I. SIR THOMAS MORE was the on lie S. Thom. Moores parētage and no­bility. sonne of Sir Iobn More knight, one of the Iustices of the kings [Page 12] Bench a singular man for manie rare perfe­ctions, which his sonne setteth downe in his owne Epitaph extant amongst his La­tine S. Iohn Moor Knight, father of Sir Tho­mas, and his vir­tues. Workes, tearming his father a man Ciuile, that is to say, Courteous and af­fable to all men; sweete and pleasant in Con­uersation, that is, full of merrie conceipts and wittie ieastes; innocent and harmelesse, to witt, neither desirous of reuēge, nor maligning anie for his owne priuate game; meeke and gentle, that is to say, of an humble carriage in his office and dignitie; merciefull and pittiefull, that is, bountiefull to the poore, and full of cō ­passion towards all distressed persons; iust and vncorrupted, which are the aptest titles and epi­thites that can be giuen to a Iudge, as if he would say, that he was neuer moued with friēd­shipp, stirred vp with hope of gaine, nor wres­ted by anie threates, but still performed his du­tie, and that he shutt vp alwaies his left eie to all affection of friendshipp, and from all briberie. Cambden also reporteth of him for proofe of his pleasantnesse of witt, that he would compa­re [Page 13] the multitude of women, which are to be chosen for wiues, vnto a bagge full of snakes, hauing amongst them but one eele; now if a man should putt his hand into this bagg, he may chance to light on the eele, but it is a hun­dred to one he shall be stung with a snake. Ma­nie such like wittie similitudes would he vse in his priuate discourses, and in publike audi­torie

By these his perfections of witt and grace Descēded of as̄ucuc̄t gentry. one might guesse that this Childe was likelie to proue singular, hauing so good a father; but he farre surpassed him in all these and manie more excellencies; so that our Familie hath be­ne much more dignified by this sonne, then he anie way drew worth and dignitie from his Anncestours; the consideration whereof hath caused manie to thinke and say that SIR THO­MAS was of meane parentage, and the first of his house; yea some haue not stucke to write, by birth no gentleman; grounding their errour vpon these wordes, which he setteth downe in his Epitaphe: Thomas More, borne of noble [Page 14] familie, but of an honest stock; which is true as we here in England take Nobilitie and Noble; For none vnder a Baron (except he be of the Priuie Councell) doth challenge it; and in this sence he meaneth it: but as the Latine word Nobilis is taken in other Countries for Gentrie, it was otherwise. For Iudge More bare Armes from his birth, hauing his Coate quartered, which doth argue that he came to his inheritannce by descent, and therefore although by reason of king Henries seasure of all our Euidences we can not certainely tell, who were Sir Iohn's Anncestours, yet must they needes be Gentle­men; and, as I haue heard, they either came out of the Mores of Ireland, or they of Ireland ca­me out of vs. And as for SIR THOMAS, he was, as I haue sayd, a Knight's eldest sonne, and sole heyre to a Iudge of this realme. But whatsoeuer the Familie was or is, if Vertue can ennoble anie, surely it hath by these two excellent men bene made much more to be respected, yet if we, as God forbidde we should, degenerate from their footestepps, we may cause it soone to be base & [Page 15] of small reckoning, vice being the chiefe stay­ne, that tainteth euen the noblest Families.

The name of SIR THOMAS his mother was Sir Tho. [...] mother, a very vir­cuous gentle vvoman. [...] of Holicvvell in the Countie of Bedford; yet Doctour Stapleton had not heard so much, who sayth: that her name was vn­knowne; by reason of which wordes some ha­ue taken greate exceptions, as though she had bene a base woman, though he doth in the same place tell this reason thereof, because she dyed soone after she had brought forth this childe; but to haue bene a woman of more then ordi­narie vertue, that, which Doctor Clement re­porteth from SIR THOMAS his owne mouth of Her visiō concer ning her children, and espe­cially Sir Thomas. a vision which she had the next night after her marriage, seemeth, in my iudgement, forcible to argue; in which she sawe in her sleepe, as it were ingrauen in her wedding ring the number and fauour of all her children she was to haue, whereof the face of one was so darke and ob­scure that she could not well discerne it, and in­deede afterwards she suffered of one of her children an vntimclie deliuerie; but the face of [Page 16] one of her other, she beheld shining most glo­riously, whereby no doubt Sir THOMAS his fa­me and sanctitie was foreshened and presigni­fyed. She brought forth before him to Sir Iohn two daughters, one called Iane, afterwards married to à noble gentleman M ^r. Richard Staffretō, & Elizabeth, wife to the worthie gēt­leman M ^r. Iohn Rastall, Iudge Rastall's father.

Sir Iohn after his first wife's death, married Sir John Moore his secōd vvife, out liued Sir Thomas. successiuely two others, whereof the last, as I haue heard, was called Alice one of the Mores of Surrey, and great aunte to Sir William Mo­re, whose sonne, now liuing, is Sir George, lief­tennant of the Tower, a man little inferiour to his noble Anncestours, if his religion were an­swerable to theirs. This Ladie outliued her son­ne in law Sir THOMAS, dwelling vpon her Ioin­ture in Hartfordshire at a Capitall messuage then called More-place, now Gubbons, in the parish of Northmimes; but being a little before her death thrust out of all by king Henry's fu­rie, she dyed at Northall a mile from thence, and lieth buried in the church there.

[Page 17] 2. Sir THOMAS MORE was borne at Lon­don 2. The pla­ce and ti­me of S. Th. Mor. birthe. in Milke-streete, (where the Iudge his fa­ther for the most parte dwelt) in the yeare of our Lord 1480. in the twentieth yeare of Edvvard the Fourth. Shortly after his birth God would shew by another signe, how deare An [...] dāger strangely escaped in his child hood. this babe was vnto him. For his nurce chan­cing to ride with him ouer à water, and her hor­se stepping aside into a deepe place, putt both her and her Childe in great danger and ieopar­die; whose harmes she seeking suddenly to pre­uent, threw the infant ouer a hedge into a fiel­de neere adioyning; and after by God's helpe escaping safe also, when she came to take him vp againe, she found him to haue no hurt at all, but sweetely smiled vpon her; that it might well be sayd of him: Angelis suis Deus manda­uit de te, ne fortè offendas ad lapidem pedem tuum; and not his foote only, but his whole bodie.

3. This was no doubt a happie presage of 3. His first studies & imploy­ments. his future holinesse; and putt his parents in minde that he was that shining Childe, of [Page 18] whome his mother had that former vision; wherefore his father had the greater care to bring him vp in learning, as soone as his tender age would permit it; and so he putt him to the Free-schoole of London called S. Anthonies, [...] S. [...] schoole in Lon­don. where he had a famous and learned man called Nicolas Holt for his maister, vnder whome when he had rather greedily deuoured then lea­surely chewed his Grammar rules, he outstrip­ped farre both in towardnesse of witt, and dili­gence of endeauours, all his schoole fellowes, with whome he was matched.

And being borne to farre greater matters, his In Car­dinal [...] house. father procured him to be placed shortly after in the house of the most worthie prelate that then liued in England both for wisedome, lear­ning and vertue, whose like, the world scarcely had, Cardinall Morton Archbishopp of Can­terburie, The prai­se of the I. Cardi­nal. and Lord high Chancellour of En­gland, whose graue countenance and carriage was such that he easily allured all men to ho­nour and loue him; a man (as Sir THOMAS MO­RE describeth him in his Vtopia) of incompara­ble [Page 19] iudgement, a memorie more then is credi­ble, eloquent in speach, and, which is most to be wished in Clergiemen, of singular wisedome and vertue; so that the King and the Common wealth relyed chiefly vpon this mans counsell, as he, by whose policie King Henrie the Sea­uenth both gott the Crowne of England from Richard [...] the vsurper, and also most happily procured the two houses of Lancaster and Yorke to be vnited by marriage.

In this famous mans house this youth lear­ned S Thom. Moore his tovv­ardlynes in the Cardi­nals reti­nevv. most diligently aboundance of wisedome and vertue; and now he beganne to shew to the world, what man he was likelie to proue. For the Cardinall often would make triall of his pregnant witt, especially at Christmas merri­ments, when hauing plaies for recreacion this youth would suddenly steppe vp amongst the players, and neuer studying before vpon the matter, make often a parte of his owne inuen­tion, which was so wittie and so full of ieasts, that he alone made more sporte and laughter, then all the players besides; for which his tow­ardlienesse [Page 20] the Cardinall delighted much in him, and would often say of him vnto diuerse of the Nobilitie, who at sundrie times dined with him, that that boy there wayting on him, whosoeuer should liue to see it, would proue a maruelous rare man.

But when this most reuerend Prelate sawe, The Car­dinal sen­deth him to Oxen­lord. that he could not profitt so much in his house, as he desired, where there were manie distra­ctions of publike affaires, hauing great care of his bringing vp, he sent him to the Vniuersitie, and placed him in Canterbury-Colledge at Ox­ford, now called Christs-church; where, in two yeares space that he remained there, he profited exceedingly in Rhetorick, Logick and Philoso­phie; and shewed euidently, what wonders, witt and diligence can performe, when they are ioyned, as seldome they are, in one painefull student. There his whole minde was sett on his Brought vp there neerly & [...] by his fa­ther. booke; for in his allowance his father kept him verie short, suffering him scarcelie to haue so much monie in his owne custodie, as would pay for the mending of his apparrell; euen no [Page 21] more then necessitie required; and of his ex­pences he would exact of him a particular ac­counte, which course of his fathers he would often both speake of, and praise it, when he ca­me to riper yeares; affirming that by this mea­nes he was curbed from all vice, and withdra­wen from manie idle expences either of gay­ming or keeping naughtie companie, so that he knew neither play nor other riott, wherein most yong men in these our lamentable daies plun­ge themselues too timely, to the vtter ouer­throw as well of learning and future vertue, as their temporall estates. This strictnesse of his fa­ther in creased in him also a great reuerence and obedience after vnto him againe; in so much The great [...] vvhich he al­vvays ba­re to his father. that in all his life after he was so dutiefull vnto him, that he neuer offended nor contradicted him in anie the least worde or action, still shewing towards him admirable deedes of hu­militie, euen at that time, when in the eye of the world, he farre surpassed his father in digni­tie, which may be seene, by asking him blessing euerie day duly, euen after he was Lord Chan­cellour [Page 22] of England; and when he and his father mett publikely at Lincolnes-Inne, or other where, he would still offer him the place of precedence, though the Iudge by reason of his sonne's office did still refuse it; such was the pietie and submissiue minde of this humble man; such againe was the prouident care of the father towards his sonne, that one can hardly guesse, which of the two were more worthie, the father of such a sonne, or the sonne of such a father; yet I iudge the father more happie, that enioyed such an admirable sonne, and wish that my Children may imitate in this kinde their vertuous Anncestours.

4. When this towardlie youth was come 4. His first vvorkes and [...] . to the age of eighteene yeares, he beganne to shew to the world his ripenesse of witt; for he wrote manie wittie and goodlie Epigrammes, which are to be seene in the beginning of his English Workes; he composed also manie pret­tie and elegant verses of the Vanitie of this life, and the inconstancie thereof, which his father caused to be sett vp with pictures and pageants, [Page 23] which are also in the beginning of his greate English Volume; he translated for his exercise one of Lucian's Orations out of Greeke into Latine, which he calleth his first fruits of the Greeke toung, and thereto he added another Oratiō of his owne, to answer that of Lucian's; for as he defended him who had slaine a tyrant; he opposeth against it another with such forci­ble arguments, that this seemeth not to giue place to Lucian either in inuention or eloquen­ce. As concerning his diuerse Latine Epigram­mes, Hovv much es­teemed of by le­arned men. which he either translated out of Greeke into Latine, or else composed of his owne: ma­nie famous authours, that then liued, doe make mention of them with great praise. For [...] Rhenanus in his epistle to Bilibaldus Pitchei­merus writeth thus: THOMAS MORE is marue­lous in euerie respect; for he compoundeth most eloquently, and [...] most happily: how sweetly doe his verses slowe from him? hovv no­thing in them seemeth constrained? hovv easie are all things there that he speaketh of? nothing is hard, nothing rugged, nothing obscure; he is pure, [Page 24] he is vvittie, he is elegant; besides he doth temper all things vvith mirth, as that I neuer read a merrier man. I could thinke that the Muses haue heaped vpon him alone all their pleasant conceipts and vvittie merriments; moreouer his quippes are not biting, but full of pleasantnesse and verie pro­per, yea rather anie thing then stinging; for he [...] , but vvithout mordacitie; he [...] , yet vvithout contumelie. The like iud­gement of his Epigrammes doth that fa­mous Poëte Leodgarius à Quercu, publike Reader of Humanitie in Paris, giue, and that not so much by his words as by his deedes. For he hauing gathered of the Epigrammes of di­uerse famous men a Collection, he hath sett out more Epigrammes of Sir THOMAS MORE'S, then of anie other writer: yet because rarenesse of anie excellent qualitie is still enuyed by so­me man or other, one Brixius a German, wro­te a booke against these Epigrammes of Sir THOMAS MORE'S, which he called Antimorus; A quartel stirred vp betvveen him and Germa­nus Bri­xius; with such commendation, that Eramus earne­stly besought Sir THOMAS, that he would not [Page 25] ouerwhelme his friend Brixius with such an an­swer, as his rashnesse deserued; adding this of this his foolish booke Antimorus: I heare vvhat learned men speake of Brixius novv after he hath vvritten his Antimore, vvhich as I heare it not vvillingly of him, so vvould I lesse vvillingly he a­re thē so speake of you; vvherefore seing I percea­ue hovv hard a matter it is to temper an ansvver to so spitefull a booke, but that you must giue some scope vnto your passions, I deeme it best for you not to regard, but vvholy to contemne the matter; yet this I vvould not counsell you, my best friend, to doe, if there vvere anie thing in that malitious Antimore, vvhich did truly blemish your fame, so that it vvere necessarie for you to vvipe it a­vvay, Easily gi­uen ouer by S. Th. Moor. &c. Which friendlie counsell Sir THO­MAS MORE in some sorte followed; for although he had answered Brixius fully in a little trea­tise, which alreadie he had published, before Erasmus his letter came to his hands; yet vpon the receipt thereof, he endeauoured by all the meanes he could to gett all the Coppies againe into his hands, and so to suppresse the booke; so [Page 26] that it is now very hardly to be found; though some haue seene it of late. And Sir THOMAS sent Erasmus a letter to this effect, that al­though Brixius by his malitious booke had endeauoured so much to disgrace him, that he wanted no will but skill and power to ouer­throwe his fame vtterly, yet this should preuay­le more with him, that Brixius was friend to Erasmus, then that he was his owne enemie. Which kinde of answer sheweth expressely, how easie he was to forgiue iniuries, especially this being such a one as touched him so neare in his reputation; following herein the counsell of Christ himselfe in the gospell of S. Matthew, who sayth: Loue your enemies, and doe good to them that hate you, that you may be the true imi­tatours of God, vvho causeth the sonne to shine as vvell vpon the wicked, as vpon the iust. But can we thinke so heroicall an acte in so yong yeares (for he was not now of the full age of twentie) could proceede from one, who had not bene practised before in the schoole of Christ, and in the earnest searche of perfection? surely no, for [Page 27] this yong man had euen from his infancie la­boured with allmight and mayne to enriche himselfe with vertues; knowing that learning without vertue is to sett pretious stones in rot­ten wood, and, as the wise man saith, a golde ring in a haggs snowte.

5. When he was about eighteene or twen­tie 5. His Mor­tificatiōs yeares olde, finding his bodie by reason of his yeares most rebellious, he sought diligently to tame his vnbrideled concupiscence by won­derfull workes of mortification. He vsed of­tentimes Hear­shirt. to weare a sharp shirt of hayre next his skinne, which he neuer left of wholy; no, not when he was Lo: Chancellour of England: Which my grandmother on a time in the hea­te of sommer espying, laught at, not being much sensible of such kinde of spirituall exer­cises, being carried away in her youth with the brauerie of the world, and not knowing quae sunt spiritus, wherein the true wisedome of a Christian man consisteth. He added also to this austeritie a discipline euerie fryday and high fa­sting dayes, thinking that such cheere was the [Page 28] best he could bestowe vpon his rebellious bo­die, rather then that the handmayde sensualitie should growe too insolent ouer her mistrisse Reason, hauing learned the true interpretation of these wordes of Christ: He that hateth his life in this vvorld, keepeth it for life euerlasting. He Watching & fasting. vsed also much fasting and watching, lying of­ten either vpon the bare ground or vpon some bench, or laying some logg vnder his head, al­lotting himselfe but foure or fiue howers in a night at the most for his sleepe, imagining with the holie Saints of Christs Church, that his bo­die was to be vsed like an asse, with strokes and hard fare, least prouender might pricke it, and so bring his soule like a headstrong iade into the bottomelesse pitt of hell. For chastitie, especial­ly in youth, is a lingring martyrdome, and the­se are the best meanes to preserue her from the dangerous gulphe of euill custome; but he is the best souldier in this fight, that can runne fastest away from himselfe, this victorie being hardly gotten with striuing: He had invred himselfe to Exerci­ses amōg the Char­thusians. straytenesse that he might the better enter in at [Page 29] the narrow gate of heauen, which is not gott with ease sed violenti rapiunt illud, that is to say, they that are boysterous against themselues, beare it away by force. For this cause he liued foure yeares amongst the Carthusians, dwel­ling neare the Charterhouse, fiequenting daily their spirituall exercises, but without anie vowe. He had an earnest minde also to be a Franciscan Fryer, that he might serue God in a state of perfection; but finding that at that ti­me Religious men in England had somewhat degenerated from their ancient strictnesse, and feruour of spiritt, he altered his minde. He had Not per­mitted by God to take an ecclesia­sticall course. also after that together with his faythfull Companion Lillie a purpose to be a priest; yet God had allotted him for an other estate, not to liue solitarie, but that he might be a patter­ne To be a paterne of mari­ed men. to married men, how they should careful­ly bring vp their children, how dearely they should loue their wiues, how they should employe their endeauour wholy for the good of their countrie, yet excellently performe the vertues of religious men, as, pietie, Cha­ritie, [Page 30] humilitie, obedience, and Coniugall cha­stitie.

6. He heard an intire Masse euerie day, 6. His de [...] & prayers. At dayly masse. before he vndertooke anie worldlie buesinesse; which custome he kept so religiously that being on a time sent for to the king, whilst he was he­aring Masse, he would not once stirre, though he were twice or thrice sent for, vntill it was wholy finished, answering them that vrged him to come quickly, that he thought first to perfourme his dutie to a better man, then the king was; imitating therein the famous act of S. Ludgar first bishopp of Munster, who be­ing sent for to Charles the Great, whilst he was singing in the quier the Canonicall howers, he would not once stirre till all were ended; and being asked by the Emperour, why he negle­cted to come, when he sent for him, he answe­red: I haue alwaies thought that your comma­unde is by me so to be obeyed, as I doubted not but God is to be preferred; therefore I haue be­ne carefull to finish that I was about first, not for anie contempt of your Imperiall Majestic, [Page 31] but for your more safetie and the dutie I owe to God. With which answere the Emperour no whitt displeased but delighted, answered him with thankes, saying, that he had now found him such a one, as he had euer formerly thought him to be. Neither was King Henrie anie whitt angrie at that time with Sir THOMAS MORE, but rather highly pleased with this his small neglect.

He vsed euerie day to say our Ladie's Mat­tins, His dayly orisons. the Seauen psalmes and letanies, and ma­nietimes the Graduall psalmes, with the psalme [...] in via; and diuerse other pi­ous praiers, with he himselfe composed; he se­lected also manie sentences of the Psalmes, imitating therein S Hierome's psalter, which are extant in the latter ende of his English Workes.

But finding his bodie for all his austeritie Much pleased with the life of Pi­cus Mi­randula. readie still to endanger his soule, although at all times he shunned idlenesse more then anie other man, he determined to marrie; and the­refore he propounded to himselfe, as a patterne [Page 32] of life, a singular lay-man Iohn Picus Earle of Mimndula, who was a man famous for vertue, and most eminent for learning; his life he translated, and sett out, as also manie of his most worthie letters, and his twelue precepts of good life; which are extant in the beginning of his English Workes. For this ende he also wro­te a treatise both learned, spirituall and deuout, of the Foure last things of man, though he left it vnperfect, being called by his father to other studies.

He frequented sermons diligently; especial­ly His dili­gence in frequen­ting good prea­chers. when those men preached, who were most excellent for good life and spirituall direction, such as Doctour Collett was, the most famous Deane of Paules, who, as Emsmus writeth, was wont euerie day to preache at Paules, besides manie other sermons, which he made at the Courte and else where, expounding in them ei­ther Doctour Colets excellent employ­ments. the Pater noster, the Apostles Creede, the Ten Commandements, the Seauen Sacra­ments, or some other matter of necessarie in­struction, which he neuer left of, vntill he had [Page 33] perfected the whole, that thereby euerie one might learne, what they should belieue, what to followe, and what to shunne, and shewed the meanes how euerie Christian might come to perfection in their sundrie states of life; and his life did not disagree from his doctrine; for he exercised himself much in all workes of Charitie and mortification of his flesh. This was he that founded the goodlie Free-schoole of Paules, dedicating it to the little boy IESVS, as he was found disputing with the Doctours at twelue yeares olde, of which famous acte Sir THOMAS MORE writing vnto him, compareth it by a fitt Antithesis to the Horse of Troy, out of which the Grecians issued to surprise that Cittie; in like manner, saith he, out of this your schoole, manie haue come that haue subuerted and ouerthrowen all ignorance and rudenesse.

But fearing least all these his deuout exerci­ses might not be so meritorious, if he followed Doctore Colet chose by S. Th. M. for his ghostly father. his owne will; for a yong man is in great danger of himself to want discretion, the mother of all vertues; therefore he chose this worthie Deane [Page 34] for his ghostlie Father; for he was accounted one of the skillfullest phisitians for the soule, that could be found amongst ten thousand; him he committed himself vnto, as to a safe guide of perfection in the dangerous passages of youth; that by his experience he might the more easily ouercome the deuill, the world, and his owne flesh, by following his whole so­me lessons, to worke the saluation of his soule, without anie preiudice of his bodie; to him he was as obedient in all spirituall affaires, as he was to his father in all dutiefull obligation; whereby he arriued to perfect obedience, one of the chiefest helpes that a spirituall man can haue to gett heauen. And because euerie one may see what affection he bore to this man his ghostlie phisitian, I will sett downe here an ex­cellent letter of Sir THOMAS MORE'S to Do­ctour Collett, and it is this:

§. As I vvas lately vvalking before VVest­minster-hall, 5. Th. his letter to D. Colet [...] left Lon­don. busying myself about other mens causes, I meet by chance your seruant, at vvhose first encounter I vvas maruelously reioysed, both [Page 35] because he hath bene alvvaies deare vnto me, as also especially for that I thought he vvas not come to London vvithout yourselfe; but vvhen I had He pro­fesseth vvhat spi­rituall confort he recea­ued from D. Colet. learned of him, that you vvere not come, nor yet minded to come of a long vvhile, it cannot be ex­pressed, hovv suddenly my great ioy vvas turned into as great sorrovv and saddenesse. For vvhat can be more grieuous vnto me, then to be depriued of your most svveete cōuersatiō? vvhose vvholesome counsell I vvas vvont to enioye, vvith vvhose de­light some familiaritie I vvas recreated, by vvhose vveightie sermons I haue bene often stirred vp to deuotion, by vvhose life and example I haue bene much amended in mine ovvne, finally in vvhose very face and countenance I vvas vvont to rest contented. VVherefore as I haue found myselfe greatly strengthened, vvhilst I enioyed these hel­pes, so novv doe I see myselfe much vveakened and brought almost to nothing, being depriued of them so long. For hauing heretofore by follovving your footestepps almost escaped out of hells mouth, so novv like another Euridice (though in a contra­rie manner, for she vvas left there because Or­pheus [Page 36] looked back vpon her, but I am in the like daunger, because you doe not looke vpon me) fall back againe by a certaine violence and necessitie into that obscure darkenesse I vvas in before. For Popu­lous ci­ties suller of dāgers of sinne, then the country life. vvhat I pray you is there here in this Cittie, vvhich doth moue anie man to liue vvell, and doth not rather by a thousand deuises dravv him back, and vvith as maine allurements svvallovv him vp in all manner of vvickednesse, vvho of himself vvere othervvise vvell disposed and doth endeauour accordingly to clime vp the painefull hill of Vertue? VVhither soeuer that anie man co­meth what can he finde but fayned [...] , and the honie poyson of venemous flatterie; in one place he shall finde cruellhatred, in another heare nothing but quarrells and suits. VVhithersoeuer vve cast our eyes, vvhat can vve see but victualing houses, fishmongers, butchers, cookes, pudding makers, fishers, o fovvlers, [...] matter to our bellies, and sett forvvard the [...] vvorld, and the prince thereof and [...] ? [...] themselues I knovve not hovv do [...] of a great parte of our sight of heauen; so as the heighth [Page 37] of our buildings, and not the circle of our horizon, doth limite our prospect. For vvhich cause I may pardon you the more easily, that you doe delight rather to remaine in the countrie, vvhere you are. For there you finde a companie of plaine soules, The ple­sure and innocēce of a cōu­try life. voyde of all crafte, vvherevvith cittizens most abounde; vvhithersoeuer you looke, the earth yeel­deth you a pleasant prospect, the temperature of the ayre refresheth you, and the cleare beholding of the heauens doth delight you; you finde no­thing there but bounteous guifts of nature, and saintelie tokens of innocencie. Yet I vvould not haue you so carried avvay vvith those content­ments, that you should be stayed from hastening hither. Forys the discommodities of the Cittie doe, as they may very vvell, displease you, yet may the countrie about your parish of Stepney (vvhereof you ought also not to haue the least care) afforde you the like delights to [...] , vvhich that affordes you, vvherein novv you keepe; from vvhence you may vpon occasions come to London as into your Inne, vvhere you may finde great matter of me­ritt. The countrie people is most commonly har­melesse, [Page 38] or at the least not loaden vvith great of­fences, Cities stād mo­re in [...] of skil full pa­stours, thē coū ­try man­sions. and therefore anie phisician may minister phisick vnto them; but as for cittizens, both be­cause they are manie in number, as also in regar­de of their inueterate custome in [...] , none can helpe them but he that is verie skillfull. There co­me into the pullpett at Paules diuerse men, that promise to cure the diseases of others; but vvhen they haue all donne, and made a fayre and goodlie Prea­chers that liue not vvell, edyfy no thing. discourse, their life on the other side doth so iarre vvith their saying, that they rather increase then assvvage the griefes of their hearers. For they can­not persvvade men that they are fitt to cure others, vvhen as themselues (god vvote) are most sicke, and crazie; and therefore vvhen they feele their sores touched and handled by those, vvhome they see are full of loathsome sores themselucs, they cannot but haue agreat auersion from them. But if such a one be accounted by learned men most fut to cure, in vvhome the sicke man hath greatest hope, vvho doubleth then, but you alone are the fit­test in all London to cure their maladies, vvhome euerie one is vvilling to suffer to touche their vvo­undes, [Page 39] and in vvhome vvhat confidence euerie one hath, and hovv readie euerie one is to doe vvhat you prescribe, both you haue heretofore suf­ficiently iryed, and novv the desire that euerie He inui­teth D. Colet to returne to the ci­ty, to help sou­les. bodie hath of your speedie returne, may manifest the same. Returne therefore my deere Colett, ei­ther for Stepney's sake, vvhich mourneth for your absence no lesse then children doe for the absence of their louing mother, crelse for London's sake, in respect it is your natiue countrie, vvhereof you can haue no lesse regarde, then of your ovvne parents; and finally (although this be the least motiue) re­turne for my sake, vvho haue vvholy dedicated myself to your directions, and do most earnestly long to see you. In the meane while I passe my ti­me vvith Grocine, Linacre and Lillie; the first being as you knovve the directour of my life in your absence; the second, the maister of my studies, the third, my most deare Companion. Farevvell, and see you loue me as you haue donne hitherto. London, 21. Octob.

By this letter it may clearely be seene, how he The ine­stimable profit of a good ghostly father. gaue himselfe from his youth to the true rules [Page 40] of deuotion, and thereby sought to profitt as well in holinesse as in learning; For if Christ hath pronounced them happie, that hunger and thirst after iustice, surely he shewed in this letter a great earnestnesse of desire to attaine to perfe­ction. And his example may moue all his to follow therein his footestepps, that their chiefe and principall endeauour in their youth be to seeke out a skillfull phisitian of the soule, who both can and will guide vs in the path of Ca­tholike doctrine and dutie, and when we haue found such a one, to follow his counsell preci­sely, and make the secretts of our harts knowen to him. This dutiefulnesse of the ghostlie childe to so rare a father, made Colett also admire this yong man's towardlienesse, so that this Do­ctour would professe to manie, and at sundrie times say, that there was but one witt in En­gland, and that was yong THOMAS MORE; al­thoug manie flourishing youthes at that time liued in England, which were of hopefull ex­pectation. And no doubt but God did further him with particular grace and towardlinesse, [Page 41] because he was so extraordinarily deuout, so that I doe imagine it may be sayd of Sir THO­MAS Sir Tho. Mo. lear­ned mo­re by, prayer then by study. MORE, which S. Thomas of Aquine witt­nesseth of himselfe, that he learned more by praier and spirituail exercises, then euer he could doe by anie studie For to what studie so­euer Sir THOMAS applyed himselfe, he grew in short time most famous therein. And first how great a Poet he was accounted euen in his youth, we haue already partly spoken of; then what Declamations he made full of all Rheto­ricall eloquence to the amazement of all his auditorie, manie haue wittnessed, who heard them, and haue read them; how pure a Latine stile he attayned vnto, his singular epistles yet extant to diuerse personages doe euidently shewe, so that one would imagine he had spent all his life time in Humanitie only. And al­though his aptnesse for eloquence seemed farre to disagree from the serious studies of the Com­mon Law of this land, so that few could sup­pose such a witt would haue had the patience to haue taken a lawbooke in hand, yet such was [Page 42] his obedience to his father that at his cōmaund he studied the Law diligently.

7. He vsed to eate at his meales but of one 7. His sober diet. dish, which was most commonly powdered biefe, or some such like salte meate; although his table was alwaies furnished with much va­rietie; and what meate he first tasted on, the sa­me would he for that time make his whole re­fection of. In his youth he abstained wholy from wine; and in his latter yeares he would ta­ste thereof, but first it must be well alayed with water; as Erasmus to Huttenus wittnesseth.

He had noe care what apparrell he wore; in And plai­ne appa­rrell. so much that being once tolde by his secretarie M ^r. Harris, that his shoes were all torne, he bad him tell his man, that looked vnto him thereof, to buy him new, whome for this cause he called his Tutour; for he bought and made all his apparrell at his owne discretion, Sir THO­MAS neuer busying his head about such mat­ters; choosing rather to be in all things at the discretion of other men, then at his owne gui­ding, that he might in all his actions exercise the [Page 43] chiefe vertues of a Christian man, obedience and humilitie. Yea although he were most wise, and dexterous in discerning truth from fal­shood, and vertue from cloaked vice; yet would he for the most parte in his greatest affaires and studies aske his man Harris his aduise and co­unsell; and if he thought the contrarie better, he would willingly submitt himselfe to his opini­on. And indeede Harris was a man of good vn­derstanding and iudgement, and a very trustie seruant.

8. These were the foundations, on which 8. He dis­sembled his vir­tuous mortifi­cation by pleasunt and [...] con­uersatiō. he layde his future building; which by how much the more it was to be raysed to splendour and beautie, by so much he layd his ground worke of humilitie the lower; and whatsoeuer hardnesse he vsed secretely, still kept he in out ward semblance a singular alacritie, being mer­ry in companie and full of ieastes; especially es­chewing the vice of singularitie; yea he was ve­rie cunning in dissembling his vertues, so that few came to knowe, what holie exercises he pra­ctised; euen as in his writings he often fay ned [Page 44] matters cunningly to haue heard them of o­thers, which he himself had inuented, as in his preface to his Utopia he artificially discourseth as though Raphael Hithlodius had tolde that whole storie vnto him; commento periucundo, as Paulus Iouius doth testifye. So he fayned as though an Englishman called Rosse had pleasantly confuted Lutheres booke, as he dis­coursed with his hoste in Italie, who afterward published all their communication in printe, by which meanes Luther could neuer learne, who he was that answered him after his owne furious fashion, which angred him sore; lastly his three bookes of Comfort in tribulation, a worke most excellent and diuine, he inuented to haue bene spoken by two Hungarian kinf­men about the Turkes perfecution; but thereby he most liuely represented the terrible stormes of crueltie, which king Henrie the eight, and heresie would raise in our poore distressed Co­untrie.

I. SIR THOMAS MORE hauing 1. S. Thom. Moor his mariage and first vvife. determined by the aduise and direction of his gho­stlie father to be a married man, there was at that ti­me a pleasant conceipted gentleman of an ancient familie in Essex one M ^r. Iohn Colte of Nevv­hall, from whome S ^r. Henry Colt that now li­ueth, is lineally descended, that inuited him to his house, being much delighted in his compa­nie, and proffered vnto him the choyce of anie of his daughters, who were yong gentlewomen of verie good carriadge and complexions, and [Page 47] very religiously inclined, whose honest and swecte conuersation, whose vertuous education enflamed Sir THOMAS not a little; and although Chosen out of 2 charita­ble com­passion against his ovv­ne affe­ction. his affection most serued him to the second, for that he thought her the fayrest and best fauou red; yet when he thought with himselfe, that this would be a griefe and some blemish in the eldest, to see her yonger sister preferred before her, he, of a kinde of compassion settled his fan­cie vpon the eldest, and soone after married her, with all her friends good liking.

Now when he began to be clogged with wife His chil­dren by her. and familie, children also began to growe fast vpō him; for his wife, whose name was laneColt, as long as she liued with him, which was but so­me six yeares, brought vnto him almost euerie yeare a childe, for whose maintenance he ap­plyed himself busily to the practise of the law; and because he would haue his wife neare vnto his father, he placed her in Bucklers-bury. By her he had one sonne called Iohn More my Iohn More. owne grandfather, who was his youngest chil­de, and three daughters; his eldest daughter [Page 48] Margarett, a woman of singular witt and wi­sedome, Margaret Roper. rare [...] , and extraordinarie learning, was wife vnto William Rooper of Eltham in the Countie of Kent Esquier, whose grandchilde now liuing is Sir William Rooper; his second daughter called Elizabeth was afterward mat­ched Eliza­beth [...] . with Sir Iohn Dancy's sonne and heyre; the third called [...] was married to M ^r. Giles Cecily Heron. Heron of shakclvvell in the Countie of Mid­dlesex esquier: his sonne my grandfather mar­ried Anne Cresacre sole daughter and heyre of Anne Cresacre vvife to M. Iohn More. E'dvvard Cresacre deceased of Baronborough in the Countie of Yorke esquier, whome Sir THOMAS bought of the King being his warde, vpon errour for another bodie's land lying in the same towne, as was afterware proued.

2. My great grandmother hauing brought His secōd mariage vvith a vvidovv. forth these foure children, dyed soone after, and within two or three yeares he married a widdow called M ^ris Alce Middleton, by whome he had no children; this he did not of anie concu­piscence; for he would often affirme, that Cha­stitie is more hardly kept in wedlock, then in a [Page 49] single life, but because she might haue care of his children, that were verie yong, from whome of necessitie he must be verie often absent; she was of good yeares, of no good fauour nor complexion, nor very rich, by disposition verie neare and worldlie. I haue heard it reported, he woed her for a friend of his, not once thinking to haue her himselfe; but she wisely answering him, that he might speede, if he would speake in his owne behalfe, telling his friend, what she had sayd vnto him, with his good liking he married her, and did that which otherwise he would perhaps neuer haue thought to haue donne. And indeede her fauour, as I thinke, Not very faire, but kind stepmo­ther. could not haue bewitched or scarce euer mo­ued anie man to loue her; but yet she proued a kinde and carefull mother-in-law to his chil­dren, as he was alwaies a most louing father vn­to them, and not only to his owne, but to her daughter also, who was married to M. ^r Aling­ton, M. Aling­ton, his step­daughter and mother to Sir Giles Alington. He brought vp togeather with this owne children as one of them Margarett Gigs, after wife to Margaret Clement. [Page 50] Doctour Clement, a famous phisitian; and she proued also very famous for her manie excel­lent partes, as learning, vertue and wisedome All these he bred most carefully to learning and Carefull gouetn. ment of his famy­ly. godlie exercises, often exhorting them, to take vertue for their meate, and play for their sawce; getting them good meanes to maintaine them by his practise in the law, which he had first stu­died in an Inne of Chancerie called New-Inne, where he profited exceedingly, and from then­ce went to Lincolnes-Inne, of which house his father then was, where he allotted him small allowance for the reasons before alleaged, and, as it seemed, then his great patron the good Cardinal was dead.

3. But he plyed that studie whereto he ga­ue His kno­vvledge, and rare integrity in profes­sion of the lavv. himself, being apt to anie, that in short time he was made and accounted a worrhie Outer­barister; yea still proceeding with most notable fame, he became a double reader, to which few but rare and singular lawyers doe euer attaine. Euerie one beganne to admire him both for a man of iudgement, vprightnesse and other ex­cellent [Page 51] partes, a readie deliuerie, boldenesse in a iust cause, and diligence in his Clients case, and no great taker of money, vnlesse he had throug­ly deserued. For which causes euerie man stri­ued to haue him of their Counsell in all suits. The Cittie of London chose him within a whi­le, He is ma­de ludge of the sherif of Londons court. Iudge of the Shrief's Court, some say, Re­corder of London, which I thinke not; yea there was not at that time anie matter of im­portance in anie of the King's Courts of this realme but he was of counsell to one of the par­ties, still choosing the iustest side, and therefore for the most parte he went away victorious. By His plē ­tyfull but honest gaines. all which meanes he gott yearely, as he tolde his sonne Rooper, without anie grudge of conscien­ce, to the value of foure hundred pounds, which was a large gaynes in those daies, when lawyers spedde not so well as now they doe, neither we­re they then so plentiefull; but his fame excee­ded all other. Wherefore he was chosen twice Agent for the Stillyard-marchents, which busi­nes he dispatched with singuler dexteritie. 4. K Henry the 7. of­fended vvith S. Tho.

4. King Henrie the Seauenth then raigning, [Page 52] was a prince of singuler vertues, as wisedome and religion, if that couetousnesse, the roote of all mischiefe, had not seized vpon him towards his latter daies, which caused him to lay vpon his subiects manie Impositions, and to raise so­re exactions by two Caterpillers of the Com­mon-wealth Emson and Dudley, who in the beginning of Henrie the Eighth's raigne were rewarded according to their deserts for their wicked counsell, to teache other men by their deathes how Iniustice and rapine is punished by God. This King, I say, had called to geather a Parlement, wherein he demaunded one Subsi­die For cros­sing him in parle­ment in an vnjust imposi­tion. and three Fifteenes for the marriage of his eldest daughter the Ladie Margaret's Grace, who then should be, as she was in deede shortly after, bestowed vpon the King of Scotts. It chanced that Sir THOMAS was then one of the Burgesses; For manie had now taken notice of his great sufficiencie. When the consent of the Lower house was demaunded to these imposi­tions, most of the rest either holding their pea­ce, or not daring to gainesay them (though [Page 53] they were vnwilling to grant them) Sir THO­MAS making a graue speache, brought forth such vrgent arguments, why these exactions were not to be granted, that herevpon the King's demaunde was crossed, and his request denyed; so that one M. ^r Tiler one of the King's priuie Chamber went presently from the house, and tolde his Maiestie, that a beardelesse boy had disappointed him of all his expectation; where­vpon the king conceaued great indignation a­gainst him, and could no way be satisfyed, vn­till he had in some sorte reuenged it.

But for as much as he hauing yet but a litle, Sir Iohn More the father impri­sond, to be reuen­ged vpon the [...] . could not loose much, the king deuised a Cau­selesse quarrell against Sir Iohn More his most innocent father, and clapt him vp in the Tower of London, keeping him there prisoner, vntill he had forced him against all Iustice to pay one hundred pounds as a fyne for a Causelesse of­fence. Manie also then counselled Sir THOMAS Bad coū ­cel giuen by a po­litik bis­hop. MORE to aske the king mercie, that his father might be released, amongst whome was Do­ctour Fox then Bishopp Winchester one of the [Page 54] king's priuie Councell, who pretended great lo­ue towards M. ^r More, purposing indeede to gett the king thereby a better meanes to reuen­ge Auoided by coun­cel of the religious bishops chaplain. his displeasure against him. But when Sir THOMAS had asked the Bishop's Chaplaine Do­ctour Whittford a verie holie and graue man, afterward a Father of Sion, he that translated the Follovving of Christ into English, what he were best to doe, he requested him for the pas­sion of Christ not to follow his Lord's aduise, saying moreouer that the Bishop would not sticke to agree to the death of his owne father, if it were to serue the king's turne. For which cause he returned no more to my Lo: of Win­chester, but determined to haue gone ouer sea, thinking he could not liue in England without great danger, standing now in the king's dis­pleasure; and therefore he studied the French He [...] to his quieter studies. toung at home, sometimes recreating his ty­red spiritts on the violl; where he also perfected himself in most of the Liberall Sciences, as Musike, Arithmetike, Geometrie and Astrono­my, and grew to be a perfect historian; his chiefe [Page 55] helpe in all these labours being his happie me­morie, of which he modestly speaketh thus; I would I had as good a witt, and as much lear­ning vt memoria non vsquequaque destituor, as my memorie doth not altogeather fayle me.

But king Henrie dying shortly after, and his Empsou and Da­dley put to death for vvic­ked coū ­scl. sonne king Henrie the Eighth striuing at the beginning of his raigne to winne the applause of his people, cast Emson and Dudley into pri­son, and attaynted them of high treason for gi­uing pernicious counsell to his father their prince; and when they were going to executi­on Sir THOMAS asked Dudley whether he had not donne betterthen they; to whome with a The hap­pines of a good consciē ­ce. sorrowfull hart he answered: O M. ^r MORE, God was your good friend, that you did not as­ke the king for giuenesse, as manie would haue had you donne; for if you had donne so, per­haps you should haue bene in the like case with vs now. So that to shunne present dangers by offending God or our Countrie, is not al­waies the safest way euen for our bodilie good, [Page 56] the contrarie turning oftentimes to our great fame, glorie and profitt.

5. These great partes of nature and dili­gence, 5. The be­ginning of S. Th. Mores fauour vvith K. Henry [...] . which euerie one noted in Sir THOMAS MORE coming to the yong king's eare, vvho was at that time greedie to entertaine all rare men into his seruice, he caused Cardinal VVol­sey then Lo: Chancellour to moue him to come to the Court; and albeit the Cardinal laboured earnestly with him to effect it, alleadging how deare his seruice would be to his Maiestie, who Warily at the first declined by S. Th. could not with his honour allowe him lesse then he should loose by changing his former estate, but rather would enlarge his meanes, and recompence him fully; yet loath to change his estate, (which was certaine) made such mea­nes to the king by the Cardinall, as that his Ma­iestie was at that time satisfyed to forbeare him.

Yet did the king vse him in diuerse Embassa­ges, He is em­ployed by the K. on an em­bassage into Frā ­ce. first sending him in to France to challenge certaine debts, which the king of England de­maunded to be due vnto him, that had bene [Page 57] there vniustly kept back, in which charge he sa­tisfyed both the kings fully; such was his wise demeanour and sufficiencie. After this he was also sent Embassadour into Flanders to confir­me a league betwixt England and Burgundie, To Flan­ders and Burgūdy. which he happily finishing, the king offered him at his returne a yearelie pension, which Sir THOMAS refused, as he writeth to Erasmus in these words:

VVhen I returned from my embassage of Flanders, the king's Maiestie vvould haue giuen me a yearlie pension, vvhich surely, if one vvould respect honour and profitt, vvas not to be little esteemed; yet haue I as yet refused it, and I thinke I shall refuse it still; because either I should be fayne to for sake my present meanes, vvhich I haue alreadie in the Cittie (and I esteeme it more then a better) or else I must keepe it vvith some dislike of the Cittizens, betvveene vvhome and his Highnesse if there should happen anie controuersie (as sometimes it doth chance) about their priuiledges, they might suspect me as not sincere and trustie vnto them, in re­spect [Page 58] I am obliged to the king vvith an annuall stipende.

