Acts and Monuments Volume 2 Part 1

How Cromwell helped a poor woman with child, out of great trouble, longing for a piece of meat in time of Lent.

Persecutors.	Persecuted.	The cause.
Fishers wife of Harnesey▪ D. Cockes. Bishop Stokesley. Holland his Sumner. M. Garter, king of Arms.	Thomas Frebarne and his Wife.	IN the year of our Lord. 1538. Syr William Formā being Major of the city of London, three weeks before Easter, the wife of one Tho. Frebarn dwelling in Pater noster row, being w t child, lōged after a morsel of a pigge, and told her mind unto a Mayde dwelling in Abchurch lane, desiring her, if it were possible, to help her unto a piece. The maid perceiving her earnest desire, shown unto her husband, what his wife had said unto her, telling him that it might chance to cost her her life and the childes too which she went withal, if she had it not. Uppon this Thomas Frebarne her husband spake to a butter wife which he knew, y t dwelled at Harnsey, named goodwife Fisher, to help him unto a pigge for his wife, for she was with child, & longed sore to eat of a pigge. Unto whom the said goodwife Fisher promised that she would bring him one the Friday following, and so she did, being ready dressed and scalded before. But when she had delivered him the pigge, she craftily conveyed one of the pigge • feet, & carried it unto Doctor Cockes, at that time being Dean of Canterbury, dwelling in I • y lane, who at that time of his dinner, before certain gestes which he had bidden, shown his pigs foot, declaring who had the body thereof: and after that they had talked their pleasure, & dinner was done, one of his gestes being landlord unto Frebarne aforesaid, called M. Garter, & by his office king of Arms, sent his man unto the said Frebarne, demanding if there were nobody sick in his house. Unto whom he answered, that they were all in good health, he gave God thanks. Then said he again, it was told his Mayster that somebody was sick, or else they would not eat flesh in Lent. Unto whom Frebarne made answer, that his wife was with child, and longed for a piece of a pigge, and if he could get some for her, he would. Then departed his Landlordes man home again.

And shortly after his Landlord sent for him. But before that he sent for him, he had sent for the bishop of London's Sumner, whose name was Hollōd, & whē this Frebarne was come, he demanded of him, if he had not a pig in his house, which he denied not. Then commanded Mayster Garter the said Sumner called Hollond, to take him, and go home to his house, and to take the Pygge, and carry both him and the Pigge unto Doctor Stokesley his Mayster, being then Bishop of London, & so he did. Then the Bishop being in his chamber, with diverse other of the Clergy, called this Frebarne before him, and had him in examination for his pigge, laying also unto his charge, that he had eaten in his house that lent, poudred beefe and Calves heads. Unto whom Frebarne answered. My Lord, if the heads were eaten in my house, in whose houses were the bodies eaten? Also if there be either man or woman that can prove, that either I, or any in my house hath done as your Lordship saith, let me suffer death therefore. You speak (said he) against pilgrimages, and will not take holy bread, holy water, nor yet go on Procession on Palme Sunday: Thou art no Christian man. My Lord, said Frebarne, I trust I am a true Christian man, & have done nothing neither against God's law nor my princes.

In the time of this his examination, which was during the space of two hours, diverse came unto the bishop, some to have their childrē confirmed, & some for other causes. Unto whom as they came, having the pig before him covered, he would lift up the cloth and show it them, saying: How think you of such a fellow as this is? is not this good meat, I pray you, to be eaten in this blessed time of Lent, yea and also poudred Beefe and Calves heads too beside this?

After this the Bishoppe called his Sumner unto him, and commanded him to go and carry this Thomas Frebarne and the pig openly thorough the stre • tes, into the old Bayly, unto Syr Roger Chomley, for the Bishop said, he had nothing to do to punish him, for that belonged unto y ^e civil magistrates, and so was Frebarne carried w ^t the pyg before him, to sir Roger Chomleis house in the old Bailey, & he being not at home at that time, Frebarne was brought likewise back again unto the bishops place with the pig, and there lay in the porters lodge till it was 9. a clock at night. Then the bishop sent him unto the Counter in the Poultry by the Sumner and other of his servants.

The next day being Saturday, he was brought before the Major of London & his brethren, unto Guild hall, but before his coming, they had the pig delivered unto them by the Bishops officer. Then the Major and the Benche laid unto his charge (as they were informed from the Bishop) that he had eaten poudred beefe and Calves heads in his house the same Lent, but no man was able to come in that would justify it, neither could anything be found, save only the Pig, which (as is before said) was for the preservation of his wives life, and that she went withal. Notwithstanding the Major of London said, that the Monday next following, he should stand on the Pillary in Cheapeside, with the one half of the pig on the one shoulder, and the other half on the other.

Then spake the Wyfe of the said Frebarne unto the Major and the Benche, desiring that she might stand there, and not he, for it was long of her and not of him. After this they took a satten list, & tide it fast about the pigs neck, and made Frebarne to carry it hanging on his shoulder until he came unto the Counter of the Poultry, from whence he came.

After this was done, the Wyfe of this Prisoner took with her an honest woman, the Wyfe of one Michael Lobley, which was well acquainted with diverse in the Lord Cromwelles house, unto whom the said woman resorted for some help for this prisoner, desiring them to speak unto their Lord and Mayster for his deliverance out of trouble.

It happened that the same time came in Doctor Barns and Mayster Barlowe, who understanding the matter by Lobleys wife, went up to the Lord Cromwell, and certified him thereof: who upon their request, sent for the Major of the City of London: but what was said unto the Lord Major, is unknown, saving that in the after noon of the same day, • he wife of the person aforesaid resorted again unto the Lord Major, suyng to get her husband delivered out of prison, declaring how that she had 2. small children, and had nothing to help her and them, but only her husband, who labored for their livings. Unto whom the Major answered, what come ye to me? You are taken up with the Kings Counsel. I supposed that you had come to desire me that your husband should not stand upon the Pillary in Cheapeside on Monday next, with the one half of the pyg on his one shoulder and the other half on the other▪ Also the Major said unto her, that he could not deliver him without the consent of the rest of his brethren the Aldermen. Wherefore he bade her the next day following, which was Sunday, to re • ort unto Paul's to Saint Dunstones Chapel, and when he had spoken with his brethren, he would then tell her more. Other answer could she get none at that time. Wherefore she went unto M. Wilkenson, then being Sheriff of London, desiring him to be good unto her, and that she might have her poor husband out of prison. Unto whom M. Wilkenson answered: O woman▪ Christ hath laid a piece of his cross upon thy neck, to prove whether thou wilt help him to bear it or no, saying moreover to her, that if the Lord major had sent him to his Counter, as he sent him to his brothers, he should not have tarried there an hour, and so commanded her to come the next day unto him to dinner, and he would do y ^e best for her he could. So the next day came, & this woman resorted again to M. Wilkensōs, according as he bad her, who also had bid̄ diverse gestes: unto whō he spake in her behalf But as they were set at dinner, and she also sitting at the table, whē she saw the hot fish come in, she felt down in a swound, so that for the space of two hours the could keep no life in her. Wherefore they sent her home to her house in Pater noster row, and then they sent for the Midwife, supposing that she would have been delivered incontinent of her child that she went with, but after that she came somewhat again to herself, where she lay sick and kept her bed the space of xv. weeks after, being not able to help her self, but as she was helped of others, during the time of xv. weeks.

Now to show further what became of this Pig, whereof we have spoken so much, it was carried into Finsburye field by the Bishop of London's Sumner, at his masters commandment, and there buried. The Monday following, being the fourth day after that this prisoner aforesaid was apprehended, the Major of London, with the residue of his brethren being at Guild hall, sent for the prisoner aforenamed, and demanded sureties of him for his forth coming, what so ever hereafter should or might be laid unto his charge, but for lack of such suretyes as they required upon his own band, which was a Recognisaunce of twenty pound, he was delivered out of their hands. But shortly after that he was delivered out of this his trouble, master Garter, of whom we have spoken before, being his landlord, warned him out of his house, so that in four years after, he could not get another, but was constrained to be within other good folks, to his great hindrance and undoing.

Hard it were and almost out of number to rehearse the names and stories of all them, which felt the gentle help of this good man in some case or other. Where might be remembered the notable deliverance of one Gray, a Smyth of Bishops Starford, who being accused for denying y ^e sacrament of the altar to be our Savior, was sent up for the same to Londō and there should have been condemned to be burnt, but that by the means of the L. Cromwell, he was sent home again and delivered. One other example, though it be somewhat long with the circumstances and all, I will declare, how be helped the Secretary that thē was to Doctor Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, which Secretary is yet alive, and can bear present record of the same.

How the Lord Cromwell helped Cranmer's Secretary.

MEntion was made before how king Henry in y ^e year of his reign 21. caused the 6. Articles to pass, much against the mind and contrary to the consent of the Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Crāmer, who had disputed three days against the same in the Parliament house, with great reasons and authorities. Which Articles after they were granted and past by the Parliament, the king for the singular favor which he ever bare to Cranmer, and reverence to his learning, being desirous to know what he had said and objected in the Parliament against these Articles, or what could be alleged by learning against the same, required a note of the Archbishop of his doings, what he had said and opposed in the Parliament touch •• g that matter. And this word was sent to him from the king by Cromwell, and other Lord's of the Parliament whom the king then sent to dine with him at Lambeth, somewhat to comfort again his grieved mind, and troubled spirits as hath been above recited. pag, 1136.

Wherupon when his dinner was finished, the next day after the Archbishop collecting both his arguments, authorities of scriptures, and Doctors together, caused his Secretary to write a fair book thereof for the king, after this order. First the Scriptures were alleged, then the Doctors, thirdly followed the Arguments deducted from those authorities. This book was written in his Secretaryes Chamber. Where, in a by Chamber lay the Archbishops Almosiner. When this book was fair writ̄, and whiles the Secretary was gone to deliver the same unto y ^e Archbishop his master, who was (as it then chanced) rydde to Croydon: returning back to his chamber, found his door shut, and the key carried away to London by the Almosiner.

At this season also chanced the father of the said Secretary to come to the Citty, by whose occasion it so • ell out, that he must needs go to London. The book he could not lay into his chamber, neither durst he commit it to any other person to keep, being straitly charged in any cōditiō of the Archbishop his master, to be circumspect thereof, so that he determined to go to his father and to keep the book about him. And so th • usting the book under his girdle, he went over unto Westminster bridge with a sculler, where he entered into a whirry that went to London, wherein were 4. of the Garde, who meant to land at Paul's wharfe and to pass by the kings highness, who then was in his Barge with a great number of Barges and boates about him, then baiting of Bears in the water over against the bank.

These foresaid yeomen of the gard, when they came against the kings Barge, they durst not pass by towards Paul's wharfe, least they should be espied, & therefore entreated the Secretary to go with them to the Bearebayting, and they would find the means being of the garde to make room and to see all the pastime, the Secretary perceiving no other remedy, assēted thereto. Whē the whirry came nye the multitude of the boats, they with pollaxes got in the whirry so far, that being compassed with many other whirryes and boates there was no refuge if the Bear should break loose and come upon them, as in very deed within one pater noster while, the Bear brake lose and came in to the boat where the yeomen of the gard were and the said Secretary. The gard forsook the wherry and went into another barge, one or two of them leaping short, and so fell into the water. The Bear and the dogs so shaked the whirry wherein the Secretary was, that the boat being full of water, soncke to the ground, & being also as it chanced an ebbing tide, he there sat in the end of y ^e whirry up to y ^e middle in water. To whō came the Bear and all the dogs. The Bear seeking as it were aide and succor of him, came back with his hinder parts upon him and so rushing vpō him, the book was loosed frō his girdle and fell into the Thames out of his reach.

The flying of the people, after that the bear was lose, from one boat to another, was so comberous, that diverse persons were thrown into the Thames, the king commanding certain men that could swim, to strip them selves naked and to help to save them that were in danger. This pastime so displeased the king that he bad away away, with the Bear, and let us all go hence.

The Secretary perceiving his book to fleet away in the Thames, called to the Beareward to take up y ^e book, When the Beareward had the book in his custody, being an errant Papist, far from the Religion of his Mystres (for he was the Lady Elizabethes Beareward, now the Que • nes majesty) ere that the Secretary could come to land, he had delivered the book to a Priest of his own affinity in Religion standing on the bancke, who reading in the book and perceiving that it was a manifest refutation of the 6. Articles, made much a do and told the Beareward that whosoever claimed the book, should surely be hanged. Anone the Secretary came to the Beareward for his book. What quoth the Beareward, dare you challenge this book? Whose servant be you? I am servant to one of the Coūsell, said the Secretary, and my Lord of Canterbury is my master. Yea mary, quoth the Beareward, I thought so much. You belike I trust, quoth the Beareward, to be both hanged for this book. Well (said he) it is not so evil as you take it, and I warrant you my L. will avouch the book to the kings Majesty. But I pray you let me have my book, and I will give you a Crown to drink. If you would give me v.C. crowns, you shall not have it, quoth the Beareward. With that y ^e Secretary departed from him, & understanding the malicious frowardness of the Beareward, he learned that Blage the Grocer in Cheapeside might do much with the Beareward, to whom the Secretary brake this matter, requiring him to send for the Beareward to supper, and he would pay for y ^e whole charge thereof, and besides that rather thē he would forgo his book after this sort, the Beareward should have xx. shillinges to drink. The supper was prepared. The Beareward was sent for, and came. After supper the matter was entreated of and xx. shillings offered for the book. But do what could be done, neither friendship, acquaintance, nor yet reward of money could obtain the book out of his hands, but that the same should be delivered unto some of the Counsel that would not so slightly look on so weighty a matter, as to have it redeemed for a supper or a piece of money. The honest man M. Blage with many good reasons would have persuaded him not to be stiff in his own conceit, declaring that in the end he should nothing at all prevail of his purpose, but be laughed to scorn, getting neither penny nor praise for his travel. He hearing that, rushed suddenly out of the doors from his friend M. Blage without any manner of thanks giving for his supper, more like a Beareward then like an honest man. Whē the Secretary saw y ^e matter so extremely to be used against him, he then thought it expedient to fall from any farther practicing of entreaty with the Beareward, as with him that seemed rather to be a Bear himself then the Master of the beast, determining the next morning to make the L. Cromwell privy of the chance that happened.

