Acts and Monuments Volume 2 Part 1
To these pretēsed 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 diverse of those words: and again many things, that he never meant to such end nor purpose, as in y e said register may appear. But all this notwithstanding, for all that he could say for himself, the ordinary proceeded in his cōsistory judgment, ministering to him certain Interogatories (after the popish course) to y e number of x. articles The greatest matter laid against him was for preaching free iustificatiō by faith in Christ Jesus, against false cōfidēce in good works, & man's free will. Also it was laid unto him, for affirming y e private masses & diriges, & other prayers profited not y e souls departed: so that in the end, he with Tolwing aforesaid was caused to recant at paules cross. an. 1541.
- Add to these aforesaid, D. Taylor Parson of S. Peters in Cornehill.
- South, Parish priest of Allhallowes in Lombardstreet.
- Some, Priest.
- Giles, the kings Beerebrewer at the red Lion, in S Katherines.
- Tho. Lancaster, Priest. All which were imprisoned likewise for the 6. Articles.
To be short, such a number out of all parishes in Lōdō & out of Calais: and diverse other quarters, were thē apprehended through the said Inquisitiō, that all prisons in London were to little to hold thē, in so much that they were fain to lay thē in the Halles. At the last by the means of good L. Audley, such pardō was obtained of the king, that y e said L. Audley, thē L. Chancellor, being content that one should be bound for another, they were all discharged, being bound only to appere in the star chamber the next day after Al souls, there to answer if they were called: but neither was there any person called, neither did there any appear.
The story of John Porter, cruelly Martyred for reading the Bible in Paul's.
IN the number of these afore named, cometh the remembrance of John Porter, who in the same year 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, pag. 1162. how Edm. Boner Bishop of London (in the days of the L. 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 6. of those Bibles set up in the Church of S. Paul in London. Which also at his coming home, he no less performed, according to the kings proclamation set forth for y e same, whereof read before, pag. 1069.
The bibles thus standing in Paul's by the commandment of the king, and the appointment of Boner the bishop, many well disposed people used much to resort to the hearing thereof, especially whē they could get any that had an audible voice to read unto thē, 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 diverse and sundry godly disposed persons, which frequented there the reading of the foresaid Bible. that one John Porter used sometimes to be occupied in that godly exercise, to the edifying as well of himself, as of other. 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 Boners commandment upon diverse pillars in Paul's Church fixed unto the same with cheines for all men to read in thē y t would, great multitudes would resort thither to hear this Porter, because he could read well and had an audible voice. Boner & his chappeleines being grieved withal (& 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 aduertisementes which he had fixed in print over every Bible.
Boner thē • aid unto his charge, that he had made expositions upon the text, and gathered great multitudes about him to make tumults. He answered: he trusted that should not be proved by him. But in fine Boner sent him to Newgate, where he was miserably fettred in irons both legs and arms, with a collor 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 kinsmā of his whose name is also Porter, and yet alive and can testify that is true, & dwelleth yet without Newgate. Who seeing his kinsman in this miserable case entreated Iewet, 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 thē to amend̄t 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 boltes and irons, where within 6. or 8. days after, he was found dead.
It is signified unto us by credible information, that the same night before he was found dead, they that dwelt nere to the same place of the prison where Porter lay, did hear him pitiously to groan and make a lamentable noise, where some suppose y t he was put in certain strayt irons which be there in the house, called The devil on the neck, being after an horrible sort devised, straining & wrinching the neck of a man with his legs together, in such sort as y e more he styrreth in it, the strayter it presseth him, so that within 3. or 4. hours, it breaketh & crussheth a man's back and body in pieces. In which Deuilish torment, whether John Porter was slain or no, it is not certain. But how so ever 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 in the said dungeō, 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 (although a little out of place) another note of a Marchaunt called Tho. Sommers, who died in the Tower of London for confessing of the Gospel. Which Tho. 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 a great suit made for him to the said Cardinal, his judgment was that he should ride from the tower into Cheapeside carrying a new book in his hand and be hanged with books round about him, with three or iv, other Marchaunts after the same order: which was done. And when M. Sommers should be set on a colliars nagg as the rest of his fellow prisoners were, a friend of his called M. Copland brought him a very good gelding, fair dressed with bridle and sadle, and when the Bishops Officers came to dress him with books, as they had trimmed the other, and would have made holes in his garment to have thrust the stringes of the books therein, nay said Sōmers, I have always loved to go hansomely in my apparel, and taking the books and opening them, he bound them together by the stringes and cast them about his neck (the leaves being all opē) like a collar, and being on horse back, rode foremost thorough the streets, till they came about the standard in Cheapeside, where a great fire was made to burn their books in, and a Pillary set up there for 4. 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 bason. At the noise whereof, M. Sommers horse being a lofty gelding and fierce, was in such a rage, that he which ronge the bason being afeard of himself, was fain to go alone a great space before that any horseman did follow after. At length when they came to the fire, every of them having a book in his hand, they were commanded to caste their books into the fire. But when M. 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 thorough the fire. Which thing was done iii. times. But at last a stander by took it up, and saved it from burning. But not long after, the said M. Sommers was cast again 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.
What trouble & vexatiō happened amongst the godly brethren in London, for the 6. Articles, hitherto we have discoursed. Albeit neither have I comprehended all, which were molested through all the Parishes of London: neither again did this rigorous Inquisition so cease within the precinctes of this Citty only, but also extended further to Salisbury, Norfolk, Lincoln, and through all other Shyres and quarters of the realm: so that whereas any popish Prelate most bare stroke, there most persecution increased. The Bishop of Lincoln the same time was John Longland, and Doct. Dracotte his Chancellor. Of whose rigorous doyinges ye have heard enough and to much before. His ready diligence in all popish quarrels as it never lacked before: so now in the execution of these 6 Articles, it was not far behind in whose diocese diverse good men and women, namely about Buckingham and Amersham, and quarters there aboutes, were grievously disquieted, appearing yet in the same Register: as one
- Elinore Godfrey.
- For laughing & speaking certain words against one Tho. Collerd, who like a pope-holy hypocrite in the Church of Merlow, used at Mass time to crouch behind the children, and whē 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.
- W. Hart.
- For saying these words: Thinkest thou that God almighty will abide over a knave priests head.
- Christoph: Etle.
- Because he did no reverence unto the sacrament coming to the church, and for looking upon his book at 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 an holy day, and being asked why he kept not the holy day, he answered, that was no work, and that it was better to do that, then to sit at the Alehouse drinking drunk.
- W. Fastendiche.
- For speaking certain words against y e sacrament of the altar, and believed not, that it was the very body of Christ.
- W. Galand.
- W. Garland, talking of extreme unction, said that those things were Godly signs, but there were but two sacraments. &c.
- W. Webbe.
- Because he set the Image of a headless Bear in the Tabernacle of S. Roke.
Thomas Bernard, and James Morton Martyrs.
ABout the same time John Longland Bishop of Lincoln, burned two upon one day, the one named Tho. Bernard, and the other James Morton: The one for teaching the Lord's prayer in English, and the other for keeping the Epistle of S. James translated into English.
In Oxford also the same time or much thereabout, recāted one M. Barber master of Art 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, & so learnedly defended himself therein, that (as it is credible affirmed of them, which yet be alive, and were present thereat) neither Cranmer himself, nor all they could well answer to his allegations brought out of Agustine. Wherein he was so prompe and rype of himself, that the Archbishop with the residue of his company, were brought in great admiration of him. Notwithstanding by compulsion of y e time and danger of the vi. articles, at last he relented, and returning again to Oxford, was there caused to recant. After which the good man long prospered not, but ware away. Ex testimonio Rad. Moris.
A merry, and pleasant narration, touching a false fearful imagination of fire, raised among the Doctors and Masters of Oxford in S. Mary's church at the recantation of M. Mallary M. of Art of Cambridge.
THis recantatiō of M. Barbar aforesaid in the University of Oxford, bringeth me in remembrance of another recantation likewise happening not long before, in y e said Uniuersity, which I thought here not to overpass, and namely for that the same carrieth withal, a merry rydiculous spectacle, not unworthy to be remembered, & here to be inserted, somewhat to recreate & refresh by the way the weary mind of the reader, after so many bloody and lamentable stories, executions, recantations, and tragedyes above passed. The story is this.
There was one M. Malary, master of Art 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, y t 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 fagot, to the terror of the Studentes of that Uniuersi • y. The time and place was appointed, that he should be brought solemly into S. Mary's church upon a Sunday: where a great number of the head Doctors and Divines, and other of the Uniuersity, were together assembled: beside a great multitude of Citizens and town dwellers which came to behold the sight. Furthermore, because that solemnity should not pass w t out some effectual Sermon, for the holding up of the mother Church of Rome, D. Smith reader then of the Divinity lecture, was appointed, to make the Sermon at this recantation. Briefly at the preaching of this Sermō there was assembled a mighty audience of all sorts and degrees as well of Studentes as other. Few almost were absent, which loved to hear or see any news. In so much y t there was no place almost in the whole Church which was not fully replenished with concourse and throng of people.
All things thus being prepared and set in a readiness, cometh forth poor Mallary with his fagotte upon his shoulder. Not long after also proceedeth the doctor into the pulpite 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 y e 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 soddenly was heard into the Church the voice of one crying in the street, fire, fire. The party which first cried thus in the street, was called Heuster. The occasion was this, for that he coming from Allhallowes Parish, saw a Chimney on fire, and so passing in the street by S. Mary's Church, cried fire, fire, as the fashion is, meaning no hurt.
This sound of fire being heard into the Church, first of them which stood outtermost next to the Church door so increased and went from one to another, that at length it came unto the ears of the Doctors, & at last to the preacher himself. Who as soon as they heard the matter, being amazed with soddeine fear, and maruelling 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 on other? In the Church, saith one. The mention of the Church was scarcely pronounced, when as in one moment there was a common cry amongst thē, 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 forsomuch as all mē cried out so, every man thought it true that they heard. Then was there such fear, cōcourse and tumult of people, through the whole church, that it cā not be declared in words, as it was in deed.
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 stackes and piles on 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, which think themselves so wise in God's matters as though they could not err, should see by their own senses and judgments, how blind and infatuated they were in these so small matters & sensible trifles.
Thus this strong imaginatiō of fire being fixed in their heads, as nothing could remove them to think contrary but that the Church was on fire: so everything that they saw or heard, increased this suspicion in them, to make it seme most true, which was in deed most false. The first & chiefest occasion that augmented this suspicion, was the heretic there bearing his fagot, 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 & running too and fro, the dust was so raised, that it shown 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 altogether to run away. But such was the preasse of the multitude running in heaps together, that the more they labored, the less they could give out. For whilst they ran all headlong unto the doors every man striving to get out first, the thrust one another in such sort, and stuck so fast, that they which were without, neither could get into the Church, again, neither they that were within could get out by any means. So the one door being stopped, the ran to another little wicket on the North side, towards the College called Brason nose, thinking so to pass out. But there again was the like or greater throng. So the people clustring & thronging together, it put many in danger and brought many unto their end, by brusing 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 preasse or multitude of people.
At the 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 which had conspired their death. The more they ran about & cried out the more smoke & dust rose in the Church, even as though all things now had been on a flaming fire. I think there was never such a tumultuous hurly burly rising so of nothing heard of before, nor so great a fear where was no cause to fear, nor peril at all: so y t if Democritus the merry philosopher sitting in y e top of the church, & 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 too and fro with waves or tempests, trembling and quaking raging and faring, without any manifest cause, specially i • he had seen those great Rabbin's the Doctors laden with so many badges or cognisaunces 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 elles rather would have laughed his heart out of his belly, whilst one said that he plainly heard he noice 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 graffed in men's hearts through fear. In all the whole company there was none that behaved himself more modestly then the Heretic that was there to do penance, who casting his Fagot of frō his shoulders upon a Monks head that stood by kept himself quiet, minding to take such part as the other did.
All the other being careful for themselves, never made an end of running up and down & crying out. None cried not more earnestly then the Doctor that preached (who was as I said, D. Smith) who in a manner first of all cried out in the pulpit, saying: These are the trains and subtleties of the heretics against me. Lord have mercy vpō me: Lord have mercy upon me. But might not God, as it had been (to speak with Job) out of a whyrle wind have answered again unto this Preacher thus: Thou doest now implore my mercy but thou thyself showest no mercy unto thy fellows and brethren. How doth thy flesh treēbell now at the mention of fire, but you think it a sport to burn other simple innocents, neither do you anything at all regard it? If burning seme so grievous a matter unto you, and to suffer the torment of fire: then you should also have the like consideration in other men's perils and dangers, when as you do burn your fellows and brethren.
Or if you think it but a light or trifling matter in thē go to now, do you also with like courage, contemn, & with like patience suffer now the same torments yourselves. And if so be it I should now suffer you with the whole Church to be burned to ashes, what other thing should I do unto you, then 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, either the common sense of nature would expostulate with them, yea if there had been a fire indeed (as they were more feared then 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 catholicks either was deluded, either how their cruelty was reproved, whereby they being better taught by their own example, might hereafter learn what is to put other poor men to the fire which they themselves here so much abhorred.
But to return again to the descriptiō 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 ben over their heads.
In all this great maze and garboyle there was nothing mor • feared then the melting of the lead, which many affirmed that they felt dropping vpō their bodies: Now in this sodein terror and fear, which took from them all reason & counsel out of their minds: to behold what practices & sundry shifts every man made for himself, it would make not only Democritus, and Heraclitus also to laugh but rather an horse weluere to break his halter. But none used themselves more ridiculously, then such as seemed greatest wise men, saving that in one or ii. peradventure some what more quietness of mind appeared. Amongest whom was one Claymund President of Corpus Christi College (whom for reverence and learnings sake I do here name) and a few other aged persons with him, which for their age and weakness, durst not thrust themselves into the throng amongst the rest, but kneled down quietly before the high altar, committing themselves & their lives unto the sacrament. The other which were younger and stronger, ran up and down through the preasse maruelling at the vnciuility of mē, and waxt angry with the unmannerly multitude that would give no room unto the Doctors, Bachelers, Masters, and other graduates & 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 scamling for himself. The violet cap or purple gown, did there nothing avail the Doctor, neither the masters hood nor the monks 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 then a common man. After they had long striven and assayed all manner of ways and saw no remedy, neither by force neither authority to prevail: the fell to entreating and offering of rewards, one offering xx. pound, 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 vautes of stone for the dropping of the lead. Othersome being without money & unprovided of all shift, 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 bourd out from the pues, covered his head & shoulders therewith against y e scalding lead, which they feared much more then the fall of the Church. Now what a laughter would this have ministered unto Democritus amongst other things, to behold there a certain grand paūch, 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 icō grates letted him: notwithstanding his greedy mind would needs attempt if he could happily bring his purpose to pass. Whē he had brokē the glass, & was come to the space between y e grates where he should creep out, first he thrust in his head w t the one shoulder, & it went thorough well enough. Thē he labored to get the other shoulder after, but there was great labor about y t , & long he stuck by y e shoulders with much ado. For what doth not importune labor overcome? Thus farreforth he was now got̄. But by what part of his body he did stick fast, I am not certain, neither may I fain, forsomuch as there be yet witnesses which did see these things, which 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 in deed 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: & contrariwise if the slain had raged within the Church, all his other parts had lain opē 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, then they could once stir or move one foot. Through the which prese at the last there was a way found, that some going over their heads gat out.
Here also happened another pageaunt in a certain Monk (if I be not misaduised) 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 prese or multitude, & that he had no way to get out, climbed up vpō 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 a while, he advised himself what to do: neither did occasion want to serve his purpose. For by chance, amongst them that gat out over men's heads, he saw a Monk coming towards him, which had a great wide Coule hanging at his back. This the Boye thought to be a good occasion for him to escape by. When the Monk came near unto him, the Boy which was in the top of the door, came down, and pretily conveyed himself into the Monks Coule, thinking (as it came to pass in deed) that if the Monk did escape, he should also get out with him. To be brief, at the last the Monk gat out over men's heads, with the boy in his Coule, and for a great while felt no wayght or burden.
At the last, when he was somewhat more come to himself, and did shake his shoulders, • eling his Coule heuyer thē it was accustomed to be, & also hearing y e voice of one speaking behind his Coule, he was more afraid then 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 flyen into his Coule. 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 Bertrames boy, said he (for that was his name.) But I, said the monk, adjure thee in the name of the inseperable trinity, that thou wicked spirit do tell me who thou art, from whence thou comest, and that thou get thee hence. I am Bertrames boy, said he, good master let me go: and with that his Coule began with the wait to crack upon his shoulders. The monk when he perceived the matter, took the boy out and discharged his Coule. The boy took his legs and ran away as fast as he could.
Among other, one wiser then the rest, ran with the Church door key, beating upon the stone walls, thinking therewith to break an hole thorough to escape out.
In the mean time those that were in the streate looking diligently about them, and perceyuing all things to be without fear, marvelled at this soddayne outrage, & made signs and tokens to them that were in the church, to keep themselves quiet, crying to them that there was no danger.
