FOXE'S BOOK OF MARTYRS
PART 4


196. THE ENGLISH BIBLE.

Of the Bible in English, printed in the large volume; and of Edmund
Bonner, preferred to the bishopric of London by means of the Lord
Cromwell.

ABOUT the time and year when Edmund Bonner, bishop of Hereford, and
ambassador resident in France, began first to be nominated and
preferred, by means of the Lord Cromwell, to the bishopric of London,
which was A.D. 1540, it happened that the said Thomas Lord Cromwell,
earl of Essex, procured of the king of England his gracious letters to
the French king, to permit and license a subject of his to imprint the
Bible in English within the university of Paris; because paper was
there more meet and apt to be had for the doing thereof, than in the
realm of England, and also that there were more store of good workmen
for the ready despatch of the same. And in like manner, at the same
time the said king wrote unto his ambassador, who then was Edmund
Bonner, bishop of Hereford, lying in Paris, that he should aid and
assist the doers thereof in all their reasonable suits: the which
bishop, outwardly, showed great friendship to the merchants that were
the imprinters of the same; and, moreover, did divers and sundry times
call and command the said persons to be in a manner daily at his
table, both dinner and supper; and so much rejoiced in the workmanship
of the said Bible, that he himself would visit the imprinter's house,
where the same Bibles were printed, and also would take part of such
dinners as the Englishmen there had, and that to his cost, which, as
it seemed, he little weighed. And further, the said Bonner was so
fervent, that he caused the said Englishmen to put in print a New
Testament in English and Latin, and himself took a great many of them,
and paid for them, and gave them to his friends. And it chanced in the
mean time, while the said Bible was in printing, that King Henry the
Eighth preferred the said Bonner from the bishopric of Hereford, to be
bishop of London; at which time the said Bonner, according to the
statute law of England, took his oath to the king, acknowledging his
supremacy, and called one of the aforesaid Englishmen that printed the
Bible, whom he then loved, although afterwards, upon the change of the
world, he did hate him as much, whose name was Richard Grafton; to
whom the said Bonner said, when he took his oath, "Master Grafton, so
it is, that the king's most excellent Majesty hath, by his gracious
gift, presented me to the bishopric of London; for the which I am
sorry, for, if it would have pleased his Grace, I could have been well
content to have kept mine old bishopric of Hereford." Then said
Grafton, "I am right glad to hear of it, and so I am sure will be a
great number of the city of London; for though they yet know you not,
yet they hate heard so much goodness of you from hence, as no doubt
they will heartily rejoice of your placing." Then said Bonner, "I pray
God I may do what may content them. And to tell you, Master Grafton,
before God, (for that was commonly his oath,) the greatest fault that
ever I found in Stokesley was, for vexing and troubling of poor men,
as Lobley the bookbinder, and others, for having the Scripture in
English; and, God willing, he did not so much hinder it, but I will as
much further it; and I will have of your Bibles set up in the church
of Paul's, at least in sundry places six of them; and I will pay you
honestly for them, and give hearty thanks." Which words he then spake
in the hearing of divers credible persons, as Edmund Stile, grocer,
and others. "But now, Master Grafton, at this time I have specially
called you to be a witness with me, that upon this translation of
bishops' sees, I must, according to the statute, take an oath unto the
king's Majesty, acknowledging his supremacy, which, before God, I take
with my heart, and so think him to be; and beseech Almighty God to
save him, and long to prosper his Grace" "Hold the book, sirrah! and
read you the oath," said he to one of his chaplains; and he laid his
hand on the book, and so he took his oath: and after this he showed
great friendship to the said Grafton, and to his partner Edward
Whitchurch; but especially to Miles Coverdale, who was the corrector
of the great Bible.
(Illustration: Hereford Cathedral)

Now after that the aforesaid letters were delivered, the French king
gave very good words, and was well contented to permit the doing
thereof; and so the printer went forward, and printed forth the book,
even to the last part; and then was the quarrel picked with the
printer, and he was sent for to the inquisitors of the faith, and
there charged with certain articles of heresy. Then were sent for the
Englishmen that were at the cost and charge thereof, and also such as
had the correction of the same, which was Miles Coverdale: but having
some warning what would follow, the said Englishmen posted away as
fast as they could, to save themselves, leaving behind them all their
Bibles, which were to the number of two thousand five hundred, (called
the Bible of the great Volume,) and never recovered any of them,
saving that the lieutenant-criminal, having them delivered unto him to
burn in a place of Paris, (like Smithfield,) called Maulbert Place,
was somewhat moved with covetousness, and sold four great dry-fats of
them to a haberdasher, to lap caps in, and those were bought again;
but the rest were burned, to the great and importunate loss of those
that bare the charge of them. But notwithstanding the said loss, after
they had recovered some part of the aforesaid books, and were
comforted and encouraged by the Lord Cromwell, the said Englishmen
went again to Paris, and there got the presses, letters, and servants
of the aforesaid printer, and brought them to London; and there they
became printers themselves, (which before they never intended,) and
printed out the said Bible in London, and, after that, printed sundry
impressions of them: but yet not without great trouble and loss, for
the hatred of the bishops, namely, Stephen Gardiner and his fellows,
who mightily did stomach and malign the printing thereof.

Here, by the way, for the more direction to the story, thou hast,
loving reader, to note and understand, that in those days there were
two sundry Bibles in English, printed and set forth, bearing divers
titles, and printed in divers places: the first was called Thomas
Matthewe's Bible, printed at Hamburgh, about A.D. 1537; the corrector
of which print was then John Rogers, of whom ye shall hear more,
Christ willing, hereafter. The printers were Richard Grafton, and
Whitchurch. In the translation of this Bible, the greatest doer was
indeed William Tyndale, who, with the help of Miles Coverdale, had
translated all the books thereof, except only the Apocrypha, and
certain notes in the margin, which were added after. But, because the
said William Tyndale, in the mean time, was apprehended, before this
Bible was fully perfected, it was thought good to them that had the
doing thereof, to change the name of William Tyndale, because that
name then was odious, and to father it by a strange name of Thomas
Matthewe; John Rogers, at the same time, being corrector to the print,
who had then translated the residue of the Apocrypha, and added also
certain notes thereto in the margin: and thereof came it to be called
Thomas Matthewe's Bible. Which Bible of Thomas Matthewe, after it was
imprinted and presented to the Lord Cromwell, and to the Lord Cranmer,
archbishop of Canterbury, who liked very well of it, the said Cromwell
presented it to the king, and obtained that the same might freely pass
to be read of his subjects with his Grace's licence: so that there was
printed upon the same book, one line in red letters, with these words,
"Set forth with the king's most gracious licence."

The setting forth of this book did not a little offend the clergy,
namely, the bishops aforesaid, both for the prologues, and,
especially, because in the same book was one special table collected
of the common places in the Bible, and the Scriptures for the
approbation of the same; and chiefly about the supper of the Lord, and
marriage of priests, and the mass, which there was said not to be
found in the Scripture.

Furthermore, after the restraint of this aforesaid Bible of Thomas
Matthewe, another Bible began to be printed at Paris, A.D. 1540; which
was called the Bible of the large Volume. The printers thereof were
the aforesaid Richard Grafton, and Whitchurch, who bare the charges. A
great helper thereto, was the Lord Cromwell. The chiefest overseer was
Miles Coverdale, who, taking the translation of Tyndale, conferred the
same with the Hebrew, and amended many things.

The king's brief, for setting up the Bible of the Greater Volume in
English.

"Henry, by the grace of God, king of England and of France, defender
of the faith, lord of Ireland, and, in earth, supreme head of the
church of England; to the reverend father in Christ, Edmund, bishop of
London, or, in his absence, to his vicar-general, health.

"We command you, that immediately upon the receipt of these presents,
in every cathedral, collegiate, and other parish churches and chapels,
you cause, on our behalf, to be solemnly published and read, a certain
decree made by us, by the advice of our council, which we have sent
you by the bringer, imprinted in certain schedules annexed to this
brief: charging you moreover, that immediately upon the publishing of
the said decree so by you made, you cause the said decree to be set up
upon every church door through your diocese, that it may more largely
appear unto our subjects and liege people; and that with all diligence
you perform the same, as you will answer us for the contrary.

"Witness myself, at Westminster, the seventh day of May, in the
thirty-second year of our reign."

In this Bible, although the former notes of Thomas Matthewe were
omitted, yet sundry marks and hands were annexed on the sides, which
meant that in those places should he made certain notes, wherewith
also the clergy were offended, though the notes were not made.

After this the bishops, bringing their purpose to pass, brought the
Lord Cromwell out of favour, and shortly to his death; and, not long
after, great complaint was made to the king of the translation of the
Bible, and of the preface of the same; and then was the sale of the
Bible commanded to be stayed, the bishops promising to amend and
correct it, but never performing the same. Then Grafton was called,
and first charged with the printing of Matthewe's Bible, but he, being
fearful of trouble, made excuses for himself in all things. Then was
he examined of the great Bible, and what notes he was purposed to
make: to which he answered, that he knew none. For his purpose was, to
have retained learned men to have made the notes; but when he
perceived the king's Majesty and his clergy not willing to have any,
he proceeded no further. But for all these excuses, Grafton was sent
to the Fleet, and there remained six weeks, and before he came out,
was bound, in three hundred pounds, that he should neither sell, nor
imprint, nor cause to be imprinted, any more Bibles, until the king
and the clergy should agree upon a translation. And thus was the Bible
from that time stayed, during the reign of King Henry the Eighth.

But yet one thing more is to be noted, that after the imprinters had
lost their Bibles, they continued suitors to Bonner, as is aforesaid,
to be a mean to obtain of the French king their books again: but so
long they continued suitors, and Bonner ever fed them with fair words,
promising them much, but did nothing for them, till, at last, Bonner
was discharged of his ambassade, and returned home, where he was right
joyfully welcomed home by the Lord Cromwell, who loved him dearly, and
had a marvellous good opinion of him. , And so long as Cromwell
remained in authority, so long was Bonner at his beck, and friend to
his friends, and enemy to his enemies; as namely, at that time to
Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, who never favoured Cromwell, and
therefore Bonner could not favour him, but he and Winchester were the
greatest enemies that might be. But, so soon as Cromwell fell,
immediately Bonner and Winchester pretended to be the greatest men
that lived; and no good word could Bonner speak of Cromwell, but the
lewdest, vilest, and bitterest that he could speak, calling him the
rankest heretic that ever lived. And then, such as the said Bonner
knew to be in good favour with Cromwell, he could never abide their
sight: insomuch that the next day after that Cromwell was apprehended,
the above-named Grafton, who before had been very familiar with
Bonner, met with the said Bonner suddenly, and said unto him, that he
was sorry to hear of the news that then were abroad. "What are they?"
said he. "Of the apprehension of the Lord Cromwell," said Grafton.
"Are ye sorry for that?" said he. "It had been good that he had been
despatched long ago." With that Grafton looked upon him, and knew not
what to say, but came no more to Bonner. Howbeit afterwards, the said
Grafton, being charged for the imprinting of a ballad made in favour
of Cromwell, was called before the council, where Bonner was present;
and there Bonner charged him with the words that he spake to him of
Cromwell, and told out a great long tale. But the Lord Audley, who
then was lord chancellor, right discreetly and honourably cut off the
matter, and entered into other talk.

$

197. THE HISTORY OF ROBERT BARNES, THOMAS GARRET, AND WILLIAM JEROME,
DIVINES.

Like as in foreign battles the chief point of victory consisteth in
the safety of the general or captain, even so when the valiant
standard-bearer and stay of the church of England, Thomas Cromwell I
mean, was made away, pity it is to behold what miserable slaughter of
good men and good women ensued thereupon, whereof we have now (Christ
willing) to entreat. For Winchester, having now gotten his full
purpose, and free swing to exercise his cruelty, wonder it was to see
that Calydonian wild boar, or, as the Scripture speaketh, that
extraordinary wild beast, what troubles he raised in the Lord's
vineyard. And lest, by delays, he might lose the occasion presently
offered, he straightways made his first assaults upon Robert Barnes,
Thomas Garret, and William Jerome, whom, in the very same month,
within two days after Cromwell's death, he caused to be put to
execution; whose histories severally to comprehend, first of all we
will somewhat speak of Barnes, doctor of divinity, whose particular
story here followeth.

This Barnes, after he came from the university of Louvain, went to
Cambridge, where he was made prior and master of the house of the
Augustines. At that time the knowledge of good letters was scarcely
entered into the university, all things being full of rudeness and
barbarity, saving in very few, which were privy and secret: whereupon
Barnes, having some feeling of better learning and authors, began in
his house to read Terence, Plautus, and Cicero; so that what with his
industry, pains, and labour, and with the help of Thomas Parnell, his
scholar, whom he brought from Louvain with him, reading copia verborum
et rerum, he caused the house shortly to flourish with good letters,
and made a great part of the house learned, (who before were drowned
in barbarous rudeness,) as Master Cambridge, Master Field, Master
Coleman, Master Burley, Master Coverdale, with divers others of the
university, that sojourned there for learning's sake. After these
foundations laid, then did he read openly in the house Paul's
Epistles, and put by Duns and Dorbel; and yet he was a questionary
himself: and only because he would have Christ there taught, and his
holy word, he turned their unsavoury problems and fruitless
disputations to other better matter of the Holy Scripture; and
thereby, in short space, he made divers good divines. The same order
of disputation which he kept in his house, he observed likewise in the
university abroad, when he should dispute with any man in the common
schools. And the first man that answered Dr. Barnes in the Scriptures,
was Master Stafford, for his form to be bachelor of divinity, which
disputation was marvellous in the sight of the great blind doctors,
and joyful to the godly-spirited.

Thus Barnes, what with his reading, disputation, and preaching, became
famous and mighty in the Scriptures, preaching ever against bishops
and hypocrites; and yet did not see his inward and outward idolatry,
which he both taught and maintained, till that good Master Bilney with
others (as is aforesaid, in the life of Master Bilney) converted him
wholly unto Christ.

The first sermon that ever he preached of this truth, was the Sunday
before Christmas day, at St. Edward's church, belonging to Trinity
Hall in Cambridge, by the Peas Market, whose theme was the epistle of
the same Sunday, Rejoice in the Lord; and so postilled the whole
epistle, following the Scripture and Luther's Postil: and for that
sermon he was immediately accused of heresy by two fellows of the
King's Hall. Then the godly learned in Christ both of Pembroke Hall,
St. John's, Peter House, Queen's College, the King's College, Gunwell
Hall, and Benet College, showed themselves, and flocked together in
open sight, both in the schools, and at open sermons at St. Mary's,
and at the Augustines, and at other disputations; and then they
conferred continually together.

The house that they resorted most commonly unto, was the White Horse,
which, for despite of them, to bring God's word into contempt, was
called Germany. This house especially was chosen because many of them
of St. John's, the King's College, and the Queen's College, came in on
the back side. At this time much trouble began to ensue. The
adversaries of Dr. Barnes accused him, in the Regent House, before the
vice-chancellor, where his articles were presented with him and
received, he promising to make answer at the next convocation and so
it was done. Then Dr. Nottoris, a rank enemy to Christ, moved Dr.
Barnes to recant; but he refused so to do: which appeareth in his book
that he made to King Henry the Eighth in English, confuting the
judgment of Cardinal Wolsey, and the residue of the bishops
papistical, and so, for the time, Barnes stood stedfast. And this
tragedy continued in Cambridge, one preaching against another, in
trying out of God's truth, until within six days of Shrovetide. Then,
suddenly, was sent down to Cambridge a serjeant-at-arms, called Master
Gibson, dwelling in St. Thomas Apostle's in London, who suddenly
arrested Dr. Barnes openly in the convocation-house, to make all
others afraid; and privily they had determined to make search for
Luther's books, and all the Germans' works suddenly.

But good Dr. Farman, of the Queen's College, sent word incontinently
thereof, to the chambers of those that were suspected, who were in
number thirty persons. But, God be praised! they were conveyed away by
that time that the serjeant-at-arms, the vice-chancellor, and the
proctors, were at every man's chamber, going directly to the place
where the books lay (whereby it was perceived that there were some
privy spies amongst that small company); and that night they studied
together, and give him his answer, which answer he carried with him to
London the next morning, which was the Tuesday before Shrove Sunday,
and came on the Wednesday to London, and lay at Master Parnell's house
by the stocks.

In the morning he was carried by the serjeant-at-arms to Cardinal
Wolsey, to Westminster, waiting there all day, and could not speak
with him till night. Then, by reason of Dr. Gardiner, secretary to the
cardinal, (of whose familiar acquaintance he had been before,) and
Master Foxe, master of the Wards, he spake the same night with the
cardinal in his chamber of estate, kneeling on his knees. Then said
the cardinal to them, "Is this Dr. Barnes, your man that is accused of
heresy?" "Yea, and please your Grace; and we trust you shall find him
reformable, for he is both well learned and wise." "What! Master
Doctor," said the cardinal; "had you not a sufficient scope in the
Scriptures to teach the people, but that my golden shoes, my pole-
axes, my pillars, my golden cushions, my crosses, did so sore offend
you, that you must make us ridiculum caput amongst the people? We were 
jollily that day laughed to scorn. Verily it was a sermon more fit to
be preached on a stage, than in a pulpit; for at the last you said, I
wear a pair of red gloves, (I should say bloody gloves, quoth you,)
that I should not be cold in the midst of my ceremonies." And Barnes
answered, "I spake nothing but the truth out of the Scriptures,
according to my conscience, and according to the old doctors."

And then did Barnes deliver him six sheets of paper written, to
confirm and corroborate his sayings. The cardinal received them
smiling on him, and saying, "We perceive then that you intend to stand
to your articles, and to show your learning." "Yea," said Barnes,
"that I do intend, by God's grace, with your Lordship's favour."

The cardinal answered, "Such as you are do bear us and the catholic
church little favour. I will ask you a question: Whether do you think
it more necessary that I should have all this royalty, because I
represent the king's Majesty's person in all the high courts of this
realm, to the terror and keeping down of all rebellious treasons,
traitors, all the wicked and corrupt members of this commonwealth; or
to be as simple as you would have us? to sell all these aforesaid
things, and to give it to the poor, who shortly will cast it against
the walls? and to pull away this majesty of a princely dignity, which
is a terror to all the wicked, and to follow your counsel in this
behalf?" He answered, "I think it necessary to be sold and given to
the poor. For this is not comely for your calling, nor is the king's
Majesty maintained by your pomp and poleaxes; but by God who saith,
"Kings and their majesties reign and stand by me."

Then answered he, "Lo, Master Doctors! here is the learned wise man,
that you told me of." Then they kneeled do and said, "We desire your
Grace to be good unto him, for he will be reformable."

Then said be, "Stand you up! for your sakes, and the university, we
will be good unto him.

How say you, Master Doctor; do you not know that I am Legatus de
latere, and that I am able to dispense in all matters concerning
religion within this realm, as much as the pope may? "He said, "I know
it to be so."

"Will you then be ruled by us, and we will do all things for your
honesty, and for the honesty of the university." He answered, "I thank
your Grace for your good will; I will stick to the Holy Scripture, and
to God's book, according to the simple talent that God hath lent me."
"Well," said he, "thou shalt have thy learning tried to the uttermost,
and thou shalt have the law."

Then Dr. Barnes required him that he might have justice with equity;
and forthwith he should have gone to the Tower, but that Gardiner and
Foxe became his sureties that night: and so he came home to Master
Parnell's house again, and that night fell to writing again and slept
not; Master Coverdale, Master Goodwin, and Master Field, being his
writers. And in the morning he came to York Place, to Gardiner and
Foxe, and by and by he was committed to the serjeant-at-arms, to bring
him into the chapter-house at Westminster, before the bishops, and the
abbot of Westminster, called Islip.

The same time when Dr. Barnes should appear before the cardinal, there
were five Still-yard men to be examined for Luther's books and
Lollardy; but, after they spied Barnes, they set the others aside, and
asked the serjeant-at-arms what was his errand. He said, he had
brought one Dr. Barnes to be examined of heresy: and presented both
his articles and his accusers. Then immediately, after a little talk,
they sware him, and laid his articles to him; who, like as he answered
the cardinal before, so said he unto them. And then he offered the
book of his probations unto them; who asked him whether he had another
for himself, and he said, "Yea," showing it unto them: who then took
it from him, and said they would have no leisure to dispute with him
at that present, for other affairs of the king's Majesty, which they
had to do; and therefore bade him stand aside. Then they called the
Still-yard men again, one by one, and when they were examined, they
called forth the Master of the Fleet, and they were committed all to
the Fleet. Then they called Dr. Barnes again, and asked him whether he
would subscribe to his articles or no; and he subscribed willingly:
and then they committed him, and young Master Parnell, to the Fleet
also, with the others. There they remained till Saturday in the
morning, and the warden of the Fleet was commanded that no man should
speak with him.

On the Saturday he came again before them into the chapter-house, and
there, with the Still-yard men, remained till five o'clock at night;
and after long disputations, threatenings, and scornings, about five
o'clock at night they called him, to know whether he would abjure or
burn. He was then in a great agony, and thought rather to burn than to
abjure. But then was he sent again to have the counsel of Gardiner and
Foxe, and they persuaded him rather to abjure than to burn, because
(they said) he should do more in time to come; and with divers other
persuasions, that were mighty in the sight of reason and foolish
flesh. Upon that, kneeling upon his knees, he consented to abjure, and
the abjuration put in his hand, he abjured as it was there written,
and then he subscribed with his own hand; and yet they would scarcely
receive him into the bosom of the church, as they termed it. Then they
put him to an oath, and charged him to execute, do, and fulfil, all
that they commanded him: and he promised so to do.

Then they commanded the warden of the Fleet to carry him and his
fellows to the place from whence he came, and to be kept in close
prison, and in the morning to provide five faggots, for Dr. Barnes and
the four Still-yard men. The fifth Still-yard man was commanded to
have a taper of five pounds weight to be provided for him, to offer to
the rood of Northen, in Paul's; and all these things to be ready by
eight o'clock in the morning; and that he, with all that he could
make, with bills and glaves, and the knight-marshal, with all his
tipstaves that he could make, should bring them to Paul's, and conduct
them home again. In the morning they were all ready, by their hour
appointed, in Paul's church, the church being so full that no man
could get in. The cardinal had a scaffold made on the top of the
stairs for himself, with six-and-thirty abbots, mitred priors, and
bishops, and he, in his whole pomp, mitred, (which Barnes spake
against,) sat there enthronised, his chaplains and spiritual doctors
in gowns of damask and satin, and he himself in purple; even like a
bloody antichrist. And there was a new pulpit erected on the top of
the stairs also, for the bishop of Rochester to preach against Luther
and Dr. Barnes; and great baskets full of books standing before them,
within the rails, which were commanded, after the great fire was made
before the rood of Northen, there to be burned; and these heretics,
after the sermon, to go thrice about the fire, and to cast in their
faggots. Now, while the sermon was a doing, Dr. Barnes and the Still-
yard men were commanded to kneel down, and ask forgiveness of God, of
the catholic church and of the cardinal's Grace: and, after that, he
was commanded, at the end of the sermon, to declare, that he was more
charitably handled than he deserved, or was worthy; his heresies were
so horrible and so detestable. And once again he kneeled down on his
knees, desiring of the people forgiveness and to pray for him. And so
the cardinal departed under a canopy, with all his mitred men with
him, till he came to the second gate of Paul's; and then he took his
mule, and the mitred men came back again. Then these poor men, being
commanded to come down from the stage, (whereon the sweepers use to
stand when they sweep the church,) the bishops sat them down again,
and commanded the knight-marshal and the warden of the Fleet, with
their company, to carry them about the fire. And so were they brought
to the bishops, and there, for absolution, kneeled down; where
Rochester stood up and declared unto the people, how many days of
pardon and forgiveness of sins they had, for being at that sermon; and
there did he assoil Dr. Barnes with the others, and showed the people
that they were received into the church again.

This done, the warden of the Fleet, and the knight-marshal, were
commanded to have them to the Fleet again, and charged that they
should have the liberty of the Fleet, as other prisoners had, and that
their friends might resort unto them; and there to remain till the
lord cardinal's pleasure was known.

After Barnes there, in the Fleet, had continued the space of half a
year, at length being delivered, was committed to be free prisoner at
the Austin Friars in London. When those caterpillars and bloody beasts
had there undermined him, they complained again to their lord
cardinal; whereupon he was removed to the Austin Friars of
Northampton, there to be burned. Yet he himself understanding nothing
thereof, but supposing still that he should there remain, and continue
in free prison; at last one Master Horne, who had brought him up, and
was his special friend, having intelligence of the writ which should
shortly be sent down to burn him, gave him counsel to feign himself to
be desperate; and that he should write a letter to the cardinal, and
leave it on his table where he lay, and a paper by, to declare whither
he was gone to drown himself; and to leave his clothes in the same
place; and another letter to be left there, to the mayor of the town,
to search for him in the water, because he had a letter written in
parchment about his neck, closed in wax, for the cardinal, which
should teach all men to beware by him.

Upon this, they were seven days in searching for him, but he was
conveyed to London in a poor man's apparel; and so tarried not there,
but took shipping, and went by long seas to Antwerp, and so to Luther;
and there fell to study till he had made an answer to all the bishops
of the realm, and had made a book entitled, Acta Romanorum Pontificum,
and another book with a supplication to King Henry. Immediately it was
told the cardinal, that he was drowned, and he said, Perit memoria
ejus cum sonitu; but this did light upon himself shortly after, who
wretchedly died at Leicester.

In the mean season Dr. Barnes was made strong in Christ, and got
favour both with the learned in Christ, and with foreign princes in
Germany, and was great with Luther, Melancthon, Pomeran, Justus Jonas,
Hegendorphinus, and Ępinus, and with the duke of Saxony, and with the
king of Denmark; which king of Denmark, in the time of More and
Stokesley, sent him, with the Lubecks, as an ambassador to King Henry
the Eighth. He lay with the Lubecks' chancellor, at the Still-yard.

Sir Thomas More, then chancellor, would fain have entrapped him, but
the king would not let him, for Cromwell was his great friend. And ere
he went, the Lubecks and he disputed with the bishops of this realm in
defence of the truth; and so he departed again, without restraint,
with the Lubecks. After his going again to Wittenberg, to the duke of
Saxony, and to Luther, he remained there, to set forward his works in
print that he had begun; from whence he returned again in the
beginning of the reign of Queen Anne, as others did, and continued a
faithful preacher in this city, being all her time well entertained
and promoted. After that, he was sent ambassador by King Henry the
Eighth to the duke of Cleves, for the marriage of the Lady Anne of
Cleves, between the king and her, and well accepted in the ambassade,
and in all his doings, until the time that Stephen Gardiner came out
of France: but, after he came, neither religion prospered, nor the
queen's Majesty, nor Cromwell, nor the preachers; who, after the
marriage of the Lady Anne of Cleves, never ceased until he had grafted
the marriage on another stock, by the occasion whereof he began his
bloody broil.

For not long after, Dr. Barnes, with his brethren, were apprehended
and carried before the king's Majesty to Hampton Court, and there he
was examined; where the king's Majesty, seeking the means of his
safety, to bring Winchester and him agreed, at Winchester's request
granted him leave to go home with the bishop, to confer with him: and
so he did. But, as it happened, they not agreeing, Gardiner and his
co-partners sought, by all subtle means, how to entangle and to entrap
them in further danger, which not long after was brought to pass; for,
by certain complaints made to the king of them, they were enjoined to
preach three sermons the next Easter following, at the Spittal;at the
which sermons, besides other reporters which were thither sent,
Stephen Gardiner also was there present, sitting with the mayor,
either to bear record of their recantation, or else, as the Pharisees
came to Christ, to trip them in their talk, if the had spoken any
thing awry. When these three had thus preached their sermons, among
whom Barnes preaching the first sermon, and seeing Stephen Gardiner
there present, humbly desired him, in the face of all the audience, if
he forgave him, to hold up his hand; and the said Gardiner thereupon
held up his finger. Yet notwithstanding, shortly after, by means of
the said reporters, they were sent for to Hampton Court; who from
thence were carried to the Tower, by Sir John Gostwike. From thence
they never came out till they came to their death, as, Christ willing,
shall more hereafter appear.

Then the protestants went again beyond the seas; the priests were
divorced from their wives; certain bishops were deposed from their
bishoprics; and other good men denied Christ and bare faggots at
Paul's Cross. Then immediately, without judgment, they were put to
death, as it is manifest; but the death was in such form, that a
papist and a protestant were laid upon one hurdle, to be drawn to
Smithfield. This was Winchester's device, to colour his own tyranny,
and to make the people doubtful what faith they should trust to.

At his death, Dr. Barnes gave great commendations to the king's
Majesty, that he should fear God, and maintain religion, and keep
marriage undefiled most honourably; and then declared his faith and
his articles. Then they prayed together, and Barnes said to Master
Priest, being sheriff, "Know ye wherefore I die, seeing I was never
examined nor called to any judgment?" He answered, He knew nothing,
but thus we are commanded. Then he took Master Sheriff by the hand,
and said, "Bear me witness, and my brother, that we die christianly
and charitably; and I pray you and all the people to pray for us: and
if the dead may pray for the quick, we will pray for you." And so he,
and the rest, forgave their enemies, and kissed one another, and stood
hand in hand at the stake, praying continually until the fire came:
and so rested in Christ Jesus.

And thus, hitherto, concerning the history of Barnes. Now let us,
likewise, consider the story and doings of Thomas Garret.

"About the year of our Lord 1526, Master Garret, curate in Honey Lane,
in London, came unto Oxford, and brought with him sundry books in
Latin, treating of the Scripture, with the first part of Unio
Dissidentium, and Tyndale's first translation of the New Testament in
English; which books he sold to divers scholars in Oxford, whose
names, for his accountable memory, belike, he wrote in a small book of
accounts.

"After he had been there awhile, and had despatched those books, news
came from London that he was searched for through all London, to be
apprehended and taken as a heretic, and to be imprisoned for selling
of those heretical books, (as they termed them,) because they spake
against the usurped authority and erroneous doctrine of the bishop of
Rome, and his no less impure and filthy synagogue. For it was not
unknown to Cardinal Wolsey, and to the bishop of London, and to others
of that ungodly generation, that Master Garret had a great number of
those heretical books, as the world then accounted them; and that he
was gone to Oxford, to make sale of them there, to such as he knew to
be the lovers of the gospel. Wherefore they determined to make
forthwith a privy search through all Oxford, to apprehend and imprison
him, and to burn all and every his aforesaid books, and him too if
they could: so burning hot was the charity of these holy fathers. But
yet at that time, one of the aforesaid proctors, called Master Cole,
of Magdalene College, who afterwards was cross-bearer unto Cardinal
Wolsey, was well acquainted with Master Garret; and, therefore, he
gave secret warning unto a friend or two of Master Garret's, of this
privy search; and willed, therefore, that he should forthwith, as
secretly as he could, depart out of Oxford: for if he were taken in
the same search, no remedy but he should be forthwith sent up unto the
cardinal, and so he should be committed unto the Tower.

"The Christmas before that time, I, Anthony Dalaber, then scholar of
Alban's Hall, who had books of Master Garret, had been in my country
in Dorsetshire, at Stalbridge, where I had a brother parson of that
parish, who was very desirous to have a curate out of Oxford, and
willed me, in any wise, to get him one there, if I could. This just
occasion offered, it was thought good among the brethren, (for so did
we not only call one another, but were indeed one to another,) that
Master Garret, changing his name, should be sent forth with my letters
into Dorsetshire to my brother, to serve him there for a time, until
he might secretly convey himself from thence some whither over the
sea. According hereunto I wrote my letters in all haste possible unto
my brother, for Master Garret to be his curate, but not declaring what
he was indeed; for my brother was a rank papist, and afterwards was
the most mortal enemy that ever I had, for the gospel's sake.

"So the Wednesday, in the morning, before Shrovetide, Master Garret
departed out of Oxford towards Dorsetshire, with my letters for his
new service. How far he went, and by what occasion he so soon
returned, I know not. But, the Friday next, in the night time, he came
again to Radley's house, where he lay before, and so, after midnight,
in the privy search which was then made for him, he was apprehended
and taken there in his bed by the two proctors; and, on the Saturday,
in the morning, was delivered unto one Dr. Cottisford, master of
Lincoln College, then being commissary of the university, who kept him
as prisoner in his own chamber. There was great joy and rejoicing
among all the papists for his apprehension, and especially with Dr.
London, warden of the New College, and Dr. Higdon, dean of
Frideswide's, two arch-papists, who immediately sent their letters, in
post-haste, unto the cardinal, to inform him of the apprehension of
this notable heretic; for the which their doing, they were well
assured to have great thanks. But of all this sudden hurly-burly was I
utterly ignorant, so that I knew neither of Master Garret's so sudden
return, neither that he was so taken; for after I had sent him out of
Oxford with my letters, as before is said, the same week having taken
a chamber in Gloucester College, for the purpose of studying the civil
law, because the scholars in Alban's Hall were all sophisters, I
removed all such poor stuff as I had, from thence unto Gloucester
College; and there was I much busied in setting up in order, my bed,
my books, and such things else as I had, so that I had no leisure to
go forth any where those two days, Friday and Saturday. And having set
up all my things handsomely in order the same day before noon, I
determined to spend that whole afternoon, until even-song time, at
Frideswide College, at my book in mine own study; and so shut my
chamber door unto me, and my study door also, and took into my hand to
read Francis Lambert, upon the Gospel of St. Luke, which book only I
had then within there; all my other books written on the Scripture, of
which I had a great number, as of Erasmus, of Luther, of Œcolampadius,
&c., I had yet left in my chamber at Alban's Hall, where I had made a
very secret place to keep them safe in, because it was so dangerous to
have any such books. And so, as I was diligently reading in the said
book of Lambert upon Luke, suddenly one knocked at my chamber door
very hard, which made me astonished, and yet I sat still, and would
not speak; then he knocked again more hard, and yet I held my peace;
and straightway he knocked yet again more fiercely, and then I thought
this: peradventure it is somebody that hath need of me; and therefore
I thought myself bound to do as I would be done unto: and so, laying
my book aside, I came to the door, and opened it, and there was Master
Garret as a man amazed, (whom I thought then to have been with my
brother,) and one with him.

"As soon as he saw me, he said he was undone, for he was taken. Thus
he spake unadvisedly, in the presence of a young man that came with
him. When the young man was departed, I asked him what he was, and
what acquaintance he had with him. He said, he knew him not; but he
had been to seek a monk of his acquaintance in that college, who was
not in his chamber; and thereupon desired his servant (not knowing my
chamber, for that I was newly removed thither) to bring him to me; and
so forth declared how he was returned and taken that night in the
privy search, as ye have heard; and that now, when the commissary and
all his company were gone to even-song, and had locked him alone in
his chamber, he, hearing nobody stirring in the college, put back the
bar of the lock with his finger, and so came straight unto Gloucester
College, to speak with that monk, if he had been within, who had also
bought books of him.

"Then said I unto him, 'Alas, Master Garret! by this your
uncircumspect coming unto me, and speaking so before this young man,
you have disclosed yourself, and utterly undone me.' I asked him, why
he went not unto my brother, with my letters accordingly. He said,
after that he was gone a day's journey and a half, he was so fearful,
that his heart would no other but that he must needs return again unto
Oxford; and so he came again on Friday at night, and then was taken as
ye heard before: But now, with deep sighs and plenty of tears, he
prayed me to help to convey him away; and so he cast off his hood and
his gown, wherein he came unto me, and desired me to give him a coat
with sleeves, if I had any; and told me that he would go into Wales,
and thence convey himself into Germany, if he might. Then I put on him
a sleeved coat of mine. He would also have had another manner of cap
of me, but I had none but priest-like, such as his own was.

"Then kneeled we both down together upon our knees, and lifting up our
hearts and hands to God, our heavenly Father, desired him, with plenty
of tears, so to conduct and prosper him in his journey, that he might
well escape the danger of all his enemies, to the glory of his holy
name, if his good pleasure and will were. And then we embraced, and
kissed the one the other, the tears so abundantly flowing out from
both our eyes, that we all be-wet both our faces, and scarcely for
sorrow could we speak one to another: and so he departed from me,
appareled in my coat, being committed unto the tuition of our almighty
and merciful Father.

"When he was gone down the stairs from my chamber, I straightways did
shut my chamber door, and went into my study, and taking the New
Testament in my hands, kneeled down on my knees, and with many a deep
sigh and salt tear, I did, with much deliberation, read over the tenth
chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel; and when I had so done, with fervent
prayer I did commit unto God that our dearly beloved brother Garret,
earnestly beseeching him, in and for Jesus Christ's sake, his only
begotten Son our Lord, that he would vouchsafe not only safely to
conduct and keep our said dear brother from the hands of all his
enemies; but also, that he would endue his tender and lately born
little flock in Oxford with heavenly strength, by his Holy Spirit,
that they might be well able thereby valiantly to withstand, to his
glory, all their fierce enemies; and also might quietly, to their own
salvation, with all godly patience bear Christ's heavy cross, which I
now saw was presently to be laid on their young and weak backs, unable
to bear so huge a burden, without the great help of his Holy Spirit.

"This done, I laid aside my book safe, folded up Master Garret's gown
and hood, and laid them in my press among mine apparel; and so, having
put on my short gown, shut up my study and chamber doors, and went
toward Frideswide's to speak with that worthy martyr of God, Master
Clark, and others, and to declare unto them what had happened that
afternoon. But of purpose I went by St. Mary's church, to go first
unto Corpus Christi College, to speak with Diet and Udal, my faithful
brethren and fellows in the Lord there. But by chance I met by the way
with a brother of ours, one Master Eden, fellow of Magdalene College,
who, as soon as he saw me, came with a pitiful countenance unto me,
saying, that we were all undone, for Master Garret was returned again
to Oxford, taken the last night in the privy search, and was in prison
with the commissary. I said, it was not so. He said, it was so. I told
him, it could not be so, for I was sure he was gone. He answered me
and said, 'I know he was gone with your letters, but he came again
yesterday in the even, and was taken in his bed at Radley's, this
night, in the privy search; for,' quoth he, 'I heard our proctor,
Master Cole, say and declare the same this day in our college, to
divers of the house: But I told him again, that I was well assured he
was now gone, for I spake with him later than either the proctor or
the commissary did and then I declared the whole matter unto him, how
and when he came unto me, and how he went his way, willing him to
declare the same unto our other brethren, whom he should meet withal,
and to give God hearty thanks for this his wonderful deliverance, and
to pray him, also, that he would grant him safely to pass away from
all his enemies. And I told him that I was going unto Master Clark of
Frideswide's, to declare unto him this matter; for I knew and thought
verily, that he, and divers others there, were in great sorrow for
this matter. Then I went straight to Frideswide's, and evensong was
begun, and the dean and the other canons were there in their grey
amices; they were almost at Magnificat before I came thither. I stood
at the choir door and heard Master Taverner play, and others of the
chapel there sing, with and among whom I myself was wont to sing also;
but now my singing and music were turned into sighing and musing.

"As I thus and there stood, in cometh Dr. Cottisford, the commissary,
as fast as ever he could go, bare-headed, as pale as ashes (I knew his
grief well enough); and to the dean he goeth into the choir, where he
was sitting in his stall, and talked with him very sorrowfully: what,
I know not; but whereof, I might and did well and truly guess. I went
aside from the choir door, to see and hear more. The commissary and
dean came out of the choir wonderfully troubled, as it seemed. About
the middle of the church met them Dr. London, puffing, blustering, and
blowing, like a hungry and greedy lion seeking his prey. They talked
together awhile, but the commissary was much blamed for keeping his
prisoners so negligently, insomuch that he wept for sorrow. And it was
known abroad that Master Garret was escaped, and gone out of the
commissary's chamber at even-song time; but whither, no man could
tell.

"These doctors departed, and sent abroad their servants and spies
every where. Master Clark, about the middle of the compline, came
forth of the choir: I followed him to his chamber, and declared what
had happened that afternoon, of Master Garret's escape. He was glad,
for he knew of his fore-taking. Then he sent for one Master Sumner,
and for Master Bets, fellows and canons there. In the mean while he
gave me a very godly exhortation, praying God to give me, and all the
rest of our brethren, Prudentiam serpentinam et simplicitatem
columbinam; for we should have shortly much need thereof, as he verily
thought. When Master Sumner and Master Bets were come unto him, be
caused me to declare again the whole matter to them two; and they were
very glad that Master Garret was so delivered, trusting that he should
escape all his enemies. Then, desiring them to tell unto our other
brethren what had happened, (for there were divers other in that
college,) I went to Corpus Christi College, to comfort our brethren
there, being in like heaviness. When I came to Corpus Christi College
I found together, in Sir Diet's chamber, tarrying and looking for me,
Fitzjames, Diet, and Udal. They knew all the matter before by Master
Eden, whom I had sent unto Fitzjames; but yet I declared the matter
unto them again. And so I tarried there, and supped with them in that
chamber, where they had provided meat and drink for us, before my
coming: at which supper we were not very merry, considering our state
and peril at hand. When we had ended our supper and committed our
whole cause, with fervent sighs and hearty prayers, unto God our
heavenly Father, Fitzjames would needs have me to lie that night with
him, in my old lodging at Alban's Hall; and so I did. But small rest,
and little sleep, took we both there that night.

On the Sunday, in the morning, I was up and ready by five o'clock; and
as soon as I could get out at Alban's Hall door, I went straight
towards Gloucester College to my chamber. It had rained that morning a
good shower, and with my going I had all besprinkled my hose and shoes
with mire. And when I was come unto Gloucester College, which was
about six o'clock, I found the gates fast shut; whereat I did much
marvel, for they were wont to be opened daily long before that time.
Then did I walk up and down by the wall there a whole hour before the
gates were opened. In the mean while, my musing head being full of
forecasting cares, and my sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs,
I fully determined in my conscience before God, that if I should
chance to be taken and be examined, I would accuse no man, nor declare
any thing further than I did already perceive was manifestly known
before. And so, when the gate was opened, thinking to shift myself,
and to put on a longer gown, I went in towards my chamber, and, going
up the stairs, would have opened my door, but I could not in a long
season do it; whereby I perceived that my lock had been meddled
withal, and therewith was somewhat altered: yet, at last, with much
ado, I opened the lock and went in. When I came in, I saw my bed all
tossed and tumbled, my clothes in my press thrown down, and my study-
door open; whereat I was much amazed, and thought verily that some
search was made there that night for Master Garret, and that it was
known of his being with me, by the monk's man that brought him to my
chamber.

Now was there lying in the next chamber unto me a monk, who, as soon
as he had heard me in the chamber, came to me, and told how Master
Garret was sought for in my chamber that night, and what ado there was
made by the commissary, and the two proctors, with bills and swords
thrust through my bed-straw, and how every corner of my chamber was
searched for Master Garret and albeit his gown and his hood lay there
in my press with my clothes, yet they perceived them not. Then he told
me he was commanded to bring me, as soon as I came in, unto the prior
of the students, named Anthony Dunstan, a monk of Westminster. This so
troubled me, that I forgot to make clean my hose and shoes, and to
shift me into another gown; and therefore so all be-dirted as I was,
and in my short gown, I went with him to the said prior's chamber,
where I found the said prior standing, and looking for my coming. He
asked me where I had been that night. I told him I lay at Alban's
Hall, with my old bed-fellow Fitzjames; but he would not believe me.
He asked me, if Master Garret were with me yesterday. I told him, Yea.
Then he would know where he was, and wherefore he came unto me. I told
him, I knew not where he was, except he were at Woodstock. For so
(said I) he had showed me that he would go thither, because one of the
keepers there, his friend, had promised him a piece of venison to make
merry withal the Shrovetide; and that he would have borrowed a hat and
a pair of high shoes of me, but I had none indeed to lend him. This
tale I thought meetest, though it were nothing so. Then had he spied
on my finger a big ring of silver, very well double gilt, with two
letters A.D. engraved in it for my name: I suppose he thought it to be
gold. He required to see it. I took it unto him. When he had it in his
hand, he said it was his ring, for therein was his name: an A, for
Anthony, and a D, for Dunstan. When I heard him so say, I wished in my
heart to be as well delivered from and out of his company, as I was
assured to be delivered from my ring for ever.

"Then he called for pen, ink, and paper, and commanded me to write
when and how Garret came unto me, and where he was become. I had
scarcely written three words, but the chief beadle, with two or three
of the commissary's men, were come unto Master Prior, requiring him
straightways to bring us away unto Lincoln College, to the commissary,
and to Dr. London: whither when I was brought into the chapel, there I
found Dr. Cottisford, commissary; Dr. Higdon, then dean of the
cardinal's college; and Dr. London, warden of the New College,
standing together at the altar in the chapel. When I was brought unto
them, after salutations given and taken between them, they called for
chairs and sat down, and called for me to come to them. And first they
asked what my name was. I told them that my name was Anthony Dalaber.
Then they also asked me how long I had been student in the university,
and I told them almost three years. And they asked me what I studied I
told them that I had read sophistry and logic in Alban's Hall, and now
was removed unto Gloucester College, to study the civil law, which the
aforesaid prior of the students affirmed to be true. Then they asked
me whether I knew Master Garret, and how long I had known him. I told
them I knew him well, and had known him almost a twelvemonth. They
asked me, when he was with me. I told them yesterday at afternoon.

"Now by this time, while they had me in this talk, one came unto them
who was sent for, with pen, ink, and paper; I trow it was the clerk of
the university. As soon as he was come, there was a board and
trestles, with a form for him to sit on, set between the doctors and
me, and a great mass book laid before me; and I was commanded to lay
my right hand on it, and to swear that I should truly answer unto such
articles and interrogatories as I should be by them examined upon. I
made danger of it a while at first, but afterwards, being persuaded by
them, partly by fair words, and partly by great threats, I promised to
do as they would have me; but in my heart meant nothing so to do. So I
laid my hand on the book, and one of them gave me my oath, and, that
done, commanded me to kiss the book. Then made they great courtesy
between them, who should examine me, and minister interrogatories unto
me. At the last, the rankest papistical Pharisee of them all, Dr.
London, took upon him to do it.

"Then he asked me again, by my oath, where Master Garret was, and
whither I had conveyed him. I told him, I had not conveyed him, nor
yet wist where he was, nor whither he was gone, except he were gone to
Woodstock, (as I had before said,) as he showed me he would. Then he
asked me again, when he came to me, how he came to me, what and how
long he talked with me, and whither he went from me. I told him he
came to me about evensong time; and that one brought him unto my
chamber door, whom I knew not; and that he told me he would go to
Woodstock for some venison to make merry withal this Shrovetide; and
that he would have borrowed a hat, and a pair of high shoes of me, but
I had none such to lend him; and then he straight went his way from
me, but whither I know not. All these my sayings the scribe wrote in a
paper book.

"Then they earnestly required me to tell them whither I had conveyed
him, for surely, they said, I brought him going some whither this
morning; for that they might well perceive, by my foul shoes and dirty
hosen, that I had travelled with him the most part of this night. I
answered plainly, that I lay at Alban's Hall, with Sir Fitzjames, and
that I had good witness thereof there. They asked me where I was at
even-song. I told them, at Frideswide's, and that I saw first Master
Commissary, and then Master Doctor London, come thither at that time
unto Master Dean of Frideswide's; and that I saw them talking together
in the church there. Dr. London and the dean threatened me, that if I
would not tell the truth, where I had done him, or whither he was
gone, I should surely be sent to the Tower of London, and there be
racked, and put into Little-ease. But Master Commissary prayed me,
with gentle words, to tell him where he was, that he might have him
again, and he would be my very great friend, and deliver me out of
trouble straightway. I told him I could not tell where he was, nor
whither he was become. Thus they did occupy and toss me almost two
hours in the chapel, sometimes with threatenings and foul words, and
then with fair words and fair promises flattering me. Then was he that
brought Master Garret unto my chamber brought before me, and caused to
declare what Master Garret said unto me, at his coming to my chamber:
but I said plainly, I heard him say no such thing; for I thought my
nay to be as good as his yea, seeing it was to rid and deliver my
godly brother out of trouble and peril of his life.

"At last, when they could get nothing of me whereby to hurt or accuse
any man, or to know any thing of the which they sought, they all three
together brought me up a long stairs into a great chamber over Master
Commissary's chamber, wherein stood a great pair of very high stocks.
Then Master Commissary asked me for my purse and girdle, took away my
money and my knives, and then they put both my legs into the stocks,
and so locked me fast in them; in which I sat, my feet being almost as
high as my head; and so departed they, (I think to their abominable
mass,) locking fast the chamber door, and leaving me alone.

"When they all were gone, then came unto my remembrance the worthy
forewarning and godly declaration of that most constant martyr of God,
Master John Clark, my father in Christ, who, well nigh two years
before that, when I did earnestly desire him to grant me to be his
scholar, and that I might go with him continually when and wheresoever
he should teach or preach, (the which he did daily,) said unto me much
after this sort, 'Dalaber! you desire you wot not what, and that which
you are, I fear me, unable to take upon you: for though now my
preaching be sweet and pleasant unto you, because there is yet no
persecution laid on you for it, yet the time will come, and that
peradventure shortly, if ye continue to live godly therein, that God
will lay on you the cross of persecution, to try you withal, whether
you can, as pure gold, abide the fire, or, as stubble and dross, be
consumed therewith. For the Holy Ghost plainly affirmeth by St. Paul,
Quod mines qui pie volunt vivere in Christo Jesu, persecutionem
patientur. Yea, you shall be called and judged a heretic; you shall be
abhorred of the world; your own friends and kinsfolk will forsake you,
and also hate you; and you shall be cast into prison; and no man shall
dare to help or comfort you; and you shall be accused and brought
before the bishops, to your reproach and shame, to the great sorrow of
all your faithful friends and kinsfolk. Then will ye wish ye had never
known this doctrine; then will ye curse Clark, and wish that ye had
never known him, because he hath brought you to all these troubles.
Therefore, rather than that you should do this, leave off from
meddling with this doctrine, and desire not to be, and continue, in my
company.'

"At which his words I was so grieved, that I fell down on my knees at
his feet, and with abundance of tears and sighs, even from the very
bottom of my heart I earnestly besought him, that for the tender mercy
of God, showed to us in our Lord Jesus Christ, he would not refuse me,
but receive me into his company, as I had desired; saying that I
trusted verily, that he which had begun this in me, would not forsake 
me, but give me grace to continue therein unto the end. When he heard
me say so, he came to me, took me up in his arms, and kissed me, the
tears trickling down from his eyes, and said unto me, 'The Lord
Almighty grant you so to do, and from henceforth for ever take me for
your father, and I will take you for my son in Christ.' Now were there
at that time in Oxford divers graduates and scholars of sundry
colleges and halls, whom God had called to the knowledge of his holy
word, which all resorted unto Master Clark's disputations and lectures
in divinity at all times as they might; and when they might not come
conveniently, I was, by Master Clark, appointed to resort to every one
of them weekly, and to know what doubts they had in any place of the
Scripture; that by me, from him, they might have the true
understanding of the same; which exercise did me much good and profit,
to the understanding of the Holy Scriptures, which I most desired.

"This aforesaid forewarning and godly declaration (I say) of this most
godly martyr of God Master Clark, coming to my remembrance, caused me,
with deep sighs, to cry unto God from my heart, to assist me with his
Holy Spirit, that I might be able patiently and quietly to bear and
suffer whatsoever it should please him, of his fatherly love, to lay
on me, to his glory, and the comfort of my dearly beloved brethren,
whom I thought now to be in great fear and anguish, lest I would be an
accuser of them all: for unto me they all were well known, and all
their doings in that matter. But, God be blessed! I was fully bent
never to accuse any of them, whatsoever should happen to me. Before
dinner Master Cottisford came up to me, and requested me earnestly to
tell him where Master Garret was, and, if I would so do, he promised
me straightways to deliver me out of prison. But I told him I could
not tell where he was: no more indeed I could. Then he departed to
dinner, asking me if I would eat any meat: I told him, 'Yea, right
gladly.' He said he would send me some. When he was gone, his servants
asked me divers questions, which I do not now remember, and some of
them spake me fair, and some threatened me, calling me heretic; and so
departed, locking the door fast upon me."

Thus far Anthony Dalaber hath prosecuted this story, who, before the
finishing, departed, A.D. 1562, in the diocese of Salisbury; the
residue whereof, as we could gather it out of ancient and credible
persons, so have we added here unto the same.

After this, Garret was apprehended and taken by Master Cole the
proctor, or his men going westward, at a place called Hinxsey, a
little beyond Oxford, and so, being brought back again, was committed
to ward: that done, he was convented before the commissary, Dr.
London, and Dr. Higdon, dean of Frideswide's, (now called Christ's
College,) into St. Mary's church, where they, sitting in judgment,
convicted him according to their law as a heretic, (as they said,) and
afterwards compelled him to carry a faggot in open procession from St.
Mary's church to Frideswide's, and Dalaber likewise with him; Garret
having his red hood on his shoulders, like a master of arts. After
that, they were sent to Osney, there to be kept in prison till further
order was taken.