So on the next day, as the Lord Cromwell went to y ^e Court, the Secretary declared the whole matter unto him & how he had offered him xx.s for the finding thereof. Wher is the fellow, quoth the Lord Cromwell? I suppose, said the Secretary, that he is now in the Court attēding to deliver the book unto some of the Counsel. Well said the Lord Cromwell, it maketh no matter: go with me thither and I shall get you your book again. When the Lord Cromwell came into the hall of the Court, there stood the Beareward with the book in his hand, waiting to have delivered the same unto Syr Anthony Brown, or unto the Bishop of Winchester, as it was reported. To whom the Lord Cromwell said, come hither fellow. What book hast thou there in thy hand? and with that snatched the book out of his hand, and looking in the book, he said, I know this hand well enough. This is your hand, said he to the Secretary. But where haddest thou this book, quoth the Lord Cromwell to the Beareward? This Gentleman lost it two days ago in the Thames said the Beareward. Doest thou know whose servant he is, said the Lord Cromwell? He saith, quoth the Beareward, that he is my Lord of Canterburies servant. Why then dyddest not thou deliver to him the book, whē he required it, said the L. Cromwell. Who made thee so bold as to detein and withhold any book or writing from a Coūsellers servant, specially being his Secretary? It is more meter for thee to medle with thy Bears thē with such writing, & it were not for thy masters sake, I would set thee fast by the feet, to teach such malepert knaves to meddle with Counsellers matters. Had not money been well bestowed upon such a good fellow as this is, that knoweth not a Counselors man frō a Cobblers man? And with those words the Lord Cromwell went up into the kings chamber of presence and the Archbishops Secretary with him, where he found in the chamber the Lord of Canterbury. To whō he said, my Lord I have found here good stuff for you (showing to him the paper book that he had in his hand) ready to bring both you & this good fellow your mā to the halter, namely if the knave Beareward now in the Hall, might have well compassed it. At these words the Archbishop smiled and said, he that lost the book is like to have the worse bargayne, for besides that he was well washed in the Thames, he must write the book fair again: & at those words the Lord Cromwell cast the book unto the Secretary saying, I pray thee Morice go in hand therewith by & by with all expedition, for it must serve a turn. Surely my Lord, it somewhat rejoiceth me, quoth the L. Cromwell, that the verlet might have had of your man xx. s. for the book, and now I have discharged the matter with never a penny. And shaking him well up for his overmuch malepar • nes, I know the fellow well enough (quoth he) there is not a rancker Papist within this realm, thē he is, most unworthy to be servant unto so noble a Princesse. And so after humble thanks given to the Lord Cromwell, the said Morice departed with his book, which when he again had fair written, was delivered to the kings Majesty by the said Lord Cromwell, within 4. days after.

*The Lord Cromwell not forgetting his old friends and benefactors.

IT is commonly seen, that men advanced once from base degree, to ample dignities do rise also with fortune into such insolency and exaltatiō of mind, that not only they forget themselves what they were, & from whence they came but also cast out of remembrance all their old friends and former acquayntance, which have been to them before beneficial. Frō which sort of men, how far the courteous condition of this christen Earl did differ, by diverse examples it may appear As by a certain poor woman keeping some time a vitailing house about Hownsloe, to whom the said Lord Cromwell remained in debt for certain old reckonings, to y ^e sum of xl.s. It happened that the L. Cromwell with Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, riding thorough Cheapeside toward the Court, in turning his eye over the way, and there espying this poor woman, brought now in need & misery, eftsones caused her to be called unto him. Who being come, after certain questions asked of her if she were not such a womā, and dwelling in such a place. At last he demanded, if he were not behind for a certain payment of money between him and her. To whō she with reverent obeisance, confessed that he ought her money for a certain old reckoning which was yet vnpayd, whereof she stood now in great necessity, but never durst call vpō him nor could come at him for to require her right. Thē the L. Cromwell sending the poor woman home to his hou • e▪ and one of his servants withal, that the Porter should see her in, after his return from the Court, not only discharged the debt which he ought, but also gave her a yearly pension of four pounds, and a livery every year while she lived.

The like curtesy the said L. Cromwell shown also to a certain Italian, who in the city of Florence, had shown him much kindness in succoring and relieving his necessity as in this story following may appear. Which story set forth and compiled in the Italian tongue by Bandello, & imprinted at Luke by Busdrago, an. 1554. I thought here to insert, with the whole order and circumstance thereof, as it is reported.

Not many years past, saith the author, there was in Florence a merchant whose name was Francis, descended from the noble & ancient family of the Frescobaldes: this Gentleman was naturally endued with a noble & liberal mind, unto whom also through prosperous success and fortunate luck in his affairs and doings, much abundance of riches increased, so that he grew in great wealth, having his cofers replenished w ^t many heaps of much treasure. He according to the custom Marchantes, used his trade into many countries, but chiefly into England, where long time he lived soiourning in London, keeping house to his great commendation and praise.

It happened, that Francis Frescobald being in Florence, there appeared before him a poor young man, asking his alms for God's sake. Frescobald as he earnestly beheld this ragged stripling, who was not so disguised in his tottered attire, but that his countenance gave significatiō of much towardness & virtue in him, with comformity of manners agreing to the same, being moved with pity, demanded of what country he was, & where he was borne. I am Syr (quoth he) of England, & my name is Thomas Cromwell. My father is a poor man, & by his occupation a cloth sherer. I am straied from my country, and am now come into Italy with the campe of frenchmē, that were overthrown at Gatilyon, where I was the page to a footman, carrying after him his pike and burganet. Frescobald partly considering the present state of this young man, and partly for the love he bare to the english natiō, of whom he had received in times past sundry pleasures, received him into his house, & with such curtesy interteined his gest, as at his departure whē he was in mind to return to his country, he provided such necessaries as he any way needed. He gave him both horse & new apparel, & 16. duckats of gold in his purse, to bring him into his country. Cromwell rendering his hearty thanks, took leave of his host & returned into England. This Cromwell was a man of noble courage & heroical spirit, given to enterprise great matters, very liberal, a grave Counselor, &c. But to our purpose.

At what time Cromwell was so highly favored of his prince, and advanced to such dignity as is aforesaid, Frāces Frescobald (as it many times happeneth unto Merchants) was by many misfortunes and great losses, cast back and become very poor. For according to conscience and equity, he paid whatsoever was due to any other frō himself, but such debts as were owing unto him, he could by no means obtain: yet calling further to remembrance that in England by certain merchants there was due to him the sum of 15000. ducates, he so purposed with himself, that if he could recover that money, he would well content himself, and no longer deal in the trade of merchants but quietly pass over the rest of his days.

All things prepared for his journey, he setting forward towards England, at last arrived at London, having utterly forgotten what courtesy long before he had shown to Cromwell, which is the property always of a good nature, for a man to forget what benefits he hath shown to other, but to keep in mind continually what he hath received of other. Frescobald thus being now ariued at London, and there traveling earnestly about his business, it chanced him by the way to meet with this noble man, as he was riding toward the court. Whome, as soon as the said lord Cromwell had espied, and had earnestly beheld, he bethought with himself that he should be the man of Florence, at whose hands in times past he had received so gentle entertainment, and thereupon suddenly alighting (to the great admiration of those that were with him) in his arms he gently embraced the stranger, and with a broken voice scarce able to refrain tears, he demanded if he wer not Frances Frescobald the Florētine. Yea sir (he answered) and your humble servant. My servant (quoth Cromwell? ) no, as you have not been my servant in times past, so will I not now account you otherways then my great and especial friend, assuring you that I have just reason to be sory, that you knowing what I am (or at the least what I should be) will not let me understand of your arriuyng in this land, which known unto me, truly I should have paid part of that debt which I confess to owe you: but thanked be God I have yet time. Well sir, in conclusion, you are hartilie welcome. But having now weighty affairs in my princes cause, you must hold me excused, that I can no longer tarry with you. Therefore at this time I take my leave, desiring you with the faithful mind of a friend, that you forget not this day to come to my house to dinner, and then in remounting on his horse, he passed to the Court. Frescobald greatly meruailing with himself who this Lord should be, at last after some pause, his remembrance better called home, he knew him to be the same, whom long before (as you have heard) he had relieved in Florence, and thereat not a little joyed, especially considering how that by his means he should the better recover his duty.

The hour of dinner drawing near, he repaired to the house of this honorable Counselor, where walking a while in his base Court, he attended his coming. The Lord shortly returned from the Court, and no sooner dismounted, but he again embraced this Gentleman with so friendly a countenance, that both the Lord Admiral and all the other noble men of the Court being then in his company, did not a little marvel thereat.

Which thing when the Lord Cromwell perceived, he turning towards them, and holding Frescobald fast by the hand: do ye not marvel my Lord's (quoth he) that I seem so glad of this man? This is he by whose means I have achieved the degree of this my present calling: and because ye shall not be ignorant of his courtesy when I greatly needed, I shall tell it you: and so there declared unto them everything in order, according as before hath been recited unto you. His tale finished, holding him still by the hand, he entered his house, and coming into the Chamber where his dinner was prepared, he sat him down to the Table, placing his best welcomed guest next unto him.

The dinner ended, and the Lord's departed, he would know what occasion had brought Frescobald to London. Francis in few words opened his cause, truly telling, that from great wealth he was fallen into poverty, and that his only portion to maintain the rest of his life, was xv. thousand Ducates which were owyng him in england and two thousand in Spain. Whereunto the lord Cromwell answeryng again, said, touching the things Master Frescobald that be already past, although it cannot now be undone by man's power, nor by pollicye called again, which hath happened unto you by the unstable condition and mutability of this world altering too and fro: yet is not your sorrow so peculiar to yourself alone, but that by the bond of mutual love, I must also bewail with you this your state and condition, which state and condition of yours, though it may work in you matter of just heaviness, yet notwithstanding, to the intent you may receive in this your heavy distress some consolatiō for your old courtesy shown to me in times past, the like courtesy now requireth of me again, that I likewise should repay some portion of that debt wherein I stand bound unto you according as the part of a thankful man byndeth me to do in requiting your benefits on my part heretofore received. And this further I avouch in the word of a true friend that during this life and state of mine. I will never fail to do for you, wherein my authority may prevail to supply your lack and necessity. And so let these few words suffice to give you knowledge of my friendly meaning. But let me delay the time no longer.

Then taking him by the hand, he led him into his chamber, whence, after that every man by his commandment was departed, he locked fast the door. Thē opening a coffer full heaped with treasure, he first took out sixtene Ducates, and deliueryng them to Frescobald, he said: loe here (my friend) is your money which you lent me at my departure from Florence, and here other ten which you bestowed in my apparel, with ten more that you disbursed for the horse I rid away on. But considering you are a merchant, it seemeth to me not honest to return your money without some consideration for the long detainyng of it. Take you therefore these 4. bags, and in every of them is 400. ducates, these you shall receive and enjoy from the hands of your assured friend.

Frescobald, although from great wealth he was brought to a low ebb, and (almost) an utter decay, yet expressyng the virtue of a modest mind, after gentle thanks given to the Lord Cromwell for his exceeding kyndnesse shown, courteously would have refused that which was offered, had not the other enforced him against his will to receive it.

This done, he caused Frescobald to give him a note of the names of all his debtors, and the sum that from every of them was owyng him. This scedule he delivered to one of his servants, unto whom he gave charge diligently to search out such men whose names therein was contained, if they were within any part of the realm, & then straightly to charge them to make payment of those sums within fiftene days, or else to abide the hazard of his displeasure. The servant so well performed his masters commandment, that in very short time they made payment of the whole sum: and if it had lyked Frescobald so to have demanded, they should have answered to the uttermost such commodity, as the use of his money in so many years would have given him profit: but he contented with his principal, would demand no further. By which means he gate both hearty love and great estimation, and the more, for that he was so dear to the Lord Cromwell, and so highly esteemed of him.

And during all this time, Frescobald continually lodged in the house of the lord Cromwell, whoever gave him such entertainment as he had right well deserved, and oftentimes moved him to abide in England, offering him the lone of 60000. Ducates, for the space of 4. year, if he would continue and make his bank in Londō. But Frescobald, who desired to return into his country, and there quietly to continue the rest of his life, with the great favor of the Lord Cromwell, after many thanks for his high and noble entertainment, departed towards his desired home, where richly arriving, he gave himself quietly to live. But this wealth he small time enjoyed, for in the first year of his return he died.

So plentiful was the life of this man in such fruits full of singular gratitude and courtesy, that to rehearse all, it would require too long a tractation. Yet one example amongst many other I may not overpass, whereby we may evidently consider or rather marvel at the lowly mind of such a person, in so high a state and place of honor. For as he coming with other of the Lord's of the Counsayle and Commissioners, to the house of Shene, about the examination of certain Monks which there denied y ^e kings supremacy, after the examination done was there sitting at dinner, it chanced him to spy a far off, a certain poor man which there served to sweep their Sels and cloister, and to ring the bells. Whome when the Lord Cromwell had well advised, he sent for the poor man to come unto him, and before all the table most lovingly and friendly, calling him by his name, took him by the hand, and asked how he did, with many other good words, and turning therewith to the Lord's: My Lord's (quoth he) see you this poor man. This man's father hath been a great friend to me in my necessity, and hath given me many a meals meat. Then said he unto the poor man, come unto me and I will provide for thee, and thou shalt not lack so long as I live. Such as were there present and saw and heard the same, report it to be true.

In this worthy and noble person, besides diverse other eminent virtues, iii. things especially are to be considered to wit, flourishing authority, excelling wisdom and fervent zeal to Christ and to his Gospel. First, as touching his fervent zeal in setting forward the sincerity of Christian faith, sufficient is to be seen before by the injunctions proclamations, and articles above specified, that more cannot almost be wished in a noble man, and scarce the like hath been seen in any.