But for so much as no word could be heard by reason of the noise that was within the Church, those signs made them much more afraid then 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 y e church, and not to venter 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 up upon the Church doors, to inquire for things that were lost, in such variety and number, as Domocritus might here again have had just cause to laugh. If any man have found a pair of shoes yesterday in S. Mary Church, or knoweth any man that hath found them. &c. An other bill was set up for a gown that was lost. An other entreateth to have his cap restored. One lost his purse and gyrdle with certain money: another his sword. One inquireth for a ring, and one for one thing, another for another. To be short, there was few in this ga • boil, but that either through negligence lost, or through oblivion left something behind him.
Thus have you hitherto 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 & discreet may sufficiently consider the rest, if anything 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 S. Frideswide, where he supplied the rest that lacked of his plenary penance.
The 4. and 5. Marriage of K. Henry the 8.
THe same year and month next following, after the apprehension of the Lord Cromwell, which was an. 1541. the king immediately was divorced from the Lady Anne of Cleue. The cause of which separation being whollye committed to the Clergy of the Conuocation, it was by them defined, concluded, and granted, that the king being freed frō that pretensed matrimony (as they called it) might mary where he would, & so might she likewise: whō also consenting to the same divorcement her self, by her own letters, was after that taken no more for Queen, but only called Lady Anne of Cleue. Whych things thus discussed by the Parliament and Conuocation house▪ the king the same month was married to his fifth Wyfe▪ which was the Lady Katherine Haward, Niece to the Duke of Norfolk, and daughter to the Lord Edmund Haward the Dukes brother. But this marriage likewise continued not long.
In the same month of August, and the same year, I find moreover in some records, beside the xxiiij. Chapter-house monks above recited, whom Cope doth sanctify for holy martyrs, for suffering in the Popes devotion, against the kings supr • macy, other six which were also brought to Tiborne and there executed in the like case of rebellion. Of whom, the first was the Prior of Dancaster, the second a monk of the Charterhouse of Lōdō, called Giles Horne, some call him William Horne: the third one Tho. Epsam a Monk of Westminster, who had his Monks garment plucked from his back, being the last monk in K. Henries days that did wear that monkish weed: the fourth one Philpot: the fifth one Carewe: 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 Haward ye heard how this matrimony endured not long: for in the yere next following 1542. the said Lady Katherine was accused to the king of incontinent living, not only before her marriage with Francis Direham, but also of spousebreach since her marriage, with Tho. Culpepper. For the which both the men aforesaid, by act of Parliament were atteinted and executed for high treason, and also the said Lady Katherine late queen, with the Lady Jane Rochford widow, late Wyfe to George Boleyne Lord Rochford, brother to Queen Anne Boleyne, were beheaded for their deserts within the Tower. Ex Hallo & alijs.
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 Counselor, 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 favor 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, & 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 moe besides to be corrected within his dominions, directed his letters unto the foresaid Archbishop of Canterbury, for the speedy redress and reformation of the same. The tenor of which letters hereafter fully ensueth, in these words.
The kings letters to the Archbishop, for the abolishing of Idolatry.
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 to our knowledge, that this our good intent and purpose, notwithstanding the shrines, coueringes of shrines, and monuments 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 hipocrisye and superstition: and also that our Injunctions be not kept as appertaineth. For the due and speedye 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 th •• e 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 other having charge within your Dioces, 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 for the contrary.
Geu • n under our Signet at our town of Hull▪ the fourth day of October in the 33: 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 kings authority, wherein the Popes Law forbidding white meats to be eaten in Lent, was repealed, and the eating of such meats set at liberty, for the behoove of the kings subjects. The copy of which Proclamation I thought here good also to be remembered.
A Proclamation concerning eating of white meats made the 9. of February, the 34. year of the reign of the kings most Royal majesty.
FOr as much as by diverse and sundry occasions, as well Heringes, Linges, Saltfish, Samond, Stockefish, as other kinds of fish been this year scant, and also enhaunced in prices above the old rate and common estimation of their valor, so that if the kings loving subjects should be enforced only to buy and provide Hering and other salt store of fish, for the necessary and sufficient sustentation and maynteynaunce of their householdes and families all this holy time of Lent, according as they have been wont in times past to do, and should not be by some other convenient means relieved therein, the same might and should undoubtedly redound to their importable charge and detrimēt: and for so much as his highness considereth howe this kind and manner of fasting, (that is to say) to abstain from milk, butter eggs, cheese, and other white meats, is but a mere positive Law of the Church, and used by a custom within this Realm, and of none other force or necessity, but the same may be upon considerations and grounds altered and dispensed with from time to time, by the public authority of kings and princes, when so ever they shall perceive the same to tend to the hurt and damage of their people: The kings highness therefore most graciously considering and tendering the wealth and commoditye of his people, hath thought good for the considerations oboue rehearsed, to release and dispense with the said law and custom of abstaining from white meats this holy time of Lent, and of his especial grace and mere motion giveth and granteth unto all and singular his subjects within this his Realm of England, Wales, Calais, Cuisnes, & Hammes, and in all other his graces dominions, free liberty faculty and license to eat all manner of white meats, as milk, Egges, butter, Cheese and such like, during the time of this Lent, without any scruple or grudge of conscience, any Law, Constitution, use, or custom to the contrary notwithstanding.
Wherein nevertheless his highness exhorteth, and in the name of God requireth all such his faithful subjects, as may, will, or shall enjoy this his said grant or faculty, that they be in no wise scrupulous or doubtful thereof, • or abuse or turn the same into a fleshly or carnal liberty, bu • rather endeavor themselves to their possible powers, with this liberty of eating of white meats, to observe also that fast which God most specially requireth of them, that is to say, to renounce the world and the devil, with all their pomps and works, and also to subdue and repress their carnal affections & the corrupt works of the flesh, according to their vow and profession made at the Font stone, for in these points specially consisteth the very true and perfect abstinence or fasting of a Christian man: thus to endure and continue from year to year, till the kings highness pleasure shall by his maiestyes proclamation be published to the contrary.
The trouble and persecution of four windsore men, Robert Testwood, Henry, Filmer, Anthony Person, apd John Marbecke, persecuted for righteousness sake, and for the Gospel.
COmming now to the Storye and time of the four Windsore men troubled and persecuted for the true testimony of God's word, whereof three were martyred and sacrificed in fire, the fourth (which was Marbecke) had his pardon: first I have to sh • w the original of their troubles in several partes: secondly the manner and order of their death, as they suffered together, which was, an. 1544. 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 y e name of Marbecke, whō in one place I reported to have ben burned, albeit in the ende of the story, correcting myself again, I declare him not to have been burned. Wherefore to stop the brawlyng mouths of such quarellers, I thought here to set forth the full narration, both of the said Marbecke, and of his fellows, in truth as I trust none of them shall have just cause to quarrel thereat.
Which of you (quoth Eli) that be unlearned, knoweth them, or understandeth them? S. 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 Eli) what meaneth Sainte Paul by these coals of fire? Marry sir (quoth Testwoode) 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. A sirah, quoth he, you are an old scholar in deed.
After this, they fell into further communication of the Pope, whose supremacy was much spokē of at that time, but not known to be so far in question in the parliament house as it was. And in their talk Eli demanded of Testwood, whether the Pope ought to be head of the church or no. Agaynst the which, Testwoode durst not say his full mind, but reasoned within his bounds a great while. But when they were both well stricken in an heat, Testwoode forgetting himself, chanced to say, that every king in his own realm & dominion, ought to be the hed of the church under Christ▪ At the which words Eli was so chafed, that he rose up from the table in a great fume, calling him heretic, and all that naught was, and so went brawling & chiding away, to the great disquieting of all the company that weee there. Then was Testwood very sory to see the old man take it so grievously. Wherupon after dinner he went and sought M. Eli, and found him walking in the body of the church, thinking to have talked with him charitably, & so to have been at one again: but ever as Testwood preased towards him, the other shunned him, and would not come ni • him, but spit at him, saying to other that walked by: beware of this fellow, for he is the greatest heretic and schismatic, that ever came in Windsore.
Now began the matter to brew. For after that Eli had made his complaint to the Deans deputy, and other of the canons, they were all against Testwood, purposing surely at the Deans 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, • re that the kings supremacy passed in the Parliament house Whereupon the Dean (D. Sampson) came home suddenly in the night late, and forthwithall sent his Uerger 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 Eli 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 Eli. 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 tendyng the Choir, exhorting them also to continue in the same: he began (contrary to every man's expectation) to inuey against the Bishop of Rome's supremacy and usurped authority, confoundyng 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 Popes supremacy was utterly abolished out of this Realm of England forever, and so commanded every man there, upon his allegiance, to call him Pope no more, but bishop of Rome, & whatsoever he were that would not so do, or did from that day forth maintain or favor his cause by any manner of means, he should not only loose 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 dumpe. Yet notwithstanding Eli's heart was so great, y t he would fain have uttered his cankerd 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 popes pardons which hanged about the Church to be brought into the Chapterhouse, and cast into the chimney, and burnt before all their faces, and so departed.
Another cause of Testwoods trouble.
AS it chanced Testwood one day to walk in the church at after noon, & beheld the pilgrims (specially of Devonshire & Cornwall) how they came in by plumpes with candles & images of wax in their hands, to offer to good king Henry of Windsore (as they called him) it pitied his heart to see so great idolatry committed, & how vainly the people had spent their goods in coming so far to kiss a spur, & to have an old hat set upon their heds. In so much, that he could not refrain, but (seeing a certain company which had done their offering stand gasing about y e church) went unto them, & with all gentleness began to exhort them to leave such falls worshipping of dumb creatures, and to learn to worship the true living God aright, putting thē in remembrance what those things were which they worshipped, & how God many times had plagued his people for running a whoring to such stocks & stones, & so would plage 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 would never go a pilgrimage more. Then he went further, & found another sort licking & kissing a white Lady made of Alabaster, which Image was mortrest in a wall behind the hie altar, and bordred about with a pretty border, which was made like branches with hanging apples & flowers. And when he saw them so superstitiously use the Image (as to wipe their hands upon it, & then to stroke them over their hands & faces, as though there had ben great virtue in touching y e picture) he up with his hand in the which he had a key, and smote a piece of the border about the image, down, and with the glance of the stroke chanced to break of the images nose. Lo, good people, quoth he, ye see what it is, nothing but earth & dust, and cannot help it self, & how will you then have it to help you? For God's sake brethren, be no more deceived: and so he gate him home to his house, for the rumor was so great, that many came to see the Image, how it was defaced. And among all other came one Williā Symons (a Lawyer) who seeing the image so berayed, and to lack her nose, took the matter grievously, & looking down upon the pavement, he spied the images 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 hyndring their market, & Symons for the Images nose. And more then that, there were of the canons men that threatened to kill him. Whereupon Testwood kept his house, and durst not come forth, minding to have sent the whole matter in writing by his wife, to M. Cromwell the kings secretary who was his special friend. The Canons hearing that Testwood would send to Cromwell, they send y e Uerger unto him, to will him to come to the church: who sent them word again, that he was in fear of his life, & therefore would not come. Then sent they two of y e eldest Peticanons to entreat him, & to assure him that no man should do him harm. He made them a plain answer, that he had no such trust to 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 hast for old M. Ward, a justice of peace dwelling 3. or 4. miles of, who being come & hearing the matter, was very loath to meddle in it. But notwithstanding, through their entreaty he went to Testwood & had much ado to persuade him, but at the last, he did so faithfully promise him by the oth he had made to God & the king, to defend him from all dangers and harms, that Testwood was content to go with him.
And when M. 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 M. Ward with his men resisted, and gat Testwood into the Chapter house, causing the serving men to be called in, and sharply rebuked of their masters, who straitly commanded them upon pain of loosing their service, & 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 M. Ward was gently entreated, & the matter so pacified, that Testwood might quietly come and go to the Church, and do his duty as he had done before.
An other cause of Testwoods trouble.
VPon a Relique Sunday (as they named it) when every Minister after their old custom should have borne a relique in his hand about a procession, one was brought to Testwood. Which relique (as they said) was a Ratchet of bishop Beckets. And as the Sexten would have put the Ratchet in Testwoods hands, he pushed it from him, saying, if he did give it to him, he would wipe his tail withal, & so the Ratchet was given to another. Then came the Uerger down from the hie altar with S. Georges dagger in his hand, demāding who lacked a relique. Mary (quoth Testwood give it to M. Hake (who stood next him) for he is a pretty man of his hands, & so the dagger was givē unto him. Now Testwood perceiving the dagger in master Hakes hand, and being merrily disposed (as he was a merry conceited man) stepped forth out of his place to D. Clifton standing directly before him in the midst of the quire, with a glorious golden Cope upon his back, having the Pixe in his hand, and said: Sir, M. Hake hath Saint Georges dagger. Now if he had his horse, and S. Martins cloke, and master John Shornes bootes, with king Henries spurs, and his hat, he might ride when he would, and so stepped into his place again. Whereat the other changed color, and wist not what to say.
Another cause of Testwoods trouble.
IN the days of M. Franklen, who succeeded D. Sampson in the Deanry of Windsore, there was on a time set up at the Choir door, a certain foolish printed paper in Meter, 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 M. 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 of, made haste to be in at the Choir door, while the Dean stayed to take holy water, and reaching up his hand as he went, plucked away y t 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 maistership would suffer such a blasphemous paper to be set up, beseeching him not to be offended with that he had done, for he would stand unto it. So M. Dean being a timorous man, made no more ado with him. After this were no mo papers set up, but poor Testwood was eaten and drunken among them at every meal, and an heretic he was, and would roast a fagot for this gear one day.
Now master Magnus being sore offended with Testwood for pluckyng down his papers, to be revenged on him, devised with the Dean and the rest of the Canons, to send their letters to D. Chamber, one of their brethren, and the Kings 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 suite came to none effect. Then wyst they not what to do, but determined to let the matter sleep, till S. Georges feast, which was not far of.
Now in the mean time there chanced a pretty story, between one Robert Phillips Gentleman of the Kings Chapel, and Testwood. Which story, though it was but a merry pranke of a singing man, yet it grieved his adversary wonderfully. The matter was this. Robert Phillips was so notable a singing man (wherein he gloried) that wheresoever he came, the best and longest song, with most counteruerses in it, should be set up at his coming. And so his chance being now to be at Windsore, against his coming to the Anthem, a long song was set up, called Lauda viui. In which song there was one counteruerse toward the end, that began on this wise, O redemptrix & saluatrix. Which verse of all other, Robert Phillips would sing, because he knew that Testwood could not abide that dittie. Now Testwood knowing his mind well enough, joined with him at the other part: and when he heard Robert Phillips begin to fetch his flourish with O redemptrix & saluatrix: repeating the same one in another's neck. Testwood was as quick on the other side to answer him again with Non redemptrix, nec saluatrix, and so striuyng there with O and Non, who should have the maistrie, they made an ende of the verse. Whereat was good laughyng in sleeves of some, but Robert Phillips with other of Testwoods enemies were sore offended.
Within 14. days after this, the Lord's of the Garter (as their custom is yearly to do) came to Wyndsore to keep S. Georges 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 & by. Yet nevertheless Testwood so behaved himself to the Duke, that in the ende he let him go without any further molestyng of him, to the great discomfort of the Dean and Canons.
Here have ye heard the causes which moved Testwoods enemies to seek his destruction, and could not attain their purpose, till that wicked Aman D. London came, as shall be shown in the process following.
The original of Henry Filmers trouble.
ABout the year of our Lord, 1541. after all the orders of superstitious and begging Friers were suppressed and put down, there chanced one Sir Thomas Melster, which had been a Frier before, and changed his Friers coat (but not his Friers heart) to be Vicar of Wyndsore. This priest on a time made a Sermon to his Parishioners, in the which he declared so many fond and Frierish tales, as that our Lady should hold out her breasts to S. Bernard, and spout her milk into his eyes, with such like festival tales, that many honest men were offended therewith, and specially this Henry Filmer then one of the Church wardens: who was so zealous to gods 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 ende the Priest gave him hearty thanks, and was content at his gentle admonition, to reform himself without anymore ado, and so departed friendly the one from the other.
Now was there one in the town, called W. Symons a Lawyer (as is aforesaid) who hearing that Filmer had been with the Priest, and reproved him for his Sermon, took pepper in the nose, and gat him to the Uicar, 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 Symons: who meeting with Filmer afterward 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 Symons, and said, that the Uicar had preached false and unsound doctrine, and so would he say to the Bishop whensoever he came before him. Then Symons 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 priests favor, as much as could be devised, and so prepared himself with other his friends to go to the bishop (whose name was D. Capon) and to take the priest with them: which was a painful journey for the seely poor man, by reason he had a sore leg.
Now Filmer hearing how Simon's 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 vicars Sermon, and to prepare themselves to be at Salisbury as soon as Symons or before him, if it might be possible. Thus both the parties being in a readiness, it chanced thē to set forth of Windsore all in one day. But by reason the Priest (being an impotent man) could not endure to ride very fast, Filmer and his company gate to the town an hour and more before Symons, and went to the Bishop and delivered up their Bill unto him. Which Byll when the bishop had seen and perused well, he gave them great thanks for their pains, saying it did behooue 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 ende thereof: and how the matter being renewed again by Symons, 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, Symons with his company came to the town, and (not knowing the other to be come) gate them up to the bishop in all post haste, taking the priest with them.
