Acts and Monuments Volume 2 Part 1

Other articles gathered out of Setons Sermons.

TOuching reconciliation spoken of by D. Smith, preaching in the forenoon at Paul's cross, Alexander Seton preaching at afternoon, at S. Anthony's, & recityng his sayings & scriptures, reproved him for alleging this saying, Recōciliamini deo, & englishing the same thus, reconcile yourselves to God: because it is there spoken passively, & not actively, so that there should be nothing in man pertaining to reconciliation, but all in God.

Also reproving the said D. Smith, for that the said D. said, that man by his good works might merit. Which saying of D. Smith, the said Alexander Setō reproved in the pulpit at S. Anthony's, the 13. day of November, the yere of our Lord 1541. as noughtely spoken.

Moreover the said Alexander Seton said in the same place, that it was shame that any such preacher should be suffered so openly to preach such erroneous doctrine, as to say that works should merit, adducing: non sunt condignae passions, &c. Et postquam feceritis omnia. &c.

Finally Seton said, peradventure ye will say the church hath determined this matter touching works. And I say (quoth he) that it is Ecclesia malignantium, so determining anything against scripture.

To these pretēsed objections of his adversaries, he made his answer again by writing, first denying many things there presented, taking upon his conscience, that he never spake diverse of those words: and again many things, that he never meant to such end nor purpose, as in y ^e said register may appear. But all this notwithstanding, for all that he could say for himself, the ordinary proceeded in his cōsistory judgment, ministering to him certain Interogatories (after the popish course) to y ^e number of x. articles The greatest matter laid against him was for preaching free iustificatiō by faith in Christ Jesus, against false cōfidēce in good works, & man's free will. Also it was laid unto him, for affirming y ^e private masses & diriges, & other prayers profited not y ^e souls departed: so that in the end, he with Tolwing aforesaid was caused to recant at paules cross. an. 1541.

• Add to these aforesaid, D. Taylor Parson of S. Peters in Cornehill.
• South, Parish priest of Allhallowes in Lombardstreet.
• Some, Priest.
• Giles, the kings Beerebrewer at the red Lion, in S Katherines.
• Tho. Lancaster, Priest. All which were imprisoned likewise for the 6. Articles.

To be short, such a number out of all parishes in Lōdō & out of Calais: and diverse other quarters, were thē apprehended through the said Inquisitiō, that all prisons in London were to little to hold thē, in so much that they were fain to lay thē in the Halles. At the last by the means of good L. Audley, such pardō was obtained of the king, that y ^e said L. Audley, thē L. Chancellor, being content that one should be bound for another, they were all discharged, being bound only to appere in the star chamber the next day after Al souls, there to answer if they were called: but neither was there any person called, neither did there any appear.

Another cause of Testwoods trouble.

AS it chanced Testwood one day to walk in the church at after noon, & beheld the pilgrims (specially of Devonshire & Cornwall) how they came in by plumpes with candles & images of wax in their hands, to offer to good king Henry of Windsore (as they called him) it pitied his heart to see so great idolatry committed, & how vainly the people had spent their goods in coming so far to kiss a spur, & to have an old hat set upon their heds. In so much, that he could not refrain, but (seeing a certain company which had done their offering stand gasing about y ^e church) went unto them, & with all gentleness began to exhort them to leave such falls worshipping of dumb creatures, and to learn to worship the true living God aright, putting thē in remembrance what those things were which they worshipped, & how God many times had plagued his people for running a whoring to such stocks & stones, & so would plage them and their posterity if they would not leave it.

After this sort he admonished them so long, till at the last, his words (as God would) took such place in some of them, that they said, they would never go a pilgrimage more. Then he went further, & found another sort licking & kissing a white Lady made of Alabaster, which Image was mortrest in a wall behind the hie altar, and bordred about with a pretty border, which was made like branches with hanging apples & flowers. And when he saw them so superstitiously use the Image (as to wipe their hands upon it, & then to stroke them over their hands & faces, as though there had ben great virtue in touching y ^e picture) he up with his hand in the which he had a key, and smote a piece of the border about the image, down, and with the glance of the stroke chanced to break of the images nose. Lo, good people, quoth he, ye see what it is, nothing but earth & dust, and cannot help it self, & how will you then have it to help you? For God's sake brethren, be no more deceived: and so he gate him home to his house, for the rumor was so great, that many came to see the Image, how it was defaced. And among all other came one Williā Symons (a Lawyer) who seeing the image so berayed, and to lack her nose, took the matter grievously, & looking down upon the pavement, he spied the images nose where it lay, which he took up and put in his purse, saying, it should be a dear nose to Testwood one day.

Now were many offended with Testwood, the canons for speaking against their profit, the wax sellers for hyndring their market, & Symons for the Images nose. And more then that, there were of the canons men that threatened to kill him. Whereupon Testwood kept his house, and durst not come forth, minding to have sent the whole matter in writing by his wife, to M. Cromwell the kings secretary who was his special friend. The Canons hearing that Testwood would send to Cromwell, they send y ^e Uerger unto him, to will him to come to the church: who sent them word again, that he was in fear of his life, & therefore would not come. Then sent they two of y ^e eldest Peticanons to entreat him, & to assure him that no man should do him harm. He made them a plain answer, that he had no such trust to their promises, but would complain to his friends. Then wist they not what shift to make (for of all men they feared Cromwell) but sent in post hast for old M. Ward, a justice of peace dwelling 3. or 4. miles of, who being come & hearing the matter, was very loath to meddle in it. But notwithstanding, through their entreaty he went to Testwood & had much ado to persuade him, but at the last, he did so faithfully promise him by the oth he had made to God & the king, to defend him from all dangers and harms, that Testwood was content to go with him.

And when M. Ward and Testwood were come into the Church, and were going toward the Chapter house, where the Canons abode their coming, one of the Canons men drew his dagger at Testwood, and would have been upon him, but M. Ward with his men resisted, and gat Testwood into the Chapter house, causing the serving men to be called in, and sharply rebuked of their masters, who straitly commanded them upon pain of loosing their service, & further displeasure, not to touch him nor to give him an evil word. Now Testwood being alone, in the Chapter house with the Canons and M. Ward was gently entreated, & the matter so pacified, that Testwood might quietly come and go to the Church, and do his duty as he had done before.

An other cause of Testwoods trouble.

VPon a Relique Sunday (as they named it) when every Minister after their old custom should have borne a relique in his hand about a procession, one was brought to Testwood. Which relique (as they said) was a Ratchet of bishop Beckets. And as the Sexten would have put the Ratchet in Testwoods hands, he pushed it from him, saying, if he did give it to him, he would wipe his tail withal, & so the Ratchet was given to another. Then came the Uerger down from the hie altar with S. Georges dagger in his hand, demāding who lacked a relique. Mary (quoth Testwood give it to M. Hake (who stood next him) for he is a pretty man of his hands, & so the dagger was givē unto him. Now Testwood perceiving the dagger in master Hakes hand, and being merrily disposed (as he was a merry conceited man) stepped forth out of his place to D. Clifton standing directly before him in the midst of the quire, with a glorious golden Cope upon his back, having the Pixe in his hand, and said: Sir, M. Hake hath Saint Georges dagger. Now if he had his horse, and S. Martins cloke, and master John Shornes bootes, with king Henries spurs, and his hat, he might ride when he would, and so stepped into his place again. Whereat the other changed color, and wist not what to say.

Another cause of Testwoods trouble.

IN the days of M. Franklen, who succeeded D. Sampson in the Deanry of Windsore, there was on a time set up at the Choir door, a certain foolish printed paper in Meter, all to the praise and commendation of our Lady, ascribing unto her our justification, our salvation, our redemption, the forgiveness of sins, &c. to the great derogation of Christ. Which paper, one of the Canons called M. Magnus (as it was reported) caused to be set up in despite of Testwood and his sect. When Testwood saw this paper, he plucked it down secretly. The next day after was another set up in the same place. Then Testwood coming into the Church, and seeing another paper set up, and also the Dean coming a little way of, made haste to be in at the Choir door, while the Dean stayed to take holy water, and reaching up his hand as he went, plucked away y ^t paper with him. The Dean being come to his stall, called Testwood unto him, and said, that he marvelled greatly how he durst be so bold to take down the paper in his presence? Testwood answered again, that he marvelled much more, that his maistership would suffer such a blasphemous paper to be set up, beseeching him not to be offended with that he had done, for he would stand unto it. So M. Dean being a timorous man, made no more ado with him. After this were no mo papers set up, but poor Testwood was eaten and drunken among them at every meal, and an heretic he was, and would roast a fagot for this gear one day.

Now master Magnus being sore offended with Testwood for pluckyng down his papers, to be revenged on him, devised with the Dean and the rest of the Canons, to send their letters to D. Chamber, one of their brethren, and the Kings Physician, who lay (for the most part) at the Court, to see what he would do against Testwood. Which letters being made, were sent with speed. But whatsoever the cause was, whether he durst not meddle for fear of Cromwell, or what else I cannot tell, their suite came to none effect. Then wyst they not what to do, but determined to let the matter sleep, till S. Georges feast, which was not far of.