Secondly, for his wisdom and policy no less singular, joined with his christen zeal, he brought great things to pass, as well on this side the sea as in the other partes beyond. But especially his working was to nourish peace abroad with foreign realms, as may well by the kings letters and instructions sent by his means to his Ambassadors resident both with the Emperor the French king and the king of Scots, and also with y ^e Pope appear. In all whose courts, such watch and espiall he had, that nothing there was done, nor pretended, whereof he before had not intelligence. Neither was there any spark of mischief kindling never so little against y ^e king and the realm, which he by wit and policy did not quench and keep down. And where policy would not serve to obtain peace, yet by money he bought it out: so that during all the time of Cromwell's prosperity, the king never had war with any foreign nation: notwithstanding, that both the Pope, the Emperor, the kings of France and Scotland were mightily bent and incensed against him.

Thus, as the prudent policy of this man was ever circumspect abroad, to stay the Realm from foreine wars: so his authority was no less occupied in keeping good order and rule at home: First, in hampering the popish prelates and disappointing their subtle devises: secondly, in bridling and keeping other unruly subjects under subjection and discipline of the laws. Whereby, as he was a succor and refuge to all godly persons, so was he a terror to the evil doers: so that not the presence of him only, but also the hearing of the coming of Cromwell brake many fraies, and much evil rule: as well appeared by a certain notorious fray or riot, appointed to be fought by a company of ruffins in the street of London called Pater noster row. Where cartes were set on both sides of purpose, prepared to enclose them, that none might break in to part them. It happened, that as this desperate skirmish should begin, the Lord Cromwell coming the same time from the Court through Paul's churchyard, and entering into Chepe, had intelligence of the great fray toward, and because of the carts he could not come at them, but was forced to go about the little conduit, and so come upon them through Pannier Alley.

Thus as the conflict began to wax hot, and the people were standing by in great expectation to see them fight, suddenly at the noice of the Lord Cromwell's coming, the campe brake up and the Ruffins to go, neither could the cartes keep in those so courageous campers, but well was he that first could be gone. And so ceased this tumultuous outrage, without any other parting, only through the authority of the Lord Cromwell's name.

One example more of the like affinity cometh here in mind, which ought not to be omitted, concerning a certain serving man of the like ruffenly order, who thinking to disc • uer himself from the common usage of all other men in strange newfanglenes of fashions by himself (as many there be whom nothing doth please, which is daily seen and received) used to go with his hair hanging about his ears down unto his shoulders, after a strange monstrous manner, counterfeiting belike the wyld Irish men, or else Crinitus Ioppas, which Uirgil speaketh of, as one weary of his own English fashion: or else as one ashamed to be seen like a man, would rather go like a woman, or like to one of the Gorgon sisters, but most of all like to himself, that is, like to a Ruffin, that could not tell how to go.

As this Ruffin ruffling thus with his locks was walking in the streets, as chance was, who should meet him but the Lord Cromwell, who beholding the deform and unseemly manner of his disguised going, full of much vanity and hurtful example, called the man to question with him whose servant he was, which being declared, then was demanded, whether his master or any of his felows used so to go with such hair about their shoulders as he did, or no? Which when he denied, and was not able to yield any reason for refuge of that his monstrous disguising, at length he fell to this excuse that he had made a vow. To this the Lord Cromwell answered again, that for so much as he had made himself a votary, he would not force him to break his vow, but until his vow should be expired, he should lie the mean time in prison, and so se • te him immediately to the Marshalsey: where he endured, till at length this intonsus Cato being persuaded by his master to cut his hair, by suit and petition of friends, he was brought again to the Lord Cromwell with his hed polled according to the accustomed sort of his other fellows, and so was dismissed.

Hereunto also pertaineth the example of frier Bartley, who wearing still his friers cowl after the suppression of religious houses, Cromwell coming thorough Paul's churchyard, and espieng him in Rheines his shop, yea said he, will not that cowl of yours be left of yet? And if I hear by one a clock that this apparel be not changed, thou shalt be hanged immediately for example to all other. And so putting his cowl away, he never durst wear it after.

If the same Lord Cromwell which could not abide this serving man so disfigured in his hair, were now in these our days alive with the same authority, which then he had, and saw these new fangled fashions of attire, used here amongst us both of men and women, I suppose verily, that neither these monstrous ruffes, nor these prodigious hose, and prodigal or rather hyperbolical barbarous breeches (which seem rather like barels then breeches) would have any place in England. In which immeasurable excess of vesture, this I have to marvel: first how these serving men, which commonly have nothing else but their wages, and that so slender and bare, cā maintain such slops, so huge and so sumptuous, which commonly stand them in more, then their three years wages do come unto. Secondly I marvel, that their masters and Lord's (who shall yield to God account of their servants doings) do not search and try out their servants walks, how they come by these expenses, wherewith to uphold this bravery, seeing their stipendary wages, and all revenues else they have, will not extend thereunto. Thirdlye, this most of all is to be marveled, that magistrates which have in their hands the ordring and guiding of good laws do not provide more severely for the needful reformation of these enormities. But here we may well see, & truly this may say that England once had a Cromwell.

Long it were to recite what innumerable benefits this worthy Counselor by his prudent policy, his grave authority and perfect zeal wrought and brought to pass in the public Realm, and especially in the Church of England, what good orders he established, what wickedness and vices he suppressed, what corruptions he reformed, what abuses he brought to light, what crafty iuglings what idolatrous deceptions, and superstitious illusiōs he detected and abolished out of the Church. What posterity will ever think the Church of the Pope pretendyng such religion, to have been so wicked, so long to abuse the people's eyes, with an old rotten stock (called the Rood of grace) wherein a man should stand enclosed with an hundredth wyers within the rood, to make the Image goggle with the eyes, to nod with his head, to hang the lip, to move and shake his jaws according as the value was of the gift which was offered? If it were a small piece of silver, he would hang a frowning lip, if it were a piece of gold, then should his jaws go merrily. Thus miserablye was the people of Christ abused, their souls seduced, their senses beguiled, and their purses spoiled, till this Idolatrous forgery at last, by Cromwell's means was disclosed, and the image with all his engines shown openly at Paul's cross, and there torn in pieces by the people. The like was done by the blood of Hales, which in like manner by Cromwell was brought to Paul's cross, & there proved to be the blood of a ducke.

Who would have judged, but that the maid of Kent had been an holy woman and a prophetess inspired, had not Cromwell and Cranmer tried her at Paul's cross to be a strong whore.

What should I speak of Daruel Gartheren, of the rood of Chester, of Thom. Becket, our Lady of Walsingham, with an infinite multitude more of the like affinity? All which stocks and blocks of cursed idolatry, Cromwell stirred up by the providence of God, removed out of the people's way, that they might walk more safely in the sincere service of almighty God.

While the Lord Cromwell was thus blessedly occupied in profiting the common wealth, and purging y ^e church of Christ, it happened to him, as commonly it doth to all good men, that where any excellency of virtue appeareth, there envy creepeth in, and where true piety seeketh most after Christ, there some persecution followeth withal.

Thus (I say) as he was laboring in the commō wealth and doing good to the poor afflicted saints, helping them out of trouble, the malice of his enemies so wrought, continually hunting for matter against him, that they never ceased, till in the end th • y by false trains and crafty surmises, brought him out of the kings favor.

The chief and principal enemy against him, was Stephen Gardener bishop of Winchester, whoever disdaining and enuieng the state and felicity of the Lord Cromwell, and now taking his occasion by the marriage of lady Anne of Cleue, being a stranger and foreigner, put in the Kings ears what a perfect thing it were for the quiet of y ^e realm, and establishment of the kings succession, to have an English Queen and Prince that were mere English: so that in conclusion the kings affection, the more it was diminished from the late married Anne of Cleue, the less favor he bare unto Cromwell. Besides this Gardener, there lacked not other back friends also and ilwillers in the court about the king, which little made for Cromwell both for his religion which they maligned, and for other private grudges also incident by the way.

Ouer and besides all which, it is moreover supposed, that some part of displeasure might rise against him, by reason of a certain talk, which happened a little before at Lambeth, at what time the king after the making of the vi. Articles, sent the said Lord Cromwell his Uicegerēt, with the two Dukes of Norfolk & Suffolk, with all the Lord's of the Parliament to Lambeth, to dyne with the Archbishop (who mightily had disputed and alleged in the Parliament against the said Articles) to cheare and comfort his daunted spirits again.

There the said Cromwell with the other noble Lord's sitting with the Archbishop at his table in talk, as every lord brought forth his sentence in commendation of Cranmer, to signify what good will both the king & they bare unto him: among the rest one of the company entering into a comparison between the said Thomas Cranmer, and Thomas Wolsey late Cardinal of York, declared in his judgment, that Cranmer was much to be preferred for his mild and gentle nature, where as the Cardinal was a stubborn and a churlish prelate, and one that could never abide any noble man, and that (said he) know you well enough, my Lord Cromwell, for he was your Master, &c. At these words the Lord Cromwell being somewhat touched to hear the Cardinals service cast in his teeth, inferred again, saying: that he could not deny but he was servant sometime to Cardinal Wolsey, neither did repent the same, for he received of him both fee, meat, and drink, and other commodities: but yet he was never so far in love with him, as to have waited upon him to Rome, if he had been chosen Pope, as he understood that he would have done if the case had so fallen out. Which when the other had denied to be true, Cromwell still persisted, affirming the same, and showing moreover what number of Florins he should have received, to be his Admiral, and to have safe conducted him to Rome, in case he had been elected Bishop of Rome. The party not a little moved with these words, told him, he lied. The other again affirmed it to be true. Upon this, great and high words rose between them. Which contention although it was through entreaty of the Archbishop and other nobles somewhat pacified for the time, yet it might be, that some bitter root of grudge remained behind, which afterward grew unto him to some displeasure. And this was, an. 1540. in the month of July. Ex testimonio, Secretarij. Cantuar.

After this, the next year following, which was 1541. in the month of April was holden a Parliament, which after diverse prorogations was continued till the month of July the said year. In the which month of July, the Lord Cromwell being in the counsel chamber, was suddenly apprehended, and committed to the tower of London. Whereat, as many good men which knew nothing but truth by him did lament, and prayed heartily for him, so moe there were on the contrary side that rejoiced, especially of the religious sort, and of the clergy, such as had been in some dignity before in the Church, and now by his means were put from it. For in deed, such was his nature, that in all his doings he could not abide any kind of Popery, nor of false religion creepyng under hypocrisy, and less could abide the ambitious pride of Popish Prelacie, which professing all humility, was so elated in pride, that kings could not rule in their own Realms for them. These snuffing Prelates as he could never abide so they again hated him as much, which was the cause of shortnyng his days, and to bring him to his ende: So that the xix. day of the month aforesaid, he was attainted by Parliament.

In the which Atteinder diverse and sundry crimes surmises, objections and accusations were brought against him but chiefly and above all other, he was charged and accused of heresy, for that he was a supporter of them (whō they recounted for heretics) as Barns, Clarke, and many other, whom he by his authority and letters written to Sheriffs and Justices in diverse Shires rescued and discharged out of prison. Also that he did euulgate & disperse abroad amongst the Kings subjects, great numbers of books, conteming (as they said) manifest matter of much heresy, diffidence, and misbelief. Item, that he caused to be translated into our English tongue, books comprising matter expressly against the Sacrament of the altar, & that after the translation thereof, he commended and maintained the same for good and Christian doctrine·

Ouer and besides all this, they brought in certain witnesses (what they were, the atteinder expresseth not) which most especially pressed (or rather oppressed) him with heinous words spoken against the king in the Church of s. Peter the poor, in the month of March, in the xxx. year of the kings reign. Which words if they be true, as the Atteinder doth purport three things I have here much to marvel at. First, if his adversaries had so sure hold and matter against him, then what would move thē to make such hasty speed in all post haste, to have him dispatched and rid out of the way, and in no case could abide him to come to his purgation? Which if he might have done, it is not otherwise to be thought, but he would easily have clered himself thereof.

Secondly, this I marvel, that if the words had been so heinous against the king, as his enemies did pretend, why then did those witnesses which heard those words in S. Peters Church, in the xxx. year of the kings reign, conceal the said words of such treason so long, the space almost of ii. years, and now uttered the same in the xxxij. year of the kings reign, in the month of July.

Thirdly, here is again to be marueled, if the king had known or believed these words to be true, and that Cromwell had been in deed such a traitor to his person, why then did the king so shortly after lament his death, wishing to have his Cromwell alive again? What Prince will wish the life of him whom he suspecteth undoubtedly to be a traitor to his life and person? whereby it may appear what judgment the King had of Cromwell in himself, howsoever the parliament by sinister information was otherwise incensed to judge upon him.

Such malicious makebates about Princes and parliaments, never lacked in common weals. By such king Ethelstane was incensed to kill his brother Edwin, pag. 159. So was king Edward 2. deposed. So likewise when king Richard 2. was once brought into the Tower, what crimes and accusations were laid against him in the Parliament? So was Humfrey the good Duke of Gloucester, the kings uncle, by Henry Beauford bishop of Winchester and other in the Parliament holden at Bery, arrested as a traitor, and falsely made away, pag. 160. What great treason was in the words of him, who dwelling in Chepe side at the sign of the Crown, said merrily to his son, that if he lived, he would make him heir of the crown: & yet was he therefore atteinted and judged for a Traitor? pag. 701. In the time of king Henry the 8. how was that Parliament incensed, wherein both Queen Anne was falsely condemned, and Queen Elizabeth her daughter, as falsely disherited? To omit here the Attainder of the Duke of Buckingham wrought by the Cardinal of York: Of the lord Cobham likewise, and sir Roger Acton, pag. 150 If the cause of the lord Henry late Earl of Surrey were well tried out, peradventure no such heinous purpose of any treasō should be found therein as than was made. Who incensed y ^e late Duke of Somerset to behead his own brother, but such makebates as these? And afterward whē the said Duke himself was attainted for a traitor and condemned for a felon, a briber and extorcioner: how was the parliament then incensed? Adam Damlip received of Cardinal Poole at Rome, but a seely crown in way of alms, and therefore by means of Stephen Gardener was atteinted for a traitor. George Egles did but read some time in woods and by the said Gardener was also condemned and suffered as a traitor.

