Foxe's Book of Martyrs -- 430. THE SEVERE PUNISHMENT OF GOD UPON PERSECUTORS AND BLASPHEMERS

430. THE SEVERE PUNISHMENT OF GOD UPON PERSECUTORS AND BLASPHEMERS

            Leaving now Queen Mary, being dead and gone, I come to them which, under her, were the chief ministers and doers in this persecution, the bishops and priests of the clergy, I mean, to whom Queen Mary gave all the execution of her power, as did Queen Alexandra to the Pharisees, after the time of the Maccabees; of whom Josephus thus writeth: "She only retained to herself the name and title of the kingdom, but all her power she gave to the Pharisees to possess." Touching which prelates and priests here is to be noted, in like sort, the wonderful and miraculous providence of Almighty God, which as he abridged the reign of their queen, so he suffered them not to escape unvisited; first beginning with Stephen Gardiner, the arch-persecutor of Christ's church, whom he took away about the midst of the queen's reign. Of whose poisoned life, and stinking end, forasmuch as sufficient hath been touched before, I shall not need here to make any new rehearsal thereof.

            After him, dropped others away also, some before the death of Queen Mary, and some after; as Morgan, bishop of St. David's; who, sitting upon the condemnation of the blessed martyr, Bishop Ferrar, and unjustly usurping his room, not long after was stricken by God's hand after such a strange sort, that his meat would not go down, but rise and pick up again, sometimes at his mouth, sometimes blown out at his nose, most horrible to behold; and so he continued till his death. Where note moreover, that when Master Leyson, being then sheriff at Bishop Ferrar's burning, had fetched away the cattle of the said bishop from his servant's house, called Matthew Harbottle, into his own custody, the cattle, coming into the sheriff's ground, divers of them would never eat meat, but lay bellowing and roaring, and so died.

            This foresaid Bishop Morgan above mentioned, bringeth me also in remembrance of Justice Morgan, who sat upon the death of the Lady Jane, and not long after the same fell mad, and was bereft of his wits; and so died, having ever in his mouth, "Lady Jane, Lady Jane."

            Before the death of Queen Mary, died Dr. Dunning, the bloody and wretched chancellor of Norwich, who, after he had most rigorously condemned and murdered so many simple and faithful saints of the Lord, continued not long himself, but, in the midst of his rage in Queen Mary's days, died in Lincolnshire, being suddenly taken, as some say, sitting in his chair.

Illustration -- The Death of Berry

            The like sudden death fell also upon Berry, commissary in Norfolk, who, (as is before showed in the story of Thomas Hudson,) four days after Queen Mary's death, when he had made a great feast, and had one of his concubines there, coming home from the church after evensong, where he had ministered baptism the same time, between the churchyard and his house suddenly fell down to the ground with a heavy groan, and never stirred after, neither showed any one token of repentance.

            What a stroke of God's hand was brought upon the cruel persecutor of the holy and harmless saints of the Lord, Bishop Thornton, suffragan of Dover, who, after he had exercised his cruel tyranny upon so many godly men at Canterbury, at length coming upon a the chapter-house at Canterbury to Bourne and there, upon Sunday following, looking upon his men playing at the bowls, fell suddenly in a palsy, and so had to bed, was willed to remember God: "Yea, so I do," said he, "and my Lord Cardinal too," &c.

            After him succeeded another bishop or suffragan ordained by the foresaid cardinal. It is reported that he had been suffragan before to Bonner, who, not long after being made bishop or suffragan of Dover, brake his neck, falling down a pair of stairs in the cardinal's chamber at Greenwich, as he had received the cardinal's blessing.

            Among other plentiful and sundry examples of the Lord's judgment and severity practised upon the cruel persecutors of his people, that is not the least that followeth, concerning the story of one William Fenning, the effect and circumstance of which matter is this:--

            John Cooper, of the age of forty-four years, dwelling at Wattisham in the county of Suffolk, being by science a carpenter, a man of very honest report and a good housekeeper, a harbourer of strangers that travelled for conscience, and one that favoured religion and those that were religious, was of honest conversation and life, hating all popish and papistical trash.

            This man being at home in his house, there came unto him one William Fenning, a serving-man, dwelling in the said town of Wattisham; and understanding that the said Cooper had a couple of fair bullocks, did desire to buy them of him; which Cooper told him that he was loth to sell them, for that he had brought them up for his own use, and if he should sell them, he then must be compelled to buy others; and that he would not do.

            When Fenning saw he could not get them, (for he had often essayed the matter,) he said, he would sit as much in his light; and so departed, and went and accused him of high treason. The words Cooper was charged with were these: How he should pray, if God would not take away Queen Mary, that then the devil would take her away. Of these words did this Fenning charge him before Sir Henry Doile, knight, (unto whom he was carried by Master Timperley of Hintlesham in Suffolk, and one Grimwood of Lawshall, constable,) which words Cooper flatly denied; and said he never spake them. But that could not help.

            Notwithstanding, he was arraigned there-for at Bury before Sir Clement Higham, at a Lent assize; and there this Fenning brought two naughty men that witnessed the speaking of the foresaid words, whose names were Richard White of Wattisham, and Grimwood of Hitcham, in the said county of Suffolk; whose testimonies were received as truth, although this good man John Cooper had said what he could, to declare himself innocent therein, but to no purpose, God knoweth. For his life was determined, as in the end appeared by Sir Clement Higham's words, who said he should not escape, for an example to all heretics; as indeed he throughly performed. For immediately he was judged to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, which was executed upon him very shortly after, to the great grief of many a good heart. Here good Cooper is bereft of his life, and leaves behind him alive his wife and nine children, with goods and cattle, to the value of three hundred marks, the which substance was all taken away by the said Sir Henry Doile, sheriff, but his wife and poor children left to the wide world in their clothes, and suffered not to enjoy one penny of that they had sore laboured for, unless they made friends to buy it with money of the said sheriff, so cruel and greedy were he and his officers, upon such things as were there left.

            Well, now this innocent man is dead, his goods spoiled, his wife and children left desolate and comfortless, and all things hushed, and nothing feared of any part: yet the Lord, who surely doth revenge the guiltless blood, would not still so suffer it, but began at the length to punish it himself. For in the harvest after, the said Grimwood of Hitcham, (one of the witnesses before specified,) as he was in his labour stacking up a goff of corn, having his health, and fearing no peril, suddenly his bowels fell out of his body, and immediately most miserably he died. Such was the terrible judgment of God, to show his displeasure against his bloody act, and to warn the rest, by these his judgments, to repentance. The Lord grant us to honour the same, for his mercy's sake. Amen.

