A spirituall consola­tion, written by Iohn Fyssher Bi­shoppe of Rochester, to hys sister Elizabeth, at suche tyme as hée was prisoner in the Tower of London. Uery necessary, and commodious for all those that mynde to leade a vertu­ous lyfe: Also to admonishe them, to be at all tymes prepared to dye, and séemeth to bée spoken in the person of one that was sodainly preuē ­ted by death.

2. Corinthians. vj.

Beholde now is the acceptable tyme▪ now is the day of saluation.

Mathew. xxiiij.

VVatch therefore, for ye knowe not what houre your Lorde doeth come.

¶ A spirituall consola­cyon vvritten by Iohn Fyssher Bishop of Rochester, to his sister Elizabeth.

SIster Elizabeth, no­thing doth more help effectuallye to get a good and a vertuous lyfe. Then if a soule when it is dull and vnlustie without deuotion, neyther disposed to prayer, nor to any other good worke, may be sturred or quicke­ned agayne by fruiteful meditacion. I haue therfore deuised vnto you this meditation that followeth. Praying you for my sake and for the weale of your owne soule, to reade it at suche tymes as you shall feele your selfe most heauie and slouthfull to doe any good worke. It is a maner of lamen­tacion and sorowfull complaynyng made in the person of one that was hastily preuented by death, (as I as­sure you euery creature may be) none other suretie we haue, liuing in this [Page] worlde héere. But if you will haue any profite by reading of it, thrée things you must do in any wise. First when you shall reade this meditati­on, deuise in your mynde as nigh as you can, all the conditions of a man or woman sodaynlye taken and ra­uyshed by death: and thynke [...] wyth your selfe that yée were in the same condition so hastily taken, and that incontinent you must néedes dye, and your soule depart hence, & leaue your mortall bodie, neuer to returne again for to make any amendes, or to doe any release to your soule after this houre.

Seconly, that yée neuer reade thys meditation but alone by your selfe in secrete maner, where you maye be most attentyue therevnto. And when ye haue the best leasure with­out any let of other thoughtes or bu­zinesse. For if you otherwyse behaue your selfe in the reading of it, it shall anon lose the vertue and quicknesse in stirring and mouing of your soule when you woulde ratherest haue it sturred.

[Page]Thirdly, that when you intende to read it, you must afore lifte vp your minde to almightie God, and beséech him that by the helpe and succour of his grace the readyng thereof may fruitfully worke in your soule a good and vertuous life, according to hys pleasure and say, Deus in adiutorium meum intende, Domine adiuvandum me festina. Gloria patri. &c. Laus tibi domi­ne rex eternae glorie. Amen.

Alas, alas, I am vnworthily takē, all sodaynly death hath assayled me, the paynes of his stroake be so sore and gréeuous that I may not longe endure thē, my last home I perceiue well is come. I must now leaue thys mortall bodie, I must nowe departe hence out of this world neuer to re­turne againe into it. But whether I shall goe, or where I shall become, or what lodgyng I shall haue thys night, or in what company I shal fal, or in what countrey I shall be recei­ued, or in what maner I shall be en­treated, God knoweth for I knowe not. What if I shall be dampned in the perpetuall prysō of hell, where be [Page] paynes endelesse and without num­ber. Gréeuous it shall be to them that be dampned for euer, for they shall be as men in moste extreame paynes of death, euer wishing and desiryng death, and yet neuer shall they dye. It should be nowe vnto mée muche wearie, one yeare continually to lye vpon a bed were it neuer so soft, how weary then shall it be to lye in the most painefull fyre so many thousād of yeares without number? And to be in that most horrible company of di­uils most terrible to beholde, full of malice and crueltie. O wretched and miserable creature y t I am, I might so haue liued and so ordered my lyfe by the helpe and grace of my Lorde Christ Iesu, y t this houre might haue bene vnto mée much ioyous & greatly desired. Many blessed & holy Sayncts were full ioyous and desirous of this houre, for they knewe well that by death their soules shuld be trāslated into a new life: To the life of all ioye and endlesse pleasure, frō y e streightes and bōdage of this corruptible body, into a very libertie and true fréedom [Page] mong the company of heauen, frō the miseries & gréeuāces of this wretched world, to be aboue with God in com­fort inestimable y t can not be spoken ne thought. They were assured of y e promises of almightie god which had so promised to all them that bée hys faithfull seruauntes. And sure I am that if I had truly & faithfully serued him vnto thys houre, my soule had bene partner of these promises. But vnhappie & vngracious creature that I am, I haue bene negligent in hys seruice, and therefore now my harte doeth waste in sorowes séeing y e nigh­nesse of death, and considering my great slouth & negligence. I thought full little thus sodainly to haue bene trapped: But (alas) now death hath preuented me, and hath vnwarily at­tached mée, & sodainly oppressed mée with his mightie power, so that I know not whither I may turne mee for succour, nor where I may séeke now for helpe, ne what thing I may doe to get any remedy: If I myght haue leasure and space to repent mée and amende my lyfe, not compelled [Page] with this sodayne stroake but of my owne frée will and libertie, and part­ly for the loue of God, putting asyde all slouth & negligence. I might then safely dye w tout any dread, I might then be glad to departe hence and leaue my manifold miseries & encom­braūces of this world. But how may I think that my repentance or mine amendement commeth now of myne own frée will, sith I was before thys stroake so colde and dull in the ser­uice of my Lord God. Or howe may I thinke that I doe this more rather for his loue, then for feare of his pu­nyshement, when if I had truelye loued hym, I should more quickely and more diligently haue serued him héeretofore? Mée séemeth now that I caste away my slouth and negly­gence compelled by force. Euen as a Merchaunt that is compelled by a greate tempest in the sea to cast his merchandice out of the Shippe, it is not to bée supposed that hée would cast away his ryches of hys owne frée will, not compelled by the storme? And euen so lykewyse doe I if thys tempeste of death were [Page] not now raysed vppon mée, it is full like that I would not haue cast from me my slouth and negligence. O woulde to God that I might nowe haue some farther respet, and some longer tyme to amend my self of my frée will and libertie. O if I might entreat death to spare me for a sea­son, but that will not bée, death in no wise will be entreated, delay he will none take, respet he will none giue, if I would giue him all the ryches of this worlde, no if all my louers and friends would fall vppon their knées and pray him for mée. No if I & they would wéepe (if it wer so possible) as many teares as there be in the seas droppes of water, no pietie may re­straine him. (Alas) when oportuni­tie of tyme was, I would not vse it well, which if I had done, it would nowe bée vnto mée more precyous then all the treasures of a Realme. For then my soule as nowe should haue béene cloathed wyth good wor­kes innumerable, the which shuld make mée not to be ashamed when I should come to the presence of my [Page] Lorde God, where now I shall ap­peare loaden with sinne myserably, to my confusion & shame. But (alas) to negligently haue I letted passe frō me my tyme not regardyng howe precious it was, ne yet howe muche spirituall riches I might haue gottē therein, if I would haue put my dili­gence and studie thervnto. For assu­redly no déede that is be it neuer so little, but it shall be rewarded of al­mightie God. One draught of water giuen for the loue of God, shal not be vnrewarded: And what is more easie to be giuen thē water. But not one­ly déedes, but also the least wordes and thoughtes shall be in likewise. O how many good thoughtes, déeds, and workes might one thinke, speak, and doe, in one day? But how many more in one whole yere. O (alas) my great negligence, O (alas) my foule blind­nesse, O (alas) my sinfull madnesse that knew this well, and would not put it in effectuall executiō. O if now all y e people of this world were pre­sent héere to sée & know the perillous condition that I am in, & howe I am [Page] preuented by the stroake of death, I would exhort to take me as an ex­ample to them all, & while they haue leasure and time to order their liues and caste from them slouth and idle­nesse, & to repent them of their mis­behauior towardes God, and to be­wayle their offences, to multiplye good workes, and to let no tyme passe by them vnfruitfully. For if it shall please my Lorde God that I might any longer liue, I would otherwyse exercise my self then I haue done be­fore. Now I wishe that I may haue time and space, but rightuously I am denyed. For when I might haue had it I would not well vse it: And ther­fore now when I would well vse it, I shall not haue it. O ye therefore that haue and may vse this precyous tyme in your libertie, imploy it wel, and be not to wastfull thereof, least peraduenture when you would haue it, it shall be denyed you likewise, as now it is to mée. But now I repent me full sore of my great negligence, and right much I sorow that so little I regarded the wealth & profit of my [Page] soule, but rather tooke héede to the vayne comfortes and pleasures of my wretched bodie. O corruptible bodie, O stinking carion, O rotten earth to whom I haue serued, whose appetites I haue followed, whose de­sire I haue procured, now doest thou appeare what thou arte in thy own likenesse. That brightnesse of thy eyes, that quicknesse in hearing, that lyuelinesse in thy other sences by na­turall warmenesse, thy swiftnesse and nimblenesse, thy fayrenesse and bewtie. All these thou hast not of thy self, they were but lent vnto thée for a season, euen as a wall of earth that is fayre painted without for a season with freshe and goodly colours, and also gylted with golde, it appea­reth goodly for the tyme to suche as consider no déeper then the outward crafte thereof. But when at the last the colour faileth, and the gilting fal­leth away, then appeareth it in hys owne lykenesse. For then the earth playnely sheweth it selfe. In lyke­wise my wretched bodie for the time of youth it appeareth fresh and lustie, [Page] and I was deceyued with the out­warde bewtie thereof, little consi­dering what naughtinesse was coue­red vnderneath: but now it shew­eth it selfe. Now my wretched bo­dye, thy bewtie is faded, thy fayre­nesse is gonne, thy lust, thy strength, thy lyuelinesse all is gonne, all is fayled: Nowe arte thou then retur­ned to thyne owne earthly coolour: Now arte thou blacke, colde, & hea­uie, lyke a lumpe of earth: Thy sight is darkened, thy hearyng is dulled, thy tongue flaltereth in thy mouth, and corruption issueth out of euery parte of thée: Corruption was thy beginnyng in the wombe of thy mo­ther, and corruption is thy continu­aunce. All thyng that euer thou re­ceyuest, were it neuer so precyous, thou turnest into corruption, and naught came from thée at any tyme but corruption, and now to corruptiō thy selfe returnest: altogyther ryght vile & lothly art y u becom, wher in ap­parāce before y u wast goodly, but y e good lines was nothīg els but as a paintīg or a gilting vppō an earthē wal, vnder [Page] it was couered with stinking & filthy matter. But I looked not so déepe, I contented my self with the outward painting, & in y t I tooke great plesure: For all my studie & care was aboute thée, either to apparel thée with some cloathes of diuers colours, eyther to satisfie thy desire in pleasaūt sightes, in delectable hearinges, in goodlye smelles, in sundrie maner of tastings & touchings, either els to get thée ease and rest aswel in sléepe as otherwise. And prouided therfore pleasaunt and delectable lodgings, and to eschue te­diousnesse in all these, not onely lod­gings but also in apparell, meates and drinkes procured many and dy­uers chaunges, that when thou wast weary of one, then mightest thou cō ­tēt thy self with some other. O (alas) this was my vaine and naughtie stu­die whervnto my wit was ready ap­plied, in those things I spent the most part of my dayes. And yet was I ne­uer content long, but murmuring or grudging euery hour for one thing or other. And what am I now y e better for all this? what reward may I loke [Page] for of all my long seruice? Or what great benifites shall I receiue for all my great studie, care, and diligence? Nothing better am I but muche the worse, much corruption and filth my soule thereby hath gathered, so that now it is made full horrible & lothe­ly to beholde. Rewarde get I none o­ther then punishment, either in Hell euerlasting, or at the least in Purga­torie, if I may so easily escape. The benifites of my labour are the great cares and sorowes which I now am wrapped in: May not I thinke my wit to haue ben well occupied in this lewde and vnfruitful buzinesse? haue not I wel bestowed my labour about this seruice of my wretched bodye? hath not my tyme bene well imploy­ [...] [...] miserable studies, wherof now no comfort remayneth, but one­ly sorow & repentance. (Alas) I heard full often that such as shuld be damp­ned, should gréeuouslye repent them selues, and take more displeasure of their misbehauior then euer they had pleasure before. And yet that repen­tance then should stande them in no [Page] stéede, where a full little repentance takē in tyme might haue eased them of all their paines. This I heard and read full often, but full little héede or regarde I gaue thervnto, I well per­ceyued it in my selfe, but all to late I dread me. I woulde that nowe by the example of me all other might be­ware, and avoyde by the gracious helpe of God these daungers that I now am in, and prepare them selues against the houre of death better thē I haue prepared me. (Alas) what a­uayleth mee nowe anye delicacie of meates and drinkes which my wret­ched bodie insaciabl [...] dyd deuoure? What auayleth my vanitie or pryde that I had in my selfe eyther of ap­parel or of any other thing [...] vnto me? what auayleth [...] and vncleane delightes and lustes of the stincking flesh, wherein was ap­pearance of much pleasure, but in ve­ry déede none other then the Sowe hath, waultering hir self in y e myerie puddle. Now these pleasures be gon my body is nothing better, my soule is much the worse, and nothyng re­mayneth [Page] but sorow and displeasure and y t a thousand fold more thē euer I had any pleasure before. O lewde bodie & naughtie which hast brought me to this vtter discomfort, O dyrtie corruption, O sachell full of dunge, now must I goe to make answere for thy lewdenesse, thy lewdenesse I say for it all commeth of thée. My soule had nothing néede of such things as was thy desire, what néede my soule that is immortall, eyther cloathyng or meate or drink? what néede it any corruptible gold or siluer? what néed it any houses or beddes, or any other things y t appertayneth to these. For thée O corruptible body which lyke a rotten wall dayly néedeth reprati­ [...]ns and botching vp with meate and drinke, and defence of cloathyng a­gainst colde and heate was all thys studie and diligence taken, and yet now wilte thou forsake mée at my most néede, when accompt and recko­ning of all our misdéedes must be gy­uen before the throne of the Iudge most terrible. Now thou wilt refuse me and leaue mée to the ieoperdie of [Page] all this matter. O (alas) many yeares of deliberation suffice not before so great a Iudge to make answer which shall examyne me of euerie idle word that euer passed my mouth. O then howe many idle wordes, how many euill thoughtes, howe many déedes haue I to make answere for, & such as we set but at lyght, full greatlye shall be weyed in the presence of hys most high maiestie. O (alas) what may I doe to get some helpe at thys most daungerous houre? Wher may I séeke for succour? Where may I resorte for any comforte? My body forsaketh me, my pleasures be vany­shed away as the smoke, my goods will not goe wyth mée. All these worldly things I must leaue behinde mée: if any comforte shall be, either it muste bee in the prayers of my friendes, or in myne own good déeds that I haue done before. But as for my good déedes that shoulde be auayleable in the sight of God: (alas) they bée fewe or none that I can thynke to bee auayleable, they must bee donne pryncipallye and purely [Page] for his loue. But my déedes when of their kynde they were good, yet did I linger them by my folly. For eyther I did them for the pleasure of men, or to auoyde the shame of the world, or els for my owne affection, or els for dreade of punishment. So that seldome I dyd any good déed in that puritie and streaightnesse that it ought of ryght to haue bene done. And my misdéedes, my lewde déedes that be shamefull and abhominable be without number, not one day of all my lyfe, no not one houre I trow was so truely expended to the plea­sure of God, but many déeds, words, and thoughtes, miscaped me in my lyfe. (Alas) little trust then may I haue vppon my déedes. And as for the prayers of my friendes suche as I shall leaue behynde mée, of them manye peraduenture bée in the same néede that I am in. So that where theyr owne prayers myght profytte them selues, they can not so profitte an other. And many of them will bee full neglygente, and some forgetfull of mée. And [Page] no meruaile, for who shoulde haue béene more friendly vnto mée then myne owne selfe. Therefore I that was most bounden to haue done for my selfe, forget my owne weale in my lyfe tyme, no meruaile therefore if other doo forget me after my depar­ting hence. Other friendes there be by whose prayers soules may be hol­pen, as by the blessed and holy saincts aboue in heauen, which verely will be myndfulll of such as in earth here haue deuoutly honored them before. But (alas) I had special deuotion but to a fewe, & yet them I haue so faint­ly honored, and to them so coldly su­ed for fauour, that I am ashamed to aske ayde or helpe of them. At thys tyme in déede, I had more effectually ment to haue honored them, & more diligently to haue commended my wretched soule vnto their prayers, and so to haue made them my special friendes: but nowe death hath pre­uented me so, that no other hope re­mayneth but onely in the mercye of my Lord God, to whose mercy I doe now offer my self, beséeching him not [Page] to looke vppon my desertes, but vppō his infinite goodnesse and abundaunt pietie. (Alas) my dutie had bene much better to haue remembred this terri­ble houre, I should haue had this daū ­ger euer before my eyes, I shoulde haue prouided therefore, so that now I might haue bene in a more ready­nesse against the comming of death, which I knew assuredly would come at the last, albeit I knew not when, where, or by what maner, but well I knewe euery houre and moment, was to him indifferent, and in his li­bertie. And yet my madnesse euer to be sorowed. Notwithstanding thys vncertaintie of his comming, and the vncertaintie of the tyme thereof, I made no certayne nor sure prouision against this houre. Full often I tooke great studie and care to prouyde for litle daūgers, only bicause I thought they might hap, and yet happed they neuer a deale. And but tryfles they were in comparisō of this, how much rather should I haue taken study and care for this so great a daūger which I knew wel must necessarily fall vn­to [Page] mée once. For thys can not be es­chued in no wyse, and vppon thys I ought to haue made good prouision: For in this hangeth all our wealth, for if a man dye well, he shall after his death nothing want y t he would desire, but his appetite shall be sa­ciate in euerie poynte at the full. And if he dye amisse, no prouysion shall auayle him that euer he made before. This prouision therefore is most effectually to bée studied, sithens this alone may profit without other, and without thys none can auayle. O yée that haue tyme and space to make your prouisiō agaynst the houre of death, defarre not from day to day lyke as I haue done. For I often did thinke and purpose with my self that at some leasure I would haue prouided, neuerthelesse for euery try­felous buzinesse I put it aside, and delayed thys prouysion alway to an other tyme, and promysed with my selfe that at suche a tyme I would not fayle but doe it, but when that came an other buzinesse arose, [Page] and so I deferred it agayne vnto an other tyme. And so (alas) from time to tyme, that now death in the mean tyme hath preuented mée, my pur­pose was good, but it lacked executi­on: My will was strayghte, but it was not effectuall, my mynde well intended, but no fruite came therof. All for bicause I delayed so often and neuer put it in effect, that, that I had purposed. And therefore de­lay it not as I haue done, but before all other buzinesse put this first in suertie, which oughte to bée chiéefe and princypall buzinesse. Neyther buildyng of Colleges, nor makyng of Sermons, nor giuing of almes, neyther yet anye other manner of buzynesse shall helpe you without this.

