with such things as they gain their living the better by his\r\nmeans. If there be such a man, his having of riches methinketh I\r\nmight in a manner match in merit with another man\u0027s forsaking of\r\nall. Or so would it be if there were no other circumstances more\r\npleasing unto God added further unto the forsaking besides, as\r\nperhaps for the more fervent contemplation by reason of the\r\nsolicitude of all worldly business being left off, which was the\r\nthing that made Mary Magdalene\u0027s part the better. For otherwise\r\nwould Christ have given her much more thanks to go about and be\r\nbusy in the helping her sister Martha to dress his dinner, than to\r\ntake her stool and sit down at her ease and do naught.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00532\"\u003eNow, if he who hath these goods and riches by him, have not haply\r\nfully so perfect a mind, but somewhat loveth to keep himself from\r\nlack; and if he be not, so fully as a pure Christian fashion\r\nrequireth, determined to abandon his pleasure—well, what will you\r\nmore? The man is so much the less perfect than I would that he\r\nwere, and haply than he himself would wish, if it were as easy to\r\nbe it as to wish it. But yet is he not forthwith in the state of\r\ndamnation, for all that. No more than every man is forthwith in a\r\nstate of damnation who, forsaking all and entering into religion,\r\nis not yet always so clear purified from worldly affections as he\r\nhimself would very fain that he were, and much bewaileth that he\r\nis not. Many a man, who hath in the world willingly forsaken the\r\nlikelihood of right worshipful offices, hath afterward had much\r\nado to keep himself from the desire of the office of cellarer or\r\nsexton, to bear yet at least some rule and authority, though it\r\nwere but among the bellies. But God is more merciful to man\u0027s\r\nimperfection—if the man know it, and acknowledge it, and mislike\r\nit, and little by little labour to amend it—than to reject and\r\ncast off to the devil him who, according as his frailty can bear\r\nand suffer, hath a general intent and purpose to please him and to\r\nprefer or set by nothing in this world before him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00533\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, to make an end of this piece withal—of\r\nthis devil, I mean, whom the prophet calleth \"Business walking in\r\nthe darknesses\": If a man have a mind to serve God and please him,\r\nand would rather lose all the goods he hath than wittingly to do\r\ndeadly sin; and if he would, without murmur or grudge, give it\r\nevery whit away in case God should so command him, and intend to\r\ntake it patiently if God would take it from him; and if he would\r\nbe glad to use it unto God\u0027s pleasure, and do his diligence to\r\nknow and be taught what manner of using of it God would be pleased\r\nwith; and if he be glad to follow therein, from time to time, the\r\ncounsel of good virtuous men, though he neither give away all at\r\nonce, nor give to every man who asketh him neither; and though\r\nevery man should fear and think in this world that all the good\r\nthat he doth or can do is a great deal too little—yet, for all\r\nthat fear, let that man dwell in the faithful hope of God\u0027s help!\r\nAnd then shall the truth of God so compass him about, as the\r\nprophet saith, with a shield, that he shall not so need to dread\r\nthe snares and the temptations of this devil whom the prophet\r\ncalleth \"Business walking about in the darknesses.\" But he shall,\r\nfor all the having of riches and worldly substance, so avoid his\r\nsnares and temptations, that he shall in conclusion, by the great\r\ngrace and almighty mercy of God, get into heaven well enough.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00534\"\u003eAnd now was I, cousin, after this piece thus ended, about to bid\r\nthem bring in our dinner. But now shall I not need to, lo, for\r\nhere they come with it already.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00535\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, good uncle, God disposeth and timeth your\r\nmatter and your dinner both, I trust. For the end of your good\r\ntale—for which our Lord reward you!—and the beginning here of\r\nyour good dinner too (from which it would be more than pity that\r\nyou should any longer have tarried) meet even at the close\r\ntogether.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00536\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, cousin, now will we say grace. And then for a\r\nwhile will we leave talking and essay how our dinner shall please\r\nus, and how fair we can fall to feeding. After that, you know my\r\ncustomary guise (for \"manner\" I cannot call it, because the guise\r\nis unmannerly) to bid you not farewell but steal away from you to\r\nsleep. But you know I am not wont to sleep long in the afternoon,\r\nbut even a little to forget the world. And when I wake, I will\r\nagain come to you. And then is, God willing, all this long day\r\nours, in which we shall have time enough to talk much more than\r\nshall suffice for the finishing of this one part of our matter\r\nthat now alone remaineth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00537\"\u003eVINCENT: I pray you, good uncle, keep your customary manner, for\r\n\"manner\" may you call it well enough. For as it would be against\r\ngood manners to look that a man should kneel down for courtesy\r\nwhen his knee is sore, so is it very good manners that a man of\r\nyour age (aggrieved with such sundry sicknesses besides, that\r\nsuffer you not always to sleep when you should) should not let his\r\nsleep slip away but should take it when he can. And I will, uncle,\r\nin the meanwhile steal from you, too, and speed a little errand\r\nand return to you again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00538\"\u003eANTHONY: Stay as long as you will, and when you have dined go at\r\nyour pleasure. But I pray you, tarry not long.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00539\"\u003eVINCENT: You shall not need, uncle, to put me in mind of that, I\r\nwould so fain have up the rest of our matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00540\"\u003e______________________________\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eBOOK THREE\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00542\"\u003eVINCENT: I have tarried somewhat the longer, uncle, partly because\r\nI was loth to come over-soon, lest my soon-coming might have happed\r\nto have made you wake too soon. But I tarried especially for the\r\nreason that I was delayed by someone who showed me a letter, dated\r\nat Constantinople, by which it appeareth that the great Turk\r\nprepareth a marvellous mighty army. And yet whither he will go with\r\nit, that can there yet no man tell. But I fear in good faith,\r\nuncle, that his voyage shall be hither. Howbeit, he who wrote the\r\nletter saith that it is secretly said in Constantinople that a\r\ngreat part of his army shall be shipped and sent either into Naples\r\nor into Sicily.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00543\"\u003eANTHONY: It may fortune, cousin, that the letter of a Venetian,\r\ndated at Constantinople, was devised at Venice. From thence come\r\nthere some letters—and sometimes from Rome, too, and sometimes\r\nalso from some other places—all stuffed full of such tidings that\r\nthe Turk is ready to do some great exploit. These tidings they blow\r\nabout for the furtherance of some such affairs as they have\r\nthemselves then in hand.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00544\"\u003eThe Turk hath also so many men of arms in his retinue at his\r\ncontinual charge that, lest they should lie still and do nothing,\r\nbut peradventure fall in devising of some novelties among\r\nthemselves, he is fain yearly to make some assembly and some\r\nchanging of them from one place unto another, and part some\r\nasunder, that they wax not over-well acquainted by dwelling\r\nover-long together. By these ways also, he maketh those that he\r\nintendeth suddenly to invade indeed, to look the less for it, and\r\nthereby to make the less preparation before. For they see him so\r\nmany times make a great visage of war when he intendeth it not, but\r\nthen, at one time or another, they suddenly feel it when they fear\r\nit not.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00545\"\u003eHowbeit, cousin, it is of very truth full likely that into this\r\nrealm of Hungary he will not fail to come. For neither is there any\r\ncountry throughout Christendom that lieth so convenient for him,\r\nnor never was there any time till now in which he might so well and\r\nsurely win it. For now we call him in ourselves, God save us, as\r\nÆsop telleth that the sheep took in the wolf among them to keep\r\nthem from the dogs.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00546\"\u003eVINCENT: Then are there, good uncle, all those tribulations very\r\nlike to fall upon us here, that I spoke of in the beginning of our\r\nfirst communication here the other day.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00547\"\u003eANTHONY: Very truth it is, cousin, that so there will of\r\nlikelihood in a while, but not forthwith all at first. For since he\r\ncometh under the colour of aid for the one against the other, he\r\nwill somewhat see the proof before he fully show himself. But in\r\nconclusion, if he be able to get it for that one, you shall see him\r\nso handle it that he shall not fail to get it from him, and that\r\nforthwith out of hand, ere ever he suffer him to settle himself\r\nover-sure therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00548\"\u003eVINCENT: Yet say they, uncle, that he useth not to force any man\r\nto forsake his faith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00549\"\u003eANTHONY: Not any man, cousin? They say more than they can make\r\ngood, those who tell you so. He maketh a solemn oath, among the\r\nceremonies of that feast in which he first taketh upon him his\r\nauthority, that he will diminish the faith of Christ, in all that\r\nhe possibly can, and dilate the faith of Mahomet. But yet hath he\r\nnot used to force every whole country at once to forsake their\r\nfaith. For of some countries hath he been content only to take a\r\ntribute yearly and let them then live as they will. Out of some he\r\ntaketh the whole people away, dispersing them for slaves among many\r\nsundry countries of his, very far from their own, without any\r\nsufferance of regress. In some countries, so great and populous\r\nthat they cannot well be carried and conveyed thence, he destroyeth\r\nthe gentlefolk and giveth the lands partly to such as he bringeth\r\nand partly to such as willingly will deny their faith, and keepeth\r\nthe others in such misery that they might as well (in a manner) be\r\ndead at once. In rest he suffereth else no Christian man almost,\r\nbut those that resort as merchants or those that offer themselves\r\nto serve him in his war.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00550\"\u003eBut as for those Christian countries that he useth not only for\r\ntributaries, as he doth Chios, Cyprus, or Crete, but reckoneth for\r\nclear conquest and utterly taketh for his own, as Morea, Greece,\r\nand Macedonia, and such others—and as I verily think he will\r\nHungary, if he get it—in all those he useth Christian people after\r\nsundry fashions. He letteth them dwell there, indeed, because they\r\nwould be too many to carry all away, and too many to kill them all,\r\ntoo, unless he should either leave the land dispeopled and desolate\r\nor else, from some other countries of his own, should convey the\r\npeople thither (which would not be well done) to people that land\r\nwith. There, lo, those who will not be turned from their faith, of\r\nwhich God—lauded be his holy name!—keepeth very many, he\r\nsuffereth to dwell still in peace. But yet is their peace for all\r\nthat not very peaceable. For he suffereth them to have no lands of\r\ntheir own, honourable offices they bear none; with occasions of his\r\nwars, he plucketh them unto the bare bones with taxes and tallages.\r\nTheir children he chooseth where he will in their youth, and taketh\r\nthem from their parents, conveying them whither he will, where\r\ntheir friends never see them after, and abuseth them as he will.\r\nSome young maidens he maketh harlots, some young men he bringeth up\r\nin war, and some young children he causeth to be gelded—not their\r\nstones cut out as the custom was of old, but their whole members\r\ncut off by the body; how few escape and live he little careth, for\r\nhe will have enough! And all whom he so taketh young, to any use of\r\nhis own, are betaken unto such Turks or false renegades to keep,\r\nthat they are turned from the faith of Christ every one. Or else\r\nthey are so handled that, as for this world, they come to an evil\r\nend. For, besides many other contumelies and despites that the\r\nTurks and the false renegade Christians many times do to good\r\nChristian people who still persevere and abide by the faith, they\r\nfind the means sometimes to make some false knaves say that they\r\nheard such-and-such a Christian man speak opprobrious words against\r\nMahomet. And upon that point, falsely testified, they will take\r\noccasion to compel him to forsake the faith of Christ and turn to\r\nthe profession of their shameful superstitious sect, or else will\r\nthey put him to death with cruel intolerable torments.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00551\"\u003eVINCENT: Our Lord, uncle, for his mighty mercy, keep those\r\nwretches hence! For, by my troth, if they hap to come hither,\r\nmethinketh I see many more tokens than one that we shall have some\r\nof our own folk here ready to fall in with them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00552\"\u003eFor as before a great storm the sea beginneth sometimes to work and\r\nroar in itself, ere ever the winds wax boisterous, so methinketh I\r\nhear at mine ear some of our own here among us, who within these\r\nfew years could no more have borne the name of Turk than the name\r\nof devil, begin now to find little fault in them—yea, and some to\r\npraise them little by little, as they can, more glad to find faults\r\nat every state of Christendom: priests, princes, rites, ceremonies,\r\nsacraments, laws, and customs spiritual, temporal, and all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00553\"\u003eANTHONY: In good faith, cousin, so begin we to fare here indeed,\r\nand that but even now of late. For since the title of the crown\r\nhath come in question, the good rule of this realm hath very sore\r\ndecayed, as little a while as it is. And undoubtedly Hungary shall\r\nnever do well as long as men\u0027s minds hearken after novelty and have\r\ntheir hearts hanging upon a change. And much the worse I like it,\r\nwhen their words walk so large toward the favour of the Turk\u0027s\r\nsect, which they were ever wont to have in so great abomination, as\r\nevery true-minded Christian man—and Christian woman, too—must\r\nhave.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00554\"\u003eI am of such age as you see, and verily from as far as I can\r\nremember, it hath been marked and often proved true, that when\r\nchildren in Buda have fallen in a fancy by themselves to draw\r\ntogether and in their playing make as it were corpses carried to\r\nchurch, and sing after their childish fashion the tune of the\r\ndirge, great death hath followed shortly thereafter. And twice or\r\nthrice I can remember in my day when children in divers parts of\r\nthis realm have gathered themselves in sundry companies and made as\r\nit were troops and battles. And after their battles in sport, in\r\nwhich some children have yet taken great hurt, there hath fallen\r\ntrue battle and deadly war indeed. These tokens were somewhat like\r\nyour example of the sea, since they are tokens going before, of\r\nthings that afterward follow, through some secret motion or\r\ninstinct of which the cause is unknown.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00555\"\u003eBut, by St. Mary, cousin, these tokens like I much worse—these\r\ntokens, I say, not of children\u0027s play nor of children\u0027s songs, but\r\nold knaves\u0027 large open words, so boldly spoken in the favour of\r\nMahomet\u0027s sect in this realm of Hungary, which hath been ever\r\nhitherto a very sure key of Christendom. And without doubt if\r\nHungary be lost and the Turk have it once fast in his possession,\r\nhe shall, ere it be long afterward, have an open ready way into\r\nalmost all the rest of Christendom. Though he win it not all in a\r\nweek, the great part will be won, I fear me, within very few years\r\nafter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00556\"\u003eVINCENT: But yet evermore I trust in Christ, good uncle, that he\r\nshall not suffer that abominable sect of his mortal enemies in such\r\nwise to prevail against his Christian countries.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00557\"\u003eANTHONY: That is very well said, cousin. Let us have our sure hope\r\nin him, and then shall we be very sure that we shall not be\r\ndeceived. For we shall have either the thing that we hope for, or a\r\nbetter thing in its stead. For, as for the thing itself that we\r\npray for and hope to have, God will not always send it to us. And\r\ntherefore, as I said in our first communication, in all things save\r\nonly for heaven, our prayer and our hope may never be too precise,\r\nalthough the thing may be lawful to ask.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00558\"\u003eVerily, if we people of the Christian nations were such as would\r\nGod we were, I would little fear all the preparations that the\r\ngreat Turk could make. No, nor yet, being as bad as we are, I doubt\r\nnot at all but that in conclusion, however base Christendom be\r\nbrought, it shall spring up again, till the time be come very near\r\nto the day of judgment, some tokens of which methinketh are not\r\ncome yet. But somewhat before that time shall Christendom be\r\nstraitened sore, and brought into so narrow a compass that,\r\naccording to Christ\u0027s words, \"When the Son of Man shall come\r\nagain\"—that is, to the day of general judgment—\"thinkest thou\r\nthat he shall find faith in the earth?\" as who should say, \"but a\r\nlittle.\" For, as appeareth in the Apocalypse and other places of\r\nscripture, the faith shall be at that time so far faded that he\r\nshall, for the love of his elect, lest they should fall and perish\r\ntoo, abridge those days and accelerate his coming. But, as I say,\r\nmethinketh I miss yet in my mind some of those tokens that shall,\r\nby the scripture, come a good while before that. And among others,\r\nthe coming in of the Jews and the dilating of Christendom again\r\nbefore the world come to that strait. So I say that for mine own\r\nmind I have little doubt that this ungracious sect of Mahomet shall\r\nhave a foul fall, and Christendom spring and spread, flower and\r\nincrease again. Howbeit, the pleasure and comfort shall they see\r\nwho shall be born after we are buried, I fear me, both twain. For\r\nGod giveth us great likelihood that for our sinful wretched living\r\nhe goeth about to make these infidels, who are his open professed\r\nenemies, the sorrowful scourge of correction over evil Christian\r\npeople who should be faithful and who are of truth his falsely\r\nprofessing friends.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00559\"\u003eAnd surely, cousin, albeit that methinketh I see divers evil tokens\r\nof this misery coming to us, yet can there not, to my mind, be a\r\nworse prognostication of it than this ungracious token that you\r\nnote here yourself. For undoubtedly, cousin, this new manner of\r\nmen\u0027s favourable fashion in their language toward these ungracious\r\nTurks declareth plainly not only that their minds give them that\r\nhither shall he come, but also that they can be content both to\r\nlive under him and, beside that, to fall from the true faith of\r\nChrist into Mahomet\u0027s false abominable sect.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00560\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, mine uncle, as I go about more than you, so must\r\nI needs hear more (which is a heavy hearing in mine ear) the manner\r\nof men in this matter, which increaseth about us here—I trust that\r\nin other places of this realm, by God\u0027s grace, it is otherwise. But\r\nin this quarter here about us, many of these fellows who are fit\r\nfor the war were wont at first, as it were in sport, to talk as\r\nthough they looked for a day when, with a turn to the Turk\u0027s faith,\r\nthey should be made masters here of true Christian men\u0027s bodies and\r\nowners of all their goods. And, in a while after that, they began\r\nto talk so half between game and earnest—and now, by our Lady, not\r\nfar from fair flat earnest indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00561\"\u003eANTHONY: Though I go out but little, cousin, yet hear I\r\nsometimes—when I say little!—almost as much as that. But since\r\nthere is no man to whom we can complain for redress, what remedy is\r\nthere but patience, and to sit still and hold our peace? For of\r\nthese two who strive which of them both shall reign over us—and\r\neach of them calleth himself king, and both twain put the people to\r\npain—one is, as you know well, too far from our quarter here to\r\nhelp us in this behalf. And the other, since he looketh for the\r\nTurk\u0027s aid, either will not, or (I suppose) dare not find any fault\r\nwith them that favour the Turk and his sect. For of natural Turks\r\nthis country lacketh none now; they are living here under divers\r\npretexts, and of everything they advertise the great Turk full\r\nsurely. And therefore, cousin, albeit that I would advise every man\r\nto pray still and call unto God to hold his gracious hand over us\r\nand keep away this wretchedness if his pleasure be, yet would I\r\nfurther advise every good Christian body to remember and consider\r\nthat it is very likely to come. And therefore I would advise him to\r\nmake his reckoning and count his pennyworths before, and I would\r\nadvise every man (and every woman, too) to appoint with God\u0027s help\r\nin their own mind beforehand what they intend to do if the very\r\nworst should befall.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00563\"\u003eVINCENT: Well fare your heart, good uncle, for this good counsel\r\nof yours! For surely methinketh that this is marvellous good.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00564\"\u003eBut yet heard I once a right learned and very good man say that it\r\nwould be great folly, and very perilous too, if a man should think\r\nupon any such thing or imagine any such question in his mind, for\r\nfear of double peril that may follow thereupon. For he shall be\r\nlikely to answer himself that he will rather suffer any painful\r\ndeath than forsake his faith, and by that bold appointment should\r\nhe fall into the fault of St. Peter, who of oversight made a proud\r\npromise and soon had a foul fall. Or else would he be likely to\r\nthink that rather than abide the pain he would forsake God indeed,\r\nand by that mind should he sin deadly through his own folly,\r\nwhereas he needeth not do so, since he shall peradventure never\r\ncome in the peril to be put thereto. And therefore it would be most\r\nwisdom never to think upon any such manner of question.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00565\"\u003eANTHONY: I believe well, cousin, that you have heard some men who\r\nwould so say. For I can show almost as much as that left in writing\r\nby a very good man and a great solemn doctor. But yet, cousin,\r\nalthough I should happen to find one or two more, as good men and\r\nas well learned too, who would both twain say and write the same,\r\nyet would I not fear for my part to counsel my friend to the\r\ncontrary.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00566\"\u003eFor, cousin, if his mind answer him as St. Peter answered Christ,\r\nthat he will rather die than forsake him, though he say therein\r\nmore unto himself than he should be peradventure able to make good\r\nif it came to the point, yet I perceive not that he doth in that\r\nthought any deadly displeasure unto God. For St. Peter, though he\r\nsaid more than he could perform, yet in his so saying offended not\r\nGod greatly neither. But his offence was when he did not afterward\r\nso well as he said before. But now may this man be likely never to\r\nfall in the peril of breaking that appointment, since of some ten\r\nthousand that shall so examine themselves, never one shall fall in\r\nthe peril. And yet for them to have that good purpose all their\r\nlife seemeth me no more harm in the meanwhile than for a poor\r\nbeggar who hath never a penny to think that, if he had great\r\nsubstance, he would give great alms for God\u0027s sake.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00567\"\u003eBut now is all the peril if the man answer himself that he would in\r\nsuch case rather forsake the faith of Christ with his mouth and\r\nkeep it still in his heart than for the confessing of it to endure\r\na painful death. For by this mind he falleth in deadly sin, which\r\nhe never would have fallen in if he had never put himself the\r\nquestion. But in good faith methinketh that he who, upon that\r\nquestion put unto himself by himself, will make himself that\r\nanswer, hath the habit of faith so faint and so cold that, for the\r\nbetter knowledge of himself and of his necessity to pray for more\r\nstrength of grace, he had need to have the question put to him\r\neither by himself or by some other man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00568\"\u003eBesides this, to counsel a man never to think on that question is,\r\nto my mind, as reasonable as the medicine that I have heard taught\r\nsomeone for the toothache: to go thrice about a churchyard, and\r\nnever think on a fox-tail! For if the counsel be not given them, it\r\ncannot serve them. And if it be given them, it must put the point\r\nof the matter in their mind. And forthwith to reject it, and think\r\ntherein neither one thing nor the other, is a thing that may be\r\nsooner bidden than obeyed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00569\"\u003eI think also that very few men can escape it. For though they would\r\nnever think on it by themselves, yet in one place or another where\r\nthey shall happen to come in company, they shall have the question\r\nby adventure so proposed and put forth that—like as, while a man\r\nheareth someone talking to him, he can close his eyes if he will,\r\nbut he cannot make himself sleep—so shall they, whether they will\r\nor not, think one thing or the other therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00570\"\u003eFinally, when Christ spoke so often and so plain of the matter,\r\nthat every man should, upon pain of damnation, openly confess his\r\nfaith if men took him and by dread of death would drive him to the\r\ncontrary, it seemeth me (in a manner) implied that we are bound\r\nconditionally to have evermore that mind—actually sometimes, and\r\nevermore habitually—that if the case should so befall, then with\r\nGod\u0027s help so we would do. And thus much methinketh necessary, for\r\nevery man and woman to be always of this mind and often to think\r\nthereon. And where they find, in the thinking thereon, that their\r\nhearts shudder and shrink in the remembrance of the pain that their\r\nimagination representeth to the mind, then must they call to mind\r\nand remember the great pain and torment that Christ suffered for\r\nthem, and heartily pray for grace that, if the case should so\r\nbefall, God should give them strength to stand. And thus, with\r\nexercise of such meditation, through men should never stand full\r\nout of fear of falling, yet must they persevere in good hope and in\r\nfull purpose of standing.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00571\"\u003eAnd this seemeth to me, cousin, so far forth the mind that every\r\nChristian man and woman must needs have, that methinketh every\r\ncurate should often counsel all his parishioners, beginning in\r\ntheir tender youth, to know this point and think on it, and little\r\nby little from their very childhood accustom them sweetly and\r\npleasantly in the meditation thereof. Thereby the goodness of God\r\nshall not fail so to inspire the grace of his Holy Spirit into\r\ntheir hearts, in reward of that virtuous diligence, that through\r\nsuch actual meditation he shall confirm them in such a sure habit\r\nof spiritual faithful strength, that all the devils in hell, with\r\nall the wrestling that they can make, shall never be able to wrest\r\nit out of their heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00572\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, methinketh that you say very well.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00573\"\u003eANTHONY: I say surely, cousin, as I think. And yet all this have I\r\nsaid concerning them that dwell in such places that they are never\r\nlike in their lives to come in the danger to be put to the proof.\r\nHowbeit, many a man may think himself far from it, who yet may\r\nfortune to come to it by some chance or other, either for the truth\r\nof faith or for the truth of justice, which go almost all alike.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00574\"\u003eBut now you and I, cousin, and all our friends here, are far in\r\nanother point. For we are so likely to fall in the experience of it\r\nsoon, that it would have been more timely for us, all other things\r\nset aside, to have devised upon this matter, and firmly to have\r\nsettled ourselves upon a false point long ago, than to begin to\r\ncommune and counsel upon it now.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00575\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, uncle, you say therein very truth, and\r\nwould God it had come sooner in my mind. But yet is it better late\r\nthan never. And I trust God shall yet give us respite and time. And\r\nthat we lose no part thereof, uncle, I pray you proceed now with\r\nyour good counsel therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00576\"\u003eANTHONY: Very gladly, cousin, shall I now go forth in the fourth\r\ntemptation, which alone remaineth to be treated of, and properly\r\npertaineth wholly unto this present purpose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00578\"\u003eThe fourth temptation, cousin, that the prophet speaketh of in the\r\nfore-remembered psalm is plain open persecution. And it is touched\r\nin these words: \u003ci\u003e\"Ab incursu et demonio meridiano.\"\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00579\"\u003eAnd of all his temptations, this is the most perilous, the most\r\nbitter, the most sharp, and the most rigorous. For in other\r\ntemptations he useth either pleasant allectives unto sin, or other\r\nsecret sleights and snares; and cometh in the night and stealeth on\r\nin the dark unaware; or in some other part of the day flieth and\r\npasseth by like an arrow; so shaping himself sometimes in one\r\nfashion, sometimes in another, and dissimulating himself and his\r\nhigh mortal malice, that a man is thereby so blinded and beguiled\r\nthat he cannot sometimes perceive well what he is. But in this\r\ntemptation, this plain open persecution for the faith, he cometh\r\neven in the very midday—that is, even upon those who have a high\r\nlight of faith shining in their hearts—and he openly suffereth\r\nhimself to be perceived so plainly, by his fierce malicious\r\npersecution against the faithful Christians, for hatred of Christ\u0027s\r\ntrue Catholic faith, that no man having faith can doubt what he is.\r\nFor in this temptation he showeth himself such as the prophet\r\nnameth him, \"the midday devil,\" so lightsomely can he be seen with\r\nthe eye of the faithful soul, by his fierce furious assault and\r\nincursion. For therefore saith the prophet that the truth of God\r\nshall compass that man round about who dwelleth in the faithful\r\nhope of his help with a shield \"from the incursion and the devil of\r\nthe midday,\" because this kind of persecution is not a wily\r\ntemptation but a furious force and a terrible incursion. In other\r\nof his temptations, he stealeth on like a fox, but in this Turk\u0027s\r\npersecution for the faith, he runneth on roaring with assault like\r\na ramping lion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00580\"\u003eThis temptation is, of all temptations, also the most perilous. For\r\nin temptations of prosperity he useth only delectable allectives to\r\nmove a man to sin; and in other kinds of tribulation and adversity\r\nhe useth only grief and pain to pull a man into murmuring,\r\nimpatience, and blasphemy. But in this kind of persecution for the\r\nfaith of Christ he useth both twain—that is, both his allectives\r\nof quiet and rest by deliverance from death and pain, with other\r\npleasures also of this present life, and besides that the terror\r\nand infliction of intolerable pain and torment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00581\"\u003eIn other tribulation—as loss, or sickness, or death of our\r\nfriends—-though the pain be peradventure as great and sometimes\r\ngreater too, yet is not the peril nowhere nigh half so much. For in\r\nother tribulations, as I said before, that necessity that the man\r\nmust perforce abide and endure the pain, wax he never so wroth and\r\nimpatient with it, is a great reason to move him to keep his\r\npatience in it and be content with it and thank God for it and of\r\nnecessity make a virtue, that he may be rewarded for it. But in\r\nthis temptation, this persecution for the faith—I mean not by\r\nfight in the field, by which the faithful man standeth at his\r\ndefence and putteth the faithless in half the fear and half the\r\nharm too; but I mean where he is taken and held, and may for the\r\nforswearing or denying of his faith be delivered and suffered to\r\nlive in rest and some in great worldly wealth also. In this case, I\r\nsay, since he needeth not to suffer this trouble and pain unless he\r\nwill, there is a marvellous great occasion for him to fall into the\r\nsin that the devil would drive him to—that is, the forsaking of\r\nthe faith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00582\"\u003eAnd therefore, I say, of all the devil\u0027s temptations, this\r\ntemptation, this persecution for the faith, is the most perilous.