6. About this time he compounded his fa­mous 6. His more serious vvritings booke of Vtopia in latine so much prai­sed and extolled by all the learned men of that age, about the yeare of our Lord 1516. being six and thirtie yeares of age. This booke was of all His [...] , gre­atly [...] me I by all lear­ned men. Nations so much applauded, that very shortly after it was translated both into French, Italian, Dutch and English. The iudgement of [...] learned men concerning which worke, I thinke good to sett downe here in English as Doctour Stapleton reciteth them in his Three Thomases in Latine. And first Budaeus a singular writer in By Bi­dxus. those daies sayth thus of it in an epistle to Lup­setus: VVe are beholding to Thomas More for the discouery of Vtopia, vverein he hath diuul­ged to the vvorld in this our age a patterne of a happie life, and a perfect rule of good behauiour. This age and our posteritie shall haue this historie as a Seminarie of most holesome doctrine and profitable instructions, from vvhence they may transporte and accommodate euerie one to their [Page 59] ovvne Citties and Countries these excellent ordi­nances and decrees. Iohn Paludan to Peter Gi­les By I. Pa­ludanus. speaketh thus thereof: you may see in Vtopia as in a looking-glasse, vvhatsoeuer belongeth to a perfect Communion VVealth. England truly hath manie excellent learned men. For what may we coniecture of the rest, if More alone hath perfourmed so much? being first but a yong man, and then full of businesses both publike, and domesticall, and lastly professing anie thing rather then learning. Peter Giles also to Hierome Bus­lidian By P. AE­gidius. speaketh thus, and giueth it this praise: So manie vvonders doe here meete togeather, that I am in a doubt vvhich first to admire, vvhether his most happie memorie, vvhich could almost vvord for vvord relate so manie different things againe, hauing but heard them once tolde, or his vvisedome for marking and setting forth all the fountaines, from vvhence either the happinesse or mischiefes of anie Common vvealth do arise; or the elegancie and force of his stile, vvho hath vvith such pure Latine, and such vigour of speach com­prized so manie and sundrie matters; especially [Page 60] one that is so much distracted both vvith publike and priuate affayres Buslidian a great Counsel­lour By Busli­dius. of Charles the Fift Emperour in a letter to Sir THOMAS sayth: In the happie description of your Vtopian Common-vvealth, there is no­thing missing, vvhich might shevv most excellent learning togeather vvith an absolute knovvledge of all humane things. For you excell in sundrie sciences, and haue such great and certaine knovv­ledge [...] besides, that you affirme euerie matter in writing, as though you had tryed euerie thing by experience before, and you write most eloquently vvhat soeuer you affirme; a maruelous and rare happienesse; and the more rare, by hovv much the fevver can attaine therevnto. And fur­ther in the sayd letter he affirmeth that this Vtopian Common wealth farre exceedeth the Lacedemonian, the Athenian, yea euen that of the Romans it selfe, in that it seeketh not so much to make manie lawes, as it laboureth to prouide good and vpright Magistrates; by who­se prototypon, that is, the patterne of their ho­nestie, the example of their manners and beha­uiour, [Page 61] and the pourtraicture of their Iustice, the whole state and true gouernement of euerie perfect [...] wealth may be framed. Pau­lus By Pau­lus Ioui­us. louius in his booke of the praises of learned men speaketh thus: Mores fame vvill alvvaies laste in his Vtopia; for he therein hath described a kingdome vvell gouerned vvith holesome lavves, and much flourishing, vvithriche peace, she vving hovv he loathed the corrupt manners of this vvic­ked age, and endeauouring by a pleasant fiction to leade the right pathe to a blessed and most happie life, &c. Finally Hutten, Uiues, Grapheus and Lacius affirme that Sir THOMAS had an incom­parable witt; greater then a man's witt, pene di­uinum, yea almost diuine.

About this time he also wrote for his exerci­se His story of K. Ri­chard the 3. the historie of king Richard the third, both in Latine and English, which is so well penned that if our Chronicles of England were halfe so well sett out, they would entice all English men to reade them ouer often. These his wor­kes sett out at that time, when he was most em­ployed in other mens affayres, shew how dili­gent [Page 62] and industrious he was. For thus he writeth in his Vtopia: VVhilst I daily either pleade other He vvas vvonder­fully stu­dious a­midst his setious affaires. mens causes, or heare them sometimes as an arbi­ter, othervvhiles as a Iudge, vvhilst this man I visite for friendshipp, another for businesses, and vvhilst I busie my selfe abroad about other mens matters all the vhole day; I leaue no time for my selfe, that is for studie. For vvhen I come home; I must discourse vvith my vvife, chatte vvith my children, speake vvith my seruants; and seing this The offi­ce of a discreet houshol­der. must needes be donne, I number it amongst my affaires; and needefull they are, vnlesse one vvill be a stranger in his ovvne house; for vve must en­deauour to be affable and pleasing vnto those, vvhome either nature, chance, or choice hath ma­de our companions; but vvith such measure it must be donne, that vve doe not marre them vvith affabilitie, or make them of servants our maisters, by too much gentle entreatie and fa­uour; vvhilst these things are doing, a day, a mo­neth, a yeare passeth. VVhen then can I finde anie time to vvrite? for I haue no: yet spoken of the ti­me that is spent in eating and sleeping; vvhich [Page 63] things alone bereaue most men of halfe their life. As for me I gett only that spare time, vvhich I fleale from my meate and sleepe, vvhich because it is but small, I proceedst vvly; yet it being some­vvhat, I haue novv at the length preuailed so much as I haue finished, and sent vnto you, Peter, my Vtopia.

Besides all this to shew the more his excel­lent His lec­tures pu­blik vpō S. Austin­de ciuit. Dei. partes of readie vtterance, pleasant con­ceipts and sharpenesse of witt, euen to the ad­miration of all men, he read a lecture in S. Lau­rence church at Lothburie, where Sir Iohn More his father lieth buried, out of S. Augu­sten's bookes De Ciuitate Dei, not so much dis­cussing the points of Diuinitie, as the precepts of morall philosophie and historie, where with these bookes are replenished. And he did this with such an excellent grace that whereas be­fore all the flower of English youthes went to heare the famous Grocinus, who was lately co­me out of Italie to teache Greeke in the publike vniuersitie, vnder whome as also that famous Grammarian Linaore Sir THOMAS himself had [Page 64] profited greatly, of whome he had Aristotle's workes interpreted in Greeke, now all England almost left his lecture, and flocked to heare Sir THOMAS MORE.

7. It fortuned shortly after that a shippe of 7. By plea­ding for the Pope against the K. he makes him of his priuy Councel. the Popes arriued at Southampton, which the King claimed as a forfeyture; yet the pope's le­gate so wrought with the king that though it was seysed on, yet he obtained to haue the mat­ter pleaded by learned Councell. For the Pope's side as their principall man was chosen Sir THOMAS MORE; and a day of hearing being ap­pointed before the Lo: Chancellour and other the chiefe Iudges in the Starre-chamber Sir THOMAS argued so learnedly and forcibly in defence of the pope's parte, that the afore sayd forfeyture was restored, and he amongst all the audience so highly commended for his admi­rable and wittie arguing, that for no intreatie would the king anie longer forbeare to vse him. Wherefore he brought him perforce to the Court and made him of his Priuie Counsell, as Sir THOMAS testifyeth himselfe in a letter to [Page 65] that worthie prelate Iohn Fisher Bishop of Ro­chester, saying: I am come to the Court extrea­mely against my vvill, as euerie bodie knovveth, and as the king himself often tvviteth me in spor­te for it. And hereto do I hang so vnseemely as a man not vsing to ride doth sitt vnhansomely in his saddle. But our Prince, vvhose speciall and extraordinarie fauour tovvards me I knovve not hovv I euer shalbe able to deserue, is so affable and courteous to all men, that euerie one, vvho hath K. Hērie 8. lear­ning, and courtesy. neuer so little hope of himselfe, may finde some­vvhat, vvhereby he may imagine, that he loueth him; euen as the Cittizens vviues of London doe, vvho imagine that our ladies' picture neare the tovver doth smile vpon them, as they pray be­fore it. But I am not so happie, that I can perceaue such fortunate signes of deseruing his loue, and of a more abiect spriut, then that I can persvvade myselfe that I haue it already; yet such is the vertue and learning of the king, and his daily increasing industrie in both, that by hovv much the more I see his Highnesse increase in these kinglie ornaments, by so much the lesse trou­blesome [Page 66] this Courtier's life seemeth vnto me.

And indeede king Henrie's Court for the A graci­ous King for his first [...] yeares. first twentie yeares was a seate of manie excel­lent witts, a pallace of rare vertues, according as Erasmus Wittnesseth thereof in an epistle to Henrie Gilford a gentleman of an ancient fa­milie For thus he writeth: The fragant odour of the most honourable fame of the Court of En­gland, vvhich spreades it selfe ouer all the vvorld, it hauing a king singularly endevved vvith all princelie excellencies, a Queene most like vnto him, and a number of sincere, learned, graue and vvise personages belonging unto it, hath stirred vp the prince of Berghes to putt his sonne Antony to no other schoole but that.

Within a while after the king had created S. Thom. More [...] and ma­de [...] of the [...] . him one of his high Councellours of state, per­ceauing euerie day more and more his fidelitie, vprightnesse, dexteritie, & wisedome, dubbted him knight, and after M. ^r Weston's death he made him Threasurer of the exchequer, a place of great trust; of which increase of honour Eras­mus writeth to [...] , saying: VVhen you [Page 67] vvrite next to MORE, you shall vvish him ioy of his increase of dignitie and good fortune; For be­ing before only of the king's priuie Councell, novv of late by the beneuolencc and free guift of his most gracious prince, he neither desiring nor see­king for it, is not only made knight, but Threasu­rer of the king's Exchequer; an office in England both honourable, and also commodious for the purse. Yea king Henrie finding still more and The fa­miliarity of K. Hē ­ry vvith S. Thom. More. more sufficiencie in Sir THOMAS vsed him with particular affection for the space of twentie yeares togeather; during a good parte whereof the king's custome was vpon holie daies, when he had donne his deuotions to sende for Sir THOMAS into his Trauerse, and there some times in matters of Astronomie, Geomitrie, and Di­uinitie, and such other sciences, to sitt and con­ferre with him: otherwhiles also in the cleere nights he would haue him walke with him on the leads, there to discourse of the diuersitie of the courses, motions and operations of the starres, as well fixed as the planetts; And because he was of a verie pleasant disposition, it pleased [Page 68] his Maiestie and the Queene at supper time Discreet­ly lesse­ned by S. Th. him self. commonly to call for him to heare his pleasant ieastes. But when Sir THOMAS perceaued his wittie conceipts so much to delight him, that he could scarce once in a moneth gett leaue to goe home to his wife and children, whome he had now placed at Chelsey, three miles frō Lon­don by the water side; and that he could not be two daies absent from the Court, but he must be sent for againe, he much misliking this re­strainte of his libertie, beganne therevpon to dissemble his mirth, and so by little and little to disvse himselfe, that he from thēceforth at such seasons was no more so ordinarily sent for.

The great respect, which the Cittie of Lon­don He is [...] by the K. to appea­se the prentises of Lon­don. bare vnto him caused the king as a speciall man to sende Sir THOMAS to appease the ap­prentises, which were risen vp in a mutine a­gainst the strangers that dwelt then amongst them, vpon; May day: and surely Sir THOMAS had quicted them wholy and soone, had not an extraordinarie chance hindred it in S. Mar­tins, as Stovve wittnesseth.

[Page 69] The king vsed also of a particular loue to co­me on a suddain to Chelsey, where Sir THOMAS now liued; and leaning vpon his shoulder to talke with him of secrett counsell in his gardin, yea and to dine with him vpon noinuiting. 8. He is by the King chosen speaker of the lovver house of Parla­ment.

8. In the fourteenth yeare of the raigne of king Henry the eight, there was a parlement held, and thereof (which was a strange thing) Sir THOMAS MORE was chosen Speaker for the Lower house, being now one of the Prince Counsell; who being very loath to take this charge vpon him, made a worthie Oration to the King's Ma. ^tie (not now extant) whereby he earnestly laboured to be discharged of the sayd place of Speaker shipp; wherevnto his Highnesse would by no meanes giue consent.

At the beginning of Parlament he made an­other A sūma­ry of his first spe­etch in Parlamēt other Oration, the points whereof are very wi­sely sett downe by my vncle Rooper in his Life of Sir THOMAS MORE; and they are these: Since I perceaue, most redoubted Soueraigne, that it accordeth not to your high pleasure to reforme this election, and cause it to be changed, but haue by [Page 70] the mouth of the right Reuerend Father in God the legate ( who was then Cardinal Wolsey) your high Chancellour therevnto giuen your as­sent, and haue of your benignitie farre aboue that I may be are, to enable me and for this office to re­pute me fitt rather then that you vvould seeme to imputte to your Commons, that they had vnme­etely chosen me, I am therefore, and alvvaies shall be readie obediently to conforme my self to the ac­complishment of your high commaunde. And then he maketh tvvo humble petitions; the one concerning himself, the other, the vvhole assem­blie. The first; that if he should chance to mistake his message, or for lacke of good vtterance by mis­rehear sall peruert their prudent instructions, that his Ma ^tie vvould then pardon his simplicitie, and suffer him to repayre vnto them againe for their more substantiall aduise. His other request vnto the King's Maiestie vvas, that is vvould please his inestimable goodnesse to pardon freely, vvithout doubt of his dreadfull displeasure, vvhatsoeuer it shall happen anie man to say there, interpreting euerie man's vvordes, hovv vnce­mely [Page 71] soeuer they vvere couched, to proceede of a good zeale tovvards the profitt of the realme, and the honour of his royall person.

9. Cardinal VVolsey sound himself much 9. Cardinal Wolseys entry in­to parla­ment. grieued at the Burgesses, that nothing could be either donne or spoken in both the houses, but it was immediately blowen abroad in euerie ale house. It fortuned after that a great Subsidie was to be demaunded, and the Cardinall fea­ring it would not passe lower house, vnlesse he were there present himself before whose co­ming it was long debated, whether they should admitt him with a few of the Lords, as the most opinion of the house was, or that they should receaue him with his whole trayne. Maisters, quoth Sir THOMAS, for as much as my Lo: Car­dinal lately, ye woote well, layde to our charge the lightnesse of our toungs, for things vttered out of this house, it should not in my minde be amisse to receaue him with all his pompe, with his Maces, his Pillers, his Polaxes, his Crosse, his hatt, and the Great Seale too, to the intent, that if he finde the like faulte with vs then, we [Page 72] may lay the blame vpon those, whome his Gra­ce bringeth with him. Vpon which words the House wholy agreed, and so he was receaued accordingly. There the Cardinal with a sollem­ne And a motiō to the lovv­er house. speache by manie reasons proued, how ne­cessarie it was that the demaunde there moued should be granted, but he seing the companie silent, contrarie to his expectation, shewing no inclination thereto, demaunded of them some reasonable answer; but when euerie one still held their peace, he spake in particular to M. ^r Murrey; who making no answer neither, he asked others also; but they all had determined to answer him by their Speaker: Who spake there­fore Frustra­ted by S. Tho. Mores. vvisdo­me. reuerently on his knees, excusing the silen­ce of the house abashed, as he sayd, at the sight of so noble a personage, who was able to amaze the wisest and best learned in the realme. Yet with manie probable arguments he proued this his manner of coming to be neither expedient, nor agreable to the ancient liberties of that house; & for himself in conclusion he shewed, that except all they could putt their sundrie [Page 73] witts into his head, that he alone in so weightie a matter was vnmeete to make his Grace a suffi­cient answer. vvherevpon the Cardinal dis­pleased with Sir THOMAS that he had not in that Who pleasant­ly and vvittily diuerteth the Car­dinals di­spleasure. parlement satisfyed his expectation, suddenly rose in a rage and departed. And afterwards in his gallerie at VVitehall he vttered vnto him his griefe, saying; I would to God you had bene at Rome, M. ^r MORE, when I made you Speaker. Your Grace not offended, so would I too, my Lord, replyed Sir THOMAS, for then should I haue seene the place I long haue desired to visi­te. And when the Cardinal walked without anie more speache, he beganne to talke to him of that fayre Gallerie of his, saying: This Gallerie of yours, my Lord, pleaseth me much better then your other at Hampton court; with which digression he broke of the Cardinal's displeasant talke, that his Grace at that present wist not mo­re what to say vnto him. And ob­taineth against him not to be seut Leger embassa­dour into Spaine.

But for a reuenge of his displeasure he coun­selled the king to send him his Embassadour Leger into Spayne, commending to his High­nesse, [Page 74] h's learning, wisedome and fittnesse for that voyage, the difficultie of manie matters considered betweene the Emperour Charles the Fift and our realme, so as none was so well able to serue his Maiestie therein; which the king broke to Sir THOMAS. But when Sir THO­MAS had declared to the king, how vnmeete that iournie was for him, the nature of Spayne so much disagreing with his constitution, that he was vnlike to doe his Soueraigne acceptable seruice there, being that it was probable, that he should send him to his graue; yet for all that he shewed himself readie, according as dutie bo­und him, were it with the losse of his life to full­ful his Maiestie's pleasure in that behalfe. The king most gratiously replyed thereto thus: It is not our meaning M. ^r MORE, to do you anie hurt, but to do you good, we could be glad: We will therefore employe your seruice otherwise; and so would not permitt him to goe that long iourney.

10. For the king's wisedome perceaued 10. He is ma­de chau­cellour of the Dutchy of [...] . that the Cardinall beganne to growe iealous of [Page 75] Sir THOMAS MORE'S greatnesse, fearing that (which after happened) he would outstrippe him in the king's gracious fauour, who stil hea­ped more honour vpon Sir THOMAS; and al­though he was neuer the man that asked the king anie request for himselfe; yet vpon the death of Sir Richard VVinckfield, who had be­ne Chancelour of the Dutchie of Lancaster, that dignitie was bestowed vpon Sir THOMAS MORE. Of which his honour Erasmus writing to Cochlie biddes him to sende Congratulatorie letters vnto him, saying, that he came vnto it nec ambiens nec expetens, vltroneo fauore Prin­cipis humanissimi, that is, neither ambitiously seeking it, nor once asking it, but by the meere fauour of his most gracious Prince.

King Henry tooke such extraordinarie loue S. Thom. Mores judgemet of K. Hē ­ries ex­traordi­nary fa­uour. in Sir THOMAS his companie, that he would so­metimes on a suddain, as before I touched co­me ouer to his house at Chelsey and be merrie with him; whither on a time vnlooked for, he came and dined at his house. And after dinner walked with him the space of an hower, holding [Page 76] his arme about his necke most louingly in the gardin. VVhen his Maiestie was gone, my vn­cle Rooper reioyced thereat, and tolde his fa­ther, how happie he was, for that the king had shewed him such extraordinarie signes of loue, as he had neuer seene him doe to anie other, ex­cept the Cardinal, whome he saw with the king once walke arme in arme. VVhereto Sir THO­MAS answering sayd: I thanke our Lord God, I finde his Grace my verie good Lord indeede; and I belieue he doth as singularly fauour me as anie other subiect, within this realme; how beit, sonne Rooper, I may tell you, I haue no cause to be proude thereof; for if my head would winne him a Castle in France (for then there was war­res betweene France and vs) it should not faile to go of. By which wordes he euidētly shewed, how little he ioyed either in the king's fauour, or in his worldlie honour, piercing with his sin­guler eie of iudgement into king Henry's natu­re; that what shew of friendship soeuer he made to anie, yet he loued none but to serue his ow­ne turne; and no longer was anie in his fauour, [Page 77] but as long as they applyed themselues to his humours; yet could he not choose but loue Sir THOMAS for his singular partes, his profound iudgement, his pleasant witt, and intire sinceri­tie; for which causes the rare and admirable Queene Catherine king Henrie's first wife Queen Cathe­rins jud­gement of S. Th-Mores loyalty. would often say, that the king her husband had but one sound Counseller in his kingdome, meaning Sir THOMAS MORE; for the rest she sayd that either they spoke as the king would haue them, or had not such matter of iudgement in them; and as for Cardinal VVolsey, who was Cardinal VVolseys vaniglo­ry. then the greatest subiect in the realme, for his owne benefitt and ende, he cared not what co­unsell he gaue the king. He was of base paren­tage, and, as they say, a butchers sonne of [...] ; yet had he crept vp into fauour partely by his learning, partely by his nimble witt, and louelie carriadge, whereby he could in sinuate himself into great mens fauours; he had also a readie toung and a bolde countenance, and had gotten manie spirituall liuings togeather, [...] them vpon vanities, as great and sump­tuous [Page 78] buildings costlie bancketts, and greate magnificence; for he was vaine glorious aboue all measure, as may be seene by Sir THOMAS Flattered by most [...] . MORE'S, booke of Comfort in Tribulation; where he meaneth of him what is spoken vnder the name of a great Prelate of Germanie, who when he had made an oration before a great audience, would bluntely aske them that sate at his table with him, how they all liked it; but he that should bring forth a meane commendatiō of it, was sure to haue no thankes for his labour. And he there telleth further, how a great spiri­tuall man, who should haue commended it last of all, was putt to such a non plus, that he had neuer a word to say, but crying oh, and fet­ching a deepe sigh he cast his eies into the wel­king and wept. On a time the Cardinal had dra­wen But no­thing at all by S. Th. More a draught of certeine Conditions of peace, betweene England and France, and he asked Sir Thomas More's counsell therein, beseeching him earnestly that he would tell him if there were anie thing therein to be misliked. And he spake this so hartily (saith Sir THOMAS, that he [Page 79] belieued verily that he was willing to heare his aduise indeede. But when Sir THOMAS had dealt really therein, & shewed wherein that draught might haue bene amended, he suddenly rose in a rage and sayd: By the Maste, thou art the ver­iest foote of all the Counsell. At which Sir THOMAS smiling sayd: God be thanked that the king our Maister hath but one foole in all his Councel. But we shall haue occasion to speake more hereafter of this Cardinal.

1. SIR THOMAS MORE for all his ho­nour, 1. His cour­teous be­haueour in midst of ho­nour. and fauour with his Prince, was nothing puffed vp with pride, disdaine or arrogancie, but was of such a milde behauiour, and excellent temper, that he could [Page 81] neuer be moued to anie passion or anger, as mi­ne vncle Rooper wittnesseth, who affirmeth that in sixteene yeares space and more, that he dwelt in his house, and was conuersant with him al­waies, he could neuer perceaue him so much as once in a fume. Yea Margaret Gigs, (who was brought vp from a childe amongst Sir THO­MAS his children and vsed by him no otherwi­se, then one of them, and afterwards married Doctour Clement) a singular learned woman would say, that sometimes she would committ a fault for the nonce, to heare Sir THOMAS His [...] in [...] . MORE chide her, he did it with such grauitie, such moderation, such loue and compassion. His meekenesse and humilitie was also percea­ued in this, that if it had fortuned anie schollar to come to him (as there did manie daily) either from Oxford, Cambridge or else where, some for desire of his acquaintance (as he had inter­course of letters with all the men of fame in all Christendome) some againe for the report of his learning and singular wisedome, some for suites of the Vniuersities; if anie of them, I say, [Page 82] had entred into argument, whrein few were­able to dispute long with him, he would vrge verie forcibly; and if it fortuned, that they en­tred togeather so farre to dispute, that he percea­ued they could not without some inconueniē ­ce holde out much further against his argu­ments, then, least he should discourage them, as he that sought not his owne glorie, he would seeme to be confuted, that the student should not be discomforted, euer shewing himselfe more desirous to learne then to teache, and so by some wittie deuise he would courteously breake out into some other matter.

2. Such was also his readinesse of witt, that 2. His rea­dines of vvitt in all occa­sions. going euer in progresse with the king either to Oxford or Cambridge, when they were recea­ued with verie eloquent orations, he was al­waies the man appointed by his Maiestie ex­tempore to make answer vnto them, as he that was promptest and most readie therein. Yea when the king went into France to meete the French king, Sir THOMAS MORE made a speach of their congratulation; which he also did, [Page 83] when Charles the Fift landed in England to see Queene Catherine his aunte. And when­foeuer he had occasion either in England or beyond the sea, to visite anie vniuersitie, he would not only be present at their readings and disputations, but would also learnedly dispute there amongst them himself, to the great admi­ration of all the Auditorie, for his skill in all sciences. But when at Brugges in Flanders an arrogant fellow had sett vp a Thesis, that he would answer whatsoeuer question could be propounded vnto him in anie art whatsoeuer, Sir THOMAS made this question to be putt vp, for him to answer thereto, whether Aueria cap­tain Withernamia sunt irreplegebilia; adding that there was one of the English Fmbassa­doursretinue retinue, that would dispute with him the­reof. This Thraso or Braggadocio not so much as vnderstanding those tearmes of our Com­mon Law, knew not what to answer to it; and so he was made a laughing stocke to the whole Cittie for his presumptuous bragging.

3. Now, as he was vngrateful to vaine proude 3. Hisfrind. [Page 84] men, so was he an intire and speciall good ship and estimatiō vvith the learned of all Christen­dom. friend to all the learned men in Christendo­me; and first he affected especially that famous man Cuthbert Tunstall lately Bishopp of Lon­don, and then of Durham; of whome Sir THO­MAS speaketh in his epitaphe made by himself whilst he was in good health and state, thus: Then whome the whole world hath not a man more learned, wise or better. He speaketh also Cuthbert Tunstall Bishop of Dur­tham. of him in his Vtopia thus: The King sent me Embassadour into Flanders as a Collegue to that excellent person Cuthbert Tunstall, vvhome la­tely he hath chosen (to the congratulation of all men) his Maister of the Rovvles, of vvhose sin­gular praises I vvill not speake, for that I feare I should be suspected, because he is so deare a friend vnto me; but for that his vertues and learning are greater then I can expresse, and also more knovven, then that I should neede to goe about to declare them; except I vvould seeme to sett a tor­che to lighten the sunne. In this embassage manie things delighted me much: first the long and ne­uer interrupted familiaritie, vvhich I had vvith [Page 85] Tunstall, then vvhome as there is none more le­arned, so also no man more graue in his life and manners, no man more pleasant in his manner of carriage and conuersation. He wrote vnto him diuerse letters, which may testifye what intire­friendshipp there was betweene these two ex­cellēt men; as this: Although euerie letter vvhich I receaue frō you (most vvorthie friend) is verte gratefull vnto me, yet that vvhich you vvrote last, vvas most vvellcome, for that besides the other commendations, vvhich the rest of your letters deserue in respect of their eloquence, and the fri­endshipp they professe tovvards me, these last of yours yeelde a peculiar grace, for that they contai­ne your peculiar testimonie (I vvould it vvere as true as it is fauourable) of my Common Wealth. I requested my friend Erasmus, that he vvould explane to you the matter thereof in familiar tal­ke; yet I charged him not to presse you to reade it, not because I vvould not haue you to reade it (for that is my chiefe desire) but remembring your di­screte purpose, not to take in hand the reading of anie nevv vvorke, vntill you had fully satisfyed [Page 86] yourselfe vvith the bookes of aneien. Authours, which if you measure by the profitt you haue taken by them, surely you haue alreadie accomplished your taske; but if by affection, then you vvill neuer bring your sayd purpose to a perfect ende. Where­fore I vvas afrayed that seing the excellent vvor­kes of other men could not allure you to their rea­ding, you vvould neuer be brought to condescende vvillingly to the reading of my trifles, and surely you vvould neuer haue donne it, but that your lo­ue tovvards me droue you more thereto, then the vvorth of the thing itselfe. Therefore Iyeelde you exceeding thankes for reading so [...] gently ouer my Vtopia; I meane, because you haue for my sake bestovved so much labour; And no lesse thankes truly do I giue you, for that my vvorke hath pleased you; for no lesse do I attribute this to your loue, because I see you rather haue testifyed, vvhat your loue tovvards me did suggest, then the authoritie of a Censor. Hovvsoeuer the matter is, I cannot expresse hovv much I ioye, that you haue cast your vvhole account in liking my doings. For I almost persvvade myself all those things to be [Page 87] true, vvhich you speake thereof, knovving you to be most farre from all dissembling, and my self more meane, then that you should neede to flatter me, and more deare to you, then that I should ex­pecte a mocke frō you. Wherefore, vvhether that you haue sene the truth vnfainedly, I reioyce har­tily in your Iudgement, or vvhether your [...] to me hath blinded your iudgement, I am for all that no lesse delighted in your loue; and truly ve­hement and extraordinarie great must that loue be, vvhich could bereaue [...] of his iudge­ment. And in another letter he sayth: You deale very courteously vvith me, in that you giue me in your letter such hartie thankes, because I haue bene carefull to defende the causes of your frien­des, amplifying the small good turne I haue done you therein, by your great bountie; but you deate somevvhat, too fearefully in regarde of the loue, vvhich is betvveene vs; if you imagine that you are indebted vnto me for anie thing I haue don­ne, and do not rather challenge it of right to be due vnto you, &c. The Amber, vvhich you sent me, being a precious sepulcher of flyes, vvas for manie [Page 89] respects most vvellcome vnto me; for the matter thereof may be compared in coulour and bright­nesse to anie precious stone, and the for me is more excellent, because it representeth the figure of a a hart, as it vvere the hieroglificke of our loue: vvhich I interprete your meaning is, that bet­vveene vs it vvill neuer fly avvay, and yet be al­vvaies vvithout corruption; because I see the fly (vvhich hathvvings like Cupide the sonne of Venus, and is as fickle as he) so shutt vp here and inclosed in this glevvie matter of Amber, as it cannot flye avvay, and so embalmed and preser­ued therevvith, as it cannot perish. I am not so much as once troubled that I cannot sende you the like guift againe, for I knovve, you do not expect anie enterchange of tokens; and besides I am vvilling still to be in your debt, yet this troubleth me somevvhat, that my estate and condition is so meane, that I am neuer able to shevv myself vvorthie of all and singuler your friendshipp. VVherefore though I cannot giue testimonie my­selfe herein before other men; yet must be satis­fyed vvith mine owne inward testimonie of min­de, [Page 89] and your gentle acceptance. He dedicated one of his bookes vnto him saying in this wise: When I considered, to vvich of all my friends I should dedicate these my Collections out of ma­nie Authors, I thought you most fitt for the sa­me, in respect of the familiar conuersation, vvhich of long time hath bene betvveene vs, as also in re­spect of the sinceritie of your minde, because you vvould be alvvaies readie to take thankefully, vvhatsoeuer in this vvorke should seeme gratefull vnto you; and whatsoeuer should be barren the­rein, you vvould make a courteous construction thereof; vvhatsoeuer might be vnpleasing, you vvould be vvilling to pardon. I vvould to God, I had as much vvitt and learning, as I am not alto­geather destitute of memorie. As for Bishopp Tunstall a glori­ous [...] in Q. Eliza­beths dayes. Tunstall he was a learned man, and wrote a sin­guler booke of the reall presēce. And although, during king Henrie's raigne, he went with the sway of the time (for who almost did otherwi­se?) to the great griefe of Sir THOMAS MORE; yet liuing to the time of Q. Elizabeth, whose God­father he was, when she berayed the fonte, in [Page 90] his olde age seing her take strange courses a­gainst the Church, he came from Durham, and stoutely admonished her not to change religiō; which if she presumed to doe, he threatned her to leese Gods blessing and his. She nothing ple­ased with his threates, made him be cast into prison, as most of the Bishops were, where he made a glorious ende of a Confessour, and sa­tisfyed for his former crime of Schisme contra­cted in the time of king Henrie's raigne.

Sir THOMAS MORE'S friendshipp with the Frind­ship of S. Th. More vvith B. Fisher. glorious Bishop of Rochester was neither short nor small, but had long continued, and ended not with their famous martyrdomes. See how good Bishop Fisher writeth vnto him: Lett, I pray you, our Cambridge men haue some hope in you to be fauoured by the king's Maiestie that our schollars may be stirred up to learning by the countenance of so vvorthie a prince. VVe haue fevv friends in the Court, vvich can or vvill com­mende our causes to his royall Maiestie and a­mongst all vve accounte you the chiefe, vvho haue alvvaies fauoured vs greatly, euen vvhen you [Page 91] vvere in a meaner place; and novv also shevv vvhat you can doe, being raised to the honour of knighthood, and in such great fauour vvith our prince, of vvhich vve greately reioyce, and also doe congratulate your happinesse. Giue furtherance to this youth, vvho is both a good schollar in Diuini­tie, and also a sufficient preacher to the people. For he hath hope in your fauour, that you can procure him greate furtherance, and that my commenda­tions vvill helpe him to your fauour. To this Sir THOMAS MORE answereth thus: This Priest, Reuerend Father, vvhome you vvrite to be in possibilitie of a Bishopricke, if he might haue so­me vvorthie suiter to speake for him to the king, I imagine that I haue so preuayled, that his Maie­stie vvill be no hindrance thereto, &c. Yf I haue anie fauour vvith the king, vvhich truly is but li­tle, but vvhatsoeuer I haue, I vvill employ all I can to the seruice of your Fatherhood and your schollars, to vvhome I yeelde perpetuall thankes for their deare affections tovvards me, often te­stifyed by their louing letters, and my house shall be open to them as though it vvere their ovvne. [Page 92] Farevvell vvorthie and most courteous prelate, and see you loue me as you haue donne.

His loue and friendshipp with yong Poole With Cardinal Poole, in his yon­ger dayes (afterwards a famous Cardinal) may be seene by their letters. he maketh mention of him with great praise in a letter he wrote to his wel­beloued daughter Margaret Rooper in this wise: I cannot expresse in vvriting, nor scarcely can conceyue it by thought, hovv gratefull to me your most eloquent letters, deare daughter Mar­garett, are. Whilst I vvas reading them, there happened to be vvith me Reinald Poole, that most noble youth not so noble by birth as he is sin­gularly learned, and excellently endevved vvith all kinde of vertue; to him your letter seemed as a miracle; yea before he vnderstoode hovv neare you were besett with the shortenesse of time, and the molestation of your vveake infirmitie, hauing notvvithstanding sent me so long a letter. I could scarce make him belieue, but that you had some helpe from your Maister, vntill I tolde him seri­ously that you had not only neuer a maister in your house, but also neuer another man, that nee­ded [Page 93] not your helpe rather in vvriting anie thing, then you needed his. And in another to Doctour Clement a most famous phisitian, and one that was brought vp in Sir THOMAS his owne house, he sayth thus: I thanke you, my deare Clement, for that I finde you so carefull of my health and my childrens, so that you prescribe in your absence, vvhat meates are to be auoided by vs. And you, my friend Poole, I render double thankes, both because you haue vouchsafed to sende vs in vvri­ting the counsell of so great a phisitian, and besides haue procured the same for vs from your mother, a most excellent and noble matrone, and vvorthie of so great a sonne; so as you do not seeme to be more liberall of your counsell, then in beslovving vpon vs the thing it selfe, vvhich you counsell vs vnto. VVherefore I loue and praise you, both for your bountie and fidelitie. And of Sir THOMAS MORE'S friendship Cardinal Poole boasteth much after his martyrdome in his excellent booke De vnitate Ecclesiae saying: yf you thinke that I haue giuen scope to my sorrowe, because they were my best beloued friends that were [Page 94] putt to death (meaning Sir THOMAS MORE and Bishop Fisher) I do both acknowledge and professe it to be true most willingly, that they both were deare vnto me aboue all others. For how can I dissemble this, seing that I doe reio­yce more of their loue towards me, then if I should boaste, that I had gotten the dearest fa­miliaritie withall the princes of Christendome.

His frienshipp also with Doctour Lea (after­wards VVith D. Lea Ar­chebis­hop of yorke. the worthie Archbishopp of Yorke) was not small nor fayned, although he had written an excellent booke against Erasmus his Anno­tations vpon the new Testament, Erasmus be­ing then Sir THOMAS his intire friend, and as it were the one halfe of his owne hart. For Sir THOMAS writeth thus vnto him: Good Lea, that you request of me, not to suffer my loue to be diminished tovvards you, trust me, good Lea, it shall not, though of myselfe I incline rather to that parte that is oppugned. And as I could vvish that this Cittie vvere freed from your siege, so vvill I alvvaies loue you, and be glad that you do so much VVith Lupsetus esteeme of my loue. He speaketh also of Lupset, a [Page 95] singular learned man of that time, in an epistle to Erasmus: Our friend Lupsett readeth with great applause in both toungs at Oxford, ha­uing a great auditorie; for he succeedeth my Iohn Clement in that charge. What familiaritie there was betwixt him and Doctour Collett, Grocine, Linacre, and Lillie, all, singuler men, Grocinus. Linacre. Montjoy. G. [...] . we haue spoken of heretofore. VVilliam Mont­ioy, a man of great learning, and VVilliam Lattimer, not Hugh the heretike, that was burnt, but another most famous for vertue and good letters, were his verie great acquaintance, as also Iohn Croke, that read Greeke first at Lip­sia I Crocus in Germanie, and was after King Henrie's Greeke maister, to whome he writeth thus: VVhatsoeuer he vvas, my Crocus, that hath si­gnifyed vnto you that my loue is lessened, because you haue omitted to vvrite vnto me this great vvhile, either he is deceaued, or else he seeketh cunningly to deceaue you; and alshough I take great comfort in reading your letters, yet am I not so proude, that I should chalenge so much interest in you, as though you ought of dutie to salute me [Page 96] euerie day in that manner, nor so vvayvvard nor full of complaints to be offended vvith you, for neglecting a little this your custome of vvriting. For I vvere vniust, if I should exact from other men letters, vvhereas I knovve myselfe to be a great sluggard in that kinde. Wherefore be secu­re as concerning this: for neuer hath my loue vva­xed so colde tovvards you, that it neede still to be kindled and heated vvith the continuall blovving of missiue epistles; yet shall you do me a great plea­sure if you vvrite vnto me as often as you haue le­asure, but I vvill neuer persvvade you to spende that time in saluting your friends, vvhich you ha­ue allotted for your ovvne studie, or the profiting of your schollars. As touching the other parte of your excuse, I vtterly refuse it; fo there is no cause vvhy you should feare my nose as the trunke of an elephant, seing that your letters may vvithout fe­are approche in the sight of anie man; neither am I so long snovvted that I vvould haue anie man feare my censuring. As for the place vvhich you requirre that I should procure you, both M. ^r Pace and I, vvho loue you dearely, haue putt the king in minde thereof.

[Page 97] 4. But now as concerning the familiaritie 4. With le­arned mē of other nations: as, I. Co­claeus. he had with the most famous men of other na­tions, it may be likewise seene by his letters to them; as to that famous Iohn Cochlee, who was Luther's scourge, he writeth thus: It cannot be expressed, most vvorthie Sir, how much I holde myself indebted vnto you, for certifying me so of­ten of those occurrences, vvhich happen in your Countrie. For Germanie novv daily bringeth forth more monsters, yea prodigious things, then Africk vvas vvont to doe. For vvhat can be more monstrous then the Anabaptists; yet hovv haue those kinde of plagues, risen forth and spread for manie yeares togeather? I for my parte seing these sects daily to grovve vvorse and vvorse, do expect shortly to heare, that there vvill arise some, vvho will not sticke to preache, that Christ himselfe is to be denyed; neither can there arise so absurde a knaue, but he shall haue fauourers; the madnesse of the people is so greate. In which letter he foretel­leth of Dauid George the Hollander, who cal­led himself Christ, and had diuerse followers at Basile. So was there in England the like despe­rate [Page 98] fellowe called Hackett, whose disciples were Arden and Coppinger. At another time he writeth thus vnto the same man: I vvould haue you persvvade yourself, deare Cochlie that I ha­ue not receaued anie letter from anie of my friends these manie yeares, more gratefull then your last vvere to me; and that for tvvo causes es­pecially; the first, for that I perceaue in them your singular loue vnto me, vvhich though I haue suffi­ciently found heretofore, yet do these shevv it most plentifully, and I account it as a great happinesse; for to left passe your benefitts donne me, vvho vvould not highly esteeme the friendshipp and fa­uour of such a friend? Secondly because in these letters you certifye me of the nevves of manie actions of Princes, &c.

Afterwards he had also intire familiaritie with Budaeus, which was often renewed by let­ters, G. Budaeus. and once by personall meeting in France, when the kings of England and France had a parlie togeather. For Budaeus was in great fa­uour with his king Francis, yea one of his priuie Councell, as Sir THOMAS was to king Henrie; all [Page 99] which may be perceaued by his letter to Bu­deus in this manner: I knovve not, my good Bu­die, vvhether it vvere good for vs to possesse anie thing that vvere deare vnto vs, except vve might still keepe it. For I haue imagined that I should be a happie man, if I might but once see Budeus, whose beautiefull picture the reading of his vvor­kes had represented vnto me. And vvhen God had granted me my vvishe, it seemed to me that I vvas more happie then happinesse itselfe; yet after that our businesse vvere so vrgent, that I could not fullfill my earnest desire to enioy your svveete con­uersation often, and that our familiaritie scarce begunne vvas broken of vvithin a vvhile, the necessarie affaires of our Princes calling vs from it, so as it is novv hard to say, vvhe­ther vve shall euer againe see one another, each of vs being enforced to vvayte vpon our ovvne Prince; by hovv much the more ioyfull our mee­ting vvas, by so much the more vvas my sor­rovv in the parting; vvhich you may lessen some­vvhat, if that you vvould please to make me often present by your letters: yet dare I not craue [Page 100] them of you: but my desire to haue them is greate.

Another friend he had called Martin Dor­pe, M. Dor­pius. a famous reader in Louaine, and a singular good man, whome by letters fraught with sound arguments he brought to the loue of the Greeke toung, being altogeather before auer­ted therefore: thus he speaketh of him in a letter to Erasmus: I cannot lett Martin Dorpius passe vnsaluted, vvhome I respect highly for his excel­lent learning, and for manie other respects; but for this not a little because he gaue you occasion to vvrite your Apologie to Brixius his Moria.

He mentioneth also Iohn Lascarus as a deare Lascarus: Philip Beroaldus. friend of his, as also Philipp Beroalde in a letter of his to Budeus in this manner: Commende me hartily to Lascarus that excellent and most lear­ned man; for I imagine that you vvould of your­selfe remember me to Beroaldus, though I should not putt you in minde thereof; for you knovve him to be so deare vnto me as such a one ought to he, then vvhome I haue scarcelie found a more lear­ned man, or a more pleasant friend.

[Page 101] Hierome Buslidian, who built the Colledge Hierom Buslidius called Trilingue in Louaine, we haue mentio­ned before, when we spake of his learned Vto­pia, of whome thus he speaketh in a certaine letter of his to Erasmus: Amongst other things vvich delighted me much in my Embassage, this is none of the least, that I gott acquaintance vvith Buslidian, vvho entertained me most courteously according to his great vvealth and exceeding good nature, vvhere he shevved me his house built most artificially, and enriched vvith costlie housholde stuffe, replenished vvith a number of monuments of antiquitie, vvherein you knovv I take great delight, finally such an exquisite librarie, yea his hart and breast, more stored then anie librnrie; so that it astonished me greatly.

And presently after in the same letter he spea­keth of Peter Giles as followeth: But in all Peter AEgidius. my trauailes, nothing happened more to my wish then the acquaintance and conuersation vvith Pe­ter Giles of Anwerp, a man so learned, so merrie, so modest and so friendlie that, lett me be baked if I vvould not purchase this one mans familiaritie [Page 102] vvith the losse of a good parte of my estate. And in his Vtopia he speaketh thus of him: Whilst I liue here in Anwerp, I am visited often, amongst the rest, by Peter Giles, then vvhome none is more gratefull vnto me: he is natiue of Anwerp, and a man of good reputation amongst his countrie­men, and vvorthie of the best. For he is such a yong man that I knovve not vvhether he is more lear­ned, or better qualifyed vvith good conditions. for he is a most vertuous man, and a great schollar, besides of courteous behauiour tovvards all men, of such a sincere carriage, loue and affection tovv­ards his friend, that you can scarce finde such an­other youth to sett by him, that may be compared vnto him; he is of rare modestie, all flatterie is far­re from him; plainenesse vvith vvisedome are sea­ted in him togeather; moreouer so pleasant in talke and so merrie vvithout anie offence, that he grea­tely lesseneth by his pleasant discourse the desire I haue to see my Countrie, my house, my vvife, my children, of vvhose companie I am of myself too anxious, and vvhome to enjoy I am too desirous. Of Beatus Renanus a verie learned man, he B. Rhe­nanus. [Page 103] writeth in an epistle to Erasmus, thus: I loue Re­nanus maruelously and am much in his debt for his good Preface; vvhome I vvould haue thanked a good vvhile agoe, but that I haue bene troubled vvith such a govvte of the hand, that is to say, idle­nesse, that by no meanes I could ouercome it.