Therefore first and before all things prepare for thys, delaye not in a­ny wyse, for if you doe, you shall be deceyued as I am now. I read of manye, I haue hearde of manye, I haue knowne many that were disap­poynted as I am nowe. And euer I thought and sayde, & intended, that [Page] I would make sure and not be decei­ued by the sodayn comming of death. Yet neuerthelesse I am now decey­ued, and am taken sléeping, vnprepa­red, and that when I least wéened of his comming, and euen when I rec­koned my selfe to be in most healthe, and when I was most buzie, and in the middest of my matters. Therfore delaye not you any farther, nor put your trust ouer much in your friends: Trust your selfe while ye haue space and libertie, and doe for your self now while you may. I would aduyse you to doe that thing that I by the grace of my Lord God would put in execu­tion if his pleasure were to sende me longer lyfe. Recounte your selfe as dead, & thinke that your soules were in pryson of Purgatorie, & that there they must abyde till that the Raun­som for them be truly payde, eyther by long sufferance of payne there, or els by suffrages done héere in earth by some of your speciall friendes. Be y [...]u your owne friend, doe you these suffrages for your owne soule, whe­ther they be praiers or almes déedes, [Page] or any other penitentiall payneful­nesse. If you will not effectually and hartely doe these thinges for your own soule, looke you neuer that other will doe them for you, and in dooyng them in your own persons, they shal be more auayleable to you a thousād folde then if they were done by any other: If you followe this counsayle and doe thereafter, you be graci­ous and blessed, and if you doe not, you shall doubtlesse repent your follyes, but to late.

¶The wayes to perfcet Religion made by Iohn Fyssher, Byshop of Rochester, being Prysoner in the Tower of London.

SIster Elizabeth glad­lye I would wryte vnto you some thing that myght be to the health of your soule and furtheraunce of it in holye Relygion. But well I knowe that without some feruor in the loue of Christ, Relygion can not bée to you sauerie, nor anye worke of goodnesse can bée delectable, but euerie vertuous déede shall séeme laboryous and paynefull. For loue maketh euerie worke appeare easie and pleasaunt, though it bée ryghte displeasaunt of if selfe. And contra­riwyse ryght easie labour appeareth gréeuous and paynefull, when the soule of the person that doeth the déede, hath no desyre ne loue in do­ing of it. This thing may wel appear by the lyfe of hunters, y e which out of doubt is more laborious and painfull [Page] then is the lyfe of relygious persons, and yet nothing sustayneth them in theyr labour and paynes, but the ear­nest loue and hartie desire to fynde theyr game. Regard no lesse my wri­ting, good sister, though to my purpose I vse the example of hunters, for all true christian soules be called Hun­ters, and their office and duetie is to séeke and hunt for to fynde Christ Ie­su. And therefore scripture in ma­ny places exhorteth vs to séeke after him, & assureth that he will be found of them that dyligently séeke after him. Inuenietur ab hijs qui querunt eum. That is to say, he will be founde of them that séeke hym, well happy are all those that can fynde him, or can haue any sent of him in this life here. For that sent (as Saint Paule saith) is the sent of the verie lyfe. And the deuout soules where they féele thys sent, they runne after hym a pace. Curremus in odorem vnguentorum tuorū. That is to say, we shall runne after the sent of thy swéete oyntmentes. Séeyng then all deuoute soules maye bée called Hunters, I will [Page] farther prosecute y e comparysō made before betwéene the lyfe of y e Hun­ters and the lyfe of the relygious persons after this maner.

A comparison betvveene the lyfe of Hun­ters, and the lyfe of religious persons.

WHat lyfe is more paynefull and laborious of it self then is the life of Hunters which most early in the mornyng breake their sléepe and ryse when o­ther doe take their rest and ease, and in his labour he may vse no playne high wayes and the softe grasse, but he must treade vppon the fallowes, runne ouer the hedges, & créepe tho­rowe the thicke bushes, and crye all the long day vppon his dogges, and so continue without meate or drinke vntill y e verie night dryue him home, these labours be vnto him pleasaunt and ioyous, for the desire & loue that he hath to sée the poore Hare chased with dogges. Uerely, verely, if hée were compelled to take vppon hym [Page] such labours, and not for thys cause he would soone be wearie of thē, thin­king them full tedious vnto him: nei­ther would he ryse out of his bed so soone, ne faste so longe, ne endure these other labours vnlesse he had a verie loue therin For the earnest de­sire of his mynd is so fixed vppon his game, that all these payns be thought to him but verie pleasures▪ And ther­fore I may well say that loue is the principall thyng that maketh anye worke easie, though the worke bée right painfull of it selfe, & that with­out loue no labour can be comforta­ble to y e dooer. The loue of this game deliteth him so muche that he careth for no worldlye honour, but is con­tent with full simple and homely a­ray. Also the goodes of the world hée séeketh not for, nor studieth howe to attayne them. For the loue and de­sire of his game so greatly occupyeth his mynde and harte. The pleasures also of his flesh he forgetteth by wea­rinesse and wasting of hys bodie in earnest labour. All his mynde, all his soule, is buzied to knowe where the [Page] poore Hare may be founde. Of that is his thought, and of that is his com­munication, and all his delight is to heare and speake of that matter, eue­rie other matter but this, is tedious for him to giue eare vnto, in all other things he is dull and vnlustie, in this onely quicke and sturryng, for thys also to be done, there is no office so humble, ne so vyle, that he refuseth not to serue hys owne dogges hym selfe, to bathe theyr féete, and to an­noynte them where they be sore, yea and to clense their stinkyng Cannell where they shall lye and rest them. Surely if religious persōs had so ear­nest a mynde and desire to the seruice of Christ, as haue these Hunters to sée a corse at a Hare, their lyfe should be vnto them a verie ioye and plea­sure. For what other be the paynes of religiō but these y t I haue spokē of. That is to say, much fasting, crying, and comming to y e quire, forsakyng of worldly honours, worldly riches, and fleshly pleasures, and communication of the world, humble seruice, & obedy­ence to his soueraigne, & charytable [Page] dealyng to his sister, which payns in euerie pointe, the Hunter taketh and sustayneth more largely for the loue that he hath to his game, then doeth many religious persons for the loue of Christ. For albeit, the relygious person ryseth at mydnight, which is painefull to hyr in verie déede, yet shée went before that to hyr bedde at a conuenyent houre, and also com­meth after to hyr bedde agayne. But the Hunter ryseth early, and so conti­nueth foorth all the long day, no more returning to his bed vntill the verie night, and yet peraduenture he was late vp the night before, and full oftē vp all the long nightes. And though the religious woman fall vntill it be noone, the which must be to hir payn­full, the Hūter yet taketh more payn which fasteth vntill the verye night, forgetting both meate and drink for the pleasure of his game. The religi­ous woman singeth all y e forenoone in the quier, and y t also is laborious vnto hir, but yet y e hunter singeth not, but he cryeth, halloweth, & shooteh all the long day, & hath more greater pains. [Page] The religious woman taketh much labour in comming to the quyer and sitting there so long a season, but yet no doubt of it more labour taketh the Hunter in running ouer the fallow and leaping ouer y e hedges, & créeping thorow the bushes then that can bée. And would to God y t in other thyngs that is to say, touching worldly ho­nours, worldly ryches, worldly plea­sures, would to God that the relygi­ous persōs many of them might pro­fite as much in myndfulnesse in sée­king of Christ, as the Hunter doeth in séeking of his game, & yet all theyr comforte were to common and speak of Christ, as the Hunters hath all their ioye to speake of the poore Hare, and of their huntyng. And further­more, would to God y e religious per­sons would content them selues with the humble seruice done to their so­ueraigne, and with charitable beha­uiour vnto their sisters, and with as good a harte and mynde as the Hun­ters acquit thē to serue their heūds. I wisse it is a thing much more rea­sonable to loue and serue reasonable [Page] creatures made to the Image of al­mightie God, rather then to loue and serue dogges which be vnreasonable creatures. And rather our dutie were to speake of Christ, and of things be­longing to his honour, then of the vaine worldly matters which be but very trifles in déede. And also wyth more attentyue mynde we shoulde séeke after our sauiour Christ Iesu, to knowe our very comforte in him, wherein resteth the great merite of our soules. Then the Hunters should séeke after the Hare, which whē they haue gottē, they haue no great gaines thereby. But as I sayde the cause why that so many religious persons so diligently pursue not the wayes of religion as doe the hunters, is the want of y e obseruation of their game which is nothing els but the lack of loue. For verely as I thinke the ear­nest loue and hartie desire of game maketh all labours and paynes plea­saunte and ioyous vnto the Hunter. And if there were in religious per­sons as great fauour and loue to the seruice of God, as be in Hunters to [Page] their game all their lyfe should bée a verie Paradise and heauenly ioye in this worlde. And contrariwise with­out this feruor of loue it can not bée but painfull, wearie, and tedious to them. My purpose therefore deare si­ster is to minister vnto you some cō ­mon considerations which if you wil often resorte vnto by due remem­braunce, & so by diligent prayer call vppon almightie God for hys loue, you shall now by his grace attain it.

The first consideration.

THe first consideration may be this: First consider by your owne mynde and reason, that almightie God of his owne singular goodnesse & frée will dyd create you and make you of naught, whervnto he was not bounde by any necessitie, nor drawen by any commoditie that might ryse vppon him by your crea­tion. No other thing moued him but his verie goodnesse and speciall fauor y t he bare vnto you, long or euer he did make you. This good sister take for a very truth & firmly beleue it, for so it [Page] is in verye déede innumerable crea­tures more then euer were made or euer shall be made, hee myght haue made if it had bene so pleasing vnto him. For how many suppose you ma­ryed men and maryed weomen haue bene and shall be héereafter in thys world, that neuer had ne neuer shall haue any children, yet they full glad­ly would haue had, and by possibilitie of nature might haue had many, if it had so pleased almightie God to haue made and to haue giuen vnto them children. But all those be lefte vn­made, and amongest them he myght haue lefte you also vnmade, and ne­uer haue put his hande to the making of you, if he had so would. Neuerthe­lesse as I sayde it pleased his goodnes herein to prefer you of his special fa­uour y t he bear vnto you, leauing vn­made other moe innumerable, elec­ting you, & appointing you to be made refusing & setting apart all thē which wold peraduēture haue cōsidered his speciall grace & fauour more louingly thē you hitherto haue don. And wold haue studied more for his plesure and [Page] seruice then euer you did, and you oc­cupie the roome and place that some of them might haue occupyed by lyke fauour, as almightie God hath shew­ed vnto you. Ah deare sister howe much should this one consideration moue you to the earnest loue of thys our so gracyous a Lorde, that thus hath appoynted and chosen you to bée his creature, before so many other where hée might haue, taken any of them at his pleasure, & repelled you, and left you as naught, without any maner of being.

The second consideration.

THe second consideration is this, where there is manye maner of beings, some crea­tures haue a goodly béeyng, some haue an vngoodly being. It is a more goodly beinge Margarite of a precious stone, then of a peble stone, of the fayre bright golde, then of ru­stie yron, of a goodly Fesaund then of a venemous Serpent, of a prettie Faune then of a foule Toade, of a [Page] reasonable soule, then of an vnreaso­nable beast. And it is not to be doub­ted but almightie God might haue giuen to any of them, what being so euer he woulde, & might haue trans­formed eche of those into the nature and kynde of any of the other at hys pleasure and will. For of the stones he might make men, as in the gospel our sauiour doeth affyrme, potens est deus de lapidibus istis suscitare filios Abra­he. Almightie God is of power to make of these stones the children of Abraham. And contrariwise he might of men haue made stones as the wife of Loth was turned into a salt stone. And in likewise me or you or any o­ther man or woman, he might haue made a stone, or a Serpēt, or a Toad, for his pleasure. There is no creature so foule, so horrible, or so vngoodlie, but he might put you in the same cō ­dition that the most loathly of them be put in, and them, in contrariwise he might haue put in the same condi­tion that you be in. Consider now by your reasō, that if you had bene made in the lykenesse of an Owle, or of an [Page] Ape, or of a Toade, howe deformed you shoulde haue bene, and in howe wretched & myserable condition. And thank your Lord God y t hath giuē you a more excelēt nature, yea, such a na­ture as excelleth in noblenesse, in dig­nitie, all other bodilie natures: For it is made to the verie lykenesse and I­mage of almightie God: wherevnto none other bodily creature doth reach néere. Metalles ne stones be they ne­uer so precious, neyther herbes nor Trées, neither Fysshes, ne foules, neyther any maner of beast be they neuer so noble in their kinde, doeth attayne to this high poynte of noble­nesse to haue in them the Image and lykenesse of almightie God, but one­ly man. For as much thē as our lord God, might haue giuen this excelent dignitie to other innumerable crea­tures, as to beastes, to Foules, to fi­shes, to trées, to herbes, to mettalles, to stones. And hathe not so done but before all those hath elected and cho­sen you to beare hys Image & lyke­nesse, & to bée indued w t a reasonable soul, how much shuld his louing dea­ling [Page] moue you to enfore your selfe w t all y e strength and power of your harte & mynde, to loue him therfore agayne.

