<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
<TEMPHEAD>
<REVDESCR>
<CHANGE>
<DATE>2014-07-28</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Simon Charles</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed.</ITEM>
</CHANGE>
</REVDESCR>
</TEMPHEAD>
<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="OX" ID="B11806">
<STC T="S">3902</STC>
<STC T="C">S105902</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99841627</BIBNO>
<VID>176965</VID>
</IDG>
<GROUP>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>THE LIFE OF THE REVEREND FA. ANGEL OF IOYEVSE CAPVCIN PREACHER. Sometimes Duke, Peere, and Mar&s;hall of France, and Gouernour for the Kinge in Languedoc. Together with the liues of the Reuerend Fa|thers, Father Bennet Englishman, and Father Archangell Scotchman, of the &s;ame Ordere.</P>
<P>Written fir&s;t in the Frenche tongue, and now Tran&s;lated into Engli&s;h by R. R. Catholique Prie&s;t.</P>
<P><FIGURE>
<FIGDESC>christogram</FIGDESC>
<Q>IHS</Q>
</FIGURE></P>
<P>AT DOVAY, For IOHN HEIGHAM. With per|mi&s;&s;ion of Superiors, Anno 1623.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="dedication">
<PB REF="2" MS="y">
<PB REF="2" MS="y">
<HEAD>TO THE REVEREND AND RELIGIOVS MOTHER CLARA MARIANA, RIGHT WORTHIE ABBESSE OF THE POORE CLARES of Grauelinge.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_VERY REVEREND AND VERTVOVS</HI> Mother, hauing a purpo&s;e ac|cording to the v&s;ual maner of others, who publish any treati&s;e, to pre&s;ent it to the gracefull acceptaunce of &s;ome qualifyed per&s;on, I haue made choice of you for a Patrone&s;&s;e of this booke, whoe haue engaged your &s;elfe by the bands of the &s;ame holy religion, to render all due honour, and re&s;pect to the&s;e noble per&s;ons, who haue borne the &s;tandard of the Cro&s;&s;e, &s;oe coura|giou&s;ly,
<PB REF="3"> vnder the colours of S Fran|cis. And indeed your life, &amp; the liues of your vertuous &s;i&s;ters, are framed &amp; in&s;tituted according to the &s;ame rule, and in &s;ome things (be it &s;poken to Gods glory, and the co~fortable hope of your reward, if yee per&s;euere in wel doing) notwith&s;tanding the weake|nes, and tendernes of your &s;exe, yee goe beyond them in embracing the cro&s;&s;e by mortifications, and au&s;teri|ties. For be&s;ides the wearing of haire-cloth, sharpe di&s;ciplines, freque~t me|ditations, dayly mentall and vocall prayers, lying vpon a cold and hard &s;trawbed, without &s;tripping your &s;el|ues of your cour&s;e and poore cloths yee weare, ri&s;ing at midnight to ma|tins which things are co~mon to you both, yee doe al&s;oe ob&s;erue perpetual ab&s;tinence from flesh, and eate but
<PB REF="3"> one poore meale in a daye, and be&s;ide yee are allwayes murd vp within the foure walles of your mona&s;tery. To which ob&s;eruations Capucins are not obliged for iu&s;t cau&s;es, for that their labour in &s;tudies, their preaching, &amp; in&s;tructing of others, can not &s;ub&s;i&s;t with them.</P>
<P>And becau&s;e among you, the grea|te&s;t part is &s;pro~g from noble &amp; prin|cipall hou&s;es in our country, I doubt not but the view &amp; con&s;ideration of their noble per&s;ons, will prouoke you to goe forward in your holy vocatio~, without the lea&s;t faynting; which I &s;peake, not as doubting at your re&s;o|lution and &s;trength giuen to you by him, whoe &s;pake by the mouth of his Prophet for a&s;&s;ura~ce of &s;uch as ye are. <HI>E&s;aiae.</HI> 40.31. <HI>Children shall faint and la|bour, &amp; youngmen shall fall by infirmitie.</HI>
<PB REF="4"> But they that hope in our Lord, shal chaunge their &s;trength. They <HI>shall take winges as eagles.</HI> They <HI>shall run|ne, and not labour, they shall walke, and not faynt.</HI> Yet good examples of tho&s;e whom yee affect more then your owne naturall brethren (for the bonds of grace doe tye fa&s;ter in loue then the bands of nature) &s;erue for an incitement, and encouragement to you in going on well, in de&s;pite of all &s;ini&s;tre &s;ugge&s;tion of him whoe &s;ee|keth to &s;upplant all tho&s;e that runne as yee doe, that yee may obtaine &s;uch an incorruptible crowne. And if the examples of your owne &s;exe preuaile more with you, I knowe yee are well &s;tored with them, &s;oe that it should be vnnece&s;&s;arie to put you in mind of them otherwi&s;e, then by a ble&s;&s;ed co~|memoratio~ of them. I will only point at the fir&s;t noble Dames from whom
<PB REF="4"> you deriue your &s;elues by true de&s;ce~t. Was not the ble&s;&s;ed mother of God, the great Lady and mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, of that holy vow of virginitie which yee ma|ke? whoe as S. Aug. noteth, euident|lie prooued it by her aun&s;were made vnto the Angel, bringing her the ty|dings of conceauing the Sonne of God. Which was: <HI>How shall this be done becau&s;e I knowe not man? Luc.</HI> 1.34. For she wold not haue asked &s;uch a que&s;tion how a woman should beare a &s;onne promi&s;ed to her, if she had marryed meaning to haue carnal co|pulation. <HI>S. Aug. cap.</HI> 4. <HI>de virg.</HI> Next in holy &s;cripture, thoughe the pro|phete&s;&s;e Anne was not a virgin, yet she liued after her husbands death in the &s;tate of holy widow hood, and true deuout cha&s;titie, and <HI>departed not from the temple by fa&s;ting, &amp; prayers
<PB REF="5"> &s;eruing night and daye: Luc.</HI> 2.37. whoe was a liuely paterne of that life which yee profe&s;&s;e, in that yee dwell conti|nuallie in Gods hou&s;e, praying night and day, and offering your prayers accompanied with co~tinual fa&s;tings.</P>
<P>Now becau&s;e the thrice ble&s;&s;ed Virgin, and the prophete&s;&s;e Anne, did liue &s;ingle, and &s;eque&s;tred from o|ther companie (for in the beginning of regeneration, as in the beginnings of humane generation, there was no multitude to be found) yet within few yeares after, there was a conuent <HI>of holy Virgins to be found, of whom the &s;cripture maketh mention:</HI> &s;oe that your conuentuall life, hath &s;prong from the pure fountaine of Gods word (which I note by the way, for the in|&s;truction of tho&s;e that are afrayd without cau&s;e of traditions of the
<PB REF="5" MS="y"> church of God) and hath bene euer &s;ince deduced to this age. Doe we not read that Philipp the Ea~ugeli&s;t (that is a preacher as S. Paul al&s;o writeth to Timothie. <HI>Act.</HI> 21.9. Doe the worke of an Euangeli&s;t) <HI>had foure daughters Virgins in his hou&s;e, which did prophecie?</HI> In wich foure virgins, were con&s;ecra|ted the fir&s;t fruits of deuout Virgins. Vpon which place <HI>S. Hierome,</HI> that graue and learned patron of Virgi|nitie noteth, that this was in Cae&s;a|rea. <HI>In qua ex gentibus Eccle&s;ia per centu|rionem Cornelium fuerat dedicata, etiam virginum puellarum praeberet exempla. Hieron. lib.</HI> 1. <HI>cont. Iouin.</HI> That Cae&s;a|rea in which place the church was de|dicated by the centurion Cornelius, might al&s;o yeeld examples of mayde~ Virgins. As thoughe he wold haue &s;ayd, which he &s;peaketh in an other
<PB REF="6"> place in the &s;ame booke that it was a thing mo&s;t requi&s;it, that <HI>Monile Ec|cle&s;iae talibus gemmis decoraretur,</HI> that the chaine which the &s;pou&s;e of Chri&s;t doth weare, should be adorned with &s;uch gemmes, and pearles.</P>
<P>Heerin certes our poore countrie hath great cau&s;e of comfort, that al|though yee, and other virgins of o|ther orders of relig on (for the Queene, which is the church, in golden rayment is compa&s;&s;ed w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">th variety) can not &s;erue God at home in religious hou&s;es by rea&s;on of the difficulties of the time, yet doe yee in number dayly encrea&s;e, and clad with the garments of him to whom yee haue e&s;pou&s;ed your &s;elues, to witt the garments of myrrhe, aloes, and Ca&s;&s;ia (which are mortification, hu|militie, and &s;anctification) yee make
<PB REF="6"> your hou&s;es shine as though they were of yuorie, &amp; becoming daugh|ters of the king of kings, yee haue delighted him in the honour yee giue him. Which is by lifting vp pure harts and hands continuallie to hea|uen. And now although there be a chaos of &s;ea betweene you and your deare countrye, yet is it not &s;uch as was betweene Abraham, and the rich man in the Go&s;pel: and therfore yee mu&s;t per&s;euere in all patience, and at|tend. <HI>Donec mi&s;ereatur Deus,</HI> till God take pitie of vs. For albeit God (who&s;e iudgements are vn&s;ercheable) doth remooue farre from our eyes any great hope of rai&s;ing the walles of Sion, in that manner as they &s;tand and flourish in Catholique contries, yet cea&s;e not yee to importune him with your holy prayers, and hope
<PB REF="7"> again&s;t hope, knowing that God is able to ray&s;e vp children to Abraham out of verie &s;tones, and per&s;uade your &s;elues, that your prayers shall not returne emptye. Sing with the Pro|phet Dauid. <HI>Turne our captiuitie o Lord as a torrent in the &s;outh. P&s;alm.</HI> 125.4. and doubt not but after your &s;owing in teares, yee shall reape in ioyfulnes. How&s;oeuer yee goe weeping, and ca&s;ting &s;eeds, yet in the end shal yee come forth with exultation, carying your sheaues, at the lea&s;t into that heauenlie barne, where pure wheate is &s;euered from all chaffe, and dro&s;&s;e. Now good Mother, and deare &s;i&s;|ters, if I haue afforded you anie com|fort by this &s;mall paines I haue ta|ken, as I hope in your charitie yee will not denie &s;oe much to me, let me for my recompence be made
<PB REF="7"> partaker of your deuotions, in re|commending me to our B. Sauiour, and his holy Mother, to whom I will not cea&s;e to commend you like|wi&s;e in my poore prayers, being euer.</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Your deuoted &s;eruant and freind R. R. C. P.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="preface">
<PB REF="8">
<HEAD>THE PREFACE.</HEAD>
<P>_LEt it not &s;eeme &s;traunge to thee (deare Reader) that the liues of the&s;e three ble&s;&s;ed religious men &s;hould be publi|&s;hed in our tongue: wheras we are &s;oe well &s;tored with &s;uch admirable examples of aun|cient glorious &s;aincts, martyrs, and confe&s;&s;ours of our nation, whoe as beyond all exception haue bene e&s;teemed for &s;uch by the generall voice of Gods Church, and haue &s;hined in miracles for the more euident proofe of their &s;anctitie and pie|tie. But as it is noe empeachement to the glory, and beautie of tho&s;e &s;tarres, which in greatnes, and light farre exceed others, to haue round a|bout them on euery &s;ide other le&s;&s;er &s;tarres, who&s;e light, vertue, and influence is not comparable to theirs, yea rather they are made more glorious, and the heauens are more beautified by this gra|cefull variety of greater, and le&s;&s;er lights: &s;oe is it not inconuenient to produce fre&s;h &s;hining lam|pes, and to &s;ett them vpon candel&s;ticks to giue light in the hou&s;e of God (which is his holy church) e&s;pecially if they be of the &s;ame cele|&s;tiall &s;ub&s;tance, lu&s;tre, and vertue; yea I wi&s;h that as &s;uch &s;tarres are di&s;couered dayly in our Ori|zon, there were &s;ome or other &s;pirituall &s;tarre-be|holder, that would point them out to the view of the world: by which meanes their brightnes might not only giue comfort to tho&s;e whoe be|hold them, but their &s;weet influence, and vertue
<PB REF="8"> might be deriued to others.</P>
<P>And &s;ithence there be pre&s;ented to vs remouing only the vayle of a &s;traunge tongue, which coue|red them and kept them from our fight. I thought it not ami&s;&s;e to drawe this curtaine, and become the authours tran&s;latour, which I haue endea|uoured to doe plainly, and truely, thoughe not &s;oe elegantly, and plentifully as the authour ex|pre&s;&s;eth him&s;elfe in his owne conception.</P>
<P>And I thought fitt to publi&s;h this the rather for the comfort of Catholiques, who maie reioy|ce and ble&s;&s;e God, that it plea&s;ed him &s;till to per|fume his holy church with the &s;weet odour of &s;uch examples, and to continue that precious ointment of his holy &s;pirit, which fell vpon the head and &s;houlders of our fir&s;t forefathers of the primitiue ages, and deriue it to the skirts and hems of the garments, running downe &s;oe fre|quently and plentifully vpon many of this barren, and vnfruitfull age, and principally vpon tho&s;e whoe can &s;ay with the prophet. <HI>Iuraui &amp; status custodire iudicia iu&s;titiae tuae. P&s;alm.</HI> 118. <HI>v.</HI> 106. I &s;ware and haue determined to keepe the iudge|ment of thy iu&s;tice: and for more &s;peedy perfor|mance of holie vowes, and godly re&s;olution, de&s;|pi&s;e all things created and followe their creatour with &s;uch feruour.</P>
<P>I doe al&s;o reque&s;t our aduer&s;aries in religion to con&s;ider well, <HI>if the tree be knowen by the fruit, Math.</HI> 12. <HI>v.</HI> 33. as our Sauiour teacheth vs, whe|ther they ought not, mauger their malice to our
<PB REF="9"> religion, to commend that tree which bringeth forth &s;uch fruit. This is a marke plaine, and eui|dent to the &s;en&s;e, where it is al&s;oe &s;aid. <HI>Ex fructi|bus eorum cogno&s;cetis eos. Math.</HI> 7.20. By their fruits yee &s;hall knowe them. Soe that we may &s;afely holde it for an irrefragable truth, that true faith, and religion worketh in them that frame their liues according to the rule of their beleife, true puritie and piety, expre&s;&s;ed and te&s;tified out|wardly by good workes, that others &s;eeing them may glorifie their Father, which is in heauen. This matter is &s;oe worthy due con&s;ideration, that I doe earne&s;tly be&s;eech, tho&s;e whoe are morall men among our countrimen, and loue vertue, and goodnes out of the inclination of good nature, and per&s;wade them&s;elues that they haue a perfect hate, and dete&s;tation of vice, to examine this point betwene God, and their owne &s;oule, as in|differently as they can, by commending them&s;el|ues to God in &s;implicitie of hart for this end, to knowe the truth, to examine, I &s;aie whether Catholique religion hath not better precepts and rules wherby to order our life in the feare of God, and loue of our neighbour, then theirs hath.</P>
<P>And &s;econdly I be&s;eech them to con&s;ider, whe<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> they haue any amo~g them comparable to Catho|liques in all Chri&s;tian vertue charitie, humilitie, patience, obedience, mode&s;tie, cha&s;titie, con|tempt of the world and mortification of the fle&s;h and the concupi&s;cence therof, all which are to be &s;eene in an eminent degree in the&s;e ble&s;&s;ed men.</P>
<PB REF="9">
<P>For the fir&s;t I knowe &s;ome Prote&s;tants will make noe que&s;tion but boldly affirme it, e&s;pecial|lie tho&s;e whoe doe not well reflect vpon the rule of their owne faith, and will not take time to examine the precepts of Catholike religion, tran&s;|ported with a pa&s;&s;ionate preiudice again&s;t it, which is al&s;oe &s;trengthened by their nurture and long cu&s;tome. And to doe them noe wrong in &s;peaking this in generall termes, where there may be fraude and calumniation &s;eque&s;ted without more expre&s;&s;e &s;pecifying, I will de&s;cend to a more particular paralleling, and comparing of the one with the other, and touch it breifly in 2. or 3. points. Fir&s;t the Prote&s;ta~ts teach <HI>(a)</HI> that faith only doth iu&s;tifie, and that good workes haue noe part in iu&s;tification. A principle mo&s;t pernicious, and not only oppo&s;ite to the expre&s;&s;e words of holy &s;cripture which &s;aith. <HI>Doe you &s;ee that by workes a man is iustified and not by faith only?</HI> But in his owne nature ouerthrowing good workes, and breeding a dul drow&s;ines in tho&s;e that haue this di&s;ea&s;e in their braine, that they need not waken and rouze them&s;elues vp to doe any &s;uch workes which are not better prized, and valued in the pre&s;ence of God, to who&s;e honour &amp; glory they be principally directed. Neither is it any meruaile if their faith which is a <HI>&s;ick mans dreame,</HI> doth va|ni&s;h awaie into nothing, it being but a conceited application of the iu&s;tice of Chri&s;t grounded vpon their mere frothy imaginatio~: &s;oe that when they come to wake out of this dreame either by Gods
<PB REF="10"> mercy in awayting them in this world, or ouer ta|king them by his iudgement in the next, they be like to the rich men of whom the Prophet Dauid &s;peaketh. <HI>Dormierunt &s;omnum &s;uum &amp; nihil inu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">|nerunt in manibus &s;uis.</HI> They &s;lept their &s;leepe, and found nothing in their hands. <HI>(a) Luth. in Gal.</HI> 2. <HI>tom.</HI> 5. <HI>fol.</HI> 305. <HI>Apologia Confes. August. cap. de iu|&s;tificat. Caluin. in Gal.</HI> 2. <HI>v.</HI> 16. <HI>&amp; alij omnes. S. Ioan.</HI> 2. <HI>v.</HI> 24. <HI>P&s;alm.</HI> 75. <HI>v.</HI> 6.</P>
<P>The &s;eco~d principle is, (b) that euery one which hath this beleife, and apprehendeth the iu&s;tice of Chri&s;t as his owne, is certainly &s;aued, and he is bound to beleiue it as vndoubtedly that he is one of Gods elect, as he doth beleiue Chri&s;t to be God, and to raigne in glory with his Father. Can this wonderfull pre&s;umption, and &s;traunge con|fidence &s;tand with that awefull honour and reue|rence due to Gods diuine maie&s;tie, whoe tea|cheth vs by the mouth of his holy Apo&s;tle Saint Paul, <HI>to worke our &s;aluation with feare and trem|bling?</HI> Will a &s;onne which can not be disinherited by his Father, be &s;oe carefull not to offend his Fa|ther, as when he knoweth by offending him grei|uou&s;ly he incureth hazard of loo&s;ing his enheri|taunce. I &s;hould neuer make an end, if I &s;hould recite the many dangerous gaps, which are ope|ned to all vice and &s;inne by their doctrine; As that which they hold al&s;o for a fundamentall point, to wit, that it is (c) impo&s;&s;ible to keepe Gods com|mandements, and con&s;equently noe obligation is impo&s;ed vpon them for that end: that (d) al good
<PB REF="10"> workes are in the~&s;elues &s;innes, though they pro|ceed fro~ Gods grace as the fountaine, &amp; &s;oe mu&s;t be odious in them&s;elues, &amp; abominable to God. <HI>(b) Bucerus in Colloq. Ratisbon. Caluin. lib.</HI> 3. <HI>in&s;tit. cap.</HI> 1. &sect; 16. <HI>&amp;</HI> 40. <HI>Petrus. Martyr common. in cap.</HI> 8. <HI>ad Roman.</HI> 2. <HI>Corin.</HI> 7.15. <HI>(c) Luth. delibert. Christ. tom.</HI> 2. <HI>fol.</HI> 4. <HI>Caluin. in Aeneid. Concil. Trident. &s;e&s;s.</HI> 10. <HI>cap.</HI> 12. <HI>pag.</HI> 284. <HI>Daneus controuers. de bapti&s;mo cap</HI> 15. <HI>pag.</HI> 389. <HI>&amp; alij pa&s;sim. (d) de captiuit. Babyl. fol.</HI> 80. <HI>&amp; in A&s;&s;ert. Artic.</HI> 31. <HI>fol.</HI> 109. <HI>Caluin lib.</HI> 3. <HI>Inst. cap.</HI> 17. &sect;. 1. <HI>Iunius controu.</HI> 4. <HI>lib.</HI> 3. <HI>cap.</HI> 2.</P>
<P>The Catholique doctrine teacheth vs an other path, which though it be more narrowe, and &s;traight as the way to heauen is, yet is it a direct and certaine truth: for it in&s;tructeth vs that good workes mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arily accompanie faith, that doing good workes in purity of a good con&s;cien|ce, we maie haue a great and comfortable hope of attayning heauen, that being &s;trengthened with Gods grace, we are able to keepe Gods holy commandements, and that by the vnction of his holy &s;pirit this burden is made light, &amp; this yoke &s;weete: that good workes are &s;oe farre from being odious in his &s;ight, that they are meritorious and &s;hall be rewarded which that, <HI>euge &s;erue bone quia in pauca fuisti <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">delis &s;upra multa te constituam,</HI> well fare thee good, and faithfull &s;eruant, becau&s;e thou ha&s;t bene faithfull ouer a few things, I will place thee ouer many things, enter into the ioye of thy Lord. There are many Catholique bookes which doe treat mo&s;t amply the&s;e de&s;tructiue points of
<PB REF="11"> our Aduer&s;aries doctrine, not only repugnant to &s;upernaturall light of truth reuealed to vs, but al&s;oe to the light of naturall rea&s;on, which al|though it be dimme and weake in compari&s;on of the &s;upernatural, yet hath it nothing directly con|contrarie or oppo&s;ite to it. For what is more vn|rea&s;onable, then that God which is the fountaine of all goodnes, &amp; illuminateth euery one which cometh into the world, and hath made man ac|cording to this owne image and likenes in his &s;oule, and free will, and endowed him with his grace purcha&s;ed by his &s;ons merits after, he had deliuered him out of the hands of his enemy, to whom he had made him&s;elfe captiue by &s;inne, &s;hould notwith&s;tanding leaue him &s;o woun|ded and infe&s;ted, that he &s;hould &s;inne mortally in all his be&s;t workes, and that all his pious en|deauours, and trauailes, all mortifications of con|cupi&s;cence, acts of charitie, cha&s;titie, and humi|litie and other Chri&s;tian vertues, &s;hould haue no|thing in them&s;elues, but the corruption of dead|lie poi&s;on.</P>
<P>I doubt not but the&s;e things &s;ound &s;oe har&s;h in the eares of any indifferent man, that he will hardly beleiue them at the fir&s;t, till he reade, and &s;ee the bookes of his owne Rabbins, which &s;toutely defend the&s;e horrible paradoxes.</P>
<P>And nowe will I de&s;cend to the liues of reli|gious men, by which the former point is al&s;oe prooued, that Catholique religion is the true naturall, and nour&s;ing mother of good life.
<PB REF="11"> The&s;e are they whoe haue entered into a more &s;traight waye of perfection, and therfore, when their liues are aun&s;uerable to their profe&s;&s;ion (as God be thanked there is a great multitude of &s;uch) are much honoured and re&s;pected by Ca|tholiques, whoe by vertue of this approbation are al&s;oe made fellowe members with them, and participant of their prayers, and merits. But to proceed with our aduer&s;aries, and to manife&s;t yet more their hate to pietie and vertue, Doe they not I pray you, &s;cornefully reiect, and condemne this maner of life as &s;uper&s;titious? Doe they not labour to make it odious, and abominable? Therfore that it may not &s;eeme &s;o hydeous in the&s;e ble&s;&s;ed men, that I my make their acce&s;&s;e more ea&s;ie euen among the&s;e which would crye them downe with loude hooting, giue me leaue to pre&s;ent to thy eyes (deare Reader) their ble&s;|&s;ed predece&s;&s;ours, whom the holy booke of God hath marked out, and left vs their memorie as worthy to be enrolled and regi&s;tred to all ages. <HI>Num.</HI> 6. <HI>n.</HI> 2. 3. To beginne with the Naza|rites, who&s;e vowes in ob&s;eruing certain thinges not commaunded were e&s;teemed mo&s;t holy, and acceptable in Gods &s;ight, of whom &s;ome &s;egre|gated them&s;elues from the ordinarie &s;tate of people for a tyme, and to be limited by the par|ties them&s;elues, &s;ome were perpetual as Samp|&s;on. What doe Nazarites &s;ignifie as S. Gregory, well noteth in his 33. booke of his morals, and the 23. chapter? <HI>But tho&s;e that voluntarily ab&s;teyne
<PB REF="12"> from things otherwi&s;e lawefull,</HI> as from eating fle&s;h eather for certaine daye and times, or altogether, from marriage, from propriety in worldly goods, and the like.</P>
<P>Are not the&s;e al&s;oe directly intimated in the 33. of Deuteronomie, where the perfection and doctrine of the holy man of Leui is de&s;cribed. <HI>He that &s;ayd to his father and mother, I know you not,</HI> and to his brethren I knowe you not, and they knowe not their children, the&s;e kept thy word, ob&s;erued thy couenant, thy iudgements o Jacob, and thy lawe o I&s;rael, they &s;hall putt <HI>incen&s;e in thy furie, and Holocau&s;t vpon thine altar.</HI> And the Prophet Dauid. <HI>P&s;al.</HI> 44. <HI>v.</HI> 11. alludeth heerunto by waye of exhortation to this perfec|tion. <HI>Audi filia &amp;c.</HI> Heare o daughter, and encline thyne eare, and forget thy fathers hou&s;e.</P>
<P>May we not &s;ay truly that Helias, Heli&s;aeus, and S. Iohn Bapti&s;t ledd this kind of life, and were for it reputed of eminent &s;anctitie, and pietie? The children of the prophets are &s;tyled by S. Hierome, the monkes of the old te&s;tament. <HI>Filij prophetarum quos monachos in veteri testamento legimus &amp;c. S. Hier. in epist. ad Ru&s;ticum.</HI> The chil|children of the prophets, whom we reade to be the monkes in the old te&s;tament, liued neare the brookes of Iordan, vpon barly floure and wild herbes.</P>
<P>The &s;trict liues of the&s;e holy men haue cau&s;ed &s;uch an hartburning in the fir&s;t newe Go&s;pellers that they &s;ought all wayes po&s;&s;ible, and v&s;ed all
<PB REF="12"> the &s;hifts they could inuent to di&s;gui&s;e this truth. It would be too long to in&s;i&s;t much heerin, I will only point at their expo&s;itions vpon the fir&s;t chapter of S. Marke, and the third of S. Mathew where S. Iohns holines of life is co~me~ded by the Euangeli&s;ts and for proofe of it, his hard, and roughe garments of camels haire, and his poore foode of locu&s;ts, and wild hony is repre&s;ented by them. Some of their newe glo&s;&s;ers will needes haue men beleiue, that this &s;ort of garment, was but &s;uch as poore countrie men wore, and &s;ome others that it was a fine kind of garment which we call chamblett, which may become a mi|ni&s;ter more then of an ordinary ranke to weare. <HI>Naratus in &s;ua catena. Dauid Chytreus in</HI> 3. <HI>cap. Ma|thaei.</HI></P>
<P>And Caluin in his harmonie &s;aith of Catholi|ques. <HI>Quod perfectam fer&egrave; iu&s;titiam in externis laruis constituunt &amp; quod finxerunt Ioannem in vita &s;oli|taria abhorrui&s;&s;e a communi viuendi more &s;icut eremi|tae, &amp; monachi.</HI> That Catholiques do put in a man|ner perfect iu&s;tice in externall vi&s;ards, and that they haue feyned, that Iohn in a &s;olitary kind of life was farre from the common manner of liuing, as Eremits and Monkes. Will they beleiue our Sauiours te&s;timony of him, whoe commended him for his &s;trictnes in cloathing and nouri&s;hing him&s;elfe? <HI>Quid existis, &amp;c. Math.</HI> 11. <HI>v.</HI> 13. What went ye out to &s;ee? A man cloathed with loft garments? Doth not he commend him for the contrary? And againe <HI>venit Ioannes Bapti&s;ta &amp;c.</HI>
<PB REF="13"> Iohn Bapti&s;t came nether eating bread nor drin|king wine, and ye &s;aie, He hath a Deuill: out of which place it is &s;ufficiently prooued that he liued &s;oe vpon locu&s;ts and wild honie, that he wholie ab&s;tained from bread and wine.</P>
<P>Howe often doth the holy &s;cripture com|mend the putting on of &s;ackcloth, as a worke of penaunce, wherby Gods wrath again&s;t &s;inne is appea&s;ed? And what is the religious habit of the&s;e men, but a garment of continuall penance, and humiliatio~ of them&s;elues, &s;oe that it may be truly &s;aide of them, <HI>&s;emper mortificationem Ie&s;u Chri&s;ti in corpore circumferunt.</HI> They beare alwaies about with them the mortification of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t. But with what di&s;daineful eyes doe Caluini&s;ts behold them? If your repre&s;ent to them our Sauiours wordes, <HI>Olim in cilicio &amp; cinere poenitentiam egi&s;&s;ent.</HI> They had heertofore done penance in &s;ackcloth, and a&s;hes. They wil aun&s;wer you out of the glo&s;&s;e of Caluin vpon that place. <HI>Poenitentia hic ab exter|nis &s;ignis de&s;cribitur, quorum tunc &s;olennis v&s;us erat in eccle&s;ia, non quod in hanc partem in&s;istat Christus, &s;ed quia ad vulgi captum &s;e inflectit.</HI> That penaunce is here de&s;cribed by outward &s;igne, becau&s;e there was a &s;olemne v&s;e of them in the church of God, not that Chri&s;t doth in&s;i&s;t in this part, but becau&s;e he enclineth him&s;elfe to the vulgar capacity. Doth he not blowe hote, and cold out of the &s;ame mouth? He is forced to &s;aie that it was a &s;olemne v&s;e, and cu&s;tome of Gods church, and yet that our Sauiour &s;peaketh it rather to conde&s;cend vnto
<PB REF="13"> the popular opinion, then that the thing of it &s;elfe is of any great worth, or value. The recitall of the&s;e mon&s;trous words &s;oe oppo&s;it to the practi&s;e of Gods holy church, and &s;oe &s;hamefully glo&s;|&s;ing and &s;hifting the wordes of him that is th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> wi&s;edome of his heauenly Father, and the truth it &s;elfe, may &s;erue, I hope, for a reproofe of &s;uch doctrine, and &s;ufficient confutation of &s;oe mani|fe&s;t a fal&s;hood.</P>
<P>I doe the more willingly enlarge my &s;elfe &s;om|what what in this matter, becau&s;e it maie appeare that Caluini&s;ts doe not only in practi&s;e, but al&s;oe in precept oppo&s;e the&s;e mortifications. Soe that as we behold them &s;welleing in &s;uch carnall doc|trine, we may iu&s;tly applie to them that which the holy Apo&s;tle doth fortell of carnal &s;educers. <HI>Quorum Deus venter e&s;t. Philip.</HI> 3.19. And then why maie not the&s;e mockers of Catholiques for &s;uper&s;titio~ in the&s;e au&s;terities better de&s;erue to be taxed as Tertullian wittily and &s;harpely inueieth again&s;t them? <HI>Quorum Deus venterest, pulmo tem|plum est, aqualiculus altare, &s;acerdos coquus, cum tota charitas in cacabis feruet, tota fides in alienis calet, tota &s;pes in ferculis iacet. Tertulian contra py&s;ticon lib.</HI> 5. who&s;e God is their belly, their lungs are their temple, their guts is their altar, their prei&s;t is their cooke, who&s;e charitie boileth in ketrels, all their faith is heated in caldorns, all their hope is placed in their di&s;hes. I write not this to vp|braide all our aduer&s;aries with this manner of life, knowing well that there are many moderat
<PB REF="14"> morall, and &s;ober men among them, whoe are farre in practi&s;e from this epicuri&s;me, or rather be&s;tialitie, but I may affirme this for a truth, that their precepts, and rule of religion doe leade di|rectly to gourmandi&s;e, and belly cheare, wheras according to them, all refraining of meate, that we couett mo&s;t, though it be accompanied with obedience vnto our holy mother Gods church, is accounted impious, all orderly &s;ett fa&s;ts, reiected as &s;uperfluous, or rather as &s;uper&s;titious. But let not Catholiques be amated or di&s;couraged from practi&s;e of the&s;e things by their crie, and reproa|thes, but let euery one embrace them, not &s;hrin|king one inch in that &s;tation of life to which he is called, yea rather, as the prophet &s;peaketh in his owne per&s;on, or the per&s;on of our Sauiour pro|phetically touching his enemies. <HI>When they were trouble&s;ome to me, I did putt on cloth of haire, I hum|bled my &s;oule in fasting, P&s;al.</HI> 34.13. &s;oe ought Ca|tholiques humble them&s;elues the more, that their humiliation may be as a &s;acrifice offered to God, not only for them&s;elues, but euen for tho&s;e that out of blind ignorance or malice doe v&s;e &s;uch bit|ter exprobrations. And becau&s;e the liues of ble&s;|&s;ed men is principally to &s;tire vs vp to the imita|tion of their heroicall, and mo&s;t chri&s;tian vertues, let vs make that profitt, and benefitt of peru&s;ing them, that we follow them, not only in their &s;pi|rituall deuotions, and mortifications but al&s;o in &s;ome corporall exerci&s;es for the better witne&s;&s;ing of the other, both to our owne con&s;ciences, and
<PB REF="14"> for the edification of others. Let vs &s;ett before our eyes, the&s;e preachers, whoe to rou&s;e vs our of the lethargie of &s;inne, come vnto vs not vnlike tho&s;e witne&s;&s;es which &s;hall come in the time of Antichri&s;t (who as S. Iohn noteth) &s;hall pro|phecie. <HI>Cloathed in &s;ackloth, and in their whole cour&s;e of life did &s;ett their face to our Lord God to praie and be&s;eech him in fa&s;tings, &s;ackloth and ashes, Apoc.</HI> 11.3. <HI>Daniel.</HI> 9.3. and now after the winter &s;tormes which they endured &s;oe chearefully, and volun|tarily for Gods glory, and comfort of others, are entertayned by him which &s;ong that &s;weete &s;ong to his deare &s;pou&s;e <HI>&s;urge amica mea &amp; veni &amp;c. Can|tic.</HI> 2. <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">0. Ari&s;e make ha&s;t my loue, my doue, my beautifull one and come, for winter is nowe pa&s;t the rayne is gone, and departed, the flowers haue appeared in our land. And now they being exalted vpon high thrones in heauen, are made partakers of Chri&s;ts promi&s;e which he made to S. Peter, and to all that leaue all, and follow him. Amen I &s;aye to you: that ye which haue followed me in the regeneration, when the &s;onne of man &s;hall &s;itt in the &s;eate of maie&s;tie, ye &s;hall al&s;oe &s;ett vpon twelue &s;eates iudging the twelue tribes of I&s;rael. And euery one that hath left hou&s;e or bre|thren, or &s;i&s;ter, or Father, or Mother, or wife, or lands for my names &s;ake, &s;hall receaue an hun|dred fold, and &s;hall po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e life euerla&s;ting. Ther|fore I adui&s;e our deare countrimen, whoe haue an auer&s;ion from &s;uch religious men by the cor|rupt contagion of the&s;e times &s;uckt in from their
<PB REF="15"> cradle to purge them&s;elues from this bitter gall, and to forbeare all contemptuous deri&s;ion, lea&s;t they condemne them&s;elues to late when they &s;hall be forced to &s;aie. <HI>Hi &s;unt quos habuimus in de|ri&s;um, &amp; &s;imilitudinem improperij. Sap.</HI> 5. <HI>v.</HI> 3. The&s;e are they whome we had &s;ometimes in deri&s;ion, and in a parable of reproach. Behold howe they are counted among the children of God, and their lott is among the Saints.</P>
<P>And whiles they &s;hall be entreated but to &s;u&s;|pend their di&s;dainefull &s;entence, and to reade their liues with true candour, and indifferency, I doubt not, but after the reading they will change their note and &s;ay that they were &s;uch, of whom the world was not worthie, <HI>Heb.</HI> 11. <HI>v.</HI> 38. and that they &s;oe offered vp them&s;elues both in body and &s;oule vnto God, that they might &s;aie with the prophet. <HI>Quid mihi est in caelo, &amp; ae te quid volui &s;u|per terram? Deus cordis mei &amp; pars mea Deus in aeter|num.</HI> What is to me in heauen, and be&s;ides thee what would I vpon earth? God of my hart and portion for euer! <HI>P&s;al.</HI> 72.26.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="commendation">
<PB REF="15">
<HEAD>TWELVE POINTS BREIFLY SETT DOWNE in commendation of the rule of the Friars called Minours.</HEAD>
<P>_ALL rules of Religion approoued by Gods church, are good, holy, and per|fect, and are to leade the ob&s;eruers of them a&s;&s;uredly to perfection. But not|with&s;tanding &s;ome haue preeminence before o|thers, &amp; in &s;ome things al&s;oe inferiour to others becau&s;e al manner of perfections can not be found equally in the &s;ame place. <HI>Non omnis fert om|nia tellus.</HI> Euery &s;oyle doth not yeeld all man|ner of graine or fruit. The church doth appro|priat this &s;peech to euery &s;aint. <HI>Non e&s;t inuen|tus &s;imilis illi.</HI> Ther was not found his match: and it is true. For euery &s;aint hath had &s;ome particular grace of the holy ghost, and &s;ome pre|dominant qualitie, which others haue not had. In like ca&s;e may we truly &s;peake of &s;ome peculiar grace and perfection of euery particular rule of religion, which is not common to others.</P>
<PB REF="16">
<P>This rule is commendable.</P>
<LIST>
<ITEM>1. By rea&s;on of the authour in&s;pired, and &s;ent of God to publi&s;h it in his church. Who&s;e mi&s;sion was authori&s;ed by infinite miracles done by him, both before and after his death: and cheifly by that great miracle, a miracle of miracles, which was the impre&s;sion of tho&s;e holy &s;tigmes and markes.</ITEM>
<ITEM>2. By rea&s;on of the matter, and contents of it. For it doth not teach any other thing, then Apostolicall, and Euangelical life, &s;oe that it is an imitation of the life of Ie&s;us Christ, and of his Apostles, not only to preach, but al&s;oe in the manner of preaching the Go&s;pel.</ITEM>
<ITEM>3. By the approbation made miraculou&s;ly by holy Fathers by infinite declarations, and inter|pretations of the cheife Pa&s;tours and Bi&s;hops, &amp; likewi&s;e generall councels, whoe haue &s;oe highly e&s;teemed this rule, that they haue taken the paynes to explicat it as it is written at lenght. Which is not common to any other rule.</ITEM>
<ITEM>4. By rea&s;on of the breuitie, and fewnes of the precepts contayned in it: to witt, of &s;uch precepts as are ab&s;olute and doe oblige.</ITEM>
<ITEM>5. By rea&s;on of the great facilitie. It com|mandeth noe other thing in a manner, but &s;traight pouertie. For that is the principal marke it aymeth at.</ITEM>
<PB REF="16">
<ITEM>6. For antiquitie &s;ake, becau&s;e it is the most auncient rule among tho&s;e which profe&s;&s;e pouer|tie, with beggery.</ITEM>
<ITEM>7. By rea&s;on of the great multitude of tho&s;e whoe embrace this rule. For at this time only S. Frauncis &s;eemeth to haue more hou&s;es, and more &s;oldiours, whoe &s;erue vnder his banner, then all other orders together.</ITEM>
<ITEM>8. By rea&s;on of the &s;implicitie of the style. For euen as the auncie~t Fathers doe proue the truth of the holy &s;cripture by the lowline&s;&s;e and &s;im|plicitie of the style: &s;oe we may produce this con|&s;ideration in this rule which is compo&s;ed in &s;oe plaine a style, &s;oe naturall, and conformable to the Apostolicall &s;tyle, and &s;oe farre from curious words or humane prudence, that tho&s;e whoe reade it most &s;aye. <HI>This is the finger of God.</HI></ITEM>
<ITEM>9. It hath bene found &s;oe perfect and diuine, that many Religious haue made much v&s;e of it, and haue transferred many excellent precepts of <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t into their rules and constitutions.</ITEM>
<ITEM>10. By rea&s;on of the di&s;creetnes. For it is not <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">oe austere, and &s;oe rigid, as &s;ome would make <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t, but it applyeth it &s;elfe to the matter or &s;ub|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ect on which it vvorketh, remitting, and refer|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ing many things to the con&s;ciences of the Su|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">eriours.</ITEM>
<PB REF="17">
<ITEM>11. By rea&s;on of the creditt, and reputation it hath with &s;ecular men, of all &s;orts. Pouerty is not enuyed. And this is the cau&s;e of the multi|plication. For nature hath &s;oe ordayned, that the least creatures are most fruitfull, and the greatest barren and vnfruitfull.</ITEM>
<ITEM>12. By rea&s;on of the profitt which it brin|geth, not only to the Profe&s;&s;ors of it, but to the whole Christian world. For it hath yeel|ded great numbers of great Prelats, Doctours, Martyrs and Confe&s;&s;ours, and many other ex|cellent men, whoe haue bene great ornaments of the holy Churche.</ITEM>
</LIST>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="biography">
<PB N="1" REF="17">
<HEAD>THE LYFE OF THE REVEREND FATHER, F. ANGEL Ioyeu&s;e a Capuchin, and prea|cher: before his entrie into reli|gion, Duke Peere, and Marshal of France, and gouernour depu|ted by the king in Languedock.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his de&s;cent, and nobilitie. THE FIRST CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>_IT is no &s;mall honor, emong men, to be nobly borne, but yet it is farr more eminent in the pre&s;ence of god, when it is accompanied, with true vertue. Manie there ar who shine in the one, not with out great glorie and applau&s;e: but few of the~ attaine to the perfectio~ of the other.
<PB N="2" REF="18"> And yet notwith&s;tanding this worldlie and tran&s;itorie glorie, in compari&s;on of immortall (wherwith the ble&s;&s;ed &s;owles ar glorified) de|&s;erueth rather to be reputed a dreame, or a sha|dowe, then anie real qualitie. For it dependeth meerly vpon the opinion of mortall men, and &s;o con&s;equentlie quicklie dyeth, and fadeth: when &s;olid vertue who&s;e perfectio~ (if it could be &s;een with corporall eyes) would rauish men with her eminent beautie, and doth in deed crowne them that embrace her, with immor|tall lawrels, which liue and floorish, for al eter|nitie in Paradi&s;e. For god (who of his infinite goodnes, hath made vs heires of this king|dome, yet &s;o that we make purcha&s;e of it by our workes, as our ble&s;&s;ed &s;auiour hath bought it with the price of his blood) doth not regard bare titles without effects. For in deed the more eminent men are, and mounted aboue the commen and ordinarie rank: &s;o much the more ar they bownd to excell others: and to mantaine their dignities, by the extraordinarie practi&s;e, of the heroical vertues of the Cro&s;&s;e. So that their examples, may &s;erue to guide and conduct others, ouer whome they ar &s;ett (for that is gods holie ordinance): and &s;o di&s;char|ging their duetie, they may auoyd the dangers of tho&s;e dreadfull threats, which god denoun|ceth to the great ones of this world: The mightie shall &s;uffer mightie torments. The
<PB N="3" REF="18"> ble&s;&s;ed father Angel of Ioyeu&s;e, as admirable in the one, as imitable in the other, both in the world, and in religion, knew &s;o well to ioyne vertue with nobilitie, and &s;o to beare hym&s;elf, that he enobled hym &s;elf, with mainteining this happie match of the one with the other. Touching his noble de&s;cent it is well knowen, that the mo&s;t honorable and noble familie of Ioyeu&s;e (from which he di&s;cended) hath been and is, one of the mo&s;t ancient, and mo&s;t illu|&s;trious families, not onelie of Languedock, but of all France: out of which ar come manie no|ble and worthie per&s;ons, who&s;e vertues and memorable exployts, ar eterni&s;ed by happie demon&s;trance of the effects and witne&s;&s;ed by monuments, to the view of the worlde. The Hydres or water-Adders which they beare for their armes, &s;ubdewed by their fir&s;t progeni|tors; haue &s;erued to incite their po&s;teritie, to braue aduentures, when they were to be vn|dertaken for the defence of the Churche or the &s;tate. And for euident proofe hereof the mo&s;t chri&s;tian kings (whom god hath honou|red, with the title and graces of the elde&s;t, and fir&s;t borne &s;onnes of the church) haue giuen te&s;timonie of their valeur, and worthe, by con|ferring vnto them titles and honours due one|lie to eminent vertues. For owt of this how&s;e ar di&s;ce~ded Mai&s;ters of the Campe, Marshalls, Admiralles, Dukes, and Peeres of France. So
<PB N="4" REF="19"> that it may be rightlie called, a temple of ho|nour, built vpon a firme foundation of vertue, and prowe&s;&s;e. Which con&s;ideration hath moued the princes of bloode in France, and the mo&s;t princely familie of Lorraine, to &s;earch after this familie and honour it which their alliance.</P>
<P>During the raigne of Lewis the eleuenth, Lewis Ioyeu&s;e married Iane de Bourbon, which marriage cau&s;ed great publick ioye: which it plea&s;ed god al&s;o to ble&s;&s;e, with happie and fruictfull i&s;&s;ew, of the Counts of Chartres, and Boneual, (who &s;prung from them). Af|terward Anne Ioyeu&s;e, Admirall, Duke, and Peere of France, married Margaret of Lorrain (&s;i&s;ter of Lewis of Lorraine, wy&s;e of Henry the third). And in our tyme, Henriette Ioyeu&s;e, daughter of He~ry Ioyeu&s;e, Count of Bouchage (who was the ble&s;&s;ed father Angel of whom we treate) was married to Henry of Bour|bon, Duke of Montpen&s;ier (one of the mo&s;t noble grafts that euer came from that royall familie of S. Lewis): And after his deathe (for he dyed in the verie flower of his age) she was married to Charles of Lorraine, Duke of Gui&s;e, who had by her, a noble and happie i&s;&s;ew, of &s;uch towardnes, that they doe now in the blade of their tender infancie, giue great hope of extraordinarie vertue in more perfect age, when they shall know, how much it im|porteth
<PB N="5" REF="19"> them, to follow the example of their grand-father (this ble&s;&s;ed fa. Angel) and not to degenerate, from that noble &s;tock of Gui&s;e, from whence they ar come: which hath bene renoumed for manie noble triumphes had ouer the &s;aracens, for the honour of the cro&s;&s;e of Chri&s;t: and hath bene &s;ince for manie ages, as it were the &s;word, and boucler of the Ca|tholick &s;aith, in &s;ubdewing rebellious and re|uolted mi&s;creants: and reducing them to the obedience of their holie mother, the Catho|lique, Apo&s;tolique, Roman church: Out of which there is no faithe, no pietie, no religion, no charitie, no grace, no merit, and con&s;eque~t|lie no &s;aluation; It being therfor euident, that this familie, is &s;ingularlie adorned with the&s;e great alliances, yet not with &s;tanding it is made more famous, by the actions of heroicall ver|tues, which as litle bright fires, affixed to a heauenlie globe, haue &s;o beautified the &s;oule of ble&s;&s;ed father Angel, that his lyfe hath bene as a wonder of rare perfection, euen in the iudgement of mo&s;t wi&s;e, and iudicious behol|ders therof.</P>
<P>He was the &s;onne of William Ioyeu&s;e, a man of &s;ingular pietie, and great courage: who was honoured by Henry the &s;econd, in admitting hym to his order of knighthood: and e&s;ta|blished hym Lieutenant in Languedoc: wher- he executed that charge, with &s;o great pru|dence,
<PB N="6" REF="20"> and moderation, for the &s;pace of fiue and thirtie yeares; that for acknowledgment of his merites, he was made Marshall of Fra~ce by Henry the Third.</P>
<P>His mother was Marie of Batarnay, a woe|man of &s;o rare pietie, and example of good lyfe: that it may well be thought, that God (who doth often ble&s;&s;e the children, for theyr parents &s;ake) did powre the torrent of his benedictions vpon her children, for her &s;ake. And albeit there haue bene manie excellent and mo&s;t ver|tuous dames, which haue eyther di&s;cended of this hou&s;e, or bene allied to yt: yet she was, as it were a mirroir in represe~ting them all; &amp; had none of tho&s;e good qualities wanting, which anie in particular, or all in generall had in them of worthie remarke.</P>
<P>She was called the mother of the poore, hauing merited reallie, that happie title: she did often vi&s;ite pri&s;ons, and ho&s;pitalls; and was ex|traordinarily charitable to tho&s;e shamefa&s;t poore, who were in great nece&s;&s;itie, and yet did not publiquelie begg reliefe, of which &s;ort of poore, there is great quantitie.</P>
<P>Her affections were wholie bent to deuo|tio~, and her thoughts were not fa&s;tned to anie earthlie things, but all waies ray&s;ed towards heauen. She was free from all &s;pott of ambi|tion, hauing an auer&s;ion from the Court, li|uing with all contentement in Languedock,
<PB N="7" REF="20"> with her hu&s;band, not withowt &s;ingular edifi|cation of the whole prouince by the lu&s;tre of her example.</P>
<P>And for the Court, she had wholie aba~doned all memorie, as she did all affection of it: had she not bene forced to liue &s;ome yeares ther, partlie to &s;atisfie the de&s;ires of that pious &amp; religious Quene, Lowi&s;e of Lorraine: and partlie to take charge of her children, who li|uing then in great honour and e&s;teeme, were to be gouerned and guided, by her pre&s;ence, lea&s;t the feruour of their age might tran&s;port them, to doe other wi&s;e, then was hopefullie con|ceaued of them in their infancie. For her hu&s;|band was fayne to continew in his gouerne|ment, to r<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">medie tho&s;e euils, which threatned the whole E&s;tate, and to quench the fyre of in|finite troubles, which &s;prang from di&s;se~&s;ion in matters of religio~, the diuel playing, the bu&s;ie &s;eeds man, in &s;owing the cocle of errors and here&s;ie, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">mong the pure wheate of true reli|gion.</P>
<P>This deuout and honorable dame, being thus enforced to endure the ab&s;ence of her hu&s;band (whome next to god, she loued &amp; ho|nored mo&s;t dearely): making her profit of this lo&s;&s;e, augmented dailie, the practi&s;e of her deuotions, and mortifications, and gaue her &s;elf to all &s;weet entertainement, in her freque~t and feruent prayers, &amp; &s;oliloquies: and not con|tenting
<PB N="8" REF="21"> her &s;elf, with &s;pending the daye therin: she made the night &s;erue for this entertaine|ment, as a more propre tyme, euen for the in|ward eares of the &s;owle, to receaue in trew &s;i|lence, what god al&s;o would &s;peak vnto her, The long nights, pa&s;&s;ed in this manner, often &s;eemed to her but short, and whe~ &s;leepe &s;eazed vpon her (which is nece&s;&s;arie for &s;u&s;taining the frayle bodie) she took it in a chayre, not in bed: &s;o as after she had &s;lumbered a whyle, she re|turned to her holie and pious meditation, till the breaking of the daye. And then she accu|&s;tomed her &s;elf, to make her fir&s;t vi&s;ite in the churche, where she powred owt her &s;owle in &s;uch ardour of deuotion, that the effects doe witnes it, by the heauenlie benediction, wher with god did reward her, in that her example kindled deuotion, in other noble dames, and obtained manie graces of god, for her &s;elf, her children, and in deed the whole realme. And hereof this is no small te&s;timonie, that vpon the daye of the marriage, of her &s;onne the Ad|mirall, when as the king, and the whole court were occupied, in banquetting, tilting, and courtlie triumphes of ioye, to showe how they reioyced in this marriage: She retyred her &s;elf, &amp; shutt vp her &s;elf in her Oratorie, praying with manie teares &amp; inward grones, that theyre exce&s;&s;es and &s;uperfluities might not pro|uoke god to punish her children.</P>
<PB N="9" REF="21">
<P>This deuout Ladie, hauing &s;pent all the fore|noone, in the churche, (where wear principal|lie, to lift vp owr hartes &amp; hands to god) she di&s;po&s;ed of her &s;elf in the afternoone, to attend in the court: employing her &s;elfe wholie in good workes conformable to her charitie &amp; humilitie, &amp; to make benefitt of tho&s;e occa|&s;ions, which might offer them &s;elfes, to doe good. After her trauaile (which was able to wearie, and weare owt a &s;trong bodie) her or|dinary food was, brown bread, with biefe, or &s;ome other more gro&s;&s;e, and common meat: &s;o that she was neuer &s;een, to touch tho&s;e meats which are more fyne and delicate (although her table according to her qualitie, was euer furnished with the be&s;t): refu&s;ing tho&s;e meats by extraordinarie ab&s;tinence and morti|fication, which she (being vehemently amou|rous of god) did charitablie di&s;tribute, to the poore, who ar his members. She fa&s;ted all fri|dayes, throughout the yeare: and kept preci&s;e|lie the fa&s;t of lent: &amp; likewi&s;e from Allhal|lowtyde to chri&s;tenmas, she fa&s;ted with extra|ordinarie au&s;teritie. And emong her vertuous actions, one is verie remarkeable, that on that daye, that she was by her friends promi&s;ed in marriage: a&s;&s;oone as she hard of it, she pro&s;tra|ted her &s;elf before her parents, and not with owt shedding manie teares, be&s;ought them to giue her leaue, to enter into religio~, (&s;uch loue
<PB N="10" REF="22" MS="y"> &amp; affection had she to &s;erue god, in the &s;tate of virginal puritie). I will not dilate my &s;elf, by &s;peaking of the noble progenie of this familie of Batarnay: It shall &s;uffice to knowe, that it is a mo&s;t ancient and noble how&s;e, of great re|noume and e&s;teeme, in Tourain, and An|iou, whence are come, the Counts of Bou|chage.</P>
<P>The noble per&s;on, William of Ioyeu&s;e, hauing e&s;pou&s;ed Madame Marie of Batarnay, had by her &s;eauen children (wherof &s;ome came to perfect age, and made their nobilitie, and valour appeare to the view of the world &amp; &s;o wonne the harts of manie, by their worth<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> &amp; amiable conuer&s;ation, that their &s;oouerain prince valewing them emong the be&s;t, and noble&s;t per&s;ons, gaue them titles, dignities, and charges, an&s;wearable to their perfectio~. The elde&s;t brother was called Annas de Ioyeu&s;e, who when he was at ripe age, was made Admiral, Duke, and Peere of France, Gouernour, &amp; Lieutenant General for the king in Normandie. The&s;e honours engaged hym, to doe noble &s;eruices, &s;o that &s;eruing his prince and Countrie in the &s;iege of Fere, he was wounded in the mouthe by a harquebu&s;e, &amp; lo&s;t two of his teethe. He took manie townes, with his forces which he commaunded, in Auuergne: where he had &s;o happie &s;ucce&s;&s;e that for his valour &amp; prudence, Henry the third
<PB N="11" REF="22"> made choyce of hym, to &s;tand in the breache again&s;t Henry the fourth then king of Nauarre (who made all Guienne, to tremble for feare of &s;o potent an enemie, as after he made hym &s;elf redoubted thorough the world, hauing put hym &s;elf into the bo&s;omme of the churche, &amp; acknowledged her for his mother) So there was no other thyng but the caw&s;e of religion, &amp; the &s;eruice of his king, which pushed hym again&s;t &s;o mightie an enemie. Wherin, yf the &s;ucce&s;&s;e was not an&s;wearable to the de&s;ire and hope of the &s;tate (God in his prouidence hauing other wi&s;e di&s;po&s;ed of yt, for &s;ecret caw&s;es vnknowen to vs) yet was there wanting no courage or valour of his parte, as his exployts manife&s;ted, in that battel principallie, at Moth S. Eloy, where &s;o manie enemies were de|feated: though, that irreperable di&s;a&s;ter fol|lowed shortlie after, in the battell of Cour|tras: Where a &s;oudain feare &s;urpri&s;ing his armie, they brake theyr order, and while his &s;oldiers, were preparing them&s;elfs to flight, he ca&s;t hym &s;elf into the mide&s;t of his enemies, thinking therby to oblige them to followe hym: And there &s;acrificed his lyfe, with manie other gallant gentlemen, for the &s;eruice of his prince, and the defence of the Catholick, Apo|&s;tolique, and Roman churche.</P>
<P>The &s;eco~d brother was Francis Ioyeu&s;e, the mo&s;t illu&s;trious Cardinal, who&s;e noble and pio&abus;
<PB N="12" REF="23"> actions, would de&s;erue a volume a part, both<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> for the nomber, and excellencie of them. H<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> was &s;o wi&s;e and prudent, that the great Mo|narch He~ry the fourth, co~mitted to his charge the mo&s;t important affayres of chri&s;tendome which he managed wi&s;elie &amp; happilie, with general applau&s;e, yet without charging, th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> king, or &s;tate, or cleargie with the expences o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> the dispatch of them, &s;upporting it wholie, by his owne reuenues and patrimonie. He was protector of France, &amp; of the Capuchins, but more particularlie of the poore, to whome the greate&s;t part of his patrimonie, was di&s;tri|buted. He was allwaies occupied, in augme~ting the churche, either by building of new mo|na&s;teries, or giuing great &s;ommes of moni<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> to tho&s;e which were allreadie begonne. And wheras the foundation of the churche con|&s;i&s;teth in the knowledg of the truthe, which can not be gotten ordinarilie, but by &s;olide &s;tu|dies: he prouided meanes, for erecting a Semi|narie, before he dyed: where there ar thir<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ie yong men, to be mantained &amp; in&s;tructed, for the publick benefit of the church, and of his countrie. He commited the charge of it, to the fathers of the &s;ocietie of Ie&s;us, who&s;e ordina|rie profe&s;&s;ion is, to in&s;truct vow the, and make them perfect, and accomplished, in all &s;ort of good &s;ciences. This was at Pontoy&s;e, where he thought to haue built a Colledg for
<PB N="13" REF="23"> them, wher his bodie lyeth, which he required <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hould be carried from Auignon, where his <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ibrarie al&s;o is, (one of the be&s;t in France) which he gaue vnto the fathers, with his chap|pel. But for diuers con&s;iderations, it hath been <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ran&s;ported to Rouen, as a place more fitt and proper, for &s;o good a work. I lett pa&s;&s;e &s;ix <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">how&s;and Crownes, which he gaue to the church of our ladie of Lorreto, for the mante|nance of three french prie&s;ts, and the re|ception of poore pilgrims; with manie legacies giuen by his la&s;t will and te&s;tament, and faith|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ullie accomplished by his niece Madame de Gui&s;e (Be&s;ides, tho&s;e of Madame de Vidam his <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">unt, which came to more, then two hundred <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">how&s;and crownes) which &s;erueth to showe, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he pietie of &s;o greate a Prelate, and hers al&s;o, which &s;o faithfullie hath executed his will.</P>
<P>The third brother, was Called Henrie <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">oyeu&s;e, who in the height of pro&s;perous for|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">une, and in the midde&s;t of &s;uch honours and graces, as his prince &amp; the Court could yield hym abandoned, and renounced all worldlie co~tenteme~ts, and put hym &s;elf in to the poore habit of a Cappucin. Which heroical and pious act, was &s;o powrefull, that he drew in&s;tantlie by his example, a great nomber of gentele|men, who were taynted with the mallice of <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he corruptions of the world, to make the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ame holie chainge of lyfe, and to beare the
<PB N="14" REF="24"> cro&s;&s;e of out ble&s;&s;ed &s;auiour, in this holie Sera|phical order. After his entrie into religion, he took the name of Father Angel Ioyeu&s;e, who&s;e lyfe, and actions I haue vndertaken to wryte in this treati&s;e; and to expo&s;e it, as a burning light, bothe for religious, and for &s;eculats who certainly co~formed his lyfe according to his name, and was an angel in his di&s;cour&s;e, in his zeale, in his exhortation, and in his conuer|&s;ation, for the greater edification of many others.</P>
<P>The fourth &s;onne, or branche of this noble &s;tock, was Scipio Ioyeu&s;e, who after the de|cea&s;e of his father, was a liuelie and trew image of hym in valour and courage, which he shewed for the defence of the churche, and &s;tate: and &s;ucceeded hym, in his charge of the Lieutenantship of La~guedoc. He had manie noble co~que&s;ts, and palmes of Victories in di|uers battells: and in the end at the &s;iege of Vil|lemur, where great forces comming for reskue of the be&s;ieged, and forcing hym to rai&s;e his &s;iege, he hym &s;elf brake the bridge of barkes and botes, which were made by the enemies, to cutt of all meanes for the enemie to recoyle: and putt hym &s;elf in Vantgard of his Infan|terie, with his pike in his hand, till he receaued two woundes, in this noble attempt, &amp; &s;o fell into the riuer and yielded vp his lyfe. Who&s;e bodie was not recouered from the enemies,
<PB N="15" REF="24"> till the yeare following, when they began to treat a truce.</P>
<P>The fift of the &s;onnes, was Claude Ioyeu&s;e, who was Marques of S. Sauueur, who at the age of fifteen yeares, lo&s;t his lyfe with his elde&s;t brother, at the battel of Coutras. Thus we &s;ee, the nobilitie, and eminencie of the familie, whence he di&s;cended: who was as a Phoenix dead to the world, burnt in the odori&s;erous &s;pices of his holie vowes, and hyding his lyfe with Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, with in a litle cell of retraict, and a lodging place, peculiar to god, (for &s;o he was wont to &s;aye to his brethren, to &s;weeten the yoke of religion:) de&s;eruing eternall ho|nour, and renoume, in that he made &s;o happie a marriage and true concord, betweene two things, which &s;eeme &s;o contrarie (although in deede, one dependeth vpon the other) that is betwen the excellencie of Nobilitie, and the pouertie of Religion.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his birth and Education. THE SECOND CHAPTER,</HEAD>
<P>THE ble&s;&s;ed per&s;on was borne, in the yeare of our lord, 1563. Who afterward had his holie birth in bapti&s;me, &amp; was pre&s;ented to the holie font, by Mon&s;eigneur de Montmo|rency Cone&s;table of Fra~ce; and there took the
<PB N="16" REF="25"> name of Henrie, which he changed for the name of Angel when he became religious. As &s;oone, as he came into the world and was but a tender &s;ucking infant, he gaue hopefull &s;ignes of tho&s;e heauenlie graces, which appea|red afterward in his yowthe. When he grew to that age, that he was &s;omewhat capable, of the &s;eed of vertue and knowledg; his father being wi&s;e and prudent, had great care to prouide for hym, a vertuous and learned mai|&s;ter, that his children might be trayned and &s;ea|&s;oned well, bothe in vertue and good learning. Theyr mai&s;ters name was Mon&s;ieur Martin, a man of eminent knowledg, and exemplar lyfe. Who&s;e labours were approoued by the good fruicts of tho&s;e &s;eeds he &s;owed. Nature is powrefull, in working of greate effects, but yet education preuaileth more, hauing force often to change and correct naturall imperfe|ctions and vices, and engraft &s;weet fruit, in a crabb &s;tock. But when education dothe onelie help goodnes of nature, there followe then miraculous effects. Emong the re&s;t, (being all of great towardenes), this fa. Angell, thoughe the yonge&s;t, was mo&s;t forward, who began pre&s;entlie to comport hym &s;elf, farr aboue his childish age: as yf he would then begin to laye the foundation, of tho&s;e &s;olide vertues, which shined in hym afterward. Wherfor his mai&s;ter admiring his forwardenes, tooke
<PB N="17" REF="25"> &s;ome more particular care of hym, then of the re&s;t: as in propo&s;ing more que&s;tions to hym, and more particular in&s;tructio~s now and then apart. And god who in his eternall prouidence and loue, dothe de&s;igne &s;ome to a more happie end, for his glorie, and theire Saluation, doth giue meanes and graces mo&s;t fitt for that end. Which often cau&s;eth, that we not ea&s;ilie com|prehending the rea&s;on of it, can hardlie be in|duced to beleeue, that there are &s;uch extra|ordinarie actions, proceeding from tho&s;e gra|ces, if we were not eyewitne&s;&s;es of them our|&s;elues.</P>
<P>No man beheld and &s;aw hym, being yet but yong, who did not think that his countenance promi&s;ed &s;ome great matter. The inward beautie of his &s;owle, &s;treamed forthe beames outwardly. He was neuer wearied in praying, and &s;eruing god: he frequented the church verie deuoutlie, and heard ma&s;&s;e with an extraordinarie feeling. In hearing of &s;ermons, he was diligent to trea&s;ure vp the principall poynts, which were of mo&s;t fruit and edifi|cation. When he was but a child of &s;eauen yeares of age, he went often to confe&s;&s;ion, and had &s;o great griefe for his litle faults and imper|fections, as if they had bene great enormities. In di&s;cerning of which faultes, he showed that he had much vnder&s;tanding. He cho&s;e for his Confe&s;&s;or, the Reuerend Father Robert
<PB N="18" REF="26"> de Rocqua, Guardian of the ob&s;eruant Fran|ci&s;cans, who&s;e pietie and knouledg, was of great remarke. His parents took great con|tentement, in their &s;onnes deuotion, and thanked god for powring the&s;e ble&s;&s;ings on hym: and reque&s;ted his mai&s;ter to fo&s;ter and encourage hym, in all actes of pietie and deuo|tion. Herein they were vnlike to manie pa|rents, who &s;eeke to diuert their children, from anie &s;uch actions, as though they foreshowed &s;ome ill fortune to them: and herein become murderers of their childrens &s;owles, in loo&s;ing the raynes to them of licentions debauchednes and di&s;orders.</P>
<P>It happened in the yeare of Iubily, that ma|nie yong men borne of noble parents, wearied with the world, and reflecting &s;eriou&s;lie vpon true and eternall contentements, mooued by good and holie in&s;pirations, took re&s;olution to retyre them &s;elfes into the de&s;ert of religion; and to &s;erue god more feruentlie, and with more quiet &amp; repo&s;e. They put their re&s;olutio~ in practi&s;e in&s;tantlie, not &s;uffering tho&s;e good in&s;pirations (after they were examined and found &s;uch) to coole, and &s;o took the habit of the Cordeliers at Tolo&s;e. The&s;e examples, were great motiues to Father Angel, &s;o that euen then, (being but nine yeares old) he showed an extraordinarie de&s;yre and affectio~, to follow their &s;tepps. He reuealed it to his
<PB N="19" REF="26" MS="y"> confe&s;&s;or, who (as he was prudent in his actio~s) &s;ought to diuert hym from the&s;e thoughts, lea&s;t his parents might &s;u&s;pect hym, for infu&s;ing the~ into his tender &s;owle: but yet was he inflamed &s;o with this fyre, that his confe&s;&s;or could not quench it. O how powerfull and charming are the &s;weet baytes, wherby god doth draw our harts vnto hym!</P>
<P>The fir&s;t de&s;yres of religion took hold of this tender yong Impe, by the meanes of the&s;e examples, and were &s;trenthned in hym, by re|flecting vpon tho&s;e heauenly recompences, which Chri&s;t promi&s;eth to tho&s;e, who followe his &s;teppes. But they were brought to per|fection, by occa&s;ion of a miraculous, and verie remarkable action. He being one daye in the librarie of the Cordeliers at Tolo&s;e, (which li|brarie is e&s;teemed one of the be&s;t in France) and takyng a booke at hazard into his handes, to occupie his &s;pirit in reading &s;ome what: he &s;oodainlie felt an inward motion in his &s;oule, which &s;eemed to be expre&s;&s;ed with a voice &s;aying to hym; See, if yow find your &s;elf di|&s;po&s;ed, to ob&s;erue willinglie that, which is in this book. Harkening to this voyce, he opened the booke, and the fir&s;t words he fownd writ|ten, were. The Rule and lyfe of the Friers Minours. Wherupon his &s;owle melted as it were with the &s;weet delights of &s;o particuler a <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ocation: &amp; his face was dyed pre&s;entlie with
<PB N="20" REF="27"> a Vermilion colour, in token of this extraordi|narie motion, and heauenlie grace, wherof he e&s;teemed hym&s;elfe vnworthye.</P>
<P>Hauing now &s;o inwardlie taken, and layd vp in his hart, this manner of Gods holie cal|ling hym: he v&s;ed all po&s;&s;ible care and caution, to hyde this from his brethren who were in companie with hym, and therfor gaue ouer to looke more in the book for the pre&s;ent, lea&s;t the reading of it, might giue occa&s;ion of &s;ome &s;u&s;pition to them. But they were no &s;ooner owt of the librarie, and gone home, but he &s;eeketh owt his confe&s;&s;or, and imparteth this matter to hym, and pre&s;entlie renewing his for|mer importune reque&s;t, humbly be&s;eecheth hym, that he might be admitted into their re|ligion, &s;ithence it was the will of god, that he should profe&s;&s;e that lyfe. Father Rocqua was much perplexed hereat, and hardlie knew which waye to turne hym self. Therfor after he had di&s;patshed hym for the pre&s;ent, with hope of enioying the&s;e contentme~ts, which he &s;ought, he entereth into further con&s;ideration of &s;o weightie a matter, and re&s;olueth to aduer|ti&s;e his friendes and pare~ts of it; a&s;&s;uring them, that if it were the will of god, no attempts and practi&s;es of theirs, would preuayle again&s;t it. Vpon knowledg of it by Fa. Rocqua, they thought it expedient, to diuert him from the&s;e thoughts, by &s;ending hym from Tolo&s;e, and
<PB N="21" REF="27"> they showed hym, what difficulties he was to vndergoe: As that he mu&s;t ri&s;e at midnight, go barefooted, lye verie hard (without put|ting of his clothes:) that he mu&s;t weare no linnen: &amp; be obliged to &s;trict obedience, con|trarie to his own will. And they told hym, he was too delicate, and too weake to &s;upport this yoke: and that he should liue with farr more contentment in the world. They added be|&s;ides, That hauing one brother alreadie dedica|ted to the church; ther were none left for the &s;upport of their familie, but his elde&s;t brother, and he. And to conclude, in their exhortations they &s;ignified to hym, that he was yet too younge to determine of anie &s;uch cour&s;e, and that hereafter vpon riper age, and better iudg|ment, (if he were &s;o minded) that they would permitt hym, to &s;ati&s;fie hym &s;elf. His parents were troubled hereat by rea&s;on they appre|hended &s;ome &s;ecret in&s;tigation of hym to this, rather then a true vocation: which was to their great comfort, as his mother did witne&s;&s;e afterward: per&s;uading hym to per&s;euere co~|&s;tantlie in religion, when the deuil &s;ett his &s;tronge&s;t batteries again&s;t hym, to draw hym back to the world, which he had &s;o nobly and piou&s;lie abandonned, that the memorie of that act will neuer dye. But in vayne were all the per&s;ua&s;ions of his friendes till they remooued hym, from Tolo&s;e, and &s;ent hym with his bro|ther
<PB N="22" REF="28"> to Paris: Hoping that the change of place and conuer&s;ation, would al&s;o change his affe|ction. For it is a thing almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible, that a yong tenderling should continew his good de&s;yre, when the obiect is taken from hym, which fir&s;t occa&s;ioned it.</P>
<P>Paris is one of the mo&s;t famous, &amp; floorish|ing vniuer&s;ities in the world, for all &s;ort of good artes and &s;ciences, renoumed al&s;o for per|&s;ons of excellent wits and rare perfections. In this vniuer&s;itie the colledg of Nauar is emi|nent, and mo&s;t famous, for the education of Kings, Princes and Cardinalls and the greate&s;t part of the Bishops of France, who ar exam|ples of pietie, and great ornaments of the church. In this Colledg was this yong plant set, as in a good, and fertile &s;oyle.</P>
<P>Mon&s;ieur Guyon, Doctor indiuinitie and a &s;tudent of this Colledg, was cho&s;en to be mai&s;ter to hym, and his brethren. He was a man of great note for learning, pietie, and his dilige~ce in framing and beautifying the&s;e yong noble witts, ouer which he was &s;ett. In &s;o much that this ble&s;&s;ed father, being but thirten yeares of age, by his paynes and the happienes of his own witt, did compo&s;e &s;o well, both in ver&s;e and pro&s;e, that manie would not beleeue it to be po&s;&s;ible, that he could doe it in &s;uch ma~ner, till they were e<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e witne&s;&s;es of it them &s;elfes.</P>
<P>This yong noble Impe, would neuer be idle,
<PB N="23" REF="28"> but &s;pent euen tho&s;e tymes, which were al|lowed for his recreation in &s;ome particuler good &s;tudies. It was held half a miracle, to &s;ee hym without a book in his hand. His compa|nions, mooued by his example, did &s;et hym be|fore their eyes as a pattern of vertue, &s;weetnes, and diligence: he would lett no daye pa&s;&s;e with owt hearing ma&s;&s;e, and that with extraordina|rie deuotio~. He communicated euerie monthe: and with that feeling, that his &s;owle was a fierie furnace of true deuotio~ and feruor, wit|ne&s;&s;ed by tho&s;e exhalations of &s;ighes, and a&s;pi|rations, which he had: and this was the maine and principall &s;tudie to which he bent hym&s;elf. Hauing layd all good foundatio~ for more high and &s;ubtill &s;peculations: he began at thirteen yeares of age, to enter into his cour&s;e of philo|&s;ophie. In which knowledg though there be manie difficulties, by rea&s;on of the ob&s;curitie of the tearmes, and conceptions, that it requi|reth, &s;trength of vnder&s;tanding, and imagina|tion to comprehend it: yet by the benefit of his cleare naturall vnder&s;tanding, he waded ea&s;ily into yt, and quite thorough it. By this meanes he was formed and framed in his vnder&s;ta~ding, to the right conceauing, of the mo&s;t &s;ecret and hidden mi&s;teries of our beleefe: and in his will, better prepared, by the knowledg of morall vertues, to the practi&s;e of the~: for it is certain, as we mu&s;t knowe that which is good before
<PB N="24" REF="29"> we loue yt: &s;o the greater knowledg we haue of it, the more feruent we ar in the &s;earch of it. After he had ended his &s;tudies with great commendation, and euident proofe of the ex|cellencie of his witt, he was driuen from his colledg to the court, by the order and appoynt|ment of his parents where although in out|ward apparence he for&s;ook his &s;tudies, yet he did not &s;o leaue them, but that he retayned a true affection to them, hauing nothing more often in his di&s;cour&s;e then learning, and in hart nothing more engrauen, then treu religio~: and yet not without great admiration he ioyned and leagued three things together, which &s;eeme to be mainlie oppo&s;ite, to wit, Relig<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">on, Good litterature, and the Courte. For euen in tho&s;e court actions, which haue in them ordi|narilie much vanitie, he shewed example of true pietie and deuotion, withowt anie affe|ctation, but a mo&s;t gratious decencie. He was adorned with all good parts, which are mo&s;t a|miable. He was courteous and affable to the meane&s;t &s;ort: &s;weete and gracious in his owt ward carriage: mode&s;t and graue in his actions: &s;erious and prudent in his di&s;cours, valiant and couragious, in matters of execution: a &s;worn enemie of vanitie: a &s;courge of reuiling and rayling: a perfect hater of flaterie and ambitio~. To conclude he was a mirrour, of all chri&s;tian and morall vertues, faithfull he was allwaies
<PB N="25" REF="29"> to god and his king, full of hope for heauenlie ioyes, charitable towards god and his neighbor temp<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">rate and verie &s;ober in his diet: a pa&s;|&s;ionate friend of Iu&s;tice, labouring with might and mayne, that it might be rightlie executed. His vertues and perfections wonne hym the grace of Henry the third: Who in witnes of his affection, made hym pre&s;entlie mai&s;ter of his ward-robe. The princes fauor, which maketh men of yong yeares, more vaine and glorious, made hym more humble, &s;eeking rather daylie to growe more in vertue, then greatenes of fortune. He would refu&s;e no man, that &s;ought acce&s;&s;e to hym, but when me~s &s;uites were iu&s;t, &amp; full of equitie, he would hym &s;elf pre&s;ent their petitio~s to the king. Religious men, had a great &s;upport of hym, and he reputed it a great honour, to entertain them at his table. And his e&s;teeme of them, caw&s;ed them often tymes to acquaint hym, with their nece&s;&s;ities more free|lie, which he relieued with incredible cha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">itie. And heerin he was &s;o much noted, that the king hym &s;el<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> &s;tyled hym, <HI>The aduocate of reli|gious per&s;ons.</HI> Thes were the di&s;po&s;itions, which were like the &s;teppes of Iacobs ladder, vpon which he mounted with the Angells, till the king of Angels, receaued hym in his glorie, which is the effect and fruit of gods grace &amp; meritorious workes.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="26" REF="30">
<HEAD>Of his marriage, and hovv he liued during the tyme thereof. THE THIRD CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THE king in all occa&s;ions hauing abo~dantlie witne&s;&s;ed his particuler affection to this ble&s;&s;ed per&s;on, and de&s;yring further to co~firme hym, in a &s;table &s;tate of tho&s;e honours and fa|uours, which he had conferred vnto hym, (that he might not entertaine anie affection of lea|uing the world, as he had done before): per|&s;uaded hym to marriage, which was to shutt the doore, again&s;t all occa&s;ions or invitements to that end. God knoweth whether he were bent therto in affection, but in the end, wonne by the coun&s;el of his parents, and commande|ment of the king, he made choyce by the ad|ui&s;e of the king of Madamoi&s;elle Catharine de la Valette, daughter to Mon&s;eigneur de la Va|lette, Colonel of the ligt hor&s;emen: who&s;e no|ble courage wel tryed by manie noble ex|ploytes, both within and without the realme, remaineth as an heritage, and is daylie augme~|ted by worthie acts for the defence of the church, and the &s;tate, in the per&s;on of Mon&s;ei|gneur D'E&s;pernon, Duke and Peere of France, and Colonel of the Infantetie, his &s;onne: and brother of this noble Dame, whome nature
<PB N="27" REF="30"> and art did &s;triue to adorne, euen in her fir&s;t birth: and her rare vertues and perfections farr &s;urpa&s;&s;ing her age, haue made her a pearle of her tyme, and a miracle of this age. It fell owt, by gods &s;pecial prouidence, that this happie marriage was made, and accomplished, there was &s;o incredible &s;imilitude of affections in this holy couple. For she was inflamed, with the &s;ame loue from heauen, that he was: and no le&s;&s;e enemie to vanitie then he, reputing it the venime and poy&s;on of great dames. As he in a manlie &s;ort made no e&s;teeme of exterior beau|tie; &s;o she contrarie to the di&s;po&s;itio~ of her &s;exe, dete&s;ted all paynting &amp; farding, as a thing o|dious in the &s;ight of god. He was emong yong noble courtiers, a man whom all beheld as an example to follow: and she was of no le&s;&s;e emi|nencie, emong noble dames. And now they being ioyned and tyed, one to the other by the bands of holie wedlock, and knott of mu|tuall loue, &s;eemed to haue but one hart in two bodies, or one &s;owle in two hartes: which cau|&s;ed the verie &s;ame affection to all goodnes, and the like dete&s;tation and hate of vice. It is one of the wi&s;e mans &s;ayings, that riches and po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ions ar left in patrimonie by the pare~ts: but the gift of a mode&s;t and wi&s;e woeman, cometh from God onelie. And when she is knowen for&s;uch in the &s;tate of her virginitie, he giueth coun&s;el to the parents, to marrie her with a
<PB N="28" REF="31"> man of the &s;ame perfectio~, to the end that god may be the better &s;erued by &s;uch a commixtio~. But the vertues of them bothe, did &s;o shyne in the court, that they were had in &s;uch admiratio~, that the grea<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e&s;t enemies of vertue, or louers of vanitie, were forced to confe&s;&s;e ingeniou&s;lie, that &s;uch a ble&s;&s;ed couple, could hardlie be matched with their lyke. Such force hath truthe, that it maketh the profe&s;&s;ed enemies of vertue, to confe&s;&s;e, and prai&s;e it.</P>
<P>Before they married tog<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ther, they practi&s;ed great workes of pietie, and did as it were re|double their good affections, eache inciting the other by example. What should I &s;peak of their particuler deuotions in their priuate cab|binets? Howres &s;eemed to them, but mome~ts, when they entered into co~moning with their owne hartes, and reflecting vpon their co~&s;cien|ces, &s;ometymes they were ab&s;orpt by profound meditation of the prouidence of god, which dothe powerfullie and &s;weetlie conduct all things, by the diuer&s;itie of &s;o manie wills, to the exaltation of his glorie. An other whyle, they turned their thoughts from the vanitie of the world, where &s;eing nothing but wynde and &s;moake, they beheld with a&s;tonishment, the blindenes of manie &s;owles, which build towres of theire hopes, vpon &s;o weake a foun|dation. Among other things they were not vn|myndfull, of the shortenes of this lyfe, and the