There were suspected, besides, a great number to be infected with
heresy, as they called it, for having such books of God's truth as
Garret sold unto them; as Master Clark, who died in his chamber, and
could not be suffered to receive the communion, being in prison, and
saying these words, Crede, et manducasti; Master Sumner, Master Bets,
Taverner the musician, Radley, with others of Frideswide College; of
Corpus Christi College, as Udal and Diet; with others of Magdalene
College; one Eden, with others of Gloucester College; and two black
monks, one of St. Augustine's of Canterbury, named Langport, the other
of St. Edmund's Bury, monk, named John Salisbury; two white monks of
Bernard College; two canons of St. Mary's College, one of them named
Robert Ferrar, afterwards bishop of St. David's, and burned in Queen
Mary's time. These two canons, because they had no place in the
university with the others, went on the contrary side of the
procession bareheaded, and a beadle before them, to be known from the
others. Divers others there were, whose names I cannot remember, who
were forced and constrained to forsake their colleges, and sought
their friends. Against the procession time there was a great fire made
upon the top of Carfax, whereinto all such as were in the said
procession, either convicted or suspected of heresy, were commanded,
in token of repentance and renouncing of their errors, every man to
cast a book into the fire, as they passed by.

After this, Master Garret, flying from place to place, escaped their
tyranny, until this present time that he was again apprehended, and
burned with Dr. Barnes; with whom also William Jerome, some time vicar
of Stepney, was likewise drawn into Smithfield, and there, together
with them, constantly endured martyrdom in the fire. Now let us also
add to these the story of Jerome.
The life and story of William Jerome, vicar of Stepney, and martyr of
Christ.

THE third companion which suffered with Barnes and Garret, was William
Jerome, vicar of Stepney. This Jerome, being a diligent preacher of
God's word, for the comfort and edification of the people, had
preached divers and sundry sermons; wherein, to the intent to plant in
the consciences of men the sincere truth of Christian religion, he
laboured as much as time then served, to extirpate and weed out the
roots of men's traditions, doctrines, dreams, and fantasies. In so
doing it could not otherwise be but he must needs provoke much hatred
against him amongst the adversaries of Christ's gospel.

It so happened, that the said Jerome, preaching at Paul's on the
fourth Sunday in Lent last past, made there a sermon, wherein he
recited and mentioned of Hagar and Sarah, declaring what these two
signified: in process whereof he showed further how that Sarah and her
child Isaac, and all they that were Isaac's, and born of the free
woman Sarah, were freely justified: contrary, they that were born of
Hagar, the bondwoman, were bound and under the law, and cannot be
freely justified. In these words what was here spoken, but that which
St. Paul himself uttereth and expoundeth in his Epistle to the
Galatians, or what could here be gathered of any reasonable or
indifferent hearer, but consonant to sound doctrine, and the vein of
the gospel? Now see what rancour and malice, armed with crafty and
subtle sophistry, can do. This sermon finished, it was not long but he
was charged and convented before the king at Westminster, and there
accused for erroneous doctrine.

Percase thou wilt muse, gentle reader! what erroneous doctrine here
could be picked out. Note therefore, for thy learning; and he that
listeth to study how to play the sycophant, let him here take example.
The knot found in this rush was this: for that he preached erroneously
at Paul's Cross, teaching the people that all that were born of Sarah
were freely justified, speaking there absolutely, without any
condition either of baptism, or of penance, &c. Who here doubteth, but
if St. Paul himself had been at Paul's Cross, and had preached the
same words to the Englishmen, which he wrote to the Galatians in this
behalf, ipso facto, he had been apprehendedfor aheretic, for preaching
against the sacrament of baptism and repentance?
(Illustration: Jerome Preaching)

Furthermore it was objected against him touching matter against
magistrates, and laws by them made. Whereunto he answered again and
affirmed, (as he had before preached,) that no magistrate of himself
could make any law or laws, private or otherwise, to bind the inferior
people, unless it were by the power, authority, and commandment of his
or their princes to him or them given, but only the prince. And
moreover, to confirm the same he added, saying, that if the prince
make laws consenting to God's laws, we are bound to obey them. And if
he make laws repugnant to the laws of God, and be an evil and wicked
prince, yet are we bound humbly to suffer him, and not violently to
resist or grudge against him.

Also concerning his sermons, one Dr. Wilson entered into disputation
with him, and defended, that good works justified before God, and were
necessary and available to salvation. To whom Jerome answered again,
that all works, whatsoever they were, were nothing worth, nor any part
of salvation of themselves, but only referred to the mercy and love of
God, which mercy and love of God direct the workers thereof; and yet
it is at his mercy and goodness to accept them: which, to be true, Dr.
Wilson neither could, nor did, deny.

And thus much concerning the several stories of these three good men.
Now let us see the order of their martyrdom, joining them all
together; what was the cause of their condemnation; and what were
their protestations and words at their suffering.

Ye heard before, how Barnes, Jerome, and Garret, were caused to preach
at Easter at the Spittal; the occasion whereof, as I find it reported
by Stephen Gardiner writing against George Joye, I thought good here
to discourse more at large.

Stephen Gardiner, hearing that the said Barnes, Jerome, and Garret
should preach the Lent following, A.D. 1540, at Paul's Cross, to stop
the course of their doctrine, sent his chaplain to the bishop of
London, the Saturday before the first Sunday in Lent, to have a place
for him to preach at Paul's; which to him was granted, and time
appointed that he should preach the Sunday following, which should be
on the morrow; which Sunday was appointed before for Barnes to occupy
that room. Gardiner therefore, determining to declare the gospel of
that Sunday containing the devil's three temptations, began amongst
other things to note the abase of Scripture amongst some, as the devil
abused it to Christ; and so, alluding to the temptation of the devil,
wherein he alleged the Scripture against Christ, to cast himself
downward, and that he should take no hurt, he inferred thereupon,
saying:

"Now-a-days," quoth he, "the devil tempteth the world, and biddeth
them to cast themselves backward. There is no 'forward' in the new
teaching, but all backward. Now the devil teacheth, come back from
fasting, come back from praying, come back from confession, come back
from weeping for thy sins; and all is backward, insomuch that men must
now learn to say their Pater-noster backward. For where we said,
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; now it is, As thou
forgavest our debts, so I will forgive my debtors; and so God must
forgive first; and all, I say, is turned backward," &c.

Amongst other things, moreover, Gardiner noted "the devil's craft and
shift in deceiving man; who, envying his felicity, and therefore
coveting to have man idle, and void of good works, and to be led in
that idleness with a vain hope to live merrily at his pleasure here,
and yet to have heaven at the last, hath, for that purpose, procured
out pardons from Rome, wherein heaven was sold for a little money; and
to retail that merchandise, the devil used friars for his ministers.
Now they be gone, with all their trumpery; but the devil is not yet
gone, &c. And now that the devil perceiveth that it can no longer be
borne to buy and sell heaven by the friars, he hath excogitated to
offer heaven, without works for it, so freely, that men shall not need
for heaven to work at all, whatsoever opportunity they have to work:
marry! if they will have any higher place in heaven, God will leave no
work unrewarded; but as to be in heaven needs no works at all, but
only belief, only, only, and nothing else," &c.

This sermon of Stephen Gardiner finished, Dr. Barnes, who was put off
from that Sunday, had his day appointed, which was the third Sunday
next following, to make his sermon; who, taking the same text of the
gospel which Gardiner had done before, was, on the contrary side, no
less vehement in setting forward the true doctrine of Christian
religion, than Winchester had been before in plucking men backward
from truth to lies, from sincerity to hypocrisy, from religion to
superstition, from Christ to antichrist. In the process of which
sermon he proceeding, and calling out Stephen Gardiner by name to
answer him, alluding in a pleasant allegory to a cock-fight; terming
the said Gardiner to be a fighting cock, and himself to be another:
but the garden cock (he said) lacketh good spurs: objecting moreover
to the said Gardiner, and opposing him in his grammar rules; thus
saying, that if he had answered him in the schools, so as he had there
preached at the Cross, he would have given him six stripes: declaring
furthermore what evil herbs this Gardiner had set in the garden of
God's Scripture, &c.

Finally, with this sermon Gardiner was so tickled in the spleen, that
he immediately went to the king to complain, showing how he, being a
bishop and prelate of the realm, was handled and reviled at Paul's
Cross.

Hereupon the king, giving too much ear to Gardiner's grief, was
earnestly incensed against Barnes, and with many high words rebuked
his doings in his privy closet; having with him the earl of
Southampton, who was the Lord Wriothesley, and the master of the
horse, who was Anthony Brown; also Dr. Cox, and Dr. Robinson. Unto
whom when Barnes had submitted himself, "Nay," said the king, "yield
thee not to me; I am a mortal man;" and therewith rising up and
turning to the sacrament, and putting off his bonnet, said, "Yonder is
the Master of us all, the author of truth: yield in truth to him, and
that truth will I defend; and otherwise yield thee not unto me." Much
ado there was, and great matter laid against Barnes. In conclusion
this order was taken, that Barnes should go apart with Winchester, to
confer and commune together of their doctrine, certain witnesses being
thereunto appointed, to be as indifferent hearers, of whom one was Dr.
Cox, the other was Dr. Robinson, with two others also to them
assigned, who should be reporters to the king of the disputation; at
the first entry of which talk, Gardiner, forgiving him (as he saith)
all that was past, offered him the choice, whether he would answer or
oppose; which was the Friday after that Barnes had preached.

The question between them propounded, by Gardiner's narration, was
this: "Whether a man could do any thing good or acceptable before the
grace of justification, or not?" This question arose upon a certain
contention which had been between them before: for Barnes had
affirmed, that albeit God requireth of us to forgive our neighbour, to
obtain forgiveness of him; yet, he said, that God must forgive us
first, before we forgive our neighbour; for else, to forgive our
neighbour were sin, by the text which saith: All that is not of faith,
is of sin, &c. Thus the matter being propounded, Gardiner, to prove
the contrary, came forward with his arguments two or three: to the
which arguments (saith Gardiner) Barnes could not answer, but desired
to be spared that night, and the next morning he would answer his
arguments. In the morning, Gardiner with the hearers being again
assembled, Dr. Barnes, according to the appointment, was present, who
then went about to assoil his arguments. To his solutions Gardiner
again replied: and thus continued they in this altercation by the
space of two hours. In the end of this cock-fight, Winchester thus
concludeth this glorious tale, and croweth up the triumph; declaring
how Barnes besought him to have pity on him, to forgive him, and to
take him to be his scholar: whom then the said Winchester (as he
himself confesseth) receiving, not as his scholar, but as his
companion, offered to him a portion out of his living, to the sum of
forty pounds a year, which if it be true, (as Stephen Gardiner himself
reporteth,) why then doth this glorious cockatrice crow so much
against Barnes afterwards, and cast him in the teeth, bearing all the
world in hand that Barnes was his scholar? whereas he himself here
refuseth Barnes to be his scholar, but receiveth him as his companion,
fellow-like: but to the story.

This done, the king being advertised of the conclusion of this matter
between Barnes and Winchester, was content that Barnes should repair
to the bishop's house at London the Monday following: which he did,
with a certain other companion joined unto him. Who he was, Winchester
there doth not express, only he saith that it was neither Jerome nor
Garret. In this next meeting between Barnes and the bishop, upon the
aforesaid Monday, the said bishop studying to instruct Barnes, uttered
to him certain articles or conclusions, to the number of ten, the
effect whereof here followeth.

Winchester's articles against Barnes.

"I. The effect of Christ's passion hath a condition. The fulfilling of
the condition diminisheth nothing the effect of Christ's passion.

"II. They that will enjoy the effect of Christ's passion must fulfil
the condition.

"III. The fulfilling of the condition requireth first knowledge of the
condition; which knowledge we have by faith.

"IV. Faith cometh of God, and this faith is a good gift; it is good
and profitable to me; it is profitable to me to do well, and to
exercise this faith: ergo, by the gift of God, I may do well before I
am justified.

"V. Therefore I may do well by the gift of God before I am justified,
towards the attainment of justification.

"VI. There is ever as much charity towards God as faith: and as faith
increaseth, so doth charity increase.

"VII. To the attainment of justification are required faith and
charity.

"VIII. Every thing is to be called freely done, whereof the beginning
is free and set at liberty, without any cause of provocation.

"IX. Faith must be to me the assurance of the promises of God made in
Christ, (if I fulfil the condition,) and love must accomplish the
condition: whereupon followeth the attainment of the promise according
to God's truth.

"X. A man being in deadly sin, may have grace to do the works of
penance, whereby he may attain to his justification."

These articles, forasmuch as they be sufficiently answered and replied
unto by George Joye, in his joinder and rejoinder against Winchester,
I shall not need to cumber this work with any new ado therewith, but
only refer the reader to the books aforesaid, where he may see matter
enough to answer to these popish articles.

I told you before, how the king was contented that Barnes should
resort to the house of the bishop of Winchester, to be trained and
directed by the bishop: which Barnes then hearing the talk of the
people, and having also conference with certain learned men, within
two days after his coming to the bishop's house, waxed weary thereof,
and so coming to the bishop signified unto him, that if he would take
him as one that came to confer, he would come still, but else he would
come no more; and so clean gave over the bishop.

This being known unto the king, through sinister complaints of popish
sycophants, Barnes again was sent for, and convented before the king;
who, being grievously incensed against him, enjoined both him, Jerome,
and Garret, at the solemn Easter sermons at St. Mary Spittal, openly
in writing to revoke the doctrine which they before had taught; at
which sermon Stephen Gardiner also himself was present, to hear their
recantation..

First Dr. Barnes, according to his promise made to the king, solemnly
and formally began to make his recantation; which done, he, with much
circumstance and obtestation, called upon the bishop, (as is above
touched,) and, asking of him forgiveness, required him, in token of a
grant, to hold up his hand, to the intent that he there openly
declaring his charity before the world, the bishop also would declare
his charity in like manner. Which when the bishop at first refused to
do as he was required, Barnes again called for it, desiring him to
show his charity, and to hold up his hand; which when he had done with
much ado, wagging his finger a little, then Barnes, entering into his
sermon, after his prayer made, beginneth the process of a matter,
preaching contrary to that which before he had recanted; insomuch that
the mayor, when the sermon was finished, sitting with the bishop of
Winchester, asked him whether he should from the pulpit send him to
ward, to be forthcoming for that his bold preaching, contrary to his
recantation. The like also did Jerome, and Garret after him.

The king had before appointed certain to make report of the sermons.
Besides them, there was one, who, writing to a friend of his in the
court, in the favour of these preachers, declared how gaily they had
all handled the matter, both to satisfy the recantation, and also in
the same sermons to utter out the truth, that it might spread without
let of the world. Wherefore, partly by these reporters, and partly by
the negligent looking to this letter, which came to the Lord
Cromwell's hands, saith Gardiner, Barnes with his other fellows, were
apprehended, and committed to the Tower. Stephen Gardiner, in his
aforesaid book against George Joye, would needs clear himself, that he
was no party to nor cause of their casting into the Tower; and giveth
this reason for him, for that he had then no access, nor had after, so
long as Cromwell's time lasted, to the king's secret counsel: yet,
notwithstanding, the said Gardiner cannot persuade us to the
contrary,but that his privy complaining to the king, and his secret
whisperings in his friend's ears, and his other workings by his
factors about the king, was a great sparkle to set their faggots
afire.

Thus then Barnes, Jerome, and Garret, being committed to the Tower
after Easter, there remained till the thirtieth day of July, which was
two days after the death of the Lord Cromwell. Then ensued process
against them, by the king's council in the parliament, to the which
process Gardiner confesseth himself that he was privy, amongst the
rest. Whereupon all those three good saints of God, the thirtieth day
of July, not coming to any answer, nor yet knowing any cause of their
condemnation, without any public hearing were brought together from
the Tower to Smithfield, where they, preparing themselves to the fire,
had there at the stake divers and sundry exhortations: among whom Dr.
Barnes first began with this protestation following:

"I am come hither to be burned as a heretic, and you shall hear my
belief, whereby you shall perceive what erroneous opinions I hold. God
I take to record, I never (to my knowledge) taught any erroneous
doctrine, but only those things which Scripture led me unto; and that
in my sermons I never maintained any error, neither moved nor gave
occasion of any insurrection, although I have been slandered to preach
that our Lady was but a saffron-bag, which I utterly protest before
God that I never meant, nor preached it; but all my study and
diligence hath been utterly to confound and confute all men of that
doctrine, as are the Anabaptists, which deny that our Saviour Christ
did take any flesh of the blessed Virgin Mary; which sects I detest
and abhor. And in this place there have been burned some of them, whom
I never favoured nor maintained; but with all diligence evermore did I
study to set forth the glory of God, the obedience to our sovereign
lord the king, and the true and sincere religion of Christ: and now
hearken to my faith.

"I believe in the holy and blessed Trinity, three Persons and one God,
that created and made all the world: and that this blessed Trinity,
sent down the second person, Jesu Christ, into the womb of the most
blessed and purest Virgin Mary. And here, bear me record, that I do
utterly condemn that abominable and detestable opinion of the
Anabaptists, which say that Christ took no flesh of the Virgin. For I
believe, that without man's will or power he was conceived by the Holy
Ghost, and took flesh of her, and that he suffered hunger, thirst,
cold, and other passions of our body, sin excepted, according to the
saying of St. Peter, He was made in all things like to his brethren,
except sin. And I believe that this his death and passion was the
sufficient ransom for the sin of all the world. And I believe that
through his death he overcame sin, death, and hell; and that there is
none other satisfaction unto the Father, but this his death and
passion only; and that no work of man did deserve any thing of God,
but only his passion, as touching our justification: for I know the
best work that ever I did is impure and unperfect." [And with this he
cast abroad his hands, and desired God to forgive him his trespasses.]
For although perchance," said he, "you know nothing by me, yet do I
confess, that my thoughts and cogitations be innumerable: wherefore I
beseech thee, O Lord! not to enter into judgment with me, according to
the saying of the prophet David, Enter not into judgment with thy
servant, O Lord: and in another place, Lord, if thou straitly mark our
iniquities, who is able to abide thy judgment? Wherefore I trust in no
good work that ever I did, but only in the death of Christ. I do not
doubt but through him to inherit the kingdom of heaven. Take me not
here that I speak against good works, for they are to be done; and
verily they that do them not, shall never come into the kingdom of
God. We must do them, because they are commanded us of God, to show
and set forth our profession, not to deserve or merit; for that is
only the death of Christ.

"I believe that there is a holy church, and a company of all them that
do profess Christ; and that all that have suffered for and confessed
his name be saints; and that all they do praise and laud God in
heaven, more than I or any man's tongue can express: and that always I
have spoken reverently, and praised them as much as Scripture willed
me to do. And that our Lady, I say, was a virgin immaculate and
undefiled, and that she is the most pure virgin that ever God created,
and a vessel elect of God, of whom Christ should be born."

Then said Master Sheriff, "You have said well of her before." And,
being afraid that Master Sheriff had been or should be aggrieved with
any thing that he should say, he said,

"Master Sheriff, if I speak any thing that you will me not, do no more
but beckon me with your hand, and I will straightway hold my peace;
for I will not be disobedient in any thing, but will obey."

Then there was one that asked him his opinion of praying to saints.
Then said he,

"Now of saints you shall hear my opinion. I have said before somewhat
that I think of them: how that I believe they are in heaven with God,
and that they are worthy of all the honour that Scripture willeth them
to have. But, I say, throughout all Scripture we are not commanded to
pray to any saints. Therefore I neither can nor will preach to you
that saints ought to be prayed unto; for then should I preach unto you
a doctrine of mine own head. Notwithstanding, whether they pray for us
or no, that I refer to God. And if saints do pray for us, then I trust
to pray for you within this half hour, Master Sheriff, and for every
Christian man living in the faith of Christ, and dying in the same as
a saint. Wherefore, if the dead may pray for the quick, I will surely
pray for you."

"Well, have you any thing more to say?" Then spake he to Master
Sheriff, and said, "Have ye any articles against me for the which I am
condemned?" And the sheriff answered, "No." Then said he, "Is there
here any man else that knoweth wherefore I die, or that by my
preaching hath taken any error? Let them now speak, and I will make
them answer." And no man answered. Then said he,

"Well! I am condemned by the law to die, and as I understand by an act
of parliament; but wherefore, I cannot tell, but belike for heresy,
for we are like to burn. But they that have been the occasion of it, I
pray God forgive them, as I would be forgiven myself. And Dr. Stephen,
bishop of Winchester that now is, if he have sought or wrought this my
death either by word or deed, I pray God forgive him, as heartily, as
freely, as charitably, and without feigning, as ever Christ forgave
them that put him to death. And if any of the council, or any others,
have sought or wrought it through malice or ignorance, I pray God
forgive their ignorance, and illuminate their eyes that they may see,
and ask mercy for it. I beseech you all, to pray for the king's Grace,
as I have done ever since I was in prison, and do now, that God may
give him prosperity, and that he may long reign among you; and after
him that godly Prince Edward may so reign, that he may finish those
things that his father hath begun. I have been reported a preacher of
sedition and disobedience unto the king's Majesty; but here I say to
you, that you are all bound by the commandment of God to obey your
prince with all humility, and with all your heart, yea, not so much as
in a look to show yourselves disobedient unto him; and that not only
for fear of the sword, but also for conscience' sake before God. Yea,
and I say further, if the king should command you any thing against
God's law, if it be in your power to resist him, yet may you not do
it."

Then spake he to the sheriff and said,

"Master Sheriff, I require you, on God's behalf, to have me commended
unto the king's Grace, and to show him that I require of his Grace
these five requests: first, that whereas his Grace hath received into
his hands all the goods and substance of the abbeys:" -- Then the
sheriff desired him to stop there. He answered, "Master Sheriff! I
warrant you I will speak no harm; for I know it is well done that all
such superstition be clean taken away, and the king's Grace hath well
done in taking it away. But his Grace is made a whole king, and obeyed
in his whole realm as a king, (which neither his father nor
grandfather, neither his ancestors that reigned before him, ever had,)
and that, through the preaching of us, and such other wretches as we
are, who always have applied our whole studies, and given ourselves
for the setting forth of the same; and this is now our reward. Well!
it maketh no matter. Now he reigneth among you; I pray God long he may
live and reign among you! Would to God it might please his Grace to
bestow the said goods, or some of them, to the comfort of his poor
subjects, who surely have great need of them.

"The second that I desire his Grace is, that he will see that
matrimony be had in more reverence than it is; and that men, for every
light cause invented, cast not off their wives, and live in adultery
and fornication; and that those that be not married should not
abominably live in whoredom, following the filthy lusts of the flesh.

"The third, that the abominable swearers may be punished and straitly
looked upon; for the vengeance of God will come on them for their
mischievous oaths."

Then desired he Master Pope to have him commended to Master Edgar, and
to desire him, for the dear blood of Jesus Christ, that he would leave
that abominable swearing which he used; for surely except he did
forsake it, he would come to some mischievous end.

"The fourth request, that his Grace would set forth Christ's true
religion, and seeing he hath begun, go forward, and make an end; for
many things have been done, but much more is to do. And that it would
please his Grace to look on God's word himself, for that it hath been
obscured with many traditions invented of our own brains. Now," said
he, "how many petitions have I spoken of?" And the people said,
"Four." "Well," said he, "even these four be sufficient, which I
desire you, that the king's Grace may be certified of; and say, that I
most humbly desire him to look earnestly upon them; and that his Grace
take heed that he be not deceived with false preachers and teachers,
and evil counsel; for Christ saith, that such false prophets shall
come in lambs' skins."

Then desired be all men to forgive him, and if he had said any evil at 
any time unadvisedly, whereby he had offended any man, or given any
occasion of evil, that they would forgive it him, and amend that evil
they took of him; and to bear him witness that he detested and
abhorred all evil opinions and doctrines against the word of God, and
that he died in the faith of Jesu Christ, by whom he doubted not but
to be saved. And with those words he desired them all to pray for him,
and then he turned him about, and put off his clothes, making him
ready to the fire, patiently there to take his death, yielding his
soul unto the hands of Almighty God.

The like confession made also Jerome and Garret, professing in like
manner their belief, reciting all the articles of the Christian faith,
briefly declaring their minds upon every article, as the time would
suffer; whereby the people might understand that there was no cause
nor error in their faith, wherefore justly they ought to be condemned:
protesting moreover, that they denied nothing that was either in the
Old or New Testament, set forth by their sovereign lord the king, whom
they prayed the Lord long to continue amongst them, with his most dear
son Prince Edward: which done, Jerome added this exhortation in few
words following:

"I say unto you, good brethren! that God hath bought us all with no
small price, neither with gold nor silver, nor other such things of
small value, but with his most precious blood. Be not unthankful
therefore to him again, but do as much as to Christian men belongeth,
to fulfil his commandments, that is, Love your brethren. Love hurteth
no man, love fulfilleth all things. If God hath sent thee plenty, help
thy neighbour that hath need. Give him good counsel. If he lack,
consider if thou wert in necessity, thou wouldst gladly be refreshed.
And again, bear your cross with Christ. Consider what reproof,
slander, and reproach he suffered of his enemies, and how patiently he
suffered all things. Consider that all that Christ did was of his mere
goodness, and not of our deserving. For if we could merit our own
salvation, Christ would not have died for us. But for Adam's breaking
of God's precepts we had been all lost, if Christ had not redeemed us
again. And like as Adam broke the precepts, and was driven out of
Paradise, so we, if we break God's commandments, shall have damnation,
if we do not repent and ask mercy. Now, therefore, let all Christians
put no trust nor confidence in their works, but in the blood of
Christ, to whom I commit my soul to guide, beseeching you all to pray
to God for me, and for my brethren here present with me, that our
souls, leaving these wretched carcasses, may constantly depart in the
true faith of Christ."

In much like sort Garret also, protesting and exhorting the people,
after his confession made, ended his protestation in manner as
followeth:

"I also detest, abhor, and refuse, all heresies and errors, and if,
either by negligence or ignorance, I have taught or maintained any, I
am sorry for it, and ask God mercy. Or if I have been too vehement or
rash in preaching, whereby any person hath taken any offence, error,
or evil opinion, I desire of him, and all other persons whom I have
any way offended, forgiveness. Notwithstanding, to my remembrance I
never preached wittingly or willingly any thing against God's holy
word, or contrary to the true faith, to the maintenance of errors,
heresies, or vicious living, but have always, for my little learning
and wit, set forth the honour of God, and the right obedience to his
laws, and also the king's accordingly: and if I could have done
better, I would. Wherefore, Lord! if I have taken in hand to do that
thing which I could not perfectly perform, I desire of thee pardon for
my bold presumption. And I pray God send, the king's Grace good and
godly counsel, to his glory, to the king's honour, and the increase of
virtue in this his realm. And thus now I yield up my soul unto
Almighty God. trusting and believing that he, of his infinite mercy,
for his promise made in the blood of his Son, our most merciful
Saviour Jesu Christ. will take it, and pardon me of all my sins,
whereby I have most grievously. from my youth, offended his Majesty:
wherefore I ask him mercy, desiring you all to pray with me and for
me, that I may patiently suffer this pain, and die stedfastly in true
faith, perfect hope, and charity."
(Illustration: Barnes, Garret and Jerome at the Stake )

And so, after their prayer made, wherein most effectually they desired
the Lord Jesus to be their comfort and consolation in this their
affliction, and to establish them with perfect faith, constancy, and
patience through the Holy Ghost, they, taking themselves by the hands,
and kissing one another, quietly and humbly offered themselves to the
hands of the tormentors; and so took their death both Christianly and
constantly, with such patience as might well testify the goodness of
their cause, and quiet of their conscience.

Wherein is to be noted how mightily the Lord worketh with his grace
and fortitude in the hearts of his servants, especially in such as
causeless suffer, with a guiltless conscience, for religion's sake,
above others who suffer otherwise for their deserts. For whereas they
which suffer as malefactors, commonly are wont to go heavy and pensive
to their death; so the others, with heavenly alacrity and
cheerfulness, do abide whatsoever it pleaseth the Lord to lay upon
them: example whereof we have right well to note, not only in these
three godly martyrs above mentioned, but also in the Lord Cromwell,
who suffered but two days before, the same no less may appear; who,
although he was brought to his death, attainted and condemned by the
parliament, yet what a guiltless conscience he bare to his death, his
Christian patience well declared; who, first calling for his
breakfast, and cheerfully eating the same, and, after that, passing
out of his prison down the hill within the Tower, and meeting there by
the way the Lord Hungerford, going likewise to his execution, (who,
for other matter, here not to be spoken of, was there also
imprisoned,) and perceiving him to be all heavy and doleful, with
cheerful countenance and comfortable words, asking why he was so
heavy, he willed him to pluck up his heart, and to be of good comfort;
"for," said he, "there is no cause for you to fear; for if you repent,
and be heartily sorry for that you have done, there is for you mercy
enough with the Lord, who, for Christ's sake, will forgive you; and
therefore be not dismayed. And though the breakfast which we are going
to be sharp, yet, trusting to the mercy of the Lord, we shall have a
joyful dinner." And so went they together to the place of execution,
and took their death patiently, July 28th, 1540.

$

198. PAPISTS, EXECUTED THE SAME TIME WITH BARNES, JEROME, AND GARRET.

The same time and day, and in the same place, where and when these
three above mentioned did suffer, three others also were executed,
though not for the same cause, but rather the contrary, for denying
the king's supremacy; whose names were Powel, Fetherstone, and Abel:
the which spectacle so happening upon one day, in two so contrary
parts or factions, brought the people into a marvellous admiration and
doubt of their religion, which part to follow and take; as might so
well happen amongst ignorant and simple people, seeing two contrary
parts so to suffer, the one for popery, the other against popery, both
at one time. Insomuch that a certain stranger being there present the
same time, and seeing three on the one side and three on the other
side to suffer, said in these words, Deus bone! quomodo hic vivunt
gentes? Me suspenduntur papistę, illic comburuntur antipapistę. But to
remove and take away all doubt hereafter from posterity, whereby they
shall the less marvel how this so happened, here is to be understood
how the cause thereof did rise and proceed; which happened by reason
of a certain division and discord among the king's council, who were
so divided among themselves in equal parts, that the one half seemed
to hold with the one religion, the other half with the contrary; the
names of whom, although it were not necessary to express, yet being
compelled for the setting forth of the truth of the story, we have
thought good here to annex, as the certainty thereof came to our
hands.

PROTESTANTS.

Canterbury
Russel, Treasurer.
Suffolk,
Paget,
Viscount Bewchamp,
Sadler,
Viscount Lisle
Audeley.

PAPISTS.

Winchester,
William Paulet,
Durham,
John Baker,
Norfolk, 
Richard, Chancellor of the Augmentation. 
Southampton,
Anthony Brown,
Wingfield, Vice-chancellor.

This division and separation of the council amongst themselves, caused
both these parts above mentioned, the one for one religion, the other
for another, to suffer together. For, as the one part of the council
called for the execution of Barnes, Garret, and Jerome; so the other
part, likewise, called for the execution of the law upon Powel,
Fetherstone, and Abel; which six, being condemned and drawn to the
place of execution, two upon a hurdle, one being a papist, the other a
protestant, thus, after a strange manner, were brought into
Smithfield, where all the said six together, for contrary doctrine,
suffered death; three, by the fire, for the gospel; the other three,
by hanging, drawing, and quartering, for popery.

Alan Cope, in his worshipful Dialogues, making mention of these three
aforesaid, Powel, Fetherstone, and Abel, amongst others who died in
King Henry's days in the like popish quarrel, that is, for the like
treason against their prince, (being in all to the number of twenty-
four,) extolleth them not only in words, but with miracles also, up to
the height of heaven, among the crowned martyrs and saints of God. To
the which Cope, because in this haste of story I have no leisure at
this present to give attendance, I shall wait attendance (the Lord
willing), another time, to join in this issue with him more at
leisure. In the mean time, it shall suffice at this present to recite
the names only of those twenty-four rebels, whom he, of his popish
devotion, so dignified with the pretended title of martyrs: the names
of thirteen of which monkish rebels be these here following:

John Houghton,
John Stone,
Robert Laurence,
John Traverse,
Augustine Webster,
William Horne,
Reginald of Sion,
Powell,
John Haile,
Fetherstone,
John Rochester, 
Abel
Jacobus Wannere,

Besides these there were other nine Carthusian monks which died in the
prison of Newgate; to which number if you add Master More and the
bishop of Rochester, the summa totalis cometh to twenty-four, whom the
said Cope unjustly crowned for martyrs. But of these more shall be
said (the Lord willing) hereafter.

$

199. FURTHER PERSECTION ARISING FROM THE SIX ARTICLES.

Thus, having discoursed the order of the six articles, with other
matter likewise following in the next parliament, concerning the
condemnation of the Lord Cromwell, of Dr. Barnes, and his fellows, let
us now (proceeding further in this history) consider what great
disturbance and vexations ensued after the setting forth of the said
articles, through the whole realm of England, especially among the
godly sort: wherein first were to be mentioned the strait and severe
commissions sent forth by the king's authority, to the bishops,
chancellors, officials, justices, mayors, and bailiffs in every shire,
and other commissioners by name in the same commissions expressed;
and, amongst others, especially to Edmund Bonner, bishop of London, to
the mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen of the same, to inquire diligently
after all heretical books, and to burn them. Also to inquire after all
such persons whatsoever, culpable or suspected of such felonies,
heresies, contempts, or transgressions, or speaking any words contrary
to the aforesaid act, set forth, of the six articles. The tenor of the
said commissions being sufficiently expressed in ancient records, and
in the bishops' registers, and also partly touched before,therefore,
for tediousness I here omit: only showing forth the commission
directed to Edmund Bonner, bishop of London, to take the oath of the
mayor of London, and of others, for the execution of the commission
aforesaid; the tenor whereof here followeth:

"Henry the Eighth, by the grace of God, king of England and of France,
defender of the faith, lord of Ireland, and in earth supreme head of
the church of England, unto the reverend father in Christ, Edmund
Bonner, bishop of London, and to his well-beloved the bishop's
chancellor, health. Know we that we have given you, jointly and
severally, power and authority to receive the oaths of William Roche,
mayor of London; John Allen, knight; Ralph Warren, knight; Richard
Gresham, knight; Roger Cholmley, knight, serjeant-at-law; John
Gresham; Michael Dormer, archdeacon of London, the bishop's commissary
and official; Robert Chidley, Guy Crayford, Edward Hall, Robert Broke,
and John Morgan, and every of them, our commissioners for heresies,
and other offences done within our city of London and diocese of the
same, according to the tenor of a certain schedule hereunto annexed.
And therefore the command you that you receive the oaths aforesaid;
and when you have received them, to certify us into our chancery,
under your seals, returning this our writ.

"Teste me ipso at Westminster the twenty-ninth of January, in the
thirty-second year of our reign."

What the oath was of these commissioners whereunto they were bound,
read before.

A note how Bonner sat in the Guildhall in commission for the six
articles: also of the condemning of Mekins.

Upon this commission given unto Edmund Bonner, he, coming to the
Guildhall, with other commissioners, to sit upon the statute of the
six articles, began eftsoons to put in execution his authority after a
rigorous sort, as ye shall hear. And first, he charged certain juries
to take their oath upon the statute aforesaid, who, being sworn, had a
day appointed to give their verdict: at which day they indicted sundry
persons, which, shortly after, were apprehended and brought to ward;
who, after a while remaining there, were, by the king and his council,
discharged at the Star-chamber, without any further punishment.

Not long after this, Sir William Roche being mayor, Bonner with other
commissioners sat at the Guildhall aforesaid, before whom there were a
certain number of citizens warned to appear; and after the commission
read, the said parties were called to the book, and when five or six
were sworn, one of the said persons, being called to the book, Bonner
seemed to mislike, and said, "Stay awhile, my masters," quoth he; "I
would you should consider this matter well that we have in hand, which
concerneth the glory of God, the honour of the king, and the wealth of
the realm; and if there be any here among you that doth not consider
the same, it were better that he were hence than here." Then communed
the commissioners with Bonner about that man, so that at length he was
called to the book and sworn, not altogether with his good will.

When the two juries were sworn, Bonner taketh upon him to give the
charge unto the juries, and began with a tale of Anacharsis, by which
example he admonished the juries to spare no persons, of what degree
soever they were. And at the end of his charge, he brought forth to
the bar a boy, whose name was Mekins, declaring how grievously he had
offended by speaking certain words against the state, and of the death
of Dr. Barnes; and produced into the said court two witnesses, which
were there sworn in the face of the court. So a day was assigned upon
which the juries aforesaid should give up their verdict; at which day
both the commissioners, and the said juries, met at Guildhall
aforesaid. Then the clerk of the peace called on the juries by their
names, and when their appearance was taken, Bonner bade them put in
their presentments. Then said the foreman of that jury, whose name was
William Robins; "My Lord," with a low courtesy, "we have found
nothing:" at which words he fared as one in an agony, and said,
"Nothing? have ye found nothing? what nothing? By the faith I owe to
God," quoth he to the foreman, "I would trust you upon your
obligation; but by your oath I will trust you nothing." Then said some
of the commissioners; "My Lord, give them a longer day." "No," quoth
he, "in London they ever find nothing. I pray you, what say you to
Mekins?" "My Lord," quoth the foreman, "we can say nothing to him, for
we find the witnesses to disagree. One affirmeth that he should say
the sacrament was nothing but a ceremony; and the other, nothing but a
signification." "Why," quoth Bonner, "did he not say that Barnes died
holy?" Then pausing awhile, he bade call the other jury. "Put in your
verdict," quoth he. "My Lord," said one, "we have found nothing."
"Jesus!" quoth he, "is not this a strange case?"

Then spake one of the same jury, whose name was Ralph Foxley, and
said, "My Lord, when you gave us charge, we desired to have the
parsons and curates of every parish to give us instructions; and it
was denied us." Then stood up the recorder, and said, it was true
indeed that he had spoken; and therewithal said, "This last year were
charged two juries, which did many things naughtily and foolishly, and
did as much as in them lay to make an uproar among the king's people;
and therefore it was thought not meet that they should give
information to you." "Nay, nay," quoth Bonner, "this was the cause: If
the parson or curate should give information according to his
knowledge, then what will they say? 'I must tell my confession to a
knave-priest, and he shall go by-and-by and open it." "What!" said my
lord mayor, "there is no man, I trow, that will say so?" "Yes, by my
troth," quoth Bonner, "knave-priest, knave-priest." Then said my lord
mayor, somewhat smiling, "There be some of them slippery fellows; and
as men find them, so will they ofttimes report." Bonner, not well
contented with those words, said to the jury, "My masters, what say
you to Mekins?" They answered, "The witnesses do not agree, therefore
we do not allow them." "Why," quoth Bonner, "this court hath allowed
them." Then said one of the jury to the recorder, "Is it sufficient
for our discharge, if this court do allow them?" "Yea," said the
recorder, "it is sufficient;" and said, "Go you aside together awhile,
and bring in your verdict." After the jury had talked together a
little while, they returned to the bar again with their indictment,
which at Bonner's hand was friendly received; so both they and the
other jury were discharged, and bidden take their ease. Thus ended the
court for that day. Shortly after they sat for life and death. Mekins
being brought to the bar, and the indictment read, Bonner said to him,
"Mekins, confess the truth, and submit thyself unto the king's law,
that thy death may be an example to all others."

This Richard Mekins, being a child that passed not the age of fifteen
years, (as Hall reporteth,) as he had heard some other folks talk, so
chanced he to speak against the sacrament of the altar; which coming
to Bonner's ears, he never left him (as afore doth plainly appear)
before he had brought him to the fire. During the time of his
imprisonment, neither his poor father nor mother, for fear, durst aid
him with any relief; whereby he there endured in great misery. At what
time he was brought unto the stake, he was taught to speak much good
of the bishop of London, and of the great charity he showed to him,
and to defy and detest all heretics and heresies, but especially Dr.
Barnes, unto whom he imputed the learning of that heresy, which was
the cause of his death. The poor lad would, for safeguard of his life,
have gladly said that the twelve apostles had taught it him; such was
his childish innocency and fear. But for this deed many spake and
said, "It was great shame for the bishop, whose part and duty it had
been rather to have laboured to save his life, than to procure that
terrible execution; seeing that he was such an ignorant soul, that he
knew not what the affirming of heresy was."

Richard Spencer, Ramsey, and Hemet, martyrs, who suffered at
Salisbury.

About the same time also a certain priest was burned at Salisbury,
who, leaving his papistry, had married a wife, and became a player in
interludes, with one Ramsey and Hemet, which three were all condemned
and burned; against whom, and especially against Spencer, was laid
matter concerning the sacrament of the altar. He suffered at
Salisbury.

Although this inquisition above mentioned was meant properly and
especially concerning the six articles, yet so it fell out, that in
short space doubts began to arise, and to be moved by the quest:
whether they might inquire as well of all other opinions, articles,
and cases of Lollardy, or for speaking against holy bread, holy water,
or for favouring the cause of Barnes, of Friar Ward, Sir Thomas Rose,
&c.: whereupon great perturbation followed in all parishes almost
through London in the year aforesaid, which was 1511, as here ensueth
in a brief summary table to be seen.

A brief table of the troubles at London, in the time of the six
articles, containing the persons presented, with the cause of their
persecution.

In St. Alban's parish in London.

John Dixe was noted never to be confessed in Lent, nor to receive at
Easter, and to be a sacramentary.

Richard Chepeman; for eating flesh in Lent, and for working on holy-
days, and not coming to the church.

Mrs. Cicely Marshall; for not bearing her palm, and despising holy
bread and holy water.

Michael Hawkes; for not coming to the church, and for receiving young
men of the new learning.

Master John Browne; for bearing with Barnes.

Anne, Bedike's wife; for despising our Lady, and not praying to
saints.

Andrew Kempe, William Pahen, and Richard Manerd; for disturbing the
service of the church, with brabbling of the New Testament.

In the parish of Trinity the Less.

William Wyders denied, two years before, the sacrament to be Christ's
body, and said that it was but only a sign.

William Stokesley; for rebuking his wife at the church for taking holy
water.

Roger Davy; for speaking against worshipping of saints.

Master Blage; for not coming to his parish church, not confessing, nor
receiving.

St. John Baptist in Wallbrook.

William Clinch; for saying, when he seeth a priest preparing to the
mass, "Ye shall see a priest now go to masking." Item, For calling the
bishop of Winchester, "False flattering knave." Item, For burying his
wife without dirge, and causing the Scot of St. Katharine's to preach
the next day after the burial.

William Maine; seeing a priest going to mass, said, "Now you shall see
one in masking." Item, When he came to the church, with loud reading
the English Bible he disturbed the divine service.

St. Botolph's at Billingsgate.

Herman Johnson, Jerome Akon, Giles Hosteman, Richard Bonfeld, Thomas
Cowper, Humphrey Skinner, John Sneudnam, Richard Philips, John Celos:
these nine persons were presented, for that they were not confessed in
Lent, nor had received at Easter.

St. Nicholas, in the Flesh Shambles.

John Jones, William Wright, Peter Butcher, Roger Butcher: these four
were presented for not keeping the divine service in the holy days.

Brisley's wife, for busy reasoning on the new learning, and not
keeping the church.

St. Andrew's in Holborn.

Mrs. Castle; for being a meddler, and a reader of the Scripture in the
church.

Master Galias, of Bernard's Inn; for withstanding the curate ceasing
the altars on Corpus Christi even, and saying openly that he did
naught.

Master Pates, of David's Inn, and Master Galias; for vexing the curate
in the body of the church, in declaring the king's injunctions and
reading the Bishop's Book, so that he had much ado to make an end.

St. Mildred in Bread Street.

William Beckes and his wife; suspected to be sacramentaries, and for
not creeping to the cross on Good Friday.

Thomas Langham, William Thomas, Richard Beckes, William Beckes: these
four were presented for interrupting the divine service.

Ralph Symonds; for not keeping our Lady's mass, which he was bound to
keep.

John Smith, apprentice; for saying that he had rather hear the crying
of dogs, than priests singing matins or even-song.

St. Magnus' Parish.

Thomas Bele, John Sturgeon, John Wilshire, Thomas Symon, Ralph Clervis
and his wife, James Banaster, Nicholas Barker, John Sterky,
Christopher Smith, Thomas Net: these eleven persons of St. Magnus
parish were presented and accused for maintaining of certain preachers
(as then it was called) of the new learning, as Wisedom, Rose, Friar
Ward, and Sir William Smith, alias Wright.

Nicholas Philip; for maintaining heresies and Scripture books, and for
using neither fasting nor prayer.

Richard Bigges; for despising holy bread, putting it in the throat of
a bitch, and for not looking up to the elevation.

St. Mary Magdalene in Milk Street.

Mrs. Elizabeth Statham; for maintaining in her house Latimer, Barnes,
Garret, Jerome, and divers others.

John Duffet; for marrying a woman which was thought to be a nun.

St. Owen's parish, in Newgate Market.

William Hilliard and Duffet; for maintaining Barnes, Jerome, and
Garret, with others.

Grafton and Whitchurch; suspected not to have been confessed.

St. Martin's at the Well with two Buckets.

John Greene, Mother Palmer, Christopher Coots, William Selly,
Alexander Frere, William Bredi, John Bush, William Somerton, George
Durant, Master David's apprentice: all these being of the parish of
St. Martin's at the Well with two Buckets, were presented for
contemning the ceremonies of the church: also some for walking in the
sacring time with their caps on: some for turning their heads away:
some for sitting at their doors when sermons were in the church, &c.

St. Michael's in Wood Street.

Robert Andrew; for receiving heretics into his house, and keeping
disputation of heresy there.

John Williamson, Thomas Buge, Thomas Gilbert, W. Hickson, Robert
Daniel, Robert Smitton: these other six were suspected to be
sacramentaries and rank heretics, and procurers of heretics to preach,
and to be followers of their doctrine.

St. Botolph's at Billingsgate.

John Mayler; to be a sacramentary, and a railer against the mass.

Richard Bilby, draper; presented for saying these words, "That Christ
is not present in the blessed sacrament."

St. Giles's Without Cripplegate.

Henry Patinson and Anthony Barber: these two were detected for
maintaining their boys to sing a song against the sacrament of the
altar: also Patinson came not to confession.

Robert Norman also refused to come to confession, saying, that none of
his servants "should be shriven of a knave-priest."

John Humfrey; for speaking against the sacraments and ceremonies of
the church.

William Smith and his wife, John Cooke and his wife: these two couple
were presented for not coming to service in their parish church, and
for saying it was lawful for priests to have wives.

William Gate or Cote, William Aston, John Humfrey, John Cooke: to
these four it was laid, for saying, that the mass "was made of pieces
and patches." Also for depraving of matins, mass, and even-song.

John Miles and his wife, John Millen, John Robinson, Richard Millar,
John Green and his wife, Arnold Chest; all these were put up for
railing against the sacraments and ceremonies.

John Crosdall, John Clerke, John Owel: these three labouring men, for
not coming to divine service on holy-days, and for labouring on the
same.

Thomas Grangier and John Dictier; noted for common singers against the
sacraments and ceremonies.

John Sutton and his wife, and John Segar: these three were noted to be
despisers of auricular confession.

John Rawlins, John Shiler, William Chalinger, John Edmonds, John
Richmond and his wife; for despising holy bread and holy water, and
letting divine service.

Margaret Smith; for dressing flesh-meat in Lent.

Thomas Trentham; for reasoning against the sacrament of the altar, and
saying that the sacrament was a good thing, but it was not as men took
it, very God.

St. Thomas the Apostle.

Robert Granger, William Petingale, William May and his wife, John
Henrison and his wife, Robert Welch, John Benglosse, John Pitley,
Henry Foster, Robert Causy, William Pinchbeck and his wife: all these
thirteen were put up by the inquisition, for giving small reverence at
the sacring of the mass.

St. Benet Finch.

Martyn Bishop's wife: she was presented by her curate, for being not
shriven in Lent, nor receiving at Easter: also she did set light by
the curate, when he told her thereof.

Robert Plat and his wife: these were great reasoners in Scripture.
saying, that they had it of the Spirit: and that confession availeth
nothing; and that he, not able to read, would use no beads.

St. Michael at Queenhithe.

Thomas Aduet, John Palmer, and Robert Cooke; the cause laid to these
three persons, was for reasoning of the Scripture, and of the
sacraments.

The register saith, that they denied all the sacraments: but this
popish hyperbole will find little credit, where experience, acquainted
with popish practices, sitteth to be the judge.

John Cockes: this man was noted for a great searcher out of new
preachers, and maintainer of Barnes's opinions.

John Boultes: for forbidding his wife to use beads.

Thomas Kelde; he refused to take penance and absolution, and did eat
flesh upon a Friday before Lent.

St. Mary Woolchurch.

Nicholas Newell. a Frenchman; presented to be a man far gone in the
new sect, and that he was a great jester at the saints. and at our
Lady.

John Hawkins and his servant, Thomas Chamberlain and his wife, John
Curteys, Master Dissel, his wife and his servant: these eight were
great reasoners and despisers of ceremonies.

St. Katharine Coleman.

The curate of St. Katharine Coleman: he was noted for calling of
suspected persons to his sermons by a beadle, without ringing of any
hell: and when he preached, he left his matters doubtful.

Item, for preaching without the commandment of his parson.

Item, for that he was a Scottish friar, driven out of his country for
heresy.

Tulle Bustre, his wife and his son-in-law: these were noted for coming
seldom to the church, and many times were seen to labour upon the
holy-days.

St. Matthew's Parish.

William Ettis and his wife were noted for maintaining certain
preachers; and for causing one Taverner, being a priest, to preach
against the king's injunctions.

Merifield, and his son-in-law, Nicholas Russel; the good man of the
Saracen's Head in Friday Street; William Callaway, John Gardiner, with
three apprentices: against this company presentation was made for
gathering together in the evening, and for bringing ill preachers,
(that is to say, good preachers,) amongst the people.

Thomas Plummer was presented, for saying that the blessed sacrament
was to him that doth take it, so; and to him that doth not, it was not
so.

Shoreditch.

Shermons, keeper of the Carpenters' Hall in Christ's parish, was
presented for procuring an interlude to be openly played, wherein
priests were railed on, and called knaves.

Saint Benet at Paul's Wharf.

Lewes Morall, a servant; also James Ogule and his wife; noted not to
have been confessed certain years before.

Saint Margaret in Fish Street.

Thomas Babam; accused not to have been confessed nor houseled in his
parish church.

Saint Antholine's.

The parson and curate of St. Antholine's; for not using the ceremonies
in making holy water, nor keeping their processions on Saturdays.

Lewis Bromfield; for not taking his housel, and for absenting himself
from the church on holy-days.

Saint Mary Hill.

John Sempe and John Goffe; for dispraising a certain anthem of our
Lady, beginning Te matrem, &c.; saving that there is heresy in the
same.

Gilbert Godfrey; for absenting himself from the church on holy-days.

Saint Mary Magdalene in Old Fish Street.

Thomas Cappes; for saying these words, "That the sacrament of the
altar was but a memory and a remembrance of the Lord's death."

Saint Botolph's at Billingsgate.

John Mailer, grocer; for calling the sacrament of the altar "the baken
god," and for saying that the mass was called beyond the sea, "miss,"
for that all is amiss in it.

Saint Martin's in Ironmonger Lane.

John Hardyman, parson of St. Martin's in Ironmonger Lane; presented
for preaching openly that confession is confusion and deformation; and
that the butcherly ceremonies of the church were to be abhorred. Also
for saying, "What a mischief is this, to esteem the sacraments to be
of such virtue! for in so doing they take the glory of God from him:"
and for saying, that faith in Christ is sufficient, without any other
sacraments, to justify.

Saint Bridget's in Fleet Street.

Christopher Dray, plumber; for saying of the sacrament of the altar,
that it was not offered up for remission of sins; and that the body of
Christ was not there, but only by representation and signification of
the thing.

Saint Andrew's in Holborn.

Robert Ward, shoemaker; presented by three witnesses, for holding
against the sacrament of the altar: he died in prison in Bread Street.

Allhallows, Barking.

Nicholas Otes; for not coming to the housel at Easter, he was sent to
Newgate.

Herman Peterson and James Gosson; for not coming to shrift and housel
at the time of Easter. These were committed to prison in Bread Street.

Saint Olave's in the Old Jewry.

Richard White, haberdasher; for saying, that he did not think that
Christ was in the sacrament of the altar within the sepulchre, but in
heaven above.

Saint Botolph's Without Aldgate.

Giles Harrison, being in a place without Aldgate, merrily jesting in a
certain company of neighbours, where some of them said, "Let us go to
mass:" "I say tarry," said he; and so taking a piece of bread in his
hands, lifted it up over his head; and likewise taking a cup of wine,
and bowing down his head, made therewith a cross over the cup, and so
taking the said cup in both his hands, lifted it over his head, saying
these words, "Have ye not heard mass now?" For the which he was
presented to Bonner, then bishop of London; against whom came these,
namely, Thomas Castle, William Greene, Andrew Morice, and John
Margetson, as witnesses against him.

Richard Bostock, priest: for saying that auricular confession hath
killed more souls than all the bills, clubs, and halters have done
since King Henry was king of England, &c. Also for saying, that the
water in the Thames hath as much virtue, as the water that the priests
do hallow.