The third consideration.

THe third cōsideration is this, that where notwithstanding this great and excelent gyft you neuerthelesse by the reason of o­riginall sinne wherewith you were born of your mother into this world, had lost the great inheritaūce aboue in heauen, and purchased euerlasting imprisonment in hell, he of his great and singular goodnesse had prouyded you to be borne within the precinctes of Christendeome, where you haue bene instructed in the doctrine of hys fayth, and receyued the holy Sacra­ment of baptisme, and haue béene made a christian woman, whereby you dyd receyue againe your inhery­taunce before lost, and haue etcaped y t most horrible daūger of euerlasting dampnation. Howe manye sup­pose you in all the worlde that bée not instructed in this lawe and fayth [Page] of Christ, ne haue not receyued the holy Sacrament of Baptisme, both noble men & women, both Knightes and Princes, which haue great wis­dome and reason, and many suche as peraduenture if they were taught it, woulde more readilye applye their myndes to Christes fayth then you doe, and more hartily serue him, ho­nour and loue hym, thē euer you did. And yet loe thus graciously hath hée prouyded for you before all them, and hath appointed you to be a Christian woman, & to be partaker of all those graces and benifites that belong vn­to the christian people, which bée so many and so great, that it passeth the wittes of men, not onely to number, but also to think? And héere good sister doe déepely consider in your soule, howe much this louing preferment of our Lorde God should sturre you to loue him agayn, when he suffereth so innumerable a multitude of men and women to perishe & to be lost for euer, amongest whom many do passe you in all naturall vertues, both of bodie and soule, and also would far­farther [Page] passe you in profiting in the lawe of Christ, if they were receyued therevnto, and yet I say he suffereth them to perish euerlastingly and per­petuallie to be dampned to: And for your safegarde hath prouided of hys singular goodnesse & mercy towardes you, for the whiche sithens it is not possible of your parte to recompence, whie shall you not with all your po­wer enforce your selfe to loue hys most gracious goodnesse againe, and after your possibilitie to gyue vnto him most humble thankes therfore.

The fourth Consideration.

THe fourth cōsideration is this, that where sithens that tyme of your baptisme and that you were made a christian woman, you haue many tymes vnkindely faulne into deadly sinne, and broken hys lawes and commaundemēts, setting at naught all these benifites which he before had giuē to you following your wretched pleasures, to the great dys­pleasure and contempt of his moste [Page] highe maiestie. And yet he further­more did not strike you, ne yet reuēge him selfe vppon you rigoriously, pu­nishing the transgressors & breakers of his lawe, as he might and shoulde by his rightuousnesse haue done. But contrariwyse he did long spare you by his excelēt mercy, and mercifully he did abyde your returne to hym a­gaine by sorowfull repentaunce, and askyng of him mercy for your abho­minable offences. And where you so dyd with good hartie mynde at anye tyme, he receyued you to his grace, and by the Sacrament of pennaunce you were takē into his fauour again, and so yet escape the horrible paynes of Hell due for your outragious vn­kindnesse: No reason may iudge the cōtrarie but y t you of good ryght haue deserued them for your foule presūp­tion, in breaking of y e lawes of your Lord God: and preferring your wret­ched appetites before hys pleasure, and following your owne wilfull de­sires before his most high commaun­dements. (Alas) what miserable cō ­dition should you now haue bene in, if he so incōtinent after your offēces had strikē you by death, & had sēt you [Page] to y e horrible payns of hell, where you shuld not onely for a time haue biddē but for euer, & w tout all remedy. No praiers of your frinds, no alms déeds, ne such other good works shuld haue releued you. Ah, sister imprint déepely in your soule this inestimable mercy of your Lorde God shewed vnto you through his most gracious & merciful abidīg for your return to him by true repētāce & asking of his mercy. For inumerable soules of men & weomen for lesse offēces then you haue done, lye now in y e prisō of hel, & shal there cōtinu w tout end: which if they might haue had as great sufferance as you haue had, & so long leasure to repent them, they woulde haue taken more sorowfull repentance then euer you tooke, & doe now more sorowfully re­pent them thē euer you did, but y t as now cā not profit thē, for y t sorow & repētāce is now to late. But to my pur­pose, how may you thīk y t this louing sufferāce & gracious abidīg of your a­mēdmēt & merciful accepting of your sorows & repētāce, for your great sins cōmeth not of a singular loue shewed vnto you by your lord god, before all them. [Page] And shall not this cōsideration pearce your harte, and moue you muche to loue him againe.

The fifth consideration.

THe fifth consideration is this: Peraduenture after that thus by your repentance & askyng mercy, you were taken to this grace of your God, yet far more gréeuously, and farre more vnkindly you fell a­gaine to sinnne, and kepte not y e pur­pose and promyse that before you did make, but more without shame and dread of hys hyghnesse, tooke your li­bertie in your sinfull wayes, abusing his gentlenes, & presuming vppō hys mercie, not regarding any benifite or kindenesse shewed by his most exce­lent goodnesse vnto you before, so de­filing your soule by innumerable wayes, and makyng it filthie & more vngoodly then is the Sowe that wal­tereth hir self in the foule myrie pud­dle, and more pestilently stinketh in the sight of God, then is the stinking carion of a dead dogge, being rotten [Page] and lying in a ditch, yet neuertheles for all these misbehauiors, your Lord God of his farre passing goodnes hath called you agayne from your sinfull life, and hath graciously stirred your soule to forsake your sin, & to leue this wretched worlde, & to enter the holy relygion. Wherby after the sentence of holy doctors, your soule is made as cleane as it was at your baptisme, and restored agayne to the puritie and cleanenesse of your first innocen­cie: And not onely that, but also hée hath appointed you to be of the num­ber of them, that be assigned for hys best beloued spouses. And what hygh point of singular fauour is this? How many weomen farre better then you, be lefte behinde in this worlde not called to this high dignitie, nor ad­mitted to thys most speciall grace? When the noble Kinge Asuerus as it is written in the scripture com­maunded many fayre yong maydens to be chosen out, and to be séene vnto with all things y t might make them fayr [...] and beautifull and pleasaunt to his sight, to the intent that they at [Page] all tymes when it should like him to appoynte any of them to come to his presence and to be his spouse, they might be y e more readie. This thing no doubt of it, was to them y t were thus chosē a comfort, that they were preferred before other, and also eue­rie one of them might lyue in hope to come to y e kings presēce, & haue some likelihood to be accepted for his spouse in so much y t all other but they were excluded. In like maner it is with re­ligious women. All they by the gra­cious calling of the great king of he­uen be gathered into Gods religion and disseuered from thother seculer women that be of the world, there a season to abide, vntill they be suffi­ciently prepared by the holy sacra­ments, and the holy obseruacions of religiō to come to his gracious high­nesse presence, and to be brought in­to his secret chamber aboue in hea­uen, there to abide with him in end­les ioy and blisse. Blessed is that re­ligious woman, that so doth prepare her selfe for this litle time that héere she shal tarry by prayer, by medita­tion [Page] by contemplatiō by teares of de­vocion, by harty loue & burning de­syre y t after this transitory life she may be admitted to the most excellēt honor & not with shame & rebuke be repelled therfro, whē y e day shal com.

The sixt consideration.

THe sixt consideration that you call wel to your remembrāce, who it is y t doth thus exhorte you for to loue, verely he is y e person that if eyther you wil fréely giue your loue, or els sell your loue, he is most worthie to haue it aboue all other. First if ye were of that mynd to giue your loue frée, it were good yet there to bestow it, that you shoulde choose suche a one, as both in goodlinesse of person, as also in prowesse & wisdom and good gentil maners may be wor­thie your loue. For if there be any de­formitie in him whō you would loue, it is an impediment and great let for to loue hym: But in our sauiour Christ the sonne of God is no defor­mitie, for hee is all goodlye and sur­mounteth all other in goodlynesse: And therefore of hym the Prophet [Page] Dauid affyrmeth in thys maner. Speciosus forma pre filijs hominum: that is to say, he is goodly before the chyl­dren of men. And of truth much good­lie must he néedes be that hath made so many goodly creatures. Behold the Rose, the Lillie, the Uyolet, beholde the Pecockes, the Feasaunt, the Po­pingaye: Behold all the other crea­tures of this world: All these were of his making, all there beautie and goodlinesse of hym they receyued it. Wherfore this goodlinesse discribeth that he him self must néedes of neces­sitie be verie goodly & beautifull. And for that in the booke of Canticles the Spouse discribeth his goodlinesse say­ing: Dilectus meus candidus et rubicūdus, electus ex millibus. That is to saye, hée that I loue is whyte and redde, cho­sen out amōgest thousands. And this beautie and goodlines is not mortal, it can not fade ne perish as doeth the goodlinesse of other men, which lyke a flower to day is fresh and lustie, and to morrowe with a little sicknesse is withered and vanisheth away. And yet it is sensible to the goodlinesse of [Page] mans nature, for the which also he is more naturallie to bée beloued of many. For lykenesse is the grounde of loue, lyke alway doeth couet like: and the néerer in lykenesse that any person bée, the sooner they may bée knit togither in loue. The same lyke­nes he hath & you haue, like body and lyke soule, touching his māhood, your soule is also like vnto him in his god­head: For after y e Image & similitude of it, your soule is made. Furthermore of his might and power you may bée likewise a certayne season. He made this world by the onely commaunde­ment of his mouth, and gaue to the herbes and all other creatures their vertue, & might that they haue. And may also by his power saue & dampne creatures eyther to lifte them vp in bodie and soule into heauen aboue, or els to throw them downe into e­uer during payns of hell. If ye doubt of his wisdom behold all this world, and cōsider how euery creature is set with an other, and euery of them by him selfe, how the heauens are appa­relled with starres, the ayre with [Page] Foules, y e water with Fishes, y e earth with herbes, trées & beastes, how the starres be clad with light, the Foules with feathers, y e fish with scales, the beastes w t heare, herbes & trées with leaues, and flower with sent, wherin doth wel appear a great & merueilous wisdō of him y t made thē. Finally his good & gentil maner is all full of plea­sure & cōfort so kinde, so friendly, so liberall & beneficious, so pittious and mercifull, so readie in all oportuni­ties, so mindfull & circumspect, so dul­cet & swéet in communicatiō. For as scripture saith. Non licet amaritudinem conuersatio vel tedium cōuetas illius, Sed le­titiam et gaudeum. That is to say, hys maners be so swéet & pleasaūt, y t the cōuersaciō of him hath no bitternes, yea, his cōpany hath no loathsomnes, ne wearines in it, but all gladnes and ioye. Here peraduenture you wil say vnto me, how may I loue y t I sée not, if I might sée him with all y e cōditiōs ye speak of, I could w t al my hart loue him. Ah good sister y t time is not come yet, you must as I said now for y e time prepare your self in cleannesse of bo­die [Page] and soule, against y e tyme, so that when that tyme commeth, you may be able and worthie to sée him, or els you shall be excluded from him with the vnwise virgins of whom y e gospel telleth y t they were shut out from his presence with great shame & cōfusiō, bicause they had not suffitiently pre­pared thēselues. Therfore good sister for this time be not negligent to pre­pare your selfe with all good workes, that thē you may be admitted to com vnto his presence, from y e which to be excluded, it shall be a more gréeuous payne, thē any paine of hell. For as Chrisostome sayth. Si decem mille gehē ­nas quis duerit nihil tale est quale ab illa beata visione exadere, that is to saye, if [...]ne would rehearse vnto mée tenne thousand hels, yet all y t should not be so great paines as it is to be excluded from the blessed sighte of the face of Christ.

The seuenth consideration.

THe seuēth cōsideratiō is this: wher now it appeareth vnto you, that if you will giue your loue fréelie there is non so worthy to haue it as Iesu y e [Page] sonne of the virgin Mary. I will fur­ther shewe vnto you that if you will not fréely giue it, but you will looke peraduenture to haue some thing a­gayne, yet there is none so well wor­thie to haue it as he is, for if an other will giue more for it then he, I will not be agaynst it, take your aduan­tage. But sure I am there is none o­ther to whome your loue is so deare, and of so greate price as it is vnto him, nor any that will come nigh vn­to that, y t he hath giuen or wil giue. If his benifits and kyndnesse shewed towardes you, wherof I speak some­what before, were by you well pon­dered, they be no small benifites, and especially y e loue of so great a prince, and that he would thus loue you, an [...] preferre you before so many innume­rable creatures of his, and that when there was in you no loue, and when you could not skill of loue: yea, and that, that more is, when you were e­nimie vnto him yet he loued you, and so wonderfully that for your loue and to washe you from sin, and to deliuer your soule from the extreame perrill [Page] he shead his most precious bloud, an [...] suffered the most shamefull, the most cruel, and the most painefull death of the crosse, his head to be perced with thornes, his handes and féete to bée thorough holed with nayles, his side to be launced with a speare, and all his most tender bodie to be torne and rent with whippes & scourges. Be­léeue this for a very truth good sister, that for your sake he suffered all, as if there had bene no moe in all the world but onely your selfe, which I will declare more largely vnto you in the next consideration following. Beléeue it in the meane tyme cer­tainely, for so it is in déede, and if you belieue it not, you doe a great iniurie and shewe a full vnkindenesse vnto him that thus muche hath done for you. And if this beliefe truly settle in your harte, it is to me a meruaile if you can content your heart without the loue of him, of him I say, y t thus déerely hath loued you, and doeth loue you still. For what other louer will [...]e thus much for your loue? What creature in all the world will die for [Page] [...]our sake? what one person wil de­part with one drop of his hart bloud for your sake? whē thē the son of God, the prince of heauē, y e Lord of Angels hath done this for your sake, which thing no other creature wil do, what frost could haue vngeled your harte, that it may not relēt against so great an heat of loue? if he so excelēt in all noblenesse should haue giuen you but one fauourable countenance from the heauens aboue, it had bene a more precious benifit then euer you could recompence by your loue againe. It were impossible for your loue to re­compence that one thing. But nowe much rather when he hath descended into this wretched worlde for your sake, and here hath become man, and hath endured all miserie pertaining vnto man, saue onely sinne and igno­raunce, and finally hath suffered this great horrible death for your loue, how shall you euer now recompence this by any loue or seruice to be done for your pittie? And he hath not onely don al this for your sake, but also hath prepared for you after this transitory [Page] lyfe a rewarde aboue in heauen, so great that neuer mortal eye saw the lyke, nor any tonge can expresse, nor yet any hart can think. Ah sister whē your wretched soule shall hence de­parte, which can not be verie longe héere, who shall giue you refreshing the space of one hour. Good therfore it is that you looke vnto your selfe, & vp­pon him bestow your loue, y t which hi­therto hath done most for you, & best hath deserued it beyond all other, and yet after this life he wil giue for it a rewarde so inestimable that it shall neuer fayle you.

The eight consideration.