<PB N="29" REF="31"> diuers accidents, which as &s;worne enemies lye in wayte to take it from vs: and they di&s;cerned here clearlie, the infinite occa&s;ions of &s;inne, more in the court, rather the~ in anie place, and &s;uch as are able to make the mo&s;t warie goer to &s;lipp. And la&s;tlie to controll all charming te~ptations, they con&s;idered oft the a&s;&s;urance of deathe, and the vncertaintie of the tyme, with the accounpt which mu&s;t be rendered of our actions, when we ar to arriue at the port, and be di&s;embarked out of the rotten ve&s;&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ls of our feeble bodies. Out of the&s;e good medita|tions it grew, that their communication, and ordinary &s;peeche, was of God, of vertue, of good workes, and of heauen. The &s;weetenes therof &s;o &s;ea&s;oned their &s;owles, that they neuer had &s;peeche of the delightes of this world, but showed great di&s;gu&s;t and di&s;daine of them. The &s;weetnes of the&s;e heauenlie meditations, is &s;uch that none can valew them in anie &s;ort, without feeling &s;ome foreta&s;t of them here. The&s;e holie and ble&s;&s;ed exerci&s;es cau&s;ed them, one tyme, after &s;ome good di&s;cours, that they prote&s;ted and plighted faithe one to an other, &s;olemnlie, that the &s;uruiuour would renounce the world, and enter into a cloy&s;ter: where pa&s;|&s;ing the re&s;t of the dayes in religious exerci&s;es, should offer al&s;o the &s;acrifice of holie vowes to god, and pray for the &s;owle of the departed.</P>
<P>Can it ea&s;ilie be conceaued, what mea&s;ure
<PB N="30" REF="32"> of graces, their ble&s;&s;ed &s;owles receaued from heaue~, or how &s;weet the&s;e odours were, wher|with they were (as it were) perfumed, by the &s;weet oytments of heaue~lie vnction. For what a miracle is it, to &s;ee &s;uch a&s;pirations, &s;ent vp to heauen, by a couple of &s;uch yong noble per|&s;ons, wherof the elde&s;t was not yet, twentie two yeares of age. I know not whether from that tyme, they made not a vowe of cha&s;titie, and did not liue afterward in co~tinencie. God onelie, who &s;aw their affections knoweth it. For the more they endeauored a &s;piritual ad|uancement in pietie in the pre&s;ence of god, the more were they carefull to hyde it, from the eyes of others, &s;peciallie of courtiers, where deuotion and pietie, ar &s;tyled by the name of conterfeit deuotion and hypocri&s;ie. Theire home was a holie temple, and hou&s;e of reli|gio~; they had a careful eye to the behauiour of their &s;eruants, that they might not giue offence to anie, and that their talk should not be di&s;&s;olute, according to the common fashion of tho&s;e, that &s;erue great per&s;ons.</P>
<P>Euerie morning after they had offered theire harts and &s;owles to god, and re&s;igned to his holie will all the actions of the &s;ame daye; they taking theyre Houres (that is their books of prayers and deuotion, v&s;ed by the church) they &s;ayd their office together, &s;o that they who heard them with out, and not &s;eing them
<PB N="31" REF="32"> would haue &s;ayd that they had bene, two reli|gious per&s;ons, shutt vp in their cells, offering vp their prayers and pray&s;es according to the obligation of their vowe: nor were they in their &s;owles differing from them, but in habite and profe&s;&s;ion only. They could not endure anie dishone&s;t or wanto~ &s;peeche, neither &s;uch, as was anie waye iniurious to others; which &s;ort of talk, is but too ryfe in the court: for &s;uch fruite dothe the perfect loue of god produce, that we will not onlie forbeare to offend god our &s;elues, but al&s;o pro<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ure, as much, as lyeth in vs, that he be not offended by others.</P>
<P>At this tyme, the Order of the Capuchines, began to be in great reputation, (as it is at this pre&s;ent) for the integritie of the rule of S. Francis which they doe ob&s;erue according to the rigour of the letter, eue~ as our Sauiour de|clared to S. Francis, when the religious on the montaine of S. Columbe, thought it to be au&s;tere and rigid, heard a voyce from heauen, which &s;ayd, that it was from god, and that his wil was, that it should be ob&s;erued, according to the letter, without anie glo&s;&s;e. This order much reuerenced for the au&s;teritie, and for the noueltie of the religious, which were but freshlie come into France, at the in&s;tance of the great Cardinal of Lorraine, who&s;e ver|tues and great &s;ufficiencie, were well knowen by that authoritie, which he bare in the Coun|cel
<PB N="32" REF="33"> of Trent, pre&s;iding there: who hauing fir&s;t obtained licence of our holie father Gregorie the 13 in the yeare of our lord 1573. pre&s;ented them to the mo&s;t chri&s;tian king Charles the ninth, and to the Quene his mother, who gaue them a place for their conuent, neare the Tuilleries (which ar his Maie&s;ties gardens of plea&s;ure) in the &s;uburbs of S. Honore: where the bones of this ble&s;&s;ed Father re&s;t; the &s;ame Illu&s;trious Cardinal, hauing giuen to the Ca|puchins before, a place for a conuent, at Meu|don, neare to his ca&s;tle; after this by the con|duct of gods holie &s;pirit, (who hath a particu|lar care of his churche, and of Religious) they &s;o multiplied in France, that they ar &s;pred all mo&s;t thorough all places therof: and yet they would be more, if th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y builded conuents in all places, where th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y are earne&s;tly &s;ought for, and indifferentlie receaued all tho&s;e, who pre|&s;ent them &s;elfs to liue in ob&s;eruance of their rule.</P>
<P>Now it happened one daye, as the Count of Bouchage, comming from the towne, being in coache with the king (for the king &s;eldome went with out hym): he &s;aw by chance, or ra|ther by diuine prouidence, two Cappucins, who pa&s;&s;ed by with their walletts vpon their backs, he fixed his eyes a long tyme vpon the~: and in the view of them felt extraordinarye inward motions of his &s;owle, and &s;eemed to
<PB N="33" REF="33" MS="y"> heare an inward voyce, &s;aying. The&s;e ar they, whome I doe chearish with all affection. The king &s;eing hym &s;ad and pen&s;iue &s;oodainly, and his eyes &s;till fixed vpon the religious, doubted lea&s;t he might imprint the~ in his hart, whome he beheld &s;o intentiuelie, and &s;ayd to hym. The&s;e ar the true followers of S. Francis, and doe ob&s;erue his rule, according to the fir&s;t in&s;ti|tution. It is true (an&s;wered the Count) and in this they ar twice happie, for they doe not one|lie avoyd the enticing baites of the world, and of ambition, &amp; vanitie, but they put them &s;elfs into a &s;tate of more a&s;&s;urance, for obtayning that glorious heauenlie crowne: for as much as mortifijng and crucifijng their carnall appe|tites here on earth, they &s;uffer with their head Ie&s;us Chri&s;t crucified, who&s;e words ar deeds and can not fayle. This vnthought view of them, with other few wordes, did &s;o inflame his affection, that he de&s;ired in his hart, that he might pre&s;entlie chainge his &s;tate of lyfe: and in &s;tead of his coache, and rich cloathes, he could haue bene well content, pre&s;entlie to haue been on foote, with a wallet on his back. Vpon this pre&s;entlie he called to mynd, his fir&s;t holie in&s;piration, and how god had &s;poken to hym, when he was but yong of age, in the li|brarie of Tolo&s;e, as is before mentioned.</P>
<P>Hence it fell owt, that he fell into &s;ome ago|nies of perplexitie, not knowing what to doe,
<PB N="34" REF="34"> in &s;uch &s;traights, as he was. For on the one &s;yde, he now re&s;olueth hym &s;elfe, that this was the rule, wherin he should &s;pend, and end his lyfe: and on the other &s;yde, the bands of mar|riage with his deare &s;pow&s;e, whome he loued mo&s;t affectionatelie, could not permit hym, to take this cour&s;e of lyfe &s;o much wished for. But what should he doe in this ca&s;e: for either he thought he mu&s;t impart his mynd to his wyfe, (whome he loued more dearelie then hym&s;elf) and &s;o inuyte her to shut her &s;elf vp in a cloy&s;ter: or els he mu&s;t for&s;ake her without taking his leaue, and communicating his inten|tion. But this he could not doe: for the &s;ame day, he propo&s;ed it to a Capuchin, vnder an other name and it was tould hym, that no man could leaue his wyfe, and become a religious man, vnle&s;&s;e she likewi&s;e entered into religio~. Wherupon he determined to attend the holie will of god.</P>
<P>In the mean tyme he daylie augmented his workes of pietie: gaue hym&s;elf to mentall prayer with more feruor, frequented the &s;a|craments more often, then he did before. And for the better effecting of this, he quitted his own lodging, and bought one nere to the Ca|puchins, to the end, he might better practi&s;e his good intentions, and enioye the conuer&s;ation of the&s;e good religious fathers, whome he re&s;|pected, and cherished as angels &s;ent fro~ heauen,
<PB N="35" REF="34"> and had them as directors of his actions. In&s;o|much that he did ofte~ a&s;&s;i&s;t them at midnight, while they &s;ong their mattins, and obteined by &s;peciall priuiledg, to haue one of them for his gho&s;tlye father, which was al&s;o granted to his wyfe. And who would haue thought, that this vertuous cour&s;e of lyfe, should not haue bene, to his full contentement, keeping no doubt mo&s;t religiou&s;lie Gods commandeme~ts, and doeing &s;o much good, by his rare example. But God who&s;e &s;ecrets far &s;urpa&s;&s;e the weake|nes of our vnder&s;tanding, would accomplish a greater work by hym, as we shall &s;ee in the &s;e|quele of this narration.</P>
<P>While he gaue hym &s;elfe to this vertuo&abus; and holie cour&s;e of lyfe: it plea&s;ed god to take from hym, his deare&s;t &s;pow&s;e; who&s;e decea&s;e &s;o &s;troke his hart, that he grew dying to the world, as though he would al&s;o dye with her. She dyed being but 22. yeares of age, in the &s;pring of her vertues, whome god took to hym, to make her partaker, of a more excellent &amp; permanent glorie: leauing her friends much &s;orrowful; but that they were comforted, by the fruits of her former pietie. She left one one|lie daughter, eighten mo~thes old, a true heyre of her vertues, who is now Madame the Du|che&s;&s;e of Gui&s;e, who&s;e prudence in worldlie af|fayres, and &s;inguler pietie, and feruour in the trew &s;eruice of God, is well knowen,
<PB N="36" REF="35"> and much renowmed, through all France.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his entrance into Religion, and farevvell to the vvorld. THE FOVRTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THE Count of Bouchage, after the deathe of his deare&s;t &s;pow&s;e, languishing with &s;orrow, that his eyes could fynd no kind of worldlie delight, neither would his hart affect or loue anie thing. His lo&s;&s;e was &s;o greate, that he would not entertaine anie earthlie hopes, to build on: which are as mooueable as quicksa~ds: but at the le~gth recollecting hym&s;elfe, he con|&s;idered that all &s;uch &s;trokes come from the ha~d of god, though we know not the cau&s;e of it, and the will of god therin. And therfor as the &s;onne when it appeareth, &s;cattereth the thick foggie clowdes, which darkned the ayre: &s;o did he cha&s;e the clowdes of this afflictio~, and cheared hym &s;elf by taking holie re&s;olution, worthie of his noble &s;pirit, &amp; gaue the cartell of defyance to fortune, &amp; all the mi&s;tie brouil|lerie of the world, which depriue men of be|holding, the trew light of the trew &s;onne of eternall glorie. He di&s;cerned tho&s;e things trewlie in ther nakednes, and barenes, which worldlings beholding with a fayre gla&s;&s;e, doe
<PB N="37" REF="35"> &s;o much de&s;yre and admire. In &s;o much that often tymes, he compared the world with the greate prie&s;t Hely, who &s;ent back Samuel; when as he being called by the voyce of God, ranne to Hely. And it wil not be ami&s;&s;e to &s;ett downe his verie wordes, as they were written with his owne hand, that it may ap|peare, that this my di&s;cour&s;e, is fownded vpon the truthe.</P>
<P>The world (&s;aith he) as an other Hely, dri|ueth vs from it, when we ar put back of the&s;e verie creatures, which we tender &amp; which we loue, fynding in them a thow&s;and di&s;gu&s;ts, infidelities, in&s;tabilities and defects. Our friends for&s;ake vs, our &s;eruants mock vs, our compa|nio~s betraye vs, and in the mid&s;t of all plea&s;ures and delights, we fynd infinite &s;orrowes, and bitter gripings. What is this els, but to make vs knowe, that the world to which we runne doth reiect vs, and giue vs manie skornes, and sharpe blowes. And what dothe it &s;aye, but get the gone, I am not thy God: Get the gone, the good and that contentment thou &s;eeke&s;t, is not to be fownd in me. He &s;pake heare in as a man of great experience and wi&s;edome, to tho&s;e, who being tran&s;ported with the dallian|ces of the &s;miling fortunes of the world, haue &s;worne a league, and alliance, with the gran|deurs, and pro&s;perities of it.</P>
<P>This contempt of the world grew dailie in
<PB N="38" REF="36"> hym, as no doubt the light of grace did growe: yet could he not execute it, by rea&s;on of ma|ny enco~brances, which followed the death of his deare &s;pow&s;e, I mean the di&s;charge of her la&s;t will, which he did verie faithfullie, &amp; the feare which he had of occa&s;ioning great di&s;co~|tentment, to his friends: &amp; incurring the kings di&s;plea&s;ure, knowing how deare, and inward he was e&s;teemed by hym. The&s;e con&s;ideratio~s &amp; manie others hindered hym, that he did not &s;o &s;peedilie accomplish his holie purpo&s;e, as he would. But god who laugheth at the coun&s;ells and de&s;&s;ignes of men, &amp; turneth them as it &s;eemeth be&s;t to his holie wi&s;edome, had com|pa&s;&s;ion of hym, in the end; and by the &s;weet gale of his holie &s;pirite (which bringeth in a perfect calme, to afflicted &amp; trowbled &s;owles) made hym knowe his will, by an action ex|traordinarie &amp; miraculous.</P>
<P>One daye being occupied in holie exerci&s;es of pietie and deuotion, according to his wont, falling into remembrance of his deare wyfe, and her excellent vertues, he could not forbear deepe groanes, which the anguish of his hart, drew from hym perforce: &s;o that &s;eeking to ap|pea&s;e the&s;e inward troubles, he took his Howres, (which is his book of prayers, for &s;o Catholiques call them) into his hands. At the fir&s;t opening of his book, he fell vpo~ this ver&s;e, <HI>Dirupi&s;ti Domine vincula mea, tibi &s;acrificabo
<PB N="39" REF="36" MS="y"> ho&s;tiam laudis:</HI> Thow ha&s;t broken my bands, o lord, I will &s;acrifice to the, the &s;acrifice of pray&s;e. Paw&s;ing a while vpon the wordes (for &s;o deuoute &s;owles, who ar exerci&s;ed in matters of deuotion, doe frequentlie), he began to think that the&s;e wordes did touch hym verie nearlie: as though god had expre&s;lie &s;poken to hym &amp; &s;ayd, God hath broken the bands of thy marriage, which did hinder the from fol|lowing his &s;tepps; therfor is it mo&s;t rea&s;ona|ble, that I now obeye the voyce of his holie in&s;piration, &amp; offer vp my &s;elf, as a &s;acrifice to hym, which is the be&s;t manner of prayer, which I can expre&s;&s;e. And as he was occupied in this holie thought, his book fell owt of his hand: he took it vp againe, and the &s;ame words again were the fir&s;t that offered them to his &s;ight, <HI>Thou hai&s;t broken my bands, O lord</HI> &amp;. A&s;|&s;uredlie &s;aith he, this is god who &s;peaketh. And againe being eleuated in mynd, and not heed|ing his book in his hands: he lett it fall the third tyme, &amp; yet againe fell vpon the &s;ame wordes, whervpon being a&s;tonished, he shut the book<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, fell on his knees, &amp; bathing his eyes with manie teares, and opening his hart to god, he v&s;ed the&s;e amorous wordes full of de|uotion.</P>
<P>O Almightie god, &s;auiour of the world, and mo&s;t bounteous louer of thy creatures, I &s;ee well that thou wilt haue me, and ther is no|thing
<PB N="40" REF="37"> that can &s;erue me to re&s;i&s;t thy holie or|donance. Thou ha&s;t po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed all the powers of my &s;owle, &s;o that the obiects are remooued, which had fa&s;tened them to the earthe, and now they look vpward vpon thee who art the la&s;t end of all things; But alas (o mo&s;t gracious and mercifull &s;auiour) what is ther in me, which prouoking thy mercie, hath caw&s;ed thee to turne the eyes of pittie vpon me? what is there in me, which might in anie &s;ort be wor|thie of &s;uch a vocation? nothing certanlie, but great maymes, corruptions, and &s;innes, which rather prouoking thy furie and indignation, should banish me from thy pre&s;ence, and haue caw&s;ed dreadfull punishment and eternal tor|tures. For it proceedeth from thy loue and mercie, that I yet liue in the de&s;ert of this world: thy loue hath beene my buckler &amp; my &s;upport, and now by an infinite exce&s;&s;e therof thou do&s;t drawe me from the world and &s;etle&s;t my feete in the right pathe, and doe&s;t conduct me thorough a mo&s;t perillous wildernes. Guide therfor, O lord, thy mo&s;t wretched creature, and impotent &s;eruant, doe with me what shall &s;eeme be&s;t in thy eyes. I re&s;igne my &s;elf wholie to thee, and ca&s;t my &s;elf into thy armes: frame all my actions, &amp; conduct all my de&s;ires, to the glorie of thy holie name.</P>
<P>Thus he put on a couragious re&s;olution, which he did not differ long after to execute,
<PB N="41" REF="37"> and to become a noble &s;ouldier of our ble&s;&s;ed &s;auiour, &amp; &s;erue hym vnder the en&s;ignes of &s;eraphical S. Francis, and &s;o to make hym &s;elf a plea&s;ing holocau&s;t before god, offering his bodie to hym by the vowe of perpetual cha&s;ti|tie, his &s;owle &amp; affections by holie obedience, and his goods and what &s;oeuer he mo&s;t po&s;&s;e&s;|&s;ed, by the vowe of voluntarie pouertie. Manie can be content, &s;ometymes to entertaine good thoughts, which put them in mynd of the vanities of the world, and di&s;couer them to be but le&s;&s;e then the shadowes of a dreame, they will &s;aye, that all that the world propo|&s;eth, re&s;embleth the aples of Gomorrha, which ar fayre without, but &s;moak and ashes within: yea they wil call the world coo&s;ener, traytor, di&s;loyall: and yet &s;uffer them&s;elfs to be tran&s;|ported, with her enchantments &amp; fayre pro|mi&s;es: but emong a hundred thow&s;and, it is hard to fynd one, which hath the courage to take &s;uch an heroicall re&s;olution, but in the end they play the crauens, and become &s;laues to the world, and render it homage in mo&s;t ba&s;e &amp; ignoble manner.</P>
<P>Hauing now re&s;olued to put this in executio~ verie &s;peedilie; he entered into deliberation, by what meanes he might effect his purpo&s;e, with lea&s;t difficultie. He dur&s;t not reueal his in|tention to anie man, for yf the king had had but the lea&s;t notice of it, he would haue in|terpo&s;ed
<PB N="42" REF="38"> his authoritie, to hinder it: and yf his brethre~ had knowen yt they would imme|diatlie haue acquainted the king with it. Therfor he with out help of anie &s;ecular perso~, did &s;ett in order all his affayres of importance, and di&s;po&s;ed &s;ecretlie of his how&s;e. He gaue to the Reuerend fathers of the order of Minimes, that how&s;e at Nijon, which he had bought being nere to the Capuchins, with twelue hu~|dred french liures, for yearelie rent, (which ar payd to them &s;till by Madame de Gui&s;e): obli|ging them to &s;aye two ma&s;&s;es, euerie daye for the intention of his mother &amp; wyfe, and to mantaine a &s;choolmai&s;ter for the in&s;truction of yowthe, at the &s;uburbes of S. Honore: &amp; he left to the Capuchins his gardens, who would not accept the how&s;e; And in the end, he me|naged this bu&s;ines &s;o prudentlie, &amp; &s;ecretlie, that he tooke the habit before anie of his fre~ds &s;u&s;pected anie &s;uch matter: and &s;o gaue his farewell to the world, in a mo&s;t noble and pious manner, as it may appeare by a liue|lie de&s;cription of it, made by Mon&s;eigneur the Cardinal Perron of late, and happie memorie.</P>
<FLOATEXT LANG="eng" TYPE="valedictory speech">
<HEAD>The farevvel of Mon&s;ieur Ioyeu&s;e, entring into religion.</HEAD>
<P>Since the happie daye is come, which hath not onelie opened the eyes of my bo|die, but hath awakened, my &s;leepie &s;pirit, &amp; hath lightned it with a pure and holie light, in
<PB N="43" REF="38"> showing me the repo&s;ing place of my &s;ouue|rain good, and &s;owles healthe, I will fir&s;t of all giue thanks to thee, o greate god of mercie, fro~ the bottome of my hart and &s;owle, that thou ha&s;t vouch&s;afed me this daye, this vn&s;peaka|ble grace and fauor in &s;treatching foorth thy hand, to draw me owt of this world, and the toughe and deepe myre thereof; and in putting me in the waye of thy holie will. Thou ha&s;t deliuered me from ob&s;cure and dange|rous darkenes, and placed me in the brightnes of thy grace, &amp; benediction. Thou ha&s;t pluckt me from the thraldome of &s;inne, to &s;et me at libertie vnder the &s;weet yoke of thy holie obedience and confortable expectation of eternal lyfe Therfor let all my &s;en&s;es, in a per|fect harmonie, and all the powers of my &s;owle wholie bend to the &s;erious con&s;ideration of &s;o great a benefitt, de&s;ire nothing, think of no|thing, but of thy honour and glorie, who ha&s;t beene &s;o gracious, and &s;o mercifull to me; lett all my cogitatio~s be nothing but to meditate of thy great power &amp; might: and let my &s;ight haue no other obiect, but the contemplation of thy meritorious workes: &amp; let the hymnes of thy glorie, be the exerci&s;e of my voyce. And as for thee (trayterous world) which ha&s;t withheld me till this daye by thy alluring baytes. I doe now defie thee, and abandon thee for euer.</P>
<PB N="44" REF="39">
<P>Farewell then (O wordlie vanitie) for I go now to die for thee, o fayre &amp; plea&s;ing place of retraict, wher I now make my entrie. O what a goodlie pallace is this? the &s;tatelie portall is enriched with a great cro&s;&s;e, adorned with nayles, whippes, and pincers. This fronti&s;pice is be&s;et with dead mens skulls and bones. O braue &amp; victorious trophees, which doe repre|&s;ent, that great victorie of lyfe ouer death, of heauen ouer hell: by which victorie we were ran&s;omed, and drawn foorth from the bot|tomeles gulfe of dreadfull darkenes, and death was &s;ubdewed which held vs captiues vnder the yoke of &s;inne, and &s;o re&s;tored to our fir&s;t countrie and heauenlie right. O heauenlie &s;eals of eternal bli&s;se, yee ar the~ due to vs, yf we will &s;eeke yow vnder the&s;e braue en&s;ignes; O pre|tio&abus; &amp; rich ornament, what Ia&s;per, what poli&s;|hed Porphyre &s;tones, what pillers of choy&s;e mar-ble, what co&s;tlie pieces ar to be compare with the&s;e riches! O cro&s;&s;e, let me embrace thee the deare cloake of my &s;owles health: by thee I haue entrance into the kingdome of heauen, and mount aboue the high regions of the heauens: thou repre&s;ente&s;t the whole world, for thy fowre poynts regard the foure corners of the world, which ar not &s;aued but by thee. O cro&s;&s;e which art the ladder, which reache&s;t from earth to heauen, from hell to Paradi&s;e, o let me cleaue fa&s;t to thee, to the end, that I may
<PB N="45" REF="39"> be ray&s;ed vp to the heauens with thee. O cro&s;&s;e image of paynes and torments, which my &s;a|uiour endured to overcome death, teach me to vanquish that, which remaineth of deathe and liueth yet in me by &s;inne: and teache me the pa|tience, which it is behoofefull to haue, to con|quer my &s;elf. O nayles all bloodie, which haue fa&s;tened the Redeemer of the world to the cro&s;&s;e, fa&s;ten my affections vpon his paines, and &s;ettle my &s;owle in that con&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ant vertue, which ought to tame my vitious de&s;&s;ignes. Pre&s;&s;e downe my &s;infull hands, with the feare of god, to the end that they &s;tirre not whe~ ten|tations incite them to anie euil act: and that In|nocencie di&s;tilling downe from all partes, may be the blood to noorish my &s;owle. And o yee whippes &amp; &s;courges, be&s;meared with blood, make the feeling and coulour of my mortified and benummed bodie to quicken againe. Driue from about me all &s;ort of delights, which likepicking flies and hornets, doe enuenime and wound me, &s;oe that as yee haue cau&s;ed the blood to flowe which hath clean&s;ed our &s;innes, &s;o cau&s;e yee that to be &s;pillt, which hathe polluted my con&s;cience. Abate in my flesh, all delight thereof, that I may be new borne in puritie and &s;inceritie: and thou o Sponge, full of bitterne&s;&s;e, di&s;till into my hart one dropp of this sharpe loquour, but yet whole&s;ome and quickening, which
<PB N="46" REF="40"> my Redeemer ta&s;ted of at his deathe. Giue me a litle ta&s;t of his la~guorous pa&s;&s;io~, for my &s;owle as a &s;ponge hath &s;o dronk in the vn&s;auorie and pe&s;tilent humors of the world, that yf it be not &s;omewhat pre&s;&s;ed and wrung by anguishe and torment, it will corrupt and perish wholie. And thou O &s;peare, which opened&s;t the holie &s;ydes of my &s;auiour, open my &s;ydes and pearce my hart, that I may &s;ee what fond de&s;yres, what brutish concupi&s;cencies were there &s;ealed: &s;o that blood (which is the de&s;ire of the flesh) and water (which is the vanitie and incon&s;tancie of earth) may flowe euen to my fingers, and mounting vp to my eyes, may re&s;tore to them the &s;ight of heauenlie, and diuine things, which my &s;innes haue couered, with a thick skinne &amp; clowde. After this I will put on my head, the crowne of thornes, as an euident &s;igne, that tho&s;e who ar crowned in this world with thornes, shall wear a crowne of glorie in an other wor<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">d. Let us then enter into his holie habitation, which is a trew Inne, &s;et vpon the high waye to heauen. O wha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> magnificence is ther in this ba&s;enes, what riches in this pouer|tie? what plea&s;ure in this payne? O my Sowle, thou ha&s;t long languished, in the furious con|cupi&s;cences of the world, now art thou arriued at the hauen of healthe: where thou neede&s;t nor couet any thing, &s;auing that thou ha&s;t. For thou ha&s;t all things, by cau&s;e all things ar in
<PB N="47" REF="40"> god, who is all in all, and here he offereth hym &s;elf to thee. Giue me, O giue me the weapons of this happie warfare that I may fight, while the daye la&s;teth, and that I may conquer my &s;elf, and &s;o triumphe ouer the world. O fayre and rich robe, thou shalt couer the infirmitie of my members, and hyde the pryde of my fleshe. The&s;e peeces patched in, shall be &s;o manie memorialls to me, of the weak<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">nes of my nature, which &s;uffereth it &s;elf to be &s;tayned and pearced thoroughe on everie &s;yde, by the filthe and corruptio~ of the world, to the which I ought now to applie holie and religious me|ditations, and now to &s;owe it, and reenter it, into the diuine nature, by holie and ver|tuous actions. Welcome fayre girdle, though thou art gro&s;&s;e, yet too weake, to keep downe the garments to the bodie, that is, to &s;ubdew the flesh to the &s;pirit, and to re&s;traine the di&s;|ordered concupi&s;cences, that they occupie not our thoughts, but may be &s;trangled in our bo&s;ome, &s;o &s;oone as they ar borne. Courage then, O hart, I am now readie to enter the li&s;ts, god &s;trenthe~ and fortifie me, that I may get the conque&s;t, to gods glorie. Farewel world, Fare|wel.</P>
</FLOATEXT>
<P>He &s;pake not this by words of mouth but expre&s;&s;ed it reallie and effectuallie in all his actions: not in an ordinarie fashion, but with &s;o much feruour, and inward contentment of
<PB N="48" REF="41"> &s;owle, as that the inward light &s;ending forth euident beames owtwardlie, they that were mo&s;t conuer&s;ant in &s;pirituall lyfe, were forced to &s;aye, <HI>Haec mutatio dextrae excel&s;i.</HI> This change i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> of the right hand of the mo&s;t highe: for what i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> more &s;trange, then to &s;ee a noble man, of that qualitie and rank, rai&s;ed on highe with great honors, riche, and great in place and authoritie, a fauorite of a king, which &s;eemed to hold for|tune in his hands, and to impart of it to others, at the age of fowre &amp; twentie yeares, when he was now in the &s;pring of his fortunes, &s;oodain|lie &s;o changed, that he would cloath hym&s;elf, with &s;o vile and contemptible a weed (I meane in the opinio~ of worldelings, who mea&s;ure al<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> things by the elle of their vanitie,) and to be|come poore naked, and in nece&s;&s;ities, &s;o that he was not mai&s;ter of &s;o much, as the verie corde, where with he was girt: and to aban|don the court, not by anie di&s;a&s;tre (which often ca&s;teth manie owt, to the di&s;grace of the world) but by a holie viole~ce of loue, the mo&s;t pui&s;&s;ant pa&s;&s;ion of all others!</P>
<P>At this tyme the Reuerend Father, Bernard d'Ozimo, was Prouincial, a man of great repu|tation, for the holienes of his lyfe, and trew &s;incerity of &s;owle. In te&s;timonie of his &s;ancti|tie, god wrought manie miracles by hym after his deathe; his bodie al&s;o was fownd, a long tyme after vncorrupted, yielding a mo&s;t &s;weet
<PB N="49" REF="41"> and fragrant odour) which is not &s;eene at anie tyme, but accompanijng the bodies of holie men. This ble&s;&s;ed father, gaue father Angel Ioyeu&s;e the habit, admitting hym to it, the 4. of September, in the yeare 1587. &s;ix and twentie dayes after the deathe of his wyfe: who at mid|night went to the Conuent of the Capuchins, attended onelie with two of the &s;eruants of his cha~ber, and his Chappelin, who not knowing whither he went, were much a&s;tonished, whe~ they &s;awe hym on his knees before the al|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">er, in the pre&s;ence of all the religious, and &s;awe hym ca&s;t of his cloake, &s;tripp hym &s;elf of his dublett &amp; shirt, and put on a rough habit, &amp; gird hym &s;elf with a gro&s;&s;e corde, which man|ner of cloathing &s;eemeth to be yrk&s;ome euen <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">o the &s;trong lu&s;tie laborour. O ble&s;&s;ed &s;owle <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">rewlie guided, and lightned by the holie gho&s;t; <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">or it was not the court, nor flesh and blood, which hath taught thee this le&s;&s;on, but the ex|traordinarie grace of god, to which thou ha|uing opened entrance into thy &s;owle, withowt anie apprehe~&s;ion of a cold and sharpe winter, ha&s;t vndertaken &s;o hard and paynefull a voy|age, (to the eyes of the world) that the nomber <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s verie &s;mall of tho&s;e, who haue the courage, to trace the &s;ame &s;tepps.</P>
<P>The&s;e ar &s;uch fauours, which god doth not to all, drawing men in diuer&s;e manners to hym, as it &s;eemeth be&s;t to his holie will, and accor|ding
<PB N="50" REF="42"> to their ma~ner of lyfe. For although infir|mitie be a great means, to make us turn to god, when we forgetting his benefits, entertaine our &s;elfs with vanities, and idle contentments, (and euen by this waye, the holie &s;eraphic S. Fra~cis was called) notwith&s;tanding, honors are an other meanes of vocatio~, and verie propre and effectuall, but much differing from the former. For the fir&s;t, forceth vs by afflictions, to lyft vp our eyes to heauen: and the other maketh vs to ob&s;erue how all the plea&s;ures &amp; delights of the world, mu&s;t haue a wormewood tai&s;t in the end, and in deed breed &s;orrow, and griefe. And this vocatio~, as the more excellent, taketh hold onelie of the mo&s;t eleuated &s;pirits, and the pu|re&s;t &s;owles, who doe clearelie di&s;cern truth fro~ falshood, and the &s;ub&s;tance from the shadowe.</P>
<P>This it was, that wrought with the Count Bouchage, that by rea&s;on of his feruour he was called Angel, and &s;o commonlie afterward had the name of father Angel Ioyeu&s;e. An Angel indeed gardien of puritie, and a gla&s;&s;e of manie noble good &s;owles, which followed his &s;tepps, as he had imitated manie infinit others, which went before hym. For this holie religion of S. Francis hath bene profe&s;&s;ed of kings, princes and manie honorable per&s;ons, and shal be till the end of the world, drawing men to it, by &s;plendor of puritie, and integritie: which as a bright &s;onne, shining with great lu&s;tre, maketh
<PB N="51" REF="42"> the perfection of it in this lyfe, euident to the profane and irreligious per&s;ons, and repre&s;en|teth vnto them, the crownes, which ar recea|ued for yt in the lyfe to come.</P>
<P>Iohn Brenne, Count of Vienne, of the race of the great Duke of Bullion fir&s;t king of Hie|ru&s;alem, after he was crowned king at Tyre, in the yeare 1210. and made Emperour of Co~&s;tan|tinople, after manie trophees wonne from his enemies, for&s;aking the world, tooke the habitt of S. Francis, of whom a poet writt in this manner.</P>
<Q><L>Brenna vvas mightie, and great in kinglie povver,</L>
<L>But yet by S. Francis habit, he clymed a higher tovver.</L></Q>
<P>Henry king of Cypres, after that he had a long tyme gouerned that Iland, betook hym|&s;elf, to the religion of S Francis, and ledd a lyfe renowmed for &s;anctitie: wherof the miracles giue &s;ufficient te&s;timonie, which it hath plea&s;ed god to work, by the inuocation of hym, for an interce&s;&s;our: and behold what is writt of this.</P>
<Q><L>He that vvas king of cypres, and great in vvealth,</L>
<L>Maketh hym&s;elf a Franci&s;can, for his &s;ovvles health.</L></Q>
<P>Iohn king of Armenia, the &s;oouerain ma&s;ter of four and twentie kings, (who gouerned di|uer&s;e contries of this realme, a great enemie &amp; conqueror of the Saracens) did not make &s;o
<PB N="52" REF="43"> much accompt of his crowne, as of that of S. Francis, for he for&s;ooke the one, and bare and dyed with the other, as the poet witne&s;&s;eth.</P>
<Q><L>Armenia vvonders at their king of Royall &s;eede,</L>
<L>Ca&s;ting dovvn his &s;cepter, and clad vvith S. Francis vveede.</L></Q>
<P>Iames, king of Maiorica, cho&s;e rather, to be a poor &s;oldier, vnder S. Francis &s;tandard, then to be a great king in his realme.</P>
<Q><L>Maiorica &s;tood a&s;tonished, to &s;ee their head,</L>
<L>Abandoning all delight, eating poore S. Francis bread.</L></Q>
<P>Peter &s;onne of Iohn king of Arragon, a profe&s;&s;ed Franci&s;can, was a man of holie lyfe, a great preacher: and preaching before Vrban the fift, and the Emperor, did &s;o ioyne eloque~ce with his vertue, that he drew manie teares from his hearers. He kept the rule according to the rigour of the letter, if anie euer did, as is expre&s;&s;ed.</P>
<Q><L>O happie and thrice noble Arragonia of &s;pring,</L>
<L>vvho tooke&s;t the poor habit of religion, and d'oft a king.</L></Q>
<P>I lett pa&s;&s;e Robert king of Hieru&s;alem, and Sicilie: Adolph king of Hol&s;atia, and infinit others, who mooued by the &s;ecret gale of gods holie &s;pirit, turned the &s;ayles of their thoughts, and de&s;&s;ignes, to this holie port of a&s;&s;urance. And not to go further, haue we not this pre&s;ent yeare, here in France, the noble de&s;&s;igne of the
<PB N="53" REF="43"> Count de Voult, i&s;&s;ewed owt of one of the mo&s;t famous and mo&s;t ancient families of France, who in the height of his fortune, readie to marrie, and at the age of fowre and twentie yeares, hath giuen the defie to all the plea&s;ures of the world, and now being cladd in the poore habit of a Capuchin, is entered into his nouiceship, in this cittie of Paris.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Nouiceshipp. THE FOVRTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THE Count of Bouchage, hauing made this great and plea&s;ing &s;acrifice to god of hym &s;elf; and hauing gotten and merited the name of Angel: the morning was no &s;ooner come, but the bruit of this act, &s;preading it &s;elf tho|rough Paris, came to the kings eares, a&s;&s;oone as he ro&s;e: who being a&s;tonished much at this re|port, and &s;troken with great &s;addnes, by rea&s;on of his great affection to hym, tooke his Coche in&s;tantlie, and went to the Conuent, of the Ca|puchins, attended with the brethren of father Angel, who be&s;ought hym, with all humble and earne&s;t in&s;tance, that he wold not go owt of that Conuent; till he took their brother with hym: per&s;uading them&s;elues, that yf they made not v&s;e of this opportunitie by the kings authoritie, they should neuer enioye the &s;weet
<PB N="54" REF="44"> conuer&s;ation of theire brother heareafter, Therfor the king &s;ent for the Prouinciall, and asked hym how he dur&s;t admitt hym, withowt his leaue, or withowt once aduerti&s;ing hym of it, whearas he knew well what particular affe|ctio~ he bore hym, emong all his nobles. Whear|upon he commanded his cloathes, pre&s;entlie to be brought, for he &s;ayd that his pre&s;ence and &s;eruice was nece&s;&s;arie for hym.</P>
<P>This good father, both wi&s;e and pious made hym no long replie, knowing that it was as hard to quiet a trowbled &s;pirit, in the begin|ning of a pa&s;&s;ion, as to &s;taye the cour&s;e of an impetuous torre~t: and therfor &s;ayd onelie this, that he went not owt of his Conuent, nor his chamber to &s;eek hym, nor to &s;ollicit hym: and that he had not receaued hym, but vpon his mo&s;t earne&s;t and importunate &s;uite, and pray|ers: &s;o that he took heauen to witne&s;&s;e, &amp; his &s;owle for a caution and warrant of his, yf he cha~ced to makes shipwrack, &amp; lo&s;&s;e of his &s;owle in the world, yet notwi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h&s;tanding, the port was and should be open for hym, when he wold go forth: but he humblie be&s;ought his maie&s;te not to laye anie &s;uch command vpon hym, as to put hym owt by force, hauing a g eat horror to co~mitt &s;uch a mortall offence which he could not doe, though he were to dye for it.</P>
<P>While he &s;pake the&s;e wordes, he gaue charge
<PB N="55" REF="44"> to a brother, to call hym. Who entring into his chamber, fownd hym on his knees, and his eyes lyfted vp to heauen, and melting into teares, praying hartily, bycau&s;e he had hard the noy&s;e, &amp; the re&s;olutio~ of the king and his brethren, who were in the cloy&s;ter. He came downe immediatlie, but much again&s;t his mynd. As &s;oone, as the king &s;awe hym in this habit, with his head shauen, and barefooted: he fell allmo&s;t into a traunce, with &s;oodaine a&s;to|nishment, and &s;oodainlie &s;o changed his colour that he could not &s;peake, he was &s;o ouerwhel|med with &s;orrowe. And in the depth of this pa&s;|&s;ion of mynd, teares as new witne&s;&s;es of his &s;ingular affectio~ towards hym, trickled downe his cheekes; his brethren al&s;o tran&s;ported with great anguish of mynd, fell vpon his neck groaning and lamenting, profe&s;&s;ing that they would rather die, them to leaue hym in this manner. O what force grace hath in a poore &s;owle, yt maye appeare by the &s;equeale. This father &s;awe them weepe and lament, with drie eyes: and shewed a &s;miling and chearful com|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ena~ce to them, amid&s;t their mournings, for in a graue, mode&s;t. &amp; religious manner he made them &s;ee, that he had no caw&s;e of griefe, but rather of great ioye: but that onelie he could not, but be mooued &s;omewhat, that they wear &s;o affected.</P>
<P>The king at length recouering hym &s;elf, and
<PB N="56" REF="45"> fetching a deepe &s;ighe, asked hym, what moo|ued hym to cho&s;e that kind of lyfe, &s;o contra|rie to his tender, and delicate con&s;titution, which he thought could neuer &s;upport the yoke of &s;uch au&s;terities? what di&s;contentment he had receaued at the court, that he should for&s;ake it, and enter into &s;uch a cour&s;e of lyfe? yf he doubted of anie chainge of his affection towards hym: he would giue hym, as good a&s;|&s;ura~ce of it, as euer anie man had. As for deuout &s;eruing of god, he tould hym, God is fownd euerie where, and men maye work their &s;alua|tion in all places. That S. Lewis, and manie other &s;aints had liued in the court, and yet cea|&s;ed not to lead a holie lyfe. In fine, he tould hym, he should doe much wrong to this fami|lie, yf he went on in this cour&s;e of lyfe: and therfor prayed hym, by that loue &amp; affection, which a &s;ubiect oweth to his prince, who ten|dereth, and loueth hym, that he would prese~t|lie follow hym, and for&s;ake this lyfe. What could he &s;aye more, to abate the courage of a man of great re&s;olution. His brethren tendered the &s;ame reque&s;t, with all po&s;&s;ible in&s;tance but all in vayne, for he had no eares, to harken to them, in this reque&s;t. To the king, he made this an&s;wer.</P>
<P>Syr, it is not anie di&s;contentment, that hath mooued me, to &s;eeke this retrayte, &amp; incited me to the contempt of the world, and the vani|ties
<PB N="57" REF="45"> thereof: It is the grace of god, which in the plentie &amp; varietie of contentments, hath made me &s;ee they ar nothing but &s;moake. It is not a|nie doubt or feare of your princelie affection for yow haue allwaies affected me, farr beyo~d my de&s;ert. It is rather a le&s;&s;on, which I haue learned of yow, which withowt my owne knowledg and practi&s;e, I haue al&s;o receaued from heauen. For how often, haue yow told me, when I was alone with yow, in your cab|binet, and entertained &s;ome thoughts of deuo|tion; that this world was full of deceiptfull baits, and that ambition (as a mo&s;t cruel lyo|nes) did deuoure the mo&s;t zealous: and that it was fitt to follow tho&s;e vocations which we haue from god; and as all things, tend to their center, &s;o ought we to direct all our intentio~s to god. I haue now made my benefitt of the&s;e holie exhortations; permitt me, therfor I hum|blie be&s;eech yow, yf yow will doe me the ho|nour &s;till to loue me, that I may &s;taye here, and &s;o enioye my contentment, for he that loueth, wisheth allwaies the contentment of hym whom he loueth.</P>
<P>He &s;pake moreouer touching the vanitie of the world, that it is a poy&s;on which infecteth in &s;uch a maner, that the mo&s;t experie~ced phy|&s;icions in &s;pirituall medecines, can hardlie avoyd it: that it is the daughter of the fir&s;t of the diuels, &s;i&s;ter to that enemitie, which he beareth
<PB N="58" REF="46"> to man: for to follow it, is to for&s;ake god: &amp; to loue god is to dete&s;t it. God will not dwell in harts deuided. Be&s;ides this world is verie tran|&s;itorie, &amp; heauen is not giuen, but to tho&s;e who take it by violence: that it is as hard to &s;aue our &s;owles, amid&s;t the pomps and vanities of the court, as to liue in the mid&s;t of a furnace, and not to feele the heat, of the flames. In fine his wordes preuayled &s;o much with them, that they were well appea&s;ed, and retourned with contentment, admiring the goodnes of god, that had endewed &s;o noble a bodie, with &s;o no|ble &amp; heroicall a &s;owle.</P>
<P>After he had pa&s;&s;ed this fir&s;t brunt, &s;o coura|giou&s;lie to the glorie of god, and ioye of his angells, he mett with a more daingerous a&s;|&s;ault, which &s;eazed vpon his powers and abili|ties, the fir&s;t encountring onely his affectio~: for what auayleth it, to will and de&s;ire anie thing, which is beyond our reache, and which we can not put in execution: no man performes a|nie thing well, to which he was not before in|clined in will to doe, but manie loue great de|&s;ires, which &s;urmount their &s;trength. For the &s;p<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ce of three moneths, his bodie hauing been a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">cu&s;tomed, to fine and good feeding, he could not eate the ordinarie meat of the religions, &amp; the inconuenie~ce was the greater, that he de&s;i|ring much to mortifie hym &s;elf, would not eate anie extraordinarie. The browne and hard
<PB N="59" REF="46"> bread which was giuen in almes to the reli|gious, took awaye his appetite, at the verie &s;ight: neither could he drink of the claret wyne, for be&s;ides that it was &s;owre and sharpe, and mixt of diuers kynds; it may be he neuer v&s;ed, to drink of that &s;ort of wyne. The&s;e were dain|gerous batteries, able to &s;ubdue a braue de|fender. The phi&s;icians concluded, (whether for fauor, or for monie, it is not knowen that he mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arilie for&s;ake his religio~, for to &s;aue his lyfe. His brethren in the mean tyme v&s;ed all &s;ollicitation they could for this end, hoping that by gayning of tyme, he would change his purpo&s;e. But the religious helping hym with their prayers, his charitie triumphed ouer all the&s;e to gods glorie, and the encrea&s;e of his merits. He cared not for death, and was not vnwilling to qu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">tt the tabernacle of his weake bodie: hauing allreadie for&s;aken the world, he would inure his bodie to mortifications, for he &s;ayd he was entered into religion for that end, and re&s;olued to &s;upport all paynes and trauell in that kynd.</P>
<P>His ble&s;&s;ed mother, Madame de Ioyeu&s;e, onelie among all his friends did pa&s;&s;ionatelie de&s;ire his per&s;euerance and to this purpo&s;e she vi&s;ited hym often, and encouraged hym, as much as laye in her, being her &s;elf much adua~|ced in the &s;choole of perfection: and as he wit|ne&s;&s;ed hym &s;elf, the &s;ight onelie of her, was in
<PB N="60" REF="47"> &s;tead of &s;trong refection, &amp; &s;trengthned hym much in this holie cour&s;e of lyfe, in defpyte of all the brusk encounters of the world, the flesh, and &amp; diuel. She se~t hym euerie daye two lofes of bread, with a litle botle of whyte wyne, and god, who neuer giueth vs good de&s;yres, withowt force to performe them, did di&s;till downe this benediction vpon this bread, that with verie litle or no other meat, he pa&s;&s;ed the tyme of three moneths, in that rigorous fa&s;t, which the religious doe exactlie ob&s;erue. So powrefull is loue, that when it comandeth our actions, all the greate&s;t contrarieties, &amp; di&s;|gu&s;ts, ar made ea&s;ie and &s;weet. During this tyme he accu&s;tomed hym&s;elf, by litle and litle to eate of the common meat, and at the length gayned &s;o much of hym &s;elf, that ther was not anie of the religious, (who had been never &s;o hardlie bred) that could pa&s;&s;e with this nou|rishment more ea&s;ilie the~ hym&s;elf: in &s;o much, that he conte~ted hym &s;elf with hearbs, beanes, pea&s;e, pul&s;e and for the mo&s;t part with bread and water, while others eat &s;uch meat, as was brought home, at the comon almes: whervpo~ he was reputed one of the mo&s;t au&s;tere of his profe&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>The morrow after he took the habite, the religious fathers, withowt regard of his qua|litie, (for emong them, ther is no di&s;tinction of per&s;ons for their birth, be they noble, or of
<PB N="61" REF="47"> meane parentage) begann to put hym, to all vile and ba&s;e exerci&s;es, both bodilie and &s;piri|tuall, fit for the tryall of tho&s;e, who enter into the &s;choole of mortification. And he withowt anie di&s;daine, or anie repining obeyed in all things, with great promptnes, &s;o that he was the fir&s;t in all the&s;e exerci&s;es, &amp; &s;erued for an example to incite others. What a chainge is this, that he which was ye&s;terday cladd richlie like a prince, attended with manie &s;ervants, and obeyed as a great &s;eigneur of his rank, the daye following cloatheth hym &s;elf with a cour&s;e &s;ack, &amp; is comanded, to digg and labour in a poor ma~ner? That he, which was &s;erued with &s;o much re&s;pect and honor, &s;ubiecteth hym &s;elf to &s;weep chambers, and wash others poore dishes: that he who ye&s;terday with Io&s;eph bore &s;waye and rule in the greate&s;t and weightie&s;t affayres of the king, to daye with Mardoceus, cladd with &s;ackcloath and ashes is de&s;pi&s;ed, and put to doe tho&s;e ba&s;e offices, which ar enioyned to Nouices, for proofe of their humi|litie, and to quell their propre will, the plague and bane of religious &s;owles. What plea&s;ure he took in the&s;e humiliations, it is not ea&s;ilie ex|pre&s;&s;ed, God which knoweth the hart, did re|compence hym accordinglie; and by the ef|fects, we may ea&s;ilie conclude, his true &s;ince|ritie, and perfect humilitie.</P>
<P>It happened in the tyme of his Nouiceship,
<PB N="62" REF="48"> that the Duke of Ioyeu&s;e, (his elde&s;t brother) and an other of his brethren were &s;laine, at the bataille of Coutras, for the defence of the Ca|tholick &s;aithe, and the &s;tate of their countrie, who&s;e death was a caw&s;e of great mourning to all France. Their bodies according to their qualitie, were brought to Paris, &amp; receaued with as much honour, according to an ancient manner as yf they had returned in conque&s;t, and laden with the &s;poyles of their enemies, They were attended by a &s;olemne proce&s;&s;ion, vnto the church of S. Iaques du Haulte pas, where it plea&s;ed the king al&s;o, to a&s;&s;i&s;t them, giuing an ample te&s;timonie of his affection, towards tho&s;e who had layd downe ther liues for his defence: and he did not leaue them, till he &s;aw their funeralls, ended according to their merit, and valoure. Here among the religious per&s;ons, the Capuchins were pre&s;ent, to &s;aye the office of the dead for their inte~tion: among whom, ther was hardlie fownd anie one, which could recite the office withowt inter|ruption of teares and groanes. Onelie this fa|ther Angel (though yet but a nouice, withowt anie exteriour &s;igne of &s;uch &s;orrow, continued the &s;inging of the office, and kept in that great &s;orrow, which did more nearlie pre&s;se hym, then anie other. This death of his brethren, be|&s;ides the griefe, which he had therby, was al&s;o a shrewd temptatio~ to hym: for he was partlie
<PB N="63" REF="48"> moued by the blood, which can not but boyle in &s;uch a ca&s;e, and partlie by diuers of his fre~ds, who vnder coulour of con&s;olation vi&s;ited hym often, to take the reueng of his brethrens deathe. But his buckler to re&s;i&s;t the&s;e dartes, was a ver&s;e of Salomon, which he had learned by hart, and had often in his mouthe; <HI>Sonne vvhen thou come&s;t to &s;erue god &s;tand in feare, and pre|pare thy hart for tentation.</HI></P>
<P>There arriued yet to hym, a more dainge|rous temptation, then anie of the&s;e former. Wheras the&s;e came not but from the world, and the flesh, which ar to be &s;ubdued by rea|&s;on: but this la&s;t came from god, whome it plea&s;ed to take from hym, that inward guift, which he had: &s;o that all things, which &s;eemed before &s;weet to hym, &s;oodainlie became &s;owre, and vnplea&s;a~t, for the inward co~&s;olatio~, which is as the brea&s;t which god maketh his young ones to &s;uck, &s;o to make them finde co~|tentment amid&s;t all au&s;terities and irk&s;omnes of flesh and blood; was taken from hym, &s;o that now he fell into a wonderfull drynes, and languour of &s;pirit, not fynding anie gu&s;t in his prayers, meditations, and holie exerci&s;es, which ar as it were the Aromatical perfumes of a de|uout &s;owle. Notwith&s;tanding all this, he cea|&s;ed not, to frequent the &s;ame holie practi&s;e of his deuotions, neither was gods grace impa|red to hym herby: for the be&s;t &s;pirituali&s;ts,
<PB N="64" REF="49"> know well, that ther is a great difference, between the practi&s;es of pietie and deuotion, and feeling a plea&s;ure and &s;weet gu&s;t therin, the one being a direct act, which tendeth di|rectlie to god, as to the vtmo&s;t obiect: the other is an action of our knowledg, which caw&s;ing a reflexion vpon that, which we haue donne, bringeth with it ioye and contentme~t. The fir&s;t is a pure act of vertue, the &s;econd is the fruit which we gather therof: god concur|reth with the fir&s;t, and &s;o by it, ar the &s;olide actions of vertue exerci&s;ed: but he depriueth vs of the &s;econd, which is our knowledg, whence ri&s;eth our contentment, whence dark|nes cometh in &s;teed of clearenes, and drienes of &s;pirit in the place of affection, &amp; heauienes in &s;teed of ioye. For more familiar explicatio~ of this, we know that he, which being extreame thir&s;tie, shall take anie liquor into his &s;tomach withowt ta&s;ting it, should certanlie drink it though he should not beleeue it, by|cau&s;e he findeth no contentment in the drin|king: &s;o fareth it, when god taketh away his comforts, we doe not cea&s;e, to exerci&s;e vertuous actions, but yet the want of our knowledg and gu&s;t, maketh vs to think that we doe not the&s;e actions.</P>
<P>Being in this di&s;tre&s;&s;e he di&s;couered his in|ward affection to his &s;uperior, which is the be&s;t armour of defence a nouice can v&s;e, in
<PB N="65" REF="49"> anie &s;uch temptations. The religious fathers a&s;&s;i&s;ted hym by theire holie prayers, and his vertuous mother was not wanting to encoo|rage hym a&s;&s;uring hym that it was god who would prooue hym, &amp; that he did ofte~ treat in this manner his be&s;t fauorits. And therfor he which doth mortifie, and quicken againe, whe~ it plea&s;eth hym, who bringeth vs to the brink of hell, &amp; bringeth vs back according to his holie will, after he had tryed his re&s;olution, and made hym triumph ouer all the&s;e batteries, re|co~penced hym an hundredfold for the&s;e payns, and anguishes, which he &s;u&s;tained. It hap|pened that one night, after mattins, the reli|gious being all retired into their cells, he conti|nued in the church praying: &amp; ther pro&s;tra|ting hym &s;elf before the alter, he forced hym &s;elf to ouercome this great de&s;olation, wher wi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h he was afflicted. It is not po&s;&s;ible, to re|pre&s;ent this griefe, for as much as the &s;owle is more noble then the bodie, &s;o ar the dolours g<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">eater, and ther is no martyrdome comparable to it, &s;eing that martyrs inwardlie lightned by the &s;p<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ciall grace of god, h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ue fownd great co~|fort in their torments, and ro&s;es emong their thornes: whearas this poore nouice, afflicted in &s;pirit, and depriued of &s;piritual plea&s;ure, re|ceaued no con&s;olation from aboue, from whence he expected his ea&s;e and deliue|rance.</P>
<PB N="66" REF="50">
<P>Lying therfor flatt before the altar praying with all the powers of his &s;owle, he felt &s;oo|dainlie, an extraordinarie motion, with in hym, &s;o that &s;ome &s;parke of that heaue~lie fyre, which purifieth the &s;pirit, kindled &s;o great a flame in his hart, that he being not able to &s;moother yt, cryed out &s;o lowd, that the rel<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">gious who were at re&s;t in their cells, were awaked with the noy&s;e. O holie &s;owle, now is thy contentme~t come, and the bitternes of the affliction pa&s;t: yet not &s;o, that thou can&s;t haue anie a&s;&s;urance from the like a&s;&s;aults, ouer which (yf they fall owt) thou shalt by gods holie grace triumphe, as thou ha&s;t allreadie. For after all the&s;e incur|&s;ions of temptation, he had a violent combate, in debating with hym &s;elf, whether the lyfe of Carthu&s;ians, and their &s;olitude, were not more proper &amp; fitt for hym. But recommending this to god in earne&s;t prayer, he receaued in&s;piratio~ from god, that he should per&s;euer in that cour&s;e of lyfe, which he had now vndertaken. Whereupon he came to the Reuerend father Iulien (mai&s;ter of the Nouices) and &s;ayd in his eare to hym, My Father, I haue made a vowe to god, to liue and dye a Cappuchin. From that tyme he enioyed a &s;weet repo&s;e, and calme of his &s;owle. All his mortifications were plea&s;ures to hym, his shirts of heyre were ro&s;es, his fa&s;tinges were great ba~kets, his di&s;ciplines were delights, and the grace which he receaued from
<PB N="67" REF="50"> aboue, was &s;o well entertained by his coope|ration, that he went on couragiou&s;lie in his in|tended cour&s;e, and was neuer after di&s;quieted by anie accident.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his profe&s;sion, and manner of lyfe. THE SIXT CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>FAther Angel Ioyeu&s;e, hauing now pa&s;&s;ed the yeare of his Nouiceship, which is trewlie called the yeare of probation; bycau&s;e euen as gold is tryed in the fournace, &s;o was he tryed of god and man by all &s;orts of mortifica|tions, and &s;o by the&s;e actions, augmented his grace and his merit. The tyme of his profe&s;&s;ion being come, that he was to enter into an obli|gation with god by &s;olemne vowe to liue the re&s;t of his dayes in mo&s;t &s;imple pouertie, mo&s;t pure cha&s;titie, and mo&s;t perfect obedience: he humblie reque&s;ted the Reuerend father F. Bernard d'Ozimo, who was to receaue hym in the pre&s;ence of all the religious on gods part; that he wold admitt hym emong the profe&s;&s;ed Religions, as he had done the yeare before emong the Nouices. This good father who&s;e words were pearcing euen to the inward marrowe of the con|&s;cience, to make hym apprehend the vglie|nes of vices, and the beautie of vertue, with
<PB N="68" REF="51"> the different end of the one and the other, knowing of what great importance a vowe of of Religious is, by which he can not doe that vnder payne of damnation, which he might haue donne before, withowt the lea&s;t &s;cruple of offending God: bent his per&s;ua&s;ions with all feruour, to lett hym &s;ee the &s;weetnes of li|bertie, (which was as yet in his power): that it was a &s;mall matter to for&s;ake our ea&s;e, and commodities, but to for&s;ake our will, that this was a great entrepri&s;e. He told hym that he might yet freelie enioye his co~tentme~ts and the court, that he might buy heauen better cheape, and that the king and his frends would receaue infinit contentment thereat. In fyne, he &s;ayd Religion was &s;o heauie a yoke, that the mo&s;t couragious did &s;toope to &s;u&s;tain yt; that he had ta&s;ted &s;omewhat this yeare pa&s;t, but all that was but hoonie, in compari&s;on of that, which he mu&s;t &s;uffer, as to pa&s;&s;e mountaines couered with &s;nowe barefooted, be&s;ides that this was a marriage, which can not be broken, &s;o that in &s;tead of co~manding he mu&s;t obey, abandon his owne proper affections, die to his naturall de&s;yres, de&s;pi&s;e worldlie pa&s;&s;ions, make light of all reuilings and opprobries, embrace ca|l<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">mnies, loue pouertie haue no other riches, but affliction: and finallie to nayle hym &s;elf to the cro&s;&s;e for euer. And therfor that he should be well adui&s;ed, what he would doe. Her|upon
<PB N="69" REF="51"> he asked hym, yf he would go backward or forward. What couragious &s;pirit, would not haue been daunted with this &s;peeche?</P>
<P>But this ble&s;&s;ed Nouice, hauing well ta&s;ted of the &s;weet liquours which the world repre|&s;ents, (which &s;eeme rather &s;weet, then ar trewlie) was &s;o farr from being diuerted by this di&s;cour&s;e, that contrariewi&s;e like a Palme tree, the more it is charged, the more it ri&s;eth: &s;o he became more cooragious &amp; re&s;olute the~ before, &amp; be&s;ought hym more in&s;tantlie for his admi&s;&s;ion. Wherfor pro&s;trating hym&s;elf before the alter, he &s;olemni&s;ed this contract of his profe&s;&s;ion, with vn&s;peakable ioye, putting hym &s;elf into the hands, of this ble&s;&s;ed father his &s;uperior. O mutation or rather re&s;urrectio~, to giue the la&s;t farewell, to inclinations of &s;en|&s;ualitie, and worldlie delights in this manner! This food is too hard of di&s;ge&s;tion, for a com|mon and ordinarie &s;owle, it is &s;uch, that God doth not giue but to his be&s;t fauorites. His profe&s;&s;ion being made, it is almo&s;t incredible, how he augmented his feruor in prayer, his au|&s;teritie in fa&s;ting, his rigour in di&s;ciplines; ble&s;|&s;ing god, from the bottom of his &s;owle, that he had called hym to this kynd of lyfe, which co~|pri&s;ed all his former benefits. The&s;e are his own words.</P>
<P>O my &s;owle, ble&s;&s;e our lord, and forget not his benefitts: this (&s;aith he) is an abbrigement of all
<PB N="70" REF="52"> the re&s;t, a new creation, a new iu&s;tification, a new redemption, an earne&s;t-pennie and gage of glorification, in fine, a con&s;ummate heape of all the mercies of god. And by a long inductio~, repeating the mercies and benefitts be&s;towed vpon hym, he putteth fir&s;t the plenarie ab&s;olu|tion, which a religious man hath, bothe from &s;inne, and the payne due to yt. Secondly that it cureth all maladies, contracted by &s;inne, to witt ignorance by an amorous knowledg of god, which is called Sapience or wi&s;edome. It cureth frayletie, by the &s;uccor of &s;uperabunda~t grace, It healeth concupi&s;cene, by loue of god; and mallice, by the loue of our neighbor. Thirdly a religious per&s;on is exempt, fro~ manie occa&s;ions of &s;inne. Fourthlie god hath &s;ingular care of them, and protection. Fifthlie, the per|fection of &s;pirituall con&s;olations, acco~panieth yt, in &s;omuch that a religious perso~ as an eagle renueth, and tra~sformeth hym &s;elf into Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, by grace in this lyfe, to be wholie changed into hym, by glorie in the lyfe to come.</P>
<P>To enioye the&s;e benefitts, he &s;ayd, I would (my brethren) we did beare a &s;ingular loue to our rule, and that euerie one of vs did v&s;e diligence for the &s;trict ob&s;eruation of yt. The fir&s;t thing that we should doe, were dailie to re|member the promi&s;e we made, at our profe&s;|&s;io~: The &s;econd is to take ioye, in that we haue
<PB N="71" REF="52"> made this promi&s;e &amp; vowe, &amp; daily to renue it. The third is to meditate euery daye in the weeke in this ma~ner. On So~day, vpo~ Obedie~|ce: Mu~day on cha&s;titie: Tue&s;day on pouertie. Wedne&s;day on Charitie: Thur&s;day on humili|tie: Friday, on pennance and mortification, in our habit, in our &s;leepe, in our meate: and Sat|terday, on the peace, which ought to be emong vs. The fourth is, humblie to reque&s;t our &s;upe|rior, and brethren, that they would aduerti&s;e vs, and admonish vs of our faultes and defects, in the ob&s;eruation of the rule &amp; con&s;titutions, to the end that we may amend them, and receaue willinglie their reproofes for &s;o good an end. The fifth is, to take one day euerie moneth, for a generall and exact examination of all faultes, comitted again&s;t the rule, and to accu&s;tome hym&s;elf, to doe &s;ome particular penance for the &s;ame faults. and in this manner, &s;ayd he, we might exerci&s;e our &s;elfs, to a trew obedie~ce of our rule, which we haue promi&s;ed to keepe. And loe heere the frame &amp; modele of his lyfe, (expre&s;&s;ed in his owne words,) which he did lead fro~ the daye of his profe&s;&s;ion, &s;ubdewing &s;till the de&s;yres of the flesh, and making it obe|dient, to the &s;pirit, by violence of au&s;terities, &amp; mortification.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t tyme that vpon obedience he took anie voiage a foot, (as it is their cu&s;tome neuer to ryde, withowt extreame nece&s;&s;itie) the
<PB N="72" REF="53"> &s;oles of his feet were &s;o tender, that before he had gone fiue leagues, he was fayne to bynd his handkerchif abowt them, lea&s;t they might be &s;ore hurt by the hardenes of his &s;andalls. And in deed the payne was &s;o dolorous, that he could not go, till his compagnio~ was forced to procure an a&s;&s;e to carrie hym to the place whither they went. But after this voiage, his feet were &s;o inured &amp; hardened, that he went twi&s;e to Rome and being prouinciall of the order for &s;ix yeares together, he went euerie yeare three or fowr hundred leagues a foot, in vi&s;iting the prouince. It is almo&s;t incre|dible, what au&s;terities he v&s;ed, bothe at home &amp; abroad. If as he was abroad ther was much good meate pre&s;ented to hym: he wold take of the meane&s;t &s;ort, both to &s;uppre&s;se the allure|ments of &s;en&s;ualitie, as al&s;o to giue good exam|ple to &s;ecular per&s;ons, who skann narrowlie all the actions of religious men. He avoyded all occa&s;ions of meetings, where he thought, he might be knowen, lea&s;t he might be treated better then a poore Capuchin. Therfor he choo&s;e rather to retyre hym &s;elf, to the cabbi|nets of the poore&s;t &s;ort, then to great how&s;es, where he should be well entertained. He fa&s;ted all the eues of our Sauior, &amp; our B. Ladie, and di&s;po&s;ed hym&s;elf to receaue new graces, by ex|traordinarie and fresh mortifications: di&s;cipli|ning hym &s;elf, with great rigour, and conten|ting
<PB N="73" REF="53"> hym &s;elf, with bread and water, which he did eate on his knees, as a man vnworthie of &s;o good refection. And his bodie contrarie to the ordinarie manner, was nothing weakened, by the&s;e penances, but did daylie augment, &amp; renew its forces, and continnued them with|owt anie mitigation, euen to the howre of his deathe.</P>
<P>One or two yeares after his profe&s;&s;ion, the ciuill warres were &s;o hoate in France, that there was nothing almo&s;t to be &s;eene in all parts, but the markes of fyre and &s;word, as was euident by infinite churches ruinated, &amp; chap|pells &s;poyled and &s;acked, holie altars ouer|throwen, by the furie of a pretended religion. To avoyd the&s;e cruelties &amp; in&s;olencies, which &s;uch trowbles bring with them, be&s;ides the great di&s;quieting of good and peacable &s;pi|rits, the Fa. Prouincial was con&s;trayned to &s;end manie religio&abus; to Rome, among whom was this ble&s;&s;ed father Angel Ioyeu&s;e. This long voiage weakened hym much, together with the incomodities which they &s;uffer, who carrie no moonie as the poore Capuchins ar faine to doe, relying wholie on gods prouide~ce. When he was come to Florence, the Duke was de&s;yrous to &s;ee hym, bycau&s;e he had hard much &s;poken of hym, worthie of admiration: &amp; with the permi&s;&s;ion of the Gardie~, the Duke had long di&s;cours with hym, &s;o that the Duke
<PB N="74" REF="54"> &s;ayd openlie that there was &s;omewhat in hym more then humain, which comendation made hym change his coulor, &s;o humble he was, and loued rather contempt then pray&s;e.</P>
<P>He was informed before he came owt of France, that the Religious Ob&s;eruants, had a habit, which S. Francis did weare, (which they e&s;teemed as a pretious relique, and make great daintines to showe it to anie man, being lockt vp in a cofer with two keyes, wheareof the Duke keepeth one, and the Conuent an other. Therfor the Duke making offer, of anie fauor he might doe hym, according to the manner of great princes, he humblie thanked hym, and tould hym the poore Capuchins, &s;tood in need of nothing, but yet being, a child of S. Francis, he should much oblige hym, yf by his fauor he might &s;ee the habit of this Seraphicall Saincte, which was in the cu&s;todie of the Ob&s;ervants. His Highnes granted hym this reque&s;t, and re|quired father Gardien to shew it to hym. He had al&s;o this grace donne to hym, that he was permitted, to put yt vpon his owne habit, &amp; &s;eing it was like to his in coulor, and roughe|nes, in fashion, and in the Capuce or hood, li&s;ting vp his eyes to heauen, and &s;treaching owt his armes (di&s;played in manner of a cro&s;&s;e) he cryed owt with a mo&s;t lowd voyce, O god what happienes is this, that I haue obtayned that which I &s;o much de&s;yred: I am now fullie
<PB N="75" REF="54"> content, and my &s;owle hauing abandoned all earthlie affections, doth regard nothing (O my god) but thee who art my &s;overaigne good, and la&s;t felicitie.</P>
<P>Going from Florence, he took his iourney towards Rome, which iourney he made with great payne and difficultie, being verie &s;icklie, and ill di&s;po&s;ed in bodie, yet at length arriuing there, not withowt &s;uffering greate incommo|dities, he &s;eiourned there &s;ome tyme, for the recouerie of his health, and re&s;toring of his &s;trength (much empayred, by &s;o long and payn|full a voiage.) The R. Father General &s;ent hym thence, to Venice, to &s;tudie diuinitie, where he pa&s;&s;ed his cour&s;e in the&s;e &s;tudies, with great ad|miratio~. This cour&s;e of Theologie being finish|ed, and his dexteritie, and &s;ufficiencie well knowen, to the R. father General, both vpon his owne, &amp; other mens experience, he was se~t to Lorrain, &amp; made Guardian in a Co~uent. In which charge he carried hym&s;elf &s;o pru|dentlie (as in all other bu&s;ienes wherin he was to employe his authoritie) that he made it ap|peare, he was as fitt, to comand, as to obeye: as well experimented for practi&s;e, as for &s;pecu|lation: finallie, as prudent and iudicious, as he was au&s;tere and sharpe in mortifications.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="76" REF="55">
<HEAD>Hovv he for&s;ook the habite of his religion, and vpon vvhat cavv&s;e. THE SEVENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THis ble&s;&s;ed father Angel Ioyeu&s;e, hauing continewed &s;ome yeares in Lorraine, and edified all the contrie by his eminent example; the R. Fa. Generall, yeelding to the in&s;tant prayers, of the french fathers &s;ent hym into Ga&s;coigne: for they thought that his onelie pre&s;ence (ab&s;tracting from his practi&s;e of &s;in|gular vertue) was greatlie nece&s;&s;arie there: &amp; that the whole order of religious men, would haue therby matter of great con&s;olation, for god diuers tymes maketh v&s;e of the motiues of our own proper intere&s;t, to put in execution the purpo&s;es of his eternall prouidence: wher|of we can not comprehend the caw&s;e, but by the knowledg of the effects. All the order of Religion wished that he might be &s;ent into Ga&s;coigne, but they did not fore&s;ee that he should be taken owt of his religion there, &amp; &s;o incurr the danger to loo&s;e hym wholie. He was no &s;ooner come thither, but he was made Gardian at Tolo&s;e, to the great contentment of all the religious, and the chief men of that parliament in that cittie, thinking it a great co~|fort to haue hym for Superiour emong good
<PB N="77" REF="55"> religious men, who&s;e pare~ts and brethren had obliged the whole contrie to them, by theire trauailes, for the comon good. But alas, all this ioye was but a flashe, which pre&s;entlie was gone; &amp; a great griefe &s;ucceeding, made them loo&s;e all the confort of their former ioye. For Mon&s;eigneur Scipio de Ioyeu&s;e, Liuetenant general for the king in Languedoc, hauing lo&s;t, his lyfe in a battaile, again&s;t the Huguenots in the &s;iege at Villemur, fiue leagues fro~ Tolo&s;e, all the contrie was much afflicted by his death for want of a gouernor, and principall leader the ciuill warres being there mo&s;t hote. And the nobles and people of this contrie were &s;o affected to this how&s;e and familie of Ioyeu&s;e, that they wold not content the~ &s;elfs with anie other (whereas France had manie noble and worthy per&s;ons) but one of this how&s;e.</P>
<P>Herepon, all the flower of noble gentlemen in Languedoc, who had followed his decea&s;|&s;ed brother, accompanied with the chiefe men of the Parliament, humbly be&s;ought Mon&s;ei|gneur Cardinal de Ioyeu&s;e, to take compa&s;&s;ion on their ca&s;e, and to accept this charge, and be|come a Gouernour and father to them, in &s;o vrgent nece&s;&s;itie. He de&s;ired them to excu&s;e hym, as being verie vnfitt for &s;uch a charge, in regard of his profe&s;&s;ion: and be&s;ides, he told them this were to bring in more confu&s;ion, in &s;teed of &s;etting better order, and to ruinate the
<PB N="78" REF="56"> prouince, in thinking, to rai&s;e yt, and confort it: whearas I haue more need, to be gouerned, then I haue experience to gouerne others. Yet his compa&s;&s;ion, and affection towards them, made hym think of his brother, who was rety|red to a cloy&s;ter lyfe, hauing hertofore showed hym &s;elf, in the court, with great honour and credit. O ble&s;&s;ed &s;owle, thou art now in the Pa|radi&s;e of &s;uch trew repo&s;e, as can be had on earth, and now they enter into coun&s;ell, how they may put thee into the hell of troubles and vnquietnes.</P>
<P>This ble&s;&s;ed father, thought of nothing le&s;&s;e, then &s;uch a brunt, thoughe the diuel danced for ioye, thinking to haue gayned more, by this market, then he did, and gaue manife&s;te &s;ignes of it, which had beene able to haue frighted hym, yf he had much reflected on yt. For one night, while he was taking his re&s;t, vpo~ his hard couche, he hard an extraordinarie noy&s;e, that the diuel made on the flowre, beating the grownd &amp; the tables, with his sa~|dalls. He wakens vpon yt, &amp; &s;aw to his thin|king, a religious man full of heauienes and &s;or|row, &s;ett in a chayre: which this enemie of man, had &s;tript of his habit violentlie, and had put on hym a fyne shirt, with other cloathes, which might be fitting for a courtier. This vi&s;ion, did not much trowble hym, bycau&s;e from the tyme of his Nouiceship, he had ma|nie
<PB N="79" REF="56"> &s;uch: thinking it was onelie &s;ome tempta|tion to di&s;tract hym, and breake his &s;leepe that he might be the more vnable, to performe the good religious exerci&s;es, of the day following, litle thinking, that it touched hym &s;o neare, till he &s;awe hym &s;elf, out of his habit and cloi&s;ter.</P>
<P>At this tyme ther liued, a verie vertuous &amp; deuout damo&s;elle, whome the glorious Saint Charles Borromeus did much e&s;teeme for her vertuo&abus; lyfe, and particular reuelations, which made her famous thorough all Italie. This ho|ly dame hauing had a reuelation hereof, and h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">uing had co~munication with hym formerlie, when he came from Venice; knowing what a griefe it is, to a trew religious deuout &s;owle, to return to the world, after the trew and &s;weet delights of religion, wrote to hym, a month before he left his cloy&s;ter, (althoughe the letter came to hym, but fiue dayes after he had for|&s;aken his habit) and exhorted hym not to be di&s;maid, and troubled in that he should be co~|pelled to returne to the world, &amp; follow the court for (&s;aith she) it is gods will, it should be &s;o. But she a&s;&s;ured hym, that he should re&s;ume his habit againe, and end his dayes gloriou&s;lie in that order of religion, &amp; &s;o con&s;equenlie should encrea&s;e his merit before god, more then yf he had gone on &s;till in his cour&s;e, withowt interruption. In the end of her letter, she promi&s;ed to remember hym in her prayers,
<PB N="90" REF="57"> as one that was particularlie recommended to her, in a &s;econd place, euen by gods holie in&s;piration.</P>
<P>The nobles and Parliament men, conti|newing their re&s;olution taken, came the next morning, to &s;peak with hym at the Conuent: who did coniure hym by the affection which all his familie had allwaies witne&s;&s;ed, towards their prouince, and by the charitie, wherwith they dowbted not, but he was inflamed to|wards his neighbor, to take co~pa&s;&s;ion of a mil|lio~ of &s;owles, which were in dainger to be de|uowred of the roaring lyon, and in mo&s;t de&s;pe|rate ca&s;e for want of a Pa&s;tor: and therfor they be&s;ought hym in&s;ta~tlie, to laye down his habit, and take vpon hym the charg of his brother and to &s;tand in this breach for their defence, again&s;t &s;o dangerous enemies of the church. This their reque&s;t made his hart bleed for &s;or|row; for on the one &s;yde, the great di&s;tre&s;&s;e, of gods church mooued hym to the quick: on the other &s;yde he had a wo~derfull reluctation, &amp; &s;tryfe with in hym &s;elf, to quitt his trew contentment of his &s;olitarie &amp; religious lyfe: wherfor he &s;pake to them in this manner. My ma&s;ters, your intention is verie commendable, &amp; your de&s;&s;igne, full of zeale, for the commo~ good. But I pray vow remember, that I am a religious man, that I haue wholie abandoned the world, and that I haue oblig<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">d my &s;elf vn|der
<PB N="81" REF="57" MS="y"> payne of eternall death, by a &s;olemne vowe in the pre&s;ence of god and the church, to liue &amp; dye a follower of our Seraphical father S. Fra~cis. Iudge yee therfor, of how great a cryme I shall be culpable, yf I break my vowe, &amp; be|come a ba~querout to my religio~, which I haue profe&s;&s;ed God, who can not be the author of &s;inn, &amp; punisheth often the &s;innes of the pa|re~ts in their childre~, &amp; of the Pa&s;tors in &s;miting their flock, in &s;teed of defending this prouince from the hands of their enemies (as it is meet to think, that this is gods hand which is vpon vs) may for&s;ake it, &amp; leaue yt, to the &s;poyle of the enemie, for my fault. Yow haue manie noble, and worthie men, of great iudgme~t, and experience) make v&s;e of them, who ar able to &s;teed yow, much more then a poore religious who will be skorned of tho&s;e enemies: reioy|cing al&s;o, to &s;ee mona&s;teries &amp; religious how&s;es made emptie by them, it being one of their maine proiects. This was all they could gayne of hym, at this tyme: yet they &s;ett a watch vpon hym, that he might not go, into anie other place, purpo&s;ing to take hym owt by force, yf no other meanes would preuayle.</P>
<P>In the meane whyle, there was a &s;olemne and publique meeting, of the nobles, the par|liament, and religious men at Toloje, in the hall of the Archbushop: wko after they had de|bated this matter verie &s;eriou&s;lie, concluded
<PB N="82" REF="58"> with one co~&s;ent, and voyce, that in &s;uch a pub|lick nece&s;&s;itie, he was bownd in con&s;cience, (&s;eeing that all the Prouince, all&s;o de&s;yred it) to quit his habit, and to take a &s;word, and &s;erue the weale publick, which was to be perferred, according to the rigour of deuine &amp; humain lawes, before his owne particular good. They went therfor againe the next morning to the Cove~t, with full re&s;oluto~, to take hym foorth; and there they enforced theire reque&s;ts, with all vehemencie, &amp; demanded his a&s;&s;i&s;tance, and pre&s;ence, but for a tyme, promi&s;ing, that they would aduerti&s;e his holienes of yt, &amp; obtaine his leaue as they did. For he &s;ent his con&s;ent, with the re&s;olution of two Cardinalls, Bellar|min, and Baronius, who were of opinion, that this act was lawfull and expedient.</P>
<P>This was the la&s;t blowe which made hym yeald, &s;eeing al&s;o the cries &amp; lame~tation of the people, who had be&s;ett the Co~ue~t on all &s;ydes and cryed with a pittie full voyce, and able to mooue anie mans hart, We will haue Fa. Angel, for our gouernor: and in ca&s;e he wold not con|de&s;cend to theire reque&s;ts, they threatned to take hym by force, &amp; burne the Co~uent. How then was he able, to re&s;i&s;t this powerfull call of the people, which may be well thought to be the voyce of god. He replied onelie, that his pur|po&s;e of entring into religion, and for&s;aking fa|ther and mother, and his onelie daughter, in
<PB N="83" REF="58"> the cradle, (the greate&s;t obiect of his earthlie contentments) was to re&s;igne hym &s;elf, wholie into the hands of god, and to avoyd by all po&s;|&s;ible meanes, the occa&s;ions of offending hym: which rather the~ he would doe, he would vn|dergoe a thowsa~d deaths. But &s;ince the learned Cleargie men, were of that mynd, that he was to follow gods will therin, he prote&s;ted, that he did leaue his cloy&s;ter vnwillinglie, &amp; that yf ther were anie offence to god, that they should and mu&s;t beare yt, and an&s;wer for hym. So weeping bitterlie, after he had embraced all his religious brethre~) who for &s;obbing &amp; weeping were not able to &s;peak to hym) he for&s;ook his habit, and &s;ayd (being drenched in the bitter|nes of &s;orrow) fare well my repo&s;e and my comfort.</P>
<P>The next morning he came foorth in a black &s;uite, to witne&s;&s;e his inward mourning, &amp; his brother Mo~&s;eigneur the Cardinal, Archbushop of Tholo&s;e girt hym with a &s;word. All the no|bilitie, Pre&s;ide~ts &amp; coun&s;ellours of the Parlia|ment reioyced exceedinglie at this &s;ight, and per&s;uaded the~&s;elues, that hauing obtayned his a&s;&s;i&s;tance, peace was allreadie mayde &amp; con|cluded. They came to hym, to congratulate hym, with all &s;ignes of great chearefullnes, &amp; thankfullnes to hym for this fauour, making &s;olemne prote&s;tatio~, that they would dye at his feete, what &s;oeuer enterpri&s;e he should vnder|take.