Cranuilde also an excellent learned man Cranuild and one of the Emperour Charles his priuie Councell was brought to Sir THOMAS MORE'S friendshipp by Erasmus; for which both of them thanked Erasmus exceedingly as appeareth first by Cranuild's letter to him, which is thus: I can­not but thanke you greatly vvith these my (though rude) letters (most learned in all sciences) for your singular benefitt lately bestovved vpon me vvhich I shall alvvaies beare in remembrance, and vvhich I esteeme so much as that I vvould not leese it far Craesus's vvealth. You vvill aske me, vvhat benefitt that vvas; truly this, that you haue brought me to the acquaintance and svveete con­uersation of your friend MORE but novv I vvill call him mine, vvhome after your departure I of­ten frequented, because he often sent for me vnto [Page 104] him; vvhose bountiefull entertainement at his ta­ble I esteeme not so much as his learning, his cour­tesie, and his liberalitie. Wherefore I accounte myself deepely indebted vnto you, and desire God that I may be able to demonstrate vnto you a gratefull signification of this good turne donne me. In his absence he sent my vvife a ring of golde, the posie vvhereof in English vvas: All things are measured by good will. He gaue me also cer­taine olde peeces of siluer and golde coyne; in one vvhereof vvas grauen Tiberius's picture, in an­other Augustus; vvhich I am vvilling to tell you, because I am somevvhat to thanke you for all. Whome Erasmus answered thus: This is that sure, vvhich is vulgarly spoken: I haue by the me­anes of one daughter gotten tvvo sonnes in lavv: you thanke me because by my meanes you haue gotten so speciall a friend, as MORE is; and he on the other side thanketh me also, for that I haue procured his knovvledge of Cranuilde. I knevv vvell enough that because your vvitts and man­ners vvere alike, there vvould easily arise a de­are friendshipp betvvixt you; if so vvere that you [Page 105] did but knovve each other; but as the hauing of such friends is precious, so is the true keeping of them as rare. Heare how, Sir THOMAS writeth to Cranuilde: I both perceaue and acknovvledge hovv much I am in your debt, my deare Cranuil­de, because you neuer cease to doe that vvhich is most gratefull vnto me, in that you certifye me still of your affayres and friends. For vvhat can be either more acceptable to THOMAS MORE in his aduersitie, or more pleasing vnto him in his pro­speritie, then to receaue letters from Cranuilde, except one could bring me to the speach of him, a most learned man of all others. But as often as I reade your vvritings, I am enamoured there­vvith, as yf I vvere conuersing vvith you in pre­sence. Wherefore nothing troubleth me more, then that your letters are no longer; yet haue I found a meanes to remedie that, because I reade them ouer againe and againe, & I do it leasurely that my suddaine reaaing them may not bereaue me of my pleasure. But so much for this. That vvhich you vvrite concerning our friend Viues, Vikes. vvho hath made a discourse of vvicked vvomen, I [Page 106] agree so well vvith your opinion, that I thinke one cannot liue vvithout inconueniencies vvith the verie best vvoman. For if anie man be married, he shall not be vvithout care; and in my conceipt Metellus Numidicus spoke truly of vviues; vvhich I vvould speake the rather, if manie of them through our ovvne faultes vvere not made the vvorse. But Viues hath gotten so good a vvi­fe, that he may not shunne only, as much as possi­ble any man, all the troubles of marriage, but also thereby he may receaue great contentment; yet novv mens mindes are so busied vvith publike garboiles, vvhilst the furie of vvarres doth so rage euerie vvhere, that no man is at leasure to thinke of his priuate cares: vvhere fore if anie housholde troubles haue heretofore oppressed anie, they are novv all obscured by reason of common mischie­fes. But this suffiseth for this matter, for that I re­turne to your self, vvhose courtesies and friend­shipp tovvards me as often as I thinke of (vvhich is verie often) it shaketh from me all sorrovv. I thanke you for the booke you sent me, and I vvish much ioy vvith your nevv childe, not for your [Page 107] ovvne sake only, but for the Common vvealthes, vvose great benefitt it is, that such a parent should encrease it vvith plentie of children. For from you none but excellent children can be borne. Fare­vvell, and commende me carefully and hartily to your vvife, to vvhome I pray God sende happie health and strength: My vvife and children also vvish you health, to vvhome by my reporte you are as vvell knovven and as deare as to myself. Againe farevvell. London 10. Aug. 1524 An­other letter he wrote vnto him in this sorte: I am ashamed, so God help me, my deare Cranuil­de, of this your great courtesie tovvards me, that you do salute me vvith your letters so often, so lo­uingly and so carefully, vvhenas I so seldome do salute you againe, especially seing you may pretende yea alleage as manie troubles of businesses as I can: but such is the sinceritie of your affection and such the constancie thereof, as although you are readie to excuse all things in [...] friends, yet you yourselfe are alvvaies readie to perfourme euery thing, and to goe forvvard vvithout omitting that vvhich might be pardoned in you. But persvvade [Page 108] yourself, good Cranuild, that if there happen anie thing at anie time, wherein I may really shew vnto you my loue, there, God vvilling, I vvill ne­uer be vvanting. Commende me to my Mistrisse your vvife, for I dare not novv inuerte the order begunne, and to your vvhole familie, vvhome mine doth vvith all their harts salute. From my house in the Countrie this 10. ^th of Iune 1528. Conradus Goclenius a Westphalian was com­mended C. Go­clenius. by Erasmus vnto Sir THOMAS MORE thus: I praise your disposition, my dearest MORE, exceedingly, for that your content is to be rich in faithfull and sincere friends, and that you esteeme the greatest felicitie of this life to be placed there­in. Some take great care that they may not be co­sened vvith counterfaite ievvells; but you cōtem­ning all such trifles, seeme to yourself to be rich enough, if you can but gett an vnfayned friend. For there is no man taketh delight either in Car­des, dice, Chesse, hunting or musike so much as you doe in discoursing vvith a learned and pleasant conceyted Companion. And although you are sto­red vvith this kinde of riches; yet because that I [Page 109] knovve, that a couetous man hath neuer enough, and that this manner of my dealing hath luckily happened both to you and me diuerse times here­tofore, I deliuer to your custodie one friend more vvhome I vvould haue you accept vvith your vvhole hart. His name is Conradus Goclenius a Westphalian, vvho hath vvith great applause and no lesse fruit lately taught Rhetorick in the College nevvly erected at Louaine called Trilin­gue. Novv I hope that as soone as you shall haue true experience of him, I shall haue thankes of you both; for so I had of Cranuilde, vvho so vvholy possesseth your loue, that I almost enuie him for it.

But of all strangers Erasmus challenged vn­to Sir Tho. Mores frindship to D. E­rasmus Rodero­damus. himself his loue most especially, which had long continued by mutuall letters expressing great affection, and increased so much that he tooke a iournie of purpose into England to see and enjoy his personall acquaintance and mo­re intire familiaritie; at which time it is reported how that he, who conducted him in his passa­ge, procured that Sir THOMAS MORE and he should first meete togeather in London at the [Page 110] Lo: Mayor's table, neither of them knowing each other. And in the dinner time, they chan­ced to fall into argument, Erasmus still endea­uouring to defende the worserparte; but he was so sharpely sett vpon, and opposed by Sir THO­MAS MORE, that perceauing that he was now to argue with a readier witt, then euer he had befo­re mett withall, he broke forth into these wor­des not without some choler: Auttues Morus aut nullus; whereto Sir THOMAS readily replyed: Aut tues Erasmus, aut diabolus: because at that time he was strangely disguised, and had sought to defende impious propositions; for although he was a singular Humanist, and one that could vtter his minde in a most eloquent phra­se, yet had he alwaies a delight to scoffe at reli­gious matters, and finde fault with all sortes of Clergie men. He tooke a felicitie to sett out sun­drie Commentaries vpon the Fathers workes, censuring them at his pleasure, for which cause he is tearmed Errans mus; because he wandreth here and there in other mens haruests; yea in his writings he is sayd to haue hatched manie of [Page 111] those eggs of heresie, which the apostata Fryer Luther had before layde; not that he is to be ac­counted an heretike, for he would neuer be ob­stinate in anie of his opinions, yet would he ir­religiously glaunce at all antiquitie and finde manie faultes with the present state of the Church. Whilst he was in England Sir THO­MAS MORE vsed him most courteously, doing manie offices of a deare friend for him, as well by his word as his purse; whereby he bound Erasmus so straytely vnto him, that he euer af­ter spoke and wrote vpon all occasions most highly in his praise; but Sir THOMAS in successe Forsakē, vvhen he perceaued Eras­mus balt in [...] of time grew lesse affectionate vnto him, by reason he saw him still fraught with much va­nitie and vnconstancie in respect of religion; as when Tindall obiecteth vnto Sir THOMAS, that his Darling Erasmus had translated the word Church into Congregation, and Priest into El­der, euen as himself had donne, Sir THOMAS an­swered thereto, yf my darling Frasmus hath translated those places with the like vvicked in­tent, that Tindall hath donne, he shall be no more [Page 112] my darling, but the Diuells darling Finally long after hauing found in Erasmus's workes manie thinges necessarily to be amēded, he counsel­led him as his friend in some latter booke to imitate the example of S. Augustin who did sett out a booke of Retractations, to correct in his writing, what he had vnaduisedly written in the heate of youth; but he that was farre diffe­rent from S. Augustin in humilitie, would ne­uer follow his counsell; and therefore he is cen­sured by the Church for a Busie fellow: manie of his bookes are condemned, and his opinions accounted erroneous, though he alwaies liued a Catholike Priest; and hath written most shar­pely Erasmus liued al­vvayes a Catholi­que Pri­est. against all those new Gospellers, who then beganne to appeare in the world; and in a letter to Iohn Fabius Bishopp of Vienna he sayth that he hateth these seditious opinions, with the which at this day the world is miserably sha­ken; neither doth he dissemble, saith he, being so addicted to pietie, that if he incline to anie parte of the ballance, he will bende rather to superstition then to impietie; by which speach [Page 113] he seemeth in doubtfull words to taxe the Church with superstition, and the new Aposto­licall bretheren with impietie.

Now to conclude this matter of Sir THO­MAS MORE'S friends, lett vs heare what Erasmus speaketh of him in an epistle to Vlderick Hutten MORE seemeth to be made and borne for S. T. Mo­res con­stancy in frindship friendshipp, vvhereof he is a most sincere follovv­er, and a fast keeper; neither doth he feare to be taxed for that he hath manie friends; vvhich thing Hesiodus prayseth nothing: euerie man may attaine to his friendshipp; he is nothing slovve in choosing, most apt in nourishing, and most constant in keeping them; yf by chance he fal­les into ones amitie, vvhose vices he cannot a­mende, he [...] the raines of friendshipp, disioynting it by little and little rather then dissol­uing it suddenly: vvhome he findeth sincere and constant agreing vvith his ovvne good disposition, he is so delighted vvith their companie and fami­liaritie, that he seemeth to place his chiefe vvorld­lie pleasure in such mens conuersation; and al­though he be verie negligent in his ovvne tempo­rall [Page 114] affaires, yet none is more diligent then he in furthering his friends causes. What neede I spea­ke manie vvords? yf anie vvere desirous to haue a perfect patterne of friendshipp, none can make it better then MORE. In his companie there is such rare aff abilitie, and such svveete behauiour, that no man is of so harsh a nature, but that his talke is able to make him merrie, no matter so vnplea­sing, but he vvith his vvitt can shake from it all tediousnesse; declaring plainely in these words 5. His plea­saunt [...] procee­ding frō a quiet [...] . the most pleasant disposition of Sir THOMAS MORE; whose onlie merrie ieastes and wittie sayings were able to fill a whole volume, if they were all gathered togeather; some of which Doctour Stapleton hath sett downe in two se­uerall Chapters, whereof I shall also mention some hereafter; but the greatest number haue neuer bene sett downe in writing, as daily fa­ling from him in his familiar discourse. All which shew plainely that he had a quiett con­science full of alacritie and a wittie conceipt, able to please all men that resorted vnto him, and who would not be glad of his companie, [Page 115] who was by nature most affable, in his Princes fauour verie high, and stored with worldlie blessings, as ample possessions, wealth enough and pompe of the world, euen at will.

He vsed when he was in the Cittie of Lon­don A [...] and mery [...] . a Iustice of peace, to goe to the Cessions at Newgate, as other Iustices did; amongst whome it happened that one of the ancient Iustices of peace was wont to chide the poore men, that had their purses cutt, for not keeping them more warily, saying that their negligence was cause, that there were so manie Cutt purses brought thither. Which when Sir THOMAS had heard him often speake at one time es­pecially, the night after he sent for one of the chiefe Cutt purses that was in the prison, and promised him that he would stand his good friend, If he would cutt that Iustice's purse, whilst he sate the next day on the Benche, and presently make a signe thereof vnto him; the fellow gladly promiseth him to doe it. The next day therefore when they sate againe, that thiefe was called amongst the first; who being [Page 116] accused of his fact, sayd that he would excuse himselfe sufficiently, if he were but permitted in priuate to speake to some one of the Benche; he was bidde therefore to choose one whome he would; and he presently chose that graue olde man, who then had his pouche at his gyrdle; and whilst he roundeth him in the eare, he cunningly cutts his purse; and taking his leaue sollemnely, goeth downe to his place; Sir THOMAS knowing by a signe that it was dispat­ched, taketh presently an occasion to moue all the Bench to distribute some almes vpon a poore needie fellowe, that was there, beginning himselfe to do it. When the olde man came to open his purse, he sees it cutt away, and wonde­ring, sayd, that he had it, when he came to sitt there that morning, Sir THOMAS replyed in a pleasant manner: what? will you charge anie of vs with fellonie? He beginning to be angrie and ashamed of the matter, Sir THOMAS calles the cutt purse and willes him to giue him his purse againe, counselling the good man hereafter not to be so bitter a censurer of innocent mens [Page 117] negligence, when as himself could not keepe his purse safe in that open assemblie. For these his wittie ieastes he may well be sayd to haue bene neither hatefull to the Nobilitie, nor vn­pleasing to the people. Yf we reade his letters, His can­dour and innocen­ce. they shew greate eloquence a pure latine phra­se and a religious minde, for alwaies they ex­presse either humilitie in himselfe, zeale of Gods honour, loue to his neighbour, compas­sion of the afflicted, or a deare affection to his wife and children; so that it may be sayd that he had pectus verè candidum a verie sincere hart; and surely they breathe out matter either of wonderfull deuotion, or admirable wise­dome.

[Page 119] 1. ALthough he liued à 1. S T. Mo­res ho­me-en­tertain ments & deuotiōs. Courtier and a lay mar­ried man yet when he came home, he would both in the morning and in the euening, be­fore he went to bedde, say in his Chappell certaine praiers deuoutely vpon his knees, with his wife, children and fa­milie, and because he was desirous sometimes to be solitarie, and would sequester himselfe from the world, to recollect himselfe and sha­ke of the dust of earthlie businesses, which otherwise would easily defile his soule, he built for himselfe a Chappell, a librarie and a gallerie, called the New buildings, a good distance from his mayne house, wherein as his custome was, vpon other daies to busie himself in prayer and meditation, whensoeuer he was at leasure, so vsually he would continue there on the Fry­daies, in memorie of Christ's bitter passion, from morning vntill night, spending the who­le day in deuotion; so that he became an excel­lent [Page 120] man in the Contemplatiue life; of all which lett vs heare what Erasmus writeth: MORE hath built neare London vpon the Tha­mes side ( to witt, at Chelsey that which my lo: of Lincolne bought of Sir Robert Cecile) a com­modious house, neither meane nor subiect to en­uie, yet magnificent enough: there he conuerseth affably vvith his familie, his vvife, his sonne and daughter in lavve, his three daughters and their husbands, vvith eleauen grandchildren; there is The ex­cellent order of his fami­ly. not anie man liuing, so louing to his children as he, and he loueth his olde vvife as vvell as if she vvere a yong mayde; and such is the excellencie of his temper, that vvhatsoeuer happeneth that could not be helped, he loueth it as though no­thing could happen more happily. You vvould say there vvere in that place Plato's Academie; but I do the house iniury in comparing it to Plato's academie, vvherein there vvas only disputations of numbers and Geometricall figures, and some­times of morall vertues. I should rather call his hovvse a schoole or vniuersitie of Christian reli­gion; for there is none therein but readeth or stu­dieth [Page 121] the liberall Sciences; their speciall care is pie­tie and vertue; there is no quarrelling or intem­perate vvordes heard, none seene idle; vvhich housholde discipline that vvorthie Gentleman doth not gouerne by proude and loftie vvordes, but vvith all kinde and courteous beneuolence; euerie bodie perfourmeth his dutie, yet is there alwaies alacritie, neither is sober mirth anie thing vvanting. And againe he writeth thus: His first His vvi­ues em­ploymēt. vvife, vvhich vvas but yong, he caused to be in­structed in learning, and to be taught all kinde of musike; she dying after she had brought forth fou­re children, he married, [...] aforesayd, a vvi­dovve, not for lust, but to be a gouernesse, to his yong familie, vvho although she vvere inclining to olde age, and of a nature somevvhat harsh and besides very vvorldlie, yet he persvvaded her to play vpon the lute, violl, and some other instru­ments, euerie day perfourming thereon her taske; and so vvith the like gentlenesse he ordered his vvhole familie. He suffered none of his seruants His [...] dis­cipline. either to be idle or to giue themselues to anie games; but some of them he allotted to looke [Page 122] to the gardin, assigning to euerie one his sun­drieplott; some againe he sett to sing, some to play on the organs; he suffered none to giue themselues to cardes or dice. The men abode on the one side of the house, the women on the other, seldome conuersing togeather; he vsed before bedtime to call them togeather, and say certaine prayers with them, as the Miserere psalme; Adte, Domine, leuaui; Deus misere a­tur Euening prayers. nostri; Salue Regina; and De profundis for the dead, and some others; he suffered none to be absent from Masse on the Sondaies, or vpon holie daies; and vpon great feasts he gott them to watche the eeues all the Mattins time. Vpon Vigils. His de­uotiō on good fry­day Good Fryday he would call them togeather into the New-buildings; and reading the holie Passion vnto them, he would now and then interpose some speaches of his owne to moue them either to compassion, compunction, or such pious affections. Erasmus sayth, that there was a fatall felicitie fallen on the seruants of that house, that none liued but in better estate after Sir THOMAS MORE'S death; none euer was [Page 123] touched with the least aspersion of anie euill fame.

He vsed to haue one reade daily at his table, His [...] . which being ended, he would aske of some of them, how they vnderstood such and such a place, and so there grew a friendlie communi­cation, recreating all men that were present, with some ieaste or other. My aunte Rooper writing hereof to her father in the Tower sayth: What doe you thinke, my most deare father, doth comfort vs at Chelsey in this your absen­ce? surely the remembrance of your manner of life passed amongst vs, your holie conuersa­tion, your holesome counsells, your examples of vertue, of which there is hope that they do not only perseuere with you, but that they are by Gods grace much more encreased.

2. His children vsed often to translate out 2. His be­haueour tovvard his vvife and chil­dren and counsels giuē thē. of English into Latine, and out of Latine into English: and Doctour Stapleton testifyeth that he hath sene an Apologie of Sir THOMAS MO­RE'S to the vniuersitie of Oxford in defence of learning, turned into Latine by one of his [Page 124] daughters, and translated againe into English by another. And to stirre vp his wife and chil­dren To desi­re heauē ­ly matters. to the desire of heauenlie things, he would sometimes vse these and the like wordes vnto them: It is now noe maisterie for you, my ioyes, to gett heauen; for euerie bodie giueth you good example, euerie one storeth your heads with good counsells; you see also vertue rewarded, and vice punished; so that you are carried vp thit her by the chinnes; but yf you chance to liue that time, wherein none will giue you good example, nor none anie good counsell; when you shall see before your eyes vertue punished and vice rewarded, if then you will stand fast, and sticke to God closely, vpon paine of my life, though you be but halfe good, God will allowe you for whole good. Yf To beare afflictiōs patiētly. his wife or anie of his children chanced to be sicke or troubled, he would say vnto them: we must not looke to goe to heauen at our pleasu­re and on fotherbeds; that is not the way, for our Lord himself went thither with greate pai­ne; and the seruant must not looke to be in bet­ter [Page 125] case then his maister. As he would in this sor­teanimate them to beare their troubles patiēt­ly, so would he in like manner teache them to So vvith­stand tē ­ptations of the diuel. withstande the diuell and his temptations va­liantly, comparing our ghostlie enemye to an ape, whith if he be not looked vnto, he will be busie and bolde to doe shrewede turnes; but if he be espyed and checked for them, he will sud­denly leape backe and aduenture no further; so the diuell finding a man idle, sluggish, & vsing no resistance to his suggestions, waxeth hardie, and will not fayle still to continue them, vntill he hath throughly brought vs to his purpose; but if he finde a man with diligence still seeking to withstand and preuent his temptations he waxeth wearie, and at last he vtterly forsaketh him, being a spiritt of so high a pride, that he cannot endure to be mocked; and againe so enuious that he feareth still least he not only thereby should catche a fowle fall, but also mi­nister vnto vs more matter of meritt. When he Against too much curiosity in dres­sing. saw anie of his take greate paines in dressing themselues to be fine either in wearing that [Page 126] which was vneasie, or in stroaking vp their hay­re to make themselues high foreheads, he would tell them that if God gaue them not hell, he should doe them great iniurie; for they tooke more paynes to please the world and the diuell, then manie euen vertuous men did to cleanse their soules and please God.

Manie such speaches tending to deuotion A happy hous­hold. and care of their soules had he euerie day at dinner and supper, after the reading was done, as is before sayd, with such heauenlie discourses flowing with eloquence, that it might well be sayd of him, which the Queene of Saba sayd of Salomon: Blessed art thou; and blessed by thy Lord God; and blessed are all they that attende and wayte on thee; For no doubt there was the spirite of God in that familie, where euerie one was busied about somewhat or other; no car­des, no dice, no companie keeping of the men with the women; but as it were in some religious house, all chaste, all courteous, all deuout; their Their or­dinary recrea­tions. recreations was either musike of voices or viols; for which cause he procured his wife, as I [Page 127] haue sayd, to play thereon, to draw her minde from the worlde, to which by nature she was too much addicted; but so, as Sir THOMAS would say of her, that she was often penny­wise, and pound-foolish, sauing a candle's ende, and spoyling a veluett gowne. Of her al­so he meant it, when in his bookes of Comfort in Tribulation he telleth of one, who would rate her husband, because he had no minde to sett himself forward in the world, saying vnto him: Tillie vallie, tillie vallie: will you sitt and make goslings in the ashes; my mother hath often sayd, vnto me: it is better to rule then to be ruled. Now in truth, answered Sir THOMAS, that is truly sayd, good wise; for I neuer found you yet willing to be ruled. And in another place of the same booke he calleth this wife of his, a iollie Maister-woman.

3. For all his publike affayres and hou­sholde 3. S. T. Mo­re studi­ously vvrate a­gainst he­resies in midst of of his af­faires. exercises, he neuer left of to write lear­ned bookes either of deuotion or against here­sies, which now beganne to spreade themselues from Germanie into Flanders, & from thence [Page 128] into England by manie pestiferous pamphe­letts and bookes, against which Sir THOMAS MORE laboured with his penne more then anie other English man whatsoeuer, in regarde of his zeale to God, and the honour of his imma­culate spouse the Catholike Church, as appea­reth by his foure bookes of Dialogues, a worke The prai­se of his Dialogue full of learning and witt, where he argueth most profoundly of the Inuocation of Saints, pilgrimages, relikes, and Images; he teacheth also substantially, how we may knowe, which is the true Church, and that that Church can­not erre.

After he had ended this booke, there was a lewde fellow sett out a pamphlett intituled the Supplication of Beggers; by which vnder pre­tence His an­svver to the Sup­plication of beg­gars. of helping the poore, he goeth about to cast out the Clergie and to ouerthrowe all Ab­bies and religious houses, bearing men in hand, that after that the Gospell should be preached, beggars and bawdes should decrease, thiefes and idle people be the fewer, &c. Against who­me Sir THOMAS wrote a singular booke, which [Page 129] he named A Supplication of the soules in Pur­gatorie, The Sup­plication of soules of Pur­gatory. making them there, complaine of the most vncharitable dealing of certaine vpstarts, who would perswade all men to take from thē the spirituall almes, that haue bene in all ages bestowed vpon these poore soules, who feele greater miserie then anie beggar in this world; and he proueth most truly that an ocean of manie mischieuous euents would indeede ouerwhelme the realme: Then, sayth he, shall Luther's gospell come in; then shall Tindall's Te­stament be taken vp; then shall false heresies be preached, then shall the Sacraments be sett at The vve­full ef­fects of heresy. naught, then shall fasting and praier be negle­cted, then shall holie Saints be blasphemed, then shall Almightie god be displeased, then shall he vvithdravve his grace and lett all runne to ruine, then shall all vertue be had in derision, then shall all vice raigne and runne forth vnbrideled, then shall youth leaue labour and all occupation, then shall folkes waxe idle and fall to vnthristinesse then shall vvhores and thieues, beggars and bavvdes increase, then shall vnthriftes flocke to­geather, [Page 130] and eache beare him bolde of other, then shall all lavves be laughed to scorne, then shall seruants sett naught by their maisters, and vnru­lie peop'e rebelle against their gouernours, then vvill rise vp riseling and robberie, mischiefe and plaine insurrection; vvhereof vvhat the ende vvill be, or vvhen you shall see it, onely God knovveth. And that Luther's new Gospell hath taken such effect in manie partes of Christen­dome, the woefull experience doth feelingly to the great griefe of all good folkes testifye to the world; Of all which, and that the land would be peopled to the deuouring of one an­other, he writeth particularly more like one that had seene what had ensued alreadie, then like one that spoke of things to come.

He wrote also a laboursome booke against Against Tindal. Frith, and Barnes. Tindall, refuting particularly euerie periode of his bookes; a short treatise also against young Father Fryth in defence of the reall presence, which that heretike did gainesay and for that was after burnt. Against Fryer Barnes his church he wrote also an Apologie, and a de­fence Apology. [Page 131] thereof, vnder the name of Salem and Debella­tion of Salem & Bizance. Byzanze; which are all sett forth togeather with that most excellent peece of worke com­prised in three bookes of Comfort in Tribula­tion; Comfort in tribu­lation. which subiect he handleth so wittily as none hath come neare him either in weight of graue sentences, deuout considerations or fit similitudes; seasoning alwaies the troublesom­nesse of the matter with some merrie ieastes or pleasant tales, as it were sugar, whereby we drin­ke vp the more willingly these wholesome druggs, of themselues vnsauorie to flesh and bloud; which kinde of writing he hath vsed in all his workes, so that none can euer be wearie to reade them, though they be neuer so long.

4. Wherefore I haue thought it not a mis­se 4. A vievv of many vvitty & pithy speeches of S Th. Mores. to sett downe in this place amongst a thou­sand others, some of his Apophthegmes, which Doctour Stapleton hath collected in two who­le Chapters:

Doe not thinke, saith Sir THOMAS MORE, that, to be alwaies pleasant, which madde men doe laughing. For one may often see a man in [Page 132] Bedlem laugh, when he knockes his head The vul­gar no true jud­ge of things. against the wall; vttering this to condemne them that esteeme all things good or badde, which the common people iudge to be.

Againe: A sinner, saith he, cannot taste spiri­tuall Sinners distasted. delights; because all carnall are first to be abandoned.

By an excellent similitude he teacheth vs, Why fevv do feare de­ath. why few doe feare death thus: Euen as they which looke vpon things afarre of, see them confusedly, not knowing whether they be men or trees; euen so he that promiseth vnto him­selfe long life, looketh vpon death as a thing farre of, not iudging what it is, how terrible, what griefes and dangers it bringeth with it. And that none ought to promise himselfe long life, he proueth thus: Euen as two men that are No man sure of long life. brought out of prison to the gallowes, one by a long way about, the other by a direct short path, yet neither knowing, which is which, vn­till they come to the gallowes, neither of these two can promise himself longer life, the one then the other, by reason of the vncertaintie of [Page 133] the way; euen so a yong man cannot promise himself longer life, then an olde man.

Against the vanitie of worldlie honour he VVorlds vanity. speaketh thus: Euen as that criminall person, who is to be lead to execution shortly should be accounted vayne, if he should engraue his Coate of Armes vpon the prison gate; euen so are they vaine, who endeauour to leaue, with great industrie, monuments of their dignitie in the prison of this world.

By a subtile dilemma, he teacheth vs, why VVorld­ly lesses hurt not. we are not to thinke that we can behurt, by the losse of our superfluous goods, in this manner: he that suffereth anie losse of his goods, he would either haue bestowed them with praise and liberalitie, and so God will accept his will in steede of the deede itselfe, or else he would haue waisted them wickedly, and then he hath cause to reioyce, that the matter of sinning is taken away.

To expresse liuely the follie of an olde co­uetous The fally of old misers. man he writeth thus: a thiefe that is to dye to morrow, stealeth to day; and being [Page 134] asked, why he did so, he answered, that it was a great pleasure vnto him to be maister of that money but one night; so an olde miser neuer ceaseth to encrease his heape of coyne, though he be neuer so aged.

To expresse the follie and madnesse of them that delight wholy in hording vp wealth, he writeth in the person of the soules in purgato­rie thus; in his booke of the Supplication of the Madnes of coue­tous mē. Soules: We that are here in purgatorie when we thinke of our bags of golde, which we hor­ded vp in our life time, we condemne & laugh at our owne follie no otherwise, then if a man of good yeares should sinde by chance the bagg of Cherrie stones, which he had carefully hidde, when he was a childe.

In his booke of Comfort in tribulation, that Fruicts of tribu­lation. men should not be troubled in aduersitie, he writeth thus: The mindes of mortall men are so blinde and vncertaine, so mutable and vn­constant in their desires, that God could not punish men worse, then if he should suffer eue­rie thing to happen that euerie man doth wish [Page 135] for. The fruit of tribulation he describeth thus all punishment inflicted in hell, is only as aiust reuenge because it is no place of purging: In purgatorie all punishmēts purge only, because it is no place of meritt; but in this life, euerie punishment can both purge sinne and procure meritt for a iust man, because in this life there is place for both.

He sayth also that they which giue themsel­ues Hovv fonde it is to loue this vvorld. to pleasure and idlenesse in this time of pil­grimage, are like to him, who trauelling to his owne house, where there is abundance of all things, would yet be an hosteler in an Inne by the way, for to gett an Innekeepers fauour, and so ende his life there in a stable.

Speaking of ghostlie Fathers, that seeke to Against Confes­sours that ffat­ter their ghostly Childre. please their penitents, he sayth: Euen as a mo­ther sendeth forth her childe to schoole with sayre words and promises, that hath slept too long in the morning, and therefore feareth the rodde, when he weepeth and blubbereth she promiseth him, all will be well, because it is not so late as he imagineth, or that his maister will [Page 136] pardon him for that faulte this time, not caring what he endureth when he cometh thither in­deede, so she send him merrie from home with his bread & butter in his hand; euen so, manie Pastours of soules speake pleasing things to their sheepe that are riche and delicate, they promise them, when they are dying, and feare hell, that all things shall be well with them, tel­ling them, that either they haue not offended God so grieuously as they feare, or that God being mercieful will easily forgiue thē; nothing carefull whether after this life they feele hell or no, so that they make them not sadde in this world, & shew thēselues gratefull vnto thē here.

Pleasure, sayth he, doth not only with­drawe Afflictiō more profita­ble then pleasure. wicked men from prayer, but also affli­ction sometimes; yet this is the difference; that affliction doth sometimes wrest some short praier from the wickedest man aliue; but pleasure calleth away euen one that is indiffe­rent good from all prayer.

Against impenitent persons and such as dif­ferre Against differring of a mēd­ment. the amending of their life till the latter [Page 137] ende of their dayes, he sayth thus: A lewde fel­lowe that had spent all his life in wickednesse, was wont to bragge, that he could be saued, yf he spoke but three wordes at the hower of his death; riding ouer a bridge that was broken, his horse stumbling, and not being able to keepe himself from tumbling into the water, as he saw himself fall headlong into it casting away the bridle, he sayd: the Diuell Take All; and so with his three wordes he perished in the riuer.

He that is lightened with a true vision, dif­fereth Visions, and illusions. from him that hath an illusion; euen as a man awake differeth from him that drea­meth.

Euen as he that passeth ouer a narrow brid­ge, Pusilla­nimity a daunge­rous tēp­tation. by reason of his feare often falleth, especial­ly if others say vnto him: you fall; which other. wise he would safely passe ouer; euen so he that is fearefull by nature and full of pusillanimitie, often falleth into desperation, the diuell crying vnto him; thou art damned, thou art damned; which he would neuer harken to, nor be in anie danger, if he should take vnto him a good [Page 138] hart, and by holesome counsell feare nothing the diuell's outcrye.

The prosperitie of this world is like the shor­test Danger of pro­sperity. winter's day; and we are lifted vp in it as an arrowe shott vp on high, where a hote breath doth delight vs, but from thence we fall sud­denly to the earth, and there we sticke fast, ei­ther bemired with the durt of infamie, or star­uing with colde, being pluckt out of our fea­thers.

Againe he sayth? As it is a hard thing, to tou­che Of riches and ho­nours. pitch, and not to be defiled there with, a drye sticke to be putt into the fire, and not to burne, to nourish a snake in our bosome, and not to be stung with it; so a most hard thing it is to be rich and honoured in this world, and not to be strucke with the darte of pride and vaine glorie.

Lett there be two beggars, saith he, who haue All ri­ches of this [...] none of our ovvne. long time begged togeather; one of whome some rich man hath entertayned in his house, putt him in silke, giuen him money in his pur­se, but with this condition, as he telles him, that [Page 139] with in a short space, he will thrust him out of his doores, and take all that away from him againe; if he in the meane while being thus gal­lant, should chance to meete with his fellow beggar, would he be so foolish as for all this not to acknowledge him for his companion? or would he for these few daies happinesse hol­de himself better then he? Applying this to eue­rie mans case, who cometh naked into this world, and is to returne naked againe.

He compareth Couetousnesse to a fire, which Coue­tousnesse by how much the more wood there is layde on it to burne, so much apter it is to burne more still.

That there are manie in this life, that buy Bad mar­chants. hell with more toyle, then heauen might be wonne with, by halfe.

He foresawe heresie in England, as appeareth A predi­ction of heresy. by this wittie comparison; Like as before a great storme the sea swelleth, and hath vnwonted motions without anie winde stirring; so may we see here manie of our Englishmen, which a few yeares agoe could not endure to heare the [Page 140] name of an Heretike, Schismatike, Lutheran or Sacramentarie, now to be very well conten­ted both to suffer them and to praise them so­mewhat, yea to learne by little and little as much as they can be suffered, to finde faulte, and to taxe willingly the Church, the Clergie, the Ceremonies, yea and Sacraments too.

Also he hath this argument; yf he be called Riche are not go­ods. stoute that hath fortitude, he hote, who hath heate, wise that hath wisedome; yet he who hath riches, cannot be sayd presently to be good; therefore riches cannot be numbred amongst good things. Twētie, yea a hundred bare heads standing by a noble man doe not defende his head from colde so much as his owne hat doth alone, which yet he is enforced to putt of in the presence of his prince.

That is the worst affection of the minde, The vvorst af­fection. which doth delight vs in that thing, which can­not be gotten but by offending God. He that doth gett or keepe worldlie wealth by offen­ding God, lett him fully perswade himself, that those thinges wil neuer do him good; for either [Page 141] God will quickely take away euill gotten goods, or will suffer them to be kept for a grea­ter mischiefe.

Euen as he that knoweth certainely that he Almes deeds. is to be banished into a strange countrie, neuer to returne into his owne againe, and will not endure that his goods be transported thither, being loath to want them for that little while rather then euer to enioy them after, may well be thought a madde man; so are they out of their witts, who inticed with vaine affections to keepe their goods alwaies about them, and neglectiue to giue almes for feare of wan­ting, cannot endure to haue these goods sent before them to heauen, when as they knowe most assuredly that they shall enioye them al­waies there with all plentie, and with a double rewarde.

To ease his thoughts when he was in prison, An the vvorld a prison. he imagined that all the world was but a pri­son, out of which euerie day some one or other was called to execution, that is to death.

In his dailie talke he vsed also manie wittie To suffer for God. [Page 142] sayings, as: that it is an easie matter in some ca­ses for a man to loose his head, and yet to haue no harme at all.

Good deedes the world being vngratefull is The vvorld no recō ­penser. wont neuer to recompence, neither can it, though it were gratefull.

Speaking of heretikes he would say; they haue Heresy impudēt. taken away hipocrisie, but they haue placed im­pudencie in the roome thereof; so that they which before fayned themselues to be reli­gious, now doe boaste of their wickednesse.

He prayed thus: O Lord God, grant, that I Prayer. endeauour to gett those things, for which I am to pray vnto thee.

When he had anie at his table speaking de­traction, Detra­ction. he would interrupt them thus; Lett anie man thinke as he pleaseth, I like this roome very well; for it is well contriued and fayrely built.

Of an vngratefull person he would say, that Ingrati­tude. they wrote good turnes donne vnto them in the dust; but euen the least iniuries, in marble.

He compareth reason to a handmayde, Faith the mistresse of reason [Page 143] which if she be well taught, will obey; and Faith to the mistrisse, which is to keepe her in awe: captiuans intellectum in obsequium fidei.

To seeke for the truth amongst heretikes, is No truth among heretikes like to a man wandring in a desert, & meeting with a companie of lewde fellowes, of whome he asketh his way they all turning back to bac­ke, each poynteth right before him, & assureth him that that is his true way; though neuer so contrarie one to the other.

He sayth that he were a madde man, that Better preuent, then re­dresse. would drinke poyson to take a preseruatiue af­ter that; but he is a wise man, that spilling the poison, leaueth the antidote for him, that hath need thereof.

As it is an easier thing to weaue a new nett Hereti­call trās­lations. rather then to sowe vp all the holes of an olde; euen so it is a lesse labour to translate the Bible a new, then to mende heretical versions.

He is not wise that eateth the bread, which is Auoid heresy. poysoned by his enemies, although he should see a friend of his scrape it away neuer so much, especially hauing other bread to eate not poy­soned.

[Page 144] The heretikes saying that none ought to fast, Fasting. but when they are troubled with the motions of the flesh, he answereth; if it be so, no married man needes to fast; for they haue another re­medie athand; and virgins durst not fast, least wanton fellowes should marke them, when carnall temptations most assayle them, and this were for one to shew to others their fleshlie fraylties.

He was wont to say that he may well be ad­admitted Desire of heauen. admitted to heauen, who was verie desirous to see God; but on the contrarie side, he that doth not desire earnestly shall neuer be admitted thither.

Against an heretike he speaketh thus: that if Monastl. call life. monasticall life be against the Gospell, as you seeme to say it must needes be, that the gospell be contrarie vnto it; and that were to say that Christ taught vs to pamper ourselues carefully, to eate well, to drinke well, to sleepe well and flowe in all lust and pleasure.

Yf Faith cannot be without good workes, Faith and good vvorkes. why then bable you so much against good [Page 145] workes, which are the fruicts of fayth.

That people should fall into bad life and Bad life no mira­cle. lust, is as great a miracle, he saith, as stones to fall downe wards.

Whereas (he sayth) you inueighe against School­diuinity. Schoole Diuinitie, because truth is there called in doubt, not without danger; weinueighe a­gainst you, because false matters are held by you vndoubtedly for truth it selfe.

These good fellowes (speaking of heretikes) Hereti­kes. will rather hang out of Gods vin yarde, then sufler themselues to be hired into it.

Heretikes writings, seing they conclude no good thing, are altogeather tedious, be they ne­uer so short.

And againe: As none can runne a shorter race, then he that wantes both his feete; so none can write shorter then he that hath not anie good matter, nor fitt wordes to expresse it.

When an heretike tolde him, that he should Impu­gning of heresie. not write against heretikes, vnlesse he could conuerte them; he sayd, that it was like, as if one should not sinde faulte with [...] of [Page 146] housen, vnlesse he were able to builde them vp againe at his owne charge.

He telleth, that heretikes vse to frame Catho­likes [...] . arguments very weake and friuolous, that they may the more easily confute them; euen as little children make houses of tyleshardes, which they cast downe with great sporte againe presently.

Of their contumelious speaches against Their [...] . himself he sayth, I am not so voyde of reason, that I can expect reasonable matter from such vnreasonable men.

When they sayd his writings were nothing His ha­tred a­gainst he resy in good earnest. but ieasting toyes, he sayth; I scarce belieue that these good brethren can finde anie pleasant thing in my bookes; for I write nothing in them that may be pleasing vnto them. When the heretike Constantine had broken prison in his house, he bad his man goe locke the doore fast and see the place mended sure, least he should come back againe; and when the here­tikes reported, that he was sone for this, that he could not for anger eate in three daies, he an­swered [Page 147] that he was not so harsh of disposition to finde fault with anie man for rising and walking, when he sate not at his ease,

All his English workes were sett out togea­ther 5. His pro­found skill in diuinyty. in a great volume, whilst Q. Marie raigned, by Iudge Rastall Sir THOMAS his sister's sonne, by which workes one may see that he was verie skillfull in Schoole-Diuinitie and matters of Controuersie, for he argueth sharpely, he con­firmeth the truth profoundly, and citeth both Scriptures and Fathers most aptely; besides he vrgeth for the aduerse parte more a great deale, then anie heretike euer did, that wrote before him.

But to see how he handleth Luther vnder None handled Luther more [...] . the name of one Rosse, would do anie man good, faining that Rosse wrote his booke from Rome, against the most ridiculous and scurri­lous pāphlett, which Luther had made against King Henrie the eighth, who of good zeale had sett out with great praise a booke in de­fence of the Seauen Sacraments, & the Pope's authoritie; for which Pope Leo the tenth gaue [Page 148] him the tile of Defender of the Faith. Where­fore in defence of his Soueraigne, whome Lu­ther had most basely rayled at, calling him of­ten Thomistical asse, & that he would beray the king's Crowne, who was not worthie to wipe his shoes, with manie other scurrilous spea­ches; Sir THOMAS painteth out the sowle mou­thed fellowe in his liuelie coulours, and made him so enraged, that it stung him more then anie other booke, that euer was sett out against him.

Finally in euerie one of his bookes, when­soeuer [...] Tho­mas More [...] Thomas [...] he toucheth anie controuersie, he doth it so exactly that one may see, that he had dili­gently read manie great Diuines; and that he was very well seene in S. Thomas the father of all Diuinitie, this may be an euident signe, which his Secretarie Iohn Harris a man of sound iudgement and great pietie, reported of him, that on a time an hereticall booke newly printed and spread abroad was brought to Sir THOMAS; which when he read, being in his boate, going frō Chelsey to London, he shewed [Page 149] certaine of the author's arguments with his fingar to M. ^r Harris saying: Loe here how the knaue's argument is taken out of the obie­ctions of S. Thomas in 2. 2. in such and such an article; but the lewde fellow might haue seene the solutions, which are presently added there. He maintayned also in a learned Disputation And o­ther school [...] with Fa: Atphonsus the Franciscan Q. Cathe­rin's ghostlie Father Scotus his opinion of At­trition and Contricion, as more safely to be followed, then that of Occhamus; by all which it may be gathered, that he had great in sight in the diuersitie of Scholasticall opinions.

He wrote also a booke in Latine against Po­meran His epi­stle a­gainst Pomera­nus. the heretike, and indeede laboured very much rather to reduce such men vnto the Ca­tholike Faith then to punish them for their re­uolte: & yet in his epitaphe he sayth of himself, that he was to theeues, murtherers and hereti­kes grieuous: and Simon Grineus a Luther an boasteth in his translation of Produs dedicated to my grandfather, how courteously Sir THO­MAS his father vsed him, whē he was in Englād.

1. VVhile Sir THOMAS MORE was 1. Cardinal Wolley his am­bition. Chācellour of the Duchie, the Sea of Rome chanced to be va­cant; and Cardinall Wolsey a man of vnsatiable ambition, who had crept vp in the fauour of Charles the Fift, (so that the Emperour still writing vnto him called him Father, and the other called him sonne,) hoped now by his meanes to attai­ne to the popedome; but perceauing himself of that expectation frustrate and disappoyn­ted, because the Emperour in the time of their election had highly commended another to the whole Colledge of the Cardinalls, called Adrian, who was a Flemming, and had bene sometime his schoole maister, a man of rare learning & singular vertue; who therevpō all­though [Page 152] absent and little dreaming of it, was chosen Pope; and then forth with going from Spayne, where he was then resident, came on foote to Rome. Before he entred into the Cit­tie, Pope A­driās hu­mility. putting of his hose and shoes, barefoote and bare leggd he passed through the streetes to­wards his pallace, with such humilitie & deuo­tion that all the people not without cause had him in greate reuerence and admiracion; but, as I sayd, Cardinall Wolsey, a man of contrarie qualities, waxed therewith so wroth, and sto­macked so the Emperour for it euer after, that he studyed still how he might reuenge himselfe anie wates against him; which as it was the be­ginning of a lamentable tragedie, so the ende thereof we cannot yet see, although there haue bene almost one hundred yeares sithence. This Wolsey the au­thor of K. H. 8. tail. VVolsey therefore not ignorant of King Hen­rie's vnconstant & mutable disposition, incli­ned to withdrawe, his affections vpon euerie light occasion from his owne most noble, ver­tuous and lawfull wife Q. Catherine the Empe­rour's owne aunte, and to fixe this amourous [Page 153] passions vpon other women, nothing compa­rable vnto her either in birth, wisedome, ver­tue, fauour, or externall beautie; this irreligious prelate meaning to make the king's lightnesse an instrument to bring about his vnconscio­nable intent, endeauoured by all the meanes he could to allure the king to cast his fancie vpon one of the French king's sisters; the king being fallen in loue alreadie, he not suspecting anie such thing, with the ladie Anne Bullen a woman of no nobilitie, no nor so much as of anie worthie fame.

