Acts and Monuments Volume 2 Part 1

*Here followeth the history no less lamentable then notable of William Gardener an Englishman, suffering most constantly in Portyngale for the testimony of God's truth.

COmming now to the year next following 1552. we will some what step aside, and borrow a little leave, coasting the Seas into Portingale amongst the Popish merchants there, whither a certain countrymā of ours doth call me, named William Gardener, a man verily in my judgment, not only to be compared with the most principal & chief Martyrs of these our days, but also such one, as the ancient Churches in the time of the first persecutions, cannot show a more famous: whether we do behold the force of his faith, his firm and steadfast constantnes, the invincible strength of his spirit, or the cruel and horrible torments: the report only and hearing whereof, were enough to put any man in horror or fear. Yet notwithstanding so far it was of that the same did discourage him, that it may be doubted whether the pain of his body, or the courage of his mind were the greater: when as in deed both appeared to be very great.

Wherefore, if any praise or dignity amongst men, (as reason is) be due unto the Martyrs of Christ for their valiant acts, this one man amongst many, seemeth worthy to be numbered and also to be celebrate in the Church with Ignatius, Laurentius, Ciriatius, Grescentius, and Gordianus. And if the Church of Christ do receive so great and manifold benefits by these martyrs, with whose blood it is watered, by whose ashes it is enlarged, by whose constancy it is confirmed, by whose testimony it is witnessed, and finally through whose agonies and victories the truth of the Gospel doth gloriously triumph: let not us then think it any great matter, to requite them with our duty again, by committing them unto memory, as a perpetual token of our good will towards them. Albeit, they themselves receive no glory at our hands, and much less challenge the same: but refer it wholly unto the Lord Christ, frō whom it came whatsoever great or notable thing there was in them. Notwithstanding, for so much as Christ himself is glorified in his Saints, we cā not show our selves thankful unto him, except we also show our selves dutiful unto those, by whom his glory doth increase.

Hereupon I think it came to pass, that the ancient Christians in the time of the first persecutions, thought good to celebrate yearly commemorations of the Martirdome of those holy men, not so much to honor thē, as to glorify God in his soldiers, unto whom all glory & praise doth worthily belong: and moreover, that we being instructed by their example, might be the more prompt and ready in the policies of those wars, to stand more stoutly in batta • le against our adversaries, and learn the more easily to contemn and despise this world. For in considering the ende and death of these men, who will greatly long or lust after this life, which is so many ways miserable, through so many afflictions dolorous, through so many casualties rumous, wherein consisteth so litte constancy & less safety, being never free from some hard calamity one or other? What good mā would have this world in reputatiō, wherein he seeth so many good men so cruelly oppressed, & wherein no man can live in quietness, except he be wicked? Wherefore I do not a little marvel, that in this great slaughter of good mē with so many spectacles and examples of cruel torment, Christians do yet live as it were drowned in y ^e foolish desires of this world, seeing daily before their eyes so many holy and innocent men yield up their spirits under the hands of such tormentors, to lie in filthy prisons, in bonds, darkness, and tears, & in the end to be consumed with fire. We see so many Prophets of God, even Christ himself the son of God, to be so cruelly and many ways afflicted in this world, tormoiled, scourged and crucified: & yet we laugh, drink, and give our selves unto all losenes of life, and all lasciviousness. For honor & great possessions we contend: we build: we study & labor by all means to make our selves rich. Unto whom it doth not suffice y ^t we with safety and freedom from their afflictions, racks, wheels, scourges, irons read hot, gredirōs, fleshhookes, mallets, and other kinds of torments, may serve our Christ in peace and quiet: but being herewith not content, will give over our selves to all kind of wickedness, to be led away at the will and pleasure of Satan?

But what do we think in so doing? Either we must reckon those mē to be most miserable in this life, or else our selves to be most unhappy. But if their blessedness be most certain and sure, then let us direct the course of our life to the same felicity. These men have forsaken this life, which they might have enjoyed. But if w • cannot willingly put of this life, yet let us not be slow to amend and correct the same: and though we cannot die with them in like martyrdom, yet let us mortify the worldly and profane affections of y ^e flesh, which strive against y ^e spirit & at the least let us not run thus headlong into the licētious desires of the world, as we do. As the life of Christian men is now, I pray thee, what do these bonds, prisons, these wounds and scars, these great fires, and other horrible torments of martyrs, then upbraid unto us our slouthful sluggishness, & worthily make us ashamed thereof? Which Martyrs if in their lives they lived so innocently, & in their death continued so constant, what then is to be deemed of us which suffer nothing for Christ, and will not take upon us the small conflict against vices & our own affections? How would we suffer the cruel looks of tirannes? y ^e fearful kinds of torments, or the violent assaults of the tormenters in any quarrel of godliness, if in peace and quietness we are & y ^t with every small breath or wind of temptation we are blown away frō God, so faint hearted w ^t out any resistance are carried headlong into all kind of wickedness & mischief? One singeth songs of love, another watcheth all the night at dice, some spend their life & time day by day in hawking & hūting, some tipple so at tauerns that they come home reeling. Others whatsoever desire of revenge doth put into their heads, that by and by they seek to put in practice. Some gape after riches: some swell with ambition: some think they are borne for no other purpose but for pleasure and pastime. All the world is full of injury and perjury, nay rather it is so rare a thing patiently to suffer injuries done unto • s, that except we have y ^e sleight to do injury to other, we think our selves scarce men. There is no love almost nor Charity among men: neither is there any man that regardeth the good name or fame of his neighbor.

But amongst all the rest, insatiable covetousness and avarice so reigneth that no man almost is contented w ^t any tolerable estate of life, either that will prescribe himself any measure in having y ^t he possesseth: or in proling for y ^e which he lacketh: never quiet, but always toiling, never satisfied but always insatiable. Whereby it so cometh, that the minds of Christian men, being occupied in such worldly carks & cares, can scarcely find any vacant leisure to think upon heavenly things: and yet notwithstanding w ^t these minds, we will needs seem Christians. But now setting apart these complaints spent in vain, we will prosecute our purposed story touching good W. Gardener.

And first as concerning his kindred, he was of an honest stock, borne at Bristow, a town of Marchandise on the seacost of England, honestly brought up and by nature given unto gravity, of a mean stature of body, of a comelye & pleasant countenance, but in no part so excellent as in y ^e inward qualities of the mind, which he always from his childhood preserved without spot of reprehension. Also his handsome and indifferent learning did not a little commond & beautify his other ornaments. When he grew unto those years at which young men are accustomed to settle their minds to some kind of life, it happened y ^t he gave himself to the trade of Marchandise, under y ^t conduct & guidyng of a certain merchant of Bristow, called M. Paget, by whō he was at the last (being of the age of xxvi. years, or thereabout,) sent into Spain, and by chance the ship ariuing at Lishborne (which is the chief City of Portugale) he tarried there about his Marchandise, where at the last he having gotten understanding of the language and being accustomed to their manners, became a profitable servant both unto his master & others, in such things as pertained unto the trade of that vocation. Whereunto he did so apply himself that nevertheless he in that popish country reserving still the religion of his own country of England, ever kept himself sound and undefiled from the Portugals superstition. There were also besides him diverse other good men in y ^e same City. Neither did he lack good books or the conference of good and honest men, unto whom he would oftentimes bewail his imbecility and weakness that he was neither sufficiently touched w ^t the hatred of his sins, neither yet inflamed with the love of godliness.

Whilest he was there abiding, it happened that there should be a solemn marriage, celebrate y ^e first day of September in the year abovesaid, between two Princes: to say, the son of the king of Portugale, & the Spanish K. his daughter. The marriage day being come, there was great resort of the Nobility and Estates. There lacked no Bishops with Miters, nor Cardinals with their hats, to set out this royal wedding. To be short they went forward to the wedding with great Pomp, where a great concourse of people resorted, some of good will, some for service sake, and some (as the manner is) to gaze and look. Great preparation of all parties was there throughout the whole City, as in such cases is accustomed, and all places were filled with mirth and gladness. In this great assembly of the whole kingdom, William Gardener, who, albeit he did not greatly esteem such kind of spectacles, yet being allured through the fame and report thereof, was there also, coming thither early in the morning, to the intent he might have the more opportunity and better place to behold and see.

The hour being come, they flocked into the church with great solemnity and pomp: the King first, and then every estate in order. The greater persons, the more ceremonies were about them. After all things were set in order, they went forward to the celebrating of their Mass: for that alone serveth for all purposes. The Cardinal did execute, with much singing and orgaine playing. The people stood with great devotion and silence, praying, looking, kneeling, and knocking, their minds being fully bent and set, as it is the manner, upon the external sacrament. How grievously these things did prick and move this young man's mind, it cannot be expressed, partly to behold the miserable absurdity of those things, and partly to see the folly of the common people: and not only of the common people, but specially to see the King himself and his Council, with so many sage and wise men (as they seemed) to be seduced with like Idolatry as the common people were: In so much that it lacked very little, but that he would even that present day have done some notable thing in the Kings sight and presence, but that the great press and throng that was about him, letted that he could not come unto the altar. What need many words? when the ceremonies were ended, he cometh home very sad and heavy in his mind: in so much that all his fellows marveled greatly at him: Who albeit upon diverse conjectures they conceived the cause of his sadness, notwithstanding they did not fully understand that those matters so much troubled his godly mind: neither yet did he declare it unto any man, but seeking solitariness & secret places falling down prostrate before God, with manifold tears bewailed the neglecting of his duty, deliberating with himself how he might revoke that people from their impiety and superstition.

In this deliberation and advise his mind being fully settled, and thinking that the matter ought not to be any longer deferred, he renounced the world, making up all his accounts so exactly (as well of that which was due unto him, as that which he ought unto others) that no man could justly ask so much as one farthing. Which thing done, he continued night and day in prayer calling upon God, and continual meditation of the Scriptures, that scarcely he would take any meat by day, or sleep by night, or that most, above an hour or two of rest in the night, as Pendigrace his fellow companion both at bed and board, being yet alive, can testify.

The Sunday came again to be celebrate either with like pomp & solemnity, or not much less, whereas the said William was present early in the morning, very cleanely appareled even of purpose, that he might stand near the altar without repulse. Within a while after cometh the King with all his Nobles. Then Gardener setteth himself as near the alter as he might, having a Testament in his hand, the which he diligently read upon, and prayed, until the time was come that he had appointed to work his seat. The Mass began, which was then solemnised by a Cardinal. Yet he sat still. He which said Mass, proceeded, he consecrated, sacrificed, lifted up on high, shown his God unto the people, all the people gave great reverence, and as yet he stirred nothing. At the last they came unto that place of the Mass, whereas they use to take the ceremonial Hoste, and toss it too and fro round about the Chalice, making certain circles and semicircles. Then the said William Gardener not being able to suffer any longer, ran speedily unto the Cardinal: and (which is incredible to be spoken) even in the presence of the King and all his Nobles and Citizens, with the one hand he snatched away the cake from the Priest, and trode it under his feet, and with the other hand overthrew the chalice. Thys matter at the first made them all abashed, but by and by there rose a great tumult, and the people began to cry out. The Nobles and the common people ran together, amongst whom, one drawing out his dagger, gave him a great wound in the shoulder, and as he was about to strike him again to have slain him, the King twice commanded to have him saved. So by that means they abstained from murder.