THe eight cōsideration is this: y t albeit, there are many other which also are beloued of christ Iesu, yet y e loue y t he sheweth to them, nothing minisheth his loue towards you, as if there were no moe beloued of him in all y e kinde of mā. This may euidently be shewed vnto you by this exāple folowing. If before any Image of our sauior were disposed & set in a [Page] long rowe many glasses, some great and some litlle, some high and some lowe, a conuenient distance from the Image, so that euerie of them myght receiue a presentmēt of the Image, it is no doubt but in euerie of these glasses should appeare the verie like­nesse of the same Image I will not say but this lykenesse should be lon­ger in the great glasses then in the lesse, and clearer in the better clensed glasses, and in them that were nigh vnto the Image, then in the other that were not so well clensed, & much farther of. But as to the likenesse it selfe it shall be as full and as whole in euerie one glasse as though there were but one. Now to my purpose, if you consider lykewise that all y e good soules that be scourged from deadly sinne, be in the maner of glasses set in an order to receiue the loue of our sauiour Christ Iesu. Such soules as by true pennaunce doing, by sighing, by wéeping, by praying, by watching by fasting, & by other lyke, be y e better scoured and clensed from the spottes and mallice of deadly sinne, they bée [Page] the brighter glasses and more cléerly receyue this loue, & such also be néere vnto our Sauior, for nothing putteth vs farre from him but onely sinne. And therefore they that haue more diligently scoured their soules from the rust of sinne, be néerer vnto him, then the other that so haue not done. Such soules also as of their parte en­force them selues to a great loue and to a more ample feruor, they doe in­large the capacitie of their soules, to receyue a more large abundaunce of loue agayne, those that lesse enforce them, haue a lesse capacitie in recey­uing, and therfore so much the lesse they receyue of this loue. Euen as a man that openeth his bosome wyde and enlargeth it, is more able to re­ceiue a greater thing into it, then hée that doeth not. But yet as I haue sayde before of the glasses, euery one of the soules receyue as full and as whole a loue of Iesu Christ, as though there were no moe soules in all the world but that one alone, for the loue of Christ Iesus infinite. And therfore whē innumerable of soules [Page] haue euerie one of them receyued as much the loue of Christ Iesu, as to euerie one of them is possible, yet hath he still in him self loue suffitiēt for infinite moe, & this his loue ther­by is not in any point diminished nor lessened, though it be deuided vnto many be y e number of them neuer so great. None of them y t be beloued re­ceiue y e lesse bicause of the multitude of his fellowes, nor if he had no moe but him selfe he shoulde not thereby haue any more abundance of loue to his parte, but according to the clēsing and capacitie of his soule & nighnesse vnto Christ, his parte in loue shall be the lesse or more. Wherefore good sister I pray you bée you dylygent to scoure your soule cleane, and to en­force your soule on your parte fer­uently to loue your spouse Christ Ie­su, and drawe nygh vnto hym with entiere deuotion, & then vndoubtedly you shall be partener to y e more plen­tuous aboundaunce of his loue, not­w tstāding any other multitude which beside is beloued of him, for he neuer­thelesse is as studious of you, and as [Page] mindfull, & as feruēly careth for your weale, as though ther wer no mo be­loued of him but you alone in all thys world.

The ninth Consideration.

THe ninth cōsideratiō is this, wher peraduenture you would obiect to me again & say, Brother if it bée thus as you say, that my Lord Iesu loueth me so much, and is so mindfull of me, and so feruently entēdeth my weale, what néede me to care whatsoeuer I doe, he will not cast me away, he wil not forsake me nor suffer mée to pe­rish. Good sister without doubt as I haue said, our sauior Christ Iesu is in loue towards you, & he is myndfull & more louing towards you then I can expresse. And sure you may be, y t hée will neuer cast you away, ne forsake you, if you before cast not your selfe away, ne forsake your selfe. But if you giue any place to sinne in your soule, and suffer it to enter vpon you, verely then you forsake your self and cast your selfe awaye, and willing­lie destroye your selfe, that is your déede & not hys: for he neuer forsaketh [Page] any creature vnlesse they before haue forsakē them selues. And if they will forsake them selues were they ne­uer in so great fauour with hym be­fore, they then incontinently lose his fauour, the which thing well appea­reth in his first spirituall creatures the noble Angelles Lucifer and hys comp [...]nie, which were created in ex­celent brightnesse, and were muche in the fauour of almightie God, they presumptuously offēded him in pride for the which not onely, they lost hys fauour, but also their merueylous brightnesse became incōtinently hor­rible, foule, and were expelled out of the glorious kingdom of heauen that they were in, and throwen into per­petuall darkenesse into the pryson of hell. The first man Adam also who was created in singular honour, and was put into Paradise a place full of gladnesse, there to liue in comfort of all pleasure, the which was done to him for a singular loue y t almightie God had towardes him, yet anon as h [...] fell to sinne he was in lyke maner expelled out from that pleasure, and [Page] sent into this miserable world to en­dure miserie and payne. If those no­ble creatures which were lift vp into so great fauour with almightie God, so lightly by their misdemeanor in sin, lost his gracious fauour, let none other creature thinke but if they ad­mit any sinne to their soule, they shal be likewyse excluded out of his fauor. For sinne is so odible vnto almightie God, that not the dearest friends that euer he had in all the worlde, but if there were founde in their soules a­ny deadly sin after death, they should neuer be receiued into the ioy of hea­uen. Not the blessed Mary Magdalen for all hir loue towardes him, nor yet his owne blessed mother that bare him into this world, if one deadly sin were foūd in their soules, they shuld incontinent be throwen into y e darke dungeon of hell. Wherfore good sister say not, if his loue be so muche vppon you, and he so desirouslie entendeth your profite, that you may doe what you list, you néed not to care what you doe. But contrariwise the more that he loueth you, the more you shoulde [Page] take héede vnto your self and beware that you offend him not, for so did the blessed Mary Magdalen of whome I spake before. Shée notwithstandyng the great loue that both our sauiour had to hir, and shée vnto him agayne for the which also hyr sinnes were forgiuen hyr, yet after his death shée fled from the companie of men, & ly­ued in the wildernesse farre from a­ny worldly comforte, in great way­ling, fasting, and prayer, & such other painefulnesse of hir body, & was no­thing y e lesse diligent to kéepe hir selfe warely from sinne, for the great loue that our lord & sauiour had to hir, but for y t the more studiously she did auoid & eschu euery thing wherby she might run into any displeasure against him.

The tenth consideration.

THe tenth consideration is this: it were wel done and much it shuld farther this cause if you truly esteme of how little value your loue is, how vaine, how light, & howe triflelous a thing it is, & how few ther be y t would much regarde it, or set muche pryce [Page] thereby, for fewe there be or none to whom it may doe any profit or auail. Contrariwise you should consider the loue of your spouse y e swéet Iesu, how excelēt it is, how sure, how fast, howe constantly abiding, how many haue much specially regarded it, Martirs innumerable both men and women for his loue haue shead theyr bloud, and haue endured euery kind of mar­tirdom were it neuer so cruell, were it neuer so terrible. No paine, no tor­mentrie, might compell them to for­sake his loue: so desirous were they of his loue, y t rather then they would forgo it, they gaue no force of y e losse of all this world beside, & theyr owne life also. So deare and precious was that loue to them, that all y e honors, pleasures, and possessions of this life, they recompted as verie trifles in comparisō of that. And what be you in comparison of thē, but naughty, wret­ched, and miserable? where then they which be now glorious saincts aboue in heauen, so much haue valued and so greatly estéemed this most excelēt loue, and you may haue the same loue [Page] for yours, that is so naughtie and so little worth, what should you doe of your parte? howe muche should you enfore your selfe not onely to obtayn this loue, but studiouslie to kéepe it, sithens that you haue it once, and for nothing to departe therefro. He of his goodnesse doeth not repell any crea­ture from hys loue, but permitteth them assuredly that if any draw nigh vnto him by loue, he will loue them agayne, and giue his most precyous loue for theirs, he sayeth, Ego diligen­tes me diligo: That is to say, I loue them that loue mée. And in an other place. En qui venit ad me nō equam foras: That is to say, what person so euer commeth vnto me, I wil not cast him away. Sister if you consider this déep­ly, it should moue you to fall downe vpon your knées, & with all your hart and mynde say vnto your Spouse in this maner. O my blessed Sauiour Lord Iesu thou askest my loue, thou desirest to haue my harte, and for my loue thou wilt giue me thy loue a­gayne. O my swéete Lorde, what is this for thée to desire, which arte so [Page] excelent, if my poore harte were of so much value as all the hartes of men and weomen that euer were, if they were put togither in one, & if it were as precious & noble as there is price and noblenesse in all y e orders of An­gels, if furthermore it did contayne in it all bodelie and spirituall trea­sure that is within the compasse of heauen or without, yet it were but a little gift to giue vnto so great a lord, for his most delicate & precious loue to be had of him againe: much rather my loue and hart as it is now naugh­tie, wretched, and miserable, so is it but a small gift and of little value. Neuerthelesse such as it is, sithens it is thy pleasure to haue it, & thy good­nesse doeth aske it of mée saying, Prebe mihi cor tuum, That is to say, giue me thy harte, I fréely gyue it vnto thée, and I most humbly beséech thy goodnesse and mercy to accept it, and so to order me by thy grace, that I may receiue into it the loue of no­thing contrarie to thy pleasure, but that I alwayes may kéepe the fyre of thy loue auoyding from it all o­ther [Page] contrarie loue that may in anie wyse displease thée.

The finall conclusion of all.

NOw thē good Sister, I trust that these conside­rations, if you oftē read them with good delibe­ration, and truelie im­print them in your re­membraunce, they will somewhat inflame your harte with the loue of Christ Iesu, and that loue once esta­blished in you, all y e other points and ceremonies of your religion shall bée easie vnto you, and no whit painefull, you shall then comfortriblie doe eue­rie thing that to good religion apper­tayneth, without any great weary­nesse. Neuerthelesse if it so fortune that you at any tyme begin to féele any dulnesse of mynde quicken it a­gain by the meditatiō of death, which I send you here before, or els by some effectuall prayer, earnestly calling for helpe & succour vpon the most swéete Iesu, thinking as it is in deed, that is [Page] your necessitie, & that no where els you can haue any helpe but of him. And if you will vse these short pray­ers following, for euerie day in the wéeke one, I thinke it shall be vnto you profitable. For thus you may in your hart shortly pray what compa­nie so euer you be amongest.

The Prayers be these.

O blessed Iesu make me to loue thée intierlie.

O blessed Iesu I would fayne, but without thy helpe I can not.

O blessed Iesu let me déeply consider the greatnesse of thy loue towards mée.

O blessed Iesu giue vnto mée grace hartilie to thanke thée for thy be­nifites.

O blessed Iesu giue me good will to serue thée, and to suffer.

O swéete Iesu giue me a natural re­membraunce of thy passion.

O swéete Iesu possesse my hart, holde and kéepe it onelie to thée.

[Page]THese short praiers if you wil often saye, and with all the power of your soule & harte, they shall merueylouslie kin­dle in you this loue, so that it shal be alway [...] feruent and quicke, y e which is my especiall desire to knowe in you. For nothyng may be to my com­fort more then to heare of your furtheraunce and profiting in God & in good religion, the which our blessed Lorde graunte you for hys great mercie. Amen.

FINIS.

¶ A Sermon verie fruit­full, godly, and learned, vpon thvs sētēce of the Prophet Ezechiell, Lamentatio­nes, Carmen, et vae, very aptely applyed vnto the passion of Christ: Preached vpon a good Friday, by the same Iohn Fis­sher, Bishop of Roche­ster.

THe Prophet Ezechy­ell telleth y t hée sawe a booke spread before him, Ize. 2. the which was written both within and without, & there was written also in it, Lamentationes, Carmen, et vae, that is to say, lamenta­tion, songe, & woe. This was a won­derfull booke, and much to be meruei­led vpon. Much comfortable know­ledge and swéetnesse this Prophette gate by this booke, (as he saith in the Chapter next ensuing, Eze. 3. factum est in o­re meo sicut mell dulce, thys booke was in my mouthe as swéete as honye. This booke to our purpose may bée taken vnto vs, the Crucifixe, y e which [Page] doubtlesse is a merueylous booke, as wée shall shewe héereafter. In the which if wée doe exercise our admiration, wée shall come to won­derfull knowledge. Meruayling was the cause, why that the Philosophers came to so greate knowledge, as they had. They behelde and sawe many wonderfull thynges, and ef­fectes in thys worlde, as the mar­ueylous earthquakes, Thūders, lightnings, Snow, Rayne, & Frostes, bla­sinng Starres, the Eclipses of the Sunne and of the Moone, and suche o­ther effectes. And those marueylous wonders moued them to search for the causes of the same. And so by dy­ligent searche and inquisition, they came to great knowledge and cun­ning, which cunnyng men call Phi­losophie naturall. But there is an other higher Philosophie which is a­boue nature, which is also gottē with marueyling. And this is the verye Philosophie of Christian people. And doubtlesse amongest all other things concerning a christian man, it is a thyng muche marueylous, and most [Page] wonderfull, that the sonne of God, for the loue that he had vnto y e soule of man, woulde suffer hym selfe to bée crucified, and so to take vpon him that most vyllanous death vpon the Crosse. Abac. 1. Act. 13. Of thys the Prophet Aba­cuck sayeth. Admiramini et obstupesci­te, quia opus factum est in diebus vestris, quod nemo credet quum narrabitur, mar­ueyle, and wonder you, for a worke is done in your dayes, which when it shall bée shewed, no man will be­léeue.

Is it not a wonderfull thyng, that he whych is most to bée dreade and feared, would be in so muche feare, that for verie feare and dreade of payne hée had to suffer, he swet wa­ter and bloud.

Is it not a wonderfull thing, that he y t was most inestimable in price, and moste precyous, woulde suffer hys bodie to bée solde for so little a pryce, as for the value of thyrtye pence?

Is it not a wonderfull thyng, that hée that is the Lorde of heauen and earth, and all other creatures, [Page] would suffer him selfe to be bound of those vyllaynes wyth ropes lyke a théefe?

Is it not a wonderfull thing that he that hath so great might and po­wer, would suffer him selfe to be ta­ken of his cruell & mortall enimyes, and so led vnto all these paynes?

Is it not a wonderfull thyng, that hée that is the Iudge of all the worlde, woulde thus wrongfullye be iudged?

Is it not a wonderfull thing, that hée y t had in hymall wisedome, would thus bée mocked and reputed as a foole?

Is it not a wonderfull thing, that he that is so strong & mightie, would be made so weake, and féeble, that he fell vnder the wayght and bur­then of the Crosse?

Is it not a wonderfull thing, that hée that is the Lord of Angels, would be spytted and bobbed of a sorte of Lorrelles in that moste dispytefull maner?

Is it not a wonderfull thyng, that he that is the Kyng of euerlastyng [Page] glorie would suffer his head in moc­kerie to be crowned with thornes?

Is it not a wonderfull thyng, that he that giueth lyfe to euery creature, would suffer this most shamefull, so­rowfull, and so painfull death?

Is it not a wonderfull thing, that he y t is the Lord, and Aucthor of all libertie, woulde thus be bounde with ropes, and nayled hand and foote vnto the Crosse?

Thus who that list with a méeke harte, and a true fayth, to muse and to maruayle of this most wonderfull booke (I say of the Crucifixe) hée shall come to more fruitefull knowledge, then many other which dayly studie vpon their cōmon bookes. This booke may suffice for y e studie of a true chri­stian man, all y e dayes of his life. In this boke he may finde all things that be necessarie to y e health of his soule. Sainct Fraunces coulde passe hys time w t this booke, & was neuer wery thereof, and his great studie was in the compasse of a fewe wordes. Quis tu, et quis ego domine. That is to say, who arte thou Lord, and who an [...]. [Page] Thys thought alway dyd run from hym selfe to Christ: And agayne, from Christ vnto hym selfe. And so euer he meruayled of the most exce­lent noblenesse of Christ, and com­pared it with hys owne naughty­nesse, alwayes meruaylynge that Christ being of so incomparable wor­thynesse, woulde suffer that moste paynefull death for so vnworthye sinners, which lesson is so playne, and so common, that euerie man (be he neuer so simple,) may somewhat profite in it. And agayne, it is so hygh, that fewe can attayne to reach to the specyall fruite of it. This ho­lie Sainct Fraūces so profited in this lesson, that it caused in hys hearte such a feruent loue, such a deuotion, suche an affection to Christ, that the capitall woundes which he behelde in the handes and féete, and syde of Christ, ware by myracle imprinted in hys owne handes and féete. This thing the B. of R. Innocent and hys Cardinalles dyd sée, and had verye proofe thereof.