Margaret Ambsworth; for having no reverence to the sacrament at
sacring time. Item, for instructing of maids, and being a great
doctress.

In Aldermanbury.

John Leicester, Christopher Townesend, Thomas Mabs, Christopher
Holybread, W. Raynold, Thomas David Skinner, Thomas Starckey, Martyn
Donam, and W. Derby: all these noted and presented for maintaining of
Barnes, and such other preachers; and many of their wives, for not
taking holy bread, nor going in procession on Sundays.

Lawrence Maxwel, bricklayer; for speaking and reasoning against
auricular confession.

Saint Martin's the Great.

John Coygnes, or Livelonde; for holding against the sacrament of the
altar, and not receiving at Easter.

Saint Clement's Without Temple Bar.

Gerard Frise; presented by two witnesses, for affirming that a sermon
preached, is better than the sacrament of the altar; and that he had
rather go to hear a sermon, than to hear a mass.

Saint Katharine's.

Dominick Williams, a Frenchman; for not receiving the sacrament of the
altar at Easter. Thomas Lancaster, priest; be lay in the Compter in
the Poultry, for compiling and bringing over books prohibited.

Item, Gough, the stationer; troubled for resorting unto him.

Friar Ward; laid in the Compter in Bread Street; for marrying one
Elizabeth to his wife, after his vow made of chastity.

Wilcock, a Scottish friar; prisoned in the Fleet, for preaching
against confession, holy water, against praying to saints, and for
souls departed; against purgatory, and holding that priests might have
wives, &c.

John Taylor, doctor in divinity; presented for preaching at St.
Bride's in Fleet Street, that it is as profitable to a man to hear
mass and see the sacrament, as to kiss Judas's mouth, who kissed
Christ our Saviour, &c.

W. Tolwine, parson of St. Antholine's; presented and examined before
Edmund Bonner, for permitting Alexander Scton to preach in his church,
having no licence of his ordinary; and also for allowing the sermons
of the said Alexander Seton, which he preached against Dr. Smith.

To the said Tolwine, moreover, it was objected, that he used, the
space of two years, to make holy water, leaving out the general
exorcism, beginning Exorcise te, &c.; using these words for the same,
Benedicite, Dominu: ab eo sit benedicta, a cujus latere fluxit sanguis
et aqua: adjoining thereto, commixtio salis et aquę fiat, in nomine
Patris, et Fill, et Spiritus Sancti.

The like usage of making holy water was also used in Aldermary church,
where Dr. Crome was, and in Honey Lane.

Against this objection thus Tolwine defended himself, saving, that he
took occasion so to do by the king's injunctions, which say, that
ceremonies should be used, all ignorance and superstition set apart.

In the end this Tolwine was forced to stand at Paul's Cross, to recant
his doctrine and doings.

The same time also Robert Wisedom, parish priest of St. Margaret's in
Lothbury, and Thomas Becon, were brought to Paul's Cross, to recant
and to revoke their doctrine, and to burn their books.

Little Allhallows.

Sir George Parker, priest and parson of St. Pancras, and curate of
Little Allhallows, was noted, suspected, and convented before the
ordinary, for certain books; especially for having Unio dissidentium,
&c.

Sir John Burch, priest of St. Botolph's Lane, was complained of by one
Master Wilson, for being a busy reasoner in certain opinions which
agreed not with the pope's church.

Alexander Seton, a Scottish man, and a worthy preacher, was denounced,
detected, and presented, by three priests, of whom one was fellow of
Whittington College, called Richard Taylor; another was John Smith;
the third was John Huntingdon, who afterwards was converted to the
same doctrine himself.

This Seton was chaplain to the duke of Suffolk, and by him was made
free denizen. In his sermon preached at St. Antholine's, his
adversaries picked against him matter containing fifteen objections,
or rather cavillations, which, for example, I thought here to exhibit
to the reader, to the intent that men may see, not only what true
doctrine Seton then preached, consonant to the Scriptures; but also
what wrangling cavillers can do, in depraving what is right, or in
wresting what is well meant, or in carping at what they understand
not, or in seeking out faults where none are; as by these their
sinister cavillations may appear.

Certain places or articles gathered out of Alexander Seton's sermons
by his adversaries.

The sayings and words of Alexander Seton, spoken and preached by him
in his sermon, made the thirteenth day of November, at afternoon, in
the parish church of St. Antholine's in London: "Paul saith, Of
ourselves we can do nothing; I pray thee then where is thy will? Art
thou any better than Paul, James, Peter, and all the apostles? Hast
thou any more grace than they? Tell me now, if thy will be any thing
or nothing: if it be any thing, tell me whether it be to do good or
ill? If thou say, to do ill, I will grant thou hast a great deal. If
thou say, to do good, I ask whether is more, somewhat or nothing? for
Paul said, he could do nothing, and I am sure thou hast no more grace
than Paul and his companions."

"Scripture speaketh of three things in man; the first is will, the
other two are consent and deed. The first, that is will, God worketh
without us, and beside us. The other two he worketh in us, and with
us."-- And here he alleged St. Augustine, to prove that we can will
nothing that is good. Moreover he said, "Thou hast not one jot, no not
one tittle, to do any good."

"There is nothing in heaven or earth, creature or other, than can be
any mean towards our justification; nor yet can nor may any man
satisfy God the Father for our sin, save only Christ, and the shedding
of his blood."

"He that preacheth that works do merit, or be any mean to our
salvation, or any part of our justification, preacheth a doctrine of
the devil."

"If any thing else, save only Christ, be any mean towards our
justification, then did not Christ only justify us."

"I say, that neither thy good works, nor any thing that thou canst do,
can be one jot or tittle towards thy justification. For if they be,
then is not Christ a full justifier; and that I will prove by a
familiar example. Be it in case I have two servants: the one is called
John, and the other Robert; and I promise to send you such a day
twenty pounds by John my servant, and at my day I send you by John my
servant nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and eleven pence three
farthings, and there lacketh but one farthing, which Robert doth bring
thee, and so thou hast thy twenty pounds, every penny and farthing:
yet will I ask, if I be true of my promise, or no; and thou mayst say,
'Nay.' And why? Because I promised to send thee that whole twenty
pounds by John, and did not, for there lacked a farthing, which Robert
brought. Wherefore I say, if thy works do merit or bring one little
jot or ittle towards thy justification, then is Christ false of his
promise, which said that he would do all together."

"One scripture I will bring you, which they cannot writhe, to prove
that Christ only was promised to be our only justifier, our only mean;
and that is in the twenty-second of Genesis, where it is written. In
thy seed shall all people be blessed; meaning thereby only Christ: and
he said not, in thy seeds, nor, in the works of thy seeds. Wherefore,
all they that preach that works be any part or mean toward our
justification, do make God false of his promise."

"They that preach that works do merit, do make works the tree, which
are but the fruits of justice, wrought by him that is already a just
man, which cannot choose but bring forth good fruit."

"I would ask a question, whether he that worketh be a good man, or
bad; for he must be one of them. If he be a good man, he cannot choose
but bring forth good fruits; if he be an ill man, he can bring forth
no fruit but ill fruit; for a good tree cannot bring forth ill fruit."

"He that saith that works do merit any thing towards our salvation,
doth make works checkmate with Christ, and plucketh from Christ what
is his, and giveth it to works. Some will ask, Wherefore then should I
do good works? I answer, Good works are to be done for no cause else,
but only for the glory of God, and not that they do merit any thing at
all. And he that saith that good works are to be done for no other
cause than for the glory of God only, and will have them to merit, or
be any mean towards our justification, I say, he lieth, and believe
him not."

"He that can show me in any scripture, that works do merit, or be any
mean to our justification, for the first scripture I will (without any
further judgment) lose both mine ears; for the second, my tongue; and
for the third, my neck. For of this I dare say he cannot prove in all
the whole Scripture one tittle. Wherefore believe them not."

"Men say that we deny good works, and fasting and prayer. They lie on
us: we deny nothing but popish works, and popish fasting, and popish
prayer; and he that preacheth that works do merit, or fasting doth
merit, or prayer doth merit, doth preach a popish doctrine."

"If you ask me, when we will leave preaching only Christ: even when
they do leave to preach that works do merit, and suffer Christ to be a
whole satisfier. and only mean to our justification; and, till then,
we will not cease, in God's cause, to set forth only Christ, to be a
full, and perfect, and only satisfaction."

"If you ask, if good works shall be rewarded, I say, Yea, and with no
less than eternal glory; but for no merit that they deserve, for they
deserve nothing; but only because God hath promised, not for the merit
of the work, but for his promise' sake; and he will not break his
promise."

Other articles gathered out of Alexander Seton's sermons.

Touching reconciliation, spoken of by Dr. Smith, preaching in the
forenoon at Paul's Cross, Alexander Seton, preaching at afternoon at
St. Antholine's, and, reciting his sayings and scriptures, reproved
him for alleging this saying, Reconcile yourselves to God; because it
is there spoken passively, and not actively; so that there should be
no thing in man pertaining to reconciliation, but all in God.

Also, reproving the said Dr. Smith, for that the said doctor said,
that man, by his good works, might merit: which saying of Dr. Smith
the said Alexander Seton reproved in the pulpit at St. Antholine's,
the thirteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord 1541, as
naughtily spoken.

Moreover the said Alexander Seton said, in the same place, that it was
a shame that any such preacher should be suffered so openly to preach
such erroneous doctrine as to say that works should merit; adducing,
When ye shall have done all those things that are commanded you, say,
We are unprofitable servants.

Finally Seton said, "Peradventure ye will say the church hath
determined this matter touching works. And I say," quoth he, "that it
is ecclesia malignantium, so determining any thing against Scripture."

To these pretended objections of his adversaries he made his answer
again by writing, first denying many things there presented, taking
upon his conscience, that he never spake divers of those words, and
again many things that he never meant to such end or purpose; as in
the said register may appear. But all this notwithstanding, for all
that he could say for himself, the ordinary proceeded in his
consistory judgment, ministering to him certain interrogatories (after
the popish course) to the number of ten articles. The greatest matter
laid against him was for preaching free justification by faith in
Christ Jesu; against false confidence in good works; and man's free-
will. Also it was laid unto him, for affirming that private masses,
dirges, and other prayers, profited not the souls departed: so that in
the end, he, with Tolwine aforesaid, was caused to recant at Paul's
Cross, A.D. 1541.

Add to these aforesaid, Dr. Taylor, parson of St. Peters in Corn Hill;
South, parish priest of Allhallows in Lombard Street; Some, a priest;
Giles, the king's beer-brewer, at the Red Lion in St. Katharine's;
Thomas Lancaster, priest: all which were imprisoned likewise for the
six articles.

To be short, such a number out of all parishes in London, and out of
Calais and divers other quarters, were then apprehended, through the
said inquisition, that all prisons in London were too little to hold
them, insomuch that they were fain to lay them in the halls. At last,
by the means of good Lord Audeley, such pardon was obtained of the
king, that the said Lord Audeley, then lord chancellor, being content
that one should he bound for another, they were all discharged, being
bound only to appear in the Star-chamber, the next day after All-
Souls, there to answer, if they were called; but neither was there any
person called, neither did there any appear.

$

200. JOHN PORTER, THOMAS SOMMERS, AND OTHERS

The story of John Porter, cruelly martyred for reading the Bible in
Paul's.

In the number of these before-named cometh the remembrance of John
Porter, who, in the same year, (A.D. 1541,) for reading the Bible in
Paul's church, was cruelly handled, and that unto death, as you shall
hear. It was declared in this history above, how Edmund Bonner, bishop
of London, in the days of the Lord Cromwell, being then ambassador at
Paris, was a great doer in setting forward the printing of the Bible
in the great volume; promising moreover, that he would, for his part,
have six of those Bibles set up in the church of St. Paul in London;
which, also, at his coming home, he no less performed, according to
the king's proclamation set forth for the same, whereof read before.

The Bibles thus standing in Paul's by the commandment of the king, and
the appointment of Bonner the bishop, many well-disposed people used
much to resort to the hearing thereof, especially when they could get
any that had an audible voice to read unto them, misdoubting therein
no danger toward them; and no more there was, so long as the days of
Cromwell lasted. After he was gone, it happened amongst divers and
sundry godly-disposed persons, who frequented there the reading of the
aforesaid Bible, that one John Porter used sometimes to be occupied in
that godly exercise, to the edifying as well of himself, as of others.
This Porter was a fresh young man, and of a big stature; who, by
diligent reading of the Scripture, and by hearing of such sermons as
then were preached by them that were the setters-forth of God's truth,
became very expert. The Bible then being set up, by Bonner's
commandment, upon divers pillars in Paul's church, fixed unto the same
with chains for all men to read in them that would, great multitudes
would resort thither to hear this Porter, because he could read well,
and had an audible voice. Bonner and his chaplains, being grieved
withal, (and the world beginning then to frown upon the gospellers,)
sent for the said Porter, and rebuked him very sharply for his
reading. But Porter answered him that he trusted he had done nothing
contrary to the law, neither contrary to his advertisements, which he
had fixed in print over every Bible.

Bonner then laid unto his charge that he had made expositions upon the
text, and gathered great multitudes about him to make tumults. He
answered, be trusted that should not be proved by him. But, in fine,
Bonner sent him to Newgate, where he was miserably fettered in irons,
both legs and arms, with a collar of iron about his neck fastened to
the wall in the dungeon; being there so cruelly handled, that he was
compelled to send for a kinsman of his, whose name is also Porter, a
man yet alive, and can testify that it is true, and dwelleth yet
without Newgate. He, seeing his kinsman in this miserable case,
entreated Jewet, then keeper of Newgate, that he might be released out
of those cruel irons; and so, through friendship and money, had him up
among other prisoners, which lay there for felony and murder; where
Porter, being amongst them, hearing and seeing their wickedness and
blasphemy, exhorted them to amendment of life, and gave unto them such
instructions as he had learned of the Scriptures; for which his so
doing he was complained on, and so carried down, and laid in the lower
dungeon of all, oppressed with bolts and irons, where, within six or
eight days after, he was found dead.

It is signified to us, by credible information, that the same night
before he was found dead, they that dwelt near to the same place of
the prison where Porter lay, did hear him piteously to groan, and make
a lamentable noise, where some suppose that he was put in certain
strait irons which be there in the house, called, "the devil on the
neck;" being after a horrible sort devised; straining and wrenching
the neck of a man with his legs together, in such sort as the more he
stirreth in it, the straiter it presseth him; so that within three or
four hours it breaketh and crusheth a man's back and body in pieces:
in which devilish torment, whether John Porter was slain or no, it is
not certain. But howsoever it was, this is known, that he was found
dead (as is aforesaid) in the dungeon, with such groaning and piteous
noise heard the night before the said dungeon, as is declared.

A note of one Thomas Sommers, imprisoned for the gospel.

Amongst these Londoners thus troubled by the clergy, we will add also,
(though a little out of place,) another note of a merchant, called
Thomas Sommers, who died in the Tower of London, for confessing of the
gospel; which Thomas, being a very honest merchant and wealthy, was
sent for by the lord cardinal, and committed to the Tower, for that he
had Luther's books (as they termed them); and after great suit made
for him to the said cardinal, his judgment was, that he should ride
from the Tower into Cheapside, carrying a new book in his hand, and
with books hanging round about him, with three or four other merchants
after the same order; which was done. And when Master Sommers should
be set on a collier's nag, as the rest of his fellow prisoners were, a
friend of his, called Master Copland, brought him a very good gelding,
fair dressed with bridle and saddle; and when the bishop's officers
came to dress him with books, as they had trimmed the others, and
would have made holes in his garment, to have thrust the strings ofthe
books therein; "Nay," said Sommers, "I have always loved to go
handsomely in my apparel: "and taking the books and opening them, he
bound them together by the strings, and cast them about his neck (the
leaves being all open) like a collar; and being on horseback, rode
foremost through the streets, till they came about the Standard in
Cheap-side, where a great fire was made to burn their books in, and a
pillory set up there for four persons, in token that they had deserved
it.

In the mean time, by the way as they should come, it was appointed
that one should go before them with a basin, at the noise whereof
Master Sommer's horse, being a lofty gelding and fierce, was in such a
rage, that he who rung the basin, being afraid of himself, was fain to
go alone a great space before that any horseman followed after. At
length, when they came to the fire, every of them having a book in his
hand, they were commanded to cast their books into the fire. But when
Master Sommers saw that his New Testament should be burned, he threw
it over the fire, which was seen by some of God's enemies, and brought
to him again, commanding him to cast it into the fire, which he would
not do, but cast it through the fire; which thing was done three
times; but at last a stander-by took it up, and saved it from burning.
But not long after, the said Master Sommers was again cast into the
Tower by the cardinal, through the cruelty of the bishops and their
adherents, who, soon after, died in the said prison for the testimony
of his faith.
(Illustration: An evil monk and a holy martyr)

What trouble and vexation happened amongst the godly brethren in
London for the six articles, hitherto we have discoursed: albeit
neither have I comprehended all which were molested through all the
parishes of London, nor again did this rigorous inquisition so cease
within the precincts of this city only, but also extended further to
Salisbury, Norfolk, Lincoln, and through all other shires and quarters
of the realm; so that where any popish prelate most bare stroke, there
persecution most increased. The bishop of Lincoln, the same time, was
John Longland, and Dr. Draycot, his chancellor; of whose rigorous
doings ye have heard enough and too much before. His ready diligence
in all popish quarrels, as it never lacked before, so now, in the
execution of these six articles, it was not far behind: in whose
diocese divers good men and women, especially about Buckingham and
Amersham, and quarters thereabouts, were grievously disquieted,
appearing yet in the register; as for instance:

Elenore Godfrey, of Great Marlow,

For laughing and speaking certain words against one Thomas Collard,
who, like a pope-holy hypocrite, in the church of Marlow, used at
mass-time to crouch behind the children; and when the priest crossed
his head with the saucer, (as she termed it,) he would cross his head
likewise. And for these words she was convented before the bishop, and
miserably vexed.

William Hart, of Great Brickhill,

For saying these words: "Thinkest thou that God Almighty will abide
over a knave priest's head?

Christopher Erles, of Risborough,

Because he did no reverence unto the sacrament, coming to the church:
and for looking upon his book at the time of elevation; and that he
would not come to see the elevation, &c. Item, as he was working upon
a piece of fustian on a holy-day, and being asked why he kept not the
holy-day, he answered that that was no work, and that it was better to
do that, than to sit at the alehouse drinking drunk.

William Fastendich, of Woburn,

For speaking certain words against the sacrament of the altar, and
because he believed not that it was the very body of Christ.

William Garland, of West Wycombe.

William Garland, talking of extreme unction, said that those things
were godly signs, but there were but two sacraments, &c.

William Web, of the same parish,

Because he set the image of a headless bear in the tabernacle of St.
Roke.

About the same time John Longland, bishop of Lincoln, burned two upon
one day, the one named Thomas Bernard, and the other James Morton; the
one for teaching the Lord's Prayer in English, and the other for
keeping the Epistle of St. James translated into English.

In Oxford also the same time, or much thereabout, recanted one Master
Barber, master of arts of that university, a man excellently learned;
who, being called up to Lambeth before the archbishop, Thomas Cranmer,
was in his examination so stout in the cause of the sacrament, and so
learnedly defended himself therein, that (as it is credibly affirmed
of them that yet be alive, and were present thereat) neither Cranmer
himself nor all they could well answer to his allegations brought out
of Augustine; wherein he was so prompt and ripe of himself, that the
archbishop, with the residue of his company, were brought in great
admiration of him. Notwithstanding, by compulsion of the time, and
danger of the six articles, at last he relented, and, returning again
to Oxford, was there caused to recant. After which the good man long
prospered not, but wore away.

$

201. FALSE ALARM AT OXFORD

A merry and pleasant narration, touching a false fearful imagination
of .fire, raised among the doctors and masters of Orford, in St.
Mary's church, at the recantation of Master Malary, master of arts of
Cambridge.

HITHERTO, gentle reader, we have remembered a great number of
lamentable and bloody tragedies of such as have been slain through
extreme cruelty: now I will here set before thee again a merry and
comical spectacle, whereat thou mayest now laugh and refresh thyself,
which, forasmuch as it did neccessarily accord with our present
enterprise, I have not thought it good to pass it over with silence.
For God hath oftentimes, by divers manifest means, deluded the craft
and subtlety of the bishops and their vain hypocrisy; as, for example,
in Joan of Mentz, who, being a woman, and secretly concealing her sex,
ruled the bishopric of Rome; but, by being delivered of a child before
her time, even in the midst of open procession, she defiled that see,
that the note or blot thereof will never be wiped out again. Besides
that, how great reproach and derision, even of children, was in that
pompous and ridiculous ambassade of Thomas Wolsey and Lawrence the
cardinal, whereof we have before spoken. And now again the Divine
wisdom deluded the cruel toils of the bishops; for this recantation of
Master Barber aforesaid, in the university of Oxford, bringeth me in
remembrance of another recantation likewise, happening not long before
in the said university, which I thought here not to overpass.

There was one Master Malary, master of arts of Cambridge, scholar of
Christ's College, who, for the like opinions to those above rehearsed,
holden contrary to the catholic determination of holy mother church of
Rome, that is, for the right truth of Christ's gospel, was convented
before the bishops, and, in the end, sent to Oxford, there openly to
recant, and to bear his faggot, to the terror of the students of that
university. The time and place were appointed, that he should be
brought solemnly into St. Mary's church upon a Sunday; where a great
number of the head doctors and divines, and others of the university,
were together assembled, besides a great multitude of citizens and
town-dwellers, which came to behold the sight. Furthermore, because
that solemnity should not pass without some effectual sermon for the
holding up of the mother church of Rome, Dr. Smith, reader then of the
divinity lecture, was appointed to make the sermon at this
recantation. Briefly, at the preaching of this sermon there was
assembled a mighty audience of all sorts and degrees, as well of
students as others. Few almost were absent which loved to hear or see
any news; insomuch that there was no place almost in the whole church,
which was not fully replenished with concourse and throng of people.

All things being thus prepared and set in readiness, cometh forth poor
Malary with his faggot upon his shoulder. Not long after, also,
proceedeth the doctor into the pulpit, to make his sermon, the purpose
and argument whereof was wholly upon the sacrament; the which doctor,
for the more confirmation and credit to his words, had provided the
holy catholic cake, and the sacrament of the altar, there to hang by a
string before him in the pulpit. Thus the doctor, with his god-
almighty, entering his godly sermon, had scarce proceeded into the
midst thereof, the people giving great silence with all reverence unto
his doctrine, but suddenly was heard into the church the voice of one
crying in the street, "Fire, fire!" The party who thus cried first in
the street was called Heuster. This Heuster coming from Allhallows
parish saw the chimney on fire, and so passing through the street by
St. Mary's church, cried "Fire, fire!" as the fashion is; meaning no
hurt.

This sound of fire being heard in the church, first of them that stood
outermost next to the church door, so increased and went from one to
another, that at length it came unto the ears of the doctors, and at
last to the preacher himself; who, as soon as they heard the matter,
being amazed with sudden fear, and marvelling what the matter should
mean, began to look up into the top of the church, and to behold the
walls. The residue seeing them look up, looked up also. Then began
they, in the midst of the audience, to cry out with a loud voice,
"Fire, fire!" "Where?" saith one; "Where?" saith another. "In the
church!" saith one. The mention of the church was scarcely pronounced,
when, as in one moment, there was a common cry amongst them, The
church is on fire! the church is set on fire by heretics!" &c. And,
albeit no man did see any fire at all, yet, forasmuch as all men cried
out so, every man thought it true that they heard. Then was there such
fear, concourse, and tumult of people, through the whole church, that
it cannot be declared in words as it was indeed.

And as in a great fire, (where fire is indeed,) we see many times how
one little spark giveth matter of a mighty flame, setting whole stacks
and piles a-burning; so here, upon a small occasion of one man's word,
kindled first a general cry, then a strong opinion, running in every
man's head within the church, thinking the church to be on fire, where
no fire was at all. Thus it pleased Almighty God to delude these
deluders; that is, that these great doctors and wise men of the
schools, who think themselves so wise in God's matters as though they
could not err, should see, by their own senses and judgments, how
blinded and infatuated they were, in these so small matters and
sensible trifles.

Thus this strong imagination of fire being fixed in their heads, as
nothing could remove them to think contrary but that the church was on
fire, so every thing that they saw or heard increased this suspicion
in them, to make it seem most true, which was indeed most false. The
first and chiefest occasion that augmented this suspicion, was the
heretic there bearing his faggot, which gave them to imagine that all
other heretics had conspired with him, to set the church on fire.

After this, through the rage of the people, and running to and fro,
the dust was so raised, that it showed as it had been the smoke of
fire; which thing, together with the outcry of the people, made all
men so afraid, that, leaving the sermon, they began all together to
run away. But such was the press of the multitude, running in heaps
together, that the more they laboured, the less they could get out.
For, while they ran all headlong unto the doors, every man striving to
get out first, they thrust one another in such sort, and stuck so
fast, that neither they that were without could get into the church
again, neither they that were within could get out by any means. So
then, one door being stopped, they ran to another little wicket on the
north side, toward the college called Brasennose, thinking so to pass
out. But there again was the like or greater throng. So the people,
clustering and thronging together, it put many in danger, and brought
many unto their end, by bruising of their bones or sides. There was
yet another door towards the west, which albeit it was shut and seldom
opened, yet now ran they to it with such sway, that the great bar of
iron (which is incredible to be spoken) being pulled out and broken by
force of men's hands, the door, notwithstanding, could not be opened
for the press or multitude of people.

At last, when they were there also past all hope to get out, then they
were all exceedingly amazed, and ran up and down, crying out upon the
heretics who had conspired their death. The more they ran about and
cried out, the more smoke and dust rose in the church, even as though
all things had now been on a flaming fire. I think there was never
such a tumultuous hurly-burly rising so of nothing beard of before,
nor so great a fear where was no cause to fear, nor peril at all: so
that if Democritus, the merry philosopher, sitting in the top of the
church, and seeing all things in such safety as they were, had looked
down upon the multitude, and beholden so great a number, some howling
and weeping, running up and down, and playing the mad-men, now hither,
now thither, as being tossed to and fro with waves or tempests;
trembling and quaking, raging and fuming, without any manifest cause;
especially if he had seen those great rabbins, the doctors, laden with
so many badges or cognisances of wisdom, so foolishly and ridiculously
seeking holes and corners to hide themselves in; gasping, breathing,
and sweating,and for very horror being almost beside themselves; I
think he would have satisfied himself with this one laughter for all
his life-time; or else rather would have laughed his heart out of his
belly, whilst one said, that he plainly heard the noise of the fire,
another affirmed, that he saw it with his eyes, and another sware that
he felt the molten lead dropping down upon his head and shoulders.
Such is the force of imagination, when it is once grafted in men's
hearts through fear. In all the whole company, there was none that
behaved himself more modestly than the heretic that was there to do
penance; who, casting his faggot off from his shoulders upon a monk's
head that stood by, kept himself quiet, minding to take such part as
the others did.

All the others, being careful for themselves, never made an end of
running up and down and crying out. None cried out more earnestly than
the doctor that preached, (who was, as I said, Dr. Smith,) who, in
manner first of all, cried out in the pulpit, saying, "These are the 
trains and subtleties of the heretics against me: Lord have mercy upon
me! Lord have mercy upon me!" But might not God, as it had been (to
speak with Job) out of a whirlwind, have answered again unto this
preacher thus: "Thou dost now implore my mercy, but thou thyself
showest no mercy unto thy fellows and brethren! How doth thy flesh
tremble now at the mention of fire! But you think it a sport to burn
other simple innocents, neither do ye any thing at all regard it. If
burning and to suffer a torment of fire seem so grievous a matter unto
you, then you should also have the like consideration in other men's
perils and dangers, when you do burn your fellows and brethren! Or, if
you think it but a light and trifling matter in them, go to now, do
you also, with like courage, contemn, and, with like patience, suffer
now, the same torments yourselves. And if so be I should now suffer
you, with the whole church, to be burned to ashes, what other thing
should I do unto you, than you do daily unto your fellows and
brethren? Wherefore, since you so little esteem the death of others,
be now content that other men should also little regard the death of
you." With this, I say, or with some other like answer, if that either
God, or human charity, in the common sense of nature would expostulate
with them, yea, if there had been a fire indeed, (as they were more
feared than hurt,) who would have doubted, but that it had happened
unto them according to their deserts? But now, worthy it is the
noting, how the vain fear and folly of those Catholics either were
deluded, or how their cruelty was reproved, whereby they, being better
taught by their own example, might hereafter learn what it is to put
other poor men to the fire, which they themselves here so much
abhorred.

But, to return again to the description of this pageant, wherein (as I
said before) there was no danger at all, yet were they all in such
fear, as if present death had been over their heads. In all this great
maze and garboil, there was nothing more feared than the melting of
the lead, which many affirmed that they felt dropping upon their
bodies. Now in this sudden terror and fear, which took from them all
reason and counsel out of their minds, to behold what practices and
sundry shifts every man made for himself, it would make not only
Democritus and Heraclitus also to laugh, but rather a horse well near
to break his halter. But none used themselves more ridiculously, than
such as seemed greatest wise men, saving that in one or two,
peradventure, somewhat more quietness of mind appeared; among whom was
one Claymund, president of Corpus Christi College, (whom, for
reverence, and learning's sake, I do here name,) and a few other aged
persons with him, who, for their age and weakness, durst not thrust
themselves into the throng amongst the rest, but kneeled down quietly
before the high altar, committing themselves and their lives unto the
sacrament. The others, who were younger and stronger, ran up and down
through the press, marvelling at the incivility of men, and waxed
angry with the unmannerly multitude that would give no room unto the
doctors, bachelors, masters, and other graduates and regent-masters.
But, as the terror and fear was common unto all men, so was there no
difference made of persons or degrees, every man scrambling for
himself. The violet cap, or purple gown, did there nothing avail the
doctor; neither the master's hood, nor the monk's cowl, was there
respected.

Yea, if the king or queen had been there at that present, and in that
perplexity, they had been no better than a common man. After they had
long striven and assayed all manner of ways, and saw no remedy,
neither by force nor authority to prevail, they fell to entreating and
offering of rewards; one offering twenty pounds of good money, another
his scarlet gown, so that any man would pull him out, though it were
by the ears!

Some stood close unto the pillars, thinking themselves safe under the
vaults of stone from the dropping of the lead: others, being without
money, and unprovided of all shifts, knew not which way to turn them.
One, being a president of a certain college, (whose name I need not
here to utter,) pulling a board out from the pews, covered his head
and shoulders therewith against the scalding lead, which they feared
much more than the fall of the church. Now what a laughter would this
have adnistered unto Democritus amongst other things, to behold there
a certain grand paunch, who, seeing the doors stopped, and every way
closed up, thought, by another compendious means, to get out through a
glass window, if it might be by any shift? But here the iron grates
letted him; notwithstanding his greedy mind would needs attempt, if he
could haply bring his purpose to pass. When he had broken the glass,
and was come to the space between the grates where he should creep
out, first he thrust in his head with the one shoulder, and it went
through well enough. Then he laboured to get the other shoulder after;
but there was a great labour about that, and long he stuck by the
shoulders with much ado; for what doth not importune labour overcome?
Thus far forth he was now gotten; but, by what part of his body he did
stick fast, I am not certain, neither may I feign, forasmuch as there
be yet witnesses who did see these things, who would correct me, if I
should so do. Notwithstanding, this is most certain, that he did stick
fast between the grates, and could neither get out nor in.

Thus this good man, being indeed a monk, and having but short hose, by
the which way he supposed soonest to escape, by the same he fell into
further inconvenience, making of one danger two. For, if the fire or
lead had fallen on the outside, those parts which did hang out of the
window had been in danger; and, contrariwise, if the flame had raged
within the church, all his other parts had lien open to the fire. And
as this man did stick fast in the window, so did the rest stick as
fast in the doors, that sooner they might have been burned, than they
could once stir or move one foot: through the which press, at last,
there was a way found, that some, going over their heads, gat out.

Here also happened another pageant in a certain monk (if I be not
misadvised) of Gloucester College, whereat Calphurnius might well
laugh with an open mouth. So it happened, that there was a young lad
in this tumult, who, seeing the doors fast stopped with the press or
multitude, and that he had not way to get out, climbed up upon the
door; and there, staying upon the top of the door, was forced to tarry
still: for, to come down into the church again he durst not for fear
of the fire, and to leap down toward the street he could not without
danger of falling. When he had tarried there awhile, he advised
himself what to do; neither did occasion want to serve his purpose:
for, by chance, amongst them that got out over men's heads, he saw a
monk, coming towards him, who had a great wide cowl hanging at his
back. This the boy thought to be a good occasion for him to escape by.
When the monk came near unto him, the boy, who was on the top of the
door, came down, and prettily conveyed himself into the monk's cowl;
thinking (as it came to pass indeed) that if the monk did escape, he
should also get out with him. To be brief, at last the monk gat out
over men's heads, with the boy in his cowl, and, for a great while,
felt no weight or burden.

At last, when he was somewhat more come to himself, and did shake his
shoulders, feeling his cowl heavier than it was accustomed to be, and
also hearing the voice of one speaking behind in his cowl, he was more
afraid than he was before when he was in the throng, thinking, in very
deed, that the evil spirit which had set the church on fire had flien
into his cowl By and by he began to play the exorcist: "In the name of
God," said he, "and all saints, I command thee to declare what thou
art, that art behind at my back!" To whom the boy answered, "I am
Bertram's boy," said he; for that was his name. "But I," said the
monk, "adjure thee, in the name of the unseparable Trinity, that thou,
wicked spirit! do tell me who thou art, from whence thou earnest, and
that thou get thee hence." "I am Bertram's boy," said he, "good
master! let me go:" and with that his cowl began, with the weight, to
crack upon his shoulders. The monk, when he perceived the matter, took
the boy out, and discharged his cowl. The boy took to his legs, and
ran away as fast as he could.

Among others, one wiser than the rest ran with the church door key,
beating upon the stone walls, thinking therewith to break a hole
through to escape out.

In the mean time those that were in the street, looking diligently
about them, and perceiving all things to be without fear, marvelled at
this sudden outrage, and made signs and tokens to them that were in
the church to keep themselves quiet, crying to them that there was no
danger.

But, forasmuch as no word could be heard by reason of the noise that
was within the church, those signs made them much more afraid than
they were before, interpreting the matter as though all had been on
fire without the church; and for the dropping of the lead and falling
of other things, they should rather tarry still within the church, and
not to venture out This trouble continued in this manner by the space
of certain hours.

The next day. and also all the week following, there was an incredible
number of bills set upon the church doors, to inquire for the things
that were lost, in such variety and number, as Democritus might here
again have had just cause to laugh. "If any man have found a pair of
shoes yesterday in St. Mary's church, or knoweth any man that hath
found them," &c. Another bill was set up for a gown that was lost.
Another entreated to have his cap restored. One lost his purse and
girdle, with certain money; another his sword. One inquired for a
ring, and one for one thing, another for another. To be short, there
were few in this garboil, but that either through negligence lost, or
through oblivion left, something behind them.

Thus have you heard a tragical story of a terrible fire, which did no
hurt; the description whereof, although it be not so perfectly
expressed according to the worthiness of the matter, yet because it
was not to be passed with silence, we have superficially set forth
some shadow thereof, whereby the wise and discreet may sufficiently
consider the rest, if any thing else be lacking in setting forth the
full narration thereof. As touching the heretic, because he had not
done his sufficient penance there by occasion of this hurly-burly,
therefore the next day following he was reclaimed into the church of
St. Frideswide, where he supplied the rest that lacked of his plenary
penance.

$

202. THE KING DIVORCED FROM THE LADY ANNE OF CLEVES, AND MARRIED TO
THE LADY KATHARINE HOWARD, HIS FIFTH WIFE.

The same year, and in the month following next after the apprehension
of the Lord Cromwell, which was August, 1540, the king immediately was
divorced from the Lady Anne of Cleves; the cause of which separation
being wholly committed to the clergy of the convocation, it was by
them defined, concluded, and granted, that the king, being freed from
that pretended matrimony, (as they called it,) might marry where he
would, and so might she likewise; who, also, consenting to the same
divorcement herself, by her own letters, was after that taken no more
for queen, but only called Lady Anne of Cleves. Which things thus
discussed by the parliament and convocation-house, the king the same
month was married to his fifth wife, which was the Lady Katharine
Howard, niece to the duke of Norfolk, and daughter to the Lord Edmund
Howard, the duke's brother. But this marriage likewise continued not
long.

In the same month of August, and the same year, I find, moreover, in
some records, besides the four and twenty Charterhouse monks above
recited, whom Cope doth sanctify for holy martyrs, for suffering in
the pope's devotion, against the king's supremacy, other six which
were also brought to Tyburn, and there executed in the like case of
rebellion; of whom the first was the prior of Doncaster; the second a
monk of the Charterhouse of London, called Giles Horn (some call him
William Horn); the third one Thomas Ipsam, a monk of Westminster, who
had his monk's garment plucked from his back, being the last monk in
King Henry's days that did wear that monkish weed; the fourth one
Philpot: the fifth one Carew; the sixth was a friar. See what a
difficulty it is to pluck up blind superstition, once rooted in man's
heart by a little custom.

Now, as touching the late marriage between the king and the Lady
Howard, ye heard how this matrimony endured not long; for, in the year
next following, 1542, the said Lady Katharine was accused to the king
of incontinent living, not only before her marriage with Francis
Dereham. but also of spouse-breach, after her marriage, with Thomas
Culpepper. For this both the men aforesaid, by act of parliament were
attainted, and executed for high treason; and also the Lady Katharine,
late queen, with the Lady Jane Rochford, widow. late wife to George
Bullen, Lord Rochford. brother to Queen Anne Bullen, were beheaded for
their deserts, within the Tower.

After the death and punishment of this lady, his fifth wife, the king
calling to remembrance the words of the Lord Cromwell, and missing now
more and more his old counsellor, and partly also smelling somewhat
the ways of Winchester, began a little to set his foot again in the
cause of religion. And although he ever bare a special favour to
Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, (as you shall hear more
hereafter, God willing, in the life of Cranmer,) yet now, the more he
missed the Lord Cromwell, the more he inclined to the archbishop, and
also to the right cause of religion. And therefore, in the same year
and in the month of October, after the execution of this queen, the
king, understanding some abuses yet to remain unreformed, namely,
about pilgrimages and idolatry, and other things besides, to be
corrected within his dominions, directed his letters unto the
aforesaid archbishop of Canterbury, for the speedy redress and
reformation of the same; the tenor of which letters hereafter fully
ensueth in these words:

"Right reverend father in God, right trusty and well-beloved! We greet
you well, letting you to wit, that whereas heretofore, upon the zeal
and remembrance which we had to our bounden duty towards Almighty God,
perceiving sundry superstitions and abuses to be used and embraced by
our people, whereby they grievously offended him and his word, we did
not only cause the images and bones of such as they resorted and
offered unto, with the ornaments of the same, and all such writings
and monuments of feigned miracles, wherewith they were illuded, to be
taken away in all places of our realm;but, also, by our injunctions
commanded, that no offering or setting up of lights or candles should
be suffered in any church, but only to the blessed sacraments of the
altar: it is lately come unto our knowledge, that, this our good
intent and purpose notwithstanding, the shrines, coverings of shrines,
and monument of those things, do yet remain in sundry places of this
realm, much to the slander of our doings, and to the great displeasure
of Almighty God, the same being means to allure our subjects to their
former hypocrisy and superstition; and also that our injunctions be
not kept as appertaineth. For the due and speedy reformation whereof,
we have thought meet, by these our letters, expressly to will and
command you, that incontinent upon the receipt hereof, you shall not
only cause due search to be made in the cathedral church for those
things; and if any shrine, covering of shrine, table, monument of
miracles, or other pilgrimages, do there continue, to cause it to be
so taken away as there remain no memory of it; but also, that you
shall take order with all the curates, and others having charge within
your diocese, to do the semblable, and to see that our injunctions be
duly kept as appertaineth, without failing; as we trust you, and as
you will answer to the contrary.

"Given under our signet at our town of Hull, the fourth day of
October, in the thirty-third year of our reign"

Furthermore, the next year after this ensuing, which was 1543, in the
month of February, followed another proclamation, given out by the
king's authority, wherein the pope's law, forbidding white meats to be
eaten in Lent, was repealed, and the eating of such meats set at
liberty, for the behoof of the king's subjects.

$

203. FOUR WINDSOR MARYRS

The trouble and persecution of four Windsor men, Robert Testwood,
Henry Filmer, Anthony Peerson, and John Marbeck: persecuted for
righteousness' sake, and for the gospel.

COMING now to the story and time of the four Windsor men, troubled and
persecuted for the true testimony of God's word, whereof three were
martyred and sacrificed in fire, the fourth (which was Marbeck) had
his pardon; first, I have to show the original of their troubles in
several parts; secondly, the manner and order of their death as they
suffered together, which was A. D. 1543; thirdly, to answer partly in
purgation of myself, against certain clatterers which have hitherto
taken their pleasure in railing against my former edition of Acts and
Monuments, for mistaking the name of Marbeck, whom, in one place, I
reported to have been burned; albeit, in the end of the story,
correcting myself again, I declared him not to have been burned.
Wherefore, to stop the brawling mouths of such quarrellers, I thought
here to set forth the full narration, both of the said Marbeck and of
his fellows, in truth, as I trust none of them shall have just cause
to quarrel thereat.

A full narration of the persecution at Windsor.

Persons persecuted at Windsor A. D. 1543:-- Robert Testwood. Henry
Filmer. Anthony Peerson, John Marbeck, Robert Bennet, Sir Philip Hobby
and his wife, Sir Thomas Cardine and his wife, Master Edmund Harman,
Master Thomas Weldon; Snowball and his wife, of the king's chamber;
and Dr. Haynes, dean of Exeter.

Persecutors:-- Master Ely, Simons a lawyer, Dr. London, Stephen
Gardiner, bishop of Winchester; Wriothesley, then secretary to the
king, and afterwards lord chancellor; Southarne, treasurer of Exeter;
Dr. Bruerwood, chancellor of Exeter; Master Knight, Winchester's
gentleman; Dr. Oking; Dr. Capon, bishop of Sarum; Sir William Essex,
knight; Sir Thomas Bridges, knight; Sir Humfrey Foster, knight; Master
Franklin, dean of Windsor: Master Fachel, of Reading; Bucklayer, the
king's attorney; Filmer's brother: Hide, a jurate dwelling beside
Abingdon: Robert Ocham, a lawyer.

The original of Robert Testwood's trouble.

In the year of our Lord 1543, there was one Robert Testwood, dwelling
in the city of London, who for his knowledge in music had so great a
name, that the musicians in Windsor College thought him a worthy man
to have a room among them. Whereupon they informed Dr. Sampson (being
then their dean) of him. But, forasmuch as some of the canons had at
that time heard of Testwood, how that he smelled of the new learning,
(as they called it,) it would not be consented unto at first.
Notwithstanding, with often suit of the aforesaid musicians, made to
one Dr. Tate, (who, being half a musician himself, bare a great stroke
in such matters,) a room being void, Testwood was sent for to be
heard. And being there four or five days among the choir-men, he was
so well liked both for his voice and cunning, that he was admitted,
and after settled in Windsor with his household, and was had in good
estimation with the dean and canons a great while. But when they had
perceived him, by his often talk at their tables, (for he could not
well dissemble his religion,) that he leaned to Luther's sect, they
began to mislike him. And so, passing forth among them, it was his
chance, one day, to be at dinner with one of the canons, named, Dr.
Rawson. At that dinner, among others, was one of King Edward's four
chantry priests, named Master Ely, an old bachelor of divinity; which
Ely, in his talk at the board, began to rail against laymen, who took
upon them to meddle with the Scriptures, and to be better learned
(knowing no more but the English tongue) than they that had been
students in the universities of Oxford and Cambridge all the days of
their lives.

Then Testwood. perceiving he meant that against him, could forbear his
railing no longer, but said, "Master Ely, by your patience, I think it
to be no hurt for laymen, as I am, to read and to know the
Scriptures." "Which of you," quoth Ely, "that be unlearned, knoweth
them,or understandeth them? St. Paul saith, If thine enemy hunger,
feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; and, in so doing, thou shalt
heap coals of fire upon his head. Now, sir," quoth Ely, "what meaneth
St Paul by these coals of fire?" "Marry, sir," quoth Testwood, "he
meaneth nothing else by them (as I have learned) but burning charity,
that, with doing good to our enemies, we should thereby win them "Ah,
sirrah," quoth he, "you are an old scholar indeed!"

After this they fell into further communication of the pope, whose
supremacy was much spoken of at that time, but not known to be so far
in question in the parliament-house as it was. And in their talk Ely
demanded of Testwood, whether the pope ought to be head of the church
or no? against which Testwood durst not say his full mind, but
reasoned within his bounds a great while. But, when they were both
well stricken in a heat, Testwood, forgetting himself, chanced to say,
that every king, in his own realm and dominion, ought to be the head
of the church under Christ: at which words Ely was so chafed, that he
rose up from the table in a great fume, calling him heretic, and all
that nought was; and so went brawling and chiding away, to the great
disquieting of all the company that were there.

Then was Testwood very sorry to see the old man take it so grievously:
whereupon, after dinner, he went and sought Master Ely, and found him
walking in the body of the church, thinking to have talked with him
charitably, and so to have been at one again; but ever as Testwood
pressed towards him, the other shunned him, and would not come nigh
him, but did spit at him; saying to others that walked by, "Beware of
this fellow! for he is the greatest heretic and schismatic that ever
came into Windsor."

Now began the matter to brew; for, after that Ely had made his
complaint to the dean's deputy, and other of the canons, they were all
against Testwood, purposing surely, at the dean's coming home, (if all
things had chanced even,) to have put him to his trump. But see the
fortune. It was not twelve days after, ere that the king's supremacy
passed in the parliament-house. Whereupon the dean, Dr. Sampson, came
home suddenly in the night, late, and forthwith sent his verger about
to all the canons and ministers of the college, from the highest to
the lowest, commanding them to be in the chapter-house by eight of the
clock in the morning. Then Ely consulted with the canons over-night,
(as late as it was,) and thought on the next day to have put Testwood
to a great plunge: "But he that layeth a snare for another man," saith
Solomon, "shall be taken in it himself." And so was Ely; for when the
dean and every man were come and placed in the chapter-house, and that
the dean had commended the ministers of the church for their diligence
in tending the choir, exhorting them also to continue in the same, he
began, contrary to every man's expectation, to inveigh against the
bishop of Rome's supremacy and usurped authority, confounding the
same, by manifest Scriptures and probable reasons, so earnestly, that
it was a wonder to hear; and at length declared openly, that by the
whole consent of the parliament-house, the pope's supremacy was
utterly abolished out of this realm of England for ever; and so
commanded every man there, upon his allegiance, to call him pope no
more, but bishop of Rome, and whatsoever he were that would not so do,
or did from that day forth maintain or favour his cause by any manner
of means. he should not only lose the benefit of that house, but be
reputed as an utter enemy to God and to the king. The canons, hearing
this, were all stricken in a dump: yet, notwithstanding, Ely's heart
was so great, that he would fain have uttered his cankered stomach
against Testwood; but the dean (breaking his tale) called him old
fool, and took him up so sharply, that he was fain to hold his peace.
Then the dean commanded all the pope's pardons which hanged about the
church, to be brought into the chapter-house, and cast into the
chimney, and burned before all their faces; and so departed.

Another cause of Robert Testwood's trouble.

As it chanced Testwood one day to walk in the church at afternoon, and
to behold the pilgrims,especially of Devonshire and Cornwall, how they
came in by plumps, with candles and images of wax in their hands, to
offer to good King Henry of Windsor, as they called him, it pitied his
heart to see such great idolatry committed, and how vainly the people
had spent their goods in coming so far to kiss a spur, and to have an
old hat set upon their heads; insomuch that he could not refrain, but,
seeing a certain company which had done their offering and were
standing gazing about the church, he went unto them, and with all
gentleness began to exhort them to leave such false worshipping of
dumb creatures, and to learn to worship the true living God aright;
putting them in remembrance what those things were which they
worshipped, and how God many times had plagued his people, for running
a whoring to such stocks and stones, and so would plague them and
their posterity, if they would not leave it. After this sort he
admonished them so long, till at the last his words, as God would,
took such place in some of them, that they said, they never would go a
pilgrimage more.

Then he went further, and found another sort licking and kissing a
white Lady made of alabaster, which image was mortised in a wall
behind the high altar, and bordered about with a pretty border, which
was made like branches with hanging apples and flowers. And when he
saw them so superstitiously use the image, as to wipe their hands upon
it, and then to stroke them over their eyes and faces, as though there
had been great virtue in touching the picture, he up with his hand, in
which he had a key, and smote down a piece of the border about the
image, and with the glance of the stroke chanced to break off the
image's nose. "Lo! good people," quoth he, "you see what it is;
nothing but earth and dust, and cannot help itself; and how then will
you have it to help you? For God's sake, brethren, be no more
deceived." And so he gat him home to his house, for the rumour was so
great, that many came to see the image, how it was defaced. And among
all others, came one William Simons, a lawyer, who, seeing the image
so bewrayed, and to lack her nose, took the matter grievously, and
looking down upon the pavement, he spied the image's nose where it
lay, which he took up and put in his purse, saying it should be a dear
nose to Testwood one day.

Now were many offended with Testwood; the canons, for speaking against
their profit; the wax. sellers, for hindering their market; and
Simons, for the image's nose. And more than that, there were of the
canons' men that threatened to kill him. Hereupon Testwood kept his
house and durst not come forth, minding to send the whole matter in
writing by his wife to Master Cromwell the king's secretary, who was
his special friend. The canons, hearing that Testwood would send to
Cromwell, sent the verger unto him, to will him to come to the church;
who sent them word again, that he was in fear of his life, and
therefore would not come. Then sent they two of the eldest petty
canons to entreat him, and to assure him that no man should do him
harm. He made them a plain answer, that he had no such trust in their
promises, but would complain to his friends. Then wist they not what
shift to make, for of all men they feared Cromwell; but sent, in post
haste, for old Master Ward, a justice of peace, dwelling three or four
miles off, who, being come, and hearing the matter, was very loth to
meddle in it. But notwithstanding, through their entreaty, he went to
Testwood, and had much ado to persuade him; but, at last, he did
faithfully promise him by the oath he had made to God and the king, to
defend him from all danger and harms, so that Testwood was content to
go with him.

And when Master Ward, and Testwood, were come into the church, and
were going toward the chapter-house, where the canons abode their
coming, one of the canons' men drew his dagger at Testwood, and would
have been upon him, but Master Ward with his man resisted, and got
Testwood into the chapter-house, causing the serving-man to be called
in, and sharply rebuked by their masters, who straitly commanded him,
upon pain of losing their service, and further displeasure, not to
touch him, nor to give him an evil word. Now Testwood, being alone in
the chapter-house with the canons and Master Ward, was gently treated,
and the matter so pacified, that Testwood might quietly come and go to
the church, and do his duty as he had done before.

Third cause of Robert Testmood's trouble.

Upon a Relic Sunday, (as they named it,) when every minister, after
their old custom, should have borne a relic in his hand about a
procession, one was brought to Testwood; which relic (as they said)
was a rochet of Bishop Becket's. And as the sexton would have put the
rochet in Testwood's hands, he pushed it from him, saying, If he did
give it to him, he would make sport withal; and so the rochet was
given to another. Then came the verger down from the high altar with
St. George's dagger in his hand, demanding who lacked a relic.
"Marry," quoth Testwood, "give it to Master Hake," who stood next him,
"for he is a pretty man of his hands:" and so the dagger was given
unto him. Now Testwood perceiving the dagger in Master Hake's hand,
and being merrily disposed, (as he was a merry-conceited man,) stepped
forth out of his place to Dr. Clifton, standing directly before him in
the midst of the choir, with a glorious golden cope upon his back,
having the pix in his hand, and said, "Sir! Master Hake hath St.
George's dagger. Now, if he had his horse, and St. Martin's cloak, and
Master John Shorn's boots, with King Harry's spurs, and his hat, he
might ride when he would:" and so stepped into his place again.
Whereat the other changed colour, and wist not what to say.

Fourth cause of Robert Testwood's trouble.

In the days of Master Franklin, who succeeded Dr. Sampson in the
deanery of Windsor, there was, on a time, set up at the choir door, a
certain foolish printed paper in metre, all to the praise and
commendation of our Lady, ascribing unto her our justification, our
salvation, our redemption, the forgiveness of sins, &c., to the great
derogation of Christ. Which paper, one of the canons, called Master
Magnus, (as it was reported,) caused to be set up in despite of
Testwood and his sect. When Testwood saw this paper, he plucked it
down secretly. The next day after was another set up in the same
place. Then Testwood, coming into the church, and seeing another paper
set up, and also the dean coming a little way off, made haste to be at
the choir door, while the dean staid to take holy water, and reaching
up his hand as he went, plucked away the paper with him. The dean,
being come to his stall, called Testwood unto him, and said, that he
marvelled greatly how he durst be so bold to take down the paper in
his presence. Testwood answered again, that he marvelled much more,
that his Mastership would suffer such a blasphemous paper to be set
up; beseeching him not to be offended with what he had done, for he
would stand unto it. So Master Dean being a timorous man, made no more
ado with him. After this were no more papers set up, but poor Testwood
was eaten and drunken amongst them at every meal; "and a heretic he
was, and would roast a faggot for this gear one day."