            This foresaid Fenning, who was the procurer of this tyranny against him, is yet alive, and is now a minister; which if he be, I pray God he may so repent that fact, that he may declare himself hereafter snch a one as may well answer to his vocation accordingly.

            But since we have heard that he is no changeling, but continueth still in his wickedness, and therefore presented before the worshipful Master Humerston, esquire, and justice of peace and quorum, for that he had talk with some of his friends, (as he thought,) how many honest women (to their great infamy) were in the parish of Wenhaston, wherein he is now vicar, resident: wherefore he was commanded the next Sunday ensuing, to ask all the parish forgiveness upon his knees openly in service-time, which he did in Wenhaston church before-said; and moreover the abovesaid Fenning is reported to be more like a shifter than a minister.

            To these examples also may be added the terrible judgment of God upon the parson at Crundale in Kent, who, upon Shrove Sunday, having received the pope's pardon from Cardinal Pole, came to his parish, and exhorted the people to receive the same, as he had done himself; saying that he stood now as clear in conscience as when he was first born, and cared not now if he should die the same hour, in the clearness of his conscience: whereupon being suddenly stricken by the hand of God, and leaning a little on the one side, immediately shrank down in the pulpit, and so was found dead, speaking not one word. Read more before.

            Not long before the death of Queen Mary, died Dr. Capon, bishop of Salisbury. About the which time also followed the unprepared death of Dr. Jeffrey, chancellor of Salisbury, who in the midst of his buildings, suddenly being taken by the mighty hand of God, yielded his life, which had so little pity of other men's lives before. Concerning whose cruelty partly mention is made before.

            As touching moreover the foresaid chancellor, here is to be noted, that he departing upon a Saturday, the next day before the same he had appointed to call before him ninety persons, and not so few, to examine them by inquisition, had not the goodness of the Lord, and his tender providence, thus prevented him with death, providing for his poor servants in time.

            And now, to come from priests to laymen, we have to find in them also no less terrible demonstration of God's heavy judgment upon such as have been vexers and persecutors of his people.

            Before, in the story of Master Bradford, mention was made of Master Woodroofe, who, being then sheriff, used much to rejoice at the death of the poor saints of Christ; and so hard he was in his office, that when Master Rogers was in the cart going toward Smithfield, and in the way his children were brought unto him, the people making a lane for them to come; Master Woodroofe bade the carman's head should be broken, for staying his cart. But what happened? He was not come out of his office the space of a week, but he was stricken by the sudden hand of God, the one half of his body; in such sort, that he lay benumbed and bedridden, not able to move himself but as he was lifted of others; and so continued in that infirmity the space of seven or eight years, till his dying day.

            Likewise touching Ralph Lardin, the betrayer of George Eagles, it is thought of some, that the said Ralph afterward was attached himself, arraigned, and hanged. Who, being at the bar, had these words before the judges there, and a great multitude of people: "This is most justly fallen upon me," saith he, "for that I have betrayed the innocent blood of a good and just man, George Eagles, who was here condemned in the time of Queen Mary's reign, through my procurement, who sold his blood for a little money."

            Not much unlike stroke of these severally was showed upon William Swallow of Chelmsford, and his wife; also upon Richard Potto, and Justice Brown, cruel persecutors of the said George Eagles, concerning whose story read before.

            Among other persecutors also came to our hands the cruelty of one Master Swingfield, an alderman's deputy about Thames Street, who, hearing one Angel's wife, a midwife that kept herself from their popish church, to be at the labour of one Mistress Walter at Crooked Lane-end, took three others with him, and beset the house about, and took her, and carried her to Bonner's officers, big with child, eight and twenty weeks gone, who laid her in Lollards' Tower; where, the same day she came in, through fear, and a fall at her taking, she was delivered of a man-child, and could have no women with her in that needful time. Lying there five weeks, she was delivered under sureties by friendship, and Dr. Story, hearing thereof, charged her with felony, and so sent her to Newgate. The cause was, for that she had a woman at her house in her labour that died, and the child also; and so he charged her with their death. But when Sir Roger Cholmley heard her tell her tale, he delivered her; and not much more than ten weeks after, if it were so long, died the said Master Swingfield and the other three that came to take her.

            Because some there be, and not a few, which have such a great devotion in setting up the popish mass, I shall desire them to mark well this story following. There was a certain bailiff, of Crowland in Lincolnshire, named Burton, who, pretending an earnest friendship to the gospel in King Edward's days, in outward show at least, (although inwardly he was a papist or atheist, and well known to be a man of a wicked and adulterous life,) set forth the king's proceedings lustily, till the time that King Edward was dead and Queen Mary placed quietly in her estate. Then, perceiving by the first proclamation concerning religion, how the world was like to turn, the bailiff turned his religion likewise; and so he moved the parish to show themselves the queen's friends, and to set up the mass speedily. Nevertheless, the most substantial of the parish, marvelling much at the bailiff's inconstant lightness, considering also his abominable life, and having no great devotion unto his request, knowing moreover that their duty and friendship to the queen stood not in setting up the mass, spared to provide for it, as long as they might: but the bailiff called on them still in the queen's name.

            At last, when he saw his words were not regarded, and purposing to win his spurs by playing the man in the mass's behalf and the queen's, he got him to church upon a Sunday morning; and when the curate was beginning the English service, according to the statute set forth by King Edward the Sixth, the bailiff cometh in a great rage to the curate, and saith, "Sirrah! will you not say mass? Buckle yourself to mass, you knave, or, by God's blood, I shall sheath my dagger in your shoulder." The poor curate, for fear, settled himself to the mass.

            Not long after this, the bailiff rode from home upon certain business, accompanied with one of his neighbours; and as they came riding together upon the fen-bank homeward again, a crow, sitting in a willow-tree, took her flight over his head, singing after her wonted note, "Knave, knave! "and withal let fall upon his face, so that her excrements ran from the top of his nose down to his beard.

            The poisoned scent and savour whereof so noyed his stomach, that he never ceased vomiting until he came home, wherewith his heart was so sore and his body so distempered, that for extreme sickness he got him to bed; and so lying, he was not able for the stink in his stomach and painful vomiting, to receive any relief of meat or drink, but cried out still, sorrowfully complaining of that stink, and with no small oaths cursed the crow that poisoned him. To make short, he continued but a few days, but with extreme pain of vomiting and crying, he desperately died, without any token of repentance of his former life. This was reported and testified, for a certainty, by divers of his neighbours, both honest and credible persons.