The meditation and imagination [Page] of this booke was so earnest, and so continuall, that the token of the fiue woundes of Christ, were imprinted and ingraued in thys holy Saynctes bodye. But to this hygh fruite (as I sayde) fewe or none besides him doth attayne. It is a singular gyfte of al­mightie God, and not common to bée looked for of other persons. Neuerthe­lesse, who that will exercise this les­son, though he come not to this hygh poynte of perfection, he shall neuer­thelesse greatly profite in y e same, and come to a great knowledge both of Christ & of him selfe. A man may easi­ly say & thinke with him selfe (behol­ding in his hart the Image of y e Cru­cifixe, who arte thou, and who am I. Thus euerie person both ryche and poore▪ may thinke, not onely in the church here, but in euery other place, and in hys businesse where about hée goeth. Thus the poore laborer maye thinke, when he is at plough earyng hys grounde, and when hée goeth to hys pastures to sée hys Cattayle, or when hée is sittyng at home by hys fire side, or els when he lyeth in hys [Page] bed waking and can not sléepe. Like­wyse the rich man may do in his bu­sinesse that concerneth him. And the poore women also in theyr businesse, whē they be spinning of their rocks, or seruing of their pullen. The ryche weomen also in euerie lawfull occu­pation that they haue to doe. It is an easie thyng for any man or woman to make these two questions wyth them selfe. O my Lorde that woul­dest dye for me vpō a Crosse, how no­ble and excelent arte thou? & agayne, how wretched and myserable am I? Doubtlesse O thou christian soule, he that hunge for thy sake on y e Crosse, was verelie the sonne of God, as the noble Centurio sayde, when at the death of Christ he sawe so many wonderfull tokens. He saw y e sunne withdrawe his lyght, and the ayre in darkenesse, and felte all the earth tremble and quake, and the stones brake a sunder, then he sayde, vere fi­lius dei erat iste. [...]at. 27. That is to say, verely thys person was the sonne of God. Thinke w t thy self, O christan soule, how great a person he is that is the [Page] sonne of God? And thinke againe how vilaynous and how wretched thou art, in cōparison of him. What art thou but asshes, ciuis es, Gene. 3. and vnto ashes thou shalt returne, et in cinera reuerteris. Abraham which was a man of high perfectiō, yet when he should speake vnto almightie God he sayde, quū sum puluis et ciuis loquar ad dominū, Gene. 18. that is to say, I am but dust and as­shes, and yet I must speake vnto my Lorde. Dauid also sayth, Psal. 38. vniuersa vani­tas omnis homo viuens, that is to saye, man contayneth in him all vanitie. Furthermore Iob speaketh of man saying in this maner, Iob. 14. Qui puasi flos egreditur, et cōteritur, et fugit velut vmbra. Man is lyke a flower, he dooth issue foorth into the worlde, and soone after he is troden downe, and so finally hée passeth lyke a shadowe. Man is but earth and asshes, & shall passe away lyke a shadow, and lyke a méere va­nitie.

Contrarywyse Christe, was, is, and euer shalbe, the prince of heauen, the Lorde of Angells, and the creator of all creatures, Act. [...] Qui fecit coelum et terram [Page] et omnia que in eis sunt, Psal. 145. He made heauē and earth & all that is in them. His power is infinit, & most to be dreade, Omnipotens rex, et metuendus nimis. His wisedome is incomprehensible. O al­titudo diuitiarum sapientiae et scientiae dei. Rom. 11. His greatnesse passeth all measure, Psal. 47. Psal. 144. Magnus dominus et laudabilis nimis, et magnitudinis eius non est finis. Shortly to saye, when a man hathe spoken or thought all that can be to the prayse of his excellencie, yet he dooth farre passe and surmount all that, as the Scripture sayth, Excle. 43. Glorificantes dominū, quantum cūque poteritis super valebit ad huc et admirabilis magnificentia illius. Now then, O thou sinfull creature, maruell at his excellent worthines, that was thus crucified. And maruell also at thy naughtinesse, for whose loue he was thus crucified. Thus I say dyd the holy sainct Francis, Quis es tu et quis sum ego domine, Who arte thou my Lord so excellent, and who am I, for whome thou wouldest en­dure all this payne.

O Christen soule often beholde this booke, and saye with this holy man, [Page] Quis es tu et quis sum ego. Marueyle that his inestimable goodnesse would thus dye for so myserable a vanitie. And so maruelinge, thou shalt profyt in a gracious knowledge of Christ, and thy heart shall taste maruelous swéetenesse, and be replenished with a deuoute sauour of his most excelent goodnesse. But you maruell perad­uenture why I call y e crucifix a booke? I will now tell you the consideracion why? A booke hath boardes, leaues, lynes, wrytinges, letters booth small and great. Fyrst I saye that a booke hath two boardes: the two boardes of this booke is the two partes of the crosse, for when the booke is opened & spread, the leaues be cowched vpon the boardes. And so the blessed body of Christ was spred vpon the crosse. The leaues of this booke be y e armes, the handes, legges, and féete, with the other members of his most pre­cious and blessed body.

Neuer anye Parchement skynne was more strayghtlye stratched by strength vpon the tentors then was [Page] this blessed body vpon y e crosse. These lorells that crucifyed him, drewe by vyolence his moste precious armes, with ropes vnto either braunche of the crosse, that the sinowes burst in sonder, and so nayled his handes fast with spykinge nayles of yron, vnto the crosse. After they stretched his féete lykewyse vnto an other hole beneath in the crosse, and there nayled them with the third nayle thorough bothe his féete. And so they reared vp this body a loft against the sunne, euen as a parchment skinne is sette foorth before the heat of the Sun for to drye. It was set vp a loft to the en­tent that all the worlde might looke vpon this booke.

This booke was written with in and without. Fyrst within was wrytten but one worde: neuerthelesse this one word compryseth in it, as sayth saint Paule, the whole treasure of al cunning and wisdome partayning vnto God, In quo sunt omnes thesauri sapi­entiae dei, Col. 2. in whome are all the trea­sure of the wisedome of god. Of this worde Saint Iohn speaketh, Iohn. 1. saying, [Page] In principio erat verbum, the word was in y e begynning before all creatures, thys worde is the second person in the godhead, the sonne of God which by the holie Ghost was written in the inward syde of thys parchment. For the Godheade of Christe was couered and hidde vnder the lyke­nesse of man. The holy Ghost was the penne of almyghtie God the fa­ther, He set hys most mightie word vnto the body of Christ, within the wombe of the Uyrgine Marye, and so this booke was written within. For as Sainct Paule sayeth, 1. Cor. 2 [...] si cog­nouissent nunquam dominum gloriae cru­cifixissent, That is to saye, if they had knowne the sonne of God, whiche was and is the Lorde of euerlasting glorie, they woulde neuer haue cru­cified hym. They sawe his manhood which was in outwarde sight, but they sawe not hys Godheade whych was couered within the same. The Godhead was the inward syde, and the manhoode was the outwarde syde. Furthermore when a booke is spread, you sée that in the leaues [Page] are many lynes drawen. And many letters, some read, some blacke, and some blewe, so in this booke, (the moste blessed bodie of Christ) was drawne many lynes, for it was all to scourged with whippes, so y t euery where y e print of y e cordes of y e scour­ges, was left behynd, & that in euery place, from y e necke downward vnto the soles of his féete, so y t there was no margent lefte in all thys booke, there was no voyd place, but euery where it was eyther drawne with lynes, or els wryttē with letters, for these scourges fylled not onely his moste precyous bodie with lynes drawne euerie where, but also left many small Letters, some blacke, some blewe, some reade. For the bloud by the vyolence of the schour­ges sprunge out in euery place. And for bycause no parte of thys booke shoulde bée vnwritten, hys head also was pearsed with sharpe thornes. These cruell Iewes put vpon hys heade a Crowne of thornes, and pressed it downe vpon the same, [Page] as harde as they myght presse it by vyolence, beatyng it downe with a strong Réede. Mat. 2 [...] Et Arundine percuciebant caput eius. And hys blessed heade so Crowned, they dyd beate it downe with a gadde, or a harde Réede. Thus you perceyue that this booke was full of lynes and small Let­ters, whyche were of dyuers cou­lers, (as I sayde) some black, some blewe, some reade, some blewyshe, that is to saye, full of stroakes, and lasshes, where by the skynne was toarne, and rente in a thousande places. Besides these small letters, yet was there also greate Capytall Letters precyouslie illumyned with Roset colour: Roset is a reade colour lyke vnto the coulour of a Rose, which colour that most precy­ous bloude, whiche issued out of his hands and féete, doeth represent vnto vs, with this most precious blud was illumined the fyue great Capital let­ters in this wonderful booke. I mean by these capital letters y e great woūds of his body, in his handes, and in hys féete, and in his side.

[Page]These fyue great woundes were in­graued with sharpe & vyolēt pennes, that is to say, the sharpe nayles, and the speare. And they doe represent vnto vs the fyue capytall Letters of thys booke. Thus then you maye perceyue what bée the boardes of this booke, and what be the leaues, howe it is written within, and with­out, howe it is lyned and leathered, and what bée the Letters, as well the small as the great. Now wée shall heare what maner of wryting is contayned in thys booke. But first héere, let vs make our prayer for grace, beséechyng almyghtie God, to gyue vnto our hartes the gracyous lyght of his beames, whereby wée may the more clearely perceiue the writings of this booke, and that they may bring foorth some good fruite to our soules health.

Now you shall heare what wry­tings be contayned in thys booke, in the booke which Ezechiel did sée, was written thrée maner of things. Lamē ­tationes, Carmen, et vae, which is to say, Lamentations, songes, and woe. [Page] And the same thrée things, in lyke maner be wrytten in thys booke of the Crucifixe. Fyrst is lamentati­on, and this verie conuenientlye is written in thys booke of the Crucy­fixe. For whosoeuer will ioye wyth Christ, must fyrst sorow with him. And by sorowe and lamentation hée may come vnto ioye: But hée that will not sorrowe and lament wyth Christ héere in thys lyfe, hée shall come fynallye to the place where is euerlastyng woe, I saye woe that shall neuer haue ende. Héere ther­fore is written all these thrée, lamen­tation, songe, and woe.

Fyrste then wée will speake of la­mentation.

Lamentation aryseth of foure af­fections, eyther of a great feare, or dreade, or of a great shame, or of some sorrowe, or els of some hatred. When Holophernes with a mightie power was entred into y e countrey of Iurie, & terribly threatned to distroy all before hym, the people were in a greate feare and dreade to be op­pressed, and so fell downe before [Page] almyghtie God, and with great la­mentation, dyd call for hys helpe, omnius populus cetidit in faciē, Iudith. 4. adorantes dominum cum lamentatione et fletu, all the people fell on theyr faces, wor­shyppyng our Lorde with wéepyng and lamentation.

The cause of this lamentation, was the great dreade whych they were in. Héere first then let vs learne to dread, and doubtlesse thou Christian soule, thou mayest héere learne grea­ter matter of dread, then the Iewes then were in. For the Iewes then were onelye in perill of temporall death, thou arte in perill of euerla­styng death.

Consider man how gréeuouslie thou hast sinned: And also behold how grée­uously sinne was reuenged, and pu­nished in the blessed bodye of Christ. And thou shalt anon fynde here great cause and matter of dread. The sto­ryes telleth of Cambises the King of Persia, y t where one of hys Iudges had giuen a false and a wrong iudge­ment, he depriued him of hys offyce, and made an other in his place their [Page] Iudge after him. Furthermore bi­cause of hys falsehoode he caused him to be slayne, and his skinne to be han­ged vp before the place of the com­men iudgement, to the entent that this newe Iudge beholdyng y e grée­uous punishment of his predecessor, might beware of falshood, and alway dread to giue any wrong iudgement. In like maner y e Image of the Cru­cifix is hunge vp in euery Church, to the entent that we may sée how grée­uouslie sinne was punyshed in that moste blessed bodye of our Sauyour Christ Iesu, not for him self, nor for hys owne sinne, but for ours was he thus cruellye intreated, wée were the cause, wée committed the sinne. But yet neuerthelesse he bare the paynes, and burthens of our sinnes vpon his backe.

As wryteth Sainct Peter, Peccata no­stra ipse pertulit in corpore suo super ligium crucis. 1. Peter. 2▪ And therefore when we behold the Image of the Crucifixe in anye place set vp, we should thynke howe gréeuously sinne was punyshed in the body of our sauiour Christ.

[Page]And there by learne to dreade the gréeuous punishment of sinne. (Alas) man thynkest thou not, that thys was matter of dreade. This I say, that the verie sonne of God, was for thy sinne put vnto thys cruell death of the Crosse: If thou beléeue not thys, thou arte worse then the dy­uylles▪ For as Sainct Iames sayeth, demones credunt et contremiscunt, [...]cob. 2. the di­uilles doe beléeue, and tremble. And if thou verely beléeue it, thou mayest thereby thynke and learne howe muche our sauyour and hys father both doeth hate sinne. For sith al­mightie God the father woulde gyue hys moste dearely beloued sonne vn­to suche an horrible death, onely for to quenche and to extincte sinne, thou mayest bée sure that he hateth sinne very much.

Our Sauyour also must néedes hate sinne when hée rather would suffer thys moste vyllanous death, then that sinne shoulde haue domynion vpon our soules, séeyng then that thou knowest that bothe they hate sinne? Howe shouldest thou dreade [Page] to receue any sinne into thy soule. If sinne were so displeasant to almighty God the father, that rather then hée would suffer it, he would giue his owne sonne vnto death for the expul­sion of it. How much rather now doth it displease him, when his sonne hath suffered death therfore, and yet sinne rayneth neuerthelesse, and more ge­nerally then euer it dyd before. Furthermore, if sinne was so gre­uously punished in him that neuer did sinne, how bytterly shall it be puni­shed in thée O sinfull creature, the which haste done so many great out­ragious sinnes. Surely wher he hath one nayle in his handes & féete, thou sinfull creature hast deserued one hū ­dreth. And for euery one thorne, that he suffred in his head, thou hast deser­ued a thousande. And for euery one lash that he felt of the scourges, thou art worthy to haue innumerable. Who y t déepely considerith this that I haue sayde, and with an earnest stu­dy resorteth often to looke vppon this booke I maruell if he doo not fynde here in, great cause and earnest mat­ter [Page] of dread.

Here also may euery sinner quicken his sinne, if any be within hist breast, for it is maruell that a sinner can w t out shame beholde this blessed Ima­ge? If a sinner call to remembrance his great vnkyndnesse, & repute the same vnkyndenes any maner of vice, I trow that he wylbe much ashamed of his moste vnkynde and vngentle dealing against so louing a Lorde. Say to me thou sinful creature, wilt thou not looke that other men, when thou haste béene vnto them in anye thinge beneficiall, I saye, wylt thou not looke that they shall be kynde and louing vnto thée againe? And if any person be vnkynde vnto thée, wylt thou not rebuke him fully, and lay it vnto his reproofe to make him asha­med thereof? I am suer that thou wylt. Now then let me sée, wher is thy shame? beholde and vew euery part of this blessed body, what payne it endured for thy sake?

Séest thou not his eyes, how they bée fylled with blood and bytter teares? [Page] Séest thou not his eares, how they be filled with blasphemous rebukes, and obprobrious words?