The bishop hearing of mo Windsore men, demanded what they were, & being informed how it was the vicar of the town with other moe, he caused y e vicar to be brought in. To whom he said: Are you the vicar of Windsore? Yea forsooth my Lord, quoth he. How chanceth it quoth y e B. that you are complained on? for here hath been with me certain honest men of your town, which have delivered up a bill of erroneous doctrine against you. If it be so, I must needs punish you, & opening the bill he red it unto him. How say you quoth the B. is this true or no? The vicar could not deny it, but humbly submitted himself to the bishops correction. Then was his company called in, and when the B. saw Symons, he knew him well, and said: Wherefore come you M. Symons? Pleaseth it your Lordship (quoth he) we are come to speak in our vicars cause, which is a man of good conversation & 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, which is so corrupt with heresy, that he is able to poison a whole country: and truly my Lord (quoth Symons) there is no man y t 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 other, 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 saiengs, I have brought with me these honest men of the town, and beside all that, a testimonial from the Mayor and his brethren to confirm the same, & so he held out the writing in his hand.
Then said the B. So God help me M. Symons 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, which hath preached heresy, & hath confessed it: wherefor I may not nor will not see it unpunished. And as for that honest mā Filmer on whō ye have complained, I tell you plainly he hath in this point shown himself a great deal more honester man thē 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 Windsore Church: & so the B. called in Filmer and his company which waited without, & delivered the priests recantation unto them, with a great charge to see it truly observed in all points. Then Symons took his leave of the B. and departed with a flea in his ear, disappointed of his purpose, & sore ashamed of the foil. For this cause Symons could never brook Filmer, but when he met him at any time after, would hold up his finger (as his manner was where he ought displeasure) and say: I will be even with you one day, trust me.
The original of Anthony Persons trouble.
THere was a certain priest named Anth. Person, which frequented much to Windsore, 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 (specially Symons) were sore offended: In so much that Symons at the last begā to gather of his sermons, & to mark his auditors: whereof ensued the death of diverse, and trouble of many honest men. For about a year & more after, a minister of Satan called D. London, Warden of the new College in Oxford, was admitted one of the Prebendaries of Windsore, who at his first coming to Windsore, began to utter his stomach, & to show his affection. For at his first Residēce diner which he made to the clerks (which company for the most parte at that time favored 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 S. Mary masters (quoth he to the clerks at the last) I cannot tell, but there goeth a shrewde report abroad of this house. Some made answer, it was undeserved. I pray God it be, quoth he. I am but a stranger & have small experience among 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 but of malice, for prayer (as your mastership knoweth better then I) is one of the first lessons that Christ taught us. Yea mary 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 & god, quoth D. London. Yes sir, quoth Testwood, our mean is Christ, as S. Paul saith: There is one Mediator between god and man, even Jesus Christ. Geue us water quoth D. Londō. Which being set on the boorde, he said grace and washed, & so falling into other communication with the strangers, the clerks took their leave and departed.
When D. London had ben in Windsore a while among his catholic brethren, & learned what Testwood was, & also of Symons, who shown him our Ladies nose (as he called it) what a sort of heretics were in the town and about the same, and how they increased daily by reason of a naughty priest, called Anth. Person, he was so maliciously bent against thē, that he gave himself wholly to the devil to do mischief. And to bring his wicked purpose about, he conspired w t the foresaid Symōs (a meet clerk to serve such a curate) and other of like sore, how they might cōpass the matter, first to have all the Archheretikes (as they termed thē) in Windsore & thereabout, 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 practice thus. First they drew out certain notes of Antho. Persons sermons, which he had preached against the sacrament of the altar, & their popish Mass. That done, they put in sir Phillip Hobby with the good Lady his wife, sir Thomas Cardine, M. Edmund Harman, M. Tho. Weldon, with Snowbal and his wife, as chief aiders, helpers, & mainteiners of Anth. Person. Also they noted D. Haines Dean of Exceter and a Prebendary of Windsore, to be a common receiver of all suspected persons. They wrote also the names of all such as commonly haunted Anthony Persons sermons, & of all such as had the Testament, and favored 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 leuation time, and to bring his name to D. London. And of these spies some were Chantrie priests: among the which there was one notable spy, whose name was called sir Will. Bows such a fleering priest as would be in every corner of the Church pattering to himself, with his Portuous in his hand, to hear and to note the gesture of men towards the sacrament. Thus whē they had gathered as much as they could, and made a perfect book thereof, D. London with two of his catholic brethren moe, gave them up to the B. of Winchester Stephen Gardener, 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 lordships help, in purging the town and castle of such wicked persons. The B. 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 nor pains taking: as Marbecke saith that he himself heard one of them say, who was a great doer therein, and afterward sory for that he had done, that the suit thereof cost him that year for his part only an hundred marks, beside the death of iii. good geldings.
Now B. Gardener, which had conceived a further fetch in his brain then D. London had, made Wrisley & other of the Counsaile on his side, and spieng a time convenient, went to the king, complainyng 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, beseching therefore his majesty, that his laws might be prosecuted: the king giving credit to the counsails words, was content his laws should be executed on such as were offenders. Then had the B. that he desired, & forthwith procured a commission for a privy search to be had in Windsore for books and letters that Anth. Person should send abroad, which commission the king granted to take place in the town of Windsore, but not in the castle.
At this time the canons of Excester (specially Sutharn, Treasurer of the church, and D. Brurewood the Chancellor) had accused D. Haynes their Dean, to the counsel, 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 the which they gathered treason against him, because of the kings marriage. The B. of Winchester (at the same time) had also informed the counsel of M. Hobby, how he was a bearer of Anthony Person, and a great mainteyner of heretics. Wherupon both he and D. Heynes were apprehended and sent to the fleet. But it was not very long after, ere that by mediation of friends, they were both delivered.
Now, as touching the Commission for searchyng of books, M. Warde and Fachel of Reading, were appointed commissioners, who came to Windsore the Thursday before Palme Sunday, in the year of our Lord, 1543. and began their search about xi. of the clock at night. In the which search were apprehended Robert Bennet, Henry Filmer, John Marbecke, and Robert Testwood, for certain books and writings found in their houses against the vi. articles, and kept in ward til monday after, and thē fet up to the Counsaile all save Testwood, with whom the Bailifs of the town were charged, because he lay sore diseased on the Goute. The other three being examined before the Counsaile, were committed to prison, Filmer and Bennet to the bishop of London's Jail, and Marbecke to the Marshalsey: whose examination is here set out, to declare the great goodness of the Counsaile, and the cruelty of the bishop.
The first examination of John Marbecke, before the Counsaile, on the Monday after Palme Sunday. 1544.
THis Marbecke had begun a great work in English, called The Concordaunce of the Bible. Which book being not half finished, was among his other books taken in the search, and had up to the Counsail. And when he came before them to be examined, the whole work lay before the bishop of Winchester Stephen Gardener, at the upper end of the board. Who beholding the poor man a while▪ said: Marbecke, doest thou know wherefore thou art sent for? No, my Lord quoth he. No, quoth the Bishop, That is a marvelous thing. Forsooth my Lord quoth he, unless it be for a certain search made of late in Windsore. I cannot tell wherefor it should be. Then thou knowest the matter well enough quoth the Bishop, and taking up a quire of the Concordance in his hand, said: Understandest thou the Latin tongue? No, my Lord, quoth he, but simply. No, quoth the Bishop? And with that spake M. Wrisley (then secretary to the king) he saith but simply, I cannot tell quoth the B. but the book is translated word for word out of the Latin Concordaunce, and so began to declare to the rest of the Counsaile, 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 chap. gave the book to Marbecke, and asked him who had written the note in the margent. The other looking upon it, said: forsooth my Lord, I wrote it. Read it quoth the B. Then he read it thus, Heaven is my seat, and the earth is my footstool. Nay, quoth the B. read it as thou hadst written it. Then shall I read it wrong quoth he, for I had written it false. How hadst thou written it, quoth y e bishop? I had written it quoth he, thus: Heaven is my seat and the earth is not my footstool. Yea mary 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 Counsaile, so that Marbecke was had out to the next chamber. And when he had stood there a while, one of the Counsaile (named sir Anthony Wingfield Captain of the Garde) came forth, and calling for Marbecke, committed him to one Belson of the gard, saying unto him on this wise: Take this man and have him to the Marshalsey, and tell the keeper that it is the Counsels pleasure that he shall entreat him gently. And if he have any money in his purse (as I think he hath not much) take you it from him, left the prisoners do take it, and minister it unto him as he shall have need. And so the messenger departed with Marbecke to the Marshalsey, and did his commission most faithfully and truly, both to the keeper and to the prisoner, as he was commanded.
The second examination of Marbecke, before the Bishops Gentleman in the Marshalsey.
ON the next day (which was Tuesday) by 8. of the clock in the morning, there came one of the B. of Winchesters Gentlemen into the Marshalsey, whose mā brought after him two great books under his arm, & finding Marbecke 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 Counsaile, said: It was their pleasure he should he gently used. My Lord quoth the gentleman will not be content with you, and so taking the books of his man, called for a chamber, up to the which he carried the prisoner, and casting the books from him upon a bed, sat him down and said: Marbecke, my Lord doth favor thee well for certain good qualities thou hast, and hath sent me hither to admonish thee to beware and take heed least thou cast away thyself willfully. 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, for as much as he hath always heard good report of thee: wherefor now see to thyself, and play the wise man. Thou art acquainted with a great sort of heretics (as Hobby and Heynes, with other mo) & 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 secretes do I know? I am but a poor man, and was never worthy to be so conversant either with M. Hobby, or M. Heynes, 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 Anth. Person, for your religion. Of Anth. Person, 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 shown me much kindness: but as for their secrets, they were to wise to commit them to any such as I am.
Peradventure quoth the Gentleman, thou fearest to utter anything of them, because they were thy friends, lest they hearing thereof, might hereafter withdraw their friendship from thee, which thou nedest not to fear, I warrant thee, for they are sure enough, and never like to pleasure thee more, ner no man else.
With that the water stood in Marbeckes eyes. Why weepest thou quoth the Gentleman? Oh sir, quoth he, I pray you pardon me, these men have done me good, wherefor 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, & 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 & English Bible which he had brought: and when he had so done, & was satisfied, he called up his man to fet away the books, & so departed, leaving Marbecke 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, & sat him down upon the beds side (as before) & said: by my troth Marbecke, my lord seeth so much willfulness in thee, that he saith it is pity to do thee good. When wast thou last w t Haynes? Forsooth, quoth he, about a three weeks ago, I was at dinner with him. And what talk, quoth the Gentleman, had he at his board? I cā not tell now, quoth he. No, quoth y e gentleman, thou art not so dull witted, to forget a thing in so short space. Yes sir, quoth he, such familiar talk as mē do use at their boordes, is most commonly by the next day forgotten, and so it was with me. Didst thou never, quoth the Gentleman talk with him, nor with none 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 other of thy fellows, an hour together in the church, whē honest men have walked up and down beside you, & as ever 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 other 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 common & talk of many matters, that they would not y t 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 then this, or else it will be wrong with thee, and that sooner then 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 Lordships pleasure. What tellest thou me quoth the gentleman of thy conscience? Thou mayest with a sat 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 an heretic in deed, it were a thing: but if I should accuse him to be an heretic that is none, what a worm would that be in my conscience so long as I lived: yea it were a great deal better for me to be out of this life, then 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 thē do it in the name of God, for I will say no more of thē, nor of no man else, then I know. Mary quoth the Gentleman if thou wilt do so, my L. requireth no more. And for as much as now peradventure, thy wits are troubled, so that thou canst not call things even by & by to remembrance, I have brought thee ink & paper, that thou mayest excogitate with thyself, & write such things as shall come to thy mind. O lord, quoth Marbecke, what will my L. do? Will his lordship compel me to accuse men, and wot not whereof? No, quoth the Gentleman, my L. compelleth thee not, but gently entreated thee to say the truth. Therefore make no more ado, but write, for my Lord will have it so, and so laid down the ynke and paper and went his way.
Now was Marbecke so full of heaviness and woe, that he wyst not what to do, nor how to set the pen to the book to satisfy the Bishops mind, unless he did accuse men to the woundyng 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 which 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 his time, I have no power to say or to write anything, that may be to the casting away of my christen 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 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 offense: more thē this I know not.
Now the Gentleman about his hour appointed, came again, and found Marbecke 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 lords body, that he would not for xx. pound, carry it to his L. 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 Marbecke, if his Lordshyppe shall keep me here these seven years, I can say no more then I have said. Then wilt thou repent it, quoth the Gentleman, and so putting up his penner and inkehorne, departed with the paper in his hand.
The third examination of Marbecke, before the Bishop of Winchester himself in his own house.
THe next day, which was Wednesday, by viii. of the clock in the morning, the bishop sent for Marbecke to his house at S. Mary Oueries, and as he was entering into the bishops hall, he saw the bishop himself coming out at a door in y e upper end thereof, with a rolle in his hand, and going toward the great wyndow, he called the poor man unto him and said: Marbecke, wilt thou cast away thyself? No my Lord quoth he, I trust. Yes, quoth the B. 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, dydst thou not hold thee there? and with that he flang away from the wyndow out of the Hall, the poor man following him from place to place, til he had brought him into a long gallery, and being there, y e bishop began on this wise: A sirha, quoth he, the nest of you is brokē I trow. And unfolding his roll (which was about an elne long) he said: Behold, here be your captains both Hobby and Haynes, with all the whole pacte of thy sect about Windsore, & yet wilt thou utter none of them. Alas my lord quoth he, how should I accuse them, by whō I know nothing? Well, quoth the bish. if thou wilt needs cast away thyself, who can let thee? What helpers haddest thou in setting forth thy book: Forsooth my lord, quoth he none. Now quoth the bishop? how can that be? It is not possible that thou shouldest do it without help. Truly my L. quoth he, I cannot tell in what part your lordship doth take it, but how soever it be, I will not deny but I did it without the help of any man save God alone. Nay quoth the B. I do not discōmend thy dilligēce, but what shuldest thou meddle with that thing which pertained not to thee?
And in speaking these words, one of his Chaplaynes, (called M. Medow) came up and stayed himself at a window, to whō the bishop said, here is a marvelous thing. This fellow hath taken upon him to set out the Concordance in english, which book whē it was set out in latyn was not done without the help and diligence of a dosen learned men at the least, and yet will he bear me in hand that he hath done it alone. But say what thou wilt, quoth the B. 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 cusshion, the one in Latin, and the other in English, he called Marbecke unto him, and pointing his finger to a place in the Latin Bible, said: Canst thou English this sentence? Nay my L. quoth he, I trow I be not so cunning to give it a perfect English, but I can set out the English thereof in the English Bible. Let see, quoth the B. Then Marbecke turning the English Bible, found out the place by and by, and read it to the Bishop. So he tried him a 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 B. was going, said the Gentleman which had examined Marbecke in the Marshalsey the day before: Shall this fellow write nothing while your Lordship is at mass, for he passeth not on it. It maketh no matter quoth the Bishop, for he will tell nothing, and so went down to hear Mass, leaving Marbecke alone in y e gallery. The B. was no sooner down, but the Gentleman came up again with ink and paper. Come sirha quoth he, my Lord will have you occupied till Mass be done, perswadyng him with fair words, that he should be soon dispatched out of trouble, if he would use truth and plainness. Alas sir, quoth he, what will my Lord have me to do? for more then I wrote to his Lordship yesterday, I cannot? Well, well, go to quoth the Gentleman, & make speed, and so went his way. There was no remedy but Marbecke must now write some thing: wherefore he calling to God again in his mind, wrote a few words as nye as he could frame them, to those he had written the day before. When the B. 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 marvelous sect of them (quoth the B. to his men) for the devil cannot make one of them to bewray another. Then was there nothing among the Bishops Gentlemen, as they were making him ready to go to the court, but Crucisige upon the poor man. And when the bishops white ratchet was on him and all: well Marbecke, quoth he, I am now going to the Court, and was purposed, if I had found thee tractable, to have spoken to the kings majesty for thee and to have given thee thy meat, drink, & lodging here in mine house: but seeing thou art so willful and so stubborn, thou shalt go to the devil for me.
Then was he carried down by the B. men, with many railing words. And coming through the great chamber, there stood D. London, with two mo of his fellows, waiting the bishops coming: and passing by them into the Hall, he was there received of his keeper, and carried to prison again. It was not half an hour after, ere that the B. sent one of his Gentlemen to the under keeper called Stokes, commanding him to put irons upon Marbecke, 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, nor no man to him: & furthermore, y t he should suffer no manner of person (not his own wife) to come & see him or minister anything 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, favorable to this poor man) had received this commandment from the B. he clapt irons upon him & shut him up, giving warning to all the house, y t no man should speak or talk to Marbecke, whensoever he was brought down, and so he continued the space of iii. wekes & more, till his wife was suffered to come unto him.