            Of James Abbes, martyr, ye heard before. In the time of whose martyrdom, what befell upon a wicked railer against him, now ye shall further understand; whereby all such railing persecutors may learn to fear God's hand, and to take heed how or what they speak against his servants. As this James Abbes was led by the sheriff toward his execution, divers poor people stood in the way, and asked their alms. He then, having no money to give them, and desirous yet to distribute something amongst them, did pull off all his apparel saving his shirt, and gave the same unto them, to some one thing, to some another; in the giving whereof he exhorted them to be strong in the Lord, and, as faithful followers of Christ, to stand stedfast unto the truth of the gospel, which he (through God's help) would then in their sight seal and confirm with his blood. While he was thus charitably occupied, and zealously instructing the people, a servant of the sheriff's going by, and hearing him, cried out aloud unto them, and blasphemously said, "Believe him not, good people: he is a heretic and a madman, out of his wit; believe him not, for it is heresy that he saith." And as the other continned in his godly admonitions, so did this wicked wretch still blow forth his blasphemous exclamations, until they came unto the stake where he should suffer; unto the which this constant martyr was tied, and in the end cruelly burnt, as in his story more fully is already declared.

            But immediately after the fire was put unto him, (such was the fearful stroke of God's justice upon this blasphemous railer,) that he was there presently, in the sight of all the people, stricken with a frenzy, wherewith he had before most railingly charged that good martyr of God, who, in this furious rage and madness, casting off his shoes, with all the rest of his clothes, cried out unto the people, and said, "Thus did James Abbes, the true servant of God, who is saved; but I am damned." And thus ran he round about the town of Bury, still crying out, that James Abbes was a good man, and saved; but he was damned.

            The sheriff then, being amazed, caused him to be taken and tied in a dark house, and by force compelled him again to put on his clothes, thinking thereby within a while to bring him to some quietness. But he, (all that notwithstanding,) as soon as they were gone, continued his former raging; and casting off his clothes, cried as he did before, "James Abbes is the servant of God, and is saved; but I am damned."

            At length he was tied in a cart, and brought home unto his master's house, and within half a year or thereabouts, he being at the point of death, the priest of the parish was sent for; who, coming unto him, brought with him the crucifix, and their houseling host of the altar: which gear when the poor wretch saw, he cried out of the priest, and defied all that baggage, saying, that the priest, with such others as he was, was the cause of his damnation; and that James Abbes was a good man and saved. And so, shortly after, he died.

            Clarke, an open enemy to the gospel and all godly preachers, in King Edward's days, hanged himself in the Tower of London.

            The great and notable papist, called Trolling Smith, of late fell down suddenly in the street, and died.

            Dale the promoter was eaten into his body with lice, and so died; as it is well known of many, and confessed also by his fellow John Avales, before credible witness.

            Coxe, an earnest protestant in King Edward's days, and in Queen Mary's time a papist and a promoter, going well and in health to bed, (as it seemed,) was dead before the morning. This was testified by divers of the neighbours.

            Alexander, the keeper of Newgate, a cruel enemy to those that lay there for religion, died very.miserably, being so swollen that he was more like a monster than a man, and so rotten within, that no man could abide the smell of him. This cruel wretch, to hasten the poor lambs to the slaughter, would go to Bonner, Story, Cholmley, and others, crying out, "Rid my prison; rid my prison. I am too much pestered with these heretics."

            The son of the said Alexander, called James, having left unto him by his father great substance, within three years wasted all to nought: and when some marvelled how he spent those goods so fast, "O!" said he, "evil gotten, evil spent." And shortly after, as he went in Newgate-market, he fell down suddenly, and there wretchedly died.

            John Peter, son-in-law to this Alexander, and a horrible blasphemer of God, and no less cruel to the said prisoners, rotted away, and so most miserably died; who commonly when he would affirm any thing, were it true or false, used to say, "If it be not true, I pray God I rot ere I die."-- Witness the printer hereof, with divers others.

            With these I might infer the sudden death of Justice Lelond, persecutor of Jeffrey Hurst, mentioned before.

            Also the death of Robert Baulding, stricken with lightning at the taking of William Seaman, whereupon he pined away and died: the story of the which William Seaman see before.

            Likewise the wretched end of Beard the promoter.

            Moreover the consuming away of Robert Blomfield, persecutor of William Brown, specified before.

            Further, to return a little backward to King Henry's time, here might be induced also the example of John Rockwood, who, in his horrible end, cried, "All too late," with the same words which he had used before, in persecuting God's poor people of Calais.

            Also the judgment of God upon Lady Honor, a persecutor, and of George Bradway, a false accuser, both bereft of their wits.

            And what a notable spectacle of God's revenging judgment have we to consider in Sir Ralph Ellerker, who, as he was desirous to see the heart taken out of Adam Damlip, whom they most wrongfully put to death; so, shortly after the said Sir Ralph Ellerker being slain of the Frenchmen, they all to mangling him, after they had cut off his privy members, would not so leave him, before they might see his heart cut out of his body.

            Dr. Foxford, chancellor to Bishop Stokesley, a cruel persecutor, died suddenly.

{Illustration: Pavier Hanging Himself 430}

            Pavier or Pavy, town-clerk of London, and a bitter enemy to the gospel, hanged himself. Stephen Gardiner, hearing of the pitiful end of Judge Hales, after he had drowned himself, taking occasion thereby, called the following and profession of the gospel, a doctrine of desperation. But as Judge Hales never fell into that inconvenience before he had consented to papistry, so whoso well considereth the end of Dr. Pendleton, (which at his death full sore repented that ever he had yielded to the doctrine of the papists as he did,) and likewise the miserable end of the most part of the papists besides, and especially of Stephen Gardiner himself, (who after so long professing the doctrine of papistry, when there came a bishop to him in his death-bed, and put him in remembrance of Peter denying his Master; he answering again, said that he had denied with Peter, but never repented with Peter -- and so both stinkingly and unrepentantly died,) will say as Stephen Gardiner also himself gave an evident example of the same to all men, to understand that popery rather is a doctrine of desperation, procuring the vengeance of Almighty God to them that wilfully do cleave unto it.