This French matche he thought to plott Longlād B. of Lō ­dō, Wol­seys in­strumēt. to spite the Emperour, because at that time there was great warres and mortall enmitie betweene the French king and Charles the Fift. For the better compassing whereof, the Cardinal requested Longland Bishopp of Lon­don, who was the king's ghostlie father, to putt a scruple into king Henrie's head, that he should, as it were another S. Iohn Baptist, (though the case were nothing like,) tell his Maiestie, that it was not lawfull for him like [Page 154] another Herode to marrie his brothers wife.

And although K. Henrie's conscience had 2. K. Henry commnnicateth vvith [...] T. More, his scru­ple con­cerning his first marriage bene quiett now aboue twentie yeares togea­ther, yet was he not vnwilling to hearken here­vnto: but entertayning it, opened his scruple to Sir THOMAS MORE, whose counsell he required herein, shewing him certaine places of Scrip­ture, that somewhat seemed to serue the turne and his appetite. VVhich when Sir THOMAS had seriously perused, and had excused himself saying, he was vnfitt to meddle with such mat­ters, being one that neuer had professed the stu­die of Diuinitie: The king not satisfyed with this answer, knowing well his iudgement to be sound in whatsoeuer he would apply himselfe vnto; pressed him so sore, that in conclusion he condescended to his Maiesties request being as it were a commaunde; and for that the cause was of such weight and importance, hauing neede of greate deliberation, he besought his Maiestie to giue him sufficient respite aduisedly to consider of it; with which the king very well satisfyed, sayd that Tunstall and Clarke, two [Page 155] worthie Bishops, one of Durham, the other of Bathe, with others the learnedest of his priuie Councell should also be his Coadiutours.

Sir THOMAS taking his leaue of the king, Sir Tho. Mores discreet ansvver to the kings scruple. went and conferred with them about those places of Scripture, adding thereto, for their better meanes to search out the truth, the ex­positions of the ancient Fathers, and Doctours of the Church; and at his next coming to the Courte, talking with the king about this mat­ter, he spake thus: To deale sincerely with your Maiestie neither my Lo: of Durham, nor my Lo: of Bathe, though I knowe them both wise, vertuous, learned, and honourable prelates, nor my self with the rest of your Councell, being all your Grace's owne seruants and sub­iects, for your manifolde benefitts daily be­stowed vpon vs so much bound vnto your Highnesse; none of vs, I say, nor we all togea­ther are in my iudgement meete counsellers for your Maiestie herein: but if your princelie dis­position purpose to vnderstande the verie truth hereof, you may haue such counsellers, as nei­ther [Page 156] for respect of their owne worldlie commo­ditie, nor feare of your princelie authoritie will beenclined to deceaue you; and then he named S. Hierome, S. Austine, and diuerse others both Greeke and Latine Fathers; shewing him mo­reouer, what authorities he had gathered out of them, that he neede not haue anie further scru­ple thereof, and that marrying of a new wife, whilst his owne was aliue, was wholy repugnāt to their doctrine and the meaning of the Scrip­tures. All which though king Henrie did not very well like of, because it was disgustfull to his passionate lust; yet the manner of Sir THO­MAS his discourse and collection was so wisely tempered, by his discreete communication, that he tooke them at that present in good parte, and often had conference of them againe.

By which manner of Sir THOMAS his coun­sell His most vpright consciē ­ce, and constant real of the truth. and sincere carriage, one may easily gather, what vnspotted conscience this vpright man had, who for no hope of gaine, or anie feare of disgrace, would once swarue from the true di­ctamen [Page 157] of his Conscience: and if the rest of king Henrie's counsell had bene as backward, (to hinder this beginning of dissolution) as Sir THOMAS was, no alteration of religion had by all likelyhood happened in England; for from this onlie spring of K. Henrie's intemperance, proceeded all the succeeding calamities, which haue daily increased, & yet haue not anie hope of amendement.

All which change Sir THOMAS MORE either 3. He fore­savv in spirit the fall of re­ligion in England. like a very wise man foresawe long before, or rather like a prophete prophecied thereof to my vncle Rooper, who on a time of a certaine ioy beganne to commende to his father-in lawe the happie estate of this realme, that had so Ca­tholike and zealous a prince, that no heretike durst shew his face; so learned and vertuous a Clearg e, so graue and sounde a Nobilitie, such louing and obedient subiects, all agreing togea­ther in one faith and dutiefulnesse, as though they had cor vnum & animam vnam, but one hart and one soule; Sir THOMAS thus replyed againe: Truth it is indeede, sonne Rooper, as [Page 158] you say, and going through all estates with his commēdations of them, he went farre beyond my vncle; and yet sonne, quoth he, I pray God, that some of vs, as high as wee seeme to sitt now vpon the mountaines, treading heretikes vnder our feete like auntes, doe not liue the day that we gladly would wish to be in league with them, to suffer them to haue their chur­ches quietly to themselues, so that they would he content to lett vs haue ours peaceably to our selues. VVhen mine vncle Rooper had tolde him manie reasons, why he had no cause to say so; well, sayd he, I pray God some of vs liue not till that day; and yet shewed he noe reason for all these his speaches. whereat my vncle sayd in a choller: By my troath Sir it is very despera­tely spoken; I cry God mercie (saith my vncle) I vsed vnto him that very word. By which speach Sir THOMAS perceauing him to be some what angrie, sayd merrily: well sonne Rooper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so. But yet himself founde the predictiō too true: for he liued vntil the fiueteenth yeare of Q. Elizabeth's raigne, [Page 159] when he saw religion turned topsie turuie, and no hope of anie amendement.

This spiritt of prophecie no doubt was a 4. The mi­raculous reductiō of his senno Roper from he­resy, by his pray­ers. signe of Gods loue vnto Sir THOMAS, being so deare in his sight, that he would make him par­taker of some parte of his secretts: but that which he wrought in the conuersion of this his sonne in lawe, was not a signe only, but an eui­dent demonstratiō of God's great fauour vnto him. For when M. ^r VVilliam Rooper was a yong man, he vsed austeritie to himselfe more then discretion afforded; and by this meanes he grew wearie of the Catholike fasts and religious discipline; and hearing of a new and easie way to heauen, which the preachers of nouelties did promise to their followers, he beganne to reade diligently the bookes of heresies, which came ouer, and were spread in euerie place of En­gland; in so much that being wearie of Auricular Confession, fasting the lent, and vigiles, he grew vehement in his new opinions, and zea­lous in breaking of them to others; so as that he would be alwaies talking, what a readie way to [Page 160] heauen was now found out, no bodie needing to sue to Saints or mens prayers; but Gods eare was open still to heare, and his mercie readie to forgiue anie sinner whatsoeuer, when he shall call to him by fayth, which was only necessarie to saluation; and hauing that only, which he assured himself of, he needed not doubt, but that he was an elect and saued soule, so that it was impossible for him to sinne or fall out of God's fauour. Of this dangerous poison of se­curitie The hot spirit of heresy. he hauing druncke a full draught, he came on a time to Sir THOMAS to request him, because he was highly in the king's fauour, that he would gett him a licence to pieache, what the spiritt had taught him; for he was assured that God had sent him to instruct the world; not knowing (god wote) anie reason of this his mission, but only his priuate spirit; to whome Sir THOMAS in a smiling manner replyed; Is it not sufficient, sonne Rooper, that we that are your friēds should knowe that you are a foole, but that you would haue your follie proclamed to the world? After this he often disputed with [Page 161] him about matters of religion, yet neuer could he bring him to hearken to anie reason, euerie day seeming more obstinate then other, vntill at length he sayd: in sober sadnesse: I see, sonne, noe disputation will doe thee good; henceforth therefore I will dispute with thee no more; on­ly will I pray for thee, that God will be so fa­uourable as to touch thy hart; and so commit­ting him to God, they parted. And he earnestly powred out his deuotions before the Diuine mercie for that intent. And beholde my vncle not long after being inspired with the light of grace, beganne to detest his heresies; and, as an­other S. Austin was wholy conuerted; so that euer after he was not only a perfect Catholike, but liued and dyed a stoute and valiant Cham­pion The great piety and charity of his sayd [...] M. Roper thereof, whose almes in charitable vses, was so great, that it is sayd, that he bestowed euerie yeare to the value of fiue hūdred pounds, especially in his latter daies in which he enioyed an office of great gayne and commoditie; and after his death I haue heard it reported by thē, that were seruants in his house, that whilst his [Page 162] bodie lay vnburied for three or foure daies the­re was heard once a day for the space of a quar­ter of an hower the sweetest musike that could be imagined, not of anie voices of men, but angelicall harmonie, as a token how gratious that soule was to Almightie God, and to the quires of Angells.

Now this was a more speciall fauour, which 5. Another miracu­lous cure vvrought by prayer vpon his daughter Marga. rot. God grāted to Sir THOMAS his deuout prayers, then the raysing of a dead man to life, by how much more the death of the soule is of more danger then the death of the bodie, yet it is cer­taine also, that this glorious man begged also corporall life for some of his deare friends On a time his daughter Margaret wife to this William Rooper, fell sicke of the sweating sic­kenesse, of which maniedyed at that time; who lying in so great extremitie of the disease, that by no inuentions nor deuises that anie cun­ning phisiciā could vse at that time hauing cō ­tinually about her most learned, wise, and ex­pert that could begotten, she could by no me­anes be kept from sleepe; so that euerie one [Page 163] about her had iust cause to despaire of her reco­uerie, giuing her vtterly ouer, her father as he that most loued her, being in noe small heaui­nesse at last sought for remedie of this her de­sperate case from God. wherefore going as his custome was, into his new building, there in his Chappell vpon his knees most deuoutly euen with manie teares besought Almightie God, vnto whome nothing was impossible, of his goodnesse, if it were his blessed will, that at his meditation he would vouchsafe gratiously to graunt this his humble petition; where pre­sently came into his minde, that a glister was the onlie way to helpe her: which whē he tolde the phisicians, they confessed that it was the best remedie indeede, much marueling of thē ­selues, they had not remembred if; which was immediately ministred vnto her sleeping; for else she would neuer haue bene brought to that kinde of medicine. And although whē she awa­ked throughly, Gods markes (an euident and vndoubted token of death) plainely appeared vpon her, yet she contrarie to all expectation, [Page 164] was, as it were miraculously and by her fathers feruēt prayer restored to perfect health againe; whome if it had pleased God at that time to haue taken to his mercie, her father solemnely protested that he would neuer haue medled with anie worldlie matters after, such was his fatherlie loue and vehement affection vnto this his Iewell, who most neerely of all the rest of his Children expressed her fathers vertues, although the meanest of all the rest might haue bene matched with anie other of their age in England, either for learning, excellent qualities or pietie, they hauing bene brought vp euen frō their infancie with such care and industrie, and enioying alwaies most vertuous and learned maisters.

So that the schoole of Sir THOMAS MORE'S 6. Sir Tho. Mores domes­tiqs schoole. children was famous ouer the whole world; for that their witts were rare, their diligence extra­ordinarie, and their maisters most excellent men, as aboue the rest Doctour Clement an excellent Grecian and phisician, who was after reader of the phisicke-lecture in Oxford, and [Page 165] sett out manie bookes of learning. After him one William Gūnell who read after with greate praise in Cambridge, and besides these one Drue, one Nicolas, and after all one Richard Hart, of whose rare learning and industrie in this behalfe, lett vs see, what may be gathered out of Sir THOMAS his letters vnto them, and first to M. ^r Gunnell thus:

I haue receaued, my deare Gunnell, your let­ters, such as they are vvont to be, most elegant & full of affection. Your loue towards my children I gather by your letter; their diligence, by their ow­ne; for euerie one of their letters pleaseth me very much, yet most especially I take ioy to heare that my daughter Elizabeth hath shevved as greate Modesty the orna­ment of vvomen modestie in her mother's absence, as anie one could doe, if she had bene in presence; lett her knovve that that thing liked me better, then all the epistles besides; for as I esteeme learning, vvhich is ioyned vvith vertue more then all the threasures of kings; so vvhat doth the fame of being a great schollar bring vs, if it be seuered from vertue other then a notorious and famous [Page 166] infamie, especially in a vvoman, vvhome men vvill be readie the more vvillingly to assayle for their learning, because it is a rare matter, and argueth a reproche to the sluggishnesse of a man, vvho vvill not stick to lay the fault of their natu­rall malice vpon the qualitie of learning supposing all their ovvne vnskillfullnesse by comparing it vvith the vices of those that are learned, shalbe accounted for vertue: but if anie vvoman on the contrarie parte (as I hope and vvishe by your in­struction and teaching all mine vvill doe) shall ioyne manie vertues of the minde vvith a little skill of learning, I shall accounte this more happi­nesse, Learning to be de­sired for vse, not for prai­se. then if they vvere able to attaine to Craesus's vvealth ioyned vvith the beautie of fayre Hele­ne; not because they vvere to gett great fame the­reby, although that inseparably follovveth all ver­tue, as a shadovve doth the bodie, but for that they should obtaine by this the true revvarde of vvise­dome, vvhich can neuer be taken avvay as vvealth may, nor vvill fade, as beautie doth, be­cause it dependeth of truth and iustice, and not of the blasts of mens mouthes, then vvhich nothing [Page 167] is more foolish, nothing more pernicious; for as it is the dutie of a good man to eschevv infamie, so it is not only the propertie of a proude man, but also of a vvretched and ridiculous man to frame their actions only for praise; for that mans minde must needes be full of vnquietnesse, that alvvaies vvauers for feare of other mens iudgements bet­vveene ioye and saddenesse. But amongst other the notable benefitts, vvhich learning bestovveth vpon men, I accounte this one of the most profit­able, that in getting of learning vve looke not for praise, to be accounted learned men, but only to vse it in all occasions, vvhich the best of all other learned men, I meane the philosophers those true moderatours of mens actiōs haue deliuered vnto vs from hand to hand, although some of them haue abused their [...] , ayming only to be ac­counted excellent men by the people. Thus haue I spoken, my Gunnell, somevvhat the more of the not coueting of vaine glorie, in regarde of those vvordes in your letter, vvhereby you iudge that the high spiritt of my daughter Margarett's vvitt is not to be deiected. vvherein I am of the same [Page 168] opinion that you are, hut I thinke (as I doubt not In vvhat cōsisteth deiectiō of spirit. but you are of the same minde) that he doth deiect his generous vvitt, vvhosoeuer accustometh him­self to admire vaine and base obiects, and he ray­seth vvell his spiritts, that embraceth vertue and true good, they are base minded indeede, that esteeme the shadovve of good things (vvhich most men greedily snatch at, for vvant of discretiō to iudge true good from apparent) rather then the truth it self. And therefore seing I holde this the best vvay for them to vvalke in, I haue not only requested you, my deare Gunnell, vvhome of yourself I knovve vvould haue donne it out of the intire affection you beare vnto them; neither haue I desired my vvife alone, vvhome her motherlie pietie by me often and manie vvaies tryed doth stirre them vp thereto, but also all other my friēds What ornamēt Sir Tho. More re­quired in his chil­dren. I haue intreated manie times to perswade all my children to this, that auoyding all the gulphes and dovvnefalls of pride, they vvalke through the pleasant meadovves of modestie, that they neuer be enamoured of the glistering hue of golde and siluer nor lament for the vvant thereof, vvhich by [Page 169] errour they admire in others, that they thinke no better of themselues for all their costlie trim­mings, nor anie meaner for the vvant of them; not to lessen their beautie by neglecting it, vvhich they haue by nature, nor to make it anie more by vnseemelie art, to thinke vertue their chiefe hap­pinesse, learning and good qualities the next, of vvhich those are especially to be learned, vvhich vvill auayle them most, that is to say, pietie to­vvards Gods, Charitie tovvards all men, mode­stie, and Christian humilitie in themselues, by vvhich they shall reape from God the revvarde of an innocent life, by certaine confidence thereof they shall not neede to feare death, and in the meane while enioy ng true alacritie, they shall neither be puffed vt vvith the vaine praises of men, nor deiected by anie slander of disgrace; these I esteeme the true and solide fruits of learning; vvhich as they happen not, I confesse, to all that A vvomā may attaine to learning as vvell as a man. are learned, so those may easily attaine them, vvho beginne to studie vvith this intent; neither is there anie difference in haruest time, vvhether it vvas man or vvoman, that sovved first the corne; [Page 170] for both of them beare name of a reasonable crea­ture equally, vvhose nature reason only doth di­stinguish from bruite beastes, and therefore I do not see vvhy learning in like manner may not e­qually agree vvith both sexes; for by it, reason is cultiuated, and (as a fielde) sovved vvith vvhole­some precepts, it bringeth forth excellent fruit. But if the soyle of vvomans braine be of its ovvne nature bad, and apter to beare fearne then corne (by vvhich saying manie doe terrifye vvomen from learning) I am of opinion therefore that a vvoman's vvitt is the more diligently by good in­structions and learning to be manured, to the ende, the defect of nature may be redressed by in­dustrie. Of vvhich minde vvere also manie vvise and holie ancient Fathers, as, to omitt others, S. Hierome and S. Augustine, vvho not only ex­horted manie noble matrones and honourable virgins to the getting of learning, but also to fur­ther them therein, they diligently expounded vnto them manie hard places of Scriptures; yea vvrote manie letters vnto tender maydes, full of so greate learning, that scarcely our olde and [Page 171] greatest Professours of Diuinitie can vvell reade them, much lesse be able to vnderstande them per­fectly; vvhich holie Saints vvorkes you vvill end­eauour, my learned Gunnell, of your courtesie, The end to vvhich all lear­ning must be directed. that my daughters may learne, vvhereby they may chiefly knovve, vvhat ende they ought to haue in their learning, to place the fruits of their labours in God, & a true Conscience; by vvhich it vvill be easily brought to passe, that beinge at peace vvithin themselues, they shall neither be moued vvith pnuse of flatterers, nor the nipping follies of vnlearned scoffers; but me thinkes I heare you re­plye, that though these my precepts be true; yet are they too strong and hard for the tender age of my yong vvenches to hearken too: For vvhat man, be he neuer so aged or expert in anie science, is so con­stant or stayed, that he is not a little stirred vp vvith the tickeling of glorie? And for my parte, I esteeme that the harder it is to shake from vs this plague of pride, so much the more ought euerie one to endeauour to do it from his verie infancie. And I thinke there is no other cause, vvhy this almost ineuitable mischiefe doth sticke so fast in [Page 172] our breasts, but for that it is ingrafted in our ten­der mindes euen by our nurses, as soone as vve are crept out of our shelles; it is fostered by our maisters, it is nourished and perfected by our pa­rents, vvhilst that no bodie propoundeth anie good thing to children, but they presently bidde them expect praise as the vvhole revvarde of vertue; vvhence it is, that they are so much accustomed to esteeme much of honour and praise, that by seek­ing to please the most, who are alvvaies the vvorst, they are still ashamed to be good vvith the fevvest. That this plague may the farther be ba­nished He [...] it may by all [...] be [...] from his children. from my children, I earnestly desire, that you, my deare Gunnell, their mother and all their friends, vvould still sing this song, vnto thē, hammer it alvvates in their heads, and inculcate it vnto them vpon all occasions, that vaine glorie is abiect, and to be despised, neither anie thing to be more vvorthie or excellent, then that humble modestie, vvhich is so much praised by Christ; the vvhich prudent Charitie vvill so guide and di­rect, that it vvill teache vs to desire vertue rather then to vpbrayde others for their vices, and vvill [Page 173] procure rather to loue them, vvho admonish vs of our fault, then hate them, for their holesome coun­sell. To the obtayning vvhereof nothing is more auayleable, then to reade vnto them the holesome precepts of the Fathers, whome they knowe not to be angrie vvith them, and they must needes be vehemently moued vvith their authorities, be­cause they are venerable for their sanctitie. Yf therefore you reade anie such thing vnto Marga­rett and Elizabeth, besides their lessens in Salust, for they are of riper iudgement by reason of their age, then Iohn and Cecilie, you shall make both me and them euerie day more bound vnto you; moreouer you shall hereby procure my children being deare by nature, after this more deare for learning, but by their increase of good manners most deare vnto me. Farevvell. From the Court this Whitsuneeue.

Another epistle of Sir THOMAS MORE to his 7. The de­light Sir T. M. bad in his childrēs learning. Children. Thomas More to his vvhole schoole sēdeth greetinge: Beholde hovv I haue found out a compendious vvay to salute you all, and make spare of time and paper, vvhich I must needes [Page 174] haue vvasted in saluting euerie one of you parti­cularly by your names; vvhich vvould be verie super fluous, because you are all so deare vnto me, some in one respect, some in another, that I can omitt none of you vnsaluted. Yet I knovve not, vvhether there can be anie better motiue, vvhy I should loue you, then because you are schollars, learning seeming to binde me more straytely vnto you, then the nearenesse of bloud. I reioyce there­fore that M. ^r Drue is returned safe, of vvhose sa­setie you knovve I vvas carefull. Yf I loued you not exceedingly, I should enuie this your so great happinesse, to haue had so manie great schollars for your maisters. For I thinke M. ^r Nicolas is they [...] A­strono­my. vvith you also, and that you haue learned of him much astronomie; so that I heare you haue procee­ded so farre in this science, that you novv knovve not only the pole-starre, or dogg, and such like of the common Constellations, but also, vvhich ar­gueth an absolute and cunning astronomer, in the chiefe planetts themselues: you are able to discer­ne the sunne from the moone; goe forvvard there­fore vvith this your nevv and admirable skill, by [Page 175] vvhich you do thus climbe vp to the starres, vvhich vvhilst you daily admire, in the meane vvhile I admonish you also to thinke of this holie fast of Lent, and lett that excellent and pious song of Boethius sound in your eares, vvhere by you are taught also vvith your mindes to penetrate be a­uen, least vvhen the bodie is lifted vp on high, the soule be driuen dovvne to the earth vvith the brute beasts. Farevvell. From the Court this 23 ^th of March.

Another. Thomas More to his best beloued Children, and to Margarett Gigs, vvhome he numbreth amongst his ovvne, sendeth greeting: The marchant of Bristow brought vnto me your letters, the next day after he had receaued them of you, vvith the vvhich I vvas exceedingly de­lighted. For there can come nothing, yea though it He dis­courieth pleasan̄tly. vvere neuer so rude, neuer so meanely polished, from this your shoppe, but it procureth me more delight then anie other mens vvorkes, be they neuer so eloquent; your vvriting doth so stirre vp my affection to vvards you; but excluding these your letters may also very vvell please me for [Page 176] their ovvne vvorth, being full of fine vvitt, and of a pure Latine phrase. therefore none of them all, but ioyed me exceedingly, yet to tell you inge­niously vvhat I thinke, my sonne Iohn's letter pleased me best, both because it vvas longer then the other, as also for that he seemeth to haue ta­ken more paynes then the rest. For he not only paynteth out the matter decently, and speaketh elegantly, but he playeth also pleasantly vvith me, and returneth my ieastes vpon me againe very vvittily; and this he doth not only pleasant­ly, but temperately vvithall, shevving that he is mindefull vvith vvhome he ieasteth, to vvitt, his father, vvhome he endeauoureth so to de­light, that he is also afeared to offende. Hereaf­ter I expect euerie day letters from euerie one of you; neither vvill I accept of such excuses, as you complaine of, that you had no leasure, or that the Carrier vvent avvay suddenly, or that you haue no matter to vvrite; Iohn is not vvont to alleage anie such things; nothing can hinder you; from vvriting, but manie things may exhort you thereto. vvhy should you lay anie faulte vpon the [Page 177] Carrier, seing you may preuent his coming, and haue them readie made vp, and sealed two daies before anie offer themselues to carrie them. And hovv can you vvant matter of vvriting vnto me, vvho am delighted to heare eyther of your studies, or of your play: vvhome you may euen then please exceedingly, vvhen hauing nothing to vvrite of, you vvrite as largely as you can of that nothing, then vvhich nothing is more easie for you to doe, especially being vvomen, and therefore pratlers by nature, and amongst vvhome daily agreat storie riseth of nothing. But this I admonish you to doe, He wil­leth thē to write with care and pre­medita­tion. that vvhether you vvrite of serious matters, or of trifles, you vvrite vvith diligence and considera­tion, premeditating of it before; neither vvill it be amisse, if you firstindite it in English, for then it may more easily be translated into Latine, vvhilst the minde free from inuenting is attētiue to finde apt and eloquent vvordes. And although I putt this to your choice, vvhether you vvill do so or no: yet I enioyne you by all meanes, that you dili­gently examine vvhat you haue vvritten, before you vvrite it ouer fayre againe; first considering [Page 178] attentiuely the vvhole sentence, and after exa­mine euerie parte thereof, by which meanes you may easily finde out, if anie solecismes haue esca­ped you: vvhich being putt out, and your letter vvritten fayre, yet then lett it not also trouble you to examine it ouer againe; for sometimes the same faultes creepe in at the second vvriting, vvhich you before had blotted out. By this your diligence you vvill procure, that those your trifles vvill seeme serious matters. For as nothing is so plea­sing but may be made vnsauorie by prating gar­rulitie; so nothing is by nature so vnpleasant, that by industrie may not be made full of grace and pleasantnesse. Farevvell my svvetest Children. From the Court this 3. of September.

Another letter to his daugter Margarett only: Thy letters (dearest Margarett) vvere gratefull vnto me, vvhich certifyed me of the state of Shaw; yet vvould they haue bene more grate­full vnto me, if they had tolde me, vvhat your and His ear­nest care of his childrēs good em­ploymēt. your brother's studies vvere, vvhat is read a­mongst you euerie day, hovv pleasantly you con­ferre togeather, vvhat themes you make, and [Page 179] hovv you passe the day away amongst you in the svveete fruits of learning. And although nothing is vvritten from you, but it is most pleasing vnto me, yet those things are most sugred svveete, vvhich I cannot learne of but by you or your bro­ther. And in the ende: I pray thee, Megg, see that I vnderstande by you, vvhat your studies are. For rather then I vvould suffer you, my children, to liue idely, I vvould my self looke vnto you, vvith the losse of my temporall estate, bidding all other cares and businesses Farevvell, amongst vvhich there is nothing more svveete vnto me, then thy self, my dearest daughter. Farevvell.

It seemeth also by another letter of his, how carefull he was that his children might be learned and diligent, and he prayseth them for it thus: Thomas More sendeth greeting to his most deare daughters Margarett, Elizabeth and Cecilie; and to Margarett Gigs as deare to him as if she vvere his ovvne. I cannot sufficiently expresse, my best beloued vvenches, hovv your eloquent letters haue exceedingly pleased me; and this is not the least cause, that I vnderstande by [Page 180] them, you haue not in your iourneys, though you change places often, omitted anie thing of your custome of exercising yourselues, either in making of Declamations, composing of ver ses, or in your The care his chil­dren had to please him in their stu­dies. Logike exercises; by this I persvvade my selfe, that you dearely loue me, because I see you haue so great a care to please me by your diligence in my absence, as to perfourme these things, vvhich you knovve hovv gratefull they are vnto me in my presence. And as I finde this your minde and affection so much to delight me, so vvill I procure that my returne shall be profitable vnto you. And persvvade yourselues that there is nothing amongst these my troublesome & carefull affai­res that recreateth me so much, as vvhen I reade somevvhat of your labours, by vvhich I vnder­stande those things to be true, vvhich your most louing maister vvriteth so louingly of you, that vnlesse your ovvne epistles did shevv euidently vnto me, hovv earnest your desire is tovvards learning, I should haue iudged that he had rather vvritten of affection then according to the truth: but novv by these that you vvrite, you make him [Page 181] to be belieued, and me to imagine those things to be true of your vvittie and acute disputacions, vvhich he boasteth of you almost aboue all beliefe; I am therefore maruelous desirous to come home, that vve may heare them, and sett our schollar to dispute vvith you, vvho is slovve to belieue, yea out of all hope or conceipt to finde you able, to be ansvverable to your master's prayses. But I hope, knovving hovv steadfast you are in your affe­ctions, that you vvill shortly ouercome your mai­ster, yf not in disputing, at least in not leauing of your strife. Farevvell, deare vvenches.

And thus you may coniecture how learned Bookes dedica­ted by learned men to his chil­dren. his daughters were; to whome for this respect Erasmus dedicated his Commentarie vpon Ouide de nuce. Levvis Viues also writeth great commendations of this schoole of Sir THO­MAS MORE'S in his booke to Q. Catherine of England. And both Erasmus dedicated Aristo­tle in Greeke, and Simon Grineus, who al­though an heretike, yet in respect of his learn­ing had bene kindely vsed by Sir THOMAS MORE, as he writeth himself, did dedicate Plato [Page 182] and other bookes in Greeke vnto my grandfa­ther Iohn More as to one that was also very skillfull in that toung. See what Grineus spea­keth vnto him: There vvas a great necessitie, why I should dedicate these bookes of Proclus full of maruelous learning, by my paynes sett out, but not vvithout the singular benefitt of your father effected, vnto you, to vvhome by reason of your fatherlike vertues all the fruite of this benefitt is to redounde, both because you may be an ornamēt vnto them, and they also may doe great good vnto you, vvhome I knovve to be learned, and for these graue disputacions sufficiently prouided and made fitt, by the continuall conuersation of so vvorthie a father, and by the companie of your si­sters, vvho are most expert in all kinde of sciences. For vvhat Authour can be more gratefull to those desirous mindes of most goodlie things, such as you and the Muses your sisters are, vvhome a diuine heate of spiritt to the admiration and a nevv example of this our age, hath driuen into the sea of learning so farre, and so happily, that they see no learning to be aboue their reache, no [Page 183] disputations of philosophie aboue their capacitie: And none can better explicate entangled que­stions, none sifte them more profoundly, nor none conceaue them more easily, then this au­thour.

Lett vs see another letter to his daughter Margarett only: You aske monye, deare Megg, too shamefully & fearefully of your father, vvho is both desirous to giue it you, and your letter hath deserued it, vvhich I could finde in my hart to re­compence, He payes his daugh­ters let­ters with gold. not as Alexander did by Cherilus, gi­uing him for euerie verse a Philippine of golde; but if my abilitie vvere ansvverable to my vvill, I vvould bestovve tvvo Crovvnes of pure golde for euerie sillable thereof. Here I sende you as much as you requested, being vvilling to haue sent you more; but that as I am glad to giue, so I am desirous to be asked and favvned on by my daughters, thee especially, vvhome vertue and learning hath made most deare vnto me. Whe­refore the sooner you haue spent this money vvell as you are vvont to doe, and the sooner you aske me for more, the sooner knovve you vvill doe your [Page 184] father a singular pleasure. Farevvell my most beloued daughter.

This daughter was likest her father as well in 8. The lear­ning and pioty of his daughter Marga. ret. fauour as witt, and proued a most rare woman for learning, sanctitie, and secrecie, and there­fore he trusted her with all his secretts. She wrote two Declamations in English, which her father and she turned into Latine so ele­gantly, as one could hardly iudge, which was the best. She made also a treatise of the Foure Last things; which her father sincerely prote­sted, that it was better then his, and therefore, it may be, neuer finished his. She corrected by her witt a place in S. Cyprian, corrupted, as Pa­melian and Iohn Coster testifye, in steede of nisi vos sinceritatis, restoring neruos sinceritatis. To her Erasmus wrote an epistle, as to a woman not only famous for manners, and vertue, but most of all for learning. We haue heretofore made mention of her letter that Cardinal Poole so liked, that when he had read it, he would not belieue it could be anie womans; in answer whereof Sir THOMAS did sende her the letter, [Page 185] some parte whereof we haue seene before; the rest is this, which though there were no other testimonie of her extraordinarie learning, might suffice: In the meane time, saith her fa­ther, I thought vvith myself hovv true I found that novv, vvhich once I remember I spoke vnto you in ieaste, vvhen I pittied your hard happe, that men that read your vvritings, vvould sus­pect you to haue had helpe of some other man therein, vvhich vvould derogate somevvhat from the praises due to your vvorkes; seing that you of all others deserue least to haue such a suspition had of you, for that you neuer could abide to be decked vvith the plumes of other birds. But you, svveete Megg, are rather to be praised for this, that seing you cannot hope for condigne praise of your labours, yet for all this you goe for vvard vvith this your inuincible courrage, to ioyne vvith your vertue the knovvledge of most excellent sciences: and contenting yourself vvith your ovvne pleasure in learning, you neuer hunte after vulgar praises, nor receaue them vvillingly, though they be offered you; And for your singular [Page 186] pietie and loue towards me, you esteeme me and your husband a sufficient and ample theater for you to content you vvith; vvho in requitall of this your affection beseech God and our Ladie, vvith as hartie praiers as possible vve can povvre out, to giue you an easie and happie childbirth, to en­crease your familie vvith a childe most like your­self, except only in sexe; yet yf it be a vvench, that it may be such a one, as vvould in time recompēce by imitation of her mothers learning and ver­tues, vvhat by the condition of her sexe may be vvanting; such a vvenche I should preferre before three boyes. Farevvell, dearest daughter.

But see, I pray you, how a most learned bis­hopp The esteē that the B. of ex­cester had of her lear­ning. in Englād was rauished with her learning and witt, as it appeareth by a letter, which her father wrote vnto her to certifye her thereof. Thomas More sendeth hartie greeting to his dearest daughter Margarett: I vvill [...] passe to tell you, my svveetest daughter, hovv much your letter delighted me; you may imagine hovv ex­ceedingly it pleased your father, vvhen you vn­derstande vvhat affection the reading of it ray­sed [Page 187] in a stranger. It happened me this euening to sitt vvitt Iohn Lo: Bishopp of E'xeter, a learned man, and by all mens iudgement, a most sincere man: As vve vvere talking togeather, and I ta­king out of my [...] a paper, vvhich vvas to the purpose vve vvere talking of, I pulled out, by chā ­ce, therevvith your letter. The handvvriting pleasing him, he tooke it from me and looked on its vvhen he perceaued it by the salutaciō to be a vvo­mans, he beganne more greedily to read it, no­ueltie inuiting him therevnto: but vvhen he had read it, and vnderstood that it was your vvri­ting, vvhich he neuer could haue belieued, if I had not seriously affirmed it; such a letter, I vvill say no more; yet vvhy should not I reporte that vvhich he sayd vnto me? so pure a stile, so good Latine, so eloquent, so full of svveete affections; he vvas maruelously rauis hed vvith it; vvhen I perceaued that, I brought forth also an Oration of yours, vvhich he reading, and also manie of your verses, he vvas so moued vvith the matter so vnlooked for, that the verie countenance and gesture of the man free from all flatterie and de­ceipt, [Page 188] bevvrayed that his minde vvas more then his vvords could vtter, although he vttered ma­nie to your greate praise; and forthvvith he drevv out of his pockett a portegué, the which you shall receaue enclosed herein. I could not possibly shūne the taking of it, but he vvould needes sende it vnto you, as a signe of his deare affectiō tovvards you, although by all meanes I endeauoured to giue him againe; vvhich vvas the cause I shevved him none of your other sisters vvorkes; for I vvas a­feared least I should haue bene thought to haue shevved them of purpose, because he should be­stovve the like courtesie vpon them; for it trou­bled me sore, that I must needes take this of him: but he is so vvorthie a man, as I haue sayd, that it is a happinesse to please him thus; write carefully vnto him and as eloquently as you are able, to giue him thankes therefore. Farevvell; from the Court this II. ^th of Septemb. euen almost at mid­night.

She made an oration to answer Quintilian, Some of her wri­tings. defending that rich man, which he accuseth for hauing poysoned a poore mans bees, with cer­taine [Page 189] venemous flowers in his garden, so elo­quent and wittie that it may striue with his. She [...] of Ensebius. translated Eusebius out of Greeke, but it was neuer printed, because Christopherson at that time had donne it exactly before. Yet one other letter will I sett downe of Sir THOMAS to this his daughter, which is thus: Thomas More sendeth greeting to his dearest daughter Marga­rett: There vvas noe reason, my dearest daugh­ter, vvhy thou shouldst haue differred thy vvri­ting vnto me one day longer, for feare that thy letters being so barren, should not be read of me vvithout loathing. For though they had not been most curious, yet in respect of thy sexe, thou migh­test haue bene pardōed by anie mā; yea euē a blea­mish in the childe's face, seemeth often to a father beautiefull. But these your letters, Megg, vvere so eloquently polished, that they had nothing in them, not only vvhy they should feare the most indulgent affection of your father More, but also they needed not to haue regarded euen Momus his cēsure, though neuer so teastie. I greatly thanke. M. ^r Nicolas our deare friend (a most expert [Page 190] man in astronomie) and doe congratulate your Her skill in Astro­nomy. happinesse, vvhome it may fortune vvithin the space of one moneth vvith a small labour of your ovvne to learne so manie and such high vvonders of that mightie and eternall vvorkeman, vvhich vvere not found but in manie ages, by vvatching in so manie colde nights vnder the open skyes, vvith much labour and paines, by such excellent and aboue all other mens vnderstanding vvitts. This vvhich you vvrite, pleaseth me exceedingly, that you had determined vvith yourself to studie philosophie so diligently, that you vvill hereafter recompence by your diligence, vvhat your negli­gence hath heretofore lost you. I loue you for this, deare Megg, that vvhere as I neuer haue found you to be a loyterer (your learning, vvhich is not ordinarie, but in all kinde of sciences most excel­lent, euidently shevving, hovv painefully you haue proceeded therein) yet such is your modestie, that you had rather still accuse yourself of negli­gence, then vainely boaste of diligence; except you meane by this your speach that you vvill be here­after so diligent, that your former endeauours, [Page 191] though indeede they vvere great and praise vvorthie, yet in respect of your future diligence, may be called negligence. Yf it be so that you meane, (as I doe verily thinke you doe), I imagine nothing can happen to me more fortunate, no­thing to you, my dearest daughter, more happie; For as I haue earnestly vvished that you might spende the rest of your life in studying phisicke and holie Scriptures, by the vvhich there shall neuer be helpes vvanting vnto you, for the ende of mās life; vvhich is, to endeauour that a sounde minde be in a healthfull bodie, of vvhich studies you haue Why humanity is best studied in our yon­ger yea­res. alreadie layde some foundations, and you shall neuer vvant matter to builde therevpon; so novv I thinke that some of the first yeares of your youth yet flourishing may be very vvell be­stovved in humane learning & the liberall Arts, both because your age may best struggle vvith those difficulties, and for that it is vncertaine, vvhether at anie time else vve shall haue the cōmoditie of so carefull, so louing, and so learned a maister: to lett passe, that by this kinde of learning our Iudgements are either gotten, or certainly [Page 192] much helped there by. I could vvishe, deare Megg, that I might talke vvith you a long time about these matters, but beholde they vvhich bring in supper, interrupt me and call me avvay. My supper cannot be so svveete vnto me, as this my speach vvith you is, if I vvere not to respect others more then myself. Farevvell, dearest daughter, & commēde me kindely to your hous­band, my louing sonne, vvho maketh me reioyce for that he studieth the same things you doe; and vvhereas I am vvont alvvaies to counsell you to giue place to your husband, novv on the other side I giue you licence to striue to maister him in the knovvledge of the sphere. Farevvell againe & againe. Commende me to all your schoole-fel­lovves, but to your maister especially. And hauing vpō this occasiō of speaking of Sir THOMAS his childrē, how tēderly he loued thē, how earnest­ly he sought to make thē schollars, & with their schollarshipp to haue thē ioyne vertue, made sōewhat a lōger digressiō, thē I thought; we will returne, as we had begūne, to speake of the alte­ratiō of religiō in our Coūtrey, & how therevpō Sir THOMAS MORE fell into trouble.

[Page 194] I. VHilst this vnluckie diuorce was 1. [...] . so hotely pursued by the king, it happened that my vncle Rooper walking with his father along by the Thames side, neare Chelsey, amongst other talke Sir THOMAS sayd; now would to our Lord, sonne Rooper, that vpon condition three things were establis­hed in Christendome, I were putt into a sacke and here presently cast into the Thames What His three wishes for the good of [...] . greate things are those, good Sir, sayd he, that should moue you so to wish? Wouldst thou knowe them, sonne Rooper; yea Marry, Sir, with a good will, sayd he, if it would please you. In Faith, sonne, they be these; First, that where [...] peace. the most parte of Christian princes be at mor­tall warre, they were at an vniuersall peace; se­condly, whereas the Church of Christ is at this [...] in religion. time sore afflicted with manie errours and he resies, it were settled in a perfect vniformitie of religion: Thirdly, that whereas the matter of the king's marriage is now in question, it were End of the kings contro­nersie. to the glorie of God and quietnesse of all par­ties [Page 195] brought to a good conclusion. Whereby one might well gather, that otherwise this would be a disturbance to a great parte of Christendome. The first he saw in some sorte granted him by his meanes; the other two are this day to be seene, what tragedies they haue raised in England and else where.

Thus did he by his words and deedes shew throughout the whole course of his life, that all his thoughts, trauailes and paines were only for the honour of God without respect either He neuer asked anything of the King. of his owne glorie or regarde of any earthlie cō ­moditie; For it may be seene by manie things as well deedes as letters how much he contem­ned the honours which were heaped vpon him daily by his Prince's speciall bountie and fauour towards him, and my vncle Rooper te­stifyeth from his owne mouth in his latter daies, that he professed vnto him, that he neuer asked of the king for himselfe the value of one penny. The like may be sayd of his contempt of riches and worldlie wealth; but a fitter place to speake thereof may be had hereafter. All [Page 196] which excellent endowments of his minde proceeded no doubt from the speciall fauour of Almightie God, and the feruentzeale of this his seruat to attaine to perfectiō of all vertues.

He built a Chappell in his parish Church at Liberali­ty to his parish Churche Chelsey, where the parish had all ornaments be­longing therevnto abundantly supplyed at his charge, and he bestowed there on much plate, often speaking those wordes: Good men giue it, and badde men take it away.

He seldome vsed to feaste noble men, but His merciful workes to his poor neigh­bours. his poore neighbours often, whome he would visite in their houses, and bestowe vpon them his large liberalitie, not groates, but Crownes of golde, yea more then that according to their wants. He hired a house also for manie aged people in Chelsey, whome he daily relieued; and it was my aunte Rooper's charge to see them want nothing. And when he was a pri­uate lawyer, he would take no fees of poore fol­kes, widowes nor pupills.

2. A little before he was preferred to the The be­ginning of K. [...] Separation from the Church. dignitie of Chancellourshipp, there were que­stions [Page 197] propounded to manie, whether the king in the case of his first marriage needed haue anie scruple at all; and if he had, what way were best to deliuer him from it. The most parte of his Counsell were of opinion, that there was good cause of scruple, because Q. Catherine Scruple of his mariage with Q. Catheriu was married before to Prince Arthur, king Henrie's elder brother; wherefore she was not to be wife to two brothers; and therefore to ease the king's minde, suite was to be made to the pope and the Sea of Rome, where the king hoped by liberall guifts to obtaine what he de­sired; but in this, as after it appeared, he was farre deceaued.

After this there was a Commission procu­red Cōmis­sioneirs [...] Ro­me about it. from Rome for triall and examination of this marriage; in which the Cardinalls Wolsey and Campegius, were ioyned togeather; who for the determination hereof sate at the Black Fryers at London, where a bill was putt in for the annulling of the former matrimonie, al­leadging that that marriage was vtterly vnlaw­full; but on the orher side for proofe that it was [Page 198] lawfull and good a Dispensation was brought The dis­pensatiō questiōd forth, which was of verie good force, as tou­ching the power which the Pope had to dispēce in a law that was neither contrarie to Gods po­sitiue law in the olde Testament, but rather agreable thereto, nor to the law of Nature, and it was commaunded in Leuiticus, that if the brother dyed without issue, the next in kindred to him in a manner should be forced to marrie his wife. But there was found an imperfection And sup­plied by a new cō ­firmatiō. in the Dispensation; yet that same was lawfully supplyed by a publike Instrument or briefe found in the Threasure of Spaine, which was sent immediately to the Commissioners in England, and so should iudgement haue bene giuen by the Pope accordingly, that the first marriage stoode in force, had not king Henry K. Henry appeals to a ge­nerall councel: and fall from the Pope. vpon intelligence thereof, before the iudge­ment was pronounced, appealed to the next Generall Councell. Hincillae lachrimae; hence came the deadly enmitie betweene the king and the Pope; hence proceeded that bitternesse of king Henry, that he commaunded none [Page 199] should appeale to Rome, nor none should so much as goe thither; no Bishops nor Spirituall men should haue anie Bulles of authoritie frō thence; all spirituall Iurisdiction beganne now, neuer before thought of, to be inuested from God immediately vpon the Imperiall Crowne of England; but this not all at once: yea he grew afterwards vnto such height of malice, that he caused the name of Pope to be raized out of euerie booke that could be found either printed or written. He caused S. Thomas His iniu­rie to S. Thomas of Can­terburies body. of Canterburie to be attaynted of high treason after he had bene three hūdred yeares accoūted a blessed Martyr of the whole Church; yea so acknowledged by king Henry the second who was cause of his death; but this king most stran­gely cast his sacred bones out of his renowned shreene, after numbers of miracles, and caused them to be burnt. This was the strange passe Q. Anne Bolēs in­continē ­cy. king Henry was brought vnto doting on Anne Bullen, though, God knowes, she had no qua­lities wherefore he should so doate on her, as appeared euidently when for fowle matters he [Page 200] after a short time cutt of her head, and pro­claymed himself in open Parlement to be a Cuckolde; which no doubt he neuer had bene, if he had kept himself to his first vertuous wife Q. Catherine; but all these things happened a good while after, and manie other extreame violences and ensuing miseries, as we doesee and feele as yet.