The suit of Marbeckes wife to the Bishop of Winchester.
MArbeckes wife, at the time of her husbands apprehension, had a young child of a quarter old, sucking upon her breast: & when her husband was taken from her, & had away to the Counsail, not knowing what should be come of him, she left the child and all, and gate her up to Londō, and hearing her husband to be in the Marshalsey, 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 gate her to the B. of Winchester (for other help was there none to be had at y t time) making great suit to have his license to go & see her husband, and to help him with such things as he lacked. Nay quoth the B. 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 no great traveler in the Realm to be so acquainted, therefore good my Lord let me go see him. But all her earnest suit from day today would not help, but still he put her of, harping always upon this string: thy husband will utter nothing. At the last, she finding him in the court at s. James going toward his chamber, was so bold to take him by y e ratchet and say: O my Lord, these 18. days I have troubled your Lordship: now for the love of God, and as ever ye came of a woman, put me of no longer, but let me go to my husband. And as she was standing with the Bishop & his men, in a blind corner going to his chamber, one of the kings servants called Henry Carrike, and her next neighbor, chanced to be by: & hearing the talk between the B. and her, desired his Lordship to be good Lord unto the poor woman, which had her own mother lying bedred upon her hands, beside 5. or 6. children. I promise you quoth the B. her husband is a great heretic, & hath read more scripture then 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 neighbor as ever I dwelt by. He will tell nothing quoth the B. He knoweth a great sort of false harlots, and will not utter thē. Yes my Lord quoth Carrike, he will tell, I dare say, for he is an honest man. Well, quoth the B. (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 had 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 Bishops message. And so his man went with the woman to the water side, & took boat, who never rested railing on her husband all the way, till they came to y e prison: which was no small cross unto the poor woman.
And when they were come to the Marshalsey: the messenger shown the B. 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 & going least she bring or carry any letters to or fro, & that she bring nobody unto him, nor no word from no mā. 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 which brought the ring from my Lord, & I think doth his message a great deal more straiter then my Lord commanded the Gentleman, or that the Gentleman his master commanded him. But nevertheless good M. quoth she, I shall be content 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 womā there, who from that time forth, was suffered to come and go at her pleasure.
The fourth examination of Marbecke, before the Commissioners in the Bishop of London's house.
ABout a three weeks before Whitsonday, was Marbecke sent for to the B. of London's house, where sat in Commission Doctor Capon, Bishop of Salisbury, Doctor Skyp Bishop of Harford, Doct. Goodricke Bishop of Eli, Doct. Okyng, Doct. May, and the Bishop of London's Scribe, having before them all Marbeckes books. Then said the Bishop of Salisbury: Marbecke, we are here in commission sent frō the kings majesty, to examine thee of certain things whereof thou must be sworn to answer us faithfully & 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 3. books of notes, demanding whose hand they were. He answered they were his own hand, & notes which he had gathered out of other men's works, 6. years ago. For what cause quoth the Bishop of Salisbury diddest thou gather them? For none other cause my Lord, quoth he, but to come by knowledge. For I being unlearned & desirous to understand some part of scripture, thought by reading of learned men's works to come the sooner thereby, & where as I found any place of Scripture opened and expounded by thē, that I noted as ye see, with a letter of his name in the margent, that had set out the work. So me think quoth the Bishop of Eli (who had one of the books of notes in his hand all y e time of their sitting) thou hast read of all sorts of books both good and bad, as seemeth by the notes. So I have my Lord, quoth he. And to what purpose, quoth the Bishop of Salis. by my truth, quoth he, for no other purpose but to see every man's mind. Then the B. of Salis. drew out a quire of the Concordance, and laid it before the B. of Harford, who looking upon it a while, lifted up his eyes to D. Oking (standing next him) and said: Thys man hath ben better occupied, then a great sort of our priests. To the which he 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 couldest thou, quoth the bishop, invent such a book, or know what a Concordance meant, w t out an instructer. I will tell your Lordship, quoth he, what instructer I had to begin it. When Thomas Matthews 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, determined with myself to borrow one among my friends, & to write it forth. And when I had written out the 5. books of Moses in fair great paper, & was entered into the book of Joshua, my friend M. Turner chanced to steal upon me unawares, & 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 labor. 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, & 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 mater, for it requireth not so much learning, as diligence. And seeing thou art so painful a man, and one that cannot be unoccupied, it wer 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 B. of Salis.? Mary, quoth D, May, an honest learned man, and a Bachelor of Divinity, and sometime a fellow in Magdalene college in Oxford. Howe couldest thou, quoth the B. of Salisb. with this instruction, bring it to this order and form, as it is? I borrowed a Latin Concordance, quoth he, and began to practice my wit, and at last with great labor and diligence, brought it into this order, as your lordship doth see. A good wit with diligence, quoth the bysh. of Harford, may bring hard things to pass. It is great pity quoth the Bish. of Eli, he had not the Latin tongue. So it is, quoth D. May. Yet cannot I believe, quoth the Bishop of Salisb. that he hath done anymore in this work, then written it out after some other that is learned.
My Lord's, quoth Marbecke, I shall beseech you all to pardon me what I shall say, and grant to my request if it shall seem good unto you. Say what thou wilt, quoth the Bishops. I do marvel greatly wherefor I should be so much examined for this book, & whether I have committed any offense in doing of it or no? If I have, then were I loathe 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 boke y t is undone. Ye see that I am yet but in the letter L. Beginning now at M. & take out what word ye will of that letter, & so in every letter following, and give me the words in 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 & form that the rest before is, then was it not I that did it, but some other.
By my truth Marbecke, quoth the Bishop of Eli, that is honestly spokē, and then shalt thou bring many out of suspicion. That he shall, quoth they all. Then they bad Doct. 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 Marbecke (for the Bishop of Eli and Harford both, were acquainted w t him afore, and his friends, so far as they durst) who perceiving the Bishops so pleasauntly disposed, besought them to tell him in what danger he stood. Shall I tell thee Marbecke, quoth the Bishop of Sarum? Thou art in better case then any of thy fellows, of whom there be some would give 40.li. to be in no worse case then thou art, whose sayings the other affirmed. Then came D. Oking with the words he had written, & while the Bishops were perusing them over, Doctor Oking said to Marbecke (very friendly) on this wise: Good M. Marbecke make hast, for the sooner ye have done, the sooner ye shall be delivered. And as the Bishops were going away, the bishop of Harforde took Marbecke a little aside, and informed him of a word which D. Oking had written false, and also to comfort him, said: Fear not, there can no law condemn you, for anything that ye have done, for if ye had written a 1000. heresies, so longe 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, who taking the pore man with them, who dined in the hall at the Stewardes borde: and beside that, had wine and meat sent down from the bishops table.
When dinner was done, the Bishoppe of Sarum came down into the Hall, commanding ink and paper to be given to Marbecke, and the 2. 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 tomorrow this time, quoth the Bishop, which was about 2. of the clock, and so departed.
Marbecke now being in his prison chamber, fell to his business, & 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 & form he had done the rest before, as contained iii. sheets of paper and more. The which, when he had delivered to the Bishop of Sarum (Doc. Oking standing by) he marveled and said: Well Marbecke, 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 or I be 24. hours elder: but he dissembled every word, and thought nothing less then so. For afterward, the matter being come to light, and known to his grace what a boke the poor man had begun, which the Bishops would not suffer him to finish: the king said he was better occupied then they that took it from him. So Marbecke departed from the bishop of Sarum to prison again, and heard no more of his book.
The 5. examination of Marbecke, before D. Oking and M. Knight Secretary to the Bishop of Winchester, in S. Mary Ouers Church.
VPon Whitsonday following, at after noon, was Marbecke sent for once again to S. Mary Ouers, where he found D. Oking with another gentleman in a gown of Damaske, with a cheyne of gold about his neck (no mo in all the church but they two) sitting together in one of the stalls, their backs toward the church door, looking upon an Epistle of M. John Calvin's, which Marbecke had written out. And when they saw the prisoner come, they rose and had him up to a side alter, leaving his keeper in the body of the church alone. Now as soon as Marbecke saw the face of a gentleman (which before he knew not by reason of his apparel) he saw it was the same person that first examined him in the Marshalsey, and did also cause him to write in the Bishops gallery, but never knew his name, till now he heard Doct. Oking call him M. Knight. This M. Knight held forth the paper to Marbecke and said, look upon this, and tell me whose hand it is. When Marbecke had taken the paper, & seen what it was, he confessed it to be all his hand saving y e first leaf, and the notes in the margent Thē 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 doest well in that, quoth Knight, for if thou shouldest, we have testimonies enough besides, to try out thy hand by: but I pray thee tell me, whose hand is the last leaf? That I cannot tell you, quoth Marbecke. Thē how camest thou by it, quoth Knight? Forsooth I will tell you quoth he. There was a priest dwelling with us upon a v. or .vi. years ago, called Marshall: 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 howe came this hand in the margent, quoth he, which is a contrary hand to both the other? That I will tell you, quoth Marbecke▪ When I wrote it out at the first, I made so much hast 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 coted in the margent 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 y e notes in the margent were▪ his hand, or whose hand else, that I cannot tell. Tush, quoth D. Oking to M. Knight, he knoweth well enough, that the notes be Heynes own hand, If you know so much, quoth Marb. ye know more then I do, for I tell you truly I know it not. By my faith Marbecke, quoth Knyghte, if thou wilt not tell by fair means: those fingers of thine shall be made to tell. By my truth Syr, quoth Marbecke, if ye do tear the whole body in pieces (I trust in God) ye shall never make me accuse man wrongfully. If thou be so stubborn, quoth D. O king, thou wilt die for it. Dye M. Okyng, quoth he? Wherefore should I die. You told me the last day before the Bishops, that as soon as I had made an ende of the piece of Concordance they took 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 red 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 kings. How so, quoth Knight? howe canst thou die a true man unto the king, when thou hast offended his laws? Is not this Epistle, and moste of thy notes thou hast written, directly against the 6. articles? No syr quoth Marbecke: I have not offended the kings laws therein: for since the first time I began with the Concordance (which is almost 6. years 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 6. Articles came forth, and are clearly remitted by the kings general pardon. Trust not to that, quoth Knight, for it will not help thee. No I warrant him, quoth Doct. Okyng, 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 Filmers wife, to the Bishops which sat in commission, for her husband.
IN like manner, y e wife of Filmer knowing her husbands trouble to be only procured of malice by Simon's his old enemy, made great suit and labor unto the Bishops which 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. Thys was her only request to every of the Bishops from day today, wheresoever she could find them. In so much that two of the Bishops (Eli and Harforde) were very sorry (considering the importune and reasonable suit of the woman) that it lay not in them to help her. Thus travailing long up and down from one to another, to have her husband examined, it was her chance at the last to find the Bishops all three together in the Byshoppe of Eli his place, unto whom she said: O good my Lord's for the love of God, let now my poor husband be brought forth before you, while ye be here all togethers. For truly my Lord's, there can nothing be justly laid against him, but that of malicious envy and spite, Simon's hath wrought him this trouble. And you my Lord of Salisburye, quoth the poor woman, can testify (if it would please your lordship to say the truth) what malice Simons bare to my husband when they were both before you at Salisbury (little more then a year ago) for the Uicar of Wyndsors matter. For as your Lordship knoweth, when my husband had certified you of the Priests sermon, which you said was plain heresy: then came Symons (after the Prieste himself had confessed it) and would have defended the priests 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 Symons for maintaining the Priest in his error, & thereupon commanded the priest to rekant his heresy at his coming home to Windsore. This (my Lord) you know to be true. And now my Lord's, quoth the woman, it is most certain, that for this cause only did Symons evermore afterward threaten my husband to be even with him. Therefore good my Lord's, call my husband before you, and hear him speak: and if ye find any other matter against him then this that I have told you, let me suffer death. Is this so my Lord, quoth the B. of Eli and Harforde? and the other could not deny it. Then they spake Latin to the B. of Salisbury, and he to them, & so departed. For the matter was so wrought between Doctor London and Symons, that Filmer could never be suffered to come before the Commissioners to be examined.
The manner of their condemnations, and howe they died.
WHen the time drew nigh that the kings majesty (who was newly married to that good and virtuous Lady Katherine Parre) should make his progress abroad, the foresaid Stephen Gardener B. 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 clapt in the neck. For the saying went abroad, that the B. had bent his bow to shoot at some of the head Deare: but in the mean time 3. or 4. of the poor rascals were caught, that is to say, Anthony Person, Henry Filmer, and John Marbecke, and sent to Wyndsore by the sheriffes men, the Saturday before S. James day, and laid fast in the towns Gaile: and Testwood (who had kept his bed) brought out of his house vpō crouches, 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, was left behind in the bish. of London's gaile, whereby he escaped the fire.
Now these men being brought to Wyndsore, there was a sessions special procured to be hold̄ the Thursday after, which was S. Annes day. Against the which Sessions (by the counsel of D. London and Symons) were all the farmers belonging to the College of Wyndesore, warned to appear: because they could not pike out Papists enough in the town, to go upon the jury. The judges that day were these.
- Doctor Capon Bishop of Salisbury.
- Syr William Essex Knight,
- Syr Thomas Bridges Knight.
- Syr Humfrey Foster Knight.
- Master Franklen Dean of Wyndsore.
- And Fachel of Reading.
When these had taken their places, and the prisoners brought forth before them, then Robert Ockam occupying for that day the Clarke of peace his • oume, called Anthony Person, according to the manner of the Courte, and red his Inditement, which was this.
First, that he should preach two years before, in a place called Wyngfield, and there should say: that like as Christ was hanged between two thieves, even so whē the priest is at mass, and hath consecrated and lifted him up over his head, then he hangeth between 2. 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 Pulpet: 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 lips, but you shall eat him this day, as ye eat him tomorrow, 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 it. 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 & 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 Indited 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 never did, but have allured them to all Idolatry, superstition and hypocrisy, for your own lucre & glory sake, through the which ye are become rather bitesheepes then 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, dout it not. Then spake Symons his accuser, standing within the bar, saying: It is pity this fellow had not been burnt 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 then I: but I trust in the last day when we shall both appear before the tribunal seat of Christ, that then it will be known which of us 2. hath best deserved this place. Shall I have so long a day, quoth Symons, holding up his finger? Nay, then I care not: and so the matter was jested out.
Robert Testwoode.
THen was Testwoode called, and his Inditement read, which was that he should say in the time that the priest was lifting up the Sacrament: what wilt thou lift him so hie? What yet hier? Take heed, let him not fall.
To this Testwoode answered, saying it was but a thing maliciously forged of his enemies to bring him to his death. Yes (quoth the B.) thou hast been seen, that whē the Priest should lift up the Sacrament over his head, then wouldest thou look down upon thy book, or some other way, because thou wouldest not abide to look upon y e blessed Sacrament. I beseech you my Lord▪ quoth Testwood, whereon did he look that marked me so well? Mary quoth Bucklayer the Kynges Attorney, he could not be better occupied, thē to mark such heretics that so despised the blessed Sacrament.
Henry Filmer.
THen was Filmer called and his Inditement read: that he should say that the Sacrament of the saultare is nothing else but a • imilitude and a ceremony: and also if God be in the Sacrament of the altar, I have eaten twenty God's in my days.
Here ye 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 neighbors, chanced in the way to meet his brother (which was a very poor laboring man) and asked him whether 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 20. God's in my days. Tourne again fool and go home with me, and I will read thee a Chapter out of the Bible, that shall be better then all that thou shalt hear or see there.
This tale was no sooner brought to Doct. London by William Symons (Filmers utter enemy) but he sent for the poor man home to his house, where he chearished him with meat and money, telling him he should never lack, so long as he lived: that y e seely poor man (thinking to have had a daily friend of D. London) was content to do and say whatsoever he and Symons would have him say or do against his own brother. And when D. London had thus won the pore man, he retained him as one of his household men, until the court day was come, and then sent him up to witness this foresaid tale against his brother. Which • ale Filmer denied utterly, saying that D. London (for a little meat and drink sake) had set him on, and made him to say what his pleasure was: wherefor my Lord (quoth Filmer to the bishop) I beseech your Lordship weigh the matter indifferently, for as much as there is no man in all this town, y t 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 brothers accusemēt should take place, he said: Ah brother, what cause hast thou to show me this unkindness? I have always ben 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, & give thee grace to repent. Then Filmer looking over his shoulder, desired some good body to let him see the book of statutes. Hys 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, & gat it conveyed to her husband.
The Bishop seeing the book in his hand, starte him up from the bench in a great sum, demanding who had givē the prisoner that book, commanding 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 Symons, for he is one of the same sort, & as worthy to be here as the best, 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, & why should not I see the law that I am judged by? The law is, I should have two lawful witnesses and here is but one, which would not do as he doeth, but that he is forced thereunto by the suggestion of mine enemies. Nay, quoth Bucklayer the kings atturney, thine heresy is so heinous, and abhorteth thine own brother so much, that it forceth him to witness against thee, which is more then two other witnesses.
