CHAP. 1.

THe Divines, authorized by Let not my Reader re­ject many easie things be­ing joined with a few that are not so ea­sie; because in the best book, the Elephant swimmeth, and the Lambe wadeth. Saint John in the begin­ning of his Gospell, whom therfore Gregory the Great calls Evangelistarum A­quilam, the Eagle of the Evangelists, beginning their discourses of Christ, with his eternall Generation, stile him, the word.

The Reason, is reason. Because as verbum [Page 2] mentis, the word of the Mind, even after it cometh of the minde, doth still notwith­standing remaine in it; the word of the Tongue perishing with the sound: So the Son of God, comming of his Father by a most ineffable, yet most true Generation, receiveth a personall distinction, and yet remaineth with and in his Father, by a most unseperable Unity of Essence. This blessed word, I call to witnesse, before whom wee shall answere for every idle word; that my words heere, in the matters of Experience and History, are so farre agreeable to the Divine word, that they are true: which is the first excellencie of words as they are words. The matters of Divinity will stand by themselves. I have read in the School­men, that Omne verum est à Spiritu Sancto, Every Tru [...]h comes from the Holy Ghost. I will bee sure to tell truth: and upon this ground, truth being told, every man may be sure from whom it comes; & fix upon it in the deduction of the Conclusions, it virtual­ly containeth; as upon the firm Principles of a Science. I am not ignorant, that sometimes it is a sin to speak truth: because there may be a falshood committed, though not spo­ken: as a false breach of true Charity, which many times obligeth to secrecie. And these times, the speaking of truth, is indeed a lie; [Page 3] because such a sin, and against God, who is Truth, even as he is Truth. But I know it for a Maxime: Against a publique enemie of the Church of God, we may lawfully and religiously speak all Truths. It is a rule a­mongst Casuists: Certa pro certis habenda; dubia ut dubia sunt proponenda: in a Relation, certain things are to be proposed as things certain, and doubtfull, as doubtfull. Let no man doubt, but I will certainly dresse every thing in cloathes according to its degree.

Hence followes a lesson, and it falles within my lesson. God was in all eternity, till the beginning of the World; and but one word came from him, and that a good one, as good as himselfe: and not spoken, but as it were, onely conceived. Words are not to bee thought rashly; and if not to bee thought, not to he spoken; because we think not in the sight of our neighbours; but we speak in the hearing of our neighbours: and if not to be spoken, not to be written; because we write with more deliberation and more expence of precious Time; and words are more lasting, when they are written. I will heare what Christ says to his Church, in the Canticles, Thy lipps are like a thread of Scarlet, and thy speech is comely. Saint Can. 4. 3. Hierome translates it, Sicut vitta, thy lipps are like a Fillet, or Haire-lace. They are [Page 4] compared to a thread of Scarlet, for the comlinesse of the colour: and therefore it followes, And thy speech is comely. Thomas Aquinas his lips are like Scarlet, and his speech is very comely, in the Exposition of this place. He sais, that, as ordinarily, women vse a Ribon, or fillet, in the gathering up of Thom. A­quin. in Cant. 4. their haire, an extravagancie of Nature: So ought we to bind up our lips, & keep under knot, the looseness of vain and idle words; that loose thoughts may not gad abroade into words, and lose themselves and the Speaker; and then our speech will be comly.

CHAP. 2.

GOds great, & last end in all his actions, is himself, and his own Glory. For, the end of the best, must be the best of Ends: and the best of Ends, must be the best of things. Our ends, if conformable to his end, do bor­row more, or lesse light, & perfection frō it, in bending more, or lesse neer to it. Our chief end, that is, our end, which all our other ends must observe, and wait upon, ought to be the same with his end, in the World: because it is the same with his, in Heaven; the sight, and fruition of him. A good end will not sanctifie a bad Action. Howso­ever [Page 5] we are call'd, wee are not Religious, if we set on fire the Hearts of Princes, and stir them to arms; that by the burning of Cities, the depopulation of Countries, & the mur­dering of men, women, and children, and by unjust intrusion upon the right of others, the holy Church may encrease and multiply. We are not of the society of Gods people, if we devise, and labour to blow up the joy, and flower of a Kingdome, with a powder­mine; moved by a pious intention, to pro­mote the good of the Catholike Cause. These pious intentions, and pious frauds, have play'd the very devils in the world: and they are the more dangerous, because they goe drest like Angels of light, and are be­leeved to come from Heaven. The Di­vines teach good Doctrine, when they say, Bonum ex integra causa, malum ex quocun (que) defectu; Good must be compleat in it's kind, and furnished with all requisites: one of which being wanting, the action is not compleat in morality, and therefore, not so good as it should be. The matter of the Action must be good: the manner of the performance good, and the End good. Which though it be extrinsecall to the Acti­on, is intrinsecall to the goodnesse of it. I suppose, if the matter and manner, be indiffe­rent, they are good in some degree; but [Page 6] the End crowns the goodnesse of the work; for, it is the most eminent of all that stirre in it. Non est faciendum malum vel mini­mu, ut eveniat bonum vel maximum; The least evill is not to be done, that the greatest good may follow the doing of it. And it stands with good reason. For, the smallest evill of sinne, as being laesio infinitae Majesta­tis, the traiterous wounding of an infinite Majestie, would be greater, than the good which could follow. And moreover, com­mitted in that kinde, would cast a most foule aspersion upon God: to wit, that, hee were, either not able, or not willing, to bring about in it's appointed time, the good he would have done, but by evill perfor­mances. It appeareth here, that the perfor­mance of good, is hard: of evill, easie. My end is good: and more then good,su­perlatively good. For, it is God's end; God and his Glory in the first place; and in the second, the good and godlinesse of my neighbours: that some may cease to doe evill, learne to do well; others stand fast En su ser y 1 Es 16 17 puesto, as the Spaniard speaks, in the being & position of wel-being, in which, God hath placed them; and that all may love God, and praise him; and when they see, or heare of this little Book, may looke up to the great one above, & sing to him, a love-song, [Page 7] the song of the Angels, that best know how to sing; Glory be to God in the highest. And 2 Luk. 14. as my end is good, my action is not evill, either in the matter, or manner, or circum­stances: because the milde relation of one truth, which may be lawfully related; and the zealous defence of another, which may be lawfully defended: and all this, in a good, and acceptable time.

CHAP. 3.

BUt, all is not required on my part. The Reader likewise hath his task. It was an old custome in the Grecian Church, in a time, when the current of zeale, and religi­on, ranne more pure, because more nigh to the fountaine Christ Jesus, that, in the be­ginning of divine Service, the Deacon ap­peared in the full view of the Congregati­on, and cried aloud, Sacra sacris, holy things, to holy things: holy soules, to holy ser­vices. S. Chrysost. & Basil. in Liturgiis. The Reader is now, upon a high ser­vice; and his soule must be all Angelicall. There is a certaine kinde of shell, that lyeth alwayes open towards Heaven; as it were looking upward, and begging one fruitfull drop of dewe: which being fallen, it ap­prehends the greatnes of the purchase, shuts [Page 8] presently, and keepes the dore against all outward things, till it hath made a pearle of it. Every man desireth naturally, in the first motion of his desire, the conservation of himselfe: in the second, the bettering of his owne estate. It is in the reading of pi­ous Books, as in the hearing of Sermons. If we open our shells, our soules, the Heavens will drop their dewe into them, the fruit­full dewe of Grace: to be imployed wor­thily, in making pearles of good works, and solid vertue. Here is matter of Meditation, and matter of Action: and they are both en­tirely conformable to the mixt life, which is the most perfect. It is the life of the Angels. Abram requiring a signe of God, by which he might know, that hee should inherit the land of Canaan, received this an­swer; Take me an Heifer of three yeares old, and a shee Goat of three yeares old, and a Ram Gen. 15. 9 of three yeares old, and a Turtle Dove, and a young Pigeon. His Sacrifice must consist of creatures that flye, and creatures that onely goe upon the ground. The Goers must all be of three yeares old; in their full strength, and vigour of Nature. The Flyers were on­ly, the Turtle Dove, and the young Pigeon; whereof the first is a mourner; the second, a most harmlesse, and quiet Liver. As our Bookes, so our lifes must be divided be­twixt [Page 9] action and contemplation; and the action must be the Action of youth, and strength: and our thoughts, that are all upon the wing, and the Ministers of Con­templation, must first be mourners, and then, white, harmelesse, and heavenly: and this will be to us, a sure signe, that we shall inherit the land of Canaan. And because the devill is an old Thiefe, that cares not from whom he stealos: wee must learne of Abram, of whom it followes; And when Verse 11. the fowles came downe upon the carcasses, A­bram drove them away. The devils tempta­tions cannot be hindered from making to­wards the sacrifice; or, from setling upon it: but we may drive them off, before they fall too, they must not carry a bill-full away. Quodemit, saith S. Austin of Christ, tanti S. Aug. emit, ut solus possideat: What he bought, he therefore bought at so high a rate, that a­lone he might possesse it all.

CHAP. 4.

I Shall now expose my selfe to the censure of people, that have divers natures, and divers religions: and some will frowne, others laugh; others speake merrily, some furiously, as their affections move them; [Page 10] and as the present state, in which they are in, shall prompt them. But how divers so­ever they be, I shall be still one and the same. Yet I could wish, we were all of one minde, not that they might speake well of mee, (for, I am too too plyable to the temp­tations of Pride, and shall be glad to be humbled by them) but that they might please God. It is a high and deepe observa­tion, which the Bishop of Pontus hath in his Epistle to Leo the Emperor, Cùm nul­lus Episcopus Ponti, in ep. ad Leon. Imp. ignoret, quia Sanctae & laudabilis Trini­tatis primum bonum sit pax, & indivisio. Vn­de & Deus unus & est, & esse creditur; No un­derstanding man is ignorant, that the first good thing in the blessed Trinity, considered as the Trinity in Unity, is peace, and indi­vision. Wherefore God both is, and is belee­ved to be one, by vertue of this peace, and indivision. And as our God is three and one, I would to God, wee were many and one. But this will never be, while the Pope com­mands so much, and the Jesuits obey so much. One of the lesse principall ends of my writing, is the same with the end of warre, to speake with a Councell, ut in pace vivamus, that I may live in peace. Bonum Tho. Aq. part. 1. quaest. 1. art. 5. exercitus, saith Thomas Aquinas, ad bonum civitatis ordinatur. An Army is not raised, but to maintaine the peace of a Citie, or [Page 11] Common-wealth. And before I have done, it will be acknowledged, they have endea­voured to disturbe my peace. As for well­disposed people, I desire them to learne; that God speakes not in his owne person to us. For, besides that he stands infinitely a­bove us, in greatnesse, and majestie: he is a spirit. He sends messengers to us, some in the freshnesse of the morning, some in the heat of the day; some from one place, some from another; some from beyond France, and Germany, and even from Rome it selfe; and those, of the same forme and fashion as we are, that wee should not start at the apparition, with the priviledge of this faire promise to them: He that heareth you, hea­reth me: and hee that despiseth you, despiseth Luk. 10. 16 me: and he that despiseth mee, despiseth him that sent me. Heere is a gradation, without a fallacy: and the strength of it relyes up­on the mission, by which, Apostles are sent by Christ; and Christ was sent by his Fa­ther; and upon the authority of the Com­mission given to them. Where note, that the Father sends, but is not sent; for, mission supposeth in the sender, at least a kinde of priority: the Sonne is both sent, and sends; the holy Ghost sends not, but is sent. The children of Israel desired, that Moses, one of their owne company and acquaintance, [Page 12] might speak to them. For, God was so loud, and terrible in the delivery, that he seemed to crush, and overwhelme mortality. Speak thou with us, (said they to Moses,) and wee 20 Ex. 19. will heare: but let not God speak with us, lest we dye: For, hee speaks thunder and light­ning; and the trumpet sounds when hee speaks, and perhaps, hee is preparing for a battell: and when he speaks, the mountain smokes, and the fire cannot be farre off. I will say something: And yet, I will not say it. But if I should say it: what can the Pa­pists say? The Church which gives a missi­on, gives it as she tooke it from Christ. As she tooke it from Christ or his Apostles, she was a pure Church. As shee was a pure Church, she gave, and now giveth because she hath beene a pure Church, and received her warrant in her purity; when shee gi­veth a mission, authority to preach against all impurity both in faith and manners, ei­ther in her selfe, or else-where. And behold, being sent, I am come. Now, let us answer in some kinde to Gods kindnesse. It is one part of wisedome in a serpent, commended, and commended to us, by one who loved us dearely: that going to drink, he cleanseth every secret corner, and dark turning of his mouth, from poyson. Be yee wise as serpents. Moses was cōmanded to put off his shooes, [Page 13] because it was holy, & consecrated ground. All terrene thoughts, and earthly affections, bemired with treading deepe in the world. All sinister opinions, and judgments, steeped in prejudice, are here to be layd downe, or purified. Almighty God hath indeed, a little good ground in the world: but it is duly and daily weeded & manured; well clear'd from stones and briars, before the heavenly sower comes to work. Here therefore, even here, before we take another step, let us turn the face of all our thoughts towards God, to stand like officious, and dutifull servants, attending upon the nod, and pleasure of our great Lord, and Master. Behold, as the eyes of servants looke unto the hand of their Ma­sters, Psa. 123. 2. and as the eyes of a Mayden unto the hand of her Mistresse: so our eyes waite upon the Lord our God, untill that he have mercie upon us, sayes the sweet singer of Israel. We must place our eyes upon the hands of our Lord. For, the hands are the instruments of work: and it is in our duty, to be ready, when God gives, as it were with his finger, the first touch of actuall grace, that we may joyne our soules by his help, with him, in vertuous action.

CHAP. 5.

IT is an old Axiome, as old as Philosophy, Veritas una, error autem multiplex, Truth is one, and error manifold. Truth must needs be one, because it hath but one first origine, and such a one as is most constant to it selfe, and can never be found in two contrary tales. And error must needs be ma­nifold, because it hath many fountaines, and such as seldome mingle their streames, and seldome agree wholy in any thing, but in this, that they all erre, and runne beside the channell. There are many wayes out of the way, and but one true way: as there is but one health, yet many sicknesses; but one way to be borne, yet many wayes to dye. And man, ever since he first erred, is very prone to erre: and having erred, stops not in the first error; but adds presently error to errour, by loving, and admiring his owne errour. And errour is not alwayes desirous to be a neat, and a fine errour, but now and then, it will be grosse. The snow is evident­ly white. Who will say, in the hearing of a reasonable creature, that snow is not purely white? And yet, a wise Philosopher, whose name, and memory have out-stayd the melt­ing of many snowes, beleeved it was black: [Page 15] and the maine point of his doctrine was, that sence playd foule with reason, and snow was black. We are all mortall: some of us dye every day; and all, in a due time. Yea, saith S. Ambrose, Vitae hujus principium, mortis exordium est: nec prius incipit augeri S. Ambr. lib. 2 de vo­cat. Gent. cap. 8. vita nostra, quàm minui. Cui si quid ad icitur spatii temporalis, non ad hoc accedit ut mane­at, sed in hoc transit, ut pereat. The first en­trance into this life, is the beginning of death: neither doth our life begin to be en­creased, before it beginneth also to be di­minished. To which if any time be added, it doth not come to remaine with us, but to leave us, and come no more. Those, who lived in the Age before us, our Fathers and Grandfathers, are dead, and turn'd to dirt; and we now in their places: we also, must shortly dye, and turne to dirt, and o­thers succeed us; and they likewise, must take their turne: and thus, we all turne by turnes, one after another, into plaine dirt; and this is the meane, and homely end of all our bravery. And yet, an infamous sect of Heretikes in S ^t. Justine, firmely beleeved, they forsooth were immortall, and should never dye: and this, although they saw the brethren of their Sect sicken and dye like other men; and then be buried in Graves, and there lye still. The old Annals of Egipt, [Page 16] and Italy, tell us, that Flouds, Trees, Mice, Cats, and Crocodiles, were honoured by the Egyptian Sages, for gods; and when the Cat kill'd the Mouse, they said, one god in his anger, destroyed the other, the more great, the lesser: and as meane creatures, by the Roman Senatours. And as S. Justine ob­serveth, the same creatures were esteemed, S. Just. A­polog. 2. as they were, Beasts by some; by others used as Sacrifices to please the gods; and by a third sort, adored as gods. Three things S. Austen would have seene, if God had so ordered it in his providence; Paulum in ore, Romam in flore, Christum in corpore, Saint Paul the divine Oratour, in his flourishing time of preaching the Gospell, Rome in her flower, Christ in his body. And in Rome, when she was in this pompous estate, the Ague was honoured as a Goddesse; and there also, by ill fortune, ill Fortune had her Temple: Feare, Palenesse, what not? The Lacedaemonians, all the time of their life, adored death. Amongst another wise Ge­neration of people, rich Altars were dedi­cated to Poverty, and old Age. Another grave Tribe beleeving fire to bee a most powerfull God, travelled from Country to Country, in the reigne of Constantine the great, and provoked by a generall Chal­lenge, the Gods of other Countries to en­counter [Page 17] their God, And overcōming them, as being compacted of wood, or other mat­ter, subject to fire; they came at last, to A­lexandria in Egypt, where the River Nile, by the due spreading of which, that Coun­try is fatned, was accounted a God, The statue of Nile being brought forth, as it was, hollow and full of water, having on every side, little holes covered with wax, and fitted in all points for the purpose, and fire being applied, for a set battell, the wax melted, the water found way, and the victo­rious God Fire was put out; and there was an end of the journey. And all these people, cried up for Gods, the things they concei­ved to be good, ut prodessent, that they might help, and profit them: and the things they found to be hurtfull, nè nocerent, that they might not hurt them.

CHAP. 6.

MAhomet in his Alcoran, describing the Turks Paradise, saith, it is beauti­fied with pleasant Brooks, enriched with beautifull fruits, adorned with rich hang­ings, and the like. We may fitly say of him, as Eusebius saith of Cerinthus, an old Here­tick, who thought and taught, that the hap­pinesse [Page 14] [...] [Page 15] [...] [Page 16] [...] [Page 17] [...] [Page 18] of the other life consisted in the plea­sures of marriage, to be enjoyed in the ful­nesse of delight, for a thousand yeares, in Hierusalem: Quarum rerum cupiditate ipse ducebatur, in eisdem beatam vitā fore somnia­bat; Euseb. li. 2. Eccl. hist. cap. 22. He dreamed, happinesse to be placed in those things, with which himselfe was tickled. And the Thalmudists, the stricter, and more rigid part of Jews, have stuffed their Expositions with most idle Stories: as, that God doth punish himselfe at certain times, for having beene so rough to them; and the like stuffe. The Indian Priests were as vaine, who instilled this doctrine into all their simple Followers; that when a Ma­ster should dye, the Servants ought all to kill themselves, that so, they might readily serve him in the other world. A grave Au­thor writes of a people so fond, that the first thing they saw in the morning, was their God, for that day: and so perhaps, they lo­ved as many Gods as they lived days. It hath been alwayes the maine plot of the devil, to canker, and corrupt the world, with false opinions; and chiefly, with the practice of Idolatry. For, as the understanding is opi­nionated; so the will works: and if wee faile in the keeping of one of the two first commandements, wee strike at the head of him that enableth us, in the keeping of all [Page 19] the rest. The devout Christians in the Pri­mitive Church, went in great numbers, to see the places, wherein Christ was borne, was conversant, and was crucified. But the devill had quickly so stirred in the businesse, and squared the matter by the power of the Pagan Emperours, that the Christians com­ming afterwards, and thinking to finde the crib in Bethleem, found the image of Adonis, Venus her white Boy; and found nothing of the Crib, but onely, that it was not to be found. And turning from thence, to mount Calvarie, they found the scene chang'd there also; and beheld the statue of Venus, placed with such evident signes of open warre against Christ, and the profession of his name and faith, Ʋt si quis Christianorum Ruffi. Eccl. hist. lib. 1. cap. 7. (saith Ruffinus) in illo loco Christum adorare voluisset, Venerem videretur adorare; that when the sincere Christian should come with a rectified will to adore Christ; his action, if not his devotion, might goe a wry, and honour Venus. The devill would faine have taught them, to adore an Image, which they saw, rather then God, whom they saw not. And even amongst Christians, the de­vill, who in other matters, is alwayes the wilde Authour of Confusion and Disorder; hath yet, opposed the Articles of the Creed in order. For first, Simon Magus, Marcion, [Page 20] and others, strove against the title of God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth. Secondly, Arius in the first generall Coun­cell of Nice in Bithynia, laboured against the Divinity of Jesus Christ his onely Sonne, our Lord. Thirdly, Macedonius planted his En­gine against the Holy Ghost, and was con­demned in the Councell of Constantinople. Which observation may be also made plain, in the other Articles. And because the Holy Ghost is the great directour of the Church, and enemie to the devill in his oppositions of it; hee still had a blow at the Holy Ghost, first in Theodoret, who denied the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son; and now, in the Grecians. But we shall heare more of him anon.

CHAP. 7.

VVHat mervaile now, if greene in Age, and shallow in experience, I gave up my soule, into the black hands of errour? The causes of my closing with the Church of Rome, were three. First, a consi­deration of the great sinnes of this King­dome: and especially, of that open, scan­dalous, and horrible sinne of Drunkennesse; which my soule hateth. And I weakly ar­gued [Page 21] from a blemish of manners, in particu­lar persons, to a generall, and over-spread­ing corruption of Faith. My thoughts re­presented a drunkard to me, sometimes in this manner. What is a Drunkard, but a beast like a man, or, something lower then a beast? When he is in his fit, no sense will performe his fit office. Spectacles in all fi­gures, appeare to him: hee thinks, hee sees more shapes, then God ever made. A cloud settles in his eyes; and the whole body be­ing overflowne, they seeme to float in the floud. The earth seemes to him to nod, and hee nods againe to it; trees to walk in the fields; houses, to rise from their places, and leape into the Aire; as if they would tumble upon his head, and crush him to a Cake; and therefore, he makes hast to avoid the danger. The Sea seemes to rore in his cares, and the Guns to goe off; and he strives to rore as loud as they. The Beere begins to work; for, he foames at the mouth. Hee speaks, as if the greater part of his tongue were under water. His tongue labours upon his words: and the same word, often repeated, is a sentence. You may discover a foole, in every part of his face. Hee goes like — like what? nothing is vile enough, to suit in comparison with him; except I should say, like himselfe, or like another [Page 22] drunken man. And at every slip, he is faine to throw his wandring hand upon any thing; to stay him with his body, and face upwards, as God made him. Ʋmbras saepe S. Ambr. lib. de Elia, & jejunio, cap. 16. transiliunt sicut foveas, saith S. Ambrose: Comming to a shadow of a post, or other thing in his way, hee leapes, taking it for a ditch. Canes si viderint, leones arbitrantur, & Idem, ibid. fugiunt, sayes the same Father: if he sees a dogge, he thinks it to be a Lyon; and runs with all possible hast, till hee falls into a puddle; where hee lyes wallowing, and bathing his swinish body, like a hogge, in the mire. And after all this, being restored to himselfe, he forgets, because hee knew not perfectly, what hee was, and next day returnes againe to his vomit. And thus he reeles from the Inn, or Tavern, to his house, morning and evening, night and day; till, after all his reeling, not being able to goe, hee is carried out of his House, not into the Taverne, alas, hee cannot call for what hee wants; but into his Grave. Where being layd, and his mouth stopt with dirt, hee ceases to reele; till at last, hee shall reele, body and soule, into hell: where, notwith­standing all his former plenty, & variety of drinks, hee shall never be so gracious, as to obtaine a small drop of water, to coole his tongue. Then if it be true, as it is very likely, [Page 23] which many teach, that the devils in hell, shall mock the troubled imagination of the damned person, with the counterfeit imita­tion of his sinnes, the devils will reele in all formes before him, to his eternall confusion. In vain doth S. Paul cry out to this wretch, Be not drunk with wine wherein is excesse: but be filled with the spirit. For, the same vessell Eph. 5. 18. cannot be filled with wine, and with the spirit, at the same time. In vaine doth hee tell him, that wee should live soberly, righte­ously, and godly in this present world. Sobriè, 2 Tit. 12. saith S. Bernard, nobis, justè proximis, pie au­tem Deo: Soberly, in our selves, righte­ously S. Bern. in Serm. sup. Ecce nos reliquimus omnia. or justly, towards our neighbours; and godly, towards God; alwayes remembring, that we are in this present world, and that it is but [...], the present point of Time, and but one instant, that we enjoy at once. And somtimes, in this manner, my thoughts shewed me a drunken man. Hee is a most deformed creature; one that lookes like the picture of a devill; one, who stands knock­ing at hell-gate, and yet it is not able to speak a plaine word, and call for mercy; one that could stand and goe, but now, lyes all along in his owne filthinesse; one, that is loathed by the Court, and all the Citizens of Heaven; one, that for the time, doth not beleeve, that there is a God, or that Christ [Page 24] died for the sinnes of the world; one, that may be lawfully thought, a man of little wit, and lesse grace; one, who is the Ow [...] of all that see him, and the scorne, and abo­mination, even of his drunken companions▪ one, who if he should then dye, would cer­tainly be a companion of devils, in hell fit [...] for ever; one, that is ready to commit adul­tery, murder, treason; to stab or hang him­selfe; to pull God out of Heaven, or, doe any thing that is not good. And if it be a firme ground, that, putting our selves into the occasions of such and such sins, we are as guilty of them, as if wee had committed them; although we did not formally, and explicitely intend them: how many great sins, hath one act of drunkennesse, to an­swer for? Drunkennesse is most hatefull to God, because it putteth out the light of Reason, by which, man is distinguished from a beast, and all better lights with it, and throwes a man beneath Gods creation; and therefore, drunkennesse is more or lesse grievous, as it more or lesse impeacheth the light and sight of Reason. Natura paucis contenta, Nature is contented with a little; quam si superfluis urgere velis, saith Boetius, which if you shall urge, and load with su­perfluous Boet. things, you will destroy. And one over-chargeth his stomack, and vainely [Page 25] casteth away that, for want of which, or the like, another daily crieth in the streets with a lamentable voyce, Good Sir, for Gods sake, pitty these poore fatherlesse chil­dren, ready to starve; one is hungry, and ano­ther is drunken. And the great end of the 1 Cor. 11. 21. Creator, was, to supply necessity, and the necessity of every creature. And Sobriety, and Temperance are faire vertues; which even the Glutton, and Drunkard doe praise, and magnifie. If wee turne aside into the Church-yard, wee shall finde it a dry time there. There are no merry meetings under ground; no musick, no dancing, no songs, no jesting company: Every body sleepes there, and therefore, there is no noise at all. Perhaps indeed, as men passe to the Church, or to their places in the Church, they point to such a Grave, and say; There lyes a drun­kard, hee is sober enough now; but much against his will. And thus, his memory is as loathsome to all good people, and those who passe by his Grave to their devotions; as his rottennesse. These representations winned me to think, that the Practitioners in this Art of Beastilinesse, could not be of any Religion: because S. James bindeth Re­ligion downe to practice. Pure Religion, and undefiled before God, and the Father, is Iam. 1. 27. this, To visit the fatherlesse and widowes in [Page 26] their affliction, and to keepe himselfe unspotted from the world. But although I had learned in some sort, to compound, I had not yet learned to distinguish.

CHAP. 8.

MY second Reason of joyning hands with the Church of Rome, was; be­cause I framed to my selfe, the imagination of an excellent Sanctity, and a spotlesse Re­collection of life, in their Orders of Reli­gion. And my thoughts fed upon this, and the like matter. The last end of man, and his Creation, is Blessednesse; being the vi­sion, or fruition of God; which is, an eter­nall Sabbath, or, an everlasting day of rest, in him. And therefore, the soule of man, which bendeth towards this end, chiefly de­sireth rest. For, God would not, (I had al­most said, could not) create man for an end, and not imprint in him, a strong desire of it. Heavey things, belonging to earth, will not of themselves move towards Heaven; nor yet, stay loytering betwixt Heaven and Earth, unlesse arrested, and held by force: but haste to the center of the world, the earth, their true place of being, in which, and in which onely, they take their naturall [Page 27] rest. And the nigher they come to the cen­ter, their soft bed of rest, (if we may beleeve Philosophy) the more hast they make. The gentle Dove, before the tumult of waters began to settle, could finde no place to settle in; no sure, no solid rest for her foot: and the silly thing had not learn'd to swim. This tumult of waters in the world, will never end, till the world ends. And therefore, O that I had wings like a Dove: for then would Psal. 55. 6. I flie away, and be at rest. Not feet like a Dove, but wings. I have gone enough. I have been treading, and picking upon dung­hills a long while. And now, I would faine be flying. And not hanging upon the wing, and hovering over dunghills: but fly­ing away. And not flying away, I know not whither; but to the knowne place of rest: For then would I flie away, and be at rest. And not wings like a Hawk, or Eagle; to help, and assist me in the destruction of others: but wings like a Dove; by which I may secure to my selfe, the continuance of a quiet, and innocent life. I would looke upon the earth, as God does, from above. I would raise my thoughts above the colde, and dampish earth; and fly with the white, and harmlesse Dove, when the fury of the waters began to be asswaged, to the top of a high mountaine, the mountaine of con­templation: [Page 28] standing above the reach of the swelling waves, above the stroke of thunder, and where little, or no winde stir­reth. That, as our dearly-beloved Master, Christ Jesus, prayed upon a mountain; that is sent up his flaming heart to Heaven, from a mountaine: yet farther, was transfigured upon a mountaine, that is, brought downe a glimpse of the glory of Heaven, to the top of a mountaine; and beyond either of these, ascended, himselfe, to Heaven from a moun­taine: So I dwelling upon the mountaines of Spices, as it is in the Canticles, may enjoy a Cant. 8. 4. sweet Heaven upon Earth, and sweeten the ayre, in every step, for the direction of o­thers who shall follow, drawne by the sweet savour of my example. And standing over the world, betwixt Heaven and earth, I may draw out my life in the serious con­templation of both: singing with Heze­chiah, I will mourne as a Dove. Here will Is. 38. 14. I rest my weary feet, and wings: and my body being at rest, I wil set my soul a work. I will mourne as a Dove▪ my thoughts ha­ving put themselves out of all other service; and now, onely waiting upon my heavenly Mate; and uttering themselves, not in arti­culate, and plaine speech, but in grones. And at last, set all on fire from Heaven, I may die the death of the Phoenix, in the bright [Page 29] flames of love towards God, and man; and in the sweet, and delicious odours of a good life. Come, my beloved, let us goe forth Cant. 7. 11. into the field: let us lodge in the Villages, Sayes the Spouse to the Bridegroome. Come then, my beloved, O come away, let us goe forth, there is no safe staying here: we must goe forth. And pry thee, sweet, whither? into the field: you and I alone. The field: where is not the least murmure of noise. Or if any, but onely a pleasant one (such musick as Nature makes) caused by the singing of Birds, and the bleating of Lambs, that talk much in their language, and are alwayes doing, and yet, sinne not. Or, if we must of urgent necessity converse with sinners: if the Sun will away, and black Night must come: if sleepe will presse upon us, and we must retire to a lodging-place: heare mee, (and by our sweet loves, deny mee not) let us lodge in the villages, out of the sight and hearing of learned dissimulation, and false bravery: where sin is not so ripe, as to be impudent; and where plaine-fac'd simpli­city knowes not, what deceit signifies. In the field, we shall enjoy the full, and open light of the Sun: and securely communicate all our secrets of love. And when the Body calls to bed, and sayes, hee hath serv'd the soule enough, for one time; we may with­draw [Page 30] to yonder Village, and there we shall embrace, and cling together quietly; there wee shall rest arme in arme, without di­sturbance. And do'st thou heare? when we wake, wee will tell our dreames, how we dreamt of Heaven, and how you and I met there, and how much you made of me: and then up, and to the field againe. O, did men and women know, what an unspeak­able sweetnesse arises from our intimacie, and familiarity with God: and from our daily conversation with Christ: What in­wardly passes betwixt God, and a good soul: and how lovingly they talk one to another: and how they sometimes, as it were whi­sper, sometimes speak aloud: sometimes de­liver themselves merrily, sometimes in a mournfull tone: and how prettily the soul will complaine, and cry to him, and relate her griefes over and over: and how order­ly Christ keepes his times of going, and comming againe: and what messenger [...] passe betwixt them, in his absence: and af­terwards, what a merry day it is, whe [...] they meet: and what heavenly matte [...] Christ preaches to the soule: and how afte [...] the Sermon, the soule condemnes the world and abominates all the vanities of it; an [...] would faine be running out of it, if it coul [...] tell which way, and not run from Chris [...] [Page 31] all the sweetnesse of this world, would be gall, and extreame bitternesse to them: they would relish nothing but Christ: they would scarce endure to heare any man speak, that did not speak of Christ: his very name would give a sweet taste in their mouthes: they would seeke him; and they would be sick, till they found him: And having found him, they would let goe all, and hold him fast. And then, the remem­brance of their labour in seeking him would be sweetnes it self to them. Our Saviour be­fore his passion, ascended according to his custome to the mount of Olives: and there drew himself, even from his own Disciples. For, as S ^t. Luke describeth it, He was with­drawn frō them about a stones cast, and kneeled downe, and prayed. About a stones cast, for Luk. 22 41 the peace, and privacie of his owne Recol­lection: And but a stones cast, for the safe­ty, and security of his Disciples. And cur­sed be the Traytour, that brought a vile rabble of seditious persons upon him, to breake his mysticall sleepe, and to cut the fine thred of his calme and quiet devotions. Thus did my thoughts spread themselves: imagining, this could not any where be found, but in a Monastery. My last reason was, because being carried away with a great streame, the desire of knowledge; it [Page 32] being the Philosophers Principle in the first grounds of his Metaphysicks, Omnis homo naturâ scire desiderat, Every man by nature Arist. 1. Met cap. 1. desireth to know: I plunged my selfe into the depth of profound Authors, Bellarmine and others; and was lost in the bottome. And hurried with these motives, I left with a free minde, Kings Colledge, and the University of Cambridge, upon Christimasse Eeve; that I might avoid the receiving of the Sacrament, the next day: for which I was in particular, warned to prepare my selfe. But the divine Providence went with mee, and plainly shewed mee by my owne eyes, and by my eares, and by other knowing powers, perfected with know­ledge in some measure, with which God hath endued me, that my reasons were as weak, as I was young.

CHAP. 9.

I Shall now, (and I cannot help it) lay o­pen, and uncover the faults of others. But who am I, that I should doe this? Have I not great faults of my owne? O, I have. Lord, have have mercy upon me, a misera­ble sinner: and upon them, and upon all the world. I am one of those, to whom God gave a faire preheminence over all other earthly creatures. I was shaped by him in [Page 33] my mothers wombe; and tooke up by him, when I fell from her. I was guided through all dangers by him, in my weake infancie, and ignorant childhood. I was reserved by him, for the law of grace, and the faith of Christ. I am furnished by him, with all kindes of necessaries, for the fit main­tenance of life: and have beene delive­red by him, from a thousand thousand mis­chiefes, bending the bow both at soule and body. I had lost my life the other day, and beene carried hence with all my sinnes upon my back; had not he stept in to help me. I have beene moved every day to good­nesse, by his holy calls, and inspirations. He puts bread and meat into my mouth, every day; having strangely brought it from ma­ny places, by many wayes, through many hands, to me. Hee covers my nakednesse, every day. He hath preserved, and restored me from sicknesse: and disposeth all my af­faires, with all gentlenesse. And yet, I have play'd as foule with him, as any man. Be­hold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sinne did Psal. 51. 5. my mother conceive mee! I am thronged with unruly passions, madd, if let loose to wickednesse. I goe and grow crookedly, and stoope very low, under a mighty bur­then of sinne: and am prone to all mischief, and of my selfe, ready for all attempts, and [Page 34] wicked enterprises against God. For, if God should withdraw his preventing Grace, I should quickly be guilty of any sinne, that ever any man or woman committed. It is granted that I am the void, and empty Cave of ignorance; the muddy fountaine of evill concupiscence; dark in my understanding, weake in my will, and very forgetfull of good things: and that, left to my selfe, I am not my selfe, but a devill in my shape. All this is true. And yet, I have beene the Cap­taine of an Army against him, by whom on­ly, I can be set at liberty, and freed from all these evills. God is so perfectly knowing, so compleatly wise, that no sinne, though lying hid in the dark thoughts, and quiet privacie of the heart; though covered with the mists of the morning, or the darknesse of the night, can escape his knowledge: so throughly good, that no sinne can please him; so wonderfully powerfull that no sin­ner can flie from him, though hee should have wings to help his feet. He is the end­lesse, boundlesse, bottomlesse heape of all perfections. He is infinitely stored with all kindes of perfect worth, and beauty: and therefore, most worthy of all true love, and honour. And this All of perfections, is my all in all: He is one, and a great one, that I make very angry with me every day; and [Page 35] yet striking, hee shakes his head, pulls back his hand, and is very loth to strike: Hee would, but will not. Hee beares with mee from day to day; and hopes well of mee: breaths upon me, blowes upon me with his holy spirit: waters mee with his heavenly grace, and benediction: diggs about mee, with lessons and instructions of all sorts, and with good examples on every side; expe­cting good fruit from mee. And this good great God have I struck with many faults.

CHAP. 10.

VErily, I have deserved, that, because I have defiled all the Elements with my sins, as I goe, the earth at every step should sink under mee: that it should open, and swallow me with a wide throat, into hell. That water, when I first come where it is, should leape into my face, and stifle mee: that, when I open my mouth, to receive the sweet benefit of ayre, nothing but mists, and foggs, and the plague should enter: that fire should not onely cease, and denie to warme me; but also, flie upon mee, hang about me, and burne me to ashes: that heat and cold should meet together in the clouds, and without much threatning, break out up­on [Page 36] me, as having bin neither hot nor cold; & strike me dead with a clap of thunder: that, because all my zeal was but a flash, a flash of lightning should burne mee to a coale, and leave mee standing without life, a blasted man, all black and dried, to scare others from sinne. That, because I playd the Beast, in erring against the rules of reason; beasts, and unreasonable creatures of all kindes, should lie every where in wait to destroy me: that the Birds of the Aire, should break into my House, catch the bread out of my hand before it comes to my mouth, and car­rie away the very meat from my Table; because they deserve it, better then I: that Spiders should empty their poyson, into my drink: that because I stript my soule, and rob'd her of her wedding garment; no kind of garment should ever be able to hang upon my back. I have deserved, that, be­cause I have infected my Brethren by evill example, the hearts and hands of all men should be turned against me; that, as I passe in the streets, men and women should laugh at me in scorne; and mock me, as they doe fooles & mad men: and that, because I have beene a stumbling-block to youth, Boyes and Girles should run after me with a noise; and that their Parents, and people of all sorts, should throw dirt in my face. Indeed, [Page 37] I have deserved, that because I have sinned in the sight of the Angels, the Angels of Heaven should arrest me in the Kings name, whom I have offended; take me, and deli­ver mee to all the devils of Hell; and that they should throw me with all their might, into the bottome of Hell; and follow after me with an out-cry, that should make the foundations of the earth shake. For, having playd the notorious Rebel against the Crea­tor of all things; I have most justly deser­ved, as often as I have sinned that all things, all creatures should rise up in armes against me. And with what heart, or face shall I stretch out my hand against the faults of others? But, it is not my owne quarrell. I speake in Gods behalfe.

CHAP. 11.

I Was reconciled to the Church of Rome in London, by an English Monk: and by him recommended to a Jesuit: who sent me to the English Colledge at S. Omers in Flanders. And the better to passe at Dover; I was put by an English Monk, into a habit like an Italian, and indeed, like the Monk as he goeth in London: and joyned in com­pany, with a young Gentleman an Italian [Page 38] Traveller, who was now in his returne to­wards his Country. Having passed for an Italian, not only in clothes, but in Country; and being landed at Calice in France: it hapned, that I travelled from thence to St. Omers, with a Jesuit, and a young Scholler, which he brought with him out of England: and they had come in the Ship wherein I passed. Hee was apparrelled like a secular Gentleman, and wore a little Ponyard by his side. And we three mingling discourse, as we journeyed, he told us, that the Pony­ard was given him by a Catholike, a deare friend of his; upon a condition, that hee should kil a Pursuivant with it. God knows, I lie not. By a Pursuivant, hee meant one of the Kings Messengers, which are imployed in the search, and apprehension of Priests and Jesuits. But O my Lord, and my God, can this be the veine, and the spirit of the Primitive Church? or, doth it taste of the meeknesse, and gentlenesse of Christ our sweet Saviour, either in his life, or doctrine? With the first, it cannot agree. For S ^t. Cy­prian is plaine in the matter: Nos laesos di­vina ultio defendet. Inde est, quòd nemo no­strum S. Cypr. ad Demetriad. se adversus injustam violentiam, quam­vis nimius, & copiosus sit noster populus, ul­ciscatur. God wil revenge our wrongs. And therefore, not one of us doth lift up his hand [Page 39] against unjust violence, although our people be many, and our strength great. Wee are patient, not that we cannot resist the power of our persecutors; but because we may not resist them, having received power from God: to which wee ought to submit our selves, wheresoever we finde it. With the second, it may not hold in either of the two branches. It sutes not with the doctrine of Christ; who saith to Peter, having smote off the eare of an inferiour servant, though he had left his head behinde: Put up againe thy sword into his place: for all they that take Mat. 26 52 the sword, shall perish with the sword. It is not of the same colour, with the life of Christ; of whom Saint Paul testifieth, that he hum­bled himselfe, and became obedient unto death, 2 Phil. 8. 9. even the death of the Crosse. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him. Hee was first depressed, and then, exalted: and hee was therfore exalted, because hee had beene de­pressed: and he was highly exalted because he had beene depressed as low as death, and the death of theeves, and murderers: and he depressed himselfe, but hee was exalted by God. Well now. It is not agreeable with this, or with that. Yet, I well know, with what it agreeth. And you shall know, as well as I. With the doctrine, and practice of the Church of Rome. God turn the hearts [Page 40] of her children. But, I must turne to Christ againe. Mee thinks, it is a mervailous plea­sant thing, to looke upon him. The obedi­ence of his humility waded as farre as it could find bottome. It is a witty difference, which S ^t. Gregory maketh betwixt obedi­ence and sacrifice. Obedientia victimis praepo­nitur; quia per victimas aliena caro; per obedi­entiam S. Greg. lib. 35. Mora­lium in Job cap. 12. verò, voluntas propria mactatur. Obe­dience is preferred before sacrifice: because in sacrifice, other things; in obedience, our owne wils are kill'd; that is, mortified, and offered to God. And therefore, the night before our deare Saviour was made actu­ally obedient unto death, hee discovered two wills, in one soule. His humanity, ha­ving a revelation of what he was to suffer; and now, sweating bloud in the serious contemplation of it, his inferiour will cri­ed out, O my Father, if it be possible, let this Mat. 26. 39 cup passe from me. But the superiour will, soone ended the controversie: neverthelesse, not as I will, but as thou wilt. The inferiour will was it selfe, in the reasonable part; or it could not have beene capable of such a high kinde of willing. A little more obe­dience to Christ, and his law, would not ill become those great Professors of obedience. Christ alloweth us to runne in our own de­fence; but not to resist; if the power be law­full, [Page 41] that opposeth us, and we subjected to it: and if it commeth from God, it would be lawfull, though it should not doe lawfully, what it doth: lawfull in it selfe, though not lawfull in the exercise of it selfe: and it can not be resisted in the exercise, but it must be resisted in it selfe: for, power is never seene in it selfe, but altogether in the exercise of it selfe.

CHAP. 12.