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00583\"\u003eVINCENT: The more perilous, uncle, this temptation is—as indeed,\r\nof all the temptations, the most perilous it is—the more need have\r\nthose who stand in peril of it to be well armed against it\r\nbeforehand, with substantial advice and good counsel. For so may we\r\nthe better bear that tribulation when it cometh, with the comfort\r\nand consolation thereof, and the better withstand the temptation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00584\"\u003eANTHONY: You say, Cousin Vincent, therein very truth. And I am\r\ncontent therefore to fall in hand with it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00585\"\u003eBut forasmuch, cousin, as methinketh that of this tribulation you\r\nare somewhat more afraid than I—and of truth somewhat more\r\nexcusable it is in you than it would be in me, mine age considered\r\nand the sorrow that I have suffered already, with some other\r\nconsiderations upon my part besides—rehearse you therefore the\r\ngriefs and pains that you think in this tribulation possible to\r\nfall unto you. And I shall against each of them give you counsel\r\nand rehearse you such occasion of comfort and consolation as my\r\npoor wit and learning can call unto my mind.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00586\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, uncle, I am not wholly afraid in this case\r\nonly for myself, but well you know I have cause to care also for\r\nmany others, and that folk of sundry sorts, men and women both, and\r\nthat not all of one age.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00587\"\u003eANTHONY: All that you have cause to fear for, cousin, for all of\r\nthem, have I cause to fear with you, too, since almost all your\r\nkinsfolk are likewise kin to me. Howbeit, to say the truth, every\r\nman hath cause in this case to fear both for himself and for every\r\nother. For since, as the scripture saith, \"God hath given every man\r\ncare and charge of his neighbour,\" there is no man who hath any\r\nspark of Christian love and charity in his breast but what, in a\r\nmatter of such peril as this is, in which the soul of man standeth\r\nin so great danger to be lost, he must needs care and take thought\r\nnot only for his friends but also for his very foes. We shall\r\ntherefore, cousin, not rehearse your harms or mine that may befall\r\nin this persecution, but all the great harms in general, as near as\r\nwe can call to mind, that may happen unto any man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00589\"\u003eSince a man is made of the body and the soul, all the harm that any\r\nman can take, it must needs be in one of these two, either\r\nimmediately or by the means of some such thing as serveth for the\r\npleasure, welfare, or commodity of one of these two.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00590\"\u003eAs for the soul first, we shall need no rehearsal of any harm that\r\nmay attain to it by this kind of tribulation, unless by some\r\ninordinate love and affection that the soul bear to the body, she\r\nconsent to slide from the faith and thereby do herself harm. Now\r\nthere remains the body, and these outward things of fortune which\r\nserve for the maintenance of the body and minister matter of\r\npleasure to the soul also, through the delight that she hath in the\r\nbody for the while that she is matched with it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00591\"\u003eConsider first the loss of those outward things, as being somewhat\r\nless in weight than the body itself. What may a man lose in them,\r\nand thereby what pain may he suffer?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00592\"\u003eVINCENT: He may lose, uncle, money, plate, and other movable\r\nsubstance (of which I should somewhat lose myself); then, offices\r\nand authority; and finally all the lands of his inheritance for\r\never that he himself and his heirs perpetually might otherwise\r\nenjoy. And of all these things, uncle, you know well that I myself\r\nhave some—little, in respect of that which some others have here,\r\nbut yet somewhat more than he who hath most here would be well\r\ncontent to lose.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00593\"\u003eUpon the loss of these things follow neediness and poverty; the\r\npain of lacking, the shame of begging (of which twain I know not\r\nwhich is the most wretched necessity); besides, the grief and\r\nheaviness of heart, in beholding good men and faithful and his dear\r\nfriends bewrapped in like misery, and ungracious wretches and\r\ninfidels and his mortal enemies enjoying the commodities that he\r\nhimself and his friends have lost.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00594\"\u003eNow, for the body very few words should serve us. For therein I see\r\nnone other harm but loss of liberty, labour, imprisonment, and\r\npainful and shameful death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00595\"\u003eANTHONY: There needeth not much more, cousin, as the world is now.\r\nFor I fear me that less than a fourth part of this will make many a\r\nman sore stagger in his faith, and some fall quite from it, who yet\r\nat this day, before he come to the proof, thinketh himself that he\r\nwould stand very fast. And I beseech our Lord that all those who so\r\nthink, and who would yet when they were brought to the point fall\r\nfrom the faith for fear or pain, may get of God the grace to think\r\nstill as they do and not to be brought to the essay, where pain or\r\nfear would show them, as it showed St. Peter, how far they are\r\ndeceived now.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00596\"\u003eBut now, cousin, against these terrible things, what way shall we\r\ntake in giving men counsel of comfort? If the faith were in our\r\ndays as fervent as it hath been ere this in times past, little\r\ncounsel and little comfort would suffice. We should not much need\r\nwith words and reasoning to extenuate and diminish the vigour and\r\nasperity of the pains. For of old times, the greater and the more\r\nbitter the pain were, the more ready was the fervour of faith to\r\nsuffer it. And surely, cousin, I doubt little in my mind but what,\r\nif a man had in his heart so deep a desire and love—longing to be\r\nwith God in heaven, to have the fruition of his glorious face—as\r\nhad those holy men who are martyrs in old time, he would no more\r\nnow stick at the pain that he must pass between than those old holy\r\nmartyrs did at that time. But alas, our faint and feeble faith,\r\nwith our love to God less than lukewarm because of the fiery\r\naffection that we bear to our own filthy flesh, maketh us so dull\r\nin the desire of heaven that the sudden dread of every bodily pain\r\nwoundeth us to the heart and striketh our devotion dead. And\r\ntherefore hath every man, cousin, as I said before, much the more\r\nneed to think upon this thing many a time and oft aforehand, ere\r\nany such peril befall, by much devising upon it before they see\r\ncause to fear it. Since the thing shall not appear so terrible unto\r\nthem, reason shall better enter, and through grace working with\r\ntheir diligence, engender and set sure, not a sudden slight\r\naffection of suffering for God\u0027s sake, but, by a long continuance,\r\na strong deep-rooted habit—not like a reed ready to wave with\r\nevery wind, nor like a rootless tree scantly set up on end in a\r\nloose heap of light sand, that will with a blast or two be blown\r\ndown.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00598\"\u003eLet us now consider, cousin, these causes of terror and dread that\r\nyou have recited, which in his persecution for the faith this\r\nmidday devil may, by these Turks, rear against us to make his\r\nincursion with. For so shall we well perceive, weighing them well\r\nwith reason, that, albeit they be indeed somewhat, yet (every part\r\nof the matter pondered) they shall well appear in conclusion things\r\nnot so much to be dreaded and fled from as they do suddenly seem to\r\nfolk at the first sight.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00600\"\u003eFirst let us begin at the outward goods, which are neither the\r\nproper goods of the soul nor those of the body, but are called the\r\ngoods of fortune, and serve for the sustenance and commodity of man\r\nfor the short season of this present life, as worldly substance,\r\noffices, honour, and authority.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00601\"\u003eWhat great good is there in these things of themselves, that they\r\nshould be worthy so much as to bear the name by which the world, of\r\na worldly favour, customarily calleth them? For if the having of\r\nstrength make a man strong, and the having of heat make a man hot,\r\nand the having of virtue make a man virtuous, how can these things\r\nbe verily and truly \"goods,\" by the having of which he who hath\r\nthem may as well be worse as better—and, as experience proveth,\r\nmore often is worse than better? Why should a man greatly rejoice\r\nin that which he daily seeth most abound in the hands of many who\r\nare wicked? Do not now this great Turk and his pashas in all these\r\nadvancements of fortune surmount very far above a Christian estate,\r\nand any lords living under him? And was there not, some twenty\r\nyears ago, the great Sultan of Syria, who many a year together bore\r\nhimself as high as the great Turk, and afterward in one summer unto\r\nthe great Turk that whole empire was lost? And so may all his\r\nempire now—and shall hereafter, by God\u0027s grace—be lost into\r\nChristian men\u0027s hands likewise, when Christian people shall be\r\namended and grow in God\u0027s favour again. But since whole kingdoms\r\nand mighty great empires are of so little surety to stand, but are\r\nso soon transferred from one man unto another, what great thing can\r\nyou or I—yea, or any lord, the greatest in this land—reckon\r\nhimself to have, by the possession of a heap of silver or gold? For\r\nthey are but white and yellow metal, not so profitable of their own\r\nnature, save for a little glittering, as the rude rusty metal of\r\niron.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00603\"\u003eLands and possessions many men esteem much more yet than money,\r\nbecause the lands seem not so casual as money is, or plate. For\r\nthough their other substance may be stolen and taken away, yet\r\nevermore they think that their land will lie still where it lay.\r\nBut what are we the better that our land cannot be stirred, but\r\nwill lie still where it lay, since we ourselves may be removed and\r\nnot suffered to come near it? What great difference is there to us,\r\nwhether our substance be movable or unmovable, since we be so\r\nmovable ourselves that we may be removed from them both and lose\r\nthem both twain? Yet sometimes in the money is the surety somewhat\r\nmore. For when we be fain ourselves to flee, we may make shift to\r\ncarry some of our money with us, whereas of our land we cannot\r\ncarry one inch.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00604\"\u003eIf our land be a thing of more surety than our money, how happeth\r\nit then that in this persecution we are more afraid to lose it? For\r\nif it be a thing of more surety, then can it not so soon be lost.\r\nIn the transfer of these two great empires—Greece first, since I\r\nmyself was born, and after Syria, since you were born too—the land\r\nwas lost before the money was found!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00605\"\u003eOh, Cousin Vincent, if the whole world were animated with a\r\nreasonable soul, as Plato thought it were, and if it had wit and\r\nunderstanding to mark and perceive everything, Lord God, how the\r\nground on which a prince buildeth his palace would loud laugh its\r\nlord to scorn, when it saw him proud of his possession and heard\r\nhim boast himself that he and his blood are for ever the very lords\r\nand owners of the land! For then would the ground think the while,\r\nto itself, \"Ah, thou poor soul, who thinkest thou wert half a god,\r\nand art amid thy glory but a man in a gay gown! I who am the ground\r\nhere, over whom thou are so proud, have had a hundred such owners\r\nof me as thou callest thyself, more than ever thou hast heard the\r\nnames of. And some of them who went proudly over mine head now lie\r\nlow in my belly, and my side lieth over them. And many a one shall,\r\nas thou does now, call himself mine owner after thee, who shall\r\nneither be kin to thy blood nor have heard any word of thy name.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00606\"\u003eWho owned your village, cousin, three thousand years ago?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00607\"\u003eVINCENT: Three thousand, uncle? Nay, nay, in any king, Christian\r\nor heathen, you may strike off a third part of that well\r\nenough—and, as far as I know, half of the rest, too. In far fewer\r\nyears than three thousand it may well fortune that a poor\r\nploughman\u0027s blood may come up to a kingdom, and a king\u0027s right\r\nroyal kin on the other hand fall down to the plough and cart, and\r\nneither that king know that ever he came from the cart, nor that\r\ncarter know that ever he came from the crown.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00608\"\u003eANTHONY: We find, Cousin Vincent, in full ancient stories many\r\nstrange changes as marvellous as that, come about in the compass of\r\nvery few years, in effect. And are such things then in reason so\r\ngreatly to be set by, that we should esteem the loss so great, when\r\nwe see that in keeping them our surety is so little?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00609\"\u003eVINCENT: Marry, uncle, but the less surety we have to keep it,\r\nsince it is a great commodity to have it, so much more the loth we\r\nare to forgo it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00610\"\u003eANTHONY: That reason shall I, cousin, turn against yourself. For\r\nif it be so as you say, that since the things be commodious, the\r\nless surety that you see you have of keeping them, the more cause\r\nyou have to be afraid of losing them; then on the other hand the\r\nmore a thing is of its nature such that its commodity bringeth a\r\nman little surety and much fear, that thing of reason the less we\r\nhave cause to love. And then, the less cause we have to love a\r\nthing, the less cause have we to care for it or fear its loss, or\r\nbe loth to go from it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00612\"\u003eWe shall yet, cousin, consider in these outward goods of\r\nfortune—as riches, good name, honest estimation, honourable fame,\r\nand authority—in all these things we shall, I say, consider that\r\nwe love them and set by them either as things commodious unto us\r\nfor the state and condition of this present life, or else as things\r\nthat we purpose by the good use of them to make matter of our\r\nmerit, with God\u0027s help, in the life to come.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00613\"\u003eLet us then first consider them as things set by and beloved for\r\nthe pleasure and commodity of them for this present life.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eVIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00615\"\u003eNow, as for riches, if we consider it well, the commodity that we\r\ntake of it is not so great as our own foolish affection and fancy\r\nmaketh us imagine it. I deny not that it maketh us go much more gay\r\nand glorious in sight, garnished in silk—but wool is almost as\r\nwarm! It maketh us have great plenty of many kinds of delicate and\r\ndelicious victuals, and thereby to make more excess—but less\r\nexquisite and less superfluous fare, with fewer surfeits and fewer\r\nfevers too, would be almost as wholesome! Then, the labour in\r\ngetting riches, the fear in keeping them, and the pain in parting\r\nfrom them, do more than counterweight a great part of all the\r\npleasure and commodity that they bring.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00616\"\u003eBesides this, riches are the thing that taketh many times from its\r\nmaster all his pleasure and his life, too. For many a man is slain\r\nfor his riches. And some keep their riches as a thing pleasant and\r\ncommodious for their life, take none other pleasure of it in all\r\ntheir life than as though they bore the key of another man\u0027s\r\ncoffer. For they are content to live miserably in neediness all\r\ntheir days, rather than to find it in their heart to diminish their\r\nhoard, they have such a fancy to look thereon. Yea, and some men,\r\nfor fear lest thieves should steal it from them, are their own\r\nthieves and steal it from themselves. For they dare not so much as\r\nlet it lie where they themselves may look on it, but put it in a\r\npot and hide it in the ground, and there let it lie safe till they\r\ndie—and sometimes seven years thereafter. And if the pot had been\r\nstolen away from that place five years before the man\u0027s death, then\r\nall the same five years he lived thereafter, thinking always that\r\nhis pot lay safe still, since he never occupied it afterward, what\r\nhad he been the poorer?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00617\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, not one penny, for aught that I\r\nperceive.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eIX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00619\"\u003eANTHONY: Let us now consider good name, honest estimation, and\r\nhonourable fame. For these three things are of their own nature\r\none, and take their differences in effect only of the manner of the\r\ncommon speech in diversity of degree. For a good name may a man\r\nhave, be he never so poor. Honest estimation, in the common\r\nunderstanding of the people, belongeth not unto any man but him\r\nthat is taken for one of some countenance and possessions, and\r\namong his neighbours had in some reputation. In the word of\r\n\"honourable fame,\" folk conceive the renown of great estates, much\r\nand far spoken of, by reason of their laudable acts.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00620\"\u003eNow, all this gear, used as a thing pleasant and commodious for\r\nthis present life, may seem pleasant to him who fasteneth his fancy\r\nthereon. But of the nature of the thing itself I perceive no great\r\ncommodity that it hath—I say of the nature of the thing itself,\r\nbecause it may by chance be some occasion of some commodity. For it\r\nmay hap that for the good name the poor man hath, or for the honest\r\nestimation that a man of some possessions and substance standeth in\r\namong his neighbours, or for the honourable fame with which a great\r\nestate is renowned—it may hap, I say, that some man, bearing them\r\nthe better, will therefore do them some good. And yet, as for that,\r\nlike as it may sometimes so hap (and sometimes doth so hap indeed),\r\nso may it hap sometimes on the other hand (and on the other hand so\r\nit sometimes happeth indeed) that such folk are envied and hated by\r\nothers, and as readily take harm by them who envy and hate them as\r\nthey take good by them that love them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00621\"\u003eBut now, to speak of the thing itself in its own proper nature,\r\nwhat is it but a blast of another man\u0027s mouth, as soon past as\r\nspoken? He who setteth his delight on it, feedeth himself but with\r\nwind; be he never so full, he hath little substance therein. And\r\nmany times shall he much deceive himself. For he shall think that\r\nmany praise him who never speak word of him. And they that do, say\r\nyet much less than he thinketh and far more seldom too. For they\r\nspend not all the day, he may be sure, in talking of him alone. And\r\nthose who so commend him the most will yet, I daresay, in every\r\nfour-and-twenty hours, shut their eyes and forget him once! Besides\r\nthis, while one speaketh well of him in one place, another sitteth\r\nand saith as ill of him in another. And finally, some who most\r\npraise him in his presence, behind his back mock him as fast and\r\nloud laugh him to scorn, and sometimes slily to his own face, too.\r\nAnd yet are there some fools so fed with this foolish fancy of fame\r\nthat they rejoice and glory to think how they are continually\r\npraised all about, as though all the world did nothing else, day\r\nnor night, but ever sit and sing \u003ci\u003e\"Sanctus sanctus, sanctus\"\u003c/i\u003e upon\r\nthem!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00623\"\u003eAnd into this pleasant frenzy of much foolish vainglory are there\r\nsome men brought sometimes by those whom they themselves do (in a\r\nmanner) hire to flatter them. And they would not be content if a\r\nman should do otherwise, but would be right angry—not only if a\r\nman told them truth when they do evil indeed, but also if they\r\npraise it but slenderly.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00624\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, this is very truth. I have been ere\r\nthis, and not very long ago, where I saw so proper experience of\r\nthis point that I must stop your tale long enough to tell you mine.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00625\"\u003eANTHONY: I pray you, cousin, tell on.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00626\"\u003eVINCENT: When I was first in Germany, uncle, it happed me to be\r\nsomewhat favoured by a great man of the church and a great estate,\r\none of the greatest in all that country there. And indeed,\r\nwhosoever could spend as much as he could for one thing and\r\nanother, would be a right great estate in any country of\r\nChristendom. But vainglorious was he, very far above all measure.\r\nAnd that was great pity, for it did harm and made him abuse many\r\ngreat gifts that God had given him. Never was he satiated with\r\nhearing his own praise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00627\"\u003eSo happed it one day, that he had in a great audience made an\r\noration in a certain manner, in which he liked himself so well that\r\nat his dinner he thought he sat on thorns till he might hear how\r\nthose who sat with him at his board would commend it. He sat musing\r\na while, devising, as I thought afterward, upon some pretty proper\r\nway to bring it in withal. And at last, for lack of a better, lest\r\nhe should have forborne the matter too long, he brought it even\r\nbluntly forth and asked us all who sat at his board\u0027s end—for at\r\nhis own place in the midst there sat but himself alone—how well we\r\nliked his oration that he had made that day. But in faith, uncle,\r\nwhen that problem was once proposed, till it was full answered, no\r\nman, I believe, ate one morsel of meat more—every man was fallen\r\nin so deep a study for the finding of some exquisite praise. For he\r\nwho should have brought out but a vulgar and common commendation,\r\nwould have thought himself shamed for ever. Ten said we our\r\nsentences, by row as we sat, from the lowest unto the highest in\r\ngood order, as though it had been a great matter of the common weal\r\nin a right solemn council. When it came to my part—I say it not,\r\nuncle, for a boast—methought that, by our Lady, for my part, I\r\nquit myself well enough! And I liked myself the better because\r\nmethought that, being but a foreigner, my words went yet with some\r\ngrace in the German tongue, in which, letting my Latin alone, it\r\npleased me to show my skill. And I hoped to be liked the better\r\nbecause I saw that he who sat next to me, and should say his\r\nsentence after me, was an unlearned priest, for he could speak no\r\nLatin at all. But when he came forth for his part with my lord\u0027s\r\ncommendation, the wily fox had been so well accustomed in court to\r\nthe craft of flattery that he went beyond me by far. And then might\r\nI see by him what excellence a right mean wit may come to in one\r\ncraft, if in all his life he studieth and busieth his wit about no\r\nmore but that one. But I made afterward a solemn vow unto myself\r\nthat if ever he and I were matched together at that board again,\r\nwhen we should fall to our flattery I would flatter in Latin, that\r\nhe might contend with me no more. For though I could be content to\r\nbe outrun by a horse, yet would I no more abide it to be outrun by\r\nan ass.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00628\"\u003eBut, uncle, here began now the game: he that sat highest and was to\r\nspeak last, was a great beneficed man, and not only a doctor but\r\nalso somewhat learned indeed in the laws of the church. A world was\r\nit to see how he marked every man\u0027s word who spoke before him! And\r\nit seemed that the more proper every word was, the worse he liked\r\nit, for the cumbrance that he had to study out a better one to\r\nsurpass it. The man even sweated with the labour, so that he was\r\nfain now and then to wipe his face. Howbeit, in conclusion, when it\r\ncame to his course, we who had spoken before him had so taken up\r\nall among us before that we had not left him one wise word to speak\r\nafterward.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00629\"\u003eANTHONY: Alas, good man—among so many of you, some good fellow\r\nshould have lent him one!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00630\"\u003eVINCENT: It needed not, as it happened, uncle. For he found out\r\nsuch a shift that in his flattering he surpassed us all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00631\"\u003eANTHONY: Why, what said he, cousin?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00632\"\u003eVINCENT: By our Lady, uncle, not one word. But he did as I believe\r\nPliny telleth of Apelles the painter, in the picture that he\r\npainted of the sacrifice and death of Iphigenia, in the making of\r\nthe sorrowful countenances of the noble men of Greece who beheld\r\nit. He reserved the countenance of King Agamemnon her father for\r\nthe last, lest, if he made his visage before, he must in some of\r\nthe others afterward either have made the visage less dolorous than\r\nhe could, and thereby have forborne some part of his praise, or,\r\ndoing the uttermost of his craft, might have happed to make some\r\nother look more heavily for the pity of her pain than her own\r\nfather, which would have been yet a far greater fault in his\r\npainting. When he came, therefore, to the making of her father\u0027s\r\nface last of all, he had spent out so much of his craft and skill\r\nthat he could devise no manner of new heavy cheer and countenance\r\nfor him but what he had made there aleady in some of the others a\r\nmuch more heavy one before. And therefore, to the intent that no\r\nman should see what manner of countenance it was that her father\r\nhad, the painter was fain to paint him holding his face in his\r\nhandkerchief!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00633\"\u003eThe like pageant (in a manner) played us there this good ancient\r\nhonourable flatterer. For when he saw that he could find no words\r\nof praise that would surpass all that had been spoken before\r\nalready, the wily fox would speak never a word. But as one who were\r\nravished heavenward with the wonder of the wisdom and eloquence\r\nthat my lord\u0027s grace had uttered in that oration, he set up a long\r\nsigh with an \"Oh!\" from the bottom of his breast, and held up both\r\nhis hands, and lifted up his head, and cast up his eyes into the\r\nwelkin, and wept.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00634\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, he played his part very properly. But\r\nwas that great prelate\u0027s oration, cousin, at all praiseworthy? For\r\nyou can tell, I see well. For you would not, I suppose, play as\r\nJuvenal merrily describeth the blind senator, one of the flatterers\r\nof Tiberius the emperor, who among the rest so magnified the great\r\nfish that the emperor had sent for them to show them. This blind\r\nsenator—Montanus, I believe they called him—marvelled at the fish\r\nas much as any that marvelled most. And many things he spoke of it,\r\nwith some of his words directed unto it, looking himself toward his\r\nleft side, while the fish lay on his right side! You would not, I\r\nam sure, cousin, have taken upon you to praise it so, unless you\r\nhad heard it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00635\"\u003eVINCENT: I heard it, uncle, indeed, and, to say the truth, it was\r\nnot to dispraise. Howbeit, surely, somewhat less praise might have\r\nserved it—less by a great deal more than half. But this I am sure:\r\nhad it been the worst that ever was made, the praise would not have\r\nbeen the less by one hair. For those who used to praise him to his\r\nface never considered how much the thing deserved, but how great a\r\nlaud and praise they themselves could give his good Grace.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00636\"\u003eANTHONY: Surely, cousin, as Terence saith, such folk make men of\r\nfools even stark mad. And much cause have their lords to be right\r\nangry with them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00637\"\u003eVINCENT: God hath indeed, and is, I daresay. But as for their\r\nlords, uncle, if they would afterward wax angry with them for it,\r\nthey would, to my mind, do them very great wrong. For it is one of\r\nthe things that they specially keep them for. For those who are of\r\nsuch vainglorious mind, be they lords or be they meaner men, can be\r\nmuch better contented to have their devices commended than amended.\r\nAnd though they require their servant and their friend never so\r\nspecially to tell them the very truth, yet shall he better please\r\nthem if he speak them fair than if he telleth them the truth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00638\"\u003eFor they be in the condition that Marciall speaketh of in an\r\nepigram, unto a friend of his who required his judgment how he\r\nliked his verses, but prayed him in any wise to tell him even the\r\nvery truth. To him, Marciall made answer in this wise:\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00639\"\u003e\"The very truth of me thou dost require.\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nThe very truth is this, my friend dear:\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\r\nThe very truth thou wouldst not gladly hear.\"\u003cbr\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00640\"\u003eAnd in good faith, uncle, the selfsame prelate that I told you my\r\ntale of—I dare be bold to swear it, I know it so surely—had one\r\ntime drawn up a certain treaty that was to serve for a league\r\nbetween that country and a great prince. In this treaty he himself\r\nthought that he had devised his articles so wisely and composed\r\nthem so well, that all the world would approve them. Thereupon,\r\nlonging sore to be praised, he called unto him a friend of his, a\r\nman well learned and of good worship, and very well expert in those\r\nmatters, as one who had been divers times ambassador for that\r\ncountry and had made many such treaties himself. When he gave him\r\nthe treaty and he had read it, he asked him how he liked it, and\r\nsaid, \"But I pray you heartily, tell me the very truth.\" And that\r\nhe spake so heartily that the other thought he would fain have\r\nheard the truth, and in that trust he told him a fault in the\r\ntreaty. And at the hearing of it he swore in great anger, \"By the\r\nmass, thou art a very fool!\" The other afterward told me that he\r\nwould never tell him the truth again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00641\"\u003eANTHONY: Without question, cousin, I cannot greatly blame him. And\r\nthus they themselves make every man mock them, flatter them, and\r\ndeceive them—those, I say, who are of such a vainglorious mind.