<PB N="84" REF="59"> His an&s;wer was short, but pithie, and comfortable. Yow know (&s;aith he), to &s;atisfie your importunate reque&s;t that I haue for&s;aken my earthlie paradi&s;e, to returne againe into Aegipt, and into the de&s;ert of trowbles and vn|quietnes, for the &s;eruice of god &amp; his church &amp; Fra~ce in generall, &amp; particularlie your contrie: this actio~ is &s;ufficient to make yow vnder&s;tand, my hartie affection towards you, I hope, the heauens will fauour vs &s;o, that the clowdes and foggs, which threaten a terrible &s;torme and te~pe&s;t of warr, shall be di&s;per&s;ed by the bright beames of the &s;onne, and &s;pring of a holie and a&s;&s;ured peace, to the end that I may returne, to my former repo&s;e, and there end my dayes.</P>
<P>From thence, he went to a great place in the cittie, called S. Steuens, where he was receaued of the people, with great showes of ioye, &amp; co~|&s;entment. Among all his excelle~t perfections, this was worthie of admiration, that he had &s;o vniuer&s;al a &s;pirit, &amp; plyable to what he would bend yt; that continuallie being vnited to god by loue, and by his inward thoughts, he gaue &s;atisfaction to euerie one according to his de|mands, for he had, no &s;ooner taken his &s;word, &amp; fashoned the heyre of his head and beard in an other manner, but he gaue infinite contentme~t to all the nobles, who came to &s;alute hym, and &s;o behaued him&s;elfe to euerie one of them ac|cording to their rank and qualitie, in that graue
<PB N="85" REF="59"> and decent manner, as yf he had neuer liued a Cloy&s;ter man. He show de all&s;o in his naturall &s;weetenes, (which repre&s;ented &s;omewhat a re|ligious per&s;on (a gate &amp; port full of maie&s;tie (as the qualitie of a gouernour and Captaine re|quireth, to keep &s;oldiers, within the bowdnes of their dewtie) that following his guard emong the nobles, manie did ob&s;erue &s;omething in hym, more then common &amp; ordinarie, which made hym much admired and honoured of all.</P>
<P>Shortlie after, &s;eeking all meanes, to reduce things into order, he a&s;&s;embled the &s;tates of that prouince at Carca&s;&s;one: where he entred into treatie, for a truce for three yeares, with Mon&s;ieur Mari&s;chal Montmorency, his god|father and kin&s;man, one of the mo&s;t braue and noble Seignieurs of his tyme, who was after|ward for his merits, honowred with the charge of Con&s;table of France. This truce, bringing peace and quiet which had been &s;o lo~g wished, was &s;o &s;weet and gratefull to each partie, that they bothe did magnifie the mediatour of yt, per&s;wading them&s;elfs that god had &s;ent hym, as in Angel of peace, and for their deliuerie. And in deed this particular truce in Languedoc, drew on the like thorough all France: &amp; after the happie reduction of Henry the fourth into the bo&s;ome of gods holie church, this truce grew to be a peace, &s;o that ther followed a per|fect <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">alme.</P>
<PB N="86" REF="60">
<P>While the&s;e affayres were &s;o pro&s;perou&s;lie menaged, by this ble&s;&s;ed Fa. Angel, our holie father the pope, being aduerti&s;ed, of his pru|dence, &amp; dexteritie, in directing of affayres of importance, and of what authoritie and credit he was, and how nece&s;&s;arie his pre&s;ence was, for the gouernment of Languedoc, to the end, that he might ea&s;e &amp; cleare hym of anie &s;cruple, which might happilie ri&s;e in his mynd, by reaso~ of his fir&s;t profe&s;&s;ion, he chainged his vowe of a Cappucin, with that of the order of S. Iohn of Hieru&s;alem: and &s;ent hym, vpon his own proper motion, an Authenticall Bull, by which he did fullie ab&s;olue hym, fro~ the vowe which he had made emong the Cappucins, giuing hym power, to &s;ucceed, &s;ell, buy, po&s;&s;e&s;e, and to performe other &s;uch actions; as yf he had neuer beene religious, onelie marriage excepted, which is forbidde~, by the vowe of the knights of Malta. This bull was executed by Mo~&s;ieur the Bushop of Lodene, Bushop of Carca&s;&s;one, who is latelie decea&s;&s;ed; who at that tyme, being a&s;|&s;i&s;ted, by a Commanded of Malta, gaue hym the whyte cro&s;e, to the great de&s;yre, and con|tentment of the whole order.</P>
<P>All this could not alter his purpo&s;e of re&s;u|ming the habit, tho&s;e &s;pirituall comforts which he had tai&s;ted in that lyfe, were &s;till imprinted in his hart, and although he was owt of his cloy&s;ter, and ab&s;olued from the ob&s;eruing of
<PB N="87" REF="60"> his vowe, yet did he practi&s;e the mo&s;t princi|pal actions, of that lyfe, when he could haue fitt opportunitie; to witt, the fa&s;tings, di&s;ciplines, &amp; other mortifications, by which he con&s;erued his trew deuotion, and affection to this lyfe. he had be&s;ides his v&s;uall feruour, a dowble ra~part, which was able to re&s;i&s;t the a&s;&s;aults of the world. For his ble&s;&s;ed mother, as long as she liued, cea&s;ed not, as a holie S. Monica, to shed manie teares for hym, and to offer vp her prayers daylie to god, for his returne to religio~. Be&s;ides a learned &amp; vertuous father of this or|der, exciting hym often, by liuelie and pre&s;&s;ing remon&s;trances, &amp; pious exhortations, keept hym waking, that he fell not into anie profund lethargie, into which the world ca&s;teth her be&s;t fauorits.</P>
<P>Abowt the end of the trowbles of France, his mother Madame Mare&s;chal, departed this lyfe at Tolo&s;e, the mirrour of all vertue &amp; pietie: who making an end conformable to her lyfe, left great occa&s;ion of mourning, to all France for her deathe. He a&s;&s;i&s;ted her allwaies in her la&s;t &s;icknes, with great edification; and took her ble&s;&s;ing, and her &s;peeches, euen to the la&s;t ga&s;pe: which were as goads to hym, to &s;tirr hym vp, to the loue of god, and living flames of that inward holie fyre, which con&s;umed her &s;owle, and mo&s;t certain pledges of the glorie, which she was to receaue after her decea&s;e.</P>
<PB N="88" REF="61">
<P>After this he went often to Paris (the trowbles being now happilie ended) where he was enter|tained of Henry the fourth, as the perfections and qualities of &s;o worthie a prince did merit, who confirmed hym in all his charges and dignities of Duke, Peare, and Mari&s;chall of France, Liuetennant generall in Languedoc: &amp; he caw&s;ed hym to take againe the order of the holie Gho&s;t, which he had receaued before of Henry the third, in the in&s;titutio~ which he had, when he for&s;ook the world. In the&s;e iourneys to Paris, he treated with the kings con&s;ent and fauour, the marriage of Madame Henriette de Ioyeu&s;e, his onelie daughter, with the mo&s;t illu&s;trious prince Henry de Bourbon, duke of Montpen&s;ier which marriage afterward being acco~plished, by heaue~lie benediction brought foorth, a mo&s;t noble plant, Marie de Bourbon, Madamo&s;elle de Mo~tpen&s;ier a prince&s;&s;e of our tyme, &amp; a trew image of the perfections of her father and mother.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Hovv he took againe the habit of a Capuccin. THE EIGHT CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>NOw when as all things went on &s;o pro&s;|perou&s;lie, with this ble&s;&s;ed father: no ma~ thought, that he would once haue dreamed of returning to his former lyfe; and the rather by|cau&s;e he &s;eemed in owtward appearance, to court the&s;e fauours of his pro&s;perous &s;ucce&s;&s;e n the world. But euen at this tyme had he a per|fect remembrance, &amp; memorie of his trew co~|tentment
<PB N="93" REF="61"> pa&s;t, which as a waking gho&s;t, &s;eazed his imagination, and hindered entrance for anie other thoughts, which fauoured of the world, or of ambition. He was &s;o wi&s;e, that he knew well, the incon&s;tancie of all worldlie things, &amp; how weak the foundation is, when we build our hopes vpon them: &amp; therfor how|&s;oever he might in owtward show, prudentlie &s;eeme to look chearfullie vpon the world, it was for no other rea&s;on, but to carrie his pur|po&s;e, as &s;ecretlie, as he could, neither was it the &s;cruple of his vowe, which caw&s;ed hym to re|tyre hym &s;elf, for he was well a&s;&s;ured of the &s;ufficiencie of his di&s;pen&s;ation, euen in the iudgment of the mo&s;t learned. So that it was onelie the loue of god with a de&s;ire of trew con|formitie with him, which caw&s;ed hym to be nayled again to the cro&s;&s;e of au<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">rities, and to vndergoe his fir&s;t mortificatio~s, and to make his returne more honorable then his fir&s;t entrie, by how much he did for&s;ake greater dignities, &amp; honorable charges.</P>
<P>He reuealed his intention, to a father of the &s;ame order (who preaching in Aduent, &amp; the whole Lent, at S. Stephens, (the Metropolitan church of Tolo&s;e) &s;tirred vp manie to deuotion, by his learned di&s;cour&s;es &amp; feruor. This father mi&s;&s;ed none of his &s;ermons, what bu&s;ienes &s;o|ever he had, &amp; he heard hym oftentimes with teares. After his &s;ermon, he took occa&s;io~ to &s;ee hym, and conferred with hym, abowt &s;ome
<PB N="90" REF="62"> poynts, which he had more particularlie noted; he congratulated hym of his manner of prea|ching, &s;aying that he preached, as a trew a|po&s;tle, reproouing vice, &amp; exhorting to ver|tue, withowt tho&s;e curio&s;ities, which manie affect, which indeed ar rather be&s;eeming a theater then a pulpit. In the end, after manie vi|&s;its, he opened his hart to hym, &amp; communica|ted to hym, his firme re&s;olution, to re&s;ume the habit. To that end he required the ayd of his good prayers, &amp; of his coun&s;ells, becau&s;e he &s;aw manie blocks in his waye, which were hardlie to be remooued.</P>
<P>This father knowing well, the cour&s;e of the whole bu&s;ienes, delt with hym wi&s;elie, &amp; deli|berately, and would not approoue this motion, dowbting as he tould hym, lea&s;t his retraict to religious lyfe, might preiudice the publique peace. He &s;ayd that god had drawen hym once owt of the wotld, to make hym vnder&s;tand better the vanities of the world: to the end, that returning againe into the world, he might &s;tand more warilie on his guard, &amp; not be &s;o ea&s;ily &s;urpri&s;ed of tho&s;e enemies, which cap|tiuate the greate&s;t part of noble per&s;ons. He towld hym al&s;o that heauen was not only for religious men, that he might verie well &s;aue his &s;owle in the world: &amp; with as much me|rit in the vocation &amp; profe&s;&s;ion in this noble &amp; illu&s;trious order of Malta: &amp; to conclude, he
<PB N="91" REF="62"> per&s;uaded hym that he might receaue more cleare direction from god, in a bu&s;ienes of &s;o great import, which did concerne his &s;aluation, &amp; the con&s;eruation of a &s;tate, to frequent the B, Sacrement, often to this end: &amp; then no doubt, but god would concur extraordinarilie, with tho&s;e actio~s of pietie, &amp; lighten hym &s;o by encrea&s;e of new graces, that he should per|fectlie vnder&s;tand, his holie will.</P>
<P>Shortlie after he cho&s;e Fa. Ignace, an Italian, of the companie of Ie&s;us a man of &s;inguler learning &amp; prude~ce for his co~fe&s;&s;or, to whome after his confe&s;&s;ion, he reuealed this his inten|tion. This father (who had verie litle knowledg of hym before, thought that this was &s;uch a de&s;yre, as would lee&s;e the edg vpon anie occa|&s;io~ of a litle oppo&s;ition: &amp; that he might as ea&s;i|lie be diuerted from this purpo&s;e, bycau&s;e his frends had powre over hym, to caw&s;e his com|ming foorth of the Cloy&s;ter. But afterward he was of an other mynd and wondered at his &s;trong re&s;olution, and &s;aw that his con&s;tancie was much to be honoured &amp; admired. Some moneths pa&s;&s;ed on, that he v&s;ed to communi|cate, all fea&s;ts &amp; Sondayes, commending this affayre to god. And he found that the violence of this affectio~ grew daylie more &amp; more in&s;o|much that he fell to importune that R. Father returning this a~&s;were (as admirable as remark|able) to his oppo&s;itions. <HI>Father, I doe beleeue
<PB N="92" REF="63"> that manie vvork their &s;aluation, in the vvorld, h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> god vvill not &s;aue me, but in religion;</HI> allwaies &s;etting before his eyes, that dreadfull &s;entence of ho|lie &s;cripture, <HI>vvhat profiteth it a man, yf he gayn the vvhole vvorld, and lee&s;e his &s;ovvle.</HI></P>
<P>After he had depo&s;ed his habit, he kept dearlie they peaces which he held verie pretious, the rule of S. Francis, &amp; a Di&s;cipline, which ar in|&s;eperable companions, to all Capuchins: the one is to haue allwaies in memorie, what they haue promi&s;ed, the other to mortifie the fleshlie appetits: the one &amp; the other that they may be conforme &amp; like to their father. The third thing, was a book of &s;piritual exerci&s;es, verie proper, to the mo&s;t perfect &s;pirits. He begann from this tyme, to make the&s;e things more familiar, &amp; ordinarie, then before, wher|upon his neare&s;t frends &amp; people of his owne how&s;e, &s;eing hym to with draw hym&s;elf often, to &s;olitarie retraicts, and to avoyd all occa&s;ions of keeping companie, &amp; to pa&s;&s;e mo&s;t part of the night in his priuate cabinet, they begann to dowbt, lea&s;t he was proiecting with hym&s;elf, a &s;econd retrayte to religious lyfe. Moreover he contented not hym &s;elf with this, but labou|red to &s;tore hym &s;elf, with &s;ome books of &s;er|mons, &amp; others of deuotion, which he could not read in the daye tyme, by rea&s;on that he was verie warie to conceale his purpo&s;e: &amp; therfor he &s;pent that tyme of the night in rea|ding
<PB N="75" REF="63"> tho&s;e good books, which was ordained for his repo&s;e.</P>
<P>It happened one night, after his &s;eruants were retyred from his chamber he attempted that which he had doone, whe~ he was but nine yeares of age, to witt, to take yt as from the mouth of god, and to know perfectlie his will, by the fir&s;t words which he read in the ope|ning of the book. O good god, how admira|ble ar thy &s;ecrets! At the fir&s;t opening &amp; vieu, he happened vpon the words of the Reuelatio~, which were in the &s;ermons of the learned and &s;ubtile preacher Biro~te. <HI>Be myndfull, vvhence thou art fallen, and doe pennance, and doe thy fir&s;t vvorks.</HI> He needed no expo&s;ition to applie this to hym&s;elf. The next morning he told the Fat. Capuchin (comming from his &s;ermon:) My fa|ther, god hath giuen me better in&s;pirations, then ever I de&s;erued: but he never &s;pake &s;o clearlie to me, as this night pa&s;t. I mu&s;t be ve|rie deafe yf I hear not his voyce, &amp; verie igno|rant, yf I doe not vnder&s;tand yt, and &s;o tould hym what had pa&s;&s;ed. And certainlie there is no man but will iudg ther was &s;omething extra|ordinarie.</P>
<P>This was at the beginning of lent, during which tyme he daylie augmented his deuotio~s. He vnde&s;tood shortlie after, that the R. Fa|ther Hierome of Sorbo generall of the Capu|chins, was to come this yeare, to make his vi|&s;ite
<PB N="94" REF="64"> in France, which gaue hym great con&s;ola|tion, conceauing that by &s;peaking with hym, h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> should ea&s;ilie obtaine his reque&s;t, withow<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> danger of anie noy&s;e to hynder yt. But thi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> good father went not beyond the Conuent of Carca&s;&s;one in the prouince of Toloze: wher|upo~ he wrote to hym &amp; acquainted hym with his purpo&s;e, and earne&s;tlie reque&s;ted the father, to whome he had opened his hart, to carrie his letters to hym, being now to go, to the gene|ral Chapter. In the&s;e letters he be&s;ought hym with al the powers of his &s;owle, &amp; by the vowe which he had made to S. Fra~cis, that he would receaue hym againe to their order, and &s;end hym his obedience, to take the habit in that prouince, which he should iudg the mo&s;t com|modious for avoyding of diuer&s;ion &amp; of trow|ble.</P>
<P>The R. Father General receaued his letter verie louinglie, &amp; wondring at his zealous ma~ner of writing, &s;ayd, that he was conducted &amp; guided infalliblie by gods holie &s;pirit, yet he did not giue hym, but one half of that conte~t|ment, which he hoped for. He mayde hym this an&s;wer that he was verie de&s;irous to gratifie hym, for the honour and the benefit which would redound therby to the order: but by|cau&s;e he had bene di&s;pen&s;ed withall by our ho|lie father (who did not giue &s;uch di&s;pe~&s;atio~ but for a greater good, he could not receaue hym,
<PB N="95" REF="64"> till he had aduerti&s;ed the Pope therof, &amp; recea|ued his co~&s;e~t. This an&s;wer perplexed him much for he was afrayd, lea&s;t his holienes would not yeald his con&s;ent, withowt comunicating the matter to the king, and he had no hope to pro|cure the kings con&s;ent. he not with &s;tanding determined, to &s;end expre&s;&s;elie one of his own &s;eruants, who carried letters from hym to our holie father Cleme~t the 8. and to the protector of the Order, who was the Cardinal of Saint Seuerin. In the&s;e letters he declared his de&s;&s;igne &amp; his humble &s;uite, shewing them that he might put it in execution withowt anie preiu|dice to the &s;tate. He coniured them with all earne&s;t &s;ubmi&s;&s;ions, that a child oweth to his father, or an inferiour, to his &s;uperiour, that they would permit hym to follow tho&s;e good in&s;pirations, which god had giuen hym: &amp; that he could not differ it anie longer, withowt emi|nent peril of his lyfe, &s;o great was his di&s;gu&s;t &amp; irk&s;omnes, which he had of the world. The&s;e ar the holie violences of pure loue, not to fynd anie contentment, but in the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of the obiect loued, who&s;e ab&s;ence is in&s;upportable, bycau&s;e it carrieth with our hart, all our affe|ction, the &s;tronge&s;t pa&s;&s;ion of the &s;owle.</P>
<P>His holienes was much a&s;tonished at this deuotion, &amp; after he had well con&s;idered this affayre, with all the circum&s;tances, perceauing that he was certainlie moued by gods holie
<PB N="96" REF="65"> &s;pirit to this act, he cu~manded the protector to &s;ignifie to hym, that yf he did iudg in his con|&s;cience, that his a&s;&s;i&s;ta~ce was no longer nece&s;|&s;arie for the contrie of Languedoc, he was wel content, that he should re&s;ume the habit: but he exhorted him that as yet he would procede very adui&s;edlie, lea&s;t his permi&s;&s;ion being obtayned, vnder a fal&s;e pretext of &s;auing his lyfe, might occa&s;ion eternal deathe. and afterward exciteth hym to per&s;euere in this holie purpo&s;e, which God doth not recompence, but in the end and vpshott of the work: that he was like to be an adamant, to draw manie affections after hym: and to con|clude, that God, and his holie church should be exalted by this worke, &amp; to this end gaue hym his holie benediction.</P>
<P>This being &s;o pa&s;t, the R. Fa. General, &s;ent hym his obedience, to take the habit in that prouince, where he was mo&s;t inclined in his deuotion: &amp; the yeares, which he had pa&s;&s;ed in the world with the popes di&s;pen&s;ation, for the defe~ce of the church &amp; the &s;tate, were allowed to hym, as yf he had &s;pent them in religion: for he went not owt but by violence, &amp; again&s;t his will: &amp; he confirmed to hym the title &amp; office of a preacher, which the R. Father Policius Ge|neral, had giuen hym before he left the habit. The&s;e letters reuiued hym, which was half dead before, by apprehending, that he should
<PB N="97" REF="65"> the title &amp; office of a preacher, which the R. F. <HI>Polici<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"></HI> Gen. had giue~ him before he left the habit.</P>
<P>The&s;e letters reuiued him, which was half dead before, by apprehending, that he should be refu&s;ed. He had no &s;ooner receaued them, which was in the moneth of Iune, but he prese~t|lie prepared him&s;elf, to go to Paris, and to &s;et in order all his affaires: &amp; likewi&s;e, that &s;eing Mo~|&s;ieur de Montpen&s;ier, &amp; Madame (his daughter) he might taske his la&s;t farewell of them, yet &s;o that they shuld not know he took his farewel.</P>
<P>It fell out in the mean tyme, by gods proui|dence, that this good father, to whome he had reuealed his purpo&s;e at Tolo&s;e, was &s;ent by Fa|ther Generall to preach at Paris, at S. German of Auxerrois, which was much to this good fathers comfort and ioye. He took this for a certain pre&s;age, that it was gods will, that the good father should a&s;&s;i&s;t hym to the end, who|me he had v&s;ed in the beginning. And &s;o he had caw&s;e to thing: for after he had long con&s;ide|red, what prouince should be mo&s;t conuenient, for hym to make his new retraict, and after maine conflicts, between the flesh, and Rea&s;on (where of one required a place &s;ome what re|mote, the other coun&s;elled him to choo&s;e a place neare his home, becau&s;e he might not be depriued of his deare&s;t frends, by di&s;tance of place, at la&s;t he concluded to goe to Sui&s;&s;e to take the habit, that &s;o by di&s;tance of place, he might not be troubled with ordinarie vi&s;its,
<PB N="98" REF="66"> which often occa&s;ion other dangerous di&s;tra|ctions to Religious men. This con&s;ideration therfore, moued him to incline to goe to Sui&s;&s;e, but he was di&s;&s;waded by this good man, who shewed vnto him effectually, that his retraict in the face of the court, would be much more edifying and exemplaire, and that his ab&s;enting of him &s;elfe, would argue pu&s;illanimitie and want of courage: that he neede not haue any other vi&s;its, but &s;uch as he would, and that &s;uch a &s;pirit as his was, did not incurre danger, to be diuerted by any per&s;wa&s;ion. And be&s;ides all this, that his pre&s;ence would be very nece&s;&s;a|rie, for the con&s;olation of Mon&s;ieur de Mont|pen&s;ier, &amp; Madam his daughter who without doubt would be farr more afflicted, if they were not only depriued of his conuer&s;ation, but al&s;o of the fruit of his vertuous coun&s;ells. Where|upon re&s;ting vpon the adui&s;e of this good fa|ther, he wholie &s;ubmitted him &s;elfe to the di&s;|po&s;ition of the fathers of the conuent of Paris.</P>
<P>This con&s;ultation for choice of the mo&s;t ex|pedient place for his reception, continued from S. Francis day, to the fir&s;t weeke of Lent, du|ring which &s;pace of time, he di&s;po&s;ed of his worldly bu&s;ines: and in the end it was conclu|ded, that he should take againe his habit in the conuent of Paris, for the rea&s;ons aboue &s;peci|fied. And altough he was a litle otherwi&s;e in|clined in his owne iudgment, fore-&s;eeing the extraordinarie importunitie of his friendes in
<PB N="99" REF="66"> this ca&s;e, yet to shew him&s;elfe truly obedient, as well out of religion, as in the &s;ame, he re&s;ol|ued to follow their adui&s;e: and he put this in execution &s;o dexterou&s;lie, that his owne fa|milie, vnder&s;tood rather his retiring from that cour&s;e, then any will and affection to returne. For the &s;econd Munday in Lent, anno 1599. the kinge being at Monceaux, he accompanied in the morning Mon&s;ieur de E&s;pernon his brother in law, who went to the kinge, and brough thim on his way a league from Paris, and &s;ent with him, one of his officers, who carried a pacquet of letters from him to his &s;onne Mon&s;ieur de Mountpen&s;ier. where a|monge other letters of compliment or con&s;o|lation there was one for the kinge, to whom he gaue to vnder&s;tand, that it was Gods will (all thinges being &s;etled in good peace) that he should returne to the centre of his repo&s;e, from whence he was taken, by the violence of afflicted people. Wherfore he humbly be&s;ought his Maie&s;tie, that he would be plea&s;ed to ap|proue the &s;ame, giuing him mo&s;t humble and infinit thankes, for tho&s;e offices and dignities, which he had be&s;towed vpon him, all which he now right humbly re&s;igned againe vnto him, prote&s;ting to be perpetually mindfull of him, in his prayers and &s;acrifices.</P>
<P>It is needles to aske, whither the Kinge and the whole court were a&s;tonished at this newes, for the better to conceale his holy de&s;igne, he
<PB N="100" REF="67"> &s;eemed for a while, to loue the world with as much pa&s;&s;ion as others did. In the meane while, the &s;ame euening, after he had made an Inuen|torie of his goods, with Mon&s;ieur de Marnef, and ordered the priuat affaires of his hou&s;e, he retired him &s;elfe to the conuent all alone, a|bout &s;eauen of the clock, giuing charge to two of his &s;eruants, that they should not open the doore to any, who&s;oeuer came to knock there|at, and to an&s;were them, that he did retire and re&s;t him &s;elfe, and that the next morning after the &s;ermon, they should know the cau&s;e of his retirement. O ble&s;&s;ed re&s;t, the earne&s;t of eter|nall life, far different from that of the mo&s;t part of worldly men, where the images of de|&s;ired obiects trouble the imagination, &amp; cau&s;e dreames, which vnder the pretext of procu|ring a happie re&s;t, produce eternall mi&s;erie to their conceiuers.</P>
<P>After &s;ome hou&s;es &s;pent in prayer, &s;olacing him&s;elfe with the Angells, about eleuen of the clock before midnight, he tooke againe the habit before the high Altar, with vn&s;peakable ioy, and melting with inward contentment of hart, he renewed his profe&s;&s;ion, and his vowes, in the pre&s;ence of all his bretheren, prote&s;ting that he would die in the practi&s;e of them. And as they would haue had him to &s;tay vntill the morning, for the making of his crowne and razing of his haire conforme to the rule, he mo&s;t earne&s;tly reque&s;ted father Alphon&s;us,
<PB N="101" REF="67"> viccar and &s;uperior in the ab&s;ence of the Gar|dian, that he might be di&s;patched out of hande, &s;o that he might &s;ee nothing about him in the morning, that should &s;auour of the worlde: &s;o de&s;irous was he, to make this externall change, being already quite changed, and inwardly transformed in his &s;oule. His crowne being made, he went to the quire to &s;inge Mattins, with the others (their cu&s;tome being to ri&s;e at midnight to rendar prai&s;es vnto God, whil&s;t peraduenture other worldlinges, employ that time in workes of darknes) where he ob&s;er|ued that decency and reuerence, as if he had made no interruption at all from this holie ex|erci&s;e: which many of the religious did much wonder at.</P>
<P>The next morning, this his change of life, being published by the preacher of S. German, was quickly knowen both in court and cittie; For this father hauing a&s;i&s;ted him a yeare and a halfe, made (in forme of a funerall &s;ermon) the end of his &s;ermon vpon this &s;ubiect, with wordes &s;o liuelie, and &s;o full of fire, that he him &s;elfe fir&s;t breaking into teares, made his auditors al&s;o weepe, where this dukes owne Gentlemen, Pages, and other &s;eruants were &s;pectators, all &s;trooken with great amazement vpon &s;uch tidinges, thinking that their mai|&s;ter repo&s;ed in his bed, euen then when he was become a Capucin. All the Princes and La|dies of honor hearing this, came likewi&s;e to
<PB N="102" REF="68"> &s;ee him at the conuent, who when they &s;aw him in the church amonge other religious, they could not forbeare to teares and &s;obbes in &s;uch dolefull maner, that they could hardly &s;alute him. There was not one among&s;t them all, but Madam de Beli&s;te, the &s;i&s;ter of Madam de Longueuille (who was then treating to be|come a religious woman, and &s;ince both liued and died mo&s;t ble&s;&s;edly in the Mona&s;terie of the Encloi&s;tre) who had the courage to &s;peake vnto him. She reioyced with him for this hap|pie change, e&s;teeming him mo&s;t wi&s;e and hap|pie to make this choice, and to de&s;pi&s;e and abandon all worldly thinges, which haue but vanitie for their being, and in&s;tabilitie for their foundation, and &s;o to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e God more cer|tainly, who&s;e rewardes fleete not with the worlde, but la&s;t for euer. He receiued the&s;e Ladies with a &s;miling countenance, and made them a short &s;pirituall di&s;cour&s;e, of the grace he had receiued from almightie God, and that this grace was of much more value, then the world could imagine; adding, that if men in the world should but ta&s;te of the &s;weete de|lightes of a Religious life, that priuat hou&s;es, would be changed into Mona&s;teries: but be|cau&s;e they regard not but the externall face of thinges, which &s;eemeth to be full of rigour, they bemoane them which are in this maner, &s;weetly drawen vnto God, from the wicked world, as if they had lo&s;t their wits and iudg|ments,
<PB N="103" REF="68"> and ca&s;t them &s;elues into a &s;ea of mi|&s;erie. Wherfore he tould them, that if they had done him the honor to loue him, as he alwaies beleeued vnto that pre&s;ent, that they ought to reioice with him for this his change, becau&s;e, this was the more &s;afe and &s;ecure way to come to God, the finall end of all thinkes crea|ted.</P>
<P>This &s;econd conque&s;t, being &s;o gloriou&s;lie gotten again&s;t the enimies of man, the world, the flesh, and the deuill, who had laboured to allure him by the charming baites of honors, riches, and &s;en&s;uall plea&s;ures, got him &s;o much honor in the worlde, and &s;o excited all france in the admiration of his virtues, that as a cou|rageous Captaine, he drew out of captiuitie, and (that I may &s;o &s;peake) led in triumphe, a great number of Gentlemen and Courtiars, who following his &s;teppes, &s;ounded a retreate to all vanities, withdrew them &s;elues from the billowes and waues of a courtly life (where the be&s;t experienced Pilots are often drowned) to liue in &s;weete repo&s;e vnder the shelter of the Cro&s;&s;e, within the cloi&s;tre of the Capu|cins.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="104" REF="69">
<HEAD>Of his doctrine, and maner of preachinge. THE NINTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>ALthough a good naturall inclination giue a man a great aduantage, to make him excellent in the profe&s;&s;ion which he preten|deth to vndertake; and although this be a true axiome, that nature &s;urpa&s;&s;eth art, and that art preuaileth litle or nothinge, where nature is not capable: yet nature alone is not capable of it &s;elfe, to put in practi&s;e all that which art can doe: and &s;ciences being certaine habitudes which produce them &s;elues by the actions, it &s;ufficeth not to haue a nature well di&s;po&s;ed, but labour mu&s;t be annexed therto, which &s;er|ueth as the la&s;t di&s;po&s;ition to a qualitie &s;o per|fect and &s;o eminent.</P>
<P>The ble&s;&s;ed father Angell of Ioyeu&s;e, &s;ee|med alwaies to haue an excellent naturall incli|nation vnto learning, and for paines in his &s;tu|dies, he went beyond all others of his age and profe&s;&s;ion. He ob&s;erued al&s;o an excellent me|thode in his &s;tudie (which may &s;erue for a rule to tho&s;e who follow the &s;ame cour&s;e) to at|taine to perfection: fir&s;t he neuer opened booke without before hauing inuoked the a&s;i&s;tance of Gods holie Spirit, knowing that all &s;cience and vnder&s;tanding, is the gift of almightie God, and that knowledge which is not accompanied with charitie (the fire wherof is kindled by the &s;pirit of loue) doth but puffe vp, and doth
<PB N="105" REF="69"> not edifie. Nether did he content him&s;elfe only with lifting vp his hart to God, as many doe before they vndertake their &s;tudies, but al|wayes before &s;tudie, &s;pent &s;ome time in prayer offering his affection vnto God, praying that if it were for his glorie, the good of his neigh|bour, and his owne, that he would illuminat the darknes of his vnder&s;tanding to conceiue the depth of his &s;ecrets &s;tir vp his will to labour therin with feruour; quicken his memorie, and make it capable, to giue a good account of that which he should iudge fit for his vocation and rule; but if on the contrarie part, ether the health of his &s;oule, or the puritie of his vowes, were to &s;uffer therby any detriment what &s;oe|uer, that perpetuall ignorance might be the recompence, of all his labours and his trauells. It is hardly credible how great progre&s;&s;e he made in his &s;tudies, being moued therto, by &s;o holie and &s;o glorious an end.</P>
<P>His houres de&s;igned to his &s;tudies, were tho&s;e, as when he had no other exerci&s;e in the conuent: for as touching his office, he neuer failed. And albeit the &s;tudients among the Ca|pucins, are not di&s;penced with all for &s;aying their houres in the quire, yet not with&s;tanding, as though he had nothing el&s;e to doe, he was alwayes there one of the fir&s;t, and witdrew him &s;elfe thence as late as po&s;&s;ibly he might: whence he receiued &s;uch extraordinarie light, that in one houre he conceiued and retayned more,
<PB N="106" REF="70"> then many others did in a whole day.</P>
<P>He heard euery day one Ma&s;&s;e, before th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> conuentuall, which all the Religious were t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> heare, and oftentimes he &s;erued another, thin|king no time &s;o well be&s;towed, and exciting others to deuotion by his profund humilitie, in his maner of &s;eruing Ma&s;&s;e, The father which was Reader, and his fellow &s;tudients, wondring at the litle time he had for &s;tudie, and of the pro|gre&s;&s;e whith he made, asked of him, what the rule and order was which he ob&s;erued? But he was &s;o far from thinking well of him &s;elfe, that he iudged him &s;elfe to be one of the mo&s;t ignorant, and not worthie to weare S. Fran|cis habit.</P>
<P>After his cour&s;e in Philo&s;ophie, the reue|rend father Generall, made him a preacher, in which charge he di&s;couered that zeale, that his wordes enkindled the fire of deuotio~, in the fro|&s;en &amp; hard hartes of many per&s;o~s that were eni|mies of pietie. He preached not long, or rather, not at all, during his fir&s;t abode in Religion, becau&s;e imediatly after his permi&s;&s;ion, he was con&s;trained to goe forth: but after his returne, hauing taken &s;ome time to make a perfect re|collection of him &s;elfe, and a true attonement betweene God and his owne &s;oule, he began to labour with &s;uch courage in &s;o holie a mi&s;|&s;ion, that forgetting the feeding of his owne bodie, he shewed him &s;elfe infatigable, to &s;erue to his neighbours the foode of their &s;oules.</P>
<PB N="107" REF="70">
<P>His fir&s;t publique a&s;&s;aies were in Paris, in the church of the Capucins, and after at S. Mede|ticus, S. German of Auxetrois, S. Andrew of Arcs, and thorough all the be&s;t citties of the kingdome of France, were his auditors did al|wayes depart from him, with great applau&s;e &amp; admiration. He had a particular grace of God, to moue mens harts to a true feeling of their &s;innes, which they did witnes by their bitter teares and change of life. God him &s;elfe only knoweth, how many &s;infull &s;oules he conuer|ted, to the true pathe of their &s;aluation, and what a number intimidated with the apprehen|tion of Gods &s;euere iudgments, left their de&s;|bauchednes, and are couered with &s;accloth in holie cloi&s;ters!</P>
<P>There are &s;ome of his exhortations yet ex|tant vnder his owne hande, wherin are to be &s;eene &s;o goodly di&s;cour&s;es, &s;o eleuated concep|tions, and &s;o liuely characters of a Seraphicall zeale, that euen the mo&s;t iudicious &s;pirits can|not reade his wordes, without a greate impre&s;|&s;ion of vertu, what then were they able to doe, being quickned with his owne &s;pirit, and co|ming from his owne mouth? Surely they were as &s;o many piercing arrowes, which did heale in wounding, and wound in healing; killing to the world, and quickning vnto IESVS-Chri&s;t, tho&s;e who hearing them, gaue them entrie into their &s;oules. <Q REND="inline">O my bretheren, &s;aid he (explica|ting the&s;e wordes of the Apo&s;tle S. Paul to the
<PB N="108" REF="71"> Colo&s;&s;ians 3. <HI>De&s;poiling your &s;elues of the olde man with his actes</HI>) what meane we that we doe not de&s;poile our &s;elues, and put off our olde gar|ments, if we will be cloathed with royall gar|ments? If a Kinge should make this offer to a poore man, put off thy vile and ba&s;e apparel, &amp; put on myne, were not &s;uch an on a foole, who would not part with his apparell, to put on &s;uch as were &s;o noble? So fareth it with vs, who are cloathed with the old man, and you &s;ee, that God will clothe vs with him &s;elfe: he will make vs kinges, more then kinges, yea euen Gods: he will clothe vs with his diuine will, if we, wretches that we are, doe nor contradict him: if at the houre of our death, he finde vs cloathed with other ragges woe be vnto vs.</Q> The&s;e wordes are they not &s;o many &s;parkles of holie fire? which how powerfull and fruitfull they were, the very effects them &s;elues doe &s;uf|ficiently te&s;tifie. For there were certaine per|&s;ons at this &s;ermon, who an irreconciliable en|mitie held &s;o diuided, to the detriment of their owne &s;oule, and notable &s;candale of their neighbour, that no &s;ort of con&s;ideration could reconcile them, who at the departure from one of his &s;ermons, embraced one another, and &s;wore eache to other perpetuall amitie.</P>
<P>Further more, where he vnder&s;tood of any quarrels and factions, betwene per&s;ons of qua|litie, he was very diligent to quench tho&s;e flames, and makeing them to know the hay|nou&s;nes
<PB N="109" REF="71"> of their, di&s;ordered pa&s;&s;ions, reduced them to rea&s;on; wherby God was glorified, and the &s;tate receiued benefit by the vnion of peace which en&s;ued theron wherupon dependes its whole pre&s;eruation. In this point he was a true follower of S. Francis, for an Author of his time, who a&s;&s;ureth to haue heard him prea|che at Bolognia on the day of the A&s;&s;umption of our ble&s;&s;ed lady, anno 1620. &s;ayeth, that in all his &s;ermons he principally aymed at this marke, to wit, to extinguish the fires of di&s;&s;en|tions, and to renew the alliances of happie peace: adding, that God gaue &s;o great efficacie vnto his wordes, that he appea&s;ed &s;uch a tem|pe&s;t of quarrells and factions among&s;t the no|bles, as was &s;ufficient to haue &s;et the whole common wealth all on fire, if the effects had accompanied their de&s;ignes.</P>
<P>And to the end that God might concurre with his labours in preaching, he had alwaies in his minde the whole&s;ome &s;peeches of S. Francis, who &s;aid, that that preacher is much to be la|mented, who de&s;troyeth and corrupteth by his bad life, that which him &s;elfe built and founded by the truth of his doctrine. Wherfore, he be|gan fir&s;t with him &s;elfe, &amp; redoubling his owne mortifications, neuer went vp into the pulpit, but fir&s;t di&s;ciplining him &s;elfe, with extraordi|narie violence, wherof the blood which drop|ped downe was a faithfull witne&s;&s;e, knowing well that it auaileth litle or nothing to teache
<PB N="110" REF="72"> others, and not to put in practi&s;e the pointes them &s;elues. Not content to ca&s;tice him &s;elfe thus &s;euerely, he shut the windowes of his chamber, and &s;peaking to God from the depth of his hart in this ob&s;curitie, he &s;pent an hour in meditation vpon the point he was to &s;peake, humbly be&s;eeching the a&s;&s;i&s;tance of heauenly grace, for the performa~ce of that worke, to Gods glorie, and to the profit of his hearers &s;oules.</P>
<P>This holie cu&s;tome of meditation, be&s;ides the power which it had to &s;tir vp mens hartes, produced yet on other fruite, which cannot be valued by any, but by tho&s;e, who make profe&s;|&s;ion there of: for by this meanes he got a great facilitie, to be able to &s;peake of any matter that occa&s;ion might pre&s;ent, if he were aduerti&s;ed therof but one houre before. And although this might in part be attributed to the excellen|cie of his wit, yet doutles it proceeded princi|pally from his holie meditations, as waters purified within a holy limback, and dropping &s;weetly downe from the fountaine head of &s;o pure a &s;oule, to which the holy Gho&s;t com|municated it &s;elfe after a maner knowen only to tho&s;e who are partakers of the &s;ame.</P>
<P>This not with&s;tanding did not hinder him, that he applyed him &s;elfe vnto his &s;tudies, as often as his other occupations did permit him, but the great de&s;ire he had to cooperate to the health of &s;oules, did much robbe him of the&s;e particular colloquies, God him &s;elfe, for
<PB N="111" REF="72"> whom only he laboured with &s;uch affection, rendred him the recompence, by giuing him the knowledg of &s;undry thinges in a short time. For among&s;t the thinges which he hated mo&s;t, it &s;hewed that ignorance was one of the chiefe&s;t, taking his motiue from the threatning of God, thundered out in the Prophet I&s;ay again&s;t his people &s;aying. <HI>The cau&s;e why my people are led away pri&s;oners, is for that they had not knowledg.</HI> Marke I pray you, how he di&s;cour&s;eth vpon this point.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">He doth not &s;ay, for hauing robbed or com|mitted adulterie, or idolatrie, but he goeth to the fountaine and fir&s;t cau&s;e of all euill, <HI>for that they had not knowledge.</HI> This truly is a terrible &s;entence, but rea&s;on confirmes it; for a man is a rea&s;onable creature, as you know, and capable of rea&s;on and di&s;cour&s;e, different in this from bea&s;tes, who depriued of rea&s;on, are guided only by the in&s;tinct of nature, which is the cau&s;e that what they doe, they doe by nece&s;&s;itie, and naturall inclination: but man being rea&s;onable, in&s;tinct alone doth not &s;uffice him, but he mu&s;t haue rea&s;on and di&s;|cour&s;e to conduct him, for which cau&s;e it is that he goeth di&s;cour&s;ing from principles to conclu&s;ions, and &s;aith as followeth. All thinges that are good, are to be done: this is good, this therfore is to be done. Againe, All euil is to be fled: this is euill, this therfore is to be e&s;chued. The will (as you know) is a power,
<PB N="112" REF="73"> which of it &s;elfe is blinde, which knoweth nothing, but as it receiueth light from the vnder&s;tanding, therfore, <HI>non fertur ni&s;i in praecog|nitum,</HI> it cannot loue good, nor hate euill, vnle&s;&s;e it know it, it cannot worke this, nor auoide that, vnle&s;&s;e it fir&s;t loue or hate it, whence it cometh to pa&s;&s;e, that if it be bound to worke that which is good, it can|not worke it, vnle&s;&s;e it fir&s;t loue it, it can|not loue it, vnle&s;&s;e it know it, and it can|not know it with out &s;cience. Ther fore by this connexion <HI>&agrave; primo ad vltimum,</HI> from the fir&s;t to the la&s;t, knowledg is nece&s;&s;arie to doe good, and to flie euill. And for as much as our end is &s;upernaturall, it &s;ufficeth not a Chri&s;tian to haue &s;ome &s;cience or naturall knowledge, &s;uch as the philo&s;ophers had, but there is a far more eminent knowledge required of him, which is that of faith &amp; of the holie Scriptures.</Q></P>
<P>And them endeuoring to shew, what this knowledge ought to be, without the which we are not in the true path that <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e~deth to &s;aluation, he &s;pake in this maner <Q REND="inline">A man may be con&s;ide|red in four e&s;tates The fir&s;t is, as onely a na|turall man. The &s;econd, as a Chri&s;tian. The third, as a Religious man. The fourth, as &s;uch a Religious man, to wit, Clarke, lay, &s;imple Prie&s;t, or preacher. In all the&s;e e&s;tates a man hath neede of knowledge, but with this diuer&s;itie; for in the fir&s;t, as man it &s;ufficeth that he know what naturall rea&s;on doth dictat to him, good &amp;
<PB N="113" REF="73"> euill, to embrace the one, and to fly the other. In the &s;econd degree, as a Chri&s;tian, he is bound to know the law of God, his co~|mandements, and tho&s;e al&s;o of his church, the Articles of faith, with other ordinarie points of Chri&s;tian doctrine. In the third de|gree, as a religious man, he ought to know all thinges afor&s;aid, and moreover he ought to know the obligations and precepts of his rule, with other thinges appertayning to a true &s;pirituall lyfe, other prayers, or deuotio~s. In the fourth degree, as &s;uch a religious ma~, he ought to know the thinges which apper|taine vnto his office: yf he be a lay brother, the Chri&s;tian doctrine, the precepts, the equi|pollences of his rule, thinges &s;pirituall, and tho&s;e in particular, which appertaine vnto a lay brother. If a Clarke, he ought to know both all this, and moreouer to &s;ay his office. If a &s;imple prie&s;t, he ought to know ca&s;es of con&s;cience, vnder&s;tand the Summi&s;tes, and the matter of the Sacraments. If a Preacher, he ought to vnder&s;tand, and know how to ex|plicat the holy Scripture, and to haue skill in diuinitie. Briefly, euery one ought to rendar an account of tho&s;e thinges which doe be|long vnto his office, and con&s;equently euery one ought to acquit hym&s;elfe of the obliga|tion of his charge according to the degree of his e&s;tate. If he be but a man, to be good mo|rally.