Now in the mean time there chanced a pretty story, between one Robert Phillips Gentleman of the Kings Chapel, and Testwood. Which story, though it was but a merry pranke of a singing man, yet it grieved his adversary wonderfully. The matter was this. Robert Phillips was so notable a singing man (wherein he gloried) that wheresoever he came, the best and longest song, with most counteruerses in it, should be set up at his coming. And so his chance being now to be at Windsore, against his coming to the Anthem, a long song was set up, called Lauda viui. In which song there was one counteruerse toward the end, that began on this wise, O redemptrix & saluatrix. Which verse of all other, Robert Phillips would sing, because he knew that Testwood could not abide that dittie. Now Testwood knowing his mind well enough, joined with him at the other part: and when he heard Robert Phillips begin to fetch his flourish with O redemptrix & saluatrix: repeating the same one in another's neck. Testwood was as quick on the other side to answer him again with Non redemptrix, nec saluatrix, and so striuyng there with O and Non, who should have the maistrie, they made an ende of the verse. Whereat was good laughyng in sleeves of some, but Robert Phillips with other of Testwoods enemies were sore offended.

Within 14. days after this, the Lord's of the Garter (as their custom is yearly to do) came to Wyndsore to keep S. Georges feast: at which feast the Duke of Norfolk was President: unto whom the Dean and canons made a grievous complaint on Testwood. Who being called before the Duke, he shook him up and all to reviled him, as though he would have sent him to hanging by & by. Yet nevertheless Testwood so behaved himself to the Duke, that in the ende he let him go without any further molestyng of him, to the great discomfort of the Dean and Canons.

Here have ye heard the causes which moved Testwoods enemies to seek his destruction, and could not attain their purpose, till that wicked Aman D. London came, as shall be shown in the process following.

The original of Henry Filmers trouble.

ABout the year of our Lord, 1541. after all the orders of superstitious and begging Friers were suppressed and put down, there chanced one Sir Thomas Melster, which had been a Frier before, and changed his Friers coat (but not his Friers heart) to be Vicar of Wyndsore. This priest on a time made a Sermon to his Parishioners, in the which he declared so many fond and Frierish tales, as that our Lady should hold out her breasts to S. Bernard, and spout her milk into his eyes, with such like festival tales, that many honest men were offended therewith, and specially this Henry Filmer then one of the Church wardens: who was so zealous to gods word, that he could not abide to hear the glory of Christ so defaced with superstitious fables. Whereupon he took an honest man or two with him, and went to the priest, with whom he talked so honestly and so charitably, that in the ende the Priest gave him hearty thanks, and was content at his gentle admonition, to reform himself without anymore ado, and so departed friendly the one from the other.

Now was there one in the town, called W. Symons a Lawyer (as is aforesaid) who hearing that Filmer had been with the Priest, and reproved him for his Sermon, took pepper in the nose, and gat him to the Uicar, and did so animate him in his doings, that he slipped quite away from the promise he had made to Filmer, and followed the mind of Symons: who meeting with Filmer afterward all to reviled him, saying he would bring him before the bishop, to teach him to be so malapert. Then Filmer hearing the matter renewed, which he had thought had been suppressed, stood against Symons, and said, that the Uicar had preached false and unsound doctrine, and so would he say to the Bishop whensoever he came before him. Then Symons slipped not the matter, but went to the Mayor, and procured of him and his brethren a letter, signed with their own hands in the priests favor, as much as could be devised, and so prepared himself with other his friends to go to the bishop (whose name was D. Capon) and to take the priest with them: which was a painful journey for the seely poor man, by reason he had a sore leg.

Now Filmer hearing how Simon's went about to put him to a foil, consulted with his friends what was best to do: who concluded to draw out certain notes of the vicars Sermon, and to prepare themselves to be at Salisbury as soon as Symons or before him, if it might be possible. Thus both the parties being in a readiness, it chanced thē to set forth of Windsore all in one day. But by reason the Priest (being an impotent man) could not endure to ride very fast, Filmer and his company gate to the town an hour and more before Symons, and went to the Bishop and delivered up their Bill unto him. Which Byll when the bishop had seen and perused well, he gave them great thanks for their pains, saying it did behooue him to look upon it, for the Priest had preached heresy, and should be punished.

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

The bishop hearing of mo Windsore men, demanded what they were, & being informed how it was the vicar of the town with other moe, he caused y ^e vicar to be brought in. To whom he said: Are you the vicar of Windsore? Yea forsooth my Lord, quoth he. How chanceth it quoth y ^e B. that you are complained on? for here hath been with me certain honest men of your town, which have delivered up a bill of erroneous doctrine against you. If it be so, I must needs punish you, & opening the bill he red it unto him. How say you quoth the B. is this true or no? The vicar could not deny it, but humbly submitted himself to the bishops correction. Then was his company called in, and when the B. saw Symons, he knew him well, and said: Wherefore come you M. Symons? Pleaseth it your Lordship (quoth he) we are come to speak in our vicars cause, which is a man of good conversation & honesty, and doth his duty so well in every point, that no man can find fault with him, except a lewd fellow we have in our town called Filmer, which is so corrupt with heresy, that he is able to poison a whole country: and truly my Lord (quoth Symons) there is no man y ^t can preach or teach any thing that is good and godly, but he is ready to control it, and to say it is stark naught. Wherefore we shall beseech your lordship he may be punished, to the ensample of other, that our vicar may do his duty quietly, as he hath done before this busy fellow troubled him. And that your Lordship shall the better credit my saiengs, I have brought with me these honest men of the town, and beside all that, a testimonial from the Mayor and his brethren to confirm the same, & so he held out the writing in his hand.

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

The original of Anthony Persons trouble.

THere was a certain priest named Anth. Person, which frequented much to Windsore, about the year of our Lord, 1540. and using the talent that God had given him in preaching, was greatly esteemed among the people, who flocked so much to his sermons which he made both in the town and country, that the great priests of the castle, with other papists in the town (specially Symons) were sore offended: In so much that Symons at the last begā to gather of his sermons, & to mark his auditors: whereof ensued the death of diverse, and trouble of many honest men. For about a year & more after, a minister of Satan called D. London, Warden of the new College in Oxford, was admitted one of the Prebendaries of Windsore, who at his first coming to Windsore, began to utter his stomach, & to show his affection. For at his first Residēce diner which he made to the clerks (which company for the most parte at that time favored the Gospel) all his whole talk to two Gentlemen strangers at his board (till the table was a taking up) was nothing else but of heretics, and what a desolation they would bring the realm unto, if they might be so suffered. And by S. Mary masters (quoth he to the clerks at the last) I cannot tell, but there goeth a shrewde report abroad of this house. Some made answer, it was undeserved. I pray God it be, quoth he. I am but a stranger & have small experience among you: but I have heard it said before I came hither, that there be some in this house, that will neither have prayer nor fasting.

Then spake Testwood: By my troth sir (quoth he) I think that was spoken but of malice, for prayer (as your mastership knoweth better then I) is one of the first lessons that Christ taught us. Yea mary sir, quoth he, but the heretics will have no invocation to saints, which all the old fathers do allow. What the old fathers do allow, quoth Testwood, I cannot tell, but Christ doth appoint us to go to his father, and to ask our petitions of him in Christ's name. Then you will have no mean between you & god, quoth D. London. Yes sir, quoth Testwood, our mean is Christ, as S. Paul saith: There is one Mediator between god and man, even Jesus Christ. Geue us water quoth D. Londō. Which being set on the boorde, he said grace and washed, & so falling into other communication with the strangers, the clerks took their leave and departed.

When D. London had ben in Windsore a while among his catholic brethren, & learned what Testwood was, & also of Symons, who shown him our Ladies nose (as he called it) what a sort of heretics were in the town and about the same, and how they increased daily by reason of a naughty priest, called Anth. Person, he was so maliciously bent against thē, that he gave himself wholly to the devil to do mischief. And to bring his wicked purpose about, he conspired w ^t the foresaid Symōs (a meet clerk to serve such a curate) and other of like sore, how they might cōpass the matter, first to have all the Archheretikes (as they termed thē) in Windsore & thereabout, indicted of heresy, and so to proceed further. They had a good ground to work upon, (as they thought) which was the six articles, whereupon they began to build and practice thus. First they drew out certain notes of Antho. Persons sermons, which he had preached against the sacrament of the altar, & their popish Mass. That done, they put in sir Phillip Hobby with the good Lady his wife, sir Thomas Cardine, M. Edmund Harman, M. Tho. Weldon, with Snowbal and his wife, as chief aiders, helpers, & mainteiners of Anth. Person. Also they noted D. Haines Dean of Exceter and a Prebendary of Windsore, to be a common receiver of all suspected persons. They wrote also the names of all such as commonly haunted Anthony Persons sermons, & of all such as had the Testament, and favored the Gospel, or did but smell thereof.