3. Whilst those things were a doing, as is 3. Cardinall Wolseys disgrace & down­fall. before sayd, about the king's diuorce, and no­thing yet brought to anie conclusion, the king sent Tunstall bishopp of Durham & Sir THO­MAS MORE Embassadours to Cambray to treate Sir Tho. Mores embassa­ge for peace; & happy successe therin. of a peace betweene him and the French king, and Charles the Emperour: in which iourney Sir THOMAS so worthily behaued himself that he procured in our league with the sayd Prin­ces farre more benefitts to our realme then at that time was thought possible by the king and all his Councell; insomuch that his Maiestie caused it afterwards openly to be declared to the people, when he was made Chancellour, how much all England was bound to Sir [Page 201] THOMAS MORE. And now at his returne the king againe was verie earnest with him to haue him agree to his second marriage; for which cause also it is thought, and Cardinall Poole te. stifyeth it in a letter, he made him the rather Lo: Chancellour; telling him, that though the Bishop Stoke­lies quirk in Q. Ca­tharins marriage dispensation was good in respect of the lawes of the Church, yet now it was found out to haue bene against the lawe of nature, in which no dispensatiō could be had, as Doctour Stokeley, (whome for that quirke foūd out he had lately preferred to the Bishopricke of London,) was able to instruct him, with whome he willed Sir His con­ference with Sir Thomas about it. THOMAS to conferre in that point. But for all the conferences he could haue with him, Sir THOMAS could no way induce himselfe to change his former opinion therein. Yet the Bishopp relating to the king their Conference, so fauourably reported of Sir THOMAS MORE'S carriage therein, that he sayd, he found him verie toward and desirous to finde out good matter, wherein he might truly serue his grace to his contentment, but yet he could not.

[Page 202] This Bishopp hauing bene lately by the Stokesly vnder­mines the Car­dinall. Cardinall in the Starre-Chamber openly dis­graced and awarded to the Fleete, not brooking this contumelie, sought by all meanes to wrea­ke his anger against the Cardinall: and picked a quarrell at him to the king, because he beganne to waxe colde in the diuorce. For so it was, that Wolsey was sent ouer into France to treate a For back­wardnes in the kings di­uorce: & forward­nes for a frenche matche. marriage betweene king Henry and the king of France's sister: and finding their willing accep­tance, it was likelie to come to that issue, which he hoped for. Yet God so wrought to crosse him, that this verie inuention, which he had first plotted to reuenge himself on Charles the Emperour, this same was the pitt, wherein he fell, and whereby all his dignitie, creditt, and wealth was taken away; so that of him it may well be sayd: incidit in foueam quam fecit. For whilst he was contriuing for the king a marriage in France, the king himself little to his know­ledge had knitt the knott in England with a meane woman in respect of a prince, a pri­uate knight's daughter, and of meaner [Page 203] conditions then anie gentlewoman of worth.

Wherefore Wolsey returning, and finding The Car­dinal dis­contented: his embassage crossed, beganne to repine at the king for disgracing him so much, and now wis­hed that he had neuer beganne to putt such scruples into Longlands head; which Stokeley soone finding, and himself hauing deuised a new knott in a rush, to bring the king in better liking of himself for his forwardnesse, and into more dislike of the Cardinall so wrought with his Maiestie, that he sent for the Cardinal back, being now on his way gone to be enstalled in the archbishoprick of Yorke: so that by Sir Arrested and de­priued of all ho­nours & riches. William Kinston he was arreasted of high trea­son, hauing confiscated all his goods before, so that he that had bene one of the greatest prela­tes of Christendome, had not now one dish to be serued in at the table; who yf he had loued God halfe so well as he adored his prince, could neuer haue come to such miserie; for that he dyed either with sorrowe or poisō shortly after.

But the king caused in his place of Chancel­lourshipp Sir [...] More e­lected I. Chauncelor. Sir THOMAS MORE to be placed, that [Page 204] with that bayte, saith Card: Poole, corrupted, he might the more easily be brought to the bente of the king's bowe; who behaued himself so ex­cellently in the place, as one may say that none euer before him did better, although he was the first lay man that euer possessed that roome, as Card: Poole noteth; yea VVolsey himself hea­ring Only worthy of the place, in Cardinal Wolseys indge­ment. that Sir THOMAS MORE should haue it, though he was very loath to leese it himselfe, and withall bore Sir THOMAS no more good will, then needes he must; yet professed he to manie, that he thought none in England more worthie of it then Sir THOMAS; such was his fame, that none could enuie it, though it were neuer so vnaccustomed a case.

4. The manner how Sir THOMAS MORE 4. The ho­nourable ceremony with whiche he was [...] . was installed in this high Office, how the king did extraordinarily grace him therein, and how modestly notwithstanding he accepted there­reof, is very remarkable. For being lead bet­weene the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke through VVestminister hall vp to the Starre chamber, and there honourably placed in the [Page 205] high Iudgement-seate of Chancellour, the Duke of Norfolke; who was the chiefe peere and Lo: Threasurer of England, by the king's order spoke thus vnto the people, there with great applause and ioy gathered togeather: The king's Ma. ^tie (vvhich I pray God may proue The Du­ke of Norfolks oratiō on behalf of Sir Tho. More. happie and fortunate to the vvhole realme of England) hath raised to the most high dignitie of Chancellourshipp Sir THOMAS MORE, a man for his extraordinarie vvorth and sufficiencie vvell knovven to himself and the vvhole realme, for no other cause or earthlie respect, but for that he hath plainely perceaued all the guifts of nature and grace to be heaped vpon him, vvhich either the people could desire, or himself vvish for the dis­charge of so great an office. For the admirable vvisedome, integritie & innocēcie, ioyned vvith most pleasant facilitie of vvitt, that this man is Of his worthi­nesse for so great a place. endevved vvithall, haue bene sufficiētly knovven to all English-men from his youth, and for these manie yeares also to the king's Maiestie himself. This hath the king abundantly found in manie and vveightie affayres, vvhich he hath happily [Page 206] dispatched both at home and abroad; in diuerse offices, vvhich he hath born, in most honourable embassages, vvhich he hath vndergone, & in his dailie counsell and aduises vpon all other occasiōs. He hath perceaued no man in his realme to be more wise in deliberating, more sincere in opening to him what he thought, nor more eloquent to adorne the matter, vvhich he vttered. VVhere­fore because he savv in him such excellent en­dovvments, and that of his especiall care he hath a particular desire that his kingdome and people might he gouerned vvith all equitie and iustice, integritie and vvisedome: he of his ovvne most gratious disposition hath created this singular man Lo: Chancellour; that by his laudable perfor­mance of this office, his people may enioy peace and iustice, and honour also and fame may re­dounde to the vvhole kingdome. It may perhaps The first lay man, that euer was mad Lord Chaun­cellour. seeme to manie a strange and vnvsuall matter, that this dignitie should be bestovved vpon a lay man, none of the Nobilitie, and one that hath vvife and children; because heretofore none but singular learned prelates, or men of greatest No­bilitie, [Page 207] haue possessed this place; but vvhat is vvanting in these respects, the admirable ver­tues, the matchlesse guifts of vvitt & vvisedome of this man, doth most plentifully recompence the same. For the king's Maiestie hath not regarded Good reasons why that ould cu­stom was altered. hovv great, but vvhat a man he vvas; he hath not cast his eyes vpon the nobilitie of his bloud, but on the vvorth of his person; he hath respected his suf­ficiencie, not his profession; finally he vvould shevv by this his choyce, that he hath some rare subiects amongst the rovve of gentlemen and lay men, who deserue to manage the highest offi­ces of the realme, vvhich Bishops and Noble men thinke they only can deserue. The rarer therefore it vvas, so much both himself held it to be the more excellēt, & to his people he thought it vvould be the more gratefull. VVherefore receaue this your Chancellour vvith ioyfull acclamations, at vvhose hands you may expect all happinesse and content.

Sir THOMAS MORE according to his wonted Sir Tho. Moros modest and dis­creet re­ply. modestie was somewhat abashed at this the Dukes speach, in that it sounded so much to his [Page 208] praise; but recollecting himself as that place and time would giue him leaue, he answered in He ac­know­ledgeth his owne vnwor­thinesse, this sorte: Although, most noble Duke, and you right Hon. ^ble Lords, and vvorshipfull gentle­men, I knovve all these things, vvhich the kings Maiestie, it seemeth, hath bene pleased should be spoken of me at this time and place, and your Grace hath vvith most eloquent vvordes thus amplifyed, are as farre from me, as I could vvish vvith all my hart they vvere in me for the better performance of so great a charge. And although this your speach hath caused in me greater feare then I can vvell expresse in vvords: yet this incō ­parable fauour of my dread Souemigne, by vvhich he shevveth hovv vvell, yea hovv highly he conceaueth of my weakenesse, hauing comman­ded that my meanesse should be so greatly con­mended, cannot be but most acceptable vnto me: The Du­kes loue, and I cannot choose but giue your most noble Grace exceeding thankes, that vvhat his Maie­stie hath vvilled you briefly to vtter, you of the abundance of your loue vnto me, haue in a large And the kings fa­uour, and bounty. and eloquent Oration dilated. As for myself I [Page 209] can take it no othervvise, but that his Maiesties incomparable fauour tovvards me, the good vvill and incredible propension of his Royall minde (vvhere vvith he hath these manie yeares fauou­red me continually) hath alone vvithout anie de­sert of mine at all caused both this my nevv ho­nour, and these your vndeserued commendations of me. For vvho am I, or vvhat is the house of my father, that the kings Highnesse should heape vpon me by such a perpetuall streame of affection these so high honours? I am farre lesse then anie the meanest of his benefitts bestovved on me; hovv can I then thinke my self vvorthie or fitt for this so peerelesse dignitie? I haue be dravven by force, Which he este­ems be­yond his deserts. as the king's Maiestie often professeth, to his Highnesse's seruice, to be a Courtier; but to take this dignitie vpon me, is most of all against my vvill; yet such is his Highnesses benignitie, such is his bountie, that he highly esteemeth the small dutiefulnesse of his meanest subiects; and seeketh still magnificently to recompence his seruants; not only such as deserue vvell, but euen such as haue but a desire to deserue vvell at his hands. In [Page 210] vvhich number I haue alvvaies vvished myself to be reckoned, because I cannot challenge myself to be one of the former; vvhich being so, you may all perceaue vvith me hovv great a burden is layde vpon my backe, in that I must striue in some sorte vvith my diligence and dutie to corres­ponde vvith his royall be neuolence, and to be an­svverable Al which encrease in him a full pur­pose to dischar­ge will so great a charge. to that great expectation, vvhich he and you seeme to haue of me; vvherefore those so high praises are by so much more grieuous vnto me, by hovv much I knovve the greater charge I haue to render myself vvorthie of, and the fevver meanes I haue to make them good. This vveight is hardly sutable to my vveake shoulders; this ho­nour is not correspondent to my poore deserts; it is a burden, not a glorie, acare, not a dignitie; the one therefore I must be are as manfully as I can, and discharge the other vvith as much dexteritie as I shalbe able. The earnest desire vvhich I haue alvvaies had and doe novv acknovvledge my­self to haue, to satisfye by all meanes I can possible the most ample benefitts of his Highnesse, vvill greatly excite and ayde me to the diligent perfor­mance [Page 211] of all; vvhich I trust also I shall be more And de­sireth fa­uorable interpre­tation of his ende­uours. able to doe, if I finde all your goods wills and vvishes both fauourable unto me, and confor­mable to his royall munisicence: because my se­rious endeauours to doe vvell ioyned vvith your fauourable acceptance vvill easily procure that vvhatsoeuer is performed by me, though it be in it self but small, yet vvill it seeme great and praise vvorthie; For those things are alvvaies atchieued happily, vvhich are accepted vvillingly, and those succeede fortunately, vhich are receaued by others courteously. As y [...] therefore doe hope for great matters and the best at my hands, so though I dare not promise anie such yet do I promise truly and affectionately to performe the best I shall be able.

When Sir THOMAS had spoken these wordes, A wise pondera­tion of his pre­decessour Car­dinals example. turning his face to the high Iudgement seate of the Chancerie, he proceeded in this manner: But vvhen I looke upon this seate, vvhē I thinke hovv greate and vvhat kinde of personages haue possessed this place before me, vvhē I call to minde, vvho he vvas, that sate in it last of all, a man of [Page 212] what singular wisedome, of vvhat notable expe­rience, vvhat a prosperous and fauourable fortu­ne he had for a great space, and hovv at the last he had a most grieuous fall, and dyed inglorious: I haue cause enough by my predecessours example to thinke honour but slipperie, and this dignitie not so gratefull to me, as it may seeme to others; for both is it a hard matter to follovv vvith like paces or praises a man of such admirable vvitt, prudence, authoritie and splendour, to vvhome I may seeme but as the lighting of a candle, vvhen the sunne is dovvne; and [...]he sudden and vn­expected fall of so great a man as he vvas doth terribly putt me in minde that this honour ought The danger of highe honours. not to please me too much, nor the lustre of this glistering seate dazel mine eyes. VVherefore I ascende this seate as a place full of labour and danger, voyde of all solide and true honour; the vvhich by hovv much the higher it is, by so much greater sall I am to feare, as vvell in respect of the verie nature of the thing it selfe, as because I am vvarned by this late fearefull example. And truly I might euen novv at this verie first entrāce [Page 213] stumble, yea faynte, but that his maiestie's most singular fauour tovvards me, and all your good vvills, vvhich your ioyfisll countenance doth testi­fye in this most honourable assemblie, doth some­vvhat recreate and refresh me; othervvise this seace vvould be no more pleasing to me, then that svvord vvas to Damocles, vvhich hung ouer his head, tyed only by a hayre of a horse's tale, vvhen he had store of delicate fare before him, seated in the chayre of state of Denis the Tirant of Sicilie; this therefore shalbe alvvaies freshin my minde, this vvill I haue still before mine eies, that this seate vvill be honourable, famous and full of glo­rie vnto me, if I shall vvith care and diligence, fi­delitie A warn­ing to vse them well. and vvisedome endeauour to doe my dis­tie and shall persvvade myself, that the enioying thereof may chance to be but short & vncertaine; the one vvhereof my labour ought to perfourme; the other, my predecessour's example may easily teache me. All vvhich being so, you may easily perceaue, vvhat great pleasure I take in this high dignitie, or in this most noble Dukes pruising of me.

[Page 214] All the world tooke notice now of Sir THO­MAS'S Commō ioy of S. Thomas his promotion. dignitie, whereof Erasmus writeth to Iohn Fabius Bishopp of Vienna thus: Concerning the new increase of honour lately happened to THOMAS MORE, I should easily make you be­lieue it, if I should shew you the letters of ma­nie famous men reioycing with much alacri­tie, and congratulating the king, the realme, himself, and also me for MORE'S honour, in being made Lo: Chancellour of England.

5. Now it was a comfortable thing for [...] . The be­haueour of S. Tho­mas in the dignity of L. Chan­cellour. anie man to beholde, how two great roomes of VVestminster hall were taken vp, one with the sonne, the other with the father, which hath as yet neuer bene heard of before or since, the sonne to be Lo: Chancellour, and the father Sir Iohn More to be one of the ancientest Iud­ges of the king's Bench, if not the eldest of all; Towards his fa­ther the aunclen­test iudge of the realme. for now he was neare 90. yeare olde. Yea what a gratefull spectacle was it, to see the sonne aske the father blessing euerie day vpon his knees, before he sate in his owne seate? a thing expres­sing rare humilitie, exēplar obediēce, & submis­siue pietie.

[Page 215] Shortly beganne euery one to finde a great Towards all [...] , es­pecially the poo­rer sort. alteration betweene the intolerable pride of the precedent Chancellour VVolsey, who would scarce looke or speake to anie, and into whose onlie presence none could be admitted, vnlesse his fingars were tipped with golde; and on the other side this Chancelour, the poorer and the meaner the suppliant was, the more affably he would speake vnto him, the more at­tentiuely he would hearken to his cause and with speedie try all dispatche him; for which purpose he vsed commonly euerie afternoone to sitt in his open hall, so that if anie person whatsoeuer had anie sute vnto him, he might the more boldely come vnto him, and there open to him his complaints.

VVhich his open manner of extraordinarie No ac­cesse to bribery. fauour to all, my vncle Dauncy, his sonne in law seemed merrily on a time to finde faulte with, saying, that when Card: VVolsey was Chancellour, not only diuerse of his inner chāber, but such as were but his doorekeepers, got great gaines by him; and sith I haue mar­ried [Page 216] one of your daughters, I might of reason looke for some commoditie; but you are so readie to doe for euerie poore man, and keepe no doores shutt, that I can finde no gaines at all, which is to mee a great discouragement, whereas else some for friend­shipp, some for profitt, some for kindred would gladly vse my furtherance to bring thē to your presence; & now yff I should take anie thing of them, I should doe them great wrōg, because they may freely preferre their causes to you themselues; which thing though it is in you, Sir, very commendable, yet to mee I finde it nothing profitable. which word Sir THOMAS Means how gre­at men may do fauours in iustice answered thus; I do not mislike, sonne, that your conscience is so scrupulous; but there be manie other waies, wherein I may both doe yourself good and pleasure your friends; for sometimes by my worde I may stand your friend in steede, sometime I may helpe him greately by my letter, if he hath a Cause depen­ding before me, I may heare him before an­other man at your intreatie; yf his Cause be not [Page 217] all the best, I may moue the parties to fall to somereasonable ende by arbitrament: but this Notable integrity one thing I assure thee on my fayth, that if the parties will at my hands call for iustice and equitie, thē, although it were my father, whome I reuerence dearely, that stoode on the one side, and the diuell, whome I hate extreamely, were on the other side, his cause being iust, the diuel of me should haue his right.

What saying was this to expresse the loue to Euen a­gainst his owne kinred. Iustice, which he alwaies bore, and his deedes shewed it so, that no malitious toung euer could picke the least quarrell against him for the least toach of iniustice, as shalbe more at large spoken of, when euerie light matter came to be sifted narrowly, after he fell from the king's fauour; and that he would for no respect of alliance digresse one iotte from equitie, well appeared by another sonne in law of his my vncle Heron; for when he hauing a Cause in the Chancerie before Sir THOMAS, and presu­ming to much on his fauour, because he euer shewed himself the most affectionate father to [Page 218] his children that was in the world; by reason whereof he would by no meanes be perswaded to agree to anie indifferent order, at last Sir THOMAS made a flatt decree against him; Wherein he liuely expressed the practise of his for­mer saying.

Now at his coming to this Office, he found Long de­layes in law, the misery of poor cli­ents: re­medied by Sir Thomas. the Court of Chancerie pestered and clogged with manie and tedious Causes, some hauing hung there almost twentie yeares. Wherefore to preuent the like, which was a great miserie for poore suiters, first he caused M. ^r Crooke chiefe of the Six Clarkes, to make a Dockett containing the whole number of all Iniuncti­ons, as either in his time had already past or at that time depēded in anie of the king's Courts at Westminster. Then bidding all the ludges to dinner, he in the presence of them all, shewed sufficient reason why he had made so manie Iniunctions, that they all confessed that they rhemselues in the like case would haue donne no lesse. Then he promised them besides, that if they themselues, to whome the reformation of [Page 219] the rigour of the law appartained would vpon reasonable consideracions in their owne dis­cretion (as he thought in conscience they were bound) mitigate and reforme the rigour of the lawe, there should then from him no Iniuncti­ons be granted; to which when they refused to condescende, then, sayd he, for as much as yourselues, my Lords, driue me to this necessi­tie, you cannot hereafter blame me, if I seeke to relieue the poore people's iniuries. After this, he sayd to his sonne Rooper secretly, I per­ceaue, sonne, why they like not this; for they thinke that they may by a verdict of a lurie cast of all scruple from themselues vpon the poore Iurie, which they account they chiefe defence. Wherefore I am constrayned to abide the ad­uenture of their blame.

He tooke great paines to heare causes at A plea­saūt tale of a ta­ble. home, as is sayd, arbitrating matters for both the parties good; & lastly he tooke order with all the atturneys of his Courte, that there should no sub poenas goe out, whereof in generall he should not haue notice of the matter, with [Page 220] one of their hands vnto the Bill; and if it did beare a sufficient cause of complaint, then would he sett his hand to it, to haue it goe for­ward; if not, he would vtterly quash it, and de­nye a sub poena. And when on a time one of the atturneyes, whose name was M. ^r Tubbe had brought vnto Sir THOMAS the summe of the cause of his Client, requested his hand vnto it, Sir THOMAS reading it, and finding it a matter friuolous, he added in steede of his owne hand thereto, these wordes: A tale of a Tubbe for which the atturney going away as he thought with Sir THOMAS his name vnto it, found when his Client read it, to be only a ieaste.

6. Shortly after his entrie into the Chan­cellourshipp, 6. King Hē ­ry desire Sir Tho­mas to allow his diuorce. the king againe importuned him to weighe and consider his great matter, thin­king that now he had so bound him vnto him, that he could not haue gainesa yde him; but he valüing more the quiett of his conscience, and the iustice of the cause, then a nie prince's fa­uour in the world, fell downe vpon his knees [Page 221] before his Maiestie and humbly besought him to stande his gracious Soueraigne, as he had Sir Tho­mas no­ble and discreet refusall. euer found him since his first entrance into his princelie seruice; adding that there was nothing in the world had bene so grieuous to his hart, as to thinke that he was not able (as he gladly would with the losse of one of his chiefest lim­mes) to finde anie thing in that matter, where­by with integritie of his conscience he might serue his Grace to his contentment. And he al­waies bore in minde those most godlie wordes, that his Highnesse spoke vnto him, when he first admitted him into his royall seruice, the most vertuous lesson that euer prince gaue vn­to his seruant, whereby he willed him. First to looke to God, and after God, to him; as, in good fayth, he sayd, he did, and would; or else might his Maiestie accounte him for his most vnwor­thie vassall; whereto the king courteously answered, that if he could not therein with his conscience serue him, he was contented to ac­cept his seruice otherwaies; and vsing the aduise Accep­ted for the time, by the king. of other his learned Councell, whose con­sciences [Page 222] could well agree thereto, he would notwithstanding continue his accustomed fauour towards him, and neuer with that mat­ter molest his conscience after: but how well he performed his promise, may be seene by the discourse following. And indeede there is no prince, be he bent to neuer so much wicked­nesse, but shall finde counsellours enough that will alwaies seeke to please his humours; but to finde anie one that will not agree to what that king is bent, to haue wrongfully brought to passe, these are verie rare, and there­fore most to be admired.

1. ABout this time it hap­pened 1. The death of Sir Iohn More. Sir Iohn More to fall sick of a surfeit of grapes, as I haue heard; who though he was ve­rie olde, yet had he till then bene more lustie, then his yeares afforded him. In his sicknesse, his sonne, whome now he had seene Lo: Chancellour, often came & visited him, vsing manie comfortable words vnto him; and at his departure out of this miserable, world, with teares taking him about the necke, most lo­uingly kissed and embraced him, commending his soule deuoutly to the merciefull hands of his Creatour and redeemer; so with a heauie Sir Tho­mas ne­uer en­ioyed his fathers ioheri­cance. hart departed from him, who lest him now bettered with a verie small encrease of estate, [Page 225] because his chiefe house and lands at Gubbins in Hartfortdshire his last wife enioyed, who outliued Sir THOMAS some ten yeares, and the­refore Sir THOMAS neuer enioyed almost anie inheritance from his father; insomuch that he affirmed in his apologie, which he wrote about this time, that all his reuenues and pensions, except that which had bene granted by letters patents from the king of his mere liberalitie, to witt, the mannours of Duckington, Frinckford, and Barlyparke in Oxfordshire, all the rest, he saith, amount not to aboue Fiftie pound by the yeare, as those which he had from his father or by his wife, or by his owne purchase. Surely a Rare po­uerty in a L. high Chancel­lour. rare saying, that one of the king's Counsell, who had gone through manie offices for al­most twentie yeares should not be able to pur­chase one hundred pound land; when as now a priuate Atturney by his owne practise wil leaue his childe fiue hundred pound land of in heri­tance. Therefore in so great an officer this she­weth an admirable contempt of worldlie com­modities, a bountiefull hand to spende liberally [Page 226] and abundantly vpon the poore, his owne kins­folke and familie, the Church and vpon hospi­tallitie. And as for readie monie, he had not in all the world, when he gaue vp his office, aboue one hundred pound either in golde or siluer; which is as strange as the former. All which doth Yet could it not stop. Q Annes malice a­gainst him. demonstrate his vprightnesse, his munificence, his singular perfections and his diuine wise­dome. For what could millions of golde haue stoode him in steede, but to cumber his con­science, when he lost all from himselfe and his posteritie by reason of the malice of a spitefull queene, who pursued him and his to death, to their vtter temporall ouerthrowe, shewing per­fectly that saying non est malitia super malitia mulieris. For the king could not by his fall pro­mise himself anie great increase of goods, as he had gotten by the Cardinall's ouerthrow.

2. Now the Bishops of England at this 2. [...] table [...] in cause of [...] . time considering with themselues, that for all his prince's fauour he was neither a rich man, nor in yearelie reuenues aduanced as his wor­thinesse deserued, & weighing with themselues [Page 227] what paines and trauailes he had taken in wri­ting manie learned bookes for the defence of the true Catholike faith against manie heresies secretely sowen abroad in the realme, to whose pastorall charge the reformation of them prin­cipally appertained, there being not one Cler­gie man, that had matched his writings either in the greatnesse of the volumes, the soundnes­se of the arguments, to conuince the aduersa­rie, or the paines taken to reduce them. They A liberal reward [...] him no­bly by the Bishops of Eng­gland. called therefore a Conuocation togeather, whe­ther most of the Clergie came, where they con­cluded to offer vnto him the summe of foure thousand pound at the least, thereby to recom­pence in parte his trauailes there in sustayned. To the paymēt whereof euerie Bishop, Abbott, and the rest of the Clergie, after the rate of their abilities were liberall contributours, hoping that this summe would contente him. Wherefore his deare friends Tunstall Bishopp of Durham and Clarke B. of Bath, and as is supposed Ueysey of Exeter came to Sir THO­MAS and spoke thus vnto him; how that they [Page 228] held themselues bound to consider him for his paynes taken and bestowed to discharge them in Gods quarrell; and albeit they could not ac­cording to his deserts requite him so worthily as they willingly would, but must referre that only to the goodnesse of God: yet for a small parte of recompence, in respect of his estate so vnequall to his worth they presented vnto him that summe in the name of the whole Conuo­cation, desiring him to take it in good parte. And though this were a bountiefull deede in respect of those prelates; yet little knew they Sir THOMAS his magnificent disposition, who an­swered them in this manner: That like as it was As nobly and [...] mously refused by him, only for Gods sa­ke. no small comfort vnto him, that so wise and learned men accepted so well of his simple doings, for which he neuer purposed to receaue anie rewarde, but at the hands of God alone, to whome the thankes thereof was chiefely to be ascribed; so gaue he most humble thankes vnto their Lordshipps all, for their so bountiefull & friendlie consideration; but he purposed not to receaue anie thing from them. And when they [Page 229] with great importunitie pressed still vpon him, that few would haue supposed he could haue refused it, they could not for all that fasten anie whitt vpon him. Then they besought him that he would be content they might bestowe it vpon his wife and children. Not so my Lords, quoth he; I had rather see it cast all into the Thames then I or anie of mine should haue there of one pennie. For though your offer, my Lords, be indeede very honourable, yet sett I so much by my pleasure and so little by my profitt, that I would not in good faith for much more monie haue lost the rest of so manie nights sleepe as was spent vpon the same: and yet for all this I could wish that vpon conditiō all heresies were suppressed, all my workes were burnt, and my labour vtterly lost. Thus they were fayne to departe, and restore to euerie one his owne againe. By which wise and vertuous answer, euerie one may see that all his paines that he tooke, were only in respect of Gods ho­nour, and not for either vaine glorie or any earthlie commoditie;

[Page 230] Yea he cared not what anie sayd of him, con­tēning The he­retiks ca­lumny a­gainst him. the peoples dispraise as a blast of winde. For the heretikes hauing gotten it by the ende, that the Clergie had offered him a great summe of monie, and measuring other men by their owne couetous humours, reported and wrote in pamphletts that he was bribed by the Cler­gie to write, whome he answered mildely by a flatt deniall, that he was not made richer by one pennie from the Clergie. Yet some of those he­retikes had spent him somewhat; and besides he being Bigamus, twice married, could neuer hope for anie spirituall promotion

The water baylife of London, who had bene sometime his seruant, hearing (where he had bene at dinner) certaine marchants somewhat drunke with this new poison, liberally to rayle against Sir THOMAS, in that he was so bitter a­gainst True glorie to be hated by here­takes. Luthemns, waxed sore discontented therewith, knowing wel, that he little deserued anie euill reporte; wherefore he hastily came to Sir THOMAS and tolde him what he had heard: and were I, Sir, sayd he, in such fauour and au­thoritie [Page 231] with my prince, as you are, such men should not be suffered so villanously & falsely to misreporte and slander me. Wherefore you may doe well, Sir, to call them before you, and to their shame to punish them for their vnde­serued malice. But Sir THOMAS smiling on him sayd: why, M. ^r Water bailife, would you haue me punish those, by whome I reape more bene­fitt then by all you that are my friends: lett them in Gods name speake as lewdely of me as they list, and shoote neuer so manie boltes at me, as long as they hitt me not, what am I the worse: but if they should once hitt me, then would it not a little grieue me; howbeit I trust by Gods grace and helpe, there shall none of them all be able to touche me I haue more cau­se, I assurethee, to pittie them, then to be angrie with them. Loe, to what heighth of perfection Perfect patience always ioined with true perfectiō had he now attained, that he was neither allu­red by hopefull gaines, nor deterred one iotte from his dutie by euill toungs or slaunders, al waies carrying one and the same alacritie in all his crosses and aduersities!

[Page 232] 3. When that one of the house of the [...] . Cheerfull mirth. Manners by the king's fauour was come lately to a noble dignitie, who had bene before a great friend of Sir THOMAS; but perceauing that the An vn­mānerly reprehē ­siō man­nerly re­turnd on the re­prehen­der. world beganne somewhat to frowne vpon him for that he was not so forward as other men to egge the king to the diuorce, and being desi­rous to picke a quarrell against him sayd vnto him: my Lord, Honores mutant Mores. Sir THOMAS readily after his merrie fashiō replyed: It is so indeede, my Lord, but Mores signifyeth in English, manners & not more; he was there­with so putt out of Countenance, that he wist not what to say.

In like manner he wittily twitted another A bold debtour, [...] told his owne. man, whome he had lent monie vnto; of who­me he asking his due, bad him remember that he should die, God knoweth how soone, and then he should haue little vse of monie, adding the sentence in latine to please Sir THOMAS the more Memento morieris; whereto readily Sir THOMAS sayd: what say you Sir, me thinkes you putt yourself in minde of your dutie herein [Page 233] saying Memēto Mori aeris, remember More's monie. Thus was he continually in his dis­courses full of wittie Ieasts, that though his countenāce was alwaies graue, yet none could conuerse with him, but he would make them laugh exceedingly; tempering all serious mat­ters with some wittie deuise or other.

It happened on a time that a beggars little A mery arbitre­ment bet­ween his Lady, & a beggar. dog, which she had lost was presented for a Ie­well to my Ladie More, and shee had kept it some sennight very carefully; but at last the beggar had notice, where her dogg was, and presently she came to complaine to Sir THO­MAS, as he was sitting in his hall, that his Ladie with held her dogg from her; presently my La­die was sent for, and the dogg brought with her; which Sir THOMAS taking in his hands, caused his wife, because she was the worthier person, to stande at the vpper ende of his hall, and the beggar at the nether ende, and sayd, that he sate there to doe euerie one Iustice: he bad each of them call the dogg; which when they did, the dog went presently to the beggar, [Page 234] forsaking my Ladie. When he saw this, hebad my Ladie be contented, for it was none of hers; yet she repyning at the sentence of my Lo: Chancellour, agreed with the beggar, and gaue her a piece of golde, which would well haue bought three dogs, & so all parties were agreed; euerie one smiling to see his manner of enqui­ring out the truth.

A certaine friend of his had taken great pai­nes A plea­saunt cē ­sure of a witlesse writing. about a booke, which he would haue sett out, thinking well of his owne witt, which no other would praise. and because he would haue Sir THOMAS to ouer see it, before it were prin­ted, he brought it to him to viewe; who pervsing it, and finding no matter therein worth the printe, sayd with agraue countenance: yf it were in verse, it were more worth: vpon which wordes he went and turned it into verse, and after brought it againe to Sir THOMAS; who looking thereon, sayde soberly: yea marry, now it is somewhat; for now it is rime; before it was neither rime nor reason.

And indeede whatsoeuer ieast he brought [Page 235] forth, he neuer laughed at anie himselfe, but spoke alwaies so sadly that few could see by his looke, whether he spoke in earnest or in ieaste. As talking with the messenger in his Dispute of his Dialogues, by an occasion they happened to speake of a dogs turde; and at that verie in­stant A mery mista­king. one of his men came to tell him, that dinner was readie, to whome he sayd, looke that there be better meate prouided for vs then that; who presently went forth and tolde my ladie, that his Lo: would haue better meate pro­uided for his dinner; which sore troubled all the house, till at lenght the cause of mistaking being knowen they all fell a laughing.

4. And although he neuer left his mirth 4. His earn­est deuotiō in the ser­uice of God. in outward apparance, yet still did he vse the like mortifications which he was wont; yea he exercised actes of humilitie that he made most worldlie men to wonder at him. On the sunne­daies euen when he was Lord Chancellour, he wore a surplice, and soung with the singers at the high Masse and matins in his parish church of Chelsey; which the Duke of Norfolke on a [Page 236] time finding, sayd. God bodie, God bodie, my He vsed to sing in his sur plice, in his pa­rishe churche. Lo: Chancelour a parish Clarke: you disgrace the king, and your office. Nay, sayd Sir THO­MAS smilingly: your Grace may not thinke I dishonour my prince in my dutiefulnesse to his Lord and ours; hauing in his minde that saying of Dauid in the like case dancing before the Arke of God, when his wife Michol laughed at him Vilior fiam in oculis meis: I will still thinke meanely of myselfe, whatsoeuer others shall thinke of me. He often would also in pu­blike To cary the cros­se in pro­cession, on foote. processions carrie the crosse before the rest, thinking himself happie, if he could anie way shew loue and readinesse in almightie Gods seruice; and when manie counselled him in the long processions in Rogation weeke to vse a horse for hie dignitie and age, he would answer: it beseemed not the seruant to follow his maister prauncing on cockhorse, his maister going on foote. He neuer vndertooke anie bu­sinesse of importance, but he prepared himself [...] & com­munica­ted befo­re any importāt businesse first by Confession and receauing the blessed Sacrament deuoutely, trusting more of the [Page 237] grace of God deriued to vs by these holie Sa­craments, then he did to his owne witt, iudge­ment and practise; yet euerie of them was in him extraordinarie, so that he liued a most wor­thie life in all the course of his actions: neuer changed with anie prosperitie, nor dismayde with anie aduersitie.

5. As when his barnes of Corne & hay were 5. patience in tempo­rall lesser. burnt, he neuer altered his countenance, or shewed the least signe of sorrowe, only saying: Fiat voluntas Dei; he hath bestowed much more vpon vs, and therefore may he take away what he pleaseth: besides he wrote a most pa­tient letter to my Ladie, which is thus: M. ^ris An excel­lent resi­gnatiō to the pro­usdence of God. Alice, I commende me vnto you: hauing heard by my sonne Heron, that ours & some of our neigh­bour's [...] vvith all the corne in them are burnt; although vve may be sorrovvfull for the losse of so much good corne, abstracting from Gods holie disposition: yet seing that it hath bene his di­uine pleasure to suffer it, vve ought not only pa­tiently but also vvillingly to receaue his gentle rodd. God gaue vs all that vve haue; and seing he [Page 238] hath taken parte of it avvay by this chance, his blessed vvill be donne: lett vs neuer murmure or grudge for this accident, but take it in good parte, and giue God thankes as vvell for aduersitie as for prosperitie. Perhapps this losse may be a grea­ter benefitt of God then the gayne of so much vvould haue bene; for he knovveth vvhat is most expedient for vs. Be therefore of good courage I pray thee, and taking all our familie vvith you, goe to the Church and giue God thankes as vvell for these things vvhich he hath giuen vs, as for that he hath taken avvay, and for all that vvhich he hath left vs, vvhich he can easily encrease, vvhen he seeth it fittest for vs; and if he pleaseth to More ca­re to [...] his neigh­bours los­ses, then his owne take more from vs, his blessed vvill be fullfilled; lett it be diligently enquired out, vvhat our neighbours haue lost, and desire them not to be sadde for anie thing, for I vvill not see anie of them endamaged by anie mischance of my house, although I should thereby not leaue myself so much as one spoone. I pray thee bee chearefull vvith all my children and familie. Also take co­unsell of our friends, hovv corne is to be prouided [Page 239] for that which is needefull for you, and for seede corne this next yeare, if perhaps it be fitt that vve sovve anie fielde ourselues: but vvhether vve do so or no; I do not thinke it expedient, presently to giue ouer all care of husbandrie and lett out our farme to others, vntill vve haue better and at more leasure considered of it: yet if vve haue more vvorkemen in our house, then vve haue neede of, such may be dismissed, if they can be cōmodiously Godly care of his poor seruants. placed vvith other maisters; but I vvill not suffer anie to be sent avvay to runne at randon vvith­out a place to dvvell in. At my returne to the king, I see things go so, as it is likelie I shall stay vvith him a good vvhile; yet because of this misfortune, perhaps I shall gett leaue to come and see you some time this next vveeke, vvhen as vve vvill cōferre more at leasure about these our housholde affai­res. Farevvell, from the Court. At Woodstock 13. Sept. 1539. But marke how God rewarded God re­wardeth true resi­gnation euen In this world. this his patience: for it was in October next that he was made Lo: Chancellour; by which office he might easily haue purchased manie faire houses, if his minde had aymed at worldlie ri­ches, [Page 240] and not rather thirsted after heauenlie re­wards. Some haue not stucke to say that if Sir THOMAS had bene so happie as to haue dyed of Vanity of iudge­ment of word­thing. his naturall death about this time he had bene a very fortunate man, liuing and dying in all mens fauour in the highest iudgements of the world, and prosperous also to his posteritie; for he had left them a fayre and great inheritance, especially by the king's gracious guift. But in my minde they are all carnally wise that affir­me this, and no way haue tasted of heauenlie wisedome For the last Scene of this Tragedie is the best and not to be wished to haue bene omitted for all the land king Henry enioyed, though you adde the abbeylands and all, after which now his fingars endes beganne to itche: For that Card. Wolsey had shewed already a president thereof, by getting leaue of the Pope, to dissolue certaine small Abbyes for the buil­ding and maintenance of that great College of Christ-Church in Oxford, which for that cause, as I thinke, is S. Peter's worke, and lieth still vn­finished.

[Page 241] 6. Though in all his life time Sir THOMAS 6. S. Thomas resigned vp his office of I.. [...] . had shewed liuelie examples of manie excel­lent vertues, as pietie, zeale of God's honour, wisedome, Iustice, liberalitie, contempt of the world, riches, yea what not? yet his most heroi­call vertues towards his ende he hath expressed more liuely and exactly, as his magnanimitie, cōtempt of honours, of wife, children, posses­sions, The neerer his end, the more re­plenished with the loue of God. life it selfe, and whatsoeuer can be of vs desired, and in steede thereof hath chosen dis­graces, extreame aduersities, imprisonment, losse of dignities, goods and inheritance, and hath taken vp his Crosse and followed Christ in sheding of his bloud to his honour: no champion is crovvned till he hath gotten the victorie. And beholde he most gloriously triumpheth ouer the flesh by forsaking his life and leauing it; the world, by despising it, and the diuell by resisting manfully all his tempta­tions. A nota­blo re­cord; that no cause was left vndecy­ded in the Chā ­cery.

When Sir THOMAS had behaued himselfe in his office of the Chācelour-shipp for the space of two yeare and a halfe so wisely that none [Page 242] could mende his doings, so vprightly that none could take exception against him or his iust proceedings, and so dexterously that neuer anie man did before or since that which he did. For he had taken such order for the dispat­ching of all mens Causes, that on a time sitting as ludge there, and hauing finished one cause, he called for the next to be heard; whereto was answered that there was not one Cause more depending. This he caused to be sett downe vpon recorde; whereas at this day there are little fewer then a thousand, if not more; whereof some lye in the suddes by the space of diuerse yeares.

When (as I say) Sir THOMAS had deserued high commendations of euerie one, and now perceaued that the king was fully determined to proceede to the vnfortunate marriage of Anne Bullen, and for that cause a Parlement A parle­ment cal­led for Q Annes marriage was called, wherein Sir THOMAS being the chiefe Officer of the higher house, was with di­uerse Bishops and Noble men commaunded by the king, to goe downe to the lower house [Page 243] to shew vnto them, both what manie vniuersi­ties beyond the seas, & Oxford and Cambridge at home had donne in that behalfe, with their publike zeales testifying the same. All which matters at the king's commaunde he opened to the Lower house, not shewing his minde therein; yet doubting (as good cause he had) Sir Tho. More sues to depose his offi­ce. least further attemps should after follow, which contrarie to his conscience by reason of his office, he was likelie to be putt vnto; he made great suite to the Duke of Norfolke his singular good friēd, that he would be a meanes to the king that he might be discharged, with his Maiesties fauour of the Chancellourshipp; wherein for certaine infirmities of his bodie he pretended himself vnable anie longer to serue. The Duke being often thereto by Sir THOMAS sollicited, at length obtayned of the king, when at a time cōuenient by his Maiestie appointed Sir THOMAS repaired to the king to yeelde vp vnto him the great Seale of England; which his The king gracious­ly accep­teth his desire Maiestie courteously receaued at his hands with greate praise & thankes for his worthie seruice [Page 244] in that office, at which time it pleased his high­nesse to say thus vnto him: That for the seruice he had hitherto done vnto him, in anie suite that he should hereafter haue vnto him that ei­ther should concerne Sir THOMAS his honour (that very word it liked his Highnesse to vse vnto him) or that should appertaine to his pro­fitt, he should not fayle to finde him a good & gracious Lord. But how true these wordes pro­ued, lett others be ludges, when the king not only not bestowed vpon him the value of one pennie, but tooke from him and his posteritie all that euer he had, either giuen by himselfe, or left him by his father, or purchased by himselfe. The next morning being holieday, few yet How merely he [...] the mat­ter to his wife. knowing what had bene donne, he went to Chelsey church with my Ladie and his children and familie: & after masse was donne, because it was a custome that one of my Lord's gentle­men, should then goe to my Ladie's pewe, and tell her, my Lord was gone before, then did he himselfe come, & making vnto her a courtesie, with his cappe in his hād, & sayd: may it please [Page 245] your Ladieshipp to come forth now my Lo: is gone. whereto she imagining it to be but one of his ieastes, as he vsed manie vnto her, he sad­ly affirmed vnto her, that it was true; for he had resigned vp his office, and the king had graci­ously accepted it. This was the way that he thought fittest to breake this matter vnto his wife; who yet was full sorie to heare it; & it may A plea­saūt ieast, to diuers her from sorow. be she spoke then those wordes, which I haue rehearsed before: Tillivally; what will you doe M. ^r MORE: will you sitt and make goslings in the ashes: it is better to rule then to be ruled. But to requite her braue minde, he beganne to finde fault with her dressing, for he saw a greate fault about her; for which she chiding her daughters that none of them could espye it, they still saying they could finde none; Sir THOMAS merrily sayd: Doe you not perceaue that your mothers nose standeth somewhat awry? at which wordes she stept away from him in a rage. All which he did to make her thinke the lesse of her decay of honour, which else would haue troubled her fore.