IT is the course of the Jesuits at St. Omers, to send every yeare in the time of Harvest, two missions of English Schollers, into re­mote parts of the Christian world: one, to Rome in Italy; And another to Valladolid, or Sevil in Spaine: and these places in Spaine, receive their missions by turnes. In all these places, are English Colledges: Whereof the Superiours, or Governours, are Jesuits: the rest, Schollers, chalked out for secular Priests. By secular Priests I understand, not regular Priests; neither Jesuits, nor Monks, nor Friars; but Priests, without any farther addition: whose primarie charge in their Institution, by which they differ from o­thers, is, to teach and instruct secular peo­ple, and to reside in Benefices, and be Parish [Page 42] Priests. Here, I have a notable trick to dis­cover, and I shall ever stop, and stand ama­zed, and ponder the malice of the Jesuits, when I think of it. Their best, and most able Schollers, they send alwayes, to Spaine: and onely, their weaker vessels, to Rome; in their ordinarie proceedings: whereof some are lame, some crooked, others imperfect in the naturall part of speaking. The reason of it, is excellent knowledge. The Schol­lers being with them, and subordinate to them in their Colledges, and now, far from their Country: it is a great portion of their labour, to win them by favours, promises, threats in the by, and much cunning, to be Jesuits: and so, they never leave any (if all they can doe, will doe withall) for the Se­cular Priests, but the leane and bony end, and the refuse of them. For, the Jesuits and the Secular Priests, are great opposites; and much contrary in their opinions: and the weaknes of the one wil help negatively, to the strength of the other. The Pope being informed of this Jesuiticall device, gave a command at Rome, where his power is ab­solute in all kindes: that every Scholler, the yeare of his probation being expired, should bind himselfe by an oath, not to en­ter into any order of Religion; till after three yeares durance in England. And then, [Page 43] they began to set on foot the trick I told you of. But, if one desires admittance into a mission, who by reason of some defect, (for example, the defect of having entred into an order, and returned with dislike) cannot according to their rules, be a Jesuit; if hee comes with strong, and able commendati­ons, they will send him to Rome, though he be a deserving man; that he, and such as he, may stand like a good face, or a fresh colour, over the device, that lyeth inward. They have a very godly-fac'd answer to this ob­jection: and say; these imperfect creatures are as God made them; and they are sent over by their poore friends, to be Priests; and we that weare out our bodies, and lifes in the education of Youth, have good reason to chuse the sounder part: and they which come to us, are not taken from the Church, but restored to it, in a more excellent man­ner. But, first, according to their own Prin­ciples, they are bound to goe along with the Founders intention; and the Founder intended the maintenance, for able men. Se­condly, they doe not performe their obli­gation of Charity towards the body of the Clergie, which they notably maime, and disable: and yet, in those places they are onely Stewards for the Clergie. Thirdly, they doe great injurie both to their Church, [Page 44] and their cause; which suffereth oftentimes by such Martyrs of Nature, and such unskil­full Defenders: Some of which, cannot read Latine, nor yet hard English. See how God worketh for us, by their sins. Fourth­ly, they delude the Popes command con­cerning the oath, and wholly frustrate his purpose; and their fourth vow of obedi­ence to his Holinesse, stands for a cypher in this businesse. And much more. What re­maineth now, but that malice is predomi­nant in the action; and that they make themselves Gods, and turne all to their owne ends?

CHAP. 13.

AT S ^t. Omers, their manner is, to make triall of every one that comes; what nature, and spirit hee is of, and what pro­gresse he hath made in learning; partly by applying subtill young Lads to him, which keepe him company, and turne him out­ward, and inward againe, and make returne of their observations to the Jesuits: and partly, by their owne sifting him, either in discourse, or examination, or in some other more laboured exercise. Which triall when I had undergone, an old Jesuit, gray in ex­perience, [Page 45] and a crafty one, and one, whose name you have in your minde, when you think Not, being then Vice-provinciall of the English Jesuits, look'd soberly upon me, and told me of a spirituall exercise, in use amongst them, which would much pre­ferre me in the service of God, if I was plea­sed to make use of it. I yeelded. And the next day, in the evening, I was brought into a Chamber, where the Curtaines were drawne, and all made very dark; onely, a little light stole in at a corner of the win­dow, to a Table; where stood pen, ink, and paper: and order was given me by my ghostly Father, a cunning man, a man that did not walk in the light, that I should not undraw the Curtaines, or speak with any person but himselfe, for certaine dayes; and what the spirit of God should inspire into my heart concerning my course of life, I should write; there being pen, ink, and paper. And he left a Meditation with mee, the matter of which, was indeed, very heavenly; and hee brought every day two or three more. Hee visited me two or three times a day; and alwayes, his question was, after, how doe you childe, and so forth? What? have you wrot any thing? Feel you not any particular stirrings of the spirit of God? And alwayes, I answered plainely, [Page 46] and truly, no. Having beene kept in dark­nesse, some dayes; and alwayes left to a more serious, and attentive listning after the holy Ghost; and perceiving no signes of a releasement; I began to suspect, what the man aim'd at. And I prayed heartily, that my good God would be pleased to direct me. Think with me: Had these Meditati­ons beene appointed meerely, and precisely for the elevation of my soule to God, they had beene excellent: but perverted, and abused to serve mens ends, they were not what they were. But I thought, I would know farther e're long. The holy man came againe, and still enquired, if I knew the minde of the Holy Ghost. My answer was: I did hope, yes; but I was loth, be­cause ashamed, to speak it. Being encoura­ged by him, I said; That in my last Medita­tion, the spirit of God seemed to call me to the Society. Hee knew the phrase, and the sense of it, was, God moved me to be a Je­suit. He presently, caught up my words, and told me, I was a happy man, and had great cause to blesse God for so high a calling; with much, to that purpose. And when he had his end, my Meditations had their end, and the Curtaines were drawne, and having beene enlightned from Heaven, it was gran­ted, that I should enjoy the light of the [Page 47] world; and there was all the good man look'd for. But, had not the Holy Ghost spoke as he did, hee would not have beene thought, to speake like the Holy Ghost. And now, I was brought downe from my dark Cell, with great joy, and lightsom­nesse; and all the Boyes were unexpected­ly sent abroad with me that afternoone, to recreate their spirits, and be merry with the new-borne childe. Yet afterwards, a per­formance being required of what I had pro­mised, my heart gave back. For, I had been counselled by some of the lesse Jesuited Schollers, to goe in a mission, and read far­ther in the practice of the Jesuits, before I took their habit. Which the Jesuits labou­red to prevent, telling me, their numbers in their missions were full. I stood to it, and gave them no ground; saying, I would re­turne to England, if I went not: and so, they sent mee in the mission, to Valladolid in Spaine. But I saw with both my eyes, they were in good hope, to gaine me afterwards. Many are of opinion, that a great cause of these great disturbances in the world, is, be­cause men walk not in those vocations to which God hath called them. The ordina­rie vocation is, when a man findes, (after a fit imploring of Gods help) in the due exa­mination of his heart, that he can best, and [Page 48] most proportionably to his abilities, serve God in such an honest course, lying within the reach, and condition of his life. And undoubtedly, these foule wayes, are so ma­ny wrestings of Gods spirit. Me thinks now, a man may throughly meditate, every day if he please, both whence hee came, and whi­ther hee goes, in little England: where hee may doe it freely, and sweetly; and where, in the doing of it, no man will have a plot upon Him, or urge him to exact upon the Holy Ghost. And lest the Jesuits should imagine, wee are here altogether destitute of such helps, and for the benefit of my neighbour, I will set downe a Meditation in this kinde: and he ownes it, that desires with all his heart, to serve God with all his might; and by him, they may guesse of others.

CHAP. 14.

BEfore I leave S ^t. Omers, I must needs give you a gentle touch of the Jesuits Hypocrisie there. For, besides other follies of that rank; they have set up a large pi­cture, in a faire roome above staires, where the Schollers come every day. In vvhich are pictured two ships at Sea; and one is taken by the other: A ship of Hollanders, takes a ship of Spaniards, wherein many Jesuits are. The Hollanders look fierce, and cruelly: the Spanish Jesuits, have all good, and heavenly faces. The Hollanders having bound the Jesuits, hand and foot; and throwne them over-board; they sink, and [Page 105] dye like men, a spectacle full of horrour; onely some of them appeare floating upon the water, (I suppose, their galls are bro­ken) with faces very like dead Saints. But one of them amongst all the rest, can neither dye nor sink, because he beares a Crucifix in his hands, though they are bound; and the Painter hath given him a better face, then all the rest. I would to God, these people did either love God truly, or not make a shew, they love him. And their labour is not one­ly, to bring the Schollers in admiration of other Jesuits by false wayes: but also, of themselves. For, they had one in their house at that time, who had beene stung by the old serpent; and was more crafty, then religi­ous, in the report of all disinteressed persons, that knew him: Concerning whom, part of the zealous Boyes beleeved, (and whence could this come, but from the Jesuits sugge­stions?) that he had seen the virgin Mary: and that upon a time (for so, every tale be­gins) shee had appeared to him, when hee was hot in his prayers. And when their bu­sinesse led them to his chamber, they would whisper one to another: that is the place, where the virgin Mary appear'd to Father Wallys; and they would observe that cor­ner with reverence. The Jesuits have al­wayes Secular Priests, Adherents to their [Page 106] body, stirring men, and such as they are sure of; whom they keepe warme with a pro­mise, to receive them afterwards into their order; but will not presently, for some ends: either that they may stay with them, and buy purchases for them, which they must not be seene to look after, and the like: or, to deale some other cunning businesses abroad, which will not beseeme them to act, in their owne behalfe: or, to write books in their defence, or at least to prefix their names before the Books; that they may be defended, and praised by other men. One example will not take up much room: A Secular Priest of this quality, was sent from England, not many yeares agoe, into Germany: and there, presented a petition to the Emperour, to which many English Pa­pists had subscribed their names; (I suppose, all Jesuited Papists.) And the matter was, to begg an English Colledge in Germany, which might be governed by the Jesuits: which appeared a very faire Petition, be­cause the Messenger was a Secular Priest. Sure, the Apostles of Christ, had little of this wisedome. Such a man there was, now at S. Omers: who shewed often, to the young Frye, a pr [...]ious Relique; calling it, a feather pluck'd from one of the wings of S. Michael the Archangel. I know, there [Page 107] hath been a Story related formerly of them, somewhat like this. And I am certaine, that most, if not all their tricks, are fashioned in the likenesse of things formerly done, or said to be done, for many reasons. Invention is not so happy, as it hath beene. And all won­ders must be like, that they may seeme to proceed from the same Father. But they now say, this was an act of merriment. I answer: My Author, a Scholler, and a dis­creet person there present, did not conceive it so; nor yet perceive, that it entred in that forme, upon the apprehension of others: And, it is not safe jesting with exercises of Religion. One thing must not passe, though many doe: The Jesuits are the most sweet, and most honey-tongu'd people, that ever I heard speak. Some of them, are ancient, and grave men, and now, stooping towards their grave: and yet, after every word, even when they speake to young greene Boyes, they come with, yes forsooth, and, no for­sooth; their Caps being off, and a courte­ous forme of duty expressed: and forsooth, with, yes pray if you please, and no forsooth pray; take up a great part of their discourse.

CHAP. 15.

IT hath beene alwayes, the custome of wanderers in Religion, to guild their de­formed errors with Hypocrisie; and to put on all shapes, for the manifold advantage of their Profession. Simon Magus, the first, that ever display'd the banner in this kinde, against Christ, and Christian Religion, by the power of the devill, as Nicephorus re­counteth, taught Images to walk, stooles Nice [...] lib. 2. [...]ccl. hist. cap 27. and dishes to passe from place to place with­out a Guide: Hee would appeare in the midst of a great flame, untouch'd by the fire: he would flye in the ayre: turne stones into seeming bread; take the fearefull shape of a Dragon, and of other Beasts; that hee might with the Kings of Egypt, amaze, and terrifie the world. Now hee would shew himselfe with two faces: and now againe, seeme to be all gold. Dores, strengthen'd with able barres, and locks, he would open with a word; break iron fetters; and in ban­kets, present a shew of sporting Images, in many forms, and divers colours. Shadowes did goe before him, which hee interpreted, to be the soules of dead persons. And thus, he would seem to work miracles in triviall, [Page 109] and unnecessary matters. Intruth, hee was any thing, the spectatours desired to see. And yet, a statue was consecrated to him, by the wise Romans, with a glorious inscription, Simoni Deo Sancto, to Simon, the holy God. Behold here, the Father of Hypocrites. Tully S. Iust. in Apolog. 2. doth not praise Catiline, when hee sayes that hee was made up of the mixture of all other mens natures. Nor doth Homer extoll Proteus; of whom, a pious Author most e­legantly singeth, Spumat aper, fluit undae, fremit Leo, sibilat anguis: Hee foames like a Boare, he flowes like the water, he roares like a Lion, hee hisses like a Snake. Now I shall dive low. God is so faire, and excel­lent, that he can never appeare to any crea­ture, which he hath made, or can make: to men, or Angels: or any creature possible to be made, more perfect then an Angel; so ex­cellent, and so faire, as in himselfe, hee is. The reason is ponderous, and worthy to be pondered. God can never appeare to any power, in his compleat fairenesse; except that power be of capacity to comprehend his fairenesse: no power can comprehend his fairenesse, except the power be of an in­finite capacity, because God is infinite: no creature can be of an infinite capacity, be­cause no creature can be infinite. The last proposition, and the reason of it, flow natu­rally [Page 110] from the premises. But, look farther. Because God in his owne Essence, being, and nature, being by nature most neere to him; is infinitely excellent: and therefore, neither doth, nor can appeare in his full shi­ning to any creature; hee doth hate especi­ally, hate inwardly, hate from his heart, an Hypocrite: and can by no meanes, be at peace with one of those; who being endued with shallow perfections, are but a small particle of what he is, a meere atome of his excellency; and yet, make a noise with the shallow brooks; and chiefly desire to ap­peare more then what they are; and seeme to be, what they are not. If the thoughts of man, were as audible as his words, he could not beare one thing in his heart, another in his tongue: But in the creation of man, the heart was shut up by it selfe; and lyeth open to none, but him that made it; whose privi­ledge & prerogative it is, to be [...], the searcher of the heart; and therefore, there may be Hypocrites in respect of us, but not, of God. And no man aspireth to a seeming excellency above himselfe; but one stretched with the swelling of pride, be­yond the condition, in which hee stands; and pride hath many Companions. By which, it appeares eminently true, that Hy­pocrisie is not a melancholly, and single sin; [Page 111] that it goeth not without a traine; that it comes in the midst of an Army, as if it had proclaimed open warre against Heaven; and therefore, is hatefull to God, for many respects.

CHAP. 16.

OUr Saviour cries, as if hee would ne­ver have done crying: Woe unto you Scribes and Pharisees, Hypocrites; for their Math. 23. hypocrisie had many faults, and therefore, many woes were due to them, as hypo­crites. When God deales with servile na­tures, he begins to frowne, he threatens wo, and torments: because the Slave is of a hard skin, and is more stirred with a blow, then with soft, and gentle admonitions; and therefore, the hypocrite is of a rough, rag­ged, and servile disposition. And when God threatneth paine, and woe, it is cleare, that those with whom he dealeth, cannot be raised by any other meanes. For, we have driven God to his last refuge, when he flyeth to threats: and therefore, the hypocrite is, as his Father was, in the gall of bitternesse: Act. 8. 23. and, neither the gracious promises of the true Father; nor the grievous performances of his Sonne, and our Saviour; nor yet, the [Page 112] glorious perpetuity of Heaven, can heat, or kindle him. You must tell the thiefe, (for, he is a thiefe, as robbing God of his rich, and pretious honour) of the whip, and the lash; of the Jayle, and chaines; that he will ne­ver leave, till he be hang'd; and that there is a dark dungeon below; and devils, and damned spirits, and fire, and brimstone, and perpetuall horrour. It is remarkable, saith S. Cyprian, that Christ under the name S Cypr. lib. 4 ep. 9. of Scribes and Pharisees, reprehendeth even the Priests, and high-Priest. For, lest hee should seeme to thwart the Priesthood, and chayre of Moses; striking also, at the Priests, and high Priest, he saith onely, Woe un [...]o you Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites. The out­ward acts of divine service, being perfor­med in the old Law, by way of shadow, and figure; and with resemblance, and relation to the perfection of the new Law; and be­ing, as it were, the first lineaments of per­fection: we may not think, that God would have excluded the Swan, out of the sacred Levit. 11. number of his victimes; without a firme, and solid reason. He was not tempted with the choyce cleannesse of her feathers; nor with her fore-stalling of death, and singing her owne obsequies: but because her skinne, the root of her feathers, and her flesh and en­trals, the organs of her musick, were black; [Page 113] he rejected her, as an uncleane creature, not worthy to teach the world. The Ostrich likewise, was esteemed profane, and never admitted into Gods holy Temple; because notwithstanding all his great, and glorious furniture of feathers, he cannot lift his dull, and drossie body above the ground. The Moone shineth; but because it doth not heat, it is not suffered to shine by day. It is the property of good, to shrowd, and cover it selfe. God the chiefest good, though he fil­leth heaven, and earth, with his glory: yet, he will not be seene. Christ, though he was perfect God, and equall to his Father: yet nothing was ordinarily seene in him, but a poore homely man. Who ever saw the soul of a man, his onely jewell, as he is a man? Christ said to his Apostles, Yee are the light of the world. And againe: Let your light so Math. 5. 4 Ver. 16. shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorifie your Father which is in Heaven. It must be light, and therefore, a true light, not a counterfeit, and seeming light; it must be your light, every mans owne light: it must be a light, by which men may see, not onely the good light it selfe, but also our good works by the light: and it must shine onely to the end, that our heavenly Father may be glorified. All light is commonly said to be derived from the [Page 114] Sun: and the cause of all our shining must be alwayes referred, and attributed to God. And truly, when a man, for example giveth almes; kindled onely with an intention, that his neighbour seeing him, may glorifie his Father, which is in Heaven: his inten­tion is cleane, and sufficiently good; but he must be a man of proofe, that giveth place to such intentions: for he lieth wide open to the ticklings of vaine-glory, and hypo­crisie. But I feele a scruple: Good ex­ample is highly vertuous, and in some sort, worthy of reward, especially, in persons of eminent quality; because good example is more seene, more admired, and goes with more credit, and authority in them: and therefore, doth more edifie, in respect of the high conceit wee have of their wisedome, and knowledge. Now the hypocrite teach­eth as forcibly by example, as the sound, and throughly vertuous man. For, we learne in the great Theater of example, by what wee outwardly see: and the hypocrite is as out­wardly faire, as the sincere Christian. It seemeth now, that an hypocrite doth please God, in playing the hypocrite. Not so: be­cause his intention is crooked: for, he doth not intend to bring an encrease of good to others, but of glory, to himselfe. If good by chance break in upon his action, it falleth [Page 115] besides his intention; and it belongeth to Gods providence, as to it's proper fountain, which crusheth good out of evill. As like­wise, the prodigall man, when hee giveth prodigally to the poore, doth not intend to fulfill the law of God; but to satisfie his owne wilde lust of giving. S ^t. John Baptist was a lamp, burning and shining. Which moved St. Bernard to say: Ardere parum, lu­cere vanum, lucere & ardere perfectum. It is S. Bern. in Serm. de nativ. S. Io. Bapt. a small thing, to burne only; a vaine thing, to shine onely; a perfect thing, to both shine and burne. Nothing is more naturally pro­per to the fire, then to burne; and in the instant, in which it first burns, it gives light. Which is the cause of those golden words in Synesius, [...]: It is the nature Synes. Con­tra An­drom. of God to do good; as of the fire, to heat or burne; and of the light, to give light.

CHAP. 17.

ANd certainly, if we search with a cu­rious, and piercing eye, into the man­ners of men; we shall quickly finde, that false Prophets, and Deceivers, are com­monly more queint, more various, and more polished in their tongues, and publike be­haviour, [Page 116] then God's true, and faithfull Mes­sengers, who conforme themselves to the simplicity of the Gospel. And, if we looke neere the matter, God prefigured these de­ceitfull creatures, in the creation: (for, hee hath an admirable way of teaching, even by every creature:) it being the property of a cruell beast, called the Hyaena, to faine the voyce of a man: But when the silly Shep­heard commeth to his call, he ceases to be a man, teares him presently, and preys upon him. Each Testament hath a most fit ex­ample. Ioab said to Amasa, the head of Ab­solons Army, Art thou in health, my Brother? Could danger lurk under the faire name of 2 Sam. 20. 9. Brother? or, could death hide it selfe un­der health, a perfection of life? They could, and did. For, Ioab, making forward to kisse him, killed him: and robbed him both of health, and life: whom hee had even now saluted with, Art thou in health, my Bro­ther. Surely, he did not think of Cain, when hee call'd him Brother. Judas came to Christ, and saying, God save thee Master, kissed him. Hee talks of God, and of Salva­tion, Math. 26. 49. God save thee. Hee confesses, Christ to be his Master. Hee kisses too. And yet, in the same act, gives him up into the busie hands of his most deadly enemies. Where­fore St. Ambrose, one that had a practicall [Page 117] knowledge of the great difference of Spi­rits, which hee had seene in their actions; disswading us from the company, and con­versation of these faith-Impostors, saith, Nec vos moveat, quod formam praetendere videntur S. Ambr. humanam; nam et si foris homo cernitur intus bestia fremit: let it not move you, that they beare outwardly, the likenesse, and simili­tude of men: for, without a man appeareth; but within, a beast rageth. And that, which St. Hierome saith of a quiet Sea, is of the same colour with the conceit of St. Ambrose: Intùs inclusum est periculum, intùs est hostis: the danger is shut up within; within is the S. Hier. ep. ad Helio­dor. Enemy: like a rock, watching under a calme water. St. Cyprian adviseth us, to be­take our selves presently to our feet, and fly from them. Simus ab eis tam seperati, quàm sunt illi de Ecclesia profugi. Let us fly as farre S. Cypr. in ep. 3. lib. 1. from them, as they have flowne from the purity of the Church; and that's a great way. St. Cyprian in the same place, ex­horteth us very seriously, not to deale with them, not to eat with them, not to speake with them. O the foule corruption of our Times! O for some zealous power, that may reforme the abuses, mine eyes have seene! It is one of the first endeavours of the Papists in England, which they exercise to­wards the society of men; to gaine the good [Page 118] wills of Ministers. For, if they purchase the Ministers good will, and good word; they clip the wings of the Law; & hold him fast, that hath a great stroke in matters concern­ing them. And where the Papists have great meanes, they are very free to Ministers in their entertainments, and send their Coaches for them, and their wifes. But when they have beene merry, and are gone; their good name, which they left behind them, hath not as good entertainment, as they. For, the Papists say, (and I have heard them,) These Ministers are the veriest Epicures, meere belly-gods; if we fill their bellies, we shall be sure to have them our friends; when the bag is full, the Pipe will goe to our tune, a long time after. Modo ferveat olla, if the pot seeth, and there be warme meat providing for dinner, what care they, whether there bee a God, or no? If wee licker them throughly, with strong Beere, and good sparkling Canary; and call them to ride, and hunt with us; they will talke fami­liarly with our Priests, and heare them jest at their Religion, and at the Professours, and Defenders of it; (and as freely jest as they:) and yet, will honestly keepe coun­sell: they are not Christians, but Atheists. And thence the Papists fetch, as they think, a strong argument against our Religion. And [Page 119] whilest these Ministers frequent their houses with a pretence of converting them, (for so they tell ignorant people, that groane under the scandall) they subvert them utterly. Truly, a Minister, and a daily Guest of the Papists, enquired when this Book, (which I intended for the service of God, and the detestation of Popery) came into the light; that (said he) I may sit by the fire-side, and laugh at it: and I beleeve, he will, if he can spare so much time from drinking. The Lord forgive him, and teach him to be pra­cticall in the practicable things, in which this Book is doctrinall. But why should I be opposed in my reasonable proceedings against the Adulteresse of Rome, by my own Mothers owne children? and so often, by so many of them? or why should entertain­ments, or private ends be more deare to them, then Gods truth? Let every man ob­serve, what great Christmasses they keepe, and how they abound in dancing and revel­ling; striving thereby, to make the hearts of the Country people, which are soone ta­ken with such baits, their owne; lest they should at any time, either accuse them, or beare witnesse against them. And in their houses, many, if not the greater part, of their servants, were lately Protestants. O Lord, whither doe they pull us, one by one? I [Page 120] know, where having one of a Family, they made the number up five presently; and the Father had bin but a while before, a Church­warden: and these are all Attendants upon a rich Papist. I would their devotion did not blaze so much, and so often, like an Ignis Fatuus, lead poore Travellers out of their way. It is my opinion, grounded upon ex­perience: In every day of the year, O pitty! Some, and more then we dreame of, in this little corner of the world, are drawne with queint devices, with smooth tearms of Art, with trim speaking, and eloquent behaviour, from us, from our owne body, by them to them. O weak people, to be thus drawne! weake in life, or understanding: or at least, weak in resolution, selling Christ for a messe of pottage, or for thirty pence at most. If the Papists goe on, there will be quickly, I say not few, but fewer sound hearts in England. Take notice of this all good peo­ple. Existime­mus. If we have no zeale, we have no religi­on, no Church: and zeal is like fire; if it be, it burnes. Wee carry our selves perinde quasi nihil accideret grave, saith St. Chrysostome, S. Chrysost. hom 1 ad­versus Iu­daeos. cùm membra nostra putrescunt: as if no harm did happen to us, when our own limbs drop away in corruption, from our bodies. But I turne to the matter in hand.

CHAP. 18.

THe Teachers of the Arian Heresie, by which, Christ was throwne downe from Heaven, to the degree of a meere crea­ture; were the most affable, and most insi­unating people, that lived in those dayes. How subtill were they, both in the propa­gation of their faith, and the carriage of their manners? they shewed the poore plaine people, three corners of their hand­kerchers, saying, Here are three, and these three are not one: how then, can three per­sons be one God? And they did not juggle onely, with the simple sort. For, they de­luded six hundred Bishops, by a cunning Ruff lib. 10 Eccl. hist. cap. 21. proposall, whether they would worship Christ, or [...]: who, because they were not skill'd in the Greek language, an­swered, they would worship Christ, and not [...]: little thinking, they denied Christ to be consubstantiall with his Father. And, how cunningly did they scrue them­selves into the favour of great-ones; mo­ving one by another, as, Constantine by his [...]ster Constantia? What did they not at­tempt against holy Athanasius? they sub­orned a false woman, to accuse him of rape; [Page 122] they brought in, the arme of a dead man, with an intention to soyle him with mur­ther, and sorcerie: they would have pulled him limb from limb, in the midst of an ho­nourable Assembly. In very truth, no people were ever so like these heretikes in their practises, as the Popish Priests, and Jesuits of these days. I have heard from themselves, that one Jesuit sat singing in a Coblers shop, with his apron before him, to hide himselfe from the Officers, that pursued him: ano­ther, councerfeited himselfe to be drunk, and acted it rarely, that he might put a trick up­on a Constable; and that a third, dancing with a Lady, heard her Confession, sin after sin, as he met her, because he wanted better opportunity. These are but pranks; yet, the good Fishermen would not have done so. What black sin will they not fix upon him, that is their enemy, though a friend to Christ? But here I cannot stay. Yet note: God hath layd a curse upon dissemblers, that if you neerly follow their lifes, and actions with your eyes, you shall clearely perceive them, often tripping, and plainely discover­ing the foule disorder of their hearts; in crooked proceedings, that doe not favour of Evangelicall doctrine, or Apostolicall gravity. It is the prophecie of Esay, The waters of Nimrim shall be dried up. Some Esay 15. 6. [Page 123] English it: the Panthers waters shall be dried up. The Panther (say the best writers of naturall History) being exceedingly spot­ted, doth seek out secret fountains, wherein to wash, and rub it selfe: thinking by this meanes, to put off the foule badge, and corse livery of nature, and the colour of its coat, which it likes not. But the Panthers wa­ters, shall, one day, be dryed up. No figge­leaves, good sonne of Adam; no painted veyle of sincerity; no long cloak of dissem­bled holinesse. If you are found naked, you must appeare so, before a great Assembly, made great by all the great Assemblies, that ever were. I am a plaine man, and I must speak plainly, because I do not judge rashly; the judgement of experience is certain. The good Bishop of Rome, who lived when there were good men there; Evaristus, saith worthily, writing to the Bishops of Egypt, as he is alleadged by Gratianus: Deus au­tem omnipotens, ut nos à praecipitatae sententiae Evar. ep. 2. ad Episc. Aegypti. prolatione compesceret, cùm omnia nuda & aperta sint oculis ejus, mala Sodomae noluit au­dita judicare, priusquam manifestè agnosceret quae dicebantur. The omnipotent God, to draw us back from the precipice of rash judgement, although all things are naked, and open to his eyes; yet would not judge the sinnes of Sodome upon a single relation: [Page 124] hee would manifestly see the truth of the matter in practise, and draw an experi­mentall conclusion. Not that God acquireth knowledge by experience, or other wayes; for experience is a knowledge of things, which we knew not: but, for our learning. Vnde ipse ait, saith my Author, Descendam, et videbo utrum clamorem, qui venit ad me, opere compleverint, an non est ita, ut sciam. Wher­fore God saith, I will goe downe now, and see whether they have done altogether according Gen. 18. 21 to the cry of it, which is come unto me: and if not, I will know. Wee had lost many good things, had not Gratianus beene in the way; and this was one: First, God will go down, and take paines to see the truth of what hee hath heard; and then, he seems, not to know what he knowes, that we may learne, and know what wee know not. Knowing and seeing, hee went downe to see and know. I knew not, and I went to see; and having seene I know. Scientia est ejus, cujus est de­monstratio, saith the Philosopher, we know [...]striA that, which is evident to us by a demonstra­tion. And that I may cement the discourses of men with truth; and because the contra­ry hath beene preached, and mightily de­fended; and it is my part, to maintain truth on all sides: here I cannot hold from plain­speaking. In all the Churches, which ever [Page 125] I saw, belonging to the Church of Rome, in France, Spaine, Italy, and the low Countries, and also in Rome it selfe; the high Altar, where the Sacrament is kept, and delivered, and which onely can fitly be likened to our Communion Table, in regard it is but one; is encompassed with Rails: which Rails are cōmonly placed above the steps, by which they ascend to the high Altar: within w ^ch Rails, the Priest only, and he that serveth at Masse, do abide, except in the singing of high Masses, when hee is accompanied with the Deacon, Sub-deacon, Master of Ceremonies, and two Acolythi: Upon which Rails, in all Communions, is laid along cloath of linnen, which the Communicant holdeth with his hand toward his mouth, while he doth cō ­municate: and at which Railes, the people doe alwayes receive the Communion. I contribute this Testimonie towards the sa­tisfaction of Truth-maintainers: Oyee Mi­nisters of England; yee are, or ought to be, the light of the world, the salt of the earth: Shine therefore to the world, and season the earth by your good examples: Be humble, as Christ was humble; Be temperate; be con­tented sorte vestra; be laborious: But above all, seeke peace; and pursue it. And forget not to be direct, and sincere Preachers of the Gospell of Christ. If the Trumpet give an [Page 126] uncertaine sound, who shall prepare himselfe to battell? I confesse, I am bold. It is my 1 Cor. 14 8. love that speaks, mixed with a feare, lest we should fall into the foulest scorne of proud Rome. I will close up all with an Apostoli­call Admonition. Now I beseech you, Bre­thren, by the name of our Jesus Christ, that yee 1 Cor. 1. 10. all speake the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you: but that yee be perfectly joyned together in the same minde, and in the same judgement. And spare, O spare the seamlesse garment of Christ. And what I know, I can demonstrate. This shall end this. Priests (if they will be call'd so) are like starres, upon the powerfull influence of which, dependeth all the course, and dispo­sition of this inferiour world. If they be starres of a gentle, and milde aspect, they bring health, peace, plenty, every good thing; if otherwise, plague, warre, famine, all mischiefe. Either what wee preach, let us preach over, and over, and over againe, by example; or we shall, after all our long talking from the Pulpit, onely cast an of­fensive block before our weake brethren; put innocent Christ to the blush, whose royall person we present; and vilifie our do­ctrine. It is said: Iesus began both to doe, and teach. And this way ranne the streame of his Act. 1. 1. doctrine, Hee that shall doe and teach, shall [Page 127] be called great in the Kingdome of Heaven. First, let us do; and afterwards, teach. For, then it is beleeved, that we beleeve our own doctrine, when we teach it, preach it, pro­claime it the second time, in the schoole of Manners. Salvianus saith truly, Atrociùs sub sancti nominis professione peccamus, We sinne Solvia. lib. 4 de guber. Dei. more grievously, when our sinne breaketh out, from under a glorious profession. I will not denie while I live, but that, as Unity is the due perfection of a Thing; so order, of things. For, in a diversity of things, there must be order, or confusion. If not confusi­on, a unity in diversity; which lest it should be lyable to frequent divisions, must be dealt, and disposed by order: from whence rises that faire good Greek word, made for the purpose [...], faire goodnesse. For, things are good, as things; and faire, as ranked in order. Dionysius giveth us an ex­ample in beauty, where every part, feature, and colour is proportionably placed in or­der. I grant willingly, that the Church of Rome is outwardly one, and orderly; but this may be policy, not religion. If shee be one, and orderly, as shee ought to be; shee must be one in faith, and doctrine with the Apostles; and the same in doctrine, and practise. The Cameleon (they say) sheweth all colours on her skin, but white and red: [Page 128] and yet, those onely set our perfect beauty. And the fairest in the Canticles, is white and ruddy; and his Spouse like him, In operibus candida, in sanguine purpurea, white in works, and purple with bloud; snow­white, not whited like a wall.

A word here, pray. It is past my graspe, to comprehend, (and I beleeve, beyond the Sphere of all our Activities) how the notes, and marks, by which the Romanists pro­fesse to know the true Church, when they see it; may in reason be noted for such. An­tiquity is an accidentary thing, a thing sepe­rable (if a thing may be said seperable, which was never joyned) from the true Church; and a thing common to it with other Churches. Accidentary, because it founds not the Essence of the Church, but happens to it by the fluencie of Time. Sepe­rable, because the old Church in the dayes of Adam, and the new Church in the time of the Apostles, stood firme, and was it selfe, without it. Common, because the Antichri­stian falshood, which triumpheth in the Sy­nagogues of Sathan, was borne almost as soone as truth; and unchristian falshood, before her. Multitude is not so proper to the true Church: because it agreeth neither alwayes, nor alone, nor altogether to her: Not alwayes, because neither to the primi­tive [Page 129] Church, nor to the Church in the Ar­rian, and other persecutions. Not alone to her, it is as well knowne, as the Sunne. Not altogether to her, because although ma­ny are called, yet few are chosen. Of suc­cessions, there is one of doctrine, another of persons: the first is a mark, the second is a mark to the sense, not to the soule. There is also, a two-fold Union, one mysticall, and spirituall, in the bond of faith; another ex­ternall, in the bond of profession. That is a plaine mark, not this. And Union is not proper to the Church alone. For, the wic­ked, and the world of Infidels, are often uni­ted. The Kings of the earth set themselves, and the Rulers take counsell together against Psal. 2 2. the Lord, and against his Annointed. It is a close Union, when they joyne both their persons, and their Counsells. And Union doth not alwayes agree to the Catholike and Universall Church; because particular Churches are oftentimes divided, and torne with dissentions. As, the Church of Greece differs in many points from the Church of Rome, which the Roman Church dealing with us, calls matters of faith; and yet, the Church of Rome will turne about againe, and stile her onely, a Schismaticall part of the true Church, cut from the communion, be­ing externall, but not from the body of the [Page 130] Church: And her Priests, with licence from his Holinesse, may say a Grecian Masse upon a Popish Altar. And high Masse after the Grecian custome, is sung every yeare upon S. Athanasius his day in Rome, even by Gre­cians. And many particular Churches, and private Doctors amongst the Papists, cry up for matters of faith, the points which others throw into the number of private opinions: and these all deeme themselves to stand under one and the same Verticall point of Religion. These marks may suit as agreeably with the Beast, in the Apocalypse, as with the Church.

CHAP. 1.

NOw I am come to the English Colledge, at Valladolid in Spaine: where, at my first entrance, I saw terribiles visu formas, terrible shapes, and representations. For, people are no sooner entred into the Colledge, but they are put in minde, what the Jesuits have suf­fered in England, for the Catholike faith; in this manner. There stand in an open place before them, as they enter, the pictures of Father Garnet, (that suffered in the matter of the Gunpowder treason) and others: wherein great Knifes are pictured opening their brests, to their very hearts, the blood running out in abundance. And the Spani­ards [Page 132] doe make faces, when they see them. S. Cyprian was not of their faith, who wri­teth, Vt appareret, Innocentes esse, qui propter S. Cypr. ep. 24. Christum necantur, infantia innocens ob no­men ejus occisa est: That it might appeare, those who dye for Christ should be harme­lesse, his very first Martyrs, baptized in their bloud, were innocent children. And if I remember aright, as men goe farther into the Colledge; there offer themselves to their eyes, pictures of late persecutions in England: where they have pictured us in print, throwing the Papists, being covered with beasts skins, to doggs: but their in­vention hath some ground, in the Primitive Church. Some things I learned in this Col­ledge, which brought me into an extreame loathing of the Jesuits: As, that a Jesuite preached in a publike Assembly, the fall of the house in London, upon the Papists, as­sembled in Black Friars, to have beene cau­sed by the Puritanes, who did undermine it. And that in the time, when the Gunpow­der treason was in hatching, a Secular Gen­tleman came from England to Ʋalladolid, where the Court was then resident; and lodged in the Colledge: And his businesse was, to sollicite the Councell of Spaine, for ayde towards the perfection of the Plot: but the Councell would not yeeld, answer­ing, [Page 133] that such a case might in time, be their owne. And yet, the Jesuites would now faine put upon the world, that the Plot was not intended, or as much as fore-knowne by them. Let God witnesse for me; that in this Colledge, I heard two, whereof the one was a Jesuite, the other, a Jesuited Scholler, talking after this manner. It was very neere, said the Jesuit, that I should have beene one in that Plot of the Gunpowder treason; and though it was discovered, I would to God, I had beene one of the suffe­rers in that cause. I, said the Scholler, now it tooke no effect, every one speaks against it; but had it beene prosperous in successe, it would have beene extolled to the Heavens, by all our side. Let every man take his own way: It is my beliefe, that the Jesuits were the first Plotters of it, & the chiefest Actors in it. Another reason, which here created in me, a loathing of the Jesuits, (to passe by, many others) was; because I heard it, and saw it come reeking from an Arch-Jesuits mouth; that the Conversion of England to them, could never be effected, but by blood. And it hath not beene knowne (said he) that so ripe haeresie was ever suppressed, but by the shedding, and effusion of much blood. The man look'd bloodily, when he spoke it. But my Masters, and you that with me, have [Page 134] protested against the corruptions of the Church of Rome; one question: What se­curity can wee promise to our selves, that are beset in all places, with such bloody Butchers of men: one of whose chiefe Prin­ciples it is, that we must be layd wallowing in our owne blood, or they cannot compasse their much desired ends? I have stay'd too long, from the relation of one passage: In the first voyage of the English to Cales in Spaine, be like, one of our Souldiers, seeing a faire Image of the Virgin Mary in one of their Churches, and thinking to prevent their farther worship of it; cut it more then once, over the face with his sword. The English Navy being gone; order was pre­sently given, and taken, that whereas such a gallant Image of the Virgin Mary, had beene irreverently abused by the English, the English againe should use it reverently. And it was presently sent to the English Colledge in Valladolid: where it stands o­ver the high Altar, with a cut face, the skars yet remaining, as marks of honour; but dressed most richly, and adorned with a pretious Crowne: And this they call, what­soever they think, our blessed Lady. Shee hath a rich Wardrope, and great change of Gownes: one of white Sattin with gold lace; another of red; another of green Sat­tin, [Page 135] and yet another of blew; besides her cloth of gold, for high dayes: and the worst day in the week, the Image goes in Sattin (while the poore are naked;) and farther then all this, is as brave in action, as in clothes; for, it works a wondrous store of miracles; but I had not the honour, to see one of them. Only, one of the Jesuits came one day after dinner, hastily to us Schollers, and told us with much laughter, how he had perswaded a good old wife, that shee was cured of her infirmity by the Virgin Mary, though she did not feele ease suddenly; and that she must not faile to bring the figure in wax, of the part cured, and hang it up with other figures of that kind, before the Image, in honour of the Virgin Mary, and to pre­serve the memory of the Miracle.

CHAP. 2.

I Will not have to doe with Controversie, but as it lyes in my way. For, if I turn my stile altogether, from the sweet and peace­able comforts of the Spirit, to the noise, and loud alarums of Controversie, I am a fish took out of the water. And therefore, I professe, if they write a thousand times, and I answer as often; I will never stirre a foot, [Page 136] from this very spirituall way of writing: let them object a disability on my side, or what they please. The command of Christ, to my soule; is, Goe and preach; and every thing that comes from mee, while I am I; shall be, if it be holy, an act of obedience to that command. But, I lose time. This I­mage-worship, performed with much bending of the knee, and body; is a learned kinde of Idolatry. Nicephorus, entitled by them, Scriptor Catholicus, the Catholike Writer, confesseth, it was a custome intro­duced first, in imitation of the Pagan Idola­tors. But who can give a law of religious worship, which took not beginning from Christ, or his Apostles? God forbiddeth all worship of this ugly stamp, in those holy words of the law: Thou shalt not bow downe thy selfe to them, nor serve them. We see, that Exo. 20 5. the prohibition imposeth a tye upon the outward gesture. And their answer will not hold together; that we are onely com­manded, not to make, or bow downe to an Image, which wee make as well our God, as our Image; and bow to, as to our God: because God in his law, immediatly addeth: For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God. Jealousie in us, is a superfluity of love, and being mingled with feare, and suspition; feareth every shadow, and appearance of [Page 137] neglect, and suspecteth every likenesse of evill. And therefore, howsoever they change the phrase, and plead, that the worship dwelleth not in the Image, but lodging as it were, at the signe of the Image, goeth on her journey to God, and to the Saint: Yet God, being still a jealous God; his jealousie will be very fearefull, and suspitious of all worship, which is not directed the next way to him: for, though his love be cleane from all defect; acting with us, now his part is the jealous Lover. And what a puz­ling is here, of ignorant peoples brains, with these ordinations, and terminations? And this holy parcell of holy Scripture, Josephus the Jew with us, maketh a part of the se­cond Commandement. But, with what threats, and promises, God keeps us to the keeping of this Commandement? Visiting the iniquity of the Fathers upon the children, Ver. 6. unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me. And shewing mercy unto thou­sands of them that love me, and keepe my com­mandements. The iniquity of the Fathers, shall be punished in the children, if they be also children of their sinnes, and idolatrous practises: but hee will shew mercy unto thousands, whose Fathers abhorred such odi­ous wayes, yea though their children are not inheritors of all their Fathers vertues; [Page 138] because hee is more prone to mercy. And as farre as thousands exceed in number, the third and fourth generation; so farre will his mercy be more active, and operative, then his Justice. And this odd kinde of worship, is exceedingly scandalous to all the heathenish world of unbeleevers; and especially to the Jews; who yet ake both in body and soule, and know they doe so, partly for their Fathers old sins of Idolatry. There standeth a great woodden Image of the Crucifix, in St. Pauls Church in Rome. But why doe I say, it standeth? Alas, it can­not stand. Out of which, they teach, that Christ talked with St. Brigit. And the Cur­taine being drawne, the people fall downe before it, and sigh, and knock their breasts: and then, the little beads drop. I have seene an Image of the Sun, through the mouth of which, in the old time, the devill spake to the people. But while I am reasonable, I shall not beleeve, that God would ever speak out of an Image, and tempt some to Idolatry; and confirme others in it. And, it doth not suit with his greatnesse, to come so neere the devill in his wayes; who long deceived the world, by a counterfeit way of speech in Oracles; and who practised to speak in Images, almost from the beginning of the world. Indeed, the great Doctors of [Page 139] the Church, commonly call the devil, Gods Ape; because hee much labours to be like him, that he may passe for him, and deceive with more Authority: But no good man hath ever said in expresse termes, that God doth imitate the devill: for, when wee imitate another, wee learne something of him. And they will not deny, if they be not brasse all over, but, as well their Priests, tutored by the devill, as the old Priests, in imitation of the devill, have spoke to the people from the mouths of Images. And the dressing of Images in silks, and velvets, what is it, but the baby-sport of children? onely, the little childe hath more wit, then to worship his idle Baby. I have seene an old worme-eaten Image of the virgin Ma­ry in Rome, carried with all earthly pomp and triumph in Procession; to which, the people kneeled, where it came, with as humble submission, as they could have done to God himselfe, if hee had there appeared, with all his Court of Angels, in his Glory: And before this Image, I, because I was somewhat dexterous in observing the State of their Service; was admitted, even to the saying of Masse. Shall man, the living Image of God, worship the senselesse Image of a man or woman, being a more ignoble crea­ture then himselfe? As the perfections of all [Page 140] things joyne hands in God, with an infinite accesse of excellence: So the perfections of all things but God, scattered in them, em­brace one another in man; in a finite, and bounded manner. Man hath being with a stone; is, lives, and encreases with a plant; is, lives, encreases, and is sensible with a beast; is, lives, understands, and is spirituall on the surer side, with an Angell. It is a strange saying, but as true as truth: An An­gell is more perfect then a man; but a man is enriched with more perfections then an Angell; and comes more nigh to his Maker this way, then an Angel. David saith of him, Thou hast made him a little lower then the Angels. The Angel indeed, is more com­pleatly Psal 8. 5. perfect, as being of a finer substance, and borne with large naturall knowledge, and without the troublesome connexion of a body. But man is stored with a fairer number of perfections; albeit those perfe­ctions, which the Angel hath, spread far­ther in fairenesse, then these of man. Shall this faire creature, the noble work of God, worship the meane work of man, an Image? which is but ashes in the likenesse of an Image: and which, the Popish Doctors confesse, if a Papist or other person, be driven with extremity of colde, hee may burne, to relieve his body. Goe now man, and wor­ship [Page 141] him, who, when thy body falleth to the poore condition of a stone, or block, or of the Image, that men would perswade thee to worship; and stirreth onely as it is moved by a living power; and shall be left, not a man, but the Image of a man; the Image of God being departed with, and in the soule: shall acknowledge his owne Image, if not defaced with the worship of Images, or other sinnes; and call thy soule, and his Image, home to his rest.