Then had they privy spies to walk up and down the Church, to hearken and hear what men said, and to mark who did not reverence the sacrament at the leuation time, and to bring his name to D. London. And of these spies some were Chantrie priests: among the which there was one notable spy, whose name was called sir Will. Bows such a fleering priest as would be in every corner of the Church pattering to himself, with his Portuous in his hand, to hear and to note the gesture of men towards the sacrament. Thus whē they had gathered as much as they could, and made a perfect book thereof, D. London with two of his catholic brethren moe, gave them up to the B. of Winchester Stephen Gardener, with a great complaint against the heretics that were in Windsor, declaring unto him how the town was sore disquieted through their doctrine and evil example. Wherefore they besought his lordships help, in purging the town and castle of such wicked persons. The B. hearing their complaint, and seeing their book, praised their doings, and bade them make friends and go forward, and they should not lack his help. Then they applied the matter with tooth and nail, sparing for no money nor pains taking: as Marbecke saith that he himself heard one of them say, who was a great doer therein, and afterward sory for that he had done, that the suit thereof cost him that year for his part only an hundred marks, beside the death of iii. good geldings.

Now B. Gardener, which had conceived a further fetch in his brain then D. London had, made Wrisley & other of the Counsaile on his side, and spieng a time convenient, went to the king, complainyng what a sort of heretics his grace had in his Realm, and how they were not only crept into every corner of his court, but even into his privy chamber, beseching therefore his majesty, that his laws might be prosecuted: the king giving credit to the counsails words, was content his laws should be executed on such as were offenders. Then had the B. that he desired, & forthwith procured a commission for a privy search to be had in Windsore for books and letters that Anth. Person should send abroad, which commission the king granted to take place in the town of Windsore, but not in the castle.

At this time the canons of Excester (specially Sutharn, Treasurer of the church, and D. Brurewood the Chancellor) had accused D. Haynes their Dean, to the counsel, for preaching against holy bread and holy water, and that he should say in one of his Sermons (having occasion to speak of Matrimony) that marriage and hanging were destiny: upon the which they gathered treason against him, because of the kings marriage. The B. of Winchester (at the same time) had also informed the counsel of M. Hobby, how he was a bearer of Anthony Person, and a great mainteyner of heretics. Wherupon both he and D. Heynes were apprehended and sent to the fleet. But it was not very long after, ere that by mediation of friends, they were both delivered.

Now, as touching the Commission for searchyng of books, M. Warde and Fachel of Reading, were appointed commissioners, who came to Windsore the Thursday before Palme Sunday, in the year of our Lord, 1543. and began their search about xi. of the clock at night. In the which search were apprehended Robert Bennet, Henry Filmer, John Marbecke, and Robert Testwood, for certain books and writings found in their houses against the vi. articles, and kept in ward til monday after, and thē fet up to the Counsaile all save Testwood, with whom the Bailifs of the town were charged, because he lay sore diseased on the Goute. The other three being examined before the Counsaile, were committed to prison, Filmer and Bennet to the bishop of London's Jail, and Marbecke to the Marshalsey: whose examination is here set out, to declare the great goodness of the Counsaile, and the cruelty of the bishop.

The first examination of John Marbecke, before the Counsaile, on the Monday after Palme Sunday. 1544.

THis Marbecke had begun a great work in English, called The Concordaunce of the Bible. Which book being not half finished, was among his other books taken in the search, and had up to the Counsail. And when he came before them to be examined, the whole work lay before the bishop of Winchester Stephen Gardener, at the upper end of the board. Who beholding the poor man a while▪ said: Marbecke, doest thou know wherefore thou art sent for? No, my Lord quoth he. No, quoth the Bishop, That is a marvelous thing. Forsooth my Lord quoth he, unless it be for a certain search made of late in Windsore. I cannot tell wherefor it should be. Then thou knowest the matter well enough quoth the Bishop, and taking up a quire of the Concordance in his hand, said: Understandest thou the Latin tongue? No, my Lord, quoth he, but simply. No, quoth the Bishop? And with that spake M. Wrisley (then secretary to the king) he saith but simply, I cannot tell quoth the B. but the book is translated word for word out of the Latin Concordaunce, and so began to declare to the rest of the Counsaile, the nature of a Concordance, and how it was first compiled in Latin by the great diligence of the learned men for the ease of preachers, concluding with this reason, that if such a book should go forth in English, it would destroy the Latin tongue. And so casting down the quire again, he reached another book, which was the book of Isaiah the prophet, and turning to the last chap. gave the book to Marbecke, and asked him who had written the note in the margent. The other looking upon it, said: forsooth my Lord, I wrote it. Read it quoth the B. Then he read it thus, Heaven is my seat, and the earth is my footstool. Nay, quoth the B. read it as thou hadst written it. Then shall I read it wrong quoth he, for I had written it false. How hadst thou written it, quoth y ^e bishop? I had written it quoth he, thus: Heaven is my seat and the earth is not my footstool. Yea mary quoth the Bishop, that was thy meaning. No, my Lord quoth he, it was but an oversight in writing, for as your Lordship seeth, this word (Not) is blotted out. At this time came other matters into the Counsaile, so that Marbecke was had out to the next chamber. And when he had stood there a while, one of the Counsaile (named sir Anthony Wingfield Captain of the Garde) came forth, and calling for Marbecke, committed him to one Belson of the gard, saying unto him on this wise: Take this man and have him to the Marshalsey, and tell the keeper that it is the Counsels pleasure that he shall entreat him gently. And if he have any money in his purse (as I think he hath not much) take you it from him, left the prisoners do take it, and minister it unto him as he shall have need. And so the messenger departed with Marbecke to the Marshalsey, and did his commission most faithfully and truly, both to the keeper and to the prisoner, as he was commanded.

The second examination of Marbecke, before the Bishops Gentleman in the Marshalsey.

ON the next day (which was Tuesday) by 8. of the clock in the morning, there came one of the B. of Winchesters Gentlemen into the Marshalsey, whose mā brought after him two great books under his arm, & finding Marbecke walking up and down in the Chapel, demanded of the keeper why he was not in irons. I had no such commandment quoth he: for the messenger, which brought him yesternight from the Counsaile, said: It was their pleasure he should he gently used. My Lord quoth the gentleman will not be content with you, and so taking the books of his man, called for a chamber, up to the which he carried the prisoner, and casting the books from him upon a bed, sat him down and said: Marbecke, my Lord doth favor thee well for certain good qualities thou hast, and hath sent me hither to admonish thee to beware and take heed least thou cast away thyself willfully. If thou wilt be plain, thou shalt do thyself much good: if not, thou shalt do thyself much harm. I assure thee, my Lord lamenteth thy case, for as much as he hath always heard good report of thee: wherefor now see to thyself, and play the wise man. Thou art acquainted with a great sort of heretics (as Hobby and Heynes, with other mo) & knowest much of their secrets: if thou wilt now open them at my Lord's request, he will procure thy deliverance out of hand, and prefer thee to better living.

Alas sir, quoth he, what secretes do I know? I am but a poor man, and was never worthy to be so conversant either with M. Hobby, or M. Heynes, to know any part of their minds. Well, quoth the Gentleman, make it not so strange, for my lord doth know well enough in what estimation they had both thee and Anth. Person, for your religion. Of Anth. Person, quoth he, I can say nothing, for I never saw him with them in all my life. And as for myself, I cannot deny, but that they have always (I thank them) taken me for an honest poor man, and shown me much kindness: but as for their secrets, they were to wise to commit them to any such as I am.

Peradventure quoth the Gentleman, thou fearest to utter anything of them, because they were thy friends, lest they hearing thereof, might hereafter withdraw their friendship from thee, which thou nedest not to fear, I warrant thee, for they are sure enough, and never like to pleasure thee more, ner no man else.

With that the water stood in Marbeckes eyes. Why weepest thou quoth the Gentleman? Oh sir, quoth he, I pray you pardon me, these men have done me good, wherefor I beseech the living God to comfort them as I would be comforted myself.

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

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

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

O most merciful father of heaven, thou that knowest the secret doings of all men, have mercy upon thy poor prisoner which is destitute of all help and comfort. Assist me (O Lord) with thy special grace, that to save this frail and vile body, which shall turn to corruption at his time, I have no power to say or to write anything, that may be to the casting away of my christen brother: but rather (O Lord) let this vile flesh suffer at thy will and pleasure. Grant this, O most merciful father, for thy dear son Jesus Christ's sake.

Then he rose up and began to search his conscience what he might write, and at last framed out these words: Whereas your Lordship will have me write such things as I know of my fellows at home: pleaseth it your lordship to understand, that I cannot call to remembrance any manner of thing whereby I might justly accuse any one of them, unless it be that the reading of the new testament (which is common to all men) be an offense: more thē this I know not.