After the tumult was ceased, he was brought unto the King: by whom he was demanded what countreyman he was, and how he durst be so bold to work such a contumely against his Majesty, and the Sacraments of the Church? He answered: Most noble King, I am not ashamed of my Country, which am an Englishman both by birth and religion, and am come hither only for traffike of Marchaundise. And when I saw in this famous assembly so great Idolatry committed, my conscience neither ought neither could any longer su •• er, but that I must needs do that which you have scene me presently do. Which thing (most noble Prince) was not done nor thought of me for any contumely or reproach of your presence, but only for this purpose (as before God I do clearly confess) to seek the only salvation of this people.

When they heard that he was an Englishman, and called to remembrance how the Religion was restored by K. Edward, they were by and by brought in suspicion, that he had been suborned by Englishmen thus to do, to mock and deride their religion. Wherefore they were the more earnest upon him to know who was the author and procurer that he should commit that act. Unto whom he answered, desiring them that they would conceive no such suspicion of him, for so much as he was not moved thereunto by any man, but only by his own conscience. For otherwise there was no man under the heaven, for whose sake he would have put himself into so manifest danger: but that he ought this service first unto God, and secondarily unto their salvation: wherefore if he had done any thing which were displeasaunt unto them, they ought to impute it unto no man, but unto themselves, which so vnreuerētly used the holy Supper of the Lord unto so great Idolatry, not without great ignominy unto the Church, violation of the Sacraments, and the peril of their own souls, without they repented.

Whilest that he spake these with many other things more unto this effect very gravely and stoutly, the blood ran abundantly out of the wound, so that he was ready to faint. Whereupon Surgeons were sent for, whereby he might be cured if it were possible, and be reserved for further examination, and more grievous torment. For they were fully persuaded that this deed had diverse abbettors and setters on: which was the cause that all the other englishmen also in the same city came into suspicion, and were commanded to safe custody. Amongst whom, Pendigrace, because he was his bedfellow, was grievously tormented and examined more then the residue, and scarcely was delivered after two years imprisonment. The other were much sooner set at liberty at the intercession of a certain Duke. Notwithstanding their suspicion could not yet be satisfied, but they came unto his chamber to seek if there were any letters, to understand and find out the author of this enterprise. And when as they could find nothing there, they came again unto him being grievously wounded, with torments to extort of him the author of this fact, and to accuse him as gilty of most grievous heresy. Of both which pointes, with such dexterity as he could, he cleared himself. Wherein, albeit he spake in the Spanish tongue well, yet he used the Latin tongue much more exactly.

But they not being therewith satisfied, added another strange kind of torment, which (as I suppose) passeth the Bull of Phalaris. Because there should no kind of extreme cruelty be left vnassayed, they caused a linen cloth to be sowed round like a ball, the which they with violence put down his throat unto the bottom of his stomach, tied with a small string which they held in their hands, and when it was down, they pulled it up again with violence, so plucking it too and fro through the meat pipe, in such sort, as with much less grief they might have rid him out of his life at once.

Thus at the last, when all torments and tormenters were weeried, and that it did nothing at all prevail to go this way to work, they asked him whether he did not repent his wicked and seditious deed. As touching the deed, answered, that it was so far off that he did repent, that if it were to do again, he thought he should do the same. But as touching the manner of the deed, he was not a little sory that it was done in the Kings presence to the disquietness of his mind. Howbeit, that was not to be imputed unto him, which neither enterprised or thought upon any such matter, but rather to be ascribed unto the King, in that he having power, would not prohibit so great Idolatry used among his people. This he spake with great fervency.

After they had used all kind of torments, and saw th • t there could nothing more be gathered of him, and also that through his wounds and pains he could not long live▪ they brought him three days after to execution. And first of all, bringing him into the Uestry, cut off his right hand, which he taking up with his left hand, kissed. Then he was brought into the market place, whereas his other hand also was cut off: which he kneeling down upon the ground, also kissed. These things thus done after the manner and fashion of Spain, his arms being bound behind him, & his feet under the horse belly, he was carried to the place of execution.

There was in that place a certain engine, frō the which a great rope coming down by a pulley, was fastened about the middle of this Christian Martyr, which first pulled him up. Then was there a great pile of wood set on fire underneath him, into the which he was by little & little let down, not with the whole body, but so, that his fete only felt the fire. Then he was hoised up, and so let down again into the fire, and thus oftentimes pulled up and down. In which great torment for all that, he continued w ^t a constant spirit: and the more terribly he burned, y ^e more vehemently he prayed.

At the last, when his feet were consumed, the tormentors asked him whether he did not yet repent him of his deed, and exhorted him to call upon our Lady and the Saints. Wherunto he answered, that as he had done nothing whereof he did repent him, so he had the less need of the help of our Lady or any other Sainte: and what external torments so ever they used, the truth (he said) remaineth always one and like unto it self: the which as he had before confessed in his life, so would he not now deny it in his death▪ desiring them to leave of such vanities and folly. For when as Christ did cease anymore to be our advocate, then he would pray to our lady to be his advocate, and said: O eternal God, father of all mercies, I beseech thee look down upon thy servant. &c. And when as they sought by all means possible to stop his praying, and praising God in this sort, he cried out with a loud voice, rehearsing the 43. Psalm: Iudica me Deus, & discern causam meam, de gente non sancta. Judge me O God, and defend my cause against the unmerciful people.

He was not come unto the latter ending of the Psalm, when as they pulling him up and down in the fire for the more torment, the rope being burnt a sonder, he fell down in the midst thereof: whereas giving his body for a sacrifice, he changed his temporal pains for perpetual rest and quietness.

Thus it seemed good in the sight of God by this Messenger to provoke the Portugales to y ^e sincere knowledge of him: and therefore they ought the more to have acknowledged the great love & kindness of God offered unto them, and also the more to be mindful of their own duty and thankfulness towards him. And if it be so great an offense to violate the ordinances of man's law, and to contemn the Ambassadors of Kyngs and Princes, let the Portugalles and all other look well unto it, what it is so cruelly to handle the heavenly messenger of the high God. Neither was this their cruelty altogether unrevenged by the mighty hand of God, when as not only the very same night, amongst diverse of the kings ships which were in y ^e next haven ready to sails, one was burned, being set on fire by a sparcle of Gardiners fire driven thither w ^t the wind, but also y ^e kings son which then was married, died within half a yere, and the next yere after the King himself also died, and so both within one year after the tormenting of this blessed Martyr.

Thus the body of the said Gardener being consumed, yet the rage & fury of the common people so ceased not, but they were as cruel against him being dead, as they were when he was alive, and with their tongues tormented this Martyr, when they could do no more with their hands: yea for very madness they would scarce tarry until he were burned, but every man as they could catch any piece of him half burned, threw it into the sea.

Thys Sacrifice thus ended, the Clergy, to pacify God's wrath which they feared, for the violating of their alter, appointed a solemn fast of certain days, for penance to purge that fact, which fact rather should have taught them to purge them selves, and to put away their filthy Idolatry, and much rather they should have fasted & repented for that their extreme cruelty they had shown unto the lively member of Christ.

Albeit this death of William Gardener seemeth to have profited very many of them little or nothing: yet for all that there are some (as I have heard diverse report) out of whose minds the remembrance of this constant Martyr can never be pulled, and is so fresh yet amongst them, as if it were now lately done: and finally, albeit it be a good while since he was put to death, yet the memory of his death, as fruitful seed, hath taken such root in some, that even unto this present day, he is a lively and diligent preaching unto them, against superstition and Idolatry used in their Churches. Ex testimonio N. Fildi, Pendigrace, & aliorum, qui rei gestae interfuerunt.

The tragical history of the worthy L. Edward Duke of Somerset, Lord Protector, with the whole cause of his troubles and handling.

AFter so many troublous matters in this history aforepassed, coming now to the lamentable and tragical narration of the L. Edward duke of Somerset, the kings uncle, and Protector of his person & of his realm, I could not well enter into the story of him, without some premonition first to all noble personages, of what honor or calling soever within this realm, by way of history briefly to admonish them, no man to plant any trust or assurance upon the brickle pillars of worldly prosperity, howe high soever it seemeth, considering that there is no state so high, but it hath his ruin, wisdom so circumspecte, but it may be circumvented, no virtue so perfect, but it may be enuyed, neither any man's trade so simple, but it may be beguiled. And therefore seeing the condition of mortal things is so, that no man can always stand in this so ruinous a world: y ^e surest way is every man to choose his standing so, that his fall may be y ^e easier. But because my purpose is (as I have said in the stories before) to abridge and make short, I will here stay, referring to the secrete consideration of that which remaineth further by me in this matter to be uttered: and so falling into the story of the Lord Protectoure Duke of Somerset, we will (the Lord willing) declare in order the original and whole occasion of his trouble and decay, even from the beginning.

King Edward, after that both his father and mother were dead, had three uncles least him by his mothers side, Edward, Thomas, and Henry Semer, of the which two first, one was made Protectour of the Realm, and the other high admirall of the same. These two brethren, so long as they were knit & joined together in amity and concord, preserved both themselves, the king their nephew, and the whole common wealth from the violence and fear of all danger. But the subtle old serpent always envying man's felicity, through slanderous tongues sought to sow matter, first of discord between them, then of suspicion, and last of all extreme hatred: in so much that the Protectour suffered his brother being accused (whether truly or falsely the Lord knoweth) to be condemned, and to loose his head. Whereby it came to pass (whether by y ^e correction of God's judgment upon him, or whether that he after the death of his brother, and the king being yet but young and tender of age, was the less able to shift for himself) that not long after he was overmatched and overthrown of his enemies, and so cast into the Tower, and at last lost his head also, to the great lamentation of many good men, as in the sequel of this history followeth to be declared.

For the better introduction of which history, first to begin with the foresaid brother of the Lord Protectoure, namely Sir Thomas Semer high Admiral of England, and the kings Uncle, here is to understand that he had married Queen Katherine late wife to king Henry the eight, of whom ye heard before, pag. 1342. Now it happened (upon what occasion I know not) that there fell a displeasure betwixt the said Queen and the Duchesse of Somerset, and thereupon also in the behalf of their wives, displeasure and grudge began between the brethrē. Which albeit through persuasion of friends it was for a time appeased between them: yet in short space after (perchance not without y ^e privy setting forward o • some which were backefrendes to the Gospel) it brake out again, both to the trouble of the Realm, and especially to the confusion of them both, as after it is proved. First to the Lord Admiralles charge it was laid, that he purposed to destroy the young king, and translate the Crown unto himself, and for the same being attainted and condemned, did suffer at Tower hill the 20. of Marche. An. 1549. As many there were which reported that the Dutches of Somersette had wrought his death: so many moe there were, who misdoubting the long standing of the Lord Protectour in his state and dignity, thought and affirmed no les, but that the fall of the one brother, would be the ruin of the other: the experiment whereof as it hath often ben proved, so in these also eftsoons it ensued.