            John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and Sir Thomas More, in King Henry's time, after they had brought John Frith, Bayfield and Bainham, and divers others to their death, what great reward won they thereby with Almighty God? Did not the sword of God's vengeance light upon their own necks shortly after, and they themselves made a public spectacle at the Tower Hill of bloody death, which before had no compassion of the lives of others? Thus ye see the saying of the Lord to be true, "He that smiteth with the sword, shall perish with the sword."

            So was Heliodorus, in the old time of the Jews, plagued by God's hand in the temple of Jerusalem.

            So did Antiochus, Herod, Julian, Valerian the emperor, Decius, Maxentius, with infinite others, after they had exercised their cruelty upon God's people, feel the like striking hand of God themselves also, in revenging the blood of his servants.

            And thus much concerning those persecutors, as well of the clergy-sort as of the laity, which were stricken, and died before the death of Queen Mary. With whom also are to be numbered in the race of persecuting bishops, which died before Queen Mary, these bishops following.

 

Cotes, bishop of Chester.
Parfew, bishop of Hereford.
Glyn, bishop of Bangor.
Brookes, bishop of Gloucester.
King, bishop of Tame.
Petow, elect of Salisbury.
Day, bishop of Chichester.
Holyman, bishop of Brisfol.

            Now, after the queen, immediately followed, or rather waited upon her, the death of Cardinal Pole, who the next day departed: of what disease, although it be uncertain to many, yet by some it is suspected, that he took some I1talian physic, which did him no good. Then followed these bishops in order:

 

John Christopherson, bishop of Chichester.
Hopton, bishop of Norwich.
Morgan, bishop of St. David's.
John White, bishop of Winchester.
Ralph Bayne, bishop of Lichfield and Coventry.
Owen Oglethorpe, bishop of Carlisle.
Cuthbert Tonstall, bishop of Durham.
Thomas Reynolds, elect of Hereford, after his deprivation, died in prison.

            Besides these bishops above named, first died at the same time,

 

Dr. Weston, dean of Westminster, afterwards dean of Windsor; chief disputer against Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer.
Master Slethurst, master of Trinity college in Oxford, who died in the Tower.
Seth Holland, dean of Worcester, and warden of All Souls' college, in Oxford.
William Copinger, monk of Westminster, who bare the great seal before Stephen Gardiner, after the death of the said Gardiner, made himself monk in the house of Westminster; and shortly after fell mad, and died in the Tower.
Dr. Steward, dean of Winchester.

            To behold the working of God's judgments, it is wondrous. In the first year of Queen Mary, when the clergy were assembled in the convocation-house, and also afterward, when the disputation was in Oxford against Drs. Cranmer and Ridley, and Master Latimer, he that had seen then Dr. Weston the prolocutor in his ruff, how highly he took upon him in the schools, and how stoutly he stood in the pope's quarrel against simple and naked truth, full little would have thought, and less did he think himself, (I dare say,) that his glory and lofty looks should have been brought down so soon, especially by them of his own religion, whose part he so doughtily defended.

            But such is the reward and end commonly of them, who presumptuously oppose themselves to strive against the Lord, as by the example of this doctorly prolocutor right well may appear. For not long after, the disputation above mentioned against Bishop Cranmer and his fellows, God so wrought against the said Dr. Weston, that he fell in great displeasure with Cardinal Pole and other bishops, because he was unwilling to give up his deanery, and house of Westminster, unto the monks and religious men, whom indeed he favoured not, although in other things he maintained the Church of Rome: who notwithstanding, at last, through importunate suit, gave up Westminster, and was dean of Windsor; where, not long after, he was apprehended in adultery, and for the same was by the cardinal put from all his spiritual livings. Wherefore he appealed to Rome, and purposed to have fled out of the realm, but was taken by the way, and committed to the Tower of London; there remained until Queen Elizabeth was proclaimed queen, at which time he, being delivered, fell sick and died. The common talk was, that if he had not so suddenly ended his life, he would have opened and revealed the purpose of the chief of the clergy, (meaning the cardinal,) which was to have taken up King Henry's body at Windsor, and to have burned it. And thus much of Dr. Weston,

            The residue that remained of the persecuting clergy, and escaped the stroke of death, were deprived, and committed to prisons; the catalogue of whose names here followeth.

Nicholas Heath, archbishop of York, and lord chancellor.
Thomas Thirlby, bishop of Ely.
Thomas Watson, bishop of Lincoln.
Gilbert Bourne, bishop of Bath and Wells.
Richard Pate, bishop of Worcester.
Turberville, bishop of Exeter.
John Fecknam, abbot of Westminster.
John Boxall, dean of Windsor and Peterborough.

            Of David Pole, bishop of Peterborough, I doubt whether he was in the Tower, or in some other prison.

 

Persecuting bishops who ran away.

 

Goldwell, bishop of St. Asaph.
Maurice, elect of Bangor.
Edmund Bonner, bishop of London, in the Marshalsea.
Thomas Wood, bishop elect, in the Marshalsea.
Cuthbert Scott, bishop of Chester, was in the Fleet; from whence he escaped to Louvain, and there died.

 

Persecutors committed to the Fleet.

Henry Cole, dean of Paul's.
John Harpsfield, archdeacon of London, and dean of Norwich.
Nicholas Harpsfield, archdeacon of Canterbury.
Anthony Draycot, archdeacon of Huntingdon.
William Chedsey, archdeacon of Middlesex.

            Concerning which Dr. Chedsey here is to be noted, that in the beginning of King Edward's reign, he recanted, and subscribed to the thirty-four articles, wherein he then fully consented and agreed, with his own hand-writing, to the whole form of doctrine approved and allowed then in the church, as well concerning justification by faith only, as also the doctrine of the two sacraments then received, denying as well the pope's supremacy, transubstantiation, purgatory, invocation of saints, elevation and adoration of the sacrament, the sacrifice and veneration of the mass, as also all other like excrements of popish superstition, according to the king's book then set forth.

            Wherefore the more marvel it is, that he, being counted such a famous and learned clerk, would show himself so fickle and unstable in his assertions, so double in his doings, to alter his religion according to time, and to maintain for truth, not what he thought best, but what he might most safely defend. So long as the state of the lord protector and of his brother stood upright, what was then the conformity of this Dr. Chedsey, his own articles in Latin, written and subscribed with his own hand, do declare, which I have to show, if he will deny them. But after the decay of the king's uncles, the fortune of them turned not so fast, but his religion turned withal, and eftsoons he took upon him to dispute against Peter Martyr, in upholding transubstantiation, at Oxford, which, a little before, with his own hand-writing he had overthrown.