Now the Gentleman about his hour appointed, came again, and found Marbecke walking up and down the chamber. How now, quoth he, hast thou written nothing? yes Sir, quoth he, as much as I know. Well said, quoth the Gentleman, and took up the paper. Which when he had read, he cast it from him in a great fume, swearing by our lords body, that he would not for xx. pound, carry it to his L. and master. Therefore quoth he, go to it again, and advise thyself better, or else thou wilt set my Lord against thee, and then art thou utterly undone. By my troth Sir, quoth Marbecke, if his Lordshyppe shall keep me here these seven years, I can say no more then I have said. Then wilt thou repent it, quoth the Gentleman, and so putting up his penner and inkehorne, departed with the paper in his hand.

The third examination of Marbecke, before the Bishop of Winchester himself in his own house.

THe next day, which was Wednesday, by viii. of the clock in the morning, the bishop sent for Marbecke to his house at S. Mary Oueries, and as he was entering into the bishops hall, he saw the bishop himself coming out at a door in y ^e upper end thereof, with a rolle in his hand, and going toward the great wyndow, he called the poor man unto him and said: Marbecke, wilt thou cast away thyself? No my Lord quoth he, I trust. Yes, quoth the B. thou goest about it, for thou wilt utter nothing. What a devil made thee to meddle with the scriptures? Thy vocation was another way, wherein thou hast a goodly gift, if thou didst esteem it? Yes my Lord, quoth he, I do esteem it and have done my part therein, according to that little knowledge that God hath given me. And why the devil quoth the Bishop, dydst thou not hold thee there? and with that he flang away from the wyndow out of the Hall, the poor man following him from place to place, til he had brought him into a long gallery, and being there, y ^e bishop began on this wise: A sirha, quoth he, the nest of you is brokē I trow. And unfolding his roll (which was about an elne long) he said: Behold, here be your captains both Hobby and Haynes, with all the whole pacte of thy sect about Windsore, & yet wilt thou utter none of them. Alas my lord quoth he, how should I accuse them, by whō I know nothing? Well, quoth the bish. if thou wilt needs cast away thyself, who can let thee? What helpers haddest thou in setting forth thy book: Forsooth my lord, quoth he none. Now quoth the bishop? how can that be? It is not possible that thou shouldest do it without help. Truly my L. quoth he, I cannot tell in what part your lordship doth take it, but how soever it be, I will not deny but I did it without the help of any man save God alone. Nay quoth the B. I do not discōmend thy dilligēce, but what shuldest thou meddle with that thing which pertained not to thee?

And in speaking these words, one of his Chaplaynes, (called M. Medow) came up and stayed himself at a window, to whō the bishop said, here is a marvelous thing. This fellow hath taken upon him to set out the Concordance in english, which book whē it was set out in latyn was not done without the help and diligence of a dosen learned men at the least, and yet will he bear me in hand that he hath done it alone. But say what thou wilt, quoth the B. except God himself would come down from heaven and tell me so, I will not believe it: and so going forth to a window, where two great Bibles lay upon a cusshion, the one in Latin, and the other in English, he called Marbecke unto him, and pointing his finger to a place in the Latin Bible, said: Canst thou English this sentence? Nay my L. quoth he, I trow I be not so cunning to give it a perfect English, but I can set out the English thereof in the English Bible. Let see, quoth the B. Then Marbecke turning the English Bible, found out the place by and by, and read it to the Bishop. So he tried him a three or four times, till one of his men came up and told him the Priest was ready to go to Mass.

And as the B. was going, said the Gentleman which had examined Marbecke in the Marshalsey the day before: Shall this fellow write nothing while your Lordship is at mass, for he passeth not on it. It maketh no matter quoth the Bishop, for he will tell nothing, and so went down to hear Mass, leaving Marbecke alone in y ^e gallery. The B. was no sooner down, but the Gentleman came up again with ink and paper. Come sirha quoth he, my Lord will have you occupied till Mass be done, perswadyng him with fair words, that he should be soon dispatched out of trouble, if he would use truth and plainness. Alas sir, quoth he, what will my Lord have me to do? for more then I wrote to his Lordship yesterday, I cannot? Well, well, go to quoth the Gentleman, & make speed, and so went his way. There was no remedy but Marbecke must now write some thing: wherefore he calling to God again in his mind, wrote a few words as nye as he could frame them, to those he had written the day before. When the B. was come from Mass, and had looked on the writing, he pushed it from him, saying: what shall this do? It hath neither head nor foot. There is a marvelous sect of them (quoth the B. to his men) for the devil cannot make one of them to bewray another. Then was there nothing among the Bishops Gentlemen, as they were making him ready to go to the court, but Crucisige upon the poor man. And when the bishops white ratchet was on him and all: well Marbecke, quoth he, I am now going to the Court, and was purposed, if I had found thee tractable, to have spoken to the kings majesty for thee and to have given thee thy meat, drink, & lodging here in mine house: but seeing thou art so willful and so stubborn, thou shalt go to the devil for me.

Then was he carried down by the B. men, with many railing words. And coming through the great chamber, there stood D. London, with two mo of his fellows, waiting the bishops coming: and passing by them into the Hall, he was there received of his keeper, and carried to prison again. It was not half an hour after, ere that the B. sent one of his Gentlemen to the under keeper called Stokes, commanding him to put irons upon Marbecke, and to keep him fast shut in a chamber alone, and when he should bring him down to dinner or supper, to see that he spake to no man, nor no man to him: & furthermore, y ^t he should suffer no manner of person (not his own wife) to come & see him or minister anything unto him. When the porter (who was the cruellest man that might be, to all such as were laid in for any matter of religion, and yet as God would, favorable to this poor man) had received this commandment from the B. he clapt irons upon him & shut him up, giving warning to all the house, y ^t no man should speak or talk to Marbecke, whensoever he was brought down, and so he continued the space of iii. wekes & more, till his wife was suffered to come unto him.

The suit of Marbeckes wife to the Bishop of Winchester.

MArbeckes wife, at the time of her husbands apprehension, had a young child of a quarter old, sucking upon her breast: & when her husband was taken from her, & had away to the Counsail, not knowing what should be come of him, she left the child and all, and gate her up to Londō, and hearing her husband to be in the Marshalsey, goeth thither. But when she came there, she could in no wise be suffered to see him, which greatly augmented her sorrow. Then by counsel of friends, she gate her to the B. of Winchester (for other help was there none to be had at y ^t time) making great suit to have his license to go & see her husband, and to help him with such things as he lacked. Nay quoth the B. thy husband is acquainted with all the heretics that be in the Realm, both on this side the Sea and beyond, and yet will he utter none of them. Alas my Lord quoth she, my husband was never beyond the seas, nor no great traveler in the Realm to be so acquainted, therefore good my Lord let me go see him. But all her earnest suit from day today would not help, but still he put her of, harping always upon this string: thy husband will utter nothing. At the last, she finding him in the court at s. James going toward his chamber, was so bold to take him by y ^e ratchet and say: O my Lord, these 18. days I have troubled your Lordship: now for the love of God, and as ever ye came of a woman, put me of no longer, but let me go to my husband. And as she was standing with the Bishop & his men, in a blind corner going to his chamber, one of the kings servants called Henry Carrike, and her next neighbor, chanced to be by: & hearing the talk between the B. and her, desired his Lordship to be good Lord unto the poor woman, which had her own mother lying bedred upon her hands, beside 5. or 6. children. I promise you quoth the B. her husband is a great heretic, & hath read more scripture then any man in the Realm hath done. I cannot tell my Lord, quoth Carrike, what he is inwardly, but outwardly he is as honest a quiet neighbor as ever I dwelt by. He will tell nothing quoth the B. He knoweth a great sort of false harlots, and will not utter thē. Yes my Lord quoth Carrike, he will tell, I dare say, for he is an honest man. Well, quoth the B. (speaking to the wife) thou seemest to be an honest woman, and if thou love thy husband well, go to him, and give him good counsel, to utter such naughty fellows as he knoweth, and I promise thee he shall have what I can do for him: for I do fancy him well for his Art, wherein he had pleased me as well as any man: and so stepping into his chamber, said she should have his letter to the keeper. But his mind being changed he sent out his ring by a Gentleman, which Gentleman delivered the ring to his man, charging him with the Bishops message. And so his man went with the woman to the water side, & took boat, who never rested railing on her husband all the way, till they came to y ^e prison: which was no small cross unto the poor woman.

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

The fourth examination of Marbecke, before the Commissioners in the Bishop of London's house.