<PB N="14" REF="74"> If a Chri&s;tian, to be a good one. If a re|ligious, to be a good religious, and &s;o of o|thers: for of ignorance it cometh, that a ma~ is not a man, but a bea&s;t: nor the Chri&s;tian, nor religious, &s;uch indeed and in effect. Fi|nally, let vs conclude, that from the ignora~ce of thinges nece&s;&s;arie, followeth the ruine of citties, realmes, common wealthes, religious, and of the whole world.</Q></P>
<P>And a litle after, &s;peaking of S. Francis, who &s;aith in the begining of his rule, that the bre|theren of that order, ought to de&s;ire aboue all thinges, to haue the Spirit of God, and his holy operation in their &s;oules, he exclaimeth &s;aying. <Q REND="inline">O wordes of wonderfull importa~ce and worthie to be writen in letters of gold euen in the midde&s;t of our hartes. S. Francis &s;aith as much in tho&s;e few wordes, as all the &s;pirituall bookes can &s;ay in the whole world. For in the&s;e wordes are contayned and com|prehended, all the perfection of the &s;pirituall virtues, which may be de&s;iered in a pa&s;&s;ager of this life, <HI>to haue the Spirit of our Lord,</HI> that is to &s;ay, to be made one in &s;pirit, &amp; in will, toge|ther with his holy operatio~, to wit, his loue: foras he loues hym &s;elfe, &s;o likewi&s;e will he that we loue him this is our principall opera|tion, this is our la&s;t and finall end, wherby we haue for&s;aken the worlde, together with all what &s;oeuer we haue, our &s;elues, our
<PB N="115" REF="74"> bodies, and our &s;oule. For this it is we are in|clo&s;ed in cloi&s;ters. For this it is we are clo|thed with this &s;accloth, to &s;o haue this &s;pirit, and this loue of god. This if we haue not ob|tained vnto this pre&s;ent, or at the lea&s;t yf we de&s;ire not to obtaine it, and doe not enforce our &s;elues hereunto aboue all thinges el&s;e what &s;oeuer, in vaine it is, that we be entred into religion, in vaine it is, that we haue for|&s;aken the worlde in vaine it is that we weare the&s;e contemptible habits. and in vaine yt ys, that we call our &s;elues, brother Minors. So that this ys the chiefe&s;t &s;cience, werunto we all are bound and obliged, that is to &s;ay, to de&s;ire aboue all thinges, to haue the &s;pirit of our lord, and his holie operation.</Q> I omit many other excellent di&s;cour&s;es, which witne&s;&s;e his &s;ingular zeale and his learning, and which haue wrought the co~uer&s;ion of many &s;oules, which now enioy immortall glorie in heauen, &s;inging &s;onges of tha~ks giuing to their Crea|tor and Redeemer, in the companie of this ble&s;&s;ed Father.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="10" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="116" REF="75">
<HEAD>Of his humilitie. THE TENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>AS in a building well ordained, the foun|dation ought to be laid, before the other parts can be rai&s;ed, as it wheron all the other parts haue their &s;ub&s;i&s;tance and dependance: euen &s;o in the &s;pirituall building of the &s;oule, where all the virtues make but one frame of &s;anctitie, for the &s;ecure lodging therof in eter|nall re&s;t, humilitie as the ba&s;is and foundation, mu&s;t fir&s;t be laid, and &s;erue for the rai&s;ing and &s;trengthning of all virtues. For this cau&s;e, this ble&s;&s;ed father v&s;ed great care and &s;olicitude to acquire this virtu, not ignorant, that the meanes to be exalted, is fir&s;t to be aba&s;ed, and that vaine and vnprofitable is his paines, who without humilitie. thinketh to pa&s;&s;e vnto other virtues; euen as yf he &s;owed in the ayre, and ca&s;t ashes again&s;t the winde, &s;eeing that one of the chiefe and principall workes of God is, to depre&s;&s;e the exalted, &amp; exalt the depre&s;&s;ed, ca&s;ting tho&s;e into the depth of nothing, and carying vp the&s;e &s;o much higher in glorie, as they aba&s;ed them &s;elues in the nothing of their owne knowledg.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t therfore, I will not &s;ay that he was ex|traordinarie humble, for that being i&s;&s;ued forth of &s;o noble a familie, and for that of a Duke
<PB N="117" REF="75"> and Peere of France, he became a beggar; of rich, poore; and of one high in Court, aba&s;ed into an order, where the actions of this holy virtues, &s;eeme infamous, reproachefull, &amp; ridi|culous to tho&s;e, who mea&s;uring all thinges by outward appearance, rai&s;e not vp the eyes of their vnder&s;tanding, according to the mea&s;ure of the &s;anctuarie, from whence they hope to receiue the honor and e&s;teeme which is due vnto them. I will not call hym humble, in that liuing in great account he became dead to the world with our lord and Redeemer; No, for albeit &s;uch thinges of the&s;e ar mo&s;t remarkable, yet this were to &s;peake too generally, and many in the&s;e thinges might haue &s;urpa&s;&s;ed hym, &s;ith yt ys in the power euen of kinges them &s;elues, to renounce their crownes and all mo~danities. I will not (I &s;ay) exalt his humilitie by &s;uch actes as the&s;e, but by &s;uch as by a &s;pecial grace from God shined in hym particularly. As, in that he e&s;teemed hym &s;elfe the lea&s;t of all, and willingly gaue place to the very lea&s;t, yea it was noted in hym particularly, that hauing many times bene Gardian, Prouinciall, and Definitor, and borne other charges in his order and pro|fe&s;&s;ion, yet was he neuer &s;eene to conuer&s;e or deale with his inferiors, otherwi&s;e then yf he had bene theire equall or inferior, bearing alwayes fixed in this minde, that excellent &s;en|tence of Saint Francis (and all&s;o teaching it to
<PB N="118" REF="76"> others) that <HI>a man is &s;uch, as he is in the knovvledg and loue of God: and nothing more</HI> that ys to &s;ay, that the glorie which we ought to &s;eeke, doth not ari&s;e from the e&s;timarion which men doe make of vs, but from the degre of perfection which we haue acquired, and which is written in the booke of lyfe. For proofe wherof, he cited the wordes of our B. Sauiour (Luc. 14) who commandeth vs, that when we are called into any place, to choo&s;e to our &s;elue~s the lower Rome. Vpon which pa&s;&s;age he writeth thus. Is yt not enough that I &s;et m<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y &s;elfe in any other place? in the &s;econd, third, fourth or fifth? Noe, yt mu&s;t be in the lowe&s;t place; This is the place which a true humble man choo&s;eth, a true brother Minor. For which cau&s;e reputing hym &s;elfe vnworthie of all charge he ommit|ted not for all this to accept them ioyfullie and with hu~ble re&s;ignation of hym &s;elfe, knowing that being elected, yt ys Ie&s;us Chri&s;t who &s;aith vnto hym. <HI>Amice a&s;cende &s;uperius.</HI> Friend <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">et vp higher.</P>
<P>Who&s;oeuer had &s;eene hym that day, wherin he left the world, &amp; tooke the habit the &s;eco~d time, now after dinner, and grace being &s;aid, when all the religious (according to their cu|&s;tome) came to the kitchin to washe their ear|then ve&s;&s;ells, he t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">&s;&s;ed vp his &s;leeues, and was the fir&s;t who bega to performe this ba&s;e office, &amp; that with &s;o great courage, as if in his whole
<PB N="119" REF="76"> life he had exerci&s;ed no other then this drudg|ing office. Who&s;oeuer, I &s;ay, had &s;eene him, would he not haue bene much a&s;tonnished, &amp; con&s;trained hy the force of truth to confe&s;&s;e, that the grace of God is a powerfull le&s;so~ vnto that &s;oule, which li&s;tneth with attention, and with de&s;ire to put it in practi&s;e? But notwith+and&s;ting this is nothing, in compari&s;on of many of his other actions, for this was &s;ecret, &amp; &s;eene only of his other bretheren, who did the like when their turne came: but many other were done in the face of the Court, euen in the mid|de&s;t of Paris, wher he had formerly liued and beene &s;eene, with much more honor and worldlie &s;plendor then ca~ be &s;poke~; In &s;o much that, making on a time an allu&s;ion of his life pre&s;ent, with that which was pa&s;t, and likewi&s;e of this, with all other religious per&s;ons, he co~|pared it to the great tree which Nabuchodo|no&s;er &s;aw, who&s;e branches couered all with leaues filled it with their shadow, vntill &s;uch time as a voice was heard from heauen, which gaue commandment to cut doune the tree, &amp; to leaue only the roote therof, fa&s;tned to a &s;take of iron, that it might be moy&s;tned with the dew of heauen, adding this that followeth by way of demand vnto hym&s;elfe.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">When thou wa&s;t in the worlde, what wa&s;t thou? I was a tree which mou~ted to the skye proud, full of vanitie, arrogant. The great
<PB N="120" REF="77"> boughes, were power, wi&s;dome, valour, no|bilitie, riches. The leaues and shadow whereof, were wordes, promi&s;es, hopes de&s;i|res. What betided it? Behould a &s;earfull voice was heard from heauen, <HI>Succidite arborem,</HI> cut downe the tree that is with the feare of death hell, and the frightfull iudgment of God: and behould the high tree was prese~tly cut downe, the boughes were lopped of the leaues fell away. He who before was &s;o proud, entreth in to Religion, humble, litle, vile, and abiect. Behould the &s;p<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">riges, of the roote of this tree, abide bound as with cordes and chaines of iron, with the vowes of obe|dience, of pouertie, and cha&s;titie. But to the end that it may beare the&s;e bondes and chaines willingly, nor haue this pri&s;on in any horror, what mu&s;t it doe yet more? This roote, and this &s;pirigge, is watered with the dew of heauen. And what is this dew of heauen but Gods grace, the con&s;olation of the holie Gho&s;t, the gu&s;te of prayer, and the inward relishinges of almightie god? This dew, cau&s;eth, that the&s;e chaines, not only appeare not sharp and hard, but &s;weet and light: &s;o that religion, not only &s;eemes not to be a pri|&s;on, but an earthly paradi&s;e; nether doth one, not only not feele the waight or burthen of the yoake, but ta&s;teth the &s;weetnes and lightnes therof, and &s;o our rule, life, and pro|fe&s;&s;ion
<PB N="121" REF="77"> is, of a brother Minor, that is to &s;ay, to be humble and full of charitie. Let vs then enforce out &s;elues, to an&s;were by workes to the name we haue taken, and to the habit we weare. This is it which our Lord and Sauiour requireth of vs, this is it whcih S. Francis &s;eeketh at our handes; the &s;acred woundes of our Lord Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, and tho&s;e amorous markes imprinted in his flesh, crie no other thinge vnto vs: the&s;e are the letters patents of his rule.</Q></P>
<P>One day, as the winter cold was mo&s;t ex|treame, &s;o that euen the be&s;t and warme&s;t clothed, were forced to beg heate of the fire: &s;undrie poore Irish people asking almes at end of S. Michaels bridge in Paris, were faine to make a litle fire to re&s;i&s;t the rigour of the cold, in expecting the charitie of tho&s;e that pa&s;&s;ed. The ble&s;&s;ed father Angell, coming fro~ dooing &s;ome worke of pietie, almo&s;t halfe dead with very cold being loth to enter into any hou&s;e to warme him &s;elfe, as too well knowen and ho|nored euery where, warmed him &s;elfe with this poore people: which tho&s;e who pa&s;&s;ed too and fro well con&s;idering, and &s;eeing the good father to warme his feete all frozen with cold at &s;o poore a fire of three or four coales lighted by the&s;e poore people, did wonder thereat, and &s;undry of them, not without the shedding of teares. For all his de&s;ire was, to
<PB N="122" REF="78" MS="y"> hide the greatnes of gis hou&s;e, and the ranck he had &s;omtimes held in the world, not a litle offended with tho&s;e who came to vi&s;it him, if he &s;aw they rather came of curio&s;itie, then of &s;ome pious de&s;igne wherby God might be honored, and their neighbour edified.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t time that he was &s;ent vnto Tou|lou&s;e, where he had left his habit, the principall of all the cittie, purpo&s;ed to goe out to meete him, and to entertaine him, not in qualitie of a Capuchin, but of a noble lord of that familie, to which the whole contrie was obliged for their con&s;eruation. As &s;oone as he had notice hereof, and coming late vnto the towne, he en|tred by another gate then was expected, and &s;o came &s;ecretly vnto his conuent. Wherat they being much a&s;tonished, went the next mor|ning to offer him their at the conuents &s;eruice; but coming thither they were more amazed then they were before, when they found him in the garden &s;eruing the Ma&s;ons, and after|wards hauing thanked them, and entertayned them but a very litle while, he returned againe vnto his former exerci&s;e, wherin he te&s;tified by his paines, that he tooke more plea&s;ure therin, then in giuing eare to their offers of &s;o great affection, which had for their obiect, his digni|ties and his merits: for he had quite exiled all worldly honors, both out of his de&s;ire and re|membrance, e&s;teeming no more of prai&s;e then
<PB N="123" REF="78"> of reproche. And as a dead body, hath no fee|ling of what is done vnto it, neuer murmuring nor complayning in what po&s;ture &s;oeuer one doth place it: eue~ &s;o he being dead to his owne intere&s;t, to his &s;en&s;es, and his pa&s;&s;ions, had &s;o buried his affections in the open &s;ide of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t vpon the Cro&s;&s;e, that nothing in the whole wordle could affect him with content|ment, only the beautie of virtu, together with the grace of God, was of power to make him ioyfull in po&s;e&s;&s;ing it, and to make him &s;orrow|full, when according to the violence of his de|&s;ires he could not put it in practi&s;e as he wished. Yea, he alwayes bore that minde, ra|ther to &s;uffer hungar and thir&s;t, and to endure the affrontes and iniuries of many cold Chri|&s;tians, in concealing his name and familie, then to receiue all kinde of curte&s;ies, by reuealing the hou&s;e from whence he de&s;cended.</P>
<P>Vpon a time as he vi&s;ited the prouince of Picardy being ouer taken by the night, he was con&s;trained to goe to a Ca&s;tle to aske if of their charitie, they would vouch&s;afe to lodge him &amp; his companion for that night. And albeit that his grace full countenance ad liuelie grauitie, did &s;ufficiently shew to tho&s;e that beheld him, that he had &s;omtimes bene &s;ome man of worth, yet the ma&s;ter of the lodging being of the pretended religio~ (which &s;eemeth to beare a particular hate to religious per&s;ons) droue
<PB N="124" REF="79"> them away, with all maner of reproachfull &amp; iniurious wordes, which pa&s;&s;ion and malice could almo&s;t inuent. This ble&s;&s;ed father, who knew not what it was to reply with sharpnes vnto &s;uch reproaches, pre&s;t with the night, in a cou~trie vnknowen, without penny or half pen|ny, all naked, encompa&s;&s;ed with many incom|modities, and danger of his health, if he should be forced to lye in the open ayre, humbly be|&s;ought him with all the in&s;tance that a poore religious man might in &s;uch a ca&s;e, that he would only put into &s;ome place, where they might but &s;tand drie, a&s;&s;uring him that they would no way be trouble&s;ome to him, and that God would reward him for &s;o great a cha|ritie. This gentleman notwith&s;tanding, (more in&s;en&s;ible then a &s;tone,) was not moued one whit at his piteous complaints and humble re|que&s;ts, and refu&s;ing them all entrie into his hou&s;e, only &s;uffered them to retyre them &s;elues into a &s;table, which was vncouered in &s;uch &s;ort, that he could not lodge his bea&s;tes therin.</P>
<P>Notwith&s;tanding this his incommodious lodging, he encouraged his companion, to re|ioyce in our Sauiour Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, repre&s;enting vnto him, the v&s;uall wordes of their holie Fa|ther S. Fra~cis, &s;aying, that he tooke much more confort to be loaden with iniuries and oppro|bries, then he did to heare his owne pray&s;es to be published. As &s;oone as the day brake, they
<PB N="125" REF="79"> departed forth of this &s;table, which they had made a chappell of prayer and deuotion; and being &s;et forward on their way, they began to wonder, when they &s;aw one come galloping after them as fa&s;t as he could, douting le&s;t &s;ome greater harme was toward them. But this hap|ned, becau&s;e that &s;ome, who had met the&s;e fa|thers in their way, and knowing well this B, fa|ther, had told his name vnto this gentleman, and from what hou&s;e he was de&s;cended, yet nether knowing where he had bene harboured nor what entertaynment had bene giuen him.</P>
<P>This ge~tleman not knowing whar to thinke of him &s;elfe, very &s;orrie for his fault, and much admiring &s;o great patience and humilitie, got vp on hor&s;e-back, and hauing ouertaken them, in&s;tantly alighted downe, fell on his knees, and askt him forgiuenes, excu&s;ed him &s;elfe that he did not knowe him, earne&s;tly be&s;ought him to returne to his hou&s;e, wherin all that was, was at his &s;eruice, that &s;o at the lea&s;t he might make &s;ome part of amendment for his former fault: with &s;undry other &s;uch like wordes, which the &s;orrow conceiued for his former fault, toge|ther with re&s;pect to ciuile hone&s;tie, might &s;ug|ge&s;t vnto him. The B. Father kindly thanked him for his curte&s;ie, and rea&s;oning with hym a litle while concerning his religion, at the la&s;t he left him, co~tenting him&s;elfe with the promi|&s;e he made him to for&s;ake his here&s;ie, and to
<PB N="126" REF="80"> embrace the light of the Catholique, Apo&s;to|lique and Roman faith: which promi&s;e the gentleman performed pre&s;ently after, to the glorie of God, and to the &s;aluation of his owne &s;oule.</P>
<P>Neuer should I make and end, if I should re|late all his actions, in the exerci&s;e of this &s;o rare a virtu, and how many &s;oules he con&s;trayned, in a maner, by this &s;weete meanes, to for&s;ake Sathan, to i&s;&s;ue forth of the &s;inke of their &s;in|nes, and to conuert them vnto God; For euen as balme and other aromaticall &s;pices, being &s;tamped &amp; reduced to poudre, are more &s;weet to &s;mell to, then they were before being vn|bru&s;ed: euen &s;o the vertues of man, are more aggreable vnto God, &amp; atract others with the more violence, when being bru&s;ed and poun|ded by their humilitie, they cau&s;e a &s;weet and plea&s;ing odor to euaporat from them, by their practi&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="11" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="127" REF="80">
<HEAD>Of his Patience. THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>AFter his humilitie, I will &s;et in order in the &s;econd place, his great patience, partly becau&s;e almightie God doth alwayes exerci&s;e the humble by this way, partly al&s;o becau&s;e of the affinitie and coniunction that there ys betwixt the&s;e two virtues, which ys &s;uch, that hardly can they be &s;eparated a&s;under: for hu|militie cau&s;eth vs to cherishe abiection, and pa|tience conforteth vs in the &s;ame: true humilitie loues contempt, and patience takes content|ment therein: &s;o that the one and the other hauing the &s;ame obiect, haue but this difference which doth &s;eperate the~, that humilitie maketh that a man, although contemned and &s;et at naught, yet replyeth not, nor doth apprehend yt: contrariwi&s;e, patience knoweth how to helpe yt &s;elfe, but will not &s;erue yt &s;elfe of its owne power, and choo&s;eth rather, to &s;uffer wronge, then to offer any, which ys indeed the true touch&s;tone to di&s;cerne one truly humble of hart and of affection, and to di&s;couer all &s;ort of forced &amp; fal&s;e hipocri&s;ie, which &s;lydeth into &s;uch actions. For it is an ea&s;ie matter, to weare a poore and a patched habit, to goe bare|foote, the head aba&s;ed, the eyes mortified, to
<PB N="128" REF="81"> reuerence our equalls, giue place to our in|feriors, when the action is not of importance: but to endure an iniurie, a conte~pt or di&s;grace, or other &s;ort of indignitie, with a &s;miling and chearfull countenance, without shewing yt outwardlie, or feeling inwardly any kinde of di&s;contentment, without all dout &s;uch a pa|tience clearly sheweth, that humilitie lodgeth within that &s;oule, and both the one and the other of the&s;e virtues, rendre yt perfect and compleate.</P>
<P>This ble&s;&s;ed father, exceeded in both the&s;e &s;ingular virtues true witne&s;&s;es of the inward peace and tra~quilitie of his &s;oule. For as he one day came from Veni&s;e, according to the com|mandement of the Reuerend Father Generall. to be Gardien in the contry of Loraine, the warres being &s;till in their former furie, at his entrie into Fra~ce, he was taken by the &s;oldiars, who v&s;ed hym very de&s;pitefully, &s;tript hym of his habit, and loading hym with abu&s;es and with blowes, called hym traitor, hipocrite, &s;pye to bewray them, and one who had taken that habit, the better to couer his pernicious de|&s;ignes, vnder this exteriour pretext of fal&s;e di&s;|&s;imulatio~, and di&s;&s;embled fal&s;itie: &s;earched hym from top toe, to &s;ee yf he had no letters about him, &amp; tore in pieces certaine papers which they founde: &amp; while&s;t &s;ome thus bu&s;ied the~&s;elues for to &s;earch hym, others haled hym,
<PB N="129" REF="81"> and pulled him by the bearde, with many like reproachfull abu&s;es. The ble&s;&s;ed Father all this while carried him&s;elfe, as a meeke lambe, with|out &s;peaking a worde, or makinge shewe of any feelinge, expo&s;ed his body to the rage, and furie of the&s;e barbarous fellowes, who not content with this, led him from thence vnto their garri&s;on, a good way di&s;tant from that place, where in the midde&s;t of them all, as an innocent lambe among&s;t wolues, they made their &s;port, and pa&s;time of him &s;omtimes moc|king him with ridiculous wordes, &s;ometimes with iniuries, obiecting vnto him the hipocri&s;ie of his habit, the fal&s;itie of his faith, and calling him &s;uper&s;titious foole, and eater, &amp; deuourer of his god: &s;till betwixt whiles beatinge him, &amp; buffeting him with their fi&s;tes.</P>
<P>O ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule, who ha&s;t here founde a con|formitie, with the paines of thy lord, and ma|&s;ter, after which thou &s;o erne&s;tly &s;oughte&s;t, and a&s;pire&s;t. For who can doubt that at that in&s;tant he &s;et before his eies, his lord betwixt the hands of the Iewes, buffeted, mocked, &s;pitt on, iniuryed, and blasphemed, inwardly reioy&s;inge, and rendring him mo&s;t humble thank<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s that &s;uch an occa&s;ion of &s;ufferinge was giu <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, in cha&s;ticement of his defects? whom he be ought to giue him his grace, to &s;uffer them with the &s;ame &s;pirit that him&s;elfe did &s;uffer the paines, &amp; dolour of the Cro&s;&s;e: and to render him&s;elfe yet more like vnto him, &amp; to imitate him
<PB N="130" REF="82"> more neerely in his holy &s;ufferinges he craued, and demanded pardon for them who blinded in their error, impo&s;ed vpon him the&s;e re|proachfull iniuries; for it is the propertie of a &s;oule, which is allwayes vnited by loue vnto her God, to conuert, like vnto bees, all bit|ternes, into &s;weetenes, to make thereof, the hony of glorie, e&s;teeminge all that which affli|cteth her, for tranquillitie and &s;olacing her &s;elues amid&s;t &s;uch &s;ufferances; pray for tho&s;e vnto our lord, who &s;erue as in&s;truments, to make proofe of her con&s;tancie,</P>
<P>The&s;e companions pa&s;&s;ed ouer the whole day in &s;uch like actions full of inhumanitie: and the night being come, which forced them to retire them&s;elues, they being weary with af|flictinge him, left him to the open fieldes, that &s;o al&s;o he should be afflicted for want of lod|ginge. In this &s;ort he went for a while with his companion through a thicke, and woody forre&s;t, and &s;eeinge, that the &s;ouldiers had ta|ken from him, be&s;ides his breuiary, and other papers, their obedience, he encouraged his companion, to goe backe againe, vnto the place where the &s;ouldiers were, and not to leaue them till fir&s;t they had re&s;tored it againe vnto them for els quoth he, we shall not be well|come, when we come to the conuent of our bretheren. They returned therfore, and with many in&s;tances, and piteous &s;upplications able to rent the hearts of &s;tones, they recouered at
<PB N="131" REF="82"> the la&s;t their obedience.</P>
<P>The weather at that time was very sharpe, &amp; the trauells which they had indured that day without eatynge any thinge, hauinge greatly weakened his bodily forces, he dur&s;t not go on his iourney in the darke, in a way which he had neuer went, for feare of fallnige into &s;ome dan|gerous hole, and to finde a lodginge he had no hope. At the la&s;t a poore sheepecoate offered it &s;elfe to his nece&s;&s;itie, which entringe into with his Companion, they pa&s;&s;ed ouer that whole night, in prayers, and deuine pray&s;es, weary of the way, but exceedinge ioyfull in their &s;oules, thus to haue &s;uffered for the loue of God. Who can chu&s;e but admire at this great patience? and what heart is &s;o hard, which cannot con|fe&s;&s;e that there was &s;ome certaine grace hidden in the&s;e holy actions, wherewith almightie God doth beatifie his frindes, cau&s;inge their greate&s;t difficulties, to become ea&s;y, and full of glory!</P>
<P>In this ble&s;&s;ed father doutles, was &s;eene to be renewed the fir&s;t feruour of Saint Frauncis, and of his companions who leaden with Iniu|ries, and others opprobries in diuer&s;e countries where they came, as men vnknowen, and of none account, vnder a poore habit, and full of abiection, tooke all kinde of contentment in &s;uch like &s;ufferances, and inflamed with the loue of heauen, like two cele&s;tiall Salamanders, tooke their nourishments amid&s;t the flames of
<PB N="132" REF="83"> the&s;e afflictions. One of the greate&s;t motiues, which this ble&s;&s;ed father had to bringe him to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e &s;o great a patience, be&s;ides the exemple of our &s;auiour him&s;elfe, was the promi&s;e of a recompence, citinge the&s;e wordes. <HI>Noli timere, quia redemi te, &amp; vocaui te nomine tuo.</HI> Feare not be|cau&s;e I haue redeemed thee, and called thee by thy name. Wherevpon he tooke occa&s;ion to dilate his conception in the manner en&s;uinge.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">Feare not, O religious, O my &s;eruant any kinde of thing, neither the force of thy enimies, nor their temptations, nor per&s;ecutions what|&s;oeuer, nor other pre&s;&s;ure, nor affliction, becau&s;e I haue redeemed thee, not once only by gi|uing my blood for thee, but againe in drawinge, thee to my &s;eruice in Religion, which is a newe redemption, for thou art &s;ould to me for a &s;er|uant and &s;laue, and I haue redeemed thee at a high pri&s;e, feare not then, I haue redemed thee, &amp; I haue called thee with &s;pirituall in&s;piration to my &s;eruice, and by &s;inguler fauour, and &s;igne of amitie I haue giuen thee a name di&s;tinct from others. And what is that name. <HI>Thou art mine,</HI> O deare, and glorious name, more then all the name, &amp; title of honour which Princes can giue to their fauourits, or familiers. O that I could expre&s;&s;e what I feele in my &s;oule, concerninge the dignitie of this name, my Seruant my fami|lier, my friend, my bridegrome, my po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion all mine, in this <HI>Thou art mine.</HI> The world, the flesh, nor the Deuill haue no more part in thee,
<PB N="133" REF="83"> Let none dare to approach to thee, to hurt on haire of thy head becau&s;e thou art mine; &s;o may a good, Religious man &s;aie, yea euery good Chri&s;tian: All creatures take heed of me becau&s;e I am belonginge to God, yee haue no|thinge to do with me, do not touch me or aproache to me.</Q></P>
<P><Q REND="inline">Herein appeareth a new particuler proui|dence of God towardes a good Religious per|&s;on; what neede he feare here after, what euill can befall him; Neither water, riuer, fire, flame, by which all creatures are vnder&s;tood haue po|wer to hurt him. When thou wilt pa&s;&s;e by the waters I will be with thee, the riuers shall not couer thee, when thou shalt walke in fire, thou shalt not be burnt, and the flame shall not take hold of hee: what thinke you therfore my bre|theren of the felicitie of a Religious man, do yet not &s;ee how this name <HI>Thou art Mine,</HI> is his pa&s;port, his Retraict of a&s;&s;urance, a &s;trong buck|ler again&s;t his enemies, the Deuill, the world, and the flesh, and all others. And after this tur|ninge him&s;elf to our &s;auiour he &s;aide. And what if I be thine O my Lord, and ma&s;ter, wilt not thou al&s;o be mines if thou &s;aie&s;t to a mi&s;erable man <HI>He is Mine,</HI> may not he &s;aye of thee, <HI>Thou art Mine, God is mine?</HI> Behould th'one, and the other in holy Dauid, &s;ayinge. God is my por|tion for euer, God is the ma&s;ter of my heart, and I am the ma&s;ter of the heart of god; god po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth me for his part, and I po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e him
<PB N="134" REF="84"> for mine. O ble&s;&s;ed Chaunce, O what can be deemed more in this life.</Q></P>
<P>I know not what can be &s;ayd more, It be|houeth a man that &s;peaketh in this manner, to be exalted to a high degree of perfection, ac|cordinge to the di&s;po&s;ition of the heart the tongue vttereth its conceptions, and in actions of vertue, and grace the mo&s;t &s;pirituall men vn|der&s;tand mo&s;t: he that po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth it not within him, cannot di&s;cur&s;e of it with &s;uch efficacie and power: The&s;e holy dartings of a good &s;pi|rit, &s;erued him for an Antidote in mo&s;t gre|uious di&s;ea&s;es. for a buckler again&s;t mo&s;t fiear&s;e, and rude pa&s;&s;ions, and for &s;weete hony to re|fresh him.</P>
<P>Yea he did wish for occa&s;ions of &s;ufferings to make him&s;elfe conformable to our Lord, &amp; &s;auiour by the vertue of patience.</P>
<P>I doubt not but I may &s;tile him a Martir with|out feare of cen&s;ure, for this name doth not only belong to tho&s;e, who for the quarrell of IESVS Chri&s;t do &s;pend their liues, but al&s;o to tho&s;e, who for the loue of god, do endure the violence of all &s;orts of outrages, rendring pray|e&s;&s;, for iniuries, ble&s;&s;ings, for cur&s;ings, praiers, for bla&s;phemies, and loue for mortall hate. There is no difference, but this, betwixt the on martirdome, and the other that the fir&s;t is bought by the price of bloud, and &s;o is noto|rious, and manife&s;t, the other is hidden within the clo&s;ett of an amorous hart, and is only
<PB N="135" REF="84"> knowen to god, from whom he expecteth his crowne. Then giue me leaue to &s;peak of this ble&s;&s;ed Martyr Father Angel, all who&s;e life, was nothing els but a lingering death, and a conti|nuall Martyrdome &s;ufferinge labour, cold, heate, hunger, want, haire Cloth, di&s;cipline, &amp; other mortifications of the bodie; and that which is more hard, the corrections of the heart, which in the world had in nothinge ap|proached to true religious perfections, and to &s;u&s;taine all thinges, without any &s;igne of con|tradiction, or murmuring, what&s;oeuer was enioyned him by his &s;uperiours. For proofe of his humility, and penance, which is all mo&s;t an in&s;upportable torture to corrupted nature which playes the rebell, with which corruptio~, we are all infected as the &s;onnes of Adam, and principally great, and noble per&s;ons, who thinke they be borne to command others, &amp; not to &s;ubmitt their necks with patience vnder the yoke of a rude, and peremptory obedience. So that he was among his bretheren, as a true pi|cture, or image, in which they did con&s;ider the patience of our &s;auiour liuely repre&s;ented, which he did practi&s;e, with &s;o much Zeale, that in his greate&s;t &s;ickne&s;&s;es, &s;uffrances and occa|&s;ions of feelinge affliction, he did shewe mo&s;t ioy and contentment, &s;o full was he of the &s;pirit of God.</P>
<P>Whence it is &s;poken in their rule, that with|out it he &s;ayd a religious man was emptie,
<PB N="136" REF="85"> <HI>terra inanis &amp; vacua</HI> voyd, and empty earth, <Q REND="inline">See (&s;aid he) a mortall man, but without gods &s;pi|rit what is he but a faire ve&s;&s;ell, but yet emptie, a well &s;poken man, a good merchant, a curious workman, but without vertue and grace; as vn&s;auory meate without &s;alt, &s;o a Religious man without this &s;pirit is &s;uch a ve&s;&s;ell but voyde: a good noi&s;e in the quire, a feruerous action in the pulpitt, an au&s;tere habit to the eies of men, good words but without &s;pirit, &amp; without grace. The rea&s;on is, that things crea|ted, are not &s;ufficient to fill the &s;oule, but god only, and his &s;pirit: how shall we knowe it? euen as we knowe a ve&s;&s;ell of wine, whether it be full, or emptie. If in touchinge it, it maketh a great &s;ound, and noi&s;e it is emptie, if not, it is full. So touch a Chri&s;tian, a good religious man by &s;ome tribulation, or penance, if he make a great outcry, and be much troubled, and com|plaine, it is an argument that he wanteth the &s;pirit of god. But when he is full, touch him as much as you will you shall heare no noi&s;e, noe murmuringe, noe complaninge. If he doth yeeld any &s;ound, it is only to the prai&s;e of god &s;ayng with Iob. <HI>Our Lord hath giuen, and our Lord hath taken awaye, ble&s;&s;ed be the name of our Lord.</HI></Q> And if he &s;aye this, he is al&s;o more ready to put it in practi&s;e. And to encourage others to this whom he knoweth to be of a melancholique di&s;po&s;i|tion, and apt to be but too &s;en&s;ible. Specially new beginners, for whom it is allmo&s;t impo&s;&s;i|ble
<PB N="137" REF="85"> to bridle all &s;ort of motions amid&s;t their manifold mortifications, which is indeed to be|come a newe man and to change their naturall inclination, &amp; triumphe ouer all their pa&s;&s;ions.</P>
<P>Thus, I &s;ay, he encouraged and &s;weetened his exhortation, in &s;aying that he did hartily wish to be allwayes a Nouice, to the end that he might be mortified more sharpely and exer|ci&s;ed &s;till to the vile&s;t and ba&s;e&s;t offices, and continually &s;ubiect to the cen&s;ure of tho&s;e that are profe&s;&s;ed, a&s;&s;uring then that as our &s;auiour had gotten his glory by great &s;ufferings, in &s;o much that the Prophet E&s;ay by way of amply|fication calleth him <HI>virum dolorum,</HI> which is man of griefes; &s;o a Religious man who ought allwayes without intermi&s;&s;ion be fa&s;tened to the Cro&s;&s;e, and practi&s;e it by his actions, as he carried a figure thence in his habit, could not shwe any greater effects of it, then in &s;uffering what&s;oeuer god did laye vpon him, and occa|&s;ions offered, were they neuer &s;o rigorous, and contrary to his inclination.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="12" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Obedience. THE TWLEFT CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P><Q REND="inline">THere are two things (&s;aid this Ble&s;&s;ed Father) in an exhortation which he made to his bretheren, which haue the fir&s;t place in euery good Religion, which do giue it life, forme and perfection, without
<PB N="138" REF="86"> which, Religion is but fraud, hipocri&s;ie, and &s;uper&s;tition. The outward, and inward exer|ci&s;e, the corporall and mentall By the out|ward, I vnder&s;tand all thinges which belonge to compo&s;e the bodie, to witt, fa&s;ting, vocall praiers, di&s;cipline, watching handy labours, a poore and ill bed, a rude habit. And by the inward, I vnder&s;tand what&s;oeuer belongeth to the reforminge of the &s;pirit, and &s;oule, to witt mentall prayer, humblenes of hart, pouer|tie of &s;pirit, puritie of intention, recollection, in fine the exerci&s;e of all vertues: of the&s;e two the outward is as the bodie of religion, the in|ward is as the &s;oule. And as a man which hath but a &s;oule without a body cannot be called a man, &s;o religion which regardeth only the in|ward man, and not the outward, cannot be cal|led religion. And as a man with a body without a &s;oule, is noe more a man, becau&s;e that is wan|tinge, which giueth him life: &s;o Religion with the only outward shewe, is not religion, but a dead bodie. Therfore the outward, and inward exerci&s;e, make religion perfect.</Q></P>
<P><Q REND="inline">The&s;e are the two alters, which god pointed out in figure, in his temple. The altar of bra&s;&s;e, where the flesh of diuer&s;e creatures was &s;acri|ficed, and the altar of gold, where the &s;weete incen&s;e was burnt. The fir&s;t was named the al|tar of Holocau&s;t, and was more open, and di&s;|couered: the other the altar of incen&s;e, &s;ome what more clo&s;e, and &s;ecret: which gaue vs to
<PB N="139" REF="86"> vnder&s;tand, two &s;orts of operations, which god doth require of vs, in his holy &s;eruice, the outward, and inward. The fir&s;t Altar where the body, and the flesh is &s;acrificed with the re&s;t is mortification, and penance, and this is expo&s;ed to the eies of men. The &s;econd altar where the &s;pirit is offered to god, with the fire of loue, as a mo&s;t &s;weete incence, is more &s;ecrett. The Apo&s;tle Saint Paul expre&s;&s;eth the&s;e two &s;orts of &s;acrifices, and workes, &s;ayinge. <HI>I be&s;eech you, that ye giue your bodies a liuinge &s;acrifice, holy. and plea&s;ing to god, your re&s;onable &s;eruice</HI> In bidding vs to offer our bodies in &s;acrifice to god, and that a liuinge &s;a|crifice, he sheweth the fir&s;t &s;ort of &s;acrifice to be a worke of penance, and mortification, ap|pertayning to the outward man: and addinge that this offeringe be holy, and plea&s;ing to god, &amp; a rea&s;onable &s;eruice, he sheweth the &s;econd &s;ort of &s;acrifice, and the vertues which belonge to the inward man: as puritie of intention, po|uertie of &s;pirit, cleannes of hart, re&s;ignation &amp;c. becau&s;e without the&s;e things, our &s;eruice is not rea&s;onable, but rather fl<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">eshly, &amp; brutall. Therfore my bretheren let vs who are called to the &s;eruice of god in &s;o high an e&s;tate of life, if we will &s;atisfie our duty and profe&s;&s;ion, not content our &s;elues with one of the&s;e parts, but let vs ioyne them both together, lea&s;t otherwi&s;e we labour in vaine: let vs not content our &s;el|ues, to offer vp our bodies for a liuinge &s;acrifice, but let vs offer him al&s;o, both &s;oule, and hart, &s;o
<PB N="140" REF="87"> to make our &s;eruice re&s;onable.</Q></P>
<P>O admirable di&s;cour&s;e for &s;uch as know how to comprehend the &s;ame! in howe fewe wor|des, doth he comprehend all the perfections nece&s;&s;ary to a religious &s;oule, which by the vowes of pouertie, &amp; Cha&s;titie doth con&s;ecrate to god, all that wich apperteineth to the body; and by that of obedience, all that which con|cerneth the &s;oule: and within the circuit of the&s;e three, is found compri&s;ed all that which god can require, and which a &s;oule can perfor|me in the practi&s;e of the Euangelicall coun|&s;ells. Which coun&s;ells the ble&s;&s;ed Father hauing allwaies for his Butt in his actions, it is no meruaile if he &s;peake of to great thinges. For he &s;poke of this as a man who knewe by practi&s;e what he &s;aid, the be&s;t le&s;&s;on that any deuine can giue. For beinge once inrolled to &s;erue vnder the &s;tandard of the cro&s;&s;e, he toke allwayes great contentment in the practi&s;e of obedience. He shewed him&s;elfe ignorant to command, but to obey, he &s;urpa&s;&s;ed all others in this &s;cience. This was the ballance by which he weighed all his actions, whether they caried that weight that god requireth. For he knewe well, that a religious per&s;on cannot erre, what&s;oe|uer he doe in obeying his &s;uperiours, &s;o that it be not contrarie to his vowes, nor the com|mandements of God, and his Church. where vpon being to giue a definition of this vertue, he &s;aid, that it is an extacie of the loue of God,
<PB N="141" REF="87"> which putteth a man out of him &s;elfe by a denyall of his owne will, not &s;uffering him to be any more for him &s;elfe, but for God his beloued.</P>
<P>O ble&s;&s;ed, and happy exta&s;ie, o exta&s;ie of great meritt! To this is that &s;ayinge of his, very conformable; that a Religious man that did any action for any other de&s;igne, then for the loue of God &s;imply, and for obedience, was a fal&s;e Religion, and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with an ill &s;pirit. that all his actions, as fa&s;tings, di&s;cipline, pray|ers, mor<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ification being infected, and poi&s;oned with his proper will were vnprofitable. That &s;uch a man was like to a hor&s;e which had bro|ken his halter, yet trayning it is taken by the fir&s;t that meeteth him: &s;o a religious man who doth not obey with promptnes and feruour of &s;pirit, is taken by his fir&s;t ma&s;ter the Deuill, being out of the way of &s;aluation, and in the way of perdition, if he doe not open the eies of his &s;pirit to remember his promi&s;e. He cited for proofe of this a place of holy Scripture (which he had well read) where the people lamenting that they had fa&s;ted, afflicted their bodies, and humble their &s;oules, but that God would not looke vpon them, nor heare their Cry. God an&s;wereth them in few wordes that which a good Religious per&s;on ought to call to mind. <HI>Behold in the day of your fa&s;t there was your owne proper will.</HI> But &s;o farr was the ble&s;&s;ed Father in &s;ee|king his owne will, that he held his Superiours
<PB N="142" REF="88"> as Angells &s;ent from heauen for his conduct, and therfore promptly obeyed them wi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hout cen&s;uring them, or &s;canninge, wherfore they required him to do this, or that; but only con|&s;idering the &s;ole will of God. Among Reli|gious men there are many thinges practi&s;ed, to which &s;ome are more obliged, then other &s;ome, The clarks for their office, the Laie bretheren for the &s;eruice of the hou&s;e, the Preacher, for the in&s;truction of others. And when a Prea|cher for&s;aketh his &s;tudy to do the office of a Laie brother followinge the ordinance of his Superiour, without feeling inwardly any points of con<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">radictions, he certainly is mounted to a high degree of perfection. you shall heare this Fathers owne wordes concerninge this vertue of obedience.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline"><HI>It is (&s;ayth he) fir&s;t in</HI> gouernement, as the mother Prioure in the Conuent or Mona&s;tery of ver|tues which <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he rule doth ordaine. It doth infor|me, that it giueth forme to the re&s;t after Chari|tie. And as S Gregory faith. It is it alone which doth ingea&s;t the other vertues in the mind, and keepeth them ingrafted. I will giue you an en|&s;ample. A noble Dame entring by chance into the Mona&s;tery of Religious woemen; they all come foorth to meete her, she beholdeth them all, but she knoweth them not, and although she ca&s;t her eies vpon &s;ome that are of the mo&s;t plea&s;ing a&s;pect, yet she demandeth which of them is the Mother Prioure, or Abba&s;&s;e. They
<PB N="143" REF="88"> shewe her one who is the mo&s;t ancient and the mo&s;t hard fauoured, &amp; the wor&s;t cladd of them all. And allthough this honorable Dame doth &s;ee her in &s;oe badd a plight to her viewe, yet she turneth her &s;elfe from all the re&s;t, and without makinge any great reckoninge of the re&s;t, she boweth her &s;elfe, and maketh reuerence to this old mother, she treats, with her and before she entertaine any of the others, she asketh her per|mi&s;&s;ion to do &s;oe. In like ca&s;e we may forme a Conuent of Religious vertues, penance, cha|&s;titie, humilitie, meeknes, patience, &s;olitudes ab&s;tinence, fa&s;tinge, pa<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ier, &amp;c. Obedience is the mother Abbe&s;&s;e, or Prioure of all the&s;e. Who&s;oeuer will enter into this Conuent, let him humble him&s;elfe to her, and do reuerence to her. Let him conferr with her, for she is Su|perior of all. And allthough she &s;eemeth to be old, for she hath not a faire outward a&s;pect, as &s;ome others, as Au&s;teritie of life, prayer, and preaching, yet let him auouch her, for the Fa|ther Generall, or Prouinciall of the loue of God hath giuen her the charge of Priore&s;&s;e: enter|taine not the others till you haue her licen&s;e, for all the other obey, and &s;erue her. Faith obey|eth her, beleeuinge that which the Prelate commaundeth, is that which God comman|deth. <HI>He that heareth you, heareth me.</HI> Hope obei|eth her, hopinge, and tru&s;tinge that what&s;oe|uer obedience commandeth, though it be of it &s;elfe of &s;mall merritt, that it will be of more
<PB N="144" REF="89"> meritt by rea&s;on of it, and that she attaine which is vndergone by her authoritie, will haue good &s;ucce&s;&s;e, and a happy end. Prudence o|beyeth her, for there is noe greater prudence then to preferre the iudgement of our Prelate before our owne. Iu&s;tice obeyeth her: for in obeyinge our Prelate, we paye a debt to which we oblige our &s;elues by vowe in our profe&s;&s;ion. Temperance obeyeth her, for a true obedient man doth not only temper his outward &s;en&s;es, and &s;en&s;uall appetites, but which is more, mo|derateth him &s;elfe mo&s;t in his owne iudgement, and will. What shall I &s;ay more, almes deeds &s;erue obedience, for otherwi&s;e they profitt no|thinge. The preaching of the word of God, if it be not ruled by obedience, it lee&s;eth her ver|tue. All excellent workes do &s;erue her euen Matyrdome it &s;elfe, which if it be not &s;uffered by a pure obedience to our Prelate, and God, it is of no meritt. Soe obedience is the fir&s;t in Gouernment, which ruleth and commandeth all the other vertues, and pre&s;enteth them as &s;a|cred virgins to her beloued &s;pou&s;e IESVS-Chri&s;t.</Q></P>
<P>O ble&s;&s;ed obedient &s;oule, &s;ithence thou ha&s;t put thy &s;elfe into the handes of God, he will crown thee with honor, and glory in this world, and will giue thee the Diademe of an eternall kingdome in the world to come: &s;oe that thou shalt haue two Crownes as a great Queene, the fir&s;t in the militant Church, and
<PB N="145" REF="89"> the &s;econd in the triumphant. Thou shalt noe more be called the for&s;aken, and forlorne of thy &s;pou&s;e. For thou shalt abound in heauenly, and deuine con&s;olation, but thou shalt be called by a new name, and glorious aboue others; Thou shalt be called my will. As tho&s;e that are comprehen&s;ours, that is, tho&s;e that haue ended their voiage are happy in doinge the will of God in heauen, &s;o the pillgrims, and waifairing men are happy in their manner, in doing it on earth. Whence it commeth to pa&s;&s;e, that the earth becommeth a Paradi&s;e, and man an An|gell, &amp; a Pillgrim is become a comprehen&s;our, that is an enioyer of re&s;t after his trauell. See then the great dignitie of this vertue of obe|dience, which is the fir&s;t of all vertues; the fir&s;t in e&s;teeme of gouernement, in authoritie, and in meritt, what can be &s;aid more? This is the vertue, which &s;erueth for boundes, and limitts to reteine, and keepe in, a multitude of others, which otherwi&s;e get out of the window of their own will, euen tho&s;e which had made a great marchandize of vertues, &amp; therfore it made the Father amiable to his companion, officious to|wards his neighbour, &s;ober in all meetings, plia|ble to his &s;uperiours; victorious ouer all ambi|tion of the world, Charitable to the afflicted, content in all occa&s;ion, chearefull in the exer|ci&s;es of Religion, a &s;ubduer of his pa&s;&s;ions, and ab&s;olute ma&s;ter of his affections, and by a &s;ingu|ler grace which God doth not giue but to his
<PB N="146" REF="90"> be&s;t fauourites, depriueth him of all particuler affection, to the end that he might &s;aie att all times truly, <HI>O Lord my hart is prepared.</HI> This he did with &s;uch a violent feruour that he left a great impre&s;&s;ion of his wordes, and workes in his fellowe bretheren, for he &s;aid that proper will is a &s;trange garment, for a religious man, and that which God doth threaten to vi&s;it with mo&s;t rigorous punishment.</P>
<P>He then made compari&s;on betweene the world, and Religion, and con&s;ideringe that the world holdeth it a mo&s;t heauy cro&s;&s;e to be &s;ub|iect to the will of an other. As for me (&s;aith he) beinge moued with an extraordinary good &s;piritt) I thinke with Saint Francis, that this is a &s;oueraine contentment, and comfort. I will obey (&s;ayth he) euen to death, not only the Pope my Superiour &s;ett ouer me, Generall, or Prouinciall, but any Gardiane that it shall plea&s;e him to giue me, and I will do nothinge again&s;t his will, becau&s;e he is my ma&s;ter. Pre&s;ently tur|ninge him &s;elfe to God &s;aid. O my God I pur|po&s;e what&s;oeuer I shall do, thinke, or &s;peake this day, to direct all to the loue of thee, and in obedience to thy holy will. If I &s;ay Ma&s;&s;e, or communicate, it shalbe in obedience. If I goe to my office, I will do it in obedience. If I goe to the table, if I do any &s;eruice in the Conuent, I will goe, and do all in obedience, yea, yea, this is it which our Father S. Francis would &s;ay when he put him&s;elfe in his rule to ob&s;erue
<PB N="147" REF="90"> the holy Gho&s;pell of IESVS-Chri&s;t, liuinge in obedience without proprietie and in cha&s;titie. And in the in&s;tant of <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">arth, when if euer men &s;peake mo&s;t &s;incerily the truth, and their harts accord with their tounge (&s;peakinge of his de|partinge out of religion, for the nece&s;&s;itie of the Prouince and the &s;tate) he &s;aid, that only obedience, which he had vowed, did moue him to do it; and with out it he had preferred a thou&s;and punishme~ts before that &s;word which he was then con&s;trayned to take into his han|des.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="13" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Pouertie, and Cha&s;titie, CHAPTER XIII.</HEAD>
<P>I Do ioyne the actions of the&s;e vertues toge|ther, becau&s;e they haue &s;uch a &s;impathie, that the one dependeth on the other, and flowe as it were from the&s;ame fountaine: for who &s;eeth not that cha&s;titie proceedeth from pouertie, and is pre&s;erued for the mo&s;t part by it? whereas plentie, and delicate treatinge of the bodie, are the mo&s;t violent tentations to make impure &s;oules. Therfore the be&s;t meanes to &s;uppre&s;&s;e the flesh, is when pouertie will not lett it pam|per it &s;elfe. This ble&s;&s;ed Father had knowledge of this by practi&s;e hauinge liued in plentie, and pouertie. He was wont to &s;ay, that there were two winges of obedience, which did lift it aboue the heauens, out of the dangerous lure of
<PB N="148" REF="91"> the world, repre&s;ented by tho&s;e winges of the woman in the Apocalyphs, by which she tooke her flight into the high mountanie, and avoyded the fury of the Dragon.</P>
<P>Pouertie was his riches, &amp; Cha&s;titie his con|tentment and beinge alike poore and Cha&s;te, he liued in a high degree with in the exerci&s;e of his rule. A poore cell, a poore place, a poore habitt, all couered with peeces, and patches, poore &s;andalls, &amp; amonge all &s;orts of habitts the mo&s;t cour&s;e, roughe, and vile&s;t was that which he cho&s;e. So that &s;ince his returne to Religion, he neuer had a new habitt, but wore one nine yeare both in winter, and in &s;ummer, without any timicle neither would he permitt, that, that it should be &s;o pieced to make it more warme, but only &s;o that it should be therby made more vile, and rather more incommodious. So loued he pouertie, that he called this holy vertue, the foundation of all Euangelicall profe&s;&s;ion. The fir&s;t &s;tone of the &s;pirituall buildinge, the orna|ment, lu&s;tre, and beautie of all religion (but e&s;|pecially of the Seraphicall religion of the Mi|nors) a great trea&s;ure but hidden from the eies of men. Finally an heauenly inheritaunce of the children of God.</P>
<P>The Cro&s;&s;e of Chri&s;t was the patterne, and modell by which he did mould, and frame all his affections, as may appeare by his di&s;cou&s;e. <Q REND="inline">You shall not finde (&s;ayth he) greater pouertie then that of the Cro&s;e, there you shall di&s;couer
<PB N="149" REF="91"> IESVS-Chri&s;t all naked, and poore and vtterly de&s;titute of all externall thinges, of goodes, of Clothes, meate bed, and hou&s;e roome. Poore of frindes, for&s;aken of all, yeauen of his owne di&s;ciples, and of his owne Father poore of him|&s;elfe, of might, of wi&s;edome, renowne, and of honor. poore of affection, lifted vp on high from all earthly things, &s;tript, and &s;poiled of all what&s;oeuer. Poore in the v&s;e of things, not hauinge tho&s;e which were extreemely nece&s;&s;ary vnto him, for damaundinge drinke in his extre|me thir&s;t, he had no other giuen him but gall &amp; vineger: in&s;teade of a bed, he had no other then a narrowe Cro&s;&s;e: and for clothinge, no other but a poore clowt to couer his nakednes. Loe the forme, and modell of a mo&s;t high, and ex|cellent pouertie!</Q></P>
<P>The&s;e wordes, do they not te&s;tifie the inward feelinge which he had that did pronounce them? for if there should be no more but this repetition of <HI>Loue,</HI> were not this alone &s;ufficient to shewe, that his tounge &s;poke from the abun|dance of his heart? good wordes may &s;ometi|mes deceaue, being clothed with Hipocri&s;ie, but when the heart, tounge, and hands do ayme at the &s;ame marke, it is impo&s;ible that there should be acce&s;&s;e for any deceit. So that this ble&s;&s;ed Father addinge the practi&s;e of pouertie, vnto the prai&s;es which he gaue it wittne&s;&s;inge the con|&s;ent of his heart by an extraordinary &s;erenity, &amp; cheerefullnes of countenance, it may be well
<PB N="150" REF="92"> concluded, that he was truly poore in effect, not hauing &s;omuch as proprietie to his beades that hung att his girdle.</P>
<P>He was exceedinge rich in &s;imilitudes, to make his affections to be the better conceaued. Among&s;t other things &s;peaking once of pouer|tie, he compared it to the Eagle, of which holy Iob &s;peaketh, who maketh his nea&s;te in a high place, and hard to come at from whence all things belowe &s;eemed to be little, and without appearance. <Q REND="inline">For &s;o (quoth he) a man poore, in &s;piritt is like to this Eagle, who beinge placed vpon a high Towre, doth &s;ee men that are great of &s;tature, like to little shrimpes, and Dwarfes. O my dearely beloued bretheren, if we a&s;cend to the topp of this towre of mo&s;t high pouer|tie, the world, with all the vanities that are therin which &s;ometimes we e&s;teeme &s;o much, will &s;eeme to vs but a little point. What are Ci|ties, Prouinces, kingdomes, and Empires? what should they &s;eeme vnto vs, but little holes, and pitts of Antes? and tho&s;e who ambitio&s;ly de&s;ire the&s;e great honors, but as &s;o many young, or lit|tle children, who take delight in things of no|thing? then we may &s;ay, not moued with enuy, but rather with compa&s;&s;ion. <HI>O paruuli, v&s;quequo diligitis i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">fantiam.</HI> O little ones, how long will ye delight in childishnes? if we were in deed lifted vp in this hight of holy pouertie, O how con&s;tant, and how vnmoueable should we be in all aduer&s;itie, O how indifferent should we be
<PB N="151" REF="92"> to what &s;oeuer should happen to vs, whether &s;icknes, per&s;ecution, or tribulation, or death it &s;elfe. If we were lifted vp vnto this height, how fearefull should we be vnto the Deuills, how admirable to men, how beloued of Angells, and how agreeable to god him&s;elfe?</Q></P>
<P><Q REND="inline">And hauinge &s;ufficiently prai&s;ed, and admi|red the excellency of this &s;o rare a vertue, co|minge to inculcate the practi&s;e, and the loue thereof, he &s;aith as followeth. Ah my brethe|ren, lift vp your &s;elues on high, di&s;daine the earth, and all the world, and like to noble Ea|gles, fix I pray you by perfect Charitie, your eies vpon the wheeles of the &s;unne of the Eter|nall God, Conuer&s;e with IESVS-Chri&s;t, with the Virgin Mary, and with the &s;aints in &s;uch &s;ort that you may truly &s;ay. <HI>Conuer&s;atio no&s;tra in coelis e&s;t:</HI> Our Conuer&s;ation is aboue in heauen. By pouertie ye haue ben made heires, and kings of the kingdome of heauen, a&s;pire to that king|dome, and take hold of the heauenly inheri|tance &s;ince that ye are poore in earthly things be rich, and noble in vertue. Be rich in humili|tie, which is the mo&s;t deare &s;i&s;ter of pouertie. For this end it is that S. Francis doth call vs Mi|nors, that is to &s;ay the mo&s;t humble, the mo&s;t vile, and the mo&s;t abiect of all. Be rich in obe|dience, which is ea&s;ily practi&s;ed; where our proper intere&s;t doth not raigne. Be rich in cha|&s;titie for by pennurie, of things occa&s;ions are ta|ken from you of all &s;en&s;uality, and the flesh
<PB N="152" REF="93"> maketh it &s;elfe &s;ubiect to the &s;pirit.</Q></P>
<P><Q REND="inline">Be rich in temperance, fortitude, prudence, &amp; iu&s;tice for all the&s;e are all founded in pouer|tie, &s;ince that a true poore man is temperate, for he contenteth him&s;elfe with a little: he is va|liant for he feareth noe man, hauinge noe cau|&s;e of feare becau&s;e he hath nothinge: he is wi&s;e in de&s;pi&s;ing the earth, and obteyninge heauen; he is iu&s;t, for he renders euery man his owne, gi|uinge honor to God, example to his neighbour, and contempt to him&s;elfe. He is rich in faith, hope, and charitie, for a true poore man hath a liuely faith, a firme hope, and a burning chari|tie towards God, &amp; his neighbour: For he hath extirpated all couetou&s;nes, and hath no|thing to do with <HI>Meum &amp; Tuum,</HI> mine, &amp; thine, which are the poi&s;on, &amp; bane of charitie. He is rich in prayer, or contemplation, whereas po|uertie hath remoued all the blockes, and hinde+rances of a contemplatiue life. He is rich in Euangelicall trea&s;ures, which are gotte~ by holy preaching: for the people ea&s;ily &s;eeth, that he &s;eeketh not after any thinge, but the &s;aluation of their &s;oules. O mo&s;t rich, and perfitt pouer|tie, which maketh vs heires of the kingdome of heauen. O thri&s;e happy nobilitie which ray&s;eth vs aboue all created thinges: This is our portion which conducteth vs to the land of the liuinge. O ble&s;&s;ed portion, &s;mall in out|ward appearance, but great in effect. Little it is becau&s;e it hath nothinge, yet great becau&s;e it
<PB N="153" REF="93"> po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth all thinges. <HI>Tanquam nihil habente, &amp; omnia po&s;sidente:</HI> as hauinge nothinge, yet po&s;&s;e&s;|&s;inge all thinges.</Q></P>
<P>I will not recite many of his particuler actio~s in proofe of his &s;pirit, and de&s;ire of pouertie, I will only by the way &s;peake how beinge at Ro|me at the Generall Chapter; the Pope not a little wondringe at his eminent vertue, after he had te&s;tified his holy, and fatherly affection for the con&s;eruation, and in maintenance of his or|der, asked him what he would require of him for his owne perticuler. He made this an&s;wer, which a&s;tonished tho&s;e that were pre&s;ent. <HI>Holy Father, I demand nothing but your holy Benediction, to obtaine Gods holy grace to keepe the pouertie that I haue vowed.</HI></P>
<P>His Cha&s;titie was no le&s;&s;e remarckable, he was cha&s;te in his di&s;cour&s;e, in his entertaine|ments, in his thoughts, in his affection, and as it is a great vertue to ab&s;teine from one plea&s;ure after we haue ta&s;ted the &s;weetnes of it, then to depriue out &s;elues of it before we haue once tryed it: &s;o was cha&s;titie more excellent, &amp; more commendable in him, &s;eeing that in the &s;pring of his age, in the noone of his youth, he bri|dled him&s;elfe from all &s;ort of tho&s;e allure|ments, after he had liued &s;ome yeares in holy, &amp; lawfull marriage. His eies, by which the enemy getteth into the &s;oule, were &s;o mortified, That as he went abroad, the hemme of his habitt was as the Orizon of his &s;ight, for &s;eldome did
<PB N="154" REF="94"> he lift vp his eies higher and in this kind of mortification, his &s;oule (retired from all kind of obiects) did entertaine it &s;elfe with God, in whom he placed his whole delight.</P>
<P>He compared a man that is curious in &s;eeinge, to a painter, who beinge to drawe &s;ome pour|trat, fir&s;t beholdeth it well, and afterward fra|meth an idea, or forme of it in his imagination, accordinge to, which he fashioneth his image, And indeed (&s;ayth he) we are painters who lookinge curiou&s;ly vpon obiects before our eies, we conceaue the forme of them in our &s;piritts, and haue much a doe afterwards to de|face it, and raize it out, and we do not remem|ber that <HI>oculus tuus depraedatus e&s;t animam.</HI> Thy eie hath &s;poyled thy &s;oule, and death hath entred by the windowe. For de&s;ires proceede fir&s;t from the &s;ight, and the&s;e are they which infu&s;e dea|dly infection into the &s;oule. His wordes were &s;o cha&s;t, that when he was to reproue impuri|tie, he had that particuler grace of God to ex|pre&s;&s;e him&s;elfe &s;o mode&s;tly, and powerfully that he moued tho&s;e which were farr drenched in la&s;ciuiou&s;nes, and lewdnes, to a bitter remor&s;e, with sheddinge many teares. His face was a gla&s;&s;e of grauitie, and allwaies repre&s;ented mode&s;tie, and gracefull hone&s;tie. All laughture, &amp; affected ge&s;tures of curious wordlings, were farre from him.</P>
<P>To be briefe, he had all the good qualities, which are pre&s;eruatiues of &s;o precious puritie,
<PB N="155" REF="94"> For if &s;obriety profiteth to this end, he was one of the mo&s;t &s;ober of his profe&s;&s;ion, cotentinge him&s;elfe with herbes, and pults, or bread, and water, which was his ordinary foode. If labour, and trauaile helpeth, he abhorred idlenes as a Deuill. If the roughnes of habitt doth keepe downe the flesh, his was the mo&s;t rude, that could be found. If &s;cilence doth contribute to this, he was neuer &s;eene to &s;peake but when nece&s;&s;itie vrged him. If occa&s;ions, and places of danger are to be auoyded, he was &s;o circum|&s;pect to knowe them well before he aduentu|red, that there was no cau&s;e to feare any fall there by. Wherfore makinge benefitt of all the|&s;e, and ray&s;inge him&s;elfe hereby as it were an inuincible ca&s;tle of defence, he liued allwayes in the &s;traightnes of pouertie, which he cheris|hed in the de&s;ert of religion, vnder the gard, &amp; conduct of a faithfull Pa&s;tour, the Angell Gar|dien, and keeper of his life.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="14" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his feruour and deuotion. THE FOVRTEENTH CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>DEuotion is nothinge els, but a prompte, and ready will, inflamed with a great cou|rage to &s;erue God vpon all occa&s;ions whereas lukewarmnes, or coldnes which are borne with vs, hinder vs to followe our &s;auiour throughe the de&s;ertes of penaunce. But this is a feruour which inciteth vs to embrace the Cro&s;&s;e, not
<PB N="156" REF="95"> by a forced, but voluntary violence. Hereunto the delights, and ioies of heauen, &s;erue for cor|des to drawe vs on by a &s;weete con&s;traint. This ardout, and burninge affection did &s;o kindle this B. Father that it might well be thought, that rather &s;ome deuine &s;pirit did worke tho&s;e holy operations in him, then a humane &s;oule, which is made dull, and heauie by the burden of the flesh which accompanieth it.</P>
<P>Of foure and twentie houres, in the day, he gaue more then twentie to God in diuer&s;e actions of holines, and pietie, re&s;eruinge but three, or foure for the repo&s;e, and re&s;t of his feeble bodie. An houre repo&s;ed he: vpon a poore &s;trawe bed, or vpon boordes, tru&s;&s;inge him&s;elfe within his habitt, girt with his corde as in the day time: and &s;o much the more hard it was for him to be able to endure this, becau&s;e while&s;t he liued in the world he could not finde linne~ fine enough, nor bed &s;oft enough to repo&s;e in after his worldly occa&s;ion of bu&s;ines. But as a little fire encrea&s;eth, as fewell is put to it, &amp; breaketh out after into a dangerous firinge: &s;o the exer|ci&s;e of religion being ioyned with his fir&s;t pie|tie, did &s;o augment the fire of his deuotion, that allthough he &s;mothered it as much as he could, to conceale it, and hide it from the eies of men, yet the flame thereof did breake forth to the admiration of men, as the ioye thereof mounted to the ble&s;&s;ed Angells in heauen.</P>
<P>Imagine (&s;ayd he) one time a citie with two
<PB N="157" REF="95"> ports, by one which, all the riches, and tre&s;ure of the Citie did pa&s;&s;e foorth, and by which the enemies enter in which should put all to fire, &amp; &s;word, and this is the gate of &s;louth, and lazi|nes. There is another port, by which all the ill annoyances of the Citie goe foorth, and like|wi&s;e the enemies; by which enter all the reliefe, and &s;uccour of the &s;ame citie: and this is the port of deligence and feruour. What then is more dete&s;table to a religious man then &s;louth, and lukewarme dulnes? and what is mote to be de&s;ired, and &s;ought after then deligence? what mon&s;ter more hideous, then to &s;ee a religious man cold, and negligent, and forgetfull of his vocation? which is a thinge odious in the &s;ight of God, Angells, and men. On the contrary &s;ide what &s;pectacle more admirable, then to &s;ee a religious man, diligent, deuout, feruent, and &s;pirituall, which reioy&s;eth God, Angells, and men.</P>
<P>This ble&s;&s;ed Father &s;aid ma&s;&s;e euery day, what bu&s;ines &s;oeuer he had, with that holy fee|linge of the excellencie of the&s;e dreadfull mi|&s;teries, where our Sauiour IESVS-Chri&s;t, which died on the Cro&s;&s;e is offered a newe for, our nece&s;&s;ities, which con&s;ideration wrought in him an extraordinary affection to this holy &s;eruice, &s;o that on day being in a voyage he we~t nine leagues in a morninge, which is 18. miles english, to the end to &s;aye ma&s;&s;e: which he pre&s;ently &s;ayde as &s;oone as he ariued, not ha|uing
<PB N="158" REF="96"> time to wipe away his &s;weate, nor wash his fete, accordinge to the cu&s;tome of the Ca|pucins.</P>
<P>Another time being at Gaillon with his bro|ther the Cardinall, he came fro~ thence very ear|ly in the morninge, to the end he might come to Rhouen, and dyne with the Religious, who fa&s;ted that day, with bread, and water, becau&s;e it was the vigile of S, Francis, and the Gardien could not per&s;uade him to take any other refe|ction, after he was come nine leagues fa&s;tinge.</P>
<P>Speakinge of Deuotion, he &s;aid that a Chri|&s;tian man, but principally a religious man was like to a vinedre&s;&s;er which had agreed for the hire of his trauaile with the ma&s;ter of the fa|mily, which is God, And as it should not be meete for the vinedre&s;&s;er, in &s;teade of labouring to run a&s;ide into a gaye medowe, and there &s;pend his time in makinge of garlandes of the &s;weete flowers &s;o should it be vnmeete for a re|ligious per&s;on, to lett any time pa&s;&s;e without endeuoringe &s;till to increa&s;e his meritts. And after this as a water, which breaketh the cau&s;ey, or damme, which &s;tayed it, he cryeth out citinge the words of S. Peter: <HI>Bretheren labour the more that yee may make &s;ure your vocation, and election.</HI> It is not enough to haue begunne well, per&s;euere, and continue. It is not enough to haue done well in the yeare of our nouiceshipps, but we mu&s;t continue after our profe&s;&s;ion: lee&s;e no ti|me, but reade allwayes, or write, or mediate, or
<PB N="159" REF="96"> pray, or prai&s;e God either in an Actiue life, or contemplatiue.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e heauenly fauours, and graces which he had by holy exta&s;ies and raps, he kept &s;o clo|&s;e, that no man can write any certaine hereof; notwit&s;tanding it was ea&s;ie for &s;pirituall men, who haue the iudgement of di&s;cerninge it, to gue&s;&s;e by many outward &s;ignes that he wanted them not. For it is a thing almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible, that he could practi&s;e prayer, which &s;o great holy violence, and continue it &s;o long as he did, if after it God had not &s;trenghthened him with &s;ome &s;upernaturall force: &amp; the extraordinary ioye with which he was &s;eazed a little before his death, did euidently shewe that it could not proceed but from a deuine rapt. From this fountaine of Deuotion &s;prang incredible tran|quillitie, and repo&s;e of Spirit. He was allwayes vnited with God he did all this clo&s;ely within him&s;elfe, and to God, and had no other will, or de&s;ire, but Gods, will, and plea&s;ure, &s;o that he had Gods holy &s;pirit in an extraordinary mea&s;u|re: And what doth this &s;pirit worke (&s;ayde he) in man? It maketh him truly wi&s;e, iudicious, illuminated in the way of God: it maketh him full of knowledge, not of vaine, and emptie knowledge, but with the knowledge of the Saints: which is the knowledge of his &s;alua|tion. It maketh him re&s;olute, and well adui&s;ed in all doubtfull ca&s;es, it maketh him valiant in aduer&s;ities, pious, and deuout towards God and
<PB N="160" REF="97"> his neighbour, fearefull with a filiall, and cha&s;te feare, in fine it maketh him allwayes &s;tand vpon his Gard.</P>
<P>Loe what it is to haue the &s;pirit of our Lord: it is to giue full po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of him&s;elfe to God, that he may gouerne, and conduct him, and dwell in him, giuinge him the keyes of the for|tre&s;ie. What are the&s;e keyes? to be willing, and not willing, to will that which God willeth, and not to will that, which he willeth not: doe ye knowe what it is to haue the &s;pirit of God? to do all our actions, and workes with feelinge, feruour, and actuall intention, at the lea&s;t, vir|tuall for the honor, and loue of God. If we do take our refection, to take it for the honor, and glory of God. If we &s;leepe, if we trauaile, if we preach, if we do our officie, or &s;ay our prayers, to &s;erue God with loue, and feruour. This holy practi&s;e &s;o vnited him to God, that he made v&s;e of all creatures, as a ladder to mount vp to the contemplation of the Creator: &s;o that what&s;oeuer betided him good, or bad, his &s;pirit was allwaies at re&s;t, takinge all, as from the hand of God. Which cannot come, but from the cleare fountaine of a pure &s;oule. For (I will &s;peake this for tho&s;e that are more &s;pirituall) it is the propertie of a perfitt &s;oule; the more it &s;eemeth to be depriued of all grace, and for|&s;aken of God, and ouerwhelmed in mi&s;eries, &s;o much the more to vnite it &s;elfe to him by this meanes; knowinge by a certaine light of &s;pirit,
<PB N="160" REF="97"> that the graces which it fir&s;t felt within it &s;elfe, wherewith it was as it were made druncken by the abundance of them, that there are reti|red, and drawen vp to the fountaine of them which is God, and that they are there a&s;&s;uredly, and better con&s;erned then when the &s;oule did ta&s;t of them, and hereby it receaueth more con|tentment, and comfort to &s;ee them in God, then in it &s;elfe, and vni<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">inge it &s;elfe with God, &s;eeketh them there as in their proper &s;onne. Hereby (I &s;ay) it lee&s;eth all vnworthy things in de&s;ires, and transformeth it &s;elfe into God, as much as hu|manie frailty can attanie to. For as we haue no proprietie of our &s;elfes, but by our will, when we come to quitt it, &amp; driue it from vs, we haue no other proprietie, but that which is of God.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">In this &s;tate of grace, and in this &s;tate of per|fection, was this good Father who &s;peakinge of religion, &s;aid. Spoyle your &s;elues, and leaue, what? Leaue all; it is not enough to leaue &s;om what, our goods, our po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, our counrie. No, all. It is not &s;ufficient to leaue father, mo|ther, brethren, &s;i&s;ters, parents, and frinds, No, all. It is not enough to leaue our plea|&s;ure, our commodities our delights of the world, and of the flesh. No, all things. All our euill habitts, and cu&s;tomes, all our euill de&s;ires, all our proper will, iudgement, &s;en&s;e knowledge. Therfore by our vowe which we make in religion, we giue our &s;elues wholy to God, to the end that his deuine maie&s;tie may
<PB N="161" REF="98"> wholy, and perfitly po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e vs for his: &s;o that he di&s;po&s;e of vs, as of a thinge that he holdeth in his handes, and that without any contradi|ction, or re&s;i&s;tance of ours. For as among men, the dominion, and proprietie of any thing is tran&s;ported from one to another: &s;o by &s;olem|ne vowes which we make, we tran&s;late the Do|minion, and proprietie of our &s;elues to God. And as amonge men there are in many con|tracts, thinges left to another mans keepinge, donations, &s;ales, commutations, and re&s;titutions: &s;o we may apply them to our deedes, what then shall we call it, a gage left to another mans tru&s;t, or keepinge? &s;o S. Paul &s;eemeth to call it, for as in a pledge or gage &s;ome thing is committed to one which keepeth it for a certaine time, and afterward re&s;toreth it: &s;o do we depriue our &s;elues for a time of the v&s;e of our will, and libertie, and we committ it to God, who will render it vs abundantly in another life: but yet ther is this difference, that the power, and di&s;po&s;ition of the gage, is in him which gageth it, but we haue no &s;uch power in this: shall I call it then a donation, becau&s;e we re&s;i|gne our &s;elues freely, and franckly to God? or a &s;ale, becau&s;e we do not giue it freely without recompence, but haue an <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ternall reward for it? or may it be called a com|mutation, or change, for as much as we giue our &s;elues to God, he giueth al&s;o him&s;elfe to vs, and that with great aduan|tage,
<PB N="162" REF="98"> giuinge him&s;elfe to vs immortall, beinge but mortall creatures, and giuinge him|&s;elfe infinite to vs, which are but finite, him|&s;elfe mo&s;t ble&s;&s;ed, and happy, to vs mi&s;erable, and wreched creatures. Finally all this may be, it may be called, a gage, a donation, a change, a &s;ale, but it is more meete to call it a re&s;titution. For we do but render to God that which is his; and it being both iu&s;t, and re&s;onable that a man re&s;tore that which is an others, that which is his ma&s;ters, lea&s;t other wi&s;e we become theeues and robbers, I &s;ay it is more iu&s;t, and agreable to rea&s;on, to render to God that which is his with out keepinge it one moment, lea&s;t we nicurre the penaltie, not only of theft, and rob|bery, but of Sacriledge. Let therfore that which is Cae&s;ars, be rendred to Cae&s;ar, and that which is Gods to God; And how? let vs render bodies, &s;oules, lifes, wills, both for their true e&s;&s;ence, and profitt to God, to the end that the iu&s;tice, &amp; law of Ie&s;us-Chri&s;t be accomplished. He ad|ded further, that as auntiently there were two &s;orts of Sacrifice. In the one they burnt but one part of rhe &s;acrifice, and in the other, the whole was burnt, and con&s;umed. We mo&s;t offer our &s;elues as this &s;econd &s;acrifice, wholie, re&s;igned to the will of God, and neither to do, nor &s;pea|ke, nor thinke, nor entertaine in any manner, any other thing but pietie, feruour, zeale, deuo|tion, holines of life, who&s;e fruites shalbe ga|thered, with great plea&s;ure, and contentment
<PB N="163" REF="99"> in heauen, without feare of theeues to robb vs of them, nor any rottennes, to con&s;ume them.</Q></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="15" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of the great zeale he had to the ob&s;eruance of his rule. THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>SOme will thinke at the fir&s;t viewe, that this chapter treateth the &s;ame, as the former, and that there needes not any diui&s;ion, becau&s;e in the one, and in the other, we &s;peake not but of feruour, and Zeale, but in the former chapter I &s;pake of that Zeale which euery good Chri&s;tian ought to haue in keeping gods commande|ments, and allthough he &s;eemed to &s;peake only to Religious, yet the poynt which he treated was common to all faithfull beleeuers. In this Chapter I &s;peake only of his Zeale, as he was a religious man, and for as much as it concer|neth <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he ob&s;eruation of his vowe.</P>
<P>He had this holy cu&s;tome not to pa&s;&s;e any day without callinge to mine the promi&s;&s;e which he made to God, and in &s;o doinge, he excited him|&s;elfe to liue &s;o, that in the end he might be worthie of the reward promi&s;ed in the per&s;on of S. Francis, to all his bretheren.</P>
<P>In the greate&s;t &s;cruple and doubtes which were propo&s;ed, he would no other ca&s;ui&s;t but his rule: and twi&s;e when he was Prouinciall, and vi&s;ited all the Conuents making two, or three exhortations (as his lea&s;ure permitted, and the
<PB N="164" REF="99"> number of the religious required) in euery one of them, there was not one of his exhortations, which was not founded vpon &s;ome point of the rule, or vpon &s;ome &s;ubiect, to which he might ea&s;ily apply it: which he deliuered with &s;uch eloquence, and pietie, that it may be well doub|ted, whether he could &s;peake &s;o without parti|culer reuelation. Vpon the very word rule, he made foure, or fiue &s;ermons, where in one place incitinge his bretheren, by the words of Salo|mon to graue in their hartes the lawe of God, whence our glory, &amp; our &s;aluation ptoceedeth; he v&s;ed the&s;e wordes.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">It is a &s;trange thing how God will haue vs to imprint his lawe in our hearts He will haue vs, to beare it in our eares in hearkeninge to it, in our hearts in louinge it, in our mouth in &s;pea|kinge of it, in our handes in ob&s;eruinge it, in our eies in beholdinge it, and in all our actions, in conforminge, and &s;quaringe out life to the rule of it. And the rea&s;on is, that grace may adorne our heades, and a chaine of gold our neckes. That we may haue grace, makinge vs gracious (for that is the grace adorninge our head) and that we may tre&s;aure vp meritts and this is the chaine which we mu&s;t weare. Finally for as much as this lawe is a lanterne to guide vs, a light to illuminate vs, a way which dire|cteth vs, and a life which doth beutifie vs; it can|not be more planiely expre&s;&s;ed. And for this cau&s;e we do now heare of it, and willingly
<PB N="165" REF="100"> di&s;cour&s;e of it. Let vs reade it, and carie it in our harts, handes, and tounges, lett vs &s;ett it before our eies, let vs meditate, &amp; &s;peake of it goinge, and comminge, and haue it as the obiect of our &s;ight, and vnder&s;tandinge. And why, this is a grace to our heades, and a chaine to our neckes, this is our guide, our light, our way, and all our trea&s;ure.</Q></P>
<P>As he came once to one of their Conuents &s;ome deuout per&s;ons and &s;ingulerly affected to the Capucins (as there are many in all parts) &s;ent &s;ome thinge extraordinary to the Conuent for his &s;upper when he was in the refectory, and &s;awe his portion better then the portion of others, he called for a Salede which he only did eate, after he had trauailed the whole day. The Father Gardien moued with this example, &s;ayd to him. Father, you haue made too great a iourney to day to content your &s;elfe with &s;o &s;mall a pit|tance. You will not be able to vndergoe, and endure the labour of the vi&s;it in this manner. Haue a care of your health, if not for your owne &s;ake, yet for the good of others. I am not &s;o feruent (&s;aid he) but that I haue too much care of this lumpe of flesh, but I haue no contentment to &s;ee my &s;elfe better treated then others, we are all bretheren, and we ought equally to par|ticipate of the almes, which are giuen to vs. This was the intention of S. Francis our holy Father, and this is the end of our rule, which teacheth vs what we owe to God, to our neigh|bor,
<PB N="166" REF="100"> and one to the other. I haue &s;eene, and &s;poken with many Capucins, who haue happily knowen him and conuer&s;ed with him, and they haue a&s;&s;ured me, that he was &s;o preci&s;e an ob|&s;eruer of his vowe, with &s;o much perfection, &amp; declaration of vn&s;peakeable contentment, that tho&s;e which were not moued by his example, could not but be thought very vn&s;en&s;ible, or vncapable of mo&s;t &s;trong and liuely in&s;tru|ctions.</P>
<P>He had no other in&s;truction more frequent in his mouth then the imitation of S. Francis &amp; S. Iohn Euangeli&s;t, gaue noe precept to his di&s;|ciples to accomplish the lawe but this. <Q REND="inline"><HI>My bre|thren loue one another.</HI> So the ble&s;&s;ed Father Angell knewe no more excellent coun&s;ell then this. <HI>My bretheren let vs remember our rule.</HI> A rule (&s;ayth he) is &s;o called of rulinge, for all Arti&s;ans lea&s;t they may erre in the workes of their artes, haue &s;ome principall in&s;trument of which they make v&s;e, which is called their rule. The rule of Ma|&s;ons is their rule, and plummett, of an Arithma|ticean, number: of a Geometricean, the rule, and compa&s;&s;e, of a Mu&s;itian, well mea&s;ured accords, of a painter, and Grauer, lineaments, and pro|portians. So a religious, and Chri&s;tian man hath his rule. The rule of a Chri&s;tian is the lawe, and commandements of God of a religious man Gods lawe, and his coun&s;ells. If Arti&s;ans do not applie their rule, to that which they practi&s;e they can do nothinge well, &s;o Chri&s;tians, and
<PB N="167" REF="101"> religious men if they do not practi&s;e accordinge to their rule, they cannot performe that office, which is required of them. It is written in the fir&s;t Chapter of the prophet Z<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">charie. Our Lord &s;ayth, I will returne to Ieru&s;alem in mercie, my hou&s;e shalbe built in it, &s;aith the Lord of ho&s;t; and the plummet line shalbe &s;tretched forth vpon Ieru&s;alem: when is it, I pray you that God returned to his mercie, if not then, when he called vs out of the world into religion? and who can recount the graces, and mercies he hath done to vs in this vocation? He then built, and purpo&s;ed to build in vs his hou&s;e which be|fore when we were in the world, was all de|cayed, and fallen to ruine. But to reedifie it is meete to &s;tretch out the plummet lyne to the end that the edifice be well finished. What is that plummett? It is our rule. How mu&s;t it be exten|ded in mea&s;uringe, and &s;quaringe our actions by it, that they may be conformable to it. Then shall the citie abound with heauenly grace, reli|gious with diuine fauours, and all shalbe con|forted, and the holy Church edyfied, and re&s;to|red.</Q></P>
<P>He pro&s;ecuted the &s;ame Similitude of Ieru|&s;alem, and religion applying that which is &s;aid in the 12 of the Apocalips, and in the fortie chapter of Ezekiel. that an Angell was &s;eene to mea&s;ure the holy citty, the walls, the ports, the breadth, the length, the hight, and all parts, and after he had recited this he &s;aith. <Q REND="inline">What
<PB N="168" REF="101"> meaneth this? This Angell is IESVS Chri&s;t the Angell of the great coun&s;ell, or well might it be the holy Father S. Francis who is called an Angell for the puritie of his life, and we are the citie of Ieru&s;alem. The reede of gold to mea|&s;ure is our rule, which is of gold by rea&s;on of the great perfection of it, and with this the ci|tie is mea&s;ured within and without, within is the intention, the end of our affection, and de&s;ires, without are our workes, and wordes; It mea&s;ureth the largnes how much charitie we haue towards God, and our neighbor, the length is mea&s;ured, in &s;eeing how long our hope is, and how profound our charitie is. It beho|ueth to mea&s;ure our &s;elues with this plummett, whiles we liue, for att the houre of our death, we shalbe mea&s;ured by our Sauiour, and our holy Father S. Frauncis, and not being found to an&s;wer the mea&s;ure, it will be &s;aid to vs. <HI>Ap|pen<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">us es in &s;tatera, &amp; inuentus es minus habens.</HI> Thou a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t weighed in the balance, and thou wa&s;t found too light.</Q></P>
<P>Duringe his violent and la&s;t &s;icknes at Riuoh where he died, the Phi&s;itians of the Duke of Sauoy, who afflicted him, compelled him to permitt his habit to be &s;&s;itt before, becau&s;e otherwi&s;e they could not annointe his bodie as they would, &s;uppo&s;ing that he had the purples. His obedience cau&s;ed him to yeeld to their re|que&s;t; but afterward drawinge on to his end, he prayed then in&s;tantly, that his habitt might be
<PB N="169" REF="102"> &s;owed, and &s;titcht vp againe becau&s;e (&s;ayth he) S. Frauncis habitt was not open: and I de&s;ire as much as I may to keepe my &s;elfe within the bands of the rule, which he hath giuen to vs. It was replied to him againe, that he neede not haue any &s;cruple in &s;o &s;mall a matter, for in ex|treeme nece&s;&s;itie ther is nothinge which doth oblige. Goe to (&s;aith he) this is not the forme as I de&s;ire, and was &s;o earne&s;t that they were forced to obey him. He did not only make pro|fitt of his rule, to &s;quare all his actions, but v&s;ed it for mo&s;t &s;trong and well &s;teeled weapons in combatinge again&s;t corporall, and &s;pirituall enemies, what confidence he had in it it may appeare farther by his owne wordes.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">O ye (&s;aith he) who haue profe&s;&s;ed a reli|gious life, and call your &s;elues Minors; knowe ye that you profe&s;&s;e your &s;elues &s;oldiers to fight again&s;t great enemies, the world, the flesh, and the Deuill. For ye ought to de&s;ire the lawes, and ordinances of your great captaine, and wreld manfully tho&s;e weapons which he hath left vs; obedience, pouertie, cha&s;titie. The De|uill is foiled by obedience, the world by pouer|tie, the flesh whith Cha&s;titie. Pride, and arro|gance is &s;ubdued by obedience, couetou&s;nes by pouertie, and luxury by cha&s;titie. And briefly by the&s;e &s;trategems, and with the&s;e weapons, we trample vnder our feete all the Squadrons of hell O holy and ble&s;&s;ed triple number &s;o plea|&s;inge to God. In this is the beginninge, the mid|dle,
<PB N="170" REF="102"> and the end, and con&s;equently all things, in a bodie ther is a threefole dimen&s;ion, in the &s;ou|le there are three faculties, among the Angells three Hierarchies and quires, &amp; in vertues three theologicall, what more is to be added? In God him&s;elfe ther is a Trinitie of per&s;ons in on e&s;se~ce the Father, Son, and holy Gho&s;t, and one God. If we will amplifie it more, I shall not &s;peake impertinently, if I should &s;ay the&s;e three vowes are the three branches, wich &s;pring out of the vine of G<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ue&s;is, that triple bone which is &s;o-hardly broken, the three Calues which Elcana offered to God, the thre Chalices of the holy altar, the way of the three dayes in the de&s;ert, the three dayes wherein the troopes had patience with our Sauiour; the three mea&s;ures of meale, which ray&s;ed all the pa&s;te, the three pre&s;ents which the magi did offer, gold, mirrhe, and frankincen&s;e; the three gates of the heauenly Hieru&s;alem. But more pertinently shall I &s;peake to our purpo&s;e, if I shall &s;ay, that the&s;e are the three peeces of gold which our Lord gaue S. Francis, which he offered to him, which are the three weapons of the &s;ouldiar of IESVS-Chri&s;t in this &s;pirituall battaile, and tho&s;e that God doth require of all.</Q> I would recite the hi&s;tory as it is in the Chronicles of this order. But be|cau&s;e the Father Angell makes a short abridg<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">|ment of it I had rather expre&s;&s;e it in his wordes.</P>
<P>Remember ye (&s;ayth he) that our holy Father S. Francis beinge once in the mount of Allur|us,
<PB N="171" REF="103" MS="y"> and invironed with a great light, and &s;plendour, his Companion brother Leo, heard the&s;e wordes often repreated. What art thou o my &s;weete Lord, &amp; what am I, thy mo&s;t vile &s;er|uant? &s;tretching foorth his handes thri&s;e while this light shind. Wherfore beinge entreated of B<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">other Leo to explicat this mi&s;tery, the holy Father an&s;wered him. When I &s;pake the&s;e wor|des. What art thou o Lord, and what am I, there was imparted to me a cleere light of the great|nes of Gods maie&s;tie, and of myne owne no|thing. Therfore I &s;ayd. O my Lord, what art thou? &s;oueraingly wi&s;e, mighty, good who vouch&s;afe&s;t to vi&s;it me with &s;o much charity, me a poore, and vile worme, yea an aby&s;me of mi&s;eries. The mi&s;tery afterward of &s;tretching out my hand three times is this. My Lord IESVS Chri&s;t &s;peakinge &s;weetely to me &s;ayd. Francis giue me &s;ome thinge. And I &s;ayd to him. O Lord thou knowe&s;t that I am all thine, &amp; that I haue no other thing but this ru&s;t which I weare, on my backe, and this Cord with which I am girt, and the&s;e &s;pings al&s;o are none of mine. what then can I giue to thee? Then our Lord &s;ayd to him. Francis put thy hand into thy bo&s;ome, and offer me what thou shalt finde there, then he put his hand into his bo&s;ome, found a faire peece of gold, and being a&s;tonished art this he offered it to IESVS Chi&s;t. After a little re&s;pit our Lord &s;pake &s;o againe to him, and he reply|ed I haue nothinge, neither will haue any
<PB N="172" REF="103"> thing. For I haue de&s;pi&s;ed gold, &s;iluer, and all earthly thinges for the loue of thee. Our Lord bad him yet put his hand, in his be&s;ome, and he found a faire fla<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t piece of gold, and offered it al&s;o to him. He did &s;o the third time in like manner. What is meant by this? our Lord would &s;ignifie by the&s;e three pieces, the three wowes, and the ob&s;eruance of them, which is &s;o acceptable to him, to witt obedience, po|uertie, Cha&s;titie. This is monie, not of earth or of iron, but of gold, becau&s;e it is precious mo|ny: found in our bo&s;ome, that is in our free will, becau&s;e if our vowes were not voluntary, they should not be plea&s;ing to God: but the mony which God putteth in our bo&s;ome, be|cau&s;e it was he which in&s;pireth vs to offer them to him, and giueth vs grace to ob&s;erue them. O mo&s;t precious mony, which is &s;ufficient to buy heauen, and mo&s;t &s;trong weapons to fight again&s;t our enemies, to &s;ubdue them.</P>
<P>So well knewe he by his prudence, to reape double profitt out of one action For on the one &s;ide, the promi&s;e which he had made to God &s;erued him as a goade to incite him, to ouerco|me all manner of difficulties which might hin|der the flesh, or the &s;pirit: and on the other &s;ide, knowinge that all this proceeded from a &s;ingu|ler grace of God towards him, he tooke occa|&s;ion to hu~ble him&s;elfe by the knowledge of his owne infirmitie, and &s;o pro&s;trated him&s;elf be|fore him, as vile, and abiect, in exchaunge for
<PB N="173" REF="104"> his &s;inguler loue, and with a mo&s;t holie pa&s;&s;io|nate affection, rendred him all thanke&s;giuinge that he could po&s;&s;ibly conceaue in his hart.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="16" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Charitie. THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THe fire of ardent Charitie did &s;o con&s;ume the hart of this ble&s;&s;ed Father, that he wit|ne&s;&s;ed by his actions that he was rather of an Angelicall, then humaine nature. His bodie kept him downe to the earth, as the matter of fire doth &s;uppre&s;&s;e it in part, but his affections did &s;oare vp to heauen, as a flame of fire, doth to the proper Sphere. His vertues shined farr more by the cooperation of Charitie, for Cha|ritie was the &s;eed of them, Charitie did nourish them, charitie as the vitall &s;pirit, did giue them motion and life.</P>
<P>To &s;peake of his Charitie towards God, it ap|peered that he was vnited to this deuine obiect in &s;o &s;traight bondes, that being wholy dead in his owne de&s;ires, he &s;quared all his actions ac|cording to the &s;ole will of God, which is the only and vtmo&s;t point which maketh mens &s;oules deuine, and transformed into God: He thought, meditated, &s;pake, nor willingly heard any other &s;peech, but of God. So that the co~&s;i|deration of the loue of God, which he manife|&s;ted to his creatures in cloathinge him&s;elfe with their frailtie, to re&s;tore them the inheritance
<PB N="174" REF="104"> which they had lo&s;t by their owne &s;innes, rauis|hed his &s;pirit, and made him groane to be with in his opened &s;ide, that he might &s;ucke from thence the milk of grace, after which he pro|fe&s;&s;ed him&s;elfe to pante and fainte, as though he were but a &s;tarueling for want of this foode.</P>
<P>The greife, and dolours which his ma&s;ter had endured for his &s;ake, were &s;o deepely imprinted in his &s;oule, that in the greate&s;t &s;ufferinges, where the mo&s;t perfitt would haue shewed them&s;elfes to be &s;en&s;ible, he had all waies a &s;e|ren<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, and &s;milinge countenance. Which &s;er|uinge for an example to &s;ome, and an obiect of admiration to others, was an infalliable argument of his inward contentment, and the &s;igne of the &s;traight vnion of his &s;oule with God. This vnion did &s;o occupie his &s;oule in &s;upernaturall thinges, that it cau&s;ed him to forgett that feelinge which he did owe to the naturall man. In &s;o much, that it was the opi|nion of many that kewe him well, that without &s;peciall grace, he had neuer ben able to &s;ub&s;i&s;t among the thornes of &s;o many au&s;terities, and mortifications. For it is incredible what little &s;u&s;tenance he gaue to his bodie, and how little re&s;t he tooke, yet did he appeere in better plight for his health, then when he liued in the world, amid&s;t all the delicacies which men of his rancke haue att their will. How often was he to be &s;een in the open countrey trauayling, and enduring all &s;ort of bad weathers when his
<PB N="175" REF="105"> leggs haue ben &s;o &s;corched, and chopped with cold, that he hath ben ready to ly downe in heapes of Snowe, and yet then would he refu&s;e to helpe him&s;elfe with takinge hou&s;e, or any other commoditie which was offered to him, &amp; which he might haue accepted, &s;einge that the rule of his religion did permitt it in ca&s;e of vr|gent nece&s;&s;itie?</P>
<P>He was a great enemy of &s;elfe loue &s;o that he e&s;teemed good actions (in h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">m in whom where there was &s;elfe loue) as a tree without leaues, without flowers, or fruit; and indeed a barren and vnfruitfull plant: and that which is more, he thought him vnworthy to be reputed a man. <Q REND="inline">It is true (&s;aith he) that a man in all &s;ort of na|turall and deuine lawes, is not his owne man, but Gods &s;eruant, his lands, his po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, and all that he hath, therfore as &s;uch a one hee ought to &s;ubmitt him&s;elfe in all great, and &s;mall things to his will, and accordinge to it, gouer|ne, and rule him&s;elfe, all his life, and all his actions; &s;o that he ca~not &s;tirre one foote, or one finger without his will, for as a hor&s;e is wholy mans, &s;o man is wholie Gods: whence it follo|weth that as the hor&s;e is e&s;teemed to be good, which doth nothinge of his owne proper mo|tion, but moueth, and &s;tirreth as he is driuen, or &s;purred by his ma&s;ter who is vpon him, &amp; go|uerneth him, &s;oe man doth the office of a man when his will, and all his workes &s;erue only God, and are directed to him; And contrari|wi&s;e
<PB N="176" REF="105"> when hauinge forgotten God, and &s;eruinge him&s;elfe, referringe his workes to him&s;elfe, and his proper will, faileth in his entrie, then doth he become as a hor&s;e winching again&s;t his ma&s;ter. <HI>Vir vanis in &s;uperbiam erigitur, &amp; tanquam pullum agri, &s;e liberum natum putat.</HI> That is to &s;ay. A vaine man doth not con&s;ider his beginninge, and his end, for which he was created of God, but is lif|ted vp into fooli&s;h pride, and thinketh that he is borne free, as a young colt of a wilde a&s;&s;e, and by this meanes will liue after his owne fa&s;hion, and according to his owne will, will do what he li|&s;teth, and choo&s;e that kind of life which is plea|&s;ing to his fancie, and &s;o go on according to his owne capricious humor, &amp; not take knowledge, what is the will and direction of God, who is his Soueraigne ma&s;ter. But in the end he will deceaue him&s;elfe: for S. Gregory &s;aith vpon this place; It is nece&s;&s;ary that man in all his mouinges be bound vnder the di&s;po&s;inge of God, who&s;e &s;eruant he is, whereas he hath not, nor can not haue any iuri&s;|diction or action in his owne handes, and that for many rea&s;ons.</Q></P>
<P><Q REND="inline">The fir&s;t is, by rea&s;on of the eminency of de|uine nature, and for as much as one thing is more excellent then an other, &s;o much it is &s;uperiour to it, and the other mu&s;t yeeld as inferiour. The &s;econd is, by rea&s;on of the right of creation, for he that maketh an other thing, is to be ab&s;olute ma&s;ter of it, and hath right to di&s;po&s;e of it, as he &s;hall thinke be&s;t. The third is taken from the la&s;t
<PB N="177" REF="106"> end. For when a thing is made for an other, it ought to be naturally &s;ubiect to it: man is made for God, and therfore ought to be his &s;ubiect and va&s;&s;all. The fourth is, in con&s;ideration of the com|mandement and precept, becau&s;e God requireth this &s;ubiection of vs, not only out of feare, but loue. The fifth is, for as much as it is manife&s;t that he which hath bought a thing, and paied the pri&s;e of it, he is made ma&s;ter and patron therof; but our Sauiour hath bought vs with the price of his bloud, and therfore hath right to command vs. The &s;ixth is, for the recompence &s;ake which is in|finite, by the meanes whereof we attaine, to po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;e God him&s;elfe. And la&s;tly there is a &s;trict obli|gation, of a &s;worne contract by which we are wholy deuoted, and dedicated to God in holy Bapti&s;me, when we promi&s;ed to renounce Sa|than, and all his pompes. Since then man is Gods &s;eruant, tyed by &s;o many knotts, why &s;hould he not cry and &s;ay with Dauid. O Lord behold I am wholy changed, I am as a bea&s;t, but a rea&s;onable bea&s;t which obeyeth his ma&s;ter in all thinges; &s;o do I re&s;igne my &s;elfe in all thinges, and in all pla|ces to thee, which art my God, conduct me to thy will, and gouerne me, for I will alwayes fol|lowe thee, as an obedient &s;eruant.</Q></P>
<P>This holy cogitation cau&s;ed him, before he vn|dertooke any thing, to examine if this &s;erpent of propre will, did not &s;ecretly putt in her poi&s;on by any vaine de&s;ire, or particuler intere&s;t, though couered with the cloake of vertue, and &s;anctitie:
<PB N="178" REF="106"> and if he did di&s;couer it, his body payed the for|feiture of it, by a rude mortification, before the &s;pirit did put in execution, that which God requi|red of him for his glory. Soe in all his actions he had his hart eleuated to God by loue, &amp; affection, and being con&s;umed within the flame of &s;o holy a fire, he incited others to the &s;ame acts. For this is a meane to knowe true charitie, if it hath God for the la&s;t end, and marke that it aimeth at in all occa&s;ions pre&s;ented.</P>
<P>Hence it happened, that once in giuinge a le&s;|&s;on to his bretheren, he made our Lord to &s;peake in &s;uch manner, that it was ea&s;ily to iudge his hart was glowing hott with this holy fire of charitie. <Q REND="inline">I take plea&s;ure to &s;ee the body mortified, and kept downe, but I would haue the &s;pirit al&s;o exerci|&s;ed. I require the hart aboue all thinges. <HI>Fili praesta mihi cor tuum;</HI> Son giue me thy hart. I knock att the gate of thy hart daylie. <HI>En sto ad ostium, &amp; pul&s;o.</HI> I &s;tand at the gate, and knock. If I require any thing, it is the heart. <HI>Deus intuetur cor.</HI> God beholdeth the heart. If I teach any thing, it is the heart. <HI>Scrutatur corda, &amp; renes.</HI> He &s;earcheth the hearts and the reines. If I proue, and examine anie thing, it is the heart. <HI>Proba&s;ti cor meum &amp; vi|&s;itasti nocte.</HI> Thou ha&s;t proued my hart, and vi&s;i|ted it in the night. If I &s;eeke to &s;peake to man, &s;in|glely, and alone, it is by the heart. <HI>Ducam eum in &s;olitudine, &amp; ibi loquar ad cor eius.</HI> I will leade him into the wildernes, and &s;peake vnto his heart. And if I de&s;ire to change any thinge in man, it is
<PB N="179" REF="107"> his heart, and to make it, of a hard heart, tender and &s;oft. <HI>Auferam &agrave; vobis cor lapideum, &amp; dabo vobis cor carneum.</HI> I will take from you a &s;tonny heart, and will giue you a fle&s;hy heart. In fine, if I &s;eeke the conuer&s;ion, and loue of man, I would haue it with the heart. <HI>Conuertimini ad me in toto corde ve&s;tro.</HI> Turne ye to me, withall your heart.</Q> By his wordes we may iudge of his exce&s;&s;iue charitie, for it is as hard to &s;uppre&s;&s;e &s;uch charitie without &s;hewing it &s;elfe, as it is to keepe fire &s;mothered vnder a little a&s;hes.</P>
<P>Out of this charity towards God, &s;prings the other towards his neighbor: for the&s;e two are &s;i&s;ters which neuer part one from the other, or to &s;peake more properlie, they make but the one, and the &s;ame vertue, which tendeth to one obiect, which is God, by two waies; by one directly, and in the other by reflection vpon his image engra|uen wi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hin the &s;oule of man.</P>
<P>All manner of trauaile was ea&s;y to him, when he tooke in hand any worke of pietie, he for&s;ooke willingly his meate to giue contentment to them, who came to &s;eeke of him any con&s;olation for their &s;oule. He had a naturall &s;weetnes, which drew &s;inners with &s;o great violence to di&s;couer to him their mo&s;t &s;ecrett vlcers, that in on day he healed more of &s;uch woundes by his exhorta|tions and in&s;tructions, then many could do in ma|nie yeares, &s;uch particuler grace had he giuen him f<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">om God, directing all wholy to his glory. He &s;aid, by the frute, the tree is knowen, and &s;o true
<PB N="180" REF="107"> charitie by workes and effectes, not by &s;peech, nor by external appeerance: Bretheren let vs loue, not in word, nor tongue, but in worke, and truth. But what are the markes and effects? there are two principall. The fir&s;t is, if we do keepe our &s;elues from giuinge any offence, or doing any ill to our neighbour. The &s;econd is, if we force our &s;elues to do all the good we can. S. Paul &s;aith fir&s;t, charitie worketh no ill, and next is benigne, and good: By the fir&s;t we are bound to beare no hate, or malice towards our neighbour, not to iudge ill of him, not to murmur, or detract from his fame: not to iniury, calumniat him, or do him any harme: By the &s;econd we are bound to loue him, to iudge well of him, to helpe him in his ne|ce&s;&s;ities, to vi&s;it, and &s;erue him if he be &s;ick, to pardon him if he hath offended vs, to correct him with charitie, if he hath committed any &s;inne. The&s;e are the &s;ignes, the effects, and the workes of a true, and brotherly charitie.</P>
<P>He vi&s;ited the &s;ick in an extraordinarie feruour, comforted them in their greate&s;t dolours in that manner, that many which apprehended death as a cruell lyones, before they &s;ee her, did willingly, and valiantlie enter into the li&s;tes, and &s;hewed no apprehen&s;ion of this la&s;t combat. For he made this pa&s;&s;age &s;o happy for them in regard of the future re&s;t, and the auoydinge of the mi&s;eries of this world.</P>
<P>A yeare before this ble&s;&s;ed Father died: Mon|&s;eigneur the Duke of Montpe~&s;ier his &s;on in lawe,
<PB N="181" REF="108"> payd his tribute to nature, in the floure of his age, being but of the age of thirtie fiue yeare. He was a mo&s;t noble Prince, &amp; of mo&s;t &s;inguler pietie: he neuer for&s;ooke him duringe al his &s;icknes, perfor|ming diligentlie this la&s;t office of charitie, and exhorting him to dy well, as he had allways &s;tir|red him vp to good life before. I doubt not but that he had a particuler obligation to &s;erue him, in a bu&s;ines of &s;o great importance, where he was to be in danger of gayninge, or loo&s;inge heauen. For it is true that he was the more moued by a fatherlie charitie, and therfore hauing purpo&s;ed to go to Rome to the generall chapter (he being at this time Prouinciall of the Prouince of Paris) he was &s;tayed by the Kinge, and by his brother the Cardinall Ioyeu&s;e, Protectour of their order, who would haue him deferre his voyage, for to per|forme this la&s;t dutie, which he did with an incre|dible fatherlie affection, as he had done to manie others. Notwith&s;tanding att this verie time, he preached in manie of the principall churches of Paris, as he was inuited by vertuous per&s;ons, who knewe the fruit which was rendred an hundred fold by the &s;eed of his doctrine.</P>
<P>As he pa&s;&s;ed ordinarilie by villages, he cau&s;ed the people to be a&s;&s;embled together, he catechi&s;ed them, and made exhortations to them &s;hort, or long, as his ley&s;ure permitted him, &s;aying often to his companion, that he tooke great content|ment in this. For he was of opinion that it was a verye fruitfull worke, to in&s;truct poore &s;oules, which offend more out of ignorance, then ma|lice.