            After this ensued the time of Queen Mary, wherein Dr. Chedsey, to show his double diligence, was so eager in his commission to sit in judgment, and to bring poor men to their death, that in the last year of Queen Mary, when the lord chancellor, Sir Thomas Cornwallis, Lord Clinton, and divers other of the council had sent for him, by a special letter, to repair unto London out of Essex, he, writing again to the bishop of London, sought means not to come at the council's bidding, but to continue still in his persecuting progress. The copy of whose letter I have also in my hands (if need were) to bring fortWilliam

            Mention was made not long before, of one William Maldon, who, in King Henry's time, suffered stripes and scourgings for confessing the verity of God's true religion. It happened in the first year of Queen Elizabeth, that the said William Maldon was bound servant with one named Master Hugh Aparry, then a wheat-taker for the queen, dwelling at Greenwich; who being newly come unto him, and having never a book there to look upon, being desirous to occupy himself virtuously, looked about the house, and found a Primer in English, whereon he read in a winter's evening. While he was reading, there sat one John Apowel, that had been a serving-man, about thirty years of age, born toward Wales, whom the said Master Hugh gave meat and drink unto, till such time as he could get a service. And as the foresaid William Maldon read on the book, the said John Apowel mocked him after every word, with contrary gauds and flouting words irreverently, insomuch that he could no longer abide him for grief of heart, but turned unfo him and said, "John, take heed what thou dost; thou dost not mock me, but thou mockest God: for in mocking of his word, thou mockest him; and this is the word of God, though I be simple that read it; and therefore beware what thou dost."

            Then Maldon fell to reading again, and still he proceeded on in his mocking; and when Maldon had read certain English prayers, in the end he read, "Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us," &c.

            And as Maldon was reciting these words, the other with a start suddenly said, "Lord have mercy upon me."

            With that Maldon answered and said, "What ailest thou, John?"

            He said, "I was afraid." "Whereof wast thou afraid?" said Maldon. "Nothing now," said the other; and so he would not tell him.

            After this, when Maldon and he went to bed, Maldon asked him, whereof he was afraid? He said, "When you read, 'Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us,' methought the hair of my head stood upright, with a great fear which came upon me."

            Then said Maldon, "John, thou mayest see, the evil spirit could not abide that Christ should have mercy upon us. Well, John," said Maldon, "repent and amend thy life, for God will not be mocked. If we mock and jest at his word, he will punish us. Also you use ribaldry words, and swearing very much: therefore for God's sake, John, amend thy life." "So I will," said he, "by the grace of God; I pray God I may." "Amen," said the other, with other words; and so went to bed.

            On the morrow, about eight of the clock in the morning, the foresaid John came running down out of his chamber, in his shirt, into the hall, and wrestled with his mistress, as if he would have thrown her down. Whereat she shrieked out, and her servants helped her, and took him by strength and carried him up into his bed, and bound him down to his bed; for they perceived plainly that he was out of his right mind.

            After that, as he lay, almost day and night his tongue never ceased, but he cried out of the devil of hell, and his words were ever still, "O the devil of hell; now the devil of hell; I would see the devil of hell. Thou shalt see the devil of hell; there he was, there he goeth; "with other words, but most of the devil of hell.

            Thus he lay without amendment about six days, that his master and all his household were weary of that trouble and noise. Then his master agreed with the keepers of Bedlam, and gave a piece of money, and sent him thither. 1t seemeth that he was possessed with an evil spirit, from the which God defend us all.

            This is a terrible example to you that be mockers of the word of God: therefore repent and amend, lest the vengeance of God fall upon you in like manner. -- Witness hereof William Maldon, of Newington.

            The same William Maldon chanced afterward to dwell at a town six miles from London, called Walthamstow, where his wife taught young children to read, which was about the year of onr Lord 1563, and the fourth year of Queen Elizabeth's reign. Unto this school, amongst other children, came one Benfield's daughter, named Dennis, about the age of twelve years.

            As these children sat talking together, they happened among other talk (as the nature of children is to be busy with many things) to fall into communication of God, and to reason among themselves, after their childish discretion, what he should be. Whereunto some answered one thing, some another. Among whom, when one of the children had said, that he was a good old Father; the foresaid Dennis Benfield, casting out impious words of horrible blasphemy, "What! he," said she, "is an old doting fool."

            What wretched and blasphemous words were these, ye hear. Now mark what followed. When William Maldon heard of these abominable words of the girl, he willed his wife to correct her for the same; which was appointed the next day to be done. But when the next morrow came, her mother would needs send her to the market to London, the wench greatly entreating her mother that she might not go, being marvellously unwilling thereunto. Howbeit, through her mother's compulsion, she was forced to go, and went. And what happened? Her business being done at London, as she was returning again homeward, and being a little past Hackney, suddenly the young girl was so stricken, that all the one side of her was black, and she speechless. Whereupon immediately she was carried back to Hackney, and there the same night was buried. -- The witness of the same story was William Maldon and his wife; also Benfield her father, and her mother, which yet be all alive.

            A terrible example, no doubt, both to old and young, what it is for children to blaspheme the Lord their God, and what it is for parents to suffer their young ones to grow up in such blasphemous blindness, and not to nurture them betimes in the rudiments of the Christian catechism, to know first their creation, and then their redemption in Christ our Saviour, to fear the name of God, and to reverence his majesty. For else what do they deserve but to be taken away by death, which contemptuously despise him, of whom they take the benefit of life?

            And therefore let all young maids, boys, and young men, take example by this wretched silly wench, not only not to blaspheme the sacred majesty of the omnipotent God their Creator, but also not once to take his name in vain, according as they are taught in his commandments.

            Secondly, let all fathers, godfathers, and godmothers, take this for a warning, to see to the instruction and catechizing of their children, for whom they have bound themselves in promise both to God and to his church. Which if the father and godfather, the mother and godmothers had done to this young girl, verily it may be thought this destruction had not fallen upon her.

            Thirdly, let all blind atheists, epicures, mammonists, belly-gods of this world, and sons of Belial, hypocrites, infidels, and mockers of religion, which say in their hearts, There is no God, learn also hereby, not only what God is, and what he is able to do, but also in this miserable creature here punished in this world, behold what shall likewise fall on them in the world to come, unless they will be warned betimes, by such examples as the Lord doth give them.