CHAP. 3.

I Cannot come so nigh, but I must needs have one pluck at the invocation of Saints. By what device can we invocate the Saints, without great injury to Gods glory? For, the more help we crave, and expect from others, though with some reference to God, the lesse wee seeme to depend upon God; and want of dependance, be it reall, or ra­tionall and onely in appearance, breeds neg­lect. And a simple wretch, beleeving, that in what place soever of the world he is, hee is there heard by his Saint, and his petition granted, and as they teach, more easily gran­ted: doe you think, his heart is not vehe­mently prompted to deifie his Saint? I have [Page 142] heard an Italian say in Rome, (and hee spoke to me, when he said it) being transported with a high thought of the Popes greatnes, so like the greatnesse of God; that hee did exceedingly pitty the poore blind English­men, who beleeved aright in some things, and embraced many verities, as, that there is one God, and three persons, and the like: and yet, did not beleeve so plaine, and open a matter, that the Pope is God upon earth. But, they meet me, as I goe: A vile sinner is unworthy to appeare before God in his owne person. Is it so? Why then doth Christ make publike proclamation? Come unto me all yee that labour, and are heavy la­den, Mat. 11 28 and I will give you rest. Wee must come unto him, that giveth rest. And all must come, even they that labour under the waight of a burdened conscience; they that are in labour, and desire to be delivered of a Hedghog, that wounds, and teares them in their tender inside. The spirits labour, when men are upon dying: and wee that labour to keepe life and soule together, must come to him. And it is God, who, as the Prophet David saith, Humilia respicit in coelo, & in terra, looks back upon the humble things of heaven and earth: For, as the low things of earth, are humble in respect of him; so also, the sublime, & high things of Heaven. [Page 143] But he bowes downe his attention to all as the Sun visiteth with equall clearenesse, the garden of flowers, the greene medow, the field of Lillies, and the dirty ditch. One example is eminent. And behold, a woman of Canaan came out of the same coasts, and cryed unto him, saying, Have mercy on mee O Mat. 15. 22 Lord thou Son of David, my daughter is grie­vously vexed with a devill. Shee was a wo­man of Canaan, but, for her unworthinesse, her name is concealed. And shee came out of the same coasts, but what coast, or where her house stood, or whether or no she had a house, wee must not learne. And yet, shee boldly cries unto him for mercy. She gives him his titles, by which she acknowledges his power, and his gentlenesse. For, she calls him Lord, and the Sonne of David, a meek man. And shee goes to him for a remedy against the devill, that came to destroy the works of the devill. Her daughter was possessed with a devill: and, quod possidetur, saith Thomas of Aquine, expounding the de­finition Tho. Aqu. 1. p. q. 10. art. 1. of Eternity, given by Boetius, firmi­ter, & quietè habetur: We hold fast, and qui­etly, the thing we possesse. Yet shee hopes, and feares; and feares, and hopes againe, and in that hope, goes to him couragiously. Now, certainly, hee will come running towards her, and meet her above halfe way. [Page 144] It is quite otherwise. But hee answered her not a word. O poore woman! why then Ver. 23. the Popish doctrine will appeare probable. Christ will not answer a word to a vile sin­ner, speaking in her owne person. Had he but look'd upon her with a compassionate eye, and said, Alas poore woman, she would have called him, Son of David, once again. But he answered her not a word. And his Dis­ciples came, and besought him, saying, Send her away, for she crieth after us. She follow'd still: and her cries went before her: if hee will not see her, he shall heare her; and he shall know, that she is a woman. His Dis­ciples begin to think, that shee is as much vext with a devill, as her daughter, shee cries so loud; and beseech him to send her away. But he answered, and said, I am not sent, but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Ver. 24. Poore wretch, what shall become of her? She is lost, and lost againe; lost in her selfe, and lost in her daughter: but shee is not of the sheep of the house of Israel. And there­fore, if hee be sent to none, but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, hee will never finde her, though shee be lost, and hee finde what is lost. Then came she and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help mee. Make roome, Ver. 25. give way there, now she comes. She breaks through the presse, and down she falls upon [Page 145] her knees before him; shee feares that shee was rejected, because she had not worship­ped him; and now, she humbles her heart, and her body, and lifts up her hands, crying, Lord help me. Is it possible now, that Christ should not melt into compassion, and thaw into sweet drops of teares, and mercy? But he answered, and said, It is not meet to take the Ver. 26. childrens bread, and to cast to dogs. What? a dog? If shee be a dog, shee is not a curst dog. Was ever a dog heard to cry, Lord help me? I wonder, she breaks not out: Am I a dog? I would have you well know, I am not a dog, I am a woman. You a man sent from Heaven, and call a woman dog? Had I beene call'd any thing, but an unclean dog, I had not car'd. I doe not remember, that I ever bark'd, or bit any man. And must I now, be call'd a dog? Her language is of another straine. And she said, Truth, Lord: Ver. 27. yet the doggs eat of the crums which fall from their Masters table. The woman will be a dog, or any thing that hee calls her; and shee confesses, that her place is the doggs place, under her Masters Table; and all that she desires, is, that she may lick up the little crums, which fall from his trencher. But Christ could hold no longer; his very bo­wels yern'd; and hee gave her, her full de­sire, good measure, pressed downe, and run­ning [Page 146] over. S ^t. Chrysostome, a great enemie to Popish impositions, shewes plainly, that he was not of the Popes Latin Religion, in these golden words: En prudentiam hujus mulieris; non precatur Jacobum, non suppli­cat S. Chrysost. hom. 12 de Cananca. Johannem, non adit ad Petrum, nec Apo­stolorum caetum respicit, aut ullum eorum re­quirit, sed pro his omnibus poenitentiam sibi co­mitem adjungit & ad ipsum fontem progre­ditur: Behold the prudence of this woman: she bends not her prayer to James (He be­gins with James, the Lords brother, not with Poter, and goes on with Iohn, the Dis­ciple whom Christ loved, and of all that he names, Peter is the last) she doth not make her Supplication to Iohn, shee runnes not to Peter; she regards not, that the Apostles are all together; neither doth she request any of them: But in place of all this, shee and her repentance goe on to the very fountaine it selfe. And againe in the same Homily, hee strikes downe the Pope, and all his Cardi­nals at a blow: If thou, O sinner, wouldest have accesse unto God; Nihil opus est atri­ensi servo vel intercessore; sed dic, miserere mei Dens: Is enim te audit quocun (que) sis loco, & undecun (que) invocetur: There is no need of any Court-creature, or other, to intercede for thee: but onely, say, Have mercy upon me, O God; for wheresoever thou art, hee [Page 147] heareth thee, and from what place soever he is called upon. But the old objection, now it comes: They goe to God by his Saints, as Subjects to their King, by his Nobles and Servants: And because I have begun to mow up their dry Sophistry with Fathers, I will proceed. St. Ambrose speaks thus: Solent mi­sera uti excusatione, dicentes, per istos se posse S. Ambr. in Rom. 1. ire ad Deum, ficut per Comites itur ad Reges. Ideò ad Regem per Tribunos & Comites itur, quia homo uti (que) est Rex: ad Deum autem, quem uti (que) nihil latet, suffragatore non est opus, sed mente devota. Ʋbicun (que) enim talis locu­tus fuerit, respondebit illi. Some are wont to use a miserable excuse, saying, By Saints they may have recourse to God, as by No­bles, to Kings. We therefore by the Kings Officers and Nobles goe to the King, because the King himselfe is a man: But to goe to God, (from whose eyes nothing is hid) there is not any need of a spokes-man, but of a de­vout soule: For, wheresoever such a one crieth to him, he will answer her. And now, this with many others, hath crept on, and at last, stepped out, and stood up for a point of faith in the Church of Rome.

CHAP. 4.

IT is my beliefe, that the Invocation of Saints is a by-way, which the devill hath sought and found, to divert man from the due, and true service of God. All the temp­tations of the devill, saith Nilus, are thus and thus ordered, to disturb or pervert us in our prayers. And, we see, hee hath already so farre gained ground, that where they of­fer up a hundred prayers, they give but ten in the hundred to God. And they proclaim it, an infallible signe of predestination, to flame in devotion to the virgin Mary. And where the Church of Christ prayeth in di­vine Service, O Lord open thou our lips; they began their Office of the virgin Mary, Domina labia mea aperies, O Lady open thou my lips, and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise: till the Pope a shamed of them and their open lips, shut up their lips with shame enough. And they seldom say, praise be to God, without a profane addition, and to the virgin Mary; dividing their praises in the same breath, and (it is to be suspected, they are also quick, and many so ignorant) most commonly in the same gift of the mind, betwixt Christ, and his Mother; be­twixt [Page 149] the Creator, and the creature. It hath bin openly confessed to me in Spain, that the common people there, for the most part, be­leeve, that the virgin Mary is as really pre­sent in the Sacrament as Christ; and some ex­cuse it, saying, that the flesh of the virgin. Ma­ry is there, because Christ took his flesh from her. And so, it is very neere to cer [...]ainty, that the ignorant sort especially, part equally their praises & thāksgivings of this cōdition; & give half to Christ, & half to his Mother: to whō, I beleeve, Christ hath given so much in heaven, that she need not part stakes with him here. It is the definition of prayer in the Logick of John Damascen [...], Prayer is the ascent of the mind to Io. Damasc. lib. 3. de fide orthodox. cap. 24. God. Three things are required to every action, that is both perfect and noble. First, the action must be of a perfect kinde; and such a one is the action of ascending. Se­condly, the action must flow from an ho­nourable beginning, or principle; and such a one is the minde, the most pure, and most refined part of the soule. And thirdly, it must tend to an excellent object; and God excells all objects, but himselfe. I cannot perceive, how God being so prone of himselfe to goodnesse, that hee hath made himselfe in a manner, visible in his creatures: that he sent his owne deare Sonne from his warme bo­some, [Page 150] to bleed to death for us: there is now, the ransome being fully payd, so great ne­cessity of mediatours, to put the sweetnesse, and love of heaven and earth, in minde of his promise to Man. For, they cannot en­large their own glory, by what they doe in Heaven. There is yet, a strong necessity of prayers, and other duties on our part. But is there yet, need of Saints, to blow the coals, and to stirre up his halfe-extinguished love to man? and all this, when the Son of God, is also the Son of man, both God and man, to interpret betwixt God and man, and to deale the cause on both sides. One Mediator betweene God and men, the man Christ Jesus: as St. Paul writes to Timothie. One Media­tour, 1 Tim. 2. 5. both for the maine matter of reconci­liation, and the continuance of it. It is added, the man Christ Iesus, that we may goe bold­ly to him; we men, to the man, Christ Je­sus. It cannot be denied, but hee sits at the right hand of God, and makes intercession for us; and if so, why should any be joyned with him, in maintaining the continuance of the league betwixt God and man, which he made? I meane, any that we must looke up to, and that shall deal the same businesse in the same place, and with more assurance of reconcilement, then he. The Minister is a Mediatour betwixt God and Man; but not [Page 151] one, that is invisible; and above, as God is. Certainly, God could have given his bles­sings, without the motion of prayer; but the device was, to exercise us in humility, and obedience towards him, us here below; and in the performance of charitable offices to­wards our neighbours; for our greater ad­vancement hereafter. And should it be free­ly given to them, to the Papists, that the Saints expresse their charity to us, in pray­ing for us; it will not presently follow, that we must be Petitioners to them: For, they may pray for us, that is, for the at­chievement of our last end; and yet, not know the particularities of our conditions; and not be able to heare our prayers. It is a great way to the place where the Saints dwell, and we pray softly. And therefore, God heareth us, because he is every where, Intra omnia, sed non inclusus; extra omnia, sed non exclusus, saith Isidorus, within all Isid. things, but not shut in them, without all things, but not shut out of them, And al­though the Saints should behold in the visi­on of God, in whom are all things, what we doe, and pray for: yet still they are fi­nite, and their powers limited. And if the whole world, should pray to a Saint at the same time, it would be a great imployment, to give hearing to all the multitude. He that [Page 152] sees him, who sees all things, sees but a little of what hee sees, that sees all things; And the blessednes of the seers, doth not so much, as partially consist, in the seeing of what is done below: And that God imparteth to them, any such revelations, by which they may appeare to us, so like to him; wee are not warranted to beleeve. I rather think, that the wills of the Saints and Angels in Heaven, lye fast asleepe in the will of God. No Saint would grieve for his Father, though he should know, he is now broiling in the most searching flames of eternall fire: because his will is wholly resigned to the first, and superiour will in the order of wills, the will of God. He grieves not for him, be­cause the sentence of God hath past upon him; and the sentence is irrecoverable, be­cause it is absolutely will'd. And who can make it credible, that the Saints know, what sentences are past, and what are yet to passe? I was borne a poore beggar; When I could not begg; and I live a beggar, and shall dye one. My cry shall ever be; Good Master, my Master, and Master of all the world; give somewhat to a poore beggar, for Jesus Christ his sake.

CHAP. 5.

I Blame exceedingly in the Jesuits, and others, their neglect of holy Scripture. An old man amongst them, and a profound Scholler, said in a vaunting way, that hee had never read a word of holy Scripture in holy Scripture, but as he found it scattered, and cited in other books. And when I made a Latin Play amongst them, and (God in his tendernesse, forgive me for it) acted the part of a Minister, and preached upon the Stage, having took for my text, those holy words of Christ to St. Thomas, Blessed are they that John 20. 29 have not seene, and yet have beleeved: Moving excessive laughter at every word; I was not reprehended by them, but highly com­mended. And in Rome, when I composed a Play of a mixture of English and Latin, and still personated a Minister, though I much profaned the words, and phrases of holy Scripture; all past for very well done. No­thing almost, is more common with the Ita­lians, then to frame their jests, of the phra­ses, or passages of holy Scripture: which because they are witty; please and spread exceedingly. It is worthy to be learned, that as in all subordinate Sciences, they so [Page 154] contrive the states and resolutions of their questions, that they may serve the better to the setling of their Doctrine in Divinity; so they have the like ayme, even in their ordi­nary carriages; if the carriage be capable of it. And running with this byas, they neg­lect even outwardly, holy Scripture; that in Divinity, they may the more seemingly inferre the insufficiencie of it in the decision of Controversies; forming an argument out of their owne practice; with which ar­gument, though no argument, they are pa­tiently convinced, to whom their practice is a Canon, and indeed, holy Scripture it selfe. There came to this Colledge, when I was there, a poore old forlorne Spanish Souldier; and his arrant was, to begg an almes. This is ordinary; and wherefore should I relate it? The extraordinary is to come. He confessed weeping, to some of the Schollers; that he had beene a busie man in the great Fleet, that came for England in Queen Elizabeths dayes: and that the heavy hand of God had so waighed him downe in all his enterprises, since the foule attempt of that mischievous Plot, that he could never prosper in his com­mon affaires: nor yet, see any man, who had engaged his person in that businesse, that prospered: I may ad out of his words; that seemed not to beare with Caine, or like a [Page 155] wandering Jew, the curse of God upon his forehead. O all yee true English hearts, love God, and serve him. The Jesuits per­haps will deny, they had any hand in that Invasion. But lest they deceive you, I will tell you some news from Rome. It is known there, that the Pope tooke, and the Jesuits gave, the better halfe of the Colledge­meanes, sold out-right, to the use of that Fleet: And that the Scholers were over­thrown with the Navy; For, the number of Scholers being great, and now, greatly neglected; part of them, by the fearfull judgement of God, were forced to beg from Town to Town. And I have heard of a great Extremitie, into which some of them fell; but the form of it is quite falne out of my mind. Still praise thou, God, ô my soul. I have read a Latin book in Rome, written by Father Parsons (the Jesuite that I told you, sate in the Coblers stall) after Gods expression to us in the overthrow of the Fleet; where he labours to reduce that overthrow, (as Fa. Floyd the Jesuit, did the fal of the house in Black friars) not to an act of Gods good pleasure, but of his suff [...]ranc [...]: & where with many arguments he encou­rageth all Catholike Princes to the like at­tempt; & where he confesseth, that the Spa­nish ships had many Engl. Priests in thē; but [Page 156] hee saith, they came onely, to mitigate and temper the severity of the Spaniards; and to give the distinction betwixt Catholikes, and Protestants. It is very ordinary in Po­licie, to give faire causes for foule ones; Non causam pro causa, That which was not the cause, for the cause it selfe. Every cun­ning man doth so. My memory beares mee witnesse, I have been told by them; that ei­ther at the time of the Spanish fleet, or of the Gunpowder Treason, the Jesuits thought themselves so secure of a successe, agreeable to their mindes; That they had cast, and written, how all things should be ordred in Parliament for their advantage; and for the prevention of differences betwixt them, and the Monks, concerning Houses. Which was one of the Reasons, why Leander Jones, an English Monke, wrote his Book concer­ning the Houses & Lands in England, due to his Order. But now I speak of the Monks; I must come to them anon; for I came to thē. Every wise, and indifferent person, and the person, that is but indifferently wise; will plainly see, that I had reasonable motives, (and yet, these were not halfe) sufficient to induce a discoursing man to forsake the Je­suits; if not, the Popish Religion. But, though I had enough of the Jesuits, I still desired to be seeing, in the weighty matter [Page 157] of Religion. And of my own accord, I for­sook the Jesuits, and Spain; and betook my selfe to the English Monastery at Doway, in Artois. For, I thought, if any where, there was the beginning of the life of Saints, and Angels. I had a companion with me whom in the journey I found, to have done amisse in his departure from the Colledge; but hee is a private person, and his fault is private; let him goe, and thank mee.

CHAP. 6.

IT is too early to take my leave of Spain; Every day came to our eares a new de­scription of the abomination of desolation in the practices of the Spaniards: Their sins were common talk; and namely, the flesh­ly commixtions of men with women, of men with men, can we bend our imagina­tion farther? Of men with beasts; O most holy God! And I remember, a Drunkard did fright me in England. Their religious persons are much tainted with these abomi­nable acts of Irreligion. And these are not Spains sins onely, but also, the sins of Italie, where the Pope dwels; and of Rome it self, where his best house is, & where he is to be seen for the most part: Why now the ho­ly [Page 158] Prophecie of the Reverend, and godly Bishop Paphnutius, in the Councell of Nice, is come about: and the branding of lawful Mariage in the Clergie, hath put thē on, to breake all the tyes, and ligaments of Nature, and Religion; and to tread deep in the dark, and dirty wayes of mischief. They have pleased, to give out heer, that I mar­ry not, because I judge it unlawfull, and forecast a returne to them. But let them know that I remayn free, as from Marriage, so from any tye, pulling that way; for two Reasons.

First, to take off the sharpnesse of the scandall, which they raised of mee, that I changed my Religion for a Wife.

Secondly, because as yet I lie dead and buried in an obscure Village, where no man that is an Inhabitant, except the Clerke, bringeth a Booke to Church; and where no man is able to judge of my Vocation; or of the wonderfull things, which God hath shewed to me, and com­manded me to tell upon the house-top.

But when GOD in his mercie, shall make mee a fixed Star, and settle me in a constant abode; I shall not be asha­med to marry, as many good servants of God, as well ordered as I, have done. I was called to Orders, to the sweet yoke of [Page 159] Christ; to which the Pope had annexed a yoke of iron: I could not, where I was, put on the one, without the other. The Church of Rome did not force mee upon Orders; but shee forced mee to put on the iron yoke with Orders. And because I put it on by enforcement, and the enforcement was unlawfull; I may lawfully shake it off, and say; of all Rules, Scripture is the best. A promise not regulated by the Word of God, will never be found obligatory. It will be much for me, to promise to God, or to my self, an assurance of Chastity; because Christ hath not bound himselfe, to furnish us always with extraordinary Graces. His intention is, to bring us to salvation by the common rules of Christianitie; and by Graces, which ordinarily do gratos fa­cere, as the necessary Graces of Sanctifica­tion: In higher matters; as, in Graces gra­tis datis; those of Edification, and the like; he will be always at his own choice. Onely this. The condition was Antichristian, the will was forced, not absolutely, but by a slight; and the matter of the Promise, was unlawful. Some are Eunuches for the King­dome of Heaven: but these hang from day to day upon Gods extraordinary Grace, which doth not forsake them: they doe not promise so high a grace to themselves, [Page 160] by vowing the performance of a duty, which falls not within their power, ac­cording to the ordinary processe; and to which, they are but Gods Tenants at will, in all respects.

CHAP. 7.

THe Spaniards are odiously proud, and boasting both in their words, and car­riage. But the Jesuits have a plaister for the deformity; and say: The pride of the Spaniard, is onely the outward representa­tion of pride, and the acting of a proud man's part; but the Englishman is proud in heart, and the true Lucifer. But what man, can measure the abundance of the heart, but by the out-side? Their women paint, till they are old; and then, their faces be­ing corrupted, (as God will have it) they are most ugly. But the Jesuits cover this too; saying they must paint, to keepe their Husbands from other women, and in due respect to them.

I remember a word, which an old Monk, and a deep one, said to me, speaking of Re­ligion; Nothing is so foule, but words, and S Cypr. lib. de discipl. & habit. Virginum. discourse will white it over. Saint Cyprian was not of their Religion, who introdu­ceth [Page 161] Christ, saying in the Day of judgment, of such a painted Sepulchre, Opus hoc meum non est; nec imago haec nostra est: This is not my work; nor is this, my Image. I do not like the Cruelty of the Spaniards, who bur­ned a man, differing from them in opinions, part after part, limbe after limbe, begin­ning at his toes, with a slow, and gentle fire: till hee was driven into such horrible out­rages of desperation, that he cryed out with a lamentable tone, and asked the people a hundred times over, if they would send Letters to the Devill; for hee was going, (he said) and would carry them. They say, their intention was, to convert him. But, Lord deliver my body, and my soule, from being converted by them. All in God, is most excellent; but wee call that, more then most excellent in him, which We are best acquainted with, his mercy, and his Gentlenesse. And, not to be like God in that, in which he most shews himself to us, is high neglect. You see, I take but heere and there, and where I take, I do but touch. I will keep some thing for hereafter, to be used if they goe on to trouble the peace of my sweet reposall in the bosome of my deare Mother; the Church of England. In Spain, according to the Law of the Realme (but not according to Gods Law) if a man [Page 162] finde his wife in the actuall commission of Adultery, he may kill both his wife, and the Adulterer.

The Jesuits know a Gentleman, who sent a dish of hot meat covered to a Friary, the shaved head of a Friar; and it was pre­sented to the Friars being at dinner; with this Message, that such a Gentleman, a good Benefactor of theirs, had sent them a dish from his Table; and many thanks were gi­ven, with acknowledgment, that they were much beholding to him, and alwayes bound to him by new favours. But the Messenger, uncovering the dish, began with the other end of his Message, and fairely told the Friars, that as many of them as came where he was found (for, he had spared his wife) his Master would serve with the same sawce. Had this Friar married, hee might have died with his head upon his shoul­ders.

Upon the last good Friday, which I saw in Spain; the upper part of a Church fell, standing in a Town, not far distant from us. And, as the manner is the women sitting in the body of the Church, many of them were oppressed. The Preacher, seeing it when it first yielded, turned to go downe: (the Pulpit was joyned to a side pillar:) but he was beaten down, and lost the use of both [Page 163] his legs. The noise went presently abroad, and brought in, all sorts of people. And, the women wearing many Rings, they pulled them off, and where they came not at the first pull, cut off their fingers, when ma­ny of them were alive, and onely stunnied. And presently came downe another part of the roof, and destroyed them, and their cru­eltie. This is the day, when the Crosse is adored, crept to, and kissed; and brought into the Pulpit, and there spoke to. And as my Discourses are altogether occasionall; so, heere, in place of these follies of Devo­tion, I will give matter of Meditation for this, and other good times.

CHAP. 8.

BEing deepe in the consideration of Christs passion, and of the worth, and all-sufficiency of it: I will declare my be­liefe in one point. I beleeve, that man may merit: and I beleeve, that men wonder, I beleeve it: I shall not easily un­clasp from this opinion. Still, I beleeve that man may merit. Doe you aske mee, what? Hell, and damnation (give leave to the tearme;) not Heaven, or the glory of it. But, if we merit hell, why not Heaven? The reason offereth it selfe: we merit Hell by doing ill, and wee in our owne persons, are the onely Authors of ill: Sinne is be­gotten betwixt the malice, and corruption of our owne wills: But he, that is said to merit heaven, is likewise supposed to merit it by well-doing, that is, by the solid acts of Christian vertues: and the faire exercise of such vertues, proceedeth, not from us, being sonnes of wrath; but from grace in Christ Jesus. And therefore, by what Art can we merit, when that, by which we are thought to merit, is not wrought, and accomplished by us; but by the strong, and over-swaying force of a superiour power; not forcing our will to a good action, but sweetly [Page 192] drawing both to it, and through it. Ate habeo, saith S. Austin, quicquid boni habeo: St. Aug. su­per Psal. 70. What good soever I have, I have from thee, O Lord: from my selfe, the evill. Yea ve­rily, Grace is so truly, and so naturally the supernaturall gift of God, and every degree of it; that a grave Councell, condemning the Massilienses, or Semipelagians, who af­firmed, that the beginning of salvation was derived from us, and did consist in a naturall desire, prayer, endeavour, or labour; by which, wee procure the help of Grace, ne­cessary to salvation, saith: Si quis per invo­cationem humanam, gratiam Dei dicit con­ferri; Conc. A­raus. 2. Can. 3. non autem ipsam gratiam facere, ut in­vocetur à nobis, cōtradicit Isaiae Prophetae, &c. Whosoever affirmeth, that the Grace of God is given by our prayers, and not Grace to cause, that it be prayed for by us, contra­dicts the Prophet Esay, or the Apostle speak­ing the same thing to the Romans, I was found of them that sought me not: I was made Rom. 10. 20. manifest unto them that asked not after mee. In verity, if the Foure and twenty Elders in Heaven, the place of highest perfection, threw downe their Crownes before the Throne of God; ascribing to him, all glory, Rev. 4. 10. 11. honour, and power: the name of Merit in heavenly things, as the word in a true sense [Page 193] importeth, howsoever they crutch it up handsomly; cannot be spoke without a So­loecisme, both in phrase, and beliefe. The man committed a Soloecisme, that looked and pointed towards earth, when he spoke of Heaven. And true Christian humility ought, even to speake humbly. But even the doctrine of the Papists is bold, and ven­turous. Those habits of vertues (say they) which God, the Lord of all spirituall Trea­sure, infuseth into the soule, are produced by God without us, or our ayde, and co­operation: but the acts of those habits, that is, the exercises of vertue, are so produced by Grace in us, that wee also, must freely and readily concurre, if we meane to put a price upon them, and make them meritori­ous to their production. But the will con­curreth not, except enabled with actuall grace; and the childe, I meane the action that is borne, altogether resembleth grace, as it is a vertuous action; and they will not call it a meritorious action, but as vertuous; and therefore, the merit belongs to Grace, not to our wills, or us; and partly, to the grace, by the motion of which, wee con­curre with grace. And it is the opinion of the prime Divines amongst them, that a work, though very good and honest, and true gold; if performed without any paine [Page 194] and difficulty; if mingled with no gall, no wormwood; may indeed, merit certaine degrees of blessednesse; but shall in no wise be satisfactory. For, as it is proper (say these Doctors) to a good work, in respect of the goodnesse and honesty of it, to be me­ritorious: so it is made proper also, by ano­ther law; to a painfull, and toilsome work, to render satisfaction for sinne committed. And thus, they both satisfie for their sinnes, which merited hell, and by a surplussage of goodnesse, merit Heaven. And very of­ten, the roughnesse & asperity, with which God handles them, is greater (they tell us) then the satisfaction, due on their part: which falling betwixt God and man, drops into his Treasury of Indulgences, whom they make halfe a God, and halfe a man; there to lye in the same roome, with the co­pious redemption of Christ; and be conferred, when, and to whom, his Holinesse shall please; who, having two Treasuries, sel­dome gives out of one, but hee takes into the other. They seeme to stand upon very even tearmes with God, or rather, to goe beyond him; and yet, he hath beene alwayes observed, to reward above good, and to pu­nish beneath evill. How does the Scrip­ture hold, that we are unprofitable servants, if wee satisfie in a fit kinde, for what wee [Page 195] have done; and if wee satisfie, both for our selves, and others? Here is a faire, and rich harvest of profit. If satisfaction can be wrought by a man, why did not God spare his Sonne, and send a creature to dye for us? I doe not leane with my whole body, upon this argument. Here is the pillar, & it is one of Hercules his pillars, beyond which, we cannot goe: That could not be effected by a creature, because it was the great, and generall payment of satisfaction; and God required, the satisfaction to be true, and suf­ficient: but this, in their opinion, can: and therefore, it cannot take the name of satis­faction, without obligation to the satisfacti­on of Christ: and to share the titles, and immunities of Christs passion with him, is a strange kind of pride; from which, Christ for ever hereafter, defend my soule. It is confessed, that the merit of Christ, is merit in the rigour of Justice, because it taketh it's worth, and nobility from the dignity of the person; and therefore, stands not essen­tially, and with both feet, upon the favour of him that accepts it. But the merit of man, cannot oblige God to give a reward. For, God naturally, hath no obligation, to make retribution to a creature. And where­as they say, hee hath struck the stroke, and made a bargaine, by which, hee hath bound [Page 196] himselfe to retribution: and this bargaine standing in force, our reward is due by Ju­stice: this truly, is the pretious fruit of the divine liberality, and the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, whom Synesius calleth, visce­rum ingentium partum, the birth of huge Synes. in hymnis. bowells: who satisfying the infinite Ju­stice of an infinite God, for the commission of sinne, an infinite evill; the cause urged, that the merit also, should be infinite. And if we compare his works, being of infinite valour, with our works; betwixt finite and infinite there is a great (some say an infinite) distance; all say, no proportion. Hath God took all the wayes, that invention can pos­sibly compasse, to make up his full domini­on over man; and to hold, and turne all his faculties, by a little string at his pleasure: to lay him low, and make him supple, to take the print of Humility? and shall hee now merit in any sense, not onely, a particular blessing, be it spirituall or temporall; but all that, which God professeth, hee hath to give, Heaven and happinesse; and our sound and sweet sleepe in his soft armes, for ever­more? It would be a foolish passage of the worme, and it would deserve to be trod up­on; if it should seeke to goe with it's long traine upwards: and it is not sutable with earth, to desire the high place of Heaven. [Page 197] No pride is halfe so injurious to Gods high­nesse, as when wee are proud of spirituall Graces. And the reason is good mettall: The gifts of nature, as, health, strength, the readinesse of the senses; although they are Gods gifts, yet are they naturally due, and proper to the body: but the gifts of grace, are by no law due to the soule; for, a man is compleat in the state of a man, without Grace: and Grace, if not of free gift, is not Grace: and therefore, to be proud of them, is especially grievous; because wee are proud of those things, which are altogether heavenly, and which wholly belong to the King himselfe, and which hee bestoweth with his owne hands, and which hee most freely giveth, and which hee hath set his owne armes upon, (for, the least degree of grace beares the likenesse of God, and his holinesse) to move in us an acknowledge­ment of him, as the true, and onely giver. Let S. Austen speak, for hee speaks to God. Quisquis tibi numerat merita sua, quid tibi numerat, nisi munera tua? Whosoever num­breth S. Aug. in Confes. to thee his own merits, what doth he number to thee, but thy owne gifts? In his time, the bold use of the word, merit, taught vaine people to number their merits, in the presence of God, and to his very face. And many hundreds of yeares after, even [Page 198] the Councell of Trent, forced to deny their owne word, in the sense, and power of it; said of God, Cujus tanta est erga omnes ho­mines Concil. Trid. sess. 6. ca. 16 bonitas, ut eorum velit esse merita, quae sunt ipsius dona: whose goodnesse runnes with such a great streame towards all man­kinde, that he permitteth his owne gifts, to take the title of their merits. Away then, with the scandalous phrase of speaking. It is a wise fish, which presaging a storme, fastneth it selfe upon a rock. Christ cruci­fied is the rock, and upon him will I fix my soule; and sing with S. Bernard, Meritúm meum, miserationes Domini, The mercies of S. Bern. the Lord, are the whole substance of my me­rit. Then, let the Sunne be eclipsed, the earth tremble; let the veyle of the olde Temple teare it selfe; and afterwards, let the proud Jewes boast of their law, and works; I shall be secure. There is no dan­ger of Spiders, under this Canopy: he needs not feare a thunderbolt, that sleepes in the shadow of a Lawrell.

CHAP. 9.

1. THe Nunneries in Spaine, are not al­together so holy, as they desire us to beleeve. All the Nunns in one house, seated [Page 199] in Madrill, were, as the Jesuits enformed us, discovered to be Witches; even when I studied there. And yet, they had gained such an estimation of sanctity, that they were famous for it; but all, by impostures. For, they would hang betwixt heaven and earth in the sight of their Novices; as if they were caught up from the ground in a rapture, or extasie, and so full fraught with heavenly thoughts, that their soules putting themselves on with much vehemency to­wards heaven, and assisted with Gods help­ing hand, carried their bodies along with them. And their holy Nun of Carion, as I have bin enformed by a Traveller of worth, is proved to have beene a Witch. Their fa­mous Nun of Lisbon in Portugall, which gave her blessing to the old Spanish Fleet, lying there at anchor; dyed, confessing, she had lived a Witch: and yet, they report, that the wall of her cloister, would commonly open of it selfe, and the Sacrament, the King of glory, passe through it, borne by no visible thing, into her mouth. One thing I most highly detest, amongst them; that, in their processions on Corpus Christi day, they act Playes, full of most prophane, and base mat­ter, and stuffed with most ridiculous passa­ges; in the wayes where the Sacrament is brought, both before, and after it passeth: [Page 200] and yet, their Players being of both sexes, are most wicked, and excommunicate per­sons. And at other times, when the Sacra­ment is exposed in the Churches; the Coun­try Clownes come, trim'd up, and with their best clothes on, and dance by the high Altar before it; in imitation of David, that danced before the Ark; and the people stand about them, as they doe in our Country Townes at their Summer sports: only, the Altar-side is cleare. And whereas the peo­ple were infected with an evill custome, of giving reprochfull names one to another, as they met occasionally in the high-wayes: the Pope hath taught them a Salutation, and bound a sufficient Indulgence to it, Alabado sea el santissimo sacramento, Praised be the most holy Sacrament; which words they usually pronounce one to another, as they meet. But I would, he had taught them to say something, which he had learn'd of the Primitive Church.

CHAP. 10.

2. THe Bread, and Wine in the Sacra­ment, are signes and figures onely, of the body and bloud of Christ; broken and powred out for us. The tearme, figure, is [Page 201] used in this matter, by Tertullian, S. Austen, and others of the Latine Church. Wisedome hath builded her house, saith the Wise-man. Pro. 9. 1. By what secret passage can it enter into the heart of man, that the Son of God, the wise­dome of the Father, building a house, a faire house, a Church: and building it in the de­fiance of Paganisme, and to the ruine, and overthrow of Idolatry, under the heavy burden of which, all habitable parts of the world, all Kingdomes, Countries, people groaned; would now forget his main plot, and so institute the master-peece of Religi­on, that his Followers, comming to him with a zealous contempt, and loathing of Idolatry, should be taught presently, in the Schoole of Truth; to adore the glorious Majesty of Heaven and Earth, in the like­nesse of a little peece of bread; to the great scandall, and aversion of all, that should be­leeve the contrary? For, what is more fre­quent at this day, in the mouth, I cannot say, of an uncircumcised, but of an unbeleeving Turk; when hee mingleth discourse with a Christian concerning God, and Religion; then to say in a reproachfull manner, Alas good man, I pitty you, you make your God, that which I eat at my Table? And this Rea­son, though it be drawne but ab improbabili, yet urges: because, besides that nothing is [Page 202] improbable which is; God hath ordained probability to be one of the first steps to knowledge. If wee goe to the University, and ask the Philosophers: they will tell us, it is requisite to the nature, and Essence of a body, that every part should have his proper place: neither can a body be con­ceived to be a compleat body, without ex­tensive distinction of parts; or to be, but in a place. And it is the exigence of materiall Accidents, saith Aristotle, as of quantity, fi­gure, colour; to be rooted in a body. But here, they are supposed to stand by them­selves without a prop. And when a reason of these things, never thought of in any kind of learning, either in themselves, or in their grounds, is required; the greatest schollers in the world on their part, can say nothing, but, wee must goe up with holy Abraham, the good old man, to the top of the mountaine: who, having a strong pro­mise, that his seed should be multiplyed as the starres of Heaven; was yet, commanded to kill, and sacrifice his onely sonne Isaak: and we must leave the servants, and the ig­norant Asse at the foot of the hill; that is, the senses, and Reason. But, if the senses be servants, they are faithfull ones, and are not deceived in the knowledge of their proper objects; due order, and conditions being [Page 203] kept on both sides: and if Reason be an ig­norant Asse, what distinction is there be­twixt a man, and a beast? They speake on: As the Captaines of the Army, put off their garments, laid them in a heap, and setting Jehu upon them, cryed, Jehu is King: So we building a Throne for Faith over Sense and Reason, must hold up our hands, and pray, that Faith may have a long, and pro­sperous raigne over us, Vive la Foy, long live Faith. There was a farre more search­ing kind of Philosophy taught in the sound, and sincere dayes of S. Austen, who in his Epistle to Dardanus, thus draweth his ar­gument from the deep grounds of true Phi­losophy, Spatia locorum tolle corporibus, & nusquam erant, & quia nusquam erunt, nec S. Aug. ad Dardan. erunt: tolle ipsa corpora qualitatibus corpo­rum, non erit ubi sint, & ideò necesse est ut non sint: Take away from a body, place; and the body will be no where, and being no where, will not be: take away from a body, the qualities of a body, and there wil be no place for the body to reside in; and therefore, the body must be no body. I yeeld, that in the part of Divinity, which treateth of the blessed Trinity, Reason must strike saile, and stoope: and Reason teacheth us, that in the scanning of such high things, Reason must be guided by a more certaine, [Page 204] though not a clearer light; and therefore, still we follow the safe conduct of Reason: but in materiall things, proportion'd to our capacity, and confined to their natures by the God of nature; I cannot see with the eye of Reason, or any other eye, why Rea­son should not be one of the Councell, and passe her judgement; as shee does, and ever did in these inferiour things. Answer mee now: Doth it not follow, and flow out of these principles: that the body of Christ in the Sacrament, hath the being of a body, and the being of a spirit at the same time? and that, if an Angell should take a particle of the Hoast, and divide it continually for all eternity; because such a division can never strike something to nothing, as likewise no creature can ever lift something from no­thing; still in that little thing, very like to nothing, and many thousands of yeares before, not perceptible by any sense of man, Christ shall be as truly, and as plentifully present, as hee was in the world, and up­on the Crosse? Answer mee againe: Doe not they worship, as Christ said to the woman of Samaria, they know not what? For, when the Priest is supposed to be a Ioh. 4. 22. Priest, and is not; which often happeneth according to their Divinity, either for the defect of Baptisme, or for want of intenti­on, [Page 205] either in the Priest, or Bishop; or for want of orders in the Bishop; then cer­tainly, they worship they know not what. And it is a fearefull thing, to draw the chiefe, and most noble acts of Religion, within the lists of such notable danger. And the law of not administring the Sacrament in both kinds, being one of the young hand­maids, which wait upon this doctrine took earnest first, in the Councell of Constance. And Pope Gelasius cursed all those, who presumed to maime the divine ordinance, and to receive it, onely in one kinde. And Transubstantiation, the other feat waigh­ting-maid, was hired in the Councell of Lateran. By little, and little, it was made a most huge Monster. The bramble grow­eth; but who can say, now, look you, even now it encreaseth; though hee may say, it hath encreased since I saw it last.

CHAP. 11.

ONe passage more from Spaine; and then, I my selfe passe from it; that I may leave something, to come by the next Post, if they stirre mee farther. By great chance, there came to my hands, a Booke, called Regulae Societatis Iesu, The Rules of the Jesuits: which Booke, they have not [Page 206] formerly suffered to be printed, but onely, in the Jesuits Colledge at Rome. And this Book, their Superiours alone, make use of, and are permitted to have. It containeth in part, a strange kinde of direction, how to square, and fashion their Novices, in the time of their two yeares Noviship; and especially, how to sift them, and search into their lifes, and natures, at their first entrance. The quick, and angry disposition most pleases them: because in persons, owing such dispositions, all the passions are more lively, and stirring. How also, to dispose of their young-men in the divers wayes of their naturall inclinations: and how to deale with them, according to their seve­rall tempers; and chiefely, if they begin to look another way; and to lean from them. And how, when they send Letters from house to house, to mark them with private stamps in the inside; lest the character go­ing alone, should bee counterfeit: with many more cunning pleats of Jesuiticall government. And it is one of their daily brags, that they live under Rule; we, with­out Rule. But, were their Rules seasoned with more Christianity, and lesse policie; they would be more Christian. My Reader shall have his Rules likewise, and live under them, if he please. Thus much before I begin. [Page 207] It is not obscure to mee, that these irreligi­ous orders of Religion, fit and prepare their young subjects in their Noviships, by turn­ing and twining their wills; with the sight of strange pictures, and with the manifold acts of blind obedience; for great businesse hereafter, perhaps, for the killing of Kings. The Doway-Monk gave Pius quintus in my presence, no better name, then old doting Foole; because he called in, the B [...]ll, which he had published against Queen Elizabeth: wherein notwithstanding, hee did absolve her subjects from their Oath of Allegeance, and from all obedience to her; and expresly commanded them to [...]ake Arms against her.

CHAP. I.

I Am now a Monke in Doway, and shaved to the Scull; as I learned of them, for three rea­sons especially: first, because all Slaves were ever shav'd, and I was now a Slave to God, and must come and goe at the least beck of his pleasure. Secondly, to give me notice, that all super­fluities must be cut from me, in all kindes. Thirdly, to make better roome for a Crown of glory. But there are Monkes in the same house, yet living apart from the En­glish, belonging to the rich Abbat of Arras, that are not of so bare a cut: and no Cour­tier can set out, and make more of the haire [Page 2] they have, then they doe. It is in use with the Church of Rome, both in the giving of their orders, and their degrees of orders, and initiations to orders; and also, in the state of Episcopacie, and the staires of it, as the Bishop, the Arch-Bishop, the Patri­arch, and the Pope, to shave the haire wider and wider, into a greater, and a greater cir­cle, as the persons more dignified; and therefore the Pope is the most shaved of them all. In this Monastery, my dislike grew by little and little, from these reasons. That which (I feare) heated some of them, chilled me. For, although I was not per­mitted to eate flesh amongst the Monkes, for the space of three quarters of a yeare; yet, they sent me plenty of flesh, when I dined in my chamber. And I had great variety of excellent meates, both in one place, and the other. And lest I should be scandalized, it was suggested to me; that now mens na­tures are not able to brooke fasting, as they have done. I have not lost it out of my me­mory; that I turn'd my eye aside one time in the end of dinner, and saw a Monke leaning backwards, and stretching out his belly, as like a Glutton as might be. I had forgot to tell you, that no King doth fare better, or is fed with more variety, then the Iesuits in their feasts; if we consider how [Page 3] much a man can eate. Here followes ano­ther deceit of the Monkes, somewhat like the former. In the end of Lent, Father Prior, the head-Monke, washed the feete of all his inferiour Monkes, in imitation of Christ, who washed his Disciples feete: but warning was given the day before, and eve­ry one was commanded to wash and purifie his owne feete; and yet when they came to the Prior, he did scarce touch their feete, ei­ther with his hands, or with the water; and here was all the imitation of Christ. Such another businesse, and as like it, as an Egge is to an Egge, is acted by his Holinesse at Rome, who is said to wash the feete of cer­taine poore Pilgrims. The man hath not reason, who saith, these are any thing but the bare shadowes of humility. The Monks in the place of their meeting to their meales, speake not; but performe all by signes; and they have a booke which teaches the Art of making signes, either by way of speech, or answer. But this is onely an outward colour, presented in publike. For, the Monke, whose onely conversation I enjoyed, of all that were settled in the house, being esteemed one of the wisest men in Christendome, was full of words, and many of them were bad ones. Hee la­boured to beget in me an opinion (to which [Page 2] [...] [Page 3] [...] [Page 4] I did incline for some reasons) that the Je­suits at my departure from them, had poy­soned me. And (said this Monke) poyson of their giving may lye gnawing insensibly in your body, and kill you at seven yeeres end. The Jesuits may remember, they had provided a Gammon of Bacon, which I should have carried with me: If it was mans meate, they have the lesse to answer for. Another dish I did eate of; the working of which, I afterwards much feared. But in that journey, the Sea cleansed my body throughly. Of this Monke I learned, that the Pope had as deepe a hand in the Gun­powder treason, as the Jesuits; and both were very deepe in it: (And the Jesuits, be­ing so wryed, and so closely knit to the Pope by obedience, durst not have attemp­ted so high, and so publike an Treason, without his knowledge) That whosoever commeth from the Jesuits, exposeth him­selfe to the lash of so many foule mouthes, as there are men amongst them: that the Jesuits will nip a man, as if a man should nip a young bud of a Flower, or Tree, or a Witch, a young childe in the Cradle; that he shall never thrive after. The great Cathe­drall Church in Cambray, neere Doway; useth a peculiar way of service, much diffe­rent from the Church-demeanour and ser­vice [Page 5] of Rome: And the Church of Rome hath long endeavoured there to introduce her customes. And I know, said this Monk to me, that upon admission of such a change, in the next age the Church of Rome would perswade the world, that the Church in Cambray, did never dissent in any small point from her. This is a great satisfaction to me, that the Church of Rome both is, and hath beene a long while, altogether up­on the catch; and that she leadeth her peo­ple, age after age, still into more blindnesse. I condemne in this Monke, that he spoke most irreverently of a person in high au­thority amongst us; and one of the fairest flowers in Christendome: when he speakes the words againe, I pray God his tongue may ake. It is very common with our En­glish Romanists beyond the Seas, to speake very uncivilly of those in England, to whom they owe duty. This Monk related a home­ly story: (and I had many from him; for it is their use, to cheere up their subjects with merry conceits) When I lived in Spaine (said he) a certaine man was possessed with a Devill, and the Priest exorcising him in the Church, the people being present, a bold Spaniard stepped out, and said, O Fa­ther, pray let me see the Devill, I would faine see the rogue come out of his mouth: But [Page 6] the Devill answered by the mans mouth, that if he came out of the mans mouth in whom he was, he would go in at the others-: you may guesse what part (the Monk spoke it plainely.) Whereupon (said the Monke) the Spaniard immediately betakes himselfe to the holy-water-pot, and sitting downe so deepe in it, that the water hid a great part of him, gives the Devill very foule tearmes, and provokes him twenty times over, to come if he durst: But coward, he durst not come. I will not tell all. I will keepe some for a deare yeare, and a rainy day. Yet you may gather from these premisses, I could not but see, that hypocrisie and malice in their full growth, dwelt even here, as well as abroad; and that here, the purity was not to be found, the idea of which I bore in my minde. Wherefore, it was my owne first motion, and I left them, and became a Frier; the Friers professing more strictnesse. A man may impute these changes either to variablenesse, and inconstancie, or to the stirring of good and able motives, and to Gods providence, that would carry me out of one roome into another, and shew me all the inward Chambers of the Church of Rome. Take heed, judge not. But if you do, I submit my neck, lay what waight upon me you please, if you offend not God. For [Page 7] I deserve both your judgement, and your scorne.