<PB N="182" REF="108"> And he &s;ayd, that he had more deuotion to this, then to preach in the be&s;t pulpitt of great ci|ties, becau&s;e there were neuer wantinge many good preachers (thankes be to God) and here they had &s;carce one in a whole yeare.</P>
<P>That it may further appeere by his di&s;cour&s;e, how he burnt with charitie. He &s;ayd once: What thing can be more &s;weete then brotherly chari|tie? which if it were in the world, this &s;hould not be a world, but heauen it &s;elfe, we &s;hould not be longer men, but Angels, yea we &s;hould be Se|raphins. <Q REND="inline">Imagine I pray you, a citie wherin the lawe of loue and charitie is perfittly ob&s;erued. Where children do in all thinges obay their pa|rents, and parents take great care of their childre~, where man, and wife keepe inuiolatelie their troth plighted one to the other, where bretheren liue in peace, where Princes, and &s;uperiours com|mand in charitie, and &s;ubiects obey in humilitie, where there is not one per&s;on found, which bear|reth anie hate, or ma<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ice toward one another, but all loue one another as them&s;elues. When one &s;hould be &s;icke, all would run to &s;erue him, when one is poore, all would &s;uccour, and relieue him, when he is &s;ad and heauie all would comfort him, where there were noe word of anger, of de|tractio~, of il &s;peech, where there were no theft, or detractio~, where there were no di&s;daine, enmitie, contentions, or di&s;corde, but a perfitt peace and concorde, what would you &s;ay of &s;uch a citie, if here were anie &s;uch in the world? would you not
<PB N="183" REF="109"> e&s;teeme it mo&s;t happy? would you not call it a Pa|radi&s;e on earth? would not euerie one &s;eeke to re|paire thether, and to dwell therein? Such was the companie of Chri&s;tians in the Primitiue Church, when all their goods were in common, when they &s;ould their profe&s;&s;ions, and laid the pri&s;e of them at the Apo&s;tles feete. And for as much as by humane frailtie, this holy citie of loue, and peace failed to the body of the Church, for repairing of it, religious men haue entered, to maintaine, and con&s;erue the image of this Socie|tie, where all had not but one hart, and one &s;oule, and loued one another hartily: So that (my bre|theren) we ought to con&s;ider well our obligation, let vs while we call one another bretheren, haue the one and the &s;ame Father Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, and our Father S. Francis, lett vs haue the one, &amp; the &s;ame mother, the Church and religion, hauinge all the &s;ame rule. Charitie hath brought vs to this, and charitie mainteyneth vs in this &s;tate: charitie doth bind vs with an indi&s;&s;oluble band, which being taken away all good is lo&s;t, and the foundation of our religion cannot &s;tand. This is the fire, which mu&s;t continually burne vpon the altar of our hearts. <HI>Ignis &s;emper ardebit in altari meo.</HI> This is the burninge gold, which mu&s;t make vs rich. <HI>Suadeo tibi emere aurum ignitum.</HI> Embrace this cha|ritie aboue all thinges. <HI>Ante omnia mutuam in vobis metip&s;is charitatem continuam habentes.</HI> Note this, <HI>ante omnia,</HI> that is, before all thinges. If we mu&s;t &s;uffer dommage in any other thinge, it &s;hould not
<PB N="184" REF="109"> be in charitie. If any other vertue be lo&s;t let not charitie be lo&s;t, for this being lo&s;t, all is lo&s;t. If we correct, if we reproue, if we cha&s;tice, if we giue any pennance, let it be in charity. Loue, and do what thou wilt, &s;ayth S. Augu&s;tine. All woundes in the body are dangerous, but a wound in the heart is mortall, becau&s;e it is in the heart which is the beginninge of life; Soe euery mayme, and de|fect of vertue is euill, but the want, and defect of this vertue of charitie, is mo&s;t pernicious, for as much as the foundation of &s;pirituall life con|&s;i&s;teth in it.</Q></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="17" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Prudence. THE SEVENTEENTH CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THis vertue beinge the rule, and mea&s;ure of al that which other vertues do &s;hewe foorth, made this ble&s;&s;ed Father admirable in all his life, and in all his conuer&s;ation. In his tender age he &s;hewed him&s;elfe to be old in iudgement, in the court his coun&s;ells were allways held mo&s;t reli|gious, and in religion, his coun&s;els were e&s;teemed oracles. In both e&s;tates, he comported him&s;elfe with that di&s;cretion, that tho&s;e that were mo&s;t apt to cen&s;ure others, could neuer take hold of him. He was in no &s;ort enuied, and maligned of others, noe not in the Court, where this venime is &s;o co~mon that there are fewe that can e&s;cape it. There are many who liue in the world who are
<PB N="185" REF="110"> very charitable, and will not charge their con&s;|cience with the lea&s;t &s;cruple of that which is euil, but very fewe of the&s;e are &s;o prudent, that they can di&s;creetly, and happily direct others, &s;et them in tho&s;e good wayes, which they them&s;elues treade, and this is belonging to prudence, which is mo&s;t nece&s;&s;arie after charity. For this is it which in&s;tructeth others, what is to be done, what waye is to be taken, when al&s;o we are to take our time to do it, and what is to be auoided in vertuous ac|tions. This is it which teacheth vs to haue the &s;ame countenance, and the &s;ame affection, both in pro&s;perity and in aduer&s;ity, as the hand is the &s;ame, whether the fingers be open or they be clo|&s;ed together. This is it which co~curreth &s;til with truth, not with amitie, which for-&s;eeing thinges to come, di&s;po&s;eth &s;oe of things pre&s;ent, that being pa&s;t, they leaue not behinde them the &s;tinge of repentance. Briefly this is it which this ble&s;&s;ed Father po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed in that eminent degree, that if he made no great benefitt for his owne particuler, yet was he made hereby a man mo&s;t &s;eruiceable for the profitt, and aduantage of others.</P>
<P>We haue allreadie ob&s;erued manye of his wi&s;e actions, and &s;ingularly in that particuler peace, accompanied with a generall, which he effected for the good of his countrey, when he went forth of his religion. After his returne to his religion, his brethren admiring his great prude~ce, impo&s;ed all kind of charges vpon him: he was Guardien in their principall conuents, and two
<PB N="186" REF="110"> yeares after he re&s;umed the habitt, he was made Gardien of this conuent of Paris, and afterward Definitour, after that Prouinciall, and then gene|rall Definitour. In all which he caryed him&s;elfe &s;o prudentlie, that if he had liued till the Generall chapter followinge, he might haue merited the charge of the Generall of the whole order.</P>
<P>This prudent managinge of affaires, was not only for the good of his owne order, but for the benefitt of other religious men, beinge mo&s;t dex|trous to adui&s;e others for the way of perfection, and often &s;hewinge them ways to ridd them&s;el|ues out of great difficulties, whence they thought it impo&s;&s;ible to ri&s;e out. Hereupon many did of|ten vi&s;it him, and approuing his rea&s;ons, they made v&s;e of his coun&s;ell in their bu&s;ines of grea|te&s;t importance.</P>
<P>The fame of his prudence was &s;uch, that it came to the eares of the Popes holines, and after|ward &s;eing more with his owne eies while&s;t he was at Rome at the generall Chapter in the fa|therly care he had of the publicke good, he pur|po&s;ed to haue made him, an a&s;&s;ociate to the con|gregation deputed to con&s;ult concerninge reguler affaires, and to prouide for the nece&s;&s;ities, and maintaininge of religious, e&s;teeming him a man &s;ingularly well conuer&s;ant in &s;uch cau&s;es. But he was diuerted from this purpo&s;e by Mon&s;eigneur Cardinall de Guiry and by other noble per&s;ons of Fraunce, who informed him that the Kinge of France would not take well his ab&s;ence from his
<PB N="187" REF="111"> kingdome, and be&s;ides he was not likely to accept of any &s;uch honorable charge, hauinge giuen the defie to all worldly honors, vnles his holines did laie vpon him an ab&s;olute commandement.</P>
<P>In the yeare 1608. Duringe the interdict of the common wealth of Venice, many orders for&s;ooke the citie to auoid the violence of the time. This B. Father beinge aduerti&s;ed that tho&s;e of his or|der al&s;o were gone foort, hhe tooke his iourney to pa&s;&s;e by Venice, where he was entertained with great re&s;pect of the Duke, with whom he treated the&s;e affaires for &s;ome fewe daies &s;o prudently, that he made a reconciliation for his order, and brought them into the Dukes good grace, not without admiration of the whole co~mon wealth, and particularly the Duke, who ble&s;&s;ed God that he had &s;ent his Angell of peace, to ree&s;tabli&s;h the affection of the Senat towards that order.</P>
<P>One of the perfections in which he did mo&s;t excell, was the power to reunite tho&s;e that were deuided, and fallen out by occa&s;ion of any quar|rell; In&s;omuch that many noble per&s;ons made him in &s;uch ca&s;es their vmpire, to compo&s;e their differences, hauinge an extraordinary great opi|nion of his prudence, ioyned with great charity.</P>
<P>Some of his bretheren asked him one time; Fa|ther whence commeth it to pa&s;&s;e, that &s;o many labour to attaine to perfection, and &s;o fewe arriue to it? we &s;ee daily &s;o many deuout people commu|nicat often, to pray much, and exerci&s;e much mortification, and yet after many yeares &s;o &s;pent,
<PB N="188" REF="111"> are little, or nothinge the better, at the lea&s;t they &s;hewe their imperfections vpon the lea&s;t occa|&s;ions. The rea&s;on is (&s;aith he) that they be not prudent, in the rearing of this &s;pirituall building; For they tru&s;tinge to much to their owne iudge|ment, they de&s;pi&s;e all &s;ort of coun&s;ell, they be|ginne with the roofe, in&s;teed of laying well, a &s;ure foundation, and would open an entrance for vertues, before they haue made a place for them in their &s;oules.</P>
<P>This an&s;wer is &s;hort, but &s;ub&s;tantiall, and wor|thy of due con&s;ideration. To make it more cleer I wil relate heere, what he &s;pake once concerning the &s;ame &s;ubiect. <Q REND="inline">To come to perfection as farr as we can attaine, he &s;ayd that Chri&s;tian prudence did teach vs, that we mu&s;t ob&s;erue three thinges in their due and right order. The fir&s;t is to purge, and clean&s;e our &s;elues from &s;inne. The &s;econd is to de&s;pi&s;e, and to tread vnder our feete all earthly thinges. The third is by the meanes of vertue to a&s;pire to heauenly things; Which three thinges were expre&s;&s;ed by the holy Gho&s;t in the twelft of the Reuelation, when S. Iohn &s;aw a great &s;igne in heauen, to witt a woman clothed with the &s;unne, hauing the moone vnder her feete, and on her head a Crowne of 12. &s;tarrs. We may &s;ay that this woman doth repre&s;ent the B. Virgin, or is the Church: but att this time I may &s;ay this woman, is the image of a iu&s;t &s;oule, and e&s;pecially of a good religious, which ought fir&s;t to be clad with the &s;unne, that is with Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, by his grace, &amp;
<PB N="189" REF="112"> to &s;hine within, and without by charity, and good example. To followe Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, to be humble, patient, meeke, as he was: this is to be clothed with the Sun, euen as he which putteth on the roabe of a Kinge, &s;eemeth outwardly to be a king. The &s;econd thinge which this woman had was the moone, vnder her feete, by the moone which is variable, and defectuous, and neuer continueth in the &s;ame &s;tate, all worldly things are implied, as honor, plea&s;ure, riches, vanities, which a good Chri&s;tia~, e&s;pecially a good religious ought to de&s;|pi&s;e, and e&s;teeme them as vile, and fading as they are, but &s;he had on her head &s;tarrs, which are the third thing. All heauenly things are the&s;e &s;tarres, vertue, &s;pirituall exerci&s;es, loue of eternall things, conuer&s;ation with Saints, and in heauen the con|templatio~ of future felicitie. We mu&s;t haue the&s;e &s;tarrs on our heade: that is to &s;ay in our thoughts, and in the &s;upreame part of our &s;oule, to thinke often of them, to meditate them, and thir&s;t after the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of them, to a&s;pire allwayes thither, &s;oe that we may &s;ay as farre as it is po&s;&s;ible. <HI>Our conuer&s;ation is in heauen,</HI> we &s;hould beare them in our heade, or vpo~ our heade in &s;igne of reuerence. And indeed to beare the~ on our heade is nothing els, but to &s;eeke the kingdom of God, and his iu|&s;tice before all things: but alas how is this or|der chaunged att this day? We haue not the &s;tarres vpon our heades, and the moone vnder our feete, but contrariwi&s;e the moone on our heades, and the &s;tarres vnder our feete; We do not &s;eeke fir&s;t
<PB N="190" REF="112"> the kingdome of God, &amp; his iu&s;tice, but we &s;erch after in the fir&s;t place earthlie things, and vanities, we de&s;ire to &s;atisfie our appetites, to haue great e&s;tates, and reuenewes, and afterward for Cere|monie to go to ma&s;&s;e, and to a Sermon, to confe&s;|&s;ion, &amp; communion. So that by a foule abu&s;e, that which ought to be the principal, becommeth on|lie &s;ucce&s;&s;orie, and that which &s;hould be &s;ucce&s;|&s;ory is made the principall, and we v&s;e that which we &s;hould enioye, and enioye that which we &s;hould but only v&s;e. And note that S. Iohn did not only &s;ee &s;tarres on her heade, but a Crowne made of mo&s;t goodly &s;tarres. What doth this in|timate to vs, but that he which &s;hould haue bene a good Chri&s;tian, a good religious per&s;on, and &s;hould haue clothed him&s;elfe with Ie&s;us Chri&s;t by imitation, who &s;hould haue contemned earth|lie things &s;ignified by the moone, and &s;hould haue caried heauenly things as &s;tarres vpon his heade, by de&s;ire, and contemplation, he &s;hall in the next life receaue a Crowne of twelue mo&s;t bright &s;tar|res, which are meant the ioyes common to all twelue &s;inguler giftes. Foure of the &s;oule; vi&s;ion, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion, fruition and contemplation. Foure of the body. Charitie, or glorious brightnes, impa&s;|&s;ibilitie, agilitie, and &s;ubtilitie. Foure of the whole man compo&s;ed of bodie, and &s;oule, the companie of Saintes, the habitation of the Empyrean hea|uens, a generall, and perfitt &s;atietie, and la&s;tly a perpetuall &s;ecuritie, wherupon he may boldly &s;ay with confidence, that which the Apo&s;tle S. Paul
<PB N="191" REF="113"> &s;aith. I haue fought a good fight (again&s;t the vi|ces, and tentations of the world, and the fle&s;h) I haue fini&s;hed my cour&s;e in the practi&s;e of vertue, I haue kept the faith (which I promi&s;ed in Bap|ti&s;me: what remaineth, and re&s;teth nowe, but a Crowne of glory, which &s;hall be giuen to me by God, who ordayninge the lawe of good workes, hath alwaies ordained the reward, and recom|pence to them.</Q></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="18" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his comportement while he bore the charges of Prouinciall, or Definitour, and of the qualities requi&s;ite therto. THE EIGHTEENTH CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>ALthough this B. Father was in the whole cour&s;e of his life, a patterne of Sanctitie bending all his &s;pirits to the practi&s;e of vertues, yet was he ob&s;erued at no time to be more hum|ble, more feruent, more charitable, more frind of pouertie, more mortified, more exact in the ob|&s;eruation of the Euangelical coun&s;ells, then when he was Definitour, Prouinciall, or bore any great charge in the order. The title which lifted him vp outwardly aboue others, did inwardly ca&s;t him downe by the centre of abiection, &amp; his thoughts were as farre from the de&s;ire of preeminencie, and prelacie, as the earth is remote from the heauens. He liued as well, or better content vnder obe|dience, as he did in place of authoritie, by rea&s;on
<PB N="192" REF="113"> of the difficulties which accompanie tho&s;e pla|ces of charge. He was accu&s;tomed to &s;ay that a Prelate, or Superiour in the holy Scripture, is cal|led a Pa&s;tour, a Father, and a Phi&s;itian, which qualities he had in an eminent degree.</P>
<P>As a pa&s;tour he had care of his flocke, not only of the vniuer&s;all good of the Prouince, but of euery one of the bretheren in particuler, he wat|ched often when others tooke &s;ome repo&s;e, to &s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">t order carefully for their affaires, and he ro&s;e duely to ma<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ines in the Quire with the commu|nitie, and in word, and deed he conducted all thinges holily accordinge to the rigor of the rule. As a Father he loued all alike, void of all particu|ler affection, and alwaies did more then he com|manded others to do, to take away all occa&s;ion of excu&s;e from them. As a Phi&s;itian he had a &s;in|guler care, both of corporall, and &s;pirituall infir|mities: he comforted the afflicted, encouraged the weake, and fainte hearted, gaue remedies a|gain&s;t tentations, hauinge learned much in this kind, by his owne experience. In fine, he was &s;o laborious, and carefull in putting in execution all good offices, that certainely there could be no other recompence &s;ufficient for his trauaile, but the crowne of glory, which he now weareth.</P>
<P>When he made his vi&s;ite, he came to no Con|uent, where (if lei&s;ure, &amp; opportunitie &s;erued) he made le&s;&s;e then three, or foure exhortations in the Refectory to all the religious, with &s;o great Zeale endeuoringe to rai&s;e them to the highe&s;t &s;teppe of
<PB N="193" REF="114"> the ladder of charity, and perfection, and to make them with fre&s;h courage to pa&s;&s;e the thornie de|&s;ert of their profe&s;&s;ion, &s;oe that they mu&s;t haue bene more hard then marble which could refraine teares when they &s;aw his cheekes all blubbered with them tricklinge downe. The&s;e vi&s;its were ful of learninge, and powerfull, as he was of great power in workes, of good example, and wordes of whole&s;ome doctrine. His words did prouoke to deuotion, but his actions did carry men forcea|bly, and both ioyned together, were as chai|nes, which &s;uerly, and &s;trongly did drawe men to lye downe at the feete of the Crucifix, his actions needed not an after excu&s;e, and his wordes required noe replie. He who knewe &s;oe well to obey, knewe al&s;o how to command, propo&s;inge to his bretheren the merit, and prize of obedience by the example of Abraham, who for hauinge obeyed God commandinge him to offer vpp his &s;onne I&s;aacke, God gaue him the greate&s;t recom|pence, which can be imagined, to witt Ie&s;us Chri&s;t his only Son begotten of his propre &s;ub|&s;tance, &s;o that in the beginninge of the genealo|gie, it was written, Ie&s;us Chri&s;t the Son of Dauid, the Son of Abraham; and after a longe recite of all the circum&s;tances of this action, he &s;ayd.</P>
<P>O my mo&s;t deare bretheren &s;ee the great me|ritt of obedience, howe God requited a true o|bedient man. He payd a Son for a Son, but the Son of man was offered only, and not receaued with the Son of God, not only offered but giuen
<PB N="194" REF="114"> for his Son. O gift exceeding all giftes, o high fa|uour, and vn&s;peakeable recompence. What can be &s;ayd more of the meritt of obedience? If this be not &s;ufficient to enamour thee with it, what can be &s;ufficient? But it may be euery obedient per&s;on doth not receaue the like fauour, and re|compence. Heare our Sauiour. Who&s;oeuer &s;hal do the will of my Father which is in heauen, he &s;halbe my brother, what more, he &s;halbe my mother, my Father, and I wilbe his Son.</P>
<P>Among his notes of obedience, I lighted vpon certaine generall propo&s;itions which he gaue for al &s;ortes of religion, to take away &s;cruples ari&s;ing, and to make the yoke light, and ea&s;y, though in appearance, it &s;eemeth rigorous.</P>
<P N="1">1. The fir&s;t is to beleeue verily that God by his certaine knowledge, and infalliable prouidence, had for&s;eene from all eternitie, that they &s;hould be gouerned by &s;uch Superiours in that &s;tate of life which they had vndertaken, &amp; not by others, and hereby to receaue his grace, and finally his glory.</P>
<P N="2">2. The &s;econd is to beleeue firmely, that by the meanes of &s;uch &s;uperiours if they hearken to the~, and obey them with &s;implicitie, God will mani|fe&s;t his will to them, and guide them alwaies, &s;o that they cannot faile, nor be led into error, though the Superiour be lewd, and wor&s;e then Caiphas.</P>
<P N="3">3. To beleeue not only according to outward &s;hewe, but accordimg to the inward, and &s;ecreet
<PB N="195" REF="115"> iudgement of God, that their &s;uperiours who go|uerne them, are to them the mo&s;t beneficiall men of the world, and the mo&s;t worthy, and to loue, honor and re&s;pect them for &s;uch, and not con&s;i|der in them the faults which humane frailty hath attending it, being herein like to Sem, and Iaphet the good Sons of Noah, who going backward couered the &s;hame of their father, and would not behold it, and &s;o doinge they merited Gods be|nediction for a recompence.</P>
<P N="4">4. To co~&s;ider how by the vertue of &s;imple obe|dience, they ouercome all the tentation of the world, the Deuill, and the fle&s;h, and do obtaine great abundance of heauenly graces, and finally at the houre of death, they are a&s;&s;ured that God will not call them to account for their life pa&s;t, but will call for it at the hands of their Superiour, &s;o that they haue no thing els to do, but to receaue the reward and crowne of their obedience. On the contrary &s;ide, a di&s;obedient man, is expo&s;ed to all tentations, and deceites of the Deuill, and is not gouerned by God, and in this &s;tate at the houre of death, findeth the gates of hell open to receaue him, and Lucifer the grand Captaine of di&s;obedient rebells, prepared to torment him eter|nally in hell.</P>
<P N="5">5. Yet no man (&s;aid this B. Father) is obliged to obey his Superiour in acts which are purely in|ward, whether they be of the vnder&s;tanding, or of the will. As if the Superiour did co~mand him to beleeue a certaine opinion, the inferiour is not
<PB N="196" REF="115"> bound to obey him for as much as &s;uch acts are inward in the &s;oule, which doth immediatly &s;ub|mitt it &s;elfe to God alone. For it belongeth to God alone to command &s;uch actions, and all o|thers are depriued of any &s;uch right vnle&s;&s;e the&s;e inward actions, be mixed, and confounded with externall actions, for then by vertue of the exter|nall action, the inward may be commanded.</P>
<P N="6">6. We are neuer to obey the inferiour again&s;t the commaundement of the Superiour, as the Vi|car again&s;t the commandement of the Gardien: or the Gardien again&s;t the commandement of the Prouinciall, nor the Prouinciall again&s;t the com|mandement of the Generall, nor the Generall again&s;t the Popes commandement, nor the Pope, or any who&s;oeuer again&s;t Gods commandement. Therfore he &s;aid.</P>
<P>The matter of obedience, is like a clocke well ordered, the ma&s;ter of the clocke maketh the wheeles, and &s;etteth their mouings in &s;uch man|ner, that according to the Sunne, and the mo|tions of the heauens, there is one little wheele with a hand which &s;heweth, and pointeth out the houres, there is another greater, which moueth that in the middle, and finally there is on great wheele, which moueth them all, and is as it were the ma&s;ter wheele. Therfor if the &s;malle&s;t wheele will turne &s;wifter, or &s;lower then it is moued of the middle wheele, or the middle wheele, fa&s;ter then it is &s;tirred of the greater, there would be di&s;order in the clock, and the hand &s;hould not be
<PB N="197" REF="116"> bound to &s;uffer it &s;elfe to be moued, for it ought to point out the houres, according to the motion of the &s;unne, and to the intention of the ma&s;ter workman of this frame. In like manner all reli|gion is a clock well framed, where there are many wheeles which tourne. The Gardien, the Pro|uinciall, the Generall, the Pope, and God him|&s;elfe. The hand which &s;heweth the&s;e motions is the &s;ubiect. To the end then, that it may rightly point, and there be no di&s;order, the &s;ubiect ought to obey in that order as is formerly expre&s;&s;ed.</P>
<P N="7">7. A religious man is not bou~d to obey his Su|periour again&s;t his rule, nor aboue his rule, but only in things that are according to his rule which he hath promi&s;ed. To obey according to the rule is not vnder&s;tood, only of things which are con|teyned in it, but of all &s;uch things, without which tho&s;e in the rule cannot be ob&s;erued, or which do &s;erue for a more perfect ob&s;eruance, as reguler &s;cilence, di&s;cipline &amp;c. In this ca&s;e the &s;ubiect is obliged to practi&s;e obedience.</P>
<P N="8">8. As often as there is any contempt in anie thing what&s;oeuer the Superiour commandeth, though it be aboue the rule, and obedience, it is a mortall &s;inne. This is vnder&s;tood only of actuall contempt, when through malice, or any euill in|tention this commandement is not fulfilled but is abu&s;ed, &s;corned, and mocked, and be&s;ides this may be by vertuall, and habituall contempt when as nothing is done again&s;t the commandement of the Superiour by malice of heart, or conte~ptuous
<PB N="198" REF="116"> wordes, and yet the Superiour, and the rule is not re&s;pected, and by a neglect, the contrarie is done to that which he commanded.</P>
<P N="9">9. As often as there is any &s;candall in di&s;obe|dience, it is a mortal &s;inne, though the thing com|manded be neuer &s;o &s;mall: vnles there were &s;ome other things, as that &s;ome inuincible ignorance, or the &s;mallnes of the matter doe excu&s;e the di&s;obe|diente from &s;inne, but I lett them pa&s;&s;e as things common to all Chri&s;tians, in the ob&s;eruinge the commandements of God, and his Church, only I will conclude, howe he compared obedience to Iacobs ladder, by which religious mount to heauen.</P>
<P>1. The fir&s;t degree (this he tooke from S. Ber|nard) is to obey freely without contradiction, as S. Paul, att the fir&s;t call &s;ayd. <HI>Lord what wilt thou that I doe.</HI> 2. without di&s;&s;imulation. 3. chearfully without murmuringe. 4. promptly, and &s;peedily without delay. 5. manfully without apprehen&s;io~. 6. humbly without vanitie. 7. vnce&s;&s;antly with per&s;euerance. This is (&s;ayd he) the ladder, the&s;e are the &s;tepps of Angells, for true obedient men do leade an Angelicall life on earth, they are light, prompt, &s;pirituall, burninge, enflamed with de|uine loue, vnweariable &s;eruants, a&s;&s;i&s;ting God, and &s;eruinge men. Let vs clime vp ioyfullie by the&s;e &s;tepps from vertue, to vertue, from merit<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, to meritt, and in the topp wee &s;hall finde God, who will recompence vs with the vi&s;ion of his glorious face.</P>
<PB N="199" REF="117">
<P>Among many other perfections, he had this particuler grace, to di&s;cerne &s;piritts, and to knowe the inclinations of tho&s;e who frequented him. How he had this, either of his long experience, and ob&s;eruations, or by any particuler reuelation I cannot expre&s;&s;e. But this was certaine, that he &s;eeldome looked on any mans face twi&s;e, that he would not knowe, or gue&s;&s;e very neare how he was di&s;po&s;ed. This was noted &s;ingularly, that among all the Nouices he receaued, or cau&s;ed to be admitted while he was Prouinciall, or Defini|tour there were very few, or none which went not on manfully and religiou&s;ly in their profe&s;|&s;ion. He &s;hewed him&s;elfe very familiar to weake, and feble &s;piritts. He animated the &s;tronger, and more able to trauaile: to the lukewarme, &amp; weake hearted, he wittne&s;&s;ed in outward appearance much rigour, again&s;t that which was in his heart, hidinge his loue, and charitie, which held the rei|nes, and inwardly commanded in his &s;oule. Such was his &s;pirit of di&s;cretion, and prudence, that he became all to all, and to euery particuler per&s;on exerci&s;ing his functio~, with &s;o great glory for God, and profitt for religion, that all liued content vn|der him within the limitts of their vocation, all honored him as a Father, followed him as a Cap|taine, re&s;pected him as a Phi&s;itian, cheri&s;hed him as their owne heart, in &s;o much that his life pa&s;t cannot be called to mind of tho&s;e who enioyed his conuer&s;ation, without great greife and &s;or|rowe, for the lo&s;&s;e of &s;o Ble&s;&s;ed, and &s;o perfect a &s;oule.</P>
<PB N="200" REF="117">
<P>It was ob&s;erued that this B. Father in the mo&s;t importa~t affaires, &amp; amo~g other matters in electio~ of per&s;ons to tho&s;e places wherupon the good of the whole Prouince depe~ded, &amp; of euery particuler man al&s;o, that he might not be tran&s;ported away by his owne iudgement, he had allwayes recour&s;e to God, with feruent prayer, fa&s;tings di&s;ciplines, and other au&s;terities to this end, and called for a&s;|&s;i&s;tance of the holy Gho&s;t, by other holy &s;acrifices that he might knowe the meritts of tho&s;e, that were mo&s;t worthie, and &s;o do that which was mo&s;t fitt for Gods glory and the good of others. He was wont to &s;ay commonly, that election is an humane act which apperteyneth only to rea&s;o|nable men, and not to bea&s;tes, becau&s;e the &s;en&s;ual appetite, by which bea&s;tes are moued is determi|ned to a particuler good, but the will of man to a common, and generall good. Wherfore (&s;ayd he) to make a good election, and choi&s;e, it is meete to repayre fir&s;t to God, and to pray for the grace of his holy &s;pirit, to implore the interce&s;&s;ion of our holy Father S. Frauncis, to do &s;ome worke of extraordinarie mortification, and afterward to re&s;pect not the particuler commoditie of any, but the vniuer&s;all good of the whole Prouince, and not to choo&s;e as they &s;hall be mo&s;t &s;eruinge our turne, and more fauourable towards vs, but &s;im|ply tho&s;e which are mo&s;t &s;eruiceable, and mo&s;t fitt to do a publique benefitt to all; And who&s;oeuer (&s;ayd he) doth otherwi&s;e, doth not the act of a man, but of a bea&s;t.</P>
<PB N="201" REF="118">
<P>For example of this he v&s;ed the ordinary glo&s;&s;e vpon the fir&s;t chapter of the fir&s;t booke of the Machabees, which &s;aith that Alexander, when he was neere his end, being asked whom he would leaue his &s;ucce&s;&s;our in his kingdome after his death, an&s;wered the mo&s;t worthie, and yet he had a &s;on named Nicholas, a brother named Atrides, and he left al&s;o his wife great with child: this was an act to the confu&s;ion of many Chri|&s;tians, who are led by partialitie, and affection in &s;uch ca&s;e. He was not al&s;o vnmindful how Pharoa before he cho&s;e a man for Superiour ouer all Egipt he made &s;erch for one that was full of Gods &s;pirit. Moy&s;es the guide of the people of the Hebrues a little before his death, beinge to leaue a gouer|nor ouer al his multitude would not make choi&s;e of any of his owne children, or of tho&s;e of his brother Aaron, but remittinge all to God, he praied for Gods holy in&s;piration to be directed in this, and he heard the&s;e wordes out of the mouth of God. Take Io&s;ua the &s;on of Nun, a man which hath the &s;pirit of God, and lay thy hand vpon him. And after he had well, and adui&s;edly balan|ced the&s;e examples he concluded (as he was elo|quent) in this manner.</P>
<P><Q REND="inline">Seeinge that an election is a matter of &s;uch importance, and a truth knowen and auowed of all wi&s;emen, of an Alexander, which would haue the mo&s;t worthie, of a Pharao, which would haue him which had the &s;pirit of God, of a Moy&s;es who&s;e authoritie is of more weight then the re&s;t,
<PB N="202" REF="118"> who putt the iudgement, and triall of it to God, I leaue it to your con&s;iderations who are &s;pirituall per&s;ons, con&s;ecrated to God by holy vowes, who ought to haue noe other motiue, but the honor of God, and are called hether to this effect, what choi&s;e ye ought to make, and how ye ought to reque&s;t nothinge but the pure honor, and glory of God, and the common and vniuer&s;all good of the Prouince.</Q></P>
<P>Among the qualities which a Prelate, or a Su|periour ought to haue, this B. Father recited foure, which he gathered out of holy Scripture, as &s;oe many articles of the will of God. The fir&s;t is, Goodnes of life, and therfore they are called <HI>the &s;alt of the earth.</HI> The &s;econd is, the &s;ufficiencie of learninge, becau&s;e they are called <HI>the light</HI> of the world. The third is force in aduer&s;itie, &amp; therfore they are compared to a <HI>City built vpon a</HI> moun|taine. The fourth is, light of good example, for our Sauiour &s;aith that no man <HI>lighteth a candle for to keepe it hid,</HI> but that it being &s;ett vpon a candle|&s;ticke may lighten all tho&s;e that enter into the hou&s;e. The rea&s;on of all this is, becau&s;e (&s;aith he) man falleth into &s;inne by foure great euills, con|cupi&s;cence, ignorance, infirmitie, and malice, which were as the foure great woundes which Prelats who are the Phi&s;itians of the &s;oule ought to remedy, and cure with proper Antidotes, which cannot be better mini&s;tred then by the&s;e quali|ties. For concupi&s;cence of our vnruly appetites, the &s;alt of good life is very proper. For ignorance
<PB N="203" REF="119"> of the vnder&s;tandinge, the light of learninge, a|gain&s;t the infirmitie of free will, the citie was built vpon a mountaine, and the lampe of good example, &s;erueth to driue away the malice of per|uer&s;e will.</P>
<P>How this B. Father was indued with all the&s;e qualities, it is &s;ufficiently proued by the former Chapters; For he had eminently the&s;e two pro|perties of &s;alt, which are to keepe meats from corruption, and to &s;ea&s;on the vn&s;auory; who&s;e only &s;ight often re&s;trayned others from corrup|tion of &s;innes, and made others &s;auourably ta&s;t of tho&s;e mortifications which are in them&s;el|ues vnplea&s;inge, by becomminge to them as &s;alt to &s;ea&s;on them. For by his example he encoura|ged others: and often compared a Prelate, who&s;e wordes are not accompanied with deedes to a &s;alt &s;eller without &s;alt, or to euented, and corrupted &s;alt which is faire in &s;hewe, and in effect &s;erueth not for that v&s;e, for which it &s;hould be &s;eruicea|ble. Be&s;ides good life, knowledge is required to conduct others: He &s;ayd that for this conduct there were two Keyes to be had, one of Iuri&s;|diction, an other of Knowledge, and the one and the other ought to accompanie good life. Whence it commeth that God, &s;ayd he, would giue the Keys of the hou&s;e of Dauid vpon the &s;houlder of Eliacim, not about his neck, nor att his gridle, nor in his hand. Tho&s;e, weare the keys on their neck, which &s;earch prelacies to be honored and re&s;pected. Tho&s;e beare them
<PB N="204" REF="119"> in their handes which &s;eeke to content their frin|des as anie occa&s;ion is offerred, not re&s;pectinge others though more fitt, and &s;ufficient. And tho&s;e weare the Key att their girdles, who who|lie &s;eeke their owne priuate commodity; and in|tere&s;t, make good cheare, and liue in al plea&s;ure &amp; ioylitie. He added for better explication, how this light ought to be acco~panied with goodnes: that there are two &s;ortes of goodnes, the one ab&s;olute, the other re&s;pectiue. The ab&s;olute con&s;i&s;teth in the loue of God, as the foundation of &s;piri|tuall light, and knowledge, without which a Prelate, or Superiour is as a &s;hipp vpon the &s;ea without an helme, caryed with the windes of his pa&s;&s;ion, and the &s;tretched out &s;ayles of the vanitie of his de&s;ire: but this is not enough to haue this ab&s;olute goodnes, we mu&s;t haue al&s;o re&s;pectiue, to witt knowledge, di&s;cour&s;e, di&s;cretion, iudge|ment, prudence, for as much as this goodnes is a certaine rule and direction to finde meanes pro|portioned, and well &s;uting to euery mans end. Ab&s;olute goodnes is the end, but re&s;pectiue is that which giueth the meanes to attaine to it. For how (&s;ayth he) can a Superiour gouerne well which hath neither di&s;cour&s;e nor iudgement, nor practi&s;e to knowe, &amp; di&s;cerne how he mu&s;t guide this or that per&s;on? Becau&s;e he mu&s;t carry him|&s;elfe otherwi&s;e to the good, then to the badd, in one &s;ort to him that is &s;trong and lu&s;tie, and in an other &s;ort to him, that is weake, and feeble: he mu&s;t rule the one with &s;harpnes, and &s;eueritie, the
<PB N="205" REF="120"> other with &s;weetnes. A Superiour mu&s;t &s;hewe him&s;elfe &s;ometimes rigorus, and &s;harpe, &amp; &s;ome|times &s;weet, and affable, &s;ometimes he mu&s;t di&s;|&s;emble, and expect, other times take them vpon the pre&s;ent occa&s;ion. Briefely he ought to haue re&s;pectiue goodnes, &amp; &s;oe much the more he &s;hall haue, by &s;oe much he &s;hal be more fitt to gouerne. And for this cau&s;e in elections, he is to be cho&s;en which hath ab&s;olute, and re&s;pectiue both toge|ther, but yet he that hath more re&s;pectiue, is to be preferred before him which hath le&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>The third qualitie wherewith our Sauiour would haue a Prelate indued is force, and con&s;ta~|cie of &s;piritt. Lett him not be as an emptie reed light, vaine, and incon&s;tant, let not him &s;uffer him &s;elfe to be caryed away with the wind of his pa&s;&s;ions, loue, hatred, hope, feare, reuenge, but without apprehen&s;ion, lett him &s;u&s;taine the right, and Iu&s;tice, yea although it be with perill of his life, and &s;peake freely the truth where and when it is needfull, whether it plea&s;e, or do not plea&s;e: lett him haue nothing before his eies, but the ho|nor of God principally, and the good of his Church, or religion, lett him not be an accepter of per&s;ons, but equall to all, lett him haue no am|bition to Prelacie, lett him not &s;eeke it, neither lett him be moued to do any vnfitt or vndecent thing for it. <HI>Such a one</HI> (&s;ayd this B. Father) is a citie, not &s;cituated in a valey of feare, of hope, or of his owne proper pa&s;&s;ion, but vpon a mountaine of a free hart, lifted vp aboue all earthly thinges,
<PB N="206" REF="120"> and only attentiue to the will of God. A citie of refuge for the poore oppre&s;&s;ed &amp; afflicted, which receaueth all, and giueth reliefe to all according to their nece&s;&s;itie: Such a citie as S. Iohn de&s;cri|beth in the Apocalip&s;e 21. which hath the walls of gold, the gates of pearle, and in the mid&s;t of it is the tree of life, which bringeth foorth fruite, who&s;e leaues are al&s;o medicinable, &s;uch a one ought a Prelate to be, embelli&s;hed with gold, and pearles, that is to &s;ay with vertue, and merits, the tree of life ought to be in his heart, the leaues which are medicinall, are his wordes of edifica|tion, &amp; the abundant fruites his good workes. In the end the fourth qualitie of a Prelate or Supe|riour, is that he be a lampe &s;hininge vpon a candle|&s;ticke, that is to &s;ay, that he teach others more by example, then by word: Wherfore our Sauiour did not content him&s;elfe to &s;ay, that they &s;hould be the light of the world, which properly apper|teyneth to the &s;unne, for as much as the &s;unne &s;hi|ninge in the world, doth it in his motion without paine, or feeling any incommodity, but the lampe giueth light to its owne co&s;t, becau&s;e it con&s;u|meth it &s;elfe. Soe Ie&s;us Chri&s;t who is the rule, and &s;quare of others, hath not illuminated the world only as the &s;unne, but as a lampe put vpon the candle&s;ticke of the hou&s;e, whereto lighten vs he con&s;umed him&s;elfe in lee&s;inge his owne life. This is &s;o worthie of &s;erious con&s;ideration, that this ble&s;&s;ed Father could not thinke of it without breakinge into the&s;e wordes. O how many are
<PB N="207" REF="121"> tho&s;e now which &s;eeke after dignities, and pre|lacy to &s;hine in high place, and as the Sun to giue light without their paine, and trauaile, and not as the lampe. Do ye beleeue and knowe who the&s;e are? they are tho&s;e of whom Saint Mathewe &s;peaketh in the 23. Chapter. <HI>Qui allegant onera grauiae, &amp; importabilia, digito autem &s;uo nolunt ea mouere.</HI> Who tye great and mo&s;t heauy burdens vpon others, but they will not touch them with a finger. The&s;e are they who in Prelacie regard honors, and not the paines, which &s;eeke after dig|nities, to liue att their ea&s;e, to be honored, re&s;|pected, to receaue all kind of contentment, in fine they be &s;un, not lampe. We read in holy Scripture two &s;orts of Cherubins, the fir&s;t were made of Moy&s;es by Gods commandement; they looked towards the propitiatory, and had their faces tur|ned one again&s;t the other. The &s;econd were made by Salomon, and put in the temple, but they did looke towardes the propitiatory as the fir&s;t, nether did they looke one vpon the other, but had their faces turned towards the outward tem|ple; What &s;hould this &s;ignifie, but two &s;orts of Prelates where of the fir&s;t made, and cho&s;en of God, are good, holy, wi&s;e, zealous, and regard only the propitiatory, that is to &s;ay the glory of God, without turninge their eies, but vpon the knowledge of them&s;elues; for they are lampes which giue light to the hou&s;e to their owne Co&s;t. The others which are elected but not of God, but by the grace, and fauour of men, by &s;uborna|tion,
<PB N="208" REF="121"> and homages, and the&s;e do not looke to|wardes the propitiatory, or the honour of God, but the outward temple, their owne Intere&s;t, their owne preferment, or contentment, true &s;unnes which increa&s;e in their &s;ple~dour, but with|out trauaile or paine. Let Prelates and Superiours (my bretheren) which ought to be cho&s;en propo&s;e to them&s;elues an other end, lett them be &s;alt to their good life, light for their doctrine, a citie for the force and &s;trenghte, a lampe for good exam|ple, and &s;o &s;hal they haue all conditions nece&s;&s;arily required.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="19" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his per&s;euerance. THE NINETEENTH CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THe number is great of tho&s;e that beginne well, but very &s;mall of tho&s;e that end well: but this ble&s;&s;ed Father hauinge the&s;e wordes of|ten in his mout, hand truly grauen in his heart. <HI>Quicunque per&s;euerat v&s;que ad finem, &s;aluus erit,</HI> went forward in his good de&s;ignes couragiou&s;ly, and per&s;euered till the end, neither did he re&s;t con|tented to continue in that e&s;tate wherunto God had exalted him, but he lett no occa&s;ion nor, no houre pa&s;&s;e in which he did not &s;triue &s;till to go forward, and aduance him&s;elfe in vertue and pie|tie: &s;o that euery day wrought &s;ome change in him, with euident markes of more perfection, for he was wont to &s;ay that as &s;oone as a ma~ giues
<PB N="209" REF="122"> ouer the care and diligence of betteringe him|&s;elfe daily, and profitinge in pietie, and deuotion, he pre&s;ently cea&s;ed to be good, and &s;o he e&s;tee|med per&s;euerance the mother of perfection. S. Paul (&s;aid he) had but a badd beginninge, but his end was good, holy, and glorious. S. Mary Mag|dalene began ill, but ended happily, and &s;oe like|wi&s;e the good thiefe on the Cro&s;&s;e. On the con|trary &s;ide Iudas, had a good beginninge, but an ill end. Soe likewi&s;e had Salomon, and Saul. Tho&s;e that end well, though they began ill, are commen|ded in holy Scripture, the other condemned. The vertue of euery good worke, con&s;i&s;teth in per&s;e|uerance: the life of a religious, and iu&s;t man is com|pared in the Canticles, to the morninge, and in the Prouerbs to light, which goeth on encrea&s;ing till perfitt day. <HI>Iustorum &s;emita qua&s;i lux &s;plendens, cre&s;cit v&s;que ad per&s;ectum diem.</HI> Soe a good Chri|&s;tian, and religious per&s;on ought to encrea&s;e, and goe forward in the &s;eruice of God, as a faire morninge, and cleare light, which groweth on euen to the perfitt brightnes of the day of eterni|tie, where it cannot be more perfitt, hauinge at|tayned the vttmo&s;t terme of perfection. In this manner Diuines do &s;peake, who call this life the way, and heauen the terme, and end of the waie.</P>
<P>The practi&s;e of this holy vertue did not only appeere in this B. Father, in that he continued the rigor of his au&s;terities, and the &s;harpenes of his penances, from the beginninge of his conuer|&s;ion to the end of his daies, as we haue well no|ted
<PB N="210" REF="122"> before, but in many other actions which he might haue omitted without any &s;cruple, he &s;hewed an inuincible con&s;tancie in the pro&s;ecu|tion of them, renouncinge in the end all &s;ort of difficulties, and reaping much profit, where many other had lo&s;t their labour and paine. For if there were a matter which concerned the conuer&s;ion of a &s;inner, or the con&s;olation of &s;ome eminent per|&s;on, for the lo&s;&s;e of &s;ome thing wherin he had ta|ken great contentment, he feared not great diffi|culties in the beginninge (knowing that all &s;ortes of &s;piritts, are not ea&s;ily moued by rea&s;onable per&s;wa&s;ions) but in the end he obteyned his de|&s;ire, redoublinge the violence of his holie per&s;wa|&s;ions.</P>
<P>Howe often hath he bene &s;eene in affaires of con&s;equence wayting for a conuenient time, and attendinge the per&s;ons, and occa&s;ions, returninge three, or foure times without &s;hewinge any wea|rines in followinge the matter he had in hand, and not giuinge it ouer, till he had &s;eene a good end, principally when the bu&s;ines was of import, for the good of others, and gods glory?</P>
<P>Whiles he preached att Lyons, he was much grieued to &s;ee the di&s;ordered behauiour of manie at the time of Shrouetide, &amp; thereupon tooke oc|ca&s;ion to reproue it publickly. And when as &s;ome told him that it was almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible to cure &s;uch an old &s;oare, and an euill &s;o farre growen by long cu&s;tome. To the~ he an&s;wered. I wil do that at lea&s;t which Gods holy &s;pirit &s;hall in&s;pire me, and
<PB N="211" REF="123"> which I am bound to &s;peake. God I hope of his grace will giue force, and effect to my wordes, &amp; accompli&s;h the re&s;t, if it be his holy will. He did &s;o, and was &s;o vehement again&s;t the&s;e exerci&s;es, that the zeale of his &s;oule appeared in his face, &amp; he obteyned much more then men could imagine; bringinge to pa&s;&s;e that tho&s;e dayes were &s;pent in exerci&s;es of deuotion, and piety, which before were pa&s;t in debauches, and &s;infull vanities. He went often to vi&s;it pri&s;oners, and made publique exhortations to them, be&s;ides particuler confe|rences with euery one a part, of which labour he gather<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">d a great fruite. For &s;ome which had noe feelinge of deuotion, and would not heare of Confe&s;&s;ion, nor the Sacraments, were moued to confe&s;&s;e and communicate mo&s;t deuou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ly, and did with great patience expect their &s;entence, whereas before they did nothinge but bla&s;phe|me. He began before Lent the&s;e holy vi&s;itts, and duringe that time, co~tinued it thri&s;e a weeke with an earne&s;t affection, althoughe he preached, and fa&s;ted euery day, &s;oe that oftentimes, he had no ley&s;ure to take his poore dinner, becau&s;e he would haue more time to comfort, and a&s;&s;i&s;t the poore &s;oules.</P>
<P>The reader will excu&s;e me, if I preuent here an obiection which may be made again&s;t his per|&s;euerance becau&s;e he went out of his Mona&s;tery &s;ometime: but becau&s;e the publique benefitt cau|&s;ed his departure, he merited as much in that time, as if he had continued in religion, be&s;ides
<PB N="212" REF="123"> he practi&s;ed all deuotions, that he could well v&s;e, when occa&s;ion was offered. And God which ac|cepteth the wills of men, when they cannot &s;hewe the effects, gaue noe doubt the &s;ame grace to his good affections, as he had don to the very workes. And that we may &s;ee what greife he con|ceaued hereby, that he could not per&s;euere in this cour&s;e of life, I will report his owne wordes, which he applyed to the religious, who after &s;ome time &s;pent in religion &s;hould haue any de&s;ire to retourne to the thickets of thornes in the world.</P>
<P>He compared them to the children of I&s;rael, who where they heard that they mu&s;t fight to en|ter into the land of promi&s;e, a land flowinge with milke and honie, they were much di&s;mayd, and weepinge all night, incited one an other to choo&s;e a captaine who might lead the~ backe into Egipt, forgetting what they had &s;uffered vnder the ty|rannicall yoke of Pharao: And behold (&s;aid he) the rea&s;on why men do not per&s;euere in vertue! which is becau&s;e they feare labour and paine, and this proceedeth from their want of con&s;ideration, and courage, or witt, that they do not &s;ee what grat recompence followe &s;hort labours, and howe eternall torments &s;ucceed their &s;hort plea&s;ures. This is it which happeneth &s;piritually to a reli|gious man, which is gon well on his way in the de&s;ert of Pennance, and hath endured much for Gods &s;eruice, and is affrighted with certaine &s;hadowes, which the Deuill putteth in his fancy
<PB N="213" REF="124"> entertayneth &s;ome purpo&s;e to returne backe to his life pa&s;t with the body, or with the &s;oule, and &s;ayth. Let vs make vs a Captaine, &amp; returne backe into Egipt.</P>
<P>O wretched man, how is it, that thou enter|tayne&s;t this idle dreame? thou ha&s;t allready made a great part of thy iourney, and wilt thou now go back? thou art very neere the land of promi&s;e, and haue but a little patience, and thou wilt pre|&s;ently arriue there, and there &s;olace thy &s;elfe for|euer. Thou do&s;t not con&s;ider, that thou &s;halt not enioye the fruites, and fauors of Gods prouidence which thou had&s;t in religion; and in the &s;tate of grace. He fedd thee with heauenly Manna, then &s;halt haue no other foode but the husks of &s;wine. He opened for thee the red &s;ea, &s;o thou did&s;t pa&s;&s;e through it, without wettinge thy feete, thou wilt then finde it clo&s;ed vp, and thou wilt be ouer|whelmed in it. He deliuered thee from the bon|dage of Pharao, and now thou wilt vndergoe a harder yoke of &s;la<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">age. And becau&s;e thou art not content to &s;uffer a little while, thou wilt &s;uffer for all eternitie; and while&s;t thou &s;eeke&s;t to auoid the burden, and heate of the day, thou wilt &s;uffer the torments of eternal flames: and while&s;t thou refu&s;e&s;t &s;ome &s;mall trauaile and paine, thou pur|cha&s;e&s;t thy &s;elfe infinitely fair more, and greater, both in this life and in the life to come: whereas with light and &s;hort paine, thou &s;uffere&s;t for the loue of God, thou mighte&s;t haue bought eternall ioy, glory, and repo&s;e. O vngratefull foole worthy
<PB N="214" REF="124"> to be lamented with teares of bloud, and tho<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> doe&s;t not &s;ee it, &ocirc; blind and mi&s;erable man.</P>
<P>He had alwaies before his eies many great mo|tiues to &s;tirre vp his &s;oule to turne al her thoughts, and affections to this holy vertue of per&s;euerance, as he hath left &s;ome of them written by his owne hand. The fir&s;t was, the nece&s;&s;itie of it, for it is nece&s;&s;ary to the attayninge of that heauenly re|compence, which is giuen to vs after our tempo|rall labour, and paine. And without this all other things profitt vs nothinge, as it is manife&s;t, by the &s;entence pronounced out of the mouth of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, the authour of truth, and the very truth in e&s;&s;ence.</P>
<P>For this cau&s;e he compared the entrance into religion with bapti&s;me, by which grace is recea|ued, and the child of darknes is made the child of light. He &s;aid moreouer, that heauen was a&s;&s;u|red to them as a portion common with the elect, prouided alwaies &s;aid he, that we keepe our good purpo&s;e, which we had then, euen to the end, and that we keepe the vowe which we made: to be breife, &s;o that we per&s;euere to the end, and this is the nece&s;&s;itie of per&s;euerance.</P>
<P>The &s;econd thing which he con&s;idered in per|&s;euerance was the excellencie of it, wheras it is (as hath bene already &s;poken) the mother of per|fection, for it giueth that contentment vnto vs, after we haue practi&s;ed &s;ome vertue, that we thinke of nothinge more, then of the continuan|ce of it.</P>
<PB N="215" REF="125">
<P>The third thing was, that he knew this vertue to be the gift of God, and therefore he dearely cheri&s;hed, and re&s;pected it. It is &s;aid formally, and immediately the gift of God, wherfore we mu&s;t &s;till pray for it, and in&s;tantly demand it of God, for the grace which we haue receaued of God in iu&s;tification is not &s;ufficient for a iu&s;t man, but he hath need of new &s;upply, and newe grace to per|&s;euere, as S. Thomas teacheth. For although per|&s;euerance, as it &s;ignifieth a good habitude, and vertuall meanes, by which we haue a full purpo&s;e to per&s;euere to the end, be in the &s;oule of a iu&s;ti|fied man, wi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h grace, and other vertues; notwith|&s;tandinge, for as much as it &s;ignifieth a certaine continuation euen to the end of life, in this &s;ort it doth not alwayes followe grace, but lett a man be neuer &s;o holy yet &s;tandeth he in need of new fre&s;h ayd, and of the &s;peciall grace of God, to ob|taine this great gift of per&s;euerance, and herein we ought wholy to mi&s;tru&s;t our &s;elues, &amp; to rely wholy vpon Gods goodnes, and mercie. Wher|fore we reade that our holy Father S. Francis, af|ter he had receaued the holy &s;ignes, and markes, and made &s;o high a degree of &s;anctitie, &s;o feared him&s;elfe, that he an&s;wered one that called him. Sainct, that if God did for&s;ake him he might com|mit all the &s;innes of the world. And if S. Francis after &s;o high fauours of God, feared to become a &s;inner, what may we feare, beinge &s;o farr &s;hort of him in holines of life? Why therfore &s;hould not we mi&s;tru&s;t our &s;elues, and humbly begg of
<PB N="216" REF="125"> God, that he would giue vs continuall obedience, and conformitie to this holy will?</P>
<P>The fourth motiue was, that he &s;ett before his eiyes continually the fir&s;t feruours of his Nouice|&s;hipp, thinking it a great di&s;honour to him, if it &s;hould be &s;aid that his beginninge was more cou|ragious then his end, whereas accordinge to the common &s;ayinge, not to proceede in the waie of vertue, is to goe backe, and recoyle: for this pur|po&s;e he cited the wordes which S. Paul wrote to the Hebrewes newly co~uerted to the faith. <HI>Reme|moramini pristinos dies in quibus illuminati magnum certamen pa&s;sionum &s;u&s;tinui&s;tis.</HI> My bretheren reme~|ber often the fir&s;t day of your Nouice&s;hipp, in which ye beinge illuminated, did valiantly re&s;i&s;t the battery of many pa&s;&s;ions, and won the victory of them by Gods grace. Euen then when all your enemies, were banded withall their force again&s;t you, I meane the world withall her vanities, ri|ches, honors, glory, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, dignities, fa|uours &amp;c. the fle&s;h withall her &s;en&s;ualities, de|lights, and plea&s;ures. The Deuill withall his ar|tifices, tentations, ambu&s;hes, &s;tratagems, feares, and affrights, to with-hold you from your holy purpo&s;e, and yet yee triumphed gloriou&s;ly ouer all the&s;e enemies, and lifted vp the &s;tandard of the Cro&s;&s;e: att the &s;ame time, <HI>venistis, &amp; vidistis, &amp; vicistis,</HI> ye came and beheld them, and ouer|came them. O happy day, &ocirc; memorable bat|taile, &ocirc; noble victory by meanes whereof, the heauens, God him&s;elf, and the Angells reioyced,
<PB N="217" REF="126"> the earth was a&s;toni&s;hed, and hell trembled for feare: how many crownes haue bene prepared from that houre for you as conquerers? <HI>Rememo|ramini pri&s;tinos dies.</HI> Remember I &s;ay your fir&s;t de|&s;ire, when as ye not vnlike to ve&s;&s;ells filled with &s;weet, or new wine, which boyleth, and ri&s;eth, not able to containe with you the abunda~ce of de|uine con&s;olations, ye were forced to bur&s;t foorth with great violence, into groanes, &s;ighes, &amp; teares, and with danger le&s;t the brickle ve&s;&s;ells ouerchar|ged with this violent entry of the floodes of the hou&s;e of God, were nor broken to pieces.</P>
<P>He beinge animated with the&s;e motiues per&s;e|uered con&s;tantly in the practi&s;e of tho&s;e vertues, which he had begunne to put in vre, and was not di&s;mayed, by any au&s;terity, and difficultie in the pro&s;ecutinge of that vertue, wherupon our &s;ou|les health dependeth, and the ble&s;&s;ed end of our pilgrimage.</P>
<P>For tell me (&s;aid he) &s;hould not we e&s;teeme him a <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">oole, who after he hath gotten a rich trea&s;ure with great trauaile, would &s;ett downe, and ad|uenture <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ll that at one ca&s;t of a die, and &s;o lee&s;e it? How much greater is the folly of a good Chri|&s;tian, or religious per&s;on, who hauinge gayned a great trea&s;ure of meritts, will plaie it awaie all at once committing one mortall &s;inne? Therfore to preuent &s;o great mi&s;chiefe. <HI>Patientia nobis nece&s;&s;a|ria e&s;t.</HI> Patience is nece&s;&s;ary for you. By patience there is not only vnder&s;tood the &s;ufferance of ad|uer&s;ities, but that which is called Longanimitie,
<PB N="218" REF="126"> which is longe &s;ufferinge, which is indeed per&s;e|uerance, and &s;tablenes of &s;pirit in that which is good, which is &s;o nece&s;&s;ary for the &s;eruant of God, that without it, all is lo&s;t, and he &s;hall neuer en|ioy the promi&s;e, which God hath made to him of the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of the kingdome of heauen. <HI>Vt vo|luntatem Dei facientes reportetis promi&s;sionem.</HI> That doinge the will of God ye may carrie awaie his promi&s;e. This is an abridgement of &s;ome of his vertues. The greate&s;t part was only knowen to God; And for his actions mo&s;t remarqueable, the Capucins (as they are farre from all o&s;tenta|tions, hidinge them&s;elues from the eies of the world) haue neglected to make any exact colle|ction. Wherin (be it &s;poken without offence) I thinke they haue done ami&s;&s;e, for his Heroicall vertues, had not only &s;erued for a perpetuall mir|ror, or gla&s;&s;e of millions of &s;oules, to drawe them out of the &s;ea of the world, and to bringe them to the &s;anctuary of religion: but it had doutle&s;ly &s;waied much with many ob&s;tinate per&s;o~s in their &s;infull life, &amp; had forced them to admire his ver|tues, wherby many would haue changed their li|ues, and become better. For there is nothinge that doth preuaile more in this kind, then the example of &s;uch eminent per&s;ons as he was; and moreouer it is Gods holy wil, that his frindes be prai&s;ed, and commended for their actions, if not duringe their liues, becau&s;e the corruption of this age would call it flattery, yet after their death, where vanitie cannot &s;eaze vpon the &s;oule, and when as the end hath crowned the worke.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="20" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="219" REF="127">
<HEAD>Of his voyage to Rome to the generall Chapter, and what he did there. THE TWENTITH CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>AFter the death of Mon&s;eiur the Duke of Montpen&s;ier, the time drawinge on that he beinge now Prouinciall, ought to be pre&s;ent att the generall Chapter, to con&s;ult with the re&s;t of his bretheren concerninge the &s;tate of their reli|gion, and to giue a particuler accompt of the affai|res of his Prouince, he parted immediately after Ea&s;ter from Paris to be att Rome before whit&s;on|ti<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e. For the chapter was then to begin. And God by his &s;peciall prouidence did &s;o di&s;po&s;e, that he was cho&s;en generall Definitour by the common con&s;ent of all the Prouincialls mett together.</P>
<P>The length of the way, and the great heate of &s;ummer cau&s;ed <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he kinge (that his iourney might be more ea&s;y after he had &s;taied him) to prepare <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">or him a galley, to bringe him from Mar&s;elles to Ciuita Vectia, which was but on daies iourney di&s;tant from Rome. They had the Sea &amp; wind gain&s;t them all along their voyage, and were &s;hrewedly beaten with tempe&s;tuous weather, which cea&s;ed by meanes of his prayers, not with|out great wonderment, and reioy&s;inge of other pa&s;&s;engers, which being driuen by the windes a|mong the rockes, could expect nothinge but a di&s;a&s;trous &s;hippwracke. The&s;e incommodities of
<PB N="220" REF="127"> the &s;ea, made his companion fall into a feuer, when he was arriued at Ciuita Vectia. Wherupon the B: Father Angell was con&s;trayned to &s;ett him on hor&s;ebacke going after him the re&s;t of the way. This good religious man was much greiued at it, beinge a&s;hamed to ride him&s;elfe on hor&s;ebacke, &amp; his Prouincial a foote. He demanded pardon of him withal &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion: &amp; Father Angel did &s;eeke to comfort him as much as he could, &s;ayinge that God permitted this for a greater good, and that he did drawe &s;weetnes out of bitternes, as water out of the rocke, that at their returne they &s;hould haue more ley&s;ure to repo&s;e them&s;elues, that they &s;hould re&s;igne them&s;elues to Gods holy will, and with &s;pirituall di&s;cour&s;e, he &s;weetned the rigor of the re&s;t of the way, till they came to Rome. When he was came to Rome, the fir&s;t thing, that he did after he had confe&s;&s;ed, and vi&s;ited the holy places, was to humbly pre&s;ent him&s;elfe to his ho|lines, who &s;eeinge him pro&s;trate on the ground to ki&s;&s;e his feete, he lifted him vpp, and gaue him his hand to ki&s;&s;e, &s;hewinge extraordinary affection to him, and reioy&s;inge much to &s;ee him, which he witne&s;&s;ed by the effects. For whiles he &s;eiourned att Rome, he &s;ent him euery day &s;ome confiture, and &s;uch pre&s;ents, which might not be vnfitt for a poore Capucin to receaue, knowing well, that his body hauing bene delicately bred, and fedd in his youth, needed &s;ome kind of re&s;tauratiues after the trauaile of &s;o long a iourney. The good Fa|ther receaued them with mo&s;t humble thankes,
<PB N="221" REF="128"> but he would neuer ta&s;t of them him&s;elfe, but cau|&s;ed them to be giuen to the &s;icke per&s;ons of their infirmary, as he was wont to do when he had re|ceaued the like from his frinds in Fraunce.</P>
<P>This generall Chapter is an a&s;&s;embly of the Prouincialls, of the whole order in what part of the world &s;oeuer they are, with two Gardiens of euery Prouince, where there are &s;uch per&s;o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters"> a&s;|&s;embled, that it may be truly &s;ayd, that this is the floure of religion, a mirror of vertues, and an An|gelical armie, clothed in earthly bodies.</P>
<P>Here did the B. Father Angell make knowen tho&s;e graces which he had receaued from heaue~, and his burnning zeale <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">or the aduancement of religion, and his excellinge of iudgement in fin|ding out meanes for that end, &amp; his notable pru|dence in puttinge them into execution, which are the three pillers which vphould a reguler buil|dinge. Notwith&s;tandinge he cea&s;ed not &s;omtimes to vi&s;itt his holines, who gaue him freely, and with great contentment audience as often as he came. All Rome was filled with the &s;weete o|dours of his vertues, if he pa&s;&s;ed by the &s;treetes, euerie man de&s;ired to &s;ee him, and his naturall grauitie, his comlie tall &s;tature, and his port full of maie&s;tie, appearinge vnder the mode&s;tie of his poore habitt, did &s;hewe what he had ben, with|out any intimation of tho&s;e that knewe him. If he entred into Churches, all admired his deuo|tion. In the Conuent all the Fathers, de&s;ired one after another, to haue conference with him, to
<PB N="222" REF="128"> learne &s;omewhat of him. The &s;ick per&s;ons which lay vpon their &s;trawe beds, receiued great con&s;o|lation by his vi&s;its. To be &s;hort, hauinge no other time for him &s;elfe, but for to &s;ay Ma&s;&s;e, he was fayne to take the night time for the di&s;patch of his publique bu&s;ines, and other particuler com|mi&s;&s;ions which he had, yet was he as chearefull the next morninge, as it he had &s;weetely re&s;ted, &amp; fell to the &s;ame taske againe.</P>
<P>His companion wondered att this, and taking brotherly libertie which he had giuen to him, ad|moni&s;hed him thus, and &s;ayd, that this great conti|nuall labour would ouerthrowe his health, if he were not more prouident in giuinge him &s;elfe &s;ome re&s;t. To whom he an&s;wered, that God was to good, as not to haue care of his &s;eruants, and that it was for him to di&s;po&s;e of them as it plea|&s;ed him, and for them to put in practi&s;e what be|longed to them: and this was a thing very remar|queable, that in the thick cloudes of &s;o many bu|&s;ines, he had allwayes a &s;milinge, and &s;erene coun|tenance in token of his inward ioye.</P>
<P>He was wont to &s;ay, that God loued nothinge, which doth not proceed from a ioyfull hart, and contentment of affection, and all tho&s;e that beare the cro&s;&s;e, do not receaue the fruites, and benefitts of it. For (&s;ayd he) I find, explicating the wordes of S. Paul. God forbidd that I &s;hould glorie in any thing, then in the Cro&s;&s;e of Chri&s;t. I finde herein (&s;ayd he) three &s;orts of per&s;ons, &s;ome that &s;alute, and adore the Cro&s;&s;e, but do not beare it,
<PB N="223" REF="129"> nor glory them&s;elues in it, &s;uch are tho&s;e which can well di&s;cour&s;e of it and prai&s;e it much, but when occa&s;ion is pre&s;ented, they fly, and abando~ it. There ar &s;ome others which beare it, but they glorie not in it, and the&s;e are they who &s;uffer per|&s;ecutions, tribulations, or infirmities, becau&s;e they can do no otherwi&s;e, herein like to Simon Sire|neus which a&s;&s;i&s;ted our Sauiour in bearinge his cro&s;&s;e, but not of good will, but by con&s;traint.</P>
<P>Thirdly there are others, who do not only &s;a|lute, and beare the Cro&s;&s;e, but they glory therin, bearinge willinglie their nece&s;&s;ities, and afflic|tions, reioy&s;inge in Gods holy will, and thanke God who hath vouch&s;afed to make them parta|kers of his Chalice. The la&s;t of the&s;e three &s;orts do only gather the &s;auourous fruits of the Cro&s;&s;e, and find glory in infirmitie, life in death, &s;weet|nes in bitternes, ioy in &s;orrowe, and an incompa|rable trea&s;ure in pouertie. Whence it co~meth to pa&s;&s;e many deceaue the~&s;elues, thinkinge that per|fection con&s;i&s;teth in enioyinge their ea&s;e with gu&s;t and feelinge, in vi&s;ions, exta&s;ies, and rapts, in great &s;peculations of the vnder&s;tandinge, in delightfull &s;weetnes of the affection. But alas it con&s;i&s;teth in none of the&s;e. It is in imitating our Sauiour Ie&s;us Chri&s;t vpon the Cro&s;&s;e, where all the Saints haue &s;earched him, and found him, which is to trauaile for the loue of God. This is the marck we ought to ayme at, &s;tirred vp be&s;ides by the exa~ple of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, by that our Seraphicall Father S. Frauncis, which was a new crucified man, and bearinge
<PB N="224" REF="129"> the&s;e holy markes. <HI>Ego enim &s;tigmata Domini Ie&s;u in corpore meo porto.</HI> The chapter being fini&s;hed he beinge now to returne to Fraunce, went to take his la&s;t farewell of his holines, who gaue him au|dience, with wonted, and accu&s;tomed fauour, and &s;eeing by his humble thankes, which he gaue for his pre&s;entes receaued, that he was ready to depart, he renewed againe great offer of his fa|uours, which he refu&s;ed with great humility, as he had done formerly. After the&s;e refu&s;es of ho|nors, he gaue a great Cro&s;&s;e of gold, with two chappelers of Agats, one for his daughter Madame the Dutche&s;&s;e, and the other for Madamo&s;elle de Monpen&s;ier her daughter, and his grandchild, but this could not moue his re&s;olution, for he was not only dead to all things of the world, but they were al&s;o dead in him, &s;o that he had neuer accepted them, if his holines, and the B. Father: Generall who was pre&s;ent, had not ab&s;olutely commanded him to take them. Hauinge taken them he pro&s;trated him&s;elfe, and tooke his ho|lines ble&s;&s;inge withall humilitie, who coun&s;elled him with Fatherly charitie to continue in his glo|rious de&s;ignes, with promi&s;e to keepe him in his remembrance, and to witnes his affection to him as occa&s;ion &s;hould be, ether for his particuler, or the good of his religion in Generall.</P>
<P>His holines reque&s;ted him often to go on hor&s;|backe, and not to expo&s;e his health to the ex|treame heate of the &s;ea&s;on, and of the climate, to which he was not accu&s;tomed. Which he refu&s;ed
<PB N="225" REF="130"> with great humilitie, beinge not willing to relea&s;e any thing of the au&s;terity of his order. So being full of zeale, after he had taken his leaue of the Cardinalls and &s;ome other eminent per&s;ons, he departed from Rome, the tenth of Augu&s;t 1608. leauinge the whole citie repleni&s;hed, with the odour of his exemplary deuotion and admiration of his prudence.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="21" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his returne from Rome, and what happened to him in the way. THE XXI. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>MEn propo&s;e oftentimes, and God doth di&s;|po&s;e: his &s;entences are hereby contrary to their determinations. The eies of his prouidence &s;ee farther then the eies of our affections; And be|cau&s;e the pre&s;ent obiect, beguilinge vs often vn|der the appeerance of &s;ome good doth hinder vs, that we do not duly con&s;ider, nor vnder&s;tand the greater, or le&s;&s;er profitt, which will redound from the end, hence it commeth to pa&s;&s;e, that God &s;eeinge as well the &s;ucce&s;&s;e of our enterpri&s;es, as the end which moueth vs, di&s;po&s;eth often of our actions, contrary to our de&s;ignes, when by his grace he imprinteth in vs a de&s;ire to do nothinge again&s;t his holy will, and to re&s;t our &s;elues wholy vnder his faithfull conduct.</P>
<P>This B. Father departinge from Rome, had many good proiects in his heade, which he could
<PB N="226" REF="130"> not fini&s;h, becau&s;e God &s;eeing al&s;o that he had noe other obiect but him&s;elfe, did di&s;po&s;e of all otherwi&s;e for his glory.</P>
<P>As he came downe, the people in all places being aduerti&s;ed that he was to pa&s;&s;e by them, pre&s;&s;ed much to &s;ee him, who after they had re|ceaued the &s;pirituall foode of his exhortations, thought them&s;elues happy if they could ki&s;&s;e his habitt: &s;o God would haue his holines of life te|&s;tified by his actions to be knowen, and to haue &s;ome parcell of that honor, which is now due to him, and which he enioyeth for euer. You might haue &s;eene many principall men of the nobilitie to go foorth to meete him, in&s;tantly reque&s;tinge him to take vp his lodginge with them. Which he did neuer accept, or very &s;eldome, when he could retire him&s;elfe to any conuent: for although he were neuer &s;o poorely treated, he tooke farr more contentment to be there, then he did where there was rich plentie of all thinges, hauinge long &s;ince for&s;aken rich, and plentifull meanes, to embrace pouertie, with hartie, and true affection.</P>
<P>Religious men were as much cheered with his pre&s;ence, as &s;ecular, euery one was edified with the &s;ight of him only, be&s;ides the fruit which they gathered, by his di&s;cour&s;e, and conference. For as he di&s;cour&s;ed often and mo&s;t effectually of that which &s;wayeth mo&s;t in our affection, &s;oe he ha|uing his &s;pirit bent principally to a rigorous ob|&s;eruance of his vowes, did &s;peake of this &s;ubiect not without admiration, &s;oe that one time (I
<PB N="227" REF="131"> know not whether it were in Fraunce, or in Italy) &s;peaking to the religious, and taking a &s;imilitude of the Pomegranate (he &s;aid) If ye haue ob&s;erued, the Pomegranate hath foure things. The fir&s;t is the outward Rine, or barke which is rough, hard, and bitter. The &s;econd is the &s;weet fruite within. The third is the multitude of red graines, which ar &s;o well ordered, and &s;ett together, that they &s;eeme to be &s;o many rubies. The fourth is that it hath in the topp, a faire crowne. This is an hierogliphick of the &s;tate of religious, euery particuler man ought to re&s;&s;emble this, much more euery con|uent, and the whole order of religion. They ought to be &s;harpe in au&s;terities, fa&s;tinges, di&s;ciplines, &s;hirtts of hard, haire in poore clothing and trea|ting of their bodies &amp;c. But with this outward &s;harpenes, and bitternes, there is mixed inward &s;weetnes, the con&s;olations of the holy &s;pirit, the inward cheeringe, and entertaynement of God which he giueth to a good &s;oule, the ex|erci&s;e of his lawe, the hope of future glory, the &s;weetnes which is felt in doinge good workes, and in the ob&s;eruance, of Gods commandements, and his rule, this is the &s;weet fruit of the Pome|granate. The third thing is the multitude of grai|nes, the vnion, the order, the di&s;po&s;ition, the co|lour. This betokeneth the multitude of good workes, the vnion, the charitie, the peace which ought to be among vs, order in all things, that no man hinder his companion, but that he ayde him, that all with one hart be mercifull, enflamed,
<PB N="228" REF="131"> and feruent; And when they be &s;o, what remay|neth but the crowne of the Pomegranate, the re|compence of eternall glory which God hath pro|mi&s;ed to vs. The con&s;ideration wherof ought to make vs thinke all paine, and trauaile, light, and &s;leight. He confirmed this with infinite examples taken out of &s;cripture, and prophane authors, &s;oe that his wordes were as piercinge &s;hafts, which wounded the hearts of the hearers, or rather as firebrands to kindle the fire of deuine loue in their &s;oules, and to enable them to &s;uffer, and beare the Cro&s;&s;e of their ma&s;ter.</P>
<P>As he came neere to Turin, he would not enter into the citie, but &s;aid it was be&s;t to retire them|&s;elues to a Conuent of their order called No&s;tra Dona de la Campana: di&s;tant about a league from the towne, which he did the rather to auoid the occa&s;ion of vi&s;iting the Dukes highnes. For ha|uing bani&s;hed all curio&s;ity from his affection, he declined as much as he could po&s;&s;ibly the mee|tinge of great per&s;ons. But he did attempt this in vaine, for by what accident I knowe not, or whe|ther by Gods di&s;po&s;ition for &s;ome good, he mett the Dukes highnes in the way, who after he knewe him, entertained him with all po&s;&s;ible cur|te&s;ie. He entertained about halfe an houres di&s;|cour&s;inge with him about Fraunce, Rome, and &s;ome matters of &s;tate, and religion. The good Father excu&s;ed him&s;elfe, as pre&s;&s;ed and &s;treight|ned by little time, wherupon, his highnes told him, that he would come to him the next mor|ninge,
<PB N="229" REF="132"> as he did, and pa&s;&s;ed the whole morninge with him in the Conuent.</P>
<P>This night the B. Father began to &s;icken, and had a little fitt of an ague, which brake his repo&s;e, yet thinkinge that it was a matter of nothinge, and it was only the wearines of his long iourney, he cea&s;ed not the next morninge after he had &s;aid ma&s;&s;e, to entertaine his highnes againe two or three houres, who offered him all courte&s;ies, that lay in his power, and prayed him to be mindfull of him in his holy &s;acrifices. Of whom, after he had taken his leaue, he went on his way towardes Riuoly, where there is a Conuent of Capucins. Riuoly is a little towne &s;cituated wel for fertility, two leagues from Turin. This good Father repo|&s;ing there, purpo&s;ed to haue gone thence the next morninge after ma&s;&s;e, which was the day of the markes of S. Frauncis. But alas he was defeated of his purpo&s;e; For as he was att the altar, he was taken with a great &s;haking, and trembling of his ague, that he could hardly fini&s;h ma&s;&s;e; &s;oe that a&s;&s;oone as he had ended, he was carried into his chamber, and neuer went of it till he had rendered his &s;oule in<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">o the handes of him that gaue it him.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="22" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his death. THE XXII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THe Dukes highnes had no &s;ooner vnder|&s;tood that his &s;icknes had made this good
<PB N="230" REF="132"> Father keepe his bed, but he &s;ent pre&s;ently his be&s;t Phi&s;itians, and his Apothecarie to vi&s;itt him, and yeeld him all helpe and comfort they could: com|manding them expre&s;ly, to haue a &s;peciall care of him, and to &s;erue him with as much affection, as they would &s;erue him&s;elfe. They &s;ignified &s;o much to him, and performed it really, &s;paring not paine, nor mony, and employing their be&s;t ende|uours to alaie the heate of his fieuer, which was &s;o violent, that they could do him little, or noe good.</P>
<P>The B: Father iudging by the extremitie of his di&s;ea&s;e, that he could not continue long, and that he was come to the end of his pillgrimage, re|&s;igned him&s;elfe into the handes of God. But as it is the manner of the mo&s;t perfect, to mi&s;tru&s;t their meritts, e&s;teeminge them&s;elues &s;o much the greater &s;inners, as they abound more in grace, he &s;aid that it if plea&s;ed God to haue compa&s;&s;ion on him, he would yet liue, hauinge not done the pe|na~ce which his &s;innes required. Herein not vnlike to S. Francis who after many yeares of pena~ce was alwaies but vpon his beginnings; And &s;o turning his thoughts to this end, he began with humble thankes giuinge to God for the care he had of his &s;oule, knowinge that Gods holy hand, layeth af|flictions, and di&s;ea&s;es vpon vs, accordinge to our forces, or according to &s;uch forces, wherwith he di&s;po&s;eth to fortifie and &s;trengthen vs. For when we con&s;ider dolours, and afflictions in their owne
<PB N="231" REF="133"> obiect with the eie only of nature, we haue cau&s;e to be deiected with &s;adnes, but &s;ince we are not only men, but Chri&s;tians al&s;o, we ought by the power of grace to con&s;ider them better, and pearcing through the cloudes, of the accidents of this life, beholde cleerlie Gods holy di&s;po|&s;ition, and lift vp our &s;pirits high, and &s;o &s;ee the end, which is de&s;igned to all, and comfort our &s;elues in the great profitts, and benefitts which are to redound to vs thereby. This me|ditation &s;unck into the hart of this B. Father, &s;oe that in the extreme&s;t paines of his di&s;ea&s;e, he was as thoughe he had ben vn&s;en&s;ible. Ble&s;&s;ed (&s;ayd he) are they who &s;uffer anie thinge for heauen, their dolours, and greifes &s;halbe recom|penced with ioy and gladnes; the more we &s;uf|fer, the more we &s;atisfie for the paynes due to our &s;ins, this is the great mercie of God, which doth puni&s;h our &s;innes and crimes in this world. For &s;o we depart out of it with expectation of more comfort. Afterward he was vi&s;ited by manie that were well affected to his order, which in&s;teede of giuinge him comfort, recea|ued it from him, in &s;oe much that they who entred to &s;ee him full of &s;orrowe, departed from him with great contentment, wonderinge much of his great con&s;tancie. He made them vnder&s;tand how much it importeth to liue wel, if we will dye well, and how hard it is to come to heauen, which is a place of &s;o great puritie.