            Fourthly and lastly, here may also be a spectacle for all them which be blasphemers and abominable swearers, or rather tearers of God, abusing his glorious name in such contemptuous and despiteful sort as they use to do; whom if neither the word and commandment of God, nor the calling of the preachers, nor remorse of conscience, nor rule of reason, nor their withering age, nor hoary hairs will admonish; yet let these terrible examples of God's strict judgment somewhat move them to take heed to themselves. For if this young maiden, who was not fully twelve years old, for her irreverent speaking of God, (and that but at one time,) did not escape the stroke of God's terrible hand, what then have they to look for, which, being men grown in years and stricken in age, being so often warned and preached unto, yet cease not continually with their blasphemous oaths, not only to abuse his name, but also most contumeliously and despitefully to tear him (as it were) and all his parts in pieces?

            About the year of our Lord 1565, at Brightwell, in the county of Berks, upon certain communication as touching the right reverend martyrs in Christ, Bishop Cranmer, Bishop Ridley, and Master Hugh Latimer, there came into a house in Abingdon, one whose name is Levar, being a ploughman, dwelling in Brightwell aforesaid; and said, that he saw that ill-favoured knave Latimer when he was burnt; and also in despite said, that he had teeth like a horse. At which time and hour, as near as could be gathered, the son of the said Levar most wickedly hanged himself, at Shipton in the county aforesaid, within a mile of Abingdon.

            Did not Thomas Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury, give sentence against the Lord Cobham, and died himself before him, being so stricken in his tongue, that neither he could swallow nor speak for a certain space before his death?

            Friar Campbel, the accuser of Patrick Hamilton in Scotland, what a terrible end he had, read before.

            Harvey, a commissary, that condemned a poor man in Calais, was shortly after hanged, drawn, and quartered.

            William Swallow, the cruel tormentor of George Eagles, was shortly after so plagued of God, that all the hair of his head and nails of his fingers and toes went off, his eyes well near closed up, that he could scant see. His wife also was stricken with the falling sickness, with the which malady she was never infected before.

            Likewise Richard Potto, another troubler of the said George Eagles, upon a certain anger or chafe with his servants, was so suddenly taken with sickness, that falling upon his bed like a beast, there he died and never spake word.

            Richard Denton, a shrinker from the gospel, while he refused to suffer the fire in the Lord's quarrel, was afterward burnt in his own house with two more.

            The wife of John Fetty, being the cause of the taking of her husband, how she was, immediately upon the same, by God's hand stricken with madness, and was distract out of her wits, read before.

            Thomas Mouse and George Revet, two persecutors, were stricken miserably with the hand of God, and so died.

            Also Robert Edgore, for that he had executed the office of a parish clerk against his conscience, through anguish and grief of conscience for the same, was so bereft of his wits, that he was kept in chains and bonds many years after.

            As touching John Plankney, fellow of New College in Oxford, civilian, and one Havington, both fellows of the same house aforesaid, and both stubborn papists, the matter is not much worthy the memory; yet the example is not unworthy to be noted, to see what little comfort and grace commonly followeth the comfortless doctrine and profession of papistry, as in these two young men, amongst many other, may well appear. Of whom the one, which was Plankney, scholar sometime to Marshal, (who wrote the Book of the Cross,) is commonly reported and known to them of that university, to have drowned himself in the river about Rewley, at Oxford, anno 1556; the other in a well about Rome, or as some do say at. Padua; and so being both drowned, were both taken up with crucifixes (as it is said of some) hanging about their necks; the more pity that such young students did so much addict their wits, rather to take the way of papistry, than to walk in the comfortable light of the gospel, now so brightly spreading his beams in all the world; which if they had done, I think not contrary, but it had proved much better with them.

            Albeit (I trust) the gospel of Christ, being now received in the queen's court amongst the courtiers and servants of her guard, hath framed their lives and manners so to live in the due fear of God, and temperance of life, with all sobriety, and merciful compassion toward their own Christians, that they need not greatly any other instructions to be given them in this story: yet forasmuch as examples many times do work more effectually in the minds and memories of men; and also partly considering with myself, how these, above all other sorts of men in the whole realm, in time past ever had most need of such wholesome lessons and admonitions, to leave their inordinate riot of quaffing and drinking, and their heathenish profanity of life; I thought here to set before their eyes a terrible example, not of a strange and foreign person, but of one of their own coat, a yeoman of the guard, not feigned by me, but brought to me by God's providence, for a warning to all courtiers; and done of very truth no longer ago than in the year of our Lord 1568. And as the story is true, so is the name of the party not unknown, being called Christopher Landesdale, dwelling in Hackney, in Middlesex; the order of whose life, and manner of his death, being worthy to be noted, is this, as in story hereunder followeth.

            This foresaid Landesdale being married to an ancient woman yet living, having by her both goods and lands, notwithstanding lived long in filthy whoredom with a younger woman, by whom he had two children, a son and a daughter, and kept them in his house unto the day of his death. Also, when he should have been in, serving of God on the sabbath day, he used to walk or ride about his fields, and seldom he or any of his house came to the church after the English service was again received. Besides this, he was a great swearer; and a great drunkard, and had great delight also in making other men drunken; and would have them whom he had made drunkards, to call him father, and he would call them his sons; and of these sons, by report, he had above forty. And if he had seen one that would drink freely, he would mark him, and spend his money with him liberally in ale or wine, but most in wine, to make him the sooner drunken. These blessed sons of his should have great cheer oftentimes, both at his own house and at taverns: and, not long before his death, he was so beastly drunken in a tavern, over against his door, that he fell down in the tavern yard, and could not rise alone, but lay grovelling, till he was holpen up, and so carried home.

            This father of drunkards, as he was a great feaster of the rich and wealthy of Hackney, and others; so his poor neighbours and poor tenants fared little better for him: except it were with some broken meat which after his feasts his wife would carry and send unto them, or some alms given at his door.

            Besides all this, he did much injury to his poor neighbours, in oppressing the commons near about him, which was a special relief unto them; so that his cattle did eat up all without pity or mercy.

            There chanced after this, about two years before he died, a poor man, being sick of the bloody flux, for very weakness to lie down in a ditch of the said Landesdale's, not a stone's cast from his house, where he had a little straw brought him: notwithstanding the said Landesdale had back houses and barns enough, to have laid him in, but would not show him so much pity. And thus poor Lazarus there lay night and day, about six days ere he died. Certain good neighbours, hearing of this, procured things necessary for his relief; but he was so far spent, that he could not be recovered; who lay broiling in the hot sun, with a horrible smell, most pitiful to behold.