Now Master Magnus, being sore offended with Testwood for plucking down
his papers, to be revenged on him, devised with the dean and the rest
of the canons, to send their letters to Dr. Chamber, one of their
brethren, and the king's physician, who lay, for the most part, at the
court, to see what he would do against Testwood; which letters, being
made, were sent with speed. But, whatsoever the cause was, whether he
durst not meddle for fear of Cromwell, or what else, I cannot tell,
their suit came to none effect. Then wist they not what to do, but
determined to let the matter sleep, till St. George's feast, which was
not far off.

Now, in the mean time, there chanced a pretty story, between one
Robert Philips, gentleman of the king's chapel, and Testwood; which
story, though it was but a merry prank of a singing man, yet it
grieved his adversary wonderfully. The matter was this: Robert Philips
was so notable a singing man, (wherein he gloried,) that wheresoever
he came, the best and longest song, with most counter-verses in it,
should be set up at his coming. And so, his chance being now to be at
Windsor, against his coming to the anthem, a long song was set up,
called Laudate vivi, in which song there was one counter-verse towards
the end, that began on this wise, O redemptrix et salvatrix: which
verse, of all others, Robert Philips would sing, because he knew that
Testwood could not abide that ditty. Now Testwood, knowing his mind
well enough, joined with him at the other part; and when he heard
Robert Philips begin to fetch his flourish with O redemptrix et
salvatrix! repeating the same, one in another's neck, Testwood was as
quick, on the other side, to answer him again with non redemptrix, nec
salvatrix! and so, striving there with O and Non who should have the
mastery, they made an end of the verse; whereat was good laughing in
sleeves of some, but Robert Philips, with others of Testwood's
enemies, were sore offended.

Within fourteen days after this, the lords of the garter (as their
custom is yearly to do) came to Windsor to keep St. George's feast, at
which feast the duke of Norfolk was president; unto whom the dean and
canons made a grievous complaint on Testwood: who, being called before
the duke, he shook him up, and all-to-reviled him, as though he would
have sent him to hanging by and by. Yet, nevertheless, Testwood so
behaved himself to the duke, that, in the end, he let him go without
any further molesting of him, to the great discomfort of the dean and
canons.

Here you have heard the causes which moved Testwood's enemies to seek
his destruction, and could not attain their purpose, till that wicked
Haman, Dr. London, came, as shall be showed in the process following.

The original of Henry Filmer s trouble.

About the year of our Lord 1511, after all the orders of superstitious
and begging friars were suppressed and put down, there chanced one Sir
Thomas Meister, who had been a friar before, and had changed his
friar's coat, (but not his friar's heart,) to be vicar of Windsor.
This priest, on a time, made a sermon to his parishioners, in which he
declared so many fond and friarish tales, as, that our Lady should
hold out her breasts to St. Bernard, and spout her milk into his eyes,
with such-like festival tales, that many honest men were offended
therewith, and especially this Henry Filmer, then one of the
churchwardens; who was so zealous to God's word, that he could not
abide to hear the glory of Christ so defaced with superstitious
fables. Whereupon he took an honest man or two with him, and went to
the priest, with whom he talked so honestly, and so charitably, that
in the end the priest gave him hearty thanks, and was content, at his
gentle admonition, to reform himself without any more ado, and so
departed friendly the one from the other.

Now there was one in the town, called William Simons, a lawyer, (as is
aforesaid,) who, hearing that Filmer had been with the priest, and had
reproved him for his sermon, took pepper in the nose, and got him to
the vicar, and did so animate him in his doings, that he slipped quite
away from the promise he had made to Filmer, and followed the mind of
Simons; who, meeting with Filmer afterwards, all-to-reviled him,
saying, he would bring him before the bishop, to teach him to be so
malapert. Then Filmer, hearing the matter renewed, which he had
thought had been suppressed, stood against Simons, and said, that the
vicar had preached false and unsound doctrine; and so would he say to
the bishop, whensoever he came before him. Then Simons slipped not the
matter, but went to the mayor, and procured of him and his brethren a
letter, signed with their own hands, in the priest's favour as much as
could be devised: and so departed himself, with other his friends, to
go to the bishop, (whose name was Dr. Capon,) and to take the priest
with them; which was a painful journey for the silly poor man, by
reason he had a sore leg.

Now Filmer, hearing how Simons went about to put him to a foil,
consulted with his friends what was best to do; who concluded to draw
out certain notes of the vicar's sermon, and to prepare themselves to
be at Salisbury as soon as Simons, or before him, if it might be
possible. Thus, both the parties being in a readiness, it chanced them
to set forth from Windsor all in one day: but, by reason the priest,
being an impotent man, could not endure to ride very fast, Filter and
his company got to the town an hour and more before Simons, went to
the bishop, and delivered up their bill unto him; which bill, when the
bishop had seen and perused well, he gave them great thanks for their
pains, saying, it did behove him to look upon it; for the priest had
preached heresy, and should be punished.

Then Filmer declared unto the bishop the form of his talk he had with
the priest, and the end thereof; and how the matter, being renewed
again by Simons, forced him and his company to trouble his Lordship
therewith. "Well," said the bishop, "ye have done like honest men:
come to me soon again, and ye shall know more." And so they departed
from the bishop to their inn; and, while they were there reposing
themselves, Simons, with his company, came to the town, and (not
knowing the other to be come) got them up to the bishop in all post
haste, taking the priest with them.

The bishop, hearing of more Windsor men, demanded what they were, and
being informed how it was the vicar of the town, with others besides,
he caused the vicar to be brought in; to whom he said, "Are you the
vicar of Windsor?" "Yea, forsooth, my Lord," quoth he. "How chanceth
it," quoth the bishop, "that you are complained on? for there have
been with me certain honest men of your town, who have delivered up a
bill of erroneous doctrine against you: if it be so, I must needs
punish you." And opening the bill, he read it unto him. "How say you,"
quoth the bishop, "is this true, or no?" The vicar could not deny it,
but humbly submitted himself to the bishop's correction. Then was his
company called in, and when the bishop saw Simons, he knew him well,
and said, "Wherefore come you, Master Simons?" "Pleaseth it your
Lordship," quoth he, "we are come to speak in our vicar's cause, who
is a man of good conversation and honesty, and doth his duty so well
in every point, that no man can find fault with him, except a lewd
fellow we have in our town, called Filmer, who is so corrupt with
heresy, that he is able to poison a whole country. And truly, my Lord,
quoth Simons, "there is no man that can preach or teach any thing that
is good and godly, but he is ready to control it, and to say it is
stark naught. Wherefore we shall beseech your Lordship he may be
punished, to the ensample of others, that our vicar may do his duty
quietly, as he hath done before this busy fellow troubled him. And,
that your Lordship shall the better credit my sayings, I have brought
with the these honest men of the town: and besides all that, a
testimonial from the mayor and his brethren, to confirm the same:" and
so he held out the writing in his hand.

Then said the bishop, "So God help me, Master Simons! ye are greatly
to blame, and most worthy to be punished of all men, that will so
impudently go about to maintain your priest in his error, who hath
preached heresy, and hath confessed it: wherefore I may not, nor will
not, see it unpunished. And as for that honest man Filmer, of whom ye
have complained, I tell you plainly, he hath in this point showed
himself a great deal more honester man than you. But in hope you will
no more bear out your vicar in his evil doings, I will remit all
things at this time, saving that he shall the next Sunday recant his
sermon openly before all his parishioners in Windsor church." And so
the bishop called in Filmer and his company, who waited without, and
delivered the priest's recantation unto them, with a great charge to
see it truly observed in all points. Then Simons took his leave of the
bishop, and departed with a flea in his ear, disappointed of his
purpose, and sore ashamed of the foil. For this cause Simons could
never brook Filmer, but when he met him at any time after, would hold
up his finger, (as his manner was, where he owed displeasure,) and
say, "I will be even with you one day, trust me!"

The original of Anthony Peerson's trouble.

There was a certain priest, named Anthony Peerson, who frequented much 
to Windsor about the year of our Lord 1540, and, using the talent that
God had given him in preaching, was greatly esteemed among the people,
who flocked so much to his sermons which he made both in the town and
country, that the great priests of the castle, with other papists in
the town, especially Simons, were sore offended, insomuch that Simons
at the last began to gather of his sermons, and to mark his auditors;
whereof ensued the death of divers, and trouble of many honest men.
For about a year and more after, a minister of Satan, called Dr.
London, warden of New College in Oxford, was admitted one of the
prebendaries of Windsor, who, at his first coming to Windsor, began to
utter his stomach and to show his affection. For, at his first
residence-dinner which he made to the clerks, (which company, for the
most part, at that time favoured the gospel,) all his whole talk to
two gentlemen, strangers at his board, (till the table was a taking
up,) was nothing else but of heretics, and what a desolation they
would bring the realm unto, if they might be so suffered. "And by St.
Mary, masters!" quoth he to the clerks at last, "I cannot tell, but
there goeth a shrewd report abroad of this house." Some made answer,
it was undeserved. "I pray God it be," quoth he, "I am but a stranger,
and have but small experience amongst you; but I have heard it said
before I came hither, that there be some in this house, that will
neither have prayer nor fasting."

Then spake Testwood, "By my troth, sir!" quoth he, "I think that was
spoken of malice: for prayer, as your Mastership knoweth better than
I, is one of the first lessons that Christ taught us." "Yea, marry,
sir," quoth he, "but the heretics will have no invocation to saints,
which all the old fathers do allow." "What the old fathers do allow,"
quoth Testwood, "I cannot tell; but Christ doth appoint us to go to
his Father, and to ask our petitions of him in Christ's name." "Then
you will have no mean between you and God," quoth Dr. London. "Yes,
sir," quoth Testwood, "our mean is Christ, as St. Paul saith, There is
one Mediator between God and man, even Jesus Christ." "Give us water,"
quoth Dr. London: which being set on the board, he said grace, and
washed; and so falling into other communication with the strangers,
the clerks took their leave and departed. When Dr. London had been at
Windsor awhile, among his catholic brethren, and learned what Testwood
was, and also of Simons, (who showed him our Lady's nose, as he called
it,) what sort of heretics were in the town, and about the same, and
how they increased daily by reason of a naughty priest, called Anthony
Peerson, he was so maliciously bent against them, that he gave himself
wholly to the devil, to do mischief. And to bring his wicked purpose
about, he conspired with the aforesaid Simons, a meet clerk to serve
such a curate, and others of like sort, how they might compass the
matter, first to have all the arch-heretics, as they termed them, in
Windsor and thereabouts, indicted of heresy, and so to proceed
further. They had a good ground to work upon, as they thought, which
was the six articles, whereupon they began to build and practise thus.
First, they drew out certain notes of Anthony Peerson's sermons, which
he had preached against the sacrament of the altar, and their popish
mass. That done, they put in Sir William Hobby, with the good lady his
wife, Sir Thomas Cardine, Master Edmund Harman, Master Thomas Weldon,
with Snowball and his wife, as chief ciders, helpers, and maintainers
of Anthony Peerson. Also they noted Dr. Haynes, dean of Exeter, and a
prebendary of Windsor, to be a common receiver of all suspected
persons. They wrote also the names of all such as commonly haunted
Anthony Peerson's sermons, and of all such as had the Testament, and
favoured the gospel, or did but smell thereof.

Then had they privy spies to walk up and down the church, to hearken
and hear what men said, and to mark who did not reverence the
sacrament, at the elevation-time, and to bring his name to Dr. London.
And of these spies some were chantry priests; among the which there
was one notable spy, whose name was called Sir William Bows, such a
fleering priest as would be in every corner of the church pattering to
himself, with his portues in his hand, to hear and to note the gesture
of men towards the sacrament. Thus, when they had gathered as much as
they could, and made a perfect book thereof, Dr. London, with two of
his catholic brethren more, gave them up to the bishop of Winchester,
Stephen Gardiner, with a great complaint against the heretics that
were in Windsor, declaring unto him how the town was sore disquieted
through their doctrine and evil example: wherefore they besought his
Lordship's help, in purging the town and castle of such wicked
persons. The bishop, hearing their complaint, and seeing their book,
praised their doings, and bade them make friends and go forward, and
they should not lack his help. Then they applied the matter with tooth
and nail, sparing for no money or pains-taking, as Marbeck saith that
he himself heard one of them say, who was a great doer therein, and
afterwards sorry for that he had done, that the suit thereof cost him
that year, for his part only, a hundred marks, besides the death of
three good geldings.

Now Bishop Gardiner, who had conceived a further fetch in his brain
than Dr. London had, made Wriothesley and others of the council on his
side, and spying a time convenient, went to the king, complaining what
a sort of heretics his Grace had in his realm, and how they were not
only crept into every corner of his court, but even into his privy
chamber; beseeching therefore his Majesty that his laws might be
prosecuted. The king, giving credit to the council's words, was
content his laws should be executed on such as were offenders. Then
had the bishop what he desired, and forthwith procured a commission
for a privy search to be had in Windsor for books and letters that
Anthony Peerson should send abroad; which commission the king granted
to take place in the town of Windsor, but not in the castle.

At this time the canons of Exeter (specially Southarne, treasurer of
the church, and Dr. Bruerwood, the chancellor) had accused Dr. Haynes,
their dean, to the council, for preaching against holy bread and holy
water, and that he should say in one of his sermons (having occasion
to speak of matrimony) that marriage and hanging were destiny; upon
which they gathered treason against him, because of the king's
marriage. The bishop of Winchester (at the same time) had also
informed the council of Master Hobby, how he was a hearer of Anthony
Peerson, and a great maintainer of heretics: whereupon both he, and
Dr. Haynes, were apprehended and sent to the Fleet. But it was not
very long after, ere that by the mediation of friends they were both
delivered.

Now, as touching the commission for searching for books, Master Ward
and Master Fachel, of Reading, were appointed commissioners, who came
to Windsor the Thursday before Palm Sunday, A.D. 1543, and began their
search about eleven of the clock at night: in which search were
apprehended Robert Bennet, Henry Filmer, John Marbeck, and Robert
Testwood, for certain books and writings found in their houses against
the six articles, who were kept in ward till Monday after, and then
fetched up to the council, all save Testwood, with whom the bailiffs
of the town were charged, because he lay sore diseased of the gout.
The other three, being examined before the council, were committed to
prison, Filmer and Bennet to the bishop of London's jail, and Marbeck
to the Marshalsea; whose examination is here set out, to declare the
great goodness of the council, and the cruelty of the bishop.

The first examination of John Marbeck before the council. on the
Monday after Palm Sunday, A.D. 1543.
(Ilustration: Marbeck examined by the council £225)

This Marbeck had begun a great work in English, called The Concordance
of the Bible; which book, being not half finished, was among his other
books taken in the search, and had up to the council. And when he came
before them to be examined, the whole work lay before the bishop of
Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, at the upper end of the board; who,
beholding the poor man awhile, said, "Marbeck, dost thou know
wherefore thou art sent for?" "No, my Lord," quoth he. "No!" quoth the
bishop; "that is a marvellous thing." "Forsooth, my Lord," quoth he,
"unless it be for a certain search made of late in Windsor, I cannot
tell wherefore it should be." "Then thou knowest the matter well
enough;" quoth the bishop: and, taking up a quire of the Concordance
in his hand, he said, "Understandest thou the Latin tongue?" "No, my
Lord," quoth he, "but simply." "No!" quoth the bishop; and with that
spake Master Wriothesley (then secretary to the king): "He saith, but
simply." "I cannot tell," quoth the bishop, "but the book is
translated word for word out of the Latin Concordance:" and so began
to declare to the rest of the council the nature of a Concordance, and
how it was first compiled in Latin, by the great diligence of the
learned men for the ease of preachers; concluding with this reason,
that if such a book should go forth in English, it would destroy the
Latin tongue. And so, casting down the quire again, he reached another
book, which was the Book of Isaiah the Prophet, and turning to the
last chapter, gave the book to Marbeck, and asked him who had written
the note in the margin. The other, looking upon it, said, "Forsooth,
any Lord, I wrote it." "Read it," quoth the bishop. Then he read it
thus, "Heaven is my seat, and the earth is my footstool." "Nay," quoth
the bishop, "read it as thou hast written it." "Then shall I read it
wrong," quoth he, "for I had written it false." "How hadst thou
written it," quoth the bishop. "I had written it;" quoth he, "thus,
'Heaven is my seat, and the earth is not my footstool.'" "Yea, marry,"
quoth the bishop, "that was thy meaning." "No, my Lord," quoth he, "it
was but an oversight in writing; for, as your Lordship seeth, this
word not is blotted out." At this time came other matters into the
council, so that Marbeck was had out to the next chamber. And when the
had stood there awhile, one of the council, named Sir Anthony
Wingfield, captain of the guard, came forth, and calling for Marbeck,
committed him to one Belson of the guard, saying unto him on this
wise: "Take this man and have him to the Marshalsea, and tell the
keeper that it is the council's pleasure that he shall treat him
gently; and if he have any money in his purse, as I think he hath not
much, take you it from him, lest the prisoners do take it; and
minister it unto him as he shall have need." And so the messenger
departed with Marbeck to the Marshalsea, and did his commission most
faithfully and truly. both to the keeper and to the prisoner, as he
was commanded.

The second examination of Marbeck, before the bishop's gentleman in
the Marshalsea.

On the next day, which was Tuesday, by eight of the clock in the
morning, there came one of the bishop of Winchester's gentlemen into
the Marshalsea, whose man brought after him two great books under his
arm, and finding Marbeck walking up and down in the chapel, demanded
of the keeper why he was not in irons, "I had no such commandment,"
quoth he; "for the messenger which brought him yesternight from the
council, said it was their pleasure, he should be gently used." "My
Lord," quoth the gentleman, "will not be content with you:" and so
taking the books of his man, he called for a chamber, up to which he
carried the prisoner, and casting the books from him upon a bed, sat
him down and said, "Marbeck! my Lord doth favour thee well for certain
good qualities that thou hast, and hath sent me hither to admonish
thee to beware and take heed lest thou cast away thyself wilfully. If
thou wilt be plain, thou shalt do thyself much good; if not, thou
shalt do thyself much harm. I assure thee, my Lord lamenteth thy case,
forasmuch as he hath always heard good report of thee; wherefore now
see to thyself, and play the wise man. Thou art acquainted with a
great sort of heretics, as Hobby and Haynes, with others more, and
knowest much of their secrets: if thou wilt now open them at my Lord's
request, he will procure thy deliverance out of hand, and prefer thee
to better living."

"Alas! sir," quoth he, "what secrets do I know? I am but a poor man,
and was never worthy to be so conversant either with Master Hobby or
Master Haynes, to know any part of their minds." "Well," quoth the
gentleman, "make it not so strange, for my Lord doth know well enough
in what estimation they had both thee and Anthony Peerson, for your
religion." "For Anthony Peerson," quoth he, "I can say nothing, for I
never saw him with them in all my life: and as for myself, I cannot
deny but that they have always, I thank them, taken me for an honest
poor man, and showed me much kindness; but as for their secrets, they
were too wise to commit them to any such as I am."

"Peradventure," quoth the gentleman, "thou fearest to utter any thing
of them, because they were thy friends, lest they, hearing thereof,
might hereafter withdraw their friendship from thee; which thou
needest not to fear, I warrant thee, for they are sure enough, and
never like to pleasure thee more, nor any man else."

With that the water stood in Marbeck's eyes. "Why weepest thou?" quoth
the gentleman. "Oh, sir," quoth he, "I pray you pardon me: these men
have done me good; wherefore I beseech the living God to comfort them
as I would be comforted myself."

"Well," quoth the gentleman, "I perceive thou wilt play the fool;" and
then he opened one of the books and asked him if he understood any
Latin. "But a little, sir;" quoth he. "How is it then," quoth the
gentleman, "that thou hast translated thy book out of the Latin
Concordance, and yet understandest not the tongue?" "I will tell you,"
quoth he; "in my youth I learned the principles of my grammar, whereby
I have some understanding therein, though it be very small." Then the
gentleman began to try him in the Latin Concordance and English Bible
which he had brought: and when he had so done, and was satisfied, he
called up his man to fetch away the books, and so departed, leaving
Marbeck alone in the chamber, the door fast shut unto him.

About two hours after, the gentleman came again, with a sheet of paper
folded in his hand, and set him down upon the bed-side, (as before,)
and said, "By my troth, Marbeck! my Lord seeth so much wilfulness in
thee, that he saith it is pity to do thee good. When wast thou last
with Haynes?" "Forsooth," quoth he, "about three weeks ago, I was at
dinner with him." "And what talk," quoth the gentleman, "had he at his
board?" "I cannot tell now," quoth he. "No!" quoth the gentleman;
"thou art not so dull witted, to forget a thing in so short a space."
"Yes, sir," quoth he, "such familiar talk as men do use at their
boards, is most commonly by the next day forgotten; and so it was with
me." "Didst thou never," quoth the gentleman, "talk with him, or with
any of thy fellows, of the mass, or of the blessed sacrament?" "No,
forsooth," quoth he. "Now, forsooth," quoth the gentleman, "thou
liest; for thou hast been seen to talk with Testwood, and others of
thy fellows, an hour together in the church, when honest men have
walked up and down beside you; and, ever as they have drawn near you,
ye have stayed your talk till they have been past you, because they
should not hear whereof you talked." "I deny not," quoth he, "but I
have talked with Testwood and others of my fellows. I cannot tell how
oft; which maketh not that we talked either of the mass or of the
sacrament: for men may commune and talk of many matters. that they
would not that every man should hear, and yet far from any such thing;
therefore it is good to judge the best." "Well!" quoth the gentleman,
"thou must be plainer with my Lord than this, or else it will be wrong
with thee, and that sooner than thou weenest." "How plain will his
Lordship have me to be, sir?" quoth he. "There is nothing that I can
do and say with a safe conscience, but I am ready to do it at his
Lordship's pleasure." "What tellest thou me," quoth the gentleman, "of
thy conscience? Thou mayest, with a safe conscience, utter those that
be heretics, and, so doing, thou canst do God and the king no greater
service." "If I knew, sir," quoth he, "who were a heretic indeed, it
were a thing; but if I should accuse him to be a heretic that is none,
what a worm would that be in my conscience so long as I lived! yea, it
were a deal better for me to be out of this life, than to live in such
torment." "In faith," quoth the gentleman, "thou knowest as well who
be heretics of thy fellows at home, and who be none, as I do know this
paper to be in my hand. But it maketh no matter, for they shall all be
sent for and examined: and thinkest thou that they will not utter and
tell of thee all that they can? Yes, I warrant thee. And what a
foolish dolt art thou, that wilt not utter aforehand what they be,
seeing it standeth upon thy deliverance to tell the truth?"
"Whatsoever," quoth he, "they shall say of me, let them do it in the
name of God: for I will say no more of them, nor of any man else, than
I know." "Marry! quoth the gentleman, "if thou wilt do so, my Lord
requireth no more. And forasmuch as now, peradventure, thy wits are
troubled, so that thou canst not call things even by and by to
remembrance, I have brought thee ink and paper, that thou mayest
excogitate with thyself, and write such things as shall come to thy
mind." "O Lord!" quoth Marbeck, "what will my Lord do? Will his
Lordship compel me to accuse men I wot not whereof?" "No," quoth the
gentleman, "my Lord compelleth thee not, but gently entreateth thee to
say the truth: therefore make no more ado, but write; for my Lord will
have it so." And so he laid down the ink and paper, and went his way.

Now was Marbeck so full of heaviness and woe, that he wist not what to
do, nor how to set the pen to the book to satisfy the bishop's mind,
unless he did accuse men to the wounding of his own soul. And thus,
being compassed about with nothing but sorrow and care, he cried out
to God in his heart, falling down with weeping tears, and said,

"O most merciful Father of heaven! thou that knowest the secret doings
of all men, have mercy upon thy poor prisoner who is destitute of all
help and comfort. Assist me, O Lord, with thy special grace, that, to
save this frail and vile body, which shall turn to corruption at its
time, I may have no power to say or to write any thing that may be to
the casting away of my Christian brother; but rather, O Lord, let this
vile flesh suffer at thy will and pleasure. Grant this, O most
merciful Father, for thy dear Son Jesus Christ's sake."

Then he rose up and began to search his conscience what he might
write, and at last framed out these words:

"Whereas your Lordship will have me to write such things as I know of
my fellows at home, pleaseth it your Lordship to understand, that I
cannot call to remembrance any manner of thing whereby I might justly
accuse any one of them, unless it be that the reading of the New
Testament, which is common to all men, be an offence: more than this I
know not."

Now the gentleman, about his hour appointed, came again, and found
Marbeck walking up and down the chamber. "How now," quoth he, "hast
thou written nothing?" "Yes, sir;" quoth he, "as much as I know."
"Well said," quoth the gentleman; and took up the paper: which, when
he had read, he cast it from him in a great fume, swearing by our
Lord's body, that he would not for twenty pounds carry it to his lord
and master. "Therefore," quoth he, "go to it again, and advise thyself
better, or else thou wilt set my Lord against thee, and then art thou
utterly undone." "By my troth, sir," quoth Marbeck, "if his Lordship
shall keep me here these seven years, I can say no more than I have
said." "Then wilt thou repent it," quoth the gentleman: and so putting
up his penner and ink-horn, he departed with the paper in his hand.

The third examination of Marbeck before the bishop of Winchester
himself, in his own house.

The next day, which was Wednesday, by eight of the clock in the
morning, the bishop sent for Marbeck to his house at St. Mary Overy's,
and as he was entering into the bishop's hall, he saw the bishop
himself coming out at a door in the upper end thereof, with a roll in
his hand; and going toward the great window, he called the poor man
unto him, and said, "Marbeck! wilt thou cast away thyself?" "No, my
Lord," quoth he, "I trust." "Yes," quoth the bishop, "thou goest about
it, for thou wilt utter nothing. What a devil made thee to meddle with
the Scriptures? Thy vocation was another way, wherein thou hast a
goodly gift, if thou didst esteem it." "Yes, my Lord," quoth he, "I do
esteem it; and have done my part therein, according to that little
knowledge that God hath given me." "And why the devil," quoth the 
bishop, "didst thou not hold thee there?" And with that he flung away
from the window out of the hall, the poor man following him from place
to place, till he had brought him into a long gallery, and being
there, the bishop began on this wise: "Ah, sirrah," quoth he, "the
nest of you is broken, I trow." And unfolding his roll, (which was
about an ell long,) he said, "Behold, here be your captains, both
Hobby and Haynes, with all the whole pack of thy sect about Windsor,
and yet wilt thou utter none of them." "Alas, my Lord," quoth he, "how
should I accuse them, of whom I know nothing?" "Well," quoth the
bishop, "if thou wilt needs cast away thyself, who can let thee? What
helpers hadst thou in setting forth thy book?" "Forsooth, my Lord,"
quoth he. "none." "None!" quoth the bishop; "how can that be? It is
not possible that thou shouldst do it without help." "Truly, my Lord,"
quoth he, "I cannot tell in what part your Lordship doth take it, but,
howsoever it be, I will not deny but I did it without the help of any
man, save God alone." "Nay," quoth the bishop, "I do not discommend
thy diligence, but why shouldst thou meddle with that thing which
pertained not to thee?"

And in speaking of these words, one of his chaplains, called Master
Meadow, came up, and stayed himself at a window, to whom the bishop
said, "Here is a marvellous thing; this fellow hath taken upon him to
set out the Concordance in English, which book, when it was set out in
Latin, was not done without the help and diligence of a dozen learned
men at least, and yet will he bear me in hand, that he hath done it
alone. But say what thou wilt,"quoth the bishop, "except God himself
would come down from heaven and tell me so, I will not believe it." 
And so, going forth to a window where two great Bibles lay upon a
cushion, the one in Latin, and the other in English, he called Marbeck
unto him, and pointing his finger to a place in the Latin Bible, said,
"Canst thou English this sentence?" "Nay, my Lord," quoth he, "I trow
I be not so cunning to give it a perfect English, but I can fetch out
the English thereof in the English Bible." "Let's see," quoth the
bishop. Then Marbeck, turning the English Bible, found out the place
by and by, and read it to the bishop. So he tried him three or four
times, till one of his men came up, and told him the priest was ready
to go to mass.

And as the bishop was going, said the gentleman who had examined
Marbeck in the Marshalsea the day before, "Shall this fellow write
nothing while your Lordship is at mass, for he passeth not for it?"
"It maketh no matter," quoth the bishop, "for he will tell nothing:"
and so went down to hear mass, leaving Marbeck alone in the gallery.
The bishop was no sooner down, but the gentleman came up again with
ink and paper. "Come, sirrah!" quoth he, "my Lord will have you
occupied till mass be done:" persuading him with fair words, that he
should be soon despatched out of trouble, if he would use truth and
plainness. "Alas, sir!" quoth he, "what will my Lord have me to do?
for more than I wrote to his Lordship yesterday, I cannot" "Well,
well; go too," quoth the gentleman, "and make speed:" and so went his
way. There was no remedy but Marbeck must now write something;
wherefore he, calling to God again in his mind, wrote a few words, as
nigh as he could frame them, to those he had written the day before.
When the bishop was come from mass, and had looked on the writing, he
pushed it from him, saying, "What shall this do? It hath neither head
nor foot." "There is a marvellous sect of them," quoth the bishop to
his men, "for the devil cannot make one of them to bewray another."
Then was there nothing among the bishop's gentlemen, as they were
making him ready to go to the court, but "crucifige" upon the poor
man. And when the bishop's white rochet was on him, and all, "Well,
Marbeck," quoth he, "I am now going to the court, and had purposed, if
I had found thee tractable, to have spoken to the king's Majesty for
thee, and to have given thee thy meat, drink, and lodging here in mine
house; but, seeing thou art so wilful and so stubborn, thou shalt go
to the devil for me."

Then was he carried down by the bishop's men, with many railing words.
And, coming through the great chamber, there stood Dr. London, with
two more of his fellows, waiting the bishop's coming, and passing by
them into the hall, he was there received by his keeper, and carried
to prison again. It was not half an hour after, ere that the bishop
sent one of his gentleman to the under-keeper, called Stokes,
commanding him to put irons upon Marbeck, and to keep him fast shut in
a chamber alone; and when he should bring him down to dinner or
supper, to see that he spake to no man, and no man to him. And
furthermore, that he should suffer no manner of person (not his own
wife) to come and see him, or minister any thing unto him. When the
porter (who was the cruellest man that might be to all such as were
laid in for any matter of religion, and yet, as God would, favourable
to this poor man) had received this commandment from the bishop, he
clapped irons upon him, and shut him up, giving warning to all the
house, that no man should speak or talk to Marbeck, whensoever he was
brought down: and so he continued the space of three weeks and more,
till his wife was suffered to come unto him.

The suit of Marbeck's wife to the bishop of Winchester.

Marbeck's wife, at the time of her husband's apprehension, had a young
child of a quarter old sucking upon her breast; and when her husband
was taken from her, and had away to the council, not knowing what
should become of him, she left the child and all, and gat her up to
London; and hearing her husband to be in the Marshalsea, goeth
thither. But when she came there, she could in no wise be suffered to
see him, which greatly augmented her sorrow. Then, by counsel of
friends, she gat her to the bishop of Winchester, for other help was
there none to be had at that time,) making great suit to have his
licence to go and see her husband, and to help him with such things as
he lacked. "Nay," quoth the bishop, "thy husband is acquainted with
all the heretics that be in the realm, both on this side the sea and
beyond; and yet will he utter none of them." "Alas, my Lord!" quoth
she, "my husband was never beyond the seas, nor any great traveller in
the realm, to be so acquainted; therefore, my good Lord, let me go see
him." But all her earnest suit from day to day would not help, but
still he put her off, harping always upon this string, "Thy husband
will utter nothing." At last, she, finding him in the court at St.
James, going towards his chamber, was so bold as to take him by the
rochet, and say, "Oh. my Lord, these eighteen days I have troubled
your Lordship. Now, for the love of God, and as ever ye came of a
woman, put me off no longer, but let me go to my husband." And as she
was standing with the bishop and his men, in a blind corner going to
his chamber, one of the king's servants, called Henry Carrike, and her
next neighbour, chanced to be by; and, hearing the talk between the
bishop and her, desired his Lordship to be good unto the poor woman,
who had her own mother lying bedrid upon her hands, beside five or six
children. "I promise you," quoth the bishop, "her husband is a great
heretic, and hath read more Scripture than any man in the realm hath
done." "I cannot tell, my Lord," quoth Carrike,"what he is inwardly,
but outwardly he is as honest a quiet neighbour as ever I dwelt by."
"He will tell nothing," quoth the bishop: "he knoweth a great sort of
false harlots, and will not utter them." "Yes, my Lord," quoth
Carrike, "he will tell, I dare say, for he is an honest man." "Well,"
quoth the bishop, (speaking to the wife,) "thou seemest to be an
honest woman, and if thou love thy husband well, go to him, and give
him good counsel, to utter such naughty fellows as he knoweth, and I
promise thee he shall have what I can do for him; for I do fancy him
well for his art, wherein he hath pleased me as well as any man:" and
so, stepping into his chamber, said she should have his letter to the
keeper. But his mind being changed, he sent out his ring by a
gentleman, which gentleman delivered the ring to his man, charging him
with the bishop's message. And so his man went with the woman to the
water side, and took boat, who never rested railing on her husband all
the way, till they came to the prison; which was no small cross unto
the poor woman.

And when they were come to the Marshalsea, the messenger showed the
bishop's ring to the porter, saying, "Master Stokes! my Lord willeth
you by this token, that ye suffer this woman to have recourse to her
husband; but he straitly chargeth you, that ye search her both coming
and going, lest she bring or carry any letters to or fro, and that she
bring nobody unto him, nor any word from any man." "God's blood!"
quoth the porter, (who was a foul swearer,) "what will my Lord have me
to do? can I let her to bring word from any man? Either let her go to
her husband, or let her not go; for I see nothing by him but an honest
man." The poor woman, fearing to be repulsed, spake the porter fair,
saying, "Good master, be content, for I have found my Lord very good
lord unto me. This young man is but the gentleman's servant who
brought the ring from my Lord, and I think doth his message a great
deal more straiter than my Lord commanded the gentleman, or than the
gentleman his master commanded him: but, nevertheless, good master,"
quoth she, "I shall be contented to strip myself before you both
coming and going, so far as any honest woman may do with honesty; for
I intend no such thing, but only to comfort and help my husband." Then
the messenger said no more, but went his way, leaving the woman there,
who, from that time forth, was suffered to come and go at her
pleasure.

The fourth examination of Marbeck, before the commissioners in the
bishop of London's house.

About three weeks before Whitsunday was Marbeck sent for to the bishop
of London's house, where sat in commission Dr. Capon, bishop of
Salisbury, Dr. Skip, bishop of Hereford, Dr. Goodrick, bishop of Ely,
Dr. Oking, Dr. May, and the bishop of London's scribe, having before
them all Marbeck's books. Then said the bishop of Salisbury, "Marbeck!
we are here in commission, sent from the king's Majesty, to examine
thee of certain things whereof thou must be sworn to answer us
faithfully and truly." "I am content, my Lord," quoth he, "to tell you
the truth so far as I can:" and so took his oath. Then the bishop of
Salisbury laid forth before him his three books of notes, demanding
whose hand they were. He answered they were his own hand, and notes
which he had gathered out of other men's works six years ago. "For
what cause:" quoth the bishop of Salisbury, "didst thou gather them?"
"For none other cause, my Lord, but to come by knowledge: for I, being
unlearned, and desirous to understand some part of Scripture, thought,
by reading of learned men's works, to come the sooner thereby. And
where I found any place of Scripture opened and expounded by them,
that I noted as ye see, with a letter of his name in the margin, that
had set out the work." "So me think," quoth the bishop of Ely, (who
had one of the books of notes in his hand all the time of their
sitting,) "thou hast read of all sorts of books, both good and had, as
seemeth by the notes." "So I have, my Lord," quoth he. "And to what
purpose?" quoth the bishop of Salisbury. "By my truth," quoth he, "for
no other purpose but to see every man's mind." Then the bishop of
Salisbury drew out a quire of the Concordance, and laid it before the
bishop of Hereford, who, looking upon it awhile, lifted up his eyes to
Dr. Oking, standing next him, and said, "This man hath been better
occupied than a great sort of our priests:" to the which Oking made no
answer.

Then said the bishop of Salisbury, "Whose help hadst thou in setting
forth this book?" "Truly, my Lord," quoth he, "no help at all." "How
couldst thou," quoth the bishop, "invent such a book, or know what a
Concordance meant, without an instructor?" "I will tell your
Lordship," quoth he, "what instructor I had to begin it. When Thomas
Matthewe's Bible came first out in print, I was much desirous to have
one of them; and being a poor man, not able to buy one of them, I
determined with myself to borrow one amongst my friends, and to write
it forth. And when I had written out the five books of Moses in fair
great paper, and was entered into the book of Joshua, my friend Master
Turner chanced to steal upon me unawares, and seeing me writing out
the Bible, asked me what I meant thereby. And when I had told him the
cause, 'Tush' quoth he, 'thou goest about a vain and tedious labour.
But this were a profitable work for thee, to set out a Concordance in
English.' 'A Concordance,' said I, 'what is that?' Then he told me it
was a book to find out any word in the whole Bible by the letter, and
that there was such a one in Latin already. Then I told him I had no
learning to go about such a thing. 'Enough,' quoth he, 'for that
matter, for it requireth not so much learning as diligence. And seeing
thou art so painful a man, and one that cannot be unoccupied, it were
a goodly exercise for thee.' And this, my Lord, is all the instruction
that ever I had before or after, of any man." "What is that Turner?"
quoth the bishop of Salisbury. "Marry," quoth Dr. May, "an honest
learned man, and a bachelor of divinity, and some time a fellow in
Magdalene College in Oxford." "How couldst thou," quoth the bishop of
Salisbury, "with this instruction, bring it to this order and form, as
it is?" "I borrowed a Latin Concordance," quoth he, "and began to
practise my wit; and, at last, with great labour and diligence,
brought it into this order, as your Lordship doth see." "A good wit 
with diligence," quoth the bishop of Hereford, "may bring hard things
to pass." "It is great pity," quoth the bishop of Ely, "he had not the
Latin tongue." "So it is," quoth Dr. May. "Yet cannot I believe,"
quoth the bishop of Salisbury, "that he hath done any more in this
work, than write it out after some other that is learned."

My Lords," quoth Marbeck, "I shall beseech you all to pardon me what I
shall say, and to grant my request if it shall seem good unto you."
"Say what thou wilt," quoth the bishops. "I do marvel greatly
wherefore I should be so much examined for this book, and whether I
have committed any offence in doing of it or no? If I have, then were
I loth any other to be molested or punished for my fault. Therefore,
to clear all men in this matter, this is my request, that ye will try
me in the rest of the book that is undone; ye see that I am yet but in
the letter L; begin now at M, and take out what word ye will of that
letter, and so in every letter following, and give me the words on a
piece of paper, and set me in a place alone where it shall please you,
with ink and paper, the English Bible, and the Latin Concordance: and
if I bring you not these words written in the same order and form that
the rest before is, then was it not I that did it, but some other."

"By my troth, Marbeck," quoth the bishop of Ely, "that is honestly
spoken, and then shalt thou bring many out of suspicion." "That he
shall," quoth they all. Then they bade Dr. Oking draw out such words
as he thought best, in a piece of paper, and so rose up; and in the
mean time fell into other familiar talk with Marbeck, (for the bishops
of Ely and Hereford were both acquainted with him afore, and his
friends, so far as they durst,) who, perceiving the bishops so
pleasantly disposed, besought them to tell him in what danger he
stood. "Shall I tell thee, Marbeck?" quoth the bishop of Sarum. "Thou
art in better case than any of thy fellows, of whom there be some
would give forty pounds to be in no worse case than thou art:" whose
sayings the other affirmed. Then came Dr. Oking with the words he had
written, and while the bishops were perusing them over, Dr. Oking said
to Marbeck, very friendly, on this wise: "Good Master Marbeck, make
haste, for the sooner ye have done, the sooner ye shall be delivered."
And as the bishops were going away, the bishop of Hereford took
Marbeck a little aside, and informed him of a word which Dr. Oking had
written false, and also, to comfort him, said, "Fear not; there can no
law condemn you for any thing that ye have done; for if ye had written
a thousand heresies, so long as they be not your sayings nor your
opinions, the law cannot hurt you." And so went they all with the
bishop of Sarum to dinner, taking the poor man with them, who dined in
the hall, at the steward's board; and besides that, had wine and meat
sent down from the bishop's table.

When dinner was done, the bishop of Sarum came down into the hall,
commanding ink and paper to be given to Marbeck, and the two books to
one of his men to go with him; at whose going he demanded of the
bishop, what time his Lordship would appoint him to do it in? "Against
to-morrow this time;" quoth the bishop; which was about two of the
clock, and so departed.

Marbeck, now being in his prison-chamber, fell to his business. and so
applied the thing, that by the next day. when the bishop sent for him
again, he had written so much, in the same order and form he had done
the rest before, as contained three sheets of paper and more: which
when he had delivered to the bishop of Sarum, Dr. Oking standing by,
he marvelled and said. "Well, Marbeck, thou hast now put me out of all
doubt. I assure thee," quoth he, putting up the paper into his bosom,
"the king shall see this ere I be twenty-four hours older." But he
dissembled every word, and thought nothing less than so; for
afterwards, the matter being come to light, and known to his Grace,
what a book the poor man had begun, which the bishops would not suffer
him to finish, the king said he was better occupied than they that
took it from him. So Marbeck departed from the bishop of Sarum to
prison again, and heard no more of his book.

The fifth examination of Marbeck, before Dr. Oking, and Master Knight,
secretary to the bishop of Winchester, in St. Mary Overy's church.

Upon Whitsunday following at afternoon, was Marbeck sent for once
again to St. Mary Overy's, where he found Dr. Oking, with another
gentleman in a gown of damask, with a chain of gold about his neck,
(no more in all the church but they two,) sitting together in one of
the stalls, their backs towards the church door, looking upon an
epistle of Master John Calvin's, which Marbeck had written out; and
when they saw the prisoner come, they rose and had him up to a side
altar, leaving his keeper in the body of the church alone. Now, as
soon as Marbeck saw the face of the gentleman, (whom before he knew
not, by reason of his apparel,) he saw it was the same person that
first examined him in the Marshalsea, and did also cause him to write
in the bishop's gallery, but never knew his name till now he heard Dr.
Oking call him Master Knight. This Master Knight held forth the paper
to Marbeck, and said, "Look upon this, and tell me whose hand it is."

When Marbeck had taken the paper and seen what it was, he confessed it
to be all his hand, saving the first leaf and the notes in the margin.
"Then I perceive;" quoth Knight, "thou wilt not go from thine own
hand." "No, sir," quoth he, "I will deny nothing that I have done."
"Thou dost well in that," quoth Knight, "for if thou shouldst, we have
testimonies enough besides, to try out thy hand by. But I pray thee
tell me, whose hand is the first leaf:" "That I cannot tell you,"
quoth Marbeck. "Then how camest thou by it?" quoth Knight. "Forsooth I
will tell you," quoth he. "There was a priest dwelling with us about
five or six years ago, called Marshal, who sent it unto me with the
first leaf written; desiring me to write it out with speed, because
the copy could not be spared past an hour or twain: and so I wrote it
out, and sent him both the copy and it again."

"And how came this hand in the margin," quoth he, "which is a contrary
hand to both the others?" "That I will tell you," quoth Marbeck: "When
I wrote it out at the first, I made so much haste of it, that I
understood not the matter, wherefore I was desirous to see it again,
and to read it with more deliberation; and being sent to me the second
time, it was thus quoted in the margin, as ye see. And shortly after
this, it was his chance to go beyond the seas, (where he lived not
long,) by reason whereof the epistle remaineth with me; but whether
the first leaf, or the notes in the margin, were his hand, or whose
hand else, that I cannot tell." "Tush," quoth Dr. Oking to Master
Knight, "he knoweth well enough that the notes be Haynes's own hand."
"If you know so much," quoth Marbeck, "ye know more than I do; for I
tell you truly, I know it not." "By my faith, Marbeck," quoth Knight,
"if thou wilt not tell by fair means, those fingers of thine shall be
made to tell." "By my troth, sir," quoth Marbeck, "if ye do tear the
whole body in pieces, I trust in God, ye shall never make me accuse
any man wrongfully." "If thou be so stubborn," quoth Dr. Oking. "thou
wilt die for it." "Die, Master Oking!" quoth he, "wherefore should I
die? You told me the last day, before the bishops, that as soon as I
had made an end of the piece of Concordance they took from me, I
should be delivered: and shall I now die? This is a sudden mutation.
You seemed then to be my friend; but I know the cause: ye have read
the ballet I made of Moses' chair, and that hath set you against me;
but whensoever ye shall put me to death, I doubt not to die God's true
man and the king's." "How so?" quoth Knight. "How canst thou die a
true man unto the king, when thou hast offended his laws? Is not this
epistle, and are not most of the notes thou hast written, directly
against the six articles?" "No, sir," quoth Marbeck; "I have not
offended the king's laws therein; for since the first time I began
with the Concordance, (which is almost six yeas ago, I have been
occupied in nothing else: so that both this epistle, and all the notes
I have gathered, were written a great while before the six articles
came forth, and are clearly remitted by the king's general pardon."
"Trust not to that," quoth Knight, "for it will not help thee." "No, I
warrant him," quoth Dr. Oking. And so going down to the body of the
church, they committed him to his keeper, who had him away to prison
again.

The suit of Filmer's wife, to the bishops who sat in commission, for
her husband.

In like manner the wife of Filmer, knowing her husband's trouble to be
only procured of malice by Simons, his old enemy, made great suit and
labour unto the bishops who were commissioners, desiring no more of
them, but that it would please their goodness to examine her husband
before them, and to hear him make his purgation. This was her only
request to every of the bishops from day to day, wheresoever she could
find them; insomuch that two of the bishops (Ely and Hereford) were
very sorry (considering the importunate and reasonable suit of the
woman) that it lay not in them to help her. Thus, travelling long up
and down from one to another, to have her husband examined, it was her
chance at last to find the bishops all three together in the bishop of
Ely's palace; unto whom she said, "O good my Lords! for the love of
God, let now my poor husband be brought forth before you, while ye be
here all together. For truly, my Lords, there can nothing be justly
laid against him, but that of malicious envy and spite Simons hath
wrought him this trouble. And you, my Lord of Salisbury," quoth the
poor woman," can testify (if it will please your Lordship to say the
truth) what malice Simons bare to my husband, when they were both
before you at Salisbury, little more than a year ago, for the vicar of
Windsor's matter. For, as your Lordship knoweth, when my husband had
certified you of the priest's sermon, which you said was plain heresy,
then came Simons, (after the priest himself had confessed it,) and
would have defended the priest's error before your Lordship, and have
had my husband punished. At what time it pleased your Lordship to
commend and praise my husband for his honesty, and to rebuke Simons
for maintaining the priest in his error; and thereupon commanded the
priest to recant his heresy, at his coming home to Windsor. This, my
Lord, you know to be true. And now, my Lords," quoth the woman, "it is
most certain, that for this cause only did Simons evermore afterwards
threaten my husband to be even with him. Therefore, my good Lords,
call my husband before you, and hear him speak; and if ye find any
other matter against him than this that I have told you, let me suffer
death." "Is this so, my Lord? "quoth the bishops of Ely and Hereford.
And the other could not deny it. Then they spake Latin to the bishop
of Salisbury, and he to them, and so departed. For the matter was so
wrought between Dr. London and Simons, that Filmer could never be
suffered to come before the commissioners to be examined.

The martyrdom of Peerson, Testwood, and Filmer; with the manner of
their condemnations, and how they died.-- Also the sparing of Marbeck,
after he was sentenced to death.

When the time drew nigh that the king's Majesty (who was newly married
to that good and virtuous Lady Katharine Parr) should make his
progress abroad, the aforesaid Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester,
had so compassed his matters, that no man bare so great a swinge about
the king as he did: wherewith the gospellers were so quailed, that the
best of them all looked every hour to be clapped in the neck; for the
saying went abroad, that the bishop had bent his bow to shoot at some
of the head deer. But, in the mean time, three or four of the poor
rascals were caught, that is to say, Anthony Peerson, Henry Filmer,
and John Marbeck, and sent to Windsor by the sheriff's men the
Saturday before St. James's day, and laid fast in the town jail: and
Testwood, who had kept his bed, was brought out of his house upon
crutches, and laid with them. But as for Bennet, which should have
been the fifth man, his chance was to be sick of the pestilence, and
having a great sore upon him, he was left behind in the bishop of
London's jail, whereby he escaped the fire.

Now, these men being brought to Windsor, there was a sessions
specially procured to be holden the Thursday after, which was St.
Ann's day: against the which sessions (by the counsel of Dr. London
and of Simons) were all the farmers, belonging to the college of
Windsor, warned to appear; because they could not pick out papists
enough in the town, to go upon the jury. The judges that day were
these: Dr. Capon, bishop of Salisbury; Sir William Essex, knight; Sir
Thomas Bridges, knight; Sir Humfrey Foster, knight; Master Franklen,
dean of Windsor and Master Fachel of Reading.

When these had taken their places, and the prisoners were brought
forth before them, then Robert Ockam, occupying for that day the room
of the clerk of the peace, called Anthony Peerson, according to the
manner of the court, and read his indictment, which was this:

"First, That he should preach two years before in a place called
Wingfield, and there should say, that like as Christ was hanged
between two thieves, even so, when the priest is at mass, and hath
consecrated and lifted him up over his head, there he hangeth between
two thieves, except he preach the word of God truly, as he hath taken
upon him to do.

"Also, that he said to the people in the pulpit, 'Ye shall not eat the
body of Christ as it did hang upon the cross gnawing it with your
teeth, that the blood run about your lip': but you shall eat him this
day as ye eat Him to-morrow, the next day, and every day: for it
refresheth not the body, but the soul.'

"Also, after he had preached and commended the Scripture, calling it
the word of God, he said as followeth: 'This is the word: this is the
bread: this is the body of Christ.'

"Also he said that Christ, sitting with his disciples, took bread, and
blessed, and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, Take and
eat; this is my body. 'What is this to us, but to take the Scripture
of God, and to break it to the people?'"

To this Anthony answered and said, "I will be tried by God and his
holy word, and by the true church of Christ, whether this be heresy or
no, whereof ye have indicted me this day. So long as I preached the
bishop of Rome, and his filthy traditions, I was never troubled; but
since I have taken upon me to preach Christ and his gospel, ye have
always sought my life. But it maketh no matter, for when you have
taken your pleasure of my body, I trust it shall not lie in your
powers to hurt my soul." "Thou callest us thieves," quoth the bishop.
"I say," quoth Anthony, "ye are not only thieves, but murderers,
except ye preach and teach the word of God purely and sincerely to the
people; which ye do not, nor ever did; but have allured them to all
idolatry, superstition, and hypocrisy, for your.own lucre and glory's
sake, through the which ye are become rather bite-sheeps than true
bishops, biting and devouring the poor sheep of Christ, like ravening
wolves, never satisfied with blood; which God will require at your
hands one day, doubt it not." Then spake Simons his accuser, standing
within the bar, saying, "It is pity this fellow had not been burned
long ago, as he deserved." "In faith," quoth Anthony, "if you had as
you have deserved, you were more worthy to stand in this place than I.
But I trust, in the last day, when we shall both appear before the
tribunal seat of Christ, that than it will be known which of us two
hath best deserved this place." "Shall I have so long a day? "quoth
Simons, holding up his finger: "Nay then, I care not: "and so the
matter was jested out.

Robert Testwood.

Then was Testwood called, and his indictment read, which was, that he
should say, in the time that the priest was lifting up the sacrament,
"What, wilt thou lift him so high? what yet higher? Take heed; let him
not fall."

To this Testwood answered, saying, it was but a thing maliciously
forged of his enemies to bring him to his death. "Yes," quoth the
bishop, "thou hast been seen that when the priest should lift up the
sacrament over his head, then wouldst thou look down upon thy book or
some other way, because thou wouldst not abide to look upon the
blessed sacrament.' "I beseech you, my Lord," quoth Testwood, "whereon
did he look, that marked me so well?" "Marry," quoth Bucklayer, the
king's attorney, "he could not be better occupied, than to mark such
heretics, that so despised the blessed sacrament."

Henry Filmer.

Then was Filmer called, and his indictment read; that he should say
that the sacrament of the altar is nothing else but a similitude and a
ceremony; and also, if God be in the sacrament of the altar, I have
eaten twenty Gods in my days.