Thus (as ye see) was Filmer brought unjustly to his death, by the malice of Symons and D. London, who had enticed that wretched caitiff his brother, to be their minister to work his confusion. But God which is a just reuēger of all falsehode & wrongs, would not suffer that wretch long to live upon earth, but the next year following, he being taken up for a laborer to go to Bullaine, had not been there three days, ere that (in exonerating of nature) a Gunne took him and tore him all to pieces: And so was these words of Solomon fulfilled: A false witness shall not remain unpunished.
John Marbecke.
THen was Marbecke called, and his Inditement read, which was that he should say: That the holy Mass, when the Priest doeth consecrate the body of our Lord, is polluted, deformed, sinful, and open robbery of the glory of God, from the which a Christian heart ought both to abhor and flee. And the elevation of the Sacrament is the similitude of the setting up of Images of the calves in the Temple built by Jeroboam: and that it is more abomination then the sacrifices done by the Jews in Jereboam'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, and 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 6. Articles came forth: so that now he was discharged of that offense by the kings general pardon, desiring that he might enjoy the benefit thereof.
Then was the Iurye called, which were all Farmers belonging to the College of Wyndsore, 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 Towns men, or such as did know them, and had seen their daily conversations, in the place of the Farmers, or else to be equally joined w t them: but that would not be, for the matter was otherwise foreseen and determined.
Now when the Jury had taken their oth and all, Bucklayer the kings atturney began to speak: and first he alleged many reasons against Anth. Person, to prove him an heretic. Whych when Anth. would have disproved, the Bishop said: let him alone, Syr, he speaketh for the K. & 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 the favor of Marbecke 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 Marbecke, saving he hath written certain things of other men's sayings with his own hand, whereof he is discharged by the kings general pardon: therefore ye ought to have a conscience therein. Then start up Fachel at the lower ende of the benche, 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 anything that we know. These words of Fachel (as every man said) were the cause of Marbeckes 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 Syr William Essex, and Fachell, which three sat still upon the Benche till all was done. And when the Jury had been togethers above in the chamber, about the space of a quarter of an hour, up goeth Symons (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 Marbecke. But whether it were so or no, it was not long after his going up again, ere that they came down to give their verdit. And being required according to the form of the law to say their minds: one called Hyde dwelling beside Abyngton, in a lordshyp belonging to the College of Wyndsore, speaking in the mouthe 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 other 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 Fachell being lowest of all the bench, gave judgment. Then Marbeck being y e last upon whom sentence was given, cried to the bish. 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 then any of my fellows, and is your saying come to this? Ah my L. you have deceived me. Then the B. 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 which had made them worthy to suffer so far for his sake, would not now withdraw his strength from them, but give them steadfast faith & 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 (til very dead sleep took them) calling to God for his aide and strength, and praying for their persecutors, which 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 among them that night, that the hearers watching the prison without, whereof the Sheriff himself was one, with diverse gentlemen moe, were constrained to shed out plenty of tears, as they themselves confessed.
On the next morrow, which was Friday, as the prysoners 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 Sheriffs Gentlemen, called M. Frost, to the bishop of Winchester (the Court being then at Oking) in the favor of Marbecke. At the sight of which letter, the bishop straight way went to the king, and obtained his pardon.
Which being granted, he caused a warrant to be made out of hand for the sheriffes 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 Marbeckes pardon: whereat many rejoiced. Of this pardon were diverse conjectures made. Some said it was by the suit of the good Shriffe syr William Barington, and syr Humffray Foster (with other Gentlemen moe that favored Marbeck) to the B. of Sarum and the other Commissioners, that the letter was sent.
Some said again, that it came of the Bishop of Sarum and Fachels first motion, being pricked in conscience, for that they had so slēderly cast him away. Other thought again, that it was a policy purposed afore, by the Bishop of Winchester, of Sarum, and of D. London, because they would seem to be merciful. Which conjecture rose upon this occasion. There was one Sadocke dwelling in the town which was great with D. London and Symons: and he should say 4. days before the sessions began, that the prisoners should be all cast and condemned, but Marbecke should have his pardon.
Other there were that thought the foresaid Bishops with D. London, had done it for this purpose: that he now having his life, would rather utter such mē as they would have him to do, then to come in like danger again. Which conjecture rose upon this: Symons meeting with Marbeckes wife, said thus unto her: your husband may thank God & good friends: my Lord of Winchester is good Lord unto him, which 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 & other of the counsel, when he shall be demanded, for unto that purpose only is he reserved. Alas sir, quoth she, what can he tell? Well womā quoth Symons, I tell thee plain, if he do not so, never look to have thy husband out of prison, and so departed from her.
The like meaning did M. Arche make to Marbecke him self, on the saterday in y e morning, that the men should be brent, when he came to confess them. I have nothing, quoth he, to say unto you Marbecke 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 moste likely to have been attempted, if they had proceeded in their purpose: whose intent was to have gone thorough the whole realm, in the like sort as they had begun at Wyndsore, 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 moste commonly, God sendeth a shrewed Cow short horns, or else many a thousand in England had smarted.
On saterday in the morning, that the prisoners should go to execution, came into the prison two of the Canons of the College, the one called Doctor Blithe, and the other master Arche, which two were sent to be their confessors, master Arche 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 Arche, to hear you say so, but the law is (quoth he) that it may not be ministered to none that are condemned of heresy. But it is enough for you that ye do desire it. And so had them up to the Hall to hear their confessions, because the prison was full of people. Doctor Blyth took Anthony Person to him to confess, and master Arche the other two. But how soever the matter went between the Doctor & Anthony, he tarried not long w t him but came down again, saying he would no more of his doctrine. Do you call him Doct. Blith, quoth Anthony? He may be called Doct. Blind for his learning, as far as I see. And soon after, the other two came down also. Thē Anthony seeing much people in the prison, began to say y e Lord's prayer, whereof he made a marvelous godly declaration, wherein he continued til the Officers came to set them away, and so made an end. And taking their leave of Marbecke (their prison fellow) they praised God for his deliverance, wishing to him the increase of godliness & virtue, and last of all besought him heartily to help them with his prayer unto God, to make them strong in their afflictions, and so kissing him one after another, departed.
Now as the prisoners passed thorough the people in y e streets, they desired all the faithful people to pray for them, & to stand fast in the truth of the gospel, & not to be moved at their afflictions, for it was the happiest thing that ever came to them. And ever as Doctor Blithe and Arche (who rod 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 trompery, for we will no more of it. When Filmer was come to his brothers door, he stayed and called for his brother, but he could not be seen, for Doctor London had kept him out of sight that 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 Person with a cheerful countenance, embraced y e post in his arms, and kissing it, said: Now welcome mine own sweet wife: for this day shalt thou and I be married together in the love and peace of God.
And being all three bound to the post, a certain young man of Filmers 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 y e truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which you have received, and so taking the pot at his hand, 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 Anthonye & Anthony likewise gave it to Testwoode. Of which drinking their adversaries made a jesting stock, reportyng abroad that they were all drunk & wist not what they said, when as they were none otherwise drunk then as the Apostles were, when the people said they were full of new wyne, as their deeds declared. For when Anthonye and Testwoode had both drunken, & given the pot from them, Filmer rejoicing in the Lord, said: Be merry my brethren, & 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 Persone, pulling the straw unto him, laid a good deal thereof upon the top of his head, saying: Thys is God's hatte: 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, w t such humility and steadfastness, that many which 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, howe he was at the first apprehended with the other four persons aforesaid, and committed to the B. of London's prison, and about the time he should have gone to Wyndsore, fell sick of the pestilence, by mean whereof he remained still in prison.
This Bennet, & Symons (ye shall understand) were the greatest familiars and company kepers y t were in all Windsore, & never (lightly) swerved the one frō the other, saving in matters of religiō, wherein they could never agree. For Bennet the one Lawyer, was an earnest Gospeller, & Simon's the other Lawyer, a cankered papist: but in all other worldly matters, they cleaved together like burrs.
Thys Bennet had spoken certain words against their little round God, for the which he was as far in as the best, and had suffered death with the other, if he had gone to Windsore when they went. And now that the mater was all done and finished, it was determined by the bishop of Salisburye, that Robert Ockam on the Mondaye after the men were burnt should go to the Bishop of Winchester with the whole process done at the Sessions the Thursday before.
Then Symons, at Bennets wives request, procured of the bishop of Salisbury his favorable letter to the bishop of Winchester for Bennets deliverance. Which letter Bennets wife (for as much as her own man was not at home, which should have gone with the letter) desired Robert Ockam to deliver it to y e Bishop, & 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 Wyndsore Sessions: but all their wicked intents (as God would have it) were soon cut off, and their doings disclosed. For one of the Queens men (named Fulke) which had lien at Windsore all the time of the business, and had got knowledge what a number were privily indicted, and of Ockams going to the bishop of Winchester, gate to the Court before Ockam, and told sir Thomas Cardine & other of the privy chamber, how all the matter stood. Wherupon Ockam was laid for and had by the back, as soon as he came to Oking, and kept from the bishop.
On the next morrow very early, Bennets wife sent her man to the Courte after Ockam, to see howe he spedde with her husbands letter. And when he came there, he found sir Thomas Cardine walking with Ockam up and down the green before the Courte gate: whereat he marueled, 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 M. Cardine gone (leaving Ockam behind) he went to Ockam and asked him, if he had delivered his masters letter to the Bishop. No, said Ockam, the king remooueth this day to Gilforde, and I must go thither, and will deliver it there. Mary, 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 Gilford together. Where Bennets man (being better acquainted in the town then Ockam was) gat a lodging for them both, in a kinsmans house of his.
That done, he asked Ockam, if he would go and deliver his mistress 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 streate togethers, and coming by the Earl of Bedfordes lodging (then Lord privy seal) Ockam was pulled in by the sleeve, & no more seen of Bennets man, till he saw him in the Marshalsey. Then went Bennets man to the bishops lodging and delivered his letter. And when the Bishop had red the contents thereof, he called for the man that brought it. Come Syrha, quoth he, you can tell me more by mouth, then the letter specifieth, & had him into a little garden. Now, quoth the Bishop, what say you to me? Forsoth 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? Forsoth 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 lordships commandment, and so he departed home to his lodging. And when his kinsfolks saw him come in, alas cosin, quoth they, we are all undone. Why so, quoth he, what is the matter? Oh said they, here hath been since you went, M. Padget the kings secretary, with sir Tho. Cardine of the privy chamber, and searched all our house for one that should come to the town w t Ockam: therefore make shift for yourself as soon as you cā. Is that all the matter, quoth he? then content yourself, for I will never flee one foot, hap what hap will. And as they were thus reasoning together, in came y e foresaid searchers again, & when M. Cardine saw Bennets man, he knew him very well, & said: was it thou that came to the town w t Ockam? Yea sir, quoth he. Now who the devil (quoth M. Cardine) brought thee in company w t 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 Bennets 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 Seals, where he was kept secret, til certain of the Counsaile had perused all his writings, among the which they found certain of the privy Chamber indicted, w t other the kings Officers, with their wives, that is to say, Sir Tho. Cardine, sir Phillip Hobby, with both their Ladies. M. Edmund Harman, M. Thomas Weldone, with Snowball and his wife. All these they had indicted by the force of the 6. Articles, as aiders, helpers, and maintainers of Anthony Person. And beside them, they had indicted of heresy (some for one thing, and some for another) a great number moe of the Kings true and faithful subjects. Whereof the kings Majesty being certified, his grace of his special goodness (without the suit of any man) gave to the foresaid Gentlemen of his privy Chamber, and other his servants with their wives, his gracious pardō. And as God would have the matter further known unto his majesty, as he road one day a huntinge in Gilforde Park, and saw the Sheriff with syr Humfrey Foster sitting on their horse backs together, he called them unto him, & asked of them, how his laws was executed at Windsore: Then they beseching his grace of pardon, told him plainly that in all their lives they never sat on matter under his graces 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 horsehead to depart from them, said: Alas poor Innocents.
After this, the king withdrew his favor from the B. of Winchester, & being more and more informed of the conspiracy of doctor London and Symons, he commanded certain of his counsel, to search out the ground thereof.
Whereupon Doctor London and Symons were apprehended and brought before the Counsail, and examined upon their oath of allegeaunce. 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 Wyndsore, and Ockam to stand upon thē pillerie in the town of Newbery where he was borne▪
The judgment of all these 3. was to ride about Windsore, Reading and Newbery, with papers on their heads, and their faces turned to the horse tales, & so to stand upon the Pillerye in every of these Towns, for false accusation of the forenamed Martyrs, and for perjury.
And thus much touching the persecution of these good Saints of Windsore, according to the copy of their own acts, received and written by John Marbecke, who is yet alive, both a present witness, and also was then a partye of the said doings, and can testify the truth thereof.
Aunswere to the cavilling adversaries touching John Marbecke.
WHerefore against these crooked cauillers, which make so much ado against my former boke, because in a certain place I chanced to say that Bennette and Filmer had their pardon (when in deed it was Bennet and Marbecke) be it therefore known, protested, denounced, and notified, to all & singular such carpers, wranglers, exclamers, deprauers, with the whole brood of all such whisperers, railers, quarelpickers, corner creepers, fault finders & spidercatchers, or by what name else so ever they are to be titled that here I openly say, affirm, profess, hold, maintain & write the same as I said & wrote before in the latter castigations of my book: that is, that John Marbecke was with the other condemned, but not burned, cast by the law but by pardon saved, appointed with the rest to die, & yet not dead, but liveth (God be praised) & yet to this present day singeth merely, and playeth on the Organes, not as a dead man, amongst Foxes martyrs (as it hath pleased some in y e court to encounter against me) but as one witnessed & testified truly in the book of Foxes Martyrs to be a live. And therefore such manner of persons, if y e 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, & found to their hands, & 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 bitinge there, where they have no just cause to bark.
And admit that I had not foresene and corrected this escape before, touching the matter of John Marbecke, but that the place still had remained in the boke, as it was, that is, that the said John Marbecke, which as yet alive, had then died & suffered w t the other 3. the same time at Wyndesore: yet what gentle or courteous reader, could have therein any just matter to triumph & insult against me, seeing the judicial acts, the records, & registers, yea & the bishops certificate, & also the write of execution remaining yet in Recorde, sent to the king, did lead me so to say and think? For what man writing histories, who cannot be in all places to se all things, but following his records & registers, where in he seeth the said Marbecke to be judged and condemned with the rest, would otherwise write or think, but that also he was executed and burned in the same company?
But now I correct and reform the same again, and first of all other, I find the fault, and yet am I found fault withal. I correct myself, and yet am I corrected of other. I warn the Reader of the truth, and yet am I a liar. The book it self showeth the escape, and biddeth in stead of 4. to read 3. burned, and yet is the book made a legēd 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 & reform mine own errata.
Wherefore to conclude, these men, whosoever they are if they will be satisfied, I have said enough: if they will not, whatsoever I cā say, it will not serve, and so I leave them: I would I could better satisfy them. God himself amend them.
The persecution in Calyce, with the Martyrdom of George Bucker, otherwise called Adam Damlyp, and others.
AT what time John Marbecke was in the Marshalsey, which was about the year of our Lord. 1544. there was in the said prison with him one George Bucker, named otherwise Adam Damlyp, who having continued in the said prison 3. or 4. years, at last by the commandment of Winchester, was had to Calais by John Massy, the keeper of the Marshalsey, and there hanged, drawn, & quartered for treason pretensed, which was a little before the condemnation of the Windsore men aforesaid, as is by the letters of the said John Marbecke to me signified.
Touching which story of Adam Damlyp, for so much it includeth matter of much trouble and persecutiō that happened in Calais, to digest therefore and comprise the whole narration therefore 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.
Persecution in the town of Calais.
Whereupon the said Stevens at the opening of the gates, brought him unto the Lord Lisle the kings 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 instauntly 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 license & the Cōmissaries also (which then was sir John Butler) so to do. Where after he had preached three or fourt times, he was so well lyked both for his learning, his utterance and the truth of his doctrine, that not only the soldiers & commoners, but also the Lord Deputy and a great part of the Counsel, gave him marvelous great praise and thanks for it, and the said Lord Deputy offered unto him a chamber in his own house, and to dyne and sup every meal at his own mess, to have a man or two of his to wait upon him & to have whatsoever it were that he lacked, if it were to be had for money, yea & what he would in his purse to buy books or otherwise, so as he would tarry there among them, & preach only so long as it should seem good to himself. Who refusing his Lordships 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 & honest place in the town where he might not be disturbed nor molested, but have opportunity to give himself to his book, and would daily once in the forenoon, and again by one a clock at after noon, 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 foresaid W. Stevens, whom he earnestly required to receive and lodge the said Damlip in his house, promising whatsoever he should command, to see it paid with the most: and moreover would send every meal frō his own mess a dish of the best unto them, and in deed so did: albeit the said Damlip refused that offer, showing his Lordship that thin diet was most convenient for Studentes. Yet could not that restrain him but that every meal he sent it.