            This poor man, a little before he died, desired to be removed to another ditch, into the shadow; whereupon, one of the neighbours coming to Landesdale's wife for a bundle of straw for him to lie upon, she required to have him removed to Newington side, because, she said, if he should die, it would be very far to carry him to the church.

            Besides this, there was a marriage in this Landesdale's house, and the guests that came to the marriage gave the poor man money as they came and went by hint, but Landesdale disdained to contribute any relief unto him, notwithstanding that he had promised to Master Searles, one of the queen's guard, (who had more pity of him,) to minister to him things necessary.

            To be short, the next day poor Lazarus departed this life, and was buried in Hackney churchyard; upon whom Landesdale did not so much as bestow a winding-sheet, or any thing else towards his burial. And thus much concerning the end of poor Lazarus. Now let us hear what became of the rich glutton.

Illustration -- The Burial of Poor Lazarus

            About two years after, the said Landesdale, being full of drink, (as his custom was,) came riding in great haste from London on St. Andrew's day, anno 1568, and, (as is reported by those that saw him,) reeling to and fro like a drunkard with his hat in his hand, and coming by a ditch-side, there tumbled in headlong into the ditch. Some say that the horse fell upon him, but that is not like. This is true; the horse, more sober than the master, came home, leaving his master behind him. Whether he brake his neck with the fall, or was drowned, (for the water was scarcely a foot deep,) it is uncertain; but certain it is, that he was there found dead. Thus he, being found dead in the ditch, the coroner (as the manner is) sat upon him: and how the matter was handled for saving his goods, the Lord knoweth; but in the end so it fell out, that the goods were saved, and the poor horse indicted for his master's death. The neighbours, hearing of the death of this man, and considering the manner thereof, said it was justly fallen upon him, that as he suffered the poor man to lie and die in the ditch near unto him, so his end was to die in a ditch likewise.

            And thus hast thou in this story, Christian brother and reader, the true image of a rich glutton and poor Lazarus set out before thine eyes; whereby we have all to learn, what happeneth in the end to such voluptuous epicures and atheists, who, being void of all sense of religion, and fear of God, yield themselves over to all profanity of life, neither regarding any honesty at home, nor showing any mercy to their needy neighbours abroad.

            Christ our Saviour saith, Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy: but judgment without mercy shall be executed on them which have showed no mercy, &c. And St. John saith, He that seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? &c. Again, Isaiah, against such profane drunkards and quaffers, thus crieth out: Woe be unto them that rise up early to follow drunkenness, and to them that so continue until night, till they be set on fire with wine. In those companies are harps and lutes, tabrets and pipes and wine: but they regard not the works of the Lord, and consider not the operation of his hands, &c. Woe be unto them that are strong to spue out wine, and expert to set up drunkenness.

            The punishments of them that be dead, be wholesome documents to them that be alive. And therefore, as the story above exemplified may serve to warn all courtiers and yeomen of the guard; so, by this that followeth, I would wish all gentlemen to take good heed and admonition betimes, to leave their outrageous swearing and blaspheming of the Lord their God.

            In the time and reign of King Edward, there was in Cornwall a certain lusty young gentleman, which did ride in company with other more gentlemen, together with their servants, being about the number of twenty horsemen. Among whom this lusty younker entering into talk, began to swear most horribly, blaspheming the name of God, with other ribaldry words besides. Unto whom one of the company, (who is yet alive, and witness hereof,) not able to abide the hearing of such blasphemous abomination, in gentle words speaking to him, said he should give answer and account for every idle word.

            The gentleman, taking snuff thereat; "Why," said he, "takest thou thought for me? take thought for thy winding-sheet." "Well," quoth the other, "amend; for death giveth no warning; for as soon cometh a lamb's skin to the market, as an old sheep's." "God's wounds!" saith he, "care not thou for me:" raging still after this manner worse and worse in words, till at length, passing on their journey, they came riding over a great bridge, standing over a piece of an arm of the sea; upon the which bridge this gentleman-swearer spurred his horse in such sort, as he sprang clean over with the man on his back, who, as he was going, cried, saying, "Horse and man, and all to the devil." This terrible story happening in a town in Cornwall, I would have been afraid amongst these stories here to recite, were it not that he which was then both reprehender of his swearing, and witness of his death, is yet alive, and now a minister, named Heynes. Besides this, Bishop Ridley, then bishop of London, preached and uttered even the same fact and example at Paul's Cross. The name of the gentleman I could by no means obtain of the party and witness aforesaid, for dread of those (as he said) which yet remain of his afflnity and kindred in the said country.

            Having now suffuciently admonished, first the courtiers, then the gentlemen; now thirdly, for a brief admonition to the lawyers, we will here insert the strange end and death of one Henry Smith, student of the law.

            This Henry Smith, having a godly gentleman to his father, and an ancient protestant, dwelling in Campden in Gloucestershire, was by him virtuously brought up in the knowledge of God's word, and sincere religion; wherein he showed himself in the beginning such an earnest professor, that he was called of the papists, prattling Smith. After these good beginnings, it followed that he, coming to be a student of the law in the Middle Temple at London, there, through sinister company of some, and especially as it is thought of one Gifford, began to be perverted to popery; and afterward going to Louvain, was more deeply rooted and grounded in the same; and so continuing a certain space among the papists, of a young protestant at length was made a perfect papist. Insomuch that, returning from thence, he brought him with pardons, a crucifix, with an Agnus Dei, which he used commonly to wear about his neck; and had in his chamber images, before which he was wont to pray, besides divers other popish trash, which he brought with him from Louvain. Now what end followed after this I were loth to utter in story, but that the fact so lately done this present year, anno 1559, remaineth yet so fresh in memory, that almost all the city of London not only can witness, but also doth wonder thereat. The end was this.

            Not long after the said Henry Smith, with Gifford his companion, was returned from Louvain, being now a foul jeerer and a scornful scoffer of that religion which before he professed; in his chamber where he lay in a house in St. Clement's parish without Temple-bar, in the evening as he was going to bed, and his clothes put off, (for he was found naked,) he had tied his shirt (which he had torn to the same purpose) about his middle, and so with his own girdle, or riband garter as it seemed, fastened to the bed-post, there strangled himself. They that were of his quest, and others which saw the manner of his hanging, and the print where he sat upon his bed's side, do record, that he thrust himself down from the bed's side where he sat; the place where he had fastened the girdle being so low, that his hips well near touched the floor, his legs lying across, and his arms spread abroad. And this was the manner of his hanging, having his Agnus Dei in a silver tablet, with his other idolatrous trash in the window by him. And thus being dead, and not thought worthy to be interred in the churchyard, he was buried in a lane, called Foskew-lane.