Here you must understand, that these words were gathered of certain
communication which should be between Filmer and his brother. The tale
went thus:

This Henry Filmer, coming upon a Sunday from Clewer, his parish
church, in the company of one or two of his neighbours, chanced, in
the way, to meet his brother, (which was a very poor labouring man,)
and asked him whither he went. "To the church," said he. "And what to
do?" quoth Filmer. "To do," quoth he, "as other men do." "Nay," quoth
Filmer, "you go to hear mass, and to see your God." "What if I do so?"
quoth he. "If that be God should Filmer say, "I have eaten twenty Gods
in my days. Turn again, fool, and go home with me, and I will read
thee a chapter out of the Bible, that shall be better than all that
thou shalt see or hear there."

This tale was no sooner brought to Dr. London, (by William Simons,
Filmer's utter enemy,) but he sent for the poor man home to his house,
where he cherished him with meat and money, telling him he should
never lack, so long as he lived; that the silly poor man, thinking to
have had a daily friend of Dr. London. was content to do and say
whatsoever he and Simons would have him say or do against his own
brother. And when Dr. London had thus won the poor man, he retained
him as one of his household men until the court day was come, and then
sent him up to witness this aforesaid tale against his brother. Which
tale Filmer denied utterly, saying, that Dr. London, for a little meat
and drink's sake, had set him on, and made him say what his pleasure
was: "Wherefore, my Lord." quoth Filmer to the bishop, "I beseech your
Lordship weigh the matter indifferently, forasmuch as there is no man
in all this town, that can or will testify with him, that ever he
heard any such talk between him and me; and if he can bring forth any
that will witness the same with him, I refuse not to die." But say
what he could, it would not prevail.

Then Filmer, seeing no remedy but that his brother's accusement should
take place, he said, "Ah,brother! what cause hast thou to show me this
unkindness? I have always been a natural brother unto thee and thine,
and helped you all, to my power, from time to time, as thou thyself
knowest; and is this a brotherly part, thus to reward me now for my
kindness? God forgive it thee, my brother, and give thee grace to
repent." Then Filmer, looking over his shoulder, desired some good
body to let him see the book of Statutes. His wife, being at the end
of the hall, and hearing her husband call for the book of Statutes,
ran down to the keeper, and brought up the book, and gat it conveyed
to her husband.

The bishop, seeing the book in his hand, start him up from the bench
in a great fume, demanding who had given the prisoner that book,
commanded it to be taken from him, and to make search who had brought
it, swearing by the faith of his body, he should go to prison. Some
said it was his wife, some said the keeper. "Like enough, my Lord,"
quoth Simons, "for he is one of the same sort; and as worthy to be
here as the rest, if he were rightly served." But howsoever it was,
the truth would not be known, and so the bishop sat him down again.

Then said Filmer, "O my Lord! I am this day judged by a law, and why
should I not see the law that I am judged by? The law is, I should
have two lawful witnesses, and here is but one, who would not do as he
doth, but that he is forced thereunto by the suggestion of mine
enemies." "Nay," quoth Bucklayer, the king's attorney, "thine heresy
is so heinous, and abhorreth thine own brother so much, that it
forceth him to witness against thee, which is more than two other
witnesses."

Thus, as you see, was Filmer brought unjustly to his death by the 
malice of Simons and Dr. London, who had enticed that wretched caitiff
his brother, to be their minister to work his confusion. But God, who
is a just revenger of all falsehood and wrongs, would not suffer that
wretch long to live upon earth, but the next year following, he, being
taken up for a labourer to go to Boulogne, had not been there three
days, ere that (in exonerating of nature) a gun took him and tore him
all to pieces. And so were these words of Solomon fulfilled. "A false
witness shall not remain unpunished."

John Marbeck.

Then was Marbeck called, and his indictment read, which was, that he
should say, that the holy mass, when the priest doth consecrate the
body of our Lord, is polluted, deformed, sinful, and open robbery of
the glory of God, from which a Christian heart ought both to abhor and
flee. And the elevation of the sacrament is the similitude of setting
up of images of the calves, in the temple builded by Jeroboam; and
that it is more abomination, than the sacrifices done by the Jews in
Jeroboam's temple to those calves. And that certain and sure it is,
that Christ himself is made, in the mass, man's laughing-stock.

To this he answered and said, that these words whereof they had
indicted him were not his, but the words of a learned man called John
Calvin, drawn out of a certain epistle which the said Calvin had made,
which epistle he had but only written out, and that, long before the
six articles came forth; so that now he was discharged of that offence
by the king's general pardon, desiring that he might enjoy the benefit
thereof.

Then were the jury called, which were all farmers belonging to the
college of Windsor, whereof few or none had ever seen those men
before, upon whose life and death they went. Wherefore the prisoners
(counting the farmers as partial) desired to have the townsmen, or
such as did know them, and had seen their daily conversations, in the
place of the farmers, or else to be equally joined with them; but that
would not be, for the matter was otherwise foreseen and determined.

Now, when the jury had taken their oath and all, Bucklayer, the king's
attorney, began to speak; and first he alleged many reasons against
Anthony Peerson, to prove him a heretic: which when Anthony would have
disproved, the bishop said, "Let him alone, sir: he speaketh for the
king." And so went Bucklayer forth with his matter, making every man's
cause as heinous to the hearers as he could devise. And when he had
done, and said what he would, then Sir Humfrey Foster spake to the
quest, in favour of Marbeck, on this wise: "Masters!" quoth he, "ye
see there is no man here that accuseth or layeth any thing to the
charge of this poor man Marbeck, saving he hath written certain thing;
of other men's sayings, with his own hand, whereof he is discharged by
the king's general pardon: therefore ye ought to have a conscience
therein." Then started up Fachel at the lower end of the bench, and
said, "What can we tell, whether they were written before the pardon
or after? They may as well be written since as afore, for any thing
that we know." These words of Fachel (as every man said) were the
cause of Marbeck's casting that day.

Then went the jury up to the chamber over the place where the judges
sat, and in the mean time went all the knights and gentlemen abroad,
saving the bishop, Sir William Essex and Fachel, which three sat still
upon the bench till all was done. And when the jury had been together
above, in the chamber, about the space of a quarter of an hour, up
goeth Simons (of his own brain) unto them, and tarried there a pretty
while, and came down again. After that came one of the jury down to
the bishop, and talked with him and the other twain a good while,
whereby many conjectured that the jury could not agree of Marbeck. But
whether it was so or no, it was not long after his going up again, ere
that they came down to give their verdict; and being required,
according to the form of the law, to say their minds, one called Hide,
dwelling beside Abingdon, in a lordship belonging to the college of
Windsor, speaking as the mouth of the rest, said, they were all
guilty.

Then the judges, beholding the prisoners a good while, (some with
watery eyes,) made courtesy who should give judgment. Fachel,
requiring the bishop to do it, he said, he might not. The others also,
being required, said they would not. Then said Fachel, "It must be
done; one must do it; and if no man will, then will I." And so Fachel,
being lowest of all the bench, gave judgment. Then Marbeck, being the
last upon whom sentence was given, cried unto the bishop, saying, "Ah!
my Lord, you told me otherwise when I was before you and the other two
bishops. You said then, that I was in better case than any of my
fellows, and is your saying come to this? Ah! my Lord, you have
deceived me." Then the bishop, casting up his hand, said, "he could
not do withal."

Now the prisoners, being condemned and had away, prepared themselves
to die on the morrow; comforting one another in the death and passion
of their Master, Christ, who had led the way before them, trusting
that the same Lord, who had made them worthy to suffer so far for his
sake, would not now withdraw his strength from them, but give them
stedfast faith and power to overcome those fiery torments, and of his
free mercy and goodness, (without their deserts,) for his promise'
sake, receive their souls. Thus lay they all the night long, (till
very dead sleep took them,) calling to God for his aid and strength,
and praying for their persecutors, who, of blind zeal and ignorance,
had done they wist not what, that God, of his merciful goodness, would
forgive them, and turn their hearts to the love and knowledge of his
blessed and holy word: yea, such heavenly talk was amongst them that
night, that the hearers, watching the prison without, whereof the
sheriff himself was one, with divers gentlemen more, were constrained
to shed out plenty of tears, as they themselves confessed.

On the next morrow, which was Friday, as the prisoners were all
preparing themselves to go to suffer, word was brought them that they
should not die that day. The cause was this: the bishop of Sarum, and
they among them, had sent a letter by one of the sheriff's gentlemen,
called Master Frost, to the bishop of Winchester (the court being then
at Okingham) in favour of Marbeck; at the sight of which letter, the
bishop straightway went to the king, and obtained his pardon; which
being granted, he caused a warrant to be made out of hand for the
sheriff's discharge, delivering the same to the messenger, who, with
speed, returned with great joy, (for the love he bare to the party,)
bringing good news to the town, of Marbeck's pardon; whereat many
rejoiced.

Of this pardon were divers conjectures made. Some said, it was by the
suit of the good sheriff Sir William Barrington, and Sir Humfrey
Foster, with other gentlemen more that favoured Marbeck, to the bishop
of Sarum and the other commissioners, that the letter was sent.

Some said again, that it came of the bishop of Sarum and Fachel's
first motion, being pricked in conscience for that they had so
slenderly cast him away. Other again thought that it was a policy
purposed afore, by the bishop of Winchester, of Sarum, and of Dr.
London, because they should seem to be merciful. This conjecture rose
upon this occasion: There was one Sadock, dwelling in the town, who
was great with Dr. London and Simons; and he should say, four days
before the sessions began, that the prisoners should be all cast and
condemned, but Marbeck should have his pardon.

Others there were, that thought the aforesaid bishops, with Dr.
London, had done it for this purpose; that he now, having his life,
would rather utter such men as they would have him to do, than to come
in like danger again; which conjecture rose upon this: Simons, meeting
with Marbeck's wife, said thus unto her: "Your husband may thank God
and good friends: my Lord of Winchester is good lord to him, who hath
got his pardon. But shall I tell you?" quoth he: "his pardon will be
to none effect, except he tell the truth of things to my Lord, and
other of the council, when he shall be demanded; for unto that purpose
only is he reserved." "Alas, sir," quoth she, "what can he tell?"
"Well, woman;" quoth Simons, "I tell thee plain; if he do not so,
never look to have thy hus-hand out of prison;" and so departed from
her.

The like meaning did Master Arch make to Marbeck himself, on the
Saturday in the morning that the moo should be burned, when he came to
confess them. I have nothing," quoth he, "to say unto you, Marbeck. at
this time; but hereafter you must be content to do as shall be
enjoined you:" meaning, he should be forced to do some unlawful
thing,or else to lie in perpetual prison. And this was most likely to
have been attempted, if they had proceeded in their purpose; whose
intent was to have gone through the whole realm, in like sort as they
had begun at Windsor, as the bishop of Sarum confessed openly, and
said, that "he trusted, ere Christmas day following, to visit and
cleanse a good part thereof." But most commonly God sendeth a shrewd
cow short horns, or else many a thousand in England had smarted.

On Saturday in the morning that the prisoners should go to execution,
came in to the prison two of the canons of the college, the one called
Dr. Blithe, and the other Master Arch, which two were sent to be their
confessors: Master Arch asked them, if they would be confessed; and
they said, "Yea." Then he demanded if they would receive the
sacrament: "Yea," said they, "with all our hearts." "I am glad," quoth
Arch, "to hear you say so; but the law is," quoth he, "that it may not
be ministered to any that are condemned of heresy. But it is enough
for you that ye do desire it." And so he had them up to the hall to
hear their confessions, because the prison was full of people. Dr.
Blithe took Anthony Peerson to him to confess, and Master Arch the
other two. But howsoever the matter went between the doctor and
Anthony, he tarried not long with him, but came down again, saying,
"he would no more of his doctrine." "Do you call him Dr. Blithe?"
quoth Anthony. "He may be called Dr. Blind for his learning, as far as
I see." And soon after the other two came down also. Then Anthony,
seeing much people in the prison, began to say the Lord's Prayer,
whereof he made a marvellous godly declaration, wherein he continued
till the officer came to fetch them away, and so made an end. And
taking their leave of Marbeck, (their prison-fellow,) they praised God
for his deliverance, wishing to him the increase of godliness and
virtue; and, last of all, besought him heartily to help them with his
prayer unto God, to make them strong in their affliction: and so,
kissing him one after another, they departed.

Now, as the prisoners passed through the people in the streets, they
desired all the faithful people to pray for them, and to stand fast in
the truth of the gospel, and not to be moved at their afflictions, for
it was the happiest thing that ever came to them. And ever as Dr.
Blithe and Arch (who rode on each side the prisoners) would persuade
them to turn to their mother, holy church, "Away," would Anthony cry,
"away with your Romish doctrine, and all your trumpery, for we will no
more of it!

When Filmer was come to his brother's door, he stayed and called for
his brother; but he could not be seen, for Dr. London had kept him out
of sight that same day, for the nonce.

And when he had called for him three or four times, and saw he came
not, he said, "And will he not come? Then God forgive him and make him
a good man." And so going forth they came to the place of execution,
where Anthony Peerson, with a cheerful countenance, embraced the post
in his arms, and kissing it, said, "Now welcome mine own sweet wife!
for this day shall thou and I be married together in the love and
peace of God."
(Illustration: Filmer, Peerson and Testwod burned at the stake )

And being all three bound to the post, a certain young man of Filmer's
acquaintance brought him a pot of drink, asking if he would drink.
"Yea," quoth Filmer, "I thank you. And .now, my brother," quoth he, "I
shall desire you, in the name of the living Lord, to stand fast in the
truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which you have received." And so,
taking the pot at his hand, he asked his brother Anthony, if he would
drink. "Yea, brother Filmer, quoth he, "I pledge you in the Lord."

And when he had drunk, he gave the pot to Anthony, and Anthony
likewise gave it to Testwood. Of this drinking, their adversaries made
a jesting-stock, reporting abroad that they were all drunk, and wist
not what they said; when they were none otherwise drunk than as the
apostles were, when the people said they were full of new wine, as
their deeds declared: for, when Anthony and Testwood had both drunk,
and given the pot from them, Filmer, rejoicing in the Lord, said, "Be
merry, my brethren, and lift up your hearts unto God; for after this
sharp breakfast, I trust we shall have a good dinner in the kingdom of
Christ, our Lord and Redeemer." At the which words Testwood, lifting
up his hands and eyes to heaven, desired the Lord above to receive his
spirit; and Anthony Peerson, pulling the straw unto him, laid a good
deal thereof upon the top of his head, saying, "This is God's hat; now
am I dressed like a true soldier of Christ, by whose merits only I
trust this day to enter into his joy." And so yielded they up their
souls to the Father of heaven, in the faith of his dear Son, Jesus
Christ, with such humility and stedfastness, that many who saw their
patient suffering, confessed that they could have found in their
hearts (at that present) to have died with them.

How all their conspiracies were known.

Ye have heard before of one Robert Bennet, how he was at the first
apprehended with the other four persons aforesaid, and committed to
the bishop of London's prison; and about the time he should have gone
to Windsor, he fell sick of the pestilence, by means whereof he
remained still in prison.

This Bennet and Simons (ye shall understand) were the greatest
familiars and company keepers that were in all Windsor, and never
lightly swerved the one from the other, saving in matters of religion,
wherein they could never agree. For Bennet, the one lawyer, was an
earnest gospeller, and Simons, the other lawyer, a cankered papist;
but in all other worldly matters they cleaved together like burrs.

This Bennet had spoken certain words against their little round god,
for which he was as far in as the best, and had suffered death with
the others if he had gone to Windsor when they went. And now that the
matter was all done and finished, it was determined by the bishop of
Salisbury, that Robert Ockam, on the Monday after the men were burned,
should go to the bishop of Winchester, with the whole process done at
the sessions the Thursday before.

Then Simons, at Bennet's wife's request, procured the bishop of
Salisbury's favourable letter to the bishop of Winchester, for
Bennet's deliverance, which letter Bennet's wife (forasmuch as her own
man was not at home who should have gone with the letter) desired
Robert Ockam to deliver to the bishop, and to bring her word again;
who said he would. So forth went Ockam toward the bishop of
Winchester, with his budget full of writings, to declare and open all
things unto him. that were done at Windsor sessions. But all their
wicked intents, as God would have it, were soon cut off, and their
doings disclosed. For one of the queen's men, named Fulk, who had lain
at Windsor all the time of the business, and had got knowledge what a
number were privily indicted, and of Ockam 's going to the bishop of
Winchester, gat to the court before Ockam, and told Sir Thomas Cardine
and others of the privy chamber, how all the matter stood. Whereupon
Ockam was laid for, and had by the back as soon as he came to the
court, and so kept from the bishop.

On the next morrow, very early, Bennet's wife sent her man to the
court after Ockam, to see how he sped with her husband's letter. And
when he came there, he found Sir Thomas Cardine, walking with Ockam up
and down the green, before the court gate; whereat he marvelled, to
see Ockam with him so early, mistrusting the matter: whereupon he kept
himself out of sight till they had broken off their communication.

And as soon as he saw Master Cardine gone, (leaving Ockam behind,) he
went to Ockam and asked him if he had delivered his master's letter to
the bishop. "No," said Ockam, "the king removeth this day to
Guildford, and I must go thither, and will deliver it there." "Marry,"
quoth he, "and I will go with you, to see what answer you shall have,
and to carry word to my mistress;" and so they rode to Guildford
together; where Bennet's man (being better acquainted in the town than
Ockam was) got a lodging for them both in a kinsman's house of his.

That done, he asked Ockam, if he would go and deliver his mistress's
letter to the bishop. "Nay," said Ockam, "you shall go and deliver it
yourself:" and took him the letter. And as they were going in the
street together, and coming by the earl of Bedford's lodging, (then
lord privy seal,) Ockam was pulled in by the sleeve, and no more seen
of Bennet's man, till he saw him in the Marshalsea. Then went Bennet's
man to the bishop's lodging and delivered his letter: and when the
bishop had read the contents thereof, he called for the man that
brought it. "Come, sirrah!" quoth be, "you can tell me more by mouth
than the letter specifieth;" and had him into a little garden. "Now,"
quoth the bishop, "what say you to me?" "Forsooth, my Lord," quoth he,
"I have nothing to say unto your Lordship; for I did not bring the
letter to the town." "No!" quoth the bishop, "where is he that brought
it?" "Forsooth, my Lord," quoth he, "I left him busy at his lodging."
"Then he will come," quoth the bishop, "bid him be with me betimes in
the morning." "I will," quoth he, "do your Lordship's commandment:"
and so he departed home to his lodging. And when his kinsfolks saw him
come in, "Alas, cousin," quoth they, "we are all undone!" "Why so?"
quoth he, "what is the matter?" "Oh!" said they, "here hath been,
since you went, Master Paget the king's secretary, with Sir Thomas
Cardine of the privy chamber, and searched all our house for one that
should come to the town with Ockam; therefore make shift for yourself
as soon as you can." "Is that all the matter?" quoth he, "then content
yourselves, for I will never flee one foot, hap what hap will." As
they were thus reasoning together, in came the aforesaid searchers
again: and when Master Cardine saw Bennet's man, he knew him very
well, and said, "Was it thou that came to the town with Ockam?" "Yea,
sir;" quoth he. "Now who the devil," quoth Master Cardine, "brought
thee in company with that false knave?" Then he told them his
business, and the cause of his coming; which being known. they were
satisfied, and so departed. The next day had Bennet's man a discharge
for his master, (procured by certain of the privy chamber,) and so
went home.

Now was Ockam all this while at my Lord Privy Seal's, where he was
kept secret, till certain of the privy council had perused all his
writings; among which they found certain of the privy chamber
indicted, with other the king's officers, with their wives; that is to
say, Sir Thomas Cardine, Sir Philip Hobby, with both their ladies,
Master Edmund Harman, Master Thomas Weldon, with Snowball and his
wife. All these they had indicted by the force of the six articles, as
aiders, helpers, and maintainers of Anthony Peerson. And besides them,
they had indicted of heresy (some for one thing, and some for another)
a great number more of the king's true and faithful subjects: whereof
the king's Majesty being certified, his Grace, of his special
goodness, (without the suit of any man,) gave to the aforesaid
gentlemen of his privy chamber, and other his servants, with their
wives, his gracious pardon. And as God would have the matter further
known unto his Majesty. as he rode one day a-hunting in Guildford
park, and saw the sheriff with Sir Humfrey Foster sitting on their
horsebacks together, he called them unto him. and asked of them, how
his laws were executed at Windsor. Then they, beseeching his Grace of
pardon., told him plainly, that in all their lives they never sat on
matter under his Grace's authority, that went so much against their
consciences as the death of these men did; and up and told his Grace
so pitiful a tale of the casting away of these poor men, that the
king, turning his horse's head to depart from them, said, "Alas, poor
innocents!"

After this the king withdrew his favour from the bishop of Winchester,
and being more and more informed of the conspiracy of Dr. London and
Simons, he commanded certain of his council to search out the ground
thereof. Whereupon Dr. London and Simons were apprehended and brought
before the council, and examined upon their oath of allegiance; and
for denying their mischievous and traitorous purpose, which was
manifestly proved to their faces, they were both perjured, and in fine
adjudged, as perjured persons, to wear papers in Windsor; and Ockam to
stand upon the pillory, in the town of Newbury where he was born.

The judgment of all these three was to ride about Windsor, Reading,
and Newbury, with papers on their heads, and their faces turned to the
horse-tails, and so to stand upon the pillory in every of these towns,
for false accusation of the aforenamed martyrs, and for perjury.

And thus much touching the persecution of these good saints of
Windsor, according to the copy of their own acts, received and written
by John Marbeck, who is yet alive both a present witness, and also was
then a party of the said doings, and can testify the truth thereof.

An answer to the cavilling adversaries, touching John Marbeck.

Wherefore against these crooked cavillers, which make so much ado
against my former book, because in a certain place I chanced to say
that Bennet and Filmer had their pardon, (when indeed it was Bennet
and Marbeck,) be it therefore known, protested, denounced, and
notified, to all and singular such carpers, wranglers, exclaimers,
depravers, with the whole brood of all such whisperers, railers,
quarrel-pickers, corner-creepers, fault-finders, and spider-catchers,
or by what name else soever they are to be tituled, that here I openly
say and affirm, profess, hold, maintain, and write the same as I said
and wrote before, in the latter castigations of my book: that is, that
John Marbeck was, with the others, condemned, but not burned; cast by
the law, but by pardon saved; appointed with the rest to die, and yet
not dead; but liveth, God be praised, and yet to this present day
singeth merrily, and playeth on the organs, not as a dead man amongst
"Foxe's Martyrs," (as it hath pleased some in the court to encounter
against me,) but as one witnessed and testified truly in the book of
Foxe's Martyrs to be alive. And, therefore, such manner of persons, if
the disposition of their nature be such that they must needs find
faults, then let them find them where they are, and where those
faults, by their finding, may be corrected. But whereas they be
corrected already, and found to their hands, and also amended before,
let then these legend-liars look on their own legends, and there cry
out of lies, where they may find enough; and cease their biting there, 
where they have no just cause to bark.

And admit that I had not foreseen and corrected this escape before,
touching the matter of John Marbeck, but that the place still had
remained in the book as it was, (that is, that the said John Marbeck,
who is yet alive, had then died and suffered with the other three, the
same time at Windsor,) yet, what gentle or courteous reader could have
therein any just matter to triumph and insult against me, seeing the
judicial acts, the records and registers, yea, and the bishops
certificate, and also the writ of execution remaining yet on record,
sent to the king, did lead me so to say and think? For what man,
writing histories, who cannot be in all places to see all things, but
following his records and registers, wherein he seeth the said Marbeck
to be judged and condemned with the rest, would otherwise write or
think, but that he also was executed and burned in the same company.

But now I correct and reform the same again, and first of all others.
I find the fault, and yet I am found fault withal. I correct myself.
and yet I am corrected of others. I warn the reader of the truth, and
yet am a liar. The book itself showeth the escape, and biddeth,
instead of four, to read three burned; and yet is the book made a
legend of lies!

Briefly, where I prevent all occasion of cavilling to the uttermost of
my diligence, yet cannot I have that law, which all other books have,
that is, to recognise and reform mine own errata.

Wherefore, to conclude: these men, whosoever they are. it' they will
be satisfied, I have said enough; if they will not, whatsoever I can
say, it will not serve; and so I leave them. I would I could better
satisfy them. God himself amend them!

$

204. PERSECUTION IN CALAIS.

The persecution in Calais. with the martyrdom of George Bucker,
otherwise called Adam Damlip, and others.

At what time John Marbeck was in the Marshalsea, which was about the
year of our Lord 1543, there was in the said prison with him one
George Bucker, named otherwise Adam Damlip, who, having continued in
the said prison three or four years, at the last, by the commandment
of Winchester, was had to Calais by John Massy, the keeper of the
Marshalsea, and there hanged, drawn, and quartered for treason
pretended, which was a little before the condemnation of the Windsor
menaforesaid, as is, by the letters of the said John Marbeck, to me
signified.

Touching which story of Adam Damlip, forasmuch as it includeth matter
of much trouble and persecution that happened in Calais, to digest
therefore, and comprise the whole narration thereof in order, first I
will enter (the Lord willing) the story of Damlip, and so proceed in
order to such as, by the said occasion, were afflicted and persecuted
in the town of Calais.

PERSONS PERSECUTED IN THE TOWN OF CALAIS:-- George Bucker, or else
called Adam Damlip; a poor labouring man; W. Stevens; Thomas
Lancaster; John Butler, commissary; William Smith, priest; Thomas
Brook; Ralph Hare; Jacob, a surgeon; a Fleming; Clement Philpot,
servant; Jeffery Loveday; Dodde; Sir Edmund, priest; William Touched,
postmaster; Peter Becket; Anthony Pickering, gentleman; Henry Tourney,
gentleman; George Darby, priest; .John Shepard; William Pellam;
William Keverdal; John Whitwood: John Boole: Ho. Cloddet: Coppen de
Hane, alias James Cocke: Matthew Hound; William Button, crossbow-
maker.

PERSECUTORS:-- John Dove, prior of the Grey Friars in Calais: Sir
Gregory Button, priest; Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester; Dr.
Sampson, bishop of Chichester; Dr. Clerke, bishop of Bath; Dr. Repse,
bishop of Norwich; Harvey, commissary in Calais; Lady Honor, wife to
Lord Lisle, deputy of Calais; Sir Thomas Palmer, knight; John
Rookwood, esquire; Richard Long, soldier of Calais; Francis Hastings,
a soldier; Edmund Payton, Robert Poole, and Thomas Boyse; Hugh
Counsel, a servant; Sir Ralph Ellerker, knight; Sir John Gage.

In the year of our Lord 1539, the Lord Cromwell being yet alive, there
came to Calais one George Bucker, alias Adam Damlip, who had been, in
time past, a great papist and chaplain to Fisher, bishop of Rochester:
and, after the death of the bishop his master, had travelled through
France, Dutchland, and Italy; and, as he went, conferred with learned
men concerning matters of controversy in religion, and so proceeding
in his journey to Rome, where he thought to have found all godliness
and sincere religion, in the end he found there (as he confessed) such
blasphemy of God, contempt of Christ's true religion, looseness of
life, and abundance of all abominations and filthiness, that it
abhorred his heart and conscience any longer there to remain; although
he was greatly requested by Cardinal Pole, there to continue, and to
read three lectures in the week in his house, for the which he offered
him great entertainment, which he refused; and so, returning homeward,
having a piece of money given him of the cardinal at his departure, to
the value of a French crown, towards his charges, came to Calais, as
is aforesaid. Who, as he was there waiting, without the gate, for
passage into England, and being there perceived by certain Calais men,
namely, William Stevens and Thomas Lancaster, through conference of
talk, to be a learned man, and also well affected; and moreover how
that he, being of late a zealous papist, was now returned to a more
perfect knowledge of true religion: was by them heartily entreated to
stay at Calais a certain space, and to read and preach there a day or
two, therewith to do the people to understand what he had found by his
painful travelling to Rome; whereby they, who, through gross ignorance
and vain superstition, had not altogether put out of their hearts that
antichrist of Rome, that ancient enemy of God and all godly religion,
the pope, might the rather detest and abhor his filthy false doctrine,
whereof this godly and learned man was a seeing witness. To this
request Adam gladly consented, so as he might be licensed by such as
were in authority so to do.

Whereupon the said Stephens, at the opening of the gates, brought him
unto the Lord Lisle, the king's deputy of the town and marches of
Calais, unto whom he declared thoroughly what conference and talk had
been between Adam Damlip and him. Which known, the said lord deputy
instantly desired the said Damlip to stay there, and to preach three
or four days or more at his pleasure, saying, that he should have both
his licence and the commissary's also, which then was Sir John Butler,
so to do. Where, after he had preached three or four times, he was so
well liked, both for his learning, his utterance, and the truth of his
doctrine, that not only the soldiers and commoners, but also the lord
deputy, and a great part of the council, gave him marvellous great
praise and thanks for it; and the said lord deputy offered unto him a
chamber in his own house, to dine and sup every meal at his own mess,
to have a man or two of his to wait upon him, and to have whatsoever
it were that he lacked, if it were to be had for money, yea, and what
he would in his purse to buy books or otherwise, so as he would tarry
there among them, and preach only so long as it should seem good to
himself. Who, refusing his Lordship's great offer, most heartily
thanked him for the same, and besought him to be only so good unto him
as to appoint him some quiet and honest place in the town, where he
might not he disturbed or molested, but have opportunity to give
himself to his book, and would daily, once in the forenoon, and again
by one o'clock in the afternoon, by the grace of God, preach among
them, according unto the talent that God had lent him. At which answer
the lord deputy greatly rejoiced, and thereupon sent for the aforesaid
William Stevens, whom he earnestly required to receive and lodge the
said Damlip in his house, promising, whatsoever he should demand, to
see it paid with the most: and, moreover, would send every meal, from
his own mess, a dish of the best unto them; and indeed so did, albeit
the said Damlip refused that offer, showing his Lordship that thin
diet was most convenient for students. Yet could not that restrain
him, but that every meal he sent it.

This godly man, by the space of twenty days or more, once every day,
at seven of the clock, preached very godly, learnedly, and .plainly,
the truth of the blessed sacrament of Christ's body and blood,
mightily inveighing against all papistry, and confuting the same; but
especially those two most pernicious errors or heresies, touching
transubstantiation, and the pestilent propitiatory sacrifice of the
Romish mass, by true conference of the Scriptures, and applying of the
ancient doctors; earnestly therewith oftentimes exhorting the people
to return from their popery; declaring how popish he himself had been,
and how, by the detestable wickedness that he did see universally in
Rome, he was returned so far homeward, and now became an enemy,
through God's grace, to all papistry: showing therewith, that if gain
or ambition could have moved him to the contrary, he might have been
entertained of Cardinal Pole (as you have heard before); but, for very
conscience' sake, joined with true knowledge, grounded on God's most
holy word, he now utterly abhorred all papistry, and willed them most
earnestly to do the same.

And thus he continued awhile reading in the chapter-house of the White
Friars; but, the place being not big enough, he was desired to read in
the pulpit: and so, proceeding in his lectures, (wherein he declared
how the world was deceived by the Roman bishops, who had set forth the
damnable doctrine of transubstantiation, and the real presence in the
sacrament, as is aforesaid,) he came, at length, to speak against the
pageant or picture set forth of the resurrection, which was in St.
Nicholas's church, declaring the same to be but mere idolatry, and an
illusion of the Frenchmen before Calais was English.

Upon which sermon or lecture, there came a commission from the king to
the lord deputy, Master Greenfield, Sir John Butler, commissary, the
king's mason, and Smith, with others, that they should search whether
there were (as was put in writing, and under bull and pardon) three
hosts lying upon a marble stone besprinkled with blood; and if they
that ever he came into the prison of the Tower, where he first felt
the sweetness of God's great mercy towards him, and the certainty of
his salvation, through faith in Christ, promised in his holy word; the
knowledge whereof he had attained unto by the reading of God's holy
word, the English Bible, which, all his life before, he disdained to
look upon: for whose godly end many men much rejoiced, and gave God
hearty thanks for the same.

This Smith continued in the diligent bestowing of his talent there,
till, shortly after, the devil got such hold in the hearts of a number
of God's enemies, that he, with divers other godly men, was called
over into England, and charred with erroneous opinions worthy of great
punishment, as hereafter more at large shall appear.

And forasmuch as we have entered into the story of Calais. and matters
which were done in that town, it cometh to remembrance of one Thomas
Brook, an alderman of that town, and burgess of the parliament before
mentioned, wherein was concluded, the next year after this, A. D.
1540, the Act of Six Articles, as is before said.

After this bill of the six articles had passed the higher house, and
was brought to the burgesses of the lower house, the Lord Cromwell
gave intelligence, not only that it was the king's Majesty's
determinate pleasure to have the bill to pass in sort as it had come
down from the Lords, but, also, that if any man should stand against
it earnestly, the same should put himself in great danger of his life.

Notwithstanding, this Thomas Brook, with great danger and peril of his
life, did repugn and refute the said bill, with divers reasons and
good ground of Scripture: insomuch that a message came down, by Sir N.
Pollard, from the Lord Cromwell to the said Brook, willing him, as he
loved his life, not to speak against the said bill. Notwithstanding,
Brook proceeding in his enterprise, the Lord Cromwell meeting him the
next time after that, called him unto him, and said, that he never
knew man play so desperate a part as to speak against that bill,
unless he made a reckoning to be either hanged or burned: "but God,"
said he, "hath mightily preserved thee; whereof I am glad."

This fear caused men, much against their consciences, (such is man's
frailty,) to establish that act: but yet not in such sort as the bill
came down from the Lords. For whereas before, by that first bill sent
down, it was only felony for a priest to have, or to take unto him, a
wife of his own, (though St. Paul say that marriage is honourable
among all men. and willeth that every man, for the avoiding of
fornication, should have his own wife; and, rendering as it were a
cause thereof, affirmeth,that it is better to marry than to burn,) but
no punishment at all was appointed for such shameless whoremongers,
incontinent priests, as, contemning holy matrimony, abused themselves
both with women married and unmarried: now, upon the said Brook's
urging that unless men had better opinion of whoredom than of holy
matrimony, (called of St. Paul a bed undefiled,) it was of necessity
to be granted, that at least the incontinent life of priests
unmarried, should, by that act, have like pain and punishment as those
priests, who, not having the gift of continency, therefore entered
into the holy yoke of matrimony. Whereupon the greater part of the
house so fully agreed to the equal punishment, that unless it had been
made felony as well for the one as the other, that act had never
passed the house; and, therefore, equal punishment was assigned for
either of those deeds in that session, though in the next session or
parliament after, there was mitigation or qualification of the
punishment for the horrible whoredom of priests; the marriage of
priests standing still under the danger and punishment limited in the
statute afore.

The said Brook further spoke to this effect:

He required to be certified of them that were learned, how it might he
proved by the Scriptures, that God at all commanded laymen to receive
the sacrament of his blessed body and blood in one kind, (to wit, in
material bread,) to do it in remembrance of him who shed his blood for
the remission of their sins, and to show the Lord's death until his
coming: if it be so, that in giving this commandment, Bibite ex hoc
omnes, Drink ye all of this, no layman at all be included, but,
contrariwise, this other kind of sacrament, to wit, the cup, or the
material wine, he by God forbidden them: "For," said he, "if in that
universal proposition, Drink ye all of this, be included every one of
that number unto whom Christ, when he took bread in his hand, and gave
thanks unto his heavenly Father, did give this commandment, saying,
Take ye, eat ye; this is my body; do ye this in remembrance of me:
then needs must our clergy grant unto us who be laymen, that either it
is lawful for us also, with the priests, to receive the sacrament in
both the kinds, (that is to wit, both in bread and the cup or wine,)
or else, that we silly laymen are not commanded to receive the
sacrament at all; and, consequently, neither thereby to remember him
to be our merciful Saviour, who hath died for remission of our sins,
nor to show his death until he come, whereby he declared his most
tender love towards us." Wherefore, if it might not be granted that it
was lawful to receive the blessed sacrament in both kinds, he required
some authority of Scripture to be brought for the same; alleging
further, that albeit, through gross ignorance, contempt of God's holy
word, and the insatiable ambition and covetousness of such men as made
merchandise of men's souls, (affirming in effect that Christ died in
vain,) that gross and foolish error of transubstantiation hath within
this four or five hundred year creeped in, and, as a festered canker,
now spread itself abroad in all those places where the bishop of Rome
hath established his usurped authority: "yet," said Brook, "even unto
this day, in all the Greek church that blind error and foolish opinion
of transubstantiation hath never been received, and St. Paul himself
calleth it bread, after those words which they call the consecration,
five times in one chapter: neither hath man," said he, "I think, ever
heretofore presumed to affirm, that the bread, after the consecration,
should be both the body and blood, and the wine both the blood and
body, in such sort as either of those kinds divided unto many parts,
should, in every of those parts, contain the whole natural body and
blood of our Saviour Jesu Christ, as this present act affirmeth.
Therefore, before this act do pass, such doubts are to be resolved,
whereby many afterwards might incur danger of life, for lack of the
plain explication of our meaning of them; as for example: Where this
act affirmeth that the wine, after the consecration, is Christ's
natural blood and body both, how would our clergy, that the silly
unlearned layman should answer, if it were asked him, (as it is like
enough to be,) what he believes to be in the chalice, when the priest
holds it over his head. For they make an infusion, you know, of water,
and that before the consecration; so that there is a mixture of the
water and wine. Whether now shall we affirm the thing which before was
water, is now by the commixion of the wine, turned with the wine into
both the natural blood and body of Christ: or else, will it content
them that it be answered thus, That the water remaineth water still?

"Divers such doubts might be put, but, to come to an end: If this bill
must needs pass as an act, I most heartily wish that first such places
of the Scripture, and allegations of holy fathers, as the bishops and
others, the learned of this realm, do recite in confirmation of this
doctrine, those they would vouchsafe to communicate unto this house,
to the intent that men who be yet of contrary minds, being overcome by
their true conference of the Scriptures, and by strength of arguments,
might, without grudge of conscience, agree unto that, which, while
they be otherwise minded, they cannot without sin grant unto. And
finally, whereas by this act we greatly differ from many Christian
realms and provinces, all which profess Christ's true religion, and,
nevertheless, set not forth these laws at all, (much less with such
pains of death,) I heartily beseech God, it may please the king's
Majesty, that this whole act, with the conferences of Scriptures,
allegation of doctors, and forms of arguments, which our clergy and
others, the furtherers of this act, have brought in and affirmed for
the establishing of it now for a law, may be truly translated into the
Latin tongue; to this intent, that other nations likewise, professing
Christ's religion, seeing by those authorities what hath moved this
realm to pass this act, either being overcome with our truth, thus
lately found out, may be procured to receive the like doctrine, for
that they see it sufficiently proved to be sincere and true; or else,
seeing us by ignorance to be in error, by refelling or refuting the
same as erroneous, may not only reduce us to the truth again, but,
also, have cause to judge of this realm, that this act passed not
through trust in men's own wits only, without respect had to the Holy
Scriptures of God, but, as men that had ignorantly fallen, and not
obstinately contemned the Scriptures. So will it come to pass, that,
if this act be good, the goodness thereof shall be the more common,
and, if it be otherwise, it shall do the less hurt, yea, and continue
the less while, when other men, not in thraldom, or fear of this law,
shall freely, and out of good conscience, write and show, what opinion
they have of it."

Unto these words of the said Brook, no man took upon him to make any
direct answer, but yet, first, one Master Hall, a gentleman of Gray's
Inn, in acknowledging that he was not able to refel the objections
made against the bill, for that he lacked learning thereunto, said as
followeth:

"That he would only speak his conscience touching the passing of that
bill, which be grounded (he said) upon this: that he had read in
chronicles, that some one prince of this realm had, by laws, commanded
auricular confession to be used through all his provinces and
dominions; another prince, the keeping of this holy day or that. And,
to be short, in chronicles may be found," said he, "that the most part
of ceremonies now used in the church of England, were by princes
either first invented, or at leastwise established; and, as we see,
the same do, till this day, continue. Whereas, if the subjects
receiving the same ceremonies and rites of the church at their
princes' order and commandment, had been against God's law, or the
princes' commandment to the subjects had not been a sufficient
discharge in their consciences before God, for the observing of them,
I cannot think but the learned clergy in those days, (for in all ages
some of the clergy were well learned,) would have stood therein, and
proved to their princes, that it was not lawful to command such
things.

"Wherefore, and forasmuch as far the greater part of us laymen are
unlearned in the Scriptures and ancient doctors, methinketh it is the
bounden duty of us that be subjects, to be obedient and ready to
observe all such things touching our religion, according as our prince
or sovereign for the time being, specially, with the consent of the
bishops and the rest of the clergy, shall, at any time, please to set
forth to be observed or believed; which his said commandment, with the
clergy's consent, I verily believe shall be a sufficient discharge for
us, his loving subjects, before the face of God," said he; "for it is
written, Obey your king. Nevertheless, I like right well (so as it
stood with the king's Majesty's pleasure) the request that the
gentleman made that spake last before, for the quieting of many men's
consciences that is, that the learned of this house might see the
conferences of Scriptures, and the allegations of the ancient fathers,
which the bishops, and the other learned of the clergy, bring in, for
the passing of this act, or at leastwise, if that cannot be obtained,
that yet this act, with all their allegations, might be printed in the
Latin tongue, whereby other nations might see upon what ground we
proceed. But, touching mine own conscience, I am sufficiently
persuaded, whereupon I have showed such simple reasons as you have
heard."

His words ended, Sir William Kingston, knight, comptroller of the
king's house, much offended with the said Brook's word stood up and
said: "Gentlemen! you there, that spoke last save one, I know not your
name, nor indeed am able to dispute with you: but, instead of an
argument, I will say thus much unto you: Tell this tale the twelfth
day of July next, and I will bring a faggot to help to burn you 
withal" (on which twelfth day of July, that bloody act should take
place). This his eloquent oration ended, he sat him down again, not
without that he offended in a manner the whole house, and caused them
to say, "It was very unseemly, that a gentleman of the house should so
ungodly be used, where it was equally lawful for every man reverently
to speak plainly his mind: besides that nothing was spoken by him but
the same was reverently uttered, rather to try learning and truth of
doctrine, than any wise in contempt or displeasure against the bill."
Whereupon the speaker, verifying as much, desired the said Sir William
Kingston not to be offended, for that he, Sir William, had done
contrary to the order of the House, rather than the other.

But leaving the parliament at Westminster, I will leap to Calais,
where the Lord Lisle, the king's deputy there, whom we showed to be
the maintainer of Damlip, (albeit he were himself of a most gentle
nature, and of a right noble blood, the base son of that noble prince
King Edward the Fourth,) being fiercely set on, and incessantly
enticed, by the wicked Lady Honor his wife, who was an utter enemy to
God's honour, and, in idolatry, hypocrisy, and pride, incomparably
evil, she being daily and hourly thereunto incited and provoked by Sir
Thomas Palmer, knight, and John Rookwood, esquire, two enemies to
God's word, beginning now to flourish at Calais. These, I say, with
certain other of the council of the said town of Calais, to the number
of seven more besides themselves, seeking occasion, or rather a
quarrel where no just cause was given, began to write very heinous
letters and grievous complaints unto the lords of the privy council,
against divers of the town of Calais, affirming that they were
horribly infected with heresies and pernicious opinions; as first, the
aforesaid Adam Damlip, who, though he were for a time escaped their
hands, yet stuck still in their remembrance from time to time, until,
at last, the innocent man was cruelly put to death as a traitor, as
hereafter shall appear.

Also, besides this Damlip, they complained of Thomas Brook, and Ralph
Hare; likewise of Sir John Butler, then commissary; of Sir W. Smith,
James Cocke, alias Coppen de Hane, James Barber, and others; and the
names of all them they sent over. Of the which persons, first the said
Thomas Brook, and Ralph Hare, Coppen de Hane, and James Barber, were
apprehended and sent over, and committed to prison in Westminster
Gate, and then commanded to appear before the archbishop of
Canterbury, the bishop of Winchester, the bishop of Chichester, and
ten other appointed by the king's Majesty's commission for the
examination of them. And their accusers were sent over with letters
from the council there, unto his privy council here, in the
furtherance of their malicious suits against those honest men, with
certain special letters directed unto the Lord Fitzwilliam, then earl
of Southampton, great admiral of England, and to the Lord Sands, lord
chamberlain of the household; likewise also to Sir William Kingston,
knight, comptroller of the household, and to Dr. Sampson, then bishop
of Chichester and others; tending all to one effect, that is to say,
the utter destruction of these godly men, if God, after his wonted
manner, bad not mightily preserved them, and as it were overshadowed
them with the wings of his mercy.

That the same may the better appear, you shall understand, that first
Ralph Hare, a man rude, and so unlearned that he could scarce read,
yet, through God's grace, was very zealous; and therewith led so godly
and temperate a life, as not one of his enemies could accuse or blame
the same his sober life and conversation. This Ralph Hare was charged
to be one that had spoken against auricular confession, against holy
bread and holy water: yea, and beside that, he was one which would not
lightly swear an oath, nor use almost any manner of pastime, nor good
fellowship, as they term it, but was always in a corner by himself,
looking on his book. This poor simple man, being charged by the
commissioners that he was a naughty man and erroneous, and that he
could not be otherwise, (coming out of a town so infected with
pernicious errors and sects, as that was,) was willed by them to take
good heed to himself, lest, through obstinacy, he turned his erroneous
opinions into plain heresy: for an error defended is heresy.

"My good Lords," said the poor man, "I take God to record, I would not
willingly maintain any error or heresy. Wherefore, I beseech you, let
my accusers come face to face before me: for, if they charge me with
that which I have spoken, I will never deny it. Moreover, if it be
truth, I will stand unto it: and otherwise, if it be an error, I will,
with all my heart, utterly forsake it: I mean, if it be against Gods
holy word. For the Lord is my witness, I seek and daily pray to God,
that I may know the truth, and flee from all errors; and I trust the
Lord will save me and preserve me from then."

"Aha!" quoth the bishop of Winchester, "do you not hear what he saith,
my Lord? I perceive now thou art a naughty fellow." "Alas, my Lord!"
said Ralph Hare "what evil said I?" "Marry, sir, you said, 'the Lord!' 
'the Lord,' and that is a badge of heretics," said Winchester. "What
is that, my Lord? for God's sake tell me," said Hare. "Thou art
naught, thou art naught," said he. At which words the simple man began
to tremble, and seemed much dismayed. Wherewith the above-named Brook,
standing by next to the said Hare, said, "My Lord! I beseech your
Honour not to conceive evil opinion of the poor man for using this
word, 'the Lord.' For, by your Lordship's favour, no man who at any
time hath translated the Bible, hath used to English these two Hebrew
words. Jehovah and Adonai, and this Greek word ?????? [Greek: Kyrios],
but only thus, 'the Lord.' So that, under your Lordship's correction,
it might rather be called the badge of Christians, or pious men, than
of heretics. "I pray you, sir, then," said the bishop of Winchester,
"why doth Christ teach us to say, Our Father which art in heaven, and
not, the Father?" "My Lord, by your favour," said Brook, "he useth
there the vocative case, teaching us to invocate God; and joineth
thereto this pronoun noster; so that this article, the, were not there
to be used, neither should it express the full meaning of Christ in
those words. But if your Lordship would descend down a little from the
Lord's Prayer unto the Ave Maria or Salutation, there it manifestly
appeareth, that the angel (in no part falsifying God's message
committed to him) saith, ? ?????? µeta s??[Greek: O Kyrios meta son]:
which is, truly turned into English, no otherwise but thus: The Lord
(and not our Lord, nor thy Lord, nor my Lord) is with thee. Wherefore
the poor man is there taught plainly of God, and that by an angel, to
say (as he said) the Lord; and, therefore, he is worthy of no blame."
At these words the bishop began to be much moved and offended:
whereupon Dr. Gwent, dean of the Arches, one of those commissioners,
said, "Well, Master Brook! well; you abuse my Lord here very much: it
were a matter rather to be disputed of in the schools, than thus to be
reasoned of openly here." Whereat the said Brook answered that he was
sorry that he had offended my Lord, or any others; but what he had
spoken, he spake it of charity, and pity taken on the simple poor man:
and therewith he held his peace. But the truth is, that, through the
cavillation of Winchester, rose more contention than profit needful
about the Lord and our Lord, the papists holding with Winchester, and
the other part with the Lord. But now, to return to the said Ralph
Hare's examination again, within half an hour after Dr. Gwent had
blamed the said Brook, for that he spake in the behalf of Ralph Hare,
whilst the said Brook was there present, and standing by, he heard
among the names of those that were, by the letters of the council of
Calais, charged with pernicious errors and heresies, himself named and
called. Some of the commissioners answered, "Yea, yea; but it makes no
matter, let him alone till hereafter." At the muttering forth of these
words, the said Brook stood forth and said, "I know, and it like your
Honours, no Thomas Brook of Calais but myself. Is it your Lordships'
pleasures to have any thing with me?" "Nay, Master Brook," answered
the commissioners, "we may not meddle with you, and that you know
right well: or else, we suppose, you would not have been here now. You
consider you are a burgess of the parliament." "Truth it is," said
Brook, "that unworthily so I am; but if your Lordships and the rest of
the commissioners have any thing wherewith to charge me, I here openly
renounce the privilege of that high court, and submit myself to the
laws of the realm, to answer to that which may be objected against
me."

"Write, scribe!" said Winchester. And straightway the said Brook was
commanded not to depart without licence. Furthermore, they commanded
him to be had aside, lest he should give any instructions unto Ralph
Hare. Then they called again for the said Ralph Hare, and there
charged him with many heinous and detestable errors, especially that
he was a great reader of the New Testament in English; that he was
such a one that in deed neither used to take holy bread, holy water,
holy ashes, nor holy palm, but spake against them, and against
auricular confession also: wherefore, they threatened him, that if he
would stand in the defence of these things, and of such others as
would evidently be laid and proved against him, it would cost him his
life.

These words drew the man yet into a greater agony and fear; which
thing Winchester well perceiving. said unto him. "Ralph Hare! Ralph
Hare! by my troth I pity thee much. For, in good faith, I think thee
to be a good simple man, and of thyself wouldest mean well enough, but
that thou hast had shrewd and subtle school-masters, that have seduced
thee, good poor simple soul; and therefore I pity thee. And it were
indeed pity that thou shouldest be burned, for thou art a good fellow,
a tall man, and hast served the king right well in his wars. I have
heard thee well commended, and thou art yet able to do the king as
good service as ever thou wast; and we all will be a mean to his Grace
to be good gracious lord unto thee, if thou wilt take pity of thyself,
and leave thy errors. For I dare say for us all that be commissioners,
that we would be loth that thou shouldest be cast away: for, alas!
poor simple man, we perceive thou hast been seduced, I say, by others.
How sayest thou therefore? thou knowest my Lord of Canterbury's Grace
here is a good gentle lord, and would be loth thou shouldest be east
away. Tell me, canst thou be content to submit thyself unto him, and
to stand unto such order as he and we shall take in this matter? how
sayest thou, man.? Speak!" The poor man therewith falling upon his
knees, and shedding tears, answered, speaking to my Lord's Grace, the
archbishop of Canterbury, in this wise: "My good Lord! for Christ's
sake be good unto me; and I refer myself unto your Grace's order, to
do with me what you please."

Thu archbishop of Canterbury, considering what danger he was ready to
fall in, and pitying the same, (though the simplicity of the man was
so great that he perceived it not,) said, "Nay, Ralph Hare, stand up
and advise thyself well, and commit not thyself to me, for I am but
one man, and in commission but as the others are, so that it lieth in
me to do nothing. But, if thou do commit thyself unto us all, then
thou committest thyself unto the law, and the law is ordained to do
every man right." "Go to, Ralph Hare," said Winchester, "submit
thyself to my Lord and us: it is best for thee to do so." Whereupon he
fell upon his knees again, and said, "My Lords and masters all! I
submit myself wholly unto you." And therewith a book was holden him,
and an oath given him to be obedient unto them, and to all
ecclesiastical laws. And straightway he was enjoined to abjure, and to
bear a faggot three several days; and, moreover, the poor man lost his
whole living that he had at Calais.

This simple man, hearing his penance, piteously lamented, and
earnestly at the first denied to stand thereunto, with piteous
exclamation, saying, "O my Lord of Winchester! my Lord of Winchester!
have you made me a log, ready to be laid upon the fire whensoever any
wicked man falsely, of malice, by provocation of the devil, shall lay
any small trifle to my charge? or shall I be thus handled, nothing
proved to my face against me' Alas! I have always hated errors and
heresies." "Content thyself, Hare, there is now no remedy: thou must
either do thy penance, or be burned," said the commissioners. Thus
have you heard how Ralph Hare did speed.

Then was Thomas Brook called for, against whom it was objected by some
of the council's letters of Calais, that he was a seditious fellow.
Among these accusers, besides the rest, was one Richard Long, another
Francis Hastings, men at arms, who charged the aforenamed Thomas
Brook, and one Jeffery Loveday, esquire, for staying and maintaining
the aforesaid Adam Damlip at Calais, as who had promised unto him a
stipend to preach such heresies and pernicious opinions as afterwards
he taught there; and that these two daily gathered many several sums
of money for the entertainment of the said Adam. Howbeit the aforesaid
Hastings failed in the proof thereof: for Loveday proved that he was,
eight days before Damlip's coming to Calais, and during fourteen days
continually after he began to preach, abiding at Paris, there occupied
about necessary affairs of Charles, duke of Suffolk. And Brook, during
the said time, was at London, daily attendant in the parliament house,
whereof he had enough to bear witness against that untrue surmise.