This godly man by the space of xx. days or more, once every day at vii. of the clock preached very godly, learnedly & plainly, the truth of the blessed sacrament of Christ's body and blood, mightily enueying against all Papistrye and cōfuting the same, but especially those two most pernicious errors or heresies, trifling Transubstantiation, and the pestilent propitiatorye 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 enterteyned of Cardinal Poole (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 a while reading in the Chapter house of the White Friers, but the place being not big enough, he was desired to read in the Pulpit, and so proceeding in his Lectures (wherein he declared howe the world was deceived by the Romaine Bishops, which 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 Pageaunt or Picture set forth of the Resurrection which was in Saint Nicholas Church, declaring the same to be but mere Idolatry, and illusion of the Frenchmen before Calais was English.
Upon which Sermon or Lecture, there came a Commission from the King to the Lord Deputy, M. Grendfield, sir John Butler Commissary, the Kings Mason, and Smith, with others, that they should search whether there were (as was put in writing, and under Bull and Pardon) three hosts lyeng upon a Marble stone, besprinkled with blood, and if they found it not so, that immediately it should be plucked down, and so it was. For in searching thereof, as they brake up a stone in a corner of the Tumbe, they instead of the three hosts, found souldered in the Cross of Marble lyeng under the Sepulcher, three plain white counters which they had painted like unto hosts, and a bone that is in the typ of a sheep's tail. All which trumpery Damlip shown unto the people the next day following, which was Sunday, out of the Pulpit, and after that they were sent by the Lord Deputy to the King.
Notwithstanding the Devil stirred up a Dove (he might well be called a Cormorant) the Prior of the white Friers. Who with Syr Gregory Buttoll, Chapleyne to the Lord Lisle, began to bark against him. Yet after the said Adam had in three or four Sermons confuted the said Friers erroneous doctrine of transubstantiation, and of the propitiatory Sacrifice of the Mass: the said Frier outwardly seemed to give place, ceasing openly to inuey, and secretly practiced to peach him by letters sent unto the Clergy here in England: so y t within viii. or x. days after, the said Damlip was sent for to appear before the Bishop of Canterbury, with whom was assistant Stephen Gardener, Bishop of Winchester, D. Sampson, Bishop of Chichester, and diverse other, before whom he most constantly affirmed and defended the doctrine which he had taught, in such sort answering, confuting, & soluting the objections, as his adversaries, yea even among other, the learned godly and blessed Martyr Cranmer then yet but a Lutheran, marvelled at it, & said plainly, that y e Scripture knew no such term of transubstantiation. Then begā the other Bishops to threaten him, shortly to confute him with their accustomed argument, I mean fire and fagot, if he should still stand to y e defense of that he had spoken. Wherunto he constantly answered, that he would the next day deliver unto them fully so much in writing as he had said: whereto also he would stand, and so was dismissed.
The next day at the hour appointed to appear, when they looked surely to have apprehended him, in the mean season he had secrete intimation from the Bishop of Canterbury, that if he did anymore personally appear, he should be committed unto Warde, not like to escape cruel death. Wherupon he (plaieng in deed then somewhat old Adams part, for such is man, left in his own hands) had him commended unto them, and sent them four sheets of paper learnedly written in the Latin tongue, containing his faith with his arguments conferences, of the Scriptures, and allegations of the Doctors, by a messenger or friend of his. Which done, he having a little money given him in his purse by his friends, stepped aside, and went to the West country, and there kept all the time, while great trouble kindled against God's people in Calais, upon the same, as ye shall hear, the Lord permitting.
After his departure, the Kings Majesty was advertised, that there was great dissention & diversity of pernicious opinions in his said town of Calais, greatly tending to the danger of the same. Wherupō, during yet the days of the Lord Cromwell, were sent over Doct. Champion Doctor of Divinity, & M. Garret, who after was burned, two godly and learned men, to preach and instruct the people, and to confute all pernicious errors, who in effect preached and maintained the same true doctrine which Adam Damlip had before set forth, and by reason thereof, they left the Town at their departure very quiet, and greatly purged of the slander that had run on it.
After the departure of the said Champion and Garret, one Sir William Smith Curate of our Lady Parishe in Calais, a man very zealous, though but meanly learned, did begin to preach, and earnestly to inuey against Papistry and willful ignorance: exhorting men obediently to receive the word, and no longer to contemn the same, least God's heavy plagues and wrath should fall upon them, which always followeth the contempt of his holy word. Which sir William Smith, for that sometime he would be very fervent & zealous, sharply inueying against the despisers of the word, was moved by some of y e Counsel there, who would seem to favor God's word, that he should not be so earnest against them that yet could not away with the same, willing him to bear with such, for by bearing with them they might hap to be won.
Well, well, said the same Smith (openly in the Pulpit one day as he preached) some men say I am too earnest, and will me to bear with such as continue open enemies against Christ's holy Gospel, and refuse, nay forbid that any should read the Bible or holy scripture within their house: but let all such take heed, for before God, I fear that God for their contemning of his word, will not long bear with them, but make them in such case as some of them shall not have a head left them upon their shoulders to bear up their cap withal: which also after came to pas.
This Smyth continued in the diligente bestowing of his talent there, till shortly after the devil got such hold in the harts of a number of God's enemies, that he with diverse other godly men were called over into England, and charged with erroneous opinions worthy of great punishment, as hereafter more at large shall appear.
First the Lord Lislie the Kings deputy there, whom we shown to be the maintainer of Damlip (albeit he were himself of a most gentle nature, & of a right noble blood, the base son of that noble Prince King Edward the fourth) being fiercely set on, and incessauntly enticed by the wicked Lady Honor his wife, who was an utter enemy to God's honor, and in Idolatry, hypocrisy, & pride incomparably evil, she being daily and hourly thereunto incited and provoked by Sir Thomas Palmer Knight, & John Rookewood Esquire, two enemies to God's word, beginning now to flourish at Calais: these I say, with certain other of the Counsel of the said Town of Calais, to the number of vii. mo besides themselves, seeking occasion or rather a quarrel, where no just cause was givē, begā to write very heinous letters and grievous complaints unto the Lord's of the privy Counsel, against divers of the Town of Calais, affirming that they were horribly infected with heresies and pernicious opinions: As first the foresaid Adam Damlip, who though he were for a time escaped their hands, yet stacke 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 Broke, Rafe Hare, likewise of Sir John Butler then Commissary, and Sir W. Smith, James Cock, aliàs Coppen de Hane, James Barber & other, and the names of them all sent over. Of the wich persons, first the said Thomas Broke, and Rafe 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 Bish. of Winchester, the Bishop of Chichester, and ten other appointed by the Kings majesties commission, for the examination of them. And their accusers also were sent over with letters from the Counsel 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 Fitzwilliams then Earl of Southhampton, & great Admiral of England, to the L. Sandes, Lord Chamberlayne of the Household, likewise also to sir William Kingstone Knight, Comptroller of y e household, and to D. Sampson, then B. of Chichester, and other tending all to one effect, that is to say, to the utter destruction of these godly men, if God after his wonted manner, had 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 Rafe Hare, a man rude and so unlearned, that scarce he could read, yet through God's grace, was very zealous, and therewith lead so godly & temperate a life, as not one of his enemies could accuse or blame the same his sober life and conversation. Thys Rafe Hare was charged to be one, that had spoken against auriculare 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. The poor simple man being charged by the Commissioners, y t he was a naughty man & erroneous, and that he could not be otherwise, coming out of a town so infected with pernicious errors & sects as that was, was willed by them to take good heed to himself, least through obstinacy he turned his erroneous opinions to plain heresy: for an error defended, is heresy.
My good Lord's said the poor man, I take God to record, I would not willingly maintain an 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 God's 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 them.
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 Rafe Hare, what evil said I? Mary Syr, you said, the Lord, the Lord, and that is, Symbolum haereticorum, 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 y e simple man began to tremble, and seemed much dismayde and driven into a great agony and fear. Which thing Winchester well perceiving, said unto him: Rafe Hare, Rafe Hare, by my truth I pity thee much. For in good faith, I think thee to be a good simple man, & of thyself wouldest mean well enough, but that thou hast had shrewd and subtle schoolemaisters, that have seduced thee good poor simple soul, and therefore I pity thee: and it were in deed pity that thou shouldest be burnt, for thou art a good fellow, a tall man, and hast served y e 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 and 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 loath that thou should 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 Canterburies grace here is a good gentle Lord, and would be loath thou shouldst be cast 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 sheeding tears, answered, speaking to the Archbishop of Canterbury in this wise: My good lord, for Christ's sake be good unto me, and I refer myself unto your graces order, do with me what you please.
The Bishop of Canterbury, considering what danger he was ready to fall in, & pitieng the same (though the simplicity of y e man was so great, that he perceived it not) said, nay Rafe Hare, stand up, & advise thyself, and commit not thyself to me, for I am but one man, and in Commission but as the other are, so that it lieth in me to do nothing. But if thou do commit thyself unto all, then thou committest thyself unto the law, and the law is ordained to do every mā right. Go to Raph 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 Lord's and masters all, I submit myself wholly unto you. And therwithall a book was holden him, and an oth given him to be obedient unto them, and to all Ecclesiastical laws: and straightway he was enjoined to abjure, and to bear a fagot three several days, & moreover, the poor man lost the 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 logge 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 burnt, said the Commissioners. Thus have you heard how Ralph Hare did speed.
Then was Thomas Broke called for, against whom it was objected by some of the Counsels letters of Calais, that he was a seditious fellow. Among these accusers besides the rest, was one Richard Long, another Francis Hastings, men of arms, who charged y e forenamed Tho. mas Broke, and one Geffray Loueday Esquire, for staying and maintaining the foresaid Adam Damlyp at Calais: as who had promised unto him a stipend to preach such heresies and pernicious opinions, as afterward he taught there: and that these two daily gathered many several sums of money, for the entertainment of the said Adam. Howbeit, the foresaid Hastings failed in the proof thereof. For Loueday proved that he was viii. days be • ore Damlips coming to Calais, and during xiv. days continually after he began to preach, abiding at Paris, there occupied about necessary affairs of Charles Duke of Southfolke. And Broke during the said time, was at London daily attendant in the Parliament house, whereof he had enough to bear witness, against y e untrue surmise.
After that, came three at once against the said Broke, well armed as they thought, who had not only consulted together before of the matter, and put it in writing at Calais, beside their conference and talk by the way keeping company from thence hither, but also had obtained from the Lord Deputy and others of the Counsel, 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 Brooke.
The first of these three was a young Gentleman lately brought up under the said Brooke in the office of custom, whose name was Edmund Payton.
The other was one Robert Poole, a man (as it was commonly reported) both base borne, and also such a one, as in his youth for murthering a man with a clubbe in Bow lane in London, was fain by obtaining the Kings pardon, to save his neck.
The third was one Tho. Boys, who showing more honesty then the rest, affirmed not that he himself heard y e said Broke speak anything of that which was objected against him, but justified that either of the other two had steadfastly affirmed to him, that Broke had spoken unto them those things here under objected against him.
The young man first objected against the said Broke, 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, who so would, might have their belly full of God's, their guts full of God's, and he that had lately received the Sacrament before he went to the Sea, might happily vomit God up again on shypboord.
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. Which words the said Broke there denied, confessing nevertheless that certain private talk he had with him touching the Sacrament, wherein he shown 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 mē do receive, eat, and drink, to their great comfort and benefit, the very natural body and blood of Christ, which was both borne of the virgins Mary, and suffered death on the Cross for the remission of their sins: which most holy Sacrament, who so came unworthily unto, the same was so far from the 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 & unlearned error of transubstantiation, were in deed matter of truth and sincere doctrine, then not only this should follow of it, that every mā 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 who so eateth Christ's body, and drinketh his blood, hath everlasting life, saith Christ) but also there should great absurdities follow thereby, as whē a mā happeneth to go to the sea, having lately received the sacrament, he should put it over boorde, or do it on the hatches, & 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 Brooke, with xv. or xvj. other honest men, heard him thus say 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 Broke answered, that a man in mirth might well enough with charity beshrewe 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, of 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 oth upon a book he had af • irmed) every word of the whole matter which he objected: but for that the matter was utterly untrue. Whereupon▪ the said Brooke desired their honors to consider the slendernes of his tale.
To be short, he with the rest of his fellows, to wit, Rafe 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, Syr William Smith preacher, and John Butler, by commandment were apprehended in Calyce, and bound by surety not to pass the gates of the town of Calyce. In the which town, the said John Butler Commissary was accused by Rich. Thorpe and John. Ford, soldiers of Calais, saiing that he should say, that if the Sacrament of the alter be flesh, blood, and bone, then there is good aqua vitae at John Spisers. Upon which accusation the said Thorpe and Forde brought for records before the Counsayle of Calyce, Marraunt Haynes, John Luckes, Harry Husson, and Harry Troste, all of the parish of Oye beside Calyce. Whereupon shortly after, the said John Butler and Sir William Smith were sent for, and by one Swallow a purseuant, which set up the other aforesaid, brought into England, unto the house of the said Swallow, dwelling by S. James, where the Kings majesty lay at that time, and the next day being Thurseday, after dinner, Butler & Smith were brought to the star chamber before the privy Counsayle, where both sedition and heresy was objected against them: and after much talk, was said unto them by the Lord Cromwell, that they should make their purgation by the law: And from thence by the foresaid Swallow they were sent to the Fleet.
The next day being Friday, after dinner, Butler and Smyth were sent for to come to Bathe place, where they were brought into the Chapel, there sitting D. Clarke, Bishop of Bathe, Doctor Sampson, then Bishop of Chichester, Doctor Repse, the Bishop of Norwich, who was a Monk, being fast a sleep. 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 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 cursie, being stubborn and arrogant, as he said, and in fine, found fault with his shirt. Then turning him about, he called to his brother Bannester being present (that time dwelling in Pater noster 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 Bathe. 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.
The story of William Smyth.
THen after Butler, was Sir William Smith, Curate of our Lady 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 Rafe Hare, and thereto was added, that he had spoken and preached against our blessed Lady, against prayeng to Saints, against doing of good works, and many other like things: and therewithal, one Richard Long, a man of arms of Calais, proved against the said Sir Smyth, and y e foresaid Brook by an oath taken upon a book, that the said Smith and Brooke did eat flesh together in Lent in the said Brookes house. For a Millers boy, said he, came into Brookes 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 Brookes 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 Iu • rie 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 rise everywhere, and almost nowhere regarded as it ought to be.
The trouble of John Butler.
THere was also called before them sir John Butler, then Commissary of Calais, whom they would have burdened with the maintenance, or (at y e leastwise) sufferance, of the foresaid Adam Damlip, which preached so long time there, and was not by him punished. Who for his defense answered, that the Lord Deputy and the whole Counsel there so highly entertained, and so friendly used the said Damlyp, and with their own presence & high commendations outwardly so allowed and comēded his doctrine, that it lay not in him to do otherwise thē he did: & therefore humbly besought their Lordships and other the Commissioners to be good unto him. At whose hands, after long attendance given, he was discharged, & so returned home again, being also dismissed of his Commissaryship.
The recantation of certain Calyce men.
NOw to declare what order was taken with these foresaid Calycemen, it was appointed that sir W. Smith, Rafe Hare, James Cock, and James Barber, should be sent to Calais, there to abjure and to do penance. Where sir W. Smith was enjoined to make the Sermon, Rafe Hare, James Cock, and James Barber standing with fagots vpō their shoulders. The Sermon was made in y e market of Calais. Which being done, they went with their fagottes about the market place, the Drumme and Fife going before them, and then returning to the Commissioners with testimonial of the same, they departed. Albeit in this recātation, the said W. Smith Curate of our Ladies Church handled his Sermon after that sort, as in effect he denied nothing at all that he had before preached or taught, but yet it satisfied somewhat his adversaries malicious harts, in that it bare 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, for so much as his dwelling was not at Calais, but four miles off from the town, it was therefore enjoined him to bear his Fagot, not at Calais, but on the Saturday next following to stand in the market there, where he dwelled, with his Fagot upon his shoulder, and the said Syr William Smyth likewise there preached as before.
And thus much concerning the first Commission sent over to Calais to inquire upon the heretics there.
Another Commission sent over to Calais.
AFter all these things done and past, the grudgyng minds of the adversaries yet were not satisfied, but still suggested new complaints to the Kings 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 of the adversary to be overcome.
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 S. John, Sir John Gage Knight, Sir John Barker Knight, M. Layton, Clerke of the closet, and Doctor Currin, with special instructions besides signed by the Kings Majesty's own hand: for his highness had been incensed once again from the Counsel at Calais, that the town was in peril through dissension, and diversity of opinions. Upon their arriuall, M. Doct. Currin preached a notable Sermon, exhorting all men to charity, having nothing in his mouth but charity, charity. But as it seemed afterward, such a burning charity was in him and the rest of the Commissioners, that had not God pitied the innocence of men's causes, there had a hundred been burnt 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 Ladies Church, W. Touchet a Postmaister, Peter Bequet, of the which four, Touchet 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 hear of his head.