Not that I here speak or mean against the high courts of Parliamentes of this our Realm, necessarilye assembled for the common wealth, to whom I always attribute their due reverence and authority. But as it happeneth sometimes in general Councils, which though they be never so general, yet notwithstanding sometimes they may and do err in weighty matters of religion: so likewise they that say, that Princes and Parliaments may be misinformed sometimes, by some sinister heds, in matters civil and politic, do not therein derogate or impair the high estate of parliaments, but rather give wholesome admonition to princes and parliament men, to be more circumspect and vigilant what counsel they shall admit, and what witnesses they do credit. For private affection which commonly beareth a great stroke in all societies & doings of men, creepeth sometimes into such general Councils, and into Princes Courtes also, either to much amplifying things that be but small, making mountains of molehills, or else to much extenuating things that be of themselves great and weighty, according as it is truly said of the Poete Iuuenal: Dat veniam cornis, vexat censura columbas, or as our English Proverb showeth: As a man is friended, so is his matter ended: And where the hedge, is low, a man may lightly make large leaps: or rather to speak after the French phrase: Qui son chien veult tuer, la rage luy met sus. That is: He that is disposed to have his dog killed, first maketh men believe that he is mad. And thus much having declared touching the matter of his accusation, the rest I refer to the high Parliament of that mighty king, who shall one day bring all things to perfect light.

In the mean season, howsoever the cause of the Lord Cromwell standeth, true or false, this is certain, that Stephen Gardener lacked not an head, nor yet privy assisters, which cunningly could fetch this matter about, and watch their time, when as the king being disposed to marry another wife, which was the Lady Katherine Hawarde, immediately after the beheading of the Lord Cromwell, did repudiate Lady Anne of Cleue, which otherwise is to be thought during the life of Cromwell, could not so well be brought to pass.

But these things being now done and past, let us pass them over and return again from whence we digressed, that is to the lord Cromwell being now atteinted & committed to the Tower. Who so long as he went with full sail of fortune, how moderately, and how temperatly he did ever bear himself in his estate, before hath ben declared. So now the said lord Cromwell, always one man, by the contrary wynd of adversity being ouerblowen, received the same with no less constancy, and patience of a Christian heart. Neither yet was he so unprovided of counsel and forecast, but that he did foresee this tempest long before it fell, and also prepared for the same for two years before smelling the cōspiracie of his adversaries, & fearing what might happen, he called unto him his servants, and there showing unto them in what a slippery state he stood, and also perceiving some stormy weather already to gather, required them to look diligently to their order and doings, least through their default any occasion might rise against him. And furthermore, before the time of his apprehension, such order he took for his servants, that many of them, especially the younger brethren which had little else to take unto, had honestly left for thē in their friends hands to relieve them, whatsoever should him befall.

Briefly, such a loving and kind master he was to his servants, that he provided aforehand almost for them all: In so much, that he gave to twelve children which were his Musicians, twenty pound a piece, and so committed them to their friends. Of whom some yet remain alive, who both enjoyed the same, and also give record of this to be true.

Furthermore, being in the tower a prisoner, how quietly he bare it, how valiantly he behaved himself, how gravely and discretely he answered and entertained the commissioners sent unto him, it is worthy noting. Whatsoever articles and interrogatories they propounded, they could put nothing unto him, either concerning matters ecclesiastical or temporal, wherein he was not more ripened, and more furnished in every condition then they them selves.

Amongst the rest of those Commissioners which came unto him: one there was, whom the Lord Cromwell desired to carry for him a letter to the king, which when he refused, saying that he would carry no letter to the king from a traitor: then the Lord Cromwell desired him at least to do from him a message to the king. To that the other was contented, and granted, so that it were not against his allegiance. Then the Lord Cromwell taking witness of the other Lord's, what he had promised: You shall commend me (said he) to the Kyng, and tell him: By that he hath so well tried, and thoroughly proved you as I have done, he shall find you as false a man as ever came about him.

Besides this, he wrote also a letter from the Tower to the king, whereof when none durst take the carriage upon him, sir Rafe Sadler (whom he also had preferred to the king before, being ever trusty & faithful unto him) went to the king to understand his pleasure, whether he would permit him to bring the letter or not. Which, when y ^e king had granted, the said M. Sadler as he was required, presented the letter unto the king, which he commanded thrice to be red unto him, in so much the king seemed to be moved therewith.

Notwithstanding, by reason of the Acte of parliament afore passed, the worthy and noble Lord Cromwell oppressed by his enemies, and condemned in the Tower, and not coming to his answer, the 28. day of July, an. 1541. was brought to the scaffold on Tower hill, where he said these words following.

I am come hither to die, and not to purge myself, as some think peradventure that I will. For if I should so do, I were a very wretch and a miser. I am by the law condemned to die, and thank my lord God that hath appointed me this death for mine offense. For sithens the time y ^t I have had years of discretion. I have lived a sinner, and offended my Lord God, for the which I ask him hartelie forgiveness. And it is not unknown to many of you, that I have been a great traveler in this world, & being but of a base degree, was called to high estate, and sithens the time I came thereunto, I have offended my Prince, for the which I ask him heartily forgiveness, and beseech you all to pray to God with me, that he will forgive me. And now I pray you that be here, to bear me record. I die in the catholic faith, not doubting in any Article of my faith no, nor doubting in any sacrament of the church. Manye have slandered me, and reported that I have been a bearer of such as have maintained evil opinions, which is untrue. But I confess, that like as God by his holy spirit doth instruct us in the truth, so the devil is ready to seduce us, & I have been seduced, but bear me witness that I die in the catholic faith of the holy church. And I heartily desire you to pray for the kings grace, that he may long live with you in health and prosperity: and that after him his son prince Edward that goodly imp, may long reign over you. And once again I desire you to pray for me, that so long as life remaineth in this flesh, I waver nothing in my faith. And so making his prayer, kneeling on his knees he spake these words, the effect whereof here followeth.

A prayer that the Lord Cromwell said at the hour of his death.

O Lord Jesus, which art the only health of all men living, and the everlasting life of them which die in thee: I wretched sinner do submit myself wholly unto thy most blessed will, and being sure that the thing cannot perish which is committed unto thy mercy, willingly now I leave this frail and wicked flesh in sure hope that thou wilt in better wise restore it to me again at the last day in the resurrection of the just. I beseech thee, moste merciful lord Jesus Christ, that thou wilt by thy grace make strong my soul against all temptations, and defend me with the buckler of thy mercy against all the assaults of the devil. I see and knowledge that there is in myself no hope of salvation, but all my confidence, hope and trust, is in thy most merciful goodness. I have no merits nor good works, which I may allege before thee. Of sins and evil works (alas) I see a great heap: but yet thorough thy mercy I trust to be in the number of them to whom thou wilt not impute their sins: but wilt take and accept me for righteous and just, and to be the inheritor of everlasting life. Thou merciful lord wast borne for my sake, thou didst suffer both hunger and thirst for my sake: thou didst teach, pray, and fast for my sake all thy holy actions and works thou wroughtest for my sake: thou suffredst most grievous pains and torments for my sake: finally, thou gavest thy most precious body and thy blood to be shed on the cross for my sake. Now most merciful Savior, let all these things profit me, that thou freely hast done for me, which hast given thyself all so for me. Let thy blood cleanse and wash away the spots and foulness of my sins Let thy righteousness hide and cover my unrighteousness. Let the merits of thy passion and bloudsheding be satisfaction for my sins. Geue me Lord thy grace that the faith of my salvation in thy blood waver not in me, but may ever be firm and constant. That the hope of thy mercy and life everlasting never decay in me, that love wax not cold in me. Finally, that the weakness of my flesh be not overcome with the fear of death. Grant me merciful Savior, that when death hath shut up the eyes of my body, yet the eyes of my soul may still behold and look upon thee, and when death hath taken away the use of my tongue, yet my heart may cry and say unto thee: Lord into thy hands I commend my soul, Lord Jesus receive my spirit. Amen.

And thus his prayer made, after he had godly & lovingly exhorted them that were about him on the scaffold, he quietly committed his soul into the hands of God, and so patiently suffered the stroke of the axe, by a ragged and butcherly miser, which very ungodly performed the office.

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

ABout the time and yere, when Edmund Boner bishop of Hereford, & ambassador resident in France, begā first to be nominate & preferred by the means of the lord Cromwell to the bishopric of London: which was, anno. 1540. it happened that the said Thomas Lord Cromwell and Earl of Essex, procured of y ^e king of england his gracious letters to the French king to permit and license a subject of his to imprint the Bible in English within the university of Paris because paper was there more meet and apt to be had for the doing thereof, then in the realm of England, & also that there were more store of good workmen for the ready dispatch of y ^e same. And in like manner at the same time the said king wrote unto his ambassador, who then was Edmund Boner Bishop of Herford lying in Paris, that he should aid and assist the doers thereof in all their reasonable suits. The which Bishop outwardly shown great friendship to y ^e merchants that were the imprinters of the same, and moreover did diverse and sundry times call and command the said persons, to be in manner daily at his table both dinner and supper, and so much rejoiced in the workmanship of the said Bible, that he himself would visit the imprinters house, where the same bibles were printed, & also would take part of such dinners as the Englishmen there had, and that to his cost, which, as it seemed he little weighed. And further the said Boner was so fervent that he caused the said Englishmen to put in print a new testament in english & latin, and himself took, a great many of them and paid for them & gave them to his friends. And it chanced the mean time, while the said Bible was in printing, the king Henry the 8. preferred the said Boner from the said bishopric of Herford, to be bishop of Londō, at which time y ^e said Boner according to the statute law of England, took his oath to the king, knowledging his supremacy, and called one of y ^e aforesaid Englishmen that printed y ^e bible, whom he then loved, although afterward upon the change of the world he did hate him as much, whose name was Richard Grafton: to whom the said Boner said when he took his oath, master Grafton, so it is, that the kings most excellent majesty hath by his gracious gift presented me to the Bishopric of London, for the which I am sory, for if it would have pleased his grace, I could have been well content to have kept mine old bishopric of Herford. Then said Grafton I am right glad to hear of it, and so I am sure will be a great number of the City of London: for though they yet know you not, yet they have heard so much goodness of you frō hence, as no doubt they will heartily rejoice of your placing. Then said Boner, I pray God I may do that may content them, and to tell you M. Grafton. Before god (for that was commonly his oath) the greatest fault that. I ever found in Stokesley, was for vexing and troubling of poor men, as Lobley the bookebinder and other, for having the scripture in english, and God willing he did not so much hinder it, but I will as much further it, and I will have of your Bibles set up in the Church of Paul's, at the least in sundry places six of them, and I will pay you honestly for them and give you hearty thanks. Which words he then spake in the hearing of diverse credible persons, as Edmund Style Grocer, and other. But now M Grafton at this time I have specially called you to be a witness with me that upon this translation of Bishops Sees, I must according to the statute take an oath unto the kings majesty knowledging his Supremacy, which before God I take with my heart and so think him to be, and beseech almighty God to save him, and long to prosper his grace: hold the book sirah, and read you the oth (said he) to one of his chapleins, & he laid his hand on the book and so he took his oath. And after this he shown great friendship to the said Grafton, and to his partener Edward Whitchurch, but specially to Myles Couerdail, who was the corrector of the great Bible.

Now after that the foresaid letters were delivered, the French king gave very good words, and was well content to permit the doing thereof. And so the printer went forward and printed forth the book even to the last part, and then was the quarrel picked to the printer, and he was sent for to the inquisitors of the faith, and there charged with certain articles of heresy. Then were sent for the Englishmen that were at the cost and charge thereof, and also such as had the correction of the same, which was Myles Coverdale, but having some warning what would follow the said Englishmē posted away as fast they could to save themselves, leaving behind them all their Bibles, which were to the number of 2500. called the Bibles of the great volume, and never recovered any of them, saving that the Lieftenaunt criminal having them delivered unto him to burn in a place of Paris (like Smithfield) called Mauibert place, was somewhat moved with covetousness, and sold 4. great dry fattes of them to a Haberdasher to lap in caps, and those were bought again, but the rest were burned, to the great and importunate loss of those that bare the charge of them. But notwithstanding the said loss after they had recovered some part of the foresaid books, and were comforted and encouraged by the Lord Cromwell, the said Englishmen went again to Paris, & there got the presses, letters, and servants of the aforesaid Printer, and brought them to London, and there they became printers themselves (which before they never intended) and printed out the said Bible in London, and after that printed sundry impressions of them: but yet not without great trouble and loss, for the hatred of the bishops namely, Stephen Gardener, and his fellows, who mightily did stomach and malign the printing thereof.

Here by the way, for the more direction to the story, thou hast loving Reader, to note and understand that in those days there were ii. sundry Bibles in English, printed and set forth, bearing diverse titles, and printed in diverse places. The first was called Thomas Matthews Bible, printed at Hambrough, about the year of our Lord, 1532. the corrector of which print was then John Rogers, of whom ye shall hear more Christ willing hereafter. The Printers were Richard Grafton, and Whitchurch. In the translation of this Bible, the greatest doer was in deed William Tyndale, who with the help of Miles Coue •• ale had translated all the books thereof, except only the Apocrypha, and certain notes in the margent which were added after. But because the said William Tyndale in the mean time was apprehended before this Bible was fully perfected, it was thought good to thē which had the doing thereof, to change the name of William Tyndale, because that name then was odious, and to farther it by a strange name of Thomas Matthew, John Rogers the same time being corrector to the print, who had then translated the residue of the Apocrypha, and added also certain notes thereto in the margent, and thereof came it to be called Thomas Matthews Bible. Which Bible of Thomas Matthew, after it was imprinted and presented to the Lord Cromwell, & the Lord Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, who liked very well of it, the said Cromwell presented it to y ^e king, and obtained that the same might freely pass to be read of his subjects with his graces license: So that there was Printed upon the same book, one live in red letters with these words: Set forth with the Kings most gracious license.

The setting forth of this book did not a little offend the Clergy, namely, the Bishop aforesaid, both for the Prologues, & specially because in the same book was one special table collected of the common places in the Bible, and the scriptures for the approbation of the same, & chiefly about the supper of the lord and marriage of priests, and the mass, which there was said not to be found in Scripture.

Furthermore, after the restraint of this foresaid Bible of Matthew, another Bible began to be printed at Paris, an. 1540. Which was called the Bible of the large Uolume. The Printers whereof were the foresaid Richard Grafton, and Whitchurche which bare the charges. A great helper thereto was the lord Cromwell. The chiefest overseer was Myles Coverdale, who taking the translation of Tyndale, conferred the same with the Hebrew, and amended many things.