\r\nFor if they be content to hear the truth, let them then make much\r\nof those who tell them the truth, and withdraw their ears from them\r\nwho falsely flatter them, and they shall be more truly served than\r\nwith twenty requests praying men to tell them true.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00642\"\u003eKing Ladislaus—our Lord absolve his soul!—used much this manner\r\namong his servants. When one of them praised any deed of his or any\r\nquality in him, if he perceived that they said but the truth he\r\nwould let it pass by uncontrolled. But when he saw that they set a\r\ngloss on it for his praise of their own making besides, then would\r\nhe shortly say unto them, \"I pray thee, good fellow, when thou\r\nsayest grace at my board, never bring in a \u003ci\u003eGloria Patri\u003c/i\u003e without a\r\n\u003ci\u003esicut erat.\u003c/i\u003e Any act that ever I did, if thou report it again to\r\nmine honour with a \u003ci\u003eGloria Patri,\u003c/i\u003e never report it but with a\r\n\u003ci\u003esicut erat\u003c/i\u003e—that is, even as it was and none otherwise. And lift\r\nme not up with lies, for I love it not.\" If men would use this way\r\nwith them that this noble king used, it would diminish much of\r\ntheir false flattery.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00643\"\u003eI can well approve that men should commend such things as they see\r\npraiseworthy in other men—keeping them within the bounds of\r\ntruth—to give them the greater courage to the increase of them.\r\nFor men keep still in that point one quality of children, that\r\npraise must prick them forth. But better it were to do well and\r\nlook for none. Howbeit, those who cannot find it in their hearts to\r\ncommend another man\u0027s good deed show themselves either envious or\r\nelse of nature very cold and dull. But without question, he who\r\nputteth his pleasure in the praise of the people hath but a foolish\r\nfancy. For if his finger do but ache of a hot blain, a great many\r\nmen\u0027s mouths blowing out his praise will scantly do him, among them\r\nall, so much ease as to have one boy blow on his finger!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00645\"\u003eLet us now consider likewise what great worldly wealth ariseth unto\r\nmen by great offices and authority—to those worldly-disposed\r\npeople, I say, who desire them for no better purpose. For of those\r\nwho desire them for better, we shall speak after anon.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00646\"\u003eThe great thing that they all chiefly like therein is that they may\r\nbear a rule, command and control other men, and live uncommanded\r\nand uncontrolled themselves. And yet this commodity took I so\r\nlittle heed of, that I never was aware it was so great, until a\r\ngood friend of ours merrily told me once that his wife once in a\r\ngreat anger taught it to him. For when her husband had no desire to\r\ngrow greatly upward in the world, nor would labour for office of\r\nauthority, and beside that forsook a right worshipful office when\r\nit was offered him, she fell in hand with him, he told me. And she\r\nall berated him, and asked him, \"What will you do, that you will\r\nnot put yourself forth as other folk do? Will you sit by the fire\r\nand make goslings in the ashes with a stick, as children do? Would\r\nGod I were a man—look what I would do!\" \"Why, wife,\" quoth her\r\nhusband, \"what would you do?\" \"What? By God, go forward with the\r\nbest! For, as my mother was wont to say—God have mercy on her\r\nsoul—it is evermore better to rule than to be ruled. And\r\ntherefore, by God, I would not, I warrant you, be so foolish as to\r\nbe ruled where I might rule.\" \"By my troth, wife,\" quoth her\r\nhusband, \"in this I daresay you say truth, for I never found you\r\nwilling to be ruled yet.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00647\"\u003eVINCENT: Well, uncle, I follow you now, well enough! She is indeed\r\na stout master-woman. And in good faith, for aught that I can see,\r\neven that same womanish mind of hers is the greatest commodity that\r\nmen reckon upon in offices of authority.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00648\"\u003eANTHONY: By my troth, and methinketh there are very few who attain\r\nany great commodity therein. For first there is, in every kingdom,\r\nbut one who can have an office of such authority that no man may\r\ncommand him or control him. No officer can stand in that position\r\nbut the king himself; he only, uncontrolled or uncommanded, may\r\ncontrol and command all. Now, of all the rest, each is under him.\r\nAnd yet almost every one is under more commanders and controllers,\r\ntoo, than one. And many a man who is in a great office commandeth\r\nfewer things and less labour to many men who are under him than\r\nsomeone that is over him commandeth him alone.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00649\"\u003eVINCENT: Yet it doth them good, uncle, that men must make courtesy\r\nto them and salute them with reverence and stand bareheaded before\r\nthem, or unto some of them peradventure kneel, too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00650\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, cousin, in some part they do but play at\r\ngleek—they receive reverence, and to their cost they pay honour\r\nagain therefor. For except, as I said, a king alone, the greatest\r\nin authority under him receiveth not so much reverence from any man\r\nas according to reason he himself doth honour to the king. Nor\r\ntwenty men\u0027s courtesies do him not so much pleasure as his own once\r\nkneeling doth him pain if his knee hap to be sore. And I once knew\r\na great officer of the king\u0027s to say—and in good faith I believe\r\nhe said but as he thought—that twenty men standing bareheaded\r\nbefore him kept not his head half so warm as to keep on his own\r\ncap. And he never took so much ease with their being bareheaded\r\nbefore him, as he once caught grief with a cough that came upon him\r\nby standing long bareheaded before the king.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00651\"\u003eBut let it be that these commodities be somewhat, such as they be.\r\nYet then consider whether any incommodities be so joined with them\r\nthat a man might almost as well lack both as have both. Goeth\r\neverything evermore as every one of them would have it? That would\r\nbe as hard as to please all the people at once with one weather,\r\nsince in one house the husband would have fair weather for his corn\r\nand his wife would have rain for her leeks! So those who are in\r\nauthority are not all evermore of one mind, but sometimes there is\r\nvariance among them, either for the respect of profit or the\r\ncontention of rule, or for maintenance of causes, sundry parts for\r\ntheir sundry friends, and it cannot be that both the parties can\r\nhave their own way. Nor often are they content who see their\r\nconclusions fail, but they take the missing of their intent ten\r\ntimes more displeasantly than poor men do. And this goeth not only\r\nfor men of mean authority, but unto the very greatest. The princes\r\nthemselves cannot have, you know, all their will. For how would it\r\nbe possible, since almost every one of them would, if he could, be\r\nlord over all the rest? Then many men, under their princes in\r\nauthority, are in such a position that many bear them privy malice\r\nand envy in heart. And many falsely speak them full fair and praise\r\nthem with their mouth, who when there happeth any great fall unto\r\nthem, bark and bite upon them like dogs.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00652\"\u003eFinally, there is the cost and charge, the danger and peril of war,\r\nin which their part is more than a poor man\u0027s is, since that matter\r\ndependeth more upon them. And many a poor ploughman may sit still\r\nby the fire while they must arise and walk.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00653\"\u003eAnd sometimes their authority falleth by change of their master\u0027s\r\nmind. And of that we see daily, in one place or another, such\r\nexamples and so many that the parable of that philosopher can lack\r\nno testimony, who likened the servants of great princes unto the\r\ncounters with which men do reckon accounts. For like as that\r\ncounter that standeth sometimes for a farthing is suddenly set up\r\nand standeth for a thousand pound, and afterward as soon is set\r\ndown beneath to stand for a farthing again; so fareth it sometimes\r\nwith those who seek the way to rise and grow up in authority by the\r\nfavour of great princes—as they rise up high, so fall they down\r\nagain as low.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00654\"\u003eHowbeit, though a man escape all such adventures, and abide in\r\ngreat authority till he die, yet then at least every man must leave\r\nat last. And that which we call \"at last\" hath no very long time to\r\nit. Let a man reckon his years that are past of his age ere ever he\r\ncan get up aloft; and let him, when he hath it first in his fist,\r\nreckon how long he shall be likely to live thereafter; and I\r\ndaresay that then the most part shall have little cause to rejoice.\r\nThey shall see the time likely to be so short that their honour and\r\nauthority by nature shall endure, beside the manifold chances by\r\nwhich they may lose it sooner. And then, when they see that they\r\nmust needs leave it—the thing which they did much more set their\r\nhearts upon than ever they had reasonable cause—what sorrow they\r\ntake for it, that shall I not need to tell you.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00655\"\u003eAnd thus it seemeth unto me, cousin, in good faith, that since in\r\nthe having of authority the profit is not great, and the\r\ndispleasures neither small nor few; and since of the losing there\r\nare so many sundry chances and by no means a man can keep it long;\r\nand since to part from it is such a painful grief: I can see no\r\nvery great cause for which, as a high worldly commodity, men should\r\ngreatly desire it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00657\"\u003eAnd thus far have we considered hitherto, in these outward goods\r\nthat are called the gifts of fortune, only the slender commodity\r\nthat worldly-minded men have by them. But now, if we consider\r\nfurther what harm to the soul they take by them who desire them\r\nonly for the wretched wealth of this world, then shall we well\r\nperceive how far more happy is he who well loseth them than he who\r\nill findeth them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00658\"\u003eThese things are such as are of their own nature indifferent—that\r\nis, of themselves neither good nor bad—but are matter that may\r\nserve to the one or the other according as men will use them. Yet\r\nneed we little doubt but that for those who desire them only for\r\ntheir worldly pleasure and for no further godly purpose the devil\r\nshall soon turn them from things indifferent and make them things\r\nvery evil. For though they be indifferent of their nature, yet\r\ncannot the use of them lightly stand indifferent, but must be\r\ndeterminately either good or bad. And therefore he who desireth\r\nthem only for worldly pleasure, desireth them not for any good. And\r\nfor better purpose than he desireth them, to better use is he not\r\nlikely to put them. And therefore will he use them not unto good\r\nbut consequently to evil.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00659\"\u003eAnd for example, first consider it in riches, and in him who\r\nlongeth for them as for things of temporal commodity and not for\r\nany godly purpose. What good they shall do him, St. Paul declareth,\r\nwhen he writeth unto Timothy, \"They that long to be rich fall into\r\ntemptation and into the snare of the devil, and into many desires\r\nunprofitable and noxious, which drown men into death and into\r\nperdition.\" And the holy scripture saith also in the twenty-fourth\r\nchapter of the Proverbs, \"He that gathereth treasures shall be\r\nshoved into the snares of death.\" So that whereas God saith by the\r\nmouth of St. Paul that they shall fall into the devil\u0027s snare, he\r\nsaith in the other place that they shall be pushed and shoved in by\r\nviolence. And of truth, while a man desireth riches not for any\r\ngood godly purpose but only for worldly wealth, it must needs be\r\nthat he shall have little conscience in the getting. But, by all\r\nevil ways that he can invent, shall he labour to get them. And then\r\nshall he either niggardly heap them up together, which is, as you\r\nwell know, damnable; or else shall he wastefully misspend them upon\r\nworldly pomp, pride, and gluttony, with occasion of many sins more,\r\nand that is yet much more damnable.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00660\"\u003eAs for fame and glory desired only for worldly pleasure, they do\r\nunto the soul inestimable harm. For they set men\u0027s hearts upon high\r\ndevices and desires of such things as are immoderate and\r\noutrageous. And by help of false flatterers, they puff up a man in\r\npride and make a brittle man—lately made of earth, that shall\r\nagain shortly be laid full low in earth and there lie and rot and\r\nturn again into earth—take himself in the meantime for a god here\r\nupon earth and think to win himself to be lord of all the earth.\r\nThis maketh battles between these great princes, with much trouble\r\nto much people, and great effusion of blood, and one king looking\r\nto reign in five realms, who cannot well rule one. For how many\r\nhath now this great Turk? And yet he aspireth to more. And those\r\nthat he hath, he ordereth evilly—and yet he ordereth himself worst.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00661\"\u003eThen, offices of authority: If men desire them only for their\r\nworldly fancies, who can look that ever they shall occupy them\r\nwell, and not rather abuse their authority and do thereby great\r\nhurt? For then shall they fall from indifference and maintain false\r\nsuits for their friends. And they shall bear up their servants, and\r\nsuch as depend upon them, with bearing down of other innocent folk,\r\nwho are not so able to do hurt as easy to take harm. Then the laws\r\nthat are made against malefactors shall they make, as an old\r\nphilosopher said, to be much like unto cobwebs, in which the little\r\ngnats and flies stick still and hang fast, but the great\r\nhumble-bees break them and fly quite through. And then the laws\r\nthat are made as a buckler in the defence of innocents, those shall\r\nthey make serve for a sword to cut and sore wound them with—and\r\ntherewith wound they their own souls sorer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00662\"\u003eAnd thus you see, cousin, that of all these outward goods which men\r\ncall the goods of fortune, there is never one that, unto those who\r\nlong for it not for any godly purpose but only for their worldly\r\nwelath, hath any great commodity to the body. And yet are they all,\r\nbeside that, very deadly destruction unto the soul.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00664\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, good uncle, this thing is so plainly true that no\r\nman can with any good reason deny it. But I think also, uncle, that\r\nno man will do so. For I see no man who will confess, for very\r\nshame, that he desireth riches, honour, renown, and offices of\r\nauthority only for his worldly pleasure. For every man would fain\r\nseem as holy as a horse. And therefore will every man say—and\r\nwould it were so believed, too—that he desireth these things,\r\nthough for his worldly wealth a little so, yet principally to merit\r\nthereby through doing some good with them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00665\"\u003eANTHONY: This is, cousin, very surely so, that so doth every man\r\nsay. But first he who in the desire of these things hath his\r\nrespect unto his worldly wealth, as you say, \"but a little so,\" so\r\nmuch as he himself thinketh but a little, may soon prove a great\r\ndeal too much. And many men will say so, too, who have principal\r\nrespect unto their worldly commodity, and toward God little or none\r\nat all. And yet they pretend the contrary, and that unto their own\r\nharm. For \"God cannot be mocked.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00666\"\u003eAnd some peradventure know not well their own affection themselves.\r\nBut there lieth more imperfection secretly in their affection than\r\nthey themselves are well aware of, which only God beholdeth. And\r\ntherefore saith the prophet unto God, \"Mine imperfection have thine\r\neyes beheld.\" And therefore the prophet prayeth, \"From mine hidden\r\nsins cleanse thou me, good Lord.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00667\"\u003eBut now, cousin, this tribulation of the Turk: If he so persecute\r\nus for the faith that those who will forsake their faith shall keep\r\ntheir goods, and those shall lose their goods who will not leave\r\ntheir faith—lo, this manner of persecution shall try them like a\r\ntouchstone. For it shall show the feigned from the true-minded, and\r\nit shall also teach them who think they mean better than they do\r\nindeed, better to discern themselves. For there are some who think\r\nthey mean well, while they frame themselves a conscience, and ever\r\nkeep still a great heap of superfluous substance by them, thinking\r\never still that they will bethink themselves upon some good deed on\r\nwhich they will well bestow it once—or else that their executors\r\nshall! But now, if they lie not unto themselves, but keep their\r\ngoods for any good purpose to the pleasure of God indeed, then\r\nshall they, in this persecution, for the pleasure of God in keeping\r\nhis faith, be glad to depart from them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00668\"\u003eAnd therefore, as for all these things—the loss, I mean, of all\r\nthese outward things that men call the gifts of fortune—this is,\r\nmethinketh, in this Turk\u0027s persecution for the faith, consolation\r\ngreat and sufficient: Every man who hath them either setteth by\r\nthem for the world or for God. He who setteth by them for the world\r\nhath, as I have showed you, little profit by them to the body and\r\ngreat harm unto the soul. And therefore, he might well, if he were\r\nwise, reckon that he won by the loss, although he lost them but by\r\nsome common cause. And much more happy can he then be, since he\r\nloseth them by such a meritorious means. And on the other hand, he\r\nwho keepeth them for some good purpose, intending to bestow them\r\nfor the pleasure of God, the loss of them in this Turk\u0027s\r\npersecution for keeping of the faith can be no manner of grief to\r\nhim. For by so parting from them he bestoweth them in such wise\r\nunto God\u0027s pleasure that at the time when he loseth them by no way\r\ncould he bestow them unto his high pleasure better. For though it\r\nwould have been peradventure better to have bestowed them well\r\nbefore, yet since he kept them for some good purpose he would not\r\nhave left them unbestowed if he had foreknown the chance. But being\r\nnow prevented so by persecution that he cannot bestow them in that\r\nother good way that he would have, yet since he parteth from them\r\nbecause he will not part from the faith, though the devil\u0027s\r\nescheator violently take them from him, yet willingly giveth he\r\nthem to God.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00670\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, good uncle, I can deny none of this. And\r\nindeed, unto those who were despoiled and robbed by the Turk\u0027s\r\noverrunning of the country, and all their substance movable and\r\nunmovable bereft and lost already, their persons only fled and\r\nsafe, I think that these considerations—considering also that, as\r\nyou lately said, their sorrow could not amend their chance—might\r\nunto them be good occasion of comfort, and cause them, as you said,\r\nto make a virtue of necessity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00671\"\u003eBut in the case, uncle, that we now speak of, they have yet their\r\nsubstance untouched in their own hands, and the keeping or the\r\nlosing shall both hang in their own hands, by the Turk\u0027s offer,\r\nupon the retaining or the renouncing of the Christian faith. Here,\r\nuncle, I find it, as you said, that this temptation is most sore\r\nand most perilous. For I fear me that we shall find few of such as\r\nhave much to lose who shall find it in their hearts so suddenly to\r\nforsake their goods, with all those other things before rehearsed\r\non which their worldly wealth dependeth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00672\"\u003eANTHONY: That fear I much, cousin, too. But thereby shall it well\r\nappear, as I said, that, seemed they never so good and virtuous\r\nbefore, and flattered they themselves with never so gay a gloss of\r\ngood and gracious purpose that they kept their goods for, yet were\r\ntheir hearts inwardly in the deep sight of God not sound and sure\r\nsuch as they should be (and as peradventure some had themselves\r\nthought they were) but like a puff-ring of Paris—hollow, light,\r\nand counterfeit indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00673\"\u003eAnd yet, they being even such, this would I fain ask one of them.\r\nAnd I pray you, cousin, take you his person upon you, and in this\r\ncase answer for him. \"What hindereth you,\" would I ask, \"your\r\nLordship,\" (for we will take no small man for an example in this\r\npart, nor him who would have little to lose, for methinketh such a\r\none who would cast away God for a little, would be so far from all\r\nprofit, that he would not be worth talking with). \"What hindereth\r\nyou,\" I say, therefore, \"that you be not gladly content, without\r\nany deliberation at all, in this kind of persecution, rather than\r\nto leave your faith, to let go all that ever you have at once?\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00674\"\u003eVINCENT: Since you put it unto me, uncle, to make the matter more\r\nplain, that I should play that great man\u0027s part who is so wealthy\r\nand hath so much to lose, albeit that I cannot be very sure of\r\nanother man\u0027s mind, nor of what another man would say, yet as far\r\nas mine own mind can conjecture, I shall answer in his person what\r\nI think would be his hindrance. And therefore to your question I\r\nanswer that there hindereth me the thing that you yourself may\r\nlightly guess: the losing of the many commodities which I now\r\nhave—riches and substance, lands and great possessions of\r\ninheritance, with great rule and authority here in my country. All\r\nof which things the great Turk granteth me to keep still in peace\r\nand have them enhanced, too, if I will forsake the faith of Christ.\r\nYea, I may say to you, I have a motion secretly made me further, to\r\nkeep all this yet better cheap; that is, not to be compelled\r\nutterly to forsake Christ nor all the whole Christian faith, but\r\nonly some such parts of it as may not stand with Mahomet\u0027s law.\r\nAnd only granting Mahomet for a true prophet and serving the Turk\r\ntruly in his wars against all Christian kings, I shall not be\r\nhindered to praise Christ also, and to call him a good man, and\r\nworship and serve him too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00675\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, nay, my lord—Christ hath not so great need of your\r\nLordship as, rather than to lose your service, he would fall at\r\nsuch covenants with you as to take your service at halves, to serve\r\nhim and his enemy both! He hath given you plain warning already by\r\nSt. Paul that he will have in your service no parting-fellow: \"What\r\nfellowship is there between light and darkness? Between Christ and\r\nBelial?\" And he hath also plainly told you himself by his own\r\nmouth, \"No man can serve two lords at once.\" He will have you\r\nbelieve all that he telleth you, and do all that he biddeth you,\r\nand forbear all that he forbiddeth you, without any manner of\r\nexception. Break one of his commandments, and you break all.\r\nForsake one point of his faith, and you forsake all, as for any\r\nthanks that you get of him for the rest. And therefore, if you\r\ndevise, as it were, indentures between God and you—what you will\r\ndo for him and what you will not do, as though he should hold\r\nhimself content with such service of yours as you yourself care to\r\nappoint him—if you make, I say, such indentures, you shall seal\r\nboth the parts yourself, and you get no agreement thereto from him.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00676\"\u003eAnd this I say: Though the Turk would make such an appointment with\r\nyou as you speak of, and would, when he had made it, keep\r\nit—whereas he would not, I warrant you, leave you so when he had\r\nonce brought you so far forth. But he would, little by little, ere\r\nhe left you, make you deny Christ altogether and take Mahomet in\r\nhis stead. And so doth he in the beginning, when he will not have\r\nyou believe him to be God. For surely, if he were not God, he would\r\nbe no good man either, since he plainly said he was God. But\r\nthrough he would go never so far forth with you, yet Christ will,\r\nas I said, not take your service by halves, but will that you shall\r\nlove him with all your whole heart. And because, while he was\r\nliving here fifteen hundred years ago, he foresaw this mind of\r\nyours that you have now, with which you would fain serve him in\r\nsome such fashion that you might keep your worldly substance still,\r\nbut rather forsake his service than put all your substance from\r\nyou, he telleth you plainly fifteen hundred years ago with his own\r\nmouth that he will have no such service of you, saying, \"You cannot\r\nserve both God and your riches together.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00677\"\u003eAnd therefore, this thing being established for a plain conclusion,\r\nwhich you must needs grant if you have faith—and if you be gone\r\nfrom that ground of faith already, then is all our disputation, you\r\nknow, at an end. For how should you then rather lose your goods\r\nthan forsake your faith, if you have lost your faith and let it go\r\nalready? This point, I say, therefore, being put first for a\r\nground, between us both twain agreed, that you have yet the faith\r\nstill and intend to keep it always still in your heart, and are\r\nonly in doubt whether you will lose all your worldly substance\r\nrather than forsake your faith in your word alone; now shall I\r\nreply to the point of your answer, wherein you tell me the lothness\r\nof the loss and the comfort of the keeping hinder you from forgoing\r\nyour goods and move you rather to forsake your faith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00678\"\u003eI let pass all that I have spoken of the small commodity of them\r\nunto your body and of the great harm that the having of them doth\r\nto your soul. And since the promise of the Turk, made unto you for\r\nthe keeping of them, is the thing that moveth you and maketh you\r\nthus to doubt, I ask you first whereby you know that, when you have\r\ndone all that he will have you do against Christ, to the harm of\r\nyour soul—whereby know you, I say, that he will keep you his\r\npromise in these things that he promiseth you concerning the\r\nretaining of your well-beloved worldly wealth, for the pleasure of\r\nyour body?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00679\"\u003eVINCENT: What surety can a man have of such a great prince except\r\nhis promise, which for his own honour it cannot become him to break?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00680\"\u003eANTHONY: I have known him, and his father before him too, to break\r\nmore promises than five, as great as this is that he should here\r\nmake with you. Who shall come and cast it in his teeth, and tell\r\nhim it is a shame for him to be so fickle and so false of his\r\npromise? And then what careth he for those words that he knoweth\r\nwell he shall never hear? Not very much, though they were told him\r\ntoo!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00681\"\u003eIf you might come afterward and complain your grief unto his own\r\nperson yourself, you should find him as shamefast as a friend of\r\nmine, a merchant, once found the Sultan of Syria. Being certain\r\nyears about his merchandise in that country, he gave to the Sultan\r\na great sum of money for a certain office for him there for the\r\nwhile. But he had scantly granted him this and put it in his hand\r\nwhen, ere ever it was worth aught to him, the Sultan suddenly sold\r\nit to another of his own sect, and put our Hungarian out. Then came\r\nhe to him and humbly put him in remembrance of his grant, spoken\r\nwith his own mouth and signed with his own hand. Thereunto the\r\nSultan answered him, with a grim countenance, \"I will have thee\r\nknow, good-for-nothing, that neither my mouth nor mine hand shall\r\nbe master over me, to bind all my body at their pleasure. But I\r\nwill be lord and master over them both, that whatsoever the one say\r\nand the other write, I will be at mine own liberty to do what I\r\nlike myself, and ask them both no leave. And therefore, go get thee\r\nhence out of my countries, knave!\" Think you now, my lord, that\r\nSultan and this Turk, being both of one false sect, you may not\r\nfind them both alike false of their promise?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00682\"\u003eVINCENT: That must I needs jeopard, for other surety can there\r\nnone be had.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00683\"\u003eANTHONY: An unwise jeoparding, to put your soul in peril of\r\ndamnation for the keeping of your bodily pleasures, and yet without\r\nsurety to jeopard them too!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00684\"\u003eBut yet go a little further, lo. Suppose me that you might be very\r\nsure that the Turk would break no promise with you. Are you then\r\nsure enough to retain all your substance still?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00685\"\u003eVINCENT: Yea, then.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00686\"\u003eANTHONY: What if a man should ask you how long?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00687\"\u003eVINCENT: How long? As long as I live.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00688\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, let it be so, then. But yet, as far as I can see,\r\nthough the great Turk favour you never so much and let you keep\r\nyour goods as long as ever you live, yet if it hap that you be this\r\nday fifty years old, all the favour he can show you cannot make you\r\none day younger tomorrow. But every day shall you wax older than\r\nthe day before, and then within a while must you, for all his\r\nfavour, lose all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00689\"\u003eVINCENT: Well, a man would be glad, for all that, to be sure not\r\nto lack while he liveth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00690\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, then, if the great Turk give you your goods, can\r\nthere then in all your life none other take them from you again?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00691\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, I suppose not.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00692\"\u003eANTHONY: May he not lose this country again unto Christian men,\r\nand you, with the taking of this way, fall in the same peril then\r\nthat you would now eschew?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00693\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, I think that if he get it once, he will never\r\nlose it after again in our days.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00694\"\u003eANTHONY: Yes, by God\u0027s grace. But yet if he lose it after our day,\r\nthere goeth your children\u0027s inheritance away again! But be it now\r\nthat he could never lose it; could none take your substance from\r\nyou then?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00695\"\u003eVINCENT: No, in good faith, none.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00696\"\u003eANTHONY: No, none at all? Not God?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00697\"\u003eVINCENT: God? Why, yes, perdy. Who doubteth of that?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00698\"\u003eANTHONY: Who? Marry, he who doubteth whether there be any God or\r\nno. And that there lacketh not some such, the prophet testifieth\r\nwhere he said, \"The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God.