His chéeke & necke with buffets, his shoulders with y e burthen of y e crosse? Séest thou not his mouth, how in his dryghnesse they would haue filled it with Asell and Gaule?

Séest thou not, how his backe is pay­ned against the hard Crosse?

Séest thou not his sydes, how they were skourged with sharpe whyps? Séest thou not his armes, how they were strayned by the violence of the ropes?

[...] thou not his handes, how they be nailed iust vnto y e crosse? Séest thou not his legges, how they be wearyed with labour?

Séest thou not his féete, how payne­fully they stay and bere vp the wight of his whole body?

O moste vnkinde sinner, all this he suffred for thy sake. No greater kyndes euer was, or could be shew­ed to thée by any creature, then this which swéete Iesus dyd shewe for thée and for thy sake, & wher is now [Page] thy kindenes againe?

No kyndnesse thou canst shewe, but much vnkyndnesse thou haste often shewed vnto him, and yet thou art not ashamed. Alas man where is thy shame? Thincke with thy selfe how many abhominable sinnes thou hast done against his pleasure. I doo a cer­tayne thée that the least of them stry­keth him more paynefully vnto the hart then any vnkyndnesse that euer was done vnto thée in all thy lyfe. For as Sainct Barnerd sayth in the person of Christ, when he hath reher­sed all y e gréeuous paynes of his pas­sion, he putteth vnto these wordes, Extat interius plauctus pregrauior, quum te ingratum experior, that is to say, but in­wardly mourning is much more gre­uous bicause I perceue thou arte to me so much vnkynd. So many sinnes so much vnkyndnesse. And the more haynous, and the more accustomable that they bée, the more abhominable is thyne vnkyndenesse.

If the least of many of thy sinnes had come to lyght, and to the knowledge of men, thou wouldest haue béene [Page] sore ashamed of them, Christ know­eth them, and saw thée doo them, for Omnia vnda et aperta sunt oculis eius, Heb. 4▪ All thinges be naked and open before his eyes: and yet thou art not ashamed of all thy vnkinddes.

Alas man, heare what the King and Prophet sayth, Psal. 43. Tota die verecundia mea cōtra me est, et confusio faciei meae coope­ruit me, All the day long my shame is before mée, and my face is couered with confusion. Thus sayd this holy Kinge, when our sauiour as yet had not suffered his passion for him. This high poynte of kindenesse was not as yet shewed vnto this man by our sauiour Christ, and he neuerthe­lesse was ashamed of his sinne. Thou hast peraduenture done much more outragious sinne, and hast béen much more vnkynde after this his moste wonderfull passion suffered for thy sake, then euer that king was, & that also maketh thy sinne much more horryble. Thou hast after thy promise made vnto him, falsified the same pro­mise and vntruely broken it, by mul­tiplying of many foule and abhominable [Page] sinz, & by oftē renewing of y e same Thou dyddest promise once at the sa­cramēt of baptisme to kéepe thy fayth & trueth vnto thy sauiour, & to forsake the diuel & all his works? An honest man, or an honest woman would be much ashamed to brek their promise, & specially to theyr friend? Albeit the worlde is now full of such lorrells, y t doo no more regard to break their promise, thē for to drīk whē they be drye. How often hast thou broken thy pro­mise? Alas man learn to be ashamed and saye with the Prophet Esdras, Deus meus, cōfundor et erubesco leuare fa­ciem meam quoniam iniquitates nostrae leuatae sunt super caput nostrum, [...]. Esdr [...]ea. 8 that is to say, O my god I am confounden and ashamed to lyft vp my face vnto thée, for our sinnes be rysen far aboue our heads. Ye women when there is any black spot in your faces, or any moole in your kerchiues, or any myer vpon your clothes, be you not ashamed? yes forsooth syr? But I shall tell you, where of you ought to be ashamed. Surely if your sowls haue any spots of deadly sinne in them, for when our [Page] sauiour so dearely with his most pre­cious bloud, & with all these gréeuous paynes dyd wash and wype, & clense our soules from euery spot of deadly sinne, ye should be much ashamed to defyle them againe? If you be asha­med for a foule myrie shoo, and not of a foule stincking soule, ye make more dearer your shooes, then your soules. If ye be ashamed of a spot in your clo­thes & haue no shame for many great blots in your soules. What shal I say but Frons meretricis facta est tibi, Iere. 3. noluiste erubescere, that is to say, thou hast takē vpon thée the face of a brothell, thou wylt not be ashamed. If y u then depe­ly consider how many shameful blots of sinne be in thy soule, before y e eyes of almightie God, & all the glorious court of heauen, & how by them thou hast vtterly broken thy promise vnto god, & cōmitted so great vnkindnes against this moste louing charitie, that was shewed vnto thée for thy loue & for thy sake by our sauiour on y e crosse I suppose thou shalt fynde matter, & cause of great shame, if any sparkle of honesty be yet left in thy soule? [Page] Thirdly thou maist here take matter inough of sorrow, for here your saui­our pitiously cryeth & complayneth of his great sorrowes, saying, O vos omnes qui transitis per viam attendite et vi­dete si est dolor similis sicut dolor meus. Lamen. Hier. ca. 1. All ye that passe foorth by, take héede & sée whether any sorrow was euer lyke vnto myne. Alas to sée so noble a man, so gentle, & so innocent, so cru­elly intreated in euery parte of his most delicate body. And to here him so pitiously complayninge, who shall not be sory? surely none, except hys hart be harder then any flynte stone or Adamant stone. These same foure poynts alone may suffice to styrre a­ny gentle hart to sorrowe. I say his excelent noblenesse, his innocēcie, the crueltie that he dyd suffer, and his pi­tious complayning.

If thou saw (O Christiā man) thyne enimie thus mangled and wounded, it might styrre thée to take compassiō vpon him? If thou sawe any Iew or Sarazin thus tormented, it mighte moue thée to pittie? But much rather to sée thy Lord, thy sauiour, and for [Page] thy sake thus cruelly entreated, thus with out any pittie crucified, and pay­ned, hanging on a crosse, should moue thée to compassion. For say to me, for whome supposest thou that our sauy­our Christe Iesus suffered all those gréeuous paines? surely for thy sinne, Pro impijs Christus mortuus est. Rom. [...] For sin­ners Christ Iesus died, there was no cause but sinne. Thy sinne was the cause of his death. Thy sinne gaue him his deathes wound. O sinful creature, how much cause hast thou for to be sory. For thy sinne was the roote & foūtayne of all his sorrow, & yet thou ceasest not dayly by thy sin to encrese his sorrow. O what floud of teares dyd the blessed Magdalene shed, re­membring hir gréeuous sinne. She firste conceiued a great dread in hir soule for hir sinne. Secondly, she was greatly ashamed of hir abhominacy­ons, with in hir soule, for she regar­ded much more the inward shame of hir conscience, then y e outward shame of the world. And therfore she let not in the presence of many persons to come to the féete of our sauiour, & to [Page] shewe hyr selfe a sinner. And there tooke great sorrow, and wept ful bit­terly for hyr sinne. Thus after dread and shame followed hyr sorrow. And when had shée this dread, shame, and sorrow? truely before that our saui­our hung on the crosse? yet she knew not that hir sin was cause & occasion of his most cruell death.

But when shée sawe him hange so painfully on the Crosse, and conside­red that for hir sin he suffered all the paynes, hir harte was then so full of sorrow that for very payne it myght haue brast.

O thou sinfull creature? If thou can not sorrow, come learne of thys blessed woman, to sorrow for thy sin. Thinke that thy sinne was the cause and occasion of all this payne and sor­row, that thy Lorde and sauiour dyd suffer on the Crosse.

And not onely she giueth y e example of sorrowe, but his blessed mother a­bundantly thē sorowed at his death. Sainct Iohn sorrowed, Sainct Peter sorrowed and wepte bitterly. Luke. 2. All the Apostles were in sorrow.

[Page]But wherevnto speake I of reaso­nable creatures, the vnreasonable, and the vnsensible creatures shewes a maner of sorrowe. The earth qua­ked. Math. 27 The mighty stones brast in sun­der. The monuments opened, y e dead courses issued out of theyr monu­ments.

All these were moued with com­passion. And onely thou wretched sin­ner, for whose cause he suffred all this paine and gréeuance, hast no pitie nor compassion vpon him.

(Alas) howe great is thy hardnesse? Howe obstinate is thy harte, that will suffer no pittie to enter in to it? Uerely, thou arte more harder then are the stones? for they were mo­ued by his passyon, so myghtely that they brake in sunder.

Petrae scissae sunt. Math. 27. When then the harde stones, and all the other vnreasonable creatures were thus moued, and stir­red to take some compassyon of the paynfull death of Christ, and yet felt no profite by his death.

[Page]Thou much rather shouldest be mo­ued, for whose loue he dyd endure all this gréeuous pains. Looke thou ther­fore vpō this booke, & thou shalt here fynde great cause & matter of sorrow. Fourthly, if thou canst not sorrowe, yet thou maiest here learne to hate. Thou maiste learne to hate sinne, which was cause of all this trouble. It is not for nought that y e scripture sayth, 21. Quasi a facie colubri fuge peccatū, dentes leonis, dentes eius interficientis ani­mas hominum. Flée from sinne euen as thou wouldest flée from the face of an Adder, for as the téeth of the Lion de­uoureth y e body of man, so death doth sleay their soules. Sinne is so odious, and so great an iniury to god, that it was necessary for the recompence of this iniury, y t the sonne of god should suffer this most paineful death of the crosse. Sinne so prouoked almightie god y e father so déeply to displeasure, & wrath, & to take vengance vpon sin­ners that without the sacrifice of his owne sonne in y e gybbet of the crosse, he wold not be appeased, ne recōciled vnto sinners againe. Sinne so deadly [Page] wounded & blotted the soule of man, that with out shedding of y e most pre­cious bloud of our sauiour Christ Ie­su, no lyfe could be restored vnto sin­ners, nor the soules might be washed from the fowle abhominable corrup­tion of sinne.

Sinne so debarreth and shutteth frō sinners y e gates of heauen, that they might not haue béene opened, but on­ly by the merit of this moste bytter passion, & suffering this most painfull torments on the crosse. Sinne set the gates of hell so wyde open, & brought all this world into that daunger, and thraldome of the diuell, that all we should haue béene deuowred of the pyt of hell, vnlesse we had béene raū ­somed with this most precious trea­sure, that was shed for vs on y e crosse-O sinful creature hast thou not great cause to hate sinne, that hath brought thée into that miserable cōdicion, that by thy sinne thou hast done, and com­mitted high iniurie against almighty god, and hast prouoked him to venge­aunce. That by thy sinne, thou hast thus mortally wounded thyne owne [Page] soule. That by sin, thou haste brought thy selfe into the daunger of the dy­uill, and be dampned in hell perpetu­ally. That by thy sinne thou hast shut the gates of heauē against thy selfe. (Alas) man where canst thou fynde greater occasion of hatred.

If thy neyghbour doe vnto thée but a lyght iniurie, thou canst anon hate him, yea, and so hate him, that thou wilt say thou mayest not finde in thy harte to loue him.

Sinne hathe done vnto thée, all these great iniuries, and yet thou loueste sinne and canste not hate it?

(Alas) what madnesse is this? Ioab sayde vnto Kyng Dauid, [...]. Reg. 19. dilegis odien­tes te, et odio habes diligentis te.

Thou loueste them that hate thée, and thou hatest them that loue thée. The same worde may well be sayde vnto euery sinner that followeth the course of sinne. And lykewyse vyce doeth procure the dystruction of sin­ners, and yet the sinners doe follow after them.

[Page]Our sauiour with all grace & ver­tue procureth y e saluation of sinners, but him they will not heare, nor take any wayes after his counsayle. And this is nothing els but an extreame madnesse, for they should contrary­wyse loue our sauiour, that so louing­ly for theyr weale indured the grée­uous paynes of the Crosse, and hate the diuill and sinne which was the very cause of death.

By thys then you may perceyue that in this booke ye may fynde mat­ter inough of lamentation, sith you may read in this booke so much cause of dread, of shame, of sorrow, and of hatred. And this is the first wryting wherof we promised for to speake.

The secōd writing that I said was also writtē in this booke, was Carmē, that is to say, Songe. Surely if ey­ther loue or hope, or ioye, or comfort, wil make a soule to sing, here he may take great occasion to sing.

Fyrst here is great matter of loue, and so great, that if any person will eyther gyue hys loue fréely, or els for some certayne pryce sell it, hée [Page] that died on the crosse, is best worthy to haue it. If thou search in heauen, & in earth one person vpon whom thou maist best bestowe thy loue. Thou shalt fynde none comparable vnto Christ Iesus, so wyse, so myghty, so gentle, so kynde, so amyable, far pas­sing all other, and there to he is much desirous of thy loue, for when Moy­ses had rehearsed the great benifites which almightie God had giuen vnto man, [...] 10. he sayth, Et nunc audi quid domi­nus deus tuus requirat a te, nisi vt diligas eū. Now here what thy Lord God dooth require of thy parte, truely but that thou loue him.

So now if thou wylt fréely giue thy loue thou canst not more wysely, nor better bestow it then vpon him which is so excelent and hath all the condi­cions aboue saide, and there to also is so desirous to haue thy loue.

And if thou wylt sel thy loue, I trow there is none that wyl giue vnto thée more liberally for the same than he hath done. Where shalt thou finde him that wyll shedde one droppe [Page] of bloud out of his harte for thy sake. Where shalte thou finde hym that will giue hys owne soule and lyfe for thy loue. There can no more bée asked of any man then that, Iohn. 1 [...]. Maiorem charitatem nemo habet nisi vt animam su­am ponat quis pro amicis suis. No man can shewe greater charitie, then for to put hys owne life in ieopardie for his friendes.

But thou peraduenture wilt say, Syr if he had done this for me alone, I had béene bounde then to haue gy­uen him my loue whollye agayne?

Why man arte thou so enuyous, that thou wouldest haue no parte­ners, of this moste precious deathe with thée, but thine owne selfe? This were a very malicious desire to ex­clude all other, & specially when thy profite and merite shall not be myni­shed.

Albeit, there bée neuer so manye be­sides, that take commoditie there by. I say vnto thée O man, and I assure thée that as fruitefully hée dyed for thée (if thou wilt dispose thy selfe to be partener of this death) as if there [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] had beene no more, but thy selfe in all thys world. Truth it is, there bée many moe besides thée, that bée parteners of this death. But all they, yea, & if there were a thousand thou­sande tymes innumerable moe then there be. All that multitude shall no­thyng mynish any one crum of merit of this most blessed death belongyng vnto thée. And agayne, if thou take much more fruite thereof, then any one of them, yet shall they take no impayrement, or receyue the lesse bicause thou hast so much.

Wilte thou sée by some example that thys is trueth that I nowe say?

When thou séest a torch lyght in an house where many persons bée, doeth not that torche gyue as muche light to them all, as if there were but one person there? Euery person af­ter the quicknesse of theyr sight, ta­keth more or lesse profitte of that lyght, then doeth an other, but yet he that taketh more, hyndereth hys fellowes nothyng in so takyng, nor he y t taketh lesse giueth thereby anye [Page] occasion for his fellowes to take any more. And if it be thus of the light of a torche, muche rather it is so of the merite of this most gracyous death, and of this most precious blud, which by the reason of the godhead abun­dauntly suffyseth for the redemption of innumerable soules, were theyr sinnes neuer so many, neuer so hor­rible, neuer so abhominable. Surely as Sainct Iohn sayth, ipse est propitiatio pro peccatis nostris, 1. Iohn. 2 [...] non pro no­stris tantum sed et totius mundi. Hée was and is a sacrifice abundantly sufficy­ent, for the sinnes of all this world.