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

After this, the bishops bringing their purpose to pass, brought the Lord Cromwell out of favor, and shortly to his death: and not long after, great complaint was made to the king of the translation of the Bible, and of y ^e preface of the same, and then was the sale of the Bible commanded to be stayed, the B. promising to amend & correct it, but never performing the same: Then Grafton was called, & first charged with the printing of Matthews Bible, but he being fearful of trouble, made excuses for himself in all things. Then was he examined of the great Bible, and what notes he was purposed to make. To the which he answered, that he knew none. For his purpose was to have retained learned men to have made the notes, but when he perceived the kings majesty, and his Clergye not willing to have any, he proceeded no further. But for all these excuses, Grafton was sent to the Fleet, and there remained vi. wekes, and before he came out, was bound in CCC.li that he should neither sell, nor imprint, or cause to be imprinted any moe Bibles, until the king & the clergy should agree upon a translation. And thus was the Bible from that time stayed, during the reign of Kyng Henry the viii.

But yet one thing more is to be noted, that after the imprinters had lost their Bibles, they continued suitors to Boner, as is aforesaid, to be a mean for to obtain of the French king their books again: but so long they continued suitors, and Boner ever fed them with fair words, promising them much, but did nothing for them, till at the last Boner was discharged of his ambassade, and returned home, where he was right joyfully welcomed home by the lord Cromwell, who loved him dearly, and had a marvelous good opinion of him. And so long as Cromwell remained in authority, so long was Boner at his beck and friend to his friends, and enemy to his enemies: as namely, at that time to Gardmer B. of Winchester, who never favored Cromwell, & therefore Boner could not favor him, but that he and Winchester were the greatest enemies that might be. But so soon as Cromwell fell, immediately Boner and Winchester pretended to be the greatest men that lived, and no good word could Boner speak of Cromwell, but the lewdest, vilest, and bitterest that he could speak, calling him the rankest heretic that ever lived: and then such as the said Boner knew to be in good favor with Cromwell, he could never abide their sight. Insomuch, as the next day after that Cromwell was apprehended, the abovenamed Grafton, who before had been very fam • liar • with Boner, met with the said Boner suddenly, and said unto him, that he was sory to hear of the news that then was abroad. What are they, said he? Of the apprehension of the L. Cromwell, said Grafton. Are ye sory for that (said he?) It had been good that he had been dispatched long ago. With that Grafton looked upon him and knew not what to say, but came no more to Boner. Howbeit afterward the said Grafton being charged for the imprinting of a ballet made in the favor of Cromwell was called before the Council, where Boner was present and there Boner charged him with the words that he spake to him of Cromwell, and told out a great long tale. But the lord Awdeley, who then was Lord Chancellor, right discretly and honourably, cut of the matter, and entered into other talk.

The sixth Article touching Auricular confession.

OF confession three kinds we find in the scriptures expressed and approved. The first is our confession privately or publicly made unto God alone: and this confession is necessary for all men at all times. Wherefore S. John speaketh: If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us. &c.

The second is the confession which is openly made in the face of the congregation. And this confession also hath place when any such thing is committed, whereof riseth a public offense and slander to the Church of God: As amples of penitentiaries in the prim • tiue Church, & Melciades and other. &c.

The third kind of confession is that, which we make privately to our brother. And this confession is requisite, whē either we have injured or by any way damnified our neighbor, whether he be rich or poor. Wherof speaketh the Gospel: Go and reconcile thyself first unto thy neighbor. &c. Also S. James: Confess yourselves one to another. &c. Or else this confession may also have place, whē any such thing lieth in our conscience, in the opening whereof we stand in need of the counsel & comfort of some faithful brother. But herein must we use discretiō in avoiding these points of blind superstition. First that we put therein no necessity for remission of our sins, but to use therein our own voluntarye discretion, according as we see it expedient for the better satisfying of our troubled mind. The second is, that we be not bound to any enumeration of our sins. The third, that we tie not our selves to any one person, more then to another, but to use therein our free choice, whom we think can give us the best spiritual counsel in the Lord.

But as there is nothing in the Church so good and so ghostly, which through peuishe superstitiō either hath not, or may not be perverted: so this confession also hath not lacked his abuses. First the secret confession to God alone, as it hath ben counted insufficient, so hath it ben but lightly esteemed of many. The public confession to the congregation hath been turned to a standing in a sheet, or else hath been bought out for money. Furthermore, the secret breaking of a man's mind to some faithful or spiritual brother, in disclosing his infirmity or temptations, for counsel and godly comfort, hath been turned into auricular confession in a Priests ear for assoyling of his sins. In the which auriculare confession, first of the free liberty of the penitent in uttering his griefs, they have made a mere necessity, and that unto salvation and remission of sins. Secondly, they require withal, enumeration and a full recital of all sins whatsoever: both great and small, also besides y ^e necessity of this ear confessiō, they add thereto a prescription of time, at lease once in the year for all men, whether they repent or no, to be confessed: making moreover of the same a sacrament. And lastly, where as before it stood in the voluntary choice of a man to open his heart to what spiritual brother he thought best, for an easement of his grief & ghostly consolation, they bind him to a Priest (unless some Frier come by the way to be his ghostly father) to whom he must needs confess all, whatsoever he hath done, and though he lack the key of knowledge, and peradventure of good discretion, yet none must have power to assoil him, but he through the authority of his keys.

And this manner of confession, say they, was instituted by Christ, and his Apostles, and hath been used in the Church ever since to this present day. Which is a most manifest untruth, and easy by stories to be convinced.

For Socrates lib. 5. cap. 19. Sozom. lib. 7. cap. 16. in y ^e book of Ecclesiastical history, do give us plainly to understand, that this Auricular confession never came of Christ, but only of men.

Item, in the time of Tertullian, Beat. Rhenanus testifieth, that there was no mention made of this Auriculare confession. Which may well be gathered thereof, for that Tertullian writing upon repentance, maketh no mention at all thereof.

Item, in the time of Chrysostom, it appeareth there was no such assoyling at the Priests hands, by these words where he saith: I require thee not that thou shouldest confess thy sins to thy fellow servant. Tell them unto God, who careth for them.

Item, the said Chrysostom in another place writing upon repentance, and confession: Let the examination of thy sins, and thy judgment (saith he) be secrete and close without witness. Let God only see and hear thy confession. &c.

Item, in the time of Ambrose, De poenit. Dist. 1. Petrus, the gloss of the Popes own decrees recordeth: That the institution of Baptism was not then begun, which now in our days is in use.

Item, it is truly said therefore of the Glose in another place, where he testifieth: That this institution of penance began rather of some tradition of the universal church, then of any authority of the New Testament, or of the old. &c.

The like also testifieth Erasm. writing upon Jerome in these words. Apparet tempore Hieronymi nondum institutam fuisse. &c. That is: It appeareth, that in the time of Jerome, this secrete confession of sins was not yet ordained, which the church afterward did institute holesomely, if our Priests and lay men would use it rightly. But herein, divines not considering advisedly what the old doctors do say, are much deceived. That which they say of general and open confession, they wrast by and by to this privy and secrete kind of confession, which is far diverse, and of another sort. &c.

The like testimony may also be taken of Gracian himself, who speaking of confession used then in his time, leaveth the matter in doubtful suspense, neither pronouncinge on the one side, nor on the other, but referreth y ^e matter to the free judgment of the Readers, which the act of these six Articles here enjoineth as necessary, under pain of death.

Briefly, in few words to search out and notify the very certain time, when this Article of ear confession first crept into the Church, & what antiquity it hath in following the Judgment of Johannes Scotus, and of Antoninus, it may be well▪ supposed, that the institution thereof took his first origin by Pope Innocent the third, in his Council of Lateran, An. 1215. For so we read in Johannes Scotus Lib. 4. Sent. Dist. 17. Artic. 3. Praecipua autem specificatio huius praecepti inuenitur in illo cap. Extra. de poenit. & remiss. Omnis vtriusque sexus. &c. And after in the same Article it followeth: Nam ex prima institution Ecclesiae non videntur fuisse Distincti proprij sacerdotes. Quando enim Apostoli hinc & inde ibant praedicando verbum Dei. &c. By the which words it appeareth that there was no institution of any such confession specified before the constitution of Innocentius the third.

But more plainly the same may appear by the words of Antoninus in 3. parte Histor. Whyche be these Innocentius tertius in Concilio generali praedicto, circa Sacramenta confessionis & communionis sic statuit: Omnis vtriusque sexus fidelis, postquam ad annum discretionis peruenerit, omnia peccata sua solus saltem semel in anno confiteatur proprio sacerdoti, & iniunctam sibi poenitentiam proprijs viribus studeat adimplere, alioqu • & viuens ab ingressu Ecclesiae arceatur, & moriens Christiana careat sepultura. Vnde hoc salutare statutum frequenter in Ecclesijs publicetur: ne quisquam ignorantiae coecitate velamen excusationis assumat. &c. That is to say. Pope Innocent the 3. in his general Council aforesaid, touching the Sacraments of confession and the communion, made this constitution as followeth. That every faithful person, both man & woman, after they come to the years of discretion, shall confess all their sins by themselves alone, at least once a year, to their own ordinary priest, and shall endeavor to fulfil by their own strength, their penance to them enjoined. Or else who so doth not, shall neither have entrance into the Church being alive, nor being dead shall enjoy Christian burial. Wherefore rhis wholesome constitution we will to be published often in the Churches, least any man through the blindness of ignorance may make to them selves a cloke of excuse. &c. And thus much hitherto we have alleged by occasion incident of these six Articles for some part of confutation of the same, referring the reader for the rest, to the more exquisite tractation of Divines, which professedlye write upon those matters.

In the mean time, for as much as there is extante in Latin a certain learned Epistle of Philippe Melancthon, written to king Henry against these vi. wicked Articles above specified, I thought not to defraud the reader of the fruit thereof, for his better understanding and instruction. The tenor and effect of his Epistle translated into English, thus followeth.

Intreating a little before, page 1143. of certain old instruments for proof of Priests lawful Marriage in times past, I gave a little touch of a certain record taken out of an old Martyrologe of the Church of Cant. touching Liuingus a priest, and his wife, in the time of Lanfrancke. Wherein I touched also of certain lands and houses restored again by the said Lanfrancke to the Church of S. Andrew. Now for as much as the perfect note thereof is more fully come to my hands, and partly considering the restoring of the said lands, to be to Christ's Church in Canterbury, and not S. Andrew in Rochester: and also for that I have found some other presidentes approving the lawful Marriage of Priests, and legitimation of their children, I thought good for the more full satisfying of the reader, to enter the same, as followeth.

The story of Tho. Garret or Garrerd, and of his trouble in Oxford, testified and recorded by Antony Dalaber, who was there present the same time.

ABout the yere of our Lord 1526. Master Garret Curate of Honey Lane in London, came unto Oxford, and brought with him sundry books in Latin, treating of the Scripture, with the first parte of Vnio dissidentium, & Tindals first translation of the New Testament in English, the which books he sold to diverse scholars in Oxford.

After he had ben there a while, and had dispatched those books, news came from London that he was searched for through all London to be apprehended and taken as an heretic, and to be imprisoned for selling of those heretical books (as they termed them) because they spake against the usurped authority, and erroneous doctrine of the B. of Rome, and his no less impure and filthy Synagogue. For it was not unknown to Cardinal Wolsey, and to the B. of London, and to other of that ungodly generation, that M. Garret had a great number of those books, and that he was gone to Oxford to make sale of them there, to such as he knew to be the lovers of the Gospel. Wherefore they determined forthwith to make a privy search through all Oxford to apprehend and imprison him, and to burn all and every his foresaid books and him to, if they could: so burning hot was their charity. But yet at that time one of the foresaid Proctors, called M. Cole of Magdalene college, who after was cross bearer unto Cardinal Wolsey, was well acquainted with M. Garret, and therefore he gave secret warning unto a friend or two of M. Garret of this privy search, and willed therefore that he should forthwith as secretly as he could, depart out of Oxford, for if he were taken in the same search, no remedy but he should be forthwith sent up unto the Cardinal, and so should be committed unto the Tower.

The Christmas before that time, I Antonye Dalaber then Scholar of Alborne Hall, who had books of master Garrets, had been in my country in Dorsetshire at Stalbridge, where I had a brother Person of that Parish, who was very desirous to have a Curate out of Oxford, and willed me in any wise to get him one there if I could. Thys just occasion offered, it was thought good among the brethren (for so did we not only call one another, but were in deed one to another) that master Garret changing his name, should be sent forth with my letters into Dorcetshire unto my brother, to serve him there for a time, until he might secreately from thence conueye himself some whether over the Sea. According hereunto I wrote my letters in all haste possible unto my brother, for master Garret to be his Curate, but not declaring what he was in deed, for my brother was a rank papist, and after was the most mortal enemy that ever I had for the Gospels sake.

So the wedensday in the morning before Shroftyde, M. Garret departed out of Oxford, toward Dorsetshyre, with his letters for his new service. How far he went, & by what occasion he so soon returned, I know not. But the Friday next, in the night time he came again to Rodleyes house, where he lay before, and so after midnight in the privy search, which was then made for him, he was apprehended and taken there in his bed by y ^e 2. Proctors and on the saterday in y ^e morning was delivered unto one D. Cotisford, M, of Lincoln College, then being Comissary of the university, who kept him as prisoner in his own chamber. There was great joy and rejoicing among all the papists for his apprehension, and specially with Doctor London: Warden of the new College, and Doctor Higdon Dean of Frideswides, two Archpapistes. Who immediately sent their letters in post hast unto the Cardinal to inform him of y ^e apprehension of this notable Heretic: for the which their doing, they were well assured to have great thanks. But of all this sudden hurly burley, was I utterly ignorant, so that I knew neither of master Garrets so sudden return, neither that he was so taken, until that afterward he came unto my chamber, being then in Gloucester College, as a man amazed, & as soon as he saw me, he said he was undone, for he was taken. Thus he spake unadvisedly in the presence of a young man that came with him. When the young man was departed, I asked him what he was, and what acquaintance he had with him. He said he knew him not, but he had been to seek a Monk of his acquaintance in that College, who was not in his chamber, and thereupon desired that his servant (not knowing my chamber, for that I was newly removed thither) to bring him to me: and so forth declared how he was returned and taken that night in the privy search, as ye have heard and that now when the Commissary & all his company were gone to Evensong, and had locked him alone in his chamber, he hearing nobody stirring in the College, put back the bar of the lock with his finger, and so came straight unto Gloucester College, to speak with that monk, if he had been within, who had also bought books of him.