\"\r\nWith the mouth the most foolish will forbear to say it unto other\r\nfolk, but in the heart they forbear not to say it softly to\r\nthemselves. And I fear me there be many more such fools than every\r\nman would think. And they would not hesitate to say it openly, too,\r\nif they forbore it not more for dread or for shame of men than for\r\nany fear of God. But now those who are so frantic foolish as to\r\nthink there were no God, and yet in their words confess him, though\r\n(as St. Paul saith) in their deeds they deny him—we shall let them\r\npass till it please God to show himself unto them, either inwardly,\r\nin time, by his merciful grace, or else outwardly, but over-late\r\nfor them, by his terrible judgment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00699\"\u003eBut unto you, my Lord, since you believe and confess, as a wise man\r\nshould, that though the Turk keep you his promise in letting you\r\nkeep your substance, because you do him pleasure in the forsaking\r\nof your faith, yet God, whose faith you forsake, and thereby do him\r\ndispleasure, may so take them from you that the great Turk, with\r\nall the power he hath, is not able to keep you them—why will you\r\nbe so unwise with the loss of your soul to please the great Turk\r\nfor your goods, since you know well that God whom you displease\r\ntherewith may take them from you too?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00700\"\u003eBesides this, since you believe there is a God, you cannot but\r\nbelieve also that the great Turk cannot take your goods from you\r\nwithout his will or sufferance, no more than the devil could from\r\nJob. And think you then that, if he will suffer the Turk to take\r\naway your goods albeit that by the keeping and confessing of his\r\nfaith you please him, he will, when you displease him by forsaking\r\nhis faith, suffer you to rejoice or enjoy any benefit of those\r\ngoods that you get or keep thereby?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00701\"\u003eVINCENT: God is gracious, and though men offend him, yet he\r\nsuffereth them many times to live in prosperity long after.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00702\"\u003eANTHONY: Long after? Nay, by my troth, that doth he no man! For\r\nhow can that be, that he should suffer you to live in prosperity\r\nlong after, when your whole life is but short in all-together, and\r\neither almost half of it or more than half, you think yourself, I\r\ndaresay, spent out already before? Can you burn out half a short\r\ncandle, and then have a long one left of the rest?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00703\"\u003eThere cannot in this world be a worse mind than for a man to\r\ndelight and take comfort in any commodity that he taketh by sinful\r\nmeans. For it is the very straight way toward the taking of\r\nboldness and courage in sin, and finally to falling into infidelity\r\nand thinking that God careth not or regardeth not what things men\r\ndo here nor of what mind we be. But unto such-minded folk speaketh\r\nholy scripture in this wise: \"Say not, I have sinned and yet there\r\nhath happed me none harm, for God suffereth before he strike.\" But,\r\nas St. Austine saith, the longer he tarrieth ere he strike, the\r\nsorer is the stroke when he striketh.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00704\"\u003eAnd therefore, if you will do well, reckon yourself very sure that\r\nwhen you deadly displease God for the getting or the keeping of\r\nyour goods, God shall not suffer those goods to do you good. But\r\neither he shall shortly take them from you, or else suffer you to\r\nkeep them for a little while to your more harm and afterward, when\r\nyou least look for it, take you away from them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00705\"\u003eAnd then, what a heap of heaviness will there enter into your\r\nheart, when you shall see that you shall so suddenly go from your\r\ngoods and leave them here in the earth in one place, and that your\r\nbody shall be put in the earth in another place, and—which then\r\nshall be the most heaviness of all—when you shall fear (and not\r\nwithout great cause) that your soul first forthwith, and after that\r\nat the final judgment your body, shall be driven down deep toward\r\nthe centre of the earth into the fiery pit and dungeon of the devil\r\nof hell, there to tarry in torment, world without end! What goods\r\nof this world can any man imagine, the pleasure and commodity of\r\nwhich could be such in a thousand years as to be able to recompense\r\nthat intolerable pain that there is to be suffered in one year?\r\nYea, or in one day or one hour, either? And then what a madness is\r\nit, for the poor pleasure of your worldly goods of so few years, to\r\ncast yourself both body and soul into the everlasting fire of hell,\r\nwhich is not diminished by the amount of a moment by lying there\r\nthe space of a hundred thousand years?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00706\"\u003eAnd therefore our Saviour, in few words, concluded and confuted all\r\nthese follies of those who, for the short use of this worldly\r\nsubstance, forsake him and his faith and sell their souls unto the\r\ndevil for ever. For he saith, \"What availeth it a man if he won all\r\nthe whole world, and lost his soul?\" This would be, methinketh,\r\ncause and occasion enough, to him who had never so much part of\r\nthis world in his hand, to be content rather to lose it all than\r\nfor the retaining or increasing of his worldly goods to lose and\r\ndestroy his soul.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00707\"\u003eVINCENT: This is, good uncle, in good faith very true. And what\r\nother thing any of them who would not for this be content, have to\r\nallege in reason for the defence of their folly, that can I not\r\nimagine. I care not in this matter to play the part any longer, but\r\nI pray God give me the grace to play the contrary part in deed. And\r\nI pray that I may never, for any goods or substance of this\r\nwretched world, forsake my faith toward God either in heart or\r\ntongue. And I trust in his great goodness that so I never shall.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00709\"\u003eANTHONY: Methinketh, cousin, that this persecution shall not only,\r\nas I said before, try men\u0027s hearts when it cometh and make them\r\nknow their own affections—whether they have a corrupt greedy\r\ncovetous mind or not—but also the very fame and expectation of it\r\nmay teach them this lesson, ere ever the thing fall upon them\r\nitself. And this may be to their no little fruit, if they have the\r\nwit and the grace to take it in time while they can. For now may\r\nthey find sure places to lay their treasure in, so that all the\r\nTurk\u0027s army shall never find it out.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00710\"\u003eVINCENT: Marry, uncle, that way they will not forget, I warrant\r\nyou, as near as their wits will serve them. But yet have I known\r\nsome who have ere this thought that they had hid their money safe\r\nand sure enough, digging it full deep in the ground, and yet have\r\nmissed it when they came again and found it digged out and carried\r\naway to their hands.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00711\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, from their hands, I think you would say. And it was\r\nno marvel. For some such have I known, too, but they have hid their\r\ngoods foolishly in such place as they were well warned before that\r\nthey should not. And that were they warned by him whom they well\r\nknew for such a one as knew well enough what would come of it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00712\"\u003eVINCENT: Then were they more than mad. But did he tell them too\r\nwhere they should have hid it, to make it sure?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00713\"\u003eANTHONY: Yea, by St. Mary, did he! For else he would have told\r\nthem but half a tale. But he told them a whole tale, bidding them\r\nthat they should in no wise hide their treasure in the ground. And\r\nhe showed them a good cause, for there thieves dig it out and steal\r\nit away.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00714\"\u003eVINCENT: Why, where should they hide it, then, said he? For\r\nthieves may hap to find it out in any place.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00715\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, he counselled them to hide their treasure in\r\nheaven and there lay it up, for there it shall lie safe. For\r\nthither, he said, there can no thief come, till he have left his\r\ntheft and become a true man first. And he who gave this counsel\r\nknew well enough what he said, for it was our Saviour himself, who\r\nin the sixth chapter of St. Matthew saith, \"Hoard not up your\r\ntreasures in earth, where the rust and the moth fret it out and\r\nwhere thieves dig it out and steal it away. But hoard up your\r\ntreasures in heaven, where neither the rust nor the moth fret them\r\nout, and where thieves dig them not out nor steal them away. For\r\nwhere thy treasure is, there is thine heart too.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00716\"\u003eIf we would well consider these words of our Saviour Christ,\r\nmethinketh we should need no more counsel at all, nor no more\r\ncomfort either, concerning the loss of our temporal substance in\r\nthis Turk\u0027s persecution for the faith. For here our Lord in these\r\nwords teacheth us where we may lay up our substance safe, before\r\nthe persecution come. If we put it into the poor men\u0027s bosoms,\r\nthere shall it lie safe, for who would go search a beggar\u0027s bag for\r\nmoney? If we deliver it to the poor for Christ\u0027s sake, we deliver\r\nit unto Christ himself. And then what persecutor can there be, so\r\nstrong as to take it out of his hand?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00717\"\u003eVINCENT: These things, uncle, are undoubtedly so true that no man\r\ncan with words wrestle therewith. But yet ever there hangeth in a\r\nman\u0027s heart a lothness to lack a living!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch5 id=\"id00718\"\u003e[YOU ARE HERE]\u003c/h5\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00719\"\u003eANTHONY: There doth indeed, in theirs who either never or but\r\nseldom hear any good counsel against it, or who, when they hear it,\r\nhearken to it but as they would to an idle tale, rather for a\r\npastime or for the sake of manners than for any substantial intent\r\nand purpose to follow good advice and take any fruit by it. But\r\nverily, if we would lay not only our ear but also our heart to it,\r\nand consider that the saying of our Saviour Christ is not a poet\u0027s\r\nfable or a harper\u0027s song but the very holy word of almighty God\r\nhimself, we would be full sore ashamed of ourselves—and well we\r\nmight! And we would be full sorry too, when we felt in our\r\naffection those words to have in our hearts no more strength and\r\nweight but what we remain still of the same dull mind as we did\r\nbefore we heard them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00720\"\u003eThis manner of ours, in whose breasts the great good counsel of God\r\nno better settleth nor taketh no better root, may well declare to\r\nus that the thorns and briars and brambles of our worldly substance\r\ngrow so thick and spring up so high in the ground of our hearts\r\nthat they strangle, as the Gospel saith, the word of God that was\r\nsown therein. And therefore is God a very good lord unto us, when\r\nhe causeth, like a good husbandman, his folk to come on the\r\nfield—for the persecutors are his folk, to this purpose—and with\r\ntheir hooks and their stocking-irons to grub up these wicked weeds\r\nand bushes of our earthly substance and carry them quite away from\r\nus, that the word of God sown in our hearts may have room there,\r\nand a glade round about for the warm sun of grace to come to it and\r\nmake it grow. For surely those words of our Saviour shall we find\r\nfull true, \"Where thy treasure is, there is also thine heart.\" If\r\nwe lay up our treasure in earth, in earth shall be our hearts. If\r\nwe send our treasure into heaven, in heaven shall we have our\r\nhearts. And surely, the greatest comfort any man can have in his\r\ntribulation is to have his heart in heaven.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00721\"\u003eIf thine heart were indeed out of this world and in heaven, all the\r\nkinds of torments that all this world could devise could put thee\r\nto no pain here. Let us then send our hearts hence thither in such\r\na manner as we may, by sending hither our worldly substance hence.\r\nAnd let us never doubt but we shall, that once done, find our\r\nhearts so conversant in heaven, with the glad consideration of our\r\nfollowing the gracious counsel of Christ, that the comfort of his\r\nHoly Spirit, inspired in us for that, shall mitigate, diminish,\r\nassuage, and (in a manner) quench the great furious fervour of the\r\npain that we shall happen to have by his loving sufferance of our\r\nfurther merit in our tribulation.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00722\"\u003eIf we saw that we should be within a while driven out of this land,\r\nand fain to fly into another, we would think that a man were mad\r\nwho would not be content to forbear his goods here for the while\r\nand send them before him into that land where he saw he should live\r\nall the rest of his life. So may we verily think yet ourselves much\r\nmore mad—seeing that we are sure it cannot be long ere we shall be\r\nsent, spite of our teeth, out of this world—if the fear of a\r\nlittle lack or the love to see our goods here about us and the\r\nlothness to part from them for this little while that we may keep\r\nthem here, shall be able to keep us from the sure sending them\r\nbefore us into the other world. For we may be sure to live there\r\nwealthily with them if we send them thither, or else shortly leave\r\nthem here behind us and then stand in great jeopardy there to live\r\nwretches for ever.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00723\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, good uncle, methinketh that concerning the\r\nloss of these outward things, these considerations are so\r\nsufficient comforts, that for mine own part I would methinketh\r\ndesire no more, save only grace well to remember them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00725\"\u003eANTHONY: Much less than this may serve, cousin, with calling and\r\ntrusting upon God\u0027s help, without which much more than this cannot\r\nserve. But the fervour of the Christian faith so sore fainteth\r\nnowadays and decayeth, coming from hot unto luke-warm and from\r\nluke-warm almost to key-cold, that men must now be fain to lay many\r\ndry sticks to it, as to a fire that is almost out, and use much\r\nblowing at it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00726\"\u003eBut else I think, by my troth, that unto a warm faithful man one\r\nthing alone, of which we have spoken yet no word, would be comfort\r\nenough in this kind of persecution, against the loss of all his\r\ngoods.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00727\"\u003eVINCENT: What thing may that be, uncle?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00728\"\u003eANTHONY: In good faith, cousin, even the bare remembrance of the\r\npoverty that our Saviour willingly suffered for us. For I verily\r\nsuppose that if there were a great king who had so tender love for\r\na servant of his that he had, to help him out of danger, forsaken\r\nand lost all his worldly wealth and royalty and become poor and\r\nneedy for his sake, that servant could scantly be found who would\r\nbe of such a base unnatural heart that if he himself came afterward\r\nto some substance he would not with better will lose it all again\r\nthan shamefully to forsake such a master.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00729\"\u003eAnd therefore, as I say, I surely suppose that if we would well\r\nremember and inwardly consider the great goodness of our Saviour\r\ntoward us, when we were not yet his poor sinful servants but rather\r\nhis adversaries and his enemies, and what wealth of this world he\r\nwillingly forsook for our sakes—for he was indeed universal king\r\nof this world, and so having the power in his own hand to have used\r\nit if he had wished, instead of which, to make us rich in heaven,\r\nhe lived here in neediness and poverty all his life and neither\r\nwould have authority nor keep either lands or goods. If we would\r\nremember this, the deep consideration and earnest advisement of\r\nthis one point alone would be able to make any true Christian man\r\nor woman well content rather for his sake in return to give up all\r\nthat ever God hath lent them (and lent them he hath, all that they\r\nhave) than unkindly and unfaithfully to forsake him. And him they\r\nforsake if, for fear, they forsake the confessing of his Christian\r\nfaith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00730\"\u003eAnd therefore, to finish this piece withal, concerning the dread of\r\nlosing our outward worldly goods, let us consider the slender\r\ncommodity that they bring; with what labour they are bought; what a\r\nlittle while they abide with whomsoever they abide with longest;\r\nwhat pain their pleasure is mingled with; what harm the love of\r\nthem doth unto the soul; what loss is in the keeping if Christ\u0027s\r\nfaith is refused for them; what winning is in the loss, if we lose\r\nthem for God\u0027s sake; how much more profitable they are when well\r\ngiven than when ill kept; and finally what ingratitude it would be\r\nif we would not forsake them for Christ\u0027s sake rather than for them\r\nto forsake Christ unfaithfully, who while he lived for our sake\r\nforsook all the world, beside the suffering of shameful and painful\r\ndeath, of which we shall speak afterward.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00731\"\u003eIf we will consider well these things, I say, and will pray God\r\nwith his holy hand to print them in our hearts, and will abide and\r\ndwell still in the hope of his help, his truth shall, as the\r\nprophet saith, so compass us about with a shield that we shall not\r\nneed to be afraid of this incursion of this midday devil—this\r\nplain open persecution of the Turk—for any loss that we can take\r\nby the bereaving from us of our wretched worldly goods. For their\r\nshort and small pleasure in this life forborne, we shall be with\r\nheavenly substance everlastingly recompensed by God, in joyful\r\nbliss and glory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00733\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, as for these outward goods, you have\r\nsaid enough. No man can be sure what strength he shall have or how\r\nfaint and feeble he may find himself when he shall come to the\r\npoint, and therefore I can make no warranty of myself, seeing that\r\nSt. Peter so suddenly fainted at a woman\u0027s word and so cowardly\r\nforsook his master, for whom he had so boldly fought within so few\r\nhours before, and by that fall in forsaking well perceived that he\r\nhad been too rash in his promise and was well worthy to take a fall\r\nfor putting so full trust in himself. Yet in good faith methinketh\r\nnow (and God will, I trust, help me to keep this thought still)\r\nthat if the Turk should take all that I have, unto my very shirt,\r\nunless I would forsake my faith, and should offer it all to me\r\nagain with five times as much if I would fall into his sect, I\r\nwould not once stick at it—rather to forsake it every whit, than\r\nto forsake any point of Christ\u0027s holy faith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00734\"\u003eBut surely, good uncle, when I bethink me further on the grief and\r\nthe pain that may turn unto my flesh, here find I the fear that\r\nforceth my heart to tremble.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00735\"\u003eANTHONY: Neither have I cause to marvel at that, nor have you,\r\ncousin, cause to be dismayed for it. The great horror and fear that\r\nour Saviour had in his own flesh, against his painful passion,\r\nmaketh me little to marvel. And I may well make you take this\r\ncomfort, too, that for no such manner of grudging felt in your\r\nsensual parts, the flesh shrinking in the meditation of pain and\r\ndeath, your reason shall give over, but resist it and manly master\r\nit. And though you would fain fly from the painful death and be\r\nloth to come to it, yet may the meditation of our Saviour\u0027s great\r\ngrievous agony move you. And he himself shall, if you so desire\r\nhim, not fail to work with you therein, and to get and give you the\r\ngrace to submit and conform your will unto his, as he did his unto\r\nhis Father. And thereupon shall you be so comforted with the secret\r\ninward inspiration of his Holy Spirit, as he was with the personal\r\npresence of that angel who after his agony came and comforted him.\r\nAnd so shall you as his true disciple follow him, and with good\r\nwill, without grudge, do as he did, and take your cross of pain and\r\nsuffering upon your back and die for the truth with him, and\r\nthereby reign with him crowned in eternal glory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00736\"\u003eAnd this I say to give you warning of the truth, to the intent that\r\nwhen a man feeleth such a horror of death in his heart, he should\r\nnot thereby stand in outrageous fear that he were falling. For many\r\nsuch a man standeth, for all that fear, full fast, and finally\r\nbetter abideth the brunt, when God is so good unto him as to bring\r\nhim to it and encourage him therein, than doth some other man who\r\nin the beginning feeleth no fear at all. And yet may he never be\r\nbrought to the brunt, and most often so it is. For God, having many\r\nmansions, and all wonderful wealthful, in his Father\u0027s house,\r\nexalteth not every good man up to the glory of a martyr. But\r\nforeseeing their infirmity, that though they be of good will before\r\nand peradventure of right good courage too, they would yet play St.\r\nPeter if they were brought to the point, and thereby bring their\r\nsouls into the peril of eternal damnation, he provideth otherwise\r\nfor them before they come there. And he findeth a way that men\r\nshall not have the mind to lay any hands upon them, as he found for\r\nhis disciples when he himself was willingly taken. Or else, if they\r\nset hands on them, he findeth a way that they shall have no power\r\nto hold them, as he found for St. John the Evangelist, who let his\r\nsheet fall from him, upon which they caught hold, and so fled\r\nhimself naked away and escaped from them. Or, though they hold them\r\nand bring them to prison too, yet God sometimes delivereth them\r\nhence, as he did St. Peter. And sometimes he taketh them to him out\r\nof the prison into heaven, and suffereth them not to come to their\r\ntorment at all, as he hath done by many a good holy man. And some\r\nhe suffereth to be brought into the torments and yet suffereth them\r\nnot to die in them, but to live many years afterward and die their\r\nnatural death, as he did by St. John the Evangelist and by many\r\nanother more, as we may well see both by sundry stories and in the\r\nepistles of St. Ciprian also. And therefore, which way God will\r\ntake with us, we cannot tell.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00737\"\u003eBut surely, if we be true Christian men, this can we well tell:\r\nthat without any bold warranty of ourselves or foolish trust in our\r\nown strength, we are bound upon pain of damnation not to be of the\r\ncontrary mind but what we will with his help, however loth we feel\r\nin our flesh thereto, rather than forsake him or his faith before\r\nthe world—which if we do, he hath promised to forsake us before\r\nhis Father and all his holy company of heaven—rather, I say, than\r\nwe would do so, we would with his help endure and sustain for his\r\nsake all the tormentry that the devil with all his faithless\r\ntormentors in this world would devise. And then, if we be of this\r\nmind, and submit our will unto his, and call and pray for his\r\ngrace, we can tell well enough that he will never suffer them to\r\nput more upon us than his grace will make us able to bear, but will\r\nalso with their temptation provide for us a sure way. For \"God is\r\nfaithful,\" saith St. Paul, \"who suffereth you not to be tempted\r\nabove what you can bear, but giveth also with the temptation a way\r\nout.\" For either, as I said, he will keep us out of their hands,\r\nthough he before suffered us to be afraid of them to prove our\r\nfaith (that we may have, by the examination of our mind, some\r\ncomfort in hope of his grace and some fear of our own frailty to\r\ndrive us to call for grace), or else, if we call into their hands,\r\nprovided that we fall not from the trust of him nor cease to call\r\nfor his help, his truth shall, as the prophet saith, so compass us\r\nabout with a shield that we shall not need to fear this incursion\r\nof this midday devil. For these Turks his tormentors, who shall\r\nenter this land and persecute us, shall either not have the power\r\nto touch our bodies at all, or else the short pain that they shall\r\nput into our bodies shall turn us to eternal profit both in our\r\nsouls and in our bodies too. And therefore, cousin, to begin with,\r\nlet us be of good comfort. For we are by our faith very sure that\r\nholy scripture is the very word of God, and that the word of God\r\ncannot but be true. And we see by the mouth of his holy prophet and\r\nby the mouth of his blessed apostle also that God hath made us\r\nfaithful promise that he will not suffer us to be tempted above our\r\npower, but will both provide a way out for us and also compass us\r\nround about with his shield and defend us that we shall have no\r\ncause to fear this midday devil with all his persecution. We cannot\r\ntherefore but be very sure (unless we are very shamefully cowardous\r\nof heart and out of measure faint in faith toward God, and in love\r\nless than luke-warm or waxed even key-cold) we may be very sure, I\r\nsay, either that God will not suffer the Turks to invade this land;\r\nor that, if they do, God shall provide such resistance that they\r\nshall not prevail; or that, if they prevail, yet if we take the way\r\nthat I have told you we shall by their persecution take little harm\r\nor rather none harm at all, but that which shall seem harm indeed\r\nbe to us no harm at all but good. For if God make us and keep us\r\ngood men, as he hath promised to do if we pray well therefore, then\r\nsaith holy scripture, \"Unto good folk all things turn them to good.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00738\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, since God knoweth what shall happen and not\r\nwe, let us in the meanwhile with a good hope in the help of God\u0027s\r\ngrace have a good purpose of standing sure by his holy faith\r\nagainst all persecutions. And if we should hereafter, either for\r\nfear or pain or for lack of his grace lost in our own default,\r\nmishap to decline from his good purpose—which our Lord forbid—yet\r\nwe would have won the well-spent time beforehand, to the\r\ndiminishment of our pain, and God would also be much the more\r\nlikely to lift us up after our fall and give us his grace again.\r\nHowbeit, if this persecution come, we are, by this meditation and\r\nwell-continued intent and purpose beforehand, the better\r\nstrengthened and confirmed, and much more likely to stand indeed.\r\nAnd if it so fortune, as with God\u0027s grace at men\u0027s good prayers and\r\namendment of our evil lives it may well fortune, that the Turks\r\nshall either be well withstood and vanquished or peradventure not\r\ninvade us at all, then shall we, perdy, by this good purpose get\r\nourselves of God a very good cheap thank!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00739\"\u003eAnd on the other hand, while we now think on it—and not to think\r\non it, in so great likelihood of it, I suppose no wise man can—if\r\nwe should for the fear of worldly loss or bodily pain, framed in\r\nour own minds, think that we would give over and to save our goods\r\nand lives forsake our Saviour by denial of his faith, then whether\r\nthe Turks come or come not, we are meanwhile gone from God. And\r\nthen if they come not indeed, or come and are driven to flight,\r\nwhat a shame should that be to us, before the face of God, in so\r\nshameful cowardly wise to forsake him for fear of that pain that we\r\nnever felt or that never was befalling us!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00740\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, I thank you. Methinketh that though\r\nyou never said more in the matter, yet have you, even with this\r\nthat you have spoken here already of the fear of bodily pain in\r\nthis persecution, marvellously comforted mine heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00741\"\u003eANTHONY: I am glad, cousin, if your heart have taken comfort\r\nthereby. But if you so have, give God the thanks and not me, for\r\nthat work is his and not mine. For neither am I able to say any\r\ngood thing except by him, nor can all the good words in the\r\nworld—no, not the holy words of God himself, and spoken also with\r\nhis own holy mouth—profit a man with the sound entering at his\r\near, unless the Spirit of God also inwardly work in his soul. But\r\nthat is his goodness ever ready to do, unless there be hindrance\r\nthrough the untowardness of our own froward will.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXVIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00743\"\u003eAnd now, being somewhat in comfort and courage before, we may the\r\nmore quietly consider everything, which is somewhat more hard and\r\ndifficult to do when the heart is before taken up and oppressed\r\nwith the troublous affection of heavy sorrowful fear. Let us\r\ntherefore examine now the weight and the substance of those bodily\r\npains which you rehearsed before as the sorest part of this\r\npersecution. They were, if I remember you right, thraldom,\r\nimprisonment, and painful and shameful death. And first let us, as\r\nreason is, begin with the thraldom, for that was, as I remember it,\r\nthe first.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00744\"\u003eVINCENT: I pray you, good uncle, say then somewhat of that. For\r\nmethinketh, uncle, that captivity is a marvellous heavy thing,\r\nnamely when they shall (as they most commonly do) carry us far from\r\nhome into a strange unknown land.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00745\"\u003eANTHONY: I cannot deny that some grief it is, cousin, indeed. But\r\nyet, as for me, it is not half so much as it would be if they could\r\ncarry me out into any such unknown country that God could not know\r\nwhere nor find the means to come at me!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00746\"\u003eBut now in good faith, cousin, if my migration into a strange\r\ncountry were any great grief unto me, the fault should be much in\r\nmyself. For since I am very sure that whithersoever man convey me,\r\nGod is no more verily here than he shall be there, if I get (as I\r\ncan, if I will) the grace to set mine whole heart upon him and long\r\nfor nothing but him, it can then make no matter to my mind, whether\r\nthey carry me hence or leave me here. And then, if I find my mind\r\nmuch offended therewith, that I am not still here in mine own\r\ncountry, I must consider that the cause of my grief is mine own\r\nwrong imagination, whereby I beguile myself with an untrue\r\npersuasion, thinking that this were mine own country. Whereas in\r\ntruth it is not so, for, as St. Paul saith, \"We have here no city\r\nnor dwelling-country at all, but we seek for one that we shall come\r\nto.\" And in whatsoever country we walk in this world, we are but as\r\npilgrims and wayfaring men. And if I should take any country for\r\nmine own, it must be the country to which I come and not the\r\ncountry from which I came. That country, which shall be to me then\r\nfor a while so strange, shall yet perdy be no more strange to\r\nme—nor longer strange to me, neither—than was mine own native\r\ncountry when first I came into it. And therefore if my being far\r\nfrom hence be very grievous to me, and I find it a great pain that\r\nI am not where I wish to be, that grief shall in great part grow\r\nfor lack of sure setting and settling my mind in God, where it\r\nshould be. And when I mend that fault of mine, I shall soon ease my\r\ngrief.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00747\"\u003eNow, as for all the other griefs and pains that are in captivity,\r\nthraldom, and bondage, I cannot deny that many there are and great.\r\nHowbeit, they seem yet somewhat the more—what say I, \"somewhat\"? I\r\nmay say a great deal the more—because we took our former liberty\r\nfor a great deal more than indeed it was.