It was not long after the beheading of the Lord Admiral, but insurrections began to kindle the same year in diverse quarters of the realm, as is above storied. By the occasion whereof the lord Russel, lord privy Seal was sent to the West parts, and the lord Dudley Earl of Warwike was sent w ^t an army into Norfolk: where both he himself & a great number of Gentlemen that were with him, meeting with the rebels were in great danger: notwithstanding in the ende the overthrow was given to the rebels, which was about the beginning of September. 1549. After this victory achieved, in the next month following, which was October, howe the matter fell out between the Lord Protectour and certain other Lord's, I know not, but at the return of the Earl of Warwike aforesaid, great working and consultation there was among the Lord's, assembling them selves in the house of M. York, and at Bainardes Castle, and in the Lord Mayors house at London, against the Lord Protectoure remaining the • with the King at Hampton Court. Of the which business and trouble, thus the Lord Protectoure writeth in his letters to the Lord Russell in the West country, as followeth.

A letter of the L. Protectour, to the L. Russel, Lord privy Seal, concerning troubles working against him.

AFter our right hearty commendations to your good Lordship, here hath of late risen such a conspiracy against the kings Majesty and us, as never hath been seen, the which they cannot maintain, but with such vain letters and false tales surmised, as was never meant nor intended on us. They pretend and say, that we have sold Bulloigne to the French, and that we do withhold wages from the soldiers, and other such tales and letters they do spread abroad (of the which, if any one thing were true, we would not wish to live) the matter now being brought to a marvelous extremity, such as we would never have thought it could have come unto, especially of those men towards the kings majesty and us, of whom we have deserved no such thing, but r • there much favor and love. But the case being as it is, this to require and pray you to hastē you hither, to the defense of the kings majesty, in such force and power as you may, to show the parte of a true Gentleman, and of a very friend: the which thing we trust God shall reward and the kings Majesty in time to come, and we shall never be unmindful of it too. We are sure you shall have other letters from them, but as ye tender your duty to the kings Majesty, we require you to make no stay, but immediately repair with such force as ye have, to his highness Castle of Windsore, and cause the rest of such force as ye may make to follow you. And so we bid you right heartily farewell.

An answer to the L. Protectors letter.

TO this letter of the Lord Protectoure sent the sixte of Octob. the L. Russel returning answer again upon the eight of the said month, first lamenteth the heavy dissention fallen between the Nobility and him, which he taketh for such a plague, as a greater could not be sent of almighty God upon this Realm, being the next way (saith he) to make of us conquerors, slaves, & like to induce upon the whole realm an universal calamitye & thralldom, unless the merciful goodness of the Lord do help, & some wise order be taken in staying these great extremities. And as touching the Dukes request in his letters, for as much as he heard before of this broile of the Lord's, & feared least so • e conspiracy had ben meant against the kings person, he hasted forward with such company as he could make, for the surety of y ^e king, as to him appertained. Now perceiving by the Lord's letters sent unto him the same sixte day of Oct • . these tumults to rise upon private causes between him and them, he therefore thought it expedient that a convenient power should be levied, to be in a readiness to withstand the worst (what perils soever might ensue) for the preservation both of the king, & state of the realm from the 〈◊〉 of foreign enemies, and also for the staying of bloodshed, if any such thing should be intended betwixt the partes in the heat of this faction. And this he thinking best for discharge of his allegiance, humbly beseecheth his grace to have y ^e same also in special regard and consideration, first that the kings Majesty be put in no fear, & that if there be any such thing wherein he hath given just cause to them thus to proceed, he will so conform him self, as no such private quarrels do redound to the public disturbance of the Realm: certifying moreover the Duke, that if it were true which he understandeth by the letters of the Lord's, y ^t he should send about proclamations and letters for raising up of the commons, he liked not the same. Notwithstanding he trusted well, that his wisdom would take such a way, as no effusion of blood should follow.

And thus much being contained in his former letters of the eight of October, in his next letters again, written the 11. day of Octob. the said Lord Russel rejoicing to hear of the most reasonable offers of the Lord Protectour made to the Lord's, writeth unto him, & promiseth to do what in the uttermost power of him (and likewise of sir W. Harbert joined together with him) do 〈◊〉 , to work some honorable reconciliation between him & them: so as his said offers being accepted & satisfied, some good conclusion might ensue, according to their good hope & expectation: Signifying moreover, that as touching the leuying of men, they had resolved to have the same in readiness for the benefit of the realm, to occur all inconveniences whatsoever, either by foreign invasion or otherwise might happen, & so having their power at hand, to draw near, whereby they might have the better opportunity to be solicitours, and a means for this reformation on both parties. &c. And thus much for answer of the Lord Russel to the Lord Protectours letters.

But now to the matter again of the Lord's, who together with the Earl of Warwike (upon what occasion God knoweth) being assembled at London, as ye heard, against the Lord Protector: when the king with his counsel at Hampton court heard thereof, first Secretarye P • ter with the kings message was sent unto them, whom the Lord's notw ^t standing detained still with them, making as yet no answer to the message. Whe • upon the L. Protectour writeth to them in this manner as followeth.

After these letters received, and the reasonable condition of the Lord Protectour, and yet not much regarded of the Lord's, they persisting still in their pretended purpose, took this advise: first to keep themselves in the City of London, as strong as they might: and therefore calling upon the Major and the Aldermen, they willed them in any case to provide a good and substantial watch by night, and a good ward by day, for the safeguard of their City, and the ports and gates thereof: which was consented unto, and the Cōpanies of London in their turns warned to watch and ward accordingly.

Then the said Lord's and Counsailours demanded of the Lord Major and his brethren 500. men to aid them to fetch the Lord Protectour out of Windsore from the king: but thereunto the Major answered, that he could grant none aide without the assent of the common Counsaile of the city: whereupon the next day a common council was warned. But in this mean time the said Lord's of the Counsaile assembled thenselves at the Lord Mayors house of London, who then was Syr Henry Amcottes Fishmonger, and W. Locke Mercer, and sir John Aileph Sheriffs of the said city, and there the said Counsaile did agree and publish a Proclamation forthwith against the Lord Protector, the effect of which Proclamation was as followeth.

1 First, that the Protector by his malicious and evil government, was the occasion of all the sedition that of late happened within the realm.

2 The loss of the kings pieces in France.

3 That he was ambitious and sought his own glory, as appeared by building of most sumptuous & costly houses, in the time of the kings wars.

4 That he esteemed nothing the grave Counsel of the Counsailours.

5 That he sowed division between the Nobles, the gentlemen, and the commons.

6 That the Nobles assembled themselves together at Londō for none other purpose, but to have caused the protector to have lived within limites, and to have put such order for the surety of the kings majesty as appertained: whatsoever the Protectours doings were, which they said were unnatural, ingrate, and traitorous.

7 That the Protectour sclaundered the Counsaile to the king, and did that in him lay, to cause variance between the king and the nobles.

8 That he was a great traitor, and therefore the Lord's desired the city & commons to aid them, to take him from the king.

And in witness and testimony of the contents of the said Proclamation, the Lord's subscribed their names, which were these.

• The Lord Rich, Lord Chancellor.
• The Lord S. John, Lord great master, & president of the Counsaile.
• The Lord Marques of Northampton.
• The Earl of Warwike, Lord great Chamberlain.
• The Earl of Arundel, L. Chamberlain.
• The Earl of Shrewsburie.
• The Earl of Southhampton, Wriothesley.
• Sir Thomas Cheyney knight, treasurer of the kings house, and Lord Warden of the Cinque ports.
• Syr John Gage knight, Constable of the Tower.
• Syr Will. Peter knight, Secretary.
• Syr Edward North knight.
• Syr Edward Montague, chief Justice of the common place.
• Syr Rafe Sadler.
• Syr John Baker.
• Syr Edw. Wootton.
• Doctor Wootton.
• Dean of Cant.
• Syr Rich. Southwell.

After the foresaid Proclamation was Proclaimed, the Lord's or the most parte of them continuing and lying in London, came y ^e next day to the Guild hal, during the time that the Lord Major and their brethren sat in their Court or inner chamber, and entered and communed a long while with the Major, and at the last the Major and his brethren came forth unto the common Counsaile, where was read the kings letter sent to the Major and citizens, commanding them to aid him with a thousand well appointed men out of their city, and to send the same with all speed to his Castle at Windsore.

Thys Letter by name was directed to Syr Henry Amcottes knight Lord Major, to Syr Roulande Hyll knight, Major elect, and to the Aldermen and common Counsaile of the City of London. The day and Date of the Letter, was the sixte of October, in the third year of his reign, being assigned with the hand of the King, and of the Lord Protectour, the contents of which letter, for the satisfaction of the reader, are here to be seen in manner and form as followeth.

This Letter of the king and of the Lord Protectoure was not so secretly devised, nor so speedily sent, but the Lord's keeping at London, had knowledge immediately thereof (by the means, as some suppose, of the Lord Paget, who was then with the King and the Protectour, but the truth the Lord knoweth) being there ready furnished with their own • andes of serving men, and other soldiers and men of arms.

Who forthwith upon the same addressed their letters in s • mblable wise to the said Lord Major and Aldermen, in the kings name, not only for supportation of armed men to serve their purposes, and for a sufficient watch to fortify their City, but also that they should not obey any such letters, Proclamations, or Injunctions sent to them from the Duke. Which letter of the Lord's at the same instant came likewise to the Lord Major and his brethren, the 6. day of the said month of Octob. The tenor and copy of which letter here ensueth.

After the receiuinge of these two Letters above mentioned, the one from the King, the other from the Lord's, which came both at one instaunte, with contrary commandment to the Lord Major and Citizens of London, the case seemed hard to them, and very doubtful (as it was in deed) what way to take, and what were best for the Citizens to do. On the one side the name and authority of the king was much, on the other side the power and garrisons of the Lord's, lying then in London, was not little, which seemed then to be such, as would have no repulse.

The case thus standing perplexedly, first by the mouth of the Recorder it was requested, that the Citizens would grant their aide rather unto the Lord's, for that the Protectour had abused both the kings majesty, and the whole Realm, & that without he were taken from the king, and made to understand his folly, this Realm was in great hazard, and therefore required that the citizens would willingly assent to aid the Lord's with 500. men.