CHAP. II.

THe Monks have one story amongst them, and they make it a Pulpit-story. A very devout Monke walking one day a­lone in a wood (and I thinke, they lose themselves in this wood, when they relate the story) by chance heard a Nightingale sing; and while shee did variously descant upon her song, he laid hold upon it as a hand from Heaven, by which he was lifted up to Gods eminencie, and to the picture and perfection of the Nightingale in him: and there he stayed in contemplation, catcht from his senses, till many yeares were past, and all the Monkes of his time, dead in the Monastery in which he lived. All which time seemed to him very short, and to bee merrily passed in hearing the Nightingale. Yet (say the Monkes) this Musitian could not be a Nightingale, though his heavenly meditation was indeed begun, and sung to, some while by a Nightingale. But the Monk admiring an excellencie in the creature, and being quickly filled with it in the brooke, went forward towards the spring, and rose [Page 8] to that, from which it was taken in the Creatour; and there he was easily sung a­sleepe, where he rested a hundred yeares, like S. Iohn upon the soft brest of our Savi­our. This passage is not much unlike the miracle of the Seaven Sleepers, that slept in a Cave, not as other men doe, from the be­ginning of night to the beginning of day, but from the beginning of one age to the beginning of another. But as all their sto­ries have their imployment, so this both tickleth, and serveth to many uses: but a­bove all, to give us a resemblance of the pro­found meditation, with which God plea­sed himselfe before the the world. It is a high matter: Yet I should desire in this, and other things, to give more satisfaction then a story comes to, of a man in a wood, that could not finde his way out againe. In lieu of their sweete story, take a word from me, without encroaching upon a secret, which God hath reserved to himselfe.

CHAP. III.

THere was a Time, (if I may say so) when there was no Time: no world: none of all these pretty things, we daily see; nor yet, the light, by which we see them: no men and women like our selves: no li­ving creatures: no aire, earth, sea: no Infi­dell, no Jew, no Christian, no Hell, no Hea­ven, no Divels, no Angels; no God I cannot say: For God alone had being before the world; as God onely now also hath firme and true being. For, all other things that be, be not of themselves, but gaine their being onely by participation from God. Et aspexi, saith Saint Austin, caetera infra te, S. Aug. l. 7. Confess. c. 11. & vidi nec omnino esse, nec omnino non esse: es­se quidem, quia abs te sunt, non esse autem, quia id quod es, non-sunt; id enim vere est, quod incommuntabiliter manet. And I beheld the things that are under thee, and I saw them, neither to have a true being, nor al­together to want a being: I saw they had a being, because they are from thee; and I saw they had no being, because they are not that which thou art. For that truely is, which hath a being without change. If one of us should wish now, prompted by curi­osity, to have beene before the world; it [Page 10] would be an idle wish, and with as little ground, and foundation of likelyhood to have beene effected, as the world then had in effect. For no place, no little corner had beene, wherein to have beene: no aire to have received, and restored again in, breath: nothing to have appeared, or play'd with the smallest glimmering before the eyes. What God did before he built the world, although Saint Austin saith wittily, he was busie in making Hell for vaine and curious Inquisitours; (hee meaneth such, as will not bee quieted with any reasonable satis­faction) yet he well knowes, who knowes, in what the divine happinesse resteth, and how absolute God is of himselfe, and free from all necessary connexion with crea­tures. All that which God now does be­sides the actuall government of the world, and the acts consequent to it; he did before: we know and beleeve that he does now con­template himselfe. For in the contempla­tion of himselfe. For in the contempla­tion of himselfe, consisteth his blessednesse. Therefore we may safely know, and secure­ly beleeve; that he stood still in all eterni­ty in himselfe, taking a full view of him­selfe, and his owne perfections, which are himselfe. He now sees in themselves to be, what before he saw in himselfe would bee. Nor was he ever idle before the world, [Page 11] otherwise then the Blessed shall be ever after the world. And if the Beatificall vision, that is, the sight of God, from which flow­eth Blessednesse, doth so fully, and plenti­fully satisfie the Blessed in Heaven; that they cannot turne aside the busied eyes of their understanding, the transitory space of one minute, from that they see, even though they should be enticed, and tempted to look aside, with all possible delights: (and there­fore, most ardently love, for the most ami­able excellencies discovered in it) was not God ever well busied, who ever had, and hath an infinitely more searching, and per­fect sight of himselfe, then all the Blessed either shall, or can ever have together? The divine perfections, as they have many other, so they have also this prerogative; that alwayes seene, they both are, and seeme still most faire, and as they lose nought of their substance, so they never bate any thing of their beauty: Now whereas, not onely the perfections of all creatures that are; but also, of all that are possible, are in God; and that in a most eminent and boundlesse manner: how can it stand that God did not finde matter in himselfe for perpetuall exercise? especially, since that nothing is come new to him by creatures, but their actuall dependance upon him, the [Page 12] stile of Creatour, and the Government: all that which is added, being still out of him, or derived from that which is not in him; and consequently, no part of his Blessed­nesse: nor any thing which can throw the infamy of change upon him. We may judge what is possible to be done, by what is done. And if things are possible to be done, a power must be which can doe them. And they cannot come from him, when he does them, but because they were first in him. For, nihil dat quod non habet, vel formaliter, vel eminenter: no Giver giveth but what hee hath, either so as it is given, or in a better straine. And they cannot be in God, but as they are himselfe, and infinite. God doth not depend of the world, but the world of God. If the world had never yet beene, he had still remained the same God, most great, most glorious: A King, though with­out subjects; because all things, bee they future, or onely possible, are as actuall, and present to him: Omnipotent; able to make the creatures we now see, and farre more excellent, to which we are not warranted to say, he will ever bend his power. For therefore God leaveth many things undone, which reason teacheth us may be done: to preach this doctrine, that creatures are not his upholders. Contemplation in us, is a [Page 13] most noble exercise, because performed by the most honourable faculty of the soule, the understanding: and by the highest and most elevated acts of the minde. What then may we thinke of contemplation in God? Synesius having turned his speech to God, hath a sweet expression, [...], eye Synes. in hymnis. of thy selfe. For his understanding is the great eye, with which he throughly sees himselfe. Besides, the eternall generation of Christ, the divine Word, of which the Prophet Esay, Who shall declare his generation? was, is, and shall be for ever: as likewise, Es. 53. 8. the procession of the holy Ghost. Thou art my sonne, this day have I begotten thee: Hee Ps. 2. 7. meanes, a long day; diem eternitatis, the day of eternity: a day so long, that there is but one of them in all the yeare; and yet the yeare is the onely true [...]: for it is all and wholly in it selfe, and hath neither end nor beginning: a day that never yet made roome for night, nor shall ever be intercep­ted with darknesse. The Heavens are al­waies in motion: the Sun takes no rest: Fire is alwayes in action: The Sea never sleepes: The Soule is alwayes busie in the exercise of her powers: The Heart alwayes panting: The Eyes are alwayes active when they are open: Life keepes the Pulse in continuall beating; and the Breath alwayes a passen­ger, [Page 14] comming or going. These are num­bred amongst the choicest of Gods crea­tures; and therefore, beare more likenesse of him in themselves, then meaner things. These ever worke, and was he ever idle?

CHAP. IV.

ANother application of the former sto­ry, is to give us in a perfect forme the shape of their consideration, and contem­plation. But why must they needs consider and contemplate in a Monastery? And if they will contemplate there, why is every man disinteressed from a lawfull calling, by which he may concurre to the benefit of the Common-wealth? Homo nascitur Rei­publicae, sayes the Civill-Law, A man is borne for the Common-wealth. And the reason which Aristotle gives, why a man may not kill himselfe, is, because hee may not lop himself from the Common-wealth, of which he is a branch. They answer with Saint Austin, vindicating the Monks, up­braided S. Aug. l. 1. de Morib. Eccl. c. 31. by the Manichees, Videntur nonnullis res humanas, plus quam oportet deseruisse; non intelligentibus, quantum eorum animus or ati­onibus prosit: They seeme to some men to have forsaken humane affaires more then [Page 15] they ought to have done, not understanding how much they exalt them by prayer. But without question, the Monkes of Saint Au­stins time, were no such idle bodies as now they are. For then every man had his pra­cticall course of life, to which his education had instructed him; and they which had none, laboured in Gardens, and other plats of ground, digging and sowing; and eating their bread in the sweat of their brows. Nor is it a reasonable discourse, that because some few of the old Christians, flying from the bloody hands of their persecutors, hid themselves in Woods, Wildernesses, and secret Caves, and corners; wee shall step over the like cause, and take hold of the like action. Shall we make to our selves an imi­tation of the rest of Heaven, without under­going the toyle, which goes before it; of which toyle, the rest of Heaven is the re­ward? And they lose a faire number of waighty occasions which the world af­fords, and which God ministers, as the food of vertue, and the gates of victory: and they are faine to referre all to the first Act of entring into the Monastery; or they would be much to seeke. When I was a Romane, the Pope was solicited by the Embassadours of Spaine to give leave, that the great increase of Monkes and Friers in [Page 16] their Countrey might be restrained; and the reason was given, because it was feared, that the warres, and the Monasteries, pul­ling severall wayes, would unpeople the Common-wealth, and deprive the King of subjects, necessary to his Dominion. If such a grievance may rise from the excesse, why may not a reasonable complaint be made of every knowing and able member of a Common-wealth, that buries his Ta­lents in a Monastery, and seekes onely him­selfe? In a Christian Common-wealth, the good of the Church ought not to be pre­ferred before the good of the Common­wealth; when by such an action of prefe­rence, the Common-wealth is endamaged; because by the Common-wealth the Church stands; and the Church is but a good part of the Common-wealth, And after all, why cannot they consider their owne estates, and the condition of the world in which they are; and contem­plate of high things; and admire Gods creatures; either in their chambers, if they were in the world, or in the fields, as Isaac; of whom we reade, And Isaac went out to Gen. 24. 63. meditate in the field at the even-tide? My Rea­der shall not want matter for such a pur­pose, if he will be doing.

CHAP. V.

REader, beware; the Papists are crafty, and profound in craft. And they will object, to relieve their cause, one of these two things, or both, (I have beene long trained in the knowledge of their wayes) That I owe them thankes for many devout observations. Something I have learned of them, and I thanke them for it: yet little, (if experience stand aside) but what I might have learned in England. My friends know, that when I was a boy at Eton Colledge, I began to scribble matters of devotion. And I have seene much unworthinesse in them beyond the Seas, not to be imitated; which I could not have learned in England. But, the knowledge which they worke by, shall lye dead in me. Their other prop will be, that my writings come not from the spirit [Page 36] of devotion, but of oratorie. I am short in these revelations, that point at something in me, who am nothing. Reader, thou hast the language of my spirit; but I must digge farther into this veine of Meditation, or Consideration.

CHAP. VI.

I Spake but a little before, of going to Heaven bare-foote: and it is my owne case. For now I am cut, and carv'd into a Frier. I am going a long journey, in long coates, without a shirt to my back. I beleeve [Page 69] this was not Christs meaning, when hee exhorted his Disciples, to be like the little childe, which he set in the midst of them. In this they are not unlike the Crosse-bea­rers in Spaine, who in their Processions, car­ry every man a Crosse upon his shoulders, and having tooke up their Crosse, follow Christ. The Devill had wrought a parcell of the old Monkes into this fallacie, whom Cassianus much blames. ( Origen had a fault Joan Cassi­an. Collat. 8. cap. too.) In my heart, I am of opinion, that a great and massie part of them, in their Procesuons, wherein they whip themselves, are meere counterfeits. For, it is their use in Spaine, before they goe to it, to desire their friends to rubbe and chase their backs throughly, with a woollen cloth: and the bloud being stirred, will afterwards come from them in their lashing of themselves, with little paine. Some will pause certain places, and there whip themselves with more severity. But what places are these, thinke you? Under their mistresses win­dowes; and they beare markes on their outward garments by which, upon agree­ment, they are knowne of them. And I saw one of the greatest Peers of the Realme, who going in a Procession with these Discipli­nants, because their faces are covered; went along whipping himselfe in state, and set­ting [Page 70] up one arme in a circle to his side, as Gallants use to doe; that hee might bee knowne from all the rest. But I forget. I am in Spaine, and my businesse lies at Do­way. I leave much plenty of matter behinde me in all places, that I cannot write, but I am pull'd every way. Here I continued but a short while. For, besides that I perceived the Friers, for the most part, to be most un­hew'd, and silly people: their actions were as vaine, as they silly. Every night, being met by the fire side, one of them plaid upon a kinde of a small fidle, and the rest danced in their long coates, and their woodden shooes, with their legs and feete naked: which did not so well become those, that in the streets would not be seene to look a­wry, or smile. And yet the Friers in England are as great Gallants, as the best of them. And in their serious actions, they are as vaine. For, to exercise my patience, they commanded me to ride in the sight of them all, as coated children doe upon a staffe: And another Frier as big as my selfe, was commanded to runne by my side, armed with a wand, and whip his Worships horse for better speed. Is this the majesty of recol­lected and christian practise? Another time they forced me in a generall meeting, to sing them a song; it was a vaine one, though [Page 71] not a vile one: and afterwards, to spend some time in catching Spiders. But the top of all was: They set me one day upon a high seate, like a Throne; and made me a little Pope for the time: And the Friers came kneeling, and creeping before me; and after many ceremonious expressions of hu­mility, kissed my bare feete. They are as silthily nasty, as foolishly vaine. For, every Friday in the afternoone, the Bell rings, and cals them together into a chamber, where a great fire is made. Here they put off their inward coates; and two of them standing by the chimney, at each corner one, hold the coate at length, and with white wands, beate off the Lyce into the fire; which then fall like a shower. And they delight so much in this abomination of nature; that if a man give a Frier no­tice of a Louse upon his garment; he will thence take the poore benummed creature within doores, into his bosome; and this he does, because Saint Francis did so. Sure­ly Christ never gave way to this utter ab­jection of a man, from a man, and from the decent inclinations of nature, Gods good gift, to a sordid beast. And these busie ver­mine are doubtlesse a great hinderance to the quietnesse of their prayers, and other devotions; and make them shrug, and at­tend [Page 72] to the Lyce, when both their thoughts and bodies should wait upon God. But the Lyce were not the onely biters in the Friery. And here my Reader shall under­stand, what religious hearts, these religious persons, that compose the monster of Rome, beare one towards another. For, the Monke, by whom I was directed in the Monastery, is now in the Friery another man; and confessed to be all knit together of craft, and a great student in the art of policy, and over-reaching. And the Jesu­its had their load too; as may appeare by this story, which a superiour amongst the Friers, told me. A certaine Frier of their coate, and company, comming to speake with a Jusuite at his chamber in London, found him earnest in his study, behinde a curtaine. After the discussion of their bu­sinesse, the Jesuit stepped hastily downe, to give order concerning the entertainment of his friend. And in the interim, the Frier looked behinde the the curtaine, and found before his chair, a written book. The title of the Chapter, which then lay open, was: By what motives to stirre a widow, (or o­ther free person) to give her estate into the hands of the Church: and how afterwards, to dispose of her. The Frier, by whom I was informed, named to me a principall [Page 73] man of his Order, who then had one of these bookes lying by him. Whatsoever the Scribes and Pharises practised, I doe not read that they commended the art of devouring widowes houses, to writing; for the information of their posterity. THe fortune of the booke, as it was related to me, is this: The Jesuits dare not print it, lest it should at any time slip besides their hands into the world. And the Jesuits that are sober natur'd, and seriously given, are never suffered to heare of this booke: it is onely permitted to practical men, and at such a time after their entrance into the Order, but not before. I had formerly heard of this booke; and that it was full of damnable conveyances. My Reader may see with halfe an eye, that I relate things briefely, and plainely; and that I build up­on the testimonies, which they give one of another; being a sure way. The learning of bookes, plowes not halfe so deepe. Ano­ther Frier struck both the Jesuits, and the Monks, in one turning of his tongue, with these words: The Jesuits are the daily plot­ters, and actours of businesses, which we can never answer: And were not the Monks a­shamed to give out, the other day; that a mad man of their Order wrought miracles? These Friers have a sleight, by which, they [Page 74] confirme their young ones. They have printed under a picture of Saint Francis: Saint Francis obtained of God by his prayers, that whosoever dieth in his Order, and hath the benefit of confession, shall insallibly goe to Hea­ven. The Monks have made the like pro­mise under the picture of Saint Benet. But let them unloose this knot without cut­ting it. If their confession come from a pe­nitent heart, it will bring them alone to Heaven, in the opinion of the Romanists: if it come not from such a bruised heart, Heaven is denyed to it, by all their Doctors. The Jesuits are a little more solid. They have a picture, wherein are printed at large, the Prophecies of many Jewish Rabbines; foretelling, that God would send a religi­ous and learned company of men into the World, in the decaying and old age of it, (as I imagine) for the elects sake. Now I be­gan to turne my thoughts a seeking againe, because I had not yet found what I looked for. And therefore I pretended the want of health; and loth to continue a begging Frier, upon these tearmes, freely begged leave to depart.

CHAP. VII.

I Was now even cloyed, and surfeited with these vanities. And I meditated up­on a conversion to the Church of England. But although I staggered, having drunke deepe of the poysoned Cups of Babylon: yet my whole heart was never converted: nei­ther did I ever apply my selfe with an open profession, to the Church of England, be­fore this happy time. And still my heart gaped for more knowledge of their wayes. Wherefore I was commended to an uncloi­ster'd Monk in Paris, with whom I lived a while as a stranger; and enjoyed the great benefit of a faire Library. This Monk communicated with the Church of Rome, but inclined very much to the Greeke Church. Yet his two Monks (for they were all his family) inclined every way as they went, being seldome sober. In Paris I found the fault of Doway: that many schol­lers lived by theft; and that men threw themselves into danger of their lives, who stirred abroad in the black of night, as well neare the Colledges, as elsewhere. These are not good orders of Universities: nei­ther is this a promising, and hopefull edu­cation of Priests. In this Towne I lay at [Page 76] watch for a better occasion. You shall have more hereafter. Now onely one farewell to the Friers: They have many Rules of a strange out-landish nature, and condition. He that will be rul'd by reason, may judge of this Rule. A Frier is licensed by his Rule, to touch and receive money with his Garment, his sleeve, or the lappet of his coate, but not with his hand. He is ut­terly forbid to touch it with any part of his flesh. I see there may be an equivocati­on committed, as well in manners, as in words. And I saw this Rule kept by a Fri­er, who received a French crowne into a paper. In the defiance of this, and all other Rules of the like profession, I give to him, who is pleased to take with his bare hand, and heart; Rules directory in a Christian life, and founded, either in themselves, or in their grounds, upon the received princi­ples of Gods holy word.

CHAP. I.

THe provinciall of the English Jesuits, being my Kinsman, and the onely Papist of all my Kin­dred; (who died soone after) sent me to the English Col­ledge in Rome. And in my journey, when I came to Marselles, a Port-towne in the remote parts of France; I was strongly conceited, that by the prayers of Saint Ma­ry Magdalene, (whose shrine, and chiefe re­liques were not farre off) I should gaine the benefit of a good winde, and be convey­ed (as I was informed, I might have beene) in foure and twenty houres to Rome. And therefore I prayed earnestly to her: but shee [Page 124] did not heare me: and my conceit was very weake, though it was very strong. For sixe long weekes passed before I could recover Rome. It is worthy to be knowne, that in Marselles, when I passed through it to it Rome: there were but foure or five Jesu­its; and those in a house, in the best roome of which they could scarce all together turn themselves round: but two yeares after, when I returned; their number was excee­dingly encreased, and they were seated in three faire houses: One, a casa professa, as they call it, for their old men; another a Colledge for their Students; and the third, a house for the tutoring of their novices. And it is not unworthy to be knowne that there is not a Papist of any worth in En­gland, whose worth in the matter of his estate, the Iesuits doe not exactly know, and have not set downe in writing: and that the Jesuits doe every where professe and publish themselves to be in debt; that they may be thought poore; and lie the more openly, open to the Charity of peo­ple.

When I came within halfe a dayes jour­ney of Rome, and beheld part of Saint Pe­ters Church, I was taken presently, (and I have often wondred at it) with a strange rising of Spirit against the City and Church [Page 125] of Rome: By which, I did as it were, pre­sage what I should afterwards know. The Church of this Colledge is all painted in the inward. And the pictures counterfeit men and women, that were hang'd, or be­headed in England (as they speake) either in the profession of faith, or the defence of vertue. And the painter played the coun­terfeit too. For, he hath cunningly min­gled old stories with these of late dayes; the more to deceive the beholder; and to passe them all under the same cause.

Truely, if my power had beene pound­waight with my will; the Schollers should have complained to the Pope of the foule abuses, which have besmeared the Govern­ment of this Colledge.

It was significant, that F. Fitz-Herbert wrote a booke against Matchiavell: for why? said one of our Schollers at Rome? that he might not seeme to be what he was a Matchiavellian; because our craft is void, if we are knowne to be crafty.

In this Towne the tricke of counterfeit­ing, is in great request. For many vile Cai­tifes are permitted to counterfeit themselves possessed with Devils, and openly in the Churches, to make strange signes and mo­tions with the eyes, mouth, tongue, hands, and with the whole frame, and building of [Page 126] the body; to impresse a beliefe into the soft, and ignorant Congregation, that the Devill is more stirred, and they more tor­mented, with the sight of such and such reliques, of these and these Images, and the like: the learned part of people knowing, and confessing they are foule dissemblers. Here I heard it confessed that the Jesuits were openly convinced in Rome by the Dominicans, to have corrupted Saint Au­stin. And that of Saint Brigit, and Saint Catherine; the one had a revelation from God, that the Virgin Mary was not concei­ved in originall sinne; and the other that she was. I heard it likewise avouched by themselves; that in the Inquisition, when they combate with a person, whom they cannot crook and bowe to their owne pur­poses, some young Ruffian appeareth to him by night, in the most horrid shape of a Devill, who telleth him, with a voice like a Devill, that all of his opinion are damned in Hell; and that a very deepe place is there provided for him: which must needs work upon a man used to darknesse, and affliction, and to solitary thoughts. But the truth of God is all-sufficient, and doth not call de­ceit, to helpe her. My reader must thinke in reason, that I could not but step aside into a corner, and say privately: Have I forsook [Page 127] all my noble friends, and good fortunes, to spot my selfe with deceit, and hypocri­sie? Nothing is more certaine, then that the Inquisition is a Den of horrour, and deceit. The English Jesuits and Monkes have a great account to give for a man, who was a Monke in Paris, and one of the most able Schollers in the Christian world. This Monke wrote a learned booke against equi­vocation: And had formed another booke; (but it never saw light) the subject of which was, that the Pope is Antichrist. Him they carried (having by cunning meanes bended the higher powers to them) into the Low-Countries; and laid up fast in a Castle neere Brissels; and for more terrour, they barred him up in a comfortlesse chamber, hanging over a Water-mill: and had they but stirred a certaine device, made for the purpose; the whole frame of the boards had turned under him, he lost his footing, fell downe, and been ground into a thou­sand peeces. But they reserved him to bee a more publike example. And the like preci­pice they have at Rome, in the Castle of S. Angelo, receiving the miserable creature that is throwne downe, in every part of his body, with most sharpe pikes. This Monke they conveyed to the Inquisition at Rome▪ where they so terrified him with the blacke [Page 128] thoughes of being burned; that they drove him into madnesse. And he was then car­ried to the Bedlam of Rome; and there bound in the necke with an iron collar, and secured with an iron chaine to the post of a bed: where he spoke the Fathers, both Greeke, and Latine, to the great admirati­on of all Schollers that were present. They are as cruell, as we mercifull. The Colled­ges both of Rome and Spaine, are seldome without a mad-man. In both places I saw examples. And the mad man in the Col­ledge at Rome, had beene a fugitive from the Church of England. And his words to them continually were, vos me fascinastis, yee have bewitched me: But he was the dai­ly jeere of them all. O that the Schollers in our Universities were all as wise as they are learned!

CHAP. II.

THere is a holy place in a Church in Rome, called the Sanctum Sanctorum, where they receive, as they say, that part of skin which was cut from Christ in his Circumcision: and one of the Popes a great while agoe, attempting to looke upon it; a mighty storme comming in thunder, and lightning, and a fierce winde indangered [Page 129] the whole Citie, and frighted away his purpose.

It was an old objection, that in Rome, when they set a fresh Maid to saile in the Stewes, they hang a Flagge, (a knowne signe) out of a window. One of our Jesu­its in Spaine, to blot out this objection, said, the hanging was exposed in honour of the Sacrament. But I being in Rome (al­though some hangings are exposed to glo­rifie the Sacrament) found the objection to be true, and sound. And it is not agreeable to the decencie of Religion, that those emi­nent Princes, the Cardinals, should behave themselves with such open curtesie towards noted women, noted onely for their pub­like profession of wickednesse: or cover one nakednesse with another; the naked wals of their Palaces, with pictures, moving to lust, and venery. The deepe Monke at Do­way, recreated ms with a sweete historicall relation; and affirmed the matter to have beene done within a few yeares. Their Agent at Rome, having recourse to a Cardinall, as his occasions wav'd him; the Cardinall frowned upon him, and urged, that the Priests in England, as he heard, were much given to women. The Agent being a subtill head, and knowing the inclination of the Cardinall, replyed, that indeed, the English [Page 130] women were a powerfull temptation; and that young comely Maids brought the Priests every night to their chambers. The Cardinall gave an Italian action with his shoulders, and answered, Friend, if it be so, you say truth, the temptation is very powerfull: and so the quarrell ended; and the Cardinall began to be graciously kinde.

Two chiefe things I much wonder at in the Cardinals.

First, that many of those high persons are men of meane, low, and inferiour lear­ning.

Secondly, that a young stripling in a thred-bare coate, his Uncle being chosen Pope, is the next day, a most eminent Prince, and little differing from a King.

A notable thing passed in Rome, a small time before my arrivall thither. It was, that the Pope picked a quarrell with the Bi­shop of Spalato, (whom he had received in­to Rome with great pompe, comming from us) under a colourable pretext, that he in­clined to the Grecian Schisme. For hee would not suffer so great a scandall to goe unpunished, lest it should draw others into its owne example: and he could not punish it without a colour. And therefore he was lodged in the Castle, where he quickly dyed of griefe: and his body was burned in cam­po [Page 131] Fiori, a place in Rome like Smithfield in London. I humbly desire all religious peo­ple, when they talke of this pamper'd man, not to think of me. He was not a native of this Countrey; and in many things he be­haved himselfe like an Atheist, and an Epi­cure: he was cut out into a Dissembler, when he was young; for, he had beene a Jesuit; I never was, but abhorre the name.

In Ligorne, a Towne lying by the Medi­terranean Sea, and subject to the Duke of Florence; I saw the man, upon whom, part of a wall fell, and held him to the ground, while he was tooke in the act of villany with a Calfe: and money had redeemed him. And yet notwithstanding, it was one of the cherishing stories, with which the notable Monke of Doway, did ease me of my burden: That an Italian Gentleman having sent a wicked Varlot to cut off the nose of his enemy: (and there are persons both in Italy and Spaine, to be hired for such damnable purposes:) And the deed be­in done, the wronged person recollected his spirits, and desired to know the summe, by which he was induced to that foule enter­prise. Which being told, he gave the like summe for the performance of the same ex­ploite upon the other. And the same vile instrument, in the very same manner, upon [Page 132] the same conditions, cut off the nose of him that first imploy'd him.

In Italy they bury altogether in Vaults, and in the time of my residence there, the Friers had conveyed a Maid under ground, and having abused her, killed her in her grave. Salvianus is a great enemy to these Hypocrites. His words in one place, are: Salv. l. 5. de Guber Dei. Quid agis, stulta persuasio? Peccata inter­dixit Deus, non matrimonia. Foolish perswa­sion, what doest thou? the Law of God forbiddeth sinne, not marriage. But why doe I taxe them for killing? It is scarce so hainous in Italy, to kill a man, as to kill a dog. When a man is killed in the streets of Rome, another perhaps will step to him, and looke if he know the face, to quiet his thoughts concerning his own friends: but he goes his way againe presently, and makes no strange matter of murder, it is so com­mon. The way of the Italians is, (as the Colledge hath taught me) after a quar­rell betwixt two, one deviseth presently how he may kill his adversary, upon this foundation, because he must either kill or be kill'd. Yet in the execution of a con­demned person in Spaine, I cannot (no, I cannot) but observe one commendable passage; which I could wish that their practice would commend to our imitati­on. [Page 133] Sure it would bee a matter of high and publike concernement. The of­fender being dead, immediately standeth up by him, hanging or lying as a triumph of justice, a Priest or Minister, who presently maketh a speech to the people, not unlike a Sermon; wherein he treats of his offence of the Diabolical delusions, in which he was ensnared by little and little: of his former life, and of the manifestation of the di­vine justice in his end, and death. At which time, he doth so point to the dead body, and so often shew it to the eyes of the peo­ple, whose hearts are already strucke with the horror of his presewnt ruine; and moreover, he doth so charge, and warne the people by his example; and cries so many times, looke here you who are alive; that indeed he moves exceedingly to good life. If I goe on, I shall never have done.

CHAP. III.

OUr ghostly Father in the Colledge, was an old Jesuit; who had said freely amongst his companions, that hee had laboured in digging under the Parli­ment house, till every thred of his shirt was wet. This man was not a fit Ghostly Fa­ther [Page 134] for young Schollers, looking towards England. The words were proved against him by the titular Bishop of Chalcedon: from whose mouth I received them. Who shewed me likewise a silver meddall, in which Father Garnet was decked with the ornaments of a Saint, and joyned with S. Ignatius Loyola. I am bound also to his Lordship for the sight of two pictures of Garnets strawe, each representing it in a se­verall forme, and one being the second edi­tion, when the former had beene formerly reprehended, even by me, said the Bishop. I hope the Jesuits will not deny that I li­ved warily, and piously amongst them; and glewed my selfe fast to my meditations when others neglected them, and slept their time away; who, when the seven Sleepers were read in the Martyrologe at supper, would merrily put off their caps in honour of them. But I will onely take my leave of his Holinesse, and then goe from Rome. For I was sent hence by the Pope to England, to convert soules; and I brought out of his Treasure, three thousand Indulgences with me, which I meane to keepe till they are dearer. The Pope is a Bishop, and yet a Prince. And the reason which Father Fitz­harbert gave me, why the old Ages payed to the Pope so little honour, was; because [Page 135] they saw him a Bishop, and no Prince. If this may stand, the chiefe honour is due to him as a Prince; and not as a Bishop. He is carried in a chaire of state, upon the shoulders of men: from which chaire, his blessing hath often come and sate upon my shoulders. Kings and Cardinals may kisse his hands: others of what degree soever, onely the crosse upon his pantofle. He has the keyes of Heaven and Hell, and also of Purgatory; he can turne the key open and shut when he pleaseth. And he doth assure the Priest, that saying Masse at a priviledge Altar; that is, an Altar to which this high priviledge is given by his Holinesse; he shall sree a soule out of Purgatory. He will give you very liberally, a plenary Indulgence of all your sinnes: and remit all the temporall punishment, due to the slaine in Purgato­ry; when the guilt is removed by confes­sion. He will untie the Lawes of God, and give you leave and freedome to labour in servile works: as, to plough, sow, and reap, on the Lords day; to take for your wife, your neare kinswoman; to kill the subject of any Prince, whom he doth excommu­nicate. You may goe to the Stewes in the full and open view of authority. I am able to name the man, whom they would have suffered to commit fornication, under the [Page 136] pleasing title of a veniall sinne. Teaching out of his chaire, he cannot erre; they meane, when he doth instruct the world in matters of faith. And though he bee an Arrian, a Monothelite, or other Hereticke, the Spirit of God doth not forsake him: for he hath a double portion of his Spirit; and one being lost by heresie, keeps the o­the. He claimeth to himselfe a supreme Dor minion over Princes, be they Christians or Infidels; and presumeth to disengage their true and lawfull subjects from their obedi­ence, to which they are tied by God. He cannot be deposed for any crime, but here­sie; he will give you, if you please him, a peece of sanctified, and blessed waxe, which shall quiet a troubled Sea, divert the mischie­vous aime of witch-craft, stay the rude course of a devoruing fire, fright away evill thoughts, and make the Devill runne, and doe many such feates. After your death, he will declare you to be a Saint, and in Hea­ven; and give way that Altars and Churches may be consecrated to your honour, and called by your name; and that the world may pray to you, as freely, and as fervent­ly, as to God; and that your withered bones may be worshipped; but not till the age be past, in which he lived; and the people gone, who were eye witnesses of [Page 137] your life. O the twichcraft of the Devill! If we thinke that we came into the world to throw away our soules; wee are too blame. He that seeth a great streame of wa­ter presse forward in a calme Sea, may be assured that a Whale passeth. Here is the secret; the streame of all things goeth with the Popes greatnesse. And yet the Jesuits keepe him in awe, and in a kinde of strict obedience to them. Indeed they keep other great persons in subjection; and make them Benefactours to them, that their greatnesse may be long greatnesse. The Pope dare not compose the quarrell betwixt the Jesuits and the Dominicans; because he cannot, except he side with one of them, and aban­don the other: And Martin Luther cannot bee forgot. And the Monke, I so much speake of, threatned his Holinesse home, in his Epistle Dedicatory before the booke, which old Leander transformed into good Latin for him. The booke was made in the heat of those deadly quarrels betwixt the secular Priests and the Regulars; where­in they accused one another of heresie, and of strange things.

CHAP. IV.

TO dry up this foule water in the foun­taine: The Pope is not head of the Church; because this high, and superla­tive power would then have most shone out, and appeared in the Christian Hemisphere immediately after Christ had given the commandement, upon which they build this power, this Babel-Tower. Nor could the rage of outward persecution hinder the perfect execution of spirituall power. And what need could there be of the secu­lar arme, to joyne in the binding of the rea­dy conscience with a law? especially, when Christians were so forward, and prompt in the schoole of vertue, as then they were. Or at least, persecution could not hinder the full acknowledgement of such a power. And although we meete in the books of the Councels, with so many faire, and flatte­ring Epistles of the Popes to the Grecian Emperours, much degenerating from Po­pish gravity; Because he hath in his keep­ing, the Keyes of Heaven, Hell, Purgatory: yet still the Grecians did bandy against them, and desired to turne this over-swel­ling power, into its owne and proper channell, as they and other ancient Chur­ches [Page 139] doe at this day. Doth not here a man, a meere, vaine, weake man, exalt himselfe above God, and every thing that is called God? He is adorned with three Crownes, for foure reasons. Because there are three persons in one God; he being the suppo­sed Deputy, hath three Crownes united in one Miter. Because hee is Christs Vicar, who was a King, a Priest, and a Prophet. Because he is Prince of Rome, Naples, and Sicilie. Let me give the fifth reason: Be­cause he was dirt, he is dirt, and he shall be dirt.

Constantine in the Councell of Nice, ex­pounded that place of the Psalme, I have said yee are all Gods, and sonnes of the Highest, of Bishops. He therefore exalting himselfe above all Bishops, and to a heighth above all his Brethren, by the head and shoul­ders; lifts himselfe above all that is called God.

Let my soule goe with Saint Austin. Ne­que S. Aug. l. 2. cont. Dona­tistas. c. 2. enim quisquam nostrum Episcopum se esse Episcoporum constituit; aut tyrannico terrore ad obsequendi necessitatem, collegas suas adigit. Not one of us doth make himselfe the Bi­shop of Bishops, or with tyrannicall af­frightment force his fellow Bishops to the necessity of obedience. And Saint Austin hath no reflection here upon Constantine, [Page 140] who called himselfe in the Nicene Coun­cell, [...], the Bishop of Bishops, in regard of his fatherly care over them: because he speakes both of tyranni­call terrour, and of fellow Bishops. They say: It is necessary to have an infallible Judge for the last resolution of controver­sies in matters of faith. But if the Pope can stretch out his power to such definitions at home, in his owne Chaire, by his fire side; to what strange end, I pray, is all this re­pairing from all parts, to Councels? All matters of faith, in their doctrine, are of equall moment; and slipping in one we go downe in all. And though every trouble be not so great, ut omnes vexenter nationes, that al Nations should be troubled in the settling of it: yet exery growing trouble of faith, which cannot be laid by argument, and or­dinary meanes; requires, that the whole body should helpe the part in danger of pe­rishing. Neither indeed, can a Councell among them, be a true judge of controver­sies. For they professe, that although the Pope as President of the Councell, is tied to joyne with the greater part of voyces; yet there is a reservation behinde, that the Pope, though not as President; yet as the chiefe Prince of the Church, may cancell the Acts of the Councell, reverse the [Page 141] Decrees; and retract the judgement. So that in the marrow of the matter, the judgement of a Councell is nothing but a vaine flash of the Popes private opinion. And how stout he is in the defence of matters pertaining to the royalty of his owne greatnesse; the whole world can testifie. And for that great controversie, long tossed and tumbled a­mongst them, concerning the power of the Pope, over the temporall affaires of Princes: the Benedictine Monkes, our Countrey­men, denyed lately the lawfulnesse of such a power. But in the issue of the matter, see­ing the Jesuits more potent, and themselves sliding downward into disgrace; they drew back their necks softly out of the snare, looked sorrowfull one upon another, and repented of their errour. And is it not every day feared in Rome, that the Sorbon Doctors in Paris, will at length give the lie to this great Authority, and stately Seate, and See of Rome? O the vaine swelling of a bubble! It is not commendable in a Church-person, to be garded on both sides with great Fans, from the impudencie of Waspes and Flyes, and to keepe the winde away; to be ushered with Trumpeters; to be honoured like an Emperour; to decke the head with more Crownes, then God promiseth to his faithfull childe. And it [Page 142] was not good, which Paulus Aemilius wri­teth, Paul. Aemil. that his Holinesse suffered the great Embassadours of Sicilie, to lie prostrate on the ground, and at his gate; crying that part of the Masse, Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nostri; Qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem: O thou that takest away the sinnes of the world, have mercie upon us; Thou that takest away the sinnes of the world, give us peace. Goe, the wormes shall eate thee, till they are poyson'd with corruption. Wise men are madde. Our feet slip, we tumble: and Lord have mercie upon us. The gay flower withereth, when the common grasse remaineth greene▪ And man is the silly foole of his owne fancie. God forgive him who said, that he, and three of his Cardi­nals, were able to governe so many worlds, if God should make them.

CHAP. V.

HOw vaine is the Church of Rome in teaching, that the Popes Throne doth so farre overlooke all other Thrones; that he cannot be censured by an earthly Judge, though ingulfed in the most horrible crimes, that in all the extravagancies of the heart, were ever committed? Let him enter [Page 143] a Fox, raigne as a Lion, die like a Dog, as Pope Boniface. Let him commit whoredome upon Altars, give Benefices to his Whores, and golden Chalices, consecrated to holy services; which an honest Lay-man cannot touch, breake open doores, burne houses, put out his God-fathers eyes; cut off his fingers, hands, tongues, and noses of his Cardinals, not remembring what he said, when he did first invest them in purple, Ego te creo socium Regis, I create thee to be the fellow of a King; and moreover, invo­cate the Devill, and drinke to him; as Pope John the twelfth. Let him be a most noto­rious Conjurer, and make himselfe over by compact, body and soule to the Devill; as Pope Silvester the second. Let him be car­ried with the Whirle-winde of ambition, and have poysoned sixe other Popes, to hew out his owne way before him, as Pope Hil­debrand. Yet he sits above the reach of cen­sure; he flies with the Eagle above the Thunderbolt. That they may give sinewes to this doctrine, they produce an Act of a Councell, celebrated in Rome, which saith, Concil. Rom. Neque praesul summus a quoquam judicabi­tur, quoniam scriptum est, non est discipulus supra Magistrum. Neither shall the chiefe Bishop be judged of any, because it is writ­ten, the Disciple is not above his Master. And [Page 144] that they may adde strength to this plau­sible falshood; they bring in the reare an eminent example; For, when Bassus and Marinianus laid to the charge of Pope Six­tus the third, that he had in the rage of his lust, defiled a consecrated Virgin; Maxi­mus the Consul crie out, Non licet adversus Pontificem dare sententiam: It is not lawfull to give sentence against the chiefe Bishop. Looke how they shuffie the matter, and give it from one hand to another, amongst themselves. But, is not this to encourage sinne; to permit, and flatter evill, and to suffer it, to grow out, and openly spread it selfe, when it may be easily beate downe in the blossome? This doctrine hath so farre given heart to all kindes of wickednesse; that if we search into every successession of Bishops, scattered through the whole Chri­stian world; and examine every linke of eve­ry chaine; we shall not meete in any Sea with sinnes, that deserve to be called sinnes, with relation to the foule enormities of Rome. Are not these evill fruits, of evill doctrine? and yet no man almost doth name the Pope, but under the sacred title of his Holinesse. But though his Holinesse is not liable to reproofe, a man would think his wickednesse should.

And how silly is the Church of Rome in [Page 145] teaching, that although the most holy, and most learned Bishops that ever lived, should joyne their heads and hearts in a Coun­cell, and there using the pious helpe of ho­ly Scriptures, of other Councels, and Fa­thers before them, and of humble prayers for the powerfull assistance of the holy Ghost; should with an unanimous consent decree, what is to be preached: the Pope notwithstanding might come in the upshot, and though a most wicked, and illiterate creature▪ lawfully pronounce all the De­crees to be of no weight, no effect, no vali­dity? The generall Councell of Chalcedon, upon sound premeditation, made an abso­lute Decree, that the Bishop of Constantino­ple should have equall power through all the great extent, and latitude of his govern­ment, with the Bishop of Rome; which Ca­non Pope Leo, and Pope Gelasius quickly rejected: and the single authority of one man tooke place, because our Saviour had said to Saint Peter, I have prayed for thee, that Luk 22. 32. thy faith faile not. But every prayer of Christ was granted: therefore the Pope cannot erre. It must here follow, that ei­ther the Decrees of Councels are fallible; or the Popes sentence. Is it not strange, that God should communicate his holy Spirit to the contempt of Councell, more fully to [Page 146] a private person (for so he is in this matter, being one) though a publike sinner; then to the whole Church, the Spouse of Christ? Let the Pope claime to himselfe, all power in all affaires; who now can chide his ambition, or give the lie to his infallibi­lity?

CHAP. VI.