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00748\"\u003eLet us therefore consider the matter thus: Captivity, bondage, or\r\nthraldom, what is it but the violent restraint of a man, being so\r\nsubdued under the dominion, rule, and power of another that he must\r\ndo whatever the other please to command him, and may not do at his\r\nliberty such things as he please himself? Now, when we shall be\r\ncarried away by a Turk and be fain to be occupied about such things\r\nas he please to set us, we shall lament the loss of our liberty and\r\nthink we bear a heavy burden of our servile condition. And we shall\r\nhave, I grant well, many times great occasion to do so. But yet we\r\nshould, I suppose, set somewhat the less by it, if we would\r\nremember well what liberty that was that we lost, and take it for\r\nno larger than it was indeed. For we reckon as though we might\r\nbefore do what we would, but in that we deceive ourselves. For what\r\nfree man is there so free that he can be suffered to do what he\r\nplease? In many things God hath restrained us by his high\r\ncommandment—so many, that of those things which we would otherwise\r\ndo, I daresay it be more than half. Howbeit, because (God forgive\r\nus) we forbear so little for all that, but do what we please as\r\nthough we heard him not, we reckon our liberty never the less. But\r\nthen is our liberty much restrained by the laws made by man, for\r\nthe quiet and politic governance of the people. And these too\r\nwould, I suppose, hinder our liberty but little, were it not for\r\nthe fear of the penalties that fall thereupon. Look then, whether\r\nother men who have authority over us never command us some business\r\nwhich we dare not but do, and therefore often do it full sore\r\nagainst our wills. Some such service is sometimes so painful and so\r\nperilous too, that no lord can command his bondsmen worse, and\r\nseldom doth command him half so sore. Let every free man who\r\nreckoneth his liberty to stand in doing what he please, consider\r\nwell these points, and I daresay he shall then find his liberty\r\nmuch less than he took it for before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00749\"\u003eAnd yet have I left untouched the bondage that almost every man is\r\nin who boasteth himself for free—the bondage, I mean, of sin. And\r\nthat it be a true bondage, I shall have our Saviour himself to bear\r\nme good record. For he saith, \"Every man who committeth sin is the\r\nthrall, or the bondsman, of sin.\" And then if this be thus (as it\r\nmust needs be, since God saith it is so), who is there then who can\r\nmake so much boast of his liberty that he should take it for so\r\nsore a thing and so strange to become through chance of war,\r\nbondsman unto a man, since he is already through sin become\r\nwillingly thrall and bondsman unto the devil?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00750\"\u003eLet us look well how many things, and of what vile wretched sort,\r\nthe devil driveth us to do daily, through the rash turns of our\r\nblind affections, which we are fain to follow, for our faultful\r\nlack of grace, and are too feeble to refrain. And then shall we\r\nfind in our natural freedom our bondservice such that never was\r\nthere any man lord of any so vile a bondsman that he ever would\r\ncommand him to so shameful service. And let us, in the doing of our\r\nservice to the man that we be slave unto, remember what we were\r\nwont to do about the same time of day while we were at our free\r\nliberty before, and would be well likely, if we were at liberty, to\r\ndo again. And we shall peradventure perceive that it were better\r\nfor us to do this business than that. Now we shall have great\r\noccasion of comfort, if we consider that our servitude, though in\r\nthe account of the world it seem to come by chance of war, cometh\r\nunto us yet in very deed by the provident hand of God, and that for\r\nour great good if we will take it well, both in remission of sins\r\nand also as matter of our merit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00751\"\u003eThe greatest grief that is in bondage or captivity, I believe, is\r\nthis: that we are forced to do such labour as with our good will we\r\nwould not. But then against that grief, Seneca teacheth us a good\r\nremedy: \"Endeavour thyself evermore that thou do nothing against\r\nthy will, but the things that we see we shall needs do, let us\r\nalways put our good will thereto.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00752\"\u003eVINCENT: That is soon said, uncle, but it is hard to do.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00753\"\u003eANTHONY: Our froward mind maketh every good thing hard, and that\r\nto our own more hurt and harm. But in this case, if we will be good\r\nChristian men, we shall have great cause gladly to be content, for\r\nthe great comfort that we may take thereby. For we remember that in\r\nthe patient and glad doing of our service unto that man for God\u0027s\r\nsake, according to his high commandment by the mouth of St. Paul,\r\n\u003ci\u003e\"Servi obedite dominis carnalibus,\"\u003c/i\u003e we shall have our thanks and\r\nour whole reward of God.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00754\"\u003eFinally, if we remember the great humble meekness of our Saviour\r\nChrist himself—that he, being very almighty God, \"humbled himself\r\nand took the form of a bondsman or slave,\" rather than that his\r\nFather should forsake us—we may think ourselves very ungrateful\r\ncaitiffs (and very frantic fools, too) if, rather than to endure\r\nthis worldly bondage for awhile, we would forsake him who hath by\r\nhis own death delivered us out of everlasting bondage to the devil,\r\nand who will for our short bondage give us everlasting liberty.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00755\"\u003eVINCENT: Well fare you, good uncle, this is very well said! Albeit\r\nthat bondage is a condition that every man of any spirit would be\r\nvery glad to eschew and very loth to fall in, yet have you well\r\nmade it so open that it is a thing neither so strange nor so sore\r\nas it before seemed to me. And specially is it far from such as any\r\nman who hath any wit should, for fear of it, shrink from the\r\nconfession of his faith. And now, therefore, I pray you, speak\r\nsomewhat of imprisonment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXIX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00757\"\u003eANTHONY: That shall I, cousin, with good will. And first, if we\r\ncould consider what thing imprisonment is of its own nature\r\nmethinketh we should not have so great horror of it. For of itself\r\nit is, perdy, but a restraint of liberty, which hindereth a man\r\nfrom going whither he would.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00758\"\u003eVINCENT: Yes, by St. Mary, uncle, but methinketh it is much more\r\nsorry than that. For beside the hindrance and restraint of liberty,\r\nit hath many more displeasures and very sore griefs knit and\r\nadjoined to it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00759\"\u003eANTHONY: That is, cousin, very true indeed. And those pains, among\r\nmany sorer than those, thought I not afterward to forget. Howbeit,\r\nI purpose now to consider first imprisonment as imprisonment alone,\r\nwithout any other incommodity besides. For a man may be imprisoned,\r\nperdy, and yet not set in the stocks or collared fast by the neck.\r\nAnd a man may be let walk at large where he will, and yet have a\r\npair of fetters fast riveted on his legs. For in this country, you\r\nknow, and Seville and Portugal too, so go all the slaves. Howbeit,\r\nbecause for such things men\u0027s hearts have such horror of it, albeit\r\nthat I am not so mad as to go about to prove that bodily pain were\r\nno pain, yet since it is because of this manner of pains that we so\r\nespecially abhor the state and condition of prisoners, methinketh\r\nwe should well perceive that a great part of our horror groweth of\r\nour own fancy. Let us call to mind and consider the state and\r\ncondition of many other folk in whose state and condition we would\r\nwish ourselves to stand, taking them for no prisoners at all, who\r\nstand yet for all that in many of the selfsame points that we abhor\r\nimprisonment for. Let us therefore consider these things in order.\r\nFirst, those other kinds of grief that come with imprisonment are\r\nbut accidents unto it. And yet they are neither such accidents as\r\nbe proper unto it, since they may almost all befall man without it;\r\nnor are they such accidents as be inseparable from it, since\r\nimprisonment may fall to a man and none of them therein. We will, I\r\nsay, therefore begin by considering what manner of pain or\r\nincommodity we should reckon imprisonment to be of itself and of\r\nits own nature alone. And then in the course of our communication,\r\nyou shall as you please increase and aggravate the cause of your\r\nhorror with the terror of those painful accidents.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00760\"\u003eVINCENT: I am sorry that I did interrupt your tale, for you were\r\nabout, I see well, to take an orderly way therein. And as you\r\nyourself have devised, so I beseech you proceed. For though I\r\nreckon imprisonment much the sorer thing by sore and hard handling\r\ntherein, yet reckon I not the imprisonment of itself any less than\r\na thing very tedious, although it were used in the most favourable\r\nmanner that it possibly could be.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00761\"\u003eFor, uncle, if a great prince were taken prisoner upon the field,\r\nand in the hand of a Christian king, such as are accustomed, in\r\nsuch cases, for the consideration of their former estate and\r\nmutable chance of war, to show much humanity to them, and treat\r\nthem in very favourable wise—for these infidel emperors handle\r\noftentimes the princes that they take more villainously than they\r\ndo the poorest men, as the great Tamberlane kept the great Turk,\r\nwhen he had taken him, to tread on his back always when he leapt on\r\nhorseback. But, as I began to say, by the example of a prince taken\r\nprisoner, were the imprisonment never so favourable, yet it would\r\nbe, to my mind, no little grief in itself for a man to be penned\r\nup, though not in a narrow chamber. But although his walk were\r\nright large and right fair gardens in it too, it could not but\r\ngrieve his heart to be restrained by another man within certain\r\nlimits and bounds, and lose the liberty to be where he please.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00762\"\u003eANTHONY: This is, cousin, well considered of you. For in this you\r\nperceive well that imprisonment is, of itself and of its own very\r\nnature alone, nothing else but the retaining of a man\u0027s person\r\nwithin the circuit of a certain space, narrower or larger as shall\r\nbe limited to him, restraining his liberty from going further into\r\nany other place.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00763\"\u003eVINCENT: Very well said, methinketh.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00764\"\u003eANTHONY: Yet I forgot, cousin, to ask you one question.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00765\"\u003eVINCENT: What is that, uncle?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00766\"\u003eANTHONY: This, lo: If there be two men kept in two several\r\nchambers of one great castle, of which two chambers the one is much\r\nlarger than the other, are they prisoners both, or only the one who\r\nhas the less room to walk in?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00767\"\u003eVINCENT: What question is it, uncle, but that they are both\r\nprisoners, as I said myself before, although the one lay fast\r\nlocked in the stocks and the other had all the whole castle to walk\r\nin?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00768\"\u003eANTHONY: Methinketh verily, cousin, that you say the truth. And\r\nthen, if imprisonment be such a thing as you yourself here agree it\r\nis—that is, but a lack of liberty to go whither we please—now\r\nwould I fain know of you what one man you know who is at this day\r\nout of prison?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00769\"\u003eVINCENT: What one man, uncle? Marry, I know almost none other! For\r\nsurely I am acquainted with no prisoner, that I remember.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00770\"\u003eANTHONY: Then I see well that you visit poor prisoners seldom.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00771\"\u003eVINCENT: No, by my troth, uncle, I cry God mercy. I send them\r\nsometimes mine alms, but by my troth I love not to come myself\r\nwhere I should see such misery.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00772\"\u003eANTHONY: In good faith, Cousin Vincent (though I say it before\r\nyou) you have many good qualities, but surely (though I say that\r\nbefore you, too) that is not one of them. If you would amend it,\r\nthen should you have yet the more good qualities by one—and\r\nperadventure the more by three or four. For I assure you it is hard\r\nto tell how much good it doth to a man\u0027s soul, the personal\r\nvisiting of poor prisoners.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00773\"\u003eBut now, since you can name me none of them that are in prison, I\r\npray you name me some one of all those whom you are, you say,\r\nbetter acquainted with—men, I mean, who are out of prison. For I\r\nknow, methinketh, as few of them as you know of the others.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00774\"\u003eVINCENT: That would, uncle, be a strange case. For every man is\r\nout of prison who may go where he will, though he be the poorest\r\nbeggar in the town. And, in good faith, uncle (because you reckon\r\nimprisonment so small a matter of itself) meseemeth the poor beggar\r\nwho is at his liberty and may walk where he will is in better case\r\nthan is a king kept in prison, who cannot go but where men give him\r\nleave.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00775\"\u003eANTHONY: Well, cousin, whether every way-walking beggar be, by\r\nthis reason, out of prison or no, we shall consider further when\r\nyou will. But in the meanwhile I can by this reason see no prince\r\nwho seemeth to be out of prison. For if the lack of liberty to go\r\nwhere a man will, be imprisonment, as you yourself say it is, then\r\nis the great Turk, by whom we fear to be put in prison, in prison\r\nalready himself, for he may not go where he will. For if he could\r\nhe would go into Portugal, Italy, Spain, France, Germany, and\r\nEngland, and as far in the other direction too—both into Prester\r\nJohn\u0027s land and into the Grand Cham\u0027s too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00776\"\u003eNow, the beggar that you speak of, if he be (as you say he is) by\r\nreason of his liberty to go where he will, in much better case than\r\na king kept in prison, because he cannot go but where men give him\r\nleave; then is that beggar in better case, not only than a prince\r\nin prison but also than many a prince out of prison too. For I am\r\nsure there is many a beggar who may without hindrance walk further\r\nupon other men\u0027s ground than many a prince at his best liberty may\r\nwalk upon his own. And as for walking out abroad upon other men\u0027s,\r\nthat prince might be withstood and held fast, where that beggar,\r\nwith his bag and staff, might be suffered to go forth and keep on\r\nhis way.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00777\"\u003eBut forasmuch, cousin, as neither the beggar nor the prince is at\r\nfree liberty to walk where they will, but neither of them would be\r\nsuffered to walk in some places without men withstanding them and\r\nsaying them nay; therefore if imprisonment be, as you grant it is,\r\na lack of liberty to go where we please, I cannot see but the\r\nbeggar and the prince, whom you reckon both at liberty, are by your\r\nown reason restrained in prison both.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00778\"\u003eVINCENT: Yea, but uncle, both the one and the other have way\r\nenough to walk—the one in his own ground and the other in other\r\nmen\u0027s, or in the common highway, where they may both walk till they\r\nbe weary of walking ere any man say them nay.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00779\"\u003eANTHONY: So may, cousin, that king who had, as you yourself put\r\nthe case, all the whole castle to walk in. And yet you deny not\r\nthat he is prisoner for all that—though not so straitly kept, yet\r\nas verily prisoner as he that lieth in the stocks.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00780\"\u003eVINCENT: But they may go at least to every place that they need,\r\nor that is commodious for them, and therefore they do not wish to\r\ngo anywhere but where they may. And therefore they are at liberty\r\nto go where they will.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00781\"\u003eANTHONY: I need not, cousin, to spend the time about impugning\r\nevery part of this answer. Let pass by that, though a prisoner were\r\nbrought with his keeper into every place where need required, yet\r\nsince he might not when he wished go where he wished for his\r\npleasure alone, he would be, as you know well, a prisoner still.\r\nAnd let pass over also that it would be needful for this beggar,\r\nand commodious for this king, to go into divers places where\r\nneither of them may come. And let pass also that neither of them is\r\nlightly so temperately determined by what they both fain would so\r\ndo indeed, if this reason of yours put them out of prison and set\r\nthem at liberty and made them free, as I will well grant it doth if\r\nthey so do indeed—that is, if they have no will to go anywhere but\r\nwhere they may go indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00782\"\u003eThen let us look on our other prisoners enclosed within a castle,\r\nand we shall find that the straitest kept of them both, if he get\r\nthe wisdom and grace to quiet his mind and hold himself content\r\nwith that place, and not long (as a woman with child longeth for\r\nher desires) to be gadding out anywhere else, is by the same reason\r\nof yours, while his will is not longing to be anywhere else, he is,\r\nI say, at his free liberty to be where he will. And so he is out of\r\nprison too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00783\"\u003eAnd, on the other hand, if, though his will be not longing to be\r\nanywhere else, yet because if his will so were he should not be so\r\nsuffered, he is therefore not at his free liberty but a prisoner\r\nstill, since your free beggar that you speak of and the prince that\r\nyou call out of prison too, though they be (which I daresay few be)\r\nby some special wisdom so temperately disposed that they will have\r\nnot the will to be anywhere but where they see that they may be\r\nsuffered to be, yet, since if they did have that will they could\r\nnot then be where they would, they lack the effect of free liberty\r\nand are both twain in prison too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00784\"\u003eVINCENT: Well, uncle, if every man universally is by this reason\r\nin prison already, after the proper nature of imprisonment, yet to\r\nbe imprisoned in this special manner which alone is commonly called\r\nimprisonment is a thing of great horror and fear, both for the\r\nstraitness of the keeping and for the hard handling that many men\r\nhave therein. Of all the griefs that you speak of, we feel nothing\r\nat all. And therefore every man abhorreth the one, and would be\r\nloth to come into it. And no man abhorreth the other, for they feel\r\nno harm and find no fault therein.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00785\"\u003eTherefore, uncle, in good faith, though I cannot find fitting\r\nanswers with which to avoid your arguments, yet (to be plain with\r\nyou and tell you the very truth) my mind findeth not itself\r\nsatisfied on this point. But ever methinketh that these things,\r\nwith which you rather convince and conclude me than induce a\r\ncredence and persuade me that every man is in prison already, are\r\nbut sophistical fancies, and that except those that are commonly\r\ncalled prisoners, other men are not in any prison at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00786\"\u003eANTHONY: Well fare thine heart, good Cousin Vincent! There was, in\r\ngood faith, no word that you spoke since we first talked of these\r\nmatters that I liked half so well as these that you speak now. For\r\nif you had assented in words and your mind departed unpersuaded,\r\nthen, if the thing be true that I say, yet had you lost the fruit.\r\nAnd if it be peradventure false, and I myself deceived therein,\r\nthen, since I should have supposed that you liked it too, you would\r\nhave confirmed me in my folly. For, in good faith, cousin, such an\r\nold fool am I that this thing (in the persuading of which unto you\r\nI had thought I had quit me well, and yet which, when I have all\r\ndone, appeareth to your mind but a trifle and sophistical fancy) I\r\nmyself have so many years taken it for so very substantial truth\r\nthat as yet my mind cannot give me to think it any other. But I\r\nwould not play the part of that French priest who had so long used\r\nto say \u003ci\u003eDominus\u003c/i\u003e with the second syllable long that at least he\r\nthought it must needs be so, and was ashamed to say it short. So to\r\nthe intent that you may the better perceive me and I may the better\r\nperceive myself, we shall here between us a little more consider\r\nthe thing. So spit well on your hands boldly, and take good hold,\r\nand give it not over against your own mind, for then we would be\r\nnever the nearer.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00787\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, by my troth, uncle, that intend I not to do. Nor\r\nhave I done it yet since we began. And that may you well perceive\r\nby some things which, without any great cause, save for the further\r\nsatisfaction of my own mind, I repeated and debated again.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00788\"\u003eANTHONY: That guise, cousin, you must hold on boldly still. For I\r\npurpose to give up my part in this matter, unless I make you\r\nyourself perceive both that every man universally is a very\r\nprisoner in very prison—plainly, without any sophistry at all—and\r\nalso that there is no prince living upon earth who is not in a\r\nworse case prisoner by this general imprisonment that I speak of,\r\nthan is many a simple ignorant wretch by that special imprisonment\r\nthat you speak of. And beside this, that in this general\r\nimprisonment that I speak of, men are for the time that they are in\r\nit, so sore handled and so hardly and in such painful wise, that\r\nmen\u0027s hearts have with reason great cause to abhor this hard\r\nhandling that is in this imprisonment as sorely as they do the\r\nother that is in that.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00789\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, these things would I fain see well\r\nproved.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00790\"\u003eANTHONY: Tell me, then, cousin, first by your troth: If a man were\r\nattainted of treason or felony; and if, after judgment had been\r\ngiven of his death and it were determined that he should die, the\r\ntime of his execution were only delayed till the king\u0027s further\r\npleasure should be known; if he were thereupon delivered to certain\r\nkeepers and put up in a sure place out of which he could not\r\nescape—would this man be a prisoner, or not?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00791\"\u003eVINCENT: This man, quoth he? Yea, marry, that would he be in very\r\ndeed, if ever man were!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00792\"\u003eANTHONY: But now what if, for the time that were between his\r\nattainder and his execution, he were so favourably handled that he\r\nwere suffered to do what he would, as he did while he was free—to\r\nhave the use of his lands and his goods, and his wife and his\r\nchildren to have license to be with him, and his friends leave at\r\nliberty to resort unto him, and his servants not forbidden to abide\r\nabout him. And add yet thereunto that the place were a great castle\r\nroyal with parks and other pleasures in it, a very great circuit\r\nabout. Yes, and add yet, if you like, that he were suffered to go\r\nand ride also, both when he wished and whither he wished; only this\r\none point always provided and foreseen, that he should ever be\r\nsurely seen to, and safely kept from escaping. So though he had\r\nnever so much of his own will in the meanwhile (in all matters save\r\nescaping), yet he should well know that escape he could not, and\r\nthat when he were called for, to execution and to death he should\r\ngo.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00793\"\u003eNow, Cousin Vincent, what would you call this man? A prisoner,\r\nbecause he is kept for execution? Or no prisoner, because he is in\r\nthe meanwhile so favourably handled and suffered to do all that he\r\nwould, save escape? And I bid you not here be hasty in your answer,\r\nbut advise it well that you grant no such thing in haste as you\r\nwould afterward at leisure mislike, and think yourself deceived.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00794\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, by my troth, uncle, this thing needeth no study at\r\nall, to my mind. But, for all this favour showed him and all this\r\nliberty lent him, yet being condemned to death, and being kept for\r\nit, and kept with sure watch laid upon him that he cannot escape,\r\nhe is all that while a very plain prisoner still.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00795\"\u003eANTHONY: In good faith, cousin, methinketh you say very true. But\r\nthen one thing must I yet desire you, cousin, to tell me a little\r\nfurther. If there were another laid in prison for a brawl, and\r\nthrough the jailors\u0027 displeasure were bolted and fettered and laid\r\nin a low dungeon in the stocks, where he might lie peradventure for\r\na while and abide in the meantime some pain but no danger of death\r\nat all, but that out again he should come well enough—which of\r\nthese two prisoners would stand in the worse case? He that hath all\r\nthis favour, or he that is thus hardly handled?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00796\"\u003eVINCENT: By our Lady, uncle, I believe that most men, if they\r\nshould needs choose, had liefer be such prisoners in every point as\r\nhe who so sorely lieth in the stocks, than in every point such as\r\nhe who walketh at such liberty about the park.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00797\"\u003eANTHONY: Consider, then, cousin, whether this thing seem any\r\nsophistry to you that I shall show you now. For it shall be such as\r\nseemeth in good faith substantially true to me. And if it so happen\r\nthat you think otherwise, I will be very glad to perceive which of\r\nus both is beguiled.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00798\"\u003eFor it seemeth to me, cousin, first, that every man coming into\r\nthis world here upon earth as he is created by God, so cometh he\r\nhither by the providence of God. Is this any sophistry first, or\r\nnot?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00799\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, verily, this is very substantial truth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00800\"\u003eANTHONY: Now take I this, also, for very truth in my mind: that\r\nthere cometh no man nor woman hither into the earth but what, ere\r\never they come alive into the world out of the mother\u0027s womb, God\r\ncondemneth them unto death by his own sentence and judgment, for\r\nthe original sin that they bring with them, contracted in the\r\ncorrupted stock of our forefather Adam. Is this, think you, cousin,\r\nverily thus or not?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00801\"\u003eVINCENT: This is, uncle, very true indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00802\"\u003eANTHONY: Then seemeth this true further unto me: that God hath put\r\nevery man here upon the earth under so sure and so safe keeping\r\nthat of all the whole people living in this wide world, there is\r\nneither man, woman, nor child—would they never so far wander about\r\nand seek it—who can possibly find any way by which they can escape\r\nfrom death. Is this, cousin, a fond imagined fancy, or is it very\r\ntruth indeed?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00803\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, this is no imagination, uncle, but a thing so\r\nclearly proved true that no man is so mad as to deny it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00804\"\u003eANTHONY: Then need I say no more, cousin. For then is all the\r\nmatter plain and open evident truth, which I said I took for truth.\r\nAnd it is yet a little more now than I told you before, when you\r\ntook my proof yet but for a sophistical fancy, and said that, for\r\nall my reasoning that every man is a prisoner, yet you thought\r\nthat, except those whom the common people call prisoners, there is\r\nelse no man a very prisoner indeed. And now you grant yourself\r\nagain for very substantial truth, that every man, though he be the\r\ngreatest king upon earth, is set here by the ordinance of God in a\r\nplace, be it never so large, yet a place, I say (and you say the\r\nsame) out of which no man can escape. And you grant that every man\r\nis there put under sure and safe keeping to be readily set forth\r\nwhen God calleth for him, and that then he shall surely die. And is\r\nnot then, cousin, by your own granting before, every man a very\r\nprisoner, when he is put in a place to be kept to be brought forth\r\nwhen he would not, and himself knows not whither?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00805\"\u003eVINCENT: Yes, in good faith, uncle, I cannot but well perceive\r\nthis to be so.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00806\"\u003eANTHONY: This would be true, you know, even though a man were but\r\ntaken by the arm and in a fair manner led out of this world unto\r\nhis judgment. But now, we well know that there is no king so great\r\nbut what, all the while he walketh here, walk he never so loose,\r\nride he with never so strong an army for his defence, yet he\r\nhimself is very sure—though he seek in the meantime some other\r\npastime to put it out of his mind—yet is he very sure, I say, that\r\nescape he cannot. And very well he knoweth that he hath already\r\nsentence given upon him to die, and that verily die he shall. And\r\nthough he hope for long respite of his execution, yet can he not\r\ntell how soon it will be. And therefore, unless he be a fool, he\r\ncan never be without fear that, either on the morrow or on the\r\nselfsame day, the grisly cruel hangman Death, who from his first\r\ncoming in hath ever hoved aloof and looked toward him, and ever\r\nlain in wait for him, shall amid all his royalty and all his main\r\nstrength neither kneel before him nor make him any reverence, nor\r\nwith any good manner desire him to come forth. But he shall\r\nrigorously and fiercely grip him by the very breast, and make all\r\nhis bones rattle, and so by long and divers sore torments strike\r\nhim stark dead in his prison. And then shall he cause his body to\r\nbe cast into the ground in a foul pit in some corner of the same,\r\nthere to rot and be eaten by the wretched worms of the earth,\r\nsending yet his soul out further into a more fearful judgment. Of\r\nthat judgment at his temporal death his success is uncertain and\r\ntherefore, though by God\u0027s grace not out of good hope, for all that\r\nin the meanwhile in very sore dread and fear and peradventure in\r\nperil inevitable of eternal fire, too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00807\"\u003eMethinketh therefore, cousin, that, as I told you, this keeping of\r\nevery man in this wretched world for execution of death is a very\r\nplain imprisonment indeed. And it is, as I say, such that the\r\ngreatest king is in this prison in much worse case, for all his\r\nwealth, than is many a man who, in the other imprisonment, is sore\r\nand hardly handled. For while some of those lie not there attainted\r\nnor condemned to death, the greatest man of this world and the most\r\nwealthy in this universal prison is laid in to be kept undoubtedly\r\nfor death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00808\"\u003eVINCENT: But yet, uncle, in that case is the other prisoner too,\r\nfor he is as sure that he shall die, perdy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00809\"\u003eANTHONY: This is very true, cousin, indeed, and well objected too.\r\nBut then you must consider that he is not in danger of death by\r\nreason of the prison into which he is put peradventure but for a\r\nlittle brawl, but his danger of death is by the other imprisonment,\r\nby which he is prisoner in the great prison of this whole earth, in\r\nwhich prison all the princes of the world be prisoners as well as\r\nhe.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00810\"\u003eIf a man condemned to death were put up in a large prison, and\r\nwhile his execution were respited he were, for fighting with his\r\nfellows, put up in a strait place, part of that prison, then would\r\nhe be in danger of death in that strait prison, but not by the\r\nbeing in that, for there is he but for the brawl. But his deadly\r\nimprisonment was the other—the larger, I say, into which he was\r\nput for death. So the prisoner that you speak of is, beside the\r\nnarrow prison, a prisoner of the broad world, and all the princes\r\nof the world are prisoners there with him. And by that imprisonment\r\nboth they and he are in like danger of death, not by that strait\r\nimprisonment that is commonly called imprisonment, but by that\r\nimprisonment which, because of the large walk, men call\r\nliberty—and which you therefore thought but a sophistical fancy to\r\nprove it a prison at all!