Hereunto of a great parte of the Common Counsaile, was no other answer made but silence. But the Recorder (who at that time was M. Brooke) still cried upon them for answer. At the last stepped up a wise and a good Citizen named George Stadlowe, and said:

In this case, it is good for us to think of things past, to avoid the danger of things to come. I remember (saith he) in a story written in Fabians Chronicle, of the war between the King and his Barons, which was in the time of king Henry the third, & the same time the Barons (as our Lord's do now) demanded aide of the Major and city of London, and that in a rightful cause for the common weal, which was for y ^e execution of diverse good laws against y ^e king, which would not suffer those laws to be put in execution: and the city did aide them, & it came to an open battle, and the Lord's prevailed against y ^e king, and took the king and son prisoners, and upon certain conditions the Lord's restored the king and his son again to their liberties, & among all other conditions this was one, that the king should not only grant his pardon to the lords, but also to the citizens of London: the which was granted, yea and the same was ratified by act of parliament. But what followed of it? Was it forgottē? No surely, nor forgiven neither, during the kings life. The liberties of the city were taken away, strangers appointed to be our heads and governors, the Citizens given away body and goods, and from one persecution to another wer most miserably afflicted. Such is it to enter into the wrath of a Prince, as Solomon saith: The wrath and indignation of a Prince is death. Wherefore, for as much as this aide is required of the kings Majesty, whose voice we ought to hearken unto, for he is our high Shepehearde, rather then unto the Lord's, and yet I would not wish the Lord's to be clearly shaken off: my counsel is, that they with us, and we with them may join in suit, and make our moste humble petition to the kings majesty, that it would please his highness to hear such complaint against the government of the Lord Protectoure, as may be justly alleged and proved, and I doubt not, but this matter will be so pacified, that neither shall the king, nor yet the Lord's have cause to seek for further aide, neither we to offend any of them both.

After this tale the Commons stayed, and the Lord Major and his brethren for that time brake up, till they had further communed with the Lord's. To make short, I let pass what order by the City was taken. But the conclusion was, that the Lord's (upon what occasion I know not) sat the next day in Counsaile in the Star chamber, & from thence sent sir Philip Hobby with their letter of credence to the kings majesty, beseeching his majesty to give credit to that which the said sir Philip should declare unto his majesty in their names: and y ^e king gave him liberty to speak, and most gently heard all that he had to say. Who so handled the matter, declaring his message in the name of the Lord's, that in the end the Lord Protector was commanded from the kings presence, & shortly was committed to ward in a tower within the castle of Windsore, called Bewchamp Tower, and soon after were stayed sir Tho. Smith, master Whalley, master Fisher, & many other gentlemen that attended upon the Lord Protectour. The same day the Lord's of the Counsaile resorted to the Kinge, and the next day they brought from thence the Lord Protector, and the other that were there stayed, and conveyed them through the City of London unto the Tower, and there left them.

Shortlye after the Lord's resorted unto the Tower, and there charged the Lord Protectour with sundry articles, as follow.

Articles objected against the Lord Protectour.

1 IN primis, you took upon you the office of Protectour and Governor, upon condition expressly and specially, that you would do nothing in the kings affairs, publicly or privately, but by the assent of the late kings executors.

2 Also you, contrary to the said condition, of your own authority, did stay and let justice, and subverted the laws, as well by your letters, as by your commandments.

3 Also, you caused diverse persons being arrested and imprisoned for treason, murder, manslaughter, and felony, to be discharged and set at large, against the kings laws, and statutes of this realm.

4 Also, you have made and ordained Lieutenants for the kings armies & other weighty affairs, under your own writing and seal.

5 Also, you have communed with the Ambassadors of other Realms, discoursing alone with them the weighty causes of this Realm.

6 Also you have sometime rebuked, checked, and taunted, as well privately as openly, diverse of the kings moste honorable Counsailours, for showing & declaring their aduises and opinions against your purposes in the kings waightye affairs, saying sometimes to them, that you need not to open matters unto them, and would therefore be otherwise advised: and that you would, if they were not agreeable to your opinyon, put them out, and take other at your pleasure.

7 Also, you had and held against the law in your own house, a Courte of Requestes, and thereby did enforce diverse the kings subjects to answer for their free holds and goods, and determined the same to the subversion of the same laws.

8 Also, you being no Officer, without the advise of the Counsaile, or the more part of them, did dispose of the Offices of the kings gift, for money, and granted leases and Wardes of the kings, and gave presentations to the kings benefices & bishoprikes, having no authority so to do. And farther, you did meddle with the selling of y ^e kings lands.

9 Also, you commanded Multiplication and Alcumistry to be practiced, to abuse the kings coin.

10 Also, you caused a proclamation to be made concerning enclosures, whereby the common people have made diverse insurrections, & levied open war, and distre • ed & spoiled diverse of the kings subjects, which proclamation went forth against the will of the whole counsel.

11 Also, you have caused a commission, with certain articles thereunto annexed, to be made our concerning enclosures of commons, high ways, decaying of cottages, and diverse other things, giving the Commissioners authority to hear and determine the same causes, to the subversion of the laws and statutes of this realm: whereby much sedition, insurrection, and rebellion, have risen and grown among the kings subjects.

12 Also, you have suffered the rebels and traitors to assemble and to lie in campe and armor against the king, his Nobles and gentlemen, without any speedye subduing or repressing of them.

13 Also you did comfort and encourage diverse of the said rebels, by giving of them diverse sums o • your own money, and by promising to diverse of them, sees▪ rewards, and services.

14 Also, you in favor of the said rebels, did against the laws, cause a Proclamation to be made, y ^t none of the said rebels or traitors should be sued or vexed by any person for any their offenses in the said rebellion, to the clear subversion of the same laws.

15 Also, you have said in the time of the rebellion, that you liked well the doings and proceedings of the said rebels and traitors, and said, that the covetousness of the gentlemen gave occasion to the common people to rise: saying also, that better it were for the Commons to die, then pearish for lack of living.

16 Also, you said that the Lord's of the parlamente were loath to incline themselves to reformatiō of enclosures and other things: therefore the people had good cause to reform the things them selves.

17 Also, you after the report and declaration of the defaultes and lacks reported to you by such as did survey Bulleine and the Peeces there, would never amende the same defaultes.

18 Also, you would not suffer the kings pieces beyond the seas, called Newhauen, & Blacknest to be furnished with men and vitailes, although you were advertised of the defaults therein by the captains of the same pieces & others, & were thereto advertised by the kings Counsaile: whereby the French king being the kings open enemy, was encouraged and comforted to invade and win the said pieces, to the kings great loss, and dishonor of his realm.

19 Also, you declared and published untruly, as well to the kings majesty, and other the young Lord's attendant upon his graces person, that the Lord's of the Counsaile at London, minded to destroy the king, & you required the king never to forget it, but to revenge it: and likewise you required the young Lord's to put the king in remembrance thereof, to the intent to make sedition, and discord between the king and his Lord's.

20 Also, where the kings Majesty's privy Counsaile, of their love and zeal that they did bear unto the king & his Realm, did consulte at London to have communed with you, to the intent to move you charitablie to amend your doings and misgouernment, you hearing of their said assembly, did cause to be declared by letters in diverse places, the said Lord's to be high traitors to the king, to the great disturbance of the realm.

And thus much hitherto concerning the first trouble of the Lord Protectoure, Duke of Somersette, with the crimes and articles objected against him, with his prisonment also in the Tower, and the terrible proclamatiō given out against him. All which purposes of man, though they seemed fully intended to no less, but to the spilling of his life: yet the Lord above, the only disposer of all men's purposes, so ordered the matter by the means of the king laboring for his Uncle, that in short while after, he was let out of the Tower, and the Proclamation, which before had made him a traitor, within three days was called in again, a Domino factum est istud,) with commandment given, none of them to be sold. And so the Duke of Somerset graciously escaping this adversity, was again restored, though not to his former office, yet unto liberty: wherein he continued the space of two years and two days.

After the which time of respite being expired, the said Duke of Somerset was apprehended & committed again to the Tower, and with him also Sir Michael Stanhop, sir Raufe Uane, sir Miles Partrige, & other. &c. At length the time being come of his arrainment, the foresaid good Duke being conveyed from the Tower, was brought thorough London with the axe of the tower before him, & with great preparance of bills, halbardes, pikes, and polaxes, in most forcible wise: a watch also set and appointed before every man's door through the hie streat of London, and so was he brought into Westminster hal, where the Lord's of the counsel sitting as his judges in the middle of the hal, upon a new scaffolde, he was there before them arrayned and charged both with treason and felony.

In the which judgment, I pass over the unseemly speech, the vile taunts, and despiteful rebukes, without all modesty or honesty, used by certain of the Sergeants and Justices, and some other sitting there. Al which notwithstanding he patiently & quietly did suffer, neither storming inwardly in stomach, nor reviling them with words again: but like a lamb following the true lamb, & example of all meekness, was contented to take all things at their hands, and with no less patience to bear now their ungentle and cruel railings, then he did before their glauering words and flatterings in time of his high estate and prosperity. And as the patience of this good Duke was marvelous in forbearing his enemies, so also was his discretion and temperance no less seen in answering for himself to the articles to him objected: whereunto he wisely and substantially replied, putting himself in the ende to be tried by his Peers. Who then at length after consultation had, did frame and temper their verdicte thus, that as concerning y ^e case of treason, wherewith he was charged, they discharged him, but they accounted him guilty of fellonie. When the people (which were there present to a great noneber) heard the Lord's say, Not guilty, (meaning by the case of treason) supposing no less, but y ^t he had been clearly aquitted by these words, and especially seeing the Axe of the Tower to be carried away, for great joy and gladness made an outcry, well declaring their loving affection and hearty favor unto the Duke, whose life they greatly desired. But this opinion of the people was deceived, and the innocent Duke condemned to die for fellonie. Which act of fellonie had been made a little before against the rebels, and unlawful assembles, such as should seek or procure the death of any Counselor, so that every such attempt and procurement, according to the act, should be judged felony. By the virtue of which Act, the Duke being accused, with certain other his complices, to intend and purpose the death of the Duke of Northumberlande, and of certain beside, was therefore caste and condemned of felony, and so was returned toward the Tower again.

At whose passage through the City, great exclamations and outcries were made again of the people, some rejoicing y ^t he was aquitted, some bewailing that he was condemned.

Thus the good Duke passing through a great parte of the City, landinge at the Crane of the Uinetrie, was conveyed unto the Tower, where he endured till the 22. of January. Upon the which day at the coming down of the letter of execution from the Kinge and the Counsaile, the foresaid Duke and Uncle to the Kyng, being found no traitor, only being caste by the Acte of Fellonye, was delivered unto the Sheriffs, and so brought to the place of execution.

Touching which execution, a few words here would be bestowed in describing the wonderful order and manner thereof, according as it hath faithfully ben suggested to us upon the credit of a certain noble Personage, who not only was there present at the deed doing, but also in a manner next unto him upon the scaffolde, beholding the order of all things with his eyes, and with his pen also reporting the same in order and manner as here followeth.