After the Sermon was done, on the morrow to wit, on Sherethurseday, all the Commissioners solemnly received the Sacrament. And at after noon, the Counsel were with the Commissioners, and after their consultation, tipped staves warned, above the number of four score, so perverse persons as the like were not in y e town or marches, to appear on the morrow at viii. of the clock before the Counsel 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 have either their linings, or their goods, and besides that, they should have great thanks at the Kings Majesty's hand, and his honorable Counsel, and what friendship they of the Kings Counsel there could show them. All that good Friday, even till x. of the clock at night, those wicked and malicious persons occupied their time in answering to diverse and sundry 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 neighbor mistrusted neighbor, the master the servant, the servant the master, the husband the wife, the wife the husband, and almost everyone 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 harts.
The second trouble of Thomas Brooke.
VPon Easter Monday, one Hugh Council an honest man, servant to the said Brooke, was convented before them, and by the space of xiv. days, not suffered to return to his masters house, but kept in custody, and many times examined upon Articles and Interrogatories, in hope to have found worthy matter, either of heresy or treason against the said Brooke: and the same day that Brooke was committed to Warde, the said Hugh Council was discharged.
The Wednesday in the Easter week, sundry Questes were charged by their oaths to make inquisition for all manner of heresies, erroneous opinions and seditions, as a Quest of Aldermen, another of men at arms, and another of Constables and Uintners, another of common Soldiers, and another of Commoners.
And shortly after their presentments, on good Friday, there was convented before the Commissioners, and straighte were sent to close prison, Anthony Pickering Gentleman, Harry Tourney Gentleman, Syr George Darby Priest, John Shepherd, William Pellam, William Keuerdale, John Whitwoode, John Boote, Roberte Clodder, Copen de Hane, & Matthew de Hound. Upon whom ran sundry brutes: Some said they should be hanged, some said burnt, some said hanged drawn and quartered, some said nailed to the Pillery: 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 everywhere words of discomfort, and nowhere of comfort, but still Inquisition was made.
The second trouble of William Stevens.
THe foresaid William Stevens after his return from London above mentioned, besides many other Articles laid to him for religion, to y e number of 40. or welnie, was by y e Lord Deputy charged y t he had stayed the foresaid Adam Damlip, hired him to preach, and gave him meat, drink and lodging, coming from the arrant traitor Cardinal Poole, and suborned by him: and that he had received money of him, to the intent he should preach in Calais false & erroneous doctrine, whereby y e town being divided & at contention within it self, might easily be overcome & 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 & commandment of the said Lord Deputy. Whereupon, if it had been treason in deed, he must have been more faulty.
Then the said William Stevens was again the second time by the said Commissioners sent over into England, & clapt in the tower, & afterward, to wit, immediately after the said Commissioners repair unto the Kings highness, y e said Lord Deputy was sent for over, & likewise put into the Tower, where he continued a long time. And whē the Kings Majesty minded to have been gracious unto him, & to have let him come forth, God took him out of this world, whose body resteth in y e Tower, & his soul w t God, I trust, in heaven, for he died very repentant. But y e wicked Lady his wife immediately upon his apprehensiō, fell distraught of mind, & 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 foresaid Brooke was convented before the Commissioners, and committed to close prison in the Mayors Gayle.
Then the Counsel of Calais, doubting lest there should not be any sedition or heresy proved against him, did call one George Bradway before them, who occupied y e Controllers office in the custom house. This mā was kept in close prison, so as neither his wife then great with child, nor any other his friends might repair unto him. Where, after y t he had often times been borne in hand, that there were diverse concealements come to light that were made by Brooke in the office of Custom, and y t the said Bradway should be grievously punished if he would acknowledge none of thē, nor burden y e said Brooke with no kind of concealment: the poor simple man, hoping thereby to get release of his imprisonment, accused the said Brooke, that he had for a long time concealed four grotes every day for his Clerks wages, & to that accusation they caused the simple man to set his own hand before witnesses.
Wherevpon, 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 toward his wesande. 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 Gayler came up, and bereft him of the knife. But thorough the giltines of the false accusation, and shame of the world, the mā 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 Brooke, made all his friends, but specially his wife, to be greatly afeard of the malice of his enemies: the rather also, for that all his goods and lands were ceised. And his wife thrust into the meanest place of all his house, with her children and family, the keys of all y e doors and chestes beside taken from her. Who for y t she was rigorously entreated at sir Edward Ringleis hand, Controller 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 lyked not the room, he would thrust her quite out of the doors: well Sir, said she, well, the Kings slaughter house 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 mē 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 rigor 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 then any other: So that, unless his honor voutchsaued to be a mean to the Kings majesty, that they with their causes might be sent over into England, they were but dead men.
Whereupon the said Lord Cromwell wrote speedily his letters unto the Commissioners, declaring the kings majesties pleasure and commandment was, that the arrant traitor and heretic Brooke, with a dosen or twentye 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 8. or 9. score honest men more to be cast in prison. But these letters so appalled them, that they stayde, and afterward sent no moe 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 color, both of the Counsels grievous complaints, and of the Commissioners rigorous dealing, whē no such thing could fall out, because they would be assured y t they should not go unpunished, they first banished thē the town and Marches of Calais with a Trumpet blown, under pain of death, for a hundred year and a day if that one day had been left out, all had been marde, and then sent them back to prison, staying them there upon hope that the L. Cromwell should come into captivity sooner then he did. But at last, to wit, on May day, they sent the xiii. prisoners through the market, the said Brooke going before with irons on his legs, as the chief captain, the rest following him, two and two without irons, unto shipbord, & then were they all coupled in irons two & two together. Where, because they were loath to go under the hatches. Sir John Gage with a staff smote some of them cruelly: Whereupon Anthony Pickering said unto him, Syr, I beseech you yet be as good unto us as you 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 24. hours, at ancker before the Tower of London.
And when the Lord Cromwell understood they were come, he commanded their irons to be smit off at the Tower wharfe, and the prisoners to be brought unto him.
When he saw them he smiled upon them, steadfastly 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 in deed they did, for 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.
Whilest these xiii. persecuted men lay in the Fleet, and W. Stevens in the Tower, to wit, the xix. day of July, an. 1541. the foresaid 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 depēded 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 the dangers and troubles increased, so likewise did their consolation & joy in him, so far forth, as Matthew de Hound, one of those xiii. who was in trouble only for that he heard Copen de Hall read a Chapter of the New Testament, and was as deep in punishment, and in banishmente from his wife, children, and country, as the rest, got in short time such instruction, that having therewith a soul and conscience fraughted 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 inueying constantly against the wicked honoring of images, & praying unto Saints departed, was cruelly in a most constant faith and patience, burned in Flaunders.
Now therefore when all hope in man was past, the right honorable L. Audeley, lord Chancellor of England, without further examination, discharged first the said 13. that were in the Fleet, and at length two years after, he delivered W. Stevens also by the Kings own motion, out of the Tower, saying at y e discharging of those 13. sirs, pray for the Kings Majesty, his pleasure is y t you shall all be presently discharged. And though your livings be 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 counsel to tell you, that you are discharged by virtue of the kings 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 Kings highness, for his graces 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 in deed in very poor estate: but not in so miserable state as all those eight Counsailours of Calais were within one yere and a half after. For whereas the other three Counsailers which seemed more favorable to them: to wit, the Lord Gray, sir George Carow, and sir Rich. Grinefield, which purged the town of those sclaunders that untruly were raised upon it, and therefore for a time were in their princes high displeasure: within y e year were all three in greater favor then ever they were before, and that not without the reward of xx. pound by year to him & to his heirs, who had least: the other eight Counsailours, unjustly charging them and the town of sedition and heresy: to say, the Lord Lisle, the Lord Sandes, Sir John Wallop, sir Edward Rinsley, Rob. Fowler Esquire vice treasurer, sir Tho. Palmer knight, called long Palmer, W. Simpson Esquire vndermarshall, & John. Rockwod, were either greatly out of their Princes favor, and in the Tower or else where prisoners, either else by very desperate deaths in outward appearance, taken out of this world: For tediousness I will rehearse but only the horrible ende of the said Rockwood, the chief stirrer up of all the afflictions afore spoken of: who even to the last breath staring & 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 braied & cried out, All too late, for I have sought maliciously the deaths of a number of the honestest men in the town, and though I so thought them in my heart, yet I did that lay in me to bring thē to an evil death: all too late therefore, all too late. Which same words he answered to one that at the departure of the xiii. in irons towards England, said: Sir, I never saw men of such honesty, so sharply corrected, & taking it so patiently and joyfully. Rockwod thē fetching a friske or two, scoffingly answered: All too late. The vndermarshal suddenly fell down in the Counsaile chamber, and never spake word after, nor shown any token of remembrance. The plagues of the other also, as I am credibly infourmed, were little better.
The second apprehension and martyrdom of Adam Damlyp.
COncerning Adam Damlip, otherwise called George Bucker, ye heard before declared, page. 1223. how he being convented before the Bishops at Lambeth, and afterward 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 Gardener commanded into the Marshalsey, and there lay the space of other two years or thereabout.
During the imprisonment of this George in the Marshalsey, Io. Marbecke (as partly ye heard before) also was committed into the same prison, which was the morrow after Palme Sunday. The manner of that time so required, that at Easter every person must needs come to cōfessiō. Wherupon Marbecke with the rest of the prisoners there, was enforced to come vpō Easter day to sir George aforesaid, to be confessed, who was then cōfessor to y e whole house. By this occasion I. Marbecke, which had never seen him before, entering into conference w t him, perceived what he was, what he had ben, what troubles he sustained, how long he had live there in prison, by whō, & wherefor: who declared moreover his mind to Marbecke, to y e effect as followeth: And now because, said he, I think they have forgottē me, I am fully minded to make my humble suit to the Bish. of Winchester, in an Epistle, declaring therein mine obedience, humble submission, and earnest desire to come to examination. I know the worst. I can but leese my life present, which I had leuer do, then 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 behavior was beloved of all y e whole house, but specially of the keeper him self, whose name was Massy, whome he always called master: and being suffered to go at liberty within y e house whether he would, he did much good among the common & rascal sort of prisoners, in rebuking vice & sin, and kept them in such good order & awe, that the keeper thought himself to have a great treasure of him. And no less also Marbeck himself confesseth, to have found great comfort by him. For notwithstanding y e straight precept given by the Bish. 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, vpō saterday in the morning, which was about the second week before Whitsonday following, desiring him to deliver it at the Court to y e B. of Winchester. The keeper said, he would, and so did. The Bish. what quick speed he made for his dispatch, I know not, but thus it fell out, as ye shall hear.
The keeper came home at night very late, and when the prisoners (which 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 Syr 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, & pulled out of his purse a piece of wax with a little labell 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 be not so. Yes, yes master, it is most true, and I praise God for his goodness therein. And so the keeper & they went together to supper with heavy cheer for sir George as they there called him. Who notwithstanding was merry himself, & did eat his meat as well as ever he did in all his life: In so much that some at the board said unto him, that they marueyled 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 ben God's prisoner so long in the Marshalsey, and have not yet learned to die? Yes, yes, and I doubt not but God will strengthen me therein. Ex litteris Ioa. Marbecki.
And so upon Monday early in the morning before day, the keeper with in. other of the Knight Marshalles servants, setting out of London, conveyed the said Adam Damlyp unto Calais upon the Ascension even, and there committed him to the Mayors prison. Upon which day John Butler the Commissary aforesaid, and Syr Daniel his Curate of S. Peters, were also committed to the same prison, and commandment given no man to speak with Butler.
Upon Saturday next was the day of execution for Damlyp. The cause which first they laid to his charge, was for heresy. But because by an act of Parliamente, all such offenses done before a certain day, were pardoned (through which Acte he could not be burdened with any thing that he had preached or taught before) yet for the receiving of the foresaid French crown of Cardinal Pole, (as you heard before) he 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 M. Mote, then person of our Lady Church of Calais, saying: your four quarters shall be hanged at four partes 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 Rafe Ellerker Knight, then knight Marshall there, would not suffer the innocent & godly mā, to declare either his faith, or the cause he died for, but said to the executioner, dispatch the knave, have done. For sir Will. Mote appointed there to preach, declared to the people how he had been a sower of seditious doctrine, and albeit he was for y e pardoned by the general pardon, yet he was condemned for being a traitor against the king. To the which whē Adam Damlip would have replied & purged himself, the foresaid Sir Rafe Ellerker would not suffer him to speak a word, but commanded him to be had away. And so most meckely, patiently, and joyfully, the blessed and innocent Martyr took his death, sir Rafe Elerker saying, that he would not away before he saw the traitors heart out. But shortly after the said Sir Rafe Ellerker in a skirmishe or road between the Frenchmen and us, at Bullayne was among other slain. Whose only death sufficed not his enemies, but after they had stripped him stark naked, they cut off his privy members, 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 shown such indignation against the said sir Rafe Ellerker, more then against the rest, but that it is written: Faciens iustitias Dominus & iudicia omnibus iniuria pressis.
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 Io. Massy aforesaid, keeper of the Marshalsey, and his company, and brought to the Marshalsey, where he continued and his Curate nine months and more. At last being sore laid unto by Sir George Gage, Sir John Baker, and Sir Thomas Arundell knights, but especially by Stephen Gardener Bishop of Winchester, for y e retaining of Adam Damlip, yet by friends soliciting the Kings highness for him, (namely sir Leonard Musgraue, and his brother Baunster, who were bound for his appearance in a thousand pound) he at length by great labor and long time was discharged, and at last by license permitted to return to Calais again. Ex scripto testimonio Caletiensium.
Furthermore, as touching William Stevens above mentioned, who remained all this while prisoner in the Tower, the same was also condemned with Adam Damlip of treason, which was for note and crime of Popery, in lodging Adam Damlip, which came from Cardinal Poole the traitor, in his house, at the Lord Deputies 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 home again to Calais, and so likewise all the other thirteen above mentioned.
The story of a poor laboring man in Calyce.
BY the credible information & writing of the said Calyce men, which were then in trouble, it is reported of a certain poor laboring mā of Calais, who after the preaching of Adam Damlyp, being in certain company, said, that he would never believe, that a priest could make the Lord's body at his pleasure. Wherupon he was then accused, and also condemned by one Haruey Commissary there. Which Haruey in time of his judgment inueying against him, with opprobrious words, said, that he was an heretic, & 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 where as thou sayest (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 Haruey was hanged, drawn, and quartered for treason in the said town of Calais.
An other history of one Dodde a Scottish man, burned in Calais.
AFter the burning of this poor man, there was also another certain scholar, counted to be a Scottish man, named Dodde, who coming out of Germany, was there taken with certain Germane 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 thereabout, after the other godly Martyr above mentioned.
And for so much as I am presently in hand with matters of Calais, I cannot pass from thence without memory of another certain honest man of the same township, named William Button, alias Crosbowmaker, although the time of this story is a little more ancient in years: which story is this.
William Crosbowmaker, a soldier of Calais, and the kings 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 pastyme, as these: Whether if a man were suddenly taken, and wanted another thing, he might not without offense occupy one of the Popes pardons, in steed 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 moe, but if there lacked ignorant Priests, we might soon, and too soon, make too many of them.
It happened that in the time of D. Darley, Parson of our Ladies Church in Calais, being Commissary there so: Archbishop Warham, there came a black Frier to Calais with the Popes pardons: who for iv. d. would deliver a soul out of Purgatory. The frier was full of romish virtues, for what money came for pardons by day, he bought no land with it at night. This foresaid William Button, alias Crosbowmaker, coming to the pardons, and pretending that he would deliver his father & friends souls, asked if the holy father the Pope could deliver souls out of purgatory? The frier said, there is no doubt of that. Why then, quoth Button, doth he not of charitye 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 fryer named Capel, an English man, who said to the Commissary. There is Ten thousand of these heretics between Graueling and Trere. Button answered, Master fryer of all men you may keep silence. For your coat hath been twice cut of from the faith. The first time your order was enjoined to have your black coat shorter thē 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 Commissarye at these words chafed, called Button heretic, with many other opprobrious words. Thē said Button to the Commissary, if your holy father the Pope may deliver souls out of purgatory, and will not of charity deliver them, thē I would to God the king would make me Pope, and I would surely deliver all out without money. At these words the Comissary raged, and reviled Button exceedingly, causing him to bear a billet, & procured his wages (which was 6. d. a day) to be taken from him. Then went Button to the kings majesty, declaring all the whole matter to his grace, who sent him to Calais again, and gave him after that 8, d. a day.
A notable example, wherein may appear as well the despite of D. London, and other papists against the Gospellers, as also the fidelity of a matron towards her husband.
FOr so much as mention was made a little before of D. 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 Doctor London was warden of the 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 Calaway. Thys Calaway was a man of good and honest name, and reputation amongst his neighbors, but specially earnest and zealous towards the Gospel, and a great maynteiner thereof. He had oftentimes before bought much plate of the same man without any peril or danger, wherefor he doubted y e less of his fidelity.