After that, came three at once against the said Brook, well armed, as
they thought, who had not only consulted together before of the
matter, and put it in writing at Calais, besides their conference and
talk by the way keeping company from thence hither, but also had
obtained from the lord deputy, and others of the council, special
letters, as is aforesaid, and, among other, one letter unto the bishop
of Chichester, for the earnest and speedy furtherance of the
advancement of their accusations against Brook.

The first of these three was a young gentleman lately brought up under
the said Brook in the office of customs, whose name was Edmund Payton.
The other was one Robert Poole, a man (as it was commonly reported)
both base born, and also such a one as, in his youth, for murdering a
man with a club, in Bow Lane in London, was fain, by obtaining the
king's pardon, to save his neck. The third was one Thomas Boyse, who,
showing more honesty than the rest, affirmed not that he himself heard
the said Brook speak any thing of that which was objected against him,
but justified that which each of the other two had stedfastly affirmed
to him, that Brook had spoken unto them those things which, here
beneath, he said were objected against him.

The first young man objected against the said Brook, that he should
say, that the thing which the priest useth to hold up over his head at
mass, is not the natural body of Jesus Christ: for, if that were so,
whoso would might have their stomach full of gods, their entrails full
of gods; and the that had lately received the sacrament before he went
to the sea, might haply cast god up again on shipboard.

And thus much he brought over in writing with him from Calais, and
added thereto, as it should seem, to exasperate the commissioners and
the rest of the clergy against him, certain other heinous words spoken
against bishops and priests: as that the knaves, the bishops and
priests, for their own gain and belly's sake, bare this layman so in
hand, and would shamefully blear our eyes; which words he never spake;
"for it did abhor both his heart and his ears, to hear either so
shameful and unreverent words concerning the blessed sacrament, or so
arrogant and disdainful words, spoken against the bishops, and other
inferior ministers, unto whom God had given authority, though they,
for the most part, were very unworthy thereof,)" confessing,
nevertheless, that he had secret and private talk with the young man
touching the truth of the sacrament, wherein he showed, as reverently
as he could speak to the young man, the right use of the same:
concluding that, albeit with our mouths we received very material
bread and wine, yet, by faith, all Christian men do receive, eat, and
drink, to their great comfort and benefit, the very natural body and
blood of Christ, which was both born of the Virgin Mary, and suffered
death on the cross for the remission of their sins: which most holy
sacrament whoso cometh unworthily unto, the same was so far from
eating of Christ's body and blood,that all such, without hearty
repentance, do eat their own damnation. And, to conclude with him, in
that private talk he told him, that if the gross and unlearned error
of transubstantiation were indeed matter of truth and sincere
doctrine, then not only this should follow of it, that every man who
would, might have everlasting life, (for they might, when they would,
receive the outward sacrament, seen with our eyes, which the priests
call Christ's natural body, and whoso eateth Christ's natural body,
and drinketh his blood, hath everlasting life, saith Christ,) but also
there should great absurdities follow thereby, as when a man happeneth
to go to sea, having lately received the sacrament, he should put it
overboard, or upon the hatches; and, therefore, exhorted the said
Payton to leave that gross error.

The second accuser was Poole, who objected against him, that, about
two years past, he himself, dining with the said Brook with fifteen or
sixteen other honest men, heard him to say thus at the table: that the
thing which the priests use to hold up over their heads, was not the
very body and blood of Christ, but a sacrament to put us in
remembrance thereof. Unto whose objections the said Brook answered,
that a man in mirth might well enough in charity beshrew such a guest
as, when he had dined with a man, could, so long after, remember to
say him such a grace: and required of Poole, from whence the rest of
the guests were. He answered, they were of the town, all. Then
inferred he, that he was sure Poole could as well remember some of
their names which then were present, as freshly to keep in mind (for
so by oath upon a book he had affirmed) every word of the whole matter
which he objected; but for that the matter was utterly untrue.
Whereupon the said Brook desired their Honours to consider the
slenderness of his tale.

To be short, he, with the rest of his fellows, to wit, Ralph Hare,
Coppen, and James the barber, were for that time dismissed.

During the time while these four were thus in examination at London,
the other two, to wit, Sir William Smith, preacher, and John Butler,
by commandment were apprehended in Calais, and bound by surety not to
pass the gates of the town of Calais. In the which town, the said John
Butler, commissary, was accused by Richard Thorpe and John Ford,
soldiers of Calais, saying, that he should say, that if the sacrament
of the altar be flesh, blood, and bone, then there is good aqua vitę
at John Spicer's. Upon which accusation the said Thorpe and Ford
brought for records before the council of Calais, Marraunt, Haynes,
John Luckes, Harry Husson, and Harry Trost, all of the district of
Oye, beside Calais. Whereupon, shortly after, the said John Butler and
Sir William Smith were sent for, and, by one Swallow a pursuivant,
which fetched up the others aforesaid, brought into England, unto the
house of the said Swallow dwelling by St. James's, where the king's
Majesty lay at that time. And the next day, being Thursday, after
dinner, Butler and Smith were brought to the Star-chamber before the
privy council, where both sedition and heresy were objected against
them. And after much talk it was said unto them by the Lord Cromwell,
that they should make their purgation by the law. And from thence, by
the aforesaid Swallow, they were sent to the Fleet.

The next day, being Friday, after dinner, Butler and Smith were sent
for to come to Bath Place, where they were brought into the chapel, 
there sitting Dr. Clerke, bishop of Bath, and Dr. Sampson, then bishop
of Chichester: Dr. Repse, the bishop of Norwich, who was a monk, being
fast asleep. Then was objected unto Butler, with great reverence, the
opprobrious words spoken against the blessed sacrament, rehearsing (as
is aforesaid) the articles. Butler required to have them in writing,
and so he would make answer in writing; the which they would not grant
him: and upon that answer he stood. Then choler gathered in the bishop
of Chichester. The story were too long to write, yet part ye shall
understand.

Chichester found great fault that Butler made not low courtesy, being
stubborn and arrogant, as he said, and, in fine, found fault with his
shirt. Then, turning him about, he called to his brother Banester,
being present, (that time dwelling in Paternoster Row,) to make answer
for the shirt. He said, "I can make answer for the shirt." "No good
answer," said Chichester. "Forsooth," said he, "the shirt is mine; I
lent it him, because he brought none with him, for he was not
permitted to have any servant." "A good answer," said the bishop of
Bath. Then Butler made low courtesy, and said, "The shirt is answered"
Then Chichester said, "Thou mockest us;" but he said "No." And thus
much concerning that time.

Then, after Butler, was Sir William Smith, curate of our Lady's parish
in Calais, called before them, and charged in a manner with the same
heinous errors and pernicious opinions that were objected against the
said Ralph Hare; and thereto was added, that the had spoken and
preached against our blessed Lady, against praying to saints, against
doing of good works, and many other such-like things: and therewithal
one Richard Long, a man-at-arms at Calais, proved against the said Sir
Wiliam Smith, and the aforesaid Brook, by an oath taken upon a book,
that the said Smith and Brook did eat flesh together in Lent, in the
said Brook's house. "For a miller's boy," said he, "came into Brook's
kitchen, and saw half a lamb lie a roasting at the fire." Whereas the
truth is, that the said Sir William Smith, during all the Lent, came
never once within the said Brook's house. And it is as true also, that
the said Richard Long, upon a displeasure taken with his wife, went
shortly after out of his own house, to the jutty end of the haven at
Calais, where desperately he drowned himself; not one boy, but many
men, women, girls, and boys seeing him miserably taken up again stark
dead, all which lamented his pitiful ruin. A terrible example unto all
such as are ready to forswear themselves on a book upon malice, or
whatsoever other cause it be; a thing in these days over-rife every
where, and almost no where regarded as it ought to be. But to return
to Sir William Smith; for the heinousness of his errors, equal every
whit to Ralph Hare's, and worse, (though there was no matter
sufficient in the law to burden him, that could be proved,) yet he
must needs (no remedy was there) recant at Calais, openly in the
pulpit, and so depart the town and marches. Which recantation he did
in such sort, as he in effect denied nothing at all that he had before
preached or taught, but yet it satisfied somewhat his adversaries'
malicious hearts, in that it bore the name of a recantation, and,
therewith, was done according to the commissioners' order, whilst the
other heretic, Ralph Hare, stood before him with a faggot on his
shoulder: and, also, it seemed unto such of the council of Calais, as
had by their letters complained so grievously of the pernicious sects
and heresies of that town, that, now, what with the aforesaid Brooks
inveighing against the six articles in the parliament-house, and the
punishment of these two heretics, they had won their spurs by making
such complaints: insomuch as the matters fell out as you hear.

There was also called before them Sir John Butler, then commissary of
Calais, whom they would have burned with the maintenance, or, at the
least wise, sufferance of the aforesaid Adam Damlip, which preached so
long time there, and was not by him punished. Butler, for his defence,
answered, that the lord deputy, and the whole council there, so highly
entertained, and so friendly used, the said Damlip, and with their own
presence and high commendations outwardly so allowed and commended his
doctrine, that it lay not in him to do otherwise than he did; and
therefore, humbly besought their Lordships and other the commissioners
to be good unto him: at whose hands, after long attendance given, he
was discharged, and so returned home again; being also dismissed of
his commissaryship.

Now, to declare what order was taken with these aforesaid Calais men,
it was appointed that Sir William Smith, priest, Ralph Hare, James
Cocke, and James Barber, should be sent to Calais, there to abjure and
to do penance; where Sir William Smith was enjoined to make the
sermon, Ralph Hare, James Cooke, and James Barber standing with
faggots upon their shoulders. The sermon was made in the market of
Calais. Which being done, they went with their faggots about the
marketplace, the drum and fife going before them; and then, returning
to the commissioners with the testimonial of the same, they departed.
Albeit, in this recantation, the said William Smith, curate of our
Lady's church, handled his sermon after that sort, that, in effect, he
denied nothing at all that he had before preached or taught, but yet
it satisfied somewhat his adversaries' malicious hearts, in that it
bore the name of a recantation, according to the commissioners' order;
appointing him thus openly to preach, and so to depart the town and
marches.

As touching James Barber aforesaid, forasmuch as his dwelling was not
at Calais, but four miles off from the town, it was therefore enjoined
him to bear his faggot, not at Calais, but on the Saturday next
following to stand in the market there where he dwelt, with his faggot
upon his shoulder; and the said Sir William Smith likewise there
preached as before.

And thus much concerning the first commission sent over to Calais, to
inquire upon the heretics there.

A new commission appointed and sent over to Calais.

AFTER all these things done and past, the grudging minds of the
adversaries were not yet satisfied, but still suggested new complaints
to the king's ears against the town of Calais, making the king believe
that, through new opinions, the town was so divided, that it was in
great danger to be overcome of the adversary.

Whereupon, shortly after the week before Easter next following, other
new commissioners were sent over by the king to Calais: to wit, the
earl of Sussex, lord great chamberlain; the Lord St. John; Sir John
Gage, knight; Sir John Baker, knight;

Master Layton, clerk of the closet; and Dr. Currin; with special
instructions besides, signed by the king's Majesty's own hand. For his
Highness had been incensed once again from the council of Calais, that
the town was in peril, through dissension and diversity of opinions.
Upon their arrival, Dr. Currin preached a notable sermon, exhorting
all men to charity, having nothing in his mouth but "charity,"
"charity." But, as it seemed afterwards, such a burning charity was in 
him and the rest of the commissioners, that had not God pitied the
innocency of men's causes, there had a hundred been burned or hanged
shortly after.

But it happened far otherwise, for, of the number of those accusers,
four were, by those commissioners, sent over into England, to wit,
Clement Philpot, servant to the Lord Lisle; Sir Edmund, curate of our
Lady's church; W. Touched, a post-master; Peter Bequet. Of the which
four, Touched and Bequet were sent to their places again; the other
two were drawn, hanged, and quartered at London. But contrary, of all
them that were accused, there was not one that lost one hair of his
head.

After the sermon was done, on the morrow, to wit, on Share-Thursday,
all the commissioners solemnly received the sacrament. And, at
afternoon, the council were with the commissioners; and after their
consultation, tipstaves warned above the number of fourscore, such
perverse persons as the like were not in the town or marches, to
appear on the morrow at eight of the clock before the council at the
Staple inn; who, at their appearance, were commanded upon their
allegiance to present all such heretics, schismatics, and seditious
persons, as they did know; and in no wise to doubt or dread so to do,
for they should have great advantage thereby; yea, they should either
have their livings or their goods: and, besides that, they should have
great thanks at the king's Majesty's hand, and his honourable council,
and what friendship they of the king's council there could show them.

All that Good Friday, even till ten of the clock at night, those
wicked and malicious persons occupied their time in answering to
sundry and divers questions. These things were not so secretly done,
but they were bewrayed and came to honest men's knowledge. Whereupon
such fear and distrust assaulted all men, that neighbour distrusted
neighbour, the master the servant, the servant the master, the husband
the wife, the wife the husband, and almost every one the other, that
lamentable it was to see how mourningly men and women went in the
streets, hanging down their heads, showing evident tokens of the
anguish of their hearts.

Upon Easter Monday, one Hugh Councell, an honest mat., servant to the
said Brook, was convent-ed before them, and by the space of fourteen
days not suffered to return to his master's house, but was kept in
custody; and was many times examined upon articles and
interrogatories, in hope to have found worthy matter, either of heresy
or treason, against the said Brook; and the same day that Brook was
committed to ward, the said Hugh Councell was discharged.

The Wednesday in the Easter week, sundry quests were charged, by their
oaths, to make inquisition for all manner of heresies, erroneous
opinions, and seditious: as a quest of aldermen, another of men-at-
arms. and another of constables and vintners, another of common
soldiers, and another of commoners.

And shortly after their presentments, on Good Friday, there were
convented before the commissioners, and straight were sent to close
prison, Anthony Pickering, gentleman; Harry Tourney, gentleman; Sir
George Darby, priest; John Shepherd, William Pellam, William
Keverdale, John Whitwood, John Boote, Robert Clodder, Copen de Hane,
and Matthew de Hound: upon whom ran sundry bruits. Some said they
should be hanged; some said burned; some said hanged, drawn, and
quartered; some said nailed to the pillory: so that pitiful it was to
see the lamentation that their wives, their children, servants, and
friends, made secretly where they durst; for that they found every
where words of discomfort, and no where of comfort, but still
inquisition was made.

The aforesaid William Stevens, after his return from London above-
mentioned, besides many other articles laid to him for religion, to
the number of forty or well nigh, was, by the lord deputy, charged
that he had stayed the aforesaid Adam Damlip, hired him to preach, and
given him meat, drink, and lodging, coming from the arrant traitor
Cardinal Pole, and suborned by him; and that he had received money of
him, to the intent he should preach in Calais false and erroneous
doctrine, whereby the town, being divided and at contention within
itself, might easily be overcome and won by the Frenchmen. Whereunto
the said Stevens answered, that whatsoever he had done unto the said
Adam Damlip, he had done it at the earnest request and commandment of
the said lord deputy. Whereupon, if it had been treason indeed, he
must have been more faulty.

Then the said William Stevens was again, the second time, by the said
commissioners sent over into England. and clapped in the Tower, and
afterwards, to wit, immediately after the said commissioners' repair
unto the king's Highness, the said lord deputy was sent for over, and
likewise put into the Tower, where he continued a long time. And when
the king's Majesty minded to have been gracious unto him, and to have
let him come forth, God took him out of this world, whose body resteth
in the Tower, and his soul with God, I trust, in heaven: for he died
very repentant. But the wicked lady, his wife, immediately upon his
apprehension, fell distraught of mind, and so continued many years
after. God, for his mercy, if she yet live, give her his grace to
repent.

The second Monday after Easter, the aforesaid Brook was convented
before the commissioners, and committed to close prison in the mayor's
jail, whither no man of his calling was ever committed, unless
sentence of death had first been pronounced against him; for otherwise
the ordinance of the town was, that his prison should be only another
alderman's house, with licence at night to lie at his own house. Then
the council of Calais, doubting lest there should not be any sedition
or heresy proved against him, did call one George Bradway before them,
who occupied the comptroller's office in the Custom-house. This man
was kept in close prison, so that neither his wife, then great with
child, nor any other of his friends, might repair unto him. Where,
after that he had oftentimes been borne in hand, that there were
divers concealments come to light that were made by Brook in the
office of the Customs, and that the said Bradway should he grievously
punished, if he would acknowledge none of them, nor burden the said
Brook with some kind of concealment; the poor simple man, hoping
thereby to get release of his imprisonment, accused the said Brook,
that he had, for a long time, concealed four groats every day for his
clerk's wages; and to that accusation they caused the simple man to
set his own hand before witnesses.

Hereupon, after a day or two, the said Bradway, grieved in his
conscience for the same his most untrue accusation, did, with a knife,
enterprise to cut his own throat: but God, of his mercy, so directed
his wicked purpose, that the back of his knife was towards his
weasand; whereby, though the wound were broad, yet he escaped with
life. And as he gave a groan with the sudden pain that he felt, the
jailor came up, and bereft him of the knife. But, through the
guiltiness of the false accusation, and shame of the world, the man
lost his wits, who then, staring and dismayed, was dismissed out of
prison, and a long time after went, in piteous case, so dismayed about
the street, to the great impoverishing of him, his poor wife, and
family.

This kind of handling of the said Brook made all his friends, but
especially his wife, to be greatly afraid of the malice of his
enemies: the rather, also, for that all his goods and lands were
seized, and his wife thrust into the meanest place of all his house,
with her children and family; the keys of all the doors and chests
also taken from her. Who, for that she was rigorously treated at Sir
Edward Kinglet s hand, comptroller of the town, (an office of no small
charge, though he knew not a "B" from a battledore, nor ever a letter
of the book,) saying unto her, that if she liked not the room, he
would thrust her quite out of the doors: "Well, .sir," said she,
"well; the king's slaughterhouse had wrong, when you were made a
gentleman." And with all speed she wrote a letter to the Lord
Cromwell, therein discoursing how hardly and sore those poor men were
handled, that were committed to ward and close prison; and that all
men feared, (what through the malice of their papistical enemies, and
the great rigour and ignorant zeal of those that were in authority,)
they should shortly, for their faith and consciences, being true men,
and such as reverently feared God, be put to death; but, chiefly, her
husband, who was yet more extremely handled than any other: so that
unless his Honour vouchsafed to be a means to the king's Majesty, that
they, with their causes, might be sent over into England, they were
but dead men. Sundry other letter she wrote to divers friends, to
solicit the cause. But when, at noon time, a servant of hers was seen
to receive again the same packet of letters, of one to whom before he
had taken them to carry them into England, and now, because the
passage served not till the afternoon, to carry them back to his
mistress, he that so saw them declared so much to the commissioners, 
at dinner time. Whereupon they gave very strait commandment that the
thing should be kept close, and strait wait laid for him, to whom any
servant of his should deliver any letter: and that, attaching the
same, they should be brought to them. Whereupon one Francis Hall,
esquire, a man of great wisdom, godliness, and temperance, hearing
what was said, and nothing distrusted of the commissioners, pretended
a sudden qualm to come over his stomach, and rising from the table
speedily told Mistress Brook what had happened; whereupon, with all
speed, she writ as many other letters with like directions, but with
far unlike contents. For unto the Lord Cromwell she highly advanced
the honours, wisdom, and justice which she knew to abound in the
honourable commissioners, doubting only, nevertheless. she said, the
maliciousness of her husband's enemies and their untrue accusations,
and, therewith, the weakness of her husband's body, greatly subject to
sickness when it was best cherished: wherefore, though she assuredly
knew her husband should have, at their Honours, true justice and
equity, so as she would not wish any other in all England to be
commissioners in their places, yet she most humbly besought his
Lordship to write his favourable letters unto them, to this end, that
in respect of his weakness and infirmity, he might have justice with
as much expedition as conveniently might be; and, in the mean time, to
let him have somewhat more liberty, and open air: and in the other
letters to her friends she wrote like honour of the said
commissioners, and also desired them to crave his Lordship's letters
to like effect. These letters, closed and delivered as the first were,
were straightway seized upon and brought to the commissioners, who
immediately sent for her, and, the while opening the letters, and
understanding the effect, they were, in their minds, well pleased with
her; and, therefore, when she fell on her knees before them, and
besought their Honours to be good unto her husband, and to forgive
her, in that she had presumed to write in his behalf, which, she said,
was but her bounden duty; they, thinking thereby to have comforted her
well, bade her never take thought for him, (he was a naughty fellow,) 
saying, they would themselves bestow her much better, and, the rather,
for her father's sake, whom they knew right well to be a man of good
service, whom the king favoured well. So she departed from them, and
the next day also, at three of the clock at afternoon, she sent one
William Manton unto a house without the gates, where he kept himself
close, till a mariner, appointed for that purpose, called him up at
midnight, and, taking him alone into the ship, through God's goodness,
set him on land in the morning before day; who, with speed repairing
to the Lord Cromwell, made discourse of the whole state of his master
and the other honest men.

Whereupon the said Lord Cromwell wrote speedily his letters unto the
commissioners, declaring, that the king's Majesty's pleasure and
commandment was, that the arrant traitor and heretic Brook, with a
dozen or twenty complices, should, with their accusers, be immediately
sent over, that here in England they might receive their judgment, and 
there, at Calais, to the great terror of like offenders hereafter,
suffer according to their demerits. Now, by the time that the said
commissioners had received these letters, they had made out precepts
for eight or nine score honest men more to be cast in prison: but
these letters so appalled them, that they stayed, and afterwards sent
no more to ward. But, making then as diligent inquisition as was
possible, to have found some worthy matter against those before named,
whereby there might have been some colour both of the council's
grievous complaints, and of the commissioners' rigorous dealing; when
no such thing could fall out, because they would be assured that they
should not go unpunished, they first banished them the town and
marches of Calais with a trumpet blown, under pain of death, for a
hundred years and a day, (if that one day had been left out, all had
been marred,) and then sent them back to prison: staying them there
upon hope that the Lord Cromwell should come into captivity sooner
than he did. But, at last, to wit, on May-day, they sent the thirteen
prisoners through the market, the said Brook going before with irons
on his legs, as the chief captain, the rest following him, two and
two, without irons, unto shipboard, and then were they all coupled in
irons, two and two together. Where, because they were loth to go under
the hatches, Sir John Gage, with a staff, smote some of them cruelly.
Whereupon Anthony Pickering said unto him, "Sir, I beseech you yet be
as good to us, as ye would be to your horses or dogs; let us have a
little air that we be not smothered." Yet that request could not be
obtained, but the hatches were put down close, and they guarded and
kept with a great company of men; and so, sailing forward, by God's
merciful providence, were within four-and-twenty hours at anchor
before the Tower of London. But by the way thitherward, upon what
occasion it was not known, whilst the hatch stood open for the
convenience of one of the prisoners, his fellow-prisoner the while for
weariness, lying upon his hack and casting his arm over his face, the
kettle, with the hot scalding beef-broth, fell down upon the
prisoners, namely, upon the gown-sleeve of Brook and the boots of
Tourney, whereby both the fur of the sleeve and the leather of the
boot were scorched and crackled, yet neither the face nor the leg,
through God's goodness, were hurt; which sight caused their keepers to
be amazed, and to say, that surely they were men that God loved, and
were wrongfully punished. And when the Lord Cromwell understood they
were come, be commanded their irons to be smit off at the Tower wharf,
and the prisoners to be brought unto him.

When he saw them, he smiled upon them, stedfastly beholding each of
them, and then said, "Sirs! you must take pain for a time; go your way
to the Fleet, and submit yourselves prisoners there, and shortly you
shall know more." So indeed they did; and that evening he sent them
word they should be of good cheer, for, if God sent him life, they
should shortly go home with as much honesty as they came with shame.

Whilst these thirteen persecuted men lay in the Fleet, and William
Stevens in the Tower, to wit, the twenty-eighth day of July, A. D.
1541, the aforesaid Lord Cromwell, for treason laid against him, was
at Tower-hill beheaded, as is before specified in his story, who made
there a very Christian end. Then had the poor Calais men great cause
to fear, if they had not altogether depended on the merciful
providence of their heavenly Father, whose blessed will they knew
directed all things. But He, in the midst of their deep troubles and
miseries, so comforted them, that even as their dangers and troubles
increased, so likewise did their consolation and joy in him; so far
forth that Matthew de Hound, one of these thirteen, who was in trouble
only for that he heard Copen de Hane read a chapter of the New
Testament, and was as deep in punishment, and in banishment from his
wife, children, and country, as the rest, got, in short time, such
instruction, that having therewith a soul and conscience fraught full
of godly zeal unto God's glory', and the true doctrine of Christ,
within a few months after his deliverance out of the Fleet, for
inveighing constantly against the wicked honouring of images, and
praying to saints departed, he was cruelly, in a most constant faith
and patience, burned in Flanders.

Now, therefore, when all hope in man was past, the right honourable
Lord Audeley, lord chancellor of England, without further examination,
discharged first the said thirteen that were in the Fleet, and at
length, two years after, he delivered William Stevens also, by the
king's own motion, out of the Tower; saying, at the discharging of
those thirteen, "Sirs! pray for the king's Majesty; his pleasure is,
that you shall all he presently discharged. And though your livings he
taken from you, yet despair not, God will not see you lack. But, for
God's sake, sirs, beware how you deal with popish priests; for, so God
save my soul! some of them be knaves all. Sirs," said he, "I am
commanded by the council to tell you, that you are discharged by
virtue of the king's general pardon; but that pardon excepteth and
forbiddeth all sacramentaries, and the most part, or all of you, are
called sacramentaries: therefore I cannot see how that pardon doth you
any pleasure. But pray for the king's Highness, for his Grace's
pleasure is, that I should dismiss you; and so I do, and pity you all.
Farewell, sirs!"

So, giving God most hearty thanks for his mighty and merciful
delivering of them, they departed dismissed as you have heard, being
indeed in very poor estate; but not in so miserable estate as all
those eight councillors of Calais were, within one year and a half
after. For, whereas the other three councillors who seemed more
favourable unto them, (to wit, the Lord Gray, Sir George Carew, and
Sir Richard Grenville,) who purged the town of those slanders that
untruly were raised upon it, were there-for, for a time, in their
prince's high displeasure; within that year they were all three in
greater favour with his Majesty than ever they were before, and that
not without the reward of twenty pounds by year to him and to his
heirs, who had least. The other eight councillors, unjustly charging
them and the town with sedition and heresy, (that is to say, the Lord
Lisle, the Lord Sands, Sir John Wallop, Sir Edward Kingsly, Robert
Fowler, esquire, vice-treasurer; Sir Thomas Palmer, knight, called
Long Palmer; William Simpson, esquire, under-marshal; and John
Rockwood,) were either greatly out of their prince's favour, and in
the Tower, or else were prisoners, or else by very desperate deaths,
in outward appearance, taken out of this world.

For tediousness, I will rehearse but only the horrible end of the said
Rockwood, the chief stirrer-up of all the afflictions afore spoken of;
who, even to his last breath, staring and raging, cried, he was
utterly damned. And being willed to ask God mercy, who was ready to
forgive all that asked mercy of him, he brayed and cried out, "All too
late, for I have sought maliciously the deaths of a number of the most
honest men in the town; and though I so thought them in my heart, yet
I did what lay in me to bring them to an evil death: all too late
therefore, all too late!" Which same words he answered to one, who, at
the departure of the thirteen in irons towards England, said, "Sir! I
never saw men of such honesty so sharply corrected, and taking it so
patiently and joyfully." Rockwood then, fetching a frisk or two,
scoffingly answered, "All too late:" The under-marshal suddenly fell
down in the council-chamber, and never spake a word after, nor showed
any token of remembrance. The plagues of the others also, as I am
credibly informed, were little better.

The second apprehension of Adam Damlip; with his martyrdom.

Concerning Adam Damlip, otherwise called George Bucker, ye heard
before declared, how he, being convented before the bishops at
Lambeth, and afterwards secretly admonished, and having money given
him by his friends to avoid, and not to appear again before the
bishops; after he had sent his allegations in writing unto them,
departed into the west country, and there continued teaching a school
a certain space. about a year or two. After that, the good man was
again apprehended by the miserable inquisition of the six articles,
and brought up to London, where he was, by Stephen Gardiner, commanded
into the Marshalsea, and there lay the space of other two years or
thereabouts.

During the imprisonment of this Damlip in the Marshalsea, John Marbeck
(as partly ye heard before) was committed also unto the same prison,
which was the morrow after Palm Sunday. The manner of that time so
required, that at Easter every person must needs come to confession.
Whereupon Marbeck, with the rest of the prisoners there, was enforced
to come upon Easter-day to Sir George Bucker aforesaid, to be
confessed, who was then confessor to the whole house. By this occasion
John Marbeck, which had never seen him before, entering into
conference with him, perceived what he was, what he had been, what
troubles he sustained, how long he had lain there in prison, by whom
and wherefore; who declared, moreover, his mind to Marbeck, to the
effect as followeth: "And now, because," said he, "I think they have
forgotten me, I am fully minded to make my humble suit to the bishop
of Winchester, in an epistle, declaring therein mine obedience, humble
submission, and earnest desire to come to examination. I know the
west: I can but lose my life present, which I had rather do, than here
to remain, and not to be suffered to use my talent to God's glory.
Wherefore, God willing, I will surely put it in proof."

This Damlip, for his honest and godly behaviour, was beloved of all
the whole house, but especially of the keeper himself, whose name was
Massy, whom he always called master; and being suffered to go at
liberty within the house whither he would, he did much good among the
common and rascal sort of prisoners, in rebuking vice and sin, and
kept them in such good order and awe, that the keeper thought himself
to have a great treasure in him. And no less also Marbeck himself
confesseth to have found great comfort by him; for, notwithstanding
the strait precept given by the bishop of Winchester, that no man
should come to him, nor he to speak with any man, yet the said Adam
many times would find the means to come and comfort him.

Now, when he had made and drawn out his epistle, he delivered the same
to his master the keeper, upon Saturday in the morning, which was
about the second week before Whitsunday following, desiring him to
deliver it at the court, to the bishop of Winchester. The keeper said,
he would; and so did. The bishop, what quick speed he made for his
despatch I know not, but thus it fell out, as ye shall hear.

The keeper came home at night very late, and when the prisoners (who
had tarried supper for his coming) saw him so sad and heavy, they
deemed something to be amiss. At last the keeper, casting up his eyes
upon Sir George, said, "O George! I can tell thee tidings." "What is
that, master?" quoth he. "Upon Monday next thou and I must go to
Calais." "To Calais, master? What to do?" "I know not," quoth the
keeper: and pulled out of his purse a piece of wax with a little label
of parchment hanging out thereat, which seemed to be a precept. And
when Sir George saw it, he said, "Well, well, master, now I know what
the matter is." "What?" quoth the keeper. "Truly, master, I shall die
in Calais" "Nay," quoth the keeper, "I trust it to be not so." "Yes,
yes, master; it is most true, and I praise God for his goodness
therein." And so the keeper and they went together to supper, with
heavy cheer for Sir George, as they there called him; who,
notwithstanding, was merry himself. and did eat his meat as well as
ever he did in all his life: insomuch that some at the board said unto
him, that they marvelled how he could eat his meat so well, knowing he
was so near his death. "Ah, masters!" quoth he, "do you think that I
have been God's prisoner so long in the Marshalsea, and have not yet
learned to die? Yes, yes, and I doubt not but God will strengthen me
therein."

At length it came to pass, that by the bishop of Winchester's diligent
pursuing of the aforesaid Adam Damlip, (for he was always excellent
good at the sucking of innocent blood.) this godly man was gotten
again into their hands, that first laid heresy to his charge: for on
Monday, early in the morning before day, the keeper with three other
of the knight-marshal's servants setting out of London, conveyed the
said Adam Damlip to Calais upon the Ascension even, and there
committed him to the mayor's prison. Upon which day John Butler, the
commissary aforesaid, and Sir Daniel, his curate of St. Peter's, were
also committed to the same prison, and commandment given for no man to
speak with Butler.

Upon Saturday next was the day of execution for Damlip. The cause
which first they laid to Ins charge, was for heresy. But, because by
an act of parliament all such offences, done before a certain day,
were pardoned, (through which act he could not be burdened with any
thing that he had preached or taught before,) yet, for the receiving
of the aforesaid French crown of Cardinal Pole, (as you heard before.;
tie was condemned of treason, and in Calais cruelly put to death;
being drawn, hanged, and quartered.
	The day before his execution, came unto him one Master Mote,
then parson of our Lady's church in Calais, saying, "Your four
quarters shall be hanged at four parts of the town." "And where shall
my head be?" said Damlip. "Upon the Lantern gate," said Mote. Then
Damlip answered, "Then shall I not need to provide for my burial." At
his death, Sir Ralph Ellerker, knight, then knight-marshal there,
would not suffer the innocent and godly man to declare either his
faith, or the cause he died for, but said to the executioner,
"Despatch the knave; have done!" For Sir William Mote, appointed there
to preach, declared to the people, how he had been a sower of
seditious doctrine; and albeit he was for that pardoned by the general
pardon, yet he was condemned for being a traitor against the king. To
the which when Adam Damlip would have replied and purged himself, the
aforesaid Sir Ralph Ellerker would not suffer him to speak a word, but
commanded him to be had away. And so, most meekly, patiently, and
joyfully, the blessed and innocent martyr took his death, Sir Ralph
Ellerker saying, that he would not away before he saw the traitor's
heart out. But, shortly after, the said Sir Ralph Ellerker, in a
skirmish or rout between the Frenchmen and us at Boulogne, was, among
others, slain; whose only death sufficed not his enemies, but after
they had stripped him stark naked, they shamefully mutilated him, and
cut the heart out of his body; and so left him a terrible example to
all bloody and merciless men. For no cause was known why they showed
such indignation against the said Sir Ralph Ellerker, more than
against the rest.

As touching John Butler, and Sir Daniel his curate, imprisoned (as ye
heard) the same day with Damlip, upon Sunday next following they were
committed to John Massy aforesaid, keeper of the Marshalsea, and his
company, and brought to the Marshalsea, where he and his curate
continued nine months and more. At last, being sore laid unto by Sir
George Gage, Sir John Baker, and Sir Thomas Arundel, knights, but
especially by Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, for the
retaining of Adam Damlip, yet, by friends soliciting the king's
Highness for him, (namely Sir Leonard Musgrave, and his brother
Baunster, who were bound for his appearance in a thousand pounds,) he,
at length, by great labour and long time, was discharged, and, at
last, by licence permitted to return to Calais again.

Furthermore, as touching William Stevens above mentioned, who remained
all this while prisoner in the Tower, the same also was condemned with
Adam Damlip of treason; which was, for note and crime of popery, in
lodging Adam Damlip the traitor, who came from Cardinal Pole, in his
house, at the lord deputy's commandment. Notwithstanding, the king
afterward, understanding more of the said William Stevens, how
innocent he was from that crime, being known to all men to be an
earnest and zealous protestant, gave him his pardon, and sent him
borne again to Calais; and so, likewise, all the other thirteen above
mentioned.

The story of a poor labouring man, and also of one Dodd, a Scotchman,
burned in Calais.

By the credible information and writing of the said Calais men, which
were then in trouble, it is reported of a certain poor labouring man
of Calais, that after the preaching of Adam Damlip, being in a certain
company, he said that he would never he-here that a priest could make
the Lord's body at his pleasure. Whereupon he was then accused, and
also condemned by one Harvey, commissary there; which Harvey, in time
of his judgment inveighing against him with opprobrious words, said,
that he was a heretic, and should die a vile death. The poor man,
(whose name yet I have not certainly learned,) answering for himself
again, said that he was no heretic, but was in the faith of Christ:
"And whereas thou sagest," said he, "that I shall die a vile death,
thou thyself shalt die a viler death, and that shortly." And so it
came to pass; for, within half a year after, the said Harvey was
hanged, drawn, and quartered, for treason, in the said town of Calais.

After the burning of this poor man, there was also another certain
scholar, counted to be a Scotchman, named Dodd, who, coming out of
Germany, was there taken with certain German books about him; and,
being examined thereupon, and standing constantly to the truth that he
had learned, was therefore condemned to death, and there burned in the
said town of Calais, within the space of a year, or thereabouts, after
the other godly martyr above mentioned.

The story of William Crossbowmaker, bearing a billet in Calais.

And, forasmuch as I am presently in hand with matters of Calais, I
cannot pass from thence without the memory of another certain honest
man of the same township, named William Button, alias Crossbowmaker;
although the time of this story is a little more ancient in years:
which story is this.

William Crossbowmaker, a soldier of Calais, and the king's servant,
being a man (as some natures be) somewhat pleasantly disposed, used,
when he met with priests, to demand of them certain merry questions of
pastime; as these: Whether, if a man were suddenly taken, and wanted
another thing, he might not without offence occupy one of the pope's
pardons instead of a broken paper?

Another question was, Whether in the world might better be wanting,
dogs or priests? And if it were answered that dogs might rather be
spared; to that he would reply again and infer, that if there were no
dogs, we could make no more; but if there lacked ignorant priests, we
might soon, and too soon, make too many of them.

It happened that in the time of Dr. Darly, parson of our Lady's church
in Calais, being commissary there for Archbishop Warham, there came a
Black Friar to Calais with the pope's pardons, who, for four pence,
would deliver a soul out of purgatory. The friar was full of Romish
virtues, for what money came for pardons by day, he bought no land
with it at night. This aforesaid William Button, alias Crossbowmaker,
coming to the pardoner, and pretending that he would deliver his
father and friends' souls, asked, if the holy father the pope could
deliver souls out of purgatory? The friar said, "There is no doubt of
that." "Why then," quoth Button, "doth not he, of charity, deliver all
the souls thereout?" Of which words he was accused to the commissary;
who, at his appearing before the said commissary, confessed to have
asked such questions. The commissary, being angry thereat, said,
"Doubtest thou thereof, thou heretic?" There was standing by a Black
Friar named Capel, an Englishman, who said to the commissary, "There
be ten thousand of these heretics between Gravelines and Triers."
Button answered, "Master friar! of all men you may keep silence; for
your coat hath been twice cut off from the faith. The first time your
order was enjoined to have your black coat shorter than your white;
and, for the second time, your order must go to the furthest part of
their church, and there sing an anthem of our Lady." The commissary
chafed at these words, calling Button "heretic," with many other
opprobrious words. Then said Button to the commissary, "If your holy
father the pope may deliver souls out of purgatory, and will not of
charity deliver them, then, I would to God the king would make me
pope, and I would surely deliver all out without money." At these
words the commissary raged, and reviled Button exceedingly, causing
him to bear a billet, and procured his wages (which were sixpence a
day) to be taken from him. Then went Button to the king's Majesty,
declaring all the whole matter to his Grace, who sent him to Calais
again, and gave him after that eight-pence a day.

$

205. DR. LONDON AND THE GOLDSMITH.

A notable example, wherein may appear as well the despite of Dr.
London and other papists against the gospellers, as also the fidelity
of a matron towards her husband.

Forasmuch as mention was made a little before of Dr. London, we will
somewhat more add of him, because the matter seemeth neither
impertinent nor unfruitful, to the intent it may more evidently
appear, what truth and trust is to be looked for of this cruel kind of
papists. This Dr. London was warden of New College in Oxford, where it
happened that certain plate was stolen, and conveyed and brought up to
London, and sold to a goldsmith, named William Callaway. This Callaway
was a man of good and honest name and reputation among his neighbours,
but especially earnest and zealous towards the gospel, and a great
maintainer thereof. He had, oftentimes before, bought much plate of
the same man without any peril or danger: wherefore, he doubted the
less of his fidelity.

At last the principal of the theft being taken, and the goldsmith
also, that was the buyer, being known, Dr. London, when he understood
him to be a favourer of the gospel, (whereof he was an extreme
adversary,) began straightways to be in a rage, and to swear great and
deep oaths, that he would spare neither labour nor cost, but would
bring the goldsmith to the gallows, although it should cost him five
hundred pounds. To be short, this good goldsmith was arraigned as
accessory, and an action of felony brought against him. He,
contrariwise, alleged, that they ought not to proceed against him, the
principal being alive. Dr. London, on the contrary part, affirmed that
the principal was hanged; which was most false, for he was one of the
same college, and was alive, and but lately set at liberty. To be
brief, he being found guilty, the judge asked him what he could allege
why he should not die? He required to have the privilege of his book
according to the ancient custom and manner. But here it was objected
against him that he had two wives, and therefore he might not have his
book by the law: notwithstanding that, he never had two wives; but,
because his wife had two husbands, it was imputed to him for bigamy.

Thus this good goldsmith, being secluded from all hope of life by the
crafty spite of his malignant adversaries, his wife, being a woman of
proved honesty and good fame, came in before the judges; and,
perceiving her former marriage to be hurtful unto her husband, to save
her husband's life, she took an oath before the judges that she was
never married to more men than to the said goldsmith: and, although
she had children by her other husband, and continued divers years with
him, yet she sware that she was never married unto him. Thus this
woman, by defaming of herself, to her great praise and singular
example of love, delivered her innocent husband; thinking it better
for her to live with ignominy and reproach, than for her husband to
die; less esteeming the loss of her good name, than of his life.

As touching the quality of this fact or perjury, I intermeddle not
here to discuss, but leave it at large to the judgment of lawyers to
define upon. Truth it is, that perjury neither in man nor woman is to
be commended, neither ought it to be defended. But yet, the true heart
and faithful love between this man and his wife, counterpoising again
as much or more on the other side, the more rare and strange I see it
in many couples now-a-days, the more I think it worthy, not only to be
praised, but also, for example's sake, to be notified. But, in the
mean time, what shall we say to these priests and adversaries, who, in
such sort violently do press and force the poor sheep of Christ, with
peril of their conscience, unto such perjury; and that, in such
causes, where no such truth is sought, but innocency oppressed, true
religion persecuted, and only their spite and wrath against God's word
wreaked.

$

206. QUALIFICATIONS OF THE ACT OF THE SIX ARTICLES.

During the time of these six articles aforesaid, which brought many
good men unto death, yet so it happened by another contrary act, set
forth before for the king's supremacy, (as ye have heard,) that the
contrary sect also of the papists was not all in quiet. For, besides
the death of More, and the bishop of Rochester, and the other
Charterhouse monks, friars, and priests above specified, about this
year, also, were condemned and executed by the same law two others, of
whom one was a priest of Chelsea, named Lark, who was put to death at
London for defending the bishop of Rome's supremacy above the king's
authority: the other was Germain Gardiner, (near kinsman to Stephen
Gardiner, and yet more near to his secret counsel, as it is supposed,)
who, likewise, in practising for the pope against the king's
jurisdiction, was taken with the manner, and so brought unto the
gibbet.

Upon the detection of this Germain Gardiner, being secretary to
Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, his kinsman, it seemed to some, and so
was also insinuated unto the king not to be unlike, but that the said
Germain neither would, nor durst, ever attempt any such matter of
popery, without some setting on or consent of the bishop, he being so
near unto him, and to all his secrets, as he was. Whereby the king
began somewhat more to smell and misdoubt the doings of the bishop;
but yet the more in number, as the others who deposed against bishop
so covertly and clearly conveyed his matters, playing under the board,
after his wonted fetches, in such sort that (I cannot tell how) he
still kept in with the king, to the great inquietation of the public
state of the realm, and especially of Christ's church.

In declaring the dreadful law, before set forth, of the six articles,
which was A.D. 1540, ye heard what penalty was appointed for the
breach of the same, in like case as in treason and felony; so that no
remedy of any recantation would serve. This severity was a little
mitigated by another parliament, holden afterwards, A.D. 1544, by
which parliament it was decreed, that such offenders as were convicted
in the said articles for the first time, should be admitted to recant
and renounce their opinions. And if the party refused to recant in
such form as should be laid unto him by his ordinary, or, after his
recantation, if he eftsoons offended again, then, for the second time,
he should be admitted to abjure and bear a faggot; which if he deny to
do, or else, being abjured, if he the third time offended, then he to
sustain punishment according to the law, &c. Although the straitness
and rigour of the former act was thus somewhat tempered, as ye see,
and reformed by this present parliament, yet, notwithstanding, the
venom and poison of the errors and mischief of those articles remained
still behind; not removed, but rather confirmed by this parliament
aforesaid. By the which parliament, moreover, many things were
provided for the advancement of popery, under the colour of religion;
so that all manner of books of the Old and New Testament, bearing the
name of William Tyndale, or any others, having prologues, or
containing any matters, annotations, preambles, words, or sentences,
contrary to the six articles, were debarred. In like manner all songs,
plays, and interludes, with all other books in English, containing
matter of religion tending any way against the said articles, were
abolished.

In the which parliament, furthermore, it was provided, that the text
of the New Testament, or of the Bible, being prohibited to all women,
artificers, prentices, journeymen, servingmen, yeomen, husbandmen, and
labourers; yet was permitted, notwithstanding, to noblemen, and
gentlemen, and gentlewomen, to read and peruse, to their edifying, so
that they did it quietly, without arguing, discussing, or expounding
upon the Scripture.

Over and besides, whereas before, the offender or defendant might not
be suffered to bring in any witnesses to purge and try himself, in
this parliament it was permitted to the party detected or complained
of, to try his cause by witnesses, as many, or more in number, as the
others who deposed against him, &c.

After this parliament, moreover, followed another parliament, A.D.
1545, wherein other qualifications, more special, of the six articles
were provided: that whereas before, the cruel statute of the six
articles was so strait, that if any of the king's subjects had been
complained of by any manner of person, as well being his enemy as
otherwise, he should be indicted presently upon the same, without any
further examination or knowledge given to the party so accused; and so
thereupon to be attached, committed, and in fine to be condemned: it
was, therefore, by this parliament provided, that all such
presentments and indictments should not be brought before the
commissioners, otherwise than by the oaths of twelve men, or more, of
honesty and credit, without corruption or malice accordingly.

"Item, That no such indictments or presentments should be taken, but
within one year of the offences committed; or else the said
indictments to stand void in the law.

"Item, That no person accused upon any such offence against the six
articles, should be attached, or committed to ward, before he were
thereof indicted, unless by special warrant from the king.

"Item, By the authority of the said parliament, it was considered and
enacted, that if any preacher or reader, for any word spoken, supposed
to be against the six articles, should be accused, but not within the
space of forty days of the said his reading or preaching, then the
party accused to be acquitted.

"Item, That the justices or inquirers of such presentments should have
full power to alter and reform all panels of inquiry returned before
them, in like manner as the justices of peace may do in their
sessions, upon any other inquiries.

"Item, That the party so accused or indicted, upon his trial, may have
all manner of challenges, (peremptory only excepted,) as other persons
arraigned for felony may have, by the laws of this realm."

By these qualifications and moderations of the six articles, it may
appear that the king began somewhat to grow out of favour with Stephen
Gardiner, and to descry his doings, whereby he was the more forward to
incline somewhat in furthering the desolate cause of religion, as may
appear both by these premises, and also by other provisions and
determinations of the aforesaid parliament, A.D. 1545, wherein it was
decreed by act of parliament, that the king should have full power and
authority to appoint thirty-two persons; to wit, sixteen of the
clergy, and sixteen of the temporalty, to peruse, oversee, and examine
the canons, constitutions, and ordinances of the canon law, as well
provincial as synodal; and so, according to their discretions, to set
and establish an order of ecclesiastical laws, such as should be
thought by the king and them convenient to be received and used within
this realm: which statute, as it is most needful for the government of
the Church of England, so, would God it had been brought to
perfection!

$

207. JOHN ATHY, JOHN HEYWOOD, KERBY, AND ROGER CLARKE

In this year, touching matters of history, we read no great thing
worthy of memory, but only of two persons, John Athy and John Heywood.
Of which two, we find first John Athy to be indicted by the king's
writ for certain words against the sacrament, which words in the
indictment are specified to be these: "That he would not believe in
the thing which the knave priest made, neither in that which Long's
wife selleth; but only in God that is in heaven. And, when it was told
him that God, through his word, could make it flesh and blood, he
answered, 'So he might, if he would, turn it into a chicken's leg:'
meaning the sacrament of the altar."

The same year also followed the recantation of John Heywood; who
although he was attached for treason, for denying the king's
supremacy, yet, using the clemency of the king, upon his better
reformation and amendment, he made an open and solemn recantation in
the face of all the people, abandoning and renouncing the pope's
usurped supremacy, and confessing the king to be chief supreme head
and governor of this Church of England, all foreign authority and
jurisdiction being excluded.

In the year aforesaid, 1545, as there was no other thing done in
England worthy to be noted, so now the order of story here requireth,
by the course of years, next to infer the discourse of the troubles
and persecutions which happened in Scotland against Master George
Wisehart and divers other good men of the same country, about the same
year of our Lord 1545, and somewhat before. But, because now we are
come to the latter end almost of King Henry's reign, we will make an
end (the Lord willing) with a few other English stories paining to
that time; and, that finished, then set upon those matters of
Scotland, joining them whole together. The tractation whereof thou
shalt see, good reader, in the latter end and closing up of this
king's reign.

Kerby, and Roger Clarke, of Suffolk, martyrs.

Coming now to the year of our Lord 1546, first passing over the
priest, whose name was Saxy, who was hanged in the porter's lodge of
Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and that, as it is supposed,
not without the consent of the said bishop and the secret conspiracy
of that bloody generation; to pass over also one Henry, with his
servant, burned at Colchester; I will now proceed to the story of
Kerby, and of Roger Clarke of Mendlesham, who were apprehended at
Ipswich, A.D. 1546, the Saturday before Gang-Monday, and brought
before the Lord Wentworth, with other commissioners appointed there to
sit upon their examinations, judgments, and causes. The night before
they were arraigned, a bill was set upon the town-house door, (by
whom, it was unknown,) and brought the next day unto the Lord
Wentworth; who answered, that it was good counsel: which bill, in the
latter end, shall appear.

In the mean time Kerby and Roger, being in the jailer's house, named
John Bird, an honest and a good man, (who had checks divers times at
the bar, that he was more meet to be kept, than to be a keeper,) came
in Master Robert Wingfield, son and heir of Humfrey Wingfield, knight,
with Master Bruess of Wenham; who then, having conference with Kerby,
(being then in a several chamber separate from the other,) Master
Wingfield said to Kerby, "Remember the fire is hot, take heed of thine
enterprise, that thou take no more upon thee than thou shalt be able
to perform. The terror is great, the pain will be extreme, and life is
sweet. Better it were betimes to stick to mercy, while there is hope
of life, than rashly to begin, and then to shrink;" with such like
words of persuasion. To whom he answered again, "Ah, Master Wingfield!
be at my burning, and you shall say, There standeth a Christian
soldier in the fire. For I know that fire and water, sword, and all
other things, are in the hands of God, and he will suffer no more to
be laid upon us, than he will give us strength to bear." "Ah, Kerby!"
said Master Wingfield, "if thou be at that point, I will bid thee
farewell; for, I promise thee, I am not so strong that I am able to
burn," And so both the gentlemen, saying that they would pray for
them, shook hands with them, and so departed.

Now first, touching the behaviour of Kerby and Roger when they came to
the judgment-seat, the Lord Wentworth with all the rest of the
justices there ready, the commissary also, by virtue of the statute ex
officio, sitting next to the Lord Wentworth, but one between; Kerby
and Roger lifted up their eyes and hands to heaven with great devotion
in all men's eyes, making their prayers secretly to God for a space of
time, while they might say the Lord's Prayer five or six times. That
done, their articles were declared unto them with all circumstances of
the law: and then it was demanded and inquired of them, Whether they
believed, that after the words spoken by a priest, (as Christ spake
them to his apostles,) there were not the very body and blood of
Christ, flesh, blood, and bone, as he was born of the Virgin Mary, and
no bread after?

Unto the which words they answered and said, No, they did not so
believe; but that they did believe the sacrament which Christ Jesus
did institute at his last supper, on Maundy Thursday at night, to his
disciples, was only to put all men in remembrance of his precious
death and blood-shedding for the remission of sins; and that there was
neither flesh nor blood to be eaten with the teeth, but bread and
wine; and yet more than bread and wine, for that it is consecrated to
a holy use. Then, with much persuasions, both with fair means and
threats besides, (if it would have served,) were these two poor men
hardly laid to; but most at the hands of Foster, an inferior justice,
not being learned in such knowledge. But these two continued both
faithful and constant, choosing rather to die than to live; and so
continued unto the end.

Then sentence was given upon them both, Kerby to be burned in the said
town on the next Saturday, and Roger to be burned at Bury the Gang-
Monday after. Kerby, when his judgment was given by the Lord
Wentworth, with most humble reverence holding up his hands and bowing
himself devoutly, he said, "Praised be Almighty God;" and so stood
still without any more words.

Then did the Lord Wentworth talk secretly, putting hie head behind
another justice that sat between them. The said Roger, perceiving
that, said with a loud voice, "Speak out, my Lord! and if you have
done any thing contrary to your conscience, ask God mercy; and we, for
our parts, do forgive you: and speak not in secret, for ye shall come
before a Judge, and then make answer openly, even before Him that
shall judge all men;" with other like words.