In the year of our Lord 1552. the 22. day of January, in the sixte year of the reign of king Edward the sixte, he being yet under age and governance of Tutours: the noble Duke of Somersette, uncle to king Edward, was brought out of the tower of London, and according to the manner, delivered to the Sheriffs of the City: and compassed round about w ^t a great number of armed men, both of the garde and others, he was brought unto the scaffolde on Tower hill: where as he nothing changing neither voice nor countenance, but in a manner with the same gesture which he commonly used at home, kneeling down upon both his knees, and lifting up his hands, commended himself unto God.

After that he had ended a few short prayers, standing up again, and turning him self toward the East side of the Scaffold, nothing at all abashed (as it seemed unto me standing about the midst of the Scaffold, and diligently marking all things,) neither with the sight of the axe, neither yet of the hangman, or of present death: but with the like alacrity and cheerfulness of mind and countenance as before times he was accustomed to hear the causes and Supplication of other, and especially the poor (towards whom, as it were with a certain fatherly love to his children, he always shown himself moste attentive) he uttered these words to the people.

Dearly beloved friends, I am brought hither to suffer death, albeit that I never offended against the king, nether by word nor deed, and have been always as faithful & true unto this Realm, as any man hath been. But for so much as I am by a law condemned to die, I do acknowledge myself as well as others to be subject thereunto. Wherefore to testify my obedience which I owe unto the laws, I am come hither to suffer death: whereunto I willingly offer myself, with most hearty thanks unto God, that hath given me this time of repentance, who might thorough sudden death have taken away my life, that neither I should have acknowledged him nor myself.

Moreover (dearly beloved friends) there is yet somewhat that I must put you in mind of as touching Christian religion: which so long as I was in authority, I always diligently set forth and furthered to my power. Neither I repent me of my doings, but rejoice therein, since that now the state of Christian religion cometh most near unto the form and order of the Primitive Church. Which thing I esteem as a great benefit given of God, both unto you and me: most heartily exhorting you all, that this which is most purely set forth unto you, you will with like thankfulness accept and embrace, and set out the same in your living. Which thing if you do not, without doubt, greater mischief and calamity will follow.

When he had spoken these words, suddenly there was a terrible noise heard: whereupon there came a great fear on all men. This noise was as it had been the noise of some great storm or tempest, which unto some seemed to be heard from above: like as if a great deal of gunpouder being enclosed in an armory, and having caught fire, had violently broken out. But unto some again, it seemed as though it had ben a great multitude of horsemen running together, or coming upon them. Suche a noise was then in the ears of all men, albeit they saw nothing. Whereby it happened, that all the people being amazed without any evident cause, without any violence or stroke stricken, or any man seen, they ran away, some into y ^e ditches and puddles, and some into the houses thereabout: other some being afraid with the horror and noise, fell down groveling unto the ground w ^t their polaxes and halbards, & most part of them cried out: Jesus save us, Jesus save us. Those which tarried still in their places, for fear knew not where they were. And I myself which was there present among the rest, being also afraid in this hurly burly, stood still altogether amazed, looking when any man would knock me in the head. It happened here, as the Evangelists write, it did unto Christ, when as the officers of the high Priests and Pharisees coming with weapons to take him, being astonied, ran backwardes, and fell to the ground.

In the mean time, whilst these things were thus in doing, the people by chance spied one sir Anthony Broune riding unto the scaffold: which was the occasion of a new noise. For when they saw him coming, they conjectured that which was not true, but notwithstanding which they all wished for, that the king by that messenger had sent his uncle pardon: and therefore with great rejoicing & casting up their cappes, they cried out, Pardon, pardon is come: God save the king. Thus this good Duke, although he was destitute of all man's help, yet he saw before his departure, in how great love & favor he was with all men. And truly I do not think, that in so great slaughter of Dukes as hath been in England within these few years, there was so many weeping eyes at one time: and not w ^t out cause. For all men did see in the decay of this Duke, the public ruin of all england, except such as in deed did perceive nothing. But now to return from whence we have strayed, the Duke in the mean time standing still in y ^e same place, modestly and with a grave countenance, made a sign to the people w ^t his hand, that they would keep themselves quiet. Which thing being done, & silence obtained, he spake unto them in this manner.

Dearely beloved friends, there is no such matter here in hand, as you vainly hope or believe. It seemeth thus good unto almighty God, whose ordinance it is meet and necessary that we all be obedient unto. Wherefore I pray you all to be quiet, and to be contented with my death, which I am most willing to suffer: and let us now join in prayer unto the Lord, for the preservation of the Kings Majesty, unto whom hitherto I have always shown myself a most faithful and true subject. I have always been most diligent about his Majesty in his affairs both at home and abroad, and no less diligent in seeking the common commodity of the whole Realm. At which words all the people cried out, and said, it was most true.

Then the Duke proceeding, said: Unto whose Majesty I wish continual health, with all felicity & all prosperous success. Whereunto the people again cried out, Amen.

Moreover, I do wish unto all his Counsaylours the grace and favor of God, whereby they may rule in all things uprightly with justice. Unto whom I exhort you all in the Lord, to show yourselves obedient, as it is your bounden duty, under the pain of condemnation, and also most profitable for the preservation and safeguard of the Kings Majesty.

Moreover, for so much as heretofore I have had oftentimes affairs with diverse men, & hard it is to please every man, therefore if there be any that hath ben offended & injured by me, I most humbly require & ask him forgiveness: but especially almighty God, whom throughout all my life I have most grievously offended: and all other, whatsoever they be that have offended me, I do with my whole heart forgive them. Now I once again require you, dearly beloved in the Lord, that you will keep yourselves quiet and still, least through your tumult you might trouble me. For albeit the spirit be willing and ready, the flesh is frail and wavering: and through your quietness I shall be much more quieter. Moreover, I desire you all to bear me witness, that I die here in the faith of Jesus Christ: desiring you to help me with your prayers, that I may persevere constant in the same unto my lives end.

After this, he turning himself again about like a meek lamb, kneeled down upon his knees. Then doctor Coxe, which was there present to counsel and advertise him, delivered a certain scroll into his hand, wherein was contained a brief confession unto God. Which being read, he stood up again upon his feet, without any trouble of mind (as it appeared) and first bad the Sheriffs farewell, then the Lieutenant of the Tower and other, taking them all by the hands which were upon the scaffold with him. Then he gave the Hangman certain money. Which done, he put off his gown, and kneeling down again in the straw, untied his shyrt strings. After that, the hangman coming unto him, turned down his collar round about his neck, and all other things which did let or hinder him. Then lifting up his eyes to heaven, where his only hope remained, and covering his face with his own handkercher, he laid himself down along, showing no manner of token of trouble or fear, neither did his countenance change, but that before his eyes were covered, there began to appear a red color in the midst of his cheeks.

Thus this most meek and gentle Duke lying along, and looking for the stroke, because his doublet covered his neck, he was commanded to rise up and put it off: and then laying himself down again upon the block, and calling thrice upon the name of Jesus saying: Lord Jesus save me, as he was the third time repeating the same, even as the name of Jesus was in uttering, in a moment he was bereft both of head & life, & slept in the Lord Jesus, being taken away from all the dangers and evils of this life, and resting now in the peace of God: in the preferment of whose truth and Gospel he always shown himself an excellent instrument and member, and therefore hath received the reward of his labors. Thus gentle Reader, thou hast the true history of this worthy and noble Duke, and if any man report it otherwise, let it be counted as a lie.

As touching the manners, disposition, life, and conversation of the said Duke and the Kings uncle, what shall we need to speak, when as he cannot be sufficiently commonded, according to the dignity of his virtues? There was always in him great humanity, and such meekness and gentleness, as is rare to be found in so high estate. He was prone and ready to give care unto the complaints and supplications of the poor, & no less attentive unto the affairs of the common wealth. Which if he had lived together with king Edward, was like to do much good in reforming many misorders within this realm. He was utterly ignorant of all craft and deceit, and as far void of all pride and ambition, as he was frō doing of injury, being indeed utterly void of both. He was of a gentle dispositiō, not coveting to be revenged: more apt & ready to be deceived, then to deceive. His ancient love & zeal of the Gospel & of religion he brought with him to the state of this his dignity. The proof whereof sufficiently was seen in his constant standing to gods truth, and zealous defense thereof, against the Bishops of Chichester, Norwich, Lincoln, London, and others moe, in the Consultation had at Windsore, the first year of the kings reign.

Briefly, considering the nature and virtues of this Duke, I may (as seemeth) not unaptly compare and resemble him unto Duke Humfrey, the good Duke of Gloucester. Who likewise being uncle unto king Henry 6. and Protector of the Realm (as this was also to king Edw. the 6.) yet he wanted not his enemies and privy enueyers especially Henry Beauford Cardinal, Bishop of Winchester, and Lord Chancellor of England: who at that time disdaining and envying the rule and authority of this Duke, procured much trouble against him, and great division in the whole realm, in so much that all the Shops within the City of London were shut in, for fear of the favorers of these two great personages: For ech part had assembled no small number of people.

For pacifying whereof the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of Quimber, called the Prince of Portugale, rode eight times in one day between the two adversaries. Such were then the troubles of these tumultuous division within the realm, between these two: as is before expressed, pag. 679. not much unlike to y ^e troublesome discord betwixt parties in this Protectors days. And as in their afflictions and troubles, these two Dukes seemed not much unlike, so in matters of religion, and in discerning truth from falsehood, their zeal seemed not much discrepant. Although the light of the Gospel did not so fully then shine out, as in the time of this latter Duke (the Lord be praised therefore) yet the wisdom and towardness of y ^e other Duke also touching the same, was not utterly unworthy of his commendation. For the more manifest declaration whereof, amongst many other his godly doings, we may take for example the prudent and famous act of that noble Duke, in descerning and trying out the false lying miracle and popish hypocrisy of the blind beggar at S. Albons mentioned in his story before, pag. 679. For the which cause, and for his diligent study in reforming that and such other blind abuses of feigned Religion, he was the more hated of the spiritualty, and such as Winchester then was.

Finally, as this Lord Protector Duke of Somerset the kings uncle, by certain of the Counsayle was then accused, arraigned & condemned for the trespass (as it was given forth) of felony (although I never heard he murdered or robbed any) so the other uncle of king Henry the 6. was made away. Of whose decease thus writeth Mayster W. Tyndale in his practice of Prelaets: At y ^e last they found the means to contrive a drift to bring their matters to pass & made a Parliament far from the Citizens of Londō, where was slain the said good Duke, & the only wealth of the Realm, and y ^e mighty shield which so long had kept it from sorrow, which shortly after his death fell upon thē by heaps. But the Chronicles (saith he) cannot tell wherefor he died, nor by what means. Neuertheles, this they testify, that he was a virtuous man, godly and good to the common wealth.