[Page 246] 7. Shortly after this he called all his ser­uāts 7. [...] dispositiō of his [...] after his resigne­ment. togeather, manie of whome were Gentle­men of good sorte and fashion, & tolde them, that he could not maintaine them as he gladly would, and therefore demaunded them, what course of life they would betake themselues to; and if they purposed to serue any Noble man, Of his seruants. all well recom­mended. he would vndertake to place them to their con­tentment, who with eyes full of teares affirmed, that they had rather serue him for nothing, thē most men for a great stipende: but when to this he would not agree, he settled them all in pla­ces most fitt for their turnes, either with Bis­hops or Noblemen. His bardge he gaue to my Lo: Audley, who succeeded him in his office, and with it his eight watermen; His foole Pati­son he gaue to the Lo: Mayor of London, vpon this condition, that he should euerie yeare wayte vpon him that should haue that office. After this he called before him all his Children, Of his children liuing with him. and asking their aduise, how he might now (in the decay of his abilitie so empaired by the sur­render of his office, that he could not hereafter [Page 247] as he had donne and gladly would) beare out the whole charges of them all himselfe (for all his Children with their children had hither to dwelt with him) for that they could not be able to continue togeather as he could wish they should. When he saw them all silent and none to shew him their opinion therein; then will, sayd he, shew vnto you my minde: I haue bene An in cō ­parable resolutiō after so great an honour, to [...] cheerful­ly so low an estate. brought vp at Oxford, at an Inne of Chacerie, at Lincolnes-Inne, and in the king's Courte, from the lowest degree to the highest; and yet haue I in yearelie reuenues at this present little left me aboue a hundred pound by the yeare: so that now if we look to liue togeather, we must be content to be Contributours togea­ther. But my consell is, that we fall not to the lowest fare first; we will not therefore descend to Oxford-fare, nor to the fare of New-Inne; but we will beginne with Lincolnes Inne dyett, where manie right worshippfull men of great accounte and good yeares doe liue fullwell; which if we finde ourselues after the first yearo not able to maintayne, then will we the next [Page 248] yeare come downe to Oxford fare, where manie great learned and ancient Fathers & Doctours are continually conuersant; which if our purses stretch not to maintaine neither, then may we after with bag and wallett go a begging togea­ther, hoping that for pittie some good folkes will giue vs their charitie, and at euerie mans doore to sing a Salue regina; whereby wee shall still keepe companie and be merrie togeather. O worthie resolution! see how he expresseth his loue towards his Children, but more towards God, taking patiently whatsoeuer might befall him. And he that prouideth for the worst, will the better be prepared to endure lesser Crosses. But what an admirable thing is this, that where­as he was by the king taken into his Maiestie's seruice from a verie worshipfull liuing, as I haue sayd, foure hundredpounds by the yeare, to deale in the greatest and weightiest Causes that concerned his Highnesse and the realme, he Honou­rable po­uerty of so great [...] personage. had spent withpainefull cares, trauells & trou­bles as well beyond the seas, as with in this kingdome, in effect the whole substance of his [Page 249] life; yet with all the gayne he gott thereby (be­ing neuer himself a wastefull spender) he was not now able after the resignement of his offi­ces, to finde for himself and those that necessa­rily belonged vnto him, sufficient meate, [...] , fewell, apparrell and such needefull char­ges; all the lands, which he euer purchased be­ing, as my vncle Rooper well knew, not aboue the value of twentie markes by the yeare, and after his debts payde, he had not of my vncle's owne knowledge (his Chayne excepted) in golde and siluer left him the worth of one hun­dred pounds. Wherefore his Children went to their owne liuings, all but my vncle Rooper & my aunte, who liued in the house next vnto him.

8. And how really he had desired himselfe 8. How [...] , and confidently he de­posed his office. to resigne vp his place of Chancellourshipp, partely for the aboue mentioned consideratiō, and partely also for his owne content & quiett enioying of himself, may well appeare in that he so much liked and highly commended the like deede in William Warrham that worthie [Page 250] Archbishopp of Canterburie immediately be­fore Card. Wolsey; as by this letter vnto him is to be seene: I haue alvvaies esteemed your most An ex­cellent letter to [...] shop [...] to [...] parpose. reuer end Fatherhood happie in your courses, not only vvhen you executed vvith great renovvne the office of Chancellourshipp; but also more happie novv, vvhen being ridde of that great care you haue betaken yourself to a most vvished quiett­nesse, the better to liue to yourself, and to serue God more easily; such a quietnesse I say that is not only more pleasing then all those trouble some businesses, but also more honourable farre in my iudgement, then all those honours vvhich you then enioyed. For manie men, and amongst those some vvicked men also may oftentimes be [...] to great offices: but vvhen you had that high Office Great of­fices [...] vnderta­ken, and as dang­rous to be given ouer. of Chancellourshipp, vvhich, as all others of the like kinde are, is of that nature, that the more au­thoritie and povver one [...] vvhilst he doth be are it, the more slaunders he is subiect vnto hauing lest it, to resigne such an [...] luntarily (vvhich yet your Fatherhood [...] scarce gett leaue to doe vvith all the meanes you could vse) none but a [Page 251] modest minded man vvould, nor anie but a [...] man darre, doe. Wherefore manie, and amongst them myself doe applaude and admire this your acte, vvhich proceeded from a minde I knovve not vvhether in re [...] in that you vvould vvillingly forsake so magnificent a place, A [...] valuar [...] of [...] , or more heroicall in that you could contemne it, or more innocent in that you feared not to depose yourself from it, but surcly most excellent and prudent it vvas to do so; for vvhich your rare deede I cannot vtter vnto you hovv I reioyce for your sake, and hovv much I congratulate you for it, seing your Fatherhood to enioye so honourable a fame, and to haue obtayned so rare a glorie, by sequestring yourselfe farre from all vvorldlie bu­sinesses, from all tumult of Causes, and to [...] vve the rest of your daies, vvith a peaceable conscience for all your life past, in a quiett calmenesse, giuing yourselfe vvholy to your booke and to true Chri­stian S [...] Mores humble estima­tion of himself. philosophie; vvhich pleasing and contented state of yours, my ovvne miserie causeth me daily more and more to thinke of; vvho although I haue no businesses vvorth the talking of ( and yet he [Page 252] was then one of the Kink's priuie Counsell, Threasurer of the exchecker and employed in manie embassages) yet because vveake forces are easily oppressed vvith small matters, I am so troubled daily vvith businesses, that I haue not as much as once leasure to visite your Fatherhood, or to excuse myself therefore by letter, and scarce­ly was I able to write this vnto you, by vvhich I vvas to commende this my little booke of Vtopia He sends his [...] to the [...] . vnto your most reuerende Fatherhood, vvhich an Antwerpian friend of mine (loue svvaying his iudgement) hath thought fitt to be published, and hath putt it in printe vvithout my priuitie, being rather budled vp then polished, vvhich I vvas emboldened to sende to you, though it be vnvvor­thie of your learning, experience and dignitie, re­lying on your courteous nature, vvhich is [...] to conster to the best euerie man's endeauoures, also trusting in your tryed loue tovvards me, by which I hope, though the vvorke itself should not like you, that yet for the authors sake you vvill fa­uour it Farevvell most honourable prelate.

A little after this time he wrote thus to [Page 253] Erasmus: I haue a good vvhile expected, if anie His in­nocence in his of­fice. man could accuse me of anie thing, since the depo­sing myself of the Chancellourshipp: and as yet no man hath come forth to complaine of ante my in­iustice: either I haue bene so innocent, or so craftie, that my aduersaries must needes suffer me to glorie in the one, if they cannot abide I should do so in the other. Yea this the king's ma estie also as vvell in priuate discourse often, as also tvvice in publike hath [...] , for that (vvhich shame­fastnesse vvill not suffer me to speake of myself) he commaunded the most noble Duke of Nor­folke high Threasurer of England, vvhen my Testified in priuat and pu­blik by the King successour an excellent man vvas settled in my place to testifye this to all the assemblie, that he had hardly at my earnest intreatie suffered me to lett the office goe; and not content vvith that sin­gular fauour in my behalfe he caused the same a­gaine to be spoken of in his ovvne presence vvhen in the audience of a publike meeting of the No­bilitie and people my successour recited his first speach, as the custome is, in the assemblie of all the Estates, vvhich vve call the Parlement.

[Page 254] He writeth also to Erasmus in another letter The [...] of [...] . thus. That vvhich I haue from a childe vnto this day almost continually vvished (my most deare Desiderius) that being freed from the trouble­some businesses of publike affayres, I might liue some vvhile only to God and myselfe, I haue novv by the especiall grace of almightie God, and the fauour of my most indulgent prince, obtayned. And then hauing spoken somewhat of the we­akenesse of his health, he goes on, saying: Ha­uing these things often in my head, either that I vvas to depose myself of the office, or that I should fayle in the performāce of my dutie therein, seing that I could not dispatche those affaires, but that I must endanger my life, and so dispatche myself of the office hovvsoeuer, I purposed at the last to for­goo As thāk­full to [...] for [...] , as for the office it­self. the one rather then both. Wherefore because I vvould as vvell be carefull of the publike vvell­fare as of mine ovvne health, I vvas an earnest suiter to my Prince, and at last haue obtayned by his singular courtesie, that because I beganne to grovv vvearie and euen readie to lye vnder my burden I might be ridde of that though a most [Page 255] honourable office, vvhereto his fauour had raised me aboue all my deseruing, as it vvas vvholy vvithout my seek ng. I beseeche therefore all the Saints in heauen, that by their intercession al­mightie God vvould recompence this most fa­uourable affection of the King's tovvards me, and that he vvould giue me grace to spend the rest of my age in his seruice, profitably and not idely or [...] affording me health of bodie, that I may be the better able to take paines.

And to Cochleus he writeth thus: I haue bene Another [...] for his weak health. lately [...] for some moneths togeather, not so much to the sight of others, as to mine ovvne feel­ing, which infirmitie I can scarce shake of novv, vvhen I haue left of my office; for then I could not exercise my function of [...] , vnlesse I should endanger my health daily. The care of my recouerie, but especially the due respect I had not to hinder publike iustice, moued me thereto, vvhih I thought I should greatly hinder, if being sicklie I should be [...] to vndertake busi­nesses as I did vvhen I vvas stronger. That lea­sure, vvhich the fauourable benignitie of my most [Page 256] gracious prince hath vouchsafed to grant me, I haue purposed to dedicate vvholy to my studie and the honour of God.

And as for his contempt of worldlie honour Contēpt of all vaioglo­ry. he writeth thus to Erasmus: You vvill not belieue hovv vnvvillingly I vndertake embassages; nei­ther can there be anie thing more displeasing vnto me then the function of an Embassadour. Of his Vtopia he writeth, that he iudged the booke no better worthie, then to lye alwaies hidden in his owne iland, or else to be consecrated to Vulcan. Of his poetrie he sayth: my epigram­mes neuer, pleased my minde, as you well knowe, my Erasmus, and if other men had not better liked them, then myself, they should neuer hauebene putt out in printe.

1. THe yeare immediately 1. His [...] to [...] . before his troubles, he spent most in spirituall exercises, and in writing of bookes against here­tikes: of whome in an­other letter he speaketh thus: That which I professe in my epitaphe, that I haue bene troublesome to heretikes, I haue donne it with a little ambition; for I so 1 Hatred to here­sie. hate these kinde of men, that I would be their sorest enemie that possible they could haue, if they will not repente; for I finde them such men, and so to encrease euerie day, that I euen greatly feare the world will be vndonne by them. Yet for all his hatred to them, no heretike [Page 259] suffered death whilst he was Lo: Chancellour, Yet in his [...] no here­tik pur to death. as Erasmus confesseth in the aboue mentioned letter. And indeede it seemeth he would not haue them suffer death, because he writeth to that effect in the lawes of his Vtopia. Writing another time to Cochlie he sayth: I vvould to God, my Cochlie, I had such skill in holie Scri­ptures and Diuinitie, that I vvere able to vvrite against these plagues of the vvorld fruitfully and vvith good effect. Erasmus also confesseth that he hated those seditious opinions, with the which the world was then cruelly shaken.

He would often talke with his wife and 2. Con­tinuall talk of spirituall matters. Children of the exceeding ioyes in heauen, and terrible paines of hell, of the liues of holie Mar­tyrs, what torments they endured for the loue of God, of their maruelous patiēce & deathes, which they suffered most willingly rather then they would offende Gods diuine Maiestie; and what an honourable thing it was for the loue of our Lord IESVS-CHRIST to abide impri­sonment, losse of goods, lands, and life; adding also what a comfort it would be to him, if he [Page 260] might finde that his wife and children would 3. Desire to suffer for Christ encourage him to dye in a good cause; for it would cause him for ioye thereof merrily to runne to death; besides, as prophecying of his future troubles, he would tell them what mise­ries might chance to happen vnto him. With which vertuous discourses he had so encoura­ged them, that when these things after fell vpon him indeede, their miserie seemed the more tolerable vnto them, because Shafts foreseene hurt not so much.

2. Within a while after the resigning of [...] . A notable lesson for all [...] . [...] to M. ^r [...] his Office, M. ^r Cromevvell (now highly in the King's fauour) came of a message from the king to Sir THOMAS; wherein when they had throughly talked togeather, before his going away Sir THOMAS sayd vnto him: M. ^r Crome­vvell; you are entred into the seruice of a most noble, wise, and liberall Prince; yf you will fol­lowe my poore aduise, you shall in your coun­sell giuing to his Maiestie euer tell him what he ought to doe, but neuer what he is able to doe; so shall you shew yourself a true and faith­full [Page 261] seruant, and a right worthie counsellour; for yf a lyon knew his owne strength, hard were it for anie man to rule him. But Crome­vvell But not kept by the sayd M. Crō ­well. neuer learned this lesson; for he euer gaue that counsell to his prince, which he thought would best please him, and not what was law­full. For it was he that was the mischieuous in­strument of king Henry to pull downe all ab­bies and religious houses, yea to ruinate religiō vtterly; whereby you may see the difference betweene king Henry a iust prince, whilst he Bad Co­unsel­lours ma­ke bad Princes. followed Sir THOMAS MORE'S counsell, and after a cruell tyrant and bloudsucker, when he practised Thomas Cromevvells plotts and de­uises; and also we may see the issue of both these counsellours, the one hauing gotten great fame for his iust deserts, the other hauing purchased eternall infamie, yea the ouerthrow of himself and his familie. For though he attayned to be The re­ward of bad coū ­sel exā ­plified in Crōwell. Lord Cromevvell, yea afterwards Earle of Es­sex, yet his honour and life was soone taken a­way from him most iustly; and now there is scarce anie of his posteritie left, his lands are all [Page 262] solde, yea such was his grandchild's miserie, that he complayned verie lamen tably to some gentlemen that he had not bread to putt into his mouth: whereas Sir THOMAS MORE'S great Of good Counsel­lours in S. Tho. More. grandchildren, though they liue not in great abundance, yet haue they, God be blessed, suf­ficient to maintaine the estate of honest Gent­lemen; which God of his mercie continue.

3. Now had King Henry also chosen an 3. The [...] of Q. Anne. Archbishop of Canterbury for his owne tooth, promoted by the King, as I haue heard say, at a beare-bayting, soone after VVarham's death; his name was Thomas Cranmer, Anne Bul­len's [...] . Crāmers good qualities Chaplaine, a man wholy bent to fullfill the king's pleasure in all things: By his counsell Q. Marie was after disinherited, and all men were sworne to the succession of Q. Anne's is­sue, and to renounce the Pope's authoritie, by acknowledging king Henry and his Succes­sours supreme head of the church of England.

Vnto this man there was Commission gran­ted vnder the great Seale to determine the mar­riage, who had a conscience large enough to [Page 263] putt in execution, what the king did fancie; & He con­cludes the ma­riage to be lawful sitting at S. Albans about this new match, all things were easily accorded. The king preten­ded that he could gett no iustice at the Pope's hands; wherefore from thenceforth he seque­stred himself and his kingdome from the Sea of Rome, marrying Q. Anne in priuate; for she was not sollemnely carried through London, before she was great with childe of Q. Eliza­beth.

Thus euerie man may see the cause of our The cau­se of En­glāds se­paration frō Ro­me. breach from Rome, the vnion whereof had cō ­tinued more then nine hundred yeares, euer since holie Pope Gregorie first conuerted vs, & would haue remayned God knowes how long, if that either king Henry would not haue cast his liking vpon a wanton damsell, or else the Pope's conscience could haue stretched to dis­pense with a king to haue two wiues togeather; for the king still would praise his former wife, and tearme her a vertuous woman; only for­sooth scruple of cōscience was pretēded; but he could not see anie cause of scruple in breaking [Page 264] his promise vpon his appeale; whereby he pro­fessed he would stay vntill the determination of a generall Counsell, to which from the Pope he had already appealed.

As soone as Sir THOMAS had heard that king Sir Tho. Mores prophe­ticall ghesse of the oath of supre­macy. Henry was married, he sayd to my vncle Ro­per: God giue grace, sonne, that these matters within a while be not confirmed with oathes. My vncle then, although he saw likeliehood thereof, yet fearing alwaies that that would fall out, which Sir THOMAS foretolde, waxed for these wordes verie sore grieued. For he had manie times had experience, that he spoke pro­phetically of diuerse things.

4. Before that Q. Anne should be carried 4. Sir Tho. M. refused to be at Q. Annes coronatiō. in triumphe from the Tower to Westminster through the streetes of London, with manie pa­gents & sumptuous shewes, which proued af­ter but a may-game, Sir THOMAS receaued a let­ter from three greate Bishops, Durham, VVin­chester, & Bath, requesting him both to keepe them companie to her Coronation, and also to take twentie pounds, which by the bearer [Page 265] thereof they had sent him, to buy him a gowne; the money he thankefully receaued; yet stayde he still at home, and at their next meeting, he His coū ­sel and predictiō to the Bishops his good f [...]nds. sayd merrily thus vnto them. ‘In the letter, my Lords, which you lately sent me, you requested two things of me; the one whereof I was well content to graunt you, that the other I might the bolder denye; and like as the one, because I tooke you for no beggars, and my selfe I knew to be no rich man, I thought the rather to full­fill: so the other putt me in minde of an Empe­rour, that ordained a law, that whosoeuer had committed a certaine offence, which now I re­member A nota­ble story wonder­fully, and prophe­tically applied. not, except she were a virgin, should suffer death for it; such reuerence had he to vir­ginitie; now it happened that the first that of­fended in that crime, was a virgin; which the Emperour hearing of was in a perplexitie, as he that by some example would fayne haue that law putt in execution. Wherevpon when his counsell had sitt long debating this case very sollemnely, suddenly rose there vp one plaine man of the Counsell, and sayd: why make you [Page 266] so much adoe, my lords, about so small a mat­ter? lett her be deflowred, and after denoured. So though your Lordshipps haue in the matter of this marriage hitherto kept your selues vir­gins, yet take heede, you keepe your virginitie still; for some there be, that by procuring your Lordshipps first to be present at the Coronatiō, next to preache for the setting forth thereof, & His pur­pose ra­ther to be de­noured then [...] . sinally to write bookes in defence of it, are desi­rous to deflowre you; and when they haue de­flowred you, they will not sayle soone after to deuoure you. As for myself, it lyeth not in my power, but that they may deuoure me, but God being my good Lord, I will prouide so that they shall neuer deflower me. In which speach he most liuely prophecieth both of all the Bi­shopp's fall to Schisme, which after besell, and his owne death, which followed not long after.’

These wordes of his it is probable that they came to Q. Anne's eares, who as impatient as Q Annes [...] Tho­mas. an Herodias, not abiding that anie in the real­me should finde fault with her greate catche, [Page 267] she incensed King Henrie more against Sir THOMAS MORE then anie other man; And a moneth after this sollemnitie was not past, but she gott him to be sent prisonner to the Tower, little knowing that her Fortune's wheele would soone turne after.

When the king perceaued he could not And the kings di­spleasure winne Sir THOMAS to the bent of his lust by no manner of benefitts, then loe the fayre sun­shine day of his fauours became ouercast, and there ensued a terrible storme, he now go­ing about by terrours and threates to driue him to consent vnto it: full little imagining that he was a steadie rocke, against which noe waues of his rage could preuaile.

But marke how Sir THOMAS prepared him­self Sir Tho­mas dis­poseth him self more im­mediatly to suffer death. for this valiant combatt; hauing giuen ouer his office of Chancellourshipp: he neuer bu­sied himself in State-matters anie more, but gaue himself wholy, during that yeare, which was betweene that and his troubles, not only to confute heretikes, as I haue sayd, but also addicted himselfe to great acts of mortisica­tion, [Page 268] prayer and pietie; he lessened his familie, placing his men in other seruices; he soulde his housholde stuffe to the value of one hundred pounds; he disposed his Children into their owne houses. As he lay by his wife's side, manie nights he slept not, forethinking the worst that could happen vnto him; and by his praiers and teares he ouercame the frayltie of his flesh, which, as he confesseth of himself, could not endure a fillipp. He hired a pursiuant to come A Chri­stiā [...] . suddenly to his house, when he was one time at dinner, and knocking hastily at his doore, to warne him, the next day to appeare before the Commissioners, to arme his familie the better to future calamitie; imitating herein the acte of S. Iohn the Almes-giuer, who hired a man to come to him at meales, to tell him, that his graue was not yet finished and that he should take order for it; for the hower of death was vn­certaine.

5. But see how the beginning of this trou­ble 5. The [...] occasiō of calling into que­stion for Q. Anne. grew first by occasion of a certaine Nunne, called Elizabeth Berton, dwelling in Canter­burie; [Page 269] who for her vertue and holinesse was not a little sett by amongst the common people; vnto whome for that cause manie religious persons, Doctors of Diuinitie, and diuerse lay The holy Nunne of Kent, men of good worshipp vsed to resorte; she af­firming to them constantly, that she had reue­lations oftentimes from God, charging her to Warned by reue­lation to rebuke K. Hēry. giue the king warning of his wicked life, and of his abusing of the sword, and authoritie com­mitted from almightie God vnto him. She moreouer knowing that my Lo: of Rochester Bishopp Fisher was of a singular and rare ver­tuous life, and of admirable learning repaired to Rochester, and there disclosed vnto him all Confer­reth her reuela­tions with B. Fisher her reuelations, desiring his aduise and counsell therein; which the holie Bishopp perceauing might well stande with the lawes of God, and his holie Church, aduised her (as she before had warning to doe, and intended it) to goe to the king herselfe and lett him vnderstande all the circumstances thereof; which she perfourmed stoutely, telling him all the reuelations, and so returned to her cloyster againe.

[Page 270] In a short space after he making a iourney Her talk with Sir Thomas More: to the Nunnes of Sion, by meanes of one Fa: Reynold a priest of that house, there she hap­pened to enter into talke with Sir THOMAS MORE concerning such secretts as had bene reuealed vnto her, some parte thereof touching deepely the matter of the king's supremacie, which shortly after this followed, and about the vnlawfullnesse of the king's marriage. Sir Waryly handled by him. THOMAS though he might well at that time without danger of anie lawe, (of which there was then none freely talke with her therein, yet notwithstanding he demeaned himself so dis­creetely in all his talke with her, that he deser­ued no blame, but rather great cōmendations, as it was proued after most euidently, when it was sore layd to his charge.

6. After the diuorce was pronounced, Accusa­tions pronounced a­gainst Sir Thomas. there was sett out a booke by authoritie from the Councell, which layde downe the reasons why this diuorce was donne; wherein amongst other matters it was sayde that therefore the king would not stay for the Pope's sentence, [Page 271] because he had already appealed from him to That he impug­ned the K. ma­riage. the next Generall Councell. Strayte after it was rumoured abroad, that Sir THOMAS MORE had answered and refuted this booke; of which slaunder Sir THOMAS purged himselfe by a let­ter to M. ^r Cromevvell now Secretarie, and in the king's greate fauour, shewing by manie ar­guments that he neither would nor could con­fute that booke; which letter is at large in the latter ende of Sir THOMAS his workes.

But for all his purging himselfe, accusations Quarrels picked against his Chaū ­cellour­ship. still came thicke and threefolde vpon him. For the king by thereates and sifting of his former deedes, would either winne him to his minde, or else finde some occasion to except against his doings; and had he not bene a man of sin­gular integritie, free from all bribes and cor­ruption in all his offices, euerie light matter would haue bene layde now heaure vpon him; as of some things he was indeede accused, which addes more to his honour and reputa­tion. There was one Parnell that grieuously complayned against Sir THOMAS; because when [Page 272] he was Lo: Chancellour at the suite of one A suppo­sed bribe pleasant­ly consu­ced. M. ^r Vaughan his aduersarie, he had made a de­cree against him; for which at his wife's handes Sir THOMAS had taken a greate guilt Cuppe as a bribe: for the clearing of which accusation Sir THOMAS being called before the bodie of the Councell, the whole matter was in grieuous manner layde to his charge; and when Sir THO­MAS confessed the taking thereof saying, that for as much as that Cuppe was giuen him long after the decree for a new yeares guift, he at her importunitie, of courtesie, refused not to take it. Then the Lo: of Wiltshire Q. Anne's fa­ther, who was the preferrer of the suite, & hated Sir THOMAS both for his religion, and for that he had not consented to his daughter's marria­ge, with much ioy sayd vnto the other Lords; Loe, did I not tell you, that you should finde the matter true? wherevpon Sir THOMAS desi­red their Honours, as they had courteously heard him tell the one parte of his tale, so they would voutsafe to heare the other with indif­ferent eares; which being granted he further [Page 273] declared vnto them, that albeit at her vrging he had indeede receaued the Cuppe, yet im­mediately therevpon he caused his buttler to fill it vp with wine, and therein drunke to her; which when he had donne, and she pledged him, then he as frecly as her husband bestowed it vpon him, did euen as willingly bestowe the same vpon her againe for her newyeares-guift; & so forced her to receaue it, though much a­gainst her will; all which herselfe and manie others there then present deposed before that honourable assemblie. Thus his accusers were putt to shame enough, and he with great ho­nour acquitted.

At another time, on a new-yeares day also, A cont­teous re­fusall of an ho­nest re­ward. there came vnto him M. ^ris Croaker, a verie rich womā, for whome with no smal paines he had made a decree in Chauncerie against the Lo: of Arundel, (neuer fearing in acte of Iustice, anie nobilitie of bloud, or greatenesse of personage) who presented him with a paire of gloues, and fourescore Angells in them; he thankefully re­ceaued the gloues of her, but refused the monie [Page 274] saying: M. ^ris seeing it were against good man­ners to refuse a gentlewomans new-yeares­guift, I am content to take your gloues; but as for the lining, I vtterly refuse it, and so caused her to take her monie againe.

One M. ^r Gresham likewise, hauing at the Another of like nature. same time a Cause depending before him in the Chancerie, sent him for a new-yeares-guift a fayre guilt Cuppe, the fashiō whereof he very wel liked; wherefore he caused the messenger to take one of his owne Cuppes, which was in va­lue better, though the fashion pleased him not so well, & deliuer it to his maister in recōpence of the other; & vnder no other cōdition would he receaue it; wherefore he was fayne so to doe.

Manie like vnto those actes did he, which declared how cleane his hands were from ta­king of anie bribes; which for tediousnesse sake we will omitt; these are enough to shew anie liuing man, how little he gayned, yea how litle he cared for all transitorie wealth, esteeming vertues of the minde his richest threasure, and Christ naked on the [Page 275] Crosse his chiefe desire; which holie pleasure of Sir Tho. More a wise marchāt traffik­ing for heauen. his almightie God before his death fulfilled, when for his loue he lost all that might be most deare vnto worldlie men; separation from wife and children, losse of all libertie, and the vtter ouerthrowe of all his goods and estate; yet by leesing these things he gayned better; for in steede of temporall, he atchieued eternall, in lieu of transitorie, he hath purchased perma­nent, in roome of deceiptfull trash, he hath bought to himselfe a Crowne of glorie: centu­plum accepit, & vitam aeternam possidet; he was a true marchant, that by selling all he had, bought the precious margarite spoken of by Christ in S. Matthew; then which there can be imagined nothing more precious, which with­out doubt he enioyeth for all eternitie.

7. Now there was another parlement cal­led, 7. Sir. T. M. his first [...] . where in there was a bill putt into the Lower house to attaynte the nunne and manie other religious men of high treason, and Bis­hopp A parla­ment to attaint true [...] of [...] Fisher with Sir THOMAS MORE of mispri­sion of treason; which bill the King supposed [Page 276] would be so terrible to Sir THOMAS, that it would force him to relente, and condescende vnto him; But therein he was much deceaued; for first Sir THOMAS sued, that he might be admitted into the Parlement to make his owne defence personally; which the king not liking of, graun­ted the hearing of this Cause to my Lo: of Can­terburie, the Lo: Chancellour, the Duke of The Kings de­puties, [...] examin Sir Tho. M. Norfolke and M. ^r Cromvvell; who appoin­ting Sir THOMAS to appeare before them; my vncle Roper requested his father earnestly to labour vnto them, that he might be putt out of the parlement bill; who answered then that he would; but at his coming thither, he neuer once entreated them for it; when he came into their presēce, they entertained him very courteous­ly, requesting him to sitt downe with them; which in no case he would; then the Lo: Chan­cellour The [...] saires words; [...] winne Sir Tho. beganne to tell him, how manie waies the king's maiestie had shewed his loue and fa­uour towards him, how gladly he would haue had him continue in his office, how desirous he was to haue heaped still more and more bene­fitts [Page 277] vpon him, and finally that he could aske no worldlie honour and profitt at his Highnes­se's hands, but that it was probable that he should obtaine it; hoping by these words, de­claring the king's affection towards him, to stirre Sir THOMAS vp to recompence the king with the like, by adding his consent vnto the king's, which the Parlement, the Bishopps, and manie Vniuersities had already consented vnto;

Wherevnto Sir THOMAS mildely made this Fairly answer­ed with a mild and constant refusall. answer, that there vvas no man liuing that vvould vvith better vvill doe anie thing, vvhich should be acceptable to his Highnesse then he, vvho must needes confesse his manifolde bountie and liberall guifts plentifully bestovved vpon him; hovvbeit he verily hoped that he should ne­uer haue heard of this matter anie more; conside­ring that from the beginning he had so plainely and truly declared his minde vnto his maiestie; vvhich his highnesse of his benigne clemencie had euer seemed like a gracious prince very vvell to accept of, neuer minding, as he sayd vnto him, to [Page 278] molest him anie more therevvith; since vvhich time, sayd he, I neuer found anie further matter to moue me to anie change; and if I could, sayd he, there is not one in the vvhole vvorld, vvhich vvould haue bene more ioyfull for it.

Many speaches hauing passed to and fro, on The De­puties threats. both sides, in the ende, when they saw euident­ly, that they could not remoue him from his former determination by no manner of per­swasion, then beganne they more terribly to threaten him saying: the king's maiestie had giuen them in commaunde expressely, yf they could by no gentle meanes winne him, that they should in his name with greate indignatiō charge him, that neuer there was seruant so vil­lanous to his Soueraigne, nor anie subiect so trayterous to his prince, as he; For by his subtile and sinister sleights he had most vnnaturally procured and prouoked the king to sett forth a booke of the assertion of the Seauen Sacra­ments, Sir. T. M. accused for au­tour of the kings book for the Pope and for the maintenance of the Pope's authoritie, so that he had caused his Maiestie to putt a sword in to the Pope's hands to fight [Page 279] against himselfe to his greate dishonour, in all the partes of Christendome.

Now when they had displayed all their ma­lice His constant re­ply, and euident [...] & threates against him; my Lord, sayd Sir THOMAS, these terrours be frights for children, and not for me; but to ansvver that, vvhere vvith you chiefely burthē me, I belieue the king's High­nesse of his honour vvill neuer lay that booke to my charge; for there is none that can in that point say more for my discharge then himselfe; vvho right vvell knovveth that I neuer was procurer, promotour, nor counseler of his Maiestie there­vnto; only, after it vvas finished, by his Grace's appointment, and the consent of the makers of the same, I only sorted out, and placed in order the principall matters therein; wherein vvhen I had found the Popes authoritie highly aduanced, and vvith strong arguments mightily defended, I sayd thus to his Grace: I must putt your High­nesse in remembrance of one thing, and that is this: the Pope, as your Maiestie vvell knovveth, Wise [...] wary co­unsel of Sir Tho. to the King is a Prince, as you are, in league withall other Christian princes; it may hereafter fall out, that [Page 280] your Grace and he may varie vpon some points of the league, vvhere vpon may grovve breache of amitie and vvarre betvveene you both: therefore I thinke it best that that place be amended, and his authoritie more slenderly touched Nay, quoth his Grace, that shall it not; vve are so much bound to the Sea of Rome, that vve cannot doe to much honour vnto it. Then did I further putt him in minde of our statute of Praemunire, The king acknow­ledgeth obligatiō of his crowne to Rome. vvhereby a good parte of the Pope's authoritie & pastoral cure vvas payred avvay; to vvhich his Maiestie ansvvered, vvhatsoeuer impediment be to the contrarie, vve vvill sett forth that autho­ritie to the vttermost; For vve haue receaued from that Sea our Crovvne Imperiall; vvhich till his Grace vvith his ovvne mouth so tolde me, I neuer heard before. Which things vvell conside­red, I trust vvhen his Maiestie shalbe truly in­formed thereof, and call to his gracious remem­brance my sayings and doings in that behalfe, his Highnesse vvill neuer speake more of it, but vvill cleare me himselfe; with which wordes they with great displeasure dismissed him, & parted.

[Page 281] 8. Then tooke Sir THOMAS his boate to 8. His merry hart after his exami­nation. Chelsey; wherein by the way he was verie mer­rie, and my vncle Rooper was not sorrie to see it; hoping that he had gotten himself dischar­ged out of the bill. When he was landed and come home, they walked in his gardin, where my vncle sayd vnto him: I trust, Sir, all is well, because you are so merrie. It is so indeede, sōne, I thanke God. Are you then, Sir, putt out of the parlement Bill? sayd my vncle; by my troth, sonne, I neuer remembred it. Neuer remem­bred that? sayd he, that toucheth you and vs all so neare? I am verie sorie to heare it. For I trusted all had bene well, when I saw you so merrie.

Wouldst thou knowe, sonne, why I am so ioyfull? In good Faith I reioyce that I haue giuē A fail gi­uen to the [...] . the diuell a fowle fall; because I haue with those Lords gone so farre, that without great shame I can neuer goe back. This was the cause of his ioye, not the ridding himself of troubles, but the confidence he had in God, that he would giue him strength willingly to suffer anie thing for Christs sake, that he might say with Christ [Page 282] IESVS: Desiderio desideraui, &c. I thirst greatly to drinke of the Cuppe of Christ's passtion; and with S. Paule. Cupio dissolui, & ess cum Christo. But these speaches though they liked Sir THO­MAS well, yet pleased they my vncle Rooper but a little.

Now after the reporte made of this their The Kings in­dignatiō against Sir Tho. examinacion of Sir THOMAS to the King, by the Lo:Chauncellour and the rest, king Henry was so highly displeased with Sir THOMAS MORE, that he plainely tolde them, that he was resolutely determined, that the foresayd parle­ment-bill should vndoubtedly proceede a­gainst them. Yet to this the Lo: Chancellour and the rest sayd: that they had perceaued that all the vpper house was so powerfully bent to heare Sir THOMAS speake in his owne defence, that if he were not purtout of the Bill, it would vtterly be ouerthrowen, and haue no force a­gainst the rest. Which words although the king heard them speake, yet needes would he haue his owne will therein, adding that he would be personally present himselfe at the passing of it. [Page 283] But the Lo: Aud ley and the rest seing him so Prndent and poli­tikaduise in so bad a cause. vehemently bent vpon it, fell downe vpon their knees, and besought his Maiestie not to doe so; considering that if he in his owne presence should be confronted and receaue an ouer­throwe, it would not only encourage his sub­iects euer after to contemne him, but also re­dounde to his Dishonour for euer throughout all Christendome; and they doubted not in time but to finde some other fitter matter a­gainst him; For in this Case of the Nunne, they sayd, all men accounted him so cleare and in­nocent, that for his behauiour therein euerie one reckoned him rather worthie of praise, thē of reproofe. At which words of theirs, the king was contented at their earnest perswasion to condescende to their petition; yet was not his displeasure against Sir THOMAS anie whitt as­swaged but much more incensed.

On the next morning M. ^r Cromevvell Proceed­ing a­gainst Sit Tho. M. disterred. meeting my vncle Rooper in the parlement house, tolde him, that his father was putt out of the bill; which message he sent presently to [Page 284] Chelsey; and when my aunte Roper toulde her father thereof; he answered: In fayth Megg, quod differtur, non aufertur, knowing as it were the verie bottome of the King's hart, and all his Counsells, imagining that this was not anie fa­uour donne vnto him, but that they might finde afitter matter to worke on, as it shortly after proued.

Within a while after the Duke of Norfolke A braue answer to a frinds feare. fell into familiar talke with Sir THOMAS, and a­mongst other speaches he sayd vnto him: By the masse, M. ^r More, it is perillous striuing with princes; therefore I could wish you as a friēd to encline to the king's pleasure; for by God bodie, M. ^r More, Indignatio principis more est. Is that all my Lord, sayd Sir THOMAS; in good faith, then there is no more differēce betweene your Grace and me, but that I shall dye to day, and you to morrow. Yf therefore the anger of a prince causeth but a temporall death, we haue greater cause to feare the eternall death, which the king of heauen can condēne vs vnto, if we sticke not to displease him by pleasing an earth­lie king.

1. NOw in this parle­ment 1. The [...] of [...] . in the yeare 1534. whē as Queen Elizabeth had bene borne the Septem­ber before, and Q. Anne had bene proclaimed Queen the 12. ^th of April before that, and Q. Catherine declared the wi­dowe only of prince Arthur; there was, I say, at this parlement an oath framed, whereby all English subiects should both renounce the Pope's authoritie and sweare also to the succes­sion of Q. Anne's children, accounting the Ladie Marie illegitimate; within a moneth or thereabouts after the enacting of this statute, Sir Tho. M. cited to takesit. all the Clergie as well Bishops as priests, yet no [Page 287] lay man but Sir THOMAS MORE, were summo­ned to appeare at Lambeth, before the Lo: Archbishop Cranmer, the Lo: Chancelour Audley, M. ^r Secretarie Cromevvell, the Abbott of Westminster, with others appointed Com­missioners by the King, to tender this oath vnto them.

On the same morning that Sir THOMAS was His pre­paration before his going to goe thither, as he was accustomed before he tooke anie matter of importance in hand, he went to Chelsey church, and there was Confes­sed and receaued at masse deuoutly the blessed Sacrament; and whereas euer at other times before he parted from his wife and children, they vsed to bring him to his boate, and there kissing them bad them Farewell, at this time he suffered none of them to follow him forth of his gate, but pulled the wickett after him, and with a heauie hart, as by his countenance ap­peared, he tooke boate with his sonne Rooper, and their men; in which sitting sadly a while, as it were with Christ in his agonie in the gardin, at the last sodainely he rounded my vncle in [Page 288] the eare, and sayd: I thanke our Lord, sonne, the field is wonne. whereto my vncle answered at randon, as not knowing then his meaning; I am very glad thereof. But one may easily knowe, what he meant, and so my vncle after­ward perceaued, that the burning loue of God wrought in him so effectually, that it now had conquered all carnall affections; trusting to that saying of our Sauiour: Beholde and haue confidence; I haue conquered the vvorld.

How wisely he behaued himself at Lam­beth, His dis­creet be­haue our in that cause. may beseene in a letter of his sent after to my aunte Rooper, which is sett out in printe in the latter ende of his English Workes, with others his most singular letters, wherein he liue­ly describeth to his children all his troubles, & sheweth what a heauenlie spiritt he had to en­dure all for Gods sake, trusting still chiefely to Gods goodnesse not to his owne strength, the effect whereof is this: After he vvas called be­fore He refu­seth the sath: for consciē ­co sake. them, he requested of them to see the oath, vvhich vvhen he had read vnto himselse he an­svvered, that he neither vvould finde faulte vvith [Page 289] the oath, nor with the authors of it, nor vvould blame the conscience of anie man that had taken it, but for himselfe, he could not take it vvithout endangering his soule of eternall damnation; vvhich if they doubted of, he vvould svveare vnto them, that that vvas the chiefe cause of his refu­sall; in vvhich second oath, if they doubted to trust him, hovv then could they trust him in the for­mer? Which he hauing sayd my Lo: Chancel­our replyed, that all there were hartily sorie, he should make such an answer; for they constant­ly affirmed that he was the first mā that denyed to take it; which would greatly aggrauate the king's displeasure against him; and forthwith they shewd him a Catalogue of the Nobilitie and manie others, who had taken it, and had subscribed their names therevnto.

Yet because he would not blame anie man's All the clergy. but Bis­hop fis­her and D. Wil­son, did take the oath. conscience therein, he was commaunded to walke into the gardin a while and presently all the Clergie men, some Bishops, manie Do­ctours, and priests were called in, who all tooke it, except Bishop Fisher, and one Doctour [Page 290] Wilson, without anie scruple, stoppe or stay; & the vicar of Croyden, saith Sir THOMAS, called for a cuppe of beere at the butterie barre, quia erat notus Pontifici, and he drunke valde fami­liariter.

After all these had soone dispatched the mat­ter, Vnder what cō ­ditiōs Sir T. M of [...] to set [...] his re­ason of refusall. for which they were sent for, Sir THOMAS was called in againe, and the names of all that had taken the oath, were shewed him; whereto for himselfe he answered as before; then they often obiected vnto him obstinacie; because he would neither take it, nor giue anie reason, why he refused it; to which he replied, that his deni­all only would prouoke the King's indignation sufficiently against him, and therefore he was loath anie further to aggrauate his displeasure, shewing what vrgent necessitie drew him vnto it; howbeit, if his Maiestie would testifye that his expressing the causes, wherefore he refused it, would not prouoke against him his further anger, he would not sticke to sett them downe in writing; and if anie man could satisfye those reasons to the content of his conscience, [Page 291] he would take the oath most willingly. Then Sir T. M offer pro­ceede. h not of uncerta­ly but be­cause he was cer­tain his reasons were un­answera­ble. Cranmer, my Lo: archbishop vrged him, that seing he was not certaine of his conscience, but that it was a thing certaine, that he must obey his Prince, therefore was he to reiect that doubtfull conscience of his, and sticke to the latter, which was vndoubted. Yet if this argu­ment were of anie force, then in all controuer­sies of religion we may soone be resolued to to follow whatsoeuer anie king commaun­deth vs.

And when the Abbott of Westminster had sayd, that he might very well suspect his owne All Chri­stendom of more autority then all england. conscience to be erroneous, because he alone would seeme to controle all the wisedome of the whole realme, who had made and taken it. Thereto Sir THOMAS answered; that if he alone should stand against so worthie a kingdome, he had great cause to feare his owne conscience; but if that of his side he could produce a farre greater number of a learned men as they, he thought himselfe not then bound to reforme his conscience by follovving the consent of one king­dome [Page 292] against the generall receaued opinion of the vvhole Christian vvorld. When M. ^r Secretarie seemed greately to pittie him, Sir THOMAS ad­ded: yf anie hard thing happened vnto him­selfe, he could not preuent it, without he should endanger his owne soule.

Then asked they him, whether he would The oath of [...] . sweare to the succession; to which he answered, that he was willing enough to doe that, if the oath were sett downe in such wordes, as he might safely take it; Thereto my Lord Chan­cellour sayd: see, M. ^r Secretarie, he will not sweare to that neither, but vnder a certaine for­me of words. No truly, replied Sir THOMAS, ex­cept I finde that I may sweare it without dan­ger of periurie, and with a safe conscience.