The Lord Wentworth, somewhat blushing, and changing his countenance,
(through remorse, as it was thought,) said, "I did speak nothing of
you, nor have I done any thing unto you, but as the law is." Then were
Kerby and Roger sent forth; Kerby to prison there, and Roger to St.
Edmund's Bury. One of the two, bursting out with a loud voice, (Roger
it is supposed,) thus spake with a vehemency: "Fight," said he, "for
your God; for he hath not long to continue."

The next day, which was Saturday, about ten of the clock, Kerby was
brought to the market-place, where a stake was ready, wood, broom, and
straw, and did off his clothes unto his shirt, having a nightcap upon
his head; and so was fastened to the stake with irons, there being in
the gallery the Lord Wentworth, with the most part of all the justices
of those quarters, where they might see his execution, how every thing
should be done, and also might hear what Kerby did say; and a great
number of people, about two thousand by estimation. There was also
standing in the gallery by the Lord Went worth, Dr. Rugham, who was
before a monk of Bury, and sexton of the house, having on a surplice,
and a stole about his neck. Then silence was proclaimed, and the said
doctor began to disable himself, as not meet to declare the Holy
Scriptures, being unprovided because the time was so short; but that
he hoped, in God's assistance, it should come well to pass.

All this while Kerby was trimming with irons and faggots, broom and
straw, as one that should be married with new garments, nothing
changing cheer nor countenance, but with a most meek spirit glorified
God; which was wonderful to behold. Then Master Doctor, at last,
entered into the sixth chapter of St. John, who, in handling that
matter, so oft as he alleged the Scriptures, and applied them rightly,
Kerby told the people that he said true, and bade the people believe
him. But, when he did otherwise, he told him again, "You say not true;
believe him not, good people." Whereupon, as the voice of the people
was, they judged Dr. Rugham a false prophet. So when Master Doctor had
ended his collation, he said unto Kerby, "Thou, good man! dost not
thou believe that the blessed sacrament of the altar is the very flesh
and blood of Christ, and no bread, even as he was born of the Virgin
Mary?" Kerby, answering boldly, said, "I do not so believe." "How
doest thou believe?" said the doctor. Kerby said, "I do believe that
in the sacrament that Jesus Christ instituted at his last supper, on
Maundy Thursday, to his disciples, (which ought of us likewise to be
done,) is the death and passion, and his blood-shedding for the
redemption of the world, to be remembered: and (as I said before) yet
bread, and more than bread; for that it is consecrated to a holy use."
Then was Master Doctor in his dumps, and spake not one word more to
Kerby after.

Then said the under-sheriff to Kerby, "Hast thou any thing more to
say?" "Yea, sir," said he, "if you will give me leave." "Say on," said
the sheriff.

Then Kerby, taking his nightcap from his head, put it under his arm,
as though it should have done him service again; but, remembering
himself, he cast it from him, and lifting up his hands, he said the
hymn Te Deum, and the Belief, with other prayers in the English
tongue. The Lord Wentworth, while Kerby was thus doing, did shroud
himself behind one of the posts of the gallery, and wept, and so did
many others. Then said Kerby, "I have done: you may execute your
office, good Master Sheriff." Then fire was set to the wood, and with
a loud voice he called unto God, knocking on his breast, and holding
up his hands, so long as his remembrance would serve, and so ended his
life; the people giving shouts, and praising God with great admiration
of his constancy, being so simple and unlettered.

On the Gang-Monday, A.D. 1546, about ten of the clock, Roger Clarke of
Mendlesham was brought out of prison, and went on foot to the gate,
called Southgate, in Bury, and, by the way, the procession met with
them; but he went on, and would not bow cap nor knee, but with most
vehement words rebuked that idolatry and superstition, the officers
being much offended. And without the gate, where was the place of
execution, the stake being ready, and the wood lying by, he came, and
kneeled down, and said Magnificat, in the English tongue, making as it
were a paraphrase upon the same, wherein he declared how that the
blessed Virgin Mary, who might as well rejoice in pureness, as any
others, yet humbled herself to her Saviour. "And what sayest thou,
John Baptist," said he, "the greatest of all men's children? Behold
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world." And thus,
with a loud voice, he cried unto the people, while he was in fastening
unto the stake, and then the fire was set to him, where he suffered
pains unmercifully; for the wood was green, and would not burn; so
that he was choked with smoke. And, moreover, being set in a pitch-
barrel, with some pitch sticking still by the sides, he was therewith
sore pained, till be had got his feet out of the barrel. And, at
length, one standing by took a faggot-stick, and striking at the ring
of iron about his neck, so pashed him, and struck him belike upon the
head, that he shrank down on the one side into the fire; and so was
dissolved.

In the beginning of this story of Kerby and Roger, mention was made of
a certain bill put upon the Town-house door, and brought the next day
to the Lord Wentworth, the words of which bill were these.

The bill set upon the Town-house door in Ipswich.

"Judge rightly, ye sons of men: yet, when ye shall judge, minister
your justice with mercy.

"A fearful thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God: be ye
learned, therefore, in true knowledge, ye that judge the earth; lest
the Lord be angry with you.

"The blood of the righteous shall be required at your hands. What
though the veil hanged before Moses' face; yet at Christ's death it
fell down.

"The stones will speak, if these should hold their peace: therefore
harden not your hearts against the verity.

"For fearfully shall the Lord appear in the day of vengeance to the
troubled in conscience. No excuse shall there be of ignorance, but
every vat shall stand on his own bottom. Therefore have remorse in
your conscience; fear him that may kill both body and soul.

"Beware of innocent blood-shedding; take heed of justice ignorantly
ministered; work discreetly as the Scripture doth command: look to it,
that ye make not the truth to be forsaken.

"We beseech God to save our king, King Henry the Eighth, that he be
not led into temptation. So be it."

$

208. KING HENRY'S ACTS AND PROCLAMATIONS, 1545-46

This year also it was ordained and decreed, and solemnly given out in
proclamation, by the king's name and authority, and his council, that
the English procession should be used throughout all England,
according as it was set forth by his said council, and none other to
be used throughout the whole realm.

About the latter end of this year, 1545, in the month of November,
when the king had subdued the Scots, and afterwards, joining together
with the emperor, had invaded France, and had got from them the town
of Boulogne, he summoned his high court of parliament. In the which
was granted unto him, besides other subsidies of money, all colleges,
chantries, free chapels, hospitals, fraternities, brotherhoods,
guilds, and perpetuities of stipendiary priests, to be disposed of at
his will and pleasure. Whereupon, in the month of December following,
the king, after the wonted custom, came into the parliament-house to
give his royal assent to such acts as were there passed; where, after
an eloquent oration made to him by the speaker, he, answering again
unto the same, not by the lord chancellor, (as the manner was,) but by
himself, uttered forth this oration, word for word, as it is reported
and left in story.

In the contents of which oration, first, eloquently and lovingly he
declared his grateful heart to his loving subjects for their grants
and subventions, offered unto him. In the second part, with no less
vehemency he exhorteth them to concord, peace, and unity. Whereunto if
he had also joined the third part, that is, as in words he exhorted to
unity, so he had begun indeed first himself to take away the occasion
of division, disobedience, and disturbance from his subjects; that is,
had removed the stumbling-block of the six articles out of the
people's way, which set brother against brother, neighbour against
neighbour, the superior against the subject, and the wolves to devour
the poor flock of Christ: then, had he not only spoken, but also done,
like a worthy prince. But of this, more shall be said in the sequel
hereof, God willing.

The King's oration in the parliament-house.

"Although my chancellor for the time being hath, before this time,
used very eloquently and substantially to make answer to such orations
as have been set forth in this high court of parliament, yet is he not
so able to open and set forth my mind and meaning, and the secrets of
my heart, in so plain and ample manner as I myself am, and can do.
Wherefore I, taking upon. me to answer your eloquent oration, Master
Speaker! say, that whereas you, in the name of our well-beloved
commons, have both praised and extolled me for the notable qualities
that you have conceived to be in me, I most heartily thank you all
that you put me in remembrance of my duty, which is, to endeavour
myself to obtain and get such excellent qualities, and necessary
virtues, as a prince or governor should or ought to have; of which
gifts I recognise myself both bare and barren.

"But for such small qualities as God hath endued me withal, I render
to his goodness my most humble thanks, intending, with all my wit and
diligence, to get and acquire to me, such notable virtues and princely
qualities, as you have alleged to be incorporate in my person.

"These thanks for your loving admonition and good counsel first
remembered, I eftsoons thank you again,. that you, considering our
great charges, (not for our pleasure, but for your defence; not for
our gain, but to our great cost,) whioh we have lately sustained, as
well in defence against our and your enemies, as for the conquest of
that fortress, which was to this realm most displeasant and noisome,
and shall be, by God's grace, hereafter to our nation most profitable
and pleasant, have freely, of your own mind, granted to us a certain
subsidy here in an act specified; which, verily, we take in good part,
regarding more your kindness than the profit thereof, as he that
setteth more by your loving hearts, than by your substance. Besides
this hearty kindness, I cannot a little rejoice, when I consider the
perfect trust and sure confidence which you have put in me, as men
having undoubted hope, and unfeigned belief, in my good doings and
just proceedings; for that you, without my desire or request, have
committed to mine order and disposition all chantries, colleges,
hospitals, and other places specified in a certain act, firmly
trusting that I will order them to the glory of God, and the profit of
our commonwealth. Surely if I, contrary to your expectation, should
suffer the ministers of the church to decay; or learning, which is so
great a jewel, to be minished; or poor and miserable people to be
unrelieved; you might say that I, being put in so special a trust as I
am in this case, were no trusty friend to you, nor charitable man to
mine even christened, neither a lover of the public wealth, nor yet
one that feared God, to whom account must be rendered of all our
doings. Doubt not, I pray you, but your expectation shall be served
more godly and goodly than you will wish or desire, as hereafter you
shall plainly perceive.

"Now, since I find such kindness on your part towards me, I cannot
choose but love and favour you, affirming that no prince in the world
more favoured his subjects than I do you, nor any subjects or commons
more love and obey their sovereign lord, than I perceive you do me,
for whose defence my treasure shall not be hidden, nor, if necessity
require, shall my person be unadventured. Yet, although I with you,
and you with me, be in this perfect love and concord, this friendly
amity cannot continue, except you, my lords temporal, and you, my
lords spiritual, and you, my loving subjects, study and take pains to
amend one thing, which is surely amiss and far out of order, to the
which I most heartily require you; which is, that charity and concord
is not among you, but discord and dissension beareth rule in every
place. St. Paul saith to the Corinthians, in the thirteenth chapter,
Charity is gentle, charity is not envious, charity is not proud, and
so forth, in the said chapter. Behold then what love and charity is
amongst you, when the one calleth the other heretic, and Anabaptist;
and he calleth him again papist, hypocrite, and Pharisee. Be these
tokens of charity amongst you? Are these the signs of fraternal love
between you? No, no, I assure that this lack of charity amongst
yourselves will be the hinderance and assuaging of the fervent love
between us, as I said before, except this wound be salved and clearly
made whole. I must needs judge the fault and occasion of this discord
to be partly by the negligence of you, the fathers and preachers of
the spiritualty. For if I know a man which liveth in adultery, I must
judge him a lecherous and carnal person. If I see a man boast and brag
himself, I cannot but deem him a proud man. I see and hear daily, that
you of the clergy preach one against another, teach one contrary to
another, inveigh one against another, without charity or discretion.
Some be too stiff in their old mumpsimus, others be too busy and
curious in their new sumpsimus.

"Thus all men almost be in variety and discord, and few or none do
preach truly and sincerely the word of God, according as they ought to
do. Shall I now judge you charitable persons doing this? No, no, I
cannot so do. Alas! how can the poor souls live in concord, when you
preachers sow amongst them, in your sermons, debate and discord? Of
you they look for light, and you bring them to darkness. Amend these
crimes, I exhort you, and set forth God's word, both by true preaching
and good example-giving; or else I, whom God hath appointed his vicar
and high minister here, will see these divisions extinct, and these
enormities corrected, according to my very duty; or else I am an
unprofitable servant, and an untrue officer.

"Although (as I say) the spiritual men be in some fault, that charity
is not kept amongst you, yet you of the temporalty be not clean and
unspotted of malice and envy; for you rail on bishops, speak
slanderously of priests, and rebuke and taunt preachers, both contrary
to good order and Christian fraternity. If you know surely that a
bishop or preacher erreth, or teacheth perverse doctrine, come and
declare it to some of our council, or to us, to whom is committed by
God, the authority to reform and order such causes and behaviours; and
be not judges yourselves of your own fantastical opinions and vain
expositions, for in such high causes ye may lightly err. And although
you be permitted to read Holy Scripture, and to have the word of God
in your mother tongue, you must understand that it is licensed you so
to do, only to inform your own conscience, and to instruct your
children and family; and not to dispute and make Scripture a railing
and a taunting-stock against priests and preachers, as many light
persons do. I am very sorry to know and hear how unreverently that
most precious jewel, the word of God, is disputed, rhymed, sung, and
jangled in every alehouse and tavern, contrary to the true meaning and
doctrine of the same: and yet I am even as much sorry that the readers
of the same follow it, in doing, so faintly and coldly. For of this I
am sure, that charity was never so faint amongst you, and virtuous and
godly living was never less used, nor was God himself amongst
Christians ever less reverenced, honoured, or served. Therefore (as I
said before) be in charity one with another like brother and brother:
love, dread, and fear God (to the which I, as your supreme head and
sovereign lord, exhort and require you): and then, I doubt not but
that that love and league which I spake of in the beginning, shall
never be dissolved or broken between us. And as touching the laws
which be now made and concluded, I exhort you, the makers, to be as
diligent in putting them in execution, as you were in making and
furthering the same; or else your labour shall be in vain, and your
commonwealth nothing relieved."

Notes upon the aforesaid exhortation.

Princes who exhort to concord and charity do well; but princes who
seek out the causes of discord, and reform the same, do much better.
The papist and protestant, heretic and Pharisee, the old mumpsimus and
the new sumpsimus, be terms of variance and dissension, and be, I
grant, symptoms of a sore wound in the commonwealth. But he that will
amend this wound must first begin to search out the causes, and to
purge the occasion thereof: otherwise, to cure the sore outwardly,
which inwardly doth fester and rankle still, it is but vain.

The root and ground of all this grievance riseth hence: from the
prelates and clergy of Rome, seeking, as it seemeth, altogether after
riches, pomp, and honour of this world; who, to maintain the same
under pretence of religion, do in very deed subvert religion. Under
that title of the church, they bring into the church manifest errors
and absurdities intolerable, who, pretending to be fathers of the
church, if they transgressed but in manners and lightness of life, or
negligence of government, they might be borne withal, for peace and
concord's sake; and here modesty, civility, quietness, unity, and
charity, might have place amongst modest natures. But now, they
obscure the glory of the Son of God, which in no case ought to be
suffered; they extinguish the light and grace of the gospel; they clog
men's consciences; they set up idolatry, and maintain idols; they
bring in false invocation, and restrain lawful matrimony, whereby
groweth filthy pollution, adultery, and whoredom in the church
unspeakable; they corrupt the sacraments; they wrest the Scripture to
worldly purposes; they kill and persecute God's people: briefly, their
doctrine is damnable, their laws be impious, their doings are
detestable. And yet, after all this, they creep craftily into the
hearts of princes, under the title of the church, and colour of
concord; making kings and princes believe that all be heretics and
schismatics, who will not be subject to their ordinary power. Now
Almighty God, who is a jealous God, and not suffering the glory of his
Son to be defaced, nor his truth to be trodden under foot, stirreth up
again the hearts of his people to understand his truth, and to defend
his cause. Whereupon, of these two parts, as two mighty flints thus
smiting together, cometh out the sparkle of this division, which can
in no wise be quenched, but that one part must needs yield and give
over. There is no neutrality, nor mediation of peace, nor exhortation
to agreement, that will serve between these two contrary doctrines,
but either the pope's errors must give place to God's word, or else
the verity of God must give place unto them.

Wherefore, as the good intent, and plausible oration of the king, in
this behalf, was to be not discommended, in exhorting his subjects to
charity, so had he much more deserved commendation, if he had sought
the right way to work charity, and to help innocency amongst his
subjects, by taking away the impious law of the six articles, the
mother of all division and manslaughter. For what is this to the
purpose, to exhort in words ever so much to charity, and indeed to
give a knife to the murderer's hand, to run upon his naked brother,
which never in conscience can leave his cause, nor yet hath power to
defend himself? as by experience here followeth to be seen, what
charity ensued after this exhortation of the king to charity, by the
racking and burning of good Anne Askew, with three other poor subjects
of the king, within half a year after; whereof shortly you shall hear
more declared.

When these chantries and colleges thus, by act of parliament, were
given into the king's hands as is above remembered, (which was about
the month of December, A.D. 1545,) the next Lent following, Dr. Crome,
preaching in the Mercer's chapel, among other reasons and persuasions
to rouse the people from the vain opinion of purgatory, inferred this
(grounding upon the said act of parliament): that if trentals and
chantry masses could avail the souls in purgatory, then did the
parliament not well in giving away monasteries, colleges, and
chantries, which served principally to that purpose. But, if the
parliament did well (as no man could deny) in dissolving them, and
bestowing the same upon the king, then is it a plain case, that such
chantries and private masses do nothing to confer and relieve them in
purgatory. This dilemma of Dr. Crome, no doubt, was insoluble. But,
notwithstanding, the charitable prelates, for all the king's late
exhortation unto charity, were so charitable unto him, that on Easter
next they brought him coram nobis, where they so handled him, that
they made him to recant. And if he had not, they would have dissolved
him and his argument in burning fire, so burning hot was their
charity, according as they burned Anne Askew and her fellows in the
month of July the year following: whose tragical story and cruel
handling now, consequently, the Lord willing, you shall hear.

$

209. ANNE ASKEW

The two examinations of the worthy servant of God, Mistress Anne
Askew, daughter of Sir William Askew, knight, of Lincolnshire,
martyred in Smithfield for the constant and faithful testimony of the
truth.

The first examination before the inquisitors, A.D. 1545.

"To satisfy your expectation, good people," (said she,) "this was my
first examination, in the year of Lord 1545, and in the month of
March.

"First, Christopher Dare examined me at Sadler's Hall, being one of
the quest, and asked, If I did not believe that the sacrament hanging
over the altar was the very body of Christ really. Then I demanded
this question of him, Wherefore was St. Stephen stoned to death? and
he said, he could not tell Then I answered that no more would I assoil
his vain question.

"Secondly, he said, that there was a woman who did testify that I
should read, how God was not in temples made with hands. Then I showed
him chapters vii. and xvii. of the Acts of the Apostles; what Stephen
and Paul had said therein. Whereupon he asked me how I took those
sentences? I answered, I would not throw pearls amongst swine, for
acorns were good enough.

"Thirdly, he asked me, wherefore I said, I had rather to read five
lines in the Bible, than to hear five masses in the temple. I
confessed that I said no less; not for the dispraise of either of the
Epistle or the Gospel, but because the one did greatly edify me, and
the other nothing at alL. As St. Paul doth witness in 1 Cor. xiv., 
where he saith, If the trumpet giveth an uncertain sound, who will
prepare himself to the battle?

"Fourthly, he laid unto my charge, that I should say, If an ill priest
ministered, it was the devil, and not God.

"My answer was, that I never spake any such thing. But this was my
saying: that whosoever he were that ministered unto me, his ill
conditions could not hurt my faith, but in spirit I received,
nevertheless, the body and blood of Christ.

"Fifthly, he asked me what I said concerning confession. I answered
him my meaning, which was, as St. James saith, that every man ought to
acknowledge his faults to other, and the one to pray for the other.

"Sixthly, he asked me what I said to the king's book: and I answered
him that I could say nothing to it, because I never saw it.

"Seventhly, he asked me if I had the Spirit of God in me. I answered,
if I had not, I was but a reprobate or castaway.

"Then he said, he had sent for a priest to examine me, who was there
at hand. The priest asked me what I said to the sacrament of the
altar, and required much to know my meaning therein. But I desired him
again to hold me excused concerning that matter: none other answer
would I make him, because I perceived him to be a papist.

"Eighthly, he asked me, if I did not think that private masses did
help the souls departed. I said, it was great idolatry to believe more
in them, than in the death which Christ died for us.

"Then they had me thence unto my lord mayor, and he examined me, as
they had before, and I answered him directly in all things, as I
answered the quest before. Besides this, my lord mayor laid one thing
to my charge, which was never spoken of me, but by them; and that was,
whether a mouse, eating the host, received God or no? This question
did I never ask, bat indeed they asked it of me, whereunto I made them
no answer, but smiled.

"Then the bishop's chancellor rebuked me, and said that I was much to
blame for uttering the Scriptures. For St. Paul, he said, forbade
women to speak or to talk of the word of God. I answered him that I
knew Paul's meaning as well as he, which is, in 1 Cor. xiv., that a
woman ought not to speak in the congregation by the way of teaching:
and then I asked him how many women he had seen go into the pulpit and
preach? He said he never saw any. Then I said, he ought to find no
fault in poor women, except they had offended the law.

"Then my lord mayor commanded me to ward. I asked him if sureties
would not serve me; and be made me short answer, that he would take
none; Then was I had to the Compter, and there remained eleven days,
no friend admitted to speak with me. But, in the mean time, there was
a priest sent unto me, who said that he was commanded of the bishop to
examine me, and to give me good counsel, which he did not. But, first,
he asked me for what cause I was put in the Compter; and I told him, I
could not tell. Then he said, it was great pity that I should be there
without cause, and concluded, that he was very sorry for me.

"Secondly, he said, it was told him that I should deny the sacrament
of the altar. And I answered him again, that what I had said, I had
said.

"Thirdly, he asked me, if I were content to be shriven. I told him, so
that I might have one of these three, that is to say, Dr. Crome, Sir
Guillam, or Huntington, I was contented, because I knew them to be men
of wisdom. As for you, or any other, I will not dispraise, because I
know you not. Then said he, 'I would not have you think but that I, or
any other that shall be brought you, shall be as honest as they: for
if we were not, you may be sure the king would not suffer us to
preach.' Then I answered with the saying of Solomon, By communing with
the wise I may learn wisdom, but by talking with a fool I shall take
scathe, Prov i. .5.

"Fourthly, he asked, If the host should fall, and a beast did eat it,
whether the beast did receive God or no? I answered, 'Seeing that you
have taken the pains to ask the question, I desire you also to assoil
it yourself: for I will not do it, because I perceive you come to
tempt me.' And he said it was against the order of schools, that he
who asked the question should answer it. I told him I was but a woman,
and knew not the course of schools.

"Fifthly he asked me, if I intended to receive the sacrament at
Easter, or no? I answered, that else I were no Christian woman; and
thereat I did rejoice, that the time was so near at hand. And then he
departed thence with many fair words.

"The 23d day of March, my cousin Brittayne came into the Compter unto
me, and asked me whether I might be put to bail, or no? Then went he
immediately unto my lord mayor, desiring him to be so good unto me,
that I might be bailed. My Lord answered him and said, that he would
be glad to do the best that in him lay; howbeit he could not bail me,
without the consent of a spiritual officer: requiring him to go and
speak with the chancellor of London. For, he said, like as he could
not commit me to prison without the consent of a spiritual officer, no
more could he bail me without the consent of the same.

"So, upon that, he went to the chancellor, requiring of him as he did
before of my lord mayor. He answered him, that the matter was so
heinous,that he durst not of himself do it, without my Lord of London
were made privy thereunto. But, he said, he would speak unto my Lord
in it, and bade him repair unto him the next morrow, and he should
well know my Lord's pleasure. And upon the morrow after, he came
thither, and spake both with the chancellor and with my Lord bishop of
London. The bishop declared unto him, that he was very well contented
that I should come forth to communication; and appointed me to appear
before him the next day after, at three of the clock at afternoon.
Moreover he said unto him, that he would there should be at the
examination such learned men as I was affectioned to, that they might
see, and also make report, that I was handled with no rigour. He
answered him, that he knew no man that I had more affection to, than
to other. Then said the bishop, 'Yes, as I understand, she is
affectioned to Dr. Crome, Sir Guillam Whitehead, and Huntington, that
they might hear the matter, for she doth know them to be learned and
of a godly judgment.' Also he required my cousin Brittayne, that he
should earnestly persuade me to utter even the very bottom of my
heart; and he sware by his fidelity, that no man should take any
advantage of my words, neither yet would he lay ought to my charge for
any thing that I should there speak; but, if I said any manner of
thing amiss, he, with others more, would he glad to reform me therein,
with most godly counsel.

"On the morrow after, the bishop of London sent for me at one of the
clock, his hour being appointed at three; and as I came before him, he
said he was very sorry for my trouble, and desired to know my opinions
in such matters as were laid against me. He required me also, in any
wise, boldly to utter the secrets of my heart, bidding me not to fear
in any point, for whatsoever I did say in his house, no man should
hurt me for it. I answered, 'Forasmuch as your Lordship appointed
three of the clock, and my friends will not come till that hour, I
desire you to pardon me of giving answer till they come.' Then said
he, that he thought it meet to send for those four men who were
aforenamed and appointed. Then I desired him not to put them to pain,
for it should not need, because the two gentlemen which were my
friends, were able enough to testify what I should say.

"Anon after he went into his gallery with Master Spilman, and willed
him in any wise that he should exhort me to utter all that I thought.
In the mean while he commanded his archdeacon to commune with me, who
said unto me, 'Mistress, wherefore are you accused and thus troubled
here before the bishop?' To whom I answered again and said, 'Sir,ask,
I pray you, my accusers; for I know not as yet.' Then took he my book
out of my hand, and. said, 'Such books as this have brought you to the
trouble that you are in. Beware,' said he, 'beware, for he that made
this book, and was the author thereof, was a heretic, I warrant you,
and burned in Smithfield.' And then I asked him, if he were certain
and sure that it was true which he had spoken. And he said, he knew
well the book was of John Frith's making. Then I asked him if he were
not ashamed to judge of the book before he saw it within, or yet knew
the truth thereof. I said also, that such unadvised hasty judgment is
a token apparent of a very slender wit. Then I opened the book and
showed it him. He said he thought it had been another, for he could
find no fault therein. Then I desired him no more to be so unadvisedly
rash and swift in judgment, till he thoroughly knew the truth: and so
he departed from me.

"Immediately after came my cousin Brittayne in with divers others, as
Master Hall of Gray's Inn, and such other like. Then my Lord of London
persuaded my cousin Brittayne, as he had done oft before, which was,
that I should utter the bottom of my heart in any wise. My Lord said
after that unto me; that he would I should credit the counsel of such
as were my friends and well-willers in this behalf, which was, that I
should utter all things that burdened my conscience; for he assured
me, that I should not need to stand in doubt to say any thing. For,
like as he promised them, (he said,) he promised me, and would perform
it; which was, that neither he, nor any man for him, should take me at
advantage for any word that I should speak; and therefore he bade me
say my mind without fear. I answered him, that I had nought to say,
for my conscience (I thanked God) was burdened with nothing.

"Then brought he forth this unsavoury similitude; that if a man had a
wound, no wise surgeon would administer help unto it before he had
seen it uncovered. 'In like case,' saith he, 'can I give you no good
counsel, unless I know wherewith your conscience is burdened.' I
answered, that my conscience was clear in all things, and to lay a
plaster unto the whole skin, it might appear much folly.

"'Then you drive me,' saith he, 'to lay to your charge your own
report, which is this: you did. say, 'He that doth receive the
sacrament by the hands of an ill priest, or a sinner, receiveth the
devil, and not God.' To that I answered, 'I never spake such words:
but, as I said before, both to the quest and to my lord mayor, so say
I now again, that the wickedness of the priest should not hurt me, but
in spirit and faith I received no less than the body and blood of
Christ.' Then said the bishop unto me, 'What saying is this, in
spirit? I will not take you at that advantage.' Then I answered, 'My
Lord, without faith and spirit I cannot receive him worthily.'

"Then he laid unto me, that I should say, that the sacrament remaining
in the pix, was but bread. I answered that I never said so; but indeed
the quest asked me such a question, whereunto I would not answer, (I
said,) till such a time as they had assoiled me this question of mine,
Wherefore Stephen was stoned to death? They said they knew not. Then
said I again, no more would I tell them what it was.

"Then said my Lord unto me, that I had alleged a certain text of the
Scripture. I answered that I alleged none other but St. Paul's own
saying to the Athenians, in the seventeenth chapter of the Acts of the
Apostles, that 'God dwelleth not in temples made with hands.' Then
asked he me, what my faith and belief was in that matter? I answered
him, 'I believe as the Scripture doth teach me.'

"Then inquired he of me, 'What if the Scripture doth say, that it is
in the body of Christ?' 'I believe,' said I, 'as the Scripture doth
teach me.' Then asked he again, 'What if the Scripture doth say, that
it is not the body of Christ?' My answer was still, 'I believe as the
Scripture informeth me.' And upon this argument he tarried a great
while, to have driven me to make him an answer to his mind: howbeit, I
would not, but concluded this with him, that I believed therein, and
in all other things, as Christ and his holy apostles did leave them.

"Then he asked me, why I had so few words? And I answered, 'God hath
given me the gift of knowledge, but not of utterance: and Solomon
saith, That a woman of few words is the gift of God,' Prov. ix. 13.

"Thirdly, my Lord laid unto my charge, that I should say that the mass
was superstitious, wicked, and no better than idolatry. I answered
him, 'No, I said not so. Howbeit I say the quest did ask me whether
private mass did relieve souls departed or no? Unto whom then I
answered, 'O Lord! what idolatry is this, that we should rather
believe in private masses, than in the healthsome death of the dear
Son of God?' Then said my Lord again, What an answer is that!' 'Though
it be but mean,' said I, 'yet it is good enough for the question.'

"Then I told my Lord, that there was a priest which did hear what I
said there before my lord mayor and them. 'With that the chancellor
answered, 'Who was the same priest?' 'So she spake it in very deed,'
saith he, 'before my lord mayor and me.'

"Then were there certain priests, as Dr. Standish and others, which
tempted me much to know my mind. And I answered them always thus:
'That I said to my Lord of London, I have said.' Then Dr. Standish
desired my Lord to bid me say my mind concerning the same text of St.
Paul's learning, that I, being a woman, should interpret the
Scriptures; especially where so many wise learned men were.

"Then my Lord of London said, he was informed that one should ask of
me, if I would receive the sacrament at Easter, and I made a mock of
it.

"Then I desired that mine accuser might come forth; which my Lord
would not. But he said again unto me, 'I sent one to give you good
counsel, and at the first word you called him papist.' That I denied
not, for I perceived he was no less, yet made I him none answer unto
it.

"Then he rebuked me, and said that I should report, that there were
bent against me threescore priests at Lincoln. 'Indeed,' quoth I, I
said so. For my friends told me, if I did come to Lincoln, the priests
would assault me, and put me to great trouble, as thereof they had
made their boast: and when I heard it, I went thither indeed, not
being afraid, because I knew my matter to be good. Moreover I remained
there nine days, to see what would be said unto me. And as I was in
the minster, reading upon the Bible, they resorted unto me by two and
two, by five and by six, minding to have spoken unto me, yet went they
their ways again without words speaking.'

"Then my Lord asked if there were not one that did speak unto me. I
told him, yes; that there was one of them at last, which did speak to
me indeed. And my Lord then asked me what he said? And I told him his
words were of small effect, so that I did not now remember them. Then
said my Lord, 'There are many that read and know the Scripture, and
yet follow it not, nor live thereafter.' I said again, 'My Lord! I
would wish that all men knew my conversation and living in all points;
for I am sure myself this hour, that there are none able to prove any
dishonesty by me. If you know that any can do it, I pray you bring
them forth.' Then my Lord went away, and said he would entitle
somewhat of my meaning, and so he wrote a great circumstance: but what
it was, I have not all in my memory; for he would not suffer me to
have the copy thereof. Only do I remember this small portion of it:

"'Be it known,' saith he, 'of all men, that I, Anne Askew, do confess
this to be my faith and belief, notwithstanding many reports made
afore to the contrary. I believe that they which are houseled at the
hands of a priest, whether his conversation be good or not, do receive
the body and blood of Christ in substance really. Also, I do believe,
that after the consecration, whether it be received or reserved, it is
no less than the very body and blood of Christ in substance. Finally,
I do believe in this and all other sacraments of holy church in all
points, according to the old catholic faith of the same. In witness
whereof, I, the said Anne, have subscribed my name.'

"There was somewhat more in it, which, because I had not the copy, I
cannot now remember. Then he read it to me, and asked if I did agree
to it. And I said again, 'I believe so much thereof, as the Holy
Scripture doth agree unto: wherefore I desire you, that ye will add
that thereunto. Then he answered, that I should not teach him what he
should write. With that he went forth into his great chamber and read
the same bill before the audience, who inveigled and willed me to set
to my hand; saying also, that I had favour showed me. Then said the
bishop, I might thank other, and not myself, for the favour that I
found at his hand; for he considered, he said, that I had good
friends, and also that I came of a worshipful stock.

"Then answered one Christopher, a servant unto Master Denny: 'Rather
ought you, my Lord, to have done it in such case for God's sake, than
for man's.' Then my Lord sat down, and took me the writing to set
thereto my hand, and I wrote after this manner: 'I, Anne Askew, do
believe all manner of things contained in the faith of the catholic
church.'"

And forasmuch as mention here is made of the writing of Bonner, which
this godly woman said before she had not in memory, therefore I
thought in this place to infer the same, both with the whole
circumstance of Bonner, and with the title thereunto prefixed by the
registrar, and also with her own subscription: to the intent the
reader, seeing the same subscription neither to agree with the time of
the title above prefixed, nor with the subscription after the writing
annexed, might the better understand thereby what credit is to be
given hereafter to such bishops, and to such registrars. The tenor of
Bonner s writing proceedeth thus:

"The true copy of the confession and belief of Anne Askew, otherwise
called Anne Kyme, made before the bishop of London, the twentieth day
of March, in the year of our Lord God, after the computation of the
Church of England, 1545; and subscribed with her own hand in the
presence of the said bishop and others whose names hereafter are
recited, set forth and published at this present: to the intent the
world may see what credence is now to be given unto the same woman,
who, in so short a time, hath so damnably altered and changed her
opinion and belief; and therefore was rightly, in open court,
arraigned and condemned."

"Be it known to all faithful people, that, as touching the blessed
sacrament of the altar, I do firmly and undoubtedly believe, that
after the words of consecration be spoken by the priest, according to
the common usage of this Church of England, there is present really
the body and blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ, whether the minister
which doth consecrate be a good man or a bad man; and that also,
whensoever the said sacrament is received, whether the receiver be a
good man or a bad man, he doth receive it really and corporally. And
moreover, I do believe that, whether the said sacrament be then
received of the minister, or else reserved to be put into the pix, or
to be brought to any person that is impotent or sick, yet there is the
very body and blood of our said Saviour; so that whether the minister,
or the receiver, be good or bad, yea, whether the sacrament be
received or reserved, always there is the blessed body of Christ
really.

"And this thing, with all other things touching the sacrament and
other sacraments of the church, and all things else touching the
Christian belief, which are taught and declared in the king's
Majesty's book, lately set forth for the erudition of the Christian
people, I, Anne Askew, otherwise called Anne Kyme, do truly and
perfectly believe; and so here presently confess and acknowledge. And
here I do promise, that henceforth I shall never say or do any thing
against the premises, or against any of them. -In witness whereof, I,
the said Anne, have subscribed my name unto these presents.

"Written the 20th day of March, in the year of our Lord God 1545.

"By me, ANNE ASKEW,
otherwise called ANNE KYME."

"Witnesses: Edmund, bishop of London; John, bishop of Bath; Owen
Oglethorp, doctor of divinity; Richard Smith, doctor of divinity; John
Rudde, bachelor of divinity; William Pie, bachelor of divinity; John
Wimsley, archdeacon of London; John Cook; Robert John; Francis
Spilman; Edward Hall; Alexander Brett; Edmund Buts, with divers others
more being then present."

Here mayest thou note, gentle reader, in this confession, both in the
bishop and his register, a double sleight of false conveyance. For
although the confession purporteth the words of the bishop's writing,
whereunto she did set her hand, yet by the title prefixed before,
mayest thou see that both she was arraigned and condemned before this
was registered; and also, that she is falsely reported to have put to
her hand, which indeed, by this her own book, appeareth not so to be,
but after this manner and condition: "I, Anne Askew, do believe all
manner of things contained in the faith of the catholic church, and
not otherwise?" It followeth more in the story:

"Then, because I did add unto it 'the catholic church,' he flung into
his chamber in a great fury. With that, my cousin Brittayne followed,
desiring him, for God's sake, to be good lord unto me. He answered,
that I was a woman, and that he was nothing deceived in me. Then my
cousin Brittayne desired him to take me as a woman, and not to set my
weak woman's wit to his Lordship's great wisdom.

"Then went in unto him Dr. Weston, and said, that the cause why I did
write there 'the catholic church,' was, that I understood not the
church written afore. So, with much ado, they persuaded my Lord to
come out again, and to take my name, with the names of my sureties,
which were my cousin Brittayne, and Master Spilman of Gray's Inn.

"This being done, we thought that I should have been put to bail
immediately, according to the order of the law: howbeit he would not
suffer it, but committed me from thence to prison again until the next
morrow, and then he willed me to appear in the Guildhall, and so I
did. Notwithstanding they would not put me to bail there neither, but
read the bishop's writing unto me, as before, and so commanded me
again to prison. Then were my sureties appointed to come before them
on the next morrow, in Paul's church, which did so indeed.
Notwithstanding, they would once again have broken off with them,
because they would not be bound also for another woman, at their
pleasure, whom they knew not, nor yet what matter was laid unto her
charge! Notwithstanding at the St, after much ado and reasoning to and
fro, they took a bond of them of recognisance for my forth-coming: and
thus I was at the last delivered.

"Written by me, ANNE ASKEW."

The latter apprehension and examination of the worthy martyr of God,
Mistress Anne Askew, A.D. 1546.

"I do perceive, dear friend in the Lord, that thou art not yet
persuaded thoroughly in the truthconcerning the Lord's supper, because
Christ said unto his apostles, Take, eat, this is my body which is
given for you.

"In giving forth the bread as an outward sign or token to be received
with the mouth, he minded them in perfect belief to receive that body
of his which should die for the people, and to think the death thereof
to be the only health and salvation of their souls. The bread and the
wine were left us for a sacramental communion, or a mutual
participation of the inestimable benefits of his most precious death
and blood-shedding, and that we should, in the end thereof, be
thankful together for that most necessary grace of our redemption.
For, in the closing up thereof he said thus, This do ye in remembrance
of me: yea, so oft as ye shall eat it or drink it. Else should we have
been forgetful of that we ought to have in daily remembrance, and also
have been altogether unthankful for it. Therefore it is meet that in
our prayers we call unto God to graft in our foreheads the true
meaning of the Holy Ghost concerning this communion. For St. Paul
saith, The letter slayeth; the Spirit is it only that giveth life.
Mark well the sixth chapter of John, where all is applied unto faith:
note also the fourth chapter of St. Paul's Second Epistle to the
Corinthians, and in the end thereof ye shall find, that The things
which are seen are temporal, but they that are not seen are
everlasting. Yea, look in Hebrews iii., and ye shall find that Christ
as a son (and no servant) ruleth over his house, whose house are we,
and not the dead temple, if we hold fast the confidence and rejoicing
of that hope to the end. Wherefore, as said the Holy Ghost, To-day if
ye shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts, &c."

The sum of my examination before the king's council at Greenwich.

"Your request as concerning my prison-fellows I am not able to
satisfy, because I heard not their examinations. But the effect of
mine was this: I, being before the council, was asked of Master Kyme.
I answered, that my lord chancellor knew already my mind in that
matter. They with that answer were not contented, but said it was the
king's pleasure that I should open the matter unto them. I answered
them plainly, I would not so do; but if it were the king's pleasure to
hear me, I would show him the truth. Then they said, it was not meet
for the king to be troubled with me. I answered, that Solomon was
reckoned the wisest king that ever lived, yet misliked he not to hear
two poor common women, much more his Grace a simple woman and his
faithful subject. So, in conclusion, I made them none other answer in
that matter. Then my lord chancellor asked of me my opinion in the
sacrament. My answer was this, I believe that so oft as I, in a
Christian congregation, do receive the bread in remembrance of
Christ's death, and with thanksgiving, according to his holy
institution, I receive therewith the fruits, also, of his most
glorious passion. The bishop of Winchester bade me make a direct
answer: I said, I would not sing a new song of the Lord in a strange
land. Then the bishop said, I spake in parables. I answered, it was
best for him, 'for if I show the open truth,' quoth I, ye will not
accept it' Then he said I was a parrot. I told him again, I was ready
to suffer all things at his hands, not only his rebukes, but all that
should follow besides, yea, and all that gladly.

"Then had I divers rebukes of the council, because I would not express
my mind in all things as they would have me. But they were not in the
mean time unanswered for all that, which now to rehearse were too
much, for I was with them there about five hours. Then the clerk of
the council conveyed me from thence to my Lady Garnish.

"The next day I was brought again before the council. Then would they
needs know of me what I said to the sacrament. I answered, that I
already had said what I could say. Then, after divers words, they bade
me go by. Then came my Lord Lisle, my Lord of Essex, and the bishop of
Winchester, requiring me earnestly that I should confess the sacrament
to be flesh, blood, and bone. Then said I to my Lord Parre and my Lord
Lisle, that it was a great shame for them to counsel contrary to their
knowledge. Whereunto, in few words, they did say, that they would
gladly all things were well.

"Then the bishop said he would speak with me familiarly. I said, 'So
did Judas, when he unfriendly betrayed Christ' Then desired the bishop
to speak with me alone. But that I refused. He asked me why. I aid,
that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every matter should stand,
after Christ's and Paul's doctrine.

"Then my lord chancellor began to examine me again of the sacrament.
Then I asked him how long he would halt on both sides. Then would he
needs know where I found that. I said, in the Scripture. Then he went
his way. Then the bishop said I should be burned. I answered, that I
had searched all the Scriptures, yet could I never find that either
Christ or his apostles put any creature to death. 'Well, well,' said
I, 'God will laugh your threatenings to scorn.' Then was I commanded
to stand aside. Then came to me Dr. Cox,and Dr. Robinson. In
conclusion, we could not agree.

"Then they made me a bill of the sacrament, willing me to set my hand
thereunto; but I would not. Then, on the Sunday, I was sore sick,
thinking no less than to die: therefore I desired to speak with Master
Latimer, but it would not be. Then was I sent to Newgate in my
extremity of sickness; for in all my life afore I was never in such
pain. Thus the Lord strengthen us in the truth. Pray, pray, pray!"

The confession of me, Anne Askew, for the time I was in Newgate,
concerning my belief.

"I find in the Scripture, that Christ took the bread and gave it to
his disciples, saying, Take, eat, this is my body which shall be
broken for you; meaning in substance, his own very body, the bread
being thereof an only sign or sacrament. For, after like manner of
speaking, he said he would break down the temple, and in three days
build it up again, signifying his own body by the temple, as St. John
declareth it, and not the stony temple itself. So that the bread is
but a remembrance of his death, or a sacrament of thanksgiving for it,
whereby we are knit unto him by a communion of Christian love;
although there be many that cannot perceive the true meaning thereof:
for the veil that Moses put over his face before the children of
Israel, that they should not see the clearness thereof, I perceive the
same veil remaineth to this day. But when God shall take it away, then
shall these blind men see. For it is plainly expressed in the history
of Bel in the Bible, that, God dwelleth in nothing material. O king,
saith Daniel, be not deceived; for God will be in nothing that is made
with hands of men. Oh! what stiff-necked people are these, that will
always resist the Holy Ghost. But, as their fathers have done, so do
they, because they have stony hearts.

"Written by me, Anne Askew, that neither wish death, nor yet fear his
might; and as merry as one that is bound towards heaven."

"Truth is laid in prison. The law is turned to wormwood. And there can
no right judgment go forth.

"Oh! forgive us all our sins, and receive us graciously. As for the
works of our hands, we will no more call upon them; for it is thou,
Lord, that art our God. Thou showest ever mercy unto the fatherless.

"Oh! if they would do this, saith the Lord, I should heal their sores,
yea, with all my heart would I love them.

"O Ephraim, what have I to do with idols any more? Whoso is wise,
shall understand this; and and he that is rightly instructed will
regard it, for the ways of the Lord are righteous. Such as are godly,
will walk in them; and as for the wicked, they will stumble at them.

"Solomon, saith St. Stephen, builded a house for the God of Jacob.
Howbeit, the Highest of all dwelleth not in temples made with hands,
as saith the prophet, Heaven is my seat, and earth is my footstool.
What house will ye build for me, saith the Lord? or what place is it
that I shall rest in? Hath not my hand made all things?

"Woman, believe me, saith Christ to the Samaritan, the time is at
hand, that ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem,
worship the Father. Ye worship ye wot not what; but we know what we
worship: for salvation cometh of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and is
now, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and
verity.

"Labour not, saith Christ, for the meat that perisheth, but for that
that endureth unto life everlasting, which the Son of man shall give
you: for him hath God the Father sealed."

The sum of the condemnation of me, Anne Askew, at the Guildhall.

"They said to me there, that I was a heretic, and condemned by the
law, if I would stand in my opinion. I answered, that I was no
heretic, neither yet deserved I any death by the law of God. But, as
concerning the faith which I uttered and wrote to the council, I would
not, I said, deny it, because I knew it true. Then would they needs
know, if I would deny the sacrament to be Christ's body and blood. I
said, 'Yea: for the same Son of God that was born of the Virgin Mary,
is now glorious in heaven, and will come again from thence at the
latter day like as he went up. And as for that ye call your God, it is
a piece of bread. For a more proof thereof, (mark it when you list,)
let it but lie in the box three months, and it will be mouldy, and so
turn to nothing that is good. Whereupon I am persuaded that it cannot
be God.'

"After that, they willed me to have a priest; and then I smiled. Then
they asked me, if it were not good; I said, I would confess my faults
unto God, for I was sure that he would hear with favour. And so we
were condemned by a quest."

"My belief which I wrote to the council was this: 'That the
sacramental bread was left us to be received with thanksgiving, in
remembrance of Christ's death, the only remedy of our soul's recovery;
and that thereby we also receive the whole benefits and fruits of his
most glorious passion.' Then would they needs know, whether the bread
in the box were God or no: I said, 'God is a Spirit, and will be
worshipped in spirit and truth.' Then they demanded, 'Will you plainly
deny Christ to be in the sacrament?' I answered, that I believe
faithfully the eternal Son of God not to dwell there; in witness
whereof I recited again the history of Bel, Dan. xix., Acts vii. and
xvii., and Matt. xxiv., concluding thus: 'I neither wish death, nor
yet fear his might; God have the praise thereof with thanks.'"

My letter sent to the lord chancellor.

"The Lord God, by whom all creatures have their being, bless you with
the light of his knowIedge. Amen.

"My duty to your Lordship remembered, &c.: It might please you to
accept this my bold suit, as the suit of one who, upon due
consideration, is moved to the same, and hopeth to obtain. My request
to your Lordship, is only that it may please the same to be a mean for
me to the king's Majesty, that his Grace may be certified of these few
lines which I have written concerning my belief, which when it shall
be truly conferred with the hard judgment given me for the same, I
think his Grace shall well perceive me to be weighed in an uneven pair
of balances. But I remit my matter and cause to Almighty God, who
rightly judgeth alt secrets. And thus I commend your Lordship to the
governance of him, and fellowship of all saints, Amen.

"By your handmaid, Anne Askew."

My faith briefly written to the king's Grace.

"I, Anne Askew, of good memory, although God hath given me the bread
of adversity, and the water of trouble, yet not so much as my sins
have deserved, desire this to be known unto your Grace, that,
forasmuch as I am by the law condemned for an evil doer, here I take
heaven and earth to record, that I shall die in my innocency: and,
according to that I have said first, and will say last, I utterly
abhor and detest all heresies. And as concerning the supper of the
Lord, I believe so much as Christ hath said therein, which he
confirmed with his most blessed blood. I believe also so much as he
willed me to follow and believe, and so much as the catholic church of
him doth teach: for I will not forsake the commandment of his holy
lips. But look, what God hath charged me with his mouth, that have I
shut up in my heart. And thus briefly I end, for lack of learning.

The cruel handling and racking of Anne Askew after her condemnation.

"The elect of my examination and handling since my departure from
Newgate.

"On Tuesday I was sent from Newgate to the sign of the Crown, where
Master Rich, and the bishop of London, with all their power and
flattering words, went about to persuade me from God: but I did not
esteem their glosing pretences.

"Then came there to me Nicholas Shaxton, and counselled me to recant
as he had done. I said to him, that it had been good for him never to
have been born; with many other like words.

"Then Master Rich sent me to the Tower, where I remained till three
o'clock.

"Then came Rich and one of the council, charging me upon my obedience,
to show unto them, if I knew any man or woman of my sect. My answer
was, that I knew none. Then they asked me of my Lady of Suffolk, my
Lady of Sussex, my Lady of Hertford, my Lady Denny, and my Lady
Fitzwilliam. To whom I answered, if I should pronounce any thing
against them, that I were not able to prove it. Then said they unto
me, that the king was informed that I could name, if I would, a great
number of my sect. I answered, that the king was as well deceived in
that behalf, as dissembled with in other matters.

"Then commanded they me to show how I was maintained in the Compter,
and who willed me to stick to my opinion. I said, that there was no
creature that therein did strengthen me: and as for the help that I
had in the Compter, it was by means of my maid. For as she went abroad
in the streets, she made moan to the prentices, and they, by her, did
send me money; but who they were I never knew.

"Then they said that there were divers gentlewomen that gave me money:
but I knew not their names. Then they said that there were divers
ladies that had sent me money. I answered, that there was a man in a
blue coat who delivered me ten shillings, and said that my Lady of
Hertford wait me; and another in a violet coat gave me eight
shillings, and said my Lady Denny sent it me: whether it were true or
no, I cannot tell; for I am not sure who sent it me, but as the maid
did say. Then they said, there were of the council that did maintain
me: and I said, No.

"Then they did put me on the rack, because I confessed no ladies or
gentlewomen to be of my opinion, and thereon they kept me a long time;
and because I lay still, and did not cry, my lord chancellor and
Master Rich took pains to rack me with their own hands, till I was
nigh dead.

"Then the lieutenant caused me to be loosed from the rack.
Incontinently I swooned, and then they recovered me again. After that
I sat two long hours reasoning with my lord chancellor upon the bare
floor; where he, with many flattering words, persuaded me to leave my
opinion. But my Lord God (I thank his everlasting goodness) gave me
grace to persevere, and will do, I hope, to the very end.

"Then was I brought to a house, and laid in a bed, with as weary and
painful bones as ever had patient Job; I thank my Lord God there-for.
Then my lord chancellor sent me word, if I would leave my opinion, I
should want nothing: if I would not, I should forthwith to Newgate,
and so be burned. I sent him again word, that I would rather die, than
break my faith.

"Thus the Lord open the eyes of their blind hearts, that the truth may
take place. Farewell, dear friend, and pray, pray, pray!"

Touching the order of her racking in the Tower thus it was; first she
was let down into a dungeon, where Sir Anthony Knevet, the lieutenant,
commanded his jailor to pinch her with the rack. Which being done as
much as he thought sufficient, he went about to take her down,
supposing that he had done enough. But Wriothesley, the chancellor,
not contented that she was loosed so soon, confessing nothing,
commanded the lieutenant to strain her on the rack again: which
because he denied to do, tendering the weakness of the woman, he was
threatened therefore grievously of the said Wriothesley, saying, that
he would signify his disobedience unto the king. And so consequently
upon the same, he and Master Rich, throwing off their gowns, would
needs play the tormentors themselves; first asking her, if she were
with child. To whom she answering again, said, "Ye shall not need to
spare for that, but do your wills upon me." And so, quietly and
patiently praying unto the Lord, she abode their tyranny, till her
bones and joints were almost plucked asunder, in such sort as she was
carried away in a chair. When the racking was past, Wriothesley and
his fellow took their horse towards the. court.

In the mean time, while they were making their way by land, the good
lieutenant, eftsoons taking boat, sped him to the court in all haste
to speak with the king before the others, and so did; who there making
his humble suit to the king, desired his pardon, and showed him the
whole matter as it stood, and of the racking of Mistress Askew, and
how he was threatened by the lord chancellor, because, at his
commandment, not knowing his Highness's pleasure, he refused to rack
her; which he, for compassion, could not find in his heart to do, and
therefore humbly craved his Highness's pardon. Which when the king had
understood, he seemed not very well to like of their so extreme
handling of the woman, and also granted to the lieutenant his pardon,
willing him to return and see to his charge.

Great expectation was in the mean season among the warders and other
officers of the Tower, waiting for his return; whom when they saw come
so cheerfully, declaring unto them how he had sped with the king, they
were not a little joyous, and gave thanks to God there-for.

Anne Askew's answer unto John Lacels' letter.