            This heavy and dreadful end of Henry Smith, although it might seem enough to gender a terror to all young popish students of the law; yet it did not so work with all, but that some remained as obstinate still as they were before; amongst whom was one named Williams, a student of the Inner Temple, who being some time a favourer of the gospel, fell in like manner from that to be an obstinate papist, and a despiteful railer against true religion, and in conclusion, was so hot in his catholic zeal, that in the midst of his railing he fell stark mad, and so yet to this present day remaineth. The Lord of his mercy turn him to a better mind, and convert him if it be his pleasure; Amen.

            The miserable end of Twyford is here no less to be remembered, a busy doer sometime, in King Henry's days, by Bonner's appointment, in setting up of stakes for the burning of poor martyrs; who, when he saw the stakes consume away so fast; "Yea," said he, "will not these stakes hold? I will have a stake, I trow, that shall hold." And so provided a big tree, and cutting off the top, set it in Smithfield. But thanks be to God, ere the tree was all consumed, God turned the state of religion, and he fell into a horrible disease, rotting alive above the ground before he died. Read more of him before. But because the story both of him, and of a number such other like, is to be found in sundry places of this history sufficiently before expressed, it shall be but a double labour again to recapitulate the same.

 

The strange and fearful death of Dr. Williams.

            Ye have heard before of the condemnation and martyrdom of a certain boy called Thomas Drowry, condemned by Williams, chancellor of Gloucester, contrary to all right and counsel of the registrar then present, called Barker. Now what punishment fell after, upon the said chancellor, followeth to be declared.

            When God, of his inestimable mercy having pity of us, and pardoning our sins, for his Son Christ Jesus's sake, had now taken from us that bloody princess, and sent us this jewel of joy, the queen's Majesty that now reigneth (and long may she reign) over us; and that the commissioners for restitution of religion were coming toward Gloucester; the same day Dr. Williams, the chancellor, dined with Master Jennings, the dean of Gloucester, who with all his men were booted ready at one of the clock to set forward to Chipping Norton, about fifteen miles from Gloucester, to meet the commissioners which were at Chipping Norton, and said to him, "Chancellor, are not thy boots on?"

            Chancellor.--"Why should I put them on?"

            "To go with me," quoth the dean, "to meet these commissioners."

            Chancellor.--"I will neither meet them, nor see them."

            Dean.--"Thou must needs see them, for now it is past twelve of the clock, and they will be here before three of the clock: and therefore, if thou be wise, on with thy boots, let us go together, and all shall be well."

            Chancellor.--"Go your ways, Master Dean, I will never see them."

            As I said, W. Jennings, the dean, set forward with his company toward the commissioners; and by and by cometh one upon horseback to the dean, saying, "Master Chancellor lieth at the mercy of God, and is speechless." At that word, the dean with his company pricked forward to the commissioners, and told them the whole matter and communication between them two, as above. And they sent one of their men, with the best words they could devise, to comfort him with many promises. But, to be short; albeit the commissioners were now nearer Gloucester than the dean and his company thought, making very great haste, especially after they had received these news, yet Dr. Williams, though false of religion, yet true of his promise, kept his ungracious covenant with the dean; for he was dead ere they came to the city, and so never saw them indeed.

A note of Christopher Parker.

            Christopher Parker, called Parker the Wild, mentioned before in this Book of Monuments, who, being a persecutor of Richard Woodman, did manacle his hands with a cord, did cast himself into a pond, and so drowned himself at Herstmonceaux, in Sussex, the eighth of September, 1575.

 

The story of one Drainer of Kent, commonly called Justice Nine-holes.

            I may not in this place omit the tragedy of one Drainer of Smarden in the county of Kent, esquire, who bearing grudge against one Gregory Dods, parson of the said town, for reproving his vicious life, sent for him by two men, which took him and brought him before him, where he was had into a parlour, as it were to breakfast; in which, behind the door, he had placed one Roger Matthew secretly, to bear witness what he should say, no more being in sight but the said Drainer and one of his men, who willed and persuaded him to speak freely his mind, for that there was not sufficient record of his words to hurt him. But the Lord kept his talk without peril, whereby the said Drainer sent him to the next justice, called Master George Dorell; who, perceiving it to be done more of malice than otherwise, delivered him upon sureties, to appear at the next sessions at Canterbury, and at length he was banished the country.

            This said Drainer afterward, being chosen justice, to show himself diligent in seeking the trouble of his neighbours, made in the rood-loft nine holes, that he might look about the church in mass time. In which place alway, at the sacring thereof, he would stand to see who looked not, or held not up his hands thereto; which persons not so doing he would trouble and punish very sore. Whereby he purchased a name there, and is called to this day, Justice Nine-holes, who now (God be thanked) is John-out-of-office, and glad of his neighbour's good will.

            It so fell out, that since this was published, the said Drainer came to the printer's house, with other associates, demanding, "Is Foxe here?" To whom answer was given, that Master Foxe was not within. "Is the printer within?" quoth Drainer. It was answered, Yea. Whereupon, being required to come up into his house, he was asked what his will was. "Marry," saith he, "you have printed me false in your book." "Why," saith the printer, "is not your name Master Drainer, otherwise called Justice Nine-holes?" "It is false," saith he, "I made but five with a great auger, and the parson made the rest." It was answered, "I have not read that a justice should make him a place in the rood-loft, to see if the people held up their hands." He said, "Whereas you allege, that I did it to see who adored the sacrament, or who not, it is untrue; for I set as little by it, as the best of you all." "Indeed," saith the printer, "so we understand now; for you being at supper in Cheapside among certain honest company, and there burdened with the matter, said then, that you did it rather to look upon fair wenches, than otherwise." He, being in a great rage, sware, saying to this purpose: "Can a man speak nothing but you must have understanding thereof? But," saith he, "did I do any man any hurt?" It was answered, that he meant little good to Master Dods aforesaid, especially procuring a secret witness behind his door, to catch some words that might tend to Dod's destruction: which thing Drainer sware, as before, was not true. To whom the printer replied, that it was most true, for that the party there secretly hidden, hath since, upon his knees, asking forgiveness for his intent, confessed the same to Dods himself. "I will hang that knave," saith he. And so he departed in a rage; and since is deceased, whose death, and order thereof, I refer to the secret Judge.

 

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