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

Then kneeled we both down together on our knees, and lifting up our hearts and hands to God our heavenly father, desiring him with plenty of tears, so to conducte and prosper him in his journey, that he might well escape the danger of all his enemies, to y ^e glory of his holy name. if his good pleasure and will so were, and then we embraced and kissed the one the other, the tears so abundantly flowing out from both our eyes, that we all bewet both our faces, and scarcely for sorrow could we speak one to the other, and so he departed from me, appareled in my coat, being committed unto the tuition of our almighty and merciful father.

When he was gone down the stairs from my chamber, I straightways did shut my chamber door, and went into my study, and took the New Testament in my hands, kneeled down on my knees, and with many a deep sigh and salt tear, I did with much deliberation read over the 10. chapter of S. Matthew his Gospel: and when I had so done, with fervent prayer I did commit unto God, that our dearly beloved brother Garret, earnestly beseeching him, in and for Jesus Christ's sake, his only begotten son our Lord, that he would vouchsafe, not only safely to conducte and keep our said dear brother, from the hands of all his enemies, but also that he would endue his tender and lately borne little flock in Oxford, w ^t heavenly strength by his holy spirit, that they might be well able thereby valiantly to wythstand to his glory, all their fierce enemies, and also might quietly, to their own salvation, with all godly patience, bear Christ's heavy cross, which I now • awe was presently to be laid on their young and weak backs, unable to bear so huge a burden, w ^t out the great help of his holy spirit.

This done, I laid a side my books safe, folded up M. Garrets gown and hoode, and laid them into my press among mine apparel, & so having put on my short gown, shut up my study and chamber doors, and went towards Friswides, to speak with that worthy martyr of God M. Clarke, and others, and to declare unto them what had happened that after noon. But of purpose I went by S. Mary church, to go first unto Corpus Christi College, to speak with Diet and Udall, my faithful brethren and fellows in the Lord there. But by chance I met by the way with a brother of ours, one master Eeden, fellow of Magdalene College, who, as soon as he saw me, came with a pitiful countenance unto me, saying that we were all undone, for M. Garret was returned again to Oxford, taken the last night in the privy search, and was in prison with the Commissary. I said it was not so. He said it was so. I told him it could not be so, for I was sure he was gone. He answered me and said, I know he was gone with your letters, but he came again yesterday in the even, & was taken in his bed at Radleis this night in the privy search: for (quod he) I heard our Proctor M. Cole say and declare the same this day in our college, to diverse of the house. But I told him again, that I was well assured he was now gone, for I spake with him later thē either the Proctor or Commissary did, and then I declared the whole matter unto him, how and when he came unto me, and howe he went his way, willing him to declare the same unto other our brethren whom he should meet with all, and to give God hearty thanks for his wonderful deliverance, and to pray him also that he would grant him safely to pass away from all his enemies, and told him that I was going unto master Clarke of Friswides, to declare unto him this matter, for I knew, & thought verily that he and diverse others there, were then in great sorrow for this matter. Then went I straight to Friswides, and Evensong was begun, and the Dean and the other Canons were there in their gray Amices: they were almost at Magnificat before I came thither, I stood at the quier door and heard master Tauerner play, and others of the Chapel there sing, with and among whom I myself was wont to sing also, but now my singing and music was turned into sighing and musing.

As I thus and there stood, in cometh D. Cotisforde the Commissary, as fast as ever he could go, bare headed, as pale as ashes (I knew his grief well enough) and to the Dean he goeth into the Choir, where he was sitting in his stall, and talked with him very sorrowfully: what I know not, but whereof I might and did well and truly guess. I went aside from the Choir door: to see & hear more. The Commissary and Dean came out of the Choir wonderfully troubled, as it seemed. Aboute the middle of the Church met them D. London, puffing, blustering and blowing like a hungry and greedy Lion seeking his pray. They talked together a while, but the Commissary was much blamed of them for keeping of his prisoner so negligently, in so much that he wepte for sorrow: and it was known abroad, that master Garret was escaped, & gone out of the Commissaries chamber at Euensonge tune, but whether no man could tell. These doctors departed, and sent abroad their servants and spies everywhere. Master Clarke about the middle of Compline, came forth of the Choir: I followed him to his chamber, and declared what was happened that after noon, of master Garrets escape. He was glad, for he knew of his foretaking. Then he sent for one M. Sumner anst M. Bets, fellows and Canons there. In the mean • while he gave me a very godly exhortation, praying God to give me and all the rest of our brethren, prudentiam serpentinam, & simplicitatē columbinam, for we should have shortly much need thereof, as he ve • ely thought. When M. Sumner and M. Bets were come unto him, he caused me to declare again the whole matter unto them two, and they were very glad, that M. Garret was so delivered, trusting that he should escape all his enemies. Then desiring them to tell unto our other brethren, what was happened (for there were diverse other in that College) I went to Corpus Christi college to comfort our brethren, there being in like heaviness. There I tarried and supped with them. At which supper we were not very merry, considering our state and pearill at hand.

When we had ended our supper, and committed our whole cause with fervent sighs and hearty prayers unto God our heavenly father, I went to Alborne hall, & there lay that night. In the morning I was up very early, and as soon as I could get out at the door, I went straight toward Gloucester College to my chamber. It had rained that morning, and with my going I had all to be sprinkled my hose and shoes with mire. And when I was come unto Gloucester college, which was about 6. of the clock, I found the gates fast shut. Whereat I did much marvel for they were wont to be opened daily long before y ^e time. Then did I walk up and down by y ^e wall there, a whole hour before the gates were opened. In the mean while my musing head being full of forecasting cares, & my sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs, I fully determined in my conscience before God, that if I should chance to be taken & be examined, I would accuse no man nor declare anything further then I did already perceive was manifestly known before. And so when the gate was opened, thinking to shift myself & to put on a longer gown, went in towards my chamber, & going up the stairs would have opened my door, but I could not in a long season do it. Whereby I perceived that my lock had ben meddled w ^t all, and therewith was somewhat altered. Yea at last with much ado I opened the lock and went in. When I came in, I saw my bed all to tossed and tūbled, my clothes in my press thrown down, & my study door open. Wherof I was much amazed, and thought verily y ^t some search was made there that night for M. Garret, and that it was known of his being with me, by the Monks man that brought him to my chamber.

Now was there lying in the next chamber unto me a Monk, who as soon as he had heard me in y ^e chamber, came to me, and told howe M. Garret was sought in my chamber y ^t night, and what ado there was made by the Cōmissary & the two proctors, with bills & swords thrusted thorough my bedstraw, and how every corner of my chamber was searched for M. Garret. And albeit his gown and his hoode lay there in my press with my clothes▪ yet they perceived them not. Then he told me he was commanded to bring me as soon as I came in, unto the Prior of y ^e students named Antony Dunstane a Monk of Westminster. This so troubled me that I forgot to make clean my hose and shoes, & to shift me into another gown: and therefore, so all to be dirted as I was, & in my short gown I went with him to the said Priors chamber, where I found the said Prior standing & looking for my coming. He asked me where I had been that night. I told him I lay at Alborne Hall with my old bedfelow Fitziames, but he would not believe me. He asked me if M. Garret were with me yesterday, I told him yea. Then he would know where he was, and wherefor he came unto me, I told him I knew not where he was except he were at Woodstock. For so (said I) he had shown me that he would go thither, because one of the kepers there his friend, had promised him a piece of veneson to make merry withal the shroftide, and that he would have borrowed a hatte and a payer of high shoes of me, but I had none in deed to lend him. Thys tale I thought meetest, though it were nothing so. Then had he spied on my forefinger a big ringe of silver very well double gilted with 2. letters A. D. ingraued in it for my name: I suppose he thought it to be gold. He required to see it. I took it unto him. When he had it in his hand, he said it was his ring, for therein was his name. an A. for Antony, and a D. for Dunstane. When I heard him so say, I wished in my heart to be as well delivered from and out or his company, as I was assured to be delivered from my ring forever.

Then he called for pen, ink, and paper, and commanded me to write when & howe Garret came unto me, & where he was become. I had not written scarcely three words, but the chief bedle with ii. or iii. of the Commissaries men, were come, unto Master Prior, requiring him strayghtwayes to bring us away unto Lyncolne College to the Commissarye, and to D. London. Whether when I was brought into the chapel, there I found D. Cotislorde commissarie, D. Higdon then Dean of the Cardinals College, and D. London Warden of the new College standing together at the altare in the chapel. When I was brought unto them, after salutations given and taken between them, they called for chairs and sat down, & called for me to come to them. and first they asked what my name was. I told them that my name was Antonye Dalaber. Then they also asked me howe long I had been student in the University, and I told them almost 3. years. And they asked me what I studied. I told them that I had read sophistry and logic in Alborne Hal, and now was removed unto Gloucester College to study the Ciuil law, the which the foresaid Prior of the students affirmed to be true. Then they asked me whether I knew M. Garret, and how long I had known him. I told them I knew him well, & had known him almost a tweluemōth. They asked me when he was with me. I told them yesterday at after noon.

Now by this time whiles they had me in this talk, one came unto them which was sent for, w ^t pen, ink and paper. I trow it was the Clerke of the University. As soon as he was come, there was a bourd & tres • es with a form for him to sit on, set between the Doctors and me, and a great Mass book laid before me, and I was commanded to lay my right hand on it, and to swear that I should truly answer unto such articles and interrogatories as I should be by them examined upon. I made danger of it a while at first, but afterward being persuaded by them, partly by fair words, and partly by great threats. I promised to do as they would have me, but in my heart nothing so meant to do. So I laid my hand on the book, and one of them gave me my oath, and that done commanded me to kiss the book. Then made they great courtesy between them who should examine me, & minister interrogatoryes unto me. At the last, the rankest Papistical Pharisey of thē all D. London took upon him to do it.

Then he asked me again by my oath. where M. Garret was, and whether I had conveyed him. I told him I had not conveyed him, nor yet wist not where he was, nor whether he was gone, except he were gone to Wodstocke, (as I had before said) as he shown me he would. Then he asked me again when he came to me, howe he came to me, what and howe long he talked with me, and whether he went from me, I told him he came to me about euensong time, and that one brought him unto my Chamber door, whom I know not, and that he told me he would go to Woodstock for some venison to make merry withal this Shroftide, and that he would have borrowed a hatte, and a pair of high shoes of me, but I had none such to lēd him, and then he straight went his way frō me, but whether I know not. All these my sayings the scribe wrote in a paper book.

Then they earnestly required me to tell them whether I had conveyed him, for surely they said I brought him going some whether this morning, for that thei might well perceive by my foul shoes and dirty hosen, that I had travailed with him the most part of this night. I answered plainly that I lay at Alborne Hall with sir Fitziames, and that I had good witness thereof there. They asked me where I was at Evensong. I told them at Friswides, and that I saw first M. Commissary, and then master D. London come thither at that time unto M. Dean of Frisewides, and that I saw them talking together in y ^e Church there. D. London and the Dean threatened me, that if I would not tell the truth where I had done him, or whether he was gone, I should surely be sent unto the Toure of London, and there be racked, and put into little ease. But M. Commissary prayed me with gentle words to tell him where he was, that he might have him again, & he would be my very great friend, & deliver me out of trouble straightway. I told him I could not tell where he was, nor whether he was become. Thus did they occupy and toss me almost two hours in the chapel, sometimes with threatenings and foul words, and then with fair words and fair promises flattering me. Then was he that brought M. Garret unto my chamber, brought before me, and caused to declare what M. Garret said unto me at his coming to my chamber, but I said plainly I heard him say no such thing, for I thought my nay to be as good as his yea, seeing it was to rid and deliver my Godly brother out of trouble and pearill of his life.

At the last, when they could get nothing of me whereby to hurt or accuse any mā, or to know any thing of y ^t which they sought, they all 3. together brought me up a long stairs into a great chamber over M. cōmissaries chamber, wherein stood a great pair of very high stocks. Then M. Commissary asked me for my purse & girdie, toke away my money and my knives, and then they put both my legs into y ^e stocks, and so locked me fast in them: in which I sat, my fete being almost as high as my head, and so departed they (I think to their abominable mass) locking fast y ^e chamber door, and leaving me alone. When all they were gone, then came unto my remembrance the worthy forewarning and godly declaration of that most constant martyr of God, M. John Clarke my father in Christ, who well nigh two years before that, whē I did earnestly desire him to grant me to be his scholar, & that I might go w ^t him continually when and wheresoever he should teache or preach (the which he did daily) said unto me much after this sort: Dalaber, you desire you wot not what, & that you are, I fear me, unable to take upon you. For though now my preaching be sweet and pleasant unto you, because there is yet no persecution laid on you for it, yet the time will come, & that peradventure shortly, if ye continue to live godly therein, that God will lay on you the cross of persecution to try you withal, whether you can as pure gold abide the fire, or as stubble and dross be consumed through ^t . For the holy Ghoste plainly affirmeth by S. Paul, quod omnes qui pie volunt viuere in Christo Jesus, persecutionem patientur. Yea, you shall be called and judged an heretic, you shall be abhorred of the world, your own friends and kinsfolk will forsake you, and also hate you, and you shall be cast into prison, and no man shall dare to help or comfort you, and you shall be accused & brought before the bishops, to your reproach and shame, to the great sorrow of all your faithful friends and kinsfolk. Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine. Then will ye curse Clarke, and wish that ye had never known him, because he hath brought you to all these troubles. Therefore rather then that ye should do this, leave of from meddling of this doctrine, and desire not to be and continue in my company.