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00811\"\u003eBut now may you, methinketh, very plainly perceive that this whole\r\nearth is not only for all the whole of mankind a very plain prison\r\nindeed, but also that all men without exception (even those that\r\nare most at their liberty in it, and reckon themselves great lords\r\nand possessors of very great pieces of it, and thereby wax with\r\nwantonness so forgetful of their state that they think they stand\r\nin great wealth) do stand for all that indeed, by reason of their\r\nimprisonment in this large prison of the whole earth, in the\r\nselfsame condition that the others do stand who, in the narrow\r\nprisons which alone are called prisons, and which alone are reputed\r\nprisons in the opinion of the common people, stand in the most\r\nfearful and in the most odious case—that is, condemned already to\r\ndeath.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00812\"\u003eAnd now, cousin, if this thing that I tell you seem but a\r\nsophistical fancy of your mind, I would be glad to know what moveth\r\nyou so to think. For, in good faith, as I have told you twice, I am\r\nno wiser but what I verily think that it is very plain truth indeed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXX\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00814\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, uncle, thus far I not only cannot make\r\nresistance against it with any reason, but also I see very clearly\r\nproved that it cannot be otherwise. For every man must be in this\r\nworld a very prisoner, since we are all put here into a sure hold\r\nto be kept till we be put unto execution, as folk all already\r\ncondemned to death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00815\"\u003eBut yet, uncle, the strait-keeping, collaring, bolting, and\r\nstocking, with lying on straw or on the cold ground (which manner\r\nof hard handling is used in these special imprisonments that alone\r\nare commonly called by that name) must needs make that imprisonment\r\nmuch more odious and dreadful than the general imprisonment with\r\nwhich we are every man universally imprisoned at large, walking\r\nwhere we will round about the wide world. For in this broad prison,\r\noutside of those narrow prisons, there is no such hard handling\r\nused with the prisoners.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00816\"\u003eANTHONY: I said, I think, cousin, that I purposed to prove to you\r\nfurther that in this general prison—the large prison, I mean, of\r\nthis whole world—folk are, for the time that they are in it, as\r\nsore handled and as hardly, and wrenched and wrung and broken in\r\nsuch painful wise, that our hearts (save that we consider it not)\r\nhave with reason good and great cause to grudge against the hard\r\nhandling that there is in this prison—and, as far as pertaineth\r\nonly to the respect of pain, as much horror to conceive against\r\nit—as against the other that there is in that one.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00817\"\u003eVINCENT: Indeed, uncle, it is true that you said you would prove\r\nthis.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00818\"\u003eANTHONY: Nay, so much said I not, cousin! But I said that I would\r\nif I could, and if I could not, then would I therein give over my\r\npart. But I trust, cousin, that I shall not need to do that—the\r\nthing seemeth to me so plain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00819\"\u003eFor, cousin, not only the prince and king but also the chief jailor\r\nover this whole broad prison the world (though he have both angels\r\nand devils who are jailors under him) is, I take it, God. And that\r\nI suppose you will grant me, too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00820\"\u003eVINCENT: That will I not deny, uncle.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00821\"\u003eANTHONY: If a man, cousin, be committed unto prison for no cause\r\nbut to be kept, though there be never so great a charge against\r\nhim, yet his keeper, if he be good and honest, is neither so cruel\r\nas to pain the man out of malice, nor so covetous as to put him to\r\npain to make him seek his friends and pay for a pennyworth of ease.\r\nIf the place be such that he is sure to keep him safe otherwise, or\r\nif he can get surety for the recompense of more harm than he seeth\r\nhe should have if he escaped, he will never handle him in any such\r\nhard fashion as we most abhor imprisonment for. But marry, if the\r\nplace be such that the keeper cannot otherwise be sure, then is he\r\ncompelled to keep him to that extent the straiter. And also if the\r\nprisoner be unruly and fall to fighting with his fellows or do some\r\nother manner of ill turns, then useth the keeper to punish him in\r\nsome such fashions as you yourself have spoken of.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00822\"\u003eNow, cousin, God—the chief jailor, as I say, of this broad prison\r\nthe world—is neither cruel nor covetous. And this prison is also\r\nso sure and so subtly built that, albeit that it lieth open on\r\nevery side without any wall in the world, yet, wander we never so\r\nfar about in it, we shall never find the way to get out. So God\r\nneither needeth to collar us nor to stock us for any fear of our\r\nescaping away. And therefore, unless he see some other cause than\r\nonly our keeping for death, he letteth us in the meanwhile, for as\r\nlong as he pleases to respite us, walk about in the prison and do\r\nthere what we will, using ourselves in such wise as he hath, by\r\nreason and revelation, from time to time told us his pleasure.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00823\"\u003eAnd hence it cometh, lo, that by reason of this favour for a time\r\nwe wax, as I said, so wanton, that we forget where we are. And we\r\nthink that we are lords at large, whereas we are indeed, if we\r\nwould consider, even poor wretches in prison. For, of very truth,\r\nour very prison this earth is. And yet we apportion us out divers\r\nparts of it diversely to ourselves, part by covenants that we make\r\namong ourselves, and part by fraud and violence too. And we change\r\nits name from the odious name of prison, and call it our own land\r\nand our livelihood. Upon our prison we build; our prison we garnish\r\nwith gold and make it glorious. In this prison they buy and sell;\r\nin this prison they brawl and chide. In this they run together and\r\nfight; in this they dice; in this they play at cards. In this they\r\npipe and revel; in this they sing and dance. And in this prison\r\nmany a man who is reputed right honest forbeareth not, for his\r\npleasure in the dark, privily to play the knave.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00824\"\u003eAnd thus, while God our king and our chief jailor too, suffereth us\r\nand letteth us alone, we think ourselves at liberty. And we abhor\r\nthe state of those whom we call prisoners, taking ourselves for no\r\nprisoners at all. In this false persuasion of wealth and\r\nforgetfulness of our own wretched state, which is but a wandering\r\nabout for a while in this prison of this world, till we be brought\r\nunto the execution of death, we forget in our folly both ourselves\r\nand our jail, and our under-jailors the angels and devils both, and\r\nour chief jailor God too—God, who forgetteth not us, but seeth us\r\nall the while well enough. And being sore discontent to see so ill\r\nrule kept in the jail, he sendeth the hangman Death to put some to\r\nexecution here and there, sometimes by the thousands at once. And\r\nhe handleth many of the rest, whose execution he forbeareth yet\r\nunto a farther time, even as hardly and punisheth them as sorely,\r\nin this common prison of the world, as there are any handled in\r\nthose special prisons which, for the hard handling used in them,\r\nyou say your heart hath in such horror and so sore abhorreth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00825\"\u003eVINCENT: The rest will I not gainsay, for methinketh I see it so\r\nindeed. But that God, our chief jailor in this world, useth any\r\nsuch prisonly fashion of punishment, that point must I needs deny.\r\nFor I see him neither lay any man in the stocks, nor strike fetters\r\non his legs, nor so much as shut him up in a chamber, neither.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00826\"\u003eANTHONY: Is he no minstrel, cousin, who playeth not on a harp?\r\nMaketh no man melody but he who playeth on a lute? He may be a\r\nminstrel and make melody, you know, with some other instrument—a\r\nstrange-fashioned one, peradventure, that never was seen before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00827\"\u003eGod, our chief jailor, as he himself is invisible, so useth he in\r\nhis punishments invisible instruments. And therefore are they not\r\nof like fashion as those the other jailors use, but yet of like\r\neffect, and as painful in feeling as those. For he layeth one of\r\nhis prisoners with a hot fever as ill at ease in a warm bed as the\r\nother jailor layeth his on the cold ground. He wringeth them by the\r\nbrows with a migraine; he collareth them by the neck with a quinsy;\r\nhe bolteth them by the arms with a palsy, so that they cannot lift\r\ntheir hands to their head; he manacleth their hands with the gout\r\nin their fingers; he wringeth them by the legs with the cramp in\r\ntheir shins; he bindeth them to the bed with the crick in the\r\nback; and he layeth one there at full length, as unable to rise as\r\nthough he lay fast by the feet in the stocks.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00828\"\u003eA prisoner of another jail may sing and dance in his two fetters,\r\nand fear not his feet for stumbling at a stone, while God\u0027s\r\nprisoner, who hath his one foot fettered with the gout, lieth\r\ngroaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out if he fear that\r\nthere would fall on his foot no more than a cushion.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00829\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, as I said, if we consider it well, we shall\r\nfind this general prison of this whole earth a place in which the\r\nprisoners are as sore handled as they are in the other. And even in\r\nthe other some make as merry too as there do some in this one, who\r\nare very merry at large out of that. And surely as we think\r\nourselves out of prison now, so if there were some folk born and\r\nbrought up in a prison, who never came on the wall or looked out at\r\nthe door or heard of another world outside, but saw some, for ill\r\nturns done among themselves, locked up in a straiter room; and if\r\nthey heard them alone called prisoners who were so served and\r\nthemselves ever called free folk at large; the like opinion would\r\nthey have there of themselves then as we have here of ourselves\r\nnow. And when we take ourselves for other than prisoners now,\r\nverily are we now as deceived as those prisoners would be then.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00830\"\u003eVINCENT: I cannot, uncle, in good faith deny that you have\r\nperformed all that you promised. But yet, since, for all this,\r\nthere appeareth no more but that as they are prisoners so are we\r\ntoo, and that as some of them are sore handled so are some of us\r\ntoo; we know well, for all this, that when we come to those prisons\r\nwe shall not fail to be in a straiter prison than we are now, and\r\nto have a door shut upon us where we have none shut upon us now.\r\nThis shall we be sure of at least if there come no worse—and then\r\nthere may come worse, you know well, since it cometh there so\r\ncommonly. And therefore is it yet little marvel that men\u0027s hearts\r\ngrudge much against it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00831\"\u003eANTHONY: Surely, cousin, in this you say very well. Howbeit, your\r\nwords would have touched me somewhat the nearer if I had said that\r\nimprisonment were no displeasure at all. But the thing that I say,\r\ncousin, for our comfort in the matter, is that our fancy frameth us\r\na false opinion by which we deceive ourselves and take it for sorer\r\nthan it is. And that we do because we take ourselves for more free\r\nbefore than we were, and imprisonment for a stranger thing to us\r\nthan it is indeed. And thus far, as I say, I have proved truth in\r\nvery deed.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00832\"\u003eBut now the incommodities that you repeat again—those, I say, that\r\nare proper to the imprisonment of its own nature; that is, to have\r\nless room to walk and to have the door shut upon us—these are,\r\nmethinketh, so very slender and slight that in so great a cause as\r\nto suffer for God\u0027s sake we might be sore ashamed so much as once\r\nto think upon them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00833\"\u003eMany a good man there is, you know, who, without any force at all,\r\nor any necessity wherefor he should do so, suffereth these two\r\nthings willingly of his own choice, with much other hardness more.\r\nHoly monks, I mean, of the Charterhouse order, such as never pass\r\ntheir cells save only to the church, which is set fast by their\r\ncells, and thence to their cells again. And St. Brigit\u0027s order, and\r\nSt. Clare\u0027s much alike, and in a manner all enclosed religious\r\nhouses. And yet anchorites and anchoresses most especially, all\r\nwhose whole room is less than a good large chamber. And yet are\r\nthey there as well content many long years together as are other\r\nmen—and better, too—who walk about the world. And therefore you\r\nmay see that the lothness of less room and the door shut upon us,\r\nsince so many folk are so well content with them and will for God\u0027s\r\nlove choose to live so, is but a horror enhanced of our own fancy.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00834\"\u003eAnd indeed I knew a woman once who came into a prison, to visit of\r\nher charity a poor prisoner there. She found him in a chamber that\r\nwas fair enough, to say the truth—at least, it was strong enough!\r\nBut with mats of straw the prisoner had made it so warm, both under\r\nfoot and round about the walls, that in these things, for the\r\nkeeping of his health, she was on his behalf very glad and very\r\nwell comforted. But among many other displeasures that for his sake\r\nshe was sorry for, one she lamented much in her mind. And that was\r\nthat he should have the chamber door made fast upon him by night,\r\nby the jailor who was to shut him in. \"For, by my troth,\" quoth\r\nshe, \"if the door should be shut upon me, I think it would stop up\r\nmy breath!\" At that word of hers the prisoner laughed in his\r\nmind—but he dared not laugh aloud or say anything to her, for\r\nindeed he stood somewhat in awe of her, and he had his food there\r\nin great part of her charity for alms. But he could not but laugh\r\ninwardly, for he knew well enough that she used to shut her own\r\nchamber door full surely on the inside every night, both door and\r\nwindows too, and used not to open them all the long night. And what\r\ndifference, then, as to the stopping of the breath, whether they\r\nwere shut up within or without?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00835\"\u003eAnd so surely, cousin, these two things that you speak of are\r\nneither one of so great weight that in Christ\u0027s cause they ought to\r\nmove a Christian man. And one of the twain is so very childish a\r\nfancy, that in a matter almost of three chips (unless it were a\r\nchance of fire) it should never move any man.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00836\"\u003eAs for those other accidents of hard handling, I am not so mad as\r\nto say that they are no grief, but I say that our fear may imagine\r\nthem much greater grief than they are. And I say that such as they\r\nbe, many a man endureth them—yea, and many a woman too—who\r\nafterward fareth full well.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00837\"\u003eAnd then would I know what determination we take—whether for our\r\nSaviour\u0027s sake to suffer some pain in our bodies, since he suffered\r\nin his blessed body so great pain for us, or else to give him\r\nwarning and be at a point utterly to forsake him rather than to\r\nsuffer any pain at all? He who cometh in his mind unto this latter\r\npoint—from which kind of unkindness God keep every man!—he\r\nneedeth no comfort, for he will flee the need. And counsel, I fear,\r\navaileth him little, if grace be so far gone from him. But, on the\r\nother hand, if, rather than to forsake our Saviour, we determine\r\nourselves to suffer any pain at all, I cannot then see that the\r\nfear of hard handling should anything stick with us and make us to\r\nshrink so that we would rather forsake his faith than suffer for\r\nhis sake so much as imprisonment. For the handling is neither such\r\nin prison but what many men, and many women too, live with it many\r\nyears and sustain it, and afterward yet fare full well. And yet it\r\nmay well fortune that, beside the bare imprisonment, there shall\r\nhappen to us no hard handling at all. Or else it may happen to us\r\nfor only a short while—and yet, beside all this, peradventure not\r\nat all. And which of all these ways shall be taken with us, lieth\r\nall in his will for whom we are content to take it, and who for\r\nthat intent of ours favoureth us and will suffer no man to put more\r\npain to us than he well knoweth we shall be able to bear. For he\r\nhimself will give us the strength for it, as you have heard his\r\npromise already by the mouth of St. Paul: \"God is faithful, who\r\nsuffereth you not to be tempted above what you may bear, but giveth\r\nalso with the temptation a way out.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00838\"\u003eBut now, if we have not lost our faith already before we come to\r\nforsake it for fear, we know very well by our faith that, by the\r\nforsaking of our faith, we fall into that state to be cast into the\r\nprison of hell. And that can we not tell how soon; but, as it may\r\nbe that God will suffer us to live a while here upon earth, so may\r\nit be that he will throw us into that dungeon beneath before the\r\ntime that the Turk shall once ask us the question. And therefore,\r\nif we fear imprisonment so sore, we are much more than mad if we\r\nfear not most the imprisonment that is far more sore. For out of\r\nthat prison shall no man ever get, and in this other shall no man\r\nabide but a while.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00839\"\u003eIn prison was Joseph while his brethren were at large; and yet\r\nafterward were his brethren fain to seek upon him for bread. In\r\nprison was Daniel, and the wild lions about him; and yet even there\r\nGod kept him harmless and brought him safe out again. If we think\r\nthat he will not do the like for us, let us not doubt that he will\r\ndo for us either the like or better, for better may he do for us if\r\nhe suffer us there to die. St. John the Baptist was, you know, in\r\nprison, while Herod and Herodias sat full merry at the feast, and\r\nthe daughter of Herodias delighted them with her dancing, till with\r\nher dancing she danced off St. John\u0027s head. And now sitteth he with\r\ngreat feast in heaven at God\u0027s board, while Herod and Herodias full\r\nheavily sit in hell burning both twain, and to make them sport\r\nwithal the devil with the damsel dance in the fire before them.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00840\"\u003eFinally, cousin, to finish this piece, our Saviour was himself\r\ntaken prisoner for our sake. And prisoner was he carried, and\r\nprisoner was he kept, and prisoner was he brought forth before\r\nAnnas, and prisoner from Annas carried unto Caiphas. Then prisoner\r\nwas he carried from Caiphas unto Pilate, and prisoner was he sent\r\nfrom Pilate to King Herod, and prisoner from Herod unto Pilate\r\nagain. And so was he kept as prisoner to the end of his passion.\r\nThe time of his imprisonment, I grant you, was not long. But as for\r\nhard handling, which our hearts most abhor, he had as much in that\r\nshort while as many men among them all in a much longer time. And\r\nsurely, then, if we consider of what estate he was and also that he\r\nwas prisoner in that wise for our sake, we shall, I think, unless\r\nwe be worse than wretched beasts, never so shamefully play the\r\nungrateful coward as sinfully to forsake him for fear of\r\nimprisonment.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00841\"\u003eNor shall we be so foolish either as, by forsaking him, to give him\r\nthe occasion to forsake us in turn. For so should we, with the\r\navoiding of an easier prison, fall into a worse. And instead of the\r\nprison that cannot keep us long, we should fall into that prison\r\nout of which we can never come, though the short imprisonment\r\nshould have won us everlasting liberty.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00843\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, if we feared not further, beside\r\nimprisonment, the terrible dart of shameful and painful death, I\r\nwould verily trust that, as for imprisonment, remembering these\r\nthings which I have here heard from you (our Lord reward you for\r\nthem!) rather than that I should forsake the faith of our Saviour,\r\nI would with help of grace never shrink at it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00844\"\u003eBut now are we come, uncle, with much work at last unto the last\r\nand uttermost point of the dread that maketh this incursion of this\r\nmidday devil—this open invasion of the Turk and his persecution\r\nagainst the faith—seem so terrible unto men\u0027s minds. Although the\r\nrespect of God vanquish all the rest of the trouble that we have\r\nhitherto perused (as loss of goods, lands, and liberty), yet, when\r\nwe remember the terror of shameful and painful death, that point\r\nsuddenly putteth us in oblivion of all that should be our comfort.\r\nAnd we feel (all men, I fear me, for the most part) the fervour of\r\nour faith wax so cold and our hearts so faint that we find\r\nourselves at the point of falling even for fear.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00845\"\u003eANTHONY: I deny not, cousin, that indeed in this point is the sore\r\npinch. And yet you see, for all this, that even this point too\r\ntaketh increase or diminishment of dread according to the\r\ndifference of the affections that are beforehand fixed and rooted\r\nin the mind—so much so, that you may see a man set so much by his\r\nworldly substance that he feareth less the loss of his life than\r\nthe loss of lands. Yea, you may see a man abide deadly torment,\r\nsuch as some other man had rather die than endure, rather than to\r\nbring out the money that he hath hid. And I doubt not but that you\r\nhave heard by right authentic stories of many men who (some for one\r\ncause, some for another) have not hesitated willingly to suffer\r\ndeath, divers in divers kinds, and some both with despiteful rebuke\r\nand painful torment too. And therefore, as I say, we may see that\r\nthe affection of the mind toward the increase or decrease of dread\r\nmaketh much of the matter.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00846\"\u003eNow the affections of men\u0027s minds are imprinted by divers means.\r\nOne way is by means of the bodily senses, moved by such things,\r\npleasant or unpleasant, as are outwardly offered unto them through\r\nsensible worldly things. And this manner of receiving the\r\nimpression of affections is common unto men and beasts. Another\r\nmanner of receiving affections is by means of reason, which both\r\nordinately tempereth those affections that the five bodily senses\r\nimprint, and also disposeth a man many times to some spiritual\r\nvirtues very contrary to those affections that are fleshly and\r\nsensual. And those reasonable dispositions are spiritual\r\naffections, and proper to the nature of man, and above the nature\r\nof beasts. Now, as our ghostly enemy the devil enforceth himself to\r\nmake us lean to the sensual affections and beastly, so doth\r\nalmighty God of his goodness by his Holy Spirit inspire us good\r\nmotions, with the aid and help of his grace, toward the other\r\nspiritual affections. And by sundry means he instructeth our reason\r\nto lean to them, and not only to receive them as engendered and\r\nplanted in our soul, but also in such wise to water them with the\r\nwise advertisement of godly counsel and continual prayer, that they\r\nmay become habitually radicated and surely take deep root therein.\r\nAnd according as the one kind of affection or the other beareth the\r\nstrength in our heart, so are we stronger or feebler against the\r\nterror of death in this cause.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00847\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, will we essay to consider what things there\r\nare for which we have cause in reason to master the fearful\r\naffection and sensual. And though we cannot clean avoid it and put\r\nit away, yet will we essay in such wise to bridle it at least that\r\nit run not out so far like a headstrong horse that, in spite of our\r\nteeth, it carry us out unto the devil.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00848\"\u003eLet us therefore now consider and well weigh this thing that we\r\ndread so sore—that is, shameful and painful death.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00850\"\u003eAnd first I perceive well by these two things that you join unto\r\n\"death\"—that is, \"shameful\" and \"painful\"—that you would esteem\r\ndeath so much the less if it should come along without either shame\r\nor pain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00851\"\u003eVINCENT: Without doubt, uncle, a great deal the less. But yet,\r\nthough it should come without them both, by itself, I know well\r\nmany a man would be for all that very loth to die.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00852\"\u003eANTHONY: That I believe well, cousin, and the more pity it is. For\r\nthat affection happeth in very few without the cause being either\r\nlack of faith, lack of hope, or finally lack of wit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00853\"\u003eThose who believe not the life to come after this, and think\r\nthemselves here in wealth, are loth to leave this life, for then\r\nthey think they lose all. And thence come the manifold foolish\r\nunfaithful words which are so rife in our many mouths: \"This world\r\nwe know, and the other we know not.\" And some say in sport (and\r\nthink in earnest), \"The devil is not so black as he is painted,\"\r\nand \"Let him be as black as he will, he is no blacker than a crow!\"\r\nwith many such other foolish fancies of the same sort.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00854\"\u003eThere are some who believe well enough but who, through lewdness of\r\nliving, fall out of good hope of salvation. And then I very little\r\nmarvel that they are loth to die. Howbeit, some who purpose to mend\r\nand would fain have some time left them longer to bestow somewhat\r\nbetter, may peradventure be loth to die also forthwith. And albeit\r\nthat a very good will gladly to die and to be with God would be, to\r\nmy mind, so thankful that it would be well able to purchase as full\r\nremission both of sin and pain as peradventure he would be like to\r\npurchase, if he lived, in many years\u0027 penance, yet will I not say\r\nbut what such a kind of lothness to die may be approvable before\r\nGod.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00855\"\u003eThere are some also who are loth to die, who are yet very glad to\r\ndie and long for to be dead.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00856\"\u003eVINCENT: That would be, uncle, a very strange case!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00857\"\u003eANTHONY: The case, I fear me, cousin, falleth not very often. But\r\nyet sometimes it doth, as where there is any man of that good mind\r\nthat St. Paul was. For the longing that he had to be with God, he\r\nwould fain have been dead, but for the profit of other folk he was\r\ncontent to live here in pain, and defer and forbear for the while\r\nhis inestimable bliss in heaven: \u003ci\u003e\"Desiderium habens dissolvi et\r\nesse cum Christo, multo magis melius, permanere autem in carne,\r\nnecessarium propter vos.\"\u003c/i\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00858\"\u003eBut of all these kinds of folk, cousin, who are loth to die (except\r\nfor the first kind only, who lack faith), there is I suppose none\r\nwho would hesitate, for the bare respect of death alone, unless the\r\nfear of shame or sharp pain joined unto death should be the\r\nhindrance, to depart hence with good will in this case of the\r\nfaith. For he would well know by his faith that his death, taken\r\nfor the faith, should cleanse him clean of all his sins and send\r\nhim straight to heaven. And some of these (namely the last kind)\r\nare such that shame and pain both joined unto death would be\r\nunlikely to make them loathe death or fear death so sore but what\r\nthey would suffer death in this case with good will, since they\r\nknow well that the refusing of the faith, for any cause in this\r\nworld (seemed the cause never so good), should yet sever them from\r\nGod, with whom, save for other folk\u0027s profit, they so fain would\r\nbe. And charity it cannot be, for the profit of the whole world,\r\ndeadly to displease him who made it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00859\"\u003eSome are these, I say also, who are loth to die for lack of wit.\r\nAlbeit that they believe in the world that is to come and hope also\r\nto come thither, yet they love so much the wealth of this world and\r\nsuch things as delight them therein, that they would fain keep them\r\nas long as ever they can, even with tooth and nail. And when they\r\ncan be suffered in no wise to keep it longer, but death taketh them\r\nfrom it, then, if it can be no better, they will agree to be, as\r\nsoon as they be hence, hauled up into heaven and be with God\r\nforthwith! These folk as as very idiot fools as he who had kept\r\nfrom his childhood a bag full of cherry stones, and cast such a\r\nfancy to it that he would not go from it for a bigger bag filled\r\nwith gold.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00860\"\u003eThese folk fare, cousin, as Æsop telleth in a fable that the snail\r\ndid. For when Jupiter (whom the poets feign for the great god)\r\ninvited all the poor worms of the earth unto a great solemn feast\r\nthat it pleased him upon a time—I have forgotten upon what\r\noccasion—to prepare for them, the snail kept her at home and would\r\nnot come. And when Jupiter asked her afterward wherefore she came\r\nnot to his feast, where he said she would have been welcome and\r\nhave fared well, and would have seen a goodly palace and been\r\ndelighted with many goodly pleasures, she answered him that she\r\nloved no place so well as her own house. With this answer Jupiter\r\nwaxed so angry that he said, since she loved her house so well, she\r\nshould never after go from home, but should always afterward bear\r\nher house upon her back wheresoever she went. And so hath she ever\r\ndone since, as they say. And at least I know well she doth so now\r\nand hath done so as long as I can remember.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00861\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, uncle, I should think the tale were not all\r\nfeigned, for I think verily that so much of your tale is true!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00862\"\u003eANTHONY: Æsop meant by that feigned fable to touch the folly of\r\nsuch folk as so set their fancy upon some small simple pleasure\r\nthat they cannot find it in their heart to forbear it, either for\r\nthe pleasure of a better man or for the gaining of a better thing.\r\nFor by this foolish froward fashion they sometimes fall in great\r\ndisgrace and take by it no little harm.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00863\"\u003eAnd surely such Christian folk as, by their foolish affection,\r\nwhich they have set like the snail upon their own house here on\r\nearth, cannot, for the lothness of leaving that house, find it in\r\ntheir hearts to go with good will to the great feast that God\r\nprepareth in heaven and of his goodness so graciously calleth them\r\nto—they are, I fear me, unless they mend that mind in time, like\r\nto be served as the snail was, and yet much worse too. For they are\r\nlike to have their house here, the earth, bound fast on their backs\r\nfor ever, and not to walk with it where they will, as the snail\r\ncreepeth about with hers, but to lie fast bound in the midst of it\r\nwith the foul fire of hell about them. For into this folly they\r\nbring themselves by their own fault, as the drunken man bringeth\r\nhimself into drunkenness, whereby the evil that he doth in his\r\ndrunkenness is not forgiven him for his folly, but to his pain is\r\nimputed to his fault.