ABout a three weeks before Whitsonday, was Marbecke sent for to the B. of London's house, where sat in Commission Doctor Capon, Bishop of Salisbury, Doctor Skyp Bishop of Harford, Doct. Goodricke Bishop of Eli, Doct. Okyng, Doct. May, and the Bishop of London's Scribe, having before them all Marbeckes books. Then said the Bishop of Salisbury: Marbecke, we are here in commission sent frō the kings majesty, to examine thee of certain things whereof thou must be sworn to answer us faithfully & truly. I am content my lord quoth he, to tell you the truth so far as I can, and so took his oath. Then the Bishop of Salisbury laid forth before him, his 3. books of notes, demanding whose hand they were. He answered they were his own hand, & notes which he had gathered out of other men's works, 6. years ago. For what cause quoth the Bishop of Salisbury diddest thou gather them? For none other cause my Lord, quoth he, but to come by knowledge. For I being unlearned & desirous to understand some part of scripture, thought by reading of learned men's works to come the sooner thereby, & where as I found any place of Scripture opened and expounded by thē, that I noted as ye see, with a letter of his name in the margent, that had set out the work. So me think quoth the Bishop of Eli (who had one of the books of notes in his hand all y ^e time of their sitting) thou hast read of all sorts of books both good and bad, as seemeth by the notes. So I have my Lord, quoth he. And to what purpose, quoth the Bishop of Salis. by my truth, quoth he, for no other purpose but to see every man's mind. Then the B. of Salis. drew out a quire of the Concordance, and laid it before the B. of Harford, who looking upon it a while, lifted up his eyes to D. Oking (standing next him) and said: Thys man hath ben better occupied, then a great sort of our priests. To the which he made no answer.

Then said the Bishop of Salisbury, whose help hadst thou in setting forth this book? Truly my Lord, quoth he, no help at all. How couldest thou, quoth the bishop, invent such a book, or know what a Concordance meant, w ^t out an instructer. I will tell your Lordship, quoth he, what instructer I had to begin it. When Thomas Matthews bible came first out in print, I was much desirous to have one of them: and being a poor man not able to buy one of them, determined with myself to borrow one among my friends, & to write it forth. And when I had written out the 5. books of Moses in fair great paper, & was entered into the book of Joshua, my friend M. Turner chanced to steal upon me unawares, & seeing me writing out the Bible, asked me what I meant thereby. And when I had told him the cause: Tush, quoth he, thou goest about a vain and tedious labor. But this were a profitable work for thee, to set out a Concordance in English. A Concordance said I? what is that? Then he told me it was a book to find out any word in the whole Bible by the letter, & that there was such a one in Latin already. Then I told him I had no learning to go about such a thing. Enough, quoth he, for that mater, for it requireth not so much learning, as diligence. And seeing thou art so painful a man, and one that cannot be unoccupied, it wer a goodly exercise for thee. And this (my Lord) is all the instruction that ever I had before or after, of any man. What is that Turner, quoth the B. of Salis.? Mary, quoth D, May, an honest learned man, and a Bachelor of Divinity, and sometime a fellow in Magdalene college in Oxford. Howe couldest thou, quoth the B. of Salisb. with this instruction, bring it to this order and form, as it is? I borrowed a Latin Concordance, quoth he, and began to practice my wit, and at last with great labor and diligence, brought it into this order, as your lordship doth see. A good wit with diligence, quoth the bysh. of Harford, may bring hard things to pass. It is great pity quoth the Bish. of Eli, he had not the Latin tongue. So it is, quoth D. May. Yet cannot I believe, quoth the Bishop of Salisb. that he hath done anymore in this work, then written it out after some other that is learned.

My Lord's, quoth Marbecke, I shall beseech you all to pardon me what I shall say, and grant to my request if it shall seem good unto you. Say what thou wilt, quoth the Bishops. I do marvel greatly wherefor I should be so much examined for this book, & whether I have committed any offense in doing of it or no? If I have, then were I loathe any other to be molested or punished for my fault. Therefore to clear all men in this matter, this is my request, that ye will try me in the rest of the boke y ^t is undone. Ye see that I am yet but in the letter L. Beginning now at M. & take out what word ye will of that letter, & so in every letter following, and give me the words in a piece of paper and set me in a place alone where it shall please you, with ink and paper, the English Bible, and the Latin concordance: and if I bring you not these words written in the same order & form that the rest before is, then was it not I that did it, but some other.

By my truth Marbecke, quoth the Bishop of Eli, that is honestly spokē, and then shalt thou bring many out of suspicion. That he shall, quoth they all. Then they bad Doct. Oking draw out such words as he thought best in a piece of paper, and so rose up: and in the mean time, fell into other familiar talk with Marbecke (for the Bishop of Eli and Harford both, were acquainted w ^t him afore, and his friends, so far as they durst) who perceiving the Bishops so pleasauntly disposed, besought them to tell him in what danger he stood. Shall I tell thee Marbecke, quoth the Bishop of Sarum? Thou art in better case then any of thy fellows, of whom there be some would give 40.li. to be in no worse case then thou art, whose sayings the other affirmed. Then came D. Oking with the words he had written, & while the Bishops were perusing them over, Doctor Oking said to Marbecke (very friendly) on this wise: Good M. Marbecke make hast, for the sooner ye have done, the sooner ye shall be delivered. And as the Bishops were going away, the bishop of Harforde took Marbecke a little aside, and informed him of a word which D. Oking had written false, and also to comfort him, said: Fear not, there can no law condemn you, for anything that ye have done, for if ye had written a 1000. heresies, so longe as they be not your sayings nor your opinions, the law cannot hurt you. And so went they all with the Bishop of Sarum to dinner, who taking the pore man with them, who dined in the hall at the Stewardes borde: and beside that, had wine and meat sent down from the bishops table.

When dinner was done, the Bishoppe of Sarum came down into the Hall, commanding ink and paper to be given to Marbecke, and the 2. books to one of his men to go with him, at whose going he demanded of the Bishop, what time his Lordship would appoint him to do it in. Against tomorrow this time, quoth the Bishop, which was about 2. of the clock, and so departed.

Marbecke now being in his prison chamber, fell to his business, & so applied the thing, that by the next day when the Bishop sent for him again, he had written so much, in the same order & form he had done the rest before, as contained iii. sheets of paper and more. The which, when he had delivered to the Bishop of Sarum (Doc. Oking standing by) he marveled and said: Well Marbecke, thou hast now put me out of all doubt. I assure thee, quoth he (putting up the paper into his bosom) the king shall see this or I be 24. hours elder: but he dissembled every word, and thought nothing less then so. For afterward, the matter being come to light, and known to his grace what a boke the poor man had begun, which the Bishops would not suffer him to finish: the king said he was better occupied then they that took it from him. So Marbecke departed from the bishop of Sarum to prison again, and heard no more of his book.

The 5. examination of Marbecke, before D. Oking and M. Knight Secretary to the Bishop of Winchester, in S. Mary Ouers Church.

VPon Whitsonday following, at after noon, was Marbecke sent for once again to S. Mary Ouers, where he found D. Oking with another gentleman in a gown of Damaske, with a cheyne of gold about his neck (no mo in all the church but they two) sitting together in one of the stalls, their backs toward the church door, looking upon an Epistle of M. John Calvin's, which Marbecke had written out. And when they saw the prisoner come, they rose and had him up to a side alter, leaving his keeper in the body of the church alone. Now as soon as Marbecke saw the face of a gentleman (which before he knew not by reason of his apparel) he saw it was the same person that first examined him in the Marshalsey, and did also cause him to write in the Bishops gallery, but never knew his name, till now he heard Doct. Oking call him M. Knight. This M. Knight held forth the paper to Marbecke and said, look upon this, and tell me whose hand it is. When Marbecke had taken the paper, & seen what it was, he confessed it to be all his hand saving y ^e first leaf, and the notes in the margent Thē I perceive, quoth Knight, thou wilt not go from thine own hand. No Sir quoth he, I will deny nothing that I have done. Thou doest well in that, quoth Knight, for if thou shouldest, we have testimonies enough besides, to try out thy hand by: but I pray thee tell me, whose hand is the last leaf? That I cannot tell you, quoth Marbecke. Thē how camest thou by it, quoth Knight? Forsooth I will tell you quoth he. There was a priest dwelling with us upon a v. or .vi. years ago, called Marshall: who sent it unto me with the first leaf written, desiring me to write it out with speed, because the copy could not be spared past an hour or twain and so I wrote it out, and sent him both the copy and it again.