At which words I was so grieved, that I fell down on my knees at his feet, & with abundance of tears and sighs even from the bottom of my heart, I earnestly besought him, y ^t for the tender mercy of God shown unto us in our Lord Jesus Christ, he would not refuse me, but receive me into his company, as I had desired, saying that I trusted verily, that he which had begun this in me, would not forsake me, but give me grace to continue therein unto the ende. When he heard me say so, he came to me, and toke me up in his arms, kissed me, the tears trickling down from his eyes, & said unto me: The Lord almighty grant you so to do, and from henceforth forever take me for your father, and I will take you for my son in Christ. Now were there at that time in Oxford, diverse Graduates and Scholers of sundry Colleges & Halles, whom God had called to the knowledge of his holy word, which all resorted unto M. Clerks disputations & lectures in divinity at all times as they might: and when they might not come conveniently, I was by M. Clarke appointed to resort to everyone of them wekely, and to know what doubts they had in any place of the scriptures, that by me frō him they might have the true understanding of the same: which exercise did me most good and profit, to the understanding of the holy scriptures, which I most desired.

This foresaid forewarnyng and godly declaration (I say) of this most godly Martyr of God M. Clarke, coming to my remembrance, caused me with depe sighs to cry unto God from my heart to assist me with his holy spirit, that I might be able patiently & quietly to bear & suffer whatsoever it should please him of his fatherly love to lay on me, to his glory & the comfort of my dearly beloved brethren, whom I thought now to be in great fear & anguish, least I would be an accuser of them all, for unto me they all were well known, & all their doings in that matter. But God be blessed, I was fully beent never to acuse any of thē, whatsoever should happen of me. Before dinner M. Cotisforde came up to me and requested me earnestly to tell him where master Garret was, and if I would so do, he promised me straightwaies to deliver me out of prison. But I told him I could not tell where he was: no more in deed I could. Then he departed to dinner, asking me if I would eat any meat, and I told him, yea right gladly. He said he would send me some. When he was gone, his servants asked me diverse questions, which I do not now remember, and some of them spake me fair, and some threatened me, calling me heretic, and so departed, locking the door last upon me.

Thus far Anthonye Dalaber hath prosecuted this story, who before the finishing, departed the year 1562. in the Dioces of Salisbury: the residue thereof as we could gather it of ancient and credible persons, so have we added here unto the same.

After this, Garret was apprehended or taken by master Cole the Proctor or his men, going Westwarde, at a place called Hinksey a little beyond Oxford, and so being brought back again, was committed to ward, that done, he was convented before the Commissary, Doctor London and Doctor Higdon Dean of Friswides (now called Christ's College) into S. Mary's Church, where they sitting in judgment, convicted him according to their law as an heretic (as they said) and afterward compelled him to carry a fagot in open procession from Saint Mary's Church to Friswides, and Dalaber likewise with him, Garret having his red hoode on his shoulders like a master of Art. After that, they were sent to Osney, there to be kept in prison till farther order was taken.

There were suspected beside, a great number to be infected with heresy, as they called it, for having such books of God's truth, as Garret sold unto them, as M. Clarke, which died in his chamber, and could not be suffered to receive the Communion, being in prison, and saying these words: Crede, & manducasti. Master Somner, Master Bettes, Tauerner the Musition, Radley, with other of Friswides College, of Corpus Christi College, as Udall and Diet, with other of Magdalene College one Eeden, w ^t other of Gloucester College, and two black Monks, one of S. Augustine's of Canterburye named Langporte, the other of S. Edmondes Burie monk, named John. Salisbury, two white monks of Barnard College, two Canons of S. Mary's College, one of them named Robert Ferrar afterward Bishop of S. Dauies, and burned in Queen Mary's time. These two Canons, because they had no place in the University with the other, they went on the contrary side of the procession bare headed, and a Bedel before them, to be known from the other. Divers other there were, whose names I cannot remember, which were forced and constrained to forsake their Colleges, and sought their friends. Againste the Procession time, there was a great fire made upon the top of Carfaxe, whereinto all such as were in the said Procession, either convict or suspect of heresy, were commanded in token of repentance and renouncing of their errors, every man to cast a book into the fire as they passed by.

After this, M. Garret flying from place to place, escaped their tyranny until this present time, that he was again apprehended and burned w ^t D. Barns. With whom also W. Jerome sometime vicar of Stepney, was likewise drawn into Smithfielde, and there together with them, constantly endured martyrdom in the fire.

Now let us add also to these, the story of Jerome.

The life and story of W. Jerome Vicare of Stepney and Martyr of Christ.

THe third companion which suffered with Barns and Garret, was W. Jerome Vicar of Stepney. Thys Jerome being a diligent preacher of God's word, for the comfort and edification of the people, had preached diverse and sundry sermons, wherein to the intent to plant in the consciences of men, the sincere truth of christen religion, he labored as much as time then served, to extirpe & weed out the roots of men's traditions, doctrines, dreams, and fantasies. In so doing it could not otherwise be, but he must needs provoke much hatred against him amongst the adversaries of Christ's gospel.

It so happened, that the said Jerome preaching at Paul's in the 4. Sunday of Lent last past, made there a sermon, wherein he recited and mentioned of Agar, and Sara, declaring what these ii. signified. In process, whereof he shown further, howe that Sara & her child Isaac, and all they that were Isaac's, and borne of the free woman. Sara, were freely justified: Contrary they that were borne of Agar the bondwoman, were bound and under the law, and cannot be freely justified. In these words, what was here spoken, but that S. Paul himself uttereth and expoundeth in his Epistle to the Galat. 4. Or what could here be gathered of any reasonable or indifferent hearer, but cōsonant to sound doctrine, and vein of the Gospel? Now see what rancor and malice armed with crafty and subtle sophistry can do. This sermon finished, it was not long but he was charged and convented before the king at Westminster, & there accused for erroneous doctrine.

Percase thou wilt muse (gentle reader) what erroneous doctrine here could be picked out. Note therefore for thy learning, & he that listeth to study how to play the Sicophant, let him here take example. The knot found in this rush was this, for that he preached erroneously at Paul's cross, teaching the people, that all that were borne of Sara, were freely justified, speaking there absolutely without any condition either of Baptism or of penance &c. Who doubteth here but if s. Paul himself had been at Paul's cross, and had preached the same words to the English men, which he wrote to the Gal. in this behalf, Ipso facto he had been apprehended for an heretic for preaching against the sacrament of Baptism and repentance?

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

Also concerning his sermons, one Doct. Wilson entered into disputation with him, and defended that good works justified before God, and were necessary and available to salvation. To whom Jerome answered again, that all works whatsoever they were, were nothing worth, nor no part of salvation of themselves, but only referred to the mercy and love of God, which mercy and love of God directeth the workers thereof, & yet it is at his mercy & goodness to accept them. Which to be true doctor Wilson neither could, nor did deny.

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

Ye heard before howe Barns, Jerome, and Garret, were caused to preach at Easter at the spittie. The occasion whereof as I find it reported by Stephen Gardener writing against George Ioye, I thought here to discourse more at large.

Stephen Gardener hearing that the said Barns, Jerome & Garret should preach the Lent following, an. 1541. at Paul's cross, to stop the course of their doctrine, sent his chaplain to the B. of London, the Saturday before the first Sunday in Lent, to have a place for him to preach at Paul's. Which to him was granted, and time appointed that he should preach the Sunday following, which should be on the morrow: which Sunday was appointed before for Barns to occupy that room. Gardener therefore determining to declare the gospel of that Sunday, containing the devils 3. temptations, began amongst other things to note the abuse of scripture amongst some, as the devil abused it to Christ, and so alluding to the temptation of the devil, wherein he alleged the scripture against Christ, to cast himself downward, and that he should take no hurt, he inferred thereupon, saying:

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

And amongst other things, moreover he noted the devils craft and shift in deceiving man: who envying his felicity, and therefore coveting to have man idle, and void of good works, and to be led in that idleness, with a wan hope to live merely at his pleasure here, and yet to have heaven at the last, hath for that purpose procured out pardons from Rome, wherein heaven was sold for a little money, and for to retaile that marchaundise, the devil used Friers for his ministers. Now they be gone withal their trumpery, but the devil is not yet gone. &c. And now that the Devil perceiveth that it can no longer be borne, to buy and sell heaven by the Friers, he hath excogitate to offerre heaven without works for it, so freely, that men shall not need for heaven to work at all, what so ever opportunity they have to work: mary if they will have any higher place in heaven, God will leave no work unrewarded, but as to be in heaven, needs no works at all, but only belief, only, only, and nothing else. &c.

This sermon of Stephen Winchester finished, Doctor Barns who was put of from that Sunday, had his day appointed, which was the third Sunday next ensuinge, to make his sermon: who taking the same text of the Gospel which Gardener had done before, was on the contrary side no less vehement in setting forward the true doctrine of Christian religion, thē Winchester had done before in plucking men backwarde from truth to lies, from sincerity to hypocrisy, from religion to superstition from Christ to antichrist. In the process of which sermon he proceeding, and calling out Stephen Gardener by name to answer him, alluded in a pleasant allegorye, to a Cockfight, terming the said Gardener to be a fighting Cock, and himself to another, but the Garden Cock (he said) lacked good spurs, objecting moreover to the said Gardener, & opposing him in his Grammar rules, thus saying: that if he had answered him in the Schools, so as he had there preached at the cross, he would have given him 6. stripes: declaring furthermore what evil herbs this Gardener had set in the Garden of God's scripture. &c.

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

Wherupon the king giving to much ear to Gardiners grief, was earnestly incensed against Barns, and w ^t many high words rebuked his doings in his privy closet, having with him the Earl of Southhampton which was the Lord Wrisley, and the master of the horse which was Anthony Brown, D. Cockes, and D. Robinson. Unto whō when Barns had submitted himself: Nay said the king, yield thee not to me, I am a mortal man, and therewith rising up, and turning to the Sacrament, and putting of his bonet, said: yonder is the master of us all, author of truth, yield in truth to him, and that truth will I defend, & otherwise yield thee not unto me. Much ado there was, & great matter laid against Barns. In conclusion this order was taken, that Barns should go apart with Winchester, to confer & common together of their doctrine, certain witnesses being thereunto appointed, to be as indifferent hearers, of whom the one was D. Cockes, the other was D. Robinson, with 2. other also to them assigned, which should be reporters to the king of the disputation. At the first entry of which talk, Gardener forgeuing him (as he saith) all that was past, offered him the choice, whether he would answer, or oppose, which was the Friday after that Barns had preached.

The question between them propounded, by Gardiners narration was this: Whether a man could do any thing good or acceptable, before the grace of iustificatiō or not? Which question rose upon a certain contention which had been between them before. For Barns had affirmed, that albeit God requireth of us to forgive our neighbor, to obtain forgiveness of him: yet he said that God must forgive us first, before we forgive our neighboure: For else to forgive our neighbor were sin by the text that saith: All that is not of faith, is sin, &c. Thus the matter being propounded, Gardener to prove the contrary, came forth with his arguments two or three, to the which arguments (saith Gardener) Barns could not answer, but desired to be spared that night, and the next morning he would answer his arguments. In the morning Gardener with the hearers being again assembled, D. Barns, according to the appointment, was present, who then went about to assoil his arguments. To his solutions Gardener again replied. And thus continued they in this altercation by y ^e space of two hours. In the ende of this Cockfight Winchester thus concludeth this glorious tale, and croweth up the triumph, declaring howe Barns besought him to have pity of him, to forgive him, and to take him to be his scholar, whom then the said Winchester (as he confesseth himself) receiving, not as his scholar, but as his companion, offered, to him a portion out of his living, to the sum of xl.li. a yere. Which if it be true, as Stephen Gardener himself reporteth, why then doth this glorious Cackatrice crowe so much against Barns afterward, and cast him in the teeth bearing all the world in hand, that Barns was his scholar, whereas he himself here refuseth Barns to be his scholar, but receiveth him as his companion fellowlyke? But to the story.

This done, the king being advertised of the conclusion of this matter between Barns and Winchester, was content that Barns should repair to the Bishops house at London, the mōday following. Which he did, with a certain other companion joined unto him. Who he was, Winchester there doth not express, only he saith, y ^t it was neither Jerome nor Garret. In this next meeting between Barns and the bishop upon the foresaid monday the said bishop studying to instruct Barns, uttered to him certain articles or conclusions, to the number of x. the effect whereof here followeth.

Winchesters Articles against Barns.

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

They that will enjoy the effect of Christ's passion, must [ 1] fulfill the condition.

The fulfilling of the condition requireth first knowledge of the condition, which knowledge we have by faith. [ 2]

Faith cometh of God, and this faith is a good gift. It is good and profitable to me: it is profitable to me to do [ 3] well, and to exercise this faith: Ergo, by the gift of God I may do well before I am justified.

Therefore I may do well by the gift of God before I am [ 4] justified, towards the attainment of justification.

There is ever as much Charity towards God, as [ 5] faith, And as faith increaseth, so doth charity increase.

To the attainment of justification is required faith and [ 6] charity.

Every thing is to be called freely done, whereof the beginning [ 7] is free and at liberty without any cause of provocation. [ 8]

Faith must be to me the assurance of the promises of God made in Christ (if I fulfil the condition) & love must [ 9] accomplish the condition: whereupon followeth the attainment of the promise according to God's truth.

A man being in deadly sin, may have grace to do the [ 10] works of penance, whereby he may attain to his justification.

These Articles for so much as they be sufficiently answered and replied unto by George Joy in his Ioynder, & Reioynder against Winchester, I shall not need to cūber this work with any new ado therewith, but only refer the reader to the books aforesaid: where he may see matter enough to answer to these popish articles.

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

This being known unto the king, thorough sinister complaints of popish Sycophantes, Barns again was sent for, and cōuented before the king, who grievously being incensed against him, enjoined both him, Jerome and Garret, at the solemn Easter sermons at S. Mary spittle, openlie in writing to revoke the doctrine which they before had taught. At which sermons Ste. Gardener also himself was present to hear their recantation.

First Doctor Barns, according to his promise made to the king, solempnely and formally began to make his recantation, which done, he with much circumstance and obtestation called upon the Bishop (as is above touched) and asking of him forgiveness, required him in token of a grant to hold up his hand, to the intent that he there openly declaring his charity before the world, the Bishop also would declare his charity in like manner. Which when the bishop refused to do at the first, as he was required, Barns again called for it, desiring him to show his charity, and to hold up his hand. Which when he had done w ^t much a do, wagging his finger a little: then Barns entering to his Sermon after his prayer made, beginneth the process of a matter, preaching contrary to that, which before he had recanted. In so much, that the Major, whē the Sermon was finished, sitting with the Bishop of Winchester, asked him whether he should from the pulpit send him to ward, to be forth coming for that his bold preaching contrary to his recantation. The like also did Jerome, and Garret after him.