When then for thy sake, & for thy loue, he suffered thys most horryble death, which was so painfull that the onely remembraunce of it made him to sweate bloudy sweate, and that in so great aboundance that it trickled downe by hys syde vnto the ground. If the onely thinking of thys death was so painfull, howe paynefull was the suffring of y e same in déede. Howe might he more euidētly expresse vnto thée, y e loue of his harte, then by thys means. Or what might he more haue [Page] done for thy loue, as he saith himself, quid vltra facere debui, et non faci, what myght I further haue done, whiche I did not for thy loue.

Thou mayest then fynde héere in this booke great matter of loue.

Héere is also great matter of hope, & specially to sinners & will vtterly forsake their sinne, and amend theyr liues for Christ Iesu sake. Doubtles for such he suffered this moste bitter death. Rom. 5. Pro impijs Christus mortuus est, for wicked sinners Iesus Christ dyed. And in an other place, y e same s. Paul sayth. 2. Tim. 1. Christus Iesus venit in hunc mundū saluos facere peccatores. Christe Iesus came into this world for to saue sin­ners that will amend theyr lyues.

O christian soule take thou vpon thée, the crosse of pennaunce, and bée crucyfied with him, & then without doubt thou shalt be partener of the the merit of his crucifying, and of his most fruitfull passion.

What shall exclude thée from hys merite? Rom. 8. Almightie God the father? Nay, qui proprio filio suo non peporcit, sed pro nobis omnibus tradidit illum, quo­modo [Page] non cum illo nobis omnia donauit. He that dyd not spare his own sonne, but gaue him vnto the death for vs all, what shall hée denye vs? what greater euidence canst thou aske? that almightie God the father wil forgiue thy sin, then thys that he would not forsake to giue vnto the death hys own sonne, I say his own most dear­ly beloued sonne of whom hée sayde, Hic est filius meus dilectus in quo mihi cō ­placui. 2. Pet. [...]. This is my welbeloued sonne in whom is all my pleasure. What greater euydence and proofe mayest thou desire, that he will forgyue thy sinne, then y t he would put this most inestimable Iuell into such a daunger for thy sake, and sende it vnto thys most painfull and shamefull, and sor­rowfull death of the Crosse.

But peraduenture thou thynkest that our sauiour bycause thou haste bin so vnkynde vnto him, will not re­ceyue thée vnto his mercy? I say ther­fore forsake thy sinne, and accuse thy vnkyndnesse, and be sory for it. And doubt not but he will forgiue & for­get thyne vnkyndnesse, and receyue [Page] thée agayne vnto hys great mercy.

And therfore he sayth by his Pro­phet Hieremie, when a woman (saith he) is gone from hyr husbande, and hath accompanyed hyr bodye with an other man, will hyr husband receiue hir againe? As who say, that it is not verie lyke, but yet heare what comforte he giueth to a sinner, Hiere. 3. tu au­tem fornicata es cum amatoribus multis ta­men reuertere ad me et ego suscipiam te. Neuerthelesse (he sayeth to the soule of a sinner.) Albeit, thou hast forsaken me and playde the brothell with ma­nye other, yet returne thou agayne vnto mée, and I shall receyue thée. But here, thou sinfull soule deceyue not thy selfe. Thou mayest dissemble a returning, and be not in déede re­turned. And if thou set not thy backe toward all sinne, and turne thy harte fully vnto thy sauiour, thou arte not returned. But bée thou truly retur­ned and doubt not.

Beholde earnestly the maner how thy sauiour Iesu hanged on y e Crosse, and thou shalt sée great cause of hope of his mercy if thou thus returne. [Page] Sainct Barnerd sayth. Quis non rapi­atur ad [...]pem, impetrandique fiduciam, quā do considerat corporis cius dispositionem, caput inclinatum ad osculum, brachia ex­tenta ad amplexandum, manus proforatas ad largiendum, latus opertum ad diligendū pedum confixionem ad manendum nobis­cum corporis extensionem ad se nobis tota­liter impendendum. Who may not bée rauished to hope and confidence, if he consider y e order of his body, his head bowing downe to offer a kisse, hys armes spreade to embrace vs, hys handes bored thorow to make lybe­rall giftes, his side opened to shewe vnto vs the loue of his harte, his féete fastened with nayles, that hée shall not starte away but abyde with vs. And all his bodie stretched, forcesing him selfe to giue it wholly vnto vs. Surely O man, he that would thus and after this maner exhibite his bo­die vnto thée on the Crosse, (if thou wilt indeuer thée vpon thy parte, hée will not refuse thée, but take thée vn­to his mercy.

This most precious bloud y t he shed on the Crosse, cryeth alwayes mer­cye for sinners, that doe thus re­returne. [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] And therefore Sainct Paule sayeth. Hebr. 12. Accessistis ad sanguinem melius lo­quentem quam Abel. Ye become, and haue returned you vnto the bloude, that speaketh more graciously, then did the bloude of Abell. The bloud of Abell cryed vengeaunce before al­mightie God. As almightie God sayd vnto Caine in the booke of Genesis, Sanguis Abell fratris tui clamat ad me vin­dictam de terra. Gen. 4. The bloude of thy bro­ther Abell crieth vengeaunce in mine eares from the grounde where it is shead.

But the moste precious bloude of our sauiour Iesu Christ cryeth mercy for all sinners that doeth repent. And our sauiour now before y e face of hys father sheweth his woundes, & she­weth his most precious bloud, & cea­seth not to procure mercy for them.

This plainly doeth affyrme y e bles­sed Apostle Saint Iohn saying in this maner, [...]. Iohn. 2. filioli hec scribo vobis vt non pec­catis, sed et si quis peccauerit aduocatū ha­bemus apud patrem Iesu Christum iustum et ipse, est propitiatio pro peccatis nostris. That is to say, Childrē I write these [Page] things vnto you, to the intent that you should not sinne. Neuerthelesse if it for­tune any man to sinne, wée haue an ad­uocate for vs Christ Iesus, before y e face of his father. And he is rightuous, and without sinne, & a verye satisfaction for al our sinnes. Who thē attentiuely doth beholde this Crucifix, & verely beleueth that on the Crosse was payd the raūsom of all sinners, how may he not fully trust that if he aske mercy for his sinnes, they shall be forgiuen him. So that here eue­ry sinner may finde great matter and oc­casion of hope. In the Crosse is also mat­ter of ioy. Héere is occasion of such ex­cessiue ioy, that a soule which verely ta­steth it, can not but highly reioyce in the same. And therfore Sainct Paule did say Mihi autem absit gloriari nisi in cruce domini Iesu Christi, Gala. [...]. God forbid that I reioyce in any other thing then in the Crosse of our Lorde Iesu Christ. Here doubtlesse is great cause for euerye true Christian man to reioyce, and specially for thrée poyntes.

The first is that by the death of our sauiour on the Crosse, and sheding of his moste precious bloude on the Crosse we be fully reconciled to almighty God, [Page] as often as we doe true repentaunce, with a fast purpose of amendement. Thus Saint Paule sayth, ad Col Com­placuit per eum reconciliari omnia in ipsum per sanguinem cruicis. It hath pleased God the father, that by his sonne and by his bloud shed on the Crosse all should be re­conciled.

But you will aske me what meaneth this word reconciled? It is as much to sai, as to be made attone with almighty God and to be at friendship with hym. As two men when they haue bene at variaunce to be made louers together a­gaine. So the displeasure which he had against vs for our sinne, is taken away. And his great wrath against vs is fully pacified. And where we were by sin the children of the diuell, now we haue reco­uered to be made againe the children of God, and consequentlye the inheritours of heauen.

O thou Christian man is not here great cause to reioyce.

If thou haue a ritche man to thy father which had loued thée much, and he for thy misdemaner had caste thée out from his fauour, and so thou werte in [Page] ieopardie to lose thy enherytaunce, if by meanes of a brother of thine thou mightest be brought into his fauour a­gaine, and be taken for his sonne as thou waste before and restored thereby to thine enheritance, haddeste thou not great cause to be ioyous and reioyce, that by this means, thou hast recouered againe thy fathers loue, with all the commodities belonging vnto the same? In like manner it is of euery sinner, for he by his lewde demainer and by his sin­ful dealing hath so displeased his father, that he is cast out from the fauour of his father, and is in perrill to lose his inhe­rytaunce, which his most louing father had prouided for hym.

Neuerthelesse his onelye begotten sonne by his inestimable goodnesse and charitie suffering the most painful death of the Crosse, and shedding his most pre­cyous bloude for amendes and recom­pence of our vngracious dealinge, hath reconcyled vs agayne, and made vs at one with his father, and set vs at a perfecte peace, concorde, and vnytie. And thys is concernynge the fyrste poynte.

[Page]The second by the vertue of the crosse, and of his most blessed passyon, y e power of our enymies be much broken, for on the Crosse our sauyour by his death gatt the victory vpō thē, for the which Sainct Paule saide, expolians principatus et potesta­tes traduxit confidenter, triumphans cos in se­me tipso. Col. 2 [...] Christ Iesus spoiling y e mighty power of the diuill, hath openly detected theyr frauds, and gotten a very triumph of them in his owne person. And therfore nothing is yet more tirrible vnto them, then is the signe of the Crosse. A blessed virgine sainct Christian had suche a con­fidence in the token of the Crosse, that when shée féelt hyr selfe tempted with hyr ghostly enimy, shée marked hyr selfe with the same token, and at euery temp­tation shée gatte the better of the di­uils. And by this holy token chased thē away, & put euer to flight. Thirdli by the vertue of the crosse, & of this most fruitful death, our hand wryting the which made most against vs, was clerly put out. Whē where was it written? In the booke of our owne conscience, there is no maner of sinne that we doe, but it is written in the booke of our consciēce. And if we re­pent vs not of the same, & be hartily sory [Page] for it before our death, thys booke of our conscience shal be shewed against vs in y e dreadfull day of iudgement. Neuerthe­lesse if we repent vs and confesse vs, and doe true repentance therfore, then by the vertue of this passion it shall be scraped out of the booke of our conscience. Ther­fore Sainct Paule calleth sinne our own hand writing, Col. 2. Deleuit quod aduersū nos erat chirographum decreti quod erat contrarium nobis, et ipsū tulit de medio affigens illud cruci. Christ Iesus (he saith) put out the hande writing of y e decrée whiche was against vs, and so withdrewe it fastning it vnto the Crosse. When thou perceiuest (O sin­full creature) that by the Crosse of Christ, and by that most precious bloud which was shed on the crosse thou art reconciled and made at one with God, and that the power of thine enimies be greatly represt. And fynallly that thy sin which was most against thée was cruci­fied on the same Crosse, so that thou maist clearely sée that héere is great matter of excessiue ioy and to reioyce in the most blessed Crucifix.

Finally in the Crosse is also matter of great comfort, when a person hath deserued a great open shame, & is broght [Page] euen to the plunge of the matter, and yet by the meanes of helpe he is deliuered from the same, is not this his deliuerance from this open shame, a comforte vnto hym? yes doubtlesse?

The noble woman Susanna, as the Prophet Daniell telleth, Daniel. 17. all be it she was giltlesse, yet for because she woulde not assent to the wretched desyre of two lewde priestes, she was by them wrong­fully accused, and put to great shame, for they wrongfully slaundered hir, that she had taken an other man besides hir hus­band, and that she had committed adulte­rye. Neuerthelesse, when the matter was tryed by the goodnes of almightye God, and she was clearelye discharged from this terrible occasion, and clearely deliuered frō this shame, it was a great comfort vnto hir.

Luke. 7.The blessed Magdalen which by hir wretched liuing had deserud great shāe, yet when she came to our sauiour Christ and wept at his féete, and so by his great mercy was excused of hir shame, hir hart was set at a great rest, & in great cōforte. The woman of whom the gospel telleth, y t was taken in aduoutery by hir enimies & so brought before our sauiour Christ, Psal. 21 & [Page] there in his presence, & before al his peo­ple, hir shamfull dealing was published, who may think but y t she was sore accō ­bred with that open shame, but yet whē our souiour had confounded hir enimies and deliuered hir from y t shame, she was restored to much ease and comfort of hyr hart. Why tel I this? Truly to the in­tent that we may sée great matter of cō ­fort in the Crosse, for we sinners haue deserued great shame for our abhomi­nable sinne, surelye so great that if we verely knew the greatnes of the shame, that we haue deserued, we might neuer sustaine the remembraunce therof. And yet that moste inestimable goodnesse of Christ by that horyble shame that he suf­fered on the Crosse, deliuered vs from e­uerlasting shame. He toke ther vpon hys back all the burthen of our sinne. There wanted no circumstances of horryble shame, for then the death of the Crosse was the most shamefull maner of death, that was put to any villaine. It was thē the most vilanous death to be hāged on y e gebbit of the Crosse. And this was done in no secret place, but high vppon an o­pen mountaine, that all the people might behoulde and looke vppon hym. [Page] And he was hāged ther naked & betwéen two théeues as though he were a prince and captaine of misdoers. And against y e feast of Easter, when the most number of people did assemble vnto y e temple of y e Iewes, Ezech. 16. nigh vnto the Citie of Ierusa­lem, that all the people might commo­diouslye resort to gase vppon this cruell spectacle. This thing was done also in the open day, for from the midst of the day he thus did hang aliue on the Crosse by the space of thrée howres and more. And al the strangers as they passed fore­by did wonder vpon him. The souldiers opprobryously rebuked him. The priests with wordes of derision and mockerye assaulted him. The théeues that honge besides him blasphemed him. Finally al his enimes reioyced in their victorye a­gainst him. Alas what creature mighte be more shamefully intreated, then was our sauiour christ Iesus hanging thus on the Crosse. A troth it is, now the Crosse is made honorable by his death, but then as I said, Psalm. 31. it was more shameful then a­nie gibbet or gallows, or any other in­strument of death. And moreouer, and besides that he was hanged on the same with the most dispight and villany th [...] [Page] could be thought or deuised for any crea­ture to be put vnto. O thou christian soule, Christ Iesus the sonne of God tooke vpon him al this shame, for thy loue, to y e entent that if thou wilt amend thy life, and forsake thy sin and do true penance, thou shalt by his shame be deliuered frō al shame. His shame shall hide thy sins. Hée was there naked and spoyled of all his cloathes, to the intent y t thou shoul­dest be couered vnder his mantle fro thy shame. And therfore by the prophet Eze­chiell he saith, Expādi amittum meum super [...], et operui ignominiam tuam. I did spred my mantle vpon thée, and so couered thée from shame. Let euery persō héere think w t them selues what déedes they haue done worthie of great shame, which if they had come to light and bene openlye knowne, thei should haue bene blotted w t opē infamye here in this lyfe, and with out the special mercy of god in the day of iudgement they shoulde thereof haue an open shame before all the world, and fy­fally in hell an euerlasting shame. But from al those shames by y e gracious mantle of Christ many bée couered. Hée hath mercifully spred his mantle ouer them, and kept them from those importable [Page] shames. Of this couering also the Pro­phet Dauid sayth, Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata. Blessed are those whose sinnes be couered. O thou sinfull creature, if thou mightst see what shame thou hast deserued for thy sinne, thou shouldest rec­ken this a singular comfort. But thou séest not the abhominacion of thy sin, and therfore thou perceyuest not what shame thou hast deserued. Why doeth a com­mon brothel take no shame of hir abho­mination? what is the cause, why that shée regardeth hyr infamye no more? Truely as far as I can iudge, the cause is for that al the light of honestie is quē ­ched in hyr, shée is so blynded with hyr wretched pleasure that shée is paste all shame, and hath not left in hir one sparke of y e light of honestye, where by shée may value & estéeme y e horriblenesse of hir of­fences. Shée reputeth more a litle spote in hir kyrchefe, or in hir face, thē a thou­sād blots of deadly sin in hir soule. But if she had any honesty w tin hir hart to think how foule & abhominable hir lif were, su­rely she wold be much ashamd of hir self.