But to leave Duke Humfrey, and to return to the manners and virtues of the Duke of Somerset, which before we were about to describe: as he was a gentle and courteous Duke at home, so was he no less fortunate a Captain in warfare abroad. Under whose government & guidyng not only diverse rebellious commotions were happily suppressed here at home, but also abroad in the expedition of Scotland such a victory was given him of God, that w ^t the loss scarce of six hundred of his own men, there were of the enemies as good, or little less then x. thousand slain and put to flight, and even the very same day and time in the which all the Idolatrous Images were here burnt at London. And yet all these wars notwithstanding, whereunto he was against his will compelled, he was a man of nature singularly given to peace, as may be seen by the sweet and peaceable exhortation by him set forth in print before, and sent to the realm of Scotland.

But as there is nothing in this world so perfect in all respects, which is not blotted or darckned with some spot of vice adjoined withal: so amongst the manifold commondations of this Duke, one thing there was too, which both desteyned his honor and estimation much, and also more empayred and hindered his own life & safety: which was, that he in condescending to the death of his brother, followed too rashly the persuasion of certain, whosoever they were: for that matter lacked not perchance some singular fetch and policy of some, more craftily then godly disposed persons, as many good men have supposed.

But whatsoever of that matter is to be deemed, credible, it is, that the said Duke in suffering or procuring this death of his brother, not only endamaged himself, & weakened his own power, but also provoked the chastisement of God's scourge and rod, which did so light upon him.

Furthermore, as touching the death and decay of the Lord Henry Earl of Surrey, who suffered also at the Tower next before the Lord Admiral, the Lord Protectours brother, because the casting of him was so near to the death of King Henry: as I know not upon whom, or what cause the same did proceed, so I pass it over and leave it to the Lord. Notwithstanding, as for the Duke of Somerset, whatsoever his other vices and virtues were, this is certain, that his ende (the Lord so working with him) was constant in Christ's truth, as his life was before a great maintenance of the same.

Moreover, on the xxvj. day of February, in the same year was sir Rafe Uane, sir Miles Partrige both hanged at the Tower hill: And sir Michael Stanhop, & sir Thomas Arundell beheaded upon the scaffold: all which four were condemned by the said Acte of unlawful assembly, and as accessories unto the Duke of Somerset.

Not long after the death of the Duke of Somerset, in the next year following deceassed the King himself about the month of June, whereof more shall be said (the Lord granting) in his due order and course hereafter. In the mean season, before we come to close up the latter end and story of this good King, the place here present seemeth not unfit to intermixt by the way a few other things before, happening within the time of his reign, namely concerning matters incident, of the Church & of Religiō. Which state of Religion begā well to grow, & to come happily forward during this Kings days, had not the unhappy troubles of the outward state amongst the Lord's not agreeing within themselves, disquieted the good towardness of things begun. But the malice of the devil how subtly worketh it, if men could see it? So long as the Lord's agreed in concord among themselves, Winchester and Boner, with all that faction, was cut short, and began to condescend to good conformity. But afterward perceiving the states and nobles of the Realm to be among themselves divided, and y ^e Lord Protectour the Kings uncle displaced, and his brother the Admiral before beheaded, and the young King now left in that case, they begā upon some hope to take more heart unto them, till at last it came to pass, as they themselves desired. And thus though nothing else will lead us, yet experience may teach us what discord worketh in public weals: and contrary, what a necessary thing concord is to the aduancemēt especially of God's matters appertaining to his Church. Examples whereof in this Kings days be not far to seek. For as touching the success of the Gospel of peace, while public peace and the Gospel did join together, marvelous it was how error & Popery were in themselves confounded, and ashamed almost to show their faces. In so much that then both Doctor Smith, Chadsey, Standishe, Yong, Oglethorpe, with many moe recanted their former ignorance, whose recantations I have to show. Boner then with his own hand subscribed to the Kings supremacy, and promoted his Injunctions.

The same also did Stephen Gardener, subscribing with his own hand to the first book of the Kings proceedings, and no doubt had done no less to the second book also set forth by the King, had not the unfortunate discord fallen amongst the nobles in time so unfortunate, as then it did. Brieflye during all that time of peace and concord, what Papist was found in all the Realm, which for the Popes devotion would or did once put his neck in the halter to die a Martyr for his sake?

I shown before how in these peaceable days of Kyng Edward, Peter Martyr, Martin Bucer, Paulus Phagius, with other learned men moe, were entertained, placed and provided for in the two Universities of this Realm, Oxford and Cambridge, who there with their diligent industry did much good. The learned and fruitful disputations of whom, I have likewise present in my hands here to insert, but that the bigness of this Uolume driveth me to make short, especially seeing their disputations be so long and prolixe as they be, and also in Latin, and require of themselves a whole Uolume to comprehend thē.

First, Peter Martyr being called by the King to the public reading of the Divinity Lecture in Oxford, amongst his other learned exercises did set up in the public schools iii. conclusions of Divinity to be disputed & tried by Argument. At which disputations were present the Kings visitours, to wit, Henry Bishop of Lincoln, Doctor Coxe Chancellor of that University, Doctor Haynes Dean of Exeter, M. Richard Morison Esquire; Christopher Neuynson Doctor of Civil law. The conclusions propounded were these.

1. In the Sacrament of thanks giving there is no transubstantiation of bread and wyne into the body and blood of Christ.

2. The body and blood of Christ is not carnally or corporally in bread and wine, nor as other use to say, under the kinds of bread and wine.

3. The body and blood of Christ be united to bread and wyne Sacramentally.

They which were the chief disputers against him on the contrary side, were Doct. Tresham, D. Chadsey, and Morgan. The reasons and principal Arguments of Peter Martyr heereunder follow.

The Arguments of Peter Martyr upon the first conclusion.

• The Scriptures most plainly do name and acknowledge bread and wyne. In the Evangelists we read that the Lord Jesus took bread, blessed it, brake it, and gave it to his Disciples. S. Paul likewise doth ofttimes make mention of bread.
• Ergo, we also with the scriptures ought not to exclude bread from the nature of the sacrament.

Cyprianus.

As in the person of Christ, his humanity was seen outwardlye, and his Divinity was secret within: so in the visible Sacrament the divinity inserteth it self in such sort as cannot be uttered, that our devotion about the Sacraments might be the more religious.

Ergo, as in the person of Christ: so in the Sacrament both the natures ought still to remain.

Gelasius.

The Sacraments which we receive of the body and blood of Christ, are a Divine matter: by reason whereof, we are made partakers by the same, of his Divine nature, and yet it ceaseth not still to be the substance of bread and wine. And certes the representation and similitude of the body and blood of Christ, be celebrated in the action of the mysteries, &c.

Augustinus.

As the person of Christ consisteth of God and man, when as he is true God, and true man. For everything containeth in it self the nature and verity of those things whereof it is made. Now the Sacrament of the Church is made of two things, that is, of the Sacrament that signifieth, and of the matter of the Sacrament that is signified, &c.

Theodoretus.

These visible mysteries which are seen, he hath honored with the name of his body and blood, not changing the nature, but adding grace unto nature, &c. And the same Theodoretus again saith:

Those mystical sacraments after sanctification, do not pass out of their own proper nature, but remain still in their former substance, figure, and shape, &c.

Ergo, like as the body of Christ remained in him, and was not changed into his divinity: so in the sacrament the bread is not changed into the body, but both the substances remain whole.

Origin.

If whatsoever entereth into the mouth, goeth down into the belly, and so passeth through a man: even that meat also which is sanctified by the word of God and by prayer, as touching that part which it hath material within it, passeth into the belly, and so voideth through a man. But thorough prayer, which is adjoined to it, according to the measure of faith, it is profitable and effectual, &c. And he addeth moreover: For it is not the outward matter of the bread, but the word that is spoken upon it, that profiteth him which eateth him worthily, &c.

Irenaeus.

Jesus taking bread of the same condition which is after us, (that is, taking bread of the same nature and kind as we use commonly to eat) did confess it to be his body. And taking likewise the cup which is of the same creature which is after us, (that is, which we commonly use to drink) confessed it to be his blood, &c.

Item, lib. 4. Like as bread which is of the earth, receiving the word and calling of God, is now not common bread, but the Eucharist, consisting of two things, the one earthly, the other heavenly: so our bodies receiving the sacred Eucharist, be now not corruptible, having hope of resurrection, &c.

Argument.
• Ba - The bread in the Sacrament is so changed into the body, as our bodies are changed when they are made incorruptible by hope.
• ro - But our bodies are not made incorruptible by changing their substance.
• co. Ergo, no more is the bread changed into the substance of the body.

Gregory.

Notwithstanding, whether we take leavened or unleavened bread, we are all one body of our Lord and Savior, &c.

Argument.
• Da - Where bread leavened or unleavened is taken, there is substance of bread, and not accidences only.
• ri - In the Sacrament bread is received either leavened or unleavened:
• j. Ergo, in the Sacrament is substance of bread and not accidences only.

Argument.
• Ba - The body of Christ is named of that which is proportioned round, and is insensible in operation.
• ro - Accidences only of bread have no figure of roundnes:
• co. Ergo, the body of Christ is not named of accidences, but of very bread substantial.

Argument.
• The words of the Evangelist speaking of that which Christ took, blessed, brake, and gave, do import it to be bread, and nothing else but bread.
• Ergo, the substance of bread is not to be excluded out of the Sacrament.

Chrysostom.

Christ in bread and wyne said: do this in remembrance of me.

Cyrillus.

He gave to them pieces or fragments of bread.

Also the same Cyril saith: In bread we receive his precious body and his blood in wyne.

Ergo, by these Doctors it remaineth bread after consecration.

Ambrose.

Before the blessing of the heavenly words, it is called another kind of thing. After consecration the body of Christ is signified.

Arguments of Peter Martyr disputing with M. Chadsey upon the first question.

• Da - The Analogy and resemblance between the Sacrament and the thing signified, must ever be kept in all Sacraments.
• ti - In the Sacrament of the Lord's body, this Analogy or resemblance cannot be kept, if bread be transubstantiated:
• si. Ergo, the substance of bread must needs remain in the Sacrament of the Lord's body.

The Major of this Argument is certain by S. Agustine, Lib. De catechisandis rudibus, & Epist. ad Dardan. Where he saith: Sacraments must needs bear a similitude of those things whereof they are Sacraments, or else they can be no Sacraments.

The Minor is thus proved.

Argument.
• Ba - The resemblance between the Sacrament and the body of Christ is this: that as the properties of bread and wyne do nourish outwardly: so the properties of the body of Christ do nourish spiritually.
• ro - Without the substance of bread and wine, there is no resemblance of nourishing.
• co. Ergo, without the substance of bread and wyne, the Analogy cannot hold.

Argument.
• Ba - Agayne, another resemblance and similitude or Analogy of this Sacrament is this, that as one loaf of bread, and one cup of wine containeth many corns and many grapes: so the mystical congregation cōteineth many members, and yet maketh but one body:
• ro - Without the substance of bread & wine, no such resemblance or similitude of conjunction can be represented:
• co. Ergo, without the substance of bread and wyne, the Analogy of this spiritual conjunction cannot hold.