"O friend, most dearly beloved in God! I marvel not a little what
should move you to judge in me so slender a faith as to fear death,
which is the end of all misery. In the Lord I desire you not to
believe of me such wickedness: for I doubt it not, but God will
perform his work in me, like as he hath begun. I understand the
council is not a little displeased, that it should be reported abroad
that I was racked in the Tower. They say now, that what they did there
was but to fear me; whereby I perceive they are ashamed of their
uncomely doings, and fear much lest the king's Majesty should have
information thereof; wherefore they would no man to noise it. Well!
their cruelty God forgive them. "Your heart in Christ Jesus. Farewell
and pray."

The purgation or answer of Anne Askew, against the false surmises of
her recantation.

"I have read the process which is reported of them that know not the
truth, to be my recantation. But, as the Lord liveth, I never meant a
thing less than to recant. Notwithstanding this I confess, that in my
first troubles I was examined of the bishop of London about the
sacrament. Yet had they no grant of my mouth but this: that I believed
therein as the word of God did bind me to believe. More had they never
of me. Then he made a copy, which is now in print, and required me to
set thereinto my hand; but I refused it. Then my two sureties did will
me in no wise to stick thereat, for it was no great matter, they said.

"Then with mach ado, at the last I wrote thus: 'I, Anne Askew, do
believe this, if God's word do agree to the same, and the true
catholic church.' Then the bishop, being in great displeasure with me
because I made doubts in my writing, commended me to prison, where I
was awhile; but afterwards, by means of friends; I came out again.
Here is the truth of that matter. And as concerning the thing that ye
covet most to know, resort to John vi., and be ruled always thereby.
Thus fare ye well, quoth Anne Askew."

The confession of faith which Anne Askew made in Newgate, before she
suffered.

"I, Anne Askew, of good memory, although my merciful Father hath given
me the bread of adversity, and the water of trouble, yet not so much
as my sins have deserved, confess myself here a sinner before the
throne of his heavenly Majesty, desiring his forgiveness and mercy.
And forasmuch as I am by the law unrighteously condemned for an evil
doer concerning opinions, I take the same most merciful God of mine,
who hath made both heaven and earth, to record, that I hold no
opinions contrary to his most holy word. And I trust in my merciful
Lord, who is the giver of all grace, that he will graciously assist me
against all evil opinions which are contrary to his blessed verity.
For I take him to witness, that I have done, and will, unto my life's
end, utterly abhor them to the uttermost of my power.

"But this is the heresy which they report me to hold: that after the
priest hath spoken the words of consecration, there remaineth bread
still. They both say, and also teach it for a necessary article of
faith, that after those words be once spoken, there remaineth no
bread, but even the self-same body that hung upon the cross on Good
Friday, both flesh, blood, and bone. To this belief of theirs say I,
nay. For then were our common creed false, which saith, that he
sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, and from thence
shall come to judge the quick and the dead. Lo, this is the heresy 
that I hold, and for it must suffer the death. But as touching the
holy and blessed supper of the Lord, I believe it to be a most
necessary remembrance of his glorious sufferings and death. Moreover,
I believe as much therein as my eternal and only Redeemer Jesus Christ
would I should believe.

"Finally, I believe all those Scriptures to be true, which he hath
confirmed with his most precious blood. Yea, and as St. Paul saith,
those Scriptures are sufficient for our learning and salvation, that
Christ hath left here with us; so that I believe we need no unwritten
verities to rule his church with. Therefore look, what he hath said
unto me with his own mouth in his holy gospel, that have I, with God's
grace, closed up in my heart, and my full trust is, as David saith,
that it shall be a lantern to my footsteps.

"There be some do say, that I deny the eucharist or sacrament of
thanksgiving; but those people do untruly report of me. For I both say
and believe it, that if it were ordered like as Christ instituted it
and left it, a most singular comfort it were unto us all. But as
concerning your mass, as it is now used in our days, I do say and
believe it to be the most abominable idol that is in the world: for my
God will not be eaten with teeth, neither yet dieth he again. And upon
these words that I base now spoken, will I suffer death."

A prayer of Anne Askew.

"O Lord! I have more enemies now, than there be hairs on my head: yet,
Lord, let them never overcome me with vain words, but light thou,
Lord, in my stead; for on thee cast I my care. With all the spite they
can imagine, they fall upon me, who am thy poor creature. Yet, sweet
Lord, let me not set by them that are against me; for in thee is my
whole delight. And, Lord, I heartily desire of thee that thou wilt of
thy most merciful goodness forgive them that violence which they do,
and have done, unto me. Open also thou their blind hearts, that they
may hereafter do that thing in thy sight, which is only acceptable
before thee, and to set forth thy verity aright,without all vain
fantasies of sinful men. So be it, O Lord, so be it!

"By me, ANNE ASKEW."
(Illustration: Anne Askew burned at the stake)

Hitherto we have treated of this good woman: now it remaineth that we
touch somewhat as concerning her end and martyrdom. After that she
(being born of such stock and kindred that she might have lived in
great wealth and prosperity, if she would rather have followed the
world than Christ) now had been so tormented, that she could neither
live long in so great distress, neither yet by her adversaries be
suffered to die in secret, the day of her execution being appointed,
she was brought into Smithfield in a chair, because she could not go
on her feet, by means of her great torments. When she was brought unto
the stake, she was tied by the middle with a chain, that held up her
body. When all things were thus prepared to the fire, Dr. Shaxton, who
was then appointed to preach, began his sermon. Anne Askew, hearing
and answering again unto him, where he said well, confirmed the same;
where he said amiss, "There," said she, "he misseth, and speaketh
without the book."

The sermon being finished, the martyrs, standing there tied at three
several stakes ready to their martyrdom, began their prayers. The
multitude and concourse of the people was exceeding; the place where
they stood being railed about to keep out the press. Upon the bench
under St. Bartholomew's church sat Wriothesley, chancellor of England;
the old duke of Norfolk, the old earl of Bedford, the lord mayor, with
divers others. Before the fire should be set unto them, one of the
bench, hearing that they had gunpowder about them, and being alarmed
lest the faggots, by strength of the gunpowder, would come flying
about their ears, began to be afraid: but the earl of Bedford,
declaring unto him how the gunpowder was not laid under the faggots,
but only about their bodies, to rid them out of their pain, which
having vent, there was no danger to them of the faggots, so diminished
that fear.

Then Wriothesley, lord chancellor, sent to Anne Askew letters,
offering to her the king's pardon if she would recant; who, refusing
once to look upon them, made this answer again, that she came not
thither to deny her Lord and Master. Then were the letters likewise
offered unto the others, who, in like manner, following the constancy
of the woman, denied not only to receive them, but also to look upon
them. Whereupon the lord mayor, commanding fire to be put unto them,
cried with a loud voice, Fiat justitia.

And thus the good Anne Askew, with these blessed martyrs, being
troubled se many manner of ways, and having passed through so many
torments, having now ended the long course of her agonies, being
compassed in with flames of fire, as a blessed sacrifice unto God, she
slept in the Lord A.D. 1546, leaving behind her a singular example of
Christian constancy for all men to follow.

$

210. THE MARTYRDOM OF JOHN LACELS, JOHN ADAMS, AND NICHOLAS BELENIAN.

There was, at the same time, also burned together with her, one
Nicholas Belenian, priest of Shropshire; John Adams, a tailor; and
John Lacels, gentleman of the court and household of King Henry.

It happened well for them, that they died together with Anne Askew:
for, albeit that of themselves they were strong and stout men, yet,
through the example and exhortation of her, they, being the more
boldened, received occasion of greater comfort in that so painful and
doleful kind of death; who, beholding her invincible constancy, and
also stirred up through her persuasions, did set apart all kind of
fear.

Thus they, confirming one another with mutual exhortations, tarried
looking for the tormentor and fire, which at the last, flaming round
about then:, consumed their blessed bodies in happy martyrdom, in the
year of our salvation 1546, about the month of June.

There is also a certain letter extant, which the said John Lacels
briefly wrote, being in prison, touching the sacrament of Christ's
body and blood; wherein he doth both confute the error of them, who,
being not contented with the spiritual receiving of the sacrament,
will leave no substance of bread therein, and, also, confuteth the
sinister interpretation of many thereupon: the tenor of which letter
is as hereunder followeth.

The copy of the letter of John Lacels, written out of prison.

"St. Paul, because of sects and dissension among the Corinthians,
wrote this Epistle unto them; and, in like case pertaining to my
conscience, I do protest my whole heart in the blessed supper of the
Lord; wherein I trust in God to bring nothing for me, but I shall be
able, with God's holy word, to declare and manifest the same. And
herein I take occasion to recite the saying of St. Paul, in the said
Epistle, chap. xi., That which I delivered unto you, I received of the
Lord. For the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed,
took bread, gave thanks, and brake it, and said, Take ye, eat ye; this
is my body, which is broken for you.

"Here, me seemeth, St. Paul durst not take upon him his Lord and
Master's authority. Wherefore, as at God's hand the breaking of the
most innocent and immaculate body and blood of Christ is the quietness
of all men's consciences, the only remedy of our sins, and the
redemption of mankind, which is called in the Scripture the daily
offering: so the mass, which is the invention of man, (whose author is
the pope of Rome, as it doth appear in Polydore Virgil and many
others,) is the unquietness of all Christendom, a blasphemy unto
Christ's blood, and (as Daniel calleth it) the abominable desolation,
as the Scripture shall hereafter more manifest it. St. Paul was,
belike, to learn of the Romans' church, the manner of the
consecration, as they call it, with the breathing over the host, and
other ceremonies besides, that he durst not take upon him to say, Hoc
est corpus meum. But this I will admit: it was the Lord Jesus that
made the supper; who also did finish it, and made an end of the only
act of our salvation, not only here in this world, but with his Father
in heaven; as he declareth himself, that he will drink no more of this
bitter cup, till he drink it new in his Father's kingdom, where all
bitterness shall be taken away.

"Now, if any man be able to finish the act of our Saviour, in breaking
of his body, and shedding of his blood here, and also to finish it
with the Father in heaven, then let him say it. But I think that if
men will look upon St. Paul's words well, they shall be forced to say,
as St. Paul saith, The Lord Jesus said it; and once for all, which
only was the fulfiller of it. For these words, Hoc est corpus meum,
were spoken of his natural presence, (which no man is able to deny,)
because the act was finished on the cross, as the story doth plainly
manifest it to them that have eyes. Now this bloody sacrifice is made
an end of; the supper is finished, forasmuch as Christ hath once
suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God, and
was killed as pertaining to the flesh, and hath entered in by his own
blood once for all, into the holy place, and found eternal redemption.

"Here now followeth the administration of the supper of the Lord,
which I will take at Christ's hands after the resurrection, although
other men will not be ashamed to bring the wicked counsels of foolish
inventions for them. And it came to pass, as Christ sat at meat with
them, he took bread, blessed, and brake it, and gave it to them; and
their eyes were opened, and knew him, and he vanished out of their
sight. And the apostles did know him in breaking of bread.

"Here, also, it seemeth to me the apostles to follow their Master
Christ, and to take the right use of the sacrament, and also to teach
it to those that were converted to Christ, as mention is made in the
Acts of the Apostles, where it is said, They continued in the
apostles' doctrine and fellowship, in breaking of bread, and
prayer;and they continued daily with one accord in the temple, and
brake bread in every house, and did eat there with gladness and
singleness of heart, praising God; and had favour with all the people.
And St. Paul, following the same doctrine, doth plainly show the duty
of the minister, and also of them that shall receive it: As oft as ye
shall eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye shall show the Lord's
death until he come. Here I do gather, that the minister hath no
further power and authority than to preach and pronounce the Lord's
death, or else to say, the Lord Jesus said it, which did fulfil it on
the cross.

"Furthermore, I do stedfastly believe, that where the bread is broken
according to the ordinance of Christ, the blessed and immaculate Lamb
is present to the eyes of our faith, and so we eat his flesh, and
drink his blood, which is, to dwell with God, and God with us. And in
this we are sure we dwell with God, in that he giveth us his Holy
Spirit, even as the forefathers, that were before Christ's coming, did
presently see the Lord's death, and did eat his body, and drink his
blood.

"In this I do differ from the pope's church, that the priests have
authority to make Christ's natural presence in the bread, for so doth
he more than our Lord and Saviour did; as the example is manifest in
Judas, who at Christ's hands received the same wine and bread as the
other apostles did. But the pope and his adherents are even they whom
Daniel speaketh of, saying, He shall set men to unhallow the
sanctuary, and to put down the daily offering, and to set up the
abominable desolation. Yea, he, of Rome, shall speak marvellous things
against the God of heaven, and God of all gods, wherein he shall
prosper so long, till the wrath be fulfilled, for the conclusion is
devised already. He shall not regard the God of heaven, nor the God of
his fathers, yea, in his place shall he worship the mighty idol, and
the god whom his fathers knew not, which is the god Maozim.

"For lack of time, I leave the commemoration of the blessed supper of
the Lord, and the abominable idol the mass, which is it that Daniel
meaneth by the god Maozim. Read the second and last chapten of Daniel,
and 2 Thess. ii., where they recite the abomination of desolation,
which Matthew saith, standeth in the holy place, that is, in the
consciences of men. Mark saith, where it ought not to stand, which is
a plain denial of all the inventions of men. Farther, Luke saith, the
time is at hand. Paul saith, the mystery of iniquity worketh already,
yea, and shall continue till the appearance of Christ, which in my
judgment is at hand.

"Now for the supper of the Lord, I do protest to take it as reverently
as Christ left it, and as his apostles did use it, according to the
testimonies of the prophets, the apostles, and our blessed Saviour
Christ, which accordingly St. Paul to the Ephesians doth recite.

"Now, with quietness, I commit the whole world to their pastor and
herdsman Jesus Christ, the only Saviour and true Messiah, and I
commend my sovereign lord and master the king's Majesty, King Henry
the Eighth, to God the Father, and to our Lord Jesus Christ: the
queen, and my lord the prince, with this whole realm, ever to the
innocent and immaculate Lamb, that his blood may wash and purify their
hearts and souls from all iniquity and sin, to God's glory, and to the
salvation of their souls. I do protest, that the inward part of my
heart doth groan for this; and I doubt not but to enter into the holy
tabernacle which is above, yea, and there to be with God for ever.
Farewell in Christ Jesu.

"John Lacels, late servant to the king, and now I trust to serve the
everlasting King, with the testimony of my blood in Smithfield."

$

211. ONE ROGERS, A MARTYR, BURNED IN NORFOLK.

Like as Winchester and other bishops did set on King Henry against
Anne Askew and her fellow martyrs, so Dr. Repse, bishop of Norwich,
did incite no less the old duke of Norfolk against one Rogers in the
county of Norfolk; who, much about the same year and time, was there
condemned and suffered martyrdom for the six articles. After which
time it was not long, but within a half year, both the king himself
and the duke's house decayed: albeit, the duke's house, by God's
grace, recovered again afterwards, and he himself converted to more
moderation in this kind of dealing.

$

212. KATHERINE PARR

The story of Queen Katharine Parr, late queen, and wife to King Henry
the Eighth wherein appeareth in what danger she was for the gospel, by
means of Stephen Gardiner and others of his conspiracy; and how
graciously she was preserved by her kind and loving husband the king.

After these stormy stories above recited, the course and order as well
of the time as the matter of the story doth require now somewhat to
treat, likewise, touching the troubles and afflictions of the virtuous
and excellent lady, Queen Katharine Parr, the last wife to King Henry;
the story whereof is this.

About the same time above noted, which was about the year after the
king returned from Boulogne, he was informed that Queen Katharine
Parr, at that time his wife, was very much given to the reading and
study of the Holy Scriptures, and that she, for that purpose, had
retained divers well learned and godly persons to instruct her
thoroughly in the same; with whom as, at all times convenient, she
used to have private conference touching spiritual matters, so also of
ordinary; but especially in Lent, every day in the afternoon, for the
space of an hour, one of her said chaplains, in her privy chamber,
made some collation to her and to her ladies and gentlewomen of her
privy chamber, or others that were disposed to hear; in which sermons
they ofttimes touched such abuses as in the church then were rife. As
these things were not secretly done, so neither were their preachings
unknown to the king; whereof, at first, and for a great time, be
seemed very well to like. Which made her the more bold (being indeed
become very zealous toward the gospel, and the professors thereof)
frankly to debate with the king touching religion, and therein flatly
to discover herself; oftentimes wishing, exhorting, and persuading the
king, that as he had, to the glory of God, and his eternal fame, begun
a good and a godly work in banishing that monstrous idol of Rome, so
he would thoroughly perfect and finish the same, cleansing and purging
his church of England clean from the dregs thereof, wherein as yet
remained great superstition.

And albeit the king grew, towards his latter end, very stern and
opinionate, so that of few he could be content to be taught, but worst
of all to be contended withal by argument; notwithstanding, towards
her he refrained his accustomed manner, (unto others in like case
used,) as appeared by great respects, either for the reverence of the
cause, whereunto of himself he seemed well inclined, if some others
could have ceased from seeking to pervert him, or else, for the
singular affection which, until a very small time before his death, he
always bare unto her. For never handmaid sought with more careful
diligence to please her mistress, than she did, with all painful
endeavour, apply herself, by all virtuous means, in all things to
please his humour.

Moreover, besides the virtues of the mind, she was endued with very
rare gifts of nature, as singular beauty, favour, and comely
personage, being things wherein the king was greatly delighted: and so
enjoyed she the king's favour, to the great likelihood of the setting
at large of the gospel within this realm at that time, had not the
malicious practice of certain enemies professed against the truth,
(which at that time also were very great,) prevented the same, to the
utter alienating of the king's mind from religion, and almost to the
extreme ruin of the queen and certain others with her, if God had not
marvellously succoured her in that distress. The conspirers and
practisers of her death were Gardiner, bishop of Winchester,
Wriothesley, then lord chancellor, and others, as well of the king's
privy chamber, as of his privy council. These, seeking (for the
furtherance of their ungodly purpose) to revive, stir up, and kindle,
evil and pernicious humours in their prince and sovereign lord, to the
intent to deprive her of this great favour which then she stood in
with the king, (which they not a little feared would turn to the utter
ruin of their antichristian sect, it it should continue,) and thereby
to stop the passage of the gospel; and consequently, (having taken
away her, who was the only patroness of the professors of the truth,) 
openly, without fear of check or controlment, with fire and sword,
after their accustomed manner, to invade the small remainder, as they
hoped, of that poor flock, made their wicked entry unto this their
mischievous enterprise, after this manner following.

The king's Majesty, as you have heard, misliked to be contended withal
in any kind of argument. This humour of his, although not in smaller
matters, yet in causes of religion, as occasion served, the queen
would not stick, in reverent terms and humble talk, entering with him
into discourse, with sound reasons of Scripture now and then to
contrary; the which the king was so well accustomed unto in those
matters, that at her hands he took all in good part, or, at least, did
never show countenance of offence thereat: which did not a little
appal her adversaries to hear and see. During which time, perceiving
her so thoroughly grounded in the king's favour, they durst not for
their lives once open their lips unto the king in any respect to touch
her, either in her presence, or behind her back. And so long she
continued this her accustomed usage, not only of hearing private
sermons, (as is said,) but also of her free conference with the king
in matters of religion, without all peril; until, at the last, by
reason of his sore leg, (the anguish whereof began more and more to
increase,) he waxed sickly, and therewithal froward, and difficult to
be pleased.

In the time of this his sickness, he had left his accustomed manner of
coming, and visiting the queen, and therefore she, according as she
understood him, by such assured intelligence as she had about him, to
be disposed to have her company, sometime being sent for, at other
times of herself, would come to visit him, either after dinner or
after supper, as was most fit for her purpose: at which times she
would not fail to use all occasions to move him, according to her
manner, zealously to proceed in the reformation of the church. The
sharpness of the disease had sharpened the king's accustomed patience,
so that he began to show some tokens of misliking; and, contrary unto
his manner, upon a day breaking off that matter, he took occasion to
enter into other talk, which somewhat amazed the queen, to whom,
notwithstanding, in her presence he gave neither evil word nor
countenance, but knit up all arguments with gentle words and loving
countenance; and after other pleasant talk, she, for that time, took
her leave of his Majesty; who, after his manner, bidding her
"Farewell, sweet heart!" (for that was his usual term to the queen,)
licensed her to depart.

At this visitation chanced the bishop of Winchester aforenamed to be
present, as also at the queen's taking her leave, (who very well had
printed in his memory the king's sudden interrupting of the queen in
her tale, and falling into other matter,) and thought, that if the
iron were beaten whilst it was hot, and that the king's humour were
holpen, such misliking might follow towards the queen, as might both
overthrow her, and all her endeavours; and only awaited some occasion
to renew in the king's memory the former misliked argument. His
expectation in that behalf did nothing fail him; for the king at that
time showed himself no less prompt and ready to receive any
information, than the bishop was maliciously bent to stir up the
king's indignation against her. The king, immediately upon her
departure from him, used these or like words: "A good hearing," quoth
he, "it is, when women become such clerks; and a thing much to my
comfort, to come in mine old days to be taught by my wife."

The bishop, hearing this, seemed to mislike that the queen should so
much forget herself as to take upon her to stand in any argument with
his Majesty, whom he, to his face, extolled for his rare virtues, and
especially, for his learned judgment in matters of religion, above not
only princes of that and other ages, but also above doctors professed
in divinity; and said that it was an unseemly thing for any of his
Majesty's subjects to reason and argue with him so malapertly, and
grievous to him, for his part, and other of his Majesty's councillors
and servants, to hear the same; and that they all, by proof, knew his
wisdom to be such, that it was not needful for any to put him in mind
of any such matters: inferring, moreover, how dangerous and perilous a
matter it is, and ever hath been, for a prince to suffer such insolent
words at his subjects' hands; who, as they take boldness to contrary
their sovereign in words, so want they no will, but only power and
strength, to overthwart them in deeds.

Besides this, that the religion by the queen so stiffly maintained,
did not only disallow and dissolve the policy and politic government
of princes, but also taught the people that all things ought to be in
common; so that what colour soever they pretended, their opinions were
indeed so odious, and for the prince's estate so perilous, that
(saving the reverence they bear unto her for his Majesty's sake) they
durst be bold to affirm that the greatest subject in this land,
speaking those words that she did speak, and defending those arguments
that she did defend, had, with indifferent justice, by law deserved
death.

Howbeit, for his part, he would not, nor durst he, without good
warrant from his Majesty, speak his knowledge in the queen's case,
although very apparent reasons made for him, and such as his dutiful
affection towards his Majesty, and the zeal and preservation of his
estate, would scarce give him leave to conceal, though the uttering
thereof might, through her, and her faction, be the utter destruction
of him, and of such as indeed did chiefly tender the prince's safety,
without his Majesty would take upon him to be their protector, and as
it were their buckler: which, if he would do, (as in respect of his
own safety he ought not to refuse,) he, with others of his faithful
councillors, could, within short time, disclose such treasons cloaked
with this cloak of heresy, that his Majesty should easily perceive how
perilous a matter it is, to cherish a serpent within his own bosom:
howbeit, he would not, for his part, willingly deal in the matter,
both for reverent respect aforesaid, and, also, for fear lest the
faction was grown already too great, there, with the prince's safety,
to discover the same. And therewithal, with heavy countenance, and
whispering together with them of that sect there present, he held his
peace.

These, and such other kinds of Winchester's flattering phrases,
marvellously whetted the king both to anger and displeasure towards
the queen, and also to be jealous and mistrustful of his own estate;
for the assurance whereof, princes use not to be scrupulous to do any
thing. Thus then Winchester, with his flattering words, seeking to
frame the king's disposition after his own pleasure, so far crept into
the king at that time, and, with doubtful fears he, with other his
fellows, so filled the king's mistrustful mind, that before they
departed the place, the king (to see, belike, what they would do) had
given commandment, with warrant to certain of them made for that
purpose, to consult together about the drawing of certain articles
against the queen, wherein her life might be touched; which the king,
by their persuasions, pretended to be fully resolved not to spare,
having any rigour or colour of law to countenance the matter. With
this commissionthey departed for that time from the king, resolved to
put their pernicious practice to as mischievous an execution.

During the time of deliberation about this matter, they failed not to
use all kind of policies and mischievous practices, as well to suborn
accusers, as otherwise to betray her, in seeking to understand what
books, by law forbidden, she had in her closet. And the better to
bring their purpose to pass, because they would not upon the sudden,
but by means, deal with her, they thought it best, at first, to begin
with some of those ladies, whom they knew to be great with her, and of
her blood; the chiefest whereof, as most of estimation, and privy to
all her doings, were these: the Lady Herbert, afterwards countess of
Pembroke, and sister to the queen, and chief of her privy chamber; the
Lady Lane, being of her privy chamber, and also her cousin german; the
Lady Tyrwit, of her privy chamber, and, for her virtuous disposition,
in very great favour and credit with her.

It was devised that these three above named should, first of all, have
been accused and brought to answer unto the six articles; and, upon
their apprehension in the court, their closets and coffers should have
been searched, that somewhat might have been found whereby the queen
might be charged; which, being found, the queen herself, presently,
should have been taken, and likewise, by barge, carried by night unto
the Tower. This platform thus devised, but yet in the end coming to no
effect; the king, by those aforesaid, was forthwith made privy unto
the device by Winchester and Wriothesley, and his consent thereunto
demanded; who, (belike to prove the bishop's malice, how far it would
presume,) like a wise politic prince, was contented dissemblingly to
give his consent, and to allow of every circumstance; knowing,
notwithstanding, in the end what he would do. And thus the day, the
time, and the place of these apprehensions aforesaid, were appointed;
which device yet after was changed.

The king at that time lay at Whitehall, and used very seldom, being
not well at ease, to stir out of his chamber or privy gallery; and few
of his council, but by especial commandment, resorted unto him; these
only except, who, by reason of this practice, used, oftener than
ordinary, to repair unto him. This purpose so finely was handled, that
it grew now within few days* of the time appointed for the execution
of the matter, and the poor queen neither knew, nor suspected, any
thing at all, and therefore used, after her accustomed manner, when
she came to visit the king, still to deal with him touching religion,
as before she did.

The king, all this while, gave her leave to utter her mind at the
full, without contradiction; not upon any evil mind or misliking (ye
must conceive) to bare her speedy despatch, but rather closely
dissembling with them, to try out the uttermost of Winchester's
fetches. Thus, after her accustomed conference with the king, when she
had taken her leave of him, (the time and day of Winchester's final
date approaching fast upon,) it chanced that the king, of himself,
upon a certain night after her being with him, and her leave taken of
him, in misliking her religion, brake the whole practice unto one of
his physicians, either Dr. Wendy, or else Owen, but rather Wendy, as
is supposed: pretending unto him, as though he intended not any longer
to be troubled with such a doctress as she was; and also declaring
what trouble was in working against her by certain of her enemies, but
yet charging him withal, upon peril of his life, not to utter it to
any creature living: and thereupon declared unto him the parties above
named, with all circumstances, and when and what the final resolution
of the matter should be.

The queen all this while, compassed about with enemies and
persecutors, perceived nothing of all this, nor what was working
against her, and what traps were laid for her by Winchester and his
fellows; so closely was the matter conveyed. But, see what the Lord
God (who from his eternal throne of wisdom seeth and despatcheth all
the inventions of Ahithophel, and comprehendeth the wily, beguily,
themselves) did for his poor handmaiden, in rescuing her from the pit
of ruin, whereinto she was ready to fall unawares.

For, as the Lord would, so came it to pass, that the bill of articles
drawn against the queen, and subscribed with the king's own hand,
(although dissemblingly, you must understand,) falling from the bosom
of one of the aforesaid councillors, was found and taken up of some
godly person, and brought immediately unto the queen; who, reading
there articles comprised against her, and perceiving the king's own
hand unto the same, for the sudden fear thereof fell incontinent into
a great melancholy and agony, bewailing and taking on in such sort as
was lamentable to see, as certain of her ladies and gentlewomen, being
yet alive, who were then present about her, can testify.

The king, hearing what perplexity she was in, almost to the peril and
danger of her life, sent his physicians unto her; who, travailing
about her, and seeing what extremity she was in, did what they could
for her recovery;. Then Wendy, who knew the cause better than the
others, and perceiving, by her words, what the matter was, according
to that the king before had told him, for the comforting ofher heavy
mind, began to break with her in secret manner, touching the said
articles devised against her, which he himself (he said) knew right
well to be true: although he stood in danger of his life, if ever he
were known to utter the same to any living creature. Nevertheless,
partly for the safety of her life, and partly for the discharge of his
own conscience, having remorse to consent to the shedding of innocent
blood, he could not but give her warning of that mischief that hanged
over her head; beseeching her most instantly to use,all secrecy in
that behalf, and exhorting her somewhat to frame and conform herself
unto the king's mind, saying, he did not doubt but, if she would so
do, and show her humble submission unto him, she should find him
gracious and favourable unto her.

It was not long after this, but the king, hearing of the dangerous
state wherein she yet still remained, came unto her himself; unto
whom, after that she had uttered her grief, fearing lest his Majesty
(she said) had taken displeasure with her, and had utterly forsaken
her, he, like a loving husband, with sweet and comfortable words so
refreshed and appeased her careful mind, that she, upon the same,
began somewhat to recover; and so the king, after he had tarried there
about the space of an hour, departed.

After this the queen, remembering with herself the words that Master
Wendy had said unto her, devised how, by some good opportunity, she
might repair to the king's presence. And so, first commanding her
ladies to convey away their books which were against the law, the next
night following, after supper, she (waited upon only by the Lady
Herbert her sister, and the Lady Lane, who carried the candle before
her) went unto the king's bed-chamber, whom she found sitting and
talking with certain gentlemen of his chamber; whom when the king did
behold, very courteously he welcomed her, and, breaking off the talk
which, before her coming, he had with the gentlemen aforesaid, began
of himself, contrary to his manner before accustomed, to enter into
talk of religion, seeming as it were desirous to be resolved by the
queen, of certain doubts which he propounded.

The queen, perceiving to what purpose this talk did tend, not being
unprovided in what sort to behave herself towards the king, with such
answers resolved his questions as the time and opportunity present did
require, mildly, and with reverent countenance, answering again after
this manner:

"Your Majesty," quoth she, "doth right-well know, neither I myself am
ignorant, what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation
is allotted unto us women, to be ordained and appointed as privy
chamber and subject unto man as our head; from which head all our
direction ought to proceed: and that as God made man to his own shape
and likeness, whereby he, being endued with more special gifts of
perfection, might rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly
things, and to the earnest endeavour to obey his commandments, even
so, also, made he woman of man, of whom and by whom she is to be
governed, commanded, and directed; whose womanly weaknesses and
natural imperfection ought to be tolerated, aided, and borne withal,
so that, by his wisdom, such things as be lacking in her ought to be
supplied.

"Since, therefore, that God hath appointed such a natural difference
between man and woman, and your Majesty being so excellent in gifts
and ornaments of wisdom, and I a silly poor woman, so much inferior in
all respects of nature unto you, how then cometh it now to pass that
your Majesty, in such diffuse causes of religion, will seem to require
my judgment? which when I have uttered and said what I can, yet must
I, and will I, refer my judgment in this, and in all other cases, to
your Majesty's wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head and governor
here in earth, next under God, to lean unto."

"Not so, by St. Mary," quoth the king; "you are become a doctor, Kate,
to instruct us, (as we take it,) and not to be instructed or directed
by us."

"If your Majesty take it so," quoth the queen, "then hath your Majesty 
very much mistaken me, who have ever been of the opinion, to think it
very unseemly, and preposterous, for the woman to take upon her the
office of an instructor or teacher to her lord and husband; but rather
to learn of her husband, and to be taught by him. And whereas I have,
with your Majesty's leave, heretofore been bold to hold talk with your
Majesty, wherein sometimes in opinions there hath seemed some
difference, I have not done it so much to maintain opinion, as I did
it rather to minister talk, not only to the end your Majesty might
with less grief pass over this painful time of your infirmity, being
attentive to our talk, and hoping that your Majesty should reap some
ease thereby; but also that I, hearing your Majesty's learned
discourse, might receive to myself some profit thereby: wherein, I
assure your Majesty, I have not missed any part of my desire in that
behalf, always referring myself, in all such matters, unto your
Majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is convenient for me to do."

"And is it even so, sweet heart!" quoth the king, "and tended your
arguments to no worse end? Then, perfect friends we are now again, as
ever at any time heretofore." And as he sat in his chair, embracing
her in his arms, and kissing her, he added this, saying, that it did
him more good at that time to hear those words of her own mouth, than
if he had heard present news of a hundred thousand pounds in money
fallen unto him. And with great signs and tokens of marvellous joy and
liking, with promises and assurances never again in any sort more to
mistake her, entering into other very pleasant discourses with the
queen and lords, and the gentlemen standing by, in the end (being very
far in the night) he gave her leave to depart: whom, in her absence,
to the standers-by, he gave as singular and as affectuous
commendations, as beforetime, to the bishop and the chancellor, (who
then were neither of them present,) he seemed to mislike of her.

Now then, God be thanked! the king's mind was clean altered, and he
detested in his heart (as afterwards he plainly showed) this tragical
practice of those cruel Caiaphases; who, nothing understanding of the
king's well-reformed mind and good disposition toward the queen, were
busily occupied about thinking and providing for their next day's
labour, which was the day determined to have carried the queen to the
Tower.

The day and almost the hour appointed being come, the king, being
disposed in the afternoon to take the air, (waited upon with two
gentlemen only of his bed-chamber,) went into the garden, whither the
queen also came, being sent for by the king himself, the three ladies
above named alone waiting upon her; with whom the king, at that time,
disposed himself to be as pleasant as ever he was in all his life
before: when suddenly, in the midst of their mirth, the hour
determined being come, in cometh the lord chancellor into the garden
with forty of the king's guards at his heels, with purpose indeed to
have taken the queen, together with the three ladies aforesaid, whom
they had before purposed to apprehend alone, even then unto the Tower.
Whom then the king sternly beholding, breaking off with his mirth with
the queen, stepping a little aside, called the chancellor unto him;
who, upon his knees, spake certain words unto the king, but what they
were, (for that they were softly spoken, and the king a pretty good
distance from the queen,) it is not well known, but it is most certain
that the king's replying unto him, was "Knave!" for his answer; yea,
"arrant knave! beast! and fool!" And with that the king commanded him
presently to avaunt out of his presence. Which words, although they
were uttered somewhat low, yet were they so vehemently whispered out
by the king, that the queen did easily, with her ladies aforesaid,
overhear them; which had been not a little to her comfort, if she had
known at that time the whole cause of his coming, as perfectly as
after she knew it. Thus departed the lord chancellor out of the king's
presence as he came, with all his train; the whole mould of all his
device being utterly broken.
(Illustration: King Henry with Queen Katharine and the Lord Chancellor
in the garden)

The king, after his departure, immediately returned to the queen; whom
she, perceiving to be very much chafed, (albeit, coming towards her,
he enforced himself to put on a merry countenance,) with as sweet
words as she could utter, she endeavoured to qualify the king's
displeasure, with request unto his Majesty in behalf of the lord
chancellor, with whom he seemed to be offended; saying, for his
excuse, "that albeit she knew not what just cause his Majesty had at
that time to be offended with him, yet she thought that ignorance, not
will, was the cause of hie error," and so besought his Majesty, (if
the cause were at very heinous,) at her humble suit, to take it.

"Ah! poor soul," quoth he, "thou little knowest how evil he deserveth
this grace at thy hands. Of my word, sweet heart! he hath been towards
thee an arrant knave, and so let him go." To this the queen, in
charitable manner replying, in few words ended that talk; having also,
by God's only blessing, happily, for that time and ever, escaped the
dangerous snares of her bloody and cruel enemies for the gospel's
sake.

$

213. WICKED DEEDS OF BISHOP GARDINER

The pestiferous purpose of this bishop, and of such-like bloody
adversaries practising thus against the queen, and proceedings of
God's gospel, (as ye have heard,) putteth me in remembrance of another
like story of his wicked working in like manner, a little before; but
much more pernicious and pestilent to the public church of Jesus
Christ, than this was dangerous to the private estate of the queen:
which story, likewise, I thought here, as in convenient place, to be
adjoined and notified, to be known to all posterity, according as I
have it faithfully recorded and storied by him who heard it of the
archbishop Cranmer's own mouth declared, in order and form as
followeth.

A discourse touching a certain policy used by Stephen Gardiner, bishop
of Winchester, in staying King Henry the Eighth from redressing of
certain abuses of ceremonies in the church; being ambassador beyond
the seas: also the communication of King Henry the Eighth, had with
the ambassador of France at Hampton Court, concerning the reformation
of religion, as well in France as in England, A.D. 1546, in the month
of August.

IT chanced in the time of King Henry the Eighth, when his Highness did
lastly (not many years before his death) conclude a league between the
emperor, the French king, and himself, that the bishop of Winchester,
Stephen Gardiner by name, was sent in embassage beyond the seas for
that purpose; in whose absence the archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas
Cranmer, attending upon the king's court, sought occasion somewhat to
further the reformation of the corrupt religion, not yet fully
restored unto perfection. For, like as the said archbishop was always
diligent and forward to prefer and advance the sincere doctrine of the
gospel, so was that other bishop a contrary instrument, continually
spurning against the same, in whatsoever coast of the world he
remained. For, even now, he, being beyond the seas, in the temporal
affairs of the realm, forgat not, but found the means, as a most
valiant champion of the bishop of Rome, to stop and hinder, as well
the good diligence of the said archbishop, as the godly disposition of
the king's Majesty in that behalf, which thus chanced:

Whilst the said bishop of Winchester was now remaining beyond the seas
about the affairs aforesaid, the king's Majesty and the said
archbishop having conference together for the reformation of some
superstitions enormities in the church, amongst other things the king
determined forthwith to pull down the roods in every church, and to
suppress the accustomed ringing on Allhallow-night, with a few such-
like vain ceremonies; and therefore, when the said archbishop took his
leave of the king to go into Kent, his diocese, his Highness willed
him to remember that he should cause two letters to be devised: "By
me," quoth the king, "to be signed; the one to be directed unto you,
my Lord, and the other unto the archbishop of York, wherein I will
command you both, to send forth your precepts unto all other bishops
within your provinces, to see those enormities and ceremonies reformed
undelayedly, that we have communed of."

So upon this, the king's pleasure known, when the archbishop of
Canterbury was then come into Kent, he caused his secretary to
conceive and write these letters according to the king's mind; and,
being made in a readiness, sent them to the court to Sir Anthony
Denny, for him to get them signed by the king. When Master Denny had
moved the king thereunto, the king made this answer:

"I am now otherways resolved, for you shall send my Lord of Canterbury
word, that since I spake with him about these matters, I have received
letters from my Lord of Winchester, now being on the other side of the
sea, about the conclusion of a league between us, the emperor, and the
French king, and he writeth plainly unto us, that the league will not
prosper nor go forward, if we make any other innovation, change, or
alteration, either in religion or ceremonies, than heretofore hath
been already commenced and done. Wherefore, my Lord of Canterbury must
take patience herein, and forbear until we may espy a more apt and
convenient time for that purpose."

Which matter of reformation began to be revived again, at what time
the great ambassador from the French king came to the king's Majesty
at Hampton Court, not long before his death; where then no gentleman
was permitted to wait upon his lord and master, without a velvet coat,
and a chain of gold. And, for that entertainment of the ambassador,
were builded in the park there three very notable, great, and
sumptuous banqueting-houses; at the which it was purposed, that the
said ambassador should have been, three sundry nights, very richly
banqueted. But, as it chanced, the French king's great affairs were
then suddenly such, that this ambassador was sent for home in post-
haste, before he had received half the noble entertainment that was
prepared for him, so that he had but the fruition of the first
banqueting-house.

Now, what prince-like order was there used, in the furniture of the
banquet, as well in placing of the noble estates, namely, the king's
Majesty, and the French ambassador, with the noble men both of England
and France on the one part, and of the queen's Highness and the Lady
Anne of Cleves, with other noble women and ladies on the other part,
as also touching the great and sumptuous preparation of both costly
and fine dishes there out of number spent, it is not our purpose here
presently to treat thereof, but only to consider and note the
conference and communication had the first night after the said
banquet was finished, between the king's Majesty, the said ambassador,
and the archbishop of Canterbury, (the king's Highness standing openly
in the banqueting-house, in the open face of all the people, and
leaning one arm upon the shoulder of the archbishop of Canterbury, and
the other arm upon the shoulder of the ambassador,) touching the
establishing of godly religion between those two princes in both their
realms: as, by the report of the said archbishop unto his secretary,
upon occasion of his service to be done in King Edward's visitation,
then being registrar in the same visitation, relation was made on that
behalf in this sort:

When the said visitation was put in a readiness, before the
commissioners should proceed in their voyage, the said archbishop sent
for the said registrar, his man, unto Hampton Court, and willed him in
any wise to make notes of certain things in the said visitation;
whereof he gave unto him instruction: having then further talk with
him touching the good effect and success of the said visitation. Upon
which occasion the registrar said thus unto his master the archbishop.

Registrar:--"I do remember, that you, not long ago, caused me to
conceive and write letters, which King Henry the Eighth should have
signed, and have directed unto your Grace and the archbishop of York,
for the reformation of certain enormities in the churches, as taking
down of the roods, and forbidding of ringing on Allhallow-night, and
such-like vain ceremonies: which letters your Grace sent to the court
to be signed by the king's Majesty, but as yet I think that there was
never any thing done therein."

"Why," quoth the archbishop again, "never heard you how those letters
were suppressed and stopped?" Whereunto the archbishop's servant
answering again: "As it was," said he, "my duty to write those
letters, so was it not my part to be inquisitive what became
thereupon." "Marry:" quoth the archbishop, "my Lord of Winchester then
being beyond the seas, about the conclusion of a league between the
emperor, the French king, and the king our master, and fearing that
some reformation should here pass in the realm touching religion, in
his absence, against his appetite, wrote to the king's Majesty,
bearing him in hand that the league then towards, would not prosper
nor go forwards on his Majesty's behalf, if he made any other
innovation or alteration in religion, or in the ceremonies in the
church. than was already done; which his advertisement herein caused
the king to stay the signing of those letters, as Sir Anthony Denny
wrote to me by the king's commandment."

Then said his servant again unto him, "Forasmuch as the king's good
intent took no place then, now your Grace may go forward in those
matters, the opportunity of the time much better serving thereunto
than in King Henry's days."

"Not so," quoth the archbishop. "It was better to attempt such
reformation in King Henry the Eighth's days than at this time; the
king being in his infancy. For, if the king's father had set forth any
thing for the reformation of abuses, who was he that durst gainsay it?
Marry! we are now in doubt how men will take the change, or alteration
of abuses, in the church; and, therefore, the council hath forborne
especially to speak thereof, and of other things which gladly they
would have reformed in this visitation, referring all those and such-
like matters unto the discretions of the visitors. But, if King Henry
the Eighth had lived unto this day with the French king, it had been
past my Lord of Winchester's power to have visored the king's
Highness, as he did when he was about the same league."

"I am sure you were at Hampton Court," quoth the archbishop, "when the
French king's ambassador was entertained there at those solemn
banqueting-houses, not long before the king's death; namely, when,
after the banquet was done the first night, the king leaning upon the
ambassador and upon me: if I should tell what a communication between
the king's Highness and the said ambassador was had concerning the
establishing of sincere religion then, a man would hardly have
believed it: nor had I myself thought the king's Highness had been so
forward in those matters as then appeared. I may tell you, it passed
the pulling down of roods, and suppressing the ringing of bells. I
take it that few in England would have believed, that the king's
Majesty and the French king had been at this point, not only, within
half a year after, to have changed the mass in both the realms into a
communion, (as we now use it,) but also utterly to have extirped and
banished the bishop of Rome, and his usurped power, out of both their
realms and dominions. Yea, they were so thoroughly and firmly resolved
in that behalf, that they meant also to exhort the emperor to do the
like in Flanders and other his countries and seigniories; or else they
would break off from him. And herein the king's Highness willed me,"
quoth the archbishop, "to pen a form thereof to be sent to the French
king, to consider of. But the deep and most secret providence of
Almighty God, owing to this realm a sharp scourge for our iniquities,
prevented for a time this their most godly device and intent, by
taking to his mercy both these princes."

A brief narration of the trouble of Sir George Blage.

Here would also something be said of Sir George Blage, one of the
king's privy chamber, who, being falsely accused by Sir Hugh Caverley,
knight, and Master Littleton, was sent for by Wriothesley, lord
chancellor, the Sunday before Anne Askew suffered, and the next day
was carried to Newgate, and from thence to Guildhall, where he was
condemned the same day, and appointed to be burned the Wednesday
following. The words which his accusers laid unto him were these:
"What if a mouse should eat the bread? then, by my consent, they
should hang up the mouse:" whereas, indeed, these words he never
spake, as to his life's end he protested. But the truth (as he said)
was this, that they, craftily to undermine him, walking with him in
Paula church after a sermon of Dr. Crome, asked if he were at the
sermon. He said, "Yea." "I heard say," saith Master Littleton, "that
he said in his sermon, that the mass profiteth neither for the quick,
nor for the dead." "No," saith Master Blage. "Wherefore then?" "Belike
for a gentleman when he rideth a hunting, to keep his horse from
stumbling." And so they departing, immediately after he was
apprehended, (as showed,) and condemned to be burned. When this was
heard among them of the privy chamber, the king, hearing them
whispering together, (which he could never abide,) commanded them to
tell him the matter. Whereupon the matter being opened, and suit made
to the king, especially by the good earl of Bedford, then lord privy
seal, the king, being sore offended with their doings, that they would
come so near him, and even into his privy chamber, without his
knowledge, sent for Wriothesley, commanding eftsoons to draw out his
pardon himself, and so was he set at liberty: who, coming after to the
king's presence, "Ah! my pig" (saith the king to him, for so he was
wont to call him). "Yea," said he, "if your Majesty had not been
better to me than your bishops were, your pig had been roasted ere
this time."

But to let this matter of Sir George Blage pass, we will now reduce
our story again to Anne Askew and her fellow martyrs, who, the same
week, were burned, and could find no pardon.

$

213. SUPPRESSION OF BOOKS; TYNDALE'S CONDEMNED.

Then the catholic fathers, when they had brought this Christian woman,
with the residue, as above hath been declared, unto their rest, they,
being now in their ruff and triumph, like as the Pharisees, when they
had brought Christ to his grave, devised with themselves how to keep
him down still, and to overtread truth for ever. Whereupon, consulting
with certain of the council, they made out a strait and hard
proclamation, authorized by the king's name, for the abolishing of the
Scripture, and all such English books as might give any light to the
setting forth of God's true word, and the grace of the gospel: the
copy and tenor of which proclamation is this, as followeth:

"The king's most excellent Majesty -- understanding how, under
pretence of expounding and declaring the truth of God's Scripture,
divers lewd and evil-disposed persons have taken upon them to utter
and sow abroad, by books imprinted in the English tongue, sundry
pernicious and detestable errors and heresies, not only contrary to
the laws of this realm, but also repugnant to the true sense of God's
law and his word, by reason whereof certain men of late, to the
destruction of their own bodies and souls, and to the evil example of
others, have attempted arrogantly and maliciously to impugn the truth,
and therewith trouble the sober, quiet, and godly religion, united and
established under the king's Majesty in this his realm; his Highness,
minding to foresee the dangers that might ensue of the said books, is
enforced to use his general prohibition, commandment, and
proclamation, as followeth:

"First, That from henceforth no man, woman, or person, of what estate,
condition, or degree soever be or they be, shall, after the last day
of August next ensuing, receive, have, take, or keep in his or their
possession, the text of the New Testament, of Tyndale's or Coverdale's
translation in English, nor any other than is permitted by the act of
parliament made in the session of the parliament holden at Westminster
in the thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth year of his Majesty's most noble
reign; nor, after the said day, shall receive, have, take, or keep in
his or their possession, any manner of books printed or written in the
English tongue, which be, or shall be, set forth in the names of
Frith, Tyndale, Wickliff, Joye, Roy, Basil, Bale, Barnes, Coverdale,
Turner, Tracy, or by any of them; or any other book or books
containing matter contrary to the said act made in the year thirty-
four, or thirty-five; but shall, before the last day of August next
coming, deliver the same English book or books, to his master in that
household, if he be a servant, or dwell under any other; and the
master or ruler of the house, and such others as dwell at large, shall
deliver all such books of these sorts aforesaid as they have, or shall
come to their hands, delivered as afore or otherwise, to the mayor,
bailiff, or chief constable of the town where they dwell, to be by
them delivered over openly within forty days next following after the
said delivery, to the sheriff of the shire, or to the bishop's
chancellor, or commissary of the same diocese; to the intent the said
bishop, chancellor, commissary, and sheriff, and every of them, may
cause them incontinently to be openly burned: which thing the king's
Majesty's pleasure is, that every of them shall see executed in most
effectual sort, and of their doings thereof make certificate to the
king's Majesty's most honourable council, before the first day of
October next coming.

"And, to the intent that no man shall mistrust any danger of such
penal statutes as be passed in this behalf, for the keeping of the
said books, the king's Majesty is most graciously contented, by this
proclamation, to pardon that offence to the said time appointed by
this proclamation for the delivery of the said books; and commandeth
that no bishop, chancellor, commissary, mayor, bailiff, sheriff, or
constable, shall be curious to mark who bringeth forth such books, but
only order and burn them openly, as is in this proclamation ordered.
And if any man, after the last day of August next coming, shall have
any of the said books in his keeping, or be proved and convicted, by
sufficient witness, before four of the king's most honourable council,
to have hidden them, or used them, or any copy of any of them, or any
part of them, whereby it should appear that he willingly hath offended
the true meaning of this proclamation, the same shall not only suffer
imprisonment and punishment of his body at the king's Majesty's will
and pleasure, but also shall make such fine and ransom to his Highness
for the same, as by his Majesty, or four of his Grace's said council,
shall be determined, &c.

"Finally, His Majesty straitly chargeth and commandeth, that no person
or persons, of what estate, degree, or condition soever he or they be,
from the day of this proclamation, presume to bring any manner of
English book, concerning any manner of Christian religion, printed in
the parts beyond the seas, into this realm, to sell, give, or
distribute any English book, printed in outward parts, or the copy of
any such book, or any part thereof, to any person dwelling within this
his Grace's realm, or any other his Majesty's dominions, unless the
same shall be specially licensed so to do by his Highness's express
grant, to be obtained in writing for the same, upon the pains before
limited; and therewithal to incur his Majesty's extreme indignation."

Forasmuch as it is, and always hath been, the common guise and
practice of the pope's church, to extinguish, condemn, and abolish all
good books and wholesome treatises of learned men, under a false
pretence of errors and heresies, whereof examples abundantly appear in
this history above: now, for the better trial hereof, to see and try
the impudent and shameless vanity of these catholic clergymen, in
mistaking, falsifying, depraving, blaspheming, and slandering, where
they have no cause, against all right and honest dealing, yea, against
their own knowledge, conscience, and manifest verity of God's word; I
shall therefore desire the attentive reader, before we pass any
further, to consider and expend here two things by the way: First,
what opinions and articles these men gather out of their books for
errors and heresies. Secondly, how wittingly and willingly they wrest,
pervert, and misconstrue their sayings and writings in such sense as
the writers never spake nor meant; and all, to bring them into hatred
of the world, after they have burned their books.

So did they before with John Wickliff, John Huss, and Jerome: so did
they with Martin Luther, Tyndale, Frith, Lambert, Barnes, Joye, Roy,
Seton; and, briefly, yet do still with all the protestants, either
perverting their sayings otherwise than they meant, or noting for
heresies such as are manifest principles and grounds of our religion:
or else falsely belying them, or untruly mistaking them, either in
mangling the places, or adding to their words, as may serve for their
most advantage, to bring them out of credit with princes and all the
people.

For the more evident probation and experience whereof, thou shalt see
here, Christian reader, as in a table laid before thine eyes, the book
or catalogue of such errors, blasphemies, and heresies, which the
catholic papists in their own registers have extracted out of their
books, whom in this, and other proclamations, they have condemned.
Whereunto, moreover, we have annexed the very places also of the
authors, out of which every article is gathered, keeping the same
signature of verse and page, which they in their registers do send us
unto. So that with little diligence thou mayest now, loving reader,
easily perceive, conferring the articles and places together, what
truth and fidelity these bloody catholics have used toward the
children of God: first, in burning up their bodies; then, in consuming
and abolishing their books; and afterwards, in drawing out articles,
such as they list themselves, out of their works, to make the people
believe what damnable heretics they were, as by these articles 
hereunder ensuing, collected and contained in their own registers, may
well appear. In all which articles, there is not one (speaking of
these writers which here they have condemned) but either it is a
perfect truth, and a principle of Christian doctrine, or else it is
falsely gathered, or perversely recited, or craftily handled, and
maliciously mangled; having either something cut from it, or some more
added, or else racked out of his right place, or wrested to a wrong
meaning, which the place giveth not, or else which some other place
following doth better expound and declare. This false and malicious
dealing hath always been a common practice amongst God's enemies from
the beginning, to falsify, wrest, and deprave all things, whatsoever
maketh not to