ONe of my great admirations concer­ning the Church of Rome, is: that whereas there are many Churches yet ex­tant, of great antiquity: and some where­in Christ was almost, if not altogether, as soone heard of, as in Rome: she will not consort, and comply with them in things, which were wholly in use amongst the Pri­mitive Christians. If she desires with a Christian desire, and not with a desire one­ly of her owne advancement to win them; why doth she not come as neere to them, as it is most evident, they come to the Primi­tive Church? This way of the Bishop of Rome was never Gods way. Which I will demonstrate in a plaine discourse, (though not plaine to the plaine) that I may a lit­tle ease my reader in his journey, with va­rious objects. God, as he was ever God, so [Page 147] he was ever good. For the most eminent Attribute of God (saith Dyonysius) is good­nesse. The nature of goodnesse, is to spread, and diffuse it selfe. And every good doth spread, and diffuse it selfe according to the variety, and greatnesse of goodnesse, which it hath. And therefore, God the Father, being infinitely good, doth infinitely spread, and diffuse himselfe upon the Son. And the Father and Sonne, being infinitely good, doe infinitely spread, and diffuse themselves upon the holy Ghost. And if the Father, Sonne, and holy Ghost, doe not in any kinde spread and diffuse them­selves infinitely upon the Angels, and us; it is because, we being creatures, and by course of necessary consequence, finite; are not capable of an infinite diffusion. The Charity by which a good man loves good, might be infinite, if the subject could be in­finite. Now, as in the works of nature, and first diffusion of his goodnesse upon his creatures; God the first cause, would first worke by himselfe, and himselfe bring about the most weighty matter of making all these fine things of nothing: and more­over, of waking nature out of her dead sleepe in the Chaos: that it might appeare to us, who should afterwards heare the grave, and strange story of the Creati­on; [Page 148] that hee was all-sufficient, and could not be at a fault, for want of help. Yet ma­naging the continuance of the worke, it pleased him to use the meane assistance of second causes; as of Angels, and intelli­gences; that he might adde worth and ho­nour to them, by so great imployment. So likewise in the workes of Grace, and second diffusion of his goodnesse upon his crea­tures; the great worke of enfranchizing the world by his Bloud, himselfe alone would performe: but in applying the me­rits, and vertue of his Passion to the chosen vessels of honour, and mercie; he doth graciously call, in a manner, to his aide, Apostles, and Apostolicall men. And as God, being the Author of nature, fals un­der himselfe, and workes with every crea­ture or second cause, in a manner and mea­sure, agrreable to their naturall, and ordi­nary way of working: So likewise, being the Author of Grace, and having never yet, (for some great reasons, best knowne to himselfe) made two men with a perfect a­greement either of face or nature; sendeth Apostles, and Preachers; who have in their commands, a speciall injunction of being 1 Cor. 9. 22 like to him, who saith, I am made all things to all men, that I might by all meanes save some. And God himselfe, not onely in executing [Page 149] the generall Acts and Decrees of his Pro­vidence over his creatures; but also, and more especially, in the more notable prax­is, and speciall exercise of his providence over his Church, from the beginning of the world, was all things to all men.

CHAP. VII.

GOD hath full power, and absolute dominion over all his Creatures, be­cause he call'd, yea catched them out of no­thing: and because (to speake in the A­postles dialect) in him they live, move, and have their being. And therefore, hee may lawfully give Lawes to them; to the due and strict observation of which, they are strongly bound under paine of his high displeasure, seconded with most heavie pu­nishment. Wherefore, giving a Law to the Jewes, by the mediation of Moses, he be­ginneth with an argument of his autho­rity, and dominion over them: I am the Exod 20. 2. Lord, thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Aegypt, out of the house of bondage. This laid for the corner-stone, I thus pro­ceed in the building.

In the infancie, and childhood of the world, when sinne was not as yet, so active, [Page 150] so quicke, so cunning, but dull, and clow­nish: and to foreshow the backwardnesse of nature in matters pertaining to Heaven; yes, to naturall knowledge, and even hu­mane society: and also that it might fully, and plentifully appeare to after-ages, how nature is wrought and polished, as in mate­riall things by Art, so in spirituall matters by Grace: The Law, by which God for the most part guided man, was onely borne with him; was young as he was young, and grew as he grew; non scripta, sed nata lex, as the Orator saith; being a Law not written, and sent in a letter to us from Ly­curgus, Solon, or Moses, but borne with us: or if written, written onely in the soule of man; where it continually remaineth in the shape of a light, discovering to the view of the Soule, the beauty of good, and the de­formity of evill. For Good is faire, and ami­able, and the cleare eye of reason beholdeth in it, at the first sight, a singular conveni­ence with the will of man, and a sympathy with Heaven. And therefore, they who were bound onely with the looser ties of the Law of nature; and who now in strange Countries, and in wilde, and un­couth places dispense their actions by the light of reason, beare a Preacher in their hearts. Ill is blacke, and deformed, and [Page 151] reason in the first glance seeth a loath­somenesse, a Toad in it; and heareth pre­sently, as it were, a jarring and disagree­ment with God, and Heaven. And there­fore the drunkard, the lascivious person, and others of the same torne, and ragged coate, loath in deed, not by any pious act of Chri­stian vertue, but by a deed of nature, their owne beastlinesse, and can by no meanes endure to be call'd what they are. For, as the Beast runneth, the Bird flieth from dan­ger; as the one prepareth his den, the o­ther his nest: as they looke abroad for daily nourishment, provide carefully for their young; know, what will satisfie their cold of hunger; what coole their heate of thirst; what complyeth with their diffe­rent appetites: follow the leading of their admirable properties; and by a secret in­stinct, cheerefully performe the severall acts of their nature: So man, since he dealt with the Tree of Knowledge, naturally knoweth good as opposed to evill, as he naturally di­stinguisheth light from darknesse. Againe: some things are good in themselves, and not good onely, because God commands them to be loved and imbraced: and these in the first place, the light of nature sheweth to be good. And some things are evill in themselves; and not evill onely, because [Page 152] markt, and branded with a prohibition; and these chiefely, the light of nature show­eth to be evill. For, if the light or law of nature, in its owne nature, did not make it cleare to Caine, that he ought not to have killed his good brother Abel; how did he sinne, or what branch of law did he breake in killing him; sinne being the violation of a law? But certainly he trespassed upon that first principle of nature in morality, Quod tibi non vis fieri, alteri ne feceris, what you would that men should not doe unto you, doe not you unto them. And hither Saint Paul pointeth, For when the Gentiles which have not the law, doe by nature the things Rom. 2. 14. contained in the law, these having not the law, are a law unto themselves. One step more, and we are in the bottome: Although the the Sage Aegyptians in Damascius, cried out three times, in every performance of their heathenish mysteries, [...], an un­knowne darknesse: yet by the plaine, and easie search of humane power, the old Phi­losophers found, that there was a God, and that he was but one in Essence; that he was every where; that he was omnipotent; and the like: though verily their knowledge, both of God, and his workes, was rather opinion then knowledge; it did so hang, & waver. For the Philosopher opening his [Page 153] minde occasionally concerning the birth of the world, sometimes he was, and some­times againe, he was not Aristotle. In one Arist. l. 1. de coelo. 1. Top. c. 9. booke, hee judgeth absolutely, that the world stood in the same state in which now it is, in all eternity. In another he stops, like a man come unawares to a place where the way is divided; and doubts which path leads to the truth. In a third booke, di­scussing the generation of living things, Lib. 3. de generatione animalium. c. 11. he sayes a man shall not beleeve amisse, who shall take it for certaine, that the first man and beast, upon supposition that they came of the earth, were either produced out of a Worme, or an Egge; and at length, brea­king the Egge in long handling, concludes it is the most consentaneous to reason, that they both drew their first parentage from a Worme. And thus hee sought creepingly amongst the Wormes, for what hee could not finde, though very neere him. In like manner he played with the Immortality of the soule. It pleased him, and it displeased him: He tooke it, and he threw it off a­gaine. And he was more willing in the end, to disclaime it, then owne it. And the flow­ings and ebbings of his owne braine, had he studied inward, might have urged him to a greater confusion of thoughts, and more trouble of minde, then Euripus, in which [Page 154] Saint Gregorie Nazienzen teacheth, he Greg. Naz. orat. 3. in Julian. drowned himselfe. And this weake light, or dawning of the day, was truely, most sutable, and more then most agreeable with beginners.

CHAP. VIII.

SInne being now more strong, more wit­ty, and more various; and Nature be­ing sufficiently informed of her owne weaknesse; God sent the world letters from Heaven. De illa civitate unde peregrinamur, S. Aug. con. 2. in Psal. 90. saith Saint Austin, hae literae nobis venerunt: these letters came from the great Imperiall City, from which we travell. And Moses, the Messenger that brought these letters of so great importance, frō God to the world; delivered his message with caution, and with respect to the Jewes hardnesse: as it is cleerely gathered out of the words, in which Christ arguing with the Pharisees concerning the permissive Law of Divorce­ment, saith, Moses, because of the hardnesse of your hearts, suffered you to put away your Mat. 19. 8. wives: but from the beginning it was not so. And so he corrected the Law, in conformi­ty to a more perfect condition. And there­fore, the Greeke Church with us, doth [Page 155] onely breake Matrimony in the case of Adultery: in which point, Eugenius the fourth, laboured to reconcile her with the Church of Rome at Florence: but he could not. And even in the old dayes of the old Law, God altered the phrase of his pro­ceedings, with correspondence to the per­son, with whom he dealt; and with whom he was to deale. For the old Law, being a Law of feare, a Law of bondage: and a maine difference betwixt the old Law and Aug. l. c [...]to­ginta trium quaest. tom. 4. the new, being, as Saint Austin giveth it, Timor & Amor, Feare and Love: conversing now with the Synagogue, a servant, a bond­woman, he stiles himselfe God, the Lord, Jehovah, Mighty, Terrible. Yet, medita­ting upon the new Law, being a Law of Grace, and liberty; and turning to the sweete Spouse in the Canticles; to which Law, she did indeed, most properly belong: he doth as it were, cover his greatnesse, hide his beames, and draw a great vaile over his Majesty. For, he cals himselfe a Bridegroome, a friend, a lover. And in the whole book of Canticles, we cannot finde with both our eyes, one proper name of God; not one of the tenne great names of God, which are so easie to be found in the old Testament; and which Saint Hierome doth briefely explicate in his learned Epi­stle [Page 156] to Marcella. God will not be knowne to S. Hier. Ep. ad Marcel. his bashfull, and tender Spouse, by the names which move terrour and affright­ment. For, he would not as (a man may say) for all the world, trouble, or fright his pret­ty maiden Spouse: And uses onely the ti­tles which kindle and cherish love.

CHAP. IX.

ALl this while there occurred, as well in the booke of Creatures, as in the love­letters from the Creatour, many faire, and solid emblems of a Divine providence, goodnesse, wisedome, mercie, justice, and so forth. And before this, man might alrea­dy learne sufficiently, that there was one God; even in the Manuscript of Creatures, by turning before his lesson, from cause to cause, till he came to the first cause; from motion to motion, till he came to the first Mover. But the capacity of the childish young world, was yet too meane, too shallow to receive in plaine language, the mysterious doctrine of a Trinity; the heart of man being, as it were, not yet altoge­ther unfolded, not perfectly open'd into a Triangle. Nor did ever any spirituall Tra­veller to this day, meete with the perfect [Page 157] likenesse of the blessed Trinity in Crea­tures. For, there is no principle in natu­rall knowledge, no foot-step of God in Creatures; by the direction of which any created understanding, either Humane or Angelicall, may reasonably close with the assent, or opinion, or even suspition of the blessed Trinity: or which can give us any true notice, that it is possible. For, although the Understanding, Will, and Memory of man; in which, as in the most during part, Gods image consisteth; are three fa­culties, and one soule: yet they fall under being one and three, after the manner, as God is three and one: nor is there such a difference in the faculties, as distinction in the Persons. And if you distinguish the fa­culties really, with the Thomists; the Per­sons will not be so really distinguished, and yet they will be truely distinguished one from another; besides that every one will be the same in Essence, and the whole Es­sence. If the learned urge, that the soundest part of the heathen writers, speake honou­rably of the blessed Trinity, as Mercurius, therefore called (though some thinke o­therwise) [...]; & Orpheus: and that Pla­to speaks high things of the word & divine love; and other Platonists, out of whose books S. Austin reporteth that he gathered [Page 158] these jewels, this golden chaine of holy Scripture, In principio erat verbum, & verbum S. Aug. l. 7 confess. c. 9. Io. 1. [...]. erat apud Deum, & Deus erat verbum; In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. As if the Eagle had not taken it in a high flight from the holy Ghost, but stooped to them for it. I answer, these Philosophers sucked the sweets of knowledge they had in this kind, out of the Scripture. And Clemens Alexan­drinus Clem. A­lex. l. 1 Stro­matum. maketh mention of a certaine old Greeke edition of the old Testament, be­fore that of the Septuagint; which came to the hands of Plato, and of other Philo­sophers. And also, these Philosophers, as it is abundantly manifest in Saint Justine, S. Just. paraenesi, si­ve cohort. ad Gracos. travelled all into Egypt, to better their knowledge; where the Jewes in their ser­vitude, had left many visible footsteps of heavenly learning. Yet where they speake of the word, and so plainely of the blessed Trinity; they received their knowledge in the same strange manner, as the Sibyls: and they spoke, as Plato said of the Sibyls, ma­ny brave matters, [...], not Plat. apud Just [...]n par­aenesi. reaching to the deepe, and genuine sense of any word they said, and the spirit failing, not being able to recover the least represen­tation of what they had said. And truely Theodor. lib. 2. apud Graecos. Theodoret gives a most exquisite reason, why [Page 159] God was not willing to deliver the know­ledge of the blessed Trinity in a plaine let­ter to the Jewes; but in characters, in a close and covered manner: because they first came from Egypt, where a multitude of Gods was adored; and were afterwards seated in Canaan, where the like adoration was performed. And if God had talked to them in a familiar way; in a worne, and beaten phrase, of three Persons; they moreover, being an idolatrous generation, their corrupt natures might have easily cor­rupted the Text; and beleeved as many Gods as Persons: especially, when they were of themselves, such waxen creatures, so prone, and pliant to Idolatry; that the onely reason why they danced to a golden Calfe in the Wildernesse, was, because they had formerly seene the like sport, and pra­ctise in Egypt; when they were busie, as it is recorded of them, in raising an Egyptian Pyramis. Yet God did often draw here a line and there a figure of this great myste­ry, in the old Testament: that it might not seeme to be new doctrine, when it should afterwards be delivered with the sound of a Trumpet in the new Testament. And que­stionlesse, we shall know in Heaven, and be­hold in every degree, and latitude of the beatificall vision, many great secrets, and [Page 160] priviledged mysteries (though not in so high a kinde) which God is not pleased ever to reveale out of himself, to the world; in consideration of humane weaknesse, and distraction. This thrice high mystery of the blessed Trinity, is onely fit nourish­ment for an understanding thrice pu­rified, thrice enlightned: that is, by the light of Nature, the light of the Law, and the light of the Gospel: And onely we, by the onely helpe of Grace, can throughly digest it. It is our Faith onely, which can say with a good courage to these humane sciences, that vaunt so much of their cleare­nesse; as the Spouse in the Canticles to the daughters of Jerusalem: I am blacke, but 1. Cant. 5. comely, O yee daughters of Jerusalem. I am blacke, seeme blacke: Ile tell you why; because the most noble part of my Verities stand over humane capacity; the distance in part causing the errour. And likewise, they seeme not faire, not because they are foule, but because they are vail'd, and dis­cover not their choyce beauty, to the dull, uncapable, and weake eye of reason. Yet, I am beautifull; because the ground of my beaty is good, and can never decay; and because I and my beauty stand upon a firme Basis, and fixe upon the sound, and solid verity or veracity of God; (who can nei­ther [Page 161] deceive others in respect of his infinite truth; nor be deceived in himselfe, in re­gard of the infinite light of his understan­ding) from whom I descend by Revelation. The Kings daughter is all glorious within; Ps. 45. 13. sayes the Kingly Prophet. She is but glo­rious within, and yet shee is all glori­rious. And the glory of the Kings daugh­ter, of Faith, is from within; from the Truth of God, upon which it secretly anchors. Let Moses speake: And the Lord Exod. 13. 21. went before them, before the children of Israel, in their journey towards Canaan, by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light. Some fit this Text to the comforts, and crosses of this life; God appearing a cloud in our earthly comforts; and light in our crosses; and in both, a pillar. And some to Faith. For, God was both blacke and comely; as our Faith, by which we are led towards Canaan, is both darke and cleere. We may best learne of our Masters, and teach our Schollers, with Aquinas; that whereas there are two chiefe faculties of the Soule, the Understanding, and Will; and with the Understanding we know; with the Will we love: it is a greater height of perfection, to know the things which are under us, then to love them: but for the [Page 161] things which are above us; it is more per­fect satisfaction, to love them, then to know, and understand them.

CHAP. X.

BUt here we must encounter a difficulty. It is the quaint observation of Saint Bernard, that Caine was Fideicida, antequam S. Bernar. Serm. 24. in Cant. Fratricida, that he killed Faith, before hee murthered his Brother. As likewise, the great Doctor of our Westerne Church, Saint Austin saith of Judas; that hee first betraied Faith, and then his Master. For, an evill Faith is commonly, the lewd, and common mother of evill workes. And alasse, Caine had many children like him in this foule act of killing Faith. For, till God was pleased after the death of his Sonne, to spread himselfe with an equall streame, up­on Jew and Gentile; we read but of one people, and some odde persons; in the num­ber of whom, were holy Job and his friends, that were his. Why now, was not God all things to all men? The answer is not farre off. He was, and gave meate to every sicke and diseased person, agreeable with the qualities, and disposition of his stomacke, supposing his disease. I will make it as cleere as the light. Saint John speaking of Christ, the true light, saith, That was [Page 162] the true light which enlightneth every man Io. 1. 9. that commeth into the world. Every man; not every man that is enlightned, but every man that commeth into the world.

Before the comming of Christ, God en­lightned the Gentiles, by many fit helps, and competent directions. As the three Kings, and people of the East, by the doctrine, and Prophesies of some beleeving Gentiles. The Egyptians, by an old Record, shewing that when a Virgin should bring forth a childe, their Idols should fall before him, like Da­gon before the Arke of God: in memory of which, they set up in one of their great Temples, a faire Image of a Virgin, with a childe in her armes.

The people of Alexandria in Egypt, by the Hieroglyphicke of a Crosse, mentioned by Ruffinus: the interpretation of which, Ruffin. Ec­cles. Hist. l. 2. c. 29. was, vita ventura, life to come; with a Pro­pheticall sequell annexed to the interpreta­tion; that their emblems, and obscurities sh [...]ld continue, till by the Crosse, life should come to the world. The great, and learned Travellers into Egypt, by certaine holy markes of life, and doctrine, left there as it were imprinted by the Jewes. And the whole world, by Jewes dispersed here & there, which gathered many to God▪ and to Jerusalem: And there were dwelling, saith [Page 164] Saint Luke, at Jerusalem, Jewes, devout Act. 2. 5. men, out of every Nation under Heaven. As likewise now, a great Schoole of holy Fa­thers teacheth, they are all scattered, and dispersed, that they may daily shew to In­fidels, the old Prophesies and predictions of what wee preach. And also the whole world by the Sibyls, who dwelling in Caves under ground, were thought to bee filled with a Spirit, rising like a dampe, from the fruitfull entrals of the earth: but were in­deed, inspired from Heaven, and filled like Conduit-pipes with sweete water, of which themselves did not partake; as not under­standing the drift of their owne words.

And againe, all the world, by the books of Plató, and other divine Philosophers: by the strange agreement of the seventy El­ders, in the interpretation of the old Te­stament; called into Egypt by one of the Ptolomies: and by the cleare, and clearely Propheticall writings of the Jewish Rab­bines. For, whatsoever is well said, [...], S. Just. A­polog. 1. saith Saint Justin, belon­geth to Christ, and to us Christians: The holy Ghost being the holy cause of all cau­sed truth. And certainely, their eyes used to darknesse, would hardly beare more then the small glimmerings of light. And thus many, why stay I there? many thou­sands [Page 165] were saved, of whom we never heard. And the like hapned, saith Saint Austin, in the Deluge: For, many being convinced in their judgements, by seeing the Prophecie of the Floud, to become History; repented of their sinnes against God, whom Noah had taught to be the Author of the Pro­phecie; and beleeving, imbraced their pre­sent destruction, as a just punishment for their sins: and having been justified by a live­ly faith, were saved. God did not take al into the number of his people; because his peo­ple had not beene so properly his, without an exclusion of others; and because hee would more endeare himselfe to those whom hee tooke: as likewise, his love is more glorious, in his elect. And after the comming of Christ, if there be, or hath beene a Countrey, which hath not suffi­ciently heard of Christ, and his workes; the people have not sufficiently performed their duties, to which they were bound by the Law of Nature. From those that cor­respond with the light of Nature, the light of Grace is never with-held: neither was Christ ever, nor ever shall be conceal'd; but either is told, or was foretold.

CHAP. XI.

BUt now at length, sinne being very for­ward, and by occasion of the Law, growing stubborne, and striving against the Law: and the world groaning aloud, un­der the judgements of God, and the waight of the old Law: and the Prophets, and servants little prevailing; and all, earnest­ly desiring a Messias, a Saviour, the Redee­mer of Israell; Christ himselfe, the Lord and Master of the family. God knew in all Eter­nity, that it was in his power, and liberty, to make other creatures, some above the degrees of Angels, some in the distance be­twixt Angels and men, with divers endow­ments, and perfections; to whom he might liberally, and with a full hand communi­cate himselfe: yet rejecting, in the long and various catalogue, all the rest; being a rich God, hee chose poore man: intimating a great correspondence betwixt a rich Crea­tour, and a poore Creature; the one being very full, and most able to give; the other very empty, and lying open to receive. And also, he knew, that amongst all the severall kinds of communications, none was so fit, and firme, as the joyning of himselfe to some created nature, in such a rich, and ex­quisite [Page 166] manner; that the Creature might be, as it were, married to the Divinity, and make one onely Person with it: and there­fore; he joyned himselfe to man, by the me­diation of the Hypostaticall Union, (if the Schooles say true, the most perfect Creature that ever God made, as comming more neere to him, not in being, but in touch) in this most excellent kinde of conjuncti­on. And as the Sunne turn'd face, and ran backe in the same steps it came, tenne de­grees in the dayes of Ezechias: so he descen­ded under the nine Quires of Angels, even to humane nature, the tenth, last, least, and lowest degree of reasonable Creatures: ta­king it, to have and to hold, for all Eternity. S. Aug. de praedest. c. 15. Vide ibi plura. Quo altius carnem attolleret, non habuit, saith Saint Austin. He not onely raised humane nature, as high as it possibly could rise, or omnipotencie lift it; but also, he brought downe his Divinity as low as it could come.

It was fitly sung by a good musitian, and the straine was very sweete: Hee bowed the Ps. [...]8. 9. Heavens also, and came downe: and darknesse was under his feete. For, they being high, and we lowe; they were bow'd downe by a strong hand, to us, and our condition; the hand of him, who bringing light, trod darknesse under his feete: And it is pretty [Page 168] to observe how God hath laboured to u­nite himselfe with man.

The water being hindered in one passage, seeketh another. For as likenesse is that from which love is taken: so likewise, U­nion is that, to which love is carried.

First, man was no sooner man, but God fastned himselfe to him by Grace. Which Union, though it was not the Union of God with man, but of his Grace; yet Grace did present▪ the person of God: and while shee kept her Court in man, performed the strict will of her Lord, her selfe, and so governed, that all the powers where she was, did the same: Adam not falling sinfully be­fore his fall. But God seeing that this U­nion was quickly dissolved in Adams fall; and that being a very unsettled Union, it was in danger to breake at every turne; and foreseeing what we now see, he made ano­ther more sure, and sacred cord of Union, in the Incarnation; whereby humane na­ture is tied to the Divinity; and makes up the same Person with the second Person in Trinity, without any danger of a divorce, or breach of friendship. But because this Union is not the joyning of God to every man, but to the nature of man, and to no mans nature in particular, but his owne: he sleepes not here, but comes home to [Page 169] every one without exception, in the Sacra­ment; marrying himselfe by grace, to the soule; applyed in the resemblance of bodi­ly nourishment; to make the Union of Grace more strong with a double knot: as labouring, if it were possible, to turne into the soule, and be the same thing with it; as bread becomes not one of the two in carne una, in one flesh; but una caro, one and the same flesh, with the body.

But because we are not yet come to that, which by the Grecians is called [...], and signifies both the end, and perfection: and because this Union also now is, and now is not; God hath ordained a settled state of Union, by which the soule of man in Hea­ven is tyed with an eternall bond of peace to him; humane understanding, to the di­vine understanding; the will of man, to the will of God: and by which all the powers of man are fixt in a firme, and most neere connexion, and subordination with, and to him for ever. How then ought we to stoope and comply, if we sincerely de­sire a Union of all, not onely with our selves, for our owne ends; but with the Primitive Church, for Gods end?

CHAP. XII.

THe Apostles, and Preachers of Christ, following the tract, and foot-steps of God; and of their Master, Christ: who also, conversed with Publicans and sinners, though not in their sinnes; and spake o­therwise to his Apostles, to whom it was given to know mysteries, otherwise to the people: were all things to all men. Saint Paul to the Jewes under the Law, though not a Jew under the Law, became as a Jew under the Law. To the Gentiles, as one of them, though not one of them. To the weake, though not weake, as weake.

The great Interpreters of holy Scripture, give three reasons why Saint Paul in his E­pistle to the Hebrewes, doth not begin after his accustomed manner, Paul an Apostle of Jesus Christ.

The first was given by Theodoret, because he was more answerably, Aposto [...]s & Doctor Gentium, the Apostle and Doctor of the Gentiles, as himselfe proveth.

The second by Saint Hierome, because he Galat. 2. Hebr. 3. 1. [...]ls Christ in the same Epistle, the Apostle, and high Priest of our profession, and therefore, lest he might seeme to thrust himselfe in the ballance with Christ, he concealed his title.

The third, and last is given by the same hand, and happily to my purpose: because hee most pleaded for the abrogation of the Mosaicall rites; of which, the He­brewes, though Christians, were yet zealous, Act. 21. 20. as it is plaine in the Acts of the Apostles. And therefore, lest the mention of his name, should breake the sinewes, and wea­ken the force, and energy of his doctrine; he is plyable to their passion, and in a man­ner, denies his owne name. And we know, that the wise Apostles in the Primitive Church, gave way to the Hebrewes in the use of many legall ceremonies, untill the full, and plenary promulgation of the Go­spell; that the Church might with more ease, be compacted of Jewes, and Gentiles; and the parts not stirred, close the better.

Saint Clement writes of Gamaliel, the great Pharisee, and Doctor of the Law, that hee was left, being now a Christian, by the se­rious appointment of the Apostles, in the Councell of the Jewish Elders; to qualifie their heate, and mitigate their cruelty. And in the Acts, he acts his part; he doth com­ply Act. 5. with both sides, and reach beyond them all.

This Milkie way went all the godly Pre­lates, who succeeded the Apostles, or their Schollers, in all Churches: keeping an even [Page 172] hand betwixt innovation, and stubborn­nesse.

This ever was, and is, and ever will bee, the knowne course of the holy Ghost, even in the soules of men: especially, as he is, to borrow of Synesius, [...], the Gi­ver Synes. in hymnis. of Graces. But I am forced here to play as I am wont, when I relate the foule prankes of the Papists; and imitate the Painter; who endeavouring to shew to the eye, a multitude of men; discovereth in some onely, their faces; in some, the tops of their heads; in others, one onely foot: and sometimes, a cheeke and one eye stands for a man; while he leaves the rest for our imagination to paint: which truly, perfor­meth a faire deale more in the Table, then the Painter.

He that is stung by a Tarantula, (I write what I have knowne) is presently taken with a strong, and violent fit of dancing: and he is best cured, when the Musitian playes aptly with the current of his hu­mour, and bending of his fancie. But I feare I play to one that is stung, and yet will ne­ver be recovered; because no good musicke hath a note so high, as to consort with her greatnesse. It is she that saith in her heart, I sit a Queene. Rev. 18. 7.

Every man hath his way of writing, and [Page 173] I have mine. I am sure this way delights, and illustrates; and affords to every man, something which he loves; and also keeps the devout spirit in action, both of him that writes, and him that reades.

CHAP. XIII.

AFter many stormie dangers, and dan­gerous stormes, by sea and by land; I arrived safe into my deare Countrey, little England. My soule doth magnifie the Lord, for it. And me thoughts, I came out of the noise, and tumults of other Countries, in­to England, as into a silent harbour, and haven of rest; having, as it were, left the world behinde mee: And if my compari­son may lawfully bring two different things together; as a soule going out of earth, comes into Heaven. Truely, after the first step upon land, I kneeled downe, and kissed the very sands, and gravell on the shore. Being come to London, I presen­ted my selfe to my superiours; and shew­ing my faculties, declared whence I came. But they seemed fearfull, having heard that I had formerly suspected their wayes. Yet, that was but a qualme, and I was quickly disposed of; and my walke assigned to me. [Page 173] I was placed in a Parish, wherein there were and are many more Papists, then there are people in the Parish in which I am now seated. And they were many of them both rich, and of quality: There are all poore, and of a low name. Any man may beleeve without straining his faith, that comming to England, so top-full of the knowledge of Romish abuses, and corruptions; I wanted nothing, but the very last degree of heate to the taking of fire: I wanted but an oc­casion, to set one wheele a going, that all the rest might goe with it. I had gathered experience out of all their affaires, but onely, their dealings in England: And I desired a little thence, to make up the Talent. In the house where I lived, all my imployment was, my service of God in my way, and exercise in my studies. I know my enemies will grant to me, that no man a­mongst them followed his studies with more exact diligence, then my selfe. But my way differed from theirs, for I alwayes car­ried Schoole Divinity, and other learning, with an even hand before me; that the mildnes of the one might temper the aspe­rity of the other; and that the soundnesse of the one, might fortifie the weaknesse of the other; and that one might bring the other downe to the understandings of peo­ple, [Page 174] to be instructed by me. They were all for the deepe of Divinity: All, for diving. Whence it comes, that few of them are han­dy in the conversion of soules (otherwise then by sleight, and cunning;) or able in the faculty of preaching. In this house, I wrought the cure of a wound which many Priests had beene doing with, never any brought to a Citatrice but my selfe. I reaped the benefit of gifts in the house, (indeede they were thrust upon me) yet not so great; but a great Priest, (the famous Divel-Ta­mer) whom I used in Counsell, secured to me, the taking of them in justice. Yet this kindled a quarrell; such was the tenacious nature of the prime Litigant: and grew to a parting. And this for a parting blow: (perhaps, my Reader may understand it) Agnes, a tender soft Girle, having rejected the love of a noble young Romane, to cou­ple with the heavenly Bridegroome; cal­led to her Headsman with the voice of a man, as Saint Ambrose delivereth it; say­ing, S. Ambr. l. 1. de Virgi­nibus. Pereat corpus, quod amari potest oculis, quibus nolo: Let the body perish, which can be loved with eyes, with which I would not it should be loved. He that should have heard the words, and not seene the speaker; would scarce have thought this had beene little Agnes. I speake in the clouds, and I [Page 176] am loth to come out of them, till I am call'd and urged to speake, what ought not to be spoke without a command from necessity.

CHAP. XIIII.

MY Superiours now sent me, and one of them brought me to one of their greatest houses in England, being the house of a very noble personage; where they were destitute of a Preacher. But I repai­ring to London, while the matter was hot in debating; rumour had carried to their eares, that I had opened my heart to some Protestants of note, concerning my good will to the Church of England: which blew up all their hopes. For, some passages of the Countrey where I lived, which had passed in my time: had much bowed my heart to a cōsideratiō of what I had former­ly known. The passages in part, were these: To confirme the doctrine of worship due to Images; it was spread amongst the Papists, that the night before a certaine holy Priest was apprehended by a Pursevant, all the pictures in his chamber were seen to sweat.

And to bolster up the doctrine of pray­ing to the Virgin Mary, and other Saints; it was given out for a fixt truth; that a de­vout person, being frighted in his bed, with the strange likenesse of a Ghost; and cal­ling [Page 177] upon Christ by the holy name of Je­sus; no helpe appeared: but at length, tur­ning his speech to the Virgin Mary, the Ghost with all possible haste, vanished. In these parts, a great Priest (great in body) being most talkative in his owne praises, perswaded the weaker sort of his faction, that he had already cast foure hundred De­vils out of a poore needy woman; by the vaine exorcizing of whom, set out with bold action, and a loud voice; he raiseth to himselfe, a great part of his mainte­nance. For, he carrieth her from house to house; as poore men doe Apes; to shew tricks with her. And he had tooke much paines to release her, in the house where I lived. It is easie to delude fooles; but, that wise persons should goe astray after a delu­sion, would be a contradiction in wisdome; and prove, that wisedome were not so well united in it selfe.

I was present one time, when the play was acted. For, the fat Priest had gathered together the refuse of Papists, being the poore silly sheep of people, (I dare say, not one of them knew the biggest letter in the Alphabet) into a house standing alone. He sate in a Chaire, habited with his Priests ornaments. The woman kneeled at his frete; and turned her mouth, and face in­to [Page 178] strange figures. He spoke to the Devill, with a commanding voice: the Devill an­swered by the woman. He asked the Devill, how many Devils had possession of the bo­dy; The Devill answered, all were gone of so many hundreds, but onely two. Hee commanded the Devill to come up to the top of her longest finger: He did so, and the finger was held out. Having got him there, he asked him his name. The Devill answered, in a grave tone, Dildo. He com­manded the other to the same place; and likewise, asked his name: This Divell also answered, Dildo. But there the womans wit fell short; for, she should have given the o­ther Devill, another name. And here was all that is notable, which I saw in the best part of a night; who notwithstanding, was very curious in seeing. And in the word of an honest man, I saw nothing, but what might easily be; and what reason tels me, was counterfeit. And all the while the poore ignorant people were all on their knees, praying upon their Beads, knocking their brests, groaning as loud as the Patient; & crying, Our blessed Lady help thee. The root of the deceit, is: They say, the Devill first entred into her, when she entred into one of our Churches, to see the childe of a Papist buried; to which shee had beene [Page 179] Nurse. And still, the wonders pluck at our doctrine, as here people are frighted from entring into our Churches, for feare of be­ing possessed with Devils. The plaine sim­ple truth is, (which I made good by enqui­ry) The woman was alwayes a very idle, and lazie person; and the childe failing, grew poore, and discontented; and so, ei­ther fell to her tricks, or was easily wrought into them. I am a saver here, as in other places. Onely, this I present to the consi­deration of all wise people: If one small part of a County in the small time of a yeere, gave plenty of these most ridiculous passages: what prankes doe they play eve­ry houre in England? what in the world? I kenw the Jesuite that came to the dore of a great house in England; leading an Ape, and professing to make sport with him; The secret was, he desired to win a kins­woman of his, abiding in the house. To whom afterwards comming, as she walked in the fields in hay-time, and not being able to bend her to him, he drew his knife upon her; and had shee not beene relieved by an out-cry, she might have beene spoy­led by him, of her life, though not of her religion.

These, and the like strange carriages of heavenly matters, scanned in my thoughts, [Page 180] moved me at first, to separate my selfe a lit­tle from the Papists. In which time, they wrote a very persuasive letter to me. Which having perused, I sent a letter to a person of quality amongst them; wherein (for I pro­mised in the beginning of my book, to speak the truth in all things) I signified to him, that my heart failed me, and I feared to goe on, in my new resolution. And in so great a change, as the change of Religion; after the practice of thirteene yeeres amongst the Papists, and all the yeeres of my know­ledge; it would have beene a miracle, if the heart should not have imitated the Sea­mans Needle, turning to the North-pole, and have shaked before it had fixt. Yet this hapned before I had actually tooke the the habit of a Minister. Let them shew mee, that I gave them any solid shew, I was of their minde, since I first made open shew of the profession, I now sticke to; and they will shew more, then they can shew.

CHAP. XV.

I Beganne soone after, to compare the two Religions; in these words. The Protestants have one great Power, upon whom onely they depend; and to whom [Page 181] alone, they flie by prayer in all their neces­sities; observing that of Saint Peter, Cast all 1 Pet. 5. 7. your care upon him, for he careth for you. The Papists have as many hearers, and helpers, as they have Saints and Angels. And yet, devotion being divided, is lesse warme: and the expectation of a benefit from a heavenly power under God, doth engage us to per­forme the highest acts; at least of outward reverence to a creature; as, to prostrate our selves before him, and to call upon him in all places, as if he were every where. The Protestants leane wholly upon the merits of Christ Jesus; desiring to suit with that of Saint Paul, For by Grace yee are saved through Faith, and that not of your selves: it 2 Ephes. 89 is the gift of God: Not of workes, lest any man should boast.

Amongst the Papists, their good men, all merit; and to make the matter sure, one meriteth for another. And yet, as no man can direct an intention to an end, but hee must also intend the meanes, requisite to the end: So, no man can truly merit sal­vation, unlesse he likewise merit the meanes necessary to salvation: the thing necessary to salvation, was the death of Christ; there­fore, S. Aug. Serm. 8 de verbis A­post. if they merit salvation, they merited likewise the death of Christ. But Saint Austin saith, Neque enim illum ad nos merita [Page 182] nostra bona, sed peccata duxerunt: our merits did not draw him to us, but our sinnes. The Protestants have onely two Sacra­ments; because Christ intended to give life, and to maintaine it: They have Baptisme, to give spirituall life; and the Sacrament of the Eucharist, or the Lords Supper, to keepe and cherish it. The Papists have se­ven Sacraments, as there are seven Planets, and because there are seven deadly sinnes. And yet, if every visible signe of an invi­sible gift, be a Sacrament; the old Law was exceedingly stored with Sacraments. The Protestants give Christ to be eaten by faith: the Papists wholly, and carnally; and in the same manner, as he is in Heaven. And therefore, the sacred institution is maimed, and the poore Laity deprived of the Cup; because they are beleeved to take all Christ his body, ex vi verborum; and his bloud, soule, Divinity; and the blessed Trinity it selfe, per concomitantiaem, in regard that Christ cannot be parted. The Protestants teach according to S. Paul, that a Bishop may be the husband of one wife, which the Papists 1. Tim. 3. 2 would faine turn to one Bishoprick, or Bene­fice: but S. Paul cuts them off, having his chil­dren Verse. 4. in subjection with all gravity. Both the Bishop, and Priest with the Papists, professe to live a most Angelicall life, and to carry [Page 183] with them out of the world, an unspotted robe of chastity. And yet, while they bring glory to their Church by a compulsive re­straint of the Clergy from an honest, and lawfull act, they ruine the precious soules of many thousands of thousands: as appea­reth by the great and grievous complaints of many devout persons in the Councell of Trent; and by the beaten, and ordinary practise of their Priests; who by force tur­ned from the true channell, runne over all bankes, into all beastlinesse. And I have from their owne mouths, two matters of notable importance.

First, that indeed, marriage had beene granted to Priests in the Councell of Trent; had they not, upon the suggestion of the Jesuits, feared poverty, and contempt: By which, it is as cleere as Gods Sunne, that they more aime in their adventures at the glory of the Church, their visible Mother, then of God, their invisi­ble Father.

Secondly, that the Jesuits hewed the Councell into this conceit, for this end; lest, because the Jesuits can throw off their habit at their pleasure, all their able men should have left them, and runne a wiving. And it is a great reason, of a great rule they have; that no Jesuit may be a Bishop, or [Page 184] Cardinall, without an extraordinary com­mand, and dispensation from the Pope; because their houses would then be deplu­med of Schollers.

I feare, the religious persons of the Church of Rome, clad so meanely; in the greater part, thinke themselves as great, as the greatest. Tertullian saith of Diogenes, Superbos Platonis thoros, alia superbia decul­cat, he kicks the pride of Plato, being alto­gether Tert. Apol. cap. 46. as proud as he. The Protestants are al­waies humble suppliants to God, for the re­mission of their sinnes; and still laying open before him, and recounting the sins of their youth: And the uncertainty holds them al­wayes in a feare, and trembling, and in a meeke submission to God.

The Priest in Confession, will give to the Papists, a full, and absolute forgivenesse of all their sinnes; whensoever they please to read, or tell them over. And yet nothing is more dangerous to an ignorant soule, then a deceitfull security: they beleeve their sinnes are forgiven, and the care is past. Confession cannot be necessary, neces­sitate absoluta; that is, necessary to salvati­on; or in the list of Sacraments. For, why did the Greeke Church, the most devout, and most learned Church in the world, and the Nursery of our greatest Doctors, moved [Page 185] onely with one abuse ushered by Confessi­on, abolish it? Can the abuse of a Sacrament amongst reasonable creatures, and sensible of their owne condition, deface the use of it? And therefore doubtlesse, they held it by the title of a good, and pious custome; not in the name of a Sacrament. Turne an­other way: God, who commandeth every servant of his, to keepe the dores of his senses; and by all honest violence, to pre­vent the entrance of sinne upon the soule; will he give a Sacrament, wherein the soule shal under the pretty color of sanctity stand open to all kindes of uncleannesse? And he that commandeth me to shut my eares against lewd discourses; will he now, out­goe himselfe, and command me to heare them? They reply, the relations are now in mourning, and delivered in a dolorous, and humble manner. But, the disease be­ing catching, we cannot be too cautious; and it is not likely, that God would linke a holy Sacrament, with a knowne tempta­tion. It is a knowne truth, that these con­fessions, and especially, of women, when they relate the Acts, and circumstances of their fleshly sinnes, doe make strange mo­tions, not onely in the minds, but also, in the bodies of their Priests; which their Authors confesse, even out of Confession. [Page 186] Confession, as they use it, is an optick in­strument, through which, they looke neere­ly upon the soule; that according to that sight, they may governe. And therefore, it is one of the private rules amongst the Je­suits; that in all their consultations, (which are many) the Bell having rung them toge­ther, the Ghostly Father especially, shall be present, and his counsell most ob­served. And although the Generals of their Orders, checked by the Popes, have given publike commands to the contrary: yet they are all but a face, and a flourish. Con­fession, thought a Sacrament, is to many, the bane of perfection: For, leaning hea­vie upon the pretended strength, and effica­cie of the absolution, they bate much of the sorrow, which is the principall part of true repentance.

The Protestants keepe one day in the weeke holy, in obedience to the Comman­dement, given with a Memento; Remember the Sabbath day to keepe it holy; and other Euod. 20. 8. speciall dayes, according to an appoint­ment, squared by the rule of the ancient Church.

The Papists have many Holy-dayes, and yet doe not seriously observe the Sabbath, insomuch, that the Jesuits boast, their Foun­der to have complained much of Sabbath-breaking. [Page 187] A Councell held under Guntra­nus Concil. sub Guntrano. complaines too: Videmus populum Chri­stianum temerario more diem Dominicum con­temptui tradere; we see the silly people, ani­mated with a rash custome, contemne the Lords day. First keepe the Commande­ment; and then, let your devotion stretch as God shall enable it. In this point, they are like themselves, when they say their prayers; For, let my Reader imagine, that he seeth two persons on their knees, pray­ing: The one speaketh distinctly, and lift­eth up his eyes, hands, heart, and voice to­gether; and in a fit time maketh an end: The other looketh here and there, and run­neth with his tongue and lips so fast, that apprehension cannot over-take him; talk­eth with any man, and then againe, run­neth away with his lips; but stayeth long in his prayer. Which now of these prayers is most acceptable to the Divine will?

The Spaniards have a form of salutation which is alwayes used as a prologue to their discourses; and it is ever the same, both in words and forme; and it consisteth of se­verall sentences, one answering to another. And it is pretty matter of mirth, to heare how they runne it over: Even so the Papists deale with their Latin prayers, when they recite (as the terme is) so many Pater-nosters, [Page 188] and so many Ave-Maries. And these Latin prayers were but an earthly invention of man, with a politicke purpose, to keepe all Churches in Union with the Latin Church, and in subjection to it. I pity the poore Nuns, that spend more then halfe their time of waking in running over, what they understand not. And I have some pitie for the English Papists, who are taught, that it is an act of greater merit, to pray in Latin, though not understood, then in English: because it hath more of obedience, and grea­ter affinity, and is more coincident with Church-service. The Protestants quarrell about ceremonies. But the Popish Priests, in my knowledge, have opposed one ano­ther, in such a tumultuous manner, that they drew on both sides, great persons, and whole States into their faction; once againe verifying that of Pliny; Montes duo inter se Plin. 2. c. 83 Nat. Hist. concurrerunt crepitu maximo, assultantes, rece­dentesque inter eos, flamma fumoque in coelum exeunte, two great Mountaines ran violent­ly one against another, smoke and fire ri­sing up towards Heaven, with a great noise. The Pope suffers them to cast away them­selves, and their deare time, upon discourses that hang like rotten carcasses upon a Gib­bet, which every small winde bereaves of a limbe or two. Because the Psalmist singeth [Page 189] of the holy City Jerusalem, Her foundation is Psal. 87. 1. in the holy Mountains; the Virgin Mary is holy in the foundation, and consequently, free from originall sin. Thus the Jesuits. But the Dominicans fight likewise with Scripture. Non surrexit (say they) major Johanne Baptista. There rose not a greater then John the Bapt. To w ^ch the Jesuits answer merrily; Indeed, there rose not a greater then he; but he was not as great as the Virgin, because she had never fallen, and therefore could not rise. If I could part the fray, they should let goe this vanity of vanities, and preach Christ crucified, a little more.