And howe came this hand in the margent, quoth he, which is a contrary hand to both the other? That I will tell you, quoth Marbecke▪ When I wrote it out at the first, I made so much hast of it, that I understood not the matter: wherefore I was desirous to see it again, and to read it with more deliberation, and being sent to me the second time, it was thus coted in the margent as ye see. And shortly after this, it was his chance to go beyond the seas (where he lived not long) by reason whereof the Epistle remaineth with me: but whether the first leaf, or y ^e notes in the margent were▪ his hand, or whose hand else, that I cannot tell. Tush, quoth D. Oking to M. Knight, he knoweth well enough, that the notes be Heynes own hand, If you know so much, quoth Marb. ye know more then I do, for I tell you truly I know it not. By my faith Marbecke, quoth Knyghte, if thou wilt not tell by fair means: those fingers of thine shall be made to tell. By my truth Syr, quoth Marbecke, if ye do tear the whole body in pieces (I trust in God) ye shall never make me accuse man wrongfully. If thou be so stubborn, quoth D. O king, thou wilt die for it. Dye M. Okyng, quoth he? Wherefore should I die. You told me the last day before the Bishops, that as soon as I had made an ende of the piece of Concordance they took me, I should be delivered, and shall I now die? This is a sudden mutation. You seemed then to be my friend: but I know the cause, ye have red the ballet I made of Moses chair, and that hath set you against me, but whensoever ye shall put me to death, I doubt not to die God's true man and the kings. How so, quoth Knight? howe canst thou die a true man unto the king, when thou hast offended his laws? Is not this Epistle, and moste of thy notes thou hast written, directly against the 6. articles? No syr quoth Marbecke: I have not offended the kings laws therein: for since the first time I began with the Concordance (which is almost 6. years ago) I have been occupied in nothing else: So that both this Epistle, and all the notes I have gathered, were written a great while before the 6. Articles came forth, and are clearly remitted by the kings general pardon. Trust not to that, quoth Knight, for it will not help thee. No I warrant him, quoth Doct. Okyng, and so going down to the body of the church, they committed him to his keeper, who had him away to prison again.

The suit of Filmers wife, to the Bishops which sat in commission, for her husband.

IN like manner, y ^e wife of Filmer knowing her husbands trouble to be only procured of malice by Simon's his old enemy, made great suit and labor unto the Bishops which were commissioners, desiring no more of them, but that it would please their goodness to examine her husband before them, and to hear him make his purgation. Thys was her only request to every of the Bishops from day today, wheresoever she could find them. In so much that two of the Bishops (Eli and Harforde) were very sorry (considering the importune and reasonable suit of the woman) that it lay not in them to help her. Thus travailing long up and down from one to another, to have her husband examined, it was her chance at the last to find the Bishops all three together in the Byshoppe of Eli his place, unto whom she said: O good my Lord's for the love of God, let now my poor husband be brought forth before you, while ye be here all togethers. For truly my Lord's, there can nothing be justly laid against him, but that of malicious envy and spite, Simon's hath wrought him this trouble. And you my Lord of Salisburye, quoth the poor woman, can testify (if it would please your lordship to say the truth) what malice Simons bare to my husband when they were both before you at Salisbury (little more then a year ago) for the Uicar of Wyndsors matter. For as your Lordship knoweth, when my husband had certified you of the Priests sermon, which you said was plain heresy: then came Symons (after the Prieste himself had confessed it) and would have defended the priests error before your Lordship, and have had my husband punished. At what time it pleased your Lordship to commend and praise my husband for his honesty, and to rebuke Symons for maintaining the Priest in his error, & thereupon commanded the priest to rekant his heresy at his coming home to Windsore. This (my Lord) you know to be true. And now my Lord's, quoth the woman, it is most certain, that for this cause only did Symons evermore afterward threaten my husband to be even with him. Therefore good my Lord's, call my husband before you, and hear him speak: and if ye find any other matter against him then this that I have told you, let me suffer death. Is this so my Lord, quoth the B. of Eli and Harforde? and the other could not deny it. Then they spake Latin to the B. of Salisbury, and he to them, & so departed. For the matter was so wrought between Doctor London and Symons, that Filmer could never be suffered to come before the Commissioners to be examined.

The manner of their condemnations, and howe they died.

WHen the time drew nigh that the kings majesty (who was newly married to that good and virtuous Lady Katherine Parre) should make his progress abroad, the foresaid Stephen Gardener B. of Winchester had so compassed his matters, that no man bare so great a swinge about the king, as he did. Wherewith the Gospellers were so quailed, that the best of them all looked every hour to be clapt in the neck. For the saying went abroad, that the B. had bent his bow to shoot at some of the head Deare: but in the mean time 3. or 4. of the poor rascals were caught, that is to say, Anthony Person, Henry Filmer, and John Marbecke, and sent to Wyndsore by the sheriffes men, the Saturday before S. James day, and laid fast in the towns Gaile: and Testwood (who had kept his bed) brought out of his house vpō crouches, and laid with them. But as for Bennet, (which should have been the fifth man) his chance was to be sick of the Pestilence, and having a great sore upon him, was left behind in the bish. of London's gaile, whereby he escaped the fire.

Now these men being brought to Wyndsore, there was a sessions special procured to be hold̄ the Thursday after, which was S. Annes day. Against the which Sessions (by the counsel of D. London and Symons) were all the farmers belonging to the College of Wyndesore, warned to appear: because they could not pike out Papists enough in the town, to go upon the jury. The judges that day were these.

• Doctor Capon Bishop of Salisbury.
• Syr William Essex Knight,
• Syr Thomas Bridges Knight.
• Syr Humfrey Foster Knight.
• Master Franklen Dean of Wyndsore.
• And Fachel of Reading.

When these had taken their places, and the prisoners brought forth before them, then Robert Ockam occupying for that day the Clarke of peace his • oume, called Anthony Person, according to the manner of the Courte, and red his Inditement, which was this.

First, that he should preach two years before, in a place called Wyngfield, and there should say: that like as Christ was hanged between two thieves, even so whē the priest is at mass, and hath consecrated and lifted him up over his head, then he hangeth between 2. thieves, except he preach the word of God truly, as he hath taken upon him to do.

Also that he said to the people in the Pulpet: ye shall not eat the body of Christ, as it did hang upon the Cross, gnawing it with your teeth, that the blood run about your lips, but you shall eat him this day, as ye eat him tomorrow, the next day, and every day: for it refresheth not the body, but the soul.

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

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

To this, Anthony answered & said: I will be tried by God and his holy word, and by the true Church of Christ, whether this be heresy or no, whereof ye have Indited me this day. So long as I preached the Bishop of Rome and his filthy traditions, I was never troubled: but since I have taken upon me to preach Christ and his Gospel, ye have always sought my life. But it maketh no matter, for when you have taken your pleasure of my body, I trust it shall not lie in your powers to hurt my soul. Thou callest us thieves, quoth the Bishop. I say, quoth Anthony, ye are not only thieves but murderers, except ye preach and teach the word of God purely and sincerely to the people, which ye do not nor never did, but have allured them to all Idolatry, superstition and hypocrisy, for your own lucre & glory sake, through the which ye are become rather bitesheepes then true bishops, biting and devouring the poor sheep of Christ like ravening wolves never satisfied with blood: which God will require at your hands one day, dout it not. Then spake Symons his accuser, standing within the bar, saying: It is pity this fellow had not been burnt long ago as he deserved. In faith (quoth Anthony) if you had as you have deserved, you were more worthy to stand in this place then I: but I trust in the last day when we shall both appear before the tribunal seat of Christ, that then it will be known which of us 2. hath best deserved this place. Shall I have so long a day, quoth Symons, holding up his finger? Nay, then I care not: and so the matter was jested out.

Robert Testwoode.

THen was Testwoode called, and his Inditement read, which was that he should say in the time that the priest was lifting up the Sacrament: what wilt thou lift him so hie? What yet hier? Take heed, let him not fall.

To this Testwoode answered, saying it was but a thing maliciously forged of his enemies to bring him to his death. Yes (quoth the B.) thou hast been seen, that whē the Priest should lift up the Sacrament over his head, then wouldest thou look down upon thy book, or some other way, because thou wouldest not abide to look upon y ^e blessed Sacrament. I beseech you my Lord▪ quoth Testwood, whereon did he look that marked me so well? Mary quoth Bucklayer the Kynges Attorney, he could not be better occupied, thē to mark such heretics that so despised the blessed Sacrament.

Henry Filmer.

THen was Filmer called and his Inditement read: that he should say that the Sacrament of the saultare is nothing else but a • imilitude and a ceremony: and also if God be in the Sacrament of the altar, I have eaten twenty God's in my days.

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

This Henry Filmer coming upon a Sunday from Clewer his Parish church, in the company of one or two of his neighbors, chanced in the way to meet his brother (which was a very poor laboring man) and asked him whether he went. To the Church said he. And what to do, quoth Filmer? To do quoth he, as other men do. Nay, quoth Filmer, you go to hear mass and to see your God. What if I do so, quoth he? If that be God (should Filmer say) I have eaten 20. God's in my days. Tourne again fool and go home with me, and I will read thee a Chapter out of the Bible, that shall be better then all that thou shalt hear or see there.

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

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

The Bishop seeing the book in his hand, starte him up from the bench in a great sum, demanding who had givē the prisoner that book, commanding it to be taken from him, and to make search who had brought it, swearing by the faith of his body, he should go to prison. Some said it was his wife, some said the keeper. Like enough (my lord) quoth Symons, for he is one of the same sort, & as worthy to be here as the best, if he were rightly served. But howsoever it was, the truth would not be known, and so the Bishop sat him down again.

Then said Filmer: O my Lord, I am this day judged by a law, & why should not I see the law that I am judged by? The law is, I should have two lawful witnesses and here is but one, which would not do as he doeth, but that he is forced thereunto by the suggestion of mine enemies. Nay, quoth Bucklayer the kings atturney, thine heresy is so heinous, and abhorteth thine own brother so much, that it forceth him to witness against thee, which is more then two other witnesses.