<PB N="232" REF="133"> Howe likewi&s;e tho&s;e abu&s;e them&s;elues, who deferre the amendement of their liues to their end, whereas it falleth out, that &s;elldome he dyeth well, who hath liued ill. He did entertaine them with the&s;e, and the like di&s;cour&s;es. All the religious of the Conuent one after another vi&s;ited him, whom he in&s;tantlie be&s;ought to a&s;&s;i&s;t him with their &s;acrifices, and prayers, and to begg of God pardon for his &s;innes, and e&s;peciallie that he might be holpen by the la&s;t Sacrament, when they &s;awe fitt time, without waytinge the extremitie, wherin was danger of committinge an irrecouerable fault.</P>
<P>His Companion was allwayes with him, and entertayned him allwayes in &s;pirituall di&s;cour&s;e. He prayed him to recite deuoutly the prayers of the Romane ceremoniall, made to this particuler end for the comfort, and reliefe of &s;ick per&s;ons. For amonge other prayers he made great account (as a good Chri&s;tian ought) of tho&s;e deuotions which the Church doth v&s;e, and of the ceremonies of his order, which haue a particuler vertue for tho&s;e ends which they were in&s;tituted.</P>
<P>He growinge weaker dayly by the violence of his di&s;ea&s;e, which grewe vpon him, he de&s;ired to fortifie him&s;elfe, with the buckler of a true Ca|tholick in this la&s;t action. Wherfore after he had confe&s;&s;ed with his accu&s;tomed deuotion, he pray|ed them that they would bring him the B. Sacra|ment
<PB N="233" REF="134"> which he knewe, not only to be the &s;tre~gth of his &s;oule, and the foode therof, but al&s;oe an appea&s;ement of his bodily dolours. The Reue|rend Father Prouinciall yelding to his reque&s;t, allthough he thought he was not in &s;uch extre|mitie, brought it him after Mattins, accompa|nied in proce&s;&s;ion with all the religious of the Conuent. O what eleuation of his &s;oule had he att the &s;ight of his Sauiour vayled vnder the Sacra|ment. His Cheekes becomminge vermilion red as the ro&s;e, and his teares tricklinge downe his eies witne&s;&s;ed &s;ufficiently, what inward di&s;cour&s;e he had with his Sauiour, captiuatinge all his fa|culties, and powers to giue him thankes for &s;o great a benefit. Before he receaued, he would followe this la&s;t actio~ of S. Frauncis to dy naked, and depriued of all things, &s;auinge the loue of God. Wherefore he be&s;ought Fa. Prouinciall, that he might con&s;igne into his handes, &s;ome &s;mall pre&s;ents, which his holines had &s;ent to Madame his daughter. He put all&s;o tho&s;e memorialls which he had of the affaires of their general Chap|ter into the hands of his companion, a&s;&s;uring al|&s;o the Fa. Prouincial, that if he did al&s;o commit to him the other pre&s;ents, that he &s;hould &s;atisfie the intention of his holines: and as for him&s;elfe, he de&s;ired nothinge more then to depriue him&s;elfe of the proprietie of the lea&s;t things that could be imagined, to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e God more perfectly. Hauing often in his mouth the wordes of the Apo&s;tle. <HI>Mihi viuere Chri&s;tus est, &amp; mori lucrum.</HI> Vnto me
<PB N="234" REF="134"> to liue, is Chri&s;t, and to dy is gaine. Moreouer he demanded leaue of the Fa. Prouinciall to renewe his vowes, and to offer them a fre&s;h to God, the which he hauing once con&s;ecrated to God, neuer had any mind to change it, allthough the violence of the people tooke him from his Conuent, pro|te&s;tinge now that it was again&s;t his will, and that whiles he was out, he allways longed after that, which he did enioy att this pre&s;ent. He did al this with extraordinarie deuotion, and hauinge pro|nounced the wordes very di&s;tinctlie, he made a briefe exhortation, but verie feruent to tho&s;e that a&s;&s;i&s;ted him, and &s;hewed to them the contentme~t which his &s;olitude had cau&s;ed to him: he com|mended much the perfection, and happie &s;tate of religion, &s;aying that God doth drawe his frinds to it to feede them with the &s;weete milke of his grace, not that they &s;hould liue as they did before, the life of plants, for that is but earthly, nor the life of &s;en&s;ible creatures, for that is but brutal, nor the life of men onlie, for that is but humane, nor the life of the Angells, for that is but created, but to liue of the verie life of the diuinitie, for he wil make vs liue, and enioy his e&s;&s;ence, and his e&s;&s;ence is life, and the &s;pringe of life: with thee is the fountaine of life &s;ayd Dauid, &s;o he wil make them enter into the life, which he liueth him&s;elfe with the Son, and the holy Gho&s;t in the companie of tho&s;e, among men, and Angells, whom it hath plea&s;ed him to make worthie of &s;o great grace.</P>
<P>All his bretheren &s;tandinge about him couched
<PB N="235" REF="135"> as children about their dying Father, &s;hewinge great &s;ignes of heauines, and a&s;toni&s;hed at his fer|uour, &s;eemeing to heare the holy Gho&s;t &s;peake throughe his mouth, and exhort them to their dutie. In conclu&s;ion he with his eies full of teares, and a &s;pirit raui&s;hed with holy deuotion deman|ded humbly, pardon of all, both pre&s;ent, and ab|&s;ent, which a&s;&s;oone as he had done, he receaued the holy Sacrament with &s;o much deuotion, that all the a&s;&s;i&s;tants felt their hearts touched with a &s;weet compunction, and an ardent de&s;ire to make them&s;elues worthie of &s;o ble&s;&s;ed an end.</P>
<P>The next morninge his companion &s;eeinge him repo&s;e more then ordinarie in great quietnes of body, and &s;pirit (as he thought) mo&s;t &s;weetlie, and not knowing the rea&s;on of &s;o &s;uddaine a chan|ge, thought that it was &s;ome beginninge of an al|ter<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">tio~, whereupon his better helth did depend. Wherfore he retired into a chamber hard by, and aduerti&s;ing the religious, that they &s;hould not en|ter in to him, lea&s;t they &s;hould breake his repo&s;e which &s;eemed to be better, then he had al the time of his &s;icknes, he was ab&s;ent for the &s;pace of two, or three houres, in which time he tooke a litle re&s;t vpon a &s;trawe bed, hauinge pa&s;&s;ed &s;ome nights before without once clo&s;inge his eies. Whiles he tooke this little &s;leepe, or rather &s;lumber, he &s;ee|med to be in a great Churchyard, where a quire of Angells, made a mo&s;t &s;weete harmonie, he heard them with great attention, admiring at the beautie, and behauiour of the&s;e heauenly &s;pirits.
<PB N="236" REF="135"> Afterward he &s;eemed to come neare a Coffin all be &s;ett with floures, who&s;e odour was meruailous fragrant &amp; &s;weete, vpon this he wakened &s;odain|ly, and fearinge lea&s;te the good Father had yelded vp his &s;piritt (for in &s;uch ca&s;es dreames do much affright vs) went to his chamber, &amp; openinge &s;oft|lie the cha~ber doore, he was pre&s;ently &s;pied by the &s;ick per&s;on, who asked him fro~ whence he came, and how longe he had ben ab&s;ent, it is about 2. houres &s;ince (&s;aid he) that I &s;eeing you lye &s;o quiet, I withdrewe my &s;elfe to take &s;ome re&s;t. I had thought (&s;ayd the &s;ick Fa:) that it had hardly ben a quarter of an houre, for my &s;oule was neuer in &s;uch a calme, being as it were rapt from me, &amp; ful of &s;uch ioye, and contentment, that I can not ex|pre&s;&s;e it, for it &s;urpa&s;&s;eth all kind of harmonie, and other contentment whereof the &s;en&s;e is capable. Then his Companion knowinge that there was &s;omething &s;upernaturall in this action told him, what repre&s;entation he had in his &s;leepe, &amp; how that &s;hortened his &s;leepe, which the good Fa: hearing &s;ayd to him; Speake nothing of it I pray you, but pray to God that his holy wil be don; &s;o did he flie o&s;te~tation, &amp; the more he weakened, &amp; aba&s;ed his body in the outward man, the more &s;trength, &amp; honor had he in the inward man.</P>
<P>This raui&s;hing of &s;pirit, and extraordinary fere|nitie of his countenance did encrea&s;e more as he decayed in body, and as death came on apace, which was a great proofe to make vs beleeue, that he had allreadie ta&s;ted &s;ome dropp of that
<PB N="237" REF="136"> heauenlie deuine liquor, wherewith the B. &s;oules are made druncke in Paradi&s;e. For this is the opi|nion of the be&s;t Deuines in mi&s;ticall Diuinitie, which is not contrarie to faithe, or rea&s;on, that it is po&s;&s;i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">le, and al&s;o permitted, to a good &s;oule, to haue &s;ome feelinge of the ioyes of heauen before death, &s;o that it become capable therof with a &s;incere will, and due preparation. And why not? &s;eeing that God, which is the obiect of our feli|citie in what &s;tate &s;oeuer we be, &s;eeing allways God in heauen cleerely, and in this life within the ob&s;curitie of faith, can if it plea&s;e him drawe the curtaine, and repre&s;ent him&s;elfe without cloude, or ob&s;curitie, not to the eies of our body, which are too terre&s;triall, but to tho&s;e of the &s;oule, which are the &s;ame, after death or duringe our life.</P>
<P>After this exta&s;ie he &s;eemed to haue a fre&s;h con|&s;tancie, as though he had not felt any euill at all, allthough the heare pre&s;ently after retiringe from him, he was depriued of the ordinary mouing of his limnes. He earne&s;tly reque&s;ted that he might receaue the Sacrament of extreme vnction, as the la&s;t buckler of defence again&s;t the a&s;&s;aults of Sathan, which beinge more firce att &s;uch ti|mes, then at any other, make often tho&s;e that are mo&s;t &s;trong, to faulter, and faint. His de&s;ire was &s;atisfied, and hauinge receaued it with ioyned handes, and his eies lifted vp to heauen, and his hart to God, he &s;pake the&s;e wordes worthy to be grauen vpon the marble of eternitie, or rather
<PB N="238" REF="136"> in the hearts of deuout &s;oules, that they may make v&s;e of them in &s;uch conflicts. <HI>God be ble&s;&s;ed, I am now fortified on all &s;ides, and &s;oe well armed from tope to toe, that I do not feare my enimy.</HI></P>
<P>The Dukes highnes beinge much afflicted for the &s;icknes of this ble&s;&s;ed Father, be&s;ides the Phi|&s;itian, and Apothecarie, who were all waies with him, &s;ent euery day &s;ome of his gentlemen to vi|&s;it him, and a&s;&s;ure him of his affection, &amp; to know in what &s;tate he was. Therfore he was accu&s;to|med to entertaine them with &s;pirituall di&s;cour&s;e, giuing <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hem allwaies &s;ome good rule how to liue in Gods grace, amidde&s;t the great &s;plendours of court. His companion &s;eeinge that one of the&s;e gentlemen would haue driue~ him into a di&s;cour&s;e touchinge nobilitie, and e&s;teeminge that the Fa|ther drewe on towards his end, putt him in mind of him&s;elfe and &s;aid. <HI>Ab hoc memento pendet eterni|tas.</HI> Of this moment dependeth eternitie, mea|ninge the moment of death.</P>
<P>The&s;e wordes moued him &s;o much, that imme|diately throwing him&s;elfe downe to the centre of our naught, he e&s;teemed him&s;elfe one of the grea|te&s;t &s;inners of the world, and vpon this occa&s;ion he made an exhortation of the loue of God, of the nature, qualitie, and fruites of it, and of that, which we are to render in exchange of his per&s;on, or in the per&s;on of our neighbour in whom his image is repre&s;ented. And this he vttered with &s;o much feruour, zeale, and deuotion, and &s;trength of lungs, as if he had preached in &s;ome pulpitt in
<PB N="239" REF="137"> good &s;tate of health, and he wittne&s;&s;ed to them that his heart putt in practi&s;e more then his toung did expre&s;&s;e, &s;oe that the Phi&s;itians and other lear|ned men who were pre&s;ent hearing him cry &s;o forceably three times. O loue, O loue, O loue of God, his face being all on fire, and his heart ra|ui&s;hed on high, could not but exceedingly won|der at this, and &s;aid that this &s;eemed to them, ra|ther to be the voice of an Angell, then of man.</P>
<P>Immediately after he called for the Crucifix, and holding it deuoutly in his handes, his &s;pirit which was not weakened, &s;upplied to him mat|ter of feruent, and deuout meditation of Chri&s;ts death, and pa&s;&s;ion till &s;uch time, as his forces wholy for&s;aking him he contented him&s;elfe to &s;ay Ie&s;us Maria, with a wonderfull tendernes of &s;ou|le, and yett lett not go his hold of the Crucifix, but kept it in his handes.</P>
<P>Pre&s;ently his tounge which was the in&s;trument of conuer&s;ion of &s;oe many &s;oules, and the Angell of con&s;olation, benummed in his palate, cea&s;ed to do its proper function halfe an houre before he departed. And then the &s;igne of his eies and han|des were in&s;truments of his heart, by which he wittne&s;&s;ed to the Prie&s;t that he vnder&s;tood, and liked of tho&s;e wordes, which he &s;pake to him, and a&s;&s;i&s;tinge him in &s;o dangerous a pa&s;&s;age, till &s;uch time, as by a deepe &s;ighe comming from the depth of his heart, he yeelded vp his &s;oule into the han|des of his Redeemer, and was receaued into the handes of Angells.</P>
<PB N="240" REF="137">
<P>This was the eight, and twentith day of Sep|tember 1608. the &s;ix and fortith of his life, and the two and twentie of his conuer&s;ion among the Ca|pucins, that he rendered this his talent to God, who had giuen it him and rendered it with hun|dred fold profitt, which he had gotten by his tra|uaile. After his death his face changed not in co|lour, his eies lifted vp to heauen &s;eemed to &s;hewe &s;ome little &s;milinge, his armes lay a cro&s;&s;e vpon his &s;tomacke. A man would not haue thought that he had bene dead, if his limmes being all cold had not lo&s;t all manner of heate, and feelinge&punc; His companion in who&s;e armes he would dy in wittnes of his affection, &s;pake to him as yet ha|uinge rendered his &s;oule. The Phi&s;itian felt his pul&s;e, and put his hand on his mouth, thinking that his &s;oule was not yet departed, when it was enioyinge the recompence of his meritts. In fine his &s;oule went from him &s;o &s;weetly, that it gaue no &s;igne of departure by any contraction of the bodie (as is ordinary) but only that it liued be|fore, and now had no life.</P>
<P>The Dukes highnes hauinge heard the tidings of his death, being much grieued for the lo&s;&s;e of &s;o worthy a per&s;onage, purpo&s;ed to goe, and &s;ee him, and honor his funerall with his pre&s;ence: but his Phi&s;itian diuerted him, becau&s;e he had &s;eene &s;ome &s;potts vpon the bodie of this good Fa|ther, which he thought might be tokens of the purples, and &s;o his highnes might incurre &s;ome danger therby. Whereupon he gaue charge to
<PB N="241" REF="138"> his Phi&s;itian, to &s;ee him embalmed, and to putt him into a coffin of leade, and couer it with a cloth of black veluert, de&s;iringe that he might be &s;o buried: as he was in the Chappell of that Con|uent.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="23" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of the tran&s;portinge of his body to Paris. THE THREE, AND TWENTITH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>WHiles the body of this ble&s;&s;ed Father did re|po&s;e at Riuoly, the heauy newes of his death was brought to his daughter Madame the Dut|che&s;&s;e, who was much afflicted with the tydings of it. Her loue an&s;werable to his Fatherly loue, would not permitt her, to leaue his bodie &s;o farr of from her, &amp; therfore tooke order that it &s;hould be tran&s;ported to Paris, &s;he &s;ent for this purpo&s;e the Gouernor of Dombes in Sauoy, to reque&s;t the Dukes highnes both in her vncles name the Car|dinall Ioyou&s;e, as al&s;o in her owne, that he would not refu&s;e his con&s;ent to the remouinge of her Fa|thers bodie. His highnes accorded to it, yet very &s;ory he was that Piedmont &s;hould be depriued of that rich trea&s;ure, hauing already fou~d &amp; knowen the profitt of it by many effects, who&s;e &s;oule was powerfull to a&s;&s;i&s;t the nece&s;&s;ities of tho&s;e, who had recour&s;e to him for his interce&s;&s;ion to God. He was taken thence with many teares, and great &s;orrowe, the Dukes highnes had three &s;onnes. Mon&s;ieur the Prince Maior, Mo~&s;eigneur the Cardi|nall,
<PB N="242" REF="138"> and Mon&s;ieur the prince Thomas, who a&s;&s;i&s;|ted there withall their trayne, and bearinge great torches of white wax in their handes, accompa|nied the body on foote two miles from Riuoli, doing him this honor due to his pietie, att the re|moue of his bodie, which they could not do be|fore att his death, nor at his buriall.</P>
<P>There was foure religious of his order which were all ways about his coffin, and followed it (as they had commandement to doe) euen to Paris. Through the villages as they pa&s;&s;ed, the Curatts with the people came out to meete the Corps in proce&s;&s;ion: the townes where there were manie Eccle&s;ia&s;ticall per&s;ons a&s;&s;embled, they did the like in generall proce&s;&s;ions, and did thinke it a fauour from heauen, that this precious Iewell pa&s;&s;ed by them, hopinge to obteyne thereby the influence of &s;ome particuler grace by his meanes.</P>
<P>When he came to Lyons, the principall per|&s;ons of the citie came to receaue him, and all the clergie &amp; Religious went out with a great num|ber of torches, and lightes to conduct him to the Conuent of the Capucins, who were attended with &s;uch multitudes of people, that they could hardly pa&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>Madam Dutche&s;&s;e of Mercoeur earne&s;tly entrea|ted Mada~ the Dutche&s;&s;e of Gui&s;e, that &s;he would lett her haue for a pre&s;ent the heart of her father, to be kept as a precious relique in the Conuent of the religious woemen of S. Clare, called other|wi&s;e daughters of the pa&s;&s;ion, which is one of the
<PB N="243" REF="139"> mo&s;t goodly mona&s;teries of this order, and a wittnes of the great pietie of this Prince&s;&s;e, which cau&s;ed it to be built in the &s;uburbs of Saint Honore, right again&s;t the mona&s;terie of the Capucins, to the erecting whereof, this good Father had contributed all he could by his good adui&s;e, and employement, and had prea|ched there the fir&s;t day, when the fir&s;t twelue were clo&s;ed vp, att which time Mon&s;eigneur the Cardinall of Gondy performed the re&s;t of the office.</P>
<P>There was &s;ome difficultie made in yeldinge to this demand, for as much as the heart hauinge ben put, and clo&s;ed within the body couered with lyme, and &s;ome &s;weete herbes, when his highnes cau&s;ed it to be embalmed, it was thought that be&s;ides the naturall cour&s;e of all the parts of the bodie, there had ben &s;ome corruption cau|&s;ed, and ha&s;tened by tho&s;e thinges applyed, not|with&s;tanding the&s;e rea&s;ons his body was opened againe att Lyons in the pre&s;ence of the Gouer|nour of Dombes, of Mon&s;ieur Pre&s;ident, &amp; &s;ome others, and his heart was taken foorth as &s;ound, fre&s;h, and bloud-ruddy, as att the houre of his death, not without great a&s;toni&s;hment of all tho&s;e that &s;awe it. The &s;ame day the office was &s;ayd for him, (as it was in all other places where his body &s;tayed) and the pre&s;&s;e of people was &s;o great, and the clamours and cryes &s;oe lowde, both of people without, and within the Church, that a Father of the order being to make
<PB N="244" REF="139"> a Funeral oration, was con&s;trayned to begin with the&s;e wordes. Silence people, &s;ilence.</P>
<P>After the office they departed, and went on their way towardes Paris, whereof the inhabi|tants of Neuers beinge aduerti&s;ed, and &s;eeinge &s;o precious a Iewell att their gate, went out to meete him in great toopes, with an incredible reuerence and deuotion. They did him the &s;ame honor as he had att Lyons, and the next day the Bi&s;hopp withall &s;olemne ceremonye, conducted him af|ter to the barke, not without the great &s;houts of many, and teares of others: in the like manner he was receaued in all places. The eleuenth of Iune his body came to Paris, and was receaued with that re&s;pectfull deuotion as may be well ad|mired, but not expre&s;&s;ed. The Capucins went foorth to meete his body a league out of the towne, acco~panied with a great pre&s;&s;e of people. All the hou&s;hold &s;eruants of Madame the Dut|che&s;&s;e his daughter, went foorth al&s;o two, and two, on hor&s;ebacke in moorninge weedes. The Capucins came after in the &s;ame order, euery one carrying a light of white wax in his hand &s;inginge the office, and &s;uffrage for the dead, according to their ordinary manner of plaine &s;onge. After fol|lowed the body carried betweene two mules, co|uered with a gray cloth as the beere al&s;o was with a white Cro&s;&s;e of cloth (for &s;o it was ordered by Mon&s;eigneur Cardinall de Ioyeu&s;e accordinge to the direction herein from his holines) And there followed a great companie of Knightes of the
<PB N="245" REF="140"> two orders of the Kinge. Amonge other Mon|&s;ieur Duke of E&s;pernon his brother in lawe. Mon|&s;ieur le Grand the ma&s;ter of hor&s;e, Mo~&s;ieur de Ro|quelaure, and many others, in who&s;e face a man might haue reade the &s;orrowe of their harts, not for the lo&s;&s;e only of &s;o worthie a kin&s;|man, but &s;uch a &s;pirituall Father, who du|ringe his life taught them the way to heauen by his holy exhortations, and encouraged them to &s;urmont al difficulties with manly courage what|&s;oeuer they were, by his extraordinary manner of vertuous life. It was thought that there was a|boue an hundred thou&s;and per&s;ons, within the &s;treet, or in windowes, or Coaches, who were the beholders of the reception of his bodie. And be|&s;ides the&s;e great multitudes, att Paris there were fourteene pari&s;hes which accompanied him from the country round about, and the deuotion of many was &s;o great towardes him, that they could not be kept from cuttinge &s;ome little parcells of the cloth which couered the biere, takinge al&s;o the floures wherwith it was &s;ett, to keepe them as reliques.</P>
<P>The Capucins watched all the night about the body, and the next day had a &s;olemne &s;eruice, wherat Madame de Gui&s;e his daughter was pre|&s;ent, who by her con&s;tancie made knowen a ver|tue &s;urpa&s;&s;inge nature: all the principall Signeurs were al&s;o pre&s;ent. After the &s;eruice he was bu|ried before the high altar of the Capucins, where they haue permitted contrary to the cu&s;tome of
<PB N="246" REF="140"> their order, that this in&s;cription &s;hould be graued vpon a marble &s;tone.</P>
<P><HI>Hoc tumulo &s;unt o&s;sa Reuerendi Patris Angeli de Ioyeu&s;e olim Ducis, Paris, ac Mari&s;callis Franciae, &amp; in Prouincia Occitania proregis: qui in ip&s;o aetatis flore, vt totum &s;e Christo addiceret, tot honores, &amp; opes ab|iecit, &amp; ordinem Capucinorum ingre&s;&s;us in eo reliquum vitae tran&s;egit, &s;ingulari pietatis, &amp; humilitatis ex|emplo, in quo tandem obijt, cum pro &s;ecunda vice e&s;&s;et Prouincialis Prouinciae Franciae, &amp; Definitor Capituli generalis, anno Christi</HI> 1608. 4. <HI>Calend octobris.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Henrica Henrici Monti&s;pen&s;erij Ducis vidua Patri chari&s;simo maerens po&s;uit.</HI></P>
<P>In this tombe are the bones of the Reuerend Father Angell of Ioyeu&s;e, heretofore Duke, Pere, and Mar&s;hall of France, and Lieftenant of Lange|dock, who in the very floure of his age, that he might giue him&s;elfe wholy to God, de&s;pi&s;ed &s;o many honors, and riches, and entring into the or|der of Capucins, &s;pent the re&s;t of his life in it with &s;inguler example of piety, and humility; wherin he died att length when he was the &s;econd time Prouinciall of the Prouinces of Fraunce, and De|finitour of the Generall Chapter in the yeare of our Lord 1608. on the fourth of the Calends of October.</P>
<P><HI>Henryett the widowe of Henry Duke of Mont|pen&s;ier mourninge, cau&s;ed this to be done for her most deare Father.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="24" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="247" REF="141">
<HEAD>Of his miracles. THE FOVRE, AND TWENTITH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>GOd is plea&s;ed to honor much his frinds, and when it plea&s;eth him he ray&s;eth them to the topp of greatnes, and maketh their actions &s;oe much more honorable, and memorable amonge men, as they haue &s;ought to keepe them hidden from the eies of men, when they performed them. But as there ar diuer&s;e waies to come to heauen, &s;o God draweth vs, by diuer&s;e contrary meanes, as his grace freely giuen are diuer&s;e, and vocations much differinge one from an other. For &s;ome take the way of Angelicall coun&s;ells, others do con|tent them&s;elues with treadinge the great beaten way of Gods commandements. In fine as in the heauenly Hieru&s;alem there are twelue ports, by which euery Chri&s;tian &s;oule may, if it will, enter, &s;o, God v&s;eth diuer&s;e meanes to make knowen the glo<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y of his elect: his purpo&s;e is but one which he hath to make appeere glorious, but his waies to that end are diuer&s;e by which he carrieth them, and bringeth them to haue glory. He maketh great account of prompt obedience to their cal|linge, as that was of S. Mathewe. In others he maketh the effects of an extraordinary conuer&s;ion &s;hine mo&s;t brightly, as he did towards S. Mary Magdalene. He guideth &s;ome others by the paths of &s;ome willdernes as he did S. Hilarion. Some
<PB N="248" REF="141"> other by the waye of pouertie as S. Fra~cis. He ma|keth &s;ome to be renowned for miracles as S. Gre|gory, who was before &s;urnamed Thaumaturgus, which is a worker of wonders, and all the&s;e by the greatnes of the glory, which now they enioy.</P>
<P>By this we may gue&s;&s;e what crowne of glory this B. Father hath receyued, &amp; with what honor we ought to celebrate his memory; for what voca|tion was more deuine then his? For his conuer&s;io~ (I do not &s;peake from &s;inne to grace, but from the world to religion) what more prompt? for his ver|tues were they not many, and mo&s;t eminent?</P>
<P>But &s;ome wil aske what miracles hath he don? the di&s;cour&s;e of this I haue re&s;erued for this Chap|ter. How many Saints are there in heauen, which haue done no miracles? Ie&s;us Chri&s;t conuer&s;inge amonge men, did commend much the &s;anctitie of S. Iohn Bapti&s;t aboue all others, and yet the holy &s;cripture doth not make me~tion of any miracle of his. It is God which doth them, to wittnes to men, the greatnes of his elect, which being well knowen by the excellency of their vertues, he &s;el|dome doth extraordinary things: &s;o that although Fa. Angell neuer had done, nor euer &s;hould do any miracle, there were no more doubt to be made of his &s;a~ctitie, the~ if he &s;hould do hu~dreds euery day. For who will dare to cal in que&s;tion, whether his B. &s;oule be in heauen? that &s;oule I &s;ay that hath de&s;pi&s;ed honors, trampled vnder his feete worldly dignities, giuen the defie to fortune: that &s;oule to whom delights haue ben bitter, plea&s;ures haue ben
<PB N="249" REF="142"> troubles, contentments afflictions, the world a feareful de&s;ert, and the court a hell ful of tortures. That &s;oule which eue~ from the cradle &s;ought the way to heauen, and warily ob&s;erued the wayes which it did tread, and left not it &s;elfe in the labo|rinth of marriage, that &s;oule which being masked with the fal&s;e vi&s;ard of temporal honors, &s;aw not|with&s;tandinge her owne good, and was able to di&s;cerne it from fal&s;e &s;emblances, &amp; al&s;o embrace it con&s;tantly. That &s;oule, who&s;e vertues were greater, then his noble race, &amp; of great courage in &s;ubduinge pa&s;&s;ions, as in conquering his enemies. That &s;oule that checked the pride of his mate the body by great au&s;terities, &amp; mortifications, which tooke repo&s;e, and comfort, where &s;en&s;uall men finde great paine, and labour. That &s;oule to which prayer was foode, and nouri&s;hment, di&s;ciplines &s;weete contentments, fa&s;tings were banquets, pe|nances comforts, trauaile good entertainme~t, cha|&s;titie, was his delight, obedience was authoritie, pouertie was riches, a hard &s;trawe bed was &s;ofter then a Downe bedd, a little cell, a goodly palace, and a cloi&s;ter was a city, where he had the vtmo&s;t heaped mea&s;ure, and accompli&s;hment of his harts de&s;ire. That &s;oule patient in afflictions, mode&s;t in all occa&s;ions, humble amonge the~ of his own pro|fe&s;&s;io~, burning in the loue of God, charitable tow|ards his neighbour, benigne, &amp; officious towards euery one, prompt to &s;erue God, fir&s;t in the quire, and in all good exerci&s;es. That &s;oule that was prudent in the conductinge it &s;elfe and other. To
<PB N="250" REF="142"> be briefe, that holy &s;oule, which within the ve&s;&s;ell of a humaine body, led an Angells life, who&s;e cleannes exceeding the &s;un beames, &s;hal &s;erue for a light of comfort to tho&s;e that will open their eies, to behold the beauty of it. And &s;hould this &s;oule after &s;o many graces be fru&s;trated of glory? What then &s;hall become of tho&s;e vertues, au&s;te|rities, fa&s;tings, mortifications, prayers, watchings, di&s;ciplines, exhortations, and voyages? what &s;hall become of his honors de&s;pi&s;ed, riches for|&s;aken, dignities banni&s;hed, and great fortunes a|bandoned? &s;hall that patience &s;erue him for no|thinge, when he &s;uffered his beard to be pluckt contemptuou&s;ly? &s;hall that humility want exal|tation, which lodged in a poore &s;table? that fer|uour &s;hall it be without fruit, which made the blood flowe from his body by &s;harpe cha&s;tice|ment? &s;hall not that pouertie be richly rewarded, which made him begg, &amp; endure hunger, where he might haue bene plentifully, and delicately treated? that loue of God, and charitie towards his neighbour, which made him lee&s;e his ordinary refection, &s;hall they be floures without bringinge foorth fruite? Tho&s;e exta&s;ies, holy rapts, ano mu|&s;ique of Angels heard of him a little before death, &s;hall it end with his life? &s;hall Father Angell be depriued of the vi&s;ion, and &s;ight of God, who was alwaies the obiect of his thoughts, his de&s;ires, his actions, while he was a pilgrime in this life? No certainely. God is a rewarder of good deedes, he hath promi&s;ed heauen to tho&s;e, which &s;hal follow
<PB N="251" REF="143"> that waie which he hath traced one to vs, and tho&s;e that followe neere to him. If one of the an|tient Fathers dur&s;t a&s;&s;ure vs, that the conuer&s;ion of a &s;inner was more to God, then the production of all things vpon earth, then certainly all tho&s;e, who by diuer&s;e graces giuen to them, haue had that ble&s;&s;ing to cooperat, and cau&s;e the conuer&s;ion of &s;oules which goe a&s;traie, do by con&s;equence &s;o many miracles. Vpon this foundation, this B. Fa|ther &s;aid, that the comming of God into a &s;oule by grace, did in &s;ome manner exceed the comming of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t into humaine fle&s;h. For (&s;aid he) our Sauiour comming into the world, only the &s;econd per&s;on of the Trinitie became man, vniting it &s;elfe to our nature: but in the &s;oule al the three per&s;ons of the Trinitie come, for as much as they three doe concure indiui&s;ibly, to the creation of man, &s;o do they indiui&s;ibly concure to his iu&s;tification, and all three do adorne his &s;oule with graces, ver|tues, &amp; giftes; The Father giueth perfection to the memory, the Son to the vnder&s;tandinge, and the holy Gho&s;t to the will. The Father communica|teth power to him to re&s;i&s;t his enemies, the Son wi&s;edome to di&s;cerne good, from bad, the holy Gho&s;t goodnes to embrace the one, and fly the other. The Father maketh the &s;oule his daughter, the Son maketh it his &s;i&s;ter, &amp; the holy Gho&s;t his &s;pou&s;e. The Father created it, the Son redeemed it, and the holy Gho&s;t &s;anctifieth it.</P>
<P N="2">2. The comminge of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t in the fle&s;h was vi&s;ible by his conuer&s;ation among men, but
<PB N="252" REF="143"> the comming of him into a &s;oule inui&s;ibly, is not only to other, but to him who receaueth him. For that is true which Salomo~ &s;aith, that a man know|eth not whether he be worthy of loue or hate.</P>
<P N="3">3. The co~ming of our Sauiour in the fle&s;h was for all, for the good, and bad, for the iu&s;t, and vniu&s;t, but his &s;pirituall comming into the &s;oule, is not but for the iu&s;t, for God is an enemy of &s;inne, and will not lodge in a &s;infull &s;oule.</P>
<P N="4">4. The co~ming of our Sauiour into this world, was for a little time, not that he would leaue the humanity which he had taken, but becau&s;e he died &s;hortly, &amp; ri&s;en againe a&s;cended into heauen: but the comming of the mo&s;t holy Trinitie into a &s;oule is perpetuall on their part. God neuer for&s;a|keth any &s;oule if he be not for&s;aken fir&s;t.</P>
<P N="5">5. The comminge of the Son of God into the world, and the de&s;cent of the holy Gho&s;t, and all the mi&s;teries of our faith haue bene ordained, for the dwelling of the mo&s;t holy Trinitie with vs by grace in this world, and eternally in heauen by glorie.</P>
<P>Finally this comminge of the mo&s;t holy Trini|tie into the &s;oule is of &s;o great importance that all that the Son of God hath don in this world, all that he hath endured, and wrought outwardly for the loue of vs, profiteth vs nothing without it. For what avayleth it a man that God was incar|nate, what benefit is thereof his bloud, his death, his merits, his &s;ending of the holy Gho&s;t, and all the re&s;t, if he goe to hell? What contentment (&s;aid
<PB N="253" REF="144"> old Tobie) can I haue in the light of the &s;unne. I that am blind, and cannot &s;ee it? In like manner, what contentment can a &s;inner haue, which dieth in the&s;e darknes without the light of grace, which proceedeth from the &s;unne of righteou&s;nes, and for which end he came into the world? In this manner did this Father di&s;cour&s;e of the produc|tion of grace in our &s;oule as miraculous.</P>
<P>Miracles are certainely one marke of &s;anctitie, but they alone are not &s;ufficient to proue it, we mu&s;t know if the life of him whom God doth v&s;e to manife&s;t his greatnes be an&s;werable, in pious &amp; holy conuer&s;ation to &s;uch effects. He hath v&s;ed &s;inners in this kind, as he prophe&s;ied by the mouth of Balaam and Caiphas, both of them being bad, and impious men. He may do the like for &s;ecrett cau&s;es which are knowen to him only, &s;o that this is not a &s;ufficient argument to proue thereby the holines of a good &s;oule, that God worketh mi|racles by his meanes, but rather the exerci&s;e of vertue, extraordinary mortifications, the rigor of pena~ces, the daily practi&s;inge of good &amp; vertuous workes, the continual victory ou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">r al his pa&s;&s;ions, all this proceeding from a particuler grace, and no common charitie of tho&s;e that put it in executio~, is an a&s;&s;ured te&s;timonie of &s;anctitie, which is illu|&s;trated, and made vi&s;ible to men by miracles.</P>
<P>And what hath ben the life of B. Fa. Angel, but a perpetual miracle, whereas it is naturally impo&s;|&s;ible that a body &s;o tenderly bred, in the delicacys, &amp; plea&s;ure of the Court, could &s;ub&s;i&s;t in the thor|nes
<PB N="254" REF="144"> of &s;oe many au&s;terities, with &s;o chearefull a countenance allways, &amp; with &s;o noble a courage as he did, if there had not ben &s;ome thinge more the~ ordinary in him. I might recite many in parti|culer, but becau&s;e the religious of his order haue neglected to make any collection of the~, or proofe by the &s;igninge of witne&s;&s;es beinge iuridically examined, there might be doubt made that they were not authenticall, and of creditt, and therfore I do lett them pa&s;&s;e in &s;ilence. Be&s;ides my de&s;ire is no other but to excite by the reading hereof good &s;oules to compunction, &amp; to pietie, to au&s;teritie of life, to the rarity, and excellencie of his vertue, to the de&s;pi&s;inge of tho&s;e things that the world mo&s;t e&s;teemeth, &s;uch examples do more then miracles.</P>
<P>And yet if we require them, what greater mi|racle, then that nine months after his buriall, his hart &s;hould be taken out of his body &s;o &s;ound, &s;o fre&s;h without any ill odour, as it is att this pre&s;e~t, in the Conuent of the Daughters of the pa&s;&s;ion, kept in a box of gold made in the fa&s;hio~ of a hart, and couered with a Chri&s;tall of the &s;ame figure, through which it may be &s;eene, al which is don by the deuotion of Madame de Gui&s;e.</P>
<P>For my part I dare avowe for a truth, that of all proofe to declare the felicitie of a ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule, the mo&s;t certaine is finall grace, on what part the tree &s;hall fal (&s;ayd the &s;on of God) it wil lye, he would &s;ay that our life being like to a tree (becau&s;e we liue as plants) death being co~ming to cutt of the rootes, if we be in grace we are a&s;&s;ured to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e
<PB N="255" REF="145"> heauen &s;oone, or late accordinge to the mea&s;ure of our debtes, which we are to pay in purgatorie: on the contrarie &s;ide if we liue with one mortall, we are vtterly ca&s;t away, and hell wilbe the eter|nall lodging place of the &s;oule. As long as we liue, we are &s;till in danger of fallinge, if we be this day in the &s;tate of grace, to morrowe &s;in may enter. A man may be now Gods frind, and in a moment after his enemie, one that hath tre&s;ured vp manie merits, yelding to one tentation may lee&s;e it in an in&s;tant, and dying in that &s;tate, he is made compa|nion of Lucifer in eternall flames: the rea&s;on of it is becau&s;e, as longe as we liue, we are free, and in the hands of our coun&s;ell. God leaueth vs bet|weene fire and water, to reach to which we will. Good and euill are the obiects of our actions. If our affections incline to good we are happie, if to euill, we are in mi&s;erable &s;tate: we cannot accu&s;e God of our ill that befalleth vs, our perdition pro|ceedeth from our &s;elues, wherfore to dy in the &s;tate of grace, and as this B. Father did, &s;peaking to God, and pantinge after him with a hart full of loue, de&s;pi&s;inge all things, &amp; reputing all things as dunge to enioy his pre&s;ence, &s;uch ends do abutt vpon Paradi&s;e, &amp; without feare of change do make the &s;oule liue in tho&s;e delights and contentments, which eie hath not &s;eene, nor eare hath heard, nor the tounge of an Angell can expre&s;&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>The end of the life of B. Fathers Angel of Ioyeu&s;e.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="145">
<HEAD>A TABLE OF THE CHAPTERS.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<ITEM><LABEL>CHAP. I.</LABEL> OF his de&s;cent, and nobilitie, pag. 1.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 2.</LABEL> Of his birth and Education, pag. 15.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 3.</LABEL> Of his marriage, and how he liued du|ring the time thereof, pag. 26.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 4.</LABEL> Of his entrance into Religion, and fare|well to the world, pag. 36.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 5.</LABEL> Of his Nouiceship. pag. 53.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 6.</LABEL> Of his profe&s;sion, and manner of life. pag. 67.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 7.</LABEL> How he for&s;ooke the habite of his reli|gion, and vpon what cau&s;e. pag. 76.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 8.</LABEL> How he tooke againe the habit of a Ca|pucin, pag. 88.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 9.</LABEL> Of his doctrine, and manner of prea|chinge. pag. 104.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 10.</LABEL> Of his humilitie. pag. 116.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 11.</LABEL> Of his Patience. pag. 127.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 12.</LABEL> Of his Obedience. pag. 137.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 13.</LABEL> Of his Pouertie, and Chastitie. pag. 147.</ITEM>
<PB REF="146">
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 14.</LABEL> Of his feruour and deuotion. pag. 155.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 15.</LABEL> Of the great zeale he had to the ob&s;er|uance of his rule. pag. 163.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 16.</LABEL> Of his Charitie. pag. 173.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 17.</LABEL> Of his Prudence. pag. 184.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 18.</LABEL> Of his comportement while he bore the charges of Prouinciall, or Definitour, and of the qua|lities requi&s;ite therto. pag. 191.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 19.</LABEL> Of his per&s;euerance. pag. 208.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 20.</LABEL> Of his voyage to Rome to the generall Chapter, and what he did three. pag. 219.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 21.</LABEL> Of his returne from Rome, and what happened to him in the way. pag. 225.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 22.</LABEL> Of his death. pag. 229.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 23.</LABEL> Of the tran&s;portinge of his bodie to Paris. pag. 241.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 24.</LABEL> Of his miracles. pag. 247.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="errata">
<PB REF="146">
<HEAD>Faults e&s;caped in the fir&s;t life.</HEAD>
<P>Pag. 9. epi&s;t. ded. with, which. pag. 16. of the preface, whe-, whether, pag. 81. profe&s;&s;ed God, profe&s;&s;ed to God. pag. 115. to &s;o, &s;o to. pag. 118. that vs, that is. Ibid. may &s;elfe, my &s;elfe. pag. 122. their at, their &s;eruice at. pag. 124. put into, put them into, pag. 133. Behould there and, Behould the one and. pag. 149. yeauen, yea euen. pag. 159. or deme, or de&s;ire. pag. 168. afflicted, a&s;&s;i&s;ted. pag. 170. Allurus, Aluernus. pag. 171. ru&s;t, &s;ack. Ibid. &s;pinges, thinges. pag. 213. pact. part.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="encomium">
<PB REF="147">
<PB REF="147">
<HEAD>TO THE BLESSED FATHER BENET ENGLISH CAPVCIN. <HI>A HYMNE.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>RO&s;e of glory comely flower</L>
<L>Ble&s;t by God with &s;ouerain grace</L>
<L>Tran&s;lated to the heauenly bower</L>
<L>Enthroand, in that Emperiall place</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Ble&s;&s;ed BENET in thy prai&s;e</L>
<L>To thee this himne I dedicate</L>
<L>To thee my thoughts with loue I rai&s;e</L>
<L>Reioycing in thy blisfull &s;tate.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A burning &s;tone from heauen let fall</L>
<L>To clean&s;e my hart that this endites</L>
<L>En&s;truct my tongue which heere I call</L>
<L>The pen of him that &s;wiftly writes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Whil&s;t clad thou wert in pilgrims weed</L>
<L>Detained in this vale of woes</L>
<L>Faithfull to God thou did&s;t proceed.</L>
<L>To conquer the infernall foes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>For God who formed thee of claye</L>
<L>To thee di&s;plaid his beames of light</L>
<L>Who&s;e call thou promptly did&s;t obaye</L>
<L>All ho&s;tile forces put to flight.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>All worldly wealth thou do&s;t for&s;ake</L>
<PB REF="148">
<L>All humaine glorie &s;eems but lies</L>
<L>Wherin thou &s;uch content did&s;t take</L>
<L>Whil&s;t earthly loue did blind thyne eyes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>From countrie, parents, kindred, frends,</L>
<L>Who&s;e loue to earth mens harts doth tie</L>
<L>A nobler loue thy loue vnbends</L>
<L>That it to God might mount more highe.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Delights and plea&s;ures fraile as gla&s;&s;e</L>
<L>Thou do&s;t behould with skornful eye</L>
<L>For they like gliding water pa&s;&s;e</L>
<L>While&s;t thy de&s;ires to heauen doe flie.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>For Chri&s;t thy louer from aboue</L>
<L>Thy hart had pierctwith fiery dart</L>
<L>Which made thee like one drunke with loue</L>
<L>To langui&s;h in delightfull &s;mart</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now Chri&s;t thy patterne to draw neere</L>
<L>In life and death thou &s;triu&s;t amaine</L>
<L>Like to the thir&s;ty panting deere</L>
<L>The cri&s;tall fountaine to attaine</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Of great Saint Francis Patriarke</L>
<L>The cro&s;&s;es troumpet of shrill voice</L>
<L>Thou ayming at the highe&s;t marke</L>
<L>Mad&s;t of the &s;acred order choi&s;e.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Of &s;uch a father thou the &s;onne</L>
<L>Yea worthy &s;onne of that great light</L>
<L>Who&s;e life may &s;eeme againe begunne</L>
<L>In thee his vertues &s;hine &s;oe bright.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Of God the precious gemme thou art</L>
<PB REF="148">
<L>Be&s;ett with orient pearles of grace</L>
<L>Thy glorie &s;hines in euerie part</L>
<L>True beawty doth adorne thy face.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Braue champion who with cro&s;&s;e in hand</L>
<L>Do&s;t deuill, fle&s;h, and world &s;ubdue</L>
<L>With it thou do&s;t victorious &s;tand</L>
<L>A terrour to th' infernall crue.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>That &s;eated on the mount &s;ublime</L>
<L>Of pouertie that place of re&s;t</L>
<L>Thy &s;oule begins in grace to clime</L>
<L>Thy ioyes, thy comforts are increa&s;t.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And now thy hart is boarne on highe</L>
<L>The heauenly &s;plendours to behould</L>
<L>And Chri&s;t who raignes aboue the skie</L>
<L>To thee his &s;ecretts doth vnfould.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Who&s;e &s;weetnes dewing from aboue</L>
<L>Doth yeald thee &s;uch a blisfull re&s;t</L>
<L>That &s;oaring with the wings of loue</L>
<L>Thou leane&s;t on his &s;acred bre&s;t.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His pa&s;&s;ion obiect of thy &s;ight</L>
<L>His bodie whether eagles flocke,</L>
<L>To build thy nea&s;t is thy delight</L>
<L>There in the riftures of that rocke.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His wounds thy bookes to &s;tudie in</L>
<L>The &s;upreme &s;cience is the cro&s;&s;e</L>
<L>This only thy de&s;ire to win</L>
<L>All other &s;tudies &s;eeme but lo&s;&s;e</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>This &s;cience in thy &s;oule to dwell</L>
<PB REF="149">
<L>This to bee &s;eated in thy bre&s;t</L>
<L>Thy words, thy bookes, thy writings tell</L>
<L>The &s;ame thy life and workes prote&s;t.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The cro&s;&s;e thy place of cheife repo&s;e</L>
<L>Thy chaire wherin thou didde&s;t preach</L>
<L>The bound by &s;inne thou did&s;t vnlo&s;e</L>
<L>With it, the erring people teach.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Whom deadly poy&s;on did infect</L>
<L>Thou place&s;t in the gates of life</L>
<L>Their Here&s;ies thou did&s;t detect</L>
<L>With words more piercing then a knife.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And hauing bur&s;t their &s;inful cheines</L>
<L>Their harts thou take&s;t in Peeters netts</L>
<L>A happy fi&s;her he remaines</L>
<L>That frees men from &s;uch heauy debts.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But holy fi&s;her let me aske</L>
<L>What do&s;t thou with thy noble pray?</L>
<L>Thou &s;ette&s;t her this delightfull taske</L>
<L>At Ie&s;us feet her &s;elfe to lay.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then &s;weetly thou, but yett with &s;peed</L>
<L>Begin&s;t the cro&s;&s;e in &s;ight to reare</L>
<L>Inuiting her in pennance weed</L>
<L>That &s;acred &s;tandart for to beare.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Thou faithfull &s;eruant prai&s;d &s;halt be</L>
<L>Whoe to thy Lord the heauenly king</L>
<L>In &s;igne of thy fidelitie</L>
<L>Of goods receiued, the gaine do&s;t bring.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>S. Francis &s;teps thou didde&s;t trace</L>
<PB REF="149">
<L>His feruour burned in thy bre&s;t</L>
<L>His perfect life thou did&s;t embrace</L>
<L>With him thou euer &s;halt be ble&s;t.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>I add this only to thy prai&s;e</L>
<L>Which &s;eems in one all to combine</L>
<L>To Chri&s;t him&s;elfe my &s;tile I rai&s;e</L>
<L>While life and death in thee doth &s;hine.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And now behould is come thy tyme</L>
<L>Thy earthly pilgrimage is donne</L>
<L>For loe thy &s;oule become like wine</L>
<L>Who&s;e mighty force doth breake the tunne.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Which mounting vpp euen as a flame</L>
<L>Vnto her centre &s;wiftly bent</L>
<L>The heauenly quiers doe meet the &s;ame</L>
<L>With ioyfull &s;ongs of &s;weet concent.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Whoe putting in thy hand a palme</L>
<L>They prai&s;e, thy valour, grace, and might</L>
<L>Then &s;inging a triumphant palme</L>
<L>Conduct thee to their princes &s;ight.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>They offer thee before that king</L>
<L>Whoe framing with his word a loane</L>
<L>Heauen, earth, with each created thing</L>
<L>On Cherubes wings doth place his throane.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Hee who&s;e life-giuing eye di&s;playes</L>
<L>Eternall beames of light and grace</L>
<L>And whoe in iubilies doth rai&s;e</L>
<L>Their mynds to whom hee turns his face.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Hee whom the morning &s;tarrs doe laude</L>
<PB REF="150">
<L>Behoulding thee with grations &s;mile</L>
<L>Thy faithfull &s;eruice doth applawd</L>
<L>And bids thee welcome from exile.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Hee then extolls thy con&s;tant loue</L>
<L>Thy perfect workes, thy pure entent</L>
<L>From which noe force could thee remoue</L>
<L>Nor &s;ubtil &s;leight could circumuent</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now &s;tiling thee with titles great</L>
<L>For skorns, contempts, &amp; labours borne</L>
<L>Then placing thee in roiall &s;eat</L>
<L>Doth thee with precious guifts adorne.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then commeth in a princely pace</L>
<L>The Virgin mother Queen of bli&s;&s;e</L>
<L>Whoe with an ouerflowing grace</L>
<L>Pre&s;enteth thee her hand to ki&s;&s;e.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Who&s;e meekenes full of Maie&s;tye</L>
<L>Such pure delights and ioyes di&s;tild</L>
<L>As with the &s;treams of &s;uauitye</L>
<L>Thy &s;oule remains euen more then fild.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then all the hoa&s;t of heauen proceeds</L>
<L>With himns and p&s;alms to celebrate</L>
<L>Thy triumph and in ioyfull weeds</L>
<L>Solemnize this thy highe e&s;tate.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But fir&s;t the Angells lead the quier</L>
<L>With their &s;weet &s;ounding melodye</L>
<L>Who&s;e lo&s;&s;e and ruins they admire</L>
<L>With &s;uch faire &s;tones repaird to &s;ee.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The &s;acred Senate next in place</L>
<PB REF="150">
<L>In robes of purple ritchly clad</L>
<L>As their colleage doe thee embrace</L>
<L>And to thy glorye more to add,</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Recount thy labours one by one</L>
<L>And toiles to &s;owe gods &s;acred word</L>
<L>Thy faithfull &s;eruice vndergone</L>
<L>To preach the cro&s;&s;e of Chri&s;t thy Lord.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The holy Martyrs highly prai&s;d</L>
<L>That life which to the world &s;oe dyes</L>
<L>As all her thoughts to heauenward rai&s;d</L>
<L>On God aloane hath fixt her eyes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then the Confe&s;&s;ours of our Lord</L>
<L>Of heauens faire field the fragant flowers</L>
<L>New canticles to thee record</L>
<L>Inuiting thee into their bowers.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The ayer they with their voyces fill</L>
<L>On earth their eccoes doe rebound</L>
<L>And will thy worthy Conque&s;ts &s;till</L>
<L>With an eternall troumpet &s;ound.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The troups of Virgins take their turne</L>
<L>Whoe both the world and fle&s;h &s;ubdu'd</L>
<L>In whom Chri&s;ts loue alone did burne</L>
<L>Who&s;e &s;ong thy pray&s;es doth conclude.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>On harps and &s;halms, with &s;onnetts &s;toare</L>
<L>Like Nithingales they &s;weetly &s;ing</L>
<L>Remaine with vs for euer more</L>
<L>Loe heere an euerla&s;ting &s;pring.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Reioyce o ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule reioyce</L>
<PB REF="151">
<L>Thy bli&s;&s;e to more encrea&s;e doth tend</L>
<L>Thy wi&s;edome made a happy choi&s;e</L>
<L>Thy &s;ollid ioyes &s;hall neuer end.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Behould the winter &s;torms are pa&s;t</L>
<L>Pomegranetts ripe, faire flowers appeere</L>
<L>The ro&s;es red their odour ca&s;t</L>
<L>The turtle &s;ings, loe harue&s;t heere.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>O thou whoe do&s;t in heauen re&s;ide</L>
<L>Exempt from feare of deaths annoye</L>
<L>How well were former paines emploid</L>
<L>That purcha&s;t &s;uch a waight of ioye?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now ble&s;&s;ed father lend thyne eares</L>
<L>Of pittye vnto this my crie</L>
<L>That &s;ighing in this vale of teares</L>
<L>My thoughts to God may &s;wiftlie flie.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Regard from heauen her &s;ad complaints</L>
<L>Whoe &s;till doth langui&s;he in exile</L>
<L>And thou who raigne&s;t with the Saints</L>
<L>Procure noe &s;pott her mind defile.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="biography">
<PB N="1" REF="151">
<HEAD>THE MIRACVLOVS, LIFE, CON|uer&s;ion, and conuer&s;ation of the Reuerend Father Bennett of Ca~feild an Englilsh man, and Preacher of the order of Capucins.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Country, birth, and education. THE FIRST CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>_THERE are not more vertuous ef|fects, then tho&s;e of Gods provi|dence which are powerfull to rou&s;e vpp a &s;oule, and to dawe it from the vanities of the worl|de, to the &s;earche of the Soueraigne good. But they are &s;o full of excellence and ob&s;curi|tye, eyther in theyre cau&s;e, or theyr e&s;&s;ence, or in theyre end, that wee mu&s;te haue our vn|der&s;ta~ding wholly perverted, or els ingenou&s;|ly confes, that they are beyond the bounds and limitts of our rea&s;on and knowledge to com|pri&s;e them. There is noe man ignorant that they are, for wee feele the~, and ta&s;te the fruits dayly: but to iudge of the worthe and value of them, or to knowe what perticular motive induceth God to bring them to light, this is a matter that the Angells them&s;elues doe not knowe.</P>
<P>The Reuerend Father Bennett of Canfeild, who&s;e life, conuer&s;ion, and conuer&s;ation hath not only beene miraculous but a co~tinuall mi|racle, will &s;erue for an euident proofe of this
<PB N="2" REF="152" MS="y"> truthe: For hee wh<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ch had &s;u<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ked here&s;y with his mothers milke, and in his birth was &s;eazed with death, grewe to bee nourished and fedd with the &s;wee<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e liquoure of grace, within this Seraphicall order, the mo&s;te hard and au|&s;tere of all others, to &s;ubdue the pa&s;&s;ions of the flesh, wherein many liued many yeeres. In his death hee was made partaker of a true and happy life: hee which from his cradle was tainted w th the impurityes of Puritans, and tooke contentment therein, was clen&s;ed from this filth, and brought into the bo&s;ome of the pure, and true Church of God, the Catholi|que, Apo&s;tolique, Roman Church; And his &s;oule shining with an extraordinary puritie, by an extraordinary mea&s;ure of Gods graces and benedictions, vowed an irreconciliable enmitye, both in tongue, and harte agayn&s;te &s;uch impuritye, after hee had di&s;couered the odiou&s;nes of it: Hee who in his former thou|ghts and de&s;ignes, aymed at nothing but at the glory and greatenes of the worlde, and had noe feeling or care of heauenly things, &s;oudainly was &s;oe changed, that hee de&s;pi&s;ed all the pom|pes and vanityes of the worlde, and fixed all his thoughts vppon the bettering of his &s;oule, and a&s;piring to heauenly things: Hee per&s;eue|red in the&s;e holy de&s;ires, &amp; neuer grewe faynt or weary in his affection: Hee only changed the obiect, and like repentant Mary Magdalen gaue all that vnto God, which hee before had
<PB N="3" REF="152"> prodigallie em<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">loied vpon the worlde: This was gods prouidence, which wrought this ex|traordinary change, which in the begining; ca~|not but produce a rauishment, and in the end, comforte and contentement, and likewi&s;e hu|militye, and a&s;toinshment in the ignorance of the time:</P>
<P>Hee was an English man by nation, and I may &s;ay, by prede&s;tination, and benedi|ction; whence tho&s;e that are drenched and buryed in errour, may &s;ee that God doth neuer refu&s;e &s;ufficiencie of grace to drawe the~ forth, &s;eeing that euen in this Realme (heeretofore a deare childe of the churche, and afterward &s;e|parated by Gods &s;ecret Iudgment) there are whom God doth extraordinary call vnto him by &s;peci<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ll grace: For although the excerci&s;e of catholique religion, bee forbidden and &s;up|pre&s;&s;ed, yet are there many feruent and zea|lous &s;oules, which will not (though it bee with perill of theyre liues) doe any thing which is contrary to Gods and the churches commande|ments. Therefore, as the &s;torie of Iob noteth very perticularly to his greate comme~dation, that hee was of the land of Hus, where the people were malicious and greate &s;inners: &s;oe hee borne and bredd in here&s;y, which is &s;oe much the more venemous and dangerous, be|cau&s;e it is ma&s;ked with the name of a pure re|ligion, meriteth the more honour, and pray&s;e in that hee was an English man, in that hee did
<PB N="4" REF="153"> ouercome the corruption of nature, and nur|ture, and afterward attayned to &s;uch heroicall vertues, preferring bann<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">shment, pouerty, and au&s;terity of life, for the loue of Chri&s;t, before his deare&s;t country, his plentifull meanes, and delights, wherein hee had beene bred and pa~|pered.</P>
<P>Hee was borne at Ca~feild in E&s;&s;ex, of a good family and parentage, his fir&s;t name w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s Wil|liam Fich, by which hee was called till hee be|came Capucin: From his infancye hee was of &s;oe &s;weete and louely a di&s;po&s;ition, that hee drewe all mens affections to him that knewe him: His parentes loued him more deerely, then they did the re&s;t of theyre children, and cherished him more tenderly, not knowing to what end god had de&s;tinated theire naturall fauours: Hee was the &s;econd brother of three of them; The elde&s;t who was heyre of the re|uenues and lands, according to the lawes of the contry was called Thomas, the third was Frauncis, who hauing litle lef<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> him by his pa|rents, marryed a rich widowe by whome hee aduanced his meanes and fortune, and after|ward for te&s;timony of his gentrie and recom|pence of his publique &s;eruice, was made a knight.</P>
<P>The&s;e two bretheren though brought vpp in good letters, were noe way comparable to Father Bennett; who beyond his naturall in|clination, wherein hee did exceede, did shewe
<PB N="5" REF="153"> by effect, that hee was carryed to his &s;tudies with an extraordinary de&s;ire: Hee &s;pent in his tender age whole nights at his booke, and did not willingly conuer&s;e with any, but tho&s;e of whom hee myght learne &s;omewhat. Hee tooke noe plea&s;ure in any recreations that drewe him from his &s;tudyes, in &s;oe much that when his Brethre~, &amp; &s;ome other ge~telme~, who were brought vp together vnder the &s;ame ma|&s;ter, would take him to goe a hu~ting, (in which &s;porte hee more delighted then in any other) hee would eyther refu&s;e to goe with them, or if hee we~t, hee allwayes tooke &s;ome booke in his pockett, which hee opened and read, as often as the lea&s;t occa&s;ion was offered to him, taking more contentement, in readnig &s;ome pa&s;&s;age or &s;entence in &s;uch a booke as hee car|ryed with him, then in that delightfull &s;porte: Many &s;uch things did hee in his tender age, and in the darkenes of errour and here&s;ye, what would hee haue done if hee had beene a Catholi&abque;, &amp; had had the light of true Fayth?</P>
<P>When hee was growen to better age and which was capable of greater knowledge, he gaue him&s;elfe to higher &s;tudies, which occa&s;io|ned his parentes to &s;ende him to the Innes of the court, there to &s;tudye the common lawe: This good Father aduanced him&s;elfe &s;oe much heerein in a shorte tyme, that tho&s;e who were not wittne&s;&s;es of it, coulde not beleeue it. But when it plea&s;ed God of his infinite mercye,
<PB N="6" REF="154"> to shewe him the beames of his truth, through the clouds and foggs of here&s;ye, wherewith his &s;ou e was infected, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y did &s;oe lighten his &s;oule, that in one moment hee was wholy changed into an other man, for whereas befo|re hee w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s feruent in his &s;tudie of the lawe, hee bec<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">me &s;l<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ck and cold and whereas befo|re hee was plea&s;ant and a louer of companye, hee became melancholly<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">k, and a freind of &s;o|li<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">arynes and much retired: yea nowe hee be|gan to enter into mature con&s;ultation with him&s;elfe, beeing driuen into many perplexed thoughts: For on the &s;ide, the beleife and re|ligion which hee had learned from his infan|cye, held him as it were fettered and manicled, be&s;ides that, it was the common religion of his country and of the greate&s;t parte of his kin|dred and freinds: on the other &s;ide, he co~cea|ued greate &s;cruple and matter of doubt concer|ning <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he truth and veretie therof, &s;oe that hee knewe not what re&s;olution to make: but God made him by his diuine in&s;piration to con&s;i|der the glorious crownes which are re&s;erued in heauen for the recompence of good wor|kes, and the eternall torments which are pre|pared in hell for the &s;oules of &s;inners, which of all good in&s;pirations is the be&s;t and the mo&s;t forcible.</P>
<P>Hee continewed &s;ome fewe dayes in this e&s;tate, feeling the&s;e &s;pirituall combatts in his &s;oule, which God did more and more augme~<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">
<PB N="7" REF="154"> The cau&s;e whereof hee could not co~prehend, till his miraculous conuer&s;ion was effected, Which it hath plea&s;ed God that hee hath left written with his owne hand, to &s;erue for a motiue to others, that &s;traye out of the right waye, and to giue occa&s;ion to Catholiques to admire the effects of gods prouidence, to hu~|ble them&s;elues, and to giue vnto God immor|tall thankes, for tho&s;e graces which hee hath &s;oe freely and graciou&s;ly giuen to his creatu|res. It hath beene already, printed by &s;ome one (who de&s;irous to con&s;erue the memory of this ble&s;&s;ed man, hath preuented me) but be|cau&s;e the re&s;t of his life and actions, which are of very greate importance, to &s;erue for a nota|ble example vnto others, was not adioyned to it, I haue thought it fitt to putt all together in one &s;tory, that &s;o it might bee more perfect, and more auailable to the edification of others, and thus the &s;torie doth begin.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>His exclamation vpon the &s;tate of this pre&s;ent life. THE SECONDE CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>ALthough the di&s;order of my life pa&s;t, co~|pared with the &s;trict life of ancient Chri|&s;tians, or examined by the iudgment of tho&s;e of our tyme, may &s;eeme euill, wicked and mon&s;trous, yet was it &s;oe shadowed and coue|red
<PB N="8" REF="155"> with the iniquitye of the tyme, abounding with vitious and lewed libertins, that it could hardly bee di&s;cerned and condemned for &s;uch; For euen as black beeing neere to white, doth more playnly appeare, &s;oe when it is mixed and confounded with black, it can hardly bee di&s;tinguished: The &s;ame may I &s;ay truely of my lyfe, the darkenes whereof compared with the candor of the life of old Chri&s;tians, or the puritie of tho&s;e that are good in this age, would pre&s;ently bee di&s;eouered: yett hauing ledd my life in the black darkenes of this pre|&s;ent age, it &s;eemed not &s;oe fowle as indeede it is: For &s;ince the lamentable change of he Catholique fayth into here&s;ye, &s;ince the ouer|throw and contempt of the vniuer&s;all Apo&s;to|lique Roman fayth in our Realme, the con|&s;ciences of men haue beene &s;oe &s;tretched and enlarged, the reyne of concupi&s;cence hath beene &s;oe &s;lackned, that all hone&s;tie, vertue, and good life, hath beene for&s;aken and aban|doned, and on the contrary &s;ide, vice and ini|quitye hath wholie &s;wayed and ouerruled the &s;ame. I would to God my words were not true, but experience doth manife&s;tly shewe, what I &s;ay to bee but truth:</P>
<P>For fir&s;t of all, how are mens con&s;ciences &s;tretched in traffiquing one with an other? How litle, or noe fidelity, is there now in mu|tuall promi&s;es? what cunning dealing and co|&s;enage, is there practi&s;ed euere where? what
<PB N="9" REF="155"> &s;mall hold is there of mens words and creditt? Neede wee not now more bonds and wri|tings, to borow but twentye angells, then was needfull in tyme pa&s;te to buy &s;oe much land for euer? Noe man tru&s;teth his neighbour, neyther would I coun&s;ell him to tru&s;te him: As for &s;acred oathes, which ought to bee inuio|lable, alas men make marchandize of them, and &s;ell them for monye: And for concupi&s;|cence, whoe &s;eeth not that it is withheld by noe bridle, men following theyr liberty and plea&s;ures, like brute bea&s;tes? But for this I had rather pa&s;&s;e it ouer &s;lghtly, then to prooue it by many particular examples: And why &s;hould it bee bridled or kept in, if (without giuing any con&s;ent vnto it) it be iudged a mortall &s;inne, as ma&s;ter Charke and other mini&s;ters his companions doe teach? and that all wee doe, are mortall Sinnes, as Prote&s;tants hold?</P>
<P>Moreouer, if any man giue almes, or doe performe any other good worke, hee shall not bee reputed a freind of prote&s;tants, but be e&s;t|eemed; (as they ordinarilie terme it) a merit-monger: and one that &s;eeketh to &s;aue him&s;elfe by his merits: As for Ho&s;pitalitye and releife of the poore, it is almo&s;t quite neglected, e&s;|pecially among theyre church men, who ey|ther mayntayne theyre wiues or concubines, vpon the goods of the churche. And as for fa|&s;ting and Prayer, which our Sauiour hath &s;oe often recommended to vs by words and wor|kes