Another Argument.
• Ba - Every Sacrament consisteth in two things, that is, in the thing signifying, and the thing signified.
• ro - Without the substance of bread and wine, there is nothing that signifieth in the Sacrament:
• co. Ergo, the substance of bread and wyne in the Sacrament, can in no wise be transubstantiate from their natures. The Minor is thus to be proved.

• Fes - There is no signification in any Sacrament without the element.
• • i - The substance of bread and wine is the elemente of this Sacrament:
• • o. Ergo, without the substance of bread and wine, there is no similitude nor signification in this Sacrament.

And for so much as the adversaries ground their transubstantiation so much upon these words of Christ: This is my body: which they expound only after y ^e literal sense, without troupe or figure: now that this their exposition is false, and that the said words are to be taken figuratively and spiritually, by three causes it is to be proved. 1. First by the words of the Scripture. 2. By the nature of a Sacrament. 3. By the testimonies of the fathers.

1. First by these words of the scripture, where he saith: Do this in remembrance of me, for so much as remembrance properly serveth not for things corporally present, but for things rather being absent.

2. Secondly, where he saith: Until I come. Which words were vain, if he were already come by consecration.

3. Thirdly, where S. Paul saith: The breaking of bread, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? Which words of breaking in no case can be verified upon the body of Christ, which for the glory thereof is impossible.

4. Furthermore where as the Lord biddeth thē to take and eat, it is evident, that the same cannot be understand simply of the body of Christ without a trope, forsomuch as he cannot be eaten and chawed with teeth, as we use properly in eating other meats to do.

5. The words moreover of Luke and Paul spoken of the cup, do argue likewise that the other words spoken of the bread must needs be taken mystically. As where it is said: This cup is the new testament : which words must needs be expounded thus: this cup doth signify the New Testament.

6. Item, these words of S. John. chap. 6. My words be spirit and life. The flesh profiteth nothing &c.

7. Itē, where in the same place of S. John, Christ to refell the carnal understanding of the Capernaites of eating his body, maketh mention of his Ascension. &c.

The second cause why the words of Christ: This is my body, cannot be literally expounded without trope, is y ^e nature of a sacrament: whose nature and property is to bear a sign or signification of a thing to be remembered, which thing after the substantial and real presence, is absent. As touching which nature of a sacrament sufficiently hath been said before.

The third cause, why the words of consecration are figuratively to be taken, is the testimony of the ancient Doctors.

Tertullianus. This is my body: that is to say, this is a figure of my body.

August. Psal. 3. Christ gave a figure of his body.

August. Contra Adamantum Manichaeum. He did not doubt to say: This is my body when he gave a sign of his body.

Hieronimus. Christ represented unto us his body.

August. August. in his book De Doctrina Christiana declareth expressly that this speech of eating the body of Christ, is a figurative speech.

Ambrosius. As thou hast received the similitude of his death: so thou drinkest the similitude of his precious blood.

Argument.
• Fe - The death of Christ is not present really in the sacrament but by similitude.
• ri - The precious blood of Christ is present in the Sacrament as his death is present:
• o. Ergo, the precious blood of Christ is not present really in the Sacrament.

The second question. Whether the body and blood of Christ be in the bread and wine, or under the forms of bread and wine carnally and corporally.

Argument.
• Di - The true natural body of Christ is placed in heaven.
• sa - The true natural body of man can be but in one place at once, where he is:
• mis. Ergo, the true natural body of Christ can be in no place at once, but in heaven where he is.

The Major is plain by the Scriptures: Jesus was taken up to heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God. Math. 26 The poor ye have always with you, but me you shall not always have John. 12. I leave the world and go to my Father. John. 16. Many shall say in that day: Loe here is Christ, and there is Christ, believe thē not, Mat. 24. Whō the heavens must receive for a time, until the restitution of all. Acts. 3. Seek those things that are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God, &c. Col. 3.

The Minor likewise is evident by S. Agustine, who speaking of the glorified body of Christ, affirmeth the same to be in one certain place, Propter veri corporis modum, that is, for the manner of a true body.

Argument.
• Da - Every true natural body requireth one certain place. August.
• ri - Christ's body is a true natural body:
• j. Ergo, Christ's body requireth one certain place.

Argument.
• Agustine giveth not to the soul of Christ to be in mo places at once, but one. August ad Dardanum.
• Ergo, much less is it to be given to the body of Christ to be in mo places at once, but in one.

Argument.
• The nature of the Angels is not to be in diverse places, but they are limited to occupy one certain place at once. Basilius de spirit. sanct. cap. 22.
• Ergo, the body of Christ, being the true natural body of a man, cannot fill diverse places at one time.

Argument.
• Ba - Whatsoever is in many & diverse places at once is God▪
• ro - The body of Christ is not God but a creature:
• co. Ergo, the body of Christ cannot be in moe places together.

Argument.
• Fes - We must not so defend the Divinity of Christ, that we destroy his humanity. August.
• ti - If we assig • e to the body of Christ plurality of places, we destroy his humanity:
• no. Ergo, we must not assign to the body of Christ plurality of places.

Argument.
• Fes - Whatsoever thing is circumscribed, that is to say, contained in the limits of any peculiar place, cannot be dispersed in mo places at once.
• ti - The body of Christ is a thing circumscribed:
• no. Ergo, the body of Christ is not dispersed in mo places at one time.

Argument.
• Da - Every quantity, that is, everybody having magnitude, length, and other dimensions, is circumscribed in one peculiar place:
• ri - The body of Christ hath his dimensions, and is a quantity:
• j. Ergo, the body of Christ is circumscribed.

Cyrillus. The Major is proved by Cyrillus. Whatsoever is understanded to be a body, the same is verily in a place, and in magnitude, and in quantity. And if it be in quantity, it cannot avoid circumscription, that is, to have his place.

Argument.
• Ba - If Christ had given his body substantially and carnally in the Supper, then was that body either passable, or impassible.
• ro - But neither can you say that body to be passable or impassible, which he gave at Supper:
• co. Ergo, he did not give his body substancially and carnally at Supper.

August. The Minor is proved thus. For if ye say it was passable, Agustine is against it, which saith: Ye shall not eat this body which you see, nor drink the same blood which they shall shed, that shall crucify me, &c. And if ye say, it was impassible, that may not be admitted by the words of the Evangelist, which saith: Eate, this is my body which shall be given for you: So that that body was passable and not impassible, wherein Christ was given.

Vigilius. One creature cannot receive in it self two contrary or diverse things together. But these two things be diverse and far unlike, that is to say, to be contained in a place, and to be everywhere. For the word is everywhere, but the flesh is not everywhere.

Argument.
• Fe - Bodies origanicall without quantity be no bodies.
• ri - The Popes doctrine maketh the body of Christ in the Sacrament to be without quantity:
• o. Ergo, the Popes doctrine maketh the body of Christ in the Sacrament to be nobody.

Argument.
• Da - All things which may be divided, have quantity.
• ri - The body in the Popes Sacrament is divided in iii. partes:
• j. Ergo, the body in the Popes Sacrament hath quantity, which is against their own doctrine.

Argument.
• Fe - No natural body can receive in it self, and at one time, contrary or diverse qualities. Vigilius.
• ri - To be in one place local, and in another place not local, in one place with quantity, in another place without quantity, in one place circumscript, in another place incircumscript, is for a natural body to receive contrary qualities:
• o. Ergo, the body of Christ cannot be in one place local, and in another not local, in one place with quantity, and in another without quantity, as our adversaries do affirm.

Argument.
• Fe - The wicked receive not the body of Christ.
• ri - The wicked do receive the body of Christ, if transubstantiation be granted:
• son. Ergo ▪ transubstantiation is not to be granted in the Sacrament.

Argument for probation of the Major.
• Ca - To eat Christ, is for a man to have Christ dwelling and abiding in him. Augustine.
• mes - The wicked have not Christ dwelling in them:
• tres. Ergo, the wicked eat not the body of the Lord.

Cyprian. Cyprianus de Coena Domini. The eating of Christ, is our abiding in him.

Argument.
• Bo - The holy Ghost could not come if the body of Christ were really present.
• car - That the holy Ghost is come, it is most certain:
• do. Ergo, it cannot be that Christ himself should be here really present.

For proof of the Major. John 16. Unless I go from you, the holy Ghost shall not come: It is expedient for you that I go hence.

Argument of Peter Martyr.
• Ba - If the wicked and infidels do receive the body of Christ, they receive him either with sense or reason, or with faith.
• ro - But they receive him neither with sense, reason, nor with faith:
• co▪ Ergo, wicked men and infidels receive in no wise the body of Christ.

For declaration of the Major: if ye say, they receive him with sense, that is against their own lore, for the body of Christ in the blessed Sacrament (say they) is not sensible, nor to be perceived by any sense, neither with reason can they receive him, by their own learning, for so much as this Sacrament exceedeth all reason: Nec fides habet meritum, vbi ratio praebet experimentum. And if ye say, that they receive him with faith, how can that be, seeing infidels have no faith?

What is to eat the body of Christ, the teaching of the Papists herein is strange, and differeth from the old Doctors. For where the Papists do teache, that wicked persons and infidels, albeit they receive not the effect of the Sacrament, yet the matter of the Sacrament, which is the very body of Christ, they receive with their mouth, and with their sense the accidences of bread, and thus imagine a certain body of Christ, such as evil men and infidels may eat, and yet being eaten, it giveth them no nourishment nor life, nor maketh them no partakers of his spirit and grace: both Scripture and the ancient expositors of the Scripture do teach much otherwise. For the Scripture knoweth no such kind of eating Christ's body, but only that which is fruitful, wholesome, and effectual. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, abideth in me and I in him, &c. John. 6. And therefore it may appear, that the Scripture meaneth by eating Christ's flesh, to believe in Christ's Passion, which none can do but only the faithful. And to the same sense sound all the old Doctors.

Cyprianus. That we should know, that eating is our dwelling in him, and our drinking is, as it were, a certain incorporation in him.

Item, the same Cyprian: The eating therefore of his flesh is a certain desire to abide in him: and saith moreover, that none eateth of this Lamb, but such as be true Israelites, that is, true Christian men, without color or dissimulation.

And again he saith: That as meat is to the flesh, the same is faith to the soul, the same is the word to the spirit, &c.

Moreover: And therefore (saith he) doing this we whet not our teeth to bite, but with pure faith we break the holy bread, and distribute it, &c.

Augustinus. It may not be said, that any such do eat the body of Christ, because they are accounted amongst the members of Christ. Neither can they be both members of Christ, and members of an harlot, &c. Furthermore, when Christ saith: He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him: he showeth what it is, not Sacramentally, but in deed to eat his body and drink his blood, which is, when a man so dwelleth in Christ, that Christ dwelleth in him. For so Christ spake those words, as if he should say: he that dwelleth not in me, and in whom I dwell not, let him not say nor think, that he eateth my body, or drinketh my blood.