2. When he had thus behaued himselfe, 2. Sir [...] . [...] prisonmēt. First in Westmin­ster. he was cōmitted to the custodie of the abbott of Westminster for the space of foure daies; du­ring which time the king consulted with his councell, what order were meete to be taken with him. And at the first albeit they were re­solued, that, he swearing an oath not to be [Page 293] knowen, whether he had sworne to the Supre­macie or no, or what he thought thereof, he should be discharged; yet did Q. Anne by her Then by Q. Anne importu­nity, in the Tow­er. importunate clamours so sore exasperate the king against him, that contrarie to the king's former, resolution (but indeede for the greater honour of God, and his martyr) the king caused againe the oath of Supremacie to be ministred vnto him; who although againe he made there­to a discreete qualifyed answer, neuerthelesse he was forthwith committed to the Tower. when as he went thither, wearing a chaine of golde about his necke, Sir Richard Winkefield, His vvil­lingnesse to leese all for Christ. who had the charge of his conueyance thither, aduised him to sende home his chaine to his wife or some of his children; nay Sir, sayd he, that I will not; for if I were taken in the fielde by mine enemies, I would they should fare somewhat the better for me; rather choosing to haue it lost in the Tower, then that king's offi­cers should gett it at home, when he should leese all; or else esteeming nothing lost, but gayned, which was lost for Christ. At his lāding [Page 294] M. ^r Lieftenant was readie to receaue him at the Tower-gate; where the porter demaunded The vp­per gar­ment the porters fee. of him his vpper garment; marry porter, sayd he, here it is, and gaue him of his cappe, saying, I am sorie it is not better for thee. Nay Sir, quoth he, I must haue your gowne; which forthwith he gaue him; and then was conueyed to his lodging, where he called vnto him Iohn Wood His mans oath. his man there appointed to attende him, who could neither write nor reade, and sware him before M. ^r Liefetenant, that if he should heare or see him at anie time speake or write anie thing against the king, the Councell or the State, of the realme, he should open it to M ^r Lieutenant that he might straightwaies reueale it againe to the Councell. This was his peacea­ble His won­derfull courage. and constant carriage in aduersitie, bearing all his troubles with great alacritie, that both God was much pleased with his willingnesse, & euerie man admired much his patience: For if aduersitie will trie mens wisedome and true fortitude, surely Sir THOMAS was a most wise man, that nothing happened vnto him, which [Page 295] he did not in a manner foresee, and truly stoute, that nothing could daūte his courage or abate his magnanimitie.

3. When he had remained with great 3. His [...] with his daugh­ter [...] . chearefullnesse about a moneths space in the Tower, his daughter Margaret longing sore to see her father, made earnest sute, and at last gott leaue to goe to him; at whose coming after they had sayde togeather the Seauen Psalmes, and Preuēted with prayers. Letanies (which he vsed alwaies after to say with her, when she came thither, before he would fall in talke of anie worldlie matters, to the in­tent he might commende all his wordes to al­mightie God's honour and glorie) amongst other speaches he sayd thus vnto her: I belieue, Megg, that they who haue putt me here, thin­ke they haue donne me a high displeasure; but I assure thee on my fayth, mine owne good The cō ­fort he found in his em­prison­ment. daughter, that if it had not bene for my wife & you my children, whome I accounte the chiefe parte of my charge, I would not haue fayled long ere this to haue closed myselfe in as strayte a roome as this, and strayter too; now since I am [Page 296] come hither without mine owne deserte, I trust that God of his goodnesse will discharge me of my care, and with his gracious helpe supply the want of my presence amongst you; and I finde no cause, I thanke God, to recken myselfe here in worse case, then in mine owne house; For me thinkes God by this imprisonment maketh me one of his wantons, and setteth me vpon his lappe and dandeleth me, euen as he hath donne all his best friends, S. Iohn Baptist, S. Peter, S. Paule and all his holie Apostles, martyrs, and his most especiall fauorites, whose examples God make me worthie to imitate.

By which discourse of his it appeareth most Fiue rea­sons vsed by his daughter to make him [...] euidently, that all the troubles, which euer hap­pened vnto him, were no painefull punish­ments, but by his admirable patience and ala­critie, most profitable exercises. My aunte Roo­per contrariewise, either because she would haue more familiar accesse vnto her father, or else because in deede she would really perswade him to follow the king's fancie, beganne to di­uerte him from such zealours discourses, and [Page 297] forcibly to vrge him with manie reasons and motiues to the taking of this oath, that they might enioy his presence at his house at Chel­sey; first, because he was more bounde to the 1. Obe­dience to the King. king then anie man in England, and therefore ought the rather to obey his will in a case that was not euidently repugnant to Gods lawe; se­condly, 2. Auto­rity of wise mē. it seemed not credible, that so manie wise and learned men, as were in England, should all impugne the will of God; thirdly, 3 Only B. Fisher of his mind. that he should beware how he pinned his soule vpon Bishopp Fisher, being one of the meanest bishops in England; fourthly, that there were so 4. Him self a lay man. manie Bishops, Doctours and learned men that had taken it; so that he being a lay man see­med bound, in her iudgement, to accommo­date his conscience to theirs; and lastly, euerie 5. against a paria­ment. one thought him bound in conscience to ap­proue that, which a whole parlement of the realme had so vniformely enacted; for which reasons manie haue condemned you, Father, sayd she, either of in consideration, rashnesse, or obstinacie. To the first Sir THOMAS answered as Sir T. M. answers [Page 298] may appeare by a letter of my aunte Rooper's yet extant, which contayneth all this their dis­course, and by that letter of Sir THOMAS his All the saints of God ac­knowle­ged the Popessu­premacy written to M. ^r Cromevvell, that he had not slightly considered of this matter, but for these seauen yeares space, since the time that king Hen­ry had vvritten against Luther, he had diligently read ouer all the Fathers both Greeke & Latine, vvho all from Ignatius (S Iohn Euangelist's disciple) euen to these late Diuines, vvith one con­sent, doe agree of the Popes Supremacie, which hath bene also accepted of throughout all Chri­stendome, these thousand yeares and more; and he savv not hovv one member of the Church, as England was, could vvithdravv itself from the vvhole bodie; yet when he saw this controuersie Why he [...] touche i that point in his wri­tings. beganne to be disputed of, he alwaies had tem­pered his speaches against Tindall, that expro­fesso he neuer argued vpon that theame; but now being putt to his choice, whether he should offende his Conscience or the king, whether he should fall into temporall danger or eter­nall hazard of his soule, I cannot, saith [Page 299] he, resolue otherwise, then anie wise man would.

To the second, he sayde; he would not con­demne [...] , with which many de­ceaue their owne cō ­sciences. anie bodie for taking it; for some, saith he, may doe it vpon temporall hopes, or feare of greate losses, for vvhich I vvill neuer thinke anie hath taken it; for I imagine no bodie is so fr aile and fearefull as myselfe; some may hope, that God vvill not impute it vnto them for a sinne, be­cause they doe it by constrainte; some may hope to doe pennance presently after; and others are of opinion that God is not offended vvith our mouth so our heart be pure; but as for my parte, I dare not ieoparde my selfe vpon these vaine hopes.

To the third, he saith, it was altogeather im­probable, He knew not of B. Fishers mind. because he refused this oath before it was tendered to Bishopp Fisher, or before he knewe whether he would refuse it or no.

To the fourth, though there vvere neuer so The Do­ctours of the Church greater then Do­ctours of England manie learned prelates vvithin this realme, that should take it, yet being manie more in other par­tes of Christendome, vvhich thinke as I doe, I am not boūd to cōforme my selfe to these alone, hauing [Page 300] the Doctours of the Church on my side, vvho could not be dravven neither for hopes nor feares.

Finally to the last, he wisely answered, that although to denye the decree of a generall And ge­nerall Coūcels, then a Parlamēt Councell vvere a damnable acte, yet to vvith­stande a statute of one realme's making, vvhich contradicteth the constant opinion of the vvhole Church, is neither a rash deede, nor an obstinate, but most laudable and Christianlike. All which disputation my aunte Rooper sett downe in a letter to her sister Alington, printed togeather with Sir THOMAS his letters.

After all this, my aunte Rooper sought to His trust in Gods mercy a­gainst the fear of death. fright him, with the danger of death, which might perhaps moue him to relente, when he cannot hinder his mishappes, but now he might preuēt all, being yet not too late; where­vnto how hūbly he speaketh of his owne frail­tie, and how confidently he relyeth vpon Gods mercie, may be seene at large; whose wordes are so humble so zealous, so godlie, that they are able to pierce anie mans hart, that will reade them in the latter ende of his workes; they [Page 301] breathe out an Angelicall spiritt, farre different from the presumptuous speaches of either he­retike or desperate man: Lord helpe me; yf God A heauē ­ly resi­gnation. for my manie and grieuous sinnes vvill suffer me to be damned, his Iustice shalbe praised in me; but I hope he vvill procure for me that his mercie shall haue the vpper hand; nothing can happen, but that vvhich God pleaseth; and vvhat that is though it should seeme euill vnto vs, yet it is truly the best.

4. At another time, when he had questio­ned 4. Sir T. M. Propheci­eth Q. Annes death. with my aunte Rooper of his wife, childrē, and state of his house in his absence, he asked her at last, how Q. Anne did: In sayth, Father, sayd she, neuer better; there is nothing else in the Courte but dancing and sporting. Neuer better, sayd he; alas, Megg, alas; it pittieth me to remember vnto what miserie, poore soule, she will shortly come; these dances of hers will proue such dances, that she will spurne our heads of like foote bals; but it will not be lōg ere her head will dance the like dance. And how prophetically he spoke these words, the ende of her Tragedie proued it most true.

[Page 302] M. ^r Lieutenant coming into his chamber to His ple­sant an­swer to his [...] ho­nest ex­cuse. visite him, rehearsed the manie benefitts and friendshipps, that he had often receaued from him, and therefore that he was bound to enter­taine him friendly, and make him good cheare; but the case standing as it did, he could not doe it without the king's displeasure; wherefore he hoped that he would accept of his good will, & of the poore fare he had whereto he answered: I verily belieue you, good M. ^r Lieutenant, and I thanke you most hartily for it, and assure yourselfe I doe not mislike my fare; but when­soeuer I doe, then spare not to thrust me out of your doores.

Now whereas the oath of Supremacie and The [...] constācy andigno­rance of the oath makers. marriage was comprized in few wordes in the first Statute; the Lo: Chancellour and M. ^r Se­cretarie did of their owne heads adde more wordes vnto it, to make it seeme more plausible to the king's eares; and this Oath so amplifyed they had exhibited to Sir THOMAS and others; of which their deede Sir THOMAS sayde to his daughter: I may tell thee, Megg, that they who [Page 303] haue committed me hither, for refusing an oath not agreable with their owne statute, are not able by their owne law to iustifye mine impri­sonment; wherefore it is great pittie, that anie Christian prince should be drawen to followe his affections by flexible counsell, and by a weake Clergie lacking grace; for want of which they stande weakely to their learning, & abuse themselues with flatterie so shamefully. Which wordes coming to the Councell's eares, they caused another Statute, espying their ouersight, to be enacted with all these conditions.

Another time looking out of his windowe His me­ditation vpon the martyr­dom of 24. reli­gious mē to beholde one M. ^r Reynolds a religious, lear­ned and vertuous Father of Sion and three monkes of the Cbarterhouse going forth of the Tower to their executiō (for now king Henry beganne to be fleshed in bloud, hauing putt to death the Nunne and diuerse others, and manie after for the Supremacie and his marriage) Sir THOMAS, as one that longed to accompanie them in that iourney, sayde to his daughter thē standing besides him: Loe, doest not thou see, [Page 304] Megg, that these blessed Fathers be now as chearefully going to death, as if they were bri­degroomes going to be married? whereby, good daughter thou maist see, what a great difference there is betweene such as haue in effect spentall their daies in a straight, hard, and penitentiall life religiously, and such as haue in the world like worldlie wretches (as thy poore father hath donne) consumed all their time in pleasure and ease licentiously? For God considering their lōg continued life in most sore and grieuous pen­nance, will not suffer them anie longer to re­maine in this vale of miserie, but taketh them speedily hence, to the fruitiō of his euerlasting deitie, whereas thy sillie father, who hath most like a wicked Caytife passed forth most sinfully the whole course of his miserable life; God thin­keth him not worthie to come so soone to that eternall felicitie, but leaueth him still in the world further to be plunged and turmoiled with miserie. By which most humble and hea­uenlie meditation, we may easily guesse what a spirite of Charitie he had gotten by often me­ditation, [Page 305] that euerie sight brought him new matter to practise most heroicall resolutions.

Within a while after this M. ^r Secretarie Maister Secreta­ry Crom­wells vi­sit. coming to him from the king (who still gaped more for Sir THOMAS his relenting, then all his other subiects) pretended much friendshipp towards Sir THOMAS, and for his comfort tolde him, that the king was his good and gratious Lord, and minded not to vrge him to anie mat­ter, wherein he should haue anie cause of scru­ple from thenceforth to trouble his consciēce. As soone as M. Secretarie was gone, to expresse what comfort he receaued of his words, he wrote with a coale, (as he did vsually manie other letters, because all his Inke had bene taken from him by the king's expresse commaunde­ment, certaine wittie verses, which are printed in his booke.

All the while Sir THOMAS was in the Tower, Sir T. M. writ in the tow­er his book of comfort. he was not idle, but busied himself in writing (with a coale for the most parte) spirituall trea­tises, as the Three bookes of Comfort in Tri­bulation, where, in a dialogue manner vander [Page 306] the names of two Hungarians fearing the Turkes running ouer their Countrie, who had made great preparations therefore, he paynteth out in liuelie coulours both the danger that England stoode then in to be ouerwhelmed with heresie, and how good Catholikes should prepare themselues, to loose libertie, life and lands and whatsoeuer can be most deare vnto them, rather then to forsake their fayth. It is a most excellent booke full of spirituall and for­cible motiues, expressing liuely Sir THOMAS his singular resolution to apply all those holesome medicines to himself, now being readie to pra­ctise in deede, whatsoeuer he setteth downe in wordes.

4. When he had remained a good while in 5. A prety dialogue between Sir T. M. and his wife. the Tower, my Ladie his wife obtained leaue to see him, that he might haue more motiues to breake his conscience; who at the first com­ming to him like a plaine rude woman, and somewhat worldlie too, in this māner beganne bluntely to salute him. What the good yeare, M. ^r More, I maruell that you, who haue bene [Page 307] hitherto alwaies taken for a wise man, will now Her worldly obiectiō. so play the foole, as to lie here in this close fil­thie prison, and be content to be shutt vp thus with mice and ratts, when you might be abroad at your libertie with the fauour and good will both of the king and the Councell, if you would but doe as all the bishopps & best lear­ned of his realme haue donne: and seing you haue at Chelsey a right fayre house, your libra­rie, your bookes, your gallerie, your gardine, your orchard and all other necessaries so hand­some about you, where you might in compa­nie of me your wife, your Children and hous­holde be merrie; I muse what a Gods name you meane here still thus fondly to tarrie. After His hea­uenly an­swer. he had a good while heard her, he sayd vnto her with a chearefull countenance: I pray thee, good M. ^ris Alice, tell me one thing. What is that, sayth she. Is not this house as neare heauen as mine ovvne? she āswering after her custome: Tillie vallie, tillie vallie: he replyed: how Prison as neer he­auen as our owne house. sayst thou M. ^ris Alice, is it not so indeede? Bone Deus man, will this geare neuer be left? Well [Page 308] then, M. ^ris Alice, if it be so, I see no great cause, vvhy I should much ioye either of my fayre house, or anie thing belonging therevnto, vvhen if I should be but seauen yeares buried vnder the ground, and rise and come thither againe (he might haue sayd but seuaen moneths) I should not fayle to finde some therein, that vvould bid me gett me out of doores, and tell me plainely, that it vvere none of mine; what cause haue I then to like such a house, as vvould so soone forgett his Maister? Againe, tell me M. ^ris Alice, how long doe you thinke may we liue and enioye it. Some twentie yeares, sayd she. Truly, replyed he, yf you had sayd some thousand yeares, it had bene somewhat; and yet he vvere a very Eternity to be prefer­red befo­re tem­porallity. bad marchant that vvould putt himself in danger to leese eternitie for a thousand yeares; hovv much the rather if vve are not sure to enioy it one day to an ende. And thus her perswasions mo­ued him but a little, thinking of those wordes of Iob to his wife tempting him: quasi vna ex­stultis mulieribus locuta est.

Not long after this came there to him at two An other visit. [Page 309] seuerall times the Lord Chancellour, the Duke of Norfolke and Suffolke with M. ^r Secretarie, and certaine others of the Priuie Councell to procure him by all meanes and policies they could either to confesse precisely the king's Su­premacie, or plainely to deny it. Here may we see that those verie men, which seemed to crye before vnto him: O sanna, benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini, say here: tolle, tolle, crucisigeeum: this is the ficklenesse of the worldlie men. But to this, as appeareth by the examinations sett out at the ende of his English Workes, they could neuer bring him, because he was loath to aggrauate the king's displeasure against him­selfe, saying only, that the Statute was like a two-edged sworde; if he should speake against it, he should procure the death of his bodie; and if he should cōsent vnto it, he should purchase the death of his soule.

6. After all these examinations came M. ^r 6. M. Rich his sophi­sticall case. Rich, afterwards made the Lo: Rich for his good seruice donne in this point, then newly created the king's Sollicitour, S. ^r. Richard Southvvell [Page 310] and one M. ^r Palmer M. ^r Secretarie's man, were sent by the king to take away all his boo­kes M. ^r Rich pretending to talke friendly with Sit THOMAS sayd thus vnto him, (as it proued after) of sett purpose. For as much as it is well knowen M. ^r More, that you are a man both wise, & well learned in the lawes of this realme & in all other studies, I pray you, Sir, lett me be so bolde as of good will to putt vnto you this Case: Admitt there were an act of Parlement made, that all the realme should take me for king, would not you, M. ^r More, take me for king? Yes Sir, said Sir THOMAS that I would; I putt the Case further, sayd M. ^r Rich, that there were an act of Parlement, that all the realme should take me for Pope, would not you then take me for Pope? For answer, sayd Sir THOMAS to your first Case, the Parlement may well, M. ^r Rich, meddle with the state of Tempo­rall princes; but to make answer to your other Case; suppose the Parlement should make a lawe, that God should not be God, would you then, M. ^r Rich, say that God should not be [Page 311] God? No Sir, sayd he, that would I not: For no Parlement can make such a lawe. No more, re­ported A poor ground for an in­ditement of treasō. he that Sir THOMAS should say: (but in­deede he made no such inference, as he auou­ched after to M. ^r Rich his face) could the Par­lement make the king supreame head of the Church; and vpon this only reporte of M. ^r Rich, Sir THOMAS was shortly after indited of high treason vpon the new Statute of Supre­macie. At this time M. ^r Lieutenant reported that M. ^r Rich had so vile a smell about him, that he could scarce endure him, which Sir THOMAS also felt.

7. He had a little before this begunne a 7. A remarkably ac­cident, at the taking away his bookes. diuine treatise of the passion of Christ; but when he came to expounde those wordes of the Ghospell: And they layde hands vpon him, and held him; these gentlemen tooke from him all his bookes, Inke and paper, so that he could write no more. Which being donne, he applyed himselfe wholy to meditation, keeping his His mery ieast vpō it. chamber windowes fast shutt, and very darks: the occasion whereof M. ^r Lieutenant asking [Page 312] him, he answered: when all the wares are gone, the shoppe windowes are to be shutt vp. Yet still, by stealth he would gett little peeces of pa­per, in which he would write diuerse letters with a coale: of which my father left me one, which was to his wife: which I accounte as a precious Iewell, afterwards drawen ouer by my grandfathers sonne with inke.

8. What respect Sir THOMAS had not to 8. How great care he took not to offend the king. displease the king in anie of his deedes or an­swers, may be seene by his discreete behauiour in all his proceedings. For first in his bookes he neuer handled exactly the Popes Supremacie, though vrgent occasion were giuen him by the bookes which he tooke in hand to confute; se­condly, whatsoeuer writing he had touching that Controuersie, he either made them away or burnt them, before his troubles; as also a booke, which the Bishopp of Bath had written of that matter; thirdly, he would neuer take vpon him to aduise any man in that point, though much vrged thereto by letters, especially of Doctour Willson his fellow prisoner in the [Page 313] Tower, knowing himself, being a lay man, not to be bound to perswade a Clergie man, much lesse a Doctour of Diuinitie: Fourthly, when he was brought from the Tower to Westminster to answer his Inditement, & therevpon arraigned at the King's-Bench-barre, where he had often asked his father's blessing; he openly tolde the Iudges, that he would haue abidden in law, and demurred vpon the Inditement, but that he should haue bene driuen thereby to confesse of himselfe, that he had denyed the kings Supre­macie, which he protested he neuer had donne. And indeede the principall faulte there Layde The sub­stance of his indi­tement. to his charge, was that he maliciously, traite­rously, and Diabolically would not vtter his minde of that Oath. Whereto Sir THOMAS pleaded; not guiltie: & reserued to himselfe ad­uantage to be taken of the bodie of the matter after verdict, to auoyde that Inditemēt, adding moreouer, that if only those odious tearmes, were taken out, he saw nothing that could charge him of anie Treason.

[Page 315] 1. AFter that the king had 1. The arrangement of Sir Th. More. endeauoured by all me­anes possible to gett Sir THOMAS his consent vnto his lawes knowing that his example would moue manie being so eminent for wisedome and rare vertues, and could by no meanes obtaine his desire, he com­maunded him to be called to his Arraignemēt at the kings-bench barre, hauing bene a pri­soner in the Tower somewhat more then a twelue-moneth, for he was Committed about midde-Aprill, and this happened the seauenth of May 1535. the yeare following: He went thither leaning on his staffe, because he had bene much weakened by his imprisonment, his countenance chearefull and constant; his Iud­ges His Iud­ges. were: Andley the Lo: Chancellour, Fitz Iames, the Lo: Chiefe Justice, Sir Iohn Bal­dvvin, Sir Richard Leister, Sir Iohn Port, Sir Iohn Spilman, Sir Walter Luke, Sir Antonie Fitzherbert: where the king's Attornye reading [Page 316] a long odious Inditement, contayning all the crimes, that could be layd against anie noto­rious malefactour, so long, as Sir THOMAS pro­fessed, His [...] . he could scarce remember the third par­te, that was obiected against him; but the spe­ciall faulte was that: of the refusall of the oath, as is before spoken, for proose whereof his dou­ble examination in the tower was alleaged; the first, before Cromevvell, Thomas Beade, Iohn Tregunnell, &c. To whome he professed that he had giuen ouer to thinke of titles either of Popes or Princes, although all the whole world should be giuen him, being fully determined only to serue God; the second before the Lo: Chancellour, Duke of Suffolke, Earle of Wilt­shire and others, before whome he compared that Oath to a two-edged sword; for if he should take it, his soule should be wounded; yf he refu­sed it, his bodie: That he had written letters to Bishopp Fisher to perswade him therein, be­cause their answers were alike; vpon all which it was concluded, that Sir THOMAS was a tray­tour to his Prince and realme, for denying the [Page 317] king's supreme Iurisdiction in ecclesiasticall gouernement, presently after this Inditement was read, the Lo: Chancellour and the Duke of Norfolke spoke to this effect vnto him: you see The iud­ges char­gos. now how grieuously you haue offended his Maiestie. Yet he is so merciefull, that yf you will lay away your obstinacie, and change your opi­nion, we hope you may obtaine pardon of his highnesse. Whereto the stoute Champion of Christ replyed: Most noble Lords, I haue great His Chri­stian re­solution. cause to thanke your Honours for this your courtesie; but I beseech Almightie god that I may continue in the minde I am in through his grace vnto death; by which three words he exer­cised the actes of three vertues, humanitie, [...] , and fortitude, shewing himself a Ciuile man, a godlie Christian, and a noble Confes­sour of Christ's truth.

2. After this he was suffered to saye what 2. Sir Th. his [...] to the [...] . he could in his owne defence, and then he be­ganne in this sorte: When I thinke hovv long my accusation is, and vvhat haynous matters are­layed to my charge, I am stroken vvith feare, least [Page 318] my memorie and vvitt both, vvhich are decayed togeather vvith the health of my bodie through a long impediment contracted by my imprisonmēt, be not novv able to ansvver these things on the suddaine, as I ought, and othervvise could. After this there was brought him a chaire, in which when he was sate, he beganne againe thus:

There are foure principall heads, yf I be not 1. How sincerly he had always told the K. his mind touching the [...] . deceaued, of this my Inditement, euerie of vvhich I purpose, God vvilling, to ansvver in order; To the first that is obiected against me, to vvitt, that I haue bene an enemie of a stubbernesse of minde to the king's second marriage; I confesse that I al­vvaies tolde the king my opinion therein, as my conscience dictated vnto me, vvhich I neither euer vvould, nor ought to haue concealed; for vvhich I am so farre from thinking myself guiltie of high treason, as that of the contrarie, I being demaunded my opinion by so great a prince in a matter of such importance, vvherevpon the quietnesse of a kingdome dependeth, I should haue basely flattered him against mine ovvne cō ­science, and not vttered the truth as I thought, [Page 319] then I should vvorthily haue bene accounted a most vvicked subiect, and a persidious trayter to God; yf herein I had offended the king, if it can be an offence to tell one's minde plainely, vvhen our prince asketh vs, I suppose I haue bene alreadie The du­rance of his em­prison­ment and afflictiōs. punished enough for this falte, vvith most grie­uous afflictions, vvith the losse of all my goods, and committed to perpetuall imprisonment, hauing bene shutt vp alreadie almost these 15. monethes.

My second accusation is that I haue transgres­sed 2. Why he refu­sed to tell his iud­gemēt of the law of supre­macy. the Statute in the last parlement, that is to say, being a prisonner, and tvvice examined by the Lords of the Councell, I vvould not disclose vnto them my opinion of a malignant, perfidious, obstinate and trayterous minde, vvhether the king vvere supreame head of the Church or no; but ansvvered them, that this lavv belonged not Lay men not tou­ched withthat law. not to me, vvhether it vvere iust or vniust, be­cause I did not enioye anie benefice from the churche; yet I then protested, that I neuer had sayd or donne anie thing against it, neither can anie one vvord or action of mine be produced, to make me culpable; yea this I confesse vvas then [Page 320] my speach vnto their Honours, that I hereafter vvould thinke of nothing else, but of the bitter passion of our blessed Sauiour and of my passage out of this miserable vvorld; I vvishe no harme to anie; and yf this vvill not keepe me aliue, I desire No law can pu­nish filē ­ce that is without malice. not to liue; by all vvhich I knovve, that I could not transgresse anie lavv or incurre anie crime of treason; for neither this Statute nor anie lavv in the vvorld can punish anie man for holding his peace; for they only can punish either words or deedes, God only being Iudge of our secrett thoughts.

Of which words, because they were vrgent indeede, the king's Atturnie interrupted him and sayd: Although we haue not one word or [...] his silence were ma­licious. deede of yours to obiect against you, yet haue we your silence, which is an euident signe of a malicious minde, because no dutiefull subiect being lawfully asked this question, will refuse to answer. To which Sir THOMAS replyed say­ing: my silēce is no signe of anie malicious minde, vvhich the king himself may knovv by manie of my dealings, neither doth it conuince anie man of [Page 321] breache of your lavv. For it is a maxime amongst the Ciuilians and Canonists: Qui tacet, consen­tire Obediē ­ce first to God, and then to man. videtur; he that holdeth his peace, seemeth to consente. And as for that you say: no good subiect will refuse to ansvver directly, I thinke it verily the dutie of a good subiect, except he be such a sub­iect, as vvill be an euill Christian; rather to obey God then man, to haue more care of offending his Conscience, then of anie other matter in the vvorld, especially if his Conscience procure neither heauie scandall nor sedition to his Prince or Coū ­trie, as mine hath not donne; for I here proteste vnfaynedly, that I neuer reuealed it to anie man liuing.

I novv come to the third Capitall matter of 3. That he neuer counsel­led or in­duced B. Fisher. my Inditement, vvhereby I am accused, that I malitiously attempted, trayterously ende auoured and persidiously practised against this Statute, as the vvordes thereof affirme, because I vvrote eight sundrie packetts of letters, vvhilst I vvas in the Tovver, vnto Bishopp Fisher, by vvhich I exhorted him to breake the same lavve; and in­duced him to the like obstinacie; I vvould haue [Page 322] these letters produced and read against me, vvhich may either free me or conuince me of a lye. But because you say the Bishopp burnt them The con­tents of his let­ters to the said Bishop. all, I vvill here tell the truth of the vvhole matter; some vvere only of priuate matters, as about our olde friendshipp and acquaintance; one of them vvas in ansvver to his, vvhereby he desired of me to knovve hovv I had ansvvered in my examina­tions to this Oath of Supremacie; touching which, this only I vvrote vnto him againe, that I had al­ready settled my conscience; lett him settle his to his ovvne good liking; and no other ansvver I gaue him, God is my vvittnesse, as God, I hope, shall saue this my soule; and this I trust is no breache of your lavves:

The last obiected crime is, that being exami­ned 4. The law of suprema­cy like a two ed ged sword. in the tovver I did say that this lavv vvas like a tvvo-edged svvord; for in cōsenting there­to, I should endanger my soule; inrefusing it, I should leese my life: vvhich ansvver, because B. Fisher made the like, it is euidently gathered, as you say, that vve both cōspired togeather. Where­to I replye, that my ansvver there vvas but Con­ditionall, [Page 323] yf there be danger in both either to allovve or disallovve this Statute; and therefore, like a tvvo-edged svvord, it seemeth a hard thing, that it should be offered to me, that neuer haue hitherto contradicted it either in vvord or deede. These vvere my vvordes. What the Bis­hopp ansvvered, I knovve not. Yf his ansvver vvere [...] mine, it proceeded not from anie Con­spiracie of ours but from the likenesse of our vvitts & learning. To conclude I vnfaynedly auouche, that I neuer spake vvord against this lavv to anie liuing man; although perhaps the king's Maiestie hath bene tolde the contrarie.

3. To this full answer the Atturnye did 3. M. [...] a­gainst Sir T [...] not replye anie more, but the word: Malice: was in the mouth of all the Courte; but noe man could produce either word or deede to proue it; yet for all this clearing of himself, for a last proofe to the Iurie that Sir THOMAS was guiltie, M. ^r Rich was called forth to giue eui­dence vnto them vpon his oath, which he did forthwith, affirming that which we haue spokē of before in their Communication in the [Page 324] Tower, against whome, now sworne and for­sworne, Sir THOMAS beganne in this wise to speake. Yf I were a man, my Lords, that did not [...] by Sir Tho. Mores oath to contrary. regarde an oath, I needed not at this time in this place, as is well knowē vnto euerie one, to stande as an accused person. And yf this oath, M. ^r Rich, which you haue taken be true, then I pray, that I neuer see God in the face: which I would not say, were it otherwise, to gaine the whole world.

Then did he recite before all the Courte the whole discourse of all their Communication in the Tower, according as it was, truly & sincere­ly, adding this: In good fayth M. ^r Rich, I am more sorie for your periurie, then for mine owne perill; and knowe you, that neither I nor By iust exceptiō against the wit­nesse vn­worthy of credit. anie man else to my knowledge euer tooke you to be a man of such creditt, as either I or anie other would vouchsafe to communicate with you in anie matter of importance. You knowe that I haue bene acquaynted with your manner of life and conuersation a long space, euen from your youth to this time; for we dwelt [Page 325] long togeather in one parish; where as yourself can well tell (I am sorie you compelle me to speake it) you were alwaies esteemed very light of your toung, a greate dycer and gamester, & not of anie commendable fame either there or at your house in the Temple, where hath bene your bringing vp. Can it therefore seeme likelie to your Hon: ^ble Lordshipps that in so weightie a Cause I should so vnaduisedly ouershoote myselfe as to trust M. ^r Rich a man alwaies re­puted of me for one of so little truth and ho­nestie, so farre aboue my Soueraigne Lord, the king, to whome I am so deepely indebted for his manifolde fauours, or anie of his noble and graue Counsellours, that I would declare only to M. ^r Rich the secretts of my Conscience touching the king's Supremacie, the speciall poynt and onlie marke so long sought for at my hands; which I neuer did nor neuer would reueale after the Statute once made either to the king's highnesse himselfe or to anie of his noble Councellours, as it is well knowen to your Honours, who haue bene sent, for no [Page 326] other purpose, [...] sundrie seuerall times from his Maiesties person to me in the tower, I referre it to your iudgements, my Lords, whether this can seeme a thing credible to anie of you.

And yf I had donne, as M. ^r Rich hath Yf it had been true, that had been no malice. sworne, seing it was spoken but in familiar se­cret talke, affirming nothing, but only in put­ting of Cases without anie vnpleasing circum­stances, it cannot iustly be taken to be spoken maliciously, and where there is no malice, there can be no offence. Besides this, my Lords, I cannot thinke, that so manie worthie Bishops, so manie honourable personages, & so manie worshippfull vertuous and well learned men as were in the Parlemēt assembled at the making Malice in law of that law euer meant to haue anie man pu­nished by death, in whome there could be found no malice, taking malitia for maleuolen­tia; for if malitia be taken in a generall significa­cion for anie sinne, no man there is that can excuse himselfe thereof. Wherefore this very word malitiously is only materiall in this Sta­tute, as the word forcible is in the Statute of for­cible [Page 327] entrie; for in that Case if [...] enter peace­ably and putt his aduersarie out forcibly, it is no offence; but if he enter forcibly, he shall be pu­nished by that Statute.

Besides all the vnspeakable goodnesse of the The im­probabi­lity of M. Rich his deposi­tion. king's highnesse towards me, who hath bene so manie wayes my singular good Lord and gra­cious Soueraigne, he, I say, who hath so dearely loued & trusted me, euen from my first coming into his royall seruice, vouchsafing to grace me with the dignitie of being one of his Priuie Councell, and hath most liberally aduanced me to offices of great Creditt and worshipp, fi­nally with the chiefe dignitie of his Maiestie's high Chancellour, the like whereof he neuer did to anie Temporall man before, which is the highest office in this noble realme, and next to his royall person, so farre aboue my meritts and qualities, honouring and exalting me of his incomparable benignitie by the space of these twentie yeares and aboue, shewing his continuall fauours towards me, and now at last it hath pleased his Highnesse at mine owne [Page 328] humble suite [...] me licence with his Maie­stie's fauour to bestowe the residue of my life in the seruice of God for the better prouision of my soule, to discharge and disburthen me of that weightie dignitie, before which he had still heaped honours more and more vpon me; all this his highnesse's bountie so long and so plen­tiefully powred vpon me, were in my minde matter sufficient to conuince this slaunderous accusation so wrongfully by this man surmized and vrged against me, which I committ to your Lordshipps honourable consideracions, whe­ther this oath be likelie or not to be true.

M. ^r Rich seing himselfe so euidently to be M. Rich his wit­nesses do faile him disproued, and his Creditt so fowlely defaced, caused S ^r. Richard Southvvell & M. ^r Palmer, who in the time of their communication were in the same chamber with them two, to be there sworne, what words had passed betweene them. wherevpon M. ^r Palmer vpon his deposition sayd, that he was so busie in the thrusting vp of Sir THOMAS'S bookes in to a sacke, that he tooke no heede to their talke. S. ^r Richard Southvvell also [Page 329] sayde likewise, that because he was appointed only to looke to the conueying of the bookes, he gaue no eare vnto them. And after all this Sir THOMAS alleaged manie other reasons in his owne defence to the vtter discreditt of M. ^r Riche's foresayde euidence, and for proofe of the clearenesse of his owne Conscience.

4. But for all that euer he could doe or 4. The [...] . say, the Iurie of Twelue men, whose names were S. ^r Thomas Palmer, S. ^r Thomas Peirt, George Louell esquier, Thomas Burbage es­quier, Geoffrey Chamber gentleman, Edvvard Stockmore gentleman, William Browne gentle­man, Iaspar Leake gentleman, Thomas Bil­lington gentleman, Iohn Parnel gentleman, Richard Bellame gentleman, George Stoakes gentleman. These, I say, going togeather and staying scarce one quarter of an hower (for they knew what the king would haue donne in that Case) returned with their verdict, Guiltie.

Wherefore the Lo: Chancellour, as Chiefe Excep­ted a­gainst by Sir Tho­mas. Iudge in that matter, beganne presently to pro­ceede to Iudgemēt; which Sir THOMAS hearing [Page 330] sayd vnto him: My Lord; when I was towards the law, the manner in such cases was, to aske the prisonner before sentence, whether he could giue anie reason, why Iudgement should not proceede against him. Vpon which words the Lo: Chancellour staying his sentence, wherein he had alreadie partely proceeded, as­ked Sir THOMAS what he was able to say to the contrarie, who forthwith made answer in this sorte: For as much as, my Lords, this Inditement The act of parla­ment a­gainst Gods law. is grounded vpon an acte of Parlement directly repugnant to the lavves of God and his holie Church the supreme gouernement of vvhich or of anie parte thereof no Temporall person may by anie lavv presume to take vpon him, that vvhich rightfully belongeth to the Sea of Rome, vvhich by speciall prerogatiue vvas granted by the mouth No lay man can be head of the churche. of our Sauiour Christ himself to S. Peter and the Bishops of Rome his successours only; vvhilst he liued, and vvas personally present here vpon earth; it is therefore amongst Catholike Christiās insufficient in lavv, to charge anie Christian man to obey it; And for proofe of this sound as­sertion, [Page 331] he declared amongst manie reasons & sound authorities, that like as this realme alone being but one member and a small parte of the Church, might not make a particular lavv disagreing with the generall lavv of Christ's vni­uersall Catholike Church, no more then the Cittie of London being but one member in respect of the vvhole realme may enact a [...] against an Act of Parlement, to binde thereby the vvhole kingdome, So shevved he further that this lavv Against the lawes of the realme. vvas euen contrarie to the lavves and statuies of this our realme not yet repealed, as they might euidently see in Magna Charta, vvhere it is sayd, that Ecclesia Anglicana libera sit, & habeat omnia iura integra & libertates suas illaesas: And it is contrarie also to that sacred oath, vvhich Against the kings owne oath. the king's highnesse himself and euerie other Chri­stian prince alvvaies receaue vvith great sollem­nitie at their Coronatiōs. Moreouer he alleaged that this realme of England might vvorse refuse Against the pecu­liar obli­gation of England to Rome. their obdience to the Sea of Rome, then anie childe might to their naturall father. For as S. Paul sayd to the Corinthians: I haue regenerated [Page 332] you, my children, in Christ, so might that vvor­thie Pope of Rome S. Gregorie the Great say to vs Englishmen: yee are my Children, because I haue giuen you euerlasting saluation; For by S. Augustin and his follovvers, his immediate mes­sengers, England, first receaued the Christian Faith, vvhich is a farre higher and better inheri­tance, then anie carnall father can leaue to his children; for a sonne is only by generation; vve are by regeneration made the spirituall Children of Christ and the Pope.

To these wordes the Lo: Chancellour re­plied, that seing all the Bishopps Vniuersities & best learned men of this realme had agreed to this Act, it was much marueled that he alone should so stiffely sticke thereat, and so vehe­mently argue there against it. To which wordes Against all Chri­stendom that euer [...] . Sir THOMAS answered, that if the number of Bi­shopps and vniuersities vvere so materiall, as his Lordshipp seemeth to make it, then doe I, my Lord, see little cause vvhy that thing in my con­science [...] make anie change; for I do not doubt but of the learned and vertuous men that [Page 333] are yet aliue, I speake not only of this realme, but of all Christendome about, there are ten to one that are of my minde in this matter; but if I should speake of those learned Doctours and ver­tuous Fathers, that are alreadie dead, of vvhome manie are Saints in heauen, I am sure that there are farre more, vvho all the vvhile they liued, thought in this Case, as I thinke novv: And there­fore, my Lord, I thinke myself not bound to con­forme my conscience to the Councell of one realme against the generall consent of all Christendome.

5. Now when Sir THOMAS had taken as 5. The [...] of S. Tho. More. manie exceptions as he thought meete, for the auoyding of this Inditement, and alleaging manie more substantiall reasons, then can be here sett downe, the Lo: Chancellour hauing bethought himselfe, and being loath now to haue the whole burthen of this Condemnatiō to lye vpon himselfe, asked openly there the aduise of my Lo: Chiefe ustice of England, S. ^r Iohn Fitz Iames, whether this Inditement were sufficient or no; who wisely answered By yfs, & ands; [...] no proo­fes. thus: my Lords all, by S. Gillian (for that was [Page 334] euer his oath) I must needes confesse that if the Act of Parlement be not vnlawfull, then the Inditement is not in my conscience insuf­ficient: An answere like that of the Scribes and Pharisies to [...] : Yf this man were not a ma­lefactour, we would neuer haue deliuered him vnto you; And so with yfs and ands he added to the matter a slender euasion. Vpon whose words my Lo: Chancellour spoke euen as Cai­phas spoke in the [...] Councell: Quid ad­huc desidemmus testimonium, reus est mortis, & so presently he pronounced this sentence.

That he should be brought back to the The sen­tence. Tower of London by the helpe of William Bingston Sheriffe, and from thence drawen on a hurdle through the Cittie of London to Ty­burne, there to be hanged till he be halfe dead, after that cutt downe yet aliue, his priue partes cutt of, his bellie ripped, his bowells burnt, and his foure quarters sett vp ouer foure gates of the Cittie, his head vpon London-bridge. This was the Iudgement of that worthie man, who had so well deserued both of the king and [Page 335] Countrie; for which [...] Iouius calleth king Henrie another Phalaris.

The sentence yet was by the king's pardon Mitiga­ted by the king. changed afterwards only into Beheading, be­cause he had borne the greatest office of the re­alme: of which mercie of the king's, word being brought to Sir THOMAS he answered merrily: God forbidde, the king should vse anie more such mercie vnto anie of my friends; and God blesse all my posteritie from such par­dons.

6. When Sir THOMAS had now fully per­ceaued 6. Sir Tho­mas fully deliuereth his iudge­ment of the act of suoremacy to be vn­lawfull. that he was called to Martyrdome, hauing receaued sentence of death, with a bolde and constante countenance he spoke in this manner: Well seing I am condemned, God knovves hovv iustly, I vvill freely speake for the disburthening of my Conscience, vvhat I thinke of this lavve; When I perceaued that the king's pleasure vvas to sifte out, from vvhence the Popes authoritie vvas deriued, I confesse I studyed seauē yeares togeather to finde out the truth thereof; & I could not reade in anie one Doctour's vvritings, [Page 336] vvhich the [...] , anie one saying that auoucheth that a lay man vvas or could euer be the head of the Church.

To this my Lo: Chancellour againe: Would you be accounted more wise and of more sin­cere conscience then all the Bishopps, learned Doctours, Nobilitie and Commons of this re­alme: To which Sir THOMAS replyed: I am able Against all the churche of God. to produce against one Bishopp, vvhich you can bring forth of your side one hundred holie and Catholike Bishopps for my opinion, and against one realme, the consent of all Christendome for more then a thousand yeares. The Duke of Norfolke hearing this sayd Now, Sir THOMAS, you shew your obstinate and malicious minde. To whome Sir THOMAS sayd: Noble Sir, not [...] no [...] . any malice or obstinacie causeth me to say this, but the iust necessitie of the Cause constrayneth me for the discharge of my Conscience, and I call God to vvittnesse, no other then this hath moued me herevnto. Sir Tho. Mores blessed charity to his Iudges.

After this the Iudges courteously offered him their fauourable audience, yf he had anie [Page 337] thing else to alleage in his owne defence; who answered most mildely and charitably: More haue I not to say, my Lords, but that like as the blessed Apostle S. Paul, as vvee reade in the Acts of the Apostles, vvas present & consenting to the death of the protomartyr S. Stephen, keep­ing their cloathes that sloned him to death, and yet they be novv both tvvaine holie Saints in heauen and there shall continue friends togeather for euer; so I verily trust, & shall therefore harti­ly pray, that though your Lordshipps haue bene on earth my Iudges to condemnation, yet vve may hereafter meete in heauen merrily togeather to our euerlasting saluation; and God preserue you all especially my Soueraigne Lord the king, and graunt him faythfull Councellours; in which prayer he most liuely imitated the example of holie S. Stephen: ne statuas illis hoc peccatum; yea of our Sauiour himself speaking on the crosse: Pater dimitte illis, quia nesciunt quid fa­ciunt. The truth of this relation frō pre­sent wit­nesses of credit.

All these of Sir THOMAS his speaches were faythfully deliuered from S. ^r Antonie Sentle­ger, [Page 338] Richard Hayvvood, and Iohn Webbe gentlemen, with others more of good creditt who were present and heard all, which they reported to my vncle Rooper, agreing all in one discourse.

1. AFter his Condemnation 1. The man­ner of Sir Thomas his [...] to the [...] . he was conducted from the barre to the Tower againe, an axe being carried before him, with the edge towards him, and was lead by S. ^r Wil­liam Kinston a tall strong and comelie gentle­man, Constable of the Tower, and his verie good friend; but presently a dolefull spectacle was presented to Sir THOMAS and all the stan­ders by; for his onlie sonne, my grand father, His sōne asketh him bles­sing. like a dutiefull childe, casteth him self at his fa­ther's feete, crauing humbly his blessing, not without teares, whome he blessed and kissed most louingly, whose loue and obedience Sir [Page 341] THOMAS in a letter praysed saying, that this his behauiour pleased him greately. When S. ^r Great co­stancy, courtesy, and [...] . William had conducted Sir THOMAS to the Olde Swanne towards the Tower, there he bad him Farewell with a heauie heart, the teares trickeling downe his cheekes: but Sir THOMAS with a stayed grauitie seing him sorrowfull, be­ganne to comfort him with chearefull spea­ches, saying: good M. ^r Kinston, trouble not your selfe, but be of good cheare; for I will pray for you, and my good Ladie your wife, that we may meete in heauen togeather, where we shall be merrie for euer and euer. Soone after this S. ^r William talking hereof, to my vncle Rooper, sayd. In good fayth M. ^r Rooper, I was ashamed of myselfe, that at our parting I found my hart so weake, and his so stoute, that he was fayne to comfort me, who should rather at that time haue comforted him: but God and the cleare­nesse of his Conscience is a comfort, which no earthlie prince can giue or take away.