<PB N="10" REF="156"> they are &s;oe litle e&s;teemed that hee which fa&s;teth vpon the eue commanded by the holy Church, is called a Papi&s;t, and long prayer is &s;tiled a Monkish act. And finally to v&s;e the hel|pe of the Sacraments again&s;t &s;inne, is reputed enmitye again&s;t the &s;tate: but to confe&s;&s;e, to reconcile others, or to bee reconciled, yea but to carry about him holy things, as Agnus Dei, Medalls, a Crucifix or graines that are ble&s;&s;ed, or but to bee in companye with a prie&s;t, this is noe le&s;&s;e then a crime of trea<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">on to his Prince, and country: But hee that will take a more cleare view how vice, and iniquitye are ex|alted, lett him but ob&s;erue how &s;inne now raigneth in all &s;tates and &s;ortes of life, and hee &s;hall finde that all manner of greuous &s;innes are committed, as freely and loo&s;ely, as if they were not &s;uch: Soe doe they (confirming the woords of holy &s;cripture) <HI>drinke Sinne as water,</HI> which is one of the great &s;innes of the worlde: and of the &s;ix things hated of God, the one is, to haue our feete light and &s;wifte to run|ne to euill.</P>
<P>And to examine further &s;ome other points, what litle honour is there geuen to Gods maie&s;tye, who&s;e name is &s;oe bla&s;phemed in &s;wearing and for&s;wearing in all di&s;cour&s;es, that hee is &s;carce e&s;teemed a gentleman or a man of courage, which hath not learned to en|terlace his words with many oathes and bla&s;|phemies: Theyre Sundayes and fea&s;tes, how
<PB N="11" REF="156"> are they neglected when on the&s;e dayes, there are more idle per&s;ons walking vp and downe the &s;treet<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s, and in Saints Pauls churche (which is made a walking and talking place) then there is on others: nay euen Sunday is a day de|&s;igned for bearebay<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ing, and euen the howre of theyre &s;eruice is allotted to it, and indeede the tyme is as well &s;pent at the one, as at the other: I neede not &s;peake of profanation of fea&s;tes, which the Puritans will not approue at all. For rancour and mallice, doe they not raigne vniuer&s;ally through the wholle Real|me? As for defamation, detraction and ra&s;h iudgments, men make noe account or recko|ning of them; what diui&s;ions and debates are there in euery pari&s;h? And for the mo&s;te parte the mini&s;ter is a principall man in mayntay|ning them: If wee &s;peake of couetou&s;nes; is not hee to bee iudged a theefe, which de&s;ireth the goods, lands and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions of his Neigh|bour, I meane in the pre&s;ence of God? and who bee there among them, whoe lye not &s;till in ambu&s;h, and &s;ecretly &s;uborne &s;pies, to informe them, how they may take any le&s;t aduantage, how to &s;eaze vpon other mens goods?</P>
<P>I will omitte to &s;peake of Iu&s;tice, which is corrupted among the principall Iu&s;tices, and it is not long &s;ince they accu&s;ed one an other in theyr highe&s;t court of Iu&s;tice: This is but too euident, when wee &s;ee dayly &s;oe many
<PB N="12" REF="157"> iu&s;t per&s;ons. Prei&s;ts and other Catholiques vn|iu&s;tlie impri&s;oned, theyr goods &s;poiled, and in the end them&s;elues cruelly putt to death and all vnder the cloake of iu&s;tice.</P>
<P>I will not di&s;couer more dete&s;table &s;innes in the greate&s;t per&s;ons, who will not abide that they bee touched: But all the other for|mer &s;innes, and many other, are &s;oe common in all &s;ortes, as if they thought there were noe God at all, or if there bee, they &s;eeme to be of tho&s;e of whome the Prophet &s;peaketh. <HI>Our lord will not &s;ee it, neyther will the God of Iacob be|hould it:</HI> Neyther is it to bee wondered, that they keepe Gods commandements noe better, &s;ithence they are not incited and moued by theyre mini&s;ters to keepe them, but they bold|ly preach, and teach by theyre liues, and by thire doctrine, that they can not bee kept: our &s;auiour &s;ayth; <HI>My commandements are not heauye,</HI> and they &s;ay they are mo&s;t heauie, yea impo&s;&s;i|ble: our &s;auiour &s;ayth. <HI>My yoke is &s;weete, and my burden light,</HI> and they teach that it is sharpe, yea vn&s;upportable; our &s;auiour &s;ayth. <HI>If thou wilt enter into eternall life, keepe the commandements:</HI> and they teach that wee mu&s;te enter into it by only faith; is it not likely that &s;uch a life proceedeth from &s;uch doctrine? For what wonder is it, if &s;uch fruite gowe from &s;uch &s;eede? Here&s;ie and Schi&s;me, bring forth noe better Here&s;y and bad life, doe goe together; Therefore Saint Ignatius &s;ayth; Flye the breath of iniquitie, flye
<PB N="13" REF="157"> the diuelish doctrine of Heretiques, out of who&s;e mouth proceedeth an infection, which poi&s;oneth the wholle worlde: Here&s;y (&s;ayth this holy Martyr) is without God. Here&s;y is an inuention of the deuill. What faithfull En|glish harte is there, which doth not weigh the complaint of Saint Ba&s;il in his tyme, &s;aying. Good doctrine is &s;ubuerted, tho&s;e who ought to feede the flock of Chri&s;t with the tru<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h, are forced to bee &s;ilent, the mou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hes of good tea|chers are clo&s;ed vp, and bla&s;pheming tongues doe ryott, holy places are prophaned, the bet|ter and wi&s;er &s;orte of people come not to the churches, where doctrine acceptable to God and good men is taught, but they are forced to liue in de&s;arts, lifting vp theyre handes to God with &s;ighes and groanes, and many &s;alt teares: This is the &s;tate of our poore country, &s;ince Catholique Religion hath beene ouerthrowe~; There hath beene as it were the generall delu|ge of vice and iniquitye, and the very outward face of all vertue and hone&s;tye, hath beene thus diffigured: Wherevpon it came to pa&s;&s;e, that my enormous manner of life, appared not &s;oe foule in this mi&s;erable country, as when it was in an other Aegipt, the darkenes wherof wree &s;o gro&s;&s;e and &s;o palpable, that they might in a maner bee cutt with a knife.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="14" REF="158">
<HEAD>What hee was, and what hee was become, how hee doth acte&s;t his life pa&s;t, and embrace a newe life. THE THIRD CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IV&s;tly may it bee &s;aid with Saint Policarpe: O god vnto what time ha&s;t thou re&s;erued vs! Alas what time is this, what people, and what manners doe wee nowe behould! Fayth is exiled, the church de&s;pi&s;ed, vertue is <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">od|den vnder foote, and vice is exalted! Alas &s;ay I, &s;inne, here&s;y and Schi&s;me doe nowe raigne, This is the time wherin I w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s borne, brought vp, and nurtured among the&s;e people, and in|fected with theire manners; This was thy or|dinance, &ocirc; God, &s;oe it plea&s;ed thy diuine ma|ie&s;tie and prouidence, that I should bee borne in the&s;e vnhappy times, and participate of thei|re mi&s;eries by following them. Thy waies and Iudgments. &ocirc; Lord, are in&s;crutable, thy wi&s;|dome, is infinite, and thy mercies without nu~|ber. O depth of the riches, of the wi&s;dome, and knowledge of God, how vn&s;earchable are his iudgments, and his waies incomprehen&s;i|ble! There is noe number of his wi&s;dome, and his mercy is a <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">oue all his workes. To thee will I allwaies &s;ing a canticle of pray&s;e, and offer to thee thanke&s;giuing. For notwith|&s;tanding all the&s;e dangers, thy bounty hath not for&s;ooke mee, but ca&s;te mee into an
<PB N="15" REF="158"> other mould, and changed my &s;inne, to my benefitt; I cannot but con&s;ider my headlong cour&s;e and de&s;perate life, which I ledd wan|dring from thee. As a lo&s;te sheepe I &s;traied; when thou cea&s;ed&s;t not to looke after thy &s;er|uant For how barbarous and bruti&s;h was my life, which I pa&s;&s;ed ouer out of thy holy church and without the helpe of her diuine &s;acra|ments? Can he bee &s;tiled a Chri&s;tian, which neuer receaued the &s;acrament of penance, nor of the Altar? neuer heard ma&s;&s;e, neuer a&s;i&s;ted at matins, or euen &s;ong, nor euer &s;awe Prei&s;t in all his life? &s;uch an one was I, wret|ched and mi&s;erable man, and vnworthy the name of a Chri&s;tian. O lord remember not the offences of my youth, nor my ignorance, There was nothing els to bee &s;eene in mee, but a &s;uperficiall &s;hewe and outward appa|rance of a carele&s;&s;e Chri&s;tian: For if I were not then a branch of the true vine, how could I bring forth good fruite? If I were not a member of the body, what &s;eruice could I doe to the heade? But &s;uch I was not then, for he (as a venerable Author well ob&s;erueth) is not worthy to haue God for his father, who hath not the churche for his mother; &s;oe then I liued in body, but was dead in &s;oule, I dayly broke thy holy commandements, I dailie com|mitted mortall &s;innes; All my life pa&s;te was nothing but a heaping vp of &s;inne and horri|ble offences. I prouoked dayly thy wrath and
<PB N="16" REF="159"> indignation agayn&s;t mee: my con&s;cience did torture mee, and the inward and &s;ecret partes of my harte, did reproove and frett mee; Aua|rice and couetou&s;nes did wring mee, pride did ouerwhelme mee, enuie did con&s;ume mee, concupi&s;cence did inflame mee, luxury did impri&s;on mee, gluttony did tran&s;porte mee, drunkenes did confound mee, detraction did rente mee, ambition did &s;upplant mee, di&s;cord did trouble mee, anger did vexe mee, lightnes did carry mee away, negligence did oppre&s;&s;e mee, hipocri&s;ie did deceaue mee, flattery did abu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e mee, fauour did puffe mee vp, and ca|lumnie did prick mee. But thou o lord art he which wilt deliuer mee from all the&s;e per|uer&s;e nations. Thei&s;e are they with whome I haue haunted, whome I haue tru&s;ted as my frendes, obeied as my ma&s;ters, &s;erued as my lordes, beleeued as my coun&s;ellors, conuer&s;ed withall as my citi&s;ens, and dwelt freindly withall, as my dome&s;ticall co~panions. And yett o lord thou tooke&s;t not away thy grace wholy from mee, neither did&s;t wholly abandon mee, noe not then when for the &s;pace of &s;euen yee|res, I liued &s;oe perillou&s;lie, in a place &s;oe full of dangerous &s;nares: whih tyme I &s;pent in fee|ding my fancye with the vainties of this place, and tooke my delight in the ordinary pa&s;times of that place: Alas how often haue I beaten the &s;treetes in idle walking? how often haue I runne to plaies and comedies? how many an
<PB N="17" REF="159"> idle turne haue I made in Saint Pauls church, now &s;o prophaned? how often haue I runne to dauncing and fencing Schooles? If I &s;pent any time better then other, it was when in the Inne of the middle Temple, I read for fa|&s;hion &s;ake &s;ome booke of the common lawe; In this extremitie of da~ger, did others de&s;paire of mee? noe &s;urely, for &s;uch was alas the blindnes of men that I was e&s;teemed for&s;ooth a yong man of great good hope, whe~ it did not appeare, whether I liued like a Chri&s;tian or noe: For can I hould this a Chri&s;tian life, or thinke that my &s;innes were but &s;mall? No &s;ure|ly, but rather with the prodigall childe, am bound to &s;ay&punc; Father, I haue &s;inned again&s;t hea|uen, &amp; before the; I am not worthy to bee cal|led thy &s;onne. Alas I tooke the broad way which lead to Hell, and de&s;truction and noe man reprooued mee, noe man forbad mee, noe man admonished mee. Thou only o lord ha&s;t cried to mee alowd that I &s;hould leaue this mon&s;trous and dreadfull life, but I alas, was &s;oe a &s;leepe that I heard not thy voyce. There was &s;uch a thick clowd of vanitie before my eyes, that it was almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible to &s;ee the true Sunne of Iu&s;tice, and light of all truth: I was &s;o wrapt in darkenes (beeing the Sonne of darkenes) that I loued nothing el<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e but it, becau&s;e I knewe not the light; I was blinde and contented my &s;elfe in that &s;tate, and went on thorough darkenes, to the profounde and
<PB N="18" REF="160"> ob&s;cure pitt of darkenes, till &s;uch time as it plea&s;ed thee to poure into the inward eare of my harte and in&s;till thy mo&s;t holy and &s;oule-&s;auing co~mandements &s;aying, <HI>Fiat lux,</HI> lett light be made and pre&s;ently there was light; and &s;oe the thick and foggy clowdes, which vailed my eies, vanished awaie; I &s;aw thy light, I acknow|ledged thy voice and &s;aid, o Lord thou art my God, which ha&s;t drawen mee out of darkenes and the shadowe of death, called mee to the knowledge of thy certaine and cleare light, and cau&s;ed mee to di&s;cerne it. For this I render thee immortall thankes, that it plea&s;ed thee &s;oe to illuminate and conuerte mee: I haue now an horror of the darkenes wherein I was, and more of the darke Aby&s;&s;e, whither I was going; I haue &s;aid in my ha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">te, woe bee to tho&s;e darkenes which tooke hould of me &s;oe long a time, and cur&s;ed bee that blindnes which would haue hindered mee from &s;eeing the glo|rious light of heauen, and vnfortunat and di|&s;a&s;trous bee that ignorance, which empeached mee from the knowledge of thee, which art my only God and lord, light and ioye, the hope of my &s;oule; which ha&s;t at length &s;oe merci|fully conuerted mee, and turned my harte from the vanities of this worlde, that &s;hortly after I made three vowes, of obedience, pouertie, and cha&s;titie. which I purpo&s;ed to keepe in the religion of thy faithfull &s;eruant holie Saint Francis. But by what meanes hath this beene
<PB N="19" REF="160"> done, o my lord, from how many dangers ha&s;t thou pre&s;erued mee, and &s;uccoured mee in all my nece&s;&s;ities? How many greate tentations haue I found in this affaire, and how power|fully haue I beene deliuered? How often haue I delighted in vaine and friuolous things? How greate haue thy mercies beene in this my &s;od|daine change? when I w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ndered, thou did&s;t bringe mee back; when I was ignorant, thou did&s;t in&s;truct mee; when I was heauie, thou did&s;t comfort mee; when I did de&s;paire, thou did&s;t &s;trengthen mee; when I did fall, thou did&s;t lift mee vp; when I was vp, thou did&s;t hold mee; when I did walke, thou did&s;t conduct mee; when I did come vnto thee, thou did&s;t receaue mee; when I did &s;leepe, thou did&s;t watch ouer mee; when I did crie vnto thee, thou did&s;t heare mee, The&s;e and many other infinite benefitts thou did&s;t conferre vnto mee in my conuer&s;ion. Thou which art the God of my &s;oule: make mee (o lord) to knowe and acknowledge thee, and that I meditate day and night on thee, &s;oe that noe time pa&s;&s;e from mee, wherein I may not continually giue thee thankes for &s;uch in|e&s;timable benefitts receaued from thee. For what &s;houlde bee more plea&s;ing to mee and more &s;weete, the~ to &s;peake &amp; thinke alwaies of thee, and &s;oe to render thankes vnto thee, to the end that for them I may alwayes loue and prai&s;e thee, with all my harte, with all my &s;oule with all my vnder&s;tanding, and with all my
<PB N="20" REF="161"> force, and with the inward marrowes of my &s;pirit and of all my faculties and powers, and re&s;igne my &s;elfe wholly to thee (my lord my God) which art the bli&s;&s;e and contentment of all tho&s;e which tru&s;te in thee?</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>By wath meanes hee was called from his wordly, and Hereticall tentations. THE FOVRTH CHAPTER:</HEAD>
<P>AFter I had long liued in this licentious manner like a libertin, and that it plea&s;ed God of his infinite mercy, to recall mee, in the &s;ommer time, according to my wonted manner, I purpo&s;ed to goe into the contrey to my friends to recreat and delight my &s;elfe with tho&s;e &s;portes wherein youth delighteth, and beeing come to the how&s;e of a friend of mine my minde was wholly changed, and alienated form any &s;portes at all: For three or fowre dayes after I came thither, it happened that I lighted on a litle booke, which I was curious to looke vpon, and finding that it was a booke which I had heard much commended, trea|ting of a Re&s;olution to liue well, I was pre|&s;ently mooued to reade &s;ome fewe pa&s;&s;ages in the &s;ame, yet without any purpo&s;e to reade exactly all what &s;oeuer might bee contained in it; and after I had read &s;ome litle therof, I be|gan to &s;ee the end whereat hee aimed, which was a pre&s;ent and &s;peedie reformation of the
<PB N="21" REF="161"> life of the reader: where vpon I was de&s;irous to &s;ee what arguments hee v&s;ed to per&s;wade ther|to, &amp; if peradue~ture I liked them well, I would putt them in practi&s;e. But in reading, I began to haue a remor&s;e of con&s;cience, and therefore I left the booke for the pre&s;ent, with a purpo&s;e to reade more therof the next day the which was &s;unday. But when &s;unday was come I &s;pent it in going to the prayers of Heretiques, and partly in &s;ome recreations, and the day after I read very litle or nothing at all. But on tue&s;|day I tooke the booke againe into my hands, and I read therin many pages, during which time I laboured to fauour my &s;elfe, as though tho&s;e torments which were threatned to &s;in|ners were not touching mee, although my con&s;cience reprooued mee therein. But the more, I read, the more my con&s;cience accu&s;ed mee, &s;oe that I began to a&s;&s;igne and limitt a time wherein I would amende my life.</P>
<P>But what &s;hall I &s;ay, o Lord whil&s;t I did not answere &s;ufficiently to thy holy in&s;pirations. thou did&s;t not cea&s;e to knock harder at the gate of my harte, &s;oe that I began to finde my con|&s;cience extreamely oppre&s;&s;ed, and by that meanes I became &s;add &amp; melancholli&abque; Then did I feele my hart perced with greefe and an|guish, knowing that with the&s;e plea&s;ures on the one &s;ide I liued ill, on the other &s;ide I would not for&s;ake them; and reading on &s;till, I found eua&s;ions to pa&s;&s;e them ouer the more &s;lightly.
<PB N="22" REF="162"> At the length, hauing read the Chapter which treated of the account wee mu&s;te make to God, I was forced in &s;pight of my teethe to apply this to my &s;elfe, this touched mee &s;oe neare, and &s;oe shooke my con&s;cience, that I beeing not able to di&s;&s;emble or colour the matter any longer, was driuen to confe&s;&s;e that I was the &s;inner again&s;te whome the&s;e horrible paines and torments of hell were denounced. And from that time I &s;awe the mi&s;erable &s;tate wherin I was, and &s;oe &s;ought to ame~de my life pa&s;te. But alas, how many blocks lay in my way? How &s;ubtillie did-the old &s;erpe~t sh<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">w him&s;elfe? heere vpon what inuentions and &s;tratagems, did hee not v&s;e to hinder mee? Hee began thus with me. Heereafter you shall haue better op|portunitie. and shall doe it more ea&s;ily; you are yet in the flowre of youre age, and what a folly is it to depriue your &s;elfe wholly of youre plea&s;ures and conforts? And what will your friends &s;ay to this, when they shall &s;ee you growe &s;oe &s;ober and &s;add, yow will lees your creddit among tho&s;e whoe e&s;teeme you, and among the wi&s;e you will bee reputed for a foole; Againe when you shall haue tried, you will finde it impo&s;&s;ible to ab&s;teine from your accu&s;tomed &s;innes. A good life is extreame hard and vn&s;upportable: looke about you, and &s;ee if there bee any that liueth in that manner that you determine to doe. How can you liue without greate or &s;mall &s;innes, &s;ithe mini&s;ters
<PB N="23" REF="162"> &s;ay, All &s;inns are mortall? Away with the&s;e pee|uish thowghts, by only faith thou mai&s;t bee &s;aued, what neede is there of &s;oe many things? In this manner my enemie a&s;&s;ayled mee, and I beleeued a long time, that tho&s;e were greate arguments of right rea&s;on, rather then &s;ug|ge&s;tions of the Deuill.</P>
<P>I was vehemently tempted by tran&s;itory plea&s;ures, and the vanities of the worlde held mee in thraldome: &s;oe that this my new de&s;ire, was not yet &s;trong enough to ouercome the contrary, which was rooted in mee by long cu&s;tome. The delights of the worlde did allure mee, and the torments of hell did affright mee; Gods in&s;pirations did call mee, but the flesh, the worlde and the deuill &s;taied mee; &s;oe that my two wills, one newe, the other old, the one &s;pirituall, the other carnall, diuided my &s;oule; finding by experience in my &s;elfe, how the flesh coueted again&s;t the &s;pirit, and the &s;pirit again&s;t the flesh. I continewed three or fowre daies in this perplexed agonie, but I would not in this conflict auoid the occa&s;ions; I lamented and bewailed with teares this my vnhappy &s;tate, yet my &s;oule refu&s;ed to bee re|&s;igned wholly into thy hands. It feared like death a perfect renunciation of the world, and while this combat dured, I thought I could not &s;ub&s;i&s;t without my wonted plea&s;ures.</P>
<P>Thus the temptor beeing very &s;trong &amp; well armed, inuaded mee: but thy goodnes o lord
<PB N="24" REF="163"> bridled his furie and &s;trengthened mee, that hee did not wholly ouercome mee. This deuill I &s;ay appeared vnto mee transformed into an Angell of light, but thou did&s;t lighten mee to knowe him well, and in the end among the&s;e dolours, and oppre&s;&s;ions, thy goodnes gaue mee this in&s;piration, that although a vertuous life were very hard and sharpe, yet liuing well I should haue &s;ome good hope to enioie hea|uen, where as liuing in th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters"> &s;tate I had noe hope at all; this litle &s;parkle of hope in the&s;e difficulties, was like a litle beame of light com|ming from &s;tarres which shine a farre of, and did appeare to mee in this mi&s;tie &amp; thicke fogge of dar<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">kenes. By rea&s;on wereof I tooke hart, and brake with violence all tho&s;e chaines and cordes which held mee &s;oe fa&s;t tied to the worlde; which mine enemie &s;eeing, began to lay a newe battery again&s;t mee, which was, to &s;ett before me his dangerous doctrine of pre|de&s;tination, telling mee flatly that I was pre|de&s;tinated to bee damned, and all that I could doe was but vaine, and &s;aying to mee that al|though I were forward in well doing, and con|tinewed &s;ome yeares therin yet if I were not prede&s;tinated to bee &s;aued I should bee dam|ned in the end. O how this troubled mee, I was very neere to haue beene &s;wallowed vp in this dangerous abi&s;&s;e: But thy hand o lord, deli|uered mee by this in&s;piration, that on my parte I ought to doe my duety, and &s;oe I should trie
<PB N="25" REF="163"> whether I should bee &s;aued or damned, which who&s;oeuer doth hee cannot perish. Af<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">er all this, hee laid an other trapp for mee, labou|ring to make mee beleeue, that all my good purpo&s;es, euen to this time, would come to nothing and that it was but a brain-&s;icknes &s;tir|red by the reading of this booke, and the like had happened to others and pa&s;t like a dreame: For &s;aid hee, are there not many others that haue read the &s;ame as well as you, and haue they not had vehement per&s;wa&s;ions but who I pray is become the better for the reading? doe not they liue as they did before? And I was driuen to confe&s;&s;e this, hauing knowen many that had highly commended it. and yet pro|fited nothing by it: pre&s;ume&s;t thou (&s;aid the enemy) that thou ha&s;t more force then they? while I was thus troubled, I retired my &s;elfe as I was accu&s;tomed into a &s;olitary place, to the end I might haue better commodity to bewaile my mi&s;erable condition: Thou o lord knowe&s;t with how many teares, &s;obs, and groanes I powred forth my &s;oule vnto thee. At the length lying downe vnder a tree neare vnto a hedge where I purpofed to continue my teares and lamentings, till I receaue &s;ome experimentall grace, as indeed I found, thou heard&s;t my prai|ers: In this cour&s;e of tentations I cannot but reme~ber how euery morning as &s;oone as I wa|ked, this on&s;ett was giuen mee a fresh; and then I felt my &s;elfe very melancholique, and
<PB N="26" REF="164"> almo&s;t vnfitt for &s;oe good an enterpri&s;e, yet on the one &s;ide the vn&s;upportable torments of hell were &s;oe fearefully repre&s;ented vnto mee, &amp; &s;o rigorou&s;ly threatned again&s;t mee; and on the other &s;ide the inexplicable ioies of heauen were &s;oe plentifully offered vnto mee, and thy grace did &s;oe powerfully a&s;&s;i&s;t mee, that all the&s;e hindrances had noe power to &s;tay mee, or di|uerte mee from promi&s;ing frankely and freely, to vndertake this happy cour&s;e which I haue begun by thy holy in&s;piration. After this time I had &s;oe abandoned the worlde and worldly affaires that when I heard any &s;peeche of them, I thowght they were like &s;peeches of madd people, or a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he lea&s;t like he talke of yong children, whoe talke ordinarily of vaine and ridiculous things and alwaies impertinent; yea tho&s;e that had &s;uch communications, &s;eemed to mee to bee as farre from mee, as though they came out of an other worlde, or out of a region farre di&s;tant; &s;oe farre had Gods grace now preuailed with mee, to drawe mee from the worlde.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>How hee was doubtfull in faith; and howe hee purpo&s;ed to &s;tudy: what a vi&s;ion hee had while hee was abroad in the fieldes. THE FIFTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>HAuing abandoned all letts, and hindran|ces cau&s;ed by the vanitie of the worlde, I
<PB N="27" REF="164"> re&s;olued now to putt in practi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e how I could &s;erue God: but pre&s;ently an other tentation tooke hold of mee, which afflicted mee wor&s;e then all the re&s;t, (to wit) what religion I should embrace: but thy mercies, o lord, which aided mee before, shewed them&s;elues more clearely to mee heerein; For when I had con&s;idered how the Chri&s;tian world was lately diuided into diuers formes of Religion, and &s;eeing how our Country of England, did hold a kinde of Religion differing from the re&s;t, and reflecting how I had beene alwaies bredd and brought vp according to that Religion, without euer knowing any other: the&s;e things beeing deba|ted and di&s;cu&s;&s;ed in my vnder&s;tanding, occa&s;io|ned in mee much doubt which of the&s;e I should embrace: As I thought, I &s;awe wi&s;e and learned men on both &s;ides, which made mee doubt &s;oe much the more what I should doe: And this made mee &s;oe much the more anxious, becau&s;e I &s;eared that I could not attaine to the perfect knowledg of this matter. O &s;aid I, what an in|finite labour is this? Into what an intricat la|byrinth am I fallen? But thy holy in&s;pirations, o lord, alwaies a&s;&s;i&s;ted mee, which willed mee not to de&s;paire, but rather to a&s;&s;ure my &s;elfe, that in v&s;ing good meanes I should obtaine my de&s;ire; where vpon I returned to London, the monday following, to gett &s;ome booke which handled the controuer&s;ies of religion, that bee|ing at my lodging, I might examin them bet|ter,
<PB N="28" REF="165"> and al&s;o more co~ueniently pray, fa&s;t, watch, ly<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> hard, and doe &s;u<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h things as I thought good to ioine with my &s;tudie; And although I knew that in the opinion of prote&s;tants (to which I al&s;o was then enclined) &s;uch exterior actes would litle auaile mee, yett I would needes &s;ee what fruit m<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ght followe heereby, de&s;can|ting in this manner with my &s;elfe; If they doe not proffit mee, yet at lea&s;t they cannot hinder o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> hurte mee. Beeing thus re&s;olued to &s;tudie, and to bend all my witts to the &s;earch of the&s;e difficulties, I felt my harte much ea&s;ed; not|with&s;tanding I doubted what the end would bee. But calling to minde tho&s;e words of con&s;olation; <HI>&s;eeke and yee shall finde, knock and it shall bee opened vnto you come vnto mee all yee that are heauie laden, and I will refresh you,</HI> and likewi&s;e the example of Cornelius the ce~turio~ whoe before hee beleeued was out of the right way, yet by rea&s;on of his good life and good intention, hee obtained to bee in&s;tructed in vertue; by the&s;e wordes, and by this example I &s;ay, I was much rai&s;ed vp and co~forted. Furthermore becau&s;e I feared le&s;t the circum&s;tances of my &s;infull life, might barre mee from obtaining this grace, I examined my &s;elfe often by the rule of the twelue fruits of the holy Gho&s;t which were written in this booke, and when I found my &s;elfe defectuous, I &s;triued to an amendment.</P>
<P>The Friday after dinner I ended the reading of this booke of re&s;olution, and the &s;ame eue|ning
<PB N="29" REF="165"> I went into the fields to walke, and me|ditate of this matter which occupied my head, where h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">uing &s;taid a while, I returned home|wards, and as I came neere therto by accident I looked on one &s;ide of mee, and &s;eemed to &s;ee in the &s;ame field, a company of hor&s;es going all together in a faire greene Allie; At the fir&s;t viewe, I thought in t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ue h that this was that appeared vnto mee, and there vpon I went for|ward and h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">uing gone but two or three yardes farther, I &s;awe them behinde mee, and viewing them againe, they &s;eemed not to bee hor&s;es, but &s;pirits, and then I made ha&s;te to them; and after I had gone &s;ome few paces, I iudged them againe hor&s;es; and &s;odainly &s;taied vpon it, and reprouing my &s;elfe, I &s;pake inwardly to my &s;elfe, what is it I may thinke of this? Are not the&s;e hor&s;es &s;ome &s;pirits? Hauing gone &s;ome dozen paces, and looking behind mee, I &s;awe nothing of that which I formerly &s;awe, but there &s;ucceded in the &s;ame place a greate com|pany of poore people, ill cladd in browne co|lour, of whome &s;ome carried white wallets on theire shoulders, &s;ome other greate leather bottels in theire hands: I was more troubled at this &s;odaine change then I was before, and therefore turning my &s;elfe towards them, I &s;ett my &s;elfe to behould them wishly, and hauing taken a good viewe of them for a good &s;pace as I went on, I thought that they might bee hay-makers for that it was the &s;ea&s;on wherin
<PB N="30" REF="166"> &s;uch did trauaile, and &s;oe I per&s;waded my &s;elfe in very deede; In this per&s;wa&s;ion I held on my way, &amp; could not but wonder what that might bee, that &s;eemed to mee a multitude of hor&s;es, and what was become of them; which although I had di&s;cu&s;&s;ed with my &s;elfe a long time I could receaue noe &s;atisfaction. Immediatly I turned againe, and loked back towards the &s;ame place, and all was vani&s;hed, and in their place I &s;awe a well ordered companie of men and children, all clad in a whitish colour: vpon the &s;ight of them I made as much &s;peede as I could to goe vnto t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">em, but I could not approach vnto them, for they went as fa&s;t from mee, as I came to|wards them, and &s;eemed to keepe the &s;ame pace in retiring from mee, as I did in aduan|cing me. At length I &s;awe them clearely and beheld them perfectly: They were all clad alike with a kinde of ve&s;tment, like to long gownes with wide &s;leeues; The colour of theire gar|ments was a white gray Theire robe had vpon it from the neck to the girdle, a thing which I might liken to a &s;panish cloake; they had theire robes girt to them, and &s;ome of them vnder their garments, wore as it were a white robe like to a &s;urplis, with greate and wide &s;leeues made of linnen, and vpon their head they wore greate hatts all of the &s;ame fashion, and of the &s;ame colour as were their robes. The men were in the mid&s;t, and the chil|dren on both &s;ides; Soe went they in order all
<PB N="31" REF="166"> along the breadth of this Allie: they &s;eemed to mee to goe very cheerefully and gratiou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ly as it were dancing and reioicing, they shooke theire &s;leeues in token of ioye: I woulde gladly haue accoa&s;ted them, but they made from mee; if I moued neuer &s;oe litle, and when I &s;taied they &s;taied al&s;o, imitating heerin the former vi&s;ions, by all which &s;ignes I coniectured that they would drawe mee after them, that I might followe them. After a good &s;pace of time I &s;taied my &s;elfe. and clo&s;ed my eies to the end that I might behoulde them better and more clearely; then opening my eies I beheld them as before, and then I mended my pace towards them, thinking that if they went on, they would &s;taie at a hedge which was now very neere to them, and then I should vnder&s;tand what all this meant. But beeing come thither, I &s;awe nothing at all, but in an other clo&s;&s;e before mee, I &s;awe one of the greate&s;t of this company all alone, and pre&s;ently hee vani&s;hed, and I retur|ned home: In goyng homeward I was mu&s;ing with my &s;elfe, &amp; earne&s;tly laboured to &s;earche the meaning of this, and framed diuers con|ceptions: but o good God thou woulde&s;t not that I should knowe, the expo&s;ition of it, thou knewe&s;t that it was much better for mee, that the knowledg of it should bee &s;u&s;pended: and therefore all the declarations that I or others could make, were litle to the purpo&s;e, till &s;uch time as it was manife&s;ted to mee in fitt time
<PB N="32" REF="167"> and place, according to thy holy preordination.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his conference with &agrave; Catholique and of his dangers e&s;caped. THE SIXTE CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>BEeing come home, although I would wil|ling<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">y haue fa&s;ted, yet I &s;at downe to &s;up|per in companie, and becau&s;e I did eat very lit|le as I had likewi&s;e done &s;ome dayes before, the ompany asked mee if I were &s;ick, as indeed I was, but yet they kn<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">we not of what di|&s;ea&s;e, neither could they ghue&s;&s;e: After &s;upper I went to bedd, and after I had maturely con&s;i|dered this matter, I imparted it wholly to a Catholique which lodged with mee to whome although hee were my familiar and inward fr<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">nd, I had communicated noething as yet; when I had tould him briefely what I had done all the weeke pa&s;t, and what tentation I had had, how I was aff<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">cted, and how I purpo&s;ed to employ my time for the &s;earching out of the true faith, how to that end I thought to goe to London on monday, how I had di&s;po&s;ed of all my bui&s;ines, and la&s;tly that which I thought not to haue done, I reuealed my vi&s;ion al&s;o to him.</P>
<P>Hee reioicing to heare this, entered into conference with mee, &s;aying. As for religion I thinke there will bee but &s;mall doubt of it, the trueth it &s;elfe is &s;oe euident and apparant, and
<PB N="33" REF="167"> for you to bolt it out by &s;tudy, beeing of &s;oe &s;mall learning and iudgment for this purpo&s;e, I hould it noe waies expedient, for it will bee long ere you will by this meanes take a firme and good re&s;olution. To whome I an&s;wered doe not di&s;wade mee from this &s;earche of the truth by mine owne &s;tudie, for the matter is of too greate importance, and too doubtfull for mee to giue creddit to one &s;ide or to the other.</P>
<P>Vpon this wee re&s;olued the next morning to goe towards London where by his meanes I might conferre with &s;ome Catholique Prei&s;ts, but hee tould mee, there may bee &s;ome diffi|cultie in bringing a Prei&s;t to conferre with you, becau&s;e hee may mi&s;tru&s;te you, if you be|come not a Catholique you may occa&s;ion his taking. For although Prei&s;ts doe not feare the affliction which may befall them for &s;oe good a cau&s;e, yet for the &s;ecuritie of them with whome they conuer&s;e, they are and ought to bee circu~&s;pect to whome they di&s;couer them|&s;elues. To whome I made an&s;were: In truth I doe beleeue that when I shall bee fully re&s;ol|ued in one religion, I shall not forbeare to hate and per&s;ecute the contrary. The next morning early wee went togither towards London, and in the way hee tooke occa&s;ion often in di&s;|cour&s;e, to per&s;wade mee to his religion. Amo~g other matters of di&s;cour&s;e, hee &s;pake of a booke which the Prote&s;tants faigned to haue beene found in a corner of a wall, which was of an
<PB N="34" REF="168"> old date, and as <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hey &s;aie prooued euidently theire doctrine. Hee &s;aid that this booke was alleadged often in pulpits as a booke of greate authoritie and of noe &s;mall moment to main|taine theire Gho&s;pell, and yett the &s;ame booke a litle after was recalled by them&s;elues to their shame, and confu&s;ion; Afterward I vnder&s;tood that this was a true hi&s;torie.</P>
<P>Hee &s;pake al&s;o of a certayne exorci&s;me done by a Catholique Prie&s;t, and related many other &s;trange and meruailous things done in it, and how finally the deuill was ca&s;te out of the po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ed per&s;on, and re&s;tored to former health; but yet of this I doubted much. O lord I co~fe&s;&s;e to thee my infidelity, in not beleeuing the power and authoritie, whichthou gaue&s;t to thy di&s;ciples &s;aying; <HI>Haue ye power ouer the vn<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">leane &s;pi|rits,</HI> but by the multitude of thy mercies I &s;awe afterward &s;oe many examples, that there was noe cau&s;e to call it in doubt for which thy holy name be euer prai&s;ed. Hee had this &s;peeche with mee and much other to drawe mee from the newe religion, although I yet held my firme purpo&s;e to follow the cour&s;e of my &s;tudie, as the principall foundation vpon which I would build my knowledge.</P>
<P>All this time that wee were together, I did call to minde my life pa&s;te, and in the end brea|king out of a depth of my inward thoughts, I &s;odainly cried out and &s;aid. O if I had died heeretofore what had become of mee for all
<PB N="35" REF="168"> eternitie! Alas how many dangers haue I e&s;ca|ped! O lord I be&s;eeche thee giue mee grace that I may neuer cea&s;e to thanke thee for &s;oe greate &amp; meruailous deliuerances, from &s;uch extreame and de&s;perate dangers Then I began to recite to my companion, how when I was very litle, I brake by chance my back bone, and yet by the goodnes of God I recouered my health. An other time how falling into a dangerous maladie, and almo&s;t de&s;pairing of recouering my &s;elfe, by rea&s;on of 4. or 5. inci&s;ions which were al&s;o to bee reiterated in &s;o much that my bowells were &s;eene, and therefore the Phi&s;i|tion &s;aid that hee had litle hope of life, notwith+&s;tanding by Gods greate goodines, I was hea|led and e&s;caped this daunger. I likewi&s;e re|counted to him how at an other time, I beeing very tender and yong, fell into a fatt of boiling beere, where I had beene &s;uffocated, had it not beene that, by Gods prouidence one was there at that time which tooke mee out in&s;tan|tly. An other danger greater then the former I e&s;caped when beeing come to the blo&s;&s;oming of youth, &s;tirred and mooued by proud follie, I aduentured my &s;elfe into a de&s;perate combat that I could hardly pa&s;&s;e out of it with m <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ife; &s;eeing my companion &s;oe wounded that hee lay for dead, and my &s;elfe al&s;o laied on the grownde.</P>
<P>The&s;e da~gers I could not call to minde with|out greate feare and trembling &s;aying, In
<PB N="36" REF="169"> what ca<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e had I beene, if I had died then: I con|fe&s;&s;e o lord, that thou ha&s;t deliuered mee from all the&s;e; and therefore I render thee all humble thankes, and not only for the&s;e, but for noe le&s;&s;e deliuerances &s;ince that time by &s;ea &amp; land, and e&s;pecially in a greate &s;icknes wherein I lay &s;peecheles; Thou ha&s;t shewed thy fatherly care ouer mee, when I wretched and vnhappy crea|ture, had noe feare of thee; Thou ha&s;t v&s;ed greate meanes to make mee knowe the feare|full &s;tate wherein I was; But alas I beeing blinde and ob&s;tinate neglected them. I fell into &s;oe deepe meditation of the&s;e things, and of my life pa&s;t, that I did not &s;uffer my &s;pirit to occupy it &s;elfe in any other thing: And if by chance I looked vpon the fields to take a litle recreation, I did pre&s;ently reprooue my &s;elfe sharpely for it, fearing to offende the, o my God; And in con&s;idering the&s;e things, I could hardly forbeare weeping, and chiefely when I came to the citty of London where tho&s;e pla|ces were repre&s;ented to mee, wherein I had vainely delighted my &s;elfe, and at length re&s;trai|ning teares as long as I could, I shedd them in greate aboundance, &s;oe that meeting &s;ome of my old companions, I pluckt downe my hart, and held downe my head, through shame and confu&s;ion in my &s;elfe. From that time, O lord, thou did&s;t humble the pride of my lofty hart, and made&s;t mee &s;ee the lamentable &s;tate wher|in I was, &s;oe that of an vnbridled wilde colt,
<PB N="37" REF="169"> and a furious bull, thou made&s;t mee a poore and contemptible a&s;&s;e, willing to beare bur|dens, and a sheepe di&s;po&s;ed to heare and fol|lowe thee.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of the manner which hee purpo&s;ed to him&s;elfe for his &s;tudies, and how hee wished and &s;ought conference with a Puritan. THE SEAVENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>WHen wee were come to Londen, wee would not goe together, but wee co~clu|ded hee should goe on one &s;ide and I on the other, to the end that according to our de&s;igne, hee might conferre with Catholiques, and I with Prote&s;tantes, &s;oe that wee might cull out the rea&s;ons and argume~tes of both &s;ides, and &s;o the next morning wee might compare them to|gether, and in the meane while I went to my lodging, where in&s;tantly I kneeled downe to pray, giuing now full vent to my teares which I had re&s;trayned before; In my prayers I prayed that God would giue mee light and fauour, to bee able to finde the trueth and &s;inceritie of true religion, which afterward was mercifully granted to mee: Afterward I lifted vp my &s;elfe, and tooke my pe~ne in my ha~d, to write downe the points of controuer&s;ie which I did purpo&s;e to &s;tudie, and in the end I re&s;olued to meddle but with &s;ome the principall points, as for example that of the real pre&s;ence of IESVS
<PB N="38" REF="170"> Chri&s;t in the SACRAMENT; The reaso~ that moo|ved mee &s;o to doe was this, that if I did finde that IESVS Chri&s;t were not really there, then certeinly that could not bee a true religion, neither could that Church bee holy which had &s;oe greate an errour to believe that hee was where hee was not, and which doth honour a creature with that adoration, which is dewe to the Creator: on the contrary &s;ide if IESVS Chri&s;t bee truely prese~t in the SACRAMENT, I thought it impo&s;&s;ible that that coulde bee his &s;pou&s;e and the holy Church which &s;aith that hee is not, where in truthe he is, and &s;oe refu&s;eth a b<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">nefitt &s;oe greate, and &s;o vne&s;timable: I re&s;ol|ued therefore to giue noe creddit to that Church which I found failing in this high point; and be&s;ides I knewe that hee (as Saint Augu&s;tine &s;aith) which erreth in one point of faith, can not bee &s;aued; Heereupon I wrote downe this point of the holy Sacrament, and &s;ome others. Afterward I &s;ought what I could &s;ay again&s;t the Catholique opinion.</P>
<P>Hauing my head fraught with the&s;e mat|ters, I went to a Puritan of my acquaintance, with whome after I had di&s;cour&s;ed a while, hee asked mee if I would receiue the Lorde &s;upper with him the day following; I was glad to heare &s;peake of this to the end that I might haue occa&s;ion to debate this que&s;tion, which I purpo&s;ed to propo&s;e vnto him: I an&s;wered him if wee goe to any Sacrament, wee fir&s;t ought to
<PB N="39" REF="170"> bee well prepared; but now the time was ve|ry shorte; Notwith&s;tanding (hee &s;aid) that ther was &s;ufficient time, to wit, to eate his bread and drinke his wine, then thinking with my &s;elfe of the danger of the time, and the qualitie of the man wiih whom I &s;pake, I &s;awe it peri|lous to medle, but con&s;idering that &s;uch perill could not bee auoided, to wit, that either I mu&s;t v&s;e &s;uch conference, or hazard my &s;oule in liuing in ignorance, I concluded to enter with him into the que&s;tion of Religion, and princi|pally touching the Sacrament hee hauing giuen mee occa&s;ion of treating therof.</P>
<P>But thou o God which directe&s;t all the wayes of tho&s;e which &s;eeke thee in &s;implicitie of harte, woulde&s;t not permitt that I should haue conference with this heretique, who was di&s;|po&s;ed, if not to kill the body, yet at lea&s;t to kill the &s;oule. For euen as I thought to enter into this conference, there came in a third per&s;on which brake of my di&s;cour&s;e, and fru&s;trated mee of my intention, though I wayted a while the departure of this partye. But whiles I thus a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">tended, other friendes of this Puritan came in al&s;oe, who tooke him away into their co~pany, and yet I followed him to the place where hee went, hoping that hee would quitt his compa|ny, that &s;o I might haue opportunitie to &s;peake with him. but I lo&s;t my labour and my payne. O good lord hoW mercifull wa&s;t thou heerein vnto mee for thou pre&s;erued&s;t mee fro~ a great
<PB N="40" REF="171"> euill, fore&s;eeing how I might haue beene troubled with his fal&s;e obiections, and &s;oe hap|pily more inueigled in his hereticall opinions.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his Spirituall Tentations. THE EIGHTH CHAPTER:</HEAD>
<P>SEeing that I could not bee partaker of my de&s;ire, in hauing conference with this Pu|ritan, I was di&s;quieted in my &s;pirit and hoping that the next morning I might haue better op|portunitie of conferring with him, I went to a friend which was well affectioned to the Ca|tholique Religion to arme my &s;elfe the better to di&s;pute with the Puritan that having con|ferred theyre opinions together, I might better di&s;cerne the truthe. Soe I went to his lodging, but I found him not there; Therefore to aduer|ti&s;e him that I had beene there, I put a litle peece of paper in the key hole of his doore, in which I reque&s;ted him, that as &s;oone as hee re|turned, hee would come to mee to my lodging: &s;oe I went home, and there &s;att mee downe; and began to thinke &s;eriou&s;ly of this bui&s;ines; A&s;&s;oone as it was euening, I retired my &s;elfe in|to my &s;tudie, where on my knees I prayed to God; then had I a sharper conflicte then euer before, then did my enemies &s;eeke to intrappe mee with new intentions, then did they giue a hot and fresh a&s;&s;ault to diuerte mee from my good purpo&s;e, and to holde mee captiue in their po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion.</P>
<PB N="41" REF="171">
<P>O good God how litle force haue wee when thou do&s;t neuer &s;o litle withdrawe thy hand from vs! Thy grace &s;o fortifyed mee a litle be|fore, that I thought there was nothing able for to shake mee: Nowe thou ha&s;t turned thy face fro~ mee, and I was pre&s;ently troubled; I per&s;wa|ded my &s;elfe that I was &s;omewhat, although I was eue~ le&s;&s;e then nothing; I &s;aid I will become wi&s;e, and &s;traight way I became a very foole; I doe now knowe that without the ayd of thy holy grace wee can doe nothing; It is certein that vnles thou keepe the cittie, in vayne doth hee travayle which thinketh to keepe it; The grace which thy goodnes doth communicate to vs, is mea&s;ured by thy wi&s;dome, which will nor permitt that wee bee allwaies a&s;&s;i&s;ted alike in our praiers; &s;o that now putting my &s;elfe on my knees to pray, I had not the feeling of my wonted feruour, but contrariwi&s;e I found my &s;elfe very vnapt, and loathed more and more to per&s;euer in it; Be&s;ides I felt a di&s;con|tentment and anxiety of &s;pirit, which did much trouble mee.</P>
<P>Now my enemy began to play his parts, for hee &s;eeing that noe thing held mee but igno|rance of the true Religion, hee tooke occa&s;ion to vexe mee that &s;o hee might more ea&s;ily ouer|whelme mee: Therefore hee obiected to mee, that I vndertooke too hard a matter, &s;aying, that the re&s;olution of it, is too high a matter, and far exceeding my capacitie, for if learned
<PB N="42" REF="172"> and iudicious men doe not attaine to it, what hope can&s;t thou haue? well may you haue &s;ome coniecture but neuer &s;uch knowledge as to a&s;|&s;ure your &s;aluation thereon.</P>
<P>In the end I ro&s;e and tooke the fore&s;aid booke of re&s;olution agayne into my hands, and read &s;omewhat of the paynes of hell, thinking by this meanes to kindle my deuotion in praier, but it profited nothing. Afterward I felt more deduction, but I found my &s;pirit more vexed and afflicted then before: for then were &s;ugge|&s;ted to mee by the enemy &s;o many &s;ortes of tentations, &s;o many newe &s;lights and inue~tions, and with &s;o a wonderfull liuelines, that I poore wretch all a&s;tonished, was mi&s;erably ouerchar|ged with feare; and while I was in this &s;tate, hee did not cea&s;e to obiect &s;trangely to mee, that not only I should neuer attaine to knowe the truthe by my &s;tudy, but that my &s;pirit should bee &s;o turmoiled, that I should bee in danger to lee&s;e my witte, and that my braine was already &s;omewhat crackt, and that I should neuer bee &s;o well &s;ettled in my witts as I was before. O good God how wily is the enemie of mankinde? The&s;e things were obiected to mee with &s;uch vnknowen &s;ubtility, that I was not able to reiect <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hem, yea the more I labou|red to putt them from mee, the more did they a&s;&s;aile and afflict mee, and they were the more violent again&s;te mee, becau&s;e I was alone, and vnexperienced in &s;pirituall combats.</P>
<PB N="43" REF="172">
<P>After I had beene &s;orely beaten by this fierce battaile, at length I lifted vp my &s;elfe, thin|king becau&s;e I had re&s;ted litle or nothing the nights pa&s;te, that the heauines of &s;leepe would drive all the&s;e turmoiles out of my head. But after I had &s;tript my &s;elfe, and laid my &s;elfe downe, not vpon my accu&s;tomed bed but vpon the grownde with a &s;ingle couerlet, all the&s;e mole&s;ting thoughtes repre&s;ented them&s;elues with &s;uch eagernes, that my &s;oule was wonder|fully weakened and oppre&s;&s;ed, in &s;o much that I was hardly able to &s;ub&s;i&s;t any longer.</P>
<P>This was the fore&s;t conflict that euer I had, &s;o that I became as a man depriued of his &s;en|&s;es, yea the force of the&s;e tentations was &s;uch, that it brought mee euen to the next doore of de&s;paire; And the feare which I had to fall in|to it, wonderfully di&s;quietted my &s;oule. Tor|mented in this manner, I could finde noe ea&s;e from the&s;e terrible dolours, my body al&s;o &s;ub|iect to it, could haue noe manner of repo&s;e, but to&s;&s;ed and turned it &s;elfe, on this &s;ide and that.</P>
<P>This mannet of lying was &s;o vnplea&s;ing to my enemie (as I afterward knew that hee cea|&s;ed not to &s;ugge&s;te vnto mee, that if I went vnto my bedd, I shoulde finde more repo&s;e. And thou, O Lord, &s;awe&s;t mine affl<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ction and permitted&s;t it, thou ha&s;t tried my harte, and vi&s;i|ted it by night, and ha&s;t examined mee by fire, fora&s;much as thou did&s;t for&s;ake mee to prooue
<PB N="44" REF="173"> mee, but it plea&s;ed thee that I shoulde knowe my &s;elfe, not for the loue of thee, for thou had&s;t noe neede of mee, but for my &s;elfe, for mine owne greate good and profit; For I pre&s;umed before of mine owne per&s;on, and I thought my &s;elfe of my &s;elfe, able and &s;ufficient enough, and &s;illy wretched foole that I was, I did not per|ceaue that I was gouerned by thee, and heerein I abu&s;ed my &s;elfe, till I &s;awe that thou was gone a while from mee, then I &s;awe that my er|rour and failing proceeded from my &s;elfe, and my ri&s;ing out of this mi&s;ery wherein I was plunged, came from thee. O glorious clearenes thou ha&s;te opened mine eies, and illuminated them, I haue &s;een and knowen that the life of man vpon earth is nothing but a tentation, and that noe flesh can glory before thee, much le&s;&s;e to iu&s;tifie it &s;elfe, fora&s;much as if there bee any good in it, greate or &s;mall, it commeth fro~ thy bountie, and if there bee any euill, it com|meth from our &s;elues.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The Tentation beeing ouercome, the con&s;olation followeth the truthe was reuealed to him: and howe hee with an other by his meane beeing conuerted, were reconciled to the Churche. THE NINTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>BLe&s;&s;ed bee our lord which deliuered mee not into bondage nor into their teeth: our
<PB N="45" REF="173"> &s;oule as a &s;parow was deliuered from the &s;nares of the hunters, the nettes are broken, and wee were deliuered. Ble&s;&s;ed be thy holy name, which art neare vnto the afflicted, and doe&s;t not permitte that they shoulde bee tempted aboue theire force. In the midde&s;t of this &s;oe greate de&s;olation and danger, in the midde&s;t of &s;o greate ob&s;curitie, thou cau&s;ed&s;t a beame of thy goodnes to shine vppon mee by the light whereof I di&s;couered this heape of fraud and of illu&s;ion, and loo&s;ed the knotte of all the &s;ub|tilties of my enemy, &s;eeing clearely that this vexation was noe thing but the tentation of the euill &s;pirit, and ble&s;&s;ed bee thy holy name, for it?</P>
<P>After the&s;e tribulations cea&s;ed, I re&s;ted in greate tranquillitie, and quietnes of &s;pirit, yea I became more con&s;tant and re&s;olute. And it plea&s;ed thee &s;o to reco~pence the&s;e tribulations and afflictions, by aboundance of ioies, and co~|&s;olations, for the con&s;olations of the holy Spi|rit preuented mee in &s;uch manner, that I felt &s;uch plentie of ioie and peace powred into my harte, that beeing replenished with it, I had forgot all the worlde, and &s;o I knewe noe more that whith I was; So was that &s;aying of the holy Prophet fulfilled, <HI>According to the multitude of my dolours in my harte, thy co~forts haue reioiced my &s;oule.</HI></P>
<P>Moreouer, as if this had not beene &s;ufficient, thou dide&s;t rewarde mee with an other riche benefitt, which was, thou dide&s;t reveale by an
<PB N="46" REF="174"> inexplicable manner, the cleare and perfit &s;ight and a&s;ured knowledge of thy only mo&s;te pure and holy religion, and that with &s;oe greate cer|taintie, that I was not only confirmed therein, but I thought that all to whome I did &s;peake therof, could not any way doubt of it, which when I poore worme did manife&s;tly &s;ee not without greate admiration and a&s;tonishment, I ca&s;te forth the&s;e wordes O lord I now know that thou doe&s;t neuer for&s;ake him which calleth vppon thee in trueth: for the multitude of &s;oe greate benefitts I confe&s;&s;e it was im|po&s;&s;ible that I could bee &s;ufficiently thanke|full, yet burning with the ardour of charitie which thou dide&s;t impre&s;&s;e in my harte, I v&s;ed the&s;e wordes: Goods, landes, life, and all other things are noething, all which I was noe le&s;&s;e willing to leaue for thy loue, then the cruell and barbarous time was di&s;po&s;ed to take them from mee, as they did from other Catholiques.</P>
<P>But o Lord what is become nowe of my &s;tudie to which I was before &s;oe bent? what am I to doe for tho&s;e conferences which I purpo|&s;ed? where are the propo&s;itions and que&s;tions which I had wrote downe to v&s;e for argu|ments? likewi&s;e where are my fa&s;tings, pray|ings, lying vppon the hard grownde which I v&s;ed as meanes to come to the knowledge of the trueth? O my God thou ha&s;t preuented all the&s;e before I began them, &s;o gracious art thou to tho&s;e that &s;eeke thee faithfully. The Pro|phet
<PB N="47" REF="174"> &s;aith: <HI>Reueale thy way to our lord, and hope in him and hee will doe it;</HI> and in an other place hee &s;aith, <HI>Hee will not permitte that the iu&s;t bee continually tor|mented.</HI> Thy mercie al&s;o shewed it &s;elfe more in this effect, for in the time of this gracious vi&s;itation, beeing well confirmed in the trueth of true religion I heard one knocke at my cha~|ber doore, and &s;eeing that it was late, and my manner of lying was vndecent, I dur&s;te not open the doore, yet hoping in this time that all would &s;uccede well with mee, when I vnder|&s;tood whoe it was, I did almo&s;t fore&s;ee a good end and y&s;&s;ue of his comming, &s;oe I lett him in, and receaued him ioifully, for this was hee whome I had &s;earched after to collect &s;ome arguments for the &s;earche of the truthe, whoe came not to mee without Gods e&s;peciall pro|vidence &s;oe that as &s;oone as hee was entered, I co~mended highly, and exalted the Catholic|que religion, and I &s;pake to him with extraordi|nary feruour, &s;aying: A&s;&s;ure your &s;elfe, that the|re is noe other truthe but this, and hee won|dering to heare this of mee at length was wo~ne by mee to confe&s;&s;e the trueth: then did I aske him if hee were reconciled to the Church, hee much wondering at this que&s;tion, &s;aid noe, but God willing I will bee, wherevpon wee re&s;olued to goe both together, and reconcile our &s;elues vnto the Church and &s;oe conferring together all that night, wee pa&s;t it in di&s;cour&s;e vpon this matter, without once &s;tripping
<PB N="48" REF="175" MS="y"> our &s;elues out of our cloathes.</P>
<P>The next morning, which was &s;unday mor|ning at the breake of day, wee pro&s;ecuted our de&s;igne of reconcilation, and went to an old and infamous pri&s;on called Newgate, which was commonly filled with Prie&s;ts Among who~ wee found a Prie&s;t which had beene of my friends acquaintance, who after his bannish|ment out of England became a Charther Mo~ke at Antwerpe) and this good Prie&s;t, put vs both into the hauen of our &s;oules health, re|conciling vs to the holy Church; <NOTE PLACE="marg">&rindx;</NOTE> whoe is able o Lord to comprehende the greatenes of thy mercie which was shewed to vs both, in ma|king mee (beeing without knowledge of re|ligion, and one who liued according to the wickednes of the time) in the &s;pace of a weeke a true Catholique, in &s;oe much that I did abhorre the cour&s;e of my life pa&s;te, and de&s;pi|&s;ed all the plea&s;ures of the worlde, and feared noe dangers of the time, and that hee al&s;oe &s;houlde bee per&s;waded with &s;oe fewe wordes, whoe had not harkened before to any per|&s;wa&s;ions.</P>
<P>This happened on the day of Saint Peeter <HI>ad vincula,</HI> which Saint I doe beleeue did much a&s;&s;i&s;te mee heerein, becau&s;e I entered into the Churche, where of hee was the chiefe when hee liued, and the chaines and bands of my &s;innes were loo&s;ed by confe&s;&s;ion on the &s;ame day, that the Churche doth celebrate the me|mory
<PB N="49" REF="175"> of his chaines, broken miraculou&s;ly by the Angell, &s;o that I might &s;ay with the Church in greate exultation of hart; <HI>This is the day which our Lord hath made, lett vs reioyce in it, For thou ha&s;t broken my bands I will &s;acrifice to thee a &s;acrifice of prai&s;e, for now I am thy &s;eruant, O Lord I am thy &s;eruant, and the &s;onne of thy hand|maid the holy Church.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="10" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>How hee &s;tudied controuer&s;ies, and hauing a&s;|&s;igned a greate parte of his meanes to his kin&s;men, hee pa&s;t beyond the &s;ea and of the motiues which induced him to enter into Religion. THE TENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>WHen in this manner thy mercy, O lord, had deliuered mee from here&s;ie, and &s;chi&s;me, reuoked mee from my life pa&s;te, and e&s;tablished mee in thy holy Church, and when I &s;awe that I could not for all this auoide the dangerous and poi&s;onous &s;peeches of here|tiques, I began in good earne&s;t to giue my &s;elfe to the reading of the holy Scriptures, that by this meanes I might confute their fonde obie|ctions; wherein hauing &s;pent &s;ome time, I founde manife&s;tly how weake their arguments were, &s;oe that I did not wonder; if according to the &s;ayinge of Saint Paul, <HI>An Heretique is con|demned by his own proper iudgeme~t, in oppugning wilfully the trueth;</HI> But becau&s;e I feared lea&s;t conuer&s;ing
<PB N="50" REF="176"> with them I might haue that verefied in mee, <HI>with the wicked thou wilt become wicked,</HI> I did de&s;ire nothing more in my &s;oule, then to finde &s;ome other of better life, to the end, by the a&s;|&s;i&s;tance al&s;o of thy grace, that might bee &s;aid of mee, <HI>with the elect thou shalt bee elect:</HI> wherefore after I had con&s;ulted a while, I determined &s;peedily, that abandoning honors, kindred, friends, goods, and countrye, yea hazarding. my life, I would goe into &s;ome other Countrie where Gods &s;eruants do honour him pub|liquely.</P>
<P>After I had wayted for meanes to accom|plish my de&s;ire, a commoditie was offered mee, not thinking of it, of which I was excee|ding glad, and &s;oe a&s;&s;igning aboute the halfe parte of my meanes for the comforte of poore Catholicques, and di&s;po&s;ing of my affaires I tooke leaue of my friends who permitted mee to goe though it was not without much &s;orow and mourning after mee, and not only my friends, but one which had beene as an enemie to mee a Coun&s;aylor at lawe, who vnder&s;tan|ding my drift, and that I had for&s;aken my friends, my meanes, and my countrye for Gods &s;ake, tooke my departure noe le&s;&s;e hea|uily then my be&s;t friends, and &s;aid that hee was very &s;ory that hee had conceaued any &s;uch opinion of &s;u&s;pition formerly of mee, and de|clared my innocencie with a prote&s;tation, that hee had rather haue lo&s;t his aduancement
<PB N="51" REF="176"> which hee did hope for by his practi&s;e in the lawe, then my companye.</P>
<P>Then I embarqued my &s;elfe to goe into France, but by rea&s;on of contrary windes wee rowed too and fro vppon the &s;ea a long time, &amp; were often in very greate danger of beeing ca&s;te awaye; But O lord thou which art the de|fence of the~ which tru&s;te in thee, dide&s;t deliuer and bring vs to the de&s;ired porte, in a Catho|licque country where I fir&s;t &s;awe that which I had neuer &s;eene, to wit, the maie&s;tie, beau|tie, and magnificence of thy Church, and with greate contentment, I did fir&s;t con&s;ider the comely order which is in this militant Church and heauenlie Hierarchy, from the highe&s;t degree of the chiefe Pa&s;tour, euen to tho&s;e which are but newlie entred into orders, hauing as yet but &s;imple ton&s;ure and euen to the &s;ecular per&s;ons, whence euery inferiour degree is &s;ubordinat to mini&s;ter to that which is aboue it, in imitation of the heauenly Hie|rarchie, though not like in all things; for euen as the heauenly Hierarchy is diuided into three Hierarchies, and euery one of them into <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hree orders: &s;oe is the earthly. As the fir&s;t con <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">eth of Seraphins, Cherubins, &amp; Thrones which doe illuminate the &s;econd Hierarchie, euery one c|cording to his order &amp; degree, &s;o the fir&s;t earthly hath three orders to wit the Supreme Bishops, the Archbishops, and Bishops, who&s;e office it is to illuminate and Authori&s;e others which are
<PB N="52" REF="177"> vnder them. The &s;econd heauenly Hierarchie co~&s;i&s;teth in three orders: Dominations, Powers and Principalities, and the&s;e are illuminated not immediatly from god, but from the Superiour Angells, &amp; they illuminate tho&s;e that ar vnder them. The &s;econd Hierarchie of the militant Church is al&s;o of three degrees, of Abbots, Priors &amp; Curats, which receaue theire authori|tie, direction, &amp; light from tho&s;e of the fir&s;t, as from their &s;uperiors, &amp; doe gouerne, teache, &amp; illuminate tho&s;e which are &s;ubiect to them. The third heauenly Hierarchie con&s;i&s;teth of Vertues Archangells &amp; Angells which are only illuminated and doe not illuminate others, &s;o hath the third earthly, three orders of virgins co~tinent per&s;ons, &amp; married, whoe doe receaue the worde of God the Sacraments and light without admini&s;tring them to others. The&s;e things I did not altogether &s;o exactly con&s;ider then, but according to the litle light I had.</P>
<P>Secondly when I &s;awe the goodly and mag|nificent buildings of thy Temples, the beauti|full mona&s;teries, the exqui&s;ite painted and grauen images, which adorned and enriched the Churches both within &amp; without, I could not but behould the glory and grauitie of thy holy Church. And althoughe thou doe&s;t not dwell in Temples made with hands, as within a place which dothe containe thee, yet O lord I &s;ay with the holy P&s;almi&s;t, <HI>I haue loued the beauti<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> of thy hou&s;e,</HI> and that it is plea&s;ing to thee, and
<PB N="53" REF="177"> that thou doe&s;t dwell there with thy &s;onne in|carnat IESVS CHRIST and the Holy Gho&s;t: and therefore wee may &s;ing with the Prophet, <HI>Holynes becommeth thy how&s;e for euer:</HI> that is to the end of the worlde, and by the&s;e greate and glorious &s;tructures of mona&s;teries richly ren|ted and endewed; I could not but behould the greate piety and deuotion which the Catholi|que Church shewed, as by the ruines of them in our Countrie I &s;awe and bewailed the vn|happy calamitye of here&s;ie.</P>
<P>Thirdly the beautfull and maie&s;tatiue &s;er|uices of thy Church &s;eemed to mee to giue much &s;plendour to it: for when I &s;awe the &s;o|lemnitie of the ma&s;&s;e celebrated with Prei&s;t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">, Deacons, Subdeacons and Acolites, euery one in theire ornaments according to their degree, and euery one admini&s;tring according to his office; when I &s;awe the Altar richely dre&s;&s;ed &amp; adorned, the multitude of lights vppon the Altar, and round aboute the Quire, with what deuotion the Altar was incen&s;ed, the &s;olemne proce&s;&s;ion &s;oe well rancked, and &s;oe many devout people following with torches and lightes, the Quire &s;oe well furnished with Prei&s;tes, Clerkes, and Chaunteis, euery one in his place, and clad in white preparing to cele|brate the diuine office, when I &s;ay, I &s;aw all the&s;e things, I could not but behould them with greate deuotion, as if I had &s;eene in a liuely gla&s;&s;e the magnificence and maie&s;tie of
<PB N="54" REF="178"> thy holy Churche.</P>
<P>Fourthly good Lord, &s;oe greate was my inward melting &s;weetenes, when I heard the harmonious mu&s;ick of voices &amp; organs, which with himnes and canticles were offered to thy diuine maie&s;tie, that my harte could not but leape with ioye, &amp; was violently drawen from all worldly thoughtes, &amp; coulde not containe the ioye, but often melted into aboundance of teares, &s;oe that my eyes &s;eemed to bee two channells running from a plentifull fountain, and that I might truly &s;ay with thy &s;eruant Saint Augu&s;tine: How often haue I wept fee|ling my &s;elfe liuely touched with tho&s;e &s;weete Canticles and Hymnes which are &s;ong in thy Church, with &s;oe &s;weete and well be&s;eeming Harmonie. Thou &s;ee&s;t, o God, how my harte trembleth when I call to minde the&s;e &s;oe great benefits, pardon therefore my ingratitude.</P>