At the last the principal of the theft being taken, and the Goldsmith also that was the byer being known, D. London, when he understood him to be a favorer of the Gospel, whereof he was an extreme adversary, began strait ways to be in a rage, and to swear grea • and deep oaths that he would spare neither labor nor cost, but would bring the Goldsmith to the gallows, although it should cost him five hundred pound. 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. D. 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 gylty, the Judge asked him what he could allege, why he should not die? He required to have the privilege of his book, according to y e ancient custom and manner. But here it was objected against him that he was Bigamus, 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 Bigamia.
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 husbands life, she took an oath before the Judges, that she was not Bigama, and that she was never married to moe men then to the said Goldsmith: and although she had children by her other husband, and continued diverse years with him, yet she sware that she was never married unto him. Thus this woman by defaming of her self to her great praise, and singular example of love, delivered her innocent husband: thinking it better for her to live w t ignominy and reproach, then for her husband to die, less esteming the loss of her good name, then of his life. Ez Ed. Hallo.
As touching the qualitye 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 cōmmended, neither ought to be defended. But yet the true heart & faithful love between this man and his wife, counterpeasing again as much or more on the other side, the more rare & strange I see it in many couples now a days, the more I think it worthy, not only to be praised, but also for examples 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 consciences unto such perjury, & that in such causes, where no such truth is sought, but innocence oppressed, true religion persecuted, & only their spite & wrath against God's word wreaked.
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 kings supremacy (as ye have heard) that the contrary sect also of the Papists was not all in quiet. For besides the death of Moore, and the Bishop of Rochester, and the other Charterhouse Monks, Friers and Priests above specified, about this year were also condemned and executed by the same law, two other, of whom one was a Priest of Chelsey, named Lark, which was put to death at London for defending the B. of Rome's supremacy, above the kings authority. The other was Germine Gardener (nere kinsman to Stephen Gardener, and yet more near to his secret counsel, as it is supposed) who likewise in practicing for the Pope, against the kings jurisdiction, was taken with the manner, and so brought unto the Gibbet.
Upon the detection of this German Gardener being Secretary to Gardener 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 nere unto him, & to all his secrets as he was. Whereby the king began somewhat more to smell and misdoubt the doings of the Bishop: but yet he so covertly and clearly conveyed his matters, playing under the board, after his wonted fetches in such sort, as I cannot tell how) still he kept in with the king, to the great inquietatiō of the public state of the Realm, and especially of Christ's Church.
In declaring the dreadful law before set forth of the six ayticles, which was, an. 1540. ye heard what penaltye was appointed for the breach of the same, in like case as in treason & felony, so that no remedy of any recātatiō would serve. This seueritye was a little mitigated by another Parliament, holden afterward an. 1544. by the which parliament it was decreede, that such offenders which were convict 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 fagot. Which if he denied to do or else being adjured, if he the third time offended, then he to sustain punishment according to the Law. &c. Although the straitnes & rigor 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 color of religion: so that all manner of books of the old and New Testament, bearing the name of Will. Tyndale, or any other 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, prentises, iourneimen, seruingmen, yeomen, husbandmen, and laborers, yet was permitted notwithstanding to noble men and gentle men, & gentlewomen to read and peruse, to their edifying so that they did it quietly without arguing, discussing, or expounding upon the Scripture.
Ouer and besides, whereas before the offender or defendaunt might not be suffered to bring in any witnesses to purge and try himself: In this Parliament it was permitted to the party detect, or complained on, to try his cause by witnesses, as many, or mo in mumber, as the other which deposed against him. &c.
Other qualifications of the act of the six Articles.
AFter this Parliament moreover followed another parliament. an. 1545. wherein other qualifications▪ more special of the six articles were provided: That where as before the cruel statute of the six articles was so strayt, y t if any of the kings subjects had been cōplayned 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 givē to the party so accused, & so thereupon to be attached, committed, and in fine to be condemned: it was therefore by this parliament provided, that all such presentmentes and indictmentes should not be brought before the Commissioners, otherwise then by the oaths of xii. men or moe, of honesty and credit, without corruption or malice accordingly.
Item, that no such indictmentes or presentmentes should be taken, but within one year of the offenses committed, either else the said indictmentes to stand void in the law.
Item, that no person accused upon any such offense against the six articles, should be attached, or committed to ward, before he were thereof indicted, unless by special warrant from the king &c.
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, not within the space of 40. days of the said his reading or preaching, then the party accused to be aquitted.
Item, that the Justices or inquirers of such presentmentes should have full power to alter and reform all panelles 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 chalenges (peremptory only excepted) as other persons arraigned for felony may have, by the laws of this realm.
By these qualifications & moderations of the 6. articles, it may appere that the king begā somewhat to grow out of favor with Ste. Gardener, & to discredit his doings, whereby he was y e more forward to incline somewhat in furthering the desolate cause of religiō, as may appear both by these premisses, & also by other provisions & determinations of the foresaid parliament. an. 1545. wherein it was decreed by act of parliament, y t the king should have full power & authority to appoint 32. persons, to wit 16. of y e clergy, & 16. of the tēporalty, to peruse, oversee, & examine the Canons, constitutions & ordinances of y e canon law, as well Provincial, as Synodal, & so, according to their discretions, to set & 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.
In this yere touching matters of histories, we read no great thing worthy of memory, but only of two persons, John, Athee, & I. Haywood. Of which two, we find first I. Athee to be indicted by the kings writ, for certain words against y e sacrament, which words in the indictmēt are specified to be these: that he would not believe in y e thing which y e knave priest made, neither in that which Longs wife selleth: but only in God y t is in heaven. And when it was told him that God through his word could make it flesh & blood, he answered: so he might do if he would turn it into a chickins leg, meaning the sacrament of the altar.
The same yere also followed y e recantation of Io. Heywood, who although he was tached for treasō, for denying the kings supremacy, yet using y e clemency of y e king, upon his better reformatiō & amendment, made an open & solemn recantation in y e face of all the people, abandoning & renoūcing the Popes usurped supremacy, & confessing of the king to be chief supreme head & governor of this church of England, all foreign authority & iurisdictiō being excluded. The tenor & effect of whose recantation here followeth.
*The recantation of John Haywood.
I Am come hither at this time, (good people) willing and of mine own disirous suit, to show and declare unto you briefly. First of all the great and inestimable clemency, and mercifulness of our moste sovereign and redoubted Prince, the kings Majesty, the which his highness hath most graciously used towards me a wretch moste justly and worthily condemned to die, for my manifold and outrageous offenses, heinously and traitorously committed against his majesty and his laws. For whereas your maiestyes supremacy hath so often been opened unto me both by writing and speaking (if I had grace, either to open mine eyes to see it, or mine ears to hear it) to be surely and certaynely grounded, and established upon the very true word of God. Yet for lack of grace I have moste willfully and obstinately suffered myself to fall to such blindness, y t I have not only thought y t the bysh. of Rome hath been and ought to be taken the chief and supreme head of the universal Church of Christ hear in earth, but also like no true subject conceiled and favored such as I have known or thought to be of the opinion. For the which moste detestable treasons and untruths. I hear most humbly and with all my heart, first of all ask the kings majesty forgiveness, and secondarily of the world, beseeching all these that either now do, or hereafter shall hear of these my great transgressions, to take this mine example for an instruction for them to call for grace, that they thereby be stayed from falling at any time in such miserable blindness and folly.
Moreover, here afore God and you (good Christian people) I do utterly & withal my heart, recant & revoke all mine aforesaid erroneous and traiterous opinions. And (as my conscience now doth force) I protest that evē with my heart I firmly think and undoubtedly believe, that the Bishop of Rome neither now hath, nor at any time hath had, or can have by any law of God or man, anymore authority without the precincte of his own country about him, then any other Bishop hath within his own diocese. Whereby I assuredly take the abolishing of the pretensed and usurped power or authority of the Bishop of Rome out of this Realm to be done justly and truly by the law of God. And also I take our sovereign Lord, the kings highness to be supreme head immediately next under Christ of the Church of England and Ireland, and all other his graces dominions, both of the spiritualty & temporalty. And I confess not only that his majesty so is by the law of God, but also his progenitors kings of this Realm so hath been, and his highness heirs and sucessors kings of this Realm so shall be.
Thus have I shown you my mind as well as I can but neither so well as I would, nor so full as I should, namely concerning the multitude of mercy which my most gracious prince hath shown toward me, not only for saving my body after worthy cōdēnatiō to death as is aforesaid but also for saving my soul frō perishing, if my body had perished before the receiving of such wholesome council as I had at his highness most charitable assignment. And of this confession declared unto you (I say as far forth as I can.) I heartily pray you all to bear me record, and most entyrely to pray almighty God, for the long and most prosperous estate of our sovereign Lord the kings Majesty in all his affairs and proceedings.
By me John Heywood
Memorandū quod supra scripta assertio sieve recātatio fuit facta & publice emissa per prenominatum Iohannem Heiwood die dominica Sexto viz. die Iulij. An. Millessimo Quingentessimo Quadragesimo quarto, apud crucem paulinam tempore Concionis ibidem.
In this year of our Lord. 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 M. George Wysard, and diverse 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 ende almost of K. Henryes reign, we will make an ende (the Lord willing) with a few other English stories pertaining to that time: & that finished, so to 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 kings reign.
*Kerby and Roger Clarke of Suffolk Martyrs.
COmming now to the year of our Lord. 1546. first passing over the Priest, whose name was Saxye, which was hanged in the Porters lodge of Stephen Gardener Bishoppe 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 Roger Clarke of Mendessham, who were apprehended at Ipswiche. ann. 1546. the saterday 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 areyned, a bill was set up upon the townehouse 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 & Roger being in the Gailers house, named I. Bird, an honest and a good man (who had checks diverse times at the bar, that he was more meet to be kept, then to be a keeper) came in Mayster Robert Wingfielde, son and heir of Humfrey Wingfielde knight) with M. Bruesse of Wennenham: who then having conference with Kerby (being then in a several chamber separate frō the other) master Wingfeld said to Kerby: Remember the fire is hot, take heed of thine enterprise that y u take no more vpō thee thē thou shalt be able to perform. The terror is great, the pain will be extreme, and life is sweet. Better it were be time to stick to mercy, while there is hope of life, then rashly to begin, & then to shrink: with such like words of persuasion. To whom he answered again: Ah M. Wingfield, be at my burning, and you shall say, there standeth a christen 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, then he will give us strength to bear. Ah Kerby, said master Wingfield, if thou be at that point, I will b •• de 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, took hands with them, and so departed.
Now (first touching the behavior of Kerby & 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 ex officio. sitting next to the L. 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, whilst they might say the Lord's prayer five or six times.
That done, their articles were declared unto thē, 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 borne 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 the 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 then bread and wine, for that it is consecrated to an 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 saythful and content, choosing rather to die then to live, and so continued unto the end.
Then sentence was given upon them both, Kerby to be burned in the said town 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, said: Praised be almighty God, and so stood still without any moe words.
Then did the Lord Wentworth talk secretly, putting his 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 anything contrary to your conscience, ask God mercy, and we for our partes do forgive you: and speak not in secret, for ye shall come before a Judge, and then make answer openly, evē he that shall judge all men: with other like words.
The Lord Wentworth somewhat blushing, and chaūginge his countenance through remorse (as it was thought) said, I did speak nothing of you, nor I have done nothing unto you, but as the Law is. Then was Kerby and Roger sent forth: Kerby to prison there, & Roger to saint Edmundes Bury. The one of the two brusting out with a loud voice (Roger as 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, whereas a stake was ready, wood, broom, and straw, and did of his clothes unto his shyrt, having a night cap upon his dead, and so was fastened to the stake with irons, there being in the galery, the Lord Wentworth, with the most part of all the Justices of those quarters, where they might see his execution, how everything 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 galery by the Lord Wentworth, D. Rugham, which was before a Monk of Burye and sexten of the house, having on a Surplis and a stool 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 fagottes, broom, and straw, as one that should be married with new garments, nothing changing cheare nor coūtenaunce, but with most meek spirit glorified GOD: which was wonderful to behold. Then Mayster Doctor at last entered into y e sixth Chapter of S. 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 Doctor Rugham a false Prophet. So when master Doctor had ended his collation, he said unto Kerby: Thou good man, doest not thou believe that the blessed sacrament of the alter is the very flesh and blood of Christ, and no bread even as he was borne of the virgins 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 Maundye Thursdaye 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 then 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 anything more to say? Yea syr said he, if you will give me leave. Say on, said the Sheriff.
Then Kerby taking his night cap from his head, put it under his arm, as though it should have done him service again: but remembering him self, 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, whilst Kerby was thus doing, did shroude him self behind one of the posts of the Gallery, and wept, and so did many other. Then said Kerby, I have done: you may execute your office good Master Sheriff.
Then fire was set to the wood, and with loud voice he called unto God, knocking on his breast, and holding up
On the Gang Monday, an. 1546. about ten of the clock, Roger Clarke of Mendelsham 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 kne, but with most vehement words rebuked that idolatry and superstition, the Officers being much offended. And without the gate, where as 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 virgins Mary, who might as well rejoice in pureness, as any other, yet humbled her self to her Savior. And what sayst thou John the 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 loud voice he cried unto the people while he was in fastening to the stake, & then the fire was set to him, whereas 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, was therewith sore payned, till he had got his feet out of the barrel. And at length one standing by took a fagotte stick, and striking at the ring of iron about his neck, so pashed him, and stroke him belike upon the head, that he shronk down on the one side into the fire, & 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 Byll set upon the Townehouse door in Ipswich.
IVste iudicate filij hominum: 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 y t judge the earth, least the Lord be agry 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 fat shall stand on his own bottom. Therefore have remorse to 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 y e truth to be forsaken.
We beseech God to save our king, king Henry the 8. that he be not lead into temptation. So be it.
This year also it was ordained & decreed & solemnly given out in Proclamation by the kings name & authority and his Counsel, that the english Procession should be used throughout all England, according as it was set forth by his said counsel, and none other to be used throughout the whole Realm.
About the latter end of this year .1545. in the Moneth of November, after that the king had subdued the Scots, and afterward joining together with the Emperor, had invaded France, and had got from them the town of Bollayn, he summoned his high Court of Parliament. In the which was granted unto him besides other subsidies of money, all Colleges, Chaūtries, free chapels, hospitals, fraternities, brotherhoodes, guildes, & perpetuities of stipēdary priests, to be disposed at his will & pleasure. Whervpon in the month of Decem. following, the king after the wonted manner, 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 L. 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 grauntes and subuentions 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 had begun in deed first himself to take away the occasion of division, disobedience, & disturbance frō his subjects, that is, had removed the stumbling block of the 6. articles out of the people's way, which set brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, the superior against subject, & 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 kings 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 opē and set forth my mind and meaning, and the secretes 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 Mayster Speaker, say: that where you in the name of our well-beloved Commons, have both praised and extolled me, for the notable q́ualities that ye have conceived to be in me, I most heartily thank you all, that you have put me in remembrance of my duty, which is to endeavor 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 barrayne.
But of 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 because that you considering our great charges (not for our pleasure, but for your defense, not for our gain, but to our great cost) which we have lately sustained, as well in defense of our & your enemies, as for the conquest of that Fortress, which was to this Realm most displeasaunt 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, then the profit thereof as he that setteth more by your loving harts, then by your substance. Beside this hearty kindness, I cannot a little rejoice when I consider the perfect trust & sure confidence, which you have put in me, as men having undoubted hope, and unfeigned belief in my good doings, & just proceedings for that you, without my desire or request, have committed to mine order and disposition, all Chauntreys, Colleges, Hospitals, and other places specified, in a certain act, firmelye trusting that I will order them to the glory of God, & the profit of the common wealth. 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 vnrelieued 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 Christian, neither a lover of the public wealth, nor yet one that feared God, to whom account must be rendered of all our doings. Doubte not I pray you but your expectation shall be served, more godly & goodly then you will wish or desire, as hereafter you shall plainly perceive.
Now sithens I find such kindness on your part toward me, I cannot choose, but love and favor you, affirming that no prince in the world more favoreth his subjects then I do you, nor no subjects or commons more love and obey their sovereign Lord, then I perceive you do me, for whose defense my treasure shall not be hidden, nor if necessity require, my person shall not be vnaduentured. Yet although I with you, and you with me, be in this perfect love and concord, this friendly amity cannot continue except both you my Lord's Temporal, and you my Lord's Spiritual, and you my loving subjects, study and take pain 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 & concord is not amongst you, but discord and dissention beareth rule in every place. Saint Paul saith to the Corinthians, in the xiii. Chapiter. Charity is gentle, Charity is not envious, Charity is not proud, and so forth in the said Chapter. Behold then what love and charitye is amongst you, when the one calleth the other Heretic and Anabaptist, and he calleth him again Papist, Hypocrite, and Pharesey? Be these tokens of charity amongst you? Are these the signs of fraternal love between you? No, no, I assure you, that this lack of charitye amongst yourselves, will be the hinderance and asswaging the fervent love between us, as I said before, except this wound be 〈◊〉 , and clearly made whole. I must needs judge the fault and occasion of this discord,