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00864\"\u003eVINCENT: Surely, uncle, this seemeth not unlikely, and by their\r\nfault they fall in such folly indeed. And yet, if this be folly\r\nindeed, then are some folk fools who think themselves right wise.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00865\"\u003eANTHONY: Who think themselves wise? Marry, I never saw a fool yet\r\nwho thought himself other than wise! For as it is one spark of\r\nsoberness left in a drunken head when he perceiveth himself to be\r\ndrunk and getteth himself fair to bed, so if a fool perceive\r\nhimself a fool that point is no folly but a little spark of wit.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00866\"\u003eBut now, cousin, as for these kind of fools, who are loth to die\r\nfor the love that they bear to their worldly fancies which they\r\nwould, by their death, leave behind them and forsake: Those who\r\nwould for that cause rather forsake the faith than die, would\r\nrather forsake it than lose their worldly goods, though there were\r\nno peril of death offered them at all. And then, as touching those\r\nwho are of that mind, we have, you know, said as much as you\r\nyourself thought sufficient this afternoon here before.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00867\"\u003eVINCENT: Verily, uncle, that is very true. And now have you\r\nrehearsed, as far as I can remember, all the other kinds of them\r\nthat would be loth to die for any other respect than the grievous\r\nqualities of shame and pain joined unto death. And of all these\r\nkinds, except the kind of infidelity—when no comfort can help, but\r\nonly counsel to the attaining of faith, for faith must be\r\npresupposed to the receiving of comfort and had ready before, as\r\nyou showed in the beginning of our communication the first day that\r\nwe talked of the matter. But else, I say, except that one kind,\r\nthere is none of the rest of those that were before untouched who\r\nwould be likely to forsake their faith in this persecution for the\r\nfear and dread of death, save for those grievous qualities—pain, I\r\nmean, and shame—that they see well would come with it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00868\"\u003eAnd therefore, uncle, I pray you, give us some comfort against\r\nthose twain. For in good faith, if death should come without them,\r\nin such a case at this is, in which by the losing of this life we\r\nshould find a far better, mine own reason giveth me that, save for\r\nthe other griefs going before the change, no man who hath wit would\r\nanything stick at all.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00869\"\u003eANTHONY: Yes, peradventure suddenly they would, before they gather\r\ntheir wits unto them and well weigh the matter. But, cousin, those\r\nwho will consider the matter well, reason, grounded upon the\r\nfoundation of faith, shall show they very great substantial causes\r\nfor which the dread of those grievous qualities that they see shall\r\ncome with death—shame, I mean, and pain also—shall not so sore\r\nabash them as sinfully to drive them to that point. And for the\r\nproof thereof, let us first begin at the consideration of the shame.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXIII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00871\"\u003eHow can any faithful wise man dread death so sore, for any respect\r\nof shame, when his reason and his faith together can shortly make\r\nhim perceive that there is no true shame in it at all? For how can\r\nthat death be shameful that is glorious? Or how can it be anything\r\nbut glorious to die for the faith of Christ, if we die both for the\r\nfaith and in the faith, joined with hope and charity? For the\r\nscripture plainly saith, \"Precious in the sight of God is the death\r\nof his saints.\" Now if the death of his saints be glorious in the\r\nsight of God, it can never be shameful in very deed, however\r\nshameful it seem here in the sight of men. For here we may see and\r\nbe sure that not only at the death of St. Stephen, to whom it\r\npleased him to show himself with the heaven open over his head, but\r\nat the death also of every may who so dieth for the faith, God with\r\nhis heavenly company beholdeth his whole passion and verily looketh\r\non.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00872\"\u003eNow if it were so, cousin, that you should be brought through the\r\nbroad high-street of a great long city; and if, all along the way\r\nthat you were going, there were on one side of the way a rabble of\r\nragged beggars and madmen, who would despise and dispraise you with\r\nall the shameful names that they could call you and all the\r\nvillainous words that they could say to you; and if there were\r\nthen, all along the other side of the same street where you should\r\ncome by, a goodly company standing in a fair range, a row of wise\r\nand worshipful folk, lauding and commending you, more than fifteen\r\ntimes as many as that rabble of ragged beggars and railing\r\nmadmen—would you willingly turn back, thinking that you went unto\r\nyour shame, for the shameful jesting and railing of those mad\r\nfoolish wretches? Or would you hold on your way with a good cheer\r\nand a glad heart, thinking yourself much honoured by the laud and\r\napprobation of that other honourable company?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00873\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, by my troth, uncle, there is no doubt but that I\r\nwould much regard the commendation of those commendable folk, and\r\nregard not a rush the railing of all those ribalds.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00874\"\u003eANTHONY: Then, cousin, no man who hath faith can account himself\r\nshamed here, by any manner of death that he suffereth for the faith\r\nof Christ. For however vile and shameful it seem in the sight here\r\nof a few worldly wretches, it is lauded and approved for very\r\nprecious and honourable in the sight of God and all the glorious\r\ncompany of heaven, who as perfectly stand and behold it as those\r\nfoolish people do. And they are in number more than a hundred to\r\none; and of that hundred, every one a hundred times more to be\r\nregarded and esteemed than a hundred such whole rabbles of the\r\nother.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00875\"\u003eAnd now, if a man would be so mad as to be ashamed, for fear of the\r\nrebuke that he should have of such rebukeful beasts, to confess the\r\nfaith of Christ, then, with fleeing from a shadow of shame, he\r\nwould fall into a true shame—and a deadly painful shame indeed!\r\nFor then hath our Saviour made a sure promise that he will show\r\nhimself ashamed of that man before the Father of heaven and all his\r\nholy angels, saying in the ninth chapter of Luke, \"He who is\r\nashamed of me and my words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed\r\nwhen he shall come in the majesty of himself and of his Father and\r\nof his holy angels.\" And what manner of shameful shame shall that\r\nbe, then? If a man\u0027s cheeks glow sometimes for shame in this world,\r\nthey will fall on fire for shame when Christ shall show himself\r\nashamed of them there!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00876\"\u003eThe blessed apostles reckoned it for great glory to suffer for\r\nChrist\u0027s faith the thing that we worldly wretched fools think to be\r\nvillainy and shame. For they, when they were scourged, with despite\r\nand shame, and thereupon commanded to speak no more of the name of\r\nChrist, \"went their way from the council joyful and glad that God\r\nhad vouchsafed to do them the worship to suffer shameful despite\r\nfor the name of Jesus.\" And so proud were they of the shame and\r\nvillainous pain put unto them, that for all the forbidding of that\r\ngreat council assembled, they ceased not every day to preach out\r\nthe name of Jesus still—not only in the temple, out of which they\r\nwere set and whipped for the same before, but also, to double it\r\nwith, they went preaching the name about from house to house, too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00877\"\u003eSince we regard so greatly the estimation of worldly folk, I wish\r\nthat we would, among the many wicked things that they do, regard\r\nalso some such as are good. For it is a manner among them, in many\r\nplaces, that some by handicraft, some by merchandise, some by other\r\nkinds of living, arise and come forward in the world. And commonly\r\nfolk are in their youth set forth to suitable masters, under whom\r\nthey are brought up and grow. But now, whensoever they find a\r\nservant such that he disdaineth to do such things as his master did\r\nwhile he was himself a servant, that servant every man accounteth\r\nfor a proud unthrift, never like to come to good proof. Let us, lo,\r\nmark and consider this, and weigh it well withal: Our master Christ\r\n(who is not only the master, but the maker too, of all this whole\r\nworld) was not so proud as to disdain for our sakes the most\r\nvillainous and most shameful death, after the worldly count, that\r\nthen was used in the world. And he endured the most despiteful\r\nmocking therewith, joined to the most grievous pain, as crowning\r\nhim with sharp thorn, so that the blood ran down about his face.\r\nThen they gave him a reed in his hand for a sceptre, and kneeled\r\ndown to him and saluted him like a king in scorn, and beat then the\r\nreed upon the sharp thorns about his holy head. Now our Saviour\r\nsaith that the disciple or servant is not above his master. And\r\ntherefore, since our master endured so many kinds of painful shame,\r\nvery proud beasts may we well think ourselves if we disdain to do\r\nas our master did. And whereas he through shame ascended into\r\nglory, we would be so mad that we would rather fall into\r\neverlasting shame, both before heaven and hell, than for fear of a\r\nshort worldly shame to follow him to everlasting glory.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXIV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00879\"\u003eVINCENT: In good faith, uncle, as for the shame, you shall need to\r\ntake no more pains. For I suppose surely that any man who hath\r\nreason in his head shall hold himself satisfied with this.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00880\"\u003eBut, of truth, uncle, all the pinch is in the pain. For as for\r\nshame, I perceive well now that a man may with wisdom so master it\r\nthat it shall nothing move him at all—so much so that it is become\r\na common proverb in almost every country that \"shame is as it is\r\ntaken.\" But, by God, uncle, all the wisdom in this world can never\r\nso master pain but that pain will be painful, in spite of all the\r\nwit in this world!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00881\"\u003eANTHONY: Truth it is, cousin, that no man can, with all the reason\r\nhe hath, in such wise change the nature of pain that in the having\r\nof pain he feel it not. For unless it be felt, perdy, it is no\r\npain. And that is the natural cause, cousin, for which a man may\r\nhave his leg stricken off at the knee and it grieve him not—if his\r\nhead be off but half an hour before!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00882\"\u003eBut reason may make a reasonable man not to shrink from it and\r\nrefuse it to his more hurt and harm. Though he would not be so\r\nfoolish as to fall into it without cause, yet upon good\r\ncauses—either of gaining some kind of great profit or avoiding\r\nsome kind of great loss, or eschewing thereby the suffering of far\r\ngreater pain—he would be content and glad to sustain it for his\r\nfar greater advantage and commodity.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00883\"\u003eAnd this doth reason alone in many cases, where it hath much less\r\nhelp to take hold of than it hath in this matter of faith. For you\r\nknow well that to take a sour and bitter potion is great grief and\r\ndispleasure, and to be lanced and have the flesh cut is no little\r\npain. Now, when such things are to be ministered either to a child\r\nor to some childish man, they will by their own wills let their\r\nsickness and their sore grow, unto their more grief, till it become\r\nincurable, rather than abide the pain of the curing in time. And\r\nthat for faint heart, joined with lack of discretion. But a man who\r\nhath more wisdom, though without cause he would no more abide the\r\npain willingly than would the other, yet, since reason showeth him\r\nwhat good he shall have by the suffering, and what harm by refusing\r\nit, this maketh him well content and glad also to take it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00884\"\u003eNow then, if reason alone be sufficient to move a man to take pain\r\nfor the gaining of worldly rest or pleasure and for the avoiding of\r\nanother pain (though the pain he take be peradventure more, yet to\r\nbe endured but for a short season), why should not reason, grounded\r\nupon the sure foundation of faith, and helped toward also with the\r\naid of God\u0027s grace—as it ever is, undoubtedly, when folk for a\r\ngood mind in God\u0027s name come together, our Saviour saying himself,\r\n\"Where there are two or three are gathered together in my name,\r\nthere am I also even in the very midst of them.\" Why should not\r\nthen reason, I say, thus furthered with faith and grace, be much\r\nmore able first to engender in us such an affection, and afterward,\r\nby long and deep meditation thereof, so to continue that affection\r\nthat it shall turn into a habitual purpose, fast-rooted and deep,\r\nof patiently suffering the painful death of this body here in earth\r\nfor the gaining of everlasting wealthy life in heaven and avoiding\r\nof everlasting painful death in hell?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00885\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, I can find no words that should have\r\nany reason with them—faith being always presupposed, as you\r\nprotested in the beginning, for a ground—words, I say, I can find\r\nnone with which I might reasonably counter-plead this that you have\r\nsaid here already.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00886\"\u003eBut yet I remember the fable that Æsop telleth of a great old hart\r\nthat had fled from a little bitch, which had made pursuit after him\r\nand chased him so long that she had lost him, and (he hoped) more\r\nthan half given him over. Having then some time to talk, and\r\nmeeting with another of his fellows, he fell into deliberation with\r\nhim as to what it were best for him to do—whether to run on still\r\nand fly farther from her, or to turn again and fight with her. The\r\nother hart advised him to fly no farther, lest the bitch might\r\nhappen to find him again when he would be out of breath by the\r\nlabour of farther fleeing, and thereby all out of strength too, and\r\nso would he be killed lying where he could not stir himself.\r\nWhereas, if he would turn and fight, he would be in no peril at\r\nall. \"For the man with whom she hunteth,\" he said, \"is more than a\r\nmile behind her. And she is but a little body, scant half so much\r\nas thou, and thy horns can thrust her through before she can touch\r\nthy flesh, by more than ten times her tooth-length.\" \"By my troth,\"\r\nquoth the other hart, \"I like your counsel well, and methinketh\r\nthat the thing is even soothly as you say. But I fear me that when\r\nI hear once that cursed bitch bark, I shall fall to my feet and\r\nforget all together. But yet, if you will go back with me, then\r\nmethinketh we shall be strong enough against that one bitch between\r\nus both.\" The other hart agreed, and they both appointed them\r\nthereon. But even as they were about to busk them forward to it,\r\nthe bitch had found the scent again, and on she came yalping toward\r\nthe place. And as soon as the harts heard her, off they went both\r\ntwain apace!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00887\"\u003eAnd in good faith, uncle, even so I fear it would fare by myself\r\nand many others too. Though we think it reason, what you say, and\r\nin our minds agree that we should do as you say—yea, and\r\nperadventure think also that we would indeed do as you say—yet as\r\nsoon as we should once hear those hell-hounds the Turks come\r\nyalping and howling upon us, our hearts should soon fall as clean\r\nfrom us as those other harts fled from the hounds.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00888\"\u003eANTHONY: Cousin, in those days that Æsop speaketh of, though those\r\nharts and other brute beasts had (if he say sooth) the power to\r\nspeak and talk, and in their talking power to talk reason too, yet\r\nthey never had given them the power to follow reason and rule\r\nthemselves thereby. And in good faith, cousin, as for such things\r\nas pertain to the conducting of reasonable men to salvation, I\r\nthink that without the help of grace men\u0027s reasoning shall do\r\nlittle more. But then are we sure, as I said before, that if we\r\ndesire grace, God is at such reasoning always present and very\r\nready to give it. And unless men will afterward willingly cast it\r\naway, he is ever ready still to keep it and glad from time to time\r\nto increase it. And therefore our Lord biddeth us, by the mouth of\r\nthe prophet, that we should not be like such brutish and\r\nunreasonable beasts as were those harts, and as are horses and\r\nmules: \"Be not you like a horse and a mule, that hath no\r\nunderstanding.\" And therefore, cousin, let us never dread but what,\r\nif we will apply our minds to the gathering of comfort and courage\r\nagainst our persecutions, and hear reason and let it sink into our\r\nheart and cast it not out again (nor vomit it up, nor even there\r\nchoke it up and stifle it with pampering in and stuffing up our\r\nstomachs with a surfeit of worldly vanities), God shall so well\r\nwork with it that we shall feel strength therein. And so we shall\r\nnot in such wise have all such shameful cowardous hearts as to\r\nforsake our Saviour and thereby lose our own salvation and run into\r\neternal fire for fear of death joined therein—though bitter and\r\nsharp, yet short for all that, and (in a manner) a momentary pain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00889\"\u003eVINCENT: Every man, uncle, naturally grudgeth at pain, and is very\r\nloth to come to it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00890\"\u003eANTHONY: That is very true, and no one biddeth any man to go run\r\ninto it, unless he be taken and cannot flee. Then, we say that\r\nreason plainly telleth us that we should rather suffer and endure\r\nthe less and the shorter pain here, than in hell the sorer and so\r\nfar the longer too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00891\"\u003eVINCENT: I heard of late, uncle, where such a reason was made as\r\nyou make me now, which reason seemed undoubted and inevitable to\r\nme. Yet heard I lately, as I say, a man answer it thus: He said\r\nthat if a man in this persecution should stand still in the\r\nconfession of his faith and thereby fall into painful tormentry, he\r\nmight peradventure happen, for the sharpness and bitterness of the\r\npain, to forsake our Saviour even in the midst of it, and die there\r\nwith his sin, and so be damned forever. Whereas, by the forsaking\r\nof the faith in the beginning, and for the time—and yet only in\r\nword, keeping it still nevertheless in his heart—a man might save\r\nhimself from that painful death and afterward ask mercy and have\r\nit, and live long and do many good deeds, and be saved as St. Peter\r\nwas.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00892\"\u003eANTHONY: That man\u0027s reason, cousin, is like a three-footed\r\nstool—so tottering on every side that whosoever sits on it may\r\nsoon take a foul fall. For these are the three feet of this\r\ntottering stool: fantastical fear, false faith, and false\r\nflattering hope.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00893\"\u003eFirst, it is a fantastical fear that the man conceiveth, that it\r\nshould be perilous to stand in the confession of the faith at the\r\nbeginning, lest he might afterward, through the bitterness of the\r\npain, fall to the forsaking and so die there in the pain, out of\r\nhand, and thereby be utterly damned. As though, if a man were\r\novercome by pain and so forsook his faith, God could not or would\r\nnot as well give him grace to repent again, and thereupon give him\r\nforgiveness, as he would give it to him who forsook his faith in\r\nthe beginning and set so little by God that he would rather forsake\r\nhim than suffer for his sake any manner of pain at all! As though\r\nthe more pain that a man taketh for God\u0027s sake, the worse would God\r\nbe to him! If this reason were not unreasonable, then should our\r\nSaviour not have said, as he did, \"Fear not them that may kill the\r\nbody, and after that have nothing that they can do further.\" For he\r\nshould, by this reason, have said, \"Dread and fear them that may\r\nslay the body, for they may, by the torment of painful death\r\n(unless thou forsake me betimes in the beginning and so save thy\r\nlife, and get of me thy pardon and forgiveness afterward) make thee\r\nperadventure forsake me too late, and so be damned forever.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00894\"\u003eThe second foot of this tottering stool is a false faith. For it is\r\nbut a feigned faith for a man to say to God secretly that he\r\nbelieveth him, trusteth him, and loveth him, and then openly, where\r\nhe should to God\u0027s honour tell the same tale and thereby prove that\r\nhe doth so, there to God\u0027s dishonour flatter God\u0027s enemies as much\r\nas in him is, and do them pleasure and worship, with the forsaking\r\nof God\u0027s faith before the world. And such a one either is faithless\r\nin his heart too, or else knoweth well that he doth God this\r\ndespite even before his own face. For unless he lack faith, he\r\ncannot but know that our Lord is everywhere present, and that,\r\nwhile he so shamefully forsaketh him, he full angrily looketh on.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00895\"\u003eThe third foot of this tottering stool is false flattering hope.\r\nFor since the thing that he doth, when he forsaketh his faith for\r\nfear, is forbidden by the mouth of God upon the pain of eternal\r\ndeath, though the goodness of God forgiveth many folk for the\r\nfault, yet to be bolder in offending for the hope of forgiving is a\r\nvery false pestilent hope, with which a man flattereth himself\r\ntoward his own destruction.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00896\"\u003eHe who, in a sudden turn for fear or other affection, unadvisedly\r\nfalleth, and after, in labouring to rise again, comforteth himself\r\nwith hope of God\u0027s gracious forgiveness, walketh in the ready way\r\ntoward his salvation. But he who with the hope of God\u0027s mercy to\r\nfollow, doth encourage himself to sin, and thereby offendeth God\r\nfirst—I have no power to keep the hand of God from giving out his\r\npardon where he will (nor would I if I could, but rather help to\r\npray for it), but yet I very sorely fear that such a man may miss\r\nthe grace to ask it in such effectual wise as to have it granted.\r\nNor can I now instantly remember any example or promise expressed\r\nin holy scripture that the offender in such a case shall have the\r\ngrace offered afterward, in such wise to seek for pardon that God,\r\nby his other promises of remission promised to penitents, would be\r\nbound himself to grant it. But this kind of presumption, under\r\npretext of hope, seemeth rather to draw near on the one side (as\r\ndespair doth, on the other) toward the abominable sin of blasphemy\r\nagainst the Holy Ghost. And against that sin, concerning either the\r\nimpossibility or at least the great difficulty of forgiveness, our\r\nSaviour himself hath spoken in the twelfth chapter of St. Matthew\r\nand in the third chapter of St. Mark, where he saith that blasphemy\r\nagainst the Holy Ghost shall never be forgiven, neither in this\r\nworld nor in the world to come.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00897\"\u003eAnd where the man that you speak of took in his reason an example\r\nof St. Peter, who forsook our Saviour and got forgiveness\r\nafterward, let him consider again on the other hand that he forsook\r\nhim not upon the boldness of such a sinful trust, but was overcome\r\nand vanquished by a sudden fear. And yet, by that forsaking, St.\r\nPeter won but little, for he did but delay his trouble for a little\r\nwhile, as you know well. For beside that, he repented forthwith\r\nvery sorely that he had so done, and wept for it forthwith full\r\nbitterly. He came forth at the Whitsuntide ensuing, and confessed\r\nhis Master again, and soon after that, he was imprisoned for it.\r\nAnd not ceasing so, he was thereupon sore scourged for the\r\nconfession of his faith, and yet after that imprisoned again\r\nafresh. And, being from thence delivered, he stinted not to preach\r\non still until, after manifold labours, travails, and troubles, he\r\nwas in Rome crucified and with cruel torment slain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00898\"\u003eAnd in like wise I think I might (in a manner) well warrant that no\r\nman who denieth our Saviour once and afterward attaineth remission\r\nshall escape through that denial one penny the cheaper, but that he\r\nshall, ere he come to heaven, full surely pay for it.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00899\"\u003eVINCENT: He shall peradventure, uncle, afterward work it out in\r\nthe fruitful works of penance, prayer, and almsdeed, done in true\r\nfaith and due charity, and in such wise attain forgiveness well\r\nenough.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00900\"\u003eANTHONY: All his forgiveness goeth, cousin, as you see well, but\r\nby \"perhaps.\" But as it may be \"perhaps yea,\" so may it be \"perhaps\r\nnay,\" and where is he then? And yet, you know, he shall never, by\r\nany manner of hap, hap finally to escape from death, for fear of\r\nwhich he forsook his faith.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00901\"\u003eVINCENT: No, but he may die his natural death, and escape that\r\nviolent death. And then he saveth himself from much pain and so\r\nwinneth much ease. For a violent death is ever painful.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00902\"\u003eANTHONY: Peradventure he shall not avoid a violent death thereby,\r\nfor God is without doubt displeased, and can bring him shortly to\r\nas violent a death by some other way.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00903\"\u003eHowbeit, I see well that you reckon that whosoever dieth a natural\r\ndeath, dieth like a wanton even at his ease. You make me remember a\r\nman who was once in a light galley with us on the sea. While the\r\nsea was sore wrought and the waves rose very high, he lay tossed\r\nhither and thither, for he had never been to sea before. The poor\r\nsoul groaned sore and for pain thought he would very fain be dead,\r\nand ever he wished, \"Would God I were on land, that I might die in\r\nrest!\" The waves so troubled him there, with tossing him up and\r\ndown, to and fro, that he thought that trouble prevented him from\r\ndying, because the waves would not let him rest! But if he might\r\nget once to land, he thought he should then die there even at his\r\nease.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00904\"\u003eVINCENT: Nay, uncle, this is no doubt, but that death is to every\r\nman painful. But yet is not the natural death so painful as the\r\nviolent.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00905\"\u003eANTHONY: By my troth, cousin, methinketh that the death which men\r\ncommonly call \"natural\" is a violent death to every may whom it\r\nfetcheth hence by force against his will. And that is every man\r\nwho, when he dieth, is loth to die and fain would yet live longer\r\nif he could.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00906\"\u003eHowbeit, cousin, fain would I know who hath told you how small is\r\nthe pain in the natural death! As far as I can perceive, those folk\r\nthat commonly depart of their natural death have ever one disease\r\nand sickness or another. And if the pain of the whole week or twain\r\nin which they lie pining in their bed, were gathered together in so\r\nshort a time as a man hath his pain who dieth a violent death, it\r\nwould, I daresay, make double the pain that is his. So he who dieth\r\nnaturally often suffereth more pain rather than less, though he\r\nsuffer it in a longer time. And then would many a man be more loth\r\nto suffer so long, lingering in pain, than with a sharper pang to\r\nbe sooner rid. And yet lieth many a man more days than one, in\r\nwell-near as great pain continually, as is the pain that with the\r\nviolent death riddeth the man in less than half an hour—unless you\r\nthink that, whereas the pain is great to have a knife cut the flesh\r\non the outside from the skin inward, the pain would be much less if\r\nthe knife might begin on the inside and cut from the midst outward!\r\nSome we hear, on their deathbed, complain that they think they feel\r\nsharp knives cut in two their heartstrings. Some cry out and think\r\nthey feel, within the brainpan, their head pricked even full of\r\npins. And those who lie in a pleurisy think that, every time they\r\ncough, they feel a sharp sword snap them to the heart.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXV\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00908\"\u003eHowbeit, what need we to make any such comparison between the\r\nnatural death and the violent, for the matter that we are in hand\r\nwith here? Without doubt, he who forsaketh the faith of Christ for\r\nfear of the violent death, putteth himself in peril to find his\r\nnatural death a thousand times more painful. For his natural death\r\nhath his everlasting pain so instantly knit to it, that there is\r\nnot one moment of time between, but the end of the one is the\r\nbeginning of the other, which never after shall have an end.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00909\"\u003eAnd therefore was it not without great cause that Christ gave us so\r\ngood warning before, when he said, as St. Luke in the twenty-second\r\nchapter rehearseth, \"I say to you that are my friends, be not\r\nafraid of them that kill the body, and when that is done are able\r\nto do no more. But I shall show you whom you should fear. Fear him\r\nwho, when he hath killed, hath in his power further to cast him\r\nwhom he killeth into everlasting fire. So I say to you, be afraid\r\nof him.\" God meaneth not here that we should not dread at all any\r\nman who can but kill the body, but he meaneth that we should not in\r\nsuch wise dread any such man that we should, for dread of them,\r\ndisplease him who can everlastingly kill both body and soul with a\r\ndeath ever-dying and that shall yet never die. And therefore he\r\naddeth and repeateth in the end again, the fear that we should have\r\nof him, and saith, \"So I say to you, fear him.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00910\"\u003eO good God, cousin, if a man would well weigh those words and let\r\nthem sink down deep into his heart as they should do, and often\r\nbethink himself on them, it would (I doubt not) be able enough to\r\nmake us set at naught all the great Turk\u0027s threats, and esteem him\r\nnot a straw. But we should be well content to endure all the pain\r\nthat all the world could put upon us, for so short a while as all\r\nthey were able to make us dwell in it, rather than, by shrinking\r\nfrom those pains (though never so sharp, yet but short), to cast\r\nourselves into the pain of hell—a hundred thousand times more\r\nintolerable, and of which there shall never come an end. A woeful\r\ndeath is that death, in which folk shall evermore be dying and\r\nnever can once be dead! For the scripture saith, \"They shall call\r\nand cry for death, and death shall fly from them.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00911\"\u003eO, good Lord, if one of them were not put in choice of both, he\r\nwould rather suffer the whole year together the most terrible death\r\nthat all the Turks in Turkey could devise, than to endure for the\r\nspace of half an hour the death that they lie in now. Into what\r\nwretched folly fall, then, those faithless or feeble-faithed folk,\r\nwho, to avoid the pain that is so far the less and so short, fall\r\ninstead into pain a thousand thousand times more horrible, and\r\nterrible torment of which they are sure they shall never have an\r\nend!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00912\"\u003eThis matter, cousin, lacketh, I believe, only full faith or\r\nsufficient minding. For I think, on my faith, that if we have the\r\ngrace verily to believe it and often to think well on it, the fear\r\nof all the Turk\u0027s persecution—with all this midday devil were able\r\nto do in the forcing of us to forsake our faith—should never be\r\nable to turn us.