A plaine Monke said, and I was his Au­ditour; that he would never beleeve the words, cited out of the Fathers by the Je­suits, except he had them in the Fathers: because the Jesuits are such knowne corrup­ters of good things. And corruptio optimi, pessima, the corruption of the best things, is the worst of corruptions.

Certaine papers of an old Monk, came to my hands here in England; out of which, amongst others, I tooke this note.

• 1 Incarceratos in castro Wisbicensi.
• 2 D. Paget, aliosque nobiles Anglos, in Belgio.
• 3 Sacerdotes appellantes.
• 4 Milites Anglos in Belgio.
• [Page 190]5 Benedictinos in Belgio.
• 6 Alumnos Seminariorum Romae, & alibi: He meanes Valladolid for another place.
• 7 Moniales Gravelingae, Bruxellae, & caet.

I have given it, as I found it, and so I leave it.

The Protestants proceed humbly in the preaching of the Gospel, without paint, or fallacie.

The Papists ground much upon mira­cles, and yet confesse the world hath beene much deluded by them. I have beene resi­dent, the space of eight yeares, a quarter of my age, in their chiefest, and most eminent Cities, and places of abode; and yet, was never present at the working of a Miracle. Besides, the working of Miracles, is not an undeceivable signe of the true Faith. God hath wrought Miracles by an Heretick Bi­shop: yea, by the old Romans; for example, in the defence of the innocent; or, to give waight, and authority to a close, and co­vered truth. What if I should grant, that the Papists may worke Miracles, in the proofe of the doctrine, which teacheth a Trinity of persons in the God-head; the Incarna­tion of Christ; the redemption of the world, by the shedding of his bloud? But I will not bee so liberall. Yet, God hath wrought Miracles by wic­ked [Page 191] and unbeleeving people, though not to sanctifie their wickednesse, and counte­nance their unbeliefe.

The famous Epistle of Gregory the great, to Austin, the Apostle of England; will easi­ly Greg. ep. ad Aug. S. Just. fix, and fasten this point. And long be­fore his dayes, Saint Justine the Martyr, was of the same minde; Licet (saith he) haeretici miracula faciant, hoc tamen non confirmat haere­ticos in errore, quia miraculorum effectio non semper est pietatis signum, & demonstratio, ut Dominus ostendit cum ei dicunt, Domine non­ne in nomine tuo prophetavimus? Although Hereticks worke Miracles, this notwith­standing doth not confirme them in their errour, because the working of Miracles is not alwayes an infallible demonstration of piety, as Christ sheweth, when they say to him, Lord, have we not in thy name Prophe­cied, cast out Devils? The Papists have the name of good, and recollected people. I can passe my judgement, not upon the hearts, but upon the lives of three Families, which I saw. One of which was wholly taken up with sporting, gaming, hunting, revelling. The Masters of the other were Spaniards in all their discourses, rather then English­men; which I was sorry to heare: And one of them, frequented our Churches with his body, but not with his heart: [Page 220] otherwise, they were morall men. But O­rigen speakes as if he knew them: Multo nocentior est haereticus bonae vitae, & plus in doctrina sua habet authoritatis, eo qui doctri­nam conversatione maculat: An Heretick of a good life, is much more hurtfull, and brin­geth more authority to his doctrine, then he that spotteth his doctrine with his life. And afterwards, Idcirco sollicite caveamus haereticos, qui conversationis optimae sunt, quo­rum forte vitam non tam Deus, quam Dia­bolus instruxit: Therefore, let us take dili­gent heed of Hereticks, who are of a refined conversation, whose lives perhaps, not God, but the Devill hath-ordered. Their very orders of Religions are even frivolous in many points of their Institutions: For, if they fore-see a sinne in the exercise of o­bedience, they may not question the suff­ciencie of the command. And both they and their Priests may with more leave, and a lesse breach of Law, commit Fornication, or Adultery, or Sodomy, or beastiality, a thousand times over, then marry; although Gods Law was antecedent to their vow of chastity, and is of more validity; yea, though we should grant their vow, as the vow to be ratified (with some limitation) by another Law of God, because the mat­ter of the vow, is of greater perfection. It [Page 193] came from the Monke of Doway, that not long agoe, it was a custome in Biscay, a Pro­vince of Spaine, and observed with all ex­actnesse of diligence; that every man, ha­ving married a wife, sent her the first night to the Priest of the Parish. And that these different Orders of Religion, did not take their beginning from the speciall inspira­tion of God; I will manifestly prove out of their owne Canons.

The Councell of Lateran, celebrated in Concil. Later. the dayes of of Pope Innocentius the third, hath this Canon, Ne nimia Religionum di­versitas gravem in Ecclesia Dei confusionem in­ducat, firmit [...]r prohibemus, ne quis de caete­ro novam Religionem inveniat: Sed quicunque voluerit ad Religionem converti, unam de ap­probatis▪ assumat: Lest the diversity of Reli­gions should trouble all, and raise a confu­sion in the Church of of God; we firme­ly forbid any man hereafter to invent a new Religion: but whosoever will be tur­ned to Religion, let him apply himselfe to one of those, which are already ap­proved.

Marke the phrase of these Lateran Bi­shops, invent a new Religion; and I sup­pose, they would not put limits to the Spi­rit of God: and for the confusion here mentioned, it is as plaine to be seene, as [Page 194] the Church of Rome; for in dissention, is the destruction of love, and order; and consequently confusion. And what true learning can the world expect from these people? who cannot speake, or write the sincere meaning of their minds; because their tongues, and pens are confined to the severall opinions of their orders. Armed with these grounds, I tooke up a good, and masculine resolution; and letting fall Po­pery, made a confession of Faith, against which, the gates of Hell can never prevaile: in the words, and manner following.

CHAP. XVI.

I Beleeve, that the Church of England, comparing the weake, and decayed estate of the Roman Church, in the beginning of this latter age; with the strong and flou­rishing condition of the Primitive times, some hundreds of yeares after Christ: and finding the Church of Rome, with relation to those times, so unlike the Church of Rome, and so contrary to it selfe; had good reason to trust the soules, and eternity of her faithfull people; rather with the old purity of the younger times, neere Christ the ancient of dayes; then with the new [Page 195] belefe of these old and dangerous times. It being confessed, and all Histories, as if they had beene written with the same pen testi­fying; that in those golden times, the name of Pope was not heard of. The Bi­shop of Rome, was indeed, esteemed a Bi­shop, a Patriarch; and there was a full point. All the supremacie hee could possibly then claime, rested in his being a supreme Patriarch. Which supremacie gave him the first place, allowed him to give the first sentence; and there hee stuck. And how little the Councell of Nice, of Constantinople; and all the Grecian Coun­cels, favoured the Latin Church, and their Patriarch, the Bishop of Rome; he that can read, and understand, may be a witnesse. And, to consider the just ordering of Church-imployments: Constantine the first Christian Emperour, (if I may stile him so, without prejudice to Philip) ex sacerdc­tum sententia, saith Ruffinus, advised by cer­taine Ruff. Eccl. Hist. l. 1. c. 1. Bishops, called the Councell of Nice. And [...]e cannot be said, as Bellarmine answe­reth, to have executed the Popes comman­dement. For, the Author seemeth not in his relation, to have thought of the Bishop of Rome: unlesse you will urge, he thought of him in a confused manner, as being in the number of Bishops. Behold here, the [Page 196] great height of Princely, and temporall au­thority. Edesius, and Frumentius, labou­ring Ruff. Eccl. Hist. l. 1. c. 9 to reconcile a great Kingdome of In­dia to Christ; dealt their affaires with A­thanasius, Bishop of Alexandria; they had not learned the duty of repairing to Rome. Observe the indifferencie of Episcopall, and Spirituall power. And againe, it being most certaine, that in those cleane and holy times, the Sacrament of the Eucharist was not adored, and consequently, not belee­ved to be God: and was freely delivered in both kindes to the people. And I wonder that the strange inconveniencies, which the nicenesse, and curiosity of Rome pretendeth, were not perceived by the cleare eyes of the holy Prelates in those dayes: who little dreaming of a reall presence, little thought waking, that the administration of the Sacrament in one kinde, gave the things signified by both kindes; the body and blond; and was therefore, sufficient to spi­rituall nourishment. And moreover, it ap­pearing plainely, in all the old Monuments of Records; that the Scripture was then read, not to the eares, but through the eares, to the hearts of people, in a knowne lan­guage. So that when the supremacie of the Pope beganne to take place, then onely his language began to be supreme, as well as he. [Page 197] More a great deale may be said, but I have not time to say it at this time.

Indeed, and indeed, the Church of Rome in my thoughts, is rather the carcasse of a Church, then the Church animated with the holy Ghost: and is like the ruines of a City, burnt or decayed: by which we may perceive, there hath beene a City. Her people may say, Fuimus Troes, we have been the beautifull Church of Christ. It can doe no harme, if it be knowne; that three dayes before I preached my first Sermon; by which I declared my recantation; certaine Papists, very neere to me in familiarity, came to my lodging; and desiring to dine with me, furnished the table with provision of their owne buying. But some houres after, there rose such a tumult and combusti­on in my body, that I was forced to take my bed; and keep it; and yet, leave it every halfe houre; that for three dayes, I slept, if at all, but very little: And when I came to the Pulpit, I was more like the wrack of poyson, then a living body. And yet, God carried me through that good work, with great power.

CHAP. I.

HAving thus boldly behaved my selfe in the open Field, the Popish Priests, and Papists; beganne to let their tongues goe at me with all their power.

Potiphars wife threw slanders after Jo­seph, flying from her. The Dragon cast ri­vers of water out of his mouth; thinking to drowne the Woman with her childe, Plutarch. that had escaped to the Wildernesse. The Crocodiles are said to beate themselves, when they have lost their prey. Let the Crocodile correct himselfe: but let him spare me.

Here I must advertise my Reader, and [Page 200] before the advertisement, I will consider, that my Creatour, my Redeemer, and my Judge, is present with me, and observes how I manage my Pen. The Popish Reli­gion, in the continuance of it, stands upon these two maine props, as upon two migh­ty Pillars.

First, the spreading, and dilating of their praises, who fight under their Ban­ner.

Secondly, the vilifying, and debasing of those, who take armes against them. And it is to me a certainty, that the world lies drown'd in the bottome of these two great flouds; and is utterly ignorant, what per­sons have beene able, and good; what o­therwise, for these many ages. Their end is: The hearts of people, prepossessed with evill rumours, will be so filled with them; that the doctrine of him, upon whom the rumours attend, shall either have no place, or a very poore one: And such a person, or the good in him, shall ever be looked upon, through the rumour; which like a false Glasse, shall make a strange creature of him. It is with the Popish Priests amongst them­selves, that knowing one another so well, they know not how to instill a beliefe into one another, of what they say. I will give onely a soft touch or two; because they [Page 201] are very sore in this part. The Jesuits had a Scholler, when I was their Scholler, mar­ked for a Jesuit; and they voiced of him, that every word which came from him in his exercises, was worthy to be written in gold. They had another Scholler whose thoughts were not with the Jesuits, and he being gone, they gave out a rumour, that he was in opinion an Adamite; and held, that we ought (and might with lesse dan­ger of sinning) to conforme our selves, in the matter of apparell, to Adam and Eve before their fall. The man branded with this rumour, is now a Priest, and a Prisoner in England; but a plaine one: and as free from any such imagination, as the best of us all. If they be thus mischievous at their owne home; what shall become of me, that have another home; set up, in oppo­sition to their home? Where true Faith is the Mistresse, Christian simplicity is ever a a waiter: But falshood is weake, and al­wayes wanting; and as she is false, so are all her attendants; and all her wayes. The Schollers in the Seminaries, beleeve nothing of the same ranke, more truely, then that Master Fox, who wrote the Martyro­loge, was of so weake a braine, that hee thought his head was an Vrinall; and if it touched a thing of a hard substance, it [Page 202] would breake. Is not this a pretty way to transforme people into a belief, that all the doctrine and history, which came out of that head, was no better then Urinall proofe? A person of worth, and great ver­tue amongst the Protestants, wrote against them: And if I have eares, they reported he was tooke in the base act of Fornication with a poore Blackamore drudge: They would not grant him the honour to have dealt with a Woman of his owne skinne. Was not this a deepe way to perswade, that his booke was begot betwixt him, and the Devill! I heard the man named, who wrote the book in the name of Bishop King on his death-bed. The Bishop was a­bused: And yet the Church of Rome cannot blush.

But I cannot stay upon this Dung-hill; because I see more foule way, in my way concerning my selfe.

CHAP. II.

THey reported so basely of me, in the matter of my departure from them, and from the place of my residence in the Countrey: that I was forced to repaire to the Master of the house, for a testimony un­der [Page 203] his hand, of my religious demeanour; who being a direct man in his way, gave it me in ample manner; and freed me both from the sinne, and the suspition of it on his part. And I can make it evident to any middle, and indifferent person, that I could not have proceeded otherwise, either in reason, or justice, or prudence; all cir­cumstances considered; and my knowledge of the present condition of things: And yet, they have not feared to report a most execrable falshood: that the Master of the house tooke me in bed with his wife; and vehemently protested, that if I had not beene a sacred person, a Priest, hee would have killed me. And that the matter might seeme more colourable, they imployed a Minister of the same Countrey, a friend of theirs, and a wilde one; and a man of all companies, to make it his pot-discourse: who in this, was not Christs Minister, but theirs, and the Devils. How much hath poore England suffered, and how long groaned under such Ministers, divided in their owne hearts, and torne betwixt Pa­pists, and Protestants: neither altogether faithfull to one, nor wholly true to the other. Albeit I am sure, that as in all great workes; so especially in the service of God, the heart must be united in it selfe, that it [Page 204] may be more strong in its motion.

But to turn upon the report: I may use ex­traordinary words, because I am extraor­dinarily charged: As I shall ever desire to partake, either of the promises of the Go­spel, or of the merits of Jesus Christ, no such thing, nor yet any shadow of it, was true. And in my conscience, I cannot taxe the Gentlewoman with any thing, but fondnesse, and indiscretion; to which, the sexe is very prone; and which shee hath practised upon more then my selfe. Witnesse the witnesses of our conversation, which either were of the house, or of their Te­nants. Thinke now, into what troubled streames he throwes himselfe, that kicks off Rome, and twines with the Church of En­gland. If he be not supported with strong hands, both inwardly, and outwardly; in truth, in truth, he floats upon a very cold, and comfortlesse condition. What then, when his owne Brethren make him the jest and contempt of men, halfe metamorpho­sed into beasts? But this was little to what came after. It was proclaimed with a gene­nerall cry, that I was madde; and that I, and my wits had beene parted this many a yeare. But O my Father of Heaven, I thank thee, I have them still: and my joy is, that as they were in thy gift, so they are in thy [Page 205] keeping. If they answer: these were the noises of common people; and rumours are no sooner hatched, but they have long feathered wings. What say they to the Scotch Priest in Holborne, who reported to certaine Protestants, that I was runne away with the mans wife, in whose house I lod­ged. And they doubting of it; doe yee thinke, (said he) that I know it not, who lodge very neere to him? This rumour was discovered in the mouth, where it was first borne. Having preached in Saint Cle­ments Church, I was no sooner out of the Pulpit, but the Reader desired me to satisfie him in one particular; and related, that he had spoke a day or two before, with an honest, and moderate Papist; who assured him, that in the beginning of the weeke, I had ravished a maid; and such a Justice, naming a Gentleman in Holborne, had sent me to Newgate. And they were as busie in the Countrey. For, a Countrey-Papist came to my lodging; enjoyned by his friends, to see me: Truely (said he) it is credibly reported, and beleeved in the Countrey, that you are dead, having cut your throat. O Rome, canst thou maintaine thy greatnesse by no better meanes? Then, thou art a wretched Rome indeed; and bles­sed be the houre in which I left thee. And [Page 206] lately, when by reason of some words in my Parish, vomitted out of the black mouth of a Popish servant, in the dishonour, both of me, and our Religion. I wrote to his Master, desiring that my Parishioners might not be stirred in their service of God, or averted from their allegiance to the King: inserting these words concerning my selfe. Set aside the sweete name of Christ, I would rather choose to be a Turke then a Papist. I descerned no change in the working of my letter; but only, that I was defamed through the Countrey, and proposed as one that had more inclination to Turcifme, then to Christianity in them; that part which qualified the proposition, set aside the sweet name of Christ, being wholly concealed, and set aside in the report and my intention e­vacuated. The occasion of my inserting that clause was, because the Popish servant had said, he was sure that I would quickly bee theirs againe; which is alwayes a great part of their plea, when the man that com­meth from them, is circumspect in his life. I see, that where one notorious abominati­on dwels, all other sinnes are neighbours.

This my letter was shewed by the Papists, to one of my owne cloth, and profession. But one, whom the Papists have bought and seal'd their speciall friend by speciall [Page 207] benefits, and entertainments. He speaking as affection prompted him, not as Religion: so farre helped them on, both in their opi­nions, and in their depression of me; that he perswaded them, the proposition which they had chose for the instrument of their abuses, Set aside the sweete name of Christ, I had rather be a Turke then a Papist; to be no other thing, but elegant nonsense. His reasons were, as I received them from his owne mouth: First, because the sweete name of Christ could not be set aside. Se­condly, because the proposition being re­solved into the sense of it, if it hath any, is this: Set aside the sweete name of Christ, I had rather be a Turke then a Christian. I reply: This is the discourse of flesh and bloud, or rather, of hunger and thirst, and wanton appetite. Were there the greatest of all connexions betwixt the name of Christ, and the Popish Religion, I might borrow of the Philosophers, an hypotheticall, and imaginary separation, per impossible. But, my meaning in the inwards, is; I doe not conceive, there is any mighty businesse of Christ amongst the Papists, but his name; and that wheresover it is, is a sweete name, and a name without a thing, will easily be removed by an Intellectus agens. And there­fore it will stand as close, as this mans [Page 208] tongue does to the Papists, Set aside the sweete name of Christ, I had rather bee a Turke then a Papist. And his second rea­son is most injurious to his owe Religion, I meane the Religion which he professeth; For it comes with a long taile, and implies, that nothing is signified by the word Pa­pist, but Christian, they being termini con­vertibiles: and that every tenent of Popery, is Christian, and derived from Christ. But, the wonder is, that I am forced to defend my propositions, and assertions, by which I disclaime Popery, against a Brother. The Father of Heaven, in his Sonne Jesus Christ blesse, and continue the Parliaments of England, or many a faire birth-right will be sold for a messe of Pottage. Two things I have learn'd, and experience was my Schoole-mistresse, speaking to me from the lives of others: The first is, that to divide and rend our selves betwixt two Religions, is the nearest path to Atheisme. And the se­cond, that men so rent & divided, are com­pany-keepers, lovers of pleasure, hunters, gamsters, & caet. And by such, I shall joy­fully be resisted; having so good an assu­rance, that I fight Gods battels.

And that the Papists may rise as high as scandall can mount: they have spread into the world, that I have tooke one of their [Page 209] Priests, by whose hands God hath beene very kinde to me. To this, I thus answer: First, that my obligation to my Prince, the State, and the Parliament, being the re­presentative body of the whole Kingdome, doth binde me farre more strictly, then the private kindnesses betwixt friend and friend. Secondly, as I desire to be washed with the bloud of Christ, I had no hand in the taking of that person, nor know­ledge of it. The man I tooke, was one from whom I was utterly disinteressed; a scan­dalous person, a scandall-raiser, and one by whose practises I am as sicke to the Po­pish Religion, as I would bee dead to its sinnes. The other my quondam friend, I could have taxed in a fit place of this book, for his wily dealings with a maid, said to be possessed with a Devill; and related, that the Devill lurking in a lump of her flesh, would runne from part to part, and could not endure to be touched with his fingers, used in the touch of the consecrated Host. But I spared my friend.

I could be copious, if I should not bee tedious, in these relations. Old wives tales are odious: And Saint Gregory Nazianzen taxeth Julian the Apostata, for blowing the coales at the Devils Altar, with old wo­men. How their wisedome is confounded! [Page 210] It is vainely done of the Pelican, that see­ing her nest fired by Shepheards, commeth in all haste, and thinking to redeeme her young from the danger; by the waving of her wings; bloweth the fire, and encreaseth the flame: and at last, applying her whole body, loseth her wings, the safety of her body.

And these reports are in effect, the same: The flame of my devotion towards the Church of England, is increased; and they lose their wings, and themselves in the fire: when doubtles, they thought to scape away (like the Fish) in the black inke, they cast round about them, upon their brother. O these reports! They goe, as Demosthenes saies of the waves in the Sea, one confused­ly tumbling over the back of another, with­out any stop, or intermission. And he that flyeth from Babylon, is like one of the Mar­tyrs in the Primitive Church Church, tor­mented in a brazen Bull. The bellowing, and roaring that you heare, is, in the thing it selfe, the voice of the Martyr; but much altered by passing through the wide throate of the brazen Bull. The torments of Mar­cus Arathusius, were strange ones; descri­bed S. Greg. Naz. orat. 3 in Julian. by Saint Gregory, Nazianzen. The vene­rable old man was drawn through the ken­nels, & through all sorts of unclean places. [Page 211] He was hung up by the armes, and tossed from side to side, where the boyes stood with Pen-kifes, to receive his naked body. He was drawne up in a basket, in the heate of a burning day; and all spread with ho­ny, to gather a meeting of Bees upon his body. But he was happy: And happy were the Martyrs, who prayed, and meditated, walking upon hot fiery coales, as upon Roses. I complained to one of them, of these scandals. And it was answer'd, that I might be called an Adulterer, a Ravisher, and the like; because I had defiled the Spouse of Christ, and turned to a Harlot. But why then is the crime delivered without the comment?

Some dayes after the publication of my closing with the Church of England, a Po­pish Priest came to me, having in his com­pany, one habited like an English Minister: and the maine point of his businesse broke out in these words: See how God provides for his Church; you have left us, and here is one comming to us from that, for the love of which, you forsooke us. And thus speaking, he pointed to the Minister. The Gentleman is now beneficed with us, and therefore you shall not know his name, though you are acquainted with his fault, because God hath hid many of my faults [Page 212] from those that know my name. Yet I like not, that he so much savoureth of the Po­pish practise, as to stigmatize me with the brand of insufficiencie in matter of lear­ning, wheresoever he commeth. For, if he were come quite home to us, hee would be one heart and soule with me: and draw the practise of his life more neare to his parts, both of nature and learning: in both which, whatsoever I am, he is not unable: though both he and the Priest were of a most horrid life.

Let Men and Angels heare me: If any member of the Church of Rome, or England, can make it plaine to the reason of compe­tent and fit Judges; that from the day wherein I first gave my necke into the yoke of the Papists, to this houre; I have com­mitted any scandalous action, scandalous in the judgement of the Church of England: and moreover, have not lived a wary, sober, and recluse life: I will restore againe, the little I have received from the Church of England; and begge my bread, all the dayes of my life. Let them goe to my lodging-places in the City, and to my Parish in the Countrey (they are well knowne) and when they come home againe, convince me either of immodesty, intemperancie, idle­nesse, or other such crime; and I will turne [Page 113] begger in the very day of my conviction. And yet I know, that the Church of Rome will set mee out, (and Reader, remember my Prophecie) in the forme of a foolish, madde, ignorant, shallow, and odiously wicked creature. And I am all this, but they know it not. And even now, I play the foole; for, in the defence of my selfe, I commend my selfe. But I trust, my inten­tion is rather to defend the honour of the Church, from which, I did once cut my selfe, and to which, God hath joyned mee againe. I have heard it spoke in the corners of their Colledges; that they presently write the lives of persons, who revolt from them; and put them, and their actions in a strange habit. I shall be joyfull to reade my life; that I may weepe for my sinnes, and blesse God for my deliverances; but if it be not written truely, he will write it, that best knowes it. If they come with falshoods, I shall more and more detest them, and their Religion; and beleeve, that all their good purposes in the service of God, are but Velleities, Wils, and no Wils; Wils which would, but will not. I desire peace, if it may be granted, with good con­ditions. I was bound to satisfie good peo­ple, and stop the mouths of the evill. To many hath beene denied the use of a sword; [Page 214] but no man ever was prohibited to use a buckler; because a bucklar is ordained on­ly for defence: and in our defence we kill; and yet are not thought to commit murder.

CHAP. III.

GGD hath brought me home with a mighty hand. Had I sailed from Rome one day sooner, as my purpose was; I had certainely beene carried away by the Turkish Gallyes; which swept away all they met the day before I passed. I was dan­gerously sicke in my journey towards En­gland, at Ligorne: but, God restored me. The Ship in where I was, ranne a whole night laid all a long upon one of her sides: And another time, began to sinke down­right: I fell into the hands of theeves by the Sea-shore, that would have killed mee: and all in my journey towards England. And after all this, and much more, I am a convert to the Church of England, in a time which needs a man of a bold heart, and a good courage like my selfe▪ to resist the craft, encroaching, and intrusion of Popery. Let a great Papist remember his ordinary saying, that he beleeved God would worke some great worke by me. And I have great [Page 115] hope that the Church wilbe pleased to look upon me, and fixe me, where I may best be seene; and most be heard. I am not of their minde, that move, and sue, and labour, in the atchievement of that, which ought to bee cast upon them. The Lord knowes, that although the Church of Rome accu­seth mee of ambitious thoughts, a small being in a fit place, is the top of all Con. Aqus­gr. can. 134 The Councel of Aix. my wishes. A Councell said: Meminisse oportet, quia columba est in divinis Scripturis Ecclesia appellata, quae non unguibus lacerat, sed alis pie perculit: We ought all to remem­ber, that the Church is stiled in holy Scrip­ture, an innocent Dove for her gentlenesse; which chides rather, then teares, and having chid, is friends again presently, and receives with all gentlenesse. Yet▪ I am bold to say, that it would be a noble worke, to provide for the present reliefe, and entertainment of Shollers, who shall afterwards desert the Church of Rome, and cleave to us. The Church of Rome doth exceedingly bragge of her charity in that part; when (it is certaine) their common aime (if not their chiefe aime) is the strength, and benefit of their private body; wherein they are all as one, that they may stand the faster. I owe my prayers, and in a manner, my selfe, to many great personages. The Lord pay [Page 216] them againe what I received of them, in that money which goes in Heaven. And persons of ordinary condition, refreshed me above their condition. Let him, for whose sake they were so pious, reward them: I would the Levite had beene as ear­nest as the Samaritane.

CHAP. IIII.

ANd being come to the Arke, I desire not to settle onely upon the top of the Arke, but to come into it, and be pliable in all points. If I have committed an errour in this booke, I shall presently correct it, after the least whisper of admonishment which may have beene easily committed; because I have not used other books, borne with a desire of haste; but was contented with part of my owne papers: and certaine extractions out of the Popish Libraries. I beleeve as the Church of England beleeves; knowing, what shee beleeves.

The Greek and Latin editions have in the 8. chapter of Genesis, The Crow went out and returned not. But the English agreeing with the Hebrew, hath: And he sent forth a Raven, which went forth to and fro, untill the waters were dried up from off the earth. [Page 217] For he went out, and now and then, retur­ned to the top of the Arke, flew to and fro, as Birds are wont. And though the Dove also went out of the Arke; yet, because she could not finde cleane footing, shee re­turned: and He put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the Arke. How ready the good old man was? Hee met her with his hand, and tooke hold of her, lest the weary thing should fall; and succoured her weaknesse with his strength, and pulled her in; and did not leave her in uncertainties; but pulled her unto him­selfe. This man knew how to carry his hand in Gods Arke. But, what became of the Crow? The Crow (saith Saint Austin) fastned upon the floating carcasses of men, beasts, and birds; there feasted, and de­lighted himselfe (abroad, out of the Arke, and in the midst of the troubled waters) with filth, and carrion. The Papists lay to our charge; that no man goeth from them to us, but with a desire of more liberty, and licentiousnesse. I am certaine, that some have done so; whom the Devill hath tos­sed from one extremity to another; from a roughnesse, which God requires not; to a rudenesse which he hates. But, these have begun to be rude privately amongst them; and then, have rather turned Atheists, then [Page 218] Protestants. And many have runne Saint Austins course, who having rejected the Ma­nichees, and betook himselfe to the Church of God; became a stout Defender of the one, and a strong opposer of the other. God call'd me, and I heard him: he brought me, and I came: And being safe come, I shall be valiant. Though a Partridge steale the egges of her neighbour Partridge; hatch them, and bring them up; yet, whensoe­ver the young Partridge shall heare the call of his true mother; though he was taken from her in the egge, before hee could see her, or heare her, and before he was a Partridge; he will forsake his false mo­ther, and her covey, and drawne by a kind of secret correspondence, returne presently to the true one. And so have I. I thanke the Priest, that offered me entertainment at Doway, and there, the honour to be made Doctor, if I would law downe the Religi­on of England: But I am well here, both soule and body, it shall suffice me for this world, that I can be a Doctor, both here S. Ambr. and there. Omnia habemus in Christo, & om­nia nobis Christus, saith Saint Ambrose, I shall have all things in Christ, and Christ will bee all things to me. Quicquid amaveris, S. August. Psal. 39. saith Saint Austin, ille tibi erit, he will be to thee whatsoever thou lovest. And there­fore, [Page 219] shall not I runne after him, when hee cals? O quam pauci post te volunt ire Do­mine; cum tamen pervenire ad te nemo est qui nolit? O Lord, saith Saint Bernard, how few will goe afcer thee? And yet, there is no man but would faine come to thee. And a little after: Non curant quaerere, quem S. Bern. tamen desiderant invenire: cupiunt te consequi, sed nolunt sequi: they doe not endeavour to seeke, whom notwithstanding they de­sire to finde: they would overtake thee; and yet, they will not follow thee. But, I will imitate Saint Ignatius, the Martyr, running violently through all dangers, to God. Be­ing sent from Syria to Rome, with tenne Souldiers, to secure his appearance, whom for their cruelty, he calleth tenne Leopards; in his Epistle to the Romans, which hee wrote in the way, he desires them by any meanes, not to be an impediment to his Martyrdome: tels them, that he is Dei fru­mentum, Gods corne, and must be ground with the teeth of wilde beasts, or he cannot be serv'd as pure manchet to the Kings ta­ble; no man ever pleaded so much for his life: adjoyning that noble speech, Ignis, Crux, bestiae, confractio ossium, m [...]mbrorum divisio, & totius corporis contritio, & tota tor­menta Diaboli in me veniant, tantum Christo fruar: Let fire, the Crosse, beasts, breaking of [Page 220] bones, division of joynts, and bruising of the whole body; and all the torments of the Devill, fall in heaps upon me; onely, what man? onely, speake: onely, let me en­joy Christ. This last note of his, was very sweete, and ravishing. Why, but bles­sed Saint, faire and softly: know first what you doe. Fire will burne, and burning is intolerable; when your flesh fries, you will tell me another tale. The paines of the Crosse, you may best conceive by our Savi­ours Passion: he was wounded all over. And for Beasts, you may see every day, they have teeth, and jawes, and clawes too, and are commonly hungry; and know not how to be mercifull, because they want reason, by which, mercie is knowne to be mercie; and a Lion is not a sociable crea­ture; he will roare, you may heare him a great while before you can see him. And what is the breaking of the bones, thou mayest give a guesse, if ever thou had'st but one out of joynt; they will ake, when they are broken. Judge of the rest. These mischievous things are not throughly knowne, and conceived in the soule, till they are throughly knowne and felt in the body. Sense (doubtlesse) did object all these difficulties to his reason: yet, all could not stay him from the Lions.

And that I may fore-stall, and prevent an occasion of idle discourse, I will take off the seeming edge of a colourable objection. Perhaps, it may be said; that I have scattered a word now and then, (and even in pub­like) against those, that now appeare to be the cleaner, and most uncorrupt part of Christians: Those I mean, whom injurious tongues call Puritanes. I call the world to witnesse, and answer with me: that I ne­ver used any such words, but with this qua­lification, and seasoning of what was said; that my stroke was not intended against such, whom rude livers call'd Puritanes, as running contrarily to their practises: but against those that shrouding themselves un­der the specious title, cast a deepe scandall upon the true Israelites, by the corruptiōs of their owne lives. And I am no changeling, no Chamelion; For, with such I never was, nor ever shall be friends. A little farther, I never was the Author, or the Promotor of new inventions. I went alwayes in the steps which I found trod before me. Although I was commanded, not to preach in the af­ter-no one: yet I never omitted to expound the Catechisme. I never taxed my Parishio­ners above the levell of their ordinary du­ties: I never vexed them with Law-suits. More. Although my annuall meanes is [Page 222] quickly counted: I never tooke of it, what hath beene taken; nor ever, what was due to me by agreement with me. And why? I am a Shepheard, to feede and preserve; not a Wolfe, to teare, and devoure. Give me leave. Did the world know, how poore my beginnings were, (I am not ashamed of them) in what small helpes I have rejoyced; when the Papists vaunted, they doubted not to live and see me begge mournfully at their dores for a morsell of bread: that my fortunes were carried on the top of the flowing and ebbing waters, two yeares, from banke to banke, before I was fixed: and then, but weakly setled in a dark nooke. Did men know, how I have beene used, a­bused, forced, threatned, reviled, discom­forted, they would not be angry that I de­sired to subsist, and to preach the good Go­spell of Christ. But I will not preach this doctrine till I am call'd.

CHAP. V.

ANd now, I thanke the Papists, for my unconquerable resolution; growing from the grossenesse of their scandals. Jo­sephs Brethren were very malicious against him; they sold him to slavery; the Scene [Page 223] beganne to bee tragicall. God came to act his part, turned the wheele; and made all this malice, and misery end in the great benefit; not onely, of the malicious, and undeserving Brethren; but of Joseph him­selfe his old Father, and the whole King­dome of Egypt. Judas sold his Master, his Master, and the Master of all things, for thirty pence; the money would goe but a little way; he had an ill bargaine. When his part was done, God entred upon the Stage, and by the execrable perfidiousnesse of the Traitour Judas, brought about the redemption of mankinde, the salvation of the whole world; and in effect, all the shi­ning, that is, and ever shall be made by glorious soules, and bodies in Heaven. I doe not except the soule, and body of our Mediatour, and Advocate Christ Jesus: who though he did not redeeme himselfe; because he was not in captivity; yet came to be betraied, and to redeeme his Betrayer, if he would have bin redeemed. By this law a prudent Mr. of a family, turnes the rough nature of an angry Dog, to the benefit, and peace of himselfe, and his family; and a wise Physitian, the eager thirst of a bloud­thirsty horseleach, to the health of a sick per­son; although indeed, these unreasonable creatures of themselves, aime at nothing, [Page 224] but to satiate their owne wilde natures. Saint Austin speaking of evill men, saith, Ne igitur putes, gratis malos esse in hoc mundo, & nihil boni ex illis metere Deum; quia omnis malus aut ideo vivit, ut corrigatur; aut ideo vi­vit, ut per illum bonus exerceatur: Doe not therefore thinke, that evill men are suffered to be evill in this world, for no good pur­pose; and that God reapes no benefit by them: For, every evill man, either there­fore lives, that in time he may decline from evill, and incline to good; or therefore lives, that the good man may be exercised, and farthered in the practise of goodnesse by him: otherwise, he should no live. There is a course of things, within the generall course of this world, pertaining to the or­der; to which, God brings all straggling chances in the last act of the play; which if we did examine, as they come and beget experience, we should enlighten, and enrich the understanding with heavenly matters, exceedingly. We behold, how admirably at this day, moved by the sinfull occasion of Heresie and Superstition, the Church doth watch, and pray: and we know, that a multitude of soules, now crowned in Heaven, hath learned to avoid sinne, by ob­serving others punished for sinne; which could not in justice, have beene punished, if [Page 225] it had not beene committed: and how murderes doe open the gate of Heaven for Martyrs: and that the bloud of Mar­tyrs hath beene the seed of the Church: for, if they had not died bodily, many had not lived spiritually. And to goe as high as may be: Good comes to God, by the worst of evils; the good of glory by sinne: For, to speake with Cassiodore: Materia est gloriae principalis, delinquentis reatus; quia nisi cul­parum Cassio. Var. 3. 46. occasiones emergerent, locum pietas non haberet: The guilt of a Delinquent person, is a principall matter, that nourisheth glo­ry: For, if there were no sinne, there would be no place for the exercise of mercie; which supposeth misery; which misery, suppo­seth sinne. And though I gather good from the evill of the Church of Rome; yet, the evill of the Church, is to me, a sound ar­gument against the Church. That rule of Mat 7. 16. Christ, Yee shall know them by their fruits, is as true a marke, as a signe from Heaven. For as the Church of Rome was first known by her workes; so now likewise, shee is knowne by her workes: and the workes of her age, not being of the same birth and education, with the workes of her youth; shew her to bee different from her selfe: when workes doe alwayes answer in some proportion to Faith; and the Tree cannot [Page 226] be good; if the fruit be generally evill. And as Saint Justine writeth to the Grecians: S. Justin. Cohort. ad Graec. [...], the solid fruit of pious workes, gives testimony to the true Reli­gion.

I came from the last Popish Colledge, of which I was a member, as I did from all others; fairely, and respectfully on both sides: Their testimony of me, is yet in my hands, made strong, and authenticall with their owne Seale. I will give it here, word for word.

Those, with whose understandings this will suite, are able to understand it, with­out a translation.

The Faculties annexed by the Pope, to the ex­ercise of my Priestly function, were these: I have them under their owne hands.

The Grants of giving Indulgences, are either ordinary, or extraordinary. The ordinary are ordinarily knowne: the ex­traordinary are these: their Coppie is yet with me.

Let the Ministers of England (those I meane who dwell at home▪ and not in Ta­vernes, who burne with zeale, & not smoak with Tobacco, and who steere not towards preferment, but towards Heaven) judge, whether the man ought not to be cherish­ed, countenanced, and exposed in the light, and frequencie of people, that hath shaken off with great loathing, these wretched a­buses, and the Patrons of them. But I poore man (for so is the fortune of these times) like him in the Comick Poet,— Vivus vidensque pereo; live, and while I live, perish; and perish in darknesse, and yet, see my selfe perish: but am not seene to perish; for then, sure I should not perish. But it cannot be thus, long. And [Page 131] therefore, O all yee Schollers beyond the Seas, under whose profession there lie se­cret thoughts of returning to the Church of England, be cheerefull: For, howsoever the clouds have shadowed me, the Sunne will shine out upon you. The Church of God hath ever beene subject to outward al­terations: And you shall be received, and clasped round about, with the armes of true zeale, and charity. Gods children in En­gland, will acknowledge his children, fly­ing from Babylon. And every good soule will have a sense of what you feele, and a sight of what you want, before you can name it. They that are great, shall be the greatest in godlinesse; and in all their great­nesse, shall thinke themselves as little as you. And the golden age will come againe. And therefore, once more I say it, be of good comfort. And for me, I hope I shall now sing with the Prophet, I will not dye, but live, and declare the workes of the Lord.

CHAP. VI.

O What a sweetnesse of heart it was to me, when I first entred into the Pro­testant Churches, after my conversion, to heare the people answer, and see them lis­sen [Page 232] in divine Service? O the poore Coun­trey people amongst the Papists! who not understanding their Service, and sel­dome hearing Sermons; live more like beasts, then men: I have seene of the Gali­egos, and heard of some Countrey people in Italy, who (they confessed) did not much differ from beasts, but in the outward shape. And the case of all people in Rome, is to be lamented; whose ordinary phrase is; Come, let us goe and heare Musick, and the Cardinals boyes sing, at such a Church. This is to please the sense, not God. I saw such a representation of Hell and Heaven, in a Cardinals Palace; and the parts of Saints and Devils so performed with sing­ing and Musicke; and the soules in so great a number, comming out of the world, into Purgatory; that it was wonderfull.

Shewes of this nature are often seene in their Churches. Aristotle sayes well: Om­nis cognitio nostra a sensu initium habet; All the knowledge we gather from below, be­gins at the sense. And these Scribes and Pharisees, doe foole the senses of their peo­ple exceedingly.

I have an old manuscript, wrought ex­cellently with gold, and painting: In which booke there is a prayer with this in­scription: Oratio venerabilis Bedae Presbyteri [Page 233] de septem verbis Christi in eruce pendentis: quam orationem quicunque quotidie devote dixerit, nec Diabolus, nec malus homo ei nocere poterit: nec sine confessione morietur: & per tringinta dies ante obitum suum, videbit glo­riosam Virginem Mariam, in auxilium sibi praeparatam. The prayer of venerable Bede, Priest, of the seven words, or speeches of Christ, hanging upon the Crosse: which prayer, whosoever shall say devoutly every day upon his knees; neither the Devill, nor any evill man shall ever hurt him; nei­ther shall he die without confession; and three hundred dayes before his death, hee shall see the glorious Virgin Mary in a rea­dinesse to succour him. At the Busse in Hol­land, in the Church of S. Peter; they have pictured a Bishop in a glasse-window. On one side of him, hangs Christ upon the Crosse, with his wounds bleeding: On the otherside stands the Virgin Mary, with her breasts running. The Bishop in the middle, is made with a divided countenance; and these words are drawne in a long roll, from his mouth: quo me vertam nescio, I know not, to which of these two, to turne my selfe; either to the bloud of Christ, or to the milke of the Virgin Mary. And was not this an ignorant Bishop? and was his flock like to thrive?

They lead their people strangely by the eares also: They send letters very common­ly to their Colledges, which are read in the Refectories, and recreations, as their let­ters of newes are; and where in passages are farre otherwise related, then they were done.

When I was a Spaniard, a Priest having beene put to death in England, there came presently a relation; that the quarters of the Priest, being brought to the Judges house, he commanded them to be laid by a hanch or two of Venison, (which by chance had beene then presented to him) and most unhumanely compared the one with the other; jesting, and scoffing at them. The English Jesuits have beat the Spa­niards into such a stupidity, by perswasion; that they scarce either see them, or the Schol­lers, even in the streets; but they run to them, and kisse their garments; thinking they will all very suddenly be Martyrs. And somtimes they runne upon confessed sinnes; that they may please, and flatter the senses of people. Michael Angelo, a Painter of Rome, having enticed a young man into his house, under the smooth pretence of drawing a picture by the sight of him: bound him to a great woodden Crosse, and having stabbed him to the heart with a Pen-knife, in imitation of Parrhasius that had tortured an old captive [Page 235] in the like cause; drew Christ hanging, and dying upō the Crosse, after his resemblance; & yet escaped without punishment. And this picture, because it sets forth Christ dying, as if the picture it selfe were dying, and with a shew of motion in every part; and because it gives the death of Christ to the life; is had in great veneration amongst them.

And that their Churches may not want fingers, they take somewhat from their children in their cradles; which, if many of their Priests did misse, they would not be so much mischievous: neither should I, and others, have had ground to suspect the young English Jesuits in their Colledges, that are so full of sport, and play with the fairest amongst the boyes. One example in a kinde, will suffice: it hath beene often in the mouth of an English Monk; that he hath wrought more conversions of ours to their way, in Tavernes, then ever any of his Order hath done, with all their ob­servances of times, and places. But he more loves Tavernes and Women, then soules; or the tongues of his fellow-Monks are not true to him. Surely, this Monk deserves not to be kneel'd to, when he is first seene, for a blessing: as the Papists of England are wont to behave themselves towards their Priests. He will give a curse rather, by draw­ing [Page 236] his humble suppliants, if men, to the Taverne, if women, to his chamber.

It is no hard matter to varnish over these abuses. Reader be carefull, Arts are won­drous things; they will make new things, change old things, doe all things. If you be not very wise, and wary, they will de­ceive you, with excuses, glosses, pretences, professions, expressions, accusations. And he that suffers himselfe to be deceiv'd by an­other, is his foole. O how easie it is, with a word, a gesture, a countenance, to make men ridiculous!

It is not possible to write, but many things will lie faire to the stroke of a trou­bled, and carping disposition. Their way is known, they joyn their heads, hearts, pains, and pens together. Some Index-men looke into Authors, some invent the matter. What pertaines to severall Sciences, is distributed to severall Masters of those Sciences. One disposeth the matter; another cloaths it in language. On my part there are but two; I, and my selfe: and one of these two, knowes no more then the other. They know me, and the secrets of my life: their Authours, and their personall faults shall escape my knowledge. Thus indeed, they stand on the higher ground. But, Christum loquenti linqua nunquam defuit, saith Pru­dentius; [Page 237] a tongue was never wanting to Christs oratour. And every Christian hath lived in open warre, ever since he was chri­stened, with all the Devils in Hell.

CHAP. VII.

NOw that I may take my leave manner­ly, I shall turne with an Apostrophe to the Papists.

First, my old friends, pray leave to stile your selves Catholiques: at least for this rea­son: If you be Catholiques, our great ones, that are very great, and yet more good then great, differing, and dissenting from you in many, and those waighty points of faith, (as it is confessed on both sides) what are they? you thinke mischievously, but speake if you dare. And what differeth it, to call them (I know the tearme) in ex­presse words, and to call them so by neces­sary consequence? Well, well, goe and leave it. It is too common with you, to blurre, and stigmatize whole States; and like the Jtalian, to wound deeply, even when you crouch humbly.