Thamar the daughter of King Dauid, whē hir brother Amon wold haue oprest hir, 2 Reg▪ 13. she sayde. Noli facere hanc stulticiam, ego [Page] enim ferre non potero opprobrium meum. O my brother saide she, doe not this folly, for this reproch that ye inforce to do vn­to me is greater then I may suffer. This woman had some light of honestye, with­in her brest, whereby she was moued to resist, and to withstande this shamefull déede batwéene hir and hir brother.

A Romane woman also, whose name was Lucretia, whom by force & againste hir wil in the absence of hir husband, one mā called Sextus Tarquinius, had abu­sed hir, albeit the thinge was [...], yet she was there of so muche as [...]amed in hir owne mind that she might not beare the shame. But when hir husband came home, she tooke a knife and in his presēce slew hir selfe. This noble woman had the light of honesty in hir soule, she sawe how abhominable a thing it was to com­mit adultery. But a brothell hath in hir no spark of honesty wherby she can take any shame, nor she doth not consider the foule abhomynacion of, hir wretched life, and therefore she is shamles. And in like maner euery sinner, y t lacketh y e light of faith, neither considereth y e greatnes of his sinne, nor the presence of almightye God, which looketh vpon the same. [Page] He regardeth nothing the blessed Angels the which doth behold the [...] abhominable conscience, to their great discomfort, nor the deuilles his mortal enimies which be ful ioyous of his shameful demainer. If the sinner clearely considered al these thinges, (as they be matter in very déed) he would be doubtlesse greatly ashamed of him selfe, and in a great discomforte. Neuerthelesse a penitent soule, y t is sore prest and wrong with vtter shame, lyke as was the womē of whō I spake before I meane Susanna and Mary Magdalen, & the woman that was apprehended in aduoutry. I say such a soule being holdē in such distresse of shame, and cōsidering that by the approbrious and shamefull death, which our sauiour did suffer on y e Crosse. He that deliuered all true penitēt sinners, from the shame which he deser­ued for their sinne, and that he there by tooke all their sinne in hys owne necke, hath great cause (as me séemeth) to take a wonderful comforte in the most blessed Crosse. So y t here also (as I said) is great matter & cause of very comfort, & of solace incomparable. Wherefore to conclude my tale as touching this second writing, if eyther loue, or hope, or ioy, or comfort [Page] wil make vs sing. Here in thys booke of the Crucifixe is great occasion of song. If thou first truly lament with Christ, thou shalt after ioyfully sing with him, and eche of these shal induce other, hatred of sinne shall bring into thy harte the loue of Christ, dreade shall bring in hope, so­row shal bring in ioy. And shame here ta­ken for thy sin, shal bringe into thy soule perpetuall comfort. And thus much I haue sayde for the second writing.

The thyrde wrytinge that is written in this booke, I sayde is ve, that is to say wo, ve betokeneth in scriptures euerla­sting dampnation. And doubtlesse this woe may such sinners here reade, that neither wil lament, nor sing with Christ on the Crosse, as hée said vnto the Iews Cecinimus vobis et non saltastis, lamentauimus vobis et non planxistis, that is to saye, Mat. [...]. we sunge vnto you, and you sorrowed not. And soone after the Gospell telleth, that he reprochfully spake vnto y e cities, to y e whiche he had shewed many great myracles. And they for all that did no maner of pennaunce for theyr sinne, to such there he tirribly threatneth saying, Vae tibi Corozaine, Vae tibi Bethsaida, Mat. 11. wo shal [Page] be to thée Bethsaida, by thys we maye learne that such whiche will not stir in them selues these affections aboue re­hearsed, whereby they may lament, or els singe with Christ on the Crosse they shall come to euerlasting woe.

I say who that will not stir in theyr hartes, dreade, shame, sorrowe, and ha­tred, of theyr sinne, and so truely lament with Iesu, eyther els quicken in theyr hartes loue, hope, reioysing, and comfort and so singe with Iesu, doubtlesse they shall come to the wo of euerlasting damp­nation, which woe is the thirde writinge that as we sayde before is written on the Crosse.

Behold O thou christian soule y e extreme paines, y t our sauiour suffered on y e crosse, for thy sinne. And if thou wilte not by such aflictions, as I now haue rehearsed enforce thy selfe to be made parteiner of y e same paines in this lyfe, thou shalte in the life to come endure like manner of paines and that euerlastingly where he suffered them on the Crosse for a time. Let vs therefore déepely consider what paines he did endure & suffer on y e crosse. The first, when he was crucified he was spoyled and made naked of al his clothes. [Page] And so violently throwne downe vppon the hard tymber, and his handes & féete cruelly digged in with nailes, as he say­eth in the 21. Psalme. Foderunt manus me­as et pedes meos, Io. [...]. they haue digged my handes and my féete, this he suffered for thy sinne O sinfull creature, and if thou wilt not amend thy life be times, thou shalt be spoyled of all thy clothes, and so cast downe into hell, vpon a more paine­full couch, then was the Crosse. The Prophet Esay saith vnto such a sinner. Subtus te seruatur timea et opera mentum tuum verinis. Esay. 14. The mothes that shall teare and gnaw thy body, shall lie vnder thée acd the burninge wormes and serpents shal sprale aboue thée & dig away part of thy body. O think what an horrible paine it were for to lye in a bed full of snakes, adders, and todes, créepinge and spraw­ling, and byting, and pinching thée on e­uery parte.

The seconde, when our sauiour was reared vp aloft on the Crosse, that same hanging there was very paynefull vnto him, O what payne was it vnto that most delicate and tender bodye of hys to hange so longe in that tormentrye. But where he did hange here but for a [Page] time, if y u amende not thy life, thou sh [...] hang in the gibbet of hell for euermore. For be thou well assured that if thou shalt suffer for thine owne sinne in hell, thou shalte suffer a more gréeuous tormentry then he dyd, & that without seasing. For as it is sayd in the Apocalip­ses, fumus tormentorum ascendet in secula se­culorum, Apoca. 14. the smoke of the tormentries of that place shall ascende by innumera­ble worlds, that is to say without ende. The tormentes which he suffered on the Crosse, was the nayles, the thornes, the rops, the schourges, the speare. But y e torments that thou shalt suffer, shal a thou­sande folde passe them. Looke howe far the mallice and wit of the diuils passeth the mallice and witte of the Iewes, so farre excéede the engynes which the di­uilles haue cōceiued and forged for the dampned soules to be tormented. Aboue them that y e Iewes maliciously deuysed agaynst our sauiour Christ. The thyrd, our sauiour endured an extreme heate, & feruour, when he for the great afflictiō & [...] agony whiche he did suffer, was cō strained for y t gréeuous anguish to sweat water & blud. But this heat is nothing to y e heat of the burnyng fyre of hell which [Page] neuer shall be quenched, Ignis ille non extinguetur, As the gospell sayth, that fyre shall neuer be quenched. The Prophet Esay sayeth, Quis ex vobis poterit habitare cum ardoribus sempiternis which of you may continually inha­bite with the heates that neuer shal cease.

O sinfull creature thinke with thy self y e largenes of these two wordes. Euer and neuer, thinke with thy self howe paynefull it shall be euer to be in that brenning fyre, and neuer to be released of thy payne.

If thou shouldest be compelled to lye but one sennight vpon a softe fea­therbed, I suppose thou wouldest be weary thereof. But how weary shalt thou be euer to lye stewing and bren­ning without ceasing.

The fourth, our sauiour Christ endured also colde not onely for his nakednesse, but also when his natu­rall heate by death, lefte his bodye. But the dampned sinner shal endure in hell a more excessyue colde. Iob sayth of such, transibunt ab aquis niuis ad calorem nimirem, they shall be shyfred [Page] out of y e colde snow brought into the outragious heates. O Iesus, a ten­der hand wherin y e froste and snowe it hath bene made extreme colde and sodenly is brought into the heate of the fier, it féeleth a greater payne, but nothynge comparable vnto that shyfting from that colde into that heate whych is in hell.

The fift, our sauior in his crosse hard blasphemous & opprobrious words, and much insultinge of his enimies against him, which doubtles was very paynefull vnto him. But the dam­ned sinners shall in hel heare nothīg els but continual outcryes, opprobri­ous insulting, blasphemes of the di­uells and other that be dampned. Blasphemabunt deum caeli doloribus, they shall blaspheme the god of heauen for continuall paine and sorrowes. And they shall sée before their faces continually the most horrible and ireful countenaūce of their immortal enimies the diuells.

The vi. our sauiour wept on y e crosse for y e sinnes of other, as s. Paul saith, cū clamore et lachimis, Heb. 5. with crying & teres [Page] but the damned sinners that would not here wepe w t Christ, such teares as might washe theyr sinnes, shall wepe in hell for theyr owne sinnes, such teares as shall skalde theyr bo­dies, and yet they shalbe neuer the better. Ibi erit flectus et stridor dentium, Ther shal be wéeping & gnashing of teeth, Math. 22. the smoke of y e Fyer shal make them for to wéepe, & the coldenesse of the snow shal make their téeth for to gnashe, & chytter in theyr heades. Yea and that is more merueilous, neither the colde shall attemper the heate, nor contrarywyse, the heate shall attemper the colde, but eyther of them shall encrease the violence of the other. Euen as in the forge of a Smith, the colde water when it is cast into the Fyer, causeth the Fyer to be much more fearse and violent. The seuēth, our sauiour on the crosse had extrem drighnes, for y e which he cōplained & said, Scitio, I am dry, And no maruell though he wer dry, after so much payne and trauayle, after so much bléeding & sweting, wherby no moisture almost was left in his bodi. [Page] But howe vnmeasurable drighnesse shall y e dampned soules endure in the fyre of hell? The rich glutton y t was buried in hel teacheth vs what drighnesse is there, for he would haue gy­uen all this worlde to haue had one drop of water or lycour to haue re­freshed his tongue, that was made so drye with the flame of that fyre.

The eight, our sauiour on y e crosse had much sorrow and heauinesse. If he for the onely remembrance of the paine for to come was in so great an agony that he sweat water & bloud, who can expresse or think what sor­row and heauinesse he suffred when all the paynes were present, & pre­sently did oppresse hym. Neuerthe­lesse euery dampned person, by the reason of their continuall and euerla­sting paynes shall haue muche more sorrow and heauinesse, for the which it is writtē in the booke of Sapience, penitentiam Agentes et pretristitia spiritus gementes, they verely lamentably re­pent them selues, and for extreame heauinesse of spirite mourne and sor­rowe, thinking, for howe briefe and [Page] transitory pleasures, they loste the ioyes euerlasting, and gate y e paynes that euer shall endure.

The ninth, our sauiour on y e crosse did suffer muche infamy and shame. And specially to deliuer (as I said all sinners that would amēd thē selues, and forsake their sinne,) from euer­lasting shame. But such as will not, shall suffer theyr owne shame, as they haue deserued. The true peny­tent soule shall bée sacyate with per­petuall glory, But he that will not repent him selfe shall haue perpetu­all shame and infamy.

Almightie God sayeth, to suche by his Prophet Naum, Reuelabo puden­da tua in facie tua. I wil make open all thy shamefulnesse and euill dealyng in thine owne face. And the Prophet Hieremy sayeth, saturabitur opprobrijs ▪ he shall bée sacyate with opprobry­ous shame.

The tenth, aboue all other paynes that our sauyour dyd suffer on the Crosse, was to be desolate of all com­forte, yea of his father, and to bée as a person forsaken of almightie God, [Page] and destitute of all help and succour, for the which hée sore complayneth on his Crosse, crying vnto his father Deus meus Deus meus, vt quid dereliquistī me, O my God, O my God, why hast thou forsakē me. But this forsaking was but for a season, for within a short time after, he was raised again to immortall glory. But the damp­ned sinners which shall be punished for their owne sinnes in hell, shall e­uer be forsaken, and fully be depry­ued, not onely from all ioye & com­forte, but from that moste glorious sighte of the face of almighty God, wherein standeth all blessednesse and consummation of all comforte. And this shall more pinche the dampned soules, then all the other tormentes of hell besides. For the which Chri­sostome sayth. Ego autem multo grauio­res cruciatus duco, quam gehenuam, remo­ueri et ab duci ab illa gloria. I think (saith he) that to be remoued and cast out from that euerlastyng glory, is more gréeuous torments then all the other paynes of hell.

[Page]Fynally, our sauiour on the crosse, suffered the paynes of death for our sinnes, whereby wée had deserued death. And therfore he suffered death to deliuer vs from the death of sinne. Neuerthelesse he remayned no long tyme in the bondes of death. But the dampned sinner that must paye his owne debtes in hell, shal suffer euer­lasting death, not so that the sinners shal haue no lyfe nor féeling in them, but bycause that they shall be euer as though they were in the extreme paynes of death, and yet they shall haue no perfecte sense of the paynes, and neuer dye. The paynes shall be to them so vyolent, that they shall pe­rish a thousand tymes, and desire cō ­tinually for to dye, but death shal flie away from them, desiderabunt mori et mors fugie ab eis, they shal desire death, and death shall fly from them. O Ie­su in what myserie shall they be in, that euer shall couet death, and ne­uer may fully dye.

The Prophet Dauid speaking of their payne sayeth. Mors depascet eos, [Page] which words may haue thrée senses, one is that death shall bée their pa­stour and heardman, hée shall order them, and leade them to theyr pa­stures. In hell is two pastures, the one is all full of snow, the other full of fyre, for the whiche Iobe sayeth, Ad calorem nimium transient ab aquis ni­uium, they shal walke from the snow vnto the fyre. And agayne from the fyre vnto the snow, this may be one sense, an other may be this, they shal be the continuall meate of death, as ye sée in the pastures, where y e shéepe féede. They croppe the grasse euer as it ryseth and kéepeth it lowe, and so the grasse is euer in eatyng, and ne­uer full eaten.

In lyke maner death shall continu­ally croppe the dampned persons in hell. And he shall euer be gnawyng and eating vpon them, and yet they shall neuer be fully consumed. The third sense may be this, death shall be theyr continuall meate, for they shall euer long and desire for to dye, they shal euer aboue all other things couet to haue death, and their desire [Page] shall alway be a lyke freshe and fer­uent. An other comforte and refres­shing besides this, they shall haue none, but whatsoeuer the sense of these wordes be, thou mayest well perceyue by them. O thou christian soule) that if thou shalt come to that place to pay thy debtes of thine own sinnes, it shall bée to gréeuous and to importable for thée to sustayne, for as I sayde, looke any maner of paine that our sauiour Christ suffered on the crosse for all our sinnes. If wée be not before our death by such affec­tions (as I before did rehearse) made perteyners of his sufferyng, we shall suffer all the same paynes in hel per­petually.

And therefore it is a troth, we may read in the booke of the Crucifix great matter of woe, whiche is the thyrde wryting that we had to speake off. Now thou sinful creature, haue oftē before thyne eyes thys wonderfull booke which as I sayde is wrytten within and with out. In the which also thou mayest reade thrée maner of wrytings, that is to say, lamenta­tion, [Page] song, and wo. If thou wilt begin to lament with Iesu, thou shalt ther­by come to sing with him. And ther­by thou shalt be made so fully partei­ner of his passion, that the debtes of thy sinnes shall be throughly payde, and that thou shalt escape euerlasting woe. But if thou doe refuse this re­medy, and follow the desires of thys world, and of the fleshe, be thou well assured that then thou shalt pay thine owne debtes amongest the diuils in hell, with euerlasting woe. From the which he defend vs, that for our loue as this day suffered on the Crosse, his most paynfull and sorrowfull death, our sauiour Christ Iesus. Amen.

Per Iohannem Fyssher Episco­pum Rofensem.

Memoria crucifixi: vitia crucifigit. Grego Quecumque momorderit astucia sathanae aspiciat Christum inligno pendentē August

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