Thus (as ye see) was Filmer brought unjustly to his death, by the malice of Symons and D. London, who had enticed that wretched caitiff his brother, to be their minister to work his confusion. But God which is a just reuēger of all falsehode & wrongs, would not suffer that wretch long to live upon earth, but the next year following, he being taken up for a laborer to go to Bullaine, had not been there three days, ere that (in exonerating of nature) a Gunne took him and tore him all to pieces: And so was these words of Solomon fulfilled: A false witness shall not remain unpunished.

John Marbecke.

THen was Marbecke called, and his Inditement read, which was that he should say: That the holy Mass, when the Priest doeth consecrate the body of our Lord, is polluted, deformed, sinful, and open robbery of the glory of God, from the which a Christian heart ought both to abhor and flee. And the elevation of the Sacrament is the similitude of the setting up of Images of the calves in the Temple built by Jeroboam: and that it is more abomination then the sacrifices done by the Jews in Jereboam's temple to those calves. And that certain and sure it is that Christ himself is made in the mass, man's laughing stock.

To this he answered and said, that these words whereof they had indicted him, were not his, but the words of a learned man called John Calvin, and drawn out of a certain Epistle which the said Calvin had made, which Epistle he had but only written out, and that long before the 6. Articles came forth: so that now he was discharged of that offense by the kings general pardon, desiring that he might enjoy the benefit thereof.

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

Now when the Jury had taken their oth and all, Bucklayer the kings atturney began to speak: and first he alleged many reasons against Anth. Person, to prove him an heretic. Whych when Anth. would have disproved, the Bishop said: let him alone, Syr, he speaketh for the K. & so went Bucklayer forth with his matter, making every man's cause as heinous to the hearers, as he could devise. And when he had done and said what he would, then Sir Humfrey Foster spake to the Quest in the favor of Marbecke on this wise: Masters quoth he, ye see there is no man here that accuseth or layeth any thing to the charge of this poor man Marbecke, saving he hath written certain things of other men's sayings with his own hand, whereof he is discharged by the kings general pardon: therefore ye ought to have a conscience therein. Then start up Fachel at the lower ende of the benche, and said: What can we tell whether they were written before the pardon, or after? They may as well be written since as afore, for anything that we know. These words of Fachel (as every man said) were the cause of Marbeckes casting that day.

Then went the Jury up to the chamber over the place where the judges sat, and in the mean time, went all the Knights and gentlemen abroad, saving the Bishop Syr William Essex, and Fachell, which three sat still upon the Benche till all was done. And when the Jury had been togethers above in the chamber, about the space of a quarter of an hour, up goeth Symons (of his own brain) unto them▪ and tarried there a pretty while, and came down again. After that, came one of the Jury down to the bishop, and talked with him and the other twain a good while, whereby many conjectured, that the Jury could not agree of Marbecke. But whether it were so or no, it was not long after his going up again, ere that they came down to give their verdit. And being required according to the form of the law to say their minds: one called Hyde dwelling beside Abyngton, in a lordshyp belonging to the College of Wyndsore, speaking in the mouthe of the rest, said they were all guilty.

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

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

On the next morrow, which was Friday, as the prysoners were all preparing themselves to go to suffer, word was brought them that they should not die that day. The cause was this. The Bishop of Sarum, and they among them had sent a letter by one of the Sheriffs Gentlemen, called M. Frost, to the bishop of Winchester (the Court being then at Oking) in the favor of Marbecke. At the sight of which letter, the bishop straight way went to the king, and obtained his pardon.

Which being granted, he caused a warrant to be made out of hand for the sheriffes discharge, delivering the same to the messenger, who with speed returned with great joy (for the love he bare to the party) bringing good news to the town, of Marbeckes pardon: whereat many rejoiced. Of this pardon were diverse conjectures made. Some said it was by the suit of the good Shriffe syr William Barington, and syr Humffray Foster (with other Gentlemen moe that favored Marbeck) to the B. of Sarum and the other Commissioners, that the letter was sent.

Some said again, that it came of the Bishop of Sarum and Fachels first motion, being pricked in conscience, for that they had so slēderly cast him away. Other thought again, that it was a policy purposed afore, by the Bishop of Winchester, of Sarum, and of D. London, because they would seem to be merciful. Which conjecture rose upon this occasion. There was one Sadocke dwelling in the town which was great with D. London and Symons: and he should say 4. days before the sessions began, that the prisoners should be all cast and condemned, but Marbecke should have his pardon.

Other there were that thought the foresaid Bishops with D. London, had done it for this purpose: that he now having his life, would rather utter such mē as they would have him to do, then to come in like danger again. Which conjecture rose upon this: Symons meeting with Marbeckes wife, said thus unto her: your husband may thank God & good friends: my Lord of Winchester is good Lord unto him, which hath got his pardon. But shall I tell you, quoth he? his pardon will be to none effect, except he tell the truth of things to my Lord & other of the counsel, when he shall be demanded, for unto that purpose only is he reserved. Alas sir, quoth she, what can he tell? Well womā quoth Symons, I tell thee plain, if he do not so, never look to have thy husband out of prison, and so departed from her.

The like meaning did M. Arche make to Marbecke him self, on the saterday in y ^e morning, that the men should be brent, when he came to confess them. I have nothing, quoth he, to say unto you Marbecke at this time, but hereafter you must be content to do as shall be enjoined you: meaning he should be forced to do some unlawful thing, or else to lie in perpetual prison. And this was moste likely to have been attempted, if they had proceeded in their purpose: whose intent was to have gone thorough the whole realm, in the like sort as they had begun at Wyndsore, as the Bishop of Sarum confessed openly and said, that he trusted ere Christmas day following, to visit and cleanse a good part thereof. But moste commonly, God sendeth a shrewed Cow short horns, or else many a thousand in England had smarted.

On saterday in the morning, that the prisoners should go to execution, came into the prison two of the Canons of the College, the one called Doctor Blithe, and the other master Arche, which two were sent to be their confessors, master Arche asked them, if they would be confessed, and they said yea. Then he demanded if they would receive the Sacrament. Yea said they with all our hearts. I am glad quoth Arche, to hear you say so, but the law is (quoth he) that it may not be ministered to none that are condemned of heresy. But it is enough for you that ye do desire it. And so had them up to the Hall to hear their confessions, because the prison was full of people. Doctor Blyth took Anthony Person to him to confess, and master Arche the other two. But how soever the matter went between the Doctor & Anthony, he tarried not long w ^t him but came down again, saying he would no more of his doctrine. Do you call him Doct. Blith, quoth Anthony? He may be called Doct. Blind for his learning, as far as I see. And soon after, the other two came down also. Thē Anthony seeing much people in the prison, began to say y ^e Lord's prayer, whereof he made a marvelous godly declaration, wherein he continued til the Officers came to set them away, and so made an end. And taking their leave of Marbecke (their prison fellow) they praised God for his deliverance, wishing to him the increase of godliness & virtue, and last of all besought him heartily to help them with his prayer unto God, to make them strong in their afflictions, and so kissing him one after another, departed.

Now as the prisoners passed thorough the people in y ^e streets, they desired all the faithful people to pray for them, & to stand fast in the truth of the gospel, & not to be moved at their afflictions, for it was the happiest thing that ever came to them. And ever as Doctor Blithe and Arche (who rod on each side the prisoners) would persuade them to turn to their mother holy Church: away would Anthony cry, away with your Romish doctrine and all your trompery, for we will no more of it. When Filmer was come to his brothers door, he stayed and called for his brother, but he could not be seen, for Doctor London had kept him out of sight that day, for the nonce.

And when he had called for him three or four times, and saw he came not, he said: and will he not come? Then God forgive him and make him a good man. And so going forth they came to the place of execution, where Anthony Person with a cheerful countenance, embraced y ^e post in his arms, and kissing it, said: Now welcome mine own sweet wife: for this day shalt thou and I be married together in the love and peace of God.

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

And when he had drunk, he gave the pot to Anthonye & Anthony likewise gave it to Testwoode. Of which drinking their adversaries made a jesting stock, reportyng abroad that they were all drunk & wist not what they said, when as they were none otherwise drunk then as the Apostles were, when the people said they were full of new wyne, as their deeds declared. For when Anthonye and Testwoode had both drunken, & given the pot from them, Filmer rejoicing in the Lord, said: Be merry my brethren, & lift up your hearts unto God, for after this sharp breakfast, I trust we shall have a good dinner in the kingdom of Christ our Lord and redeemer. At the which words Testwood lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, desired the Lord above to receive his spirit. And Anthony Persone, pulling the straw unto him, laid a good deal thereof upon the top of his head, saying: Thys is God's hatte: now am I dressed like a true soldier of Christ, by whose merits only, I trust this day to enter into his joy. And so yielded they up their souls to the father of heaven, in the faith of his dear son Jesus Christ, w ^t such humility and steadfastness, that many which saw their patient suffering, confessed that they could have found in their hearts (at that present to have died with them.