Secondly, bee not so importunate for Mercie, before you deserve it. For, Mercie being more neerely allied to goodnesse then to power, is not so much engaged in the [Page 238] illustration of power, as in the preservati­on of Goodnesse. And Goodnesse will not be Goodnesse, if it concurre with Mercie in giving way to the propagation of Evill; of Idolatry, and the doctrine of Devils; or in countenancing the professours of supersti­tion, and prophanenesse. The Prophet Da­vid proclaimeth, that hee was alwayes an enemy to Gods enemies. And Mercie hath no proper object, (I meane both divine Mercie, and all other Mercie regulated by it) but those mournefull conditions, by the repeale of which, either true Innocencie may be restored, or Gods holy truth and service advanced; and that, either in the fruit, or in the flower; either in the per­fection, or in the preparation; or God glorified, not in the by, but directly. God is mercifull to sinners, (else I am in a mise­rable case) but upon supposition of their future amendment; not upon a demand, that they may remaine inwardly, in statu quo prius, in their former perverse estate.

Thirdly, doe not pretend a submission of heart, except you be heartily submitted. For men will not think, that you, who ere­while were generally (I will not say so in­solent, but stirringly disposed) that it was not easie for a serious Protestant to walke on his way without reproaches, and [Page 239] affronts from some of you; are now grown so humble, and submissive on a sudden: ex­cept they worke, as you doe, by enforce­ment, and force their understandings: to which they are never bound, but in mat­ters of Faith; when they leade them cap­tive in obsequium fidei, in obedience to Faith.

Fourthly, doe not promise onely that to lawes you humbly will submit; but doe it. For, hitherto you have not. Which I thus make strong by proofe. You have foste­red, and cherished many thousands of Priests in your houses, (and now doe) in opposition to, and in defiance of the firme lawes of this Kingdome: who cease not to trouble the whole State, & Kingdome, and to set all on fire, with their scandalous and fabulous reports, and with their seditious, and libellous Pamphlets: who daily per­vert the Kings good subjects, and draw them by as many devices as the great Plot­master of Hell can hatch or invent, from their duty to God, and allegiance to the King: then which there are no stricter ob­ligations, no ties more sacred. You promise to doe, the contrary of which you most wilfully performe, even while the promise comes warme from your mouths. Is not this meere juggling?

Fifthly, bee not so nominall; doe not call them Fathers and supreame Judges, and acknowledge their power to frame or change; of whom you beleeve otherwise then you speake. It is the generall Tenent of your Church (and if you be not as ignorant of your Doctrine, as you are of your Service, you will confesse it to be so) that Judges; yea, Princes extra Ecclesiam Catholicam, out of the Catholike Church, have not power to frame Decrees, or make Lawes pre­judiciall to your Faith. And therefore, your Church sayes, that your Priests are not obliged, or bound by conscience to give a just account to such Judges of their pro­ceedings, even those which fall out of con­fession; because those Judges have no true, and lawfully-derived power, by which to fasten any such engagement upon them. And it is a received Maxime amongst your Jesu­its, that even a Popish Common-wealth, (when the Church and Common-wealth, in some sense, are in eodem gradu atque ordine, in one and the same degree and order of Faith) cannot validly decree any thing pre­judiciall to the glory of the Church, or to the Canons, and constitutions of it.

Sixthly, doe not mince your tearmes, (lest you are suspected in all things) and shroud the most black attempts, and most [Page 241] bloody practises of the Romish See against our State, with the faire-coloured Mantle of extraordinary proceedings: They were ex­traordinary indeed, that is, above all ordi­nary wayes of wickednesse. In truth you are extraordinary in your expressions, though not as extraordinary, as your Church in her proceedings. And how dan­gerous are those people, that call the top of all mischiefe but extraordinary procee­dings? I will not straine this point far­ther, lest I learne of the Jesuits, to break in­to that Cabinet of secrecie which the Itali­an cals ragioni di stato. And heare me, doe not father the Gun-powder treason upon a few discontented persons, but lay the great­er waight of imputation, where the great­est waight of sinne was. O England, give me, I pray thee, a resting place while I live, and when I am dead, a place of buriall. For the Church of Rome, cast backe into her In­gredients, is nothing but deceit, and co­lour. You shall finde another lesson in this booke; and other Authors of that Aggre­gate of malice and mischiefe. And whereas a grosse part of our English Papists are Je­suited; let the world judge, to what my­riads of mischiefes we lie open.

Seventhly, do not pleade so confidently, that you are in no wise guilty of the wic­ked [Page 242] facts of your Progenitours, because you are guilty of their Religion, and beliefe: in conformity to which, waighed down with a graine or two of Ghostly perswasion; they became guilty of those wicked facts. And po­sita causa, sequitur effectus, say the Logicians. The cause being put, the common cause, the Catholike cause, the cause of Religion; the effect, helped home by the last disposi­tion of a little Ghostly instruction, may follow. And as you love me, call not your errours, supposed errours: as if we suppo­sed errours in you, while you are certaine of our errour. I must tell you, that wee are as certaine, you erre; as we are certaine, that God and his word erre not. And there­fore let your truth be supposed, but not your errours.

Eighthly, leave the old tricke of closing with our Divinity, when it makes for your present occasion, and turne; and againe, forsaking it at every turne. Whatsoever all Divines say now, beliefe was enforced in Queene Maries dayes. And suppose that Beliefe, as being opus Gratiae, a worke, or ef­fect of Grace, is not to be enforced: would you be suffered to possesse your innocent children, sufficiently Baptized, with a strange beliefe? to encrease your number (another would say, your pestiferous and viperous [Page 243] brood, but I will not) by threats, and promises, and rich rewards? (and thus you enforce beliefe, while you thinke not of it) to win a maine part of our Clergie, though not to your Faith, yet to your occasions; and by continuall entertainments of them and theirs, make them in many practises of high note and consequence, more yours, then their owne, or ours? especially when your Priests are still besieging your eares, and there whispering, that you ought to la­bour at all times, and by all meanes that are feiceable to set up the Popes Throne in all places.

Ninthly, be not so large in the blazoning of your due obedience: I will put you a case. If your Prince, blowne forward with the zeale of Gods truth, should endeavour to pull the Pope, the grand Father of delusion and Idolatry, out of his Chaire, in which (men talke) he sits infallible; and utterly to extirpate such a monster-power out of the Christian world. Answer me: would your Religion permit you to assist your Prince in that most honourable cnterprise? And therefore, all your promises, I turne over to his examination, that trieth the heart, and searcheth the reines. Onely, take heed that a mentall reservation is not at the dore. And if you are ready in good ear­nest, [Page 244] to minister assistance with your for­tuns: pray, turn the Channel, and that masse of money, which you bestow on your death-beds to Jesuits, Monks, Friers, and Priests, and to the superabundant mainte­nance of their houses in strange lands, re­serve for the safety of your poore Country: which in your liberall contributions to Popish uses, you take paines to ruinate.

Lastly, for shame doe not hope, that your affaires may be settled in as great peace, and security, as theirs; who are united in the same reformed Church, with his Majesty; and not onely, serve him faithfully, but al­so, beleeve honourably of his profession, and are one soule with him: who send not their children by stealth into forraine Countries, that soiled with strange man­ners, and a strange Religion in strange Countries, they may returne at length, to teach & disseminate in his Dominions, (the peace of which you promise with submissi­on, and in all humility to preserve) a Reli­gion coupled with manners, dangerous to all that he cals his.

One thing I dare presume, that in this pub­like Jubilee, it is not intended, that Vice shall sit hand in hand, rejoycing with Ver­tue; or Errour with truth. And so fare­well. And pray, when we meete againe in [Page 245] this kinde, be true and reall in omni apice, in every tittle of what you write. And thinke not, that although I acted the part of a Minister, and a Changeling, and a De­vill, and a Turke at Rome; and all in one Comedy of my owne composing: you shall ever make any more then a jest of it, and but a poore one.

In our Colledges, they were most gra­cious, that most goared the Church of En­gland: the fond conceit of which, moved mee to turne a Minister, by the Alchymy of Action into all strange formes, that I might passe more plausible.

I am Countrey-plaine, and still short. Certaine religious duties are to be perfor­med, of the same print with my present condition, and I have done.

CHAP. VIII.

HEre I will give certaine formes of Christian duties, which in some part belong to me, in regard of my former wandrings: and which I will not fit onely to my selfe; that others may use them up­on emergent occasions. That God may be glorified; and in conformity to his most holy Will, the sacred measure of all good­nesse. [Page 246] I most heartily forgive all people that have trespassed against me, whēsoever wher­esoever, or howsoever. Now I look better up­on them, I behold my own self in every one of them; or another me, very like my selfe, sent hither into the world, the same way, upon the same businesse; and sweating here in the Vineyard, as I doe, for the same or like paiment; (here I doe not meane the Pa­pists) and perhaps, pleasing God better upon earth, by some hidden vertues; and to be seated more close to him in Heaven, then my selfe. Shall I be displeased with any, with whom, God is pleased to be well plea­sed? Indeed, we must be friends; for wee hope to live together in one house, for ever. And more: I behold the Image of God in them: and our onely Saviour Christ Jesus; in the humane nature, which he tooke, and married to his Divinity; and cleerely in the body which he put upon him. For his sake, I will imitate Saint Stephen, the bol­dest, because the first of Martyrs: who be­ing oppressed with a showre, not of hard words, or the like, but of stones: kneeled downe, and cried with a loud voyce: His body Acts. 7. 60. was as low as Earth, but his voice as high as Heaven; and he sent it thither with a good will; for he cried with a loud voice: and yet, he cried not for the help of others; [Page 247] (helpe, helpe) or for his owne wrongs; but as his wrongs were their sinnes: and hee kneeled downe, before he was beate down: and although they might have beate him from his standing, yet they could not beate him from his kneeling, before they had beate him from his life; nor with most hard stones, beate downe his prayer; which then, was his; and now, is mine. Lord, lay not this sinne to their charge. One thing I know: they were, both Gods whips, and the instruments of his triall, in respect of me: And blessed be God in all Eternity, that fitted and prepared to my hands so rich, so ample, and such fine-weav'd occasions of patience, and humility. I blesse not God for the sinne, that it was committed; but for his good intention towards me, sup­posing the commission of evill, and for the good which he wrought by evill, when it was committed.

O the blindnesse of anger! It is impossi­ble to goe, or stand, or spet, or so much as looke handsomely, in the troubled judge­ment of the angry person. Anger thinks, that we poyson the air when we breath, and so, is afraid of catching the Plague: and that every thing we looke upon, we infect with the eyes of a Basiliske: and that what we touch is stung by a Scorpion; and there­fore, [Page 248] the part touched must be cut off: and that where wee smell, thence we have ex­tracted the sweetnesse. And the minde of an angry person, saith S. Chrysostome, is a mar­ket-place S. Chrys. tom. 4. hom. 24. full of tumult, where is a conti­nuall clamour of goers and commers; this man calling, that chiding; one asking, an­other answering; a fifth murmuring, a sixth hallowing; one here singing, one there la­menting; and all, with different voices: the loud crying of Camels; the rude bray­ing of Asses; a confused noise of all sorts of workemen, incessantly knocking on eve­ry side, with their severall instruments. Here is noise enough to make a man lose the right use of his hearing. Go, my soule, to the Philosophers, that knew neither Christ, nor his Father, as we know them: to Plato, and to his Socrates. Aske Cicero, if this be the minde of a vertuous man. The Stoicks would have thought such a man, not a man, but the Ship-wrack of a man.

It is the voice of the Psalmist, Righte­ousnesse and peace have kissed each other. Up­on Psal. 85. 10 which words, Saint Austin discourseth, S. Aug. su­per illud Psalmi Ju­stitia & Pax. as he uses to doe, most excellently: and me thinkes he speakes to me: Duae sunt amicae Justitia & Pax: tu forte unam vis, & alte­ram non facis. Righteousnesse and Peace are deare, and neare-united friends: you [Page 249] perhaps, would have one, without the o­ther. Which can never be; for they are as unseparable as their friendship: you shall not finde them parted: they are alwayes kissing together. You desire the sweets of Righteousnesse, but you have no minde to Righteousnesse that is sweet. The one is to be done, the other to be enjoyed: If you will enjoy Peace, you must doe righteous­nesse. Why then, Lord, I begge of thee, not Peace without righteousnesse, but the Peace of Righteousnesse, that while they kisse together in me, I may be kissing too, but what? thy sacred feete, nailed to the Crosse, and bleeding for me. Under which I cast all my wrongs, great and small. And for the persons: if my wishes were as effi­cacious, as the first words of God in the creation, Let there be Light: after which, im­mediately Gen. 1. 3. appeared that most gallant crea­ture all in white: in the next instant; they should all shine in glory with God and his Angels.

CHAP. IX.

NOw, let me looke inward, and search the many turnings, and windings of my heart, for sores that cannot be salv'd, [Page 250] except they be salv'd as well abroad, as at home; and with different plaisters: sores that ake in two places at once. They are knowne by this name, injuries done to my neighbours. And they are like the Serpent, which Plinie calleth Amphisbaena,▪ headed at both ends; and at both ends, they di­spense their poyson: for, they not onely wound me with guilt, but also in the same blow, my neighbours with hurt, dammage, and losse of some good thing, to which they have a just title, unjustly taken from them. Every good action is tutored by some vertue: and the lawfull change of the dominion, which every one hath over his owne, lawfully made his owne; must bee regulated, and informed by Justice. It is the Doctrine of Saint Austin: Non dimitti­tur S. Aug. peccatum, nisi restituatur ablatum: The sinne is not pardoned, except the thing ta­ken away, be restored: there being a grea­ter [...], and foulenesse of injustice, in the keeping, and retaining; then in the ta­king away of my neighbours goods: the act of retaining them, being indeed, a con­tinuall taking of them; and accompanied with much more deliberation: and conse­quently, a most deliberate negation, or de­niall of sorrow for having taken them, and an implicit, or close and secret will, or love [Page 251] of the same, and the like wicked action: and verily, an utter exclusion of repentance upon this ground Repentance, by which we are grieved for the commission of one sinne or more, if it include not virtually a sorrow for all our sinnes committed, is not Repentance: and therefore in it selfe, ac­cording to the course, and order of Gods proceedings with us, even in Christ Jesus, not pardonable. We cannot grieve with the griefe of true repentance, for one sinne, or many, except we grieve for all: because re­pētance grieveth that we have offended God, and every sin is a great offence against God.

Of this blacke stampe, are likewise cer­taine offences committed against God, or his Church: As, when their honour, or goods are taken from them. All goods, as goods, are his goods, that is most good. I understand by goods taken from God, a­bused. Abuti, saith Saint Austin, est uti ali­quo S. Aug. su­per illud Psal. Lo­quens ad­versus ju­stum in su­perbia, & in abusione. ad usum non suum: To abuse a thing, is to bow it aside, to an use, for which it was not ordained. Gods honour is taken from him, in the commission of every sinne: eve­ry sinne being opposite to his honour, and as farre as it is able, destructive of it: be­cause a violation of his precept, and a con­tempt of his power. But the more eminent, and more speciall taking away of his ho­nour, [Page 252] w ^ch accordingly requires a more emi­nent, and more speciall satisfaction; is the most foule and deformed act of speaking blasphemous words, in the hearing of our neighbours: as being a plaine act of open defiance against God. The strong founda­tion, upon which this holy Doctrine stan­deth, is: Repentance implyeth a revoking of sinne past, to the farthest extent of our ability: For, it necessarily includeth a will, which would, that it never had beene com­mitted: but sinne is not sufficiently revo­ked, if the wrongs of our neighbours bee not redressed: and certainely, they are not redressed, without satisfaction, made or forgiven: for, the rent is not sowed up. And againe, Repentance supposeth a per­formance of all the necessary obligations of Charity: and one of the first and chief­est, is, to repaire the ruines of injustice.

Wherefore, with Gods efficacious help according to the Canon of holy Scripture, And he shall make amends for the harme that Levit. 5. 16. he hath done: I will restore to God his own; and because I am his, my selfe: set his honour free; and turne his goods into the channell, where at first, they were by him, set a running towards him. I will correct the judgements of the people, whom I have perverted: and labour to rectifie both their [Page 253] opinions, and lives: and because the Spa­nish word is very significant disengannar, to undeceive them. I will restore, if need be: and if I am able, encrease, and preserve the goods, and honour of his Church. And where I was injurious towards my neigh­bour, I will with all diligence, peece up the losse: though by the weakening of my owne estate. For, then I am a very weake creature, when that, by which I am strong, is due by Gods ordinance to another: and perhaps, another is weake, because I am strong by his weaknesse. I will endeavour by all possible meanes, to know, if the goods devolv'd upon me, have beene well gotten: whether they bee mingled goods, or no; partly well gotten, and partly otherwise; and restore what is not mine. The Prea­cher speakes like a Prcacher: There is a sore Ecclesiastes 5. 13. evill which I have seene under the Sunne, name­ly, riches kept for the owner [...] thereof to their hurt. I said, he speakes like a preacher; for, the riches that are kept above the Sunne, are not kept for the owners thereof to their hurt: but under the Sun oftentimes, riches are kept for the owners, to their great hurt: amongst which in the first place, are il-got­ten riches: for, they have so much of evill, having beene ill-gotten, that they seldome turne to good, till they are well-gotten a­gaine. [Page 254] And although God doth not keepe riches for the owners thereof, to their hurt, because although he knowes all the secrets of future events, all his ordinances are pure, and undefiled: yet, their friends doe; for they must needs intend the hurt, because ill-gotten goods, without any o­ther addition of evill, are hurtfull to their owners: and the reason is cleare: what is unjustly gotten, is detained unjustly; if the case be not varied by length of time: and of all hurts, the hurt of wickednesse is the greatest.

The holy Ghost is the rule by which I worke: And Zacheus stood and said unto the Luke 19. 8. 9. Lord, Behold, Lord, the halfe of my goods I give to the poore: and if I have taken any thing from any man, by false accusation, I re­store him foure-fold. And Jesus said unto him, This day is salvation come to this house. It is not, I will give; but I give; and there­fore, the reward is quick, This day. And restitution is made, although the thing ta­ken be small, and the person damnified, of small account. If I have taken any thing from any man. And howsoever the words here run; we must first restore, and after­wards give. It was Lord before, but the promise of satisfaction having interceded, it is now, Jesus.

And therefore, where I have tooke away the good-name of any man; I will recover it by the law of God, and give it againe. (And why doth not the Church of Rome, which talketh so much of satisfaction, give me my owne againe, injuriously taken from me?) Sunt homicidae, saith Saint Clement, S. Clem. ep. 1. ad Jacob interfectores fratrum; & sunt homicidae de­tractores eorum: There are homicides, who murder their brethren; and there are ho­micides also, that detract from them. If my report was false, I will humbly ac­knowledge my falsehood, before the wit­nesses of my report: who, if they be farre distant, shall be made also witnesses of my acknowledgement, by word or letter. If my report was of a thing, wrapt in the clouds of uncertainty; which yet, I pub­lished under the name, or colour of a cer­tainty: I will take all the worke to pieces againe, and propose all afresh, as uncertain, but my owne weaknesse. If, of a thing true, and exposed in the light, but not in the light of the Sunne, but of a Candle, as be­ing secret, or not knowne where I made it knowne: I will conquer the wrong with charitable services. If the wronged person be dead, I will, in matter of goods, per­forme my sacred obligation to his friends, keeping my eye upon the just tenour of his [Page 256] will, and intention. In matter of good-name, to his good-name: which, as it sickens not with him, so neither does it give up the Ghost when he dies: but may live, and be in good and perfect health, he being dead; and which, it selfe being dead, may be rais'd againe, without a miracle. For, when he is dead, and all other worldly titles are buried with him; still in his soule and his ashes, he reserves a title to his good-name. Where I am deficient by reason of disability, in making the satisfaction com­pleate, and absolute in all numbers; I will satisfie to the utmost limits of my power: and what is wanting, make up, full, and running over, with my prayers. If I am al­together unable; my spirituall satisfaction shall be the more ample. If for an injury in matter of goods, no temporall satisfaction be required: my satisfaction shall have two feete, or two wings; and I will satisfie, both for the wrong and the curtesie, with love, prayers, and Christian observance. In­deed, I will be singularly carefull to restore my selfe to God in watching, fasting, pray­er; and all that is mine, or placed under my care, and any way subordinate to mee, every thing in its proper way: And to make even with my neighbours, wheresoever the least shadow, or semblance of obligation [Page 257] shall appeare. It is the good counsell of Saint Gregory: Quales vires habuisti ad mun­dum, S. Greg. tales habeas ad artificem mundi: With the strength and courage, with which you did pursue the world, when you were of the world; looking now above the world, you must apply your selfe to the Creatour of the world; in whom you may see the world, without the vanity of the world. And Lord, give strength and age to the good thou hast begot in me.

CHAP. X.

ANd I am most heartily sorry, that I, I vile wretch, the child of a weake Wo­man; a base clod of earth, that having got to live, and be a little warme, hath learn'd to to goe, and speake, and to put on cloaths, and as soone as it could sinne, to sinne: have so greatly, so grieviously of­fended a God infinitely more faire, then the Sunne in all his glory: infinitely more pure, then the pure Angels, that having stood fast when their companions fell, not for want of strength to stand, but with a desire to fall, because with a will to quit their standing, and rise above the firme place where they stood; were presently [Page 258] confirmed in all their admirable endow­ments of Nature and Grace, and also beau­tified with a new, and that a compleate and everlasting purity: infinitely more good, then he that is most good under him. I have more to say: infinitely more faire, pure, and good, then God with all his art and a­bility, can make a creature. By whom the Sunne was taught to runne, and comman­ded not to rest, with a promise that hee should never be weary: whose powerfull voice the dull and senselesse, yet obedient stones, borrow eares to heare: By whose indulgence, the little worme without feete, creepe joyfully; and the small flies are car­ried strangely above ground, and make ve­ry pretty sport in the Sun-shine. The first, and originall cause of all the Good, that ever was, is, shall be, or can be: and after all this, and infinitely more, then I, or all the Angels of Heaven can utter, my last end. O good Prophet, and great King, lend me thy words, and thy heart: I have sinned against the Lord. 2 Sam. 12. 13.

CHAP. XI.

DIonysius Areopagita, Saint Pauls Schol­ler, and his onely convert at Athens; to [Page 259] whom he imparted the knowledge of the third Heaven; describes the God of Hea­ven, Dionys. A­re [...]p. de divin. nom, c. 1 as well as he can, [...], he is a supersub­stantiall substance, an understanding not to be understood, a word never to be spokē. A­gainst what a sublime, and high thing, have I offended in a most high manner? Against a substance above substance, I have opposed a substance of no substance. Against an un­derstanding, that for its excellencie cannot be understood, I have opposed an under­standing, that for its weaknesse cannot un­derstand: And against a word, that can never be spoken, I have spok words, which having spoke, I can never speake how bad they were; and which I most heartily wish, had never beene spoken. John Damascen sayes, Johan. Da­masc. lit. 3. de fide or­thodox c. 24 In deo quid est, dicere impossibible est, In God to say what he is, is a thing impossible. I have done, I cannot say what, against I cannot say whom. Onely, this I can say; Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and Luke 15. 5. 18. 19. before thee: and am no more worthy to be called thy sonne, make me as one of thy hired ser­vants. Because we have Fathers in the world, from whom we come; and we come from God; I can looke up to him, and say, Father: And because by sinne I have forfei­ted all the joyes of Heaven, I can say, I [Page 260] have sinned against Heaven: and because I cannot sinne, or be where God is not, I can say, and before thee: And because I that did once love God with the love of a sonne, for himselfe; flew wretchedly out of his house, both from his children and his servants; and now, hoping to come into favour a­gaine, must stand aloofe off with begin­ners that first enter into his service, and have all their minde upon their wages: I can say: And am no more worthy to be called thy sonne, make mee as one of thy hired ser­vants. If God should appeare to me in the meanest robe of his beauty; But I speake vainely; for, his fairenesse is one of the Attributes, which equally bestowes it selfe upon all the other, all being equally good, equally faire. But, if he should appeare to me in a robe, agreeable with our eyes; he would be so faire, that aided with a gentle gale of his Grace, I could not possibly hold from running immediately with all swift­nesse, and with all humblenesse, into his most delightfull imbraces. For, it is most true of God, which Tully speakes out of Plato, concerning Philosophy, if it could be seene, mirabiles amores excitaret sui: The sight of him, would stirre up in the be­holders, a most wonderfull love of him; not onely in respect of his beauty, but also, [Page 261] in regard of the secret conveniencie, and agreement betwixt the soule and its last end. O Lord, what have I done?

CHAP. XII.

I? and what am I? a little creature com­pos'd of a weak sickly body, and a soule? and there is all I. A body, not taken out of the substance of Heaven, lest I should seeme more heavenly then I am; nor out of any shining starre, lest I should take a starre for my heavenly Father; nor from bright fire, lest I should be too fiery; nor yet from the goodly mines of gold, lest my minde should be altogether upon gold; nor compacted of precious jewels, lest I should thinke my selfe a precious jewell: but of earth, a dir­ty, filthy, foule thing, that we, and all the beasts of the field, go upon; and which I wipe carefully every day from my shooes. O man of earth, bee not so rough, wipe it off gently, remember thy Creation: and part of it, perhaps, was once part of as tall a body as thine owne. And for my soule, it was made of nothing: and if God should step aside, and forsake it, one posting mi­nute of time, it would presently give backe, and fall to nothing: and nothing can be [Page 262] so vile, as nothing. Conservatio, say the Phi­losophers, est continuata generatio, Conser­vation is a continued generation: and there­fore, where the continuance of generation is interrupted, conservation ceaseth. The fire in the furnace, did not burne the three children; because God as he is the worker of miracles, ascending, as it were, above himselfe, as he is the Author of Nature, denyed the continuance of generation to the power of burning in the fire; and so the conservation of it ceasing, it perished for a time but the three children being re­moved, God quickly remembred that he was the Authour of Nature, and the fire burnt againe. And here was another miracle: For, God having suspended his concourse, and held it from that part of the fire, where the children walked; doubled it above Na­ture, upon that part of the fire, which de­stroyed the Persecutors, which now was elevated above the ordinary condition of fire. And thus it is evident, that my soule, now something, once nothing, hath offen­ded the best thing, in the worst manner: upon which, it, and all things hang, both in being and operations; and by which onely, it is the hopefull thing it is: as if some good, and mercifull man should hold me up from being swallowed into a gulfe, [Page 263] or a deepe Well, and in the meane time I should enrage him with foule words, and stab at him. It is part of the first massage, which God sent by Moses to the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you. He Exod 3. 14. cals himselfe, I AM, because he onely is ens per se subsistens, a thing subsistent by himselfe, he is the fountaine of all kindes of being, he onely stands without a prop. And I AM, is Gods most ancient name, because Being is the first thing conceiveable in him: And I AM, had best authority to send, because his power cannot be deri­vative, or ministeriall. I AM, could not be deputed as a Delegate, to the office of sen­ding. The quality of the injury, is alwaies proportion'd to the quality of the person injured, and alwayes measured by it; with reference to the condition of him, who offers the injury. It was said long agoe by Aristotle, injuria crescit ex indignitate personae Arist. lib. 5. Ethic. c. 5. illam inferentis, the injury is more great, when it is offered by an inferiour person. And I, a person of no account, have inju­red most highly, three most high persons: what high persons? the three greatest, high­est persons in one God; whereof all are so great, that all being most great, one is not greater then the other. Lord helpe me.

CHAP. XIII.

BUt how have I injured God? by sin: the onely meanes, by which he can be injured. Now, to aske what a kind of thing, sinne is; is to pose all kindes of learning. Logick, from which we require the nature of a thing by a definition, confesses, that she is altogether ignorant, how to define it. Divinity stands amaz'd, and is troubled at the sight of she knowes not what, breaking within her holy bounds: it is so blacke, so deformed, such a monster, as being halfe something, and halfe nothing, and wan­ting due parts, not to it selfe, but to a good thing; and being imperfect beneath all comparison. It is no easie taske exactly to tell what is darknesse, blindnesse, lamenesse, sicknesse, death. But to tell what sinne is, is so hard, how hard? so hard, that it can­not be done. For, as the worthinesse of God cannot be sufficiently expressed, for its singular prerogative of excellence: so nei­ther sinne, by reason of its particular un­worthinesse. It hath a title, or a short de­scription rather, and that is, malum infi­nitum, It is an infinite evill: because extream­ly opposite to an infinite good. 'Tis a thing, not a thing, which God, who is omnipo­tent, and made all things we ever saw, and [Page 265] a great deale more: and who is able to make more perfect creatures, then we have yet seene; yea, then the Angels; cannot with all his heavenly power, be the cause of. For, although impotencie, which includeth weaknesse, may not touch him that is om­nipotent; yet, some things God cannot doe, either because he followes the ordina­ry law, to which he hath obliged himselfe from all eternity: or because he is tyed by a Decree, or by a promise; or because him­selfe hath necessarily bound himselfe to himselfe, to doe nothing contrary to the perfection of his Attributes; and the com­mission of evill, would be most contrary to the perfection of his goodnesse. Nam quid, saith Saint Ambrose, impossible est Deo? non S. Ambro. annot. in c. 23. Num. quod virtuti arduum; sed quod naturae ejus contrarium. Impossibile istud non infirmitatis est, sed virtutis, & majestatis. What is im­possible to God? not, that which is simply hard, with relation to his power; but that which is contrary to his nature. This im­possibility is not an argument of his weak­nesse, but of his most perfect power, and most high Majesty. Mali nulla natura est, saith Saint Austin disputing against the S. Aug. lib. 11. de civit. Dei, cap. 9. Manichees, The evill of sinne hath no nature: for had it had a nature, God had made it. Sinne is a mischiefe, so [Page 266] malitiously grievous, and so grievously malitious, that no man, not the greatest Doctor that ever flourished in the Church of Christ: that no Angell, no not the grea­test Seraphin of them all, notwithstanding all their deepe, and searching knowledge, sufficiently ever knew the malice, and grie­vousnesse of one sinne. And yet, I despe­rately commit many sins, and many sorts of sinnes, every day. O good Lord, what doe I, when I sinne? God onely knowes how venemous a thing, sinne is. And the reason is as plain, as the doctrine is strange: God onely knowes, knowes perfectly, his owne infinite goodnesse; and therefore, God onely, perfectly knowes all extreme opposition to his owne infinite goodnesse. For, how can we, or any power under God, made, or possible to be made, exactly know the nature of a contrary, as contrary, or, that we call the nature of it; when wee cannot fully graspe the perfection of that, to which the contrary is contrary. But sinne is only, and wholly contrary to God, and in the first place, to his infinite good­nesse: and that, which is contrary to all an infinite, must be infinitely contrary to it. Hence it is not deduced, but runs of it selfe: that all Gods Attributes, (of which, every one is all his Essence) his Goodnesse, Wise­dome, [Page 267] Providence, Mercie, Justice, Power, Purity, Infinity, Immensity, Eternity, and all, are exceedingly struck at in every sinne. Struck at? struck, beaten, buffeted: so that no little part, as I may say, of the divine Majesty, is left unwounded, unmaimed, un­bruised. And, as all the perfections of good­nesse and honour, which are, and are found in creatures, by creatures, as foot-steps of the Creatour; are also originally, and there­fore, most perfectly, and therefore, most eminently, and infinitely, in God: So (mark this, my soule) because sinne is Gods onely enemy; and because there is a combination of evill, the onely contrary to all kindes of goodnesse, linked together in themselves, because joyned together in God: one sinne containeth, and comprehendeth all kindes of filthinesse, all kindes of deformity; the filthinesse and deformity of all other sins. Which is one of the reasons, why it is said in Saint James, Whosoever shall keepe the James 2. 10. whole Law, and yet offend in one point, is guilty of all. Another cause is: The sinner which breakes charity with God, and of­fends him in one point; the way being now open, and the reasons why he ought not to offend God, violated; is ready of himselfe, to offend him in another, and in all; and will, if power, or occasions be not [Page 268] wanting. For, he can never give a good rea­son, either taken from something in God, or from something concerning himselfe, why he should offend God in one point, and not in another; because he can never give a good reason, why he should offend him at all: and every offence of God, is most contrary to reason. Sinne is the chief­est evill, or rather all evill; and therefore, so contrary to God, the chiefest good, or rather, all good: that although it is permit­ted, because directed to a good end, by his Providence; yet neither can it be so much as fathered by his Omnipotence; nor suf­fered by his Justice; nor yet approved by his wisedome. And is it not a most wicked businesse, to commit an act of that soule quality; that Gods Providence must pre­sently to worke, and turn it to Good, or he lies open to a reproach, for having suffered evill: and there must be that, which wee name a thing, in the world; and God the Creator of all things, must not be the cause of it, nor have any hand in it: and God must be forced to strike with his justice, as if he delighted in our destruction: And if he will know all, and be God, he must be com­pell'd to looke upon that which his wise­dome cannot like, because it hath no being in him, as it is the folly of sinne, nor any [Page 269] connexion with his wisdome? I am certain, I thinke not of all this, when I sinne. Sinne is the destruction of Grace. I have said enough. And Thomas Aquinas, disputing Tho. Aqui. 1. 2. q. 113. art. 9. ad 2. of the difference betwixt the justification of a sinner, and the creation of the world, in the worth of the Act; saith: Bonum gratiae unius majus est, quam bonum naturae to­tius universi: the good of grace in one man, though not raised above one degree, is a greater good, then all the good of nature, pertaining to the world: then the Sunne, Moone, Starres, Earth, Sea, then any thing I ever saw, or naturally can see: then the soule of man with Gods Image in it, though of so pure a substance, that it cannot bee seene. And Grace in the soule, may be fitly compared to the light of the Sunne in the world. For as there are degrees and diffe­rences of this outward light, suiting with the time of the day: So, there is the light of Nature, that is, of Reason in us: the light of Learning; the light of Experience; the light of Grace. This faire light of the Sunne, the light of Grace, we in the meane time crucifying and killing Christ; is all darkened with sinne: as the Sunne it selfe was darkened when Christ hung dying up­on the Crosse. Sinne is the Consumption of goodnesse: the death of the soule, mans [Page 270] beter part, and that, by which he resembles his Creatour, and i [...] allied to God. One evill thought, is a secret conspiracie against God, and all the triumphant Court of Hea­ven. By every bad word, wee scornefully spet in our Saviours face. And with every ill action, we buffet him. This, to speake the best of it, is Jewish cruelty. What? a Christian turn'd Jew? Now my eyes shut your selves, unworthy to behold Gods good light or his Creatures by it; whose Maker I have abused, and strived to disen­throne, though all Creatures, and my selfe should have fallen with him. With sorrow of heart, I will open my owne sinnes be­fore him, whether open or secret; which must be the more grievous, because I was ashamed to act them before men. The despe­ration of Cain shal not come neere me. Men­tiris S. Aug. in Gen. 4. super major est i­niquitas mea. Caine, saith Saint Austin, major est Dei pietas, quam omnis iniquitas: Caine, thou liest; Gods mercie is greater then all sin.

CHAP. XIIII.

BUt, doe not mine eyes runne all this while? have not teares opened them? True teares of repentance, as Chrysologus Chrysol. speaketh, extinguunt gehennam, put out, and [Page 271] extinguish Hell-fire; which all good men preach to be unquenchable. Wee see that when darke clouds cover the Heavens, they seeme, as it were, possessed with horrour, and sadnes: yet, the winde hath no sooner beate upon them & shakē them into little drops of Psal. 126. 5. rain, but the Heavens begin to grow cleare, and by little and little to look with a most pleasant face upon the world: For, they that sow in teares, shall reape in joy: Because the seed-time was wet, and troublesome; it shall be faire weather, and Sun-shine all the harvest. The shedding of teares from the eyes of a true Penitent, is a spirituall Bap­tisme, by which the soule is renewed in Christ: and when will the Sunne shine, if not after so sweet a shower? Could I be­hold such a sweet shower falling from an­other, I hope I should learne to drop, my Luke. 7. 5. 37. 38. selfe. Saint Luke hath an eminent example. And behold, Behold, a watch-word, some great matter the Scripture hath to say; And behold, a Woman in the City. A Woman? what Woman? why, she, the woman so much talkt of, the Sinner, A Woman in the City, which was a sinner; she desires not to be knowne, or call'd, by any other name but sinner. And if you call, sinner, where are you; She is quick of hearing on that part, and she knowes you meane her, and is [Page 272] ready to answer, that's my name, here I come. And what with her, now she is come? Why, this Woman, the sinner, when shee knew that Jesus sat at meate in the Pharisees house, brought an Alablaster Box of oyntment. Now, take a view of her behaviour. And stood at his feete. She durst not looke high­er then his feete, and lower she could not looke: and she was willing to be trod upon, if he pleased. Behinde him. She did not thinke her selfe worthy, that he should look upon her: or that she, so wretched a sinner, and yet not a sinner, but the sinner, should behold his blessed face. Weeping. All this while the clouds have beene in gathering; now it raines. But, where fell the raine? And began to wash his feete. How? with what? with teares: now I understand you; she stood, but her teares fell, and her heart with them. With teares. With raine-water that never had beene foule, never mingled with any kinde of uncleannesse; it was a washing raine: water, that came but even now from Heaven. Here is not all. And did wipe them with the haires of her head, and kissed his feete, and anointed them with the ointment: and me thinkes I smell it. Nay then, she did not stand now: doubtlesse she came upon her knees, to wipe his feete with the haires of her head. And kissed his feete. [Page 273] O, the sinner hath not as yet forgot to kisse: and rather then she will not be kissing, shee will kisse the very feete of him she loves. And anointed them with the ointment. Shee did not annoint them with ointment, to make her kissing sweet, or him sweeter; for, that she thought, he could not be; but to expresse her sweete love. Here, head, and haires, and eyes, and lips, and hands, and heart, and all were at worke. And was not this a sweet shower? were not the teares sweeter then the oyntment, though the oyntment was passing sweete? Now, my head, and eyes, and lips, and hands, and heart, and all, can yee be lookers on, and not actors, and imitators of what yee see? I am not worthy to take in, or give out the sweete aire of Heaven. What said I? Was it Heaven I spoke of? I am not worthy to name Heaven. And yet still I name it, as if I did belong to it. No, no: not worthy to be the meanest of Gods creatures; a Worme. A Worme is a pretty thing, of a little thing. Not worthy to be a Toad. O poore, naked, miserable! what shall I call thee? And yet still I live, and looke upwards. O perfect bounty, with all her dimensions; length, breath, and depth! I am very hear­tily sorry, that I am no more sorry. I would I were as heartily sorrowfull for all my [Page 274] sinnes, and for every one in particular, as God can make a sinner. O my heart, be of good comfort, be hearty; the desire of sor­row, is a kinde of sorrow. I doe hate, and even loath all my most execrable abomina­tions. O that I could revoke the filthinesse of my life! But foole, I wish to do more then a Power, which can doe all, that can bee done: And that is, factum infectum facere, to make what hath beene done, not to have beene done. O then, that no such filthinesse had ever beene acted by me! If I were now againe, to make my first entrance upon the yeares of Reason, and Discretion: I would in the word of a Christian, aided by Christ, I would stand alwayes like a Watch-man over my selfe: I would bee ever awake: I would suspect all occurrences, that could in reason be suspected: and have an eye up­on every darke place; and upon every cor­ner, where a Devill can hide himselfe, or his black head. O my Saviour, crucified for me; as truely, as if there had not beene another sinner besides my selfe I; doe kisse with reverence, the wounds of thy feete, hands, & heart: And now, all my offences, as well inwardly, as outwardly contracted; shall be washed away. Hide me, O hide me▪ But, where shalt thou hide me? not in Hea­ven; for that is too cleane a place for me as [Page 275] I am: I shall pollute it. Nor upon Earth: for there thy Fathers anger will will finde me in the places, wherein I committed my sinnes; which may give him faire occasi­ons to remember my sinnes, and to destroy me. Nor in the Sea; for, all the water of the great Ocean, cannot make me white. But, betwixt Heaven, Earth, and Sea: in the clifts of the Rock, and especially in the large wound of thy brest; that I may lie close to thy heart: and sometimes in thy heart, as in a retiring chamber; and sing aloud, that the Angels of heaven may heare me, and sing their parts with me in the song: Blessed bee Jesus Christ, the Saviour S. Bern. Serm. 3. in Cant. of the world, for ever and ever: and for feare, that ever should ever end, for evermore. All this I begge, lying most humbly at thy feet, ubi sancta peccatrix peccata deposuit, induit sanctitatem, where the holy sinner Magdalene laid downe her sinnes, and put on sanctity. What now is to be done? I will hereafter be another kinde of Creature, a Creature of another world: indeed, I will. But, I am too quick. With the powerfull, and active helpe of the divine Grace, I will. Cre­ate Ps. 51. 10. in me a cleane heart O God. O pure God, O God the Creatour: It is thou I call up­on. Observe my prayer. Create in me a clean heart: Create it, make it of nothing, as thou [Page 276] didst the world. For now, I am nothing, but a nothing of uncleannesse. And it is a cleane heart I would have: for then, I shall be cleane all over, and cleane in every part. And I know, it must be a cleane heart, if it be newly created by thee: For, nothing ever, that came immediately from thee, was sent hither uncleane by thee. And, although the soule comes hither uncleane, it comes not uncleane, as comming immediately from thee, and as thy Creature: but as cre­ated in a body, and as part of a man, which comes from Adam; that having been made cleane by thee, became uncleane by his own folly; both in himselfe, and in all his po­sterity.

CHAP. XV.

IT is not amisse here, to take the soveraign counsell of Saint Cyprian to Donat, deli­vered S. Cyprian ep. 2. l. 2. ad Donatum. in these words: Paulisper te crede sub­duci in ardui montis verticem celsiorem, & caet. Let every one imagine himselfe lifted to the the top of a high mountaine, upon which he may take a full view of all the world. Here he may see whole Cities, suddenly consum'd, and emptied by the Plague: a [Page 277] disease, which having arrested (for exam­ple) one of us, and given him two or three tokens of death, will scarce allow him time to looke up to Heaven, and say, Lord bee mercifull unto me a sinner. There whole Countries, miserably wasted, and unpeo­pled by Famine; while men doe walke from place to place like pale Ghosts, or li­ving Anatomies, and feede heartily upon their owne flesh, paying the debt due to the stomach, out of their armes; and while the hungry mother is enforced, as in the siege of Jerusalem, to returne her dearest child by pieces into the place, from which na­ture gave it entire. Yonder, a great part of the world most cruelly devoured by the sword; where bloud lies spilt sometimes in greater abundance then water; and where is no respect had to feeble old age, to weake women, or to innocent children; but all lie mangled in a heape, as if no such thing had beene ever heard of there, as mercie. Sinne is the wicked actor of all this. Here he may behold Fire, turning the labours of an hundred yeeres, in one small houre, in­to unprofitable ashes; and perhaps, many a gallant man and woman burnt, & brought almost to a handfull. There, Water brea­king out by maine strength from the Sea, and spreading it self over Towns & Coun­tries, [Page 278] to the destruction of every living thing, but such as God made to thrive in the water: while the lost carcasses of poore Christians are carried in a great number, from shore to shore, from Country to Coun­trey, all swell'd and torne, till they are washt away into fruitlesse scum, which re­maineth here, and there, on the top of the water, to obey all tides, and to be tossed, and tumbled with every winde. Invention can assigne no other cause of all this, but sinne. All the punishments that ever were, are, or shall be inflicted upon men: All the evils, which ever did, doe now, or shall hereafter fall heavie upon Creatures, be they sensible, or unsensible, appointed for mans use, draw life, breath, strength, sinewes, and all their force from the foule sinnes, and su­perstitions of the world.