Also in other places the said Agustine affirmeth, that, to drink is to live: And saith moreover: Why preparest thou thy belly and thy teeth? believe and thou hast eaten, &c.

All which kinds of eating cannot be said of the wicked and infidels, but only of the godly and faithful.

And thus briefly we have run over all the arguments and authorities of Peter Martyr in that disputation at Oxford, with Doctor Tresham, Chadsey, and Morgan, before the Kings visitours above named. an. 1549.

Furthermore, who so listeth more fully to be satisfied and resolved in all the occurrence touching the matter of this Sacrament, let him read the books first of the Archbishop Cranmer against Winchester: Secondly, the tractation of Peter Martyr made in Oxford, translated and extant in English: and thirdly the book of Bishop Ridley made in prison, called A brief declaration of the Lord's Supper.

The like disputation also about the same time was appointed and commensed at Cambridge, concerning the same matter of the Sacrament, the Kings visitours being directed down for the same purpose by the King. The names of which visitours were these, Nicholas Ridley Bishop of Rochester, Thomas Bishop of Eli, M. John Cheeke the Kings Scholemaister, Doctor May Ciuilian, and Thomas Wendy the Kings Physician. The conclusions in that disputation propounded were these.

The first disputation holden at Cambridge the 20. day of June. ann. 1549. before the Kings Majesty's Commissioners by Doctor Madew respondent, whose first conclusion was this.

Transubstantiation cannot be proved by the plain and manifest words of Scripture, nor can thereof be necessarily collected, nor yet confirmed by the consents of the ancient Fathers, for these thousand years past. Doctor Glin, M. Langedale, M. Segewike, M. Yong▪ opponents.

FIrst of all (quoth he) I am very sory, and do not a little lament the shortness of time, to declare and discuss such weighty matters of Religion in, as these be. But that notwithstanding, if I had had more plenty of time indeed: yet you shall understand, how that I have ever both in heart and mind (if otherwise I could have avoided it) abhorred all scholastical disputations, and subtle sophistications. In consideration whereof, I beseech those that are to dispute, not to allege or bring forth any dismembered, or curteled sentences, or wrested as happeneth many times, but the whole and full sentences either of the Scriptures, or of the ancient Doctors: yea, and to avouch such Authors sayings, as are not suspected, or feigned, but such as be their own very sayings indeed, which if they do, there is no doubt, but the clear light of this our disputation, shall the sooner appear, and be manifest to this auditory. And for a further declaration of my part, you shall understand that this my preface in my said former most catholic & godly conclusion shall consist in three principal points. 1. First, what thing it was that Christ gave to his disciples. 2. Secondly, what season or time this transubstantiation did begin. 3. Thirdly, how many devilish abominations have ensued upon that horrible and pestilent invention. As concerning the first, that is, what thing Christ gave to his disciples, that may very well appear even by our own natural senses, as namely, by the sight, by the touching, by the tasting, which cannot be deceived of their natural judgment. For the eye seeth nothing but bread and wine, the tasting savoreth nothing else, and the hands touche nothing else. He gave also to their understanding not •• lie his holy and sacred doctrine, but also a special gi • t & pledge of his love. He gave the only material brea • & wine sanctified, as the first rude and plain elements or principles to allure them withal, but he gave them the gift of his grace and heavenly doctrine, as the very things signified by the sensible elements, which thing plainly appeareth by the words of Christ our savior, Non bibam. &c. I will not drink hereafter of the fruit of this vine, until I drink it new with you in the kingdom of God. Now this fruit or iuoise of y ^e vine is nothing else but wine, as Chrysostom saith. And moreover to prove the same true, if it be reserved after the cōsecratiō for a time, it becometh sower, and tarte, therefore it is but wine. And as touching the bread, S. Paul saith thus, is not the bread which we break, the communion, or participation of Christ's body? he brake bread, therefore it was but bread, which he gave them: for the body of Christ is not broken, as the scripture saith of y ^e same, os non cōminuetis ex eo, you shall not break a bone of him. Also he saith this is my body, not that the bread was his body, and the wine his blood, but he spake those words to, and of his own mortal body, there sitting amongst them at supper, or he spake yet doubtfully as thus: this signifieth my body, it is one thing, which is seen, but it is another thing which is understanded: for y ^t which is seen hath a bodily form, but y ^t which is understood thereby hath a spiritual fruit. S. Agustine saith. Let the word have access to the element, so is it made a sacrament: mark, he saith, let the word have access, and not success. Now the thing that hath access to another thing, doth not quench the thing that it cometh to, no more doth i • here, ergo it is bread and wine still as before, how be it sacred, and holy: What saw you yesterday (saith S. Agustine) upon the altar? Truly bread and wine, which your own eyes can witness said he, what plainer testimony can be had of so ancient a father as he was, and of so rare knowledge in the scriptures of God? Seeing then y ^t our eyes do behold nothing, but bread and wine, it must needs follow that it is so in deed, or else our senses • e deceived in their own proper object, which cannot be by any reason, or natural philosophy. And yet notwithstanding some papists dream and phantesie such a corporal, real, and gross presence of Christ's body in the sacrament as they affirm it to be there even as verily, as it was upon the Cross. Indeed the bread is changed after a certain manner, into Christ's body: for Christ gave not his own natural body to his Disciples at his last supper, but an only sign or figure thereof. Christ's body is there with the bread: our senses cannot be deceived about the substance of bread, but they do judge there to be but one body, that is of bread, Ergo so it is. Also the very definition of a sacrament doth plainly repugn unto transubstantiation. Bread nourisheth the substance of Christ's body, but the accidents do not so, Ergo the substance doth remain of the bread that nourisheth: it is also called bread in the Acts, and in diverse other places of the scriptures, wherefore it is so, but in deed after a sort more holy then before: what gave he in the supper? bread which is the body, that is to say, an holy sign of his body, as Agustine doth witness saying: he doubted not to say this is my body, whē it was but a sign of his body. The unleavened bread was but a bare and naked sign of Christ's body, and so is this bread the same body, even as baptism is. Now indeed there be two manner of signs, one that signify only, the other that doth exhibit the thing itself. The first is applied to the old law chiefly, • he other to the law of grace. The old ancient & learned fathers, did never use to speak of the substantial change, for because that all the mutation is but condicionall, not substantial, nor we deem not the bodily substance sacramentally, but yet we say that this proposition (that is my body) is but a figurative speech, and no proper speech, as some do deem. But it is as much to say, as this signifieth my body, or else thus, this is a sacrament of my body, for the body • ye bread, and Christ's body are not contained in place locally but mystically. This portenteouse and monstrouse transubstanciation began first to enter, when the popish prelates, & priests began to understand this said proposition (this is my body) of the carnal and real presence of Christ's body▪ as hugo de sancto victor, Gracian, Peter, Lombard and 〈◊〉 . 3. the very pestilent poison of all Christ • n religion, unto whom we have of long season, yea all • as too long given credit: under the which Innocente the said devilish term, or vocable of transubstantiation began anno. 1315. And Boniface after him Bishop of Rome made the said • ad blind transubstantiation to be the 3. article of the faith, full wisely no doubt, whereas another bishop of Rome after him affirmed plainly against Nestor the heretic that bread remaineth there still whose name was G ••• sius. 3. Now as touching y ^e most shameful and detestable inconveniences which must needs follow this devilish t • rme or vocable of transubstantiation, you shall understand the first is, that then such Papists will have Christ's body still prostituted, and received even of the wicked and naughty people, which is clean contrary to that place of our savior Christ, where he saith: Whosoever eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. Now it is plain, that evil persons dwell not in Christ, nor Christ in them, wherefore they receive not his body therein at all. For S. Augustine tract. 8. super Iohannem saith, that it is but bread which is seen after the Consecration, Ergo, the substance of bread is there still. 2. The seconde inconvenience that groweth hereof, is the fond and superstitious reservation of the sacrament in pixes, boxes, and such like, with vain tabernacles over the alter, where oftentimes it did putrefy for all their foolish honor, which began in Honorius days the third Bishop of Rome of that name, which corruption declareth it to be but only bread, say all Papists what they list. 3. The third inconvenience that must needs follow Transubstantiation, is adoration, which is too plain Idolatry, as the Papists do know themselves if they list, but they are so stiffnecked, that they will not know it, and so both have, and yet also will keep the world in blindness still if they might be suffered. But to be short with you, even as we are changed into Christ by receiving the sacrament, so is the bread changed into the body of Christ. But our substance is not changed into Christ's substance, Ergo, the substance of the bread is not changed into Christ's body. And to be short and plain with you (most honorable audience) the whole universal world hath been, and yet is sore deceived and deluded about the estimation of this Sacrament. Therefore this is most true, when we do receive the said Sacrament worthily, then are we joined by faith spiritually to Christ our savior. And thus much have I said in this first matter.

The second matter to be disputed of is this.

That in the Lord's Supper is none other oblation or sacrifice, then one only remembrance of Christ's death, and of thanksgiving.

IN this conclusion, I will be much shorter, and more compendious then in the first. In consideration whereof, you shall understand, that the same is a very godly, and true catholic proposition. For to offer Christ, and to exhibit the same, is all one thing, for in that that he is offered, he is set forth for to eat, there is no difference at all between the maker of the sacrifice, or offerer, and the thing that was offered, which both were one Christ. The Lord did command saying, Do this in remembrance of me, he made mention of the remembrance only, wherefore it can be none other sacrifice, but only that. The Apostle doth declare the manner of the thing doing, saying thus: He took bread in his hands, he blessed it, he brake it, and gave it to his disciples. What gave he to them? forsooth bread, which was the sacrament, and not his body. No earthly creature nor heavenly, did ever offer up Christ at any time, but he himself once for all, upon the cross, Ergo, he cannot, nor ought not to be offered many times, and often, though that Pighius with all the blind rabble of Papists say the contrary. For truly in this point especially they know not what they say, being so led by the old pharisaical blindness. But to the purpose. You shall vndestand good auditors, that the pure and clean oblation and sacrifice spokē of by the Prophet Malachi, is nothing else, then devout, and faithful prayer, and thanksgiving, as Tertullian saith in his third book contra Marcionem expounding the Psalm, where it is said thus: The sacrifice of laude, and praise shall honor me. So doth S. Jerome, Irenaeus, and S. Agustine say also upon Malachi. Where also they deny that Christ is essencially in the sacrament. Yea and S. Agustine Epistola 95. ad Paulinum witnesseth, that the mortifying of our earthly members is our true sacrifice that be Christians. And all the ancient Fathers do call prayers by the name of sacrifices. And for this purpose, whosoever list to read that most excellent and famous Clarke Zwinglius ca. 18. de articulis, shall find the same confirmed of him by most grounded reasons, whatsoever the Papists do bark against it. Thus I have declared my mind in both matters now disputable. And if my further declaration be required through the vehemency of arguments, I will perform the same in my answering thereunto.

There disputed against this defendant Doctor Glin, M. Langedale, M. Segewike, and M. Yong, Students in Divinity.