The king had appointed before certain to make report of the sermons. Besides them there was one who writing to a friend of his in the Court, in the favor of these preachers, declared how gayly they had all handled the matter, both to satisfy the recantation, and also in the same Sermons to utter out the truth, that it might spread without let of the world. Wherefore partly by these reporters, & partly by the negligent looking to this letter, which came to the Lord Cromwell's hands (saith Gardener) Barns with his other fellows were apprehended, and committed to the Tower. Stephen Gardener in his foresaid book against George Ioye, would needs clear himself, that he was in no part nor cause of their casting into the tower, and giveth this reason for him, for that he had then no access, ne had not after, so long as Cromwell's time lasted, to the Kings secret Counsayle: yet notwithstanding the said Gardener cannot persuade us to the contrary, but that his privy complaing to the King, and his secrete whisperings in his friends ears, and his other workings by his factors about the King, was a great sparcle to set their fagots a fire.

Thus then Barns, Jerome, and Garret being committed to the Tower, after Easter, there remained till the xxx. day of July, which was two days after the death of the Lord Cromwell. Then ensued process against them by the Kings Counsel in the Parliament, to the which process Gardener confesseth himself that he was privy amongst the rest. Whereupon all these three good saints of God, the xxx. day of July, not coming to any answer, nor yet knowing any cause of their cōdamnation, without any public hearing, were brought together from the Tower to Smithfield, where they preparing themselves to the fire, had there at the stake diverse and sundry exhortations, amongst whom D. Barns first began with this protestation following.

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

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

I believe that there is a holy Church, & a company of all them that profess Christ: and that all that have suffered & confessed his name, be Saints, & that all they do praise & laude God in heaven, more then I, or any man's tongue cā express, & that always I have spoken reverently, and praised them as much as Scripture willed me to do. And that our Lady (I say) was a Virgin immaculate and undefiled & that she is the most purest virgins that ever God created & a vessel elect of God of whom Christ should be borne. Then said M. Sheriff, you have said well of her before. And being afraid that Master Sheriff had been or should be aggrieved with any thing that he should say, he said: Master Sheriff, if I speak any thing that you will me not, do no more but beckon me with your hand, & I will straight way hold my peace, for I will not be disobedient in any thing, but will obey.

Thē there was one that asked him his opiniō of praying to Saints. Then said he: Now of Saints you shall here my opinion. I have said before somewhat I think of them, how that I believe they are in heaven with God, and that they are worthy of all the honor that Scripture willeth thē to have. But I say throughout all Scripture we are not commanded to pray to any Saints. Therefore I cannot nor will not preach to you that Saints ought to be prayed unto: for then should I preach unto you a doctrine of mine own head. Notwithstandyng whether they pray for us or no, that I refer to GOD. And if Saints do pray for us, then I trust to pray for you within this half hour Master Sheriff, and for every Christian man living in the faith of Christ & dying in the same as a Saint. Wherefore if the dead may pray for the quick, I will surely pray for you.

Well, have you anything more to say? Thē spake he to Master Sheriff & said, have ye any Articles against me for the which I am condemned? And the Shriffe answered, no. Then said he, is there here any mā else that knoweth wherefor I die, or that by my preaching hath takē any error? Let them now speak & I will make thē answer. And no man answered. Then said he, well I am condemned by the law to die, & as I understand, by an Acte of Parliament, but wherefor, I cannot tell, but belike for heresy, for we are like to burn. But they that have been the occasiō of it. I pray God forgive them, as I would be forgiven myself. And Doct. Stephē Bishop of Winchester that now is, if he have sought or wrought this my death either by word or deed, I pray God forgive him as hartly, as freely, as charitably, and without faynyng, as ever Christ forgave them that put him to death.

And if any of the Counsel, or any other have sought or wrought it through malice or ignorance, I pray God forgive their ignorance and illuminate their eyes that they may see and ask mercy for it. I beseech you all to pray for the kings grace, as I have done ever since I was in prison, and do now, that God may give him prosperity, and that he may long reign among you, & after him that godly Prince Edward may so reign, that he may finish those things that his father hath begun. I have been reported a preacher of sedition & disobedience unto the kings Majesty, but hear I say to you, that you all are bound by the commandment of God to obey your Prince with all humility, & with all your heart, yea not so much as in a look to show yourselves disobedient unto him, & that not only for fear of the sword, but also for conscience sake before God. Yea and I say further, if the king should command you any thing against God's law, if it be in your power to resist him, yet may you not do it.

Then spake he to the Sheriff and said, M. Sheriff I require you on God's behalf, to have me comēded unto the kings grace, & to show him that I require of his grace these five requests: First that where his grace hath received into his hands, all the goods and substance of the Abbeys. Then the Sheriff desired him to stop there. He answered, Master Sheriff I warrant you I will speak no harm, for I know it is well done y ^t all such superstition be clean taken away, and the kings grace hath well done in taking it away. But his grace is made a whole king, and obeyed in his Realm as a king (which neither his father nor graūdfather, neither his aunceters that reigned before him ever had) & that through the preaching of us and such other wretches as we are, which always have applied our whole studies, and given our selves for the setting forth of the same, and this is now our reward. Well it maketh no matter. Now he reigneth among you: I pray God long may he live and reign among you. Would to God it might please his grace to bestow the said goods or some of them, to the comfort of his poor subjects, which surely have great need of them.

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

The third, that the abhominable swearers may be punished and straightly looked upon: for the vengeance of God will come on them for their mischievous oaths. Then desired he master Pope to have him commended to Master Edgar, and to desire him for the dear blood of Jesus Christ, that he would leave that abhominable swearing which he used, for surely except he did forsake it, he would come to some mischievous ende.

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

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

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

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

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

I also detest, abhor, and refuse all heresies and errors, and if either by negligence or ignorance I have taught or maintained any, I am sory for it, and ask God mercy. Or if I have been so vehement or rash in preaching, whereby any person hath taken any offense, error, or evil opinion, I desire him, and all other persons which I have any way offended, of forgiveness. Notwithstanding to my remembrance, I never preached wittinglye or willingly any thing against God's holy word, or contrary to the true faith, to the maintenance of errors, heresies, or vicious living, but have alway for my little learning and wit, set forth the honor of God, and the right obedience to his laws, and also the Kings accordingly. And if I could have done better, I would. Wherefore Lord if I have taken in hand to

do that thing which I could not perfectly perform, I desire thee pardon for my bold presumption. And I pray God send the kings grace good and godly counsel, to his glory, to the Kings honor, and the increase of virtue in this his Realm. And thus now I yield up my soul unto almighty God, trusting and believing that he of his infinite mercy for his promise made in the blood of his son our most merciful Saueour Jesus Christ, will take it, and pardon me of all my sins, whereby I have most grievously from my youth offended his Majesty: wherefore I ask him mercy, desiring you all to pray with me and for me, that I may pacientlye suffer this pain, and die steadfastly in true faith, perfect hope and charity.

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

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

The sixth Article touching Auricular confession.

OF confession three kinds we find in the scriptures expressed and approved. The first is our confession privately or publicly made unto God alone: and this confession is necessary for all men at all times. Wherefore S. John speaketh: If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us. &c.

The second is the confession which is openly made in the face of the congregation. And this confession also hath place when any such thing is committed, whereof riseth a public offense and slander to the Church of God: As amples of penitentiaries in the prim • tiue Church, & Melciades and other. &c.

The third kind of confession is that, which we make privately to our brother. And this confession is requisite, whē either we have injured or by any way damnified our neighbor, whether he be rich or poor. Wherof speaketh the Gospel: Go and reconcile thyself first unto thy neighbor. &c. Also S. James: Confess yourselves one to another. &c. Or else this confession may also have place, whē any such thing lieth in our conscience, in the opening whereof we stand in need of the counsel & comfort of some faithful brother. But herein must we use discretiō in avoiding these points of blind superstition. First that we put therein no necessity for remission of our sins, but to use therein our own voluntarye discretion, according as we see it expedient for the better satisfying of our troubled mind. The second is, that we be not bound to any enumeration of our sins. The third, that we tie not our selves to any one person, more then to another, but to use therein our free choice, whom we think can give us the best spiritual counsel in the Lord.

But as there is nothing in the Church so good and so ghostly, which through peuishe superstitiō either hath not, or may not be perverted: so this confession also hath not lacked his abuses. First the secret confession to God alone, as it hath ben counted insufficient, so hath it ben but lightly esteemed of many. The public confession to the congregation hath been turned to a standing in a sheet, or else hath been bought out for money. Furthermore, the secret breaking of a man's mind to some faithful or spiritual brother, in disclosing his infirmity or temptations, for counsel and godly comfort, hath been turned into auricular confession in a Priests ear for assoyling of his sins. In the which auriculare confession, first of the free liberty of the penitent in uttering his griefs, they have made a mere necessity, and that unto salvation and remission of sins. Secondly, they require withal, enumeration and a full recital of all sins whatsoever: both great and small, also besides y ^e necessity of this ear confessiō, they add thereto a prescription of time, at lease once in the year for all men, whether they repent or no, to be confessed: making moreover of the same a sacrament. And lastly, where as before it stood in the voluntary choice of a man to open his heart to what spiritual brother he thought best, for an easement of his grief & ghostly consolation, they bind him to a Priest (unless some Frier come by the way to be his ghostly father) to whom he must needs confess all, whatsoever he hath done, and though he lack the key of knowledge, and peradventure of good discretion, yet none must have power to assoil him, but he through the authority of his keys.

And this manner of confession, say they, was instituted by Christ, and his Apostles, and hath been used in the Church ever since to this present day. Which is a most manifest untruth, and easy by stories to be convinced.

For Socrates lib. 5. cap. 19. Sozom. lib. 7. cap. 16. in y ^e book of Ecclesiastical history, do give us plainly to understand, that this Auricular confession never came of Christ, but only of men.

Item, in the time of Tertullian, Beat. Rhenanus testifieth, that there was no mention made of this Auriculare confession. Which may well be gathered thereof, for that Tertullian writing upon repentance, maketh no mention at all thereof.

Item, in the time of Chrysostom, it appeareth there was no such assoyling at the Priests hands, by these words where he saith: I require thee not that thou shouldest confess thy sins to thy fellow servant. Tell them unto God, who careth for them.

Item, the said Chrysostom in another place writing upon repentance, and confession: Let the examination of thy sins, and thy judgment (saith he) be secrete and close without witness. Let God only see and hear thy confession. &c.

Item, in the time of Ambrose, De poenit. Dist. 1. Petrus, the gloss of the Popes own decrees recordeth: That the institution of Baptism was not then begun, which now in our days is in use.

Item, it is truly said therefore of the Glose in another place, where he testifieth: That this institution of penance began rather of some tradition of the universal church, then of any authority of the New Testament, or of the old. &c.

The like also testifieth Erasm. writing upon Jerome in these words. Apparet tempore Hieronymi nondum institutam fuisse. &c. That is: It appeareth, that in the time of Jerome, this secrete confession of sins was not yet ordained, which the church afterward did institute holesomely, if our Priests and lay men would use it rightly. But herein, divines not considering advisedly what the old doctors do say, are much deceived. That which they say of general and open confession, they wrast by and by to this privy and secrete kind of confession, which is far diverse, and of another sort. &c.

The like testimony may also be taken of Gracian himself, who speaking of confession used then in his time, leaveth the matter in doubtful suspense, neither pronouncinge on the one side, nor on the other, but referreth y ^e matter to the free judgment of the Readers, which the act of these six Articles here enjoineth as necessary, under pain of death.

Briefly, in few words to search out and notify the very certain time, when this Article of ear confession first crept into the Church, & what antiquity it hath in following the Judgment of Johannes Scotus, and of Antoninus, it may be well▪ supposed, that the institution thereof took his first origin by Pope Innocent the third, in his Council of Lateran, An. 1215. For so we read in Johannes Scotus Lib. 4. Sent. Dist. 17. Artic. 3. Praecipua autem specificatio huius praecepti inuenitur in illo cap. Extra. de poenit. & remiss. Omnis vtriusque sexus. &c. And after in the same Article it followeth: Nam ex prima institution Ecclesiae non videntur fuisse Distincti proprij sacerdotes. Quando enim Apostoli hinc & inde ibant praedicando verbum Dei. &c. By the which words it appeareth that there was no institution of any such confession specified before the constitution of Innocentius the third.

But more plainly the same may appear by the words of Antoninus in 3. parte Histor. Whyche be these Innocentius tertius in Concilio generali praedicto, circa Sacramenta confessionis & communionis sic statuit: Omnis vtriusque sexus fidelis, postquam ad annum discretionis peruenerit, omnia peccata sua solus saltem semel in anno confiteatur proprio sacerdoti, & iniunctam sibi poenitentiam proprijs viribus studeat adimplere, alioqu • & viuens ab ingressu Ecclesiae arceatur, & moriens Christiana careat sepultura. Vnde hoc salutare statutum frequenter in Ecclesijs publicetur: ne quisquam ignorantiae coecitate velamen excusationis assumat. &c. That is to say. Pope Innocent the 3. in his general Council aforesaid, touching the Sacraments of confession and the communion, made this constitution as followeth. That every faithful person, both man & woman, after they come to the years of discretion, shall confess all their sins by themselves alone, at least once a year, to their own ordinary priest, and shall endeavor to fulfil by their own strength, their penance to them enjoined. Or else who so doth not, shall neither have entrance into the Church being alive, nor being dead shall enjoy Christian burial. Wherefore rhis wholesome constitution we will to be published often in the Churches, least any man through the blindness of ignorance may make to them selves a cloke of excuse. &c. And thus much hitherto we have alleged by occasion incident of these six Articles for some part of confutation of the same, referring the reader for the rest, to the more exquisite tractation of Divines, which professedlye write upon those matters.

In the mean time, for as much as there is extante in Latin a certain learned Epistle of Philippe Melancthon, written to king Henry against these vi. wicked Articles above specified, I thought not to defraud the reader of the fruit thereof, for his better understanding and instruction. The tenor and effect of his Epistle translated into English, thus followeth.