2. When Sir THOMAS was come now to 2. His chil­drens [...] to him. the Tower-wharfe his best beloued childe my [Page 342] aunte Rooper desirous to see her father, whome she feared she should neuer see in this world after, to haue his last blessing, gaue there atten­dance to meete him; whome as soone as she had espyed, after she had receaued vpon her knees, his fatherlie blessing, she ranne hastily vnto him, and without consideration or care of herselfe, passing through the midst of the throng and guarde of men, who with billes and halberds compassed him round, there openly in the sight of them all embraced him, tooke him about the necke and kissed him, not able to say anie word, but: Oh my father, oh my fa­ther. His daughter Matga­rets lau­dable passion. He liking well her most naturall and deare affection towards him, gaue her his fatherlie blessing; telling her, that whatsoeuer he should suffer though he were innocent, yet it was not without the will of God, and that she knew well enough all the secretts of his hart, coun­selling her to accommodate her will to Gods blessed pleasure, and bad her be patient for her losse. She was no sooner parted from him, and gone ten steppes, when she not satisfyed with [Page 343] the former Farewell, like one who had forgottē herselfe rauished with the intire loue of so wor­thie a father, hauing neither respect to herselfe, nor to the presse of the people about him, sud­denly turned backe, and ranne hastily to him, tooke him about the necke, and diuerse times togeather kissed him; whereat he spoke not a word, but carrying still his grauitie, teares fell also from his eyes; yea there were very few in all the troupe, who could refrayne hereat from weeping, no not the guarde them selues, yet at last with a full heauie hart she was seuered from him: at which time Margarett Gigs embraced him & kissed him also; yea mine Aunt's mayde one Dorothie Collie did the like; of whome he sayd after, it was homelie, but verie louingly donne; all these and also his sonne my grandfa­ther wittnessed that they smelt a most odorife­rous smell to come from him, according to that of Isaac: Odor filij mei, sicut odor agri pleni, cui benedixit Dominus. A ponde­ration v­pon this mutuall passiō of Father & daughter.

Oh what a spectacle was this, to see a woman of nature shamefast, by education modest, to [Page 344] expresse such excessiue griefe, as that loue should make [...] of all feare and shame; which dolefull sight piercing the harts of all beholders, how doe you thinke it moued her fathers? surely his affection and forcible loue would haue daunted his courage, if that a diui­ne spiritt of constancie had not inspired him to beholde this most generous woman, his most worthie daughter, endewed with all good guifts of nature, all sparkes of pietie, which are wont to be most acceptable to a louing father, to presse vnto him, at such a time and place, where no man could haue accesse, hanging about his necke, before he perceaued, holding so fast by him, as she could scarce be plucked of, not vt­tering anie other words hut oh my father, what a sword was this to his hart, and at last being drawen away by force, to runne vpon him a­gaine without anie regarde either of the wea­pons, wherewith he was compassed, or of the modest ye becoming her owne sexe: what com­fort did he want? what courage did he then stande in neede of? and yet he resisted all this [Page 345] most couragiously, remitting nothing of his steadie grauitie, speaking only that which we haue recited before, and at last desiring her to pray for her fathers soule.

This and other his heroicall actes made Cardinal Pooles estima­tio of Sir Thomas his death Cardinall Poole write thus of him:

Strangers and men of other nations, that neuer had seene him in their liues, receaued so much griefe, at the hearing of his death, that reading the storie thereof, they could not re­fraine from weeping, bewayling an vnknowne person only famous vnto them for his worthie acts: Yea, saith he, I cannot holde myselfe from weeping as I write, though I be farre of my countrie; I loued him dearely, who had not so manie vrgent causes of his loue, as manie others had, only in respect of his vertues and heroicall acts, for which he was a most necessarie mem­ber of his Countrie; and now God is my witt­nesse, I shedde for him euen whether I would or noe, so manie teares, that they hinder me frō writing, and often blott out the letters quite, which I am frāing, that I cā proceede no further.

[Page 346] 3. So remained this vnconquerable Con­querour 3. How de­uoutly & cheerfully he [...] his [...] of the [...] , the world, and the diuell, some seuenight after his Iudgement, in the Tower, arming himself with prayer, meditatiō, and manie holie mortifications, for the day of his Martyrdome, and walking about this chā ­ber with a sheete about him, like a corps readie to be buried, and vsing to whippe himselfe very sore and long.

In this meane time and space, came to him a light headed Courtier, talking of no serious matter, but only vrging him this, that he would change his minde; and being wearied with his importunitie, he answered him, that he had changed it, who presently went and tolde the A plea­saunt cō ­ceipt vpō a leight courtyer. king thereof; and being by him commaunded to knowe, wherein his minde was changed, Sir THOMAS rebuked him for his lightnesse, in that he would tell the king euerie word that he spoke in ieaste, meaning, that whereas he had purpo­sed to be shauen, that he might seeme to others as he before was wōt, now he was fully minded, that his beard should take such parte as his head [Page 347] did; which made the fellow blanke, and the king verie angrie.

In this while also he wrote a most kinde letter His last letters: To An­tony Bō ­uise. vnto M.r Antonie Bonuise an Italian mar­chant, in Latine, calling him the halfe of his hart; which is to be seene amongst his other let­ters. Last of all; the day before he was to suffer, being the Fifth of Iuly, he wrote a most louing letter with a coale, to his daughter Margarett, To his daughter Margaret sending therein his blessing to all his children; in which he writeth very affectionately, yet he knew nothing of his death as then, in these words: I cumber thee, daughter Margarett, very much; but I vvould be sorie, that it should be anie [...] then to morrovv: for to morrovv is S. Tho­mas His desi­to dy vpō the octa­ue of S. Peter, which was also S. Thom. of Can­terburys comme­moratiō. of Canterbury's eeue, and the vtas of S Pe­ter; and therefore to morrovv I long to goe to God; it vvere a day very meete and conuenient. I neuer liked your manner tovvards me better, then vvhen you kissed me last. For I like vvhen daughterlie loue and deare charitie haue noe lea­sure to looke vnto vvorldlie courtesie. Farevvell, deare daughter, pray for me, and I vvill pray for [Page 348] you and all your friends, that vve may meete togeather in heauen. Commende me, vvhen you can, to my sonne Iohn; his tovvordlie carrtage An bles­sing to his heire. tovvards me pleased me very much. God blesse him, and his good vvife and their children, Tho­mas, (who was my father) and Augustine (who dyed vnmarried) and all that they shall haue. In which wordes I hope by Gods helpe to haue some parte of his blessing. But oh good God! voluntate labiorum eius non fraudastieum. For God grā ­ted him his desi­res, to dy the day he wish­ed. vpon the eaue of his speciall patron, and the vtas of S. Peter for whose supremacie he suffe­red martyrdome, God heard his petition, and he suffered death that very day most coura­giously. Togeather with this letter he sent also vnto her his shirt of hayre, and his whippe, as one that was loath to haue the world knowe that he vsed such austeritie. For he cunningly His heir­shirt, and discipli­ne. all his life time had with his mirth hidden from the eies of others, his seuere mortifications, and now hauing finished, his combatt, he sent away his weapons, not being certaine of anie notice of the king's minde, but either taught by reue­lation, [Page 349] or hauing a firme confidence of God's great goodnesse, & desiderium cordis tribuit ei Dominus.

4. For vpon the next morning being 4. Aduertis­ment giuë him of the day of his [...] , [...] the K. Tewsday the sixt of Iuly there came vnto him Sir Thomas Pope very earely in the morning, his singular good friend with a message frō the king and the Councell that he was to suffer death on that day before nine of the clocke, & therefore he should forthwith prepare himselfe thereto. M. ^r Pope, saith he, I most hartily thāke Most welcome vnto him. you for your good tydings: I haue bene much bound to the king's highnesse for the benefitts and honours that he hath most bountiefully bestowed vpon me, yet am I more bound to his Grace, I assure you, for putting me here, where I haue had conuenient time and space to haue remembrance of my ende. And, so helpe me God, most of all I am bound vnto him, that it pleaseth his maiestie to ridde me so short­ly The K. willed him to vse but few words at his exe­quution. out of the miseries of this wretched world. The king's pleasure further is, sayd Sir Thomas Pope, that you vse not manie words at your [Page 350] execution. M. ^r Pope, answered he, you doe well to giue me warning of the king's pleasure; for otherwise I had purposed at that time some­what to haue spoken; but no matter, wherewith his Grace or anie other should haue cause to be offended; howbeit, whatsoeuer I intended, I am readie obediently to conforme myselfe to his Highnesse's commaunde: And I beseech you, good M. ^r Pope, be a meanes to his Maiestie, that my daughter Margarett may be at my buriall. The king is contented allready, sayd His wise & childrē permit­ted to be at his [...] . he, that your wife, Children and other your friends should haue libertie to be present at it. Oh how much am I beholding to his Grace, that vouchsafeth to haue so much consideratiō of my poore buriall. Then Sir Thomas Pope taking his leaue of him, could not refrayne frō weeping. Which Sir THOMAS perceauing com­forted His com fortable courage. him in these wordes: Quiett yourselfe, M. ^r Pope, and be not discomforted; for I trust we shall once see eache other full merrily, where we shall be sure to liue and loue togeather in e­ternall blisse. And further to putt him out of [Page 351] his melancholie Sir THOMAS MORE tooke his vrinall in his hand, and casting his water sayd merrily: I see no danger but this man may liue longer, yf it had pleased the king.

After which words they parted; and when He put on his best ap­parell that day. he was gone, Sir THOMAS as one that had bene inuited to a sollemne bankett, changed him­selfe into his best apparrell, & putt on his silke Chamlett gowne, which his in tire friend M. ^r Antonie Bonuise (a noble Cittizen of the State of Luca in Italie, to whome he wrote the letter as is late spoken of before) gaue him, whilst he was in Tower. M. ^r Lieutenant seing him pre­pare himselfe so to his death, counselled him, for his owne benefitt to putt them of againe, saying, that he who should haue them, was but a Iauill. What M. ^r Lieutenant, sayd Sir THO­MAS, shall I accounte him a Iauell, who will doe me this day so singular a benefitt. Nay I assure Liberally to his executiō. you, were it cloath of golde I would thinke it well bestowed on him. For S. Cyprian that fa­mous Bishop of Carthage gaue his executioner thirtie pieces of golde, because he knewe he [Page 352] should procure vnto him an vnspeakable good turne. Yet for all this M. ^r Lieutenant so pressed him; that at last being loath for friendshipps sake to denye him so small a matter, he altered his gowne, and putt on a gowne of Friese; but yet he sent of that little mony which was left him, one Angell of golde to the hangman, in token that he maliced him nothing, but rather loued him exceedingly for it.

5. He was therefore brought about nine 5. The for me of his [...] and [...] of the clocke by M. ^r Lieutenant out of the Tower, his beard being long, which fashion he neuer had before vsed, his face pale and leane, carrying in his hands a read Crosse, casting his eyes often towards heauen. As he thus passed by a good woman's house, she came forth and of­fered him a cuppe of wine, which he refused saying: Christ at his passion drunke no wine, but gall and vinager. There came another woman after him crying vnto him for certaine bookes, which she had giuen to his custodie, when he was Lo: Chancellour. To whome he sayd; Persons hired to disgrace him. Good woman, haue patience but for one [Page 353] hower's space, and by that time the king's Ma­iestie will ridde me of the care I haue for thy pa­pers and all other matters whatsoeuer. Another woman suborned thereto, as some thinke, by his aduersaries to disgrace him, followed him also crying out against him, that he had donne her great iniurie, when he had bene Lo: Chan­cellour: A good [...] . to whome he gaue the answer, that he remembred her cause very well; and that if he were now to giue sentence thereof he would not alter, what he had already donne.

Last of all there came a Cittizen of Winche­ster, He freeth one from the tēta­tion of despairo by his prayers. who in times past hauing bene greately troubled with grieuous temptatiōs of despayre, was brought by a friend of his to Sir THOMAS MORE when he was Lo: Chancellour; who though he could not before by anie holesome counsell alter this his minde; yet Sir THOMAS MORE promising him to pray for him, he was for the space of three yeares free from all such temptations. When Sir THOMAS was commit­ted, and he could gett no leaue to haue accesse vnto him, his temptations grew so greate that [Page 354] he often sought to haue bene the cruell mur­derer of himselfe; but now hearing Sir THOMAS was to be executed, he came to London, and ranne to Sir THOMAS, as he was carryed to exe­cution, desiring him with great earnestnesse that he would helpe him by his praiers: for his temptation was come againe vnto him, and he could not possibly ridde himself thereof; to whome Sir THOMAS spake thus: goe and praye for me, and I will carefully pray for you. He went away with confidence, and he neuer after was troubled with the like againe.

Being now brought to the [...] , whereō he was to be beheaded, it seemed to him so wea­ke that it was readie to fall. wherefore he sayd merrily to M. ^r Lieutenant: I pray you, Sir, see His [...] at his death. me safe vp, and for my coming downe lett me shift for my selfe. When he beganne to speake a little to the people, which were in great [...] there to heare and see him, he was interrupted by the Sheriffe. Wherefore briefely he desired all the people to pray for him, and to beare wittnesse with him, that he there dyed in and for [Page 355] the fayth of the holie Catholike Church a faythfull seruant both of God and the king. Hauing spoken but this he kneeled downe, and His pray­ers. pronounced with great deuotion the Miserere psalme; which being ended, he chearefully rose vp; and the executioner asking him forgiue­nesse, he kissed him saying: Thou wilt doe me [...] . this day a greater benefitt then eueranie mor­tall man can be able to giue me; pluck vp thy spiritt man, and be not afrayed to do thy office; my neck is very short; take heede therefore that thou strike not awry, for sauing thy honestie. When the executioner would haue couered [...] co­uereth his eyes himself. his eyes, he sayd; I will couer them myselfe; and presently he did so, with a cloath that he had brought with him for the purpose; then laying his head vpon the blocke, he bad the execu­tioner stay vntill he had remoued aside his beard saying: that that had neuer committed anie treason. So with great alacritie and spirituall ioy, he receaued the satall blow of the axe, which no sooner had seuered the head from the bodie, but his soule was carryed by Angels into His hap­py [...] . [Page 356] euerlasting glorie, where a Crowne of martyr­dome was putt vpon him, which, can neuer sade nor decay. And then he sound those words true, with he had often spoken; that a man may leese his head and haue no harme, vea I say, vnspeakeable good and endelesse happinesse.

6. When newes of his death was brought 6. The [...] the [...] of his [...] . to the king, who was at that time playing at ta­bles, Anne Bullen looking on, he cast his eve vpon her and sayd: thou art the cause of this man's death; and presenrly leauing his play he be tooke himself to his chamber, [...] therevpon fell into a sitt of melan cholie; but whether this were from his hart, or to seeme lesse cruell then he was indeede, I can hardly coniecture; for on the one side the remembrance of his faythfull seruice so manie yeares employed for the whole realme's benefitt, could not but make the king sorrowfull; and on the other side, the vn mercie­sull dealing with his sonne and heyre, his small allowance to his wife, his pittielesse crueltie a­gainst all his children, she weth that he had an [Page 357] implacable hatred against him, because that he would not consent vnto his lustfull courses; of which we will speake more largely, when we haue discoursed of his bunall. His head was The pla­ce of his buriall. putt vpō Lōdon-bridge, where as trayters heads are sett vp vpon poles; his bodie was buried in the Chappell of S. Peter, which is in the Tower in the bellfrie, or as some say, as one entreth into the vestry, neare vnto the bodie of the ho­lie Martyr Bishopp Fisher, who being putt to death iust a fortnight before, had small respect donne vnto him all this while.

But that which happened about Sir THO­MAS A nota­ble acci­dēt about his win­dnig sheet. winding sheete, was reported as a miracle by my aunte Rooper, M. ^rs Clement, Dorothie Colly, M. ^r Harrys his wife. Thus it was: his daughter Margarctt hauing distributed all her monie to the poore for here father's soule, whē she came to burie his bodie at the tower, she had forgotten to bring a sheete; and there was not a penny of monie lest amongst them all. wherefore M. ^ris Harrys her mayde went to the next Drapers shoppe, and agreing vpon the [Page 358] price, made as though she would looke for some monie in her purse, and then try whether they would trust her or no; & she found in her purse the same summe, for which they agreed vpon, not one penny ouer or vnder; though she knew before certainly, that she had not one Crosse about her. This the same Dorothie affir­med constantly to Doctour Stapleton, when they both liued at Doway in Flanders in Q. E­lizabeth's His [...] . raigne. His shirt, wherein he suffered all embrued with his bloud, was kept very care­fully by Doctour Clements wife, liuing also beyond the seas, as also his shirt of hayre. His head hauing remayned some moneth vpon London-bridge, being to be cast into the Tha­mes, His head. because roome should be made for diuerse others, who in plentiefull sorte suffered mar­tyrdome for the same Supremacie, shortly after, it was bought by his daughter Margarett, least (as she stoutly affirmed before the Councell, being called before them after for the same matter) it should be foode for fishes; which she buried, where she thought fittest; it was very [Page 359] well to be knowen, as well by the liuelie fauour of him, which was not all this while in anie thing almost dimin shed; as also by reason of one tooth, which he wanted whilst he liued; herein it was to be admired, that the hayres of his head being almost gray before his Martyr­dome, they seemed now as it were readish or yellow.

His glorious Martyrdome, and his death His mar­tyrdom encoura­ged ma­ny other to the like. strengthened manie to suffer couragiously for the same cau'e, because he was an eminent mā both for dignitie, learning, and vertues; so that Doctour S. pleton boldly affirmeth, that he was wonderfully both admired and sought to be imitated by manie, as he himself had heard, when he came first to the yeares of vnderstan­ding and discretion. And truly German Gar­diner M. ^r Gar­diner; an excellent learned and holie lay man coming to suffer death for the same Suprema­cie some eight yeares after auouched at his ende before all the people, that the holie simplicitie of the blessed Garthusians, the wonderfull learning of the Bishopp of Rochester, and the [Page 360] singular wisedome of Sir THOMAS MORE had stirred him vpto that courage; but the rest see­med not so much to be imitated of lay men, being all belonging to the Clergie, as this fa­mous man, being clogd with wife and childrē. Yea his death so wrought in the minde of Do­ctour Euen his [...] Parish priest. Learcke his owne Parish-priest, that he following the example of his owne sheepe, af­terwards suffered a most famous Martyrdome for the same cause of Supremacie.

7. Thus haue we according to our poore 7. A [...] vpon the bles­sing which he gaue to his [...] children. Talent laboured to sett downe briefely the life and death of Sir THOMAS MORE my most fa­mous great Grandfather; whose prayers and in­tercessions I daily craue both for myselfe and all my little ones, who are also parte of his char­ge, because he gaue them his blessing, in his most affectionate letter, viz: God blesse Tho­mas and Augustine & all that they shall haue; immediate or mediate; those which they shall haue vsque ad mille generationes. This hath bene our comfort, that the tryall thereof hath bene euidently shewed in that Edvvard, Thomas, & [Page 361] Bartholomevv, my father's bretheren, being borne after Sir THOMAS my great Grandfather's death, and hauing not this blessing so directly, as my father and my vncle Augustine had, they haue both degenerated from that religion and those manners, which Sir THOMAS MORE had left as it were a happie depositum vnto this Chil­dren and familie. For although mine vncle Bartholomevv dyed yong of the plague in London, and therefore might haue by the grace of God excuse and remorse at his ende; yet Thomas the yonger's courses were farre diffe­rent from all the rest; for he liued and dyed a professed minister, and for all that, very poore, bringing vp his children, whereof his eldest sonne is yet liuing, in no commendable pro­fession; as for mine vncle Edvvard, who is yet aliue, although he were endowed with excellēt guifts of nature, as a readie witt, toung at will, and his penneglibbe; yet, God knowes, he hath drowned all his Talents in selfe conceipt in no worthie qualities, and besides is buried aliue in obscuritie, for his forsaking God, & for his base [Page 362] behauiour. My father only right hevre of his father and Grandfather, though he not long A praisa of M. Iohn More, sonne & heire to Sir Tho­mas. enioyed anie of their Lands, was a liuelie pat­terne vnto vs of his constant fayth, his worthie and vpright dealings, his true Catholike sim­plicitie, of whome I haue a purpose to discourse vnto my children more at large, that they may knowe, in what hard times he liued, and how manfully he sustayned the combatt, which his father and Grandfather had left vnto him as their best inheritance; For all their land was takē away by two Acts of Parlement immediately The [...] dealing of K. [...] Sir Tho. Mores heires. after Sir THOMAS'S death; the one Acte was to to take away the lande, which the king had giuē him, and this was somewhat tolerable; the other most violent & tyrannicall, to frustrate vtterly a most prouidēt Conueyance, which Sir THO­MAS had made of all his lands and inheritance, which he had settled vpon my father, being a childe of two yeares olde or more, without anie fraude or coum, euen when as yet no Statute had bene made about the Oath of Supremacie; and therefore before Sir THOMAS could com­mitt [Page 363] such a faulte against such a Statute, much lesse Treason, hauing reserued to himself only an estate for tearme of his life; yet all this was taken away contrarie to all order of lawe, and ioyned to the Crowne: but that land, which he had conueyed to my vncle Rooper, and mine aunte for tearme of their liues in recompence of their marriage monie, that they kept still, be­cause that was donne two daies before the first With the Lady his widow. Conueyance. The ladie More also, his wife was turned out of her house at Chelsey imme­diately, and all her goods taken from her, the king allotting her of his mercie a pension of twentie pounds by the yeare; a poore allowāce to maintaine a Lo: Chancellour's Ladie. My M. Iohn More cō ­mitted to the tovv­er for denial of the oath. grādfather was committed also to the Tower, and for denying the same Oath was condēned; yet becanse they had sufficiently fleeced him before, and could now gett no more by his death, he gott at last his pardon and libertie, but liued not manie yeares after, leauing my fa­ther to the education of his mother, called be­fore her marriage Anne Cresacre, the last of her [Page 364] familie, by whose match he enioyed after a competent liuing to keepe him out of needie life. Mine aunte Rooper, because she was a wo­man, The im­prison­ment of his dau­ghter Margaret was not so hardly dealt withall, but only threatened very sore, both because she kept her father's head for a relike, and that she meant to sett her father's workes in printe, yet for all that after a short imprisonment she was at last sent home to her husband. Thus all his friends felt in parte the king's heauie anger for his vndaun­ted courage.

8. Sir THOMAS was of a meane stature, 8. The fa­uour and physio­gnomie of [...] Tho. [...] . well proportioned, his complexion tending to phlegmatike, his coulour white and pale, his hayre neither black nor yellow, but betweene both; his eies gray, his countenance amiable & chearefull, his voyce neither bigg nor shrill, but speaking plainely and distinctly; it was not very tunable, though he delighted much in musike, his bodie reasonable healthfull; only that towards his latter ende by vsing much writing, he complained much of the ache of his breast In his youth he drunke much water; [Page 365] wine he only tasted of, when he pledged others; he loued salte meates, especially powdered beefe, milke, cheese, eggs and fruite; and vsually he eate of corse browne bread, which it may be he rather vsed to punish his taste, then for anie loue he had thereto; for he was singular wise to deceaue the world with mortifications, only contēting himselfe with the knowledge which God had of his actions: & pater eius, qui erat in abscondito, reddidit ei.

1. NOw lett vs see, what 1. Cardinal Pooles lamenta­tiō vpon Sir Tho. Mores death. most of the learned men of Christen­dome, not only Ca­tholikes but euen Protestants thought and wrote of king Hērie for Sir THO­MAS MORE'S death, who were not likelie, being free from all par­tialitie, but to speake their mindes sincerely, not fearing him as his subiects, nor hating him for anie priuate respects- First Cardinall Pole then liuing in the Courte of Rome, and writing to the king in the defence of Ecclesiasticall vnitie, sayth thus by the figure of Apostraphe, of the complaints of other men: Thy father, Oh En­gland, thy ornament, thy defence, was brought [Page 368] to his death, being innocent in thy sight; by birth, thy childe; by condition, thy Cittizen, but thy father for the manie benefits donne vnto thee; for he shewed more euident signes of his fatherlie loue towards thee, then euer anie louing father hath expressed to his onlie and truly beloued childe; yet in nothing hath he more declared his fatherlie affection, then by his ende, for that he left his life for thy sake; es­pecially least he should ouerthrowe and betray thy saluation. Wherefore that which we reade in the ancient stories of Greece, as touching Socrates, whome the Athenians condemned most vniustly to take poyson, so thou hast now seene thy Socrates beheaded before thine eies; a while after his death when in a playe there was recited out of a Tragedie these wordes: You haue slayne, you haue slayne the best man of all Greece. Vpon these their words euerie man so lamented the death of Socrates, calling to minde that iniustice, although the Poet him­selfe dreamed least of him, that the whole theater was filled with nothing else, but teares [Page 369] and howling, for which cause the people pre­sently reuenged his death, by punishing grie­uously the chiefe authours thereof; those that were of them to be found, were putt to death presently, and they that could not be found out, were banished. There was also a statua ere­cted in his honour, in the verie markett place. Yf they therefore at the only hearing of these wordes vpon the stadge tooke an occasiō to be reuenged of that most innocent man's slaugh­ter; what more iust cause mayst thou, London, haue of compassion and reuenge, hearing the like words to these, not pronounced only by anie stage-player at home, but by most graue and reuerende men in all places of Christen­dome, when as they speake most seriously, ex­probrating often vnto thee thine ingratitude, & saying: You haue slayne, you haue slayne the best English-mā aliue. This spoke this learned and wise Cardinall, who could testifye this of his knowledge, by reason he conuersed often with the greatest States of Christendome, being a man famous amongst them for his nobilitie [Page 370] of bloud, for his dignitie, his learning and ex­cellent vertues, for which none haue cause to suspecte him to be partiall.

2. Erasinus (as may be easily guessed by 2. [...] of [...] . the stile) although he wrote it not in his owne name, because he had then manie friends in England, sayth thus: This is Euident, that nei­ther MORE nor the Bishopp of Rochester erred (yf they haue erred at all) of any malice they had against the king, but for sincere conscience sake; This they perswaded themselues wholy, this was infixed in their marrowes, that the matter which they defended, was good and lawfull and honourable for the king, and hole­some for all the whole kingdome: Yf it had bene lawfull for them to haue dissembled it, they would haue donne it willingly; but they tooke their death most patiently & peaceably, praying to God for the king and the whole realme's safetie. In haynous offences a simple and pure conscience, and a minde not desirous of hurting anie, but of well deseruing, excuseth much the faulte; besides due respect & honour [Page 371] hath bene alwaies had euen, amōgst barbarous nations, to eminent learning and excellent ver­tue. The verie name of a philosopher rescued Plato from being beheaded by the Aeginetes, hauing transgressed the lawes of their Cittie. Diogenes without anie feare came into Philipp king of Macedonia's armie, and being brought before him for a spye of their enemies, freely reproched the king to his face of madnesse, that being not content with his owne kingdome, he would cast himselfe into danger to leese all; yet was he sent away without anie harme at all donne to him: and not only so, but had a great rewarde giuen him for no other cause, but that he was a philosopher. And as the courtesies of Monarches shewed vnto learned men, doe gett them greate fame, so to haue vsed such men hardly, hath bene occasion, that they haue bene much hated and enuied. For who doth not hate Antonie, for hauing Cicero's head cutt of? who doth not detest Nero for putting [...] to death; yea Octauius in curred some in fa­mie for Ouid's bannishment amongst the [Page 372] Getes. When Levvis the Twelueth of France now being peaceably settled in his kingdome, would haue bene diuorced from his wife the daughter of Lewis the eleauenth; this matter displeased manie good men; & amongst them Iohn Standock and his schollar Thomas spake of it in a sermon, desiring the people to pray to God, that he would inspire the king to doe for the best; they were therefore accused of seditiō, as men that had committed a faulte against the king's Edict; yet for all this they had no other punishment but banishment, they kept and enioyed all their goods; and when the con­trouersies were ended, they were called home againe with honour; by this his mildenesse the king both satisfyed his Edict, & gott no greate hatred for molesting two men both Diuines, both accounted holie men. But euerie man bewayleth the death of Sir THOMAS MORE, euen they who are aduersaries vnto him for re­ligion; so great was his courtesie to all men, so great his affabilitie, so excellent was his nature. Whome did he euer sende away from him, yf [Page 373] he were anie thing learned, without guifts? or who was so gregt a stranger vnto him, whome he did not seeke to doe one good turne or other? Manie are fauourable only to their owne countriemen; Frenchmen to Frenchmen, Scottishmen to Scotts. This his bountie hath so engrauen MORE in euerie man's hart, that they all lamente his death, as the losse of their owne father or brother; I my selfe haue seene manie teares come from those men, who neuer saw MORE in their liues, nor neuer receaued anie benefitt from him; yea whilst I write these things teares gushe from me, whether I will or no. How manie soules hath that axe wounded, which cutt of More's head, &c. And a little af­ter pulling of his vizard, he sheweth himself Erasmus in these wordes: Therefore when men haue congratulated me, that I had such a friend placed in such high dignities, I am wont to an­swer, that I would not cōgratulate his encrease of honour, before he should commaunde me to do so. 3. Doctour Cochleus of Ger­many.

3. Iohn Cochleus a most learned German [Page 374] and a great Diuine writing against Richard Sampson an English-man, who defended king Henrie the eight for this fact, sayth much of Sir THOMAS his praises; at last speaking of his death, he sayth thus to king Henrie's Coun­cellours: What prayse or honour could you gett by that crueltie, which you exercised a­gainst Sir THOMAS MORE? he was a man of most knowen and laudable humanitie, milde be­hauiour, affabilitie, bountie, eloquence, wise­dome, innocencie of life, witt, learning, excee­dingly beloued and admired of all men, in di­gnitie besides highest Iudge of your Countrie, and next to the king himselfe, famous from his youth; beneficiall to his Countrie for manie Embassages, and now most venerable for his gray head, drawing towards olde age, who hauing obtained of the king an honoura­ble dismission from his office, liued priuately at home with his wife, children and nephewes, hauing neuer committed the least offence a­gainst anie, burdensome to no man, readie to helpe euerie bodie, milde, and pleasant of dis­position. [Page 375] You haue giuen counsell to haue this so good a man drawen out of his owne house, out of that sweete Academie of learned and deuoute Christian Philosophers, for no other cause but this that he would not iustifye your impieties; his guiltlesse Conscience resisting it, The feare of God and his soule's health, with­drawing him from it, Doe you belieue that this your wicked fact hath euer pleased anie one of what nation, sexe or age soeuer? or euer will please anie? it will not surely: you haue hurt yourselues murderers and guiltie of shedding most innocent bloud; him haue you made most grateful to God, to the cittizens of heauē & to all iust men on earth, & a most renowned Martyr of Christ, he liueth and raigneth with­out all doubt with Almightie God; you will neuer be able to blott out this fault and infa­mie. It is written of God: He knovveth the de­ceauer, Iob 12. and him that is deceaued; he vvill bring counsellours to a foolish ende, Iudges into amaze­ment, he vnlooseth the belte of kings, & guirdeth their loynes vvith a rope. Thus writeth Cocleus.

[Page 376] 4. Paulus Iouius Bishop of Nuceria a­mōgst 4. Bishop Iouius of Italy. the praises of diuerse learned men writeth thus of Sir THOMAS MORE'S vniust death: For­tune sickle & vnconstant after her accustomed manner and alwaies hating vertue, if euer she played the parte of a proude and cruell dame, she hath lately behaued herself most cruelly in Englād vnder Henrie the Eight, casting downe before her Thomas More, whome the king, whilst he was an excellent admirer of vertue had raised to the highest places of honour in his realme, that fom thence, being by fatall maddenesse changed into a beast, he might suddenly throwe him downe againe with great crueltie, because he would not fauour the vnsa­tiable Iust of that furious tyrant, and for that he would not flatter him in his wickednesse, being a man most eminent for the accomplishment of all partes of Iustice, and most Saintlie in all kinde of vertues. For when the king would be diuorced frō his lawfull wife, marrie a Queane, and hasten to disinherite with shame his lawful daughter ( Marie) MORE Lo: Chancellour [Page 377] was forced to appeare at the Barre guiltie only for his pietie and innocencie, and there was cō ­demned most wrongfully to a most cruell and shamefull death like a Traytor and murtherer, so that it was not lawfull for his friends to burie the dismembred quarters of his bodie. But Henrie for this fact an imitatour of Phalaris shall neuer be able to bereaue him of perpetual fame, by this his vnlawfull wickednesse, but that the name of MORE shall remaine constāt and in honour, by his famous Vtopia. He spea­keth of his death, as his sentence did purporte.

5. Now lett vs ioyne to these, viz: an 5. W Para­din a [...] hi­storiā of France. Englishman, a Low Countrie man, a German, and an Italian, a French man also that we may see how all Nations did lamente Sir THOMAS MORE'S death, and what creditt the king and his Councell therevnto, gott by it. William Pa­radine writeth thus. The troubles and ciuile dissensions in England, now hath lasted a yeare or two, whē in the moneth of Iuly, Iohn Fisher Bishopp of Rochester was committed prisonner in London, because he seemed to disallowe the [Page 378] king's diuorce, & the lawe newly made against the Pope's Supremacie. Of that resolution was also Sir THOMAS MORE partaker, being Sheriff of London, a man famous for eloquence, and in all manner of learning, aboue the reache of all Courtiers, most expert and skillfull; most faultlesse in all deedes. These two purposing ra­ther to obey God then man, and confirming their mindes with constancie, were cōdemned to death: from which constancie they could be drawen neither by entreaties, hope of re­wardes, faire promises, nor by anie threates whatsoeuer, which corporall death both of thē receaued most patiently and stoutely. Finally euerie writer of that age lamentably deplored the vniust death of Sir THOMAS MORE. Rouerus Pontanus a German, in his Index of memora­ble matters; Laurence Surius a Low-Countrie­man vpon the yeare of 1538. Iohn Fonta yne a Frenchman in his French historie; Onuphrius Patauinus in Paulo III. an Italian; Nicolas Cardinall of Capua in his French letters; Iohn Secundus of Hague, yea Carion and Sleidan [Page 379] himselfe speake honourably of Sir THOMAS MORE'S death.

6. But of all Protestants Iohn Riuius 6. Riuius a Protestāt speaketh most passiionately of K. Henrie's cruell fact, and Sir THOMAS'S pietie, in these wordes lib. 2. de Conscientia: He that is in a Prin­ce's Courte, ought freely, yf he be asked his Iudgement, rather to tell his minde plainely, what is most behoofefull for his Prince's good, then to speake placentia, tickeling his eares with flatterie, neither ought he to praise things, which are not prayse worthie, nor to dispraise matters, that are worthie of high com­mendations; yea although he be in danger of getting no fauour by perswading it, but rather punishment and disgrace for gainesaying men's appetites; then bringing Papinianus that great lawyer for a liue lie example thereof, who chose rather to dye, then to iustifye the Fmpe­rour Caraculla's killing of his owne brother, a­gainst his owne conscience, he addeth: Such a man was lately in our memorie that singular and excellent for learning and pietie, yea the [Page 380] onlie ornament and glorie of his Countrie THOMAS MORE, who because he would not agree nor approue by his consent against his owne conscience, the new marriage of the king of England, who would needes be diuorced from his first wife; and marrie another, he was first cast into prison, one that had singularly well deserued of the king himselfe, and of En­gland; and when he constantly continued in his opinion, which he truly thought to be most iust, most lawfull and godlie, emboldened to defende it by a sincere conscience, he was putt to death, by that wicked parricide, that most hatefull and cruell tyrant; a crueltie not heard of before in this our age. Oh ingratitude and singular impietie of the king's, who could endure first to consume and macerate with a tedious and loathsome imprisonment such a sincere and holie good man; one that had bene so careful of his glorie, so studious of his Coun­trie's profitt; he that had perswaded him alwaies to all lustice and honestie, dissuaded him from all contraries, and not conuinced of anie [Page 381] crime, nor found in anie fault, he slew him (oh miserable wickednesse) not only being inno­cent, but him that had deserued high rewardes, and his most faythfull and trustie Councellour. Are these thy rewardes, o king? is this the tankes thou returnest him for all his trustie seruice and good will vnto thee? doth this man reape this commoditie for his most faythfull acts and employments? But, oh MORE, thou art now happie, and enioyest eternall felicitie, who wouldest leese thy head rather then approue anie thing against thine owne conscience, who more esteemest righteousnesse, iustice and pie­tie, then life it selfe; and whilst thou art depriued of this mortall life, thou passest to the true and immortall happinesse of heauen, whilst thou art taken away from men, thou art raysed vp a­mongst the numbers of holie Saints and An­gells of blisse.

7. Last of all I will recounte, what the 7. Charles the Em­perour. good Emperour Charles the Fift sayd vnto Sir Thomas Eliott then the king's Embassadour in his Court, after he had heard of Bishopp [Page 382] Fisher and Sir THOMAS MORE'S martyrdomes; on a time he spoke of it to Sir Thomas Eliott, who seemed to excuse the matter by making some doubt of the reporte, to whome the Em­perour replyed: It is too true; but yf we had had two such lights in all our kingdomes, as these men were, we could rather haue chosen to haue lost two of the best and strongest townes in all our Empire, then suffer ourselues to be depri­ued of them, much lesse to endure to haue thē wrongfully taken from vs.

8. And though none of these should 8. Circum­stances notable in the death of Sir Tho. More. haue written anie thing hereof, yet the matter it selfe speaketh abundantly that the cause was most vniust, the manner thereof most infa­mous, and Sir THOMAS MORE'S patience most admirable, his pietie, his learning, his vertues incomparable; famous was he for his noble martyrdome; infamous king Henry for his most vniust condemnation. These things doe From the kings part. aggrauate king Henry's faulte: First, that he killed him by a law, wherein he neuer offended, either by word or deede, and by that which [Page 383] concerned not Temporall policie, but religion only; not rebellious against the king, but feare­full to offende his owne Conscience; which though he refused to approue, yet did he neuer reproue it, or anie other man for taking it. Se­condly, that he putt to death so rare a man, so beloued of all, so vertuous, so wise, so courteous, and wittie; which might be motiues sufficient euer to pardon a guiltie offender. Thirdly, for beheading a man that had donne him so much seruice, yea the whole kingdome such good offices, his faythfull Counsellour for twentie yeares togeather, his expert Embassadour, his From Sir Thomas Mores part. just Lo: Chancellour, the verie flower of his realme. Manie things also doe amplifye and in crease Sir THOMAS MORE'S immortall glorie; first, in that to all the king's demaunds he had behaued himselfe so sincerely and impartiall, opening his minde ingenuously; so that the king seemed still to like him, though his opiniō were contrarie to his liking, Secondly, that he had suffered alreadie the losse of all his goods, being condemned to perpetual imprisonment, [Page 384] and only for silence. Thirdly, in that he tooke all crosses for the loue of God most patiently. Fourthly, that he dyed for a controuersie in re­ligion, neuer before called in question, by anie precedent example: Finally, that he only of all Nota. the Councell would not flatter the king, nor keepe either goods, dignitie or life, with the dā ­ger of the losse of his soule. All which proue what a rare man, how admirable and vertuous a Christian, and how glorious a martyr he is.

9. But because one bauld English Chro­nicler An apo­logy for his mery [...] . Hall tearmeth him a scoffing man be­cause his writings and doings were full of wittie ieastes, calling him a wise foolish man, or a foolish wiseman, lett vs see by his owne writings the reason, why he hath vsed so manie pleasant tales in his bookes; and it is this: Euen as some sicke men, sayth he will take no medicines, vn­lesse some pleasant thing be putt amongst their potions, although perhaps it be somewhat hurtefull, yet the phisician suffereth them to haue it. So because manie will not willingly hearken to serious and graue documents, except [Page 385] they be mingled with some fable or ieaste; therefore reason willeth vs to doe the like. And in his greate Volume page 1048. he sayth that ieastes are as it were sawce, whereby we are re­created, that we may eate with more stomake; but as that were an absurde bankett, in which there were few dishes of meate, and much varietie of sawces, and that an vnpleasant one, where there were no sawce at all; euen so that life, were spent idely, wherein nothing were but mirth and iolitie; and againe that tedious and vncomfortable, wherein no pleasure or myrth were to be expected. Which mirth as it may become all men, so most especially did it become such a one as Sir THO­MAS MORE was, being a married man, yea a Courtier, end a companion to a Prince, of A fit cō ­parison between [...] seuerity and Sir T. M. his pleasaūt disposi­tion. whome that may worthily be spoken, which Titus Liuius recounteth of Cato thus: In this man there was such excellencie of witt and wisedome, that he seemeth to haue bene able to haue made his fortune, in what place soeuer [Page 386] he had bene borne; he wanted no skill either for the managing of priuate or publike busines­ses; he was skillfull, both in Countrie and Cittie affayres; some are raysed to honour, either because they are excellent lawyers, sin­gularly eloquent, or of admirable vertues; but the towardlienesse of this man's vnder­standing, framed him so to all matters, that you would deeme him to be borne for one alone. In the practise of vertues, you would iudge him rather a monke then a Courtier; in learning a most famous writer; yf you would aske his counsell in the law, he was most readie to aduise you the best; yf he were to make an Oration, he would shew maruelous eloquen­ce; he was admirable in all kinde of learning, Latine, Greeke, Prophane, Diuine; yf there were an Embassage to be vndertooke, none more dexterous to finish it; in giuing sound counsell in doubtfull Cases, none more pru­dent: to tell the truth without feare, none more free, as farre from all flatterie, as open [Page 387] and pleasant, full of grace in deliuering his iudgement, and that, which Cato had not, therein was he most happie. For Liuie saith, that he had a sower carriadge, and a toung immoderate free and full of taunting: But Sir THOMAS being Christ's schollar, and not anie Stoick's, was milde and of an humble hart, neither sadde, nor turbulent, and besides of a pleasant conuersation, neuer sterne, but for righteousnesse; a great contemner either of vnlawfull pleasures, or of mordinate riches and glorie. As Cato had much enmitie with diuerse Senatours, so manie of them on the other side did exercise his patience, that one can hardly discerne, whether the Nobilitie did presse him more, or he the Nobilitie; but on the contrarie side Sir THOMAS MORE neuer had anie, priuate or publike quarrell with anie man; yea no man can reckon anie to haue bene his enemie, being borne wholy to friend­shipp and affabilitie; wherefore being nothing inferiour to Cato for grauitie, integritie, and [Page 388] innocency, as exact a hater of all vice, and sterne to all wicked men, as he, yet did he farre excelle him in mildenesse, sweetenesse of behauiour and pleasantnesse of witt; yea I doe him iniurie to compare him to anie morall phi­losopher whatsoeuer; for he was absolutely well seene in the schoole of Christ, & endewed with all supernaturall perfections, a greate Saint of Christ's Church and a holie Martyr of his fayth, and high in Gods fauour; which was well testifyed in his daughter my aunte Dauney, who being sore sick of that disease, of which she after dyed, fell into a lōg traunce, and afterwards returning to herselfe, she pro­fessed with abundance of teares, that she had felt in that while most grieuous torments, and should haue suffered them for euer, had not her fathers prayers and intercession begged of God a little longer space to repente her of her former life. It was also credibly reported that two of Iohn Haywood's sons Iasper and Ellis, hauing one of the teeth of Sir THOMAS MORE [Page 389] betweene them, and either of them being de­sirous to haue it to himselfe, it suddenly to the admiration of both parted in two.

10. Now to conclude, lett vs consider, 10. Sir Tho. More a lay man martyr for Ec­clesiasti­call au­tority, neuer be­fore que­stioned. why God culled out this man aboue all other to preserue the vnitie of the Church, and to be an illustrious wittnesse of the glorious cause, for the which he dyed: for least men should thinke that yf only the Clergie had dyed, they might seeme partiall in their owne Cause; be­holde God picked out this worthie lay man, such as I suppose, all Christendome had not the like, who should be as his especiall Embas­sadour for the laytie, as was the famous Bishop of Rochester for the Clergie; such were these two for learning, as they could reache into all matters; such for excellencie of witt, that no subtile dealing could entrappe them vnawares easily foreseing anie danger, such for vertue and integritie of life, that God of his great mercie would not suffer such men in so great a poynt, as this, to be deceaued. And lett no [Page 390] man thinke this was no Martyrdome, yea ra­ther it was greater then that of those, who would not denye the fayth of Christ, according as that worthie Bishopp & Confessour Denis of Alexandria sayth, that that Martyrdome which one suffereth to preserue the vnitie of the Church, is more then that which one suffereth, because he will not doe sacrifice to Idolls; for in this a man dyeth to saue his owne soule, in the other he dyeth for the whole Church.