How all their conspiracies were known.

YE have heard before of one Robert Bennet, howe he was at the first apprehended with the other four persons aforesaid, and committed to the B. of London's prison, and about the time he should have gone to Wyndsore, fell sick of the pestilence, by mean whereof he remained still in prison.

This Bennet, & Symons (ye shall understand) were the greatest familiars and company kepers y ^t were in all Windsore, & never (lightly) swerved the one frō the other, saving in matters of religiō, wherein they could never agree. For Bennet the one Lawyer, was an earnest Gospeller, & Simon's the other Lawyer, a cankered papist: but in all other worldly matters, they cleaved together like burrs.

Thys Bennet had spoken certain words against their little round God, for the which he was as far in as the best, and had suffered death with the other, if he had gone to Windsore when they went. And now that the mater was all done and finished, it was determined by the bishop of Salisburye, that Robert Ockam on the Mondaye after the men were burnt should go to the Bishop of Winchester with the whole process done at the Sessions the Thursday before.

Then Symons, at Bennets wives request, procured of the bishop of Salisbury his favorable letter to the bishop of Winchester for Bennets deliverance. Which letter Bennets wife (for as much as her own man was not at home, which should have gone with the letter) desired Robert Ockam to deliver it to y ^e Bishop, & to bring her word again: who said he would. So forth went Ockam toward the bishop of Winchester with his budget full of writings, to declare and open all things unto him that were done at Wyndsore Sessions: but all their wicked intents (as God would have it) were soon cut off, and their doings disclosed. For one of the Queens men (named Fulke) which had lien at Windsore all the time of the business, and had got knowledge what a number were privily indicted, and of Ockams going to the bishop of Winchester, gate to the Court before Ockam, and told sir Thomas Cardine & other of the privy chamber, how all the matter stood. Wherupon Ockam was laid for and had by the back, as soon as he came to Oking, and kept from the bishop.

On the next morrow very early, Bennets wife sent her man to the Courte after Ockam, to see howe he spedde with her husbands letter. And when he came there, he found sir Thomas Cardine walking with Ockam up and down the green before the Courte gate: whereat he marueled, to see Ockam with him so early, mistrusting the matter: whereupon he kept himself out of sight, till they had broken off their communication.

And as soon as he saw M. Cardine gone (leaving Ockam behind) he went to Ockam and asked him, if he had delivered his masters letter to the Bishop. No, said Ockam, the king remooueth this day to Gilforde, and I must go thither, and will deliver it there. Mary, quoth he, and I will go with you, to see what answer you shall have, and to carry word to my mistress, and so they rode to Gilford together. Where Bennets man (being better acquainted in the town then Ockam was) gat a lodging for them both, in a kinsmans house of his.

That done, he asked Ockam, if he would go and deliver his mistress letter to the Bishop. Nay (said Ockam) you shall go and deliver it yourself, and took him the letter. And as they were going in the streate togethers, and coming by the Earl of Bedfordes lodging (then Lord privy seal) Ockam was pulled in by the sleeve, & no more seen of Bennets man, till he saw him in the Marshalsey. Then went Bennets man to the bishops lodging and delivered his letter. And when the Bishop had red the contents thereof, he called for the man that brought it. Come Syrha, quoth he, you can tell me more by mouth, then the letter specifieth, & had him into a little garden. Now, quoth the Bishop, what say you to me? Forsoth my Lord, quoth he, I have nothing to say unto your Lordship, for I did not bring the letter to the Town. No quoth the Bishop, where is he that brought it? Forsoth my Lord quoth he, I left him busy at his lodging. Then he will come, quoth the Bishop. Bid him be with me betimes in the morning. I will quoth he, do your lordships commandment, and so he departed home to his lodging. And when his kinsfolks saw him come in, alas cosin, quoth they, we are all undone. Why so, quoth he, what is the matter? Oh said they, here hath been since you went, M. Padget the kings secretary, with sir Tho. Cardine of the privy chamber, and searched all our house for one that should come to the town w ^t Ockam: therefore make shift for yourself as soon as you cā. Is that all the matter, quoth he? then content yourself, for I will never flee one foot, hap what hap will. And as they were thus reasoning together, in came y ^e foresaid searchers again, & when M. Cardine saw Bennets man, he knew him very well, & said: was it thou that came to the town w ^t Ockam? Yea sir, quoth he. Now who the devil (quoth M. Cardine) brought thee in company w ^t that false knave? Then he told them his business, and the cause of his coming, which being known, they were satisfied, and so departed. The next day had Bennets man a discharge, for his master (procured by certain of the privy chamber) and so went home.

Now was Ockam all this while at my Lord privy Seals, where he was kept secret, til certain of the Counsaile had perused all his writings, among the which they found certain of the privy Chamber indicted, w ^t other the kings Officers, with their wives, that is to say, Sir Tho. Cardine, sir Phillip Hobby, with both their Ladies. M. Edmund Harman, M. Thomas Weldone, with Snowball and his wife. All these they had indicted by the force of the 6. Articles, as aiders, helpers, and maintainers of Anthony Person. And beside them, they had indicted of heresy (some for one thing, and some for another) a great number moe of the Kings true and faithful subjects. Whereof the kings Majesty being certified, his grace of his special goodness (without the suit of any man) gave to the foresaid Gentlemen of his privy Chamber, and other his servants with their wives, his gracious pardō. And as God would have the matter further known unto his majesty, as he road one day a huntinge in Gilforde Park, and saw the Sheriff with syr Humfrey Foster sitting on their horse backs together, he called them unto him, & asked of them, how his laws was executed at Windsore: Then they beseching his grace of pardon, told him plainly that in all their lives they never sat on matter under his graces authority, that went so much against their consciences, as the death of these men did, and up and told his grace so pitiful a tale of the casting away of these poor men, that the King turning his horsehead to depart from them, said: Alas poor Innocents.

After this, the king withdrew his favor from the B. of Winchester, & being more and more informed of the conspiracy of doctor London and Symons, he commanded certain of his counsel, to search out the ground thereof.

Whereupon Doctor London and Symons were apprehended and brought before the Counsail, and examined upon their oath of allegeaunce. And for denying their mischievous and traitorous purpose, which was manifestly proved to their faces, they were both perjured, and in fine, adjudged as perjured persons, to wear papers in Wyndsore, and Ockam to stand upon thē pillerie in the town of Newbery where he was borne▪

The judgment of all these 3. was to ride about Windsore, Reading and Newbery, with papers on their heads, and their faces turned to the horse tales, & so to stand upon the Pillerye in every of these Towns, for false accusation of the forenamed Martyrs, and for perjury.

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

Aunswere to the cavilling adversaries touching John Marbecke.

WHerefore against these crooked cauillers, which make so much ado against my former boke, because in a certain place I chanced to say that Bennette and Filmer had their pardon (when in deed it was Bennet and Marbecke) be it therefore known, protested, denounced, and notified, to all & singular such carpers, wranglers, exclamers, deprauers, with the whole brood of all such whisperers, railers, quarelpickers, corner creepers, fault finders & spidercatchers, or by what name else so ever they are to be titled that here I openly say, affirm, profess, hold, maintain & write the same as I said & wrote before in the latter castigations of my book: that is, that John Marbecke was with the other condemned, but not burned, cast by the law but by pardon saved, appointed with the rest to die, & yet not dead, but liveth (God be praised) & yet to this present day singeth merely, and playeth on the Organes, not as a dead man, amongst Foxes martyrs (as it hath pleased some in y ^e court to encounter against me) but as one witnessed & testified truly in the book of Foxes Martyrs to be a live. And therefore such manner of persons, if y ^e disposition of their nature be such; that they must needs find faults, then let them find them where they are, and where those faults by their finding may be corrected. But whereas they be corrected already, & found to their hands, & also amended before, let then these legend liars look on their own legends, and there cry out of lies, where they may find enough, and cease their bitinge there, where they have no just cause to bark.

And admit that I had not foresene and corrected this escape before, touching the matter of John Marbecke, but that the place still had remained in the boke, as it was, that is, that the said John Marbecke, which as yet alive, had then died & suffered w ^t the other 3. the same time at Wyndesore: yet what gentle or courteous reader, could have therein any just matter to triumph & insult against me, seeing the judicial acts, the records, & registers, yea & the bishops certificate, & also the write of execution remaining yet in Recorde, sent to the king, did lead me so to say and think? For what man writing histories, who cannot be in all places to se all things, but following his records & registers, where in he seeth the said Marbecke to be judged and condemned with the rest, would otherwise write or think, but that also he was executed and burned in the same company?

But now I correct and reform the same again, and first of all other, I find the fault, and yet am I found fault withal. I correct myself, and yet am I corrected of other. I warn the Reader of the truth, and yet am I a liar. The book it self showeth the escape, and biddeth in stead of 4. to read 3. burned, and yet is the book made a legēd of lies.

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

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