Pause here a little, and give place to a pious meditation. If Almighty God did so rigorously punish those adulterate Cities of Palestine, with Sodome the chiefe head of them, that besides the present punishment of a sudden overthrow by fire and brim­stone from Heaven, as if justice could not stand quiet in such grievous crimes; the Countrey, which once was a second Para­dise, another garden of the world, now at this day, lies so pitifully desolate; that [Page 279] nothing is to be seene, but black and sutty ground, ashes and stones halfe burnt: there remaining in the middle a great Lake, called by a scornefull name, mare mortuum, the dead Sea: from which a darke smoke continually rises, most pernicious to man, and every living creature: where are no trees but such as are hypocritically fruitfull. Apples indeed, hang openly, and which, in the judgement of the eye, are ripe: but come to them, enticed with their colour, & presse them with the least touch, they scat­ter presently into vaine dust. The substance of this, we read even in Heathen Authors, Solinus, Cornelius Tacitus; but especially, Solinus c. 84. Corn. Tac▪ l. 5. hist. Joseph de bell. Jud. l. 5. c. 5. and with a more free addition of circum­stances, in Josephus the Jew, borne and bred up, not farre from this unfortunate Coun­trey. Behold here, a wofull extremity. It was a rainy morning with them; and yet wondrous light. The were burned to ashes, before they could rise, either from their beds, or their sinnes. And because they were such deserving sinners, and yet, were not quick in going to Hell; Hell came to them in fire and brimstone. Five great Cities, and every part of them, were all on fire together: and it burnt so violently, that all the Sea could not have quenched the flames. And was not Gods Anger burning [Page 280] hot? me thinkes now I heare the damned in Hell, cry from all sides, fire, fire, fire: and yet, no creature will ever be able to quench the least sparke of it. O the goodnesse of God, that holds me up, over the great Dra­gons mouth; and yet still out of his mouth, though he does crave, and whine, and cry for me. If I say, God Almighty imprin­ted with an iron instrument, these horrid markes of his anger, on the hatefull fore­head of one Countrey, for the sinnes of some few people: what, O what will hee doe, or in what strenge, and new kind of anger, will he expresse himselfe in the black day of judgement, for the sinnes of the whole world? Especially, since that sinne is now growne exceedingly more diverse, both in the species, and in the particulars, then it was in the infancie, or childhood of the world. In the day of judgement, when the Devill questionlesse, as Saint Basil ob­serves, will say something before the Bench, to aggravate the matter: Heare, great Lord of Heaven and Hell, I created not these people, (nor could I bring them from no­thing) Nor did I engrave my great signe and Image in their soules. I did not take their nature. I did not sweat bloud, nor die for them. I did not send Apostles, and Prea­chers, to signifie my will to them, in a most [Page 281] powerfull manner; or give grace to effect it. I never wrought a miracle to bring waight to my sayings: Nor did I promise them a Kingdome, or eternall blessednesse: but truely, prepared for them a dark Dun­geon, where they shall lie, and die with me eternally. And yet, behold mighty Judge, my cursed crew of reprobates is the great­est by infinites: whom though I much hate, yet I much love their company.

And if we looke before Sodome; God in his dreadfull anger, drowned all the world for sinne; both man and beast: behaving himselfe in regard of mans beastly sins, as if he scarce knew, w ^ch was the man, and which the beast. Had we beene (as we might have beene) in the number of those poore lost wretches, where had wee beene this day? Distressed creatures, they climed the trees; they flew to the tops of the mountaines to save their lives: Happy was he or she that stood highest. But all in vaine. The waters rose by some and by some, they waiting with trembling expectation: the Floud gat up as high as they: the waves tooke them, roaring as loud as they; and their sinnes sunke them. Part of them cleaved to boards, plankes, and other floating move­ables for a while: the drunkard to the bar­rell, the covetous man to his chest of mony, [Page 282] as very desirous to stay in the world, and sinne againe: but no creature of God was willing to save his enemy. And every one that is like to Vlysses, praised by Homer with this elogie, [...], hee knew the Cities and manners of many peo­ple; may quickly give us to understand, how strangely the world in many places is defaced, and wounded for sinne. Vae lauda­bili vitae hominum, saith Saint Austin, si re­mota misericordia discutias eam: Woe to the good lives of men, if thou O Lord, shalt dis­cusse them without mercie; We then with our bad lives, how many woes shall we un­dergoe? And the rather, because it is most true, which the same Saint Austin teacheth, Multa laudata ab hominibus, Deo teste, dam­nantur; S. Aug. lib. 3. Confess. c. 9. cum saepe se aliter habent species facti, & aliter animus facientis: Many things praised by men, are condemned by God; because oftentimes, the outward barke, and appearance of the deed, doth not correspond, and fall in with the minde of the Doer.

O Sinne, it is a great vertue to hate thee. A Toad is a very pretty thing, in compari­son of thee. And now I remember, a Toad is Gods good creature; and if it could speake, might truely say: Lord, such a one as I am, I was made by thee: And howoso­ever [Page 283] I looke blacke and cloudy, that I move hate in passionate men, yet thou lovest me. Yea verily, the loathed Serpent might say, if it had mans tongue, and understanding: Although I creepe in the dirt, lick the dust of the earth, and draw a long ugly traine after me: though under variety of colours, and a spotted skinne, I shroud poyson; it being observed, that the Serpent with the brightest scales, hideth the most dangerous venome: though my life is wedded to such a body, as the Devill first abused to appeare in: though men are so farre from yeelding me any helpe, that they runne speedily from me: yet I have the same maker as they, and derive the worth of my being from as high a descent as they doe: and as they are sinfull, I am more perfect, and exceedingly more beautifull in the sight of God, and all his Angels. I doe not marvell now, that the holy Psalmist spoke so heartily, when he said, Iniquitatem odio habui, & abomina­tus Ps. 119. sum, I hated iniquity, and my soule had it in abomination. Go sinne, the Vi­per shall take place in our bosomes before thee. For, the Viper, that eateth through the tender wombe of the mother, never saw the mother before that blinde act of cruelty; so that the Viper is onely cruell before he is borne, and before he ever saw a [Page 284] gentle creature, or this blessed light to which his mother brought him. But the sinner sees God in his creatures. And the Viper doth but defeate the body, to bring a temporall death: thou the soule, to bring a death, drawne out, and lengthened with eternity.

CHAP. XVI.

TO sinne, is to turne our backs with great contempt towards God: To­wards God, standing in the midst of all his Angels, and holding up Heaven with one hand, and earth with another: and to turne our faces, and imbraces with great fond­nesse to a vile Creature. O that a true sight of this, like a good Angell, might alwayes appeare to us, before we sinne! As the proud man and woman turne from God, the boundlesse treasure of all excellencie, and sit brooding, and swelling, as upon empty shels, upon the fraile and contemptible goods of minde, body, fortune. The angry man and woman turne from God, the sweetnesse of Heaven and Earth, and side with their owne turbulent passions. The Glutton, and Drunkard turne from God, to whom the eyes of all things doe looke up [Page 285] for their meate and drinke in due season, and performe their devotions to their fat bodies and bellies, quorum Deus venter est, whose Phil. 3. 19. God is their belly. Which Saint Paul spoke, as it appeareth by the verse immediatly pre­cedent, even weeping. The lascivious man and woman turne from God, the Fountain of all true and solid comfort, and take in exchange, the pleasure of Beasts. The co­vetous man and woman turne from God, without whom the rich are very poore; and dance about the golden Calfe, making an Idoll of their money. For, Covetousnesse Coloss. 3. 5. is Idolatry: The envious man and woman turne from God, from whom come both [...], and not inward on­ly, but all outward gifts: and stick to a re­pining at Gods liberality in others. The sloathfull man and woman turn from God, whose providence is in continuall action & exercise, and give flesh, bones, head, heart, and all to the pillow. Judas had thirty pence for Christ, but we have little or nought for him. All the good gifts of the holy Ghost, are struck to the heart by sinne. S. John beheld in his Revelation, a great red Dragon, having seven heads, and seven Rev. 12. 3. crownes upon his heads. And againe, a woman Rev. 17. 3. sitting upon a Scarlet-coloured beast, having seven heads. The seven heads, are the seven [Page 286] deadly sinnes, which the great red Dragon, the Devill begetteth upon the woman, the sinfull soule: wherewith he resisteth, and putteth to flight the seven choice gifts of the holy Ghost. I remember the woman, whom our Saviour dispossessed of seven Devils; and the Leaper, that by the Pro­phets appointment was dipped seven times in the river Jordane. The Devill over-com­meth the gift of feare ( The feare of the Lord is the brginning of wisdome) with pride, and presumption: which utterly expell the feare of God. With anger he smothereth the gift of knowledge: For, blinded with anger, we judge not according to know­ledge. With envie, he stifleth the gift of piety or godlinesse; For, by envie we ban­dy with our thoughts, words, and actions, against our neighbours. With lust and lux­ury he destroyeth the gift of wisedome, by which we are made brutishly foolish. With covetousnesse hee confoundeth the gift of counsell, by which we are violently drawne from all good counsell, in the pursuite of base, but sweete lucre: Covetousnesse being the roote of all evill. With Gluttony and Drunkennesse he killeth the gift of under­standing, by which we are besotted, and left altogether unfit to know, or under­stand. And with sloth he vanquisheth the [Page 287] gift of Fortitude, by which we are made weake and infirme, and benummed with feare and sorrow in the search of good things. Here is a battell, wherein the weake over-come the strong; and all, because the strong are fallen into the mischievous hands of a most barbarous Traitor, a Trai­tor to God, and his owne soule. To sinne, is to betray Christ, and give him over to death and destruction, that the sinne, that is, Barabas, the murderer may live. Here is a businesse, O Lord! And to sinne, is to ba­nish the holy Ghost with all his gifts, to bid him goe, go seeke a lodging amongst the rogues, & beggers: And being unwilling to go (as he is love it selfe) and therefore struggling to stay; to thrust him out of the soule by the head and shoulders; as de­sirous in our anger, to break a limbe of him, if he had one. O that we could remember at these times, that we are the Devils offi­cers! And when sinne is not the privation of Grace, because it comes where it is not: it the more dimmeth, and defaceth nature. Sinne is the death and buriall of the soule, which onely God can raise againe: For, as the body dyeth, and falleth to the ground, when the soule forsaketh it: so the soule dyeth, and falleth under the ground, to Hell-gate, when it is forsaken by God. O [Page 288] Christian, saith Saint Austin, non sunt in te charitatis viscera, si luges corpus, a quo recessit anima: animam vero, a qua recessit Deus, non luges. O Christian, there are no bowels of charity in thee, if thou mournest for a body, from which the soule is gone: and doest not mourne for the wretched, and forlorne estate of a soule, from which God is departed. One sinne is a greater evill, greater above expression, then all the evils of punishment, that can be inflicted upon us, by God himselfe, in this world, or in the world to come: A greater evill beyond all measure, then Hell-fire, which shall never be quenched. One sinne. O what have I done many thousand times over! It is the truth, and nothing but the truth. And ther­fore, it is said of the sinne of evill speaking: The death thereof is an evill death, the grave Ecclesiasti­cus 28. 21. were better then it. The words will beare another sense, utilis potius infernus quam illa, Hell were more profitable then it. And this is proved as easily as written, or spokē. For, the evils of punishment bereave us on­ly of limited and finite goods: as sicknesse depriveth us of health, death of life. But sinne depriveth us of God, the onely Good that is infinite. And the privation is al­wayes by so much the more grievous, by how much the good is more good, of [Page 289] which we are deprived. The evils of punish­ment come from God, flow naturally from him, as from their true source & cause. Go, aske the Prophet Amos, he will say as much: Amos 3. 6 Shall there be evill in a City, and the Lord hath not done it? God hath nothing to doe with sinne, but foure wayes: in all which he stands off, and comes not neere it: In the hindrance, in the sufferance, in turning it to good ends, and in appointing the pu­nishment. And all the evils of punishment, which God ever heaped upon man, on earth, and in Hell, or is able to heape, are not fit punishment; my drift is not equall to the mischiefe of one sinne, though the Papists thinke otherwise of their veni­all sinnes: God alwayes punishing under the desert of sinne, as he alwayes rewards above vertue; as being more prone to the acts of mercie, then of justice. And neither all Gods Creatures, nor God himselfe (be it spoken with due reverence and respect to his omnipotencie) can shower downe so great evils upon man, as he daily pulleth upon himselfe. For they can onely sting his body with the evils of punishment; he staineth his owne soule with the evill of sin. And therefore Saint Chrysostomes Paradox, out of which he hath dreined a most lear­ned Homily, is not a Paradox: Nemo laedi­tur [Page 290] nisi a seipso. No man is hurt but by himselfe: For, it is plaine, that matters of punishment may be turned to vertue, which doth not hurt: but alwayes from sinne comes dammage and hurt, because more is lost then gain'd, though all the world bee gain'd: it being sure, that by sinne God is lost, and cannot be gain'd. Sinne, (to speak gently) is the sleepe of the soule. For, as he that sleepeth, feares oftentimes what is not to be feared: As, to be drowned in deepe waters, to fall from the top of a high rock into the Sea, to be devoured by a Beare, or a Lion, or some such vaine thing, of which he dreames; but the Thiefe, who comes now in earnest to cut his throat, he feares not: So the sinner feares some few shadowes of danger, but not the sinne that kils him. O foolish Horse, that starts at the shadow of a tree, and when the Drums and Trum­pets sound, runs gladly among the Pikes, thrusting himselfe upon true danger! And as he that sleepeth, beleeves oftentimes, that he is in full possession of that which hee hath not. He dreames of gold, and of a Palace; and in the act, the cobwebs of his poore Cottage drop upon his face, and wake him. The sinner being in danger, dreames of safety; and wakes, environed with danger. And lastly, as he that sleep­eth, [Page 291] performes oftentimes the worke of a waking man, but imperfectly: He speakes, but brokenly, and with little sense: He ri­ses, and walkes, but seldome without a fall. So the habits of vertues being destroyed in a sinner, have left a warmth and facility be­hinde them; which seeme vertuous, when they are not; and therefore delude excee­dingly, both the person and all the witnes­ses of his carriage. And such a person is more dangerously sicke then the Hypocrite, who knoweth his errour; or may be soone convinced of it by the light of nature. Phoenix in Homer, under whose government Achilles was brought up to that great height and perfection of knowledge, was directed by the rules of naturall prudence, to be two Masters to him. For, the Poet describes him [...], a director, not onely of his words, but of his deeds also. But he that is warmed with such a heate, when the fire is gone, beleeves that he is hot, rejoyceth in it; and little thinkes what kinde of warmth it is, where­with he is heated.

From these premises, I gather what I had lost. I had lost the princely robe of justice, the rich garment of needle-worke, wherewith the Kings daughter was ador­ned: after the losse of which, my soule was [Page 292] not the Kings daughter. I had lost the name, dignity, and credit of Gods good childe: the speciall providence, and prote­ction, with which he shrouds, as a Hen her Chickens, covers, and spreads himselfe over the just: (O tis warme being under his wings) and all the more speciall helpes, which imparting to them, he denies to sin­ners, I had lost. I had lost faith, and ex­cept hope, all infused vertues: which are the strength, veines, and sinewes of the soule, by which she is enabled to doe well and orderly in order to salvation; and which are, as it were, the faire pearles, with which she is beautified. I had lost, O I had lost the most unvaluable benefit of Christs merits. Christ could not say then to his Father of me; Father give him me, I have bought him. I had lost God, and therefore was robbed of all good. He that is every where, was gone from me. He was out of my reach, out of my call: and hee would not heare me, but called by earnest repen­tance: a hard taske, and not possibly to bee compassed, without his powerfull assistance, that was farre from me. And (which is the top of admiration) I had lost my selfe; and could by no meanes, learne whither I was gone. Had I gone out into the streets, and asked all passengers, if any good man [Page 293] or woman could tell where I was: Had I said, neighbour, pray have you found me? I am lost. Whatsoever my neighbours had said, all sound Christians would have an­swered, that I was lost, and so lost, that I could never be found, but by an infinite power: and that for their parts they knew not where I was. Indeed, I neither know, nor shall ever know fully, what I had lost. Go now, all Merchants, and Tradesmen, henceforth hold your peace, speak no more of your losses by Sea or Land. I had lost more, then Land and Sea themselves. And having lost all good, I staid not there, but also was over-whelmed with all evill. It is a great evill of disgrace to be the childe of a wicked man, or willing to serve him. Sin had made me the childe of the Devill, and more subject then a childe, a slave to him and sinne. And therefore Christ said to sinners, Yee are of your Father the Devill. He said likewise, Verily, verily, I say unto you, whosoever committeth sinne, is the ser­vant of sinne. Sin then, being all over evill, and all the evill that is: and I having com­mitted sinne, and so, being the willing ser­vant of sinne, what a strange kinde of evill was I, that served so great an evill; when we all know, the servant is not higher then his Master, but much under him? Here is a [Page 294] secret. It is an evill chance to a house, when it fals into the most hard hands of a cruell murderer, or bloody traitor. But sin had changed me into the most unhappy dwel­ling of the Devill. And I that once feared to see the Devill, and who if I had seene him, would have runne; much more, fea­red to come neare him, or to dwell with him in the same house, or chamber; had then tooke both him, and Hell-fire that he carries about him, into my owne selfe, and given him the closet of my owne heart to lodge in. Sinne changed the Angels of Heaven from a pure white, to a most foule blacke. And thus it had altered me. I know that some of Gods people, had they seene me, would have said: What ere the matter is, you are wonderfully changed: And then, I might well have answered, Tru­ly I am not well, I am vexed with a conti­nuall fit of a deadly sicknesse. And I am so weakened by it, that I cannot distinguish betwixt good and bad. I have exchanged God for vile things, hypocrisie and super­stition, which I have preferred before God. For he that of two things laid before him, chuseth one, esteemes that to be the greater good which he taketh, and preferreth be­fore the other. I know not what I doe: For I wound God altogether with his own [Page 295] weapons, with the same gifts, which I re­ceived of him, with a condition to serve him: having turned all his gifts into the sharp weapons of sinne. I wound him with his owne concurse, his power, by which he doth assist me in all actions, agree­able to my nature; so that I force God to strike himselfe in very deed with his owne hand, as if I dealt with a childe: and set God against himselfe, as it were, causing division in the best, and highest unity.

But now being recovered of the disease, my understanding is more cleare, and more discerning; and knowing God here, my Faith and Hope give me a kinde of securi­ty, that I shall know him more distinctly hereafter, and see him face to face. Man de­siring to know, labours to know; and because knowledge is honey-sweete, the more he knowes, the more he labours to know, and the more he knowes to labour for knowledge. And in his labouring to know, one chiefe part of the knowledge he gaines, is, that although he still labours to know, and still knowes, and although hee should live a thousand yeeres, and still know; still amongst the things which may be knowne, they would be more which he knowes not, then which he knowes. And so still it would be, though he should live [Page 296] in the world, for ever. But God did not plant the naturall passion of desire in the reasonable soule, with an intention, that it should alwayes lie gaping; but that it should at length be satisfied, when it should close at last, with its last end. The like effect followes in pursuing other objects of de­sire. If God should have made, after his conquest of one, another world for Alex­ander; when he had done there, he would have beene weeping againe: while indeed, hee would not have wept for another world, but implicitely for God, who one­could have filled his boundlesse desire. The desire of man, is in a manner infinite, be­cause it desires one thing after another, into infinite: And it can never be satisfied in this manner, because the things desired come not altogether, but ever, one after another: as the day commeth, but successively, houre after houre, not altogether. And therfore it must follow, & it will follow, and it cannot but follow, that it must be satisfied with a thing actually infinite; w ^ch shal alwaies feed, and yet alwayes fill the soule with know­ledge, riches, pleasure, every good thing: ut semper quidem Deus doceat, saith S. Ire­naeus, homo autem semper discat quae sunt a Deo: That God may alwayes teach, and man may always learn: every degree of light opening [Page 297] to the soule a more ample and more cleare sight of God, in himselfe, or in his crea­tures. Desire and Love tend to union: we desire to have, and we love to enjoy. And therefore, the powers desiring and loving, strive to bring home the thing beloved: where desire ceases, and love remaines. And thus also, in the acts of knowledge. For alhough after our manner of knowing in this world, because our knowledge is im­perfect, it is not required, that the thing knowne or understood should be joyned to the understanding, by which we know; but this is contented with a species or picture of it: yet when we know and see clearely, God and the understanding come face to face; they meete in a close union together. The Un­derstanding being the first faculty, must, as it were, first touch the divine Essence. I must not here imagine, that the union of the blessed soule with God, is like the con­junction of Christs humanity with his di­vinity, whence resulteth one person, which we call Christ: but she shall be joyned to him, as a child to the mothers brest, where indeed it sucks, and takes hold with the mouth, but the mother holds it fast in her armes, supporting it, that it cannot fall, either to the ground, or from the brest. And whereas these two faces are very diffe­rent, [Page 298] the Understanding▪ be it Angelicall, or Humane, and the Essence of God: be­cause God cannot stoop in his Essence, though he doth in his power and other Attributes, the created understanding, as being very low, is lifted up to the divine Essence; that is, strengthened with a light, which we call the light of glory. And this is a true Comment upon the Prophet Da­vid, In thy light shall we see light. It was excel­lently Psal. 36. 9. done of the Father of lights, in the creation of the world, in the first place to produce light. For, as it was the first per­fect creature, so it shall be the last, I meane, the light of glory. He begins with light, he goes on with light; look else: and he ends with light. And why so? because God is light, and because he ever was, and is, and ever wil be light. The soule shall see in God, a most exact Unity branched into a Tri­nity; a most perfect Trinity gathered toge­ther in an Unity: the most excellent indepen­dencie, or rather priority of the Father, (be­cause neither doth the Son or holy Ghost in any proper sense, depend) the most excel­lent generation of the Son, the most excel­lent procession of the holy Ghost; where­of one is not the other, and yet, they are not three most excellent, but one most ex­cellent. O Mystery of Mysteries! How the [Page 299] Angels in every degree depend upon God, and differ one from another! How because he could not make a creature as perfect as himselfe, he goes in some kinde, as farre as he can, gives them as much of him as he is able: imparting to them unchange­ablenesse and eternity, though not from everlasting, yet for ever and ever! How fitly the chosen of God, fill up the number of the fallen Angels; every one enjoying a different degree of blessednesse; their workes, and meanes of their salvation ha­ving beene different: and because of every one it might be said, Non erat similis illi, qui conservaret legem Excelsi. Hee had not his like, in keeping the law of the most High: because nature differing in all, the meanes and courses did answerably differ. And whereas in the world, she saw God in his creatures, she shall now see the creatures in God, which she saw, which she saw not, and which humane eye never saw: which shall afford her satisfaction, though not perfect her blessednesse, according to S. Au­stin, He that sees thee, O God, and thy workes in thee, non propter illa beatior, sed propter te solum, is not more happy for seeing them in thee, but for seeing thee onely. She shall see as much as God hath set apart for her blessed­nesse; and though she differ from others [Page 300] in her extension of sight, she shall not de­sire to share equally with them, because it is one of her perfections, and indeed part of her blessednesse, to rest perfectly upon the will of God, from whence flowes a blessed peace. From this beatificall vision, or sight of Gods face, shall flame out a most ardent love of God. Wee behold in the world but certaine emblems of Gods mercie, justice, power, and the like▪ which are out of God, and in creatures; and yet, the reflection sets us on fire with the love of God. How then shall we burne in love towards him, when we shall see all we see, in God, though not all in God, in whom all is God? Verily, this love will have a Property above all loves. For the lover of God in Heaven, cannot but love him. For▪ having once seene him, he cannot but look upon him; and looking upon him, he can­not but love him. Many objects in this meane world, meane, in respect of Heaven, at the first sight, stirre us to love. Looking we love, and loving we looke and the more we look, the more we love▪ and the more we love, the more we looke; and we cannot tell for the time, whether we looke more, or love more. Call away the soule that lookes upon God▪ offer her a thousand worlds for the present, and ten thousand [Page 301] hereafter. Bring all the cunning entice­ments that the Devill can thinke of, or that God can give him leave to forge: make here an assurance of all that God can give, besides himselfe: bring Gods owne hand to it. Go to her againe, speak aloud, tell her of another Heaven, where, although God is not to be enjoyed, yet there are Angels to be seene, and delights without number, to minister pleasures that cannot be numbred. Speake words as faire, as the soule you speake to: And cry with the Devill, All Matt. 4. 9. these things will I give thee: not over one world, O poore, O barren temptation! but over as many worlds, as God can make, if thou wilt turne aside from God, but a lit­tle, a very little, or winke out but one mo­ment. She will not, she cannot: not that she will not, because she cannot; or that she cannot, because she will not: but shee nei­ther will, nor can. Nothing but Gods ho­ly will can move her to turn aside, or wink, and that shee knowes, is constant to her Happinesse. O the basenesse of this world! O the beastlinesse of our lusts, and carnall desires! O the vilenesse of our pride, and fil­thy bravery! How foule, how sorbid, how beggerly they are, set in comparison with the fight of God in Heaven? What poore things are they, to take in exchange for [Page 302] eternall blessednesse? Go, go presently, and sell your part of Heaven, your part in God for these base things. O the vanities of earthly Courts and kingdomes! Give us God, him, him, only him, and let all go. For in God, we shall have riches without care, honour without feare, beauty without fa­ding, joy without sorrow, content without vexation; all good things, not one after one, but altogether; and without the defects annexed to them in this imperfect world. The Husband that loves the Wife of his bosome: the Mother that loves the child of her wombe: the children that love their Parents, whose living Images they are: the friend, that loves his friend, for whom he would endanger his life, though he hath but one: they may frame a conceit of the tender love of God to the soule, and of the soule to God: but they cannot entire­ly, and comprehensively conceive it. For upon earth we may love one man or wo­man most; yet we may love others, though not as the persons we love most; and our love of others, may have no respect to the person we love most, and so our love may bee divided. We cannot love two most: [...], as Plato speakes, there is but one best in all kindes, one best, one best-beloved. But in Heaven, our love shall settle with all [Page 303] the force it can make, upon God; where onely one is to bee loved: [...], saith Saint Ju­stin, for Gods most perfect unity requires the perfection of a Monarchy. It is the most perfect government, where is one supreme, Governour, and therefore one God. And though in Heaven, we love Saints, and Angels, yet that love is a naturall branch of the love of God. We love them, because we love God: we love them in God; wee love God in them, we love God for him­selfe, and we love them altogether for God. But where a Trinity of persons is the Gi­ver, in the highest gift of all, and the end of all other gifts, there must appeare a trinity of gifts: the sight of God, the love of God, and a rejoycing in God. Accor­ding to the good we receive, and the inti­macie of its connexion with us, so natur'd is our joy. It must then be the greatest joy, when we shall perfectly enjoy the greatest good. But what if the greatest good be all good, shall we have all joy? yes, I write it with great joy, all joy: the sight of all, all love, all joy: not that can be given, or that can bee received, but that we can receive. Quicquid recipitur, ad modum recipientis recipitur: whatsoever is received, is received according to the ca­pacity [Page 304] of the receiver. And though per­haps some one or some few, shall receive all that can be given to such a creature: (for, God now gives himselfe out most freely) yet they shall not receive all, because no fi­nite can receive an infinite: nor all that a more perfect creature could receive. It will be no small part of the soules joy, that Gods will is done in his Saints, in his An­gels, in the saved, in the damned. The righ­teous, Psal. 58. 10 saith the Psalmist, shall rejoyce when he seeth the vengeance. There cannot bee a knowledge and possession of God, with­out great joy. And will it not afford mat­ter of great comfort to the soule, to see in God, the dangers of this world, both spi­rituall and temporall, which strengthened with a hand from Heaven, she fairely pas­sed? When she thinkes, being now in full security: With such a plot the Devill assaul­ted me at such a time; had not God beene in the combate with me on my side, I had beene lost. Had I runne such a course, that runne in my head at such an houre, I had runne head-long to Hell. Had God call'd for me, and for an account, at such a day, by land; by sea, when the sea roard, the winds blew, the rocks watcht for the vessell I was in; when the Ship reeld to and fro like a drunken man, the Sea-men staggered and [Page 305] trembled; I had not beene a blessed soule. Through what a strange world did I travell hither? how every small corner was beset with snares? how the wayes abroad; how the houses and streets of Townes; and the very Churches were throng'd with evill Spirits, which I never saw till now? How sweete, how mercifull God was to the world; divided and distracted with so ma­ny errours; defiled with so many sinnes? How could he suffer men to live out halfe their dayes? He that brought the world from nothing to something, why did hee not throw it away in his anger, from some­thing to nothing againe O sweetnsse, good­nesse, mercie, great, exceeding, infinite▪ and there she dives. In this life, no joy goes without a sorrow, without its Keeper: that our life is like the roofe of the great Tem­ple in Jerusalem, which, as Villalpandus re­cords out of Josephus, shewed flowers growing among guilded prickles: and surely, in the best day of our lives, when wee sung the sweetest, if wee sinke into the matter, we shall finde, that we had a sharpe thorne at our brests. But the inside of Heaven is without a cloud. Every day, though new, and fresh, and shining, is like a Friers weed, dishonoured with a patch, a badge of our beggery, our misery.

The Romish Canon-law keeps the Popes so close to Religion, that none are deposed ipso facto, but for the crime of Heresie. God the maintainer of this joy can never be stirred; and therefore it must needs be a setled joy. And of this Countrey I joy to speake, because I am now in the way to it. I will turn my eyes a little upon the Queen of Sheba. She comes from a farre Coun­trey: whats her businesse? Onely to see, and speak with Salomon. Which being done, what sayes she? And when the Queene of Sheba 1. King. 10. 4. bad seene all Salomons wisedome; not heard, but seene, it was not onely wisedome of words. And the house that he had built: yonder house, above. Now I shall take of the Text here and there: And the attendance of his Ministers: his blessed Angels: and Vers. 5. their apparell, their robes of immortality; there was no more spirit in her: and behold, the halfe was not told me: thy Preachers Vers. 7. could not speake halfe: Happy are these thy Vers. 8. servants which stand continually before thee, and that heare thy wisedome. A greater then Salomon is here O Lord, so teach me to con­verse with Christ here, that I may dwell with him hereafter.

CHAP. XVII.

BY night on my bed, (saith the Spouse) I sought him whom my soule loveth, I sought him, but I found him not. It is very strange. For, that which the Divines call Gratia prima, the first Grace, comes alwaies by night. It being alwayes darke night, and indeed, the dead of night, before Grace comes. And the first Grace doth not finde Grace where it comes: For then, it would not be the first. But, the meaning is: the Spouse before she was the Spouse, or the soule sought God without Grace, as the Philosophers, of which Saint Paul speakes, Rom. 1. sought him without him, as the Giver of supernaturall Graces; sought him by night, sought light in darknesse; rejected the sufficiencie of Grace offered to her, and thought to doe miracles, and worke above nature, by the helpe of nature. Or if it be a harsh note, she sought God without Grace: We may say, that she was moved by the first Grace to seeke God: but because she did not worke with it, as farre as the Grace did enable her; she wanted the second Grace, and did not seeke him aright. For, shee sought him on her bed, sluggishly, & drou­sily: She sought him onely in a dreame: [Page 308] she sought him, when the belly was full, and the bones at rest, betwixt sleeping and wa­king: and therefore, by her leave, she was mistaken, her soule did not love him; For, if her soule had loved him, her soule would have tooke another order with her body, and she would have sought him otherwise, and might have found him; But now, she sought him, and she found him not: and why? She was mistaken both in the time, and in the place. For, he was neither to be found by night, in the darknesse of a sin­full life; nor on her bed: what should he have done there? hee neither slumbreth, nor sleepeth. She should have sought him where he was, and would be found. Nor can it in reason be imagined, that he would come to her, come to be found, and enjoy­ed; and she neither move hand, nor foote, nor eye in the search of him, but lie all a­long, with her hands and feete spread abroad upon a bed of doune, and with her eyes shut: and that should passe for a sufficient seeking of all goodnesse; to be rewarded with Heaven. But, though she hath not found him, she hath found her er­rour; and she begins againe. I will rise now, and goe about the Citie, in the streets, and in the broad wayes, I will seeke him whom my soule loveth: I sought him, but I [Page 309] found him not. Now she will rise. The first beginning of good to be done on our parts, after the kinde entertainment of the inspiration, is the purpose of doing it. Well. She is dressing her self hastily. But what will she doe when she is up? We shall quickly see. For, I heard her say, I will rise now; She will admit of no delay: she will fall to worke, while the inspiration is warme, and before it cooles. But what doth shee meane to doe? Goe to the City. Hitherto she goes well. For, the Wise-men, that came to seeke Christ, wisely addressed themselves to the City, and there enquired for him. And to declare, that they tooke a good or­dinary way, and that extraordinary helpe is ordained to supply the defect of Gods ordinary assistance: extraordinary meanes failed them; for the new-created starre dis­appeared. In the City, she will finde many good people, that will gladly tell her good tidings of him, whom her soule loveth; be­cause their soules have loved him, from their childhood; and ever since they knew what it was to love. God gives her a will, and power to rise. And because shee rises with him, he goes with her to the City. Her going with him, moves him againe, to goe with her. But it is not well, that shee will goe about the City. For, if she goe [Page 310] not strait forward, but about the City; she cannot avoid distraction, nor multiplicity of businesse: and the Bridegroome will either be neglected, or not worthily regar­ded. And so it fell out. For, she went about the City in the streets, where shee met all sorts of idle company; a rabble of Night­walkers; and some, with whom the Com­munion, not of Saints, but of sinnes, had made her acquainted. And now, shee was full of businesse: and he, whom (she sayes) her soule loveth, was forgot. And shee sought him in the broad way. The way to Hell, and perdition, is a broad way. Shee sought the King of Heaven, in the way to Hell. And therefore shee found him not. And yet she was very forward in the first onset: I will rise now. She had not made her own, the two lessons, w ^ch are ever coupled together: Depart from evill, and doe good. But Psal. 34. 14. Vers. 3. what hapned? The Watchmen that goe about the Citie found me: to whom I said, Saw yee him whom my soule loveth? Is it so, pret­ty one? you that rose up now, and thought to watch out the night, are you took your selfe by the Kings Watchmen, for a strag­gler? for a haunter of the streets, and the broad wayes? It will be question'd now, whether you be honest or no, both of your body, and your hands? The watchmen [Page 311] will tell you, having met you at such a time, that you doe not look honestly; that your sin is plainly written in your forehead. This affliction, I hope, will sift, and winnow you. You cannot bring the Watchmen within the circle of your fault. It is their office, to go about the City, and to surpize such as you are. Resolve them now, and with sound reason, whence you came, and whither you would. The poore lost thing hath griefe enough: and her afflictions have made her bold. She will not be question'd. For, be­fore the Watchmen can open their mouths, and speake to her, she is wondrous busie in the examination of them, Saw yee him whom my soule loveth? And now, she makes it plaine, that her soule loves him. She goes the right way to finde him. She sues for direction to her beloveds Watchmen. Doe yee heare, you Watchmen, nay, pray let me speake first; my late wandring is war­rantable: I goe in quest of him, whom my soule loveth; and my love cannot sleepe. Speake one of you. Did yee see him whom my soule loveth? Were my love towards him, all tongue, or all face, I could forbeare his company. But because it is he, whom my soule loveth; while I have a soule, I cannot be without him. But did yee see him? I am in great haste, pray tell me. [Page 312] While the Watchmen were getting up out of the deepe amazement, into which shee had struck them, like an unwonted appa­rition by night: She steps aside in a heate. And so I come to the rest, I would sing to my soule. It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soule loveth: I held him, and would not let him goe. As soone as ever I had passed beyond them: presently after I had untwisted my sel [...]e of company. And what then? Let all the world heare, and rejoyce with me. I found whom my soule loveth. O deare Lord, have I found thee? Where hast thou beene this many a day? I have beene seeking thee by night, and upon my bed, and about the City, and in the streetes, and in the broad wayes, and I could not finde thee. And I have beene found my selfe, and tooke by thy officers, (they are not farre hence) and had not my tongue beene very quick and ready; and my wit good; and my cause better; I had beene sent to pri­son, and laid fast enough. But I presently tooke them off from all their authority, and us'd thy name, and said, Saw yee him whom my soule loveth? But, thou hast not yet told me, where thou hast beene. Indeed, I was halfe afraid, I had quite lost thee. I beleeve, I doe, I doe; that, had'st not thou [Page 313] sought me, more then I sought thee, wee had never met againe. And thou didst help me to seeke thee: but I could not helpe thee to seeke me; as I could not helpe thee to make me. For, I was lost my selfe, not on­ly in my selfe, but also in my understanding: and I knew not, what directions to give for the finding of my selfe, because I knew not where I was. But since I have extracted from particulars, by the Chymistry of ex­perience; what a bottomlesse misery it is to be lost from thee: and what a solitary labour it is to seeke thee; now I have found thee, I will hold thee with my heart, and with both my hands and armes; and I will not let thee goe. The soule being now close in the armes of her Beloved, must exercise her spirituall acts in a more perfect manner. Let me kisse that middle wound, that hath foure lesser wounds to waite up­on it: O those blessed Quires of Angels! they sing marvellously well. But when they have sung over all their songs, no musicke is like to Davids Harp, the old instrument of ten strings; to wit, the keeping of the ten Commandements: by the which, Gods holy will is performed. This All-seeing providence, that all over-flowing good­nesse, that immensity, this infinity. Lord, Lord, whither goe I? I am quite swallow­ed [Page 314] up. No tongue can speake it. Doe what pleaseth thee. O most good, and most great, whose greatnesse doth most shine in good­nesse. O God, who can fadome thy eterni­ty? And now, I cannot hold up my eyes. I must needs fall fast asleepe.

CHAP. XVIII.

I Know what will happen to many of my Readers. What I have wrote, will put nature to the start, and a little fright the soule. And therefore, it will worke in them awhile, though at length, weakly and re­missely. But other passages pressing upon them, passages of mirth, of businesse; it will grow colder and colder in them, weare away, and after awhile, be quite forgot: the Devill hammering out by little and little, a golden wedge with one of a base metall. If the seed hath not fell upon good ground, thus it will be with them. And then let them thinke of me, and remember, that I foretold them, what would happen. Ae­thiops in balneum niger intrat, saith Saint Gregory, niger egreditur: The Aethiopian goes blacke into the Bath, and comes again, blacke out of it. The Prophet David hath a divine expression: If he turne not, he will Psal. 7. 12. whet his sword, meaning God: hee hath bent [Page 315] his bowe, and made it ready. Whom doe we strike with a sword? him that is nigh us. Whom shoote with a bow? one a farre off. Who is nigh God? the old man. For by the course of nature, hee is neare death. Who seemes to be farre off? the young man: but God can reach him with his bow. Lord helpe us. We are farre gone. We cannot learne that which God taught from the beginning of the world: And when people began to multiply, taught every day, and houre: And that which he most teaches of all that ever hee taught. And what is it? that here we have no continuing City, but seeke one to come. Heb. 13. 14 Could we sinfull creatures fore see our own ends, and the lamentable chances, that lie watching for us, as we passe by such a day, and such an houre; the hardest of us would weepe: let us weepe then, for the cause of all our misery, our execrable sinnes. Christ wept over Jerusalem, because he saw the hearts, and fore-saw the ends of all the people in the City. He saw▪ perhaps one, stretched out with pride, that should, after two months, die like a Dog in a ditch. He saw another pawning his very soule for honour, that should not live out the fourth part of a yeare to enjoy it. What silly fooles the Devill makes us? Here he saw one catch­ing [Page 316] and scraping for mony, that he was cer­tain should be call'd to a strict account, and cast into Hell, within the short space of a month. There another, cheering up & pam­pering his flesh with dainties, and still the tother cup, that the wormes were within lesse then seven dayes, to enter upon. Here he heard one swearing and tearing God, the holy name of God: and there presently, he heard God also swearing, in his wrath, that he should not enter into his rest. And here another, venting as many lies as sentences; while he heard God say, cut him off, let him speake no more: it is my course: for the longer he lives, he will be the more wicked. He might see two goe reeling in their drunkennesse; one of whom the same night, should break his necke from a win­dow; and the other be stab'd to death in a riot. Two more following the vile mo­tions of their owne filthy lusts, and in league with base women, that the same weeke should cut their purses, and throats together. He saw the greatest part of them, pursuing earnestly their owne sinfull desires, and either diseases gathering to a head in­wardly in their bodies; or Gods judge­ments outwardly mustering their forces to send them to Hell out of hand. These mournefull passages Christ saw, and being [Page 317] very sorry to see them wept. He pronoun­ces the sentence of destruction against the City, and he weepes while he does it. Hinc illae lacrymae, Hence came those teares. He wept not, put on with the thought of his owne passion, though very nigh, but of their destruction. And therefore he sayes, Daughters of Jerusalem, weepe not for mee, for whom then, Lord? but weepe for your selves, and for your children. Doe we love our children, our pretty little Babes? let us weep for our sins, that we may not weepe for them. And can we see Christ weep him that died for us weep, and not offer our ser­vice to wipe the teares from his eyes? Saint Gregorie Nazianzen rapt out of himselfe in consideration of the poore condition of the poore, cried out, [...], O my dainties, and their misery! And thus we may cry of the soules in Hell; of some of our friends, and neigh­bours, that died lately: O our joy, our quiet, and their miserable torments! which we ought not to pity, which God pities not. When I have wrote all I can write, I feare, all will end here. There is a blessed repose in God for good men, and a cursed prison for wicked livers. But we are so busie in the world betwixt both, that we have no time to thinke of either, to looke upwards [Page 318] or downewards. Yet know, that we can­not stay betwixt both forever. We are cer­tainely appointed for one, where we must reside for ever and ever.

Good Reader, stand firme against the Devill, and against his two Factours, the Flesh, and the World. Beware, you that thinke your selves to be morall men and women, of little sinnes. Of sinnes, little in our weake estimation, because they canker not our credits, nor cast upon us the staine of wicked livers. Doe wee give to our endeavours in their commissi­on, a command to please God or men? Saint Austin speakes like himselfe: Noli quotidiana peccata contemnere, quia minima sunt; sed time, quia plura sunt: Plerunque minimae bestiae, si multae sint, necant: Doe not contemne thy daily sinnes, because they are small; but feare them, because they are many. Small beasts, if they bee many, many times kill. And the smallest sinne that can be committed, but once com­mitted, troubles exceedingly, and offends the most cleane cleare eyes of God. If you are still obstinate, the Devill is more good then you, the blacke Devill of Hell. For Grace is not offered to him, and therefore, he cannot lay hold upon it. It is offered to you with entreaties, and you refuse it. And [Page 319] moreover, the Devill is confirmed in his ob­stinacie, you are not. God invites you, I am sure of it, I am sure I came from him. The Angels and Saints from Heaven; all the chosen of God from all parts of the world, pray you; as very desirous of your company. The holy Church entreats you: for I came likewise from her, to you. Lissen to your thoughts, marke there: your own poore soules beseech you, trembling like the Hart shot neare the heart, and strucke with the fear of eternall damnation: crying to you, we were made for God. O put us into his hands. Our hearts are very sicke of a very dangerous disease, worse then the Plague, chilnesse in Gods service. Let us write upon the dore in red letters, as they doe upon the dores of houses infect­ed with the Plague; the pen being dipt in the bloud of Christ, Lord, have mercie upon us. Yes, yes, have mercie upon us: and not for our sakes, not for our Fathers sakes, not for our Ancestors sakes, not for the Saints and Angels sakes, not for the Virgin Maries sake, but for Jesus Christ his sake.

CHAP. XIX.

EXtraordinary occasions require extra­ordinary proceedings.

CHAP. XX.

IN the first Chapter of Genesis, where the Vers. 2. Latins turne it Spiritus Domini ferebatur super aquas, the Spirit of God was carried upon the waters; the word in the Origi­nall, doth signifie, as Saint Hierome obser­veth, S Hierom. quaest. Hebr. incubabat, sat brooding; And I most heartily pray, that the Spirit of God may still sit brooding upon my heart, and bring forth the plentifull fruits of a true reforma­tion. And because I am a sinner, let the Angels sing hymnes, and praises in my be­halfe, to him, as Saint Gregory Nazianzen S. Greg. Nazian. in hymnis. deliciously singeth, [...], by whom are Hymnes, by whom are praises, by whom are the Quires of the Angels. And let every one that is a true lover of God, that is sound at [Page 333] heart; give out, from the inwards of his heart and soule, with an Eccho, Amen. And keepe safe in his minde, that golden saying of a sober Councell; Multa enim bona facit Concil. 2. Arausic. c. 20. in bomine, sine homine Deus: sed nihil boni fa­cit homo, quod non faciat Deus, ut faciat homo: Many good things God workes in man, without man: But man doth no good thing, which God is not the cause, that man is the cause of. Let us ponder alwayes; that in all the Psalmes, used in divine ser­vice, still the burden of the song is; Glory be the Father, and to the Sonne, and to the holy Ghost, As it was in the beginning. And why, As it was in the beginning? Because, the Church acknowledging her extreme want of sufficiencie, to glorifie God according to the just exigence of his greatnesse; or to adde the smallest point to his perfection: desireth to give him the glory, which he had in the beginning before the world: declaring, that she is so farre contented, and pleased with him, and it; that if he were now deprived of it, and it were in her gift, she would re­store it againe to him, as to the most wor­thy, which is in a manner, to give it him. And let us all imitate the Prophet David, Ps. 115. 1. who cryeth, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory. Pray marke his carriage: He thrusteth glory from himselfe, [Page 334] and creatures, Not unto us O Lord. And as if it did not yet stand farre enough; thrusting it with the other hand, he saith; Not unto us. And then with both hands, thrusting it home to the right owner, he speakes home; but, unto thy name give glory. That glory may be well, and fully given to God; God must give it to himselfe. And the same holy Pro­phet, who spake, as he liv'd, after Gods owne heart: stirring us up with all his art, and his heart to praise God in all sorts of instru­ments, that the Quire might be full; and as if the straine were not yet high enough: in the end, as it were falling down for want of breath, with the Nightingale; after the long varying of her delicate notes, sends forth in a faint, but a forced manner, his last words; Let every thing that hath breath, praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord. As if he should have added. For, I have none; I am out of breath. And so, being spent himselfe, he laid the charge upon others. And therefore, Praise ye the Lord.