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00913\"\u003eVINCENT: By my troth, uncle, I think it is as you say. For surely,\r\nif we would often think on these pains of hell—as we are very loth\r\nto do, and purposely seek us childish pastimes to put such heavy\r\nthings out of our thought—this one point alone would be able\r\nenough, I think, to make many a martyr.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXVI\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00915\"\u003eANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, if we were such as we should be, I\r\nwould scant, for very shame, speak of the pains of hell in\r\nexhortation to the keeping of Christ\u0027s faith. I would rather put us\r\nin mind of the joys of heaven, the pleasure of which we should be\r\nmore glad to get than we should be to flee and escape all the pains\r\nof hell.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00916\"\u003eBut surely God is marvellous merciful to us in the thing in which\r\nhe may seem most rigorous. And that is (which many men would little\r\nthink) in that he provided hell. For I suppose very surely, cousin,\r\nthat many a man—and woman, too—of whom some now sit, and more\r\nshall hereafter sit, full gloriously crowned in heaven, had they\r\nnot first been afraid of hell, would never have set foot toward\r\nheaven.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00917\"\u003eBut yet undoubtedly, if we could conceive in our hearts the\r\nmarvellous joys of heaven as well as we conceive the fearful pains\r\nof hell—howbeit, we can conceive neither one sufficiently. But if\r\nwe could in our imagination approach as much toward the perceiving\r\nof the one as we may toward the consideration of the other, we\r\nwould not fail to be far more moved and stirred to suffering for\r\nChrist\u0027s sake in this world, for the winning of those heavenly joys\r\nthan for the eschewing of all those infernal pains. But forasmuch\r\nas the fleshly pleasures are far less pleasant than the fleshly\r\npains are painful, therefore we fleshly folk, who are so drowned in\r\nthese fleshly pleasures and in the desire of them that we have\r\nalmost no manner of savour or taste for any pleasure that is\r\nspiritual, we have no cause to marvel that our fleshly affections\r\nare more abated and refrained by the dread and terror of hell than\r\nspiritual affections are imprinted in us and pricked forward with\r\nthe desire and joyful hope of heaven.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00918\"\u003eHowbeit, if we would set somewhat less by the filthy voluptuous\r\nappetites of the flesh, and would, by withdrawing from them, with\r\nhelp of prayer through the grace of God, draw nearer to the secret\r\ninward pleasure of the spirit, we should, by the little sipping\r\nthat our hearts should have here now, and that instantaneous taste\r\nof it, have an estimation of the incomparable and uncogitable joy\r\nthat we shall have (if we will) in heaven, by the very full draught\r\nthereof. For thereof it is written, \"I shall be satiate\" or\r\nsatisfied, or fulfilled, \"when thy glory, good Lord, shall appear,\"\r\nthat is, with the fruition of the sight of God\u0027s glorious majesty\r\nface to face. And the desire, expectation, and heavenly hope\r\nthereof, shall more encourage us and make us strong to suffer and\r\nsustain for the love of God and salvation of our soul, than ever we\r\ncould be made to suffer worldly pain here by the terrible dread of\r\nall the horrible pains that damned wretches have in hell.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00919\"\u003eTherefore in the meantime, for lack of such experimental taste as\r\nGod giveth here sometimes to some of his special servants, to the\r\nintent that we may draw toward the spiritual exercise too—for\r\nwhich spiritual exercise God with that gift, as with an\r\nearnest-penny of their whole reward afterward in heaven, comforteth\r\nthem here in earth—let us labour by prayer to conceive in our\r\nhearts such a fervent longing for them that we may, for attaining\r\nto them, utterly set at naught all fleshly delight, all worldly\r\npleasures, all earthly losses, all bodily torment and pain. And let\r\nus do this, not so much with looking to have described what manner\r\nof joys they shall be, as with hearing what our Lord telleth us in\r\nholy scripture how marvellous great they shall be. Howbeit, some\r\nthings are there in scripture expressed of the manner of the\r\npleasures and joys that we shall have in heaven, as, \"Righteous men\r\nshall shine as the sun and shall run about like sparkles of fire\r\namong reeds.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00920\"\u003eNow, tell some carnal-minded man of this manner of pleasure, and he\r\nshall take little pleasure in it, and say he careth not to have his\r\nflesh shine, he, nor like a spark of fire to skip about in the sky.\r\nTell him that his body shall be impassible and never feel harm, and\r\nhe will think then that he shall never be ahungered or athirst, and\r\nshall thereby forbear all his pleasure of eating and drinking, and\r\nthat he shall never wish for sleep, and shall thereby lose the\r\npleasure that he was wont to take in lying slug-abed. Tell him that\r\nmen and women shall there live together as angels without any\r\nmanner of mind or motion unto the carnal act of generation, and he\r\nwill think that he shall thereby not use there his old filthy\r\nvoluptuous fashion. He will say then that he is better at ease\r\nalready, and would not give this world for that. For, as St. Paul\r\nsaith, \"A carnal man feeleth not the things that be of the spirit\r\nof God, for it is foolishness to him.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00921\"\u003eBut the time shall come when these foul filthy pleasures shall be\r\nso taken from him that it shall abhor his heart once to think on\r\nthem. Every man hath a certain shadow of this experience in the\r\nfervent grief of a sore painful sickness, when his stomach can\r\nscant abide to look upon any meat, and as for the acts of the other\r\nfoul filthy lust, he is ready to vomit if he hap to think thereon.\r\nWhen a man shall after this life feel in his heart that horrible\r\nabomination, of which sickness hath here a shadow, at the\r\nremembrance of these voluptuous pleasures, for which he would here\r\nbe loth to change with the joys of heaven: when he shall, I say,\r\nafter this life, have his fleshly pleasures in abomination, and\r\nshall have there a glimmering (though far from a perfect sight) of\r\nthose heavenly joys which here he set so little by—O, good God,\r\nhow fain will he then be, with how good will and how gladly would\r\nhe then give this whole world, if it were his, to have the feeling\r\nof some little part of those joys!\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00922\"\u003eAnd therefore let us all who cannot now conceive such delight in\r\nthe consideration of them as we should, have often in our eyes by\r\nreading, often in our ears by hearing, often in our mouths by\r\nrehearsing, often in our hearts by meditation and thinking, those\r\njoyful words of the holy scripture by which we learn how wonderful\r\nhuge and great are those spiritual heavenly joys. Our carnal hearts\r\nhave so feeble and so faint a feeling of them, and our dull worldly\r\nwits are so little able to conceive so much as a shadow of the\r\nright imagination! A shadow, I say, for, as for the thing as it is,\r\nnot only can no fleshly carnal fancy conceive that, but beside that\r\nno spiritual person peradventure neither, so long as he is still\r\nliving here in this world. For since the very essential substance\r\nof all the celestial joy standeth in the blessed beholding of the\r\nglorious Godhead face to face, no man may presume or look to attain\r\nit in this life. For God hath said so himself: \"There shall no man\r\nhere living behold me.\" And therefore we may well know not only\r\nthat we are, for the state of this life, kept from the fruition of\r\nthe bliss of heaven, but also I think that the very best man living\r\nhere upon earth—the best man, I mean, who is no more than\r\nman—cannot attain the right imagination of it; but those who are\r\nvery virtuous are yet (in a manner) as far from it as a man born\r\nblind is from the right imagination of colours.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00923\"\u003eThe words that St. Paul rehearseth of the prophet Isaiah,\r\nprophesying of Christ\u0027s incarnation, may properly be verified of\r\nthe joys of heaven: \u003ci\u003e\"Oculus non vidit, nec auris audivit, nec in\r\ncor hominis adscendit, quae preparavit Deus diligentibus se.\"\u003c/i\u003e For\r\nsurely, for this state of this world, the joys of heaven are by\r\nman\u0027s mouth unspeakable, to man\u0027s ears not audible, to men\u0027s hearts\r\nuncogitable, so far excel they all that ever men have heard of, all\r\nthat ever men can speak of, and all that men can by natural\r\npossibility think on.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00924\"\u003eAnd yet, whereas such be the joys of heaven that are prepared for\r\nevery saved soul, our Lord saith yet, by the mouth of St. John,\r\nthat he will give his holy martyrs who suffer for his sake many a\r\nspecial kind of joy. For he saith, \"To him that overcometh, I shall\r\ngive him to eat of the tree of life. And I shall confess his name\r\nbefore my Father and before his angels.\" And also he saith, \"Fear\r\nnone of those things that thou shalt suffer . . . , but be faithful\r\nunto the death, and I shall give thee the crown of life. He that\r\novercometh shall not be hurt of the second death.\" And he saith\r\nalso, \"To him that overcometh will I give manna secret and hid. And\r\nI will give him a white suffrage, and in his suffrage a new name\r\nwritten, which no man knoweth but he that receiveth it.\" They used\r\nof old in Greece, where St. John did write, to elect and choose men\r\nunto honourable offices, and every man\u0027s assent was called his\r\n\"suffrage,\" which in some places was by voices and in some places\r\nby hands. And one kind of those suffrages was by certain things\r\nthat in Latin are called \u003ci\u003ecalculi\u003c/i\u003e because, in some places, they\r\nused round stones for them. Now our Lord saith that unto him who\r\novercometh he will give a white suffrage, for those that were white\r\nsignified approving, as the black signified reproving. And in those\r\nsuffrages did they use to write the name of him to whom they gave\r\ntheir vote. Now our Lord saith that to him who overcometh he will\r\nin the suffrage give him a new name, which no man knoweth but him\r\nwho receiveth it. He saith also, \"He that overcometh, I will make\r\nhim a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out\r\nthereof, and I shall write upon him the name of my God and the name\r\nof the city of my God, the new Jerusalem which descendeth from\r\nheaven from my God, and I shall write on him also my new name.\" If\r\nwe wished to enlarge upon this, and were able to declare these\r\nspecial gifts, with yet others that are specified in the second and\r\nthird chapters of the Apocalypse, then would it appear how far\r\nthose heavenly joys shall surmount above all the comfort that ever\r\ncame in the mind of any man living here upon earth.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00925\"\u003eThe blessed apostle St. Paul, who suffered so many perils and so\r\nmany passions, saith of himself that he hath been \"in many labours,\r\nin prisons oftener than others, in stripes above measure, at point\r\nof death often times; of the Jews had I five times forty stripes\r\nsave one, thrice have I been beaten with rods, once was I stoned,\r\nthrice have I been in shipwreck, a day and a night was I in the\r\ndepth of the sea; in my journeys oft have I been in peril of\r\nfloods, in peril of thieves, in peril by the Jews, in perils by the\r\npagans, in perils in the city, in perils in the desert, in perils\r\nin the sea, perils by false brethren, in labour and misery, in many\r\nnights\u0027 watch, in hunger and thirst, in many fastings, in cold and\r\nnakedness; beside those things that are outward, my daily instant\r\nlabour, I mean my care and solicitude about all the churches,\" and\r\nyet saith he more of his tribulations, which for the length I let\r\npass. This blessed apostle, I say, for all these tribulations that\r\nhe himself suffered in the continuance of so many years, calleth\r\nall the tribulations of this world but light and as short as a\r\nmoment, in respect of the weighty glory that it winneth us after\r\nthis world: \"This same short and momentary tribulation of ours that\r\nis in this present time, worketh within us the weight of glory\r\nabove measure on high, we beholding not these things that we see,\r\nbut those things that we see not. For those things that we see are\r\nbut temporal things, but those things that are not seen are\r\neternal.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00926\"\u003eNow to this great glory no man can come headless. Our head is\r\nChrist, and therefore to him must we be joined, and as members of\r\nhis must we follow him, if we wish to come thither. He is our guide\r\nto guide us thither, and he is entered in before us. And he\r\ntherefore who will enter in after, \"the same way that Christ\r\nwalked, the same way must he walk.\" And what was the way by which\r\nhe walked into heaven? He himself showed what way it was that his\r\nFather had provided for him, when he said to the two disciples\r\ngoing toward the village of Emaus, \"Knew you not that Christ must\r\nsuffer passion, and by that way enter into his kingdom?\" Who can\r\nfor very shame desire to enter into the kingdom of Christ with\r\nease, when he himself entered not into his own without pain?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c\u003eXXVII\u003c/h4\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00928\"\u003eSurely, cousin, as I said before, in bearing the loss of worldly\r\ngoods, in suffering captivity, thraldom, and imprisonment, and in\r\nthe glad sustaining of worldly shame, if we would in all those\r\npoints deeply ponder the example of our Saviour himself, it would\r\nbe sufficient of itself alone to encourage every true Christian man\r\nand woman to refuse none of all those calamities for his sake.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00929\"\u003eSo say I now for painful death also: If we could and would with due\r\ncompassion conceive in our minds a right imagination and\r\nremembrance of Christ\u0027s bitter painful passion—of the many sore\r\nbloody strokes that the cruel tormentors gave him with rods and\r\nwhips upon every part of his holy tender body; of the scornful\r\ncrown of sharp thorns beaten down upon his holy head, so strait and\r\nso deep that on every part his blessed blood issued out and\r\nstreamed down; of his lovely limbs drawn and stretched out upon the\r\ncross, to the intolerable pain of his sore-beaten veins and sinews,\r\nfeeling anew, with the cruel stretching and straining, pain far\r\nsurpassing any cramp in every part of his blessed body at once; of\r\nthe great long nails then cruelly driven with the hammer through\r\nhis holy hands and feet; of his body, in this horrible pain, lifted\r\nup and let hang, with all its weight bearing down upon the painful\r\nwounded places so grievously pierced with nails; and in such\r\ntorment, without pity, but not without many despites, suffered to\r\nbe pined and pained the space of more than three long hours, till\r\nhe himself willingly gave up unto his Father his holy soul; after\r\nwhich yet, to show the mightiness of their malice, after his holy\r\nsoul departed, they pierced his holy heart with a sharp spear, at\r\nwhich issued out the holy blood and water, whence his holy\r\nsacraments have inestimable secret strength—if we could, I say,\r\nremember these things, in such a way as would God that we would, I\r\nverily suppose that the consideration of his incomparable kindness\r\ncould not fail so to inflame our key-cold hearts, and set them on\r\nfire with his love, that we should find ourselves not only content\r\nbut also glad and desirous to suffer death for his sake who so\r\nmarvellously lovingly forbore not to sustain so far passing painful\r\ndeath for ours.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00930\"\u003eWould God that we would here—to the shame of our cold affection\r\ntoward God, in return for such fervent love and inestimable\r\nkindness of God toward us—would God we would, I say, but consider\r\nwhat hot affection many of these fleshly lovers have borne and\r\ndaily bear to those upon whom they dote. How many of them have not\r\nstinted to jeopard their lives, and how many have willingly lost\r\ntheir lives indeed, without any great kindness showed them\r\nbefore—and afterward, you know, they could nothing win! But it\r\ncontented and satisfied their minds that by their death their lover\r\nshould clearly see how faithfully they loved. The delight thereof,\r\nimprinted in their fancy, not only assuaged their pain but also,\r\nthey thought, outweighed it all. Of these affections, with the\r\nwonderful dolorous effects following upon them, not only old\r\nwritten stories, but beside that experience, I think, in every\r\ncountry, Christian and heathen both, giveth us proof enough. And is\r\nit not then a wonderful shame for us, for the dread of temporal\r\ndeath, to forsake our Saviour who willingly suffered so painful\r\ndeath rather than forsake us? Considering that, beside that, he\r\nshall for our suffering so highly reward us with everlasting\r\nwealth. Oh, if he who is content to die for his love, of whom he\r\nlooketh afterward for no reward, and yet by his death goeth from\r\nher, might by his death be sure to come to her and ever after in\r\ndelight and pleasure to dwell with her—such a love would not stint\r\nhere to die for her twice! And what cold lovers are we then unto\r\nGod, if, rather than die for him once, we will refuse him and\r\nforsake him forever—him who both died for us before, and hath also\r\nprovided that, if we die here for him, we shall in heaven\r\neverlastingly both live and also reign with him! For as St. Paul\r\nsaith, \"If we suffer with him, we shall reign with him.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00931\"\u003eHow many Romans, how many noble hearts of other sundry countries,\r\nhave willingly given their own lives and suffered great deadly\r\npains and very painful deaths for their countries, to win by their\r\ndeath only the reward of worldly renown and fame! And should we,\r\nthen, shrink to suffer as much for eternal honour in heaven and\r\neverlasting glory? The devil hath also some heretics so obstinate\r\nthat they wittingly endure painful death for vain glory. And is it\r\nnot then more than shame that Christ shall see his Catholics\r\nforsake his faith rather than suffer the same for heaven and true\r\nglory?\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00932\"\u003eWould God, as I many times have said, that the remembrance\r\nof Christ\u0027s kindness in suffering his passion for us, the\r\nconsideration of hell that we shall fall in by forsaking him, and\r\nthe joyful meditation of eternal life in heaven that we shall win\r\nwith this short temporal death patiently taken for him, had so deep\r\na place in our breast as reason would that they should—and as, if\r\nwe would strive toward it and labour for it and pray for it, I\r\nverily think they would. For then should they so take up our mind\r\nand ravish it all another way, that, as a man hurt in a fray\r\nfeeleth not sometimes his wound nor yet is aware of it, until his\r\nmind fall more thereon (so much so that sometimes another man\r\ntelleth him that he hath lost a hand before he perceive it\r\nhimself), so the mind ravished in the thinking deeply of those\r\nother things—Christ\u0027s death, hell, and heaven—would be likely to\r\ndiminish and put away four parts of the feeling of our painful\r\ndeath—either of the death or the pain. For of this am I very sure:\r\nIf we had the fifteenth part of the love for Christ that he both\r\nhad and hath for us, all the pain of this Turk\u0027s persecution could\r\nnot keep us from him, but there would be at this day as many\r\nmartyrs here in Hungary as there have been before in other\r\ncountries of old.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00933\"\u003eAnd I doubt not but that, if the Turk stood even here with all his\r\nwhole army about him; and if every one of them all were ready at\r\nhand with all the terrible torments that they could imagine, and\r\nwere setting their torments to us unless we would forsake the\r\nfaith; and if to the increase of our terror they fell all at once\r\nin a shout, with trumpets, tabrets, and timbrels all blown up at\r\nonce, and all their guns let go therewith to make us a fearful\r\nnoise; if then, on the other hand, the ground should suddenly quake\r\nand rive atwain, and the devils should rise out of hell and show\r\nthemselves in such ugly shape as damned wretches shall see them;\r\nand if, with that hideous howling that those hell-hounds should\r\nscreech, they should lay hell open on every side round about our\r\nfeet, so that as we stood we should look down into that pestilent\r\npit and see the swarm of poor souls in the terrible torments\r\nthere—we would wax so afraid of the sight that we should scantly\r\nremember that we saw the Turk\u0027s host.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00934\"\u003eAnd in good faith, for all that, yet think I further this: If there\r\nmight then appear the great glory of God, the Trinity in his high\r\nmarvellous majesty, our Saviour in his glorious manhood sitting\r\non the throne, with his immaculate mother and all that glorious\r\ncompany, calling us there unto them; and if our way should yet lie\r\nthrough marvellous painful death before we could come at them—upon\r\nthe sight, I say, of that glory, I daresay there would be no man\r\nwho once would shrink at death, but every man would run on toward\r\nthem in all that ever he could, though there lay by the way, to\r\nkill us for malice, both all the Turk\u0027s tormentors and all the\r\ndevils.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00935\"\u003eAnd therefore, cousin, let us well consider these things, and let\r\nus have sure hope in the help of God. And then I doubt not but what\r\nwe shall be sure that, as the prophet saith, the truth of his\r\npromise shall so compass us with a shield that we shall never need\r\nto fear. For either, if we trust in God well, and prepare us for\r\nit, the Turk shall never meddle with us; or else, if he do, he\r\nshall do us no harm but, instead of harm, inestimable good.\r\nWherefore should we so sore now despair of God\u0027s gracious help,\r\nunless we were such madmen as to think that either his power or his\r\nmercy were worn out already? For we see that so many a thousand\r\nholy martyrs, by his holy help, suffered as much before as any man\r\nshall be put to now. Or what excuse can we have by the tenderness\r\nof our flesh? For we can be no more tender than were many of them,\r\namong whom were not only men of strength, but also weak women and\r\nchildren. And since the strength of them all stood in the help of\r\nGod; and since the very strongest of them all was never able to\r\nhimself to stand against all the world, and with God\u0027s help the\r\nfeeblest of them all was strong enough so to stand; let us prepare\r\nourselves with prayer, with our whole trust in his help, without\r\nany trust in our own strength. Let us think on it and prepare\r\nourselves for it in our minds long before. Let us therein conform\r\nour will unto his, not desiring to be brought unto the peril of\r\npersecution (for it beseemeth a proud high mind to desire\r\nmartyrdom) but desiring help and strength of God, if he suffer us\r\nto come to the stress—either being sought, found, and brought out\r\nagainst our wills, or else being by his commandment, for the\r\ncomfort of our cure, bound to abide.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00936\"\u003eLet us fall to fasting, to prayer, and to almsdeed in time, and\r\ngive unto God that which may be taken from us. If the devil put in\r\nour mind the saving of our land and our goods, let us remember that\r\nwe cannot save them long. If he frighten us with exile and flying\r\nfrom our country, let us remember that we be born into the broad\r\nworld, not to stick still in one place like a tree, and that\r\nwhithersoever we go, God shall go with us. If he threaten us with\r\ncaptivity, let us answer him that it is better to be thrall unto a\r\nman for a while, for the pleasure of God, than, by displeasing God,\r\nto be perpetual thrall unto the devil. If he threaten us with\r\nimprisonment, let us tell him that we would rather be man\u0027s\r\nprisoner a while here in earth than, by forsaking the faith, be his\r\nprisoners for ever in hell. If he put in our minds the terror of\r\nthe Turks, let us consider his false sleight, for this tale he\r\ntelleth us to make us forget him. But let us remember well that, in\r\nrespect of himself, the Turks are but a shadow. And all that they\r\ncan do can be but a flea-bite in comparison with the mischief that\r\nhe goeth about. The Turks are but his tormentors, for he himself\r\ndoth the deed. Our Lord saith in the Apocalypse, \"The devil shall\r\nsend some of you to prison, to tempt you.\" He saith not that men\r\nshall, but that the devil shall, himself. For without question the\r\ndevil\u0027s own deed it is, to bring us by his temptation, with fear\r\nand force, into eternal damnation. And therefore saith St. Paul,\r\n\"Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood,\" etc.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00937\"\u003eThus may we see that in such persecutions it is the midday devil\r\nhimself that maketh such incursion upon us, by the men who are his\r\nministers, to make us fall for fear. For until we fall he can never\r\nhurt us. And therefore saith St. James, \"Stand against the devil\r\nand he shall flee from you.\" For he never runneth upon a man to\r\nseize him with his claws until he see him down on the ground,\r\nwillingly fallen himself. For his fashion is to set his servants\r\nagainst us, and by them to make us fall for fear or for impatience.\r\nAnd he himself in the meanwhile compasseth us, running and roaring\r\nlike a ramping lion about us, looking to see who will fall, that he\r\nmay then devour him. \"Your adversary the devil,\" saith St. Peter,\r\n\"like a roaring lion, runneth about in circuit, seeking whom he may\r\ndevour.\"\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00938\"\u003eThe devil it is, therefore, who, if we will fall for fear of men,\r\nis ready to run upon us and devour us. And is it wisdom, then, to\r\nthink so much upon the Turks that we forget the devil? What a\r\nmadman would he be who, when a lion were about to devour him, would\r\nvouchsafe to regard the biting of a little fisting cur? Therefore,\r\nwhen he roareth out upon us by the threats of mortal men, let us\r\ntell him that with our inward eye we see him well enough, and\r\nintend to stand and fight with him, even hand to hand. If he\r\nthreaten us that we be too weak, let us tell him that our captain\r\nChrist is with us, and that we shall fight with the strength of him\r\nwho hath vanquished him already. And let us fence with faith, and\r\ncomfort us with hope, and smite the devil in the face with the\r\nfirebrand of charity. For surely, if we be of the tender loving\r\nmind that our Master was, and do not hate them that kill us but\r\npity them and pray for them, with sorrow for the peril that they\r\nwork unto themselves, then that fire of charity thrown in his face\r\nwill strike the devil suddenly so blind that he cannot see where to\r\nfasten a stroke on us.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00939\"\u003eWhen we feel ourselves too bold, let us remember our own\r\nfeebleness, and when we feel ourselves too faint, let us remember\r\nChrist\u0027s strength. In our fear, let us remember Christ\u0027s painful\r\nagony, that he himself would for our comfort suffer before his\r\npassion, to the intent that no fear should make us despair. And let\r\nus ever call for his help, such as he himself may please to send\r\nus. And then need we never doubt but that he shall either keep us\r\nfrom the painful death, or else strengthen us in it so that he\r\nshall joyously bring us to heaven by it. And then doth he much more\r\nfor us than if he kept us from it. For God did more for poor\r\nLazarus, in helping him patiently to die for hunger at the rich\r\nman\u0027s door, than if he had brought to him at the door all the rich\r\nglutton\u0027s dinner. So, though he be gracious to a man whom he\r\ndelivereth out of painful trouble, yet doth he much more for a man\r\nif, through right painful death, he deliver him from this wretched\r\nworld into eternal bliss. Whosoever shrinketh away from it by\r\nforsaking his faith, and falleth in the peril of everlasting fire,\r\nhe shall be very sure to repent ere it be long after.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00940\"\u003eFor I am sure that whensoever he falleth sick next, he will wish\r\nthat he had been killed for Christ\u0027s sake before. What folly is it,\r\nthen, to flee for fear from that death which thou seest thou shalt\r\nshortly afterward wish thou hadst died! Yea, I daresay almost every\r\ngood Christian man would very fain this day that yesterday he had\r\nbeen cruelly killed for Christ\u0027s sake—even for the desire of\r\nheaven, though there were no hell. But to fear while the pain is\r\ncoming, there is all our hindrance! But if, on the other hand, we\r\nwould remember hell\u0027s pain into which we fall while we flee from\r\nthis, then this short pain should be no hindrance at all. And yet,\r\nif we were faithful, we should be more pricked forward by deep\r\nconsideration of the joys of heaven, of which the apostle saith,\r\n\"The passions of this time be not worthy to the glory that is to\r\ncome, which shall be showed in us.\" We should not, I believe, need\r\nmuch more in all this matter than one text of St. Paul, if we would\r\nconsider it well. For surely, mine own good cousin, remember that\r\nif it were possible for me and you alone to suffer as much trouble\r\nas the whole world doth together, all that would not be worthy of\r\nitself to bring us to the joy which we hope to have everlastingly.\r\nAnd therefore, I pray you, let the consideration of that you put\r\nout all worldly trouble out of your heart, and also pray that it\r\nmay do the same in me.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00941\"\u003eAnd even thus will I, good cousin, with these words, make a sudden\r\nend of mine whole tale, and bid you farewell. For now begin I to\r\nfeel myself somewhat weary.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00942\"\u003eVINCENT: Forsooth, good uncle, this is a good end. And it is no\r\nmarvel if you are waxed weary. For I have this day put you to so\r\nmuch labour that, save for the comfort that you yourself may take\r\nfrom having bestowed your time so well, and for the comfort that I\r\nhave taken—and more shall, I trust—of your good counsel given,\r\nelse would I be very sorry to have put you to so much pain.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00943\"\u003eBut now shall our Lord reward and recompense you therefore, and\r\nmany, I trust, shall pray for you. For to the intent that the more\r\nmen may take profit of you, I purpose, uncle, as my poor wit and\r\nlearning will serve me, to record your good counsel not only in our\r\nown language, but in the German tongue too.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00944\"\u003eAnd thus, praying God to give me, and all others who shall read it,\r\nthe grace to follow your good counsel, I shall commit you to God.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00945\"\u003eANTHONY: Since you be minded, cousin, to bestow so much labour on\r\nit, I would it had happed you to fetch the counsel at some wiser\r\nman, who could have given you better. But better men may add more\r\nthings, and better also, thereto. And in the meantime, I beseech\r\nour Lord to breathe of his Holy Spirit into the reader\u0027s breast,\r\nwho inwardly may teach him in heart. For without him little\r\navaileth all that the mouths of the world would be able to teach in\r\nmen\u0027s ears.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp id=\"id00946\"\u003eAnd thus, good cousin, farewell, till God bring us together again,\r\neither here or in heaven. Amen.\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/article\u003e"}],"SectionSequence":["Back Link","Work Title","Deck","Author","Period","Era","Composition","Date Note","Region","Terra Avita","Terra Avita Region","Modern Country","Original Title","Language","Primary Discipline","Secondary Discipline","Tradition","Full Versions","Core Thesis","Classification","Arguments","Influence","Significance","Evidence Note","Full Text"],"Counts":{"ContextCards":3,"GeoCards":4,"DisciplineCards":2,"Links":11,"Sections":25,"Styles":3,"Scripts":1}}