<P>All the&s;e former things &s;eemed to mee, to be full of grauitie, beautie, and magnificence, in thy Churche, and the rather beeing now de|liured fro~ tho&s;e infernall bla&s;phemies, which are belched out of the mouthes of many here|ticall mini&s;ters: &amp; now liuing in a Catholicque Country with greate tranquillitie and repo&s;e of &s;pirit, I heard al&s;o, o Lord, thy &s;weete voice which did inuite mee more clearely to the em|bracing of a religious &s;olitary and priuate life, by quite abandoning all worldly affaires, yet doubting of a matter of &s;o greate importance,
<PB N="55" REF="178"> fora&s;much as I had heard it &s;aid that it was not lawfull to beleeue euery Spirit, I commu|nicated it to &s;ome of my be&s;t freinds, asking theyre adui&s;e and iudgment heerein, who bee|ing many, differed in theyre opinions: &s;ome per&s;uaded mee to one thing, and &s;ome to an other, and all of them were litle or nothing inclined to this kinde of life which I was de|&s;irous to imbrace; for they per&s;uaded mee ra|ther that I should continue in the worlde where as I was minded to for&s;ake it.</P>
<P>But, o Lord, thou gaue&s;t mee &s;oe many con|&s;iderations and motions to followe thy holy in&s;piration, that in the end after I had borne much affliction by contrary per&s;ua&s;ious, I re|&s;olued to putt it in execution, my fir&s;t con&s;ide|ration was founded vppon the wordes of the Gho&s;pell which &s;aith, <HI>The way is &s;traight and nar|row which leadeth to life &amp; there are fewe which walke in it;</HI> &amp; I &s;ett before my eies the great debauch|ments and di&s;orders of mo&s;t mens liues in this time. I afterward con&s;idered the extreame danger that is in the worlde where there are occa&s;ions of falling and plunging into &s;inne, &amp; how for this cau&s;e the Chri&s;tians of the pri|mitiue Church (which in re&s;pect of thei&s;e of our times were &s;aincts) how, I &s;ay, they &s;eque|&s;tred them&s;elues from the worlde, and how &s;ome &s;triuing to bee more perfitt, fledd into de&s;erts and wilderne&s;&s;es, fearing lea&s;t among men they might defile theyre &s;oules with &s;ome
<PB N="56" REF="179"> fowle &s;tayne of &s;inne; How much more ought I poore and fraile creature retire my &s;elfe to &s;ome mona&s;terie, to &s;eparate my &s;elfe from chri&s;tians whoe liue &s;oe licentiou&s;ly.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides I called to minde the greate multi|tude of &s;oules, which I had left in England, my familiar freinds with whome I had liued, and many millions of others &s;eeing them all to pa&s;&s;e this pilgrimage in mi&s;erable blindnes, going like &s;traying sheepe thorough the thick darkenes of here&s;ie and &s;chi&s;me, and my &s;elfe wor&s;e then others, to bee deliuered from &s;uch captiuitie; when I con&s;idered this I felt &s;uch a fire of charitie kindled within mee, that im|mediately I was forceably moued to retire my &s;elfe from the worlde. Moreouer although I was called to thy holy &s;eruice yet I was not vnmindfull of tho&s;e wordes which &s;ay. <HI>Many are called but fewe are cho&s;en.</HI> This &s;erued for a &s;purre and goade to driue mee to a more a&s;&s;u|red and perfitt life then that which I did lead; To the&s;e con&s;iderations I added that it was no &s;mall thing to expect cternall glory, to come to which, wee mu&s;t pa&s;&s;e thorough wa|ter and fire.</P>
<P>And la&s;tly to an&s;were well to my extraordi|nary calling I thought I mu&s;t embrace and vn|dertake more then an ordinary life, and my life pa&s;t licentiou&s;ly &s;pent ought to bee recom|penced proportionably by penance in this life or the next, for this is agreeable to that which
<PB N="57" REF="179"> is written in holy &s;cripture; <HI>As much as shee hath glorified her &s;elfe and hath beene in delicatie, &s;oe much giue her torment and mourning:</HI> and an ancient Do|ctour &s;aith, that a deepe wounde requireth a deepe tent; The&s;e things I &s;ay &s;tirred mee vpp to doe penance and to followe the coun&s;ell which our &s;auiour giueth in the Gho&s;pell; <HI>If thou wilt bee perfect goe and &s;ell all that thou ha&s;t and giue them to the poore and thou shalt haue a trea&s;ure in heauen.</HI> The&s;e and &s;uch things, o Lord, came not from mee, but proceeded from thy pure and free liberalitie, to &s;trengthen mee in the cour&s;e of my begunne life, and to confirme in mee that vowe which thy goodnes had begun in mee: For which all prai&s;e, glory and honour bee rendered to thy holy name.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="11" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of a certayne &s;pirituall rauishment, wherein it was reuealed to him, what hee should doe: &amp; of the totall obligation of all the&s;e things. THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>ALthough the&s;e precedent con&s;iderations, moued mee greately to for&s;ake the world yet was I to&s;&s;ed oftentimes with contrarieties, before I could attaine the end of a &s;mall re&s;olu|tion. But thou o Lord which art neare to tho&s;e which haue a troubled harte, for thou ha&s;t not de&s;pi&s;ed a contrite and humbled harte, &s;o that after I had beene occupied in the con|&s;ideration of my life to come, and not without
<PB N="58" REF="180"> greate anxiety and perplexity of &s;pirit, after I had my recour&s;e to thy goodnes by continuall praiers, and finally after I had re&s;olued to cau&s;e three ma&s;&s;es to bee &s;aid in honor of thee mo&s;t holy Trinitie, with intention to praie thee to giue mee thy grace to abandon the world, thou did&s;t then call mee with &s;oe cleare, manife&s;t, &amp; loude voice, that I could not re&s;i&s;te &s;oe power|full and effectuall will, and calling; for about midnight beeing all alone in my chamber, and lifting vp my &s;pirit towards thee in this affaire, I felt my &s;elfe drawen by thee and my &s;pirit &s;o filled with a &s;odain &s;upernaturall light, and was &s;o &s;urpri&s;ed with &s;o greate a fire of Charitye, that beeing out of my &s;elfe, and tran&s;ported in|to thee, I re&s;ted like one that had lo&s;te all fee|ling of my &s;elfe and the worlde, in which ra|uishment and alienation of &s;en&s;e; I knew after an vn&s;peakable ma~ner thy holy will touching my vocation, &s;o that if an Angell had appeared vi&s;ibly to mee to haue declared it, I could not haue better knowne it, nor more certainly be|leeued it, &s;o that with greate a&s;tonishment I could not containe my &s;elfe but cryed out &s;ay|ing: o Lord whoe is like vnto thee, who is like vnto thee: o Lord; thou dide&s;t &s;o aboundantly di&s;till the deawe from heauen euen into the bottome of my &s;oule that by the meanes of it, I &s;pending all the night in thinking of it, I pa&s;|&s;ed it in greate sweetenes &amp; &s;pirituall delighte~, and &s;o beeing ouercome by the exce&s;&s;e of thy
<PB N="59" REF="180"> goodnes, I prote&s;ted before thee and all the heauenly court to abandon the worlde wholly, and do di&s;tribute all that I had to the poore, which are thy members, of which promi&s;e I neuer after repented mee; but which is more &s;upported and fauoured by thy &s;peciall grace, without any contrary tentation, the tyme bee|ing prolonged, I de&s;ired nothing more then to haue opportunitie to effectuate it perfectly; which happening afterward at the fea&s;t of the ble&s;&s;ed Trinitie I beleeued piou&s;lie, thou dide&s;t vouch&s;afe mee this grace by rea&s;on of my deuo|tion in honour and prai&s;e of it, to wit, becau&s;e in the day of my reconciliation, it was inioy|ned me for penance, that I should fa&s;te three daies, and that I shoulde giue thee almes to three poore per&s;ons; and likewi&s;e the day before, I determined to haue three ma&s;&s;es celebrated, offering all to the honour of that mo&s;t holy Trinitie.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="12" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>How hee entered into Religion, with an expo&s;i|tion of the fore&s;aid vi&s;ion. THE TWELFTH CHAPTER:</HEAD>
<P>ALthough I had made before with my &s;elfe, a firme re&s;olution to become a reli|gious man, of the order of Sainct Francis, yet I was in greate doubt whether I shoulde take the habit of the Cordeliers, or of the Ca|pucins, not knowing well which of the&s;e two
<PB N="90" REF="181"> did mo&s;te followe Saint Francis; I &s;awe well the life of the Capucins to bee more au&s;tere and &s;trict, yet I knewe not whether they did more perfectly ob&s;erue the rule of Sainct Fran|cis, and whether they did weare his true habit or noe, and inclined rather to thinke that they did not; &s;o I thought to enter into the religion of the Cordeliers, and yet ob&s;eruing that they liued not &s;oe au&s;terely as the Capucins, I was troubled, and thought I shoulde hardly &s;atisfy my &s;elfe in following Saint Francis &s;oe per|fectly as I de&s;ired. After I had a lo~g tyme made, a diligent and exact inqui&s;ition hereof, I founde my &s;elfe notwith&s;tanding very doubtfull, &s;oe that I once purpo&s;ed to haue gone to Rome to vnder&s;tand it more clearely, euen from his Ho|lines owne mouth: but I thought it be&s;te at length to goe fir&s;t to Paris, and there to con|ferre with men of the one and the other reli|gion, where I tooke re&s;olution to take the ha|bit of a Capucin, following the adui&s;e &amp; coun|&s;ell of a Capucin, which before had beene a Cordelier, and came out of that order to liue more au&s;terely.</P>
<P>But I did not &s;oe wholly rely vppon him, but that I v&s;ed all other good meanes to bee well informed of the truthe, &amp; by tho&s;e whom I knewe to very learned and pious, who be al|though they a&s;&s;ured mee that the Capucins liued according to the rule of Sainct Francis, yet they did di&s;&s;wade mee to enter into this re|ligion,
<PB N="61" REF="181"> by rea&s;on of theyr greate au&s;teritie, &s;aying to mee, that it was exceeding harde to pa&s;&s;e from one extreame vnto another, and be&s;ides that I shoulde make a co~&s;cience in em|bracing &s;uch a life, where there was litle likely|hood that I could continue; which they &s;aid be|cau&s;e they &s;awe I was but of a weake con&s;ti|tution of body. Soe that one day parting from Paris to goe to Meudon, to a Conuent of Ca|pucins, in &s;ome anguish of &s;pirit, to &s;peake with the fore&s;aid religious ma~ which had been a Cordelier, I cea&s;ed not to praie feruently, till &s;uch tyme as comming neare the conuent, I felt my &s;elfe much ea&s;ed and &s;uch a vigour &amp; force of &s;pirit was giuen to mee, that I re&s;ol|ued immediately to become a Capucin, and in|&s;tantly I had an in&s;piration which &s;aid to mee loe now all the vi&s;ion is accomplished, as it may bee &s;eene by that which followeth.</P>
<P>Heereupon I felt my &s;elfe ridde of all affli|ctions, and whereas I came from Paris, to haue &s;ome a&s;&s;urance by way of his adui&s;e, I entered into the conuent of the Capucins now fully re|&s;olued, &s;o that in &s;teade of con&s;ulting with him, at the fir&s;te worde I asked of him when I might take the habit. Then was, o Lord, all that full|filled, which thou had&s;t foretold mee by the fore&s;aid vi&s;ion, when by the hor&s;es which I had formerly &s;eene was repre&s;ented to mee all mun|daine vanitie pa&s;t, in which I was long deligh|ted. By the men &s;oe poorely cloathed, was re|pre&s;ented
<PB N="62" REF="182"> to mee the contempt of the worlde, and the pouertie in which I shoulde take con|tentment. By the colour and fashion of theyre attire, with theyre baggs and bottells, was &s;ig|nified to mee my vocation, which shoulde bee the life of the Capucins. By the men and chil|dren cloathed in gray, and &s;ome wearing white &s;urpli&s;&s;es, were &s;ignified to mee the Cordeliers, and that &s;oe perfectly, that when I &s;awe them &s;ing together at the deske, mee thought I &s;awe th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> very figures of my vi&s;ion. Et that I follow|ed them, this is al&s;o effected in that the Cor|deliers h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ue much inuited mee to followe them. And I hauing a long tyme re&s;ted my &s;elfe vpon their per&s;ua&s;ions, and for that they &s;taied for mee when I made any &s;taye, this &s;ignified that when I was in doubt concerning the ob&s;erua~ce of the rule, they laboured to re&s;olue mee, &s;aying, that with them I should ob&s;erue well the rule of Sainct Francis and that they would an&s;were for mee, at the day of iudgment for this point.</P>
<P>Concerning him which left his compagnie, and getting before them went &s;traight before them, in an other clo&s;&s;e where hee appeared to mee, that which happened after did &s;eeme to mee to point it out directly, when a Cordelier hauing left his fellowes did exceede them in au|&s;teritie of life, and went into an other clo&s;&s;e, that is into an other congregation, to wit the Capucins right before vs, which is towards per|fection; la&s;tly hee appeared to mee as drawing
<PB N="63" REF="182"> mee after him, and inuiting mee to pa&s;&s;e ouer this companie, to wit the order of the Corde|liers, and to followe him to the Capucins, as I did afterward according to his adui&s;e; when at Paris, a litle after on the 23. of the March fol|lowing 1586. I tooke the habit, where two others of the &s;ame country, and borne of noble families, which were come into France for the &s;ame end followed mee, and by my exam|ple, and my coun&s;ell, receaued al&s;o the &s;ame habit.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="13" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>A briefe repetition of the fore&s;aid principall points by way of Thankesgiuing. THE THIRTENTH CHAPTER:</HEAD>
<P>NOwe, O my God and Sauiour, when I call to minde all the&s;e meruailous workes, &amp; thy exceeding benefitts be&s;towed vppon mee, poore worme and vngratefull, vnprofitable and negligent &s;eruant, when I remember them to imprint them the rather by this meanes into my harte, and to engraue them in the bottome of my &s;oule, I am forced to confe&s;&s;e, that I finde nothing more &s;weete &amp; &s;auorous to my &s;oule, nor knowe nothing that is more plea&s;ing to thee, then to prai&s;e and laude thy holy name for them.</P>
<P>For thou ha&s;te compa&s;&s;ed mee about, thou ha&s;t taught mee, and kept mee as the apple of thyne eye; Thou which art the way, ha&s;t lead
<PB N="64" REF="183"> mee into the way of thy holy truth, &s;o that I &s;traied not. Thou that art the truth, ha&s;t taught mee, &s;o that I erred not, in things which were hard and profound; Thou that art the life, ha&s;t pre&s;erued mee &s;o that a multitude of mortall dartes of the worlde, that flesh and the deuill, haue not wounded mee to death: <HI>O my light thou ha&s;t founde mee out in a de&s;ert land,</HI> that is in England which is vnpeopled of Catho|liques, <HI>in a place of horrour</HI> that is in horrible &s;innes: <HI>a land of greate de&s;olation</HI> where there is &s;carce &s;eene any trace or foote&s;tepp of catho|lique religion.</P>
<P>O my loue, thou ha&s;t &s;pread thy wings of thy mercy, and ha&s;t taken mee into thy fauour and &s;eruice, and ha&s;t carried mee vpon thy shoulders; for I am a mo&s;t vile &s;inner, I haue builded vpon thy back: O my &s;weetenes, thou ha&s;t taught mee to drawe honnie out of the rock of penance, and oile out of a mo&s;te harde flint &s;tone, to wit, out of a mo&s;t &s;traight rule, and in all this o Lord thou ha&s;t beene my only guide &s;o that I may iu&s;tly &s;ay, hee hath not done in like manner to any other nation; Giue mee grace therefore, o Lord, to thinke of them of|ten, and to expre&s;&s;e them &s;o, that I beeing vn|gratefull as I am, yet others may prai&s;e thee for them. How greate a benefitt was this, to conuerte mee at that time and place, in which I determined to take my recreation, &s;eeing for that end I walked forth into the feilds? The
<PB N="65" REF="183"> multitude of my tentations, (o my God) doth euer more preache thy prai&s;es: my &s;peedy, &s;od|dain and perfect conuer&s;ion, doth shew &s;uffi|ciently the power of thy grace, that neither the flower of my age, nor the fury of youth, nor the plea&s;ure wherein I did liue, nor the liberty which I had, nor the company which I haun|ted, nor the place in which I abode, nor the habitude and long cu&s;tome of my euill life pa&s;t, nor yet the au&s;teritie of a good life to come, had any force to &s;taie mee.</P>
<P>This doth shewe the exten&s;ion &amp; protection of thy right hand, by thy only conduct with|out any humane per&s;wa&s;ion; be&s;ides the &s;weet &s;treames of teares which came fom mee aboundantly in this my conuer&s;ion, from what fountain could they proceede but from the vnction of thy holy &s;pirit. The bitter &s;ighes, &s;obs, and grones, from whence came they, but from a compunction which thou ha&s;t exalted in my &s;oule? The &s;inceritie which without partialitye I v&s;ed in &s;earching the true faith, &amp; my firme purpo&s;e to &s;tudy, fa&s;t, pray, lye vpon the hard ground, and other au&s;terities which I practi&s;ed, from whence did they i&s;&s;ue, but from an aboundance of thy grace? And to &s;ee how it plea&s;ed thee without all the&s;e, &s;odainly to reueale, the truthe vnto me, this I &s;ay, maketh mee much a&s;tonished, and to knowe certainly that thou art truly neere to tho&s;e whoe call vpon thee, and that who&s;oeuer shall reueale his
<PB N="66" REF="184"> way to our Lord, hee will doe it, and will not permitte, nor giue eternall torme~t to the iu&s;te.</P>
<P>And when I con&s;ider the exce&s;&s;iue con&s;ola|tions manife&s;ted to mee, the merueilous reue|lations, extraordinary vi&s;ions and rauishments, admiring thy liberalitie, I knowe certeinly that there is none like vnto thee among the Gods, nor according to thy workes, &amp; that hee &s;pake truly which &s;aid: <HI>Awake thou that &s;leepe&s;t, and ri&s;e from the dead, and Chri&s;te will illuminate thee;</HI> Thou al&s;o o Lord, did&s;t giue mee the&s;e con&s;o|lations in fitt tyme, to wit, when I was oppre&s;|&s;ed and owercharged with tentations, &s;oe o Lord thou doe&s;t bring to hell and doe&s;t bring back againe, the efficacy and force of thy voice in the inward of &s;oules, doth expre&s;&s;e it &s;elfe in tho&s;e three callings whith I had vnto good life, to faith, to religion, re&s;oluing to quitt bad life, here&s;y and the worlde: Thy mercyes are infinite in this thy pre&s;eruation of my life from my youth, among &s;o many perills and dangers. Thy fatherly protection was &s;eene, in not per|mitting mee to haue conference with that he|retique, which might haue hindered mee in my good cour&s;e; And thy merueilous proui|dence appeared, in the conuer&s;ion of my other companion and freind, when as wee beeing &s;o farr di&s;tant one from the other, in the country and in the time of vacation wee bothe came to the citty the &s;ame day. And which is yet more remarkable, wee mett at the very howre
<PB N="67" REF="184"> and in&s;tant of this my greate illumination, con|&s;olation, and finall re&s;olution. After thou had&s;t &s;o well in&s;tructed mee in thy faith and infla|med mee in thy loue that the fewe wordes which I &s;pake to him did &s;oe mooue his harte that they wrought his conuer&s;ion.</P>
<P>Wherefore I may &s;ay o Lord I haue heard thy voice, and I haue trembled, and therefore in the pre&s;ence of thy maie&s;tie, I am like a poore mou&s;e &s;eeking to hide my &s;elfe in &s;ome hole, and as a thiefe which hath done ill and hateth the light, I feare lea&s;t thy iu&s;tice should bee excerci&s;ed again&s;t my vnthankefullnes, I feare lea&s;t thou art offended, the Saincts an|gred, the Angells prouoked, men &s;candali&s;ed and all creatures mooued much in &s;eeing my ingratitude, and my euill life; I feare lea&s;t they may cry again&s;te mee, and &s;ay; behould thy wretched vngratefull per&s;on, whoe notwith|&s;tanding all tho&s;e greate particular fauours and benefitts, receaued from his Lord and Ma&s;ter, coulde not bee wonne to obey him. It is thy greate mercy that I am not now plunged in the bottomle&s;&s;e pitt of hel, yet as the &s;onne of thy &s;eruant who haue putt my &s;elfe vnder thy protection, my Lord and deliuerer, I con|fe&s;&s;e to thee from my hart, and prote&s;t before thy diuine maie&s;tie, that as long as I liue, I will remember this, and neuer forgett tho&s;e infinite fauours which thou ha&s;t done mee in my ten|der youth.</P>
<PB N="68" REF="185">
<P>I knowe we that ingratitude which is the roote of all &s;piritual euill, and a winde which drieth and burneth vp all good, yea &s;toppeth vp the fountain of diuine mercye, is greately hatefull and di&s;plea&s;ing to thee: and therefore I will humbly be&s;eeche thee, that I may neuer bee ingratefull towards thy clemency and bounty, for as often as this dragon would haue &s;wal|lowed mee, thou ha&s;t deliuered mee from his iawes, when the maligne temptor was &s;eazing vpon mee to carry mee to hell, thou of thy grace did&s;t re&s;traine him. I did offende thee, and thou did&s;t defende mee, I did not feare thee, &amp; yet thou did&s;t not cea&s;e to pre&s;erue mee; I went from thee to my enemy, yet notwith&s;tan|ding thou did&s;t hinder him that hee did mee noe extreame violence, thou ha&s;t heaped vpon mee all the&s;e rich fauours, and I poore wretch did not knowe them, much le&s;&s;e acknowledg them; &s;oe o Lord thou ha&s;t often deliuered mee from the dreadfull deuouring teethe of the de|uill and &s;aued mee from the iawes of the lion, and, I not witting of it, ha&s;t brought mee from the very brinke of hell mouth, I approached euen to the gates of death, and thou ha&s;t kept mee that I haue not entered.</P>
<P>O my Lord I haue likewi&s;e beene often de|liuered euen from corporall death, euen then when I was afflicted with greeuous di&s;ea&s;les, and expo&s;ed to many greate dangers, both by &s;ea and land, by fire and water thou ha&s;t of|ten
<PB N="69" REF="185"> a&s;&s;i&s;ted mee by thy greate mercy and good|nes, &amp; o Lord thou knowe&s;t well, that if death had then &s;urpri&s;ed mee, I had been perpetually damned: but without doubt thy vn&s;peakeable grace preuented mee allwaies, warranting mee both from corporall and eternall death.</P>
<P>Many other benefitts thou ha&s;t be&s;towed vppon mee, but yet I beeing altogether blinde, did not &s;ee them till thou dide&s;t graciou&s;ly illuminate mee; Thou art therefore, o Lord, the life by which I liue and the cleare brightnes which maketh mee &s;ee, the light of my &s;oule; and for this cau&s;e I render thee all po&s;&s;ible thankes, although they bee poore, &s;mall, and noe way an&s;wereable to thy benefits, nor &s;uch as they shoulde bee, but &s;uch as my weake fraylty can pre&s;ent and offer to thee: for thou art my only God which loue&s;t our &s;oules, and hate&s;t nothing that thou ha&s;t made, and now ha&s;t &s;aued mee beeing among greate &s;inners, to the end that I may &s;erue for an example to all others, and bee wittnes of thy greate piety and &s;oueraigne clemency; I will therfore magnifie thy holy name, that thou ha&s;t deliuered mee from the pitt of Hell more then a thow&s;and tymes; and although I did thru&s;te my &s;elfe de&s;|perately on, yet thou did&s;t allwayes drawe mee, back, &s;oe that if thou woulde&s;t haue entered into iudgment and condemnation again&s;t mee &amp; punish mee in rigour according to my faults and merits, thou had&s;t iu&s;tly a thow&s;and and
<PB N="70" REF="186"> a thow&s;and tymes condemned mee, &amp; punish|ed mee with eternall death, but thou would|e&s;t not doe it, but out of thy infinite loue of &s;oules thou doe&s;t wayte till they bee conuerted and doe penance.</P>
<P>O infinite goodnes, my &s;oule fainteth in this thy greate mercy, and cannot expre&s;&s;e it beeing &s;oe vn&s;peakeable, alas I was wholly dead, o my &s;oueraigne health, and thou ha&s;t ray&s;ed mee againe my life doth depende on thee, and as I doe wholly attribute it to thee I doe offer it and giue my &s;elfe wholly to thee. O my &s;anctifier, by whom all things vncleane and polluted are &s;anctified, lett mee loue thee with all my harte, with all my &s;oule, with all my thoughts, force; powers, and all my affe|ctions, at all tymes and moments, that &s;o I may enioye the fruits of thy mercie, for were it not that thou doe&s;t continually gouerne mee, and guide mee, I should bee wholly lo&s;t: if thou did&s;t not continually quicken mee, I shoulde perish; &amp; as thou doe&s;t at all times co~ferre vnto mee thy greate benefites, thou do&s;t continual|ly oblige mee to prai&s;e thy &s;oueraigne maie&s;tie; as therefore there is noe minute in all my life, wherein I doe not feele &s;ome effect of thy greate goodnes, &s;o there ought noe time to pa&s;&s;e, wherein I should not putte thee before mine eyes, and loue thee with all my force and vertue: But o Lord this is not in mine owne power, if it proceede not from thy diuine ma|ie&s;ty,
<PB N="71" REF="186"> from whome cometh all that is good, as from the father of lights, with whome there is noe change variety, or alteration of things, for it is not in the di&s;cretion or will, of man to loue thee, if it bee not graunted him by thy holy grace, &s;uch a guift commeth from thee, o mercifull Lord, from whome commeth all good things, wherefore commaund that thou bee&s;t loued, and accorde to that which thou commaunde&s;t, and without doubt thy ble&s;&s;ed commaundement shall bee fulfilled of mee, as al&s;o thy mo&s;t holy will.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="14" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his deuotion before hee became a Capucin. THE FOVRETENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IT is noe meruayle if Father BENNETT shewed &s;o great feruour among the Capu|cins, &s;ince that from the in&s;tant of his conuer|&s;ion, there was allwayes in him a very particu|lar deuotion: Hee was as a coale all on fire, which did kindle others with his glowing heate, but the violence appeared farre more after, when hee had liued in the ob&s;eruance of &s;o &s;traight a rule: &s;o that it may bee truely &s;aid of him, that the change which hee made from a &s;ecular life to a religious, was but to giue a more ample externall te&s;timonie of the true Apo&s;tolicall life which hee would after lead, and to binde him&s;elfe by &s;olemne vowes, to tho&s;e actions which hee did practi&s;e already of
<PB N="72" REF="187"> his owne free will, and of a holy affection and merit of life.</P>
<P>Hee &s;pake him&s;elfe in the narration of his co~uer&s;ion, what plea&s;ure hee tooke in vi&s;iting churches, and behoulding theire buildings and outward ornamente, but his humility forbad him to &s;peake how hee pa&s;&s;ed wholle dayes heerein, not knowing how the time went away which was &s;pent &s;o, hee &s;ignified the vn&s;peakeable contentment which hee had in hearing the mu&s;ick, how hee was &s;o changed thereby that teares trikling downe his cheeks hee fell often into thankes giuing to God, that hee had made him in &s;ome manner vnder|&s;tand, what the ioyes, of heauen should bee, &s;ince hee was &s;oe much affected with that &s;weete harmonye heere in earth but humble as hee was, and hiding diligently the graces which might cau&s;e him honor, hee did not declare how the&s;e plea&s;ures putte him into &s;uch exta&s;ies that hee did not remember where hee was. At Doway when hee made his fir&s;t re&s;traint, and excerci&s;ed his fir&s;t deuo|tions, his &s;oule (which knewe not as yet in what manner to proceede according to Gods holy intention to the attaining of perfection) &s;o gaue it &s;elfe to contemplation that many can not match him after the long practi&s;e of a con|templatiue life in the cloi&s;ters.</P>
<P>Itt happened then as hee was on his knees praying bare headed, his hands ioined, and his
<PB N="73" REF="187"> harte and eies lifted vp to God, his &s;oule was rauished as the hymnes were so~g in the Church his body was left as vn&s;en&s;ible for the time, in&s;omuch that lifting vpp him&s;elfe &s;odain|ly, hee went from the place where hee was, leauing his hatt and glooues behinde him, not perceauing it till hee came to the Churche porch, &s;o that hee was faine to retire thither where hee had praied, to &s;eeke his hatte and glooues.</P>
<P>What a change was this, that an Heretique, a yong man, and a gentleman, being but newly come out of here&s;y, and yet retaining the other two, should bee &s;o deuout, and &s;o deepely roo|ted in &s;uch acts of deuotion? What a change is this, to &s;ee him frequente Churches in &s;tead of daunces, &s;ermons in &s;tead of Comedies, Sa|craments in &s;tead of prophane companie, and to take delight in &s;pirituall &s;ongs and hymnes in &s;tead of youthfull, vitious, &amp; wanton &s;ongs? To turne banquetting and fea&s;ting into fa&s;ting? to become a freind of &s;olitude? to bee retired and recollected? hauing all waies God before the eyes of his &s;pirit, to who&s;e will hee rende|red all his thoughts, affections and actions cap|tiue: Noe man can well con&s;ider this vnle&s;&s;e he confe&s;&s;e that the &s;ecrets of God are very greate, and that hee did de&s;igne this ble&s;&s;ed Father to &s;ome thing extraordinary, and of high reach during the re&s;t of his life, &s;eeing that the beginning of his conuer&s;ion, was &s;uc|coured
<PB N="74" REF="188"> with &s;o many graces.</P>
<P>The&s;e graces growing in him did as they grewe, expell all mundain &amp; earthly affections; for heer<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">in it appeareth if wee bee enemies of mundanities, and the more wee hate the world the more doth this qualitie encrea&s;e in vs, which maketh vs children of heauen, &amp; heires of &s;oe rich an inheritance. This was the cau&s;e that this good Father beeing di&s;quieted with the worlde, wherein hee had taken &s;oe much delight, made his fir&s;t re&s;olution to bee a reli|gious man, to which God drewe him by di|uers vi&s;ions, in&s;pirations, lights of the &s;pirit, and kindling of the will, as hee reported him|&s;elfe when hee was perplexed which of the two religions (the Cordeliers or the Capucins) did ob&s;erue perfectly the rule of Sainct Fra~cis, and did weare his true habitt, wheerein God in&s;pired him &s;oe manife&s;tly, that hee could not admit any doubt, touching this in&s;piration as a religious man of this order hath related, and &s;igned with his owne hand who&s;e name was Peter Edwards an Irish man of nation, his very familiar and inward freind, to whome hee re|lated it one tyme, as they entertained di&s;cour&s;e one with an other, vpon the particular bene|fitts toward certeine per&s;ons.</P>
<P>One day as hee was in a deepe meditation touching this bui&s;ines, and not knowing what to re&s;olue, hee praied and commended this to God with all po&s;&s;ible feruour, and with all the
<PB N="75" REF="188"> faculties of his &s;oule, not without many deepe grones of his harte, and &s;alte teares falling From his eyes, there appeared to him an Angell mo&s;t beautifull and glorious, compa&s;&s;ed with a great light, and a booke in his hand which hee opening without &s;peaking one worde to him, made a &s;igne to him to read that which was within. Hee looked vpon it and read the&s;e wordes, O lord how difficil &amp; hard is this way which thou ha&s;t shewed to mee? The Angell turned the leafe and he read the &s;ame thing in it, and &s;oe turning ouer all the leafes found the &s;ame words written, vpon this the Angell va|nished out of his &s;ight, and his &s;oule was left full of con&s;olation and ioye a&s;&s;uring him&s;elfe that it was Gods will, that hee shoulde bee a Capucin, becau&s;e theire manner of life was more &s;trict and au&s;tere then that of the Corde|liers, though they bee both the children of B. Sainct Francis, &amp; make profe&s;&s;ion of the &s;ame rule. After this redoubling the feruour of his praiers, hee &s;aid o God how good art thou, and &s;oe lay as a man rapt in the contemplation of &s;oe greate a benefit, which hee would not haue changed for all the wealth of the world.</P>
<P>After this time hee could finde noe content|ment but in their cloi&s;ters, making his pil|grimage betweene the hou&s;es of Paris and Mendon, and when hee was with them hee thought him&s;elfe in Paradi&s;e, &amp; neuer re&s;ted till they had r<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ceaued him &amp; giuen him the habit.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="15" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="76" REF="189">
<HEAD>How hee tooke habit of a Capucin: of his Nouice&s;hip and his admirable actions du|ring that tyme. THE FIFTENTH CHAPTER:</HEAD>
<P>THe Capucins &s;eeing &s;oe greate feruour in this yong gentleman and a &s;tranger, in de|maunding the habit did not knowe what to thinke of it, for hee not willing to reueale to them the vi&s;ions and in&s;pirations which hee had from God to drawe him to religion, told them only that his de&s;ire was to for&s;ake the worlde, that the litle experience which hee had of the worlde was &s;ufficient to make him de&s;|pi&s;e it, that hee did fore&s;ee that in religion hee should haue more meanes to keepe downe the body by mortifications, and hee was not ignorant what proffit redoundeth thereby to the &s;oule if hee were tyed in the chaines of a holy rule: and in the end hee knew how greate a crowne of glory did belong to tho&s;e, that had liued in the holy ob&s;eruance therof. The&s;e con&s;iderations ouerweighed all others, yea if the whole worlde had beene putt into the other &s;cale, this had ouerweighed it; But yet for all this he was delayed and putte off, that &s;o it might the better appeare, whether hee were truly mooued by Gods holy &s;pirit, or whether &s;ome worldly di&s;contentment did not make him to change his life &amp; profe&s;&s;ion; for among
<PB N="77" REF="189"> the Capucins, religious are not ea&s;ily receaued; yea I haue knowen &s;ome that haue &s;ought to bee receaued for fiue or &s;ix yeares together, and euery yeare haue made iourneies of fowr&s;core or a hundred leages, to make &s;ure to their Prouinciall chapter, before that they haue been receaued and happily they had not &s;oe con|&s;tantly per&s;euered, if they had beene receaued at their fir&s;t reque&s;te, fora&s;much as wee pre|&s;erue tho&s;e things with more circum&s;pection which haue co&s;te vs much paine and trauaile to gett them; but hee wonne them at the length to admitte him without any more delaies. At that time hee was but fowre and twentie years of age; which though it be the time when nature is in her greate&s;t violence, and &s;eeketh mo&s;te her plea&s;ure, yet then was all his &s;tudie bent to mortifie it, and make the flesh obedient to the &s;pirit: the greate&s;t au&s;terities which for the mo&s;te parte are sharpe and mo&s;t &s;en&s;ible to beginners, were his greate&s;t contentment in&s;o|much that his companion nouices, were much excited by his deuotion, and the religious Fa|thers much a&s;tonished for to &s;ee it.</P>
<P>Hee was committed to the charge of a Fa|ther of the &s;ame nation, a man of holy life, and greately conuer&s;ant in mi&s;ticall Theologie, and in conducting of tho&s;e which tooke the way of learning the cro&s;&s;e, to the end that hee might communicate more freely to him what|&s;oeuer hee had in his &s;oule, and that hee might
<PB N="78" REF="190"> followe his precepts with more re&s;ignation. I will not &s;peake heere how promptly hee putt in execution what&s;oeuer his director ordai|ned, though it were contrary to his inclina|tion; Heere I will &s;ett downe how the deuill the enemy of all men in generall, but princi|pally of religious, how many ginns hee laied for him, and how hee omitted noe te<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">tation, neither outward nor inward to diuert him from his holy purpo&s;e, and to make him for|&s;ake the habit, beginning fir&s;t to terrifie him by the rigour of his pe~nances, the viole~ce of his praiers pre&s;aging that hee would preuaile much to ouerthrowe his kingdome, if hee did per|&s;euere in religion. Therefore hee appeared to him vi&s;ibly in diuers formes, &s;ometimes in the forme of a religious man, &amp; &s;ome other times vnder the figure of &s;ome fearefull bea&s;t, as his malice and craft made him inuent: one while hee repre&s;ented to him the manifold occa|&s;ions of &s;uffering which occurred in the po|uertie of Capucins, and that the time which hee might liue according to the cour&s;e of na|ture, was too long to bee obliged to &s;uch &s;uf|ferance, whereas after his profe&s;&s;ion, hee could not for&s;ake that kinde of life, but he mu&s;t bee euer reputed an Apo&s;tat. Sometimes hee would make him beleeue, that the way to heauen was &s;o ea&s;ie, and the gate &s;o wide and open, that hee might arriue well and a&s;&s;uredly there, and yet liu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> in the delight<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> &amp; contentments of the
<PB N="79" REF="190"> worlde. Hee founded his pretext vpon the mer|cie of God, who will not the death of a &s;inner, and hath granted heauen to Mary Magdalen, and to the good thiefe, and the&s;e bee the mo&s;t dangerous charmes wherewith hee enchaun|teth wordly men, and maketh them to beleeue them to theire de&s;truction. But this yong No|uice (old in the&s;e maximes) by the light of grace re&s;i&s;ted valiantly all the&s;e batteries, cal|ling to minde our Sauiors words: <HI>The way to hea|uen is &s;traight, and that which leadeth to perdition i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> wide and &s;pacious;</HI> that it is as hard for a rich man to enter into the kingdome of heauen as a Ca|mell to pa&s;&s;e thorough the eye of a needle; that a man can not haue his happines in this worlde and in the other likewi&s;e; with the&s;e and &s;uch weapons hee did encounter the de|uill, and welded them &s;o dextrou&s;ly, that hee re&s;ted allwaies victorious, and the deuill asha|med to bee ouercome.</P>
<P>The&s;e combats made him humble him&s;elfe more in his own knowledge; And heere it shall not bee ami&s;&s;e to giue thee deare reader, an a&s;|&s;ured rule to knowe, if wee bee truly out of tentation, and that with victori<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, which is, to &s;ee if wee are become more hu~ble then before whereas delight and inward o&s;tentation, pro|ceeding from our owne will, doth often cau&s;e vs to attribute &s;o much to our own forces that without any relation to God, from whome all grace proceedeth, wee thinke our &s;elues able
<PB N="80" REF="191"> to re&s;i&s;t it; But this is not to re&s;i&s;t tentation, and to carrie away the victorie, but to fall from a le&s;&s;e euill into a greater, and &s;o the more dan|gerous becau&s;e wee doe not knowe it, but when by the grace of a holy reflection, wee come to knowe that our owne forces had beene too feeble to re&s;i&s;te &s;o &s;trong an enemie, this knowledge bringeth vs to knowe our in|firmitie, and in de&s;pite of our lifting vp our &s;elues to humble and ca&s;te downe our &s;elues, fearing otherwi&s;e lea&s;t God might leaue vs an other time all alone in the battaile, whence wee are not likely to gett out, but with shame|full foile. This good Father therefore, became &s;till more humble, as the deuill did deliuer him the&s;e a&s;&s;aultes, and thereby shewed that hee was truly the conquerour; and not conten|ting him&s;elfe with this, did practi&s;e mortifica|tion with more courage, and excerci&s;ed prayer with more feruour; The vi&s;io~s which hee had in the beginning of his vocation, now were more ordinary and fearefull in religion; Hee had then of all &s;ortes, and &s;ome &s;oe fearefull, that the very apprehen&s;ion troubled him, yea and made him &s;omtimes cry out for feare.</P>
<P>One tyme there was repre&s;ented to him a rough &s;tonnie way and full of thornes, which hee mu&s;te pa&s;&s;e to enter into a plea&s;ant garde~: the thornes affrighted him, but the beauty of the flowers of tho&s;e borders, and the &s;weete odours which they &s;ent forth was &s;oe greate,
<PB N="81" REF="191"> that it drewe him as it were forceably, that hee pa&s;&s;ed freely vpon the&s;e flint &s;tones, &amp; tram|pled vpon the thornes &s;o that the blood i&s;&s;ued, without feeling the woundes which they cau|&s;ed; God would shew him by his vi&s;ion the difficulties which hee was to pa&s;&s;e in the yeare of his probation, to come to the contentment of his profe&s;&s;ion, in fa&s;tening him&s;elfe to the cro&s;&s;e of his &s;auiour, in which hee gathered all the flowers of his affections, the fruits of all &s;ortes of vertues which hee did &s;auour with vnmatchable deuotion.</P>
<P>An other tyme beeing at mentall prayer af|ter midnight (as theire cu&s;tome is, principally in the winter to watch and praie, when others prouoke God mo&s;t by the enormitie of their &s;innes) hauing taken his meditation vpon the paines of hell, our lord made him &s;ee the diuer|&s;ities of torments and paines, which are impo|&s;ed vpon mi&s;erable &s;oules, the horrible cries of deuils, &amp; the bla&s;phemies which they yelpe forth again&s;t their Creator, the &s;tench of tho&s;e darke dungeons, and the de&s;paire which tirani|zeth ouer them, and many other &s;uch like paines which are in this place of malediction; &s;eeing all this very clearely hee &s;ent forth a mo&s;te terrible crie, and a&s;tonished all the reli|gious, &amp; hee began to ri&s;e &amp; runnaway &s;wift|ly: The Fathers brought him into his cham|ber and a&s;ked him why hee cried &s;oe, but hee was &s;oe troubled that hee could not an&s;were,
<PB N="82" REF="192"> but trembled and panted looking about him continually, and came not perfectly to him&s;elfe till more then two howres after.</P>
<P>The&s;e &s;trange accidents made the Fathers feare lea&s;t there might bee illu&s;ions of the deuill, and therefore to vnder&s;tande them bet|ter, they went to the true remedie, which was, that they prooued him by many &amp; greate mor|tifications, enioyned him extraordinary penan|ces, which hee did &s;upporte with admirable mode&s;tie, patience and humilitie, &s;earching in all occa&s;ions contempt of him&s;elfe, and be|houlding IESVS Chri&s;te vpon the cro&s;&s;e, which are two foundatio~s vpon which Sainct Francis by diuine in&s;piration, e&s;tablished his wholle rule. Hee was almo&s;t continually in ex|&s;ta&s;es that it might bee truely &s;aid that his &s;oule vnited to his body did liue in heauen among the Angells: I will not now &s;peake of any other rapt, but that which befell him when hee was a Nouice, for the &s;pace of two dayes hee lay &s;peecheles and without any fun|ction of his &s;en&s;es, as farre as could bee &s;eene, The fathers hauing neuer &s;eene &s;uch &s;trange rapts in any nouice, had recour&s;e to the Phi&s;i|tians, to knowe what they thought therof: the Phi&s;itians which &s;eldome haue recour&s;e to God, when they can finde any reliefe in nature, ordayned that pigeons new killed shoulde bee applied to him, and that the bloud should di&s;till vpon his head, but they gaue him noe
<PB N="83" REF="192"> ea&s;e in this; then they pricked his leggs and thighes with greate pinns, and for all this they could di&s;corne noe motion or &s;en&s;e at all in him; This did &s;o a&s;tonish the Fathers, that they thought to di&s;mi&s;&s;e him, as &s;oone as hee should begin to bee in a litle better &s;tare. And they had indeed done it if the reuerend Father Hierome du Ca&s;tferet, at that tyme Gardien of Paris, a man very famous for &s;anctifie and prudence, had not hindered it, who had beene generall twi&s;e, and thrice Procurator in the Court of Rome, and for the &s;pace of two and thirtie, yeares ordered very happily all the important bui&s;ines of religion: This reuerend Father well experienced in the&s;e ca&s;es, was allwaies of opi|nion, that hee should not bee di&s;mi&s;&s;ed and yet to the end to try farther the &s;oliditye of his &s;pirit and his con&s;tancie to &s;uffer patiently, all things for the loue of God, hee cau&s;ed him to bee kept shutt vpp in a chamber for the &s;pace of fourtie daies, in which time hee could not goe forth, neither &s;ee nor &s;peake to any man, but vpon &s;undaies and fea&s;ts when hee went to heare ma&s;&s;e, and afterward hee returned to his cell, where hee beeing voluntarily kept for IESVS Chri&s;tes &s;ake, hee &s;olaced him&s;elfe with Chri&s;t in extraordinary &s;pirituall rapts.</P>
<P>But to returne to our former di&s;cour&s;e, after hee had beene out of him&s;elfe for two daies, hee came in the end to him&s;elfe, againe &amp; was &s;oe po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with ioie and iubilation, that hee
<PB N="84" REF="193"> &s;eeking to conceale it with all humilitie, was yet forced to make outward shew of it; The Reuerend Father Bennett of O&s;imo Prouin|ciall a&s;&s;embling &s;ome of the ancient Fathers together, &s;ent for him to knowe in what &s;tate hee was, commanding him in the vertue of ho|ly obedience, to conceale nothing from him, and to tell vnto him the naked truthe; wher|vpon pre&s;ently hee beeing abashed and chan|ging his colour, entered into a di&s;cour&s;e of two howres long, and treated of many points of perfection, which had beene reuealed to him, with &s;oe high conceptions, that afterward they neuer made doubt but that his exta&s;ies were true, and not to bee &s;u&s;pected for illu|&s;ions: His companious asked him if hee felt any thing of that which was done to him, hee &s;aid that hee felt it well, but that his &s;pirit was &s;oe occupied otherwi&s;e, that hee could not di|uerte it to &s;peake or giue any &s;igne of feeling.</P>
<P>Notwith&s;tanding all this, to shutte the gate to vanitie which creepeth in vn&s;en&s;ibly like a &s;er|pent, they did humble him by all &s;orte of in|uentions. They told him that hee was vnprofi|table and altogether vnfitt for religion, accor|ding to the &s;pirit of Sainct Francis, and that the<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> minded to take the habit from him, at all which &s;peeches hee was not a whit <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">oubled, but &s;aid that our ble&s;&s;ed lady had reuealed to him, that hee should liue and die a Capucin; The Father which was directour hath &s;ince
<PB N="85" REF="193"> declared the circum&s;tances of his reuelation, and &s;aid that once as hee was vngirt, or rather had loo&s;ed the corde wherewith hee was girt, his &s;pirit which was continually eleuated en|tertained it &s;elfe in meditation vpon the per|fections of the ble&s;&s;ed Virgin, then did the Queene of Angells appeare vnto him very glo|rious, and tooke his corde and girt him &s;oft|lie, and a&s;&s;ured him that hee shoulde per&s;e|uere a childe of Sainct Francis exhorting him to continew his holy deuotions.</P>
<P>All the yeare of his Nouiceshipp was pa&s;t in this manner, at the ende of which hee made humble &s;ute to bee profe&s;&s;ed; And this fauour was accorded to him, whereof &s;ince God hath receaued the glory, his neighbour edification, and the wholle order honor and contentment.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="16" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his extraordinary fashion of life after his profe&s;sion. THE FIFTENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THis good Father longed for the day of his profe&s;&s;ion, which was to him a &s;econd &s;pirituall natiuitie, beeing fir&s;t borne when hee conuerted him&s;elfe to the faith of the Church, this day of his profe&s;&s;ion hee celebrated euery yeare with extraordinary affection renewing his vowes with greate deuotio~; from this tyme hee began to liue &s;o, as if hee had done nothing before, hee excerci&s;ed more au&s;teritie &amp; more
<PB N="86" REF="194"> mortification, without any relea&s;e or remi&s;|&s;ion, euen till the howre of his death, which was for the &s;pace of fiue and twentie yeares, for &s;oe long hee was in religion; for rules of his actions, hee propo&s;ed noe others but IESVS Chri&s;te crucified, taking more plea&s;ure to be|hould him on the cro&s;&s;e, and participate in his &s;oule one of his dolours as it plea&s;ed him to communicate it to him, then to con&s;ider him in Cana of Gallilee changing water into wine, or to &s;ee Martha full of care, hauing the ho|nour to &s;erue him at table. Hence it came to pa&s;&s;e, that when hee was to treate of &s;pirituall things and of meanes to attayne to perfection, his di&s;cour&s;e was &s;o fiery that hee was &s;eene all glowing hotte, and euer hee enterlad &s;ome what of the cro&s;&s;e, for &s;aid hee to &s;uffer and endure for the loue of IESVS Chri&s;te, o what a grace is it, this is the &s;ure way of &s;aluation! Noe &s;oule euer tooke it which did not &s;afely arriue, although neuer &s;oe greate enemies would &s;toppe the pa&s;&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ge.</P>
<P>Hee mounted yet farre higher by mi&s;ticall Theologie, knowing that our flesh, was the more true cro&s;&s;e vpon the which God was nai|led comming into this worlde, and where hee had endured, and daily doth endure, more cruell torments then the cruell Iewes inflicted on him; &amp; for this cau&s;e hee laboured to render cro&s;&s;e for cro&s;&s;e, pa&s;&s;ion for pa&s;&s;ion, dolour, for dolour flesh for flesh, cau&s;ing his flesh to &s;uffer
<PB N="87" REF="194"> in particular (as much as was in his power) the dolours which our &s;auiour had &s;uffered in his, both cro&s;&s;es beeing but one and the &s;ame, as they did participate the &s;ame, nature in their &s;pecies.</P>
<P>This is very high, yet they shall ea&s;ily com|prehende the &s;ame, who con&s;ider that IESVS Chri&s;t, hauing taken our nature, and with it all the maimes and imperfections excepting &s;inne, it was to it (to v&s;e the wordes of Father Bennett) that hee was bound by an hipo&s;ta|tical vnion, vpon which hee was nayled with greate and piercing nailes of loue, where hee was condemned to dye by the soueraigne and high court. Therefore it is on this cro&s;&s;e of our flesh that hee hath endured and doth en|dure dayly cruell paines; <NOTE PLACE="marg">&lindx;</NOTE> for when the Prei&s;t celebrateth only for gaine, it is then that hee is &s;ould by his di&s;ciple: when the holy Sacrament is giuen to ob&s;tinate &s;inners, hee is deliuered into the hands of Iewes: when hee is receaued of an vnworthy &s;oule, hee is traiterou&s;ly ki&s;&s;ed; when wee doe hinder him to doe his will, hee is bound and manicled: when after the com|munion, wee &s;pend the tyme in prophane pa|&s;times, hee is ledd shamefully thorough the &s;treetes: hee is buffeted, by the hardenes of our hartes: hee is mocked, when wee pray to him and thinke of other things: hee is cladd as a foole, when wee de&s;pi&s;e to followe him; wee bende our knees in skorne, when wee kneele
<PB N="88" REF="195"> in the Churche &amp; doe him not due reuerence: wee giue him a reede for a &s;cepter, when wee call him king and Lord, and yett will not obaie him: be&s;ides tho&s;e which doe di&s;gui&s;e them|&s;elues, doe &s;pitt in his face; tho&s;e who paint them&s;elues with vermillion, doe couer his face with bloud: they which weare &s;trange hayre, doe pull him by the haire: and tho&s;e which weare them powdered fri&s;eled, cre&s;ted and vnnaturally dre&s;&s;ed, &s;ette thornes vpon his head.</P>
<P>Moreouer, tho&s;e who oppre&s;&s;e the poore, lay the cro&s;&s;e vpon his shoulders; tho&s;e who terrifye them with threates, doe putt him into an agonye, they that take away the goods of the Churche, doe &s;trippe our Sauiour of his cloathes; they who doe afflict Prei&s;ts, doe cru|elly &s;courge him; hee which deui&s;eth lyes again&s;t a religious per&s;on, accu&s;eth him fal&s;ely, and &s;taineth his good name, calleth our Sa|uiour drunkard and freind of publicans; tho&s;e who accu&s;e an innocent per&s;on, beare fal&s;e wit|nes agin&s;t IESVS Chri&s;te, and tho&s;e which &s;weare prophanely, doe bla&s;pheme him; the iudges which keepe a widowe or orphan long in &s;u&s;pence, doe tye him to a Pillar: and they which se~de them from one Court to an other, doe &s;ende him from Caiphas to Pilat; the iudge which for feare of Princes or greate per&s;ons doeth not iu&s;tice, is an other Pilat, and hee which again&s;t his owne con&s;cience, doth con|demne
<PB N="89" REF="195"> the iu&s;t cau&s;e of the innocent, doth pro|nounce &s;entence again&s;t IESVS Chri&s;te; they that hinder theire &s;eruants or others to doe good, doe nayle his hands vpon the cro&s;&s;e: and they that permitt them not to goe to ma&s;&s;e or to a catholique &s;ermon, doe nayle his feete to the cro&s;&s;e; the &s;ouldiours which de&s;pightfully treate poore countrey men, doe handle our Sauiour de&s;pightfully; Heretiques which by theyre fal&s;e opinions doe afflict the Churche, doe prepare whips for him: and the tongue of the mini&s;ter &s;peaking again&s;t the Churche, is a lance which pearceth his &s;ide whence the Churche commeth. And to conclude briefely, they that committe any &s;inns, doe putt him cruelly to death crucifying againe in the~&s;elues, the &s;onne of God, as Sainct Paul &s;aith. This is the true cro&s;&s;e on which hee cryed <HI>I thir&s;t</HI> (o man) for thy &s;aluation, on which hee ta&s;ted the vineger and galle of our mallice, and on which hee had his harte and &s;ide pearced by our vn|thankefullnes.</P>
<P>Soe did Father Bennet di&s;couer the mi&s;ticall cros&s;e of our humanitie cha&s;ti&s;ing in recom|pence his owne flesh, for to make it in some &s;orte like to that of his ma&s;ter. And who&s;oeuer will &s;ee &s;ome high conceptions vpon this mat|ter, let him &s;ee the booke which hee hath made entituled. <HI>The Chri&s;tian Knight,</HI> and there doubt|le&s;ly vnder the hierogliphie of a Souldier with his armes, and that which is needefull for cor|porall
<PB N="90" REF="196"> warre, hee teacheth euery Chri&s;tia~ &s;oule, which de&s;ireth to liue one day in Heauen with IESVS Chri&s;te, all things which are ne|ce&s;&s;ary in a &s;pirituall warfare, and that which it ought to doe or auoid, the meane to &s;ubdue his pa&s;&s;ions, the art of rooting vp vices and planting vertues, and in one worde an abridg|ment of an actiue and contemplatiue life.</P>
<P>This extraordinary manner of meditating the pa&s;&s;ion in his owne proper flesh, in &s;tead of contemplating him vpon mount Caluarie, imprinted in him more liuely touches, then it would haue done by other meanes: for it is certain, that the&s;e things doe more affect vs which touch our &s;elues, then they doe when wee &s;ee them in an other; And as an habitude is gotten by actions, imprinting it &s;elfe more &s;trongly as the actions are violent, &s;o this ble&s;|&s;ed Father did &s;o bende the force of his &s;pirit to God by the meditation of the crueltie of the pa&s;&s;ion, that three yeares before hee died, hee repo&s;ed not one houre and a halfe, of fowre and twentie when hee felt not him&s;elfe drawen by diuine tracts with &s;uch <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ffect of vnion and transformation into IESVS Chri&s;t crucified, according to that which hee wrote thereon in his thirde parte of the will of God, in his trea|tie of the pa&s;&s;ion that it left impre&s;&s;ions in him of the paines of our Sauiour, and &s;o violent they were that his body and &s;oule did feele day and night the great and inward dolours cau|&s;ed
<PB N="91" REF="196"> thereby. Hee &s;uffered in his body, and for that which concerneth the inferiour powers of the &s;oule, all that can be &s;uffered, but the &s;u|periour part of reaso~ did take plea&s;ure thereby, &amp; receaued greate contentment which was an infallible argument, that &s;uch attractions were truly from God and not illu&s;ions of &s;athan.</P>
<P>Notwith&s;tanding that hee might not bee de|ceaued by an act of profound humilitie, not tru&s;ting in his owne knowledg, nor in his own proper &s;en&s;e hee communicated this to one of the Fathers a man eminent in all &s;orte of &s;cien|ces both &s;peculatiue, &amp; practicall, &amp; an excel|lent preacher, coniuring him mo&s;te earne&s;t|ly to tell him, whether hee were not beguiled in &s;uch actions both in regarde of the litle re|po&s;e hee tooke in re&s;pect of the weakenes of his con&s;titution, as in regarde of other occa|&s;ions becau&s;e this diuine attraction did ceaze vpon him often before matins, &s;ometime after, &amp; for the mo&s;te parte did houlde him all along the wholle day, though with le&s;&s;e violence by rea&s;on of exteriour occupation and di&s;tra|ctions.</P>
<P>This Father knowing him familiarly for ma|ny yeares, and by humility iudging of the re&s;t of his actions a&s;&s;ured him that all was from God prote&s;ting afterward to the Fathers to whome hee made relation of this that hee had neuer heard &s;o high things and &s;o well deliue|red as hee had done in this colloquie with
<PB N="92" REF="197"> Father Bennett for the &s;pace of three howres though hee lay at that time &s;ick of his la&s;te di&s;ea&s;e which ended his life.</P>
<P>In this noe doubt hee had greate occa&s;ion to reioice and to thanke God, for tho&s;e graces and f<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">uours done vnto him, which hee refu|&s;eth to many others; But be&s;ides the&s;e, hee did &s;uffer violent paines in all partes of his body in that for the &s;pace of twelue yeares after hee entered into religion, hee was &s;o oppre&s;|&s;ed, that there was noe &s;ort of di&s;ea&s;e &s;o vio|lent, that could putt a man to more extreame paine then hee endured, with infinite patience, neuer complaining or murmuring, but allwaies prai&s;ing God, and for all this hee did neuer re|lent in his daily mortifications. Hee did fre|quent daily the communitie if hee could traine him&s;elfe thither without falling, where it plea|&s;ed God one time to worke a miracle for his health, as I will relate heereafter. In fine, hee omitted noe actions of his rule nor of his par|ticular deuotion, if the Phi&s;itian did not com|maund him otherwi&s;e &s;trictly for his health &amp; for his con&s;cience.</P>
<P>The deuill not preuailing in his Nouiceship again&s;t him, to bring him againe into the world, cea&s;ed not to a&s;&s;aile him with other tenta|tions afterwards; For the fauours of God did &s;erue him as a whet&s;tone to &s;ett an edge vpon his weapons: Hee laboured now to make him offend again&s;t his vowes, and for two yeares
<PB N="93" REF="197"> &s;pace hee continued in the violence of this tentations, beating the yoke of greate affli|ctions, and his brethren which could not a&s;&s;i&s;te him but with theyre prayers, did him this charitie &s;oe much the more willingly, be|cau&s;e they iudged his &s;tate out of danger, &s;oe that hee might well wish with Iob. that his faul<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">es which hee had committed were coun|terpe&s;ed with the dolours &amp; afflictions which hee &s;uffered; For in re&s;pect of them, the other had beene lighter then a graine of &s;and.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="17" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his learning and how hee v&s;ed it. THE SEAVENTENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IF vexation doth giue vnder&s;tanding as it is commonly &s;aid, then &s;urely was Father Bennett endewed with greate vnder&s;tanding, hauing &s;uffered all his life &s;uch &s;ortes of affli|ctions which doe exceede humain frailtie to beare, if it were left only to naturall forces but as there are two &s;ortes of knowledge to ray&s;e vs to God, and to make vs de&s;pi&s;e earthly things; &s;oe there are two principall wayes to attayne it: There is a knowledge of infirmity of nature, with the neede that we haue of the hand of God, which doeth &s;upporte and keepe vs from falling, as a nur&s;es hand doth hold the litle infant whome shee guideth, and this is cau&s;ed by afflictions; For there is nothing which doth make vs returne &s;o &s;oone, as a &s;naile within his shell, as when God cometh to &s;mite
<PB N="94" REF="198"> the hornes of our pre&s;umption &amp; arrogancie; The other knowledg is, that of the &s;ecrets of nature of politique and diuine lawes, of the mi&s;terie of our beliefe, all which &s;chola&s;ticall and mi&s;ticall diuinitie doth teache vs both to a&s;&s;ent to tho&s;e matters of faith and al&s;o to knowe the relation and dependence there is betweene the creatour and creature, as al&s;o to di&s;cerne truthe from falshood, here&s;y from true doctrine, and to containe vs within the Church, and to reduce others which are with|out: and this knowledge commeth not from afflictions but from trauaile ioined with a good temperature of the braine, or from tho&s;e free graces which God be&s;toweth as hee &s;eeth ex|pedient for our &s;aluation, and for his glory.</P>
<P>How excellent Father Bennett was in the fir&s;te &s;orte of knowledge, it is already declared, and as yet in the chapters of his patience, and mildnes will appeare more. In the &s;econd which is more profitable towards our neigh|bour, hee did al&s;o excell: For nature had en|dowed him with greate promptnes of witt, and he then confirmed it by his owne labour and diligence, that there was almo&s;t noe &s;ort of art or &s;cience, wherein hee was not well conuer&s;ant; In his youth after hee had learned his humanities, hee gaue him&s;elfe to the &s;tudie of the common lawe, wherein hee aduanced him&s;elfe much for the time. After his conuer|&s;ion when hee became a Capucin, hee was putt
<PB N="95" REF="198"> to the &s;tudies of philo&s;ophy and theology, which hee learned with noe le&s;&s;e facilitie, for the inward grace which &s;anctified his &s;oule, cleared al&s;o his iudgment, to pearce into the mo&s;t ob&s;cure difficulties. And will you knowe what was the booke which hee held conti|nually in his hands, and turned often euery daye? It was the cro&s;&s;e and pa&s;&s;ion of our ble&s;&s;ed Sauiour. The crucifix was his Repetitor or repeater, who&s;e lee&s;&s;on hee did continually recite: And why did hee &s;tudy &s;o much this le&s;&s;on? becau&s;e hee would teach noe other do|ctrine. Tho&s;e who conuer&s;ed with him knewe this well. And likewi&s;e the launcings of his harte in the pulpit accompanied with the com|punction and teares of his auditors, doe shew it &s;ufficiently, and an infinite nomber of &s;oules conuerted to God by his exhortations, who now beeing rauished with Mary Magdalen at the feete of the cro&s;&s;e, reeding this will witnes that I doe not &s;peake the hundreth parte of that which hee merited in this kinde.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides the&s;e &s;ciences hee was well &s;eene in the learned tongues both Greeke &amp; Hebrewe in po&s;itiue diuinitie, and reading of the Fa|thers, in controuer&s;ies and ca&s;es of con&s;cience, &s;o that it may bee &s;aid that hee had an abridg|ment of all &s;ciences, there beeing noething worthy to bee knowen, which the tran&s;cen|dency of his witt made not very familiar vnto him: I neede not to proue it, for there is noe
<PB N="96" REF="199"> man whoe doth not knowe it and a greate number of Cardinalls, Archbishops, and Bi&s;|hops, and other notable per&s;ons in the Church, who haue admired, cherished, and hono|red him with theyr vi&s;ites, and will te&s;tify this for a truth; as al&s;o for his greate trauaile and &s;ucce&s;&s;e in gaining of &s;oules after hee became a Preacher: The &s;ublimitie of his doctrine hath beene knowen &amp; &s;earcht after in the Cloi&s;ters of religions of all &s;ortes, &amp; God only knoweth the number of religious men &amp; weomen who hauing beene conforted by his exhortations, and ayded by his doctrine, both by worde of mouth and writing, haue beene exalted to the high &s;tate of perfection, of whome &s;ome nowe enioying the recompence, doe knowe by effect what a happines it is for a &s;oule, to haue noe other obiect in this worlde but the cro&s;&s;e: and others as yet not relea&s;ed from the thornes of this mortalitie, doe liue content and ioyfull in expectance and hope of the like crowne. And who is able to tell how many Princes, Noble men, Gentlemen, and others of all rankes qua|lities and &s;ortes, haue found by experience to their owne benefitt, how profitable it is to haue good councell for theyr con&s;ciences, again&s;t the comberances of the world, &s;uch as tho&s;e were which this Father BENNETT had experimented? His outward carriage and comportement of him&s;elfe, bred deuotion in others; For his very countenance and &s;weete
<PB N="97" REF="199"> behauiour, did teach others piety and deuo|tion. I should neuer make an end, if I woulde particulari&s;e all his actions, his manner of preaching full of fyrye zeale, the theologicall foundation which hee gaue to his morall pre|ceptes, his methode of &s;weetely winning &s;inners, his manner of treating with &s;ecular per&s;ones and what preparation he v&s;ed for his preaching. Among other things, it is certayen that the fire of charitie was &s;o kindled in him, that it made him often for&s;ake his corporall refection, to giue &s;pirituall; which hee did pra|cti&s;e with &s;uch a &s;upernaturall light &amp; &s;o quic|kening, that the &s;treaming of it was &s;ufficie~t to engraue his name in memorie amo~g&s;t po&s;teritie.</P>
<P>One of the greate&s;t lo&s;&s;es which wee &s;u&s;teyne by his death, is the want of enioynig cer|tayne workes which hee had begun, and left imperfect; in which there were greate matters expected touching perfection, &s;ince hee had already treated it &s;o excellently in his <HI>Rule of the will of God,</HI> which booke is e&s;teemed by &s;piri|tuall men (whoe are be&s;t able to iudg of it) one of the mo&s;te worthie&s;t and fitte&s;t to guide a &s;oule with a&s;&s;urance to the center of his la&s;t re&s;t, and doth leade men on more ea&s;ily with more loue then feare, and it cannot but bee &s;uch as I &s;ay whereas hee receaued the argu|ment and knowledge of it from heauen: For during his Nouiceship in one of his exta&s;ies wherein hee continued a long tyme as a man
<PB N="98" REF="200"> out of his body that is not &s;eeming to haue any &s;en&s;e at all; God by a particular grace and light reuealed the &s;ubiect of it in one in&s;tant with &s;o liuely apprehe~&s;ion of it, that &s;ome of his friends and Nouices beeing at that tyme with him to whome hee did communicate them at that pre&s;ent, did te&s;tifye that hee did then di&s;cour&s;e more perfectly and more feelingly of this then hee hath done in his booke.</P>
<P>And I am well a&s;&s;ured that the Doctors of Sorbon be&s;ides other greate eminent per&s;ones conuer&s;ant in mi&s;ticall Theologie doe confe&s;&s;e that hee hath taken out the &s;app of Cedar vpon the high mountayn of Liban which is of con|templation.</P>
<P>One of his more particular de&s;ignes wherein hee emploied him&s;elfe with much feruour and affection was the conuer&s;ion of &s;oules infected with here&s;ie. For as wee hate more the bitter|nes of the fruit after we haue ta&s;ted thereof then if wee haue only the knowledge of it by the qualities, and wee labour more to roote vp the plants of this bitter fruite where&s;oeuer wee find them: &s;oe this ble&s;&s;ed Father hauing beene formerly infected with here&s;y, and taken in deepely the venime of it, did more perfe|ctly hate it, &amp; therefore did employe the grea|te&s;t parte of that tyme which hee could &s;pare from the excerci&s;e of his rule, in labouring to this end, not without greate proffitt and bene|fitt to &s;traying &s;oules; for the &s;weete temper of
<PB N="99" REF="200"> his co~uer&s;ation without euer entring into pa&s;|&s;ion (though hee were prouoked) ioyned with greate prudence which knewe to make his right aduantage as occa&s;ion was offered, made him &s;oe able to conferre with Heretiques, that by the one he wonne them to conference, and by the other hee &s;eldome let them departe from him without beeing wholly conuerted, or at lea&s;t troubled and perplexed in theyr owne doctrine.</P>
<P>Hee did often &s;ette before his eyes the pitti|full &s;tate of the mo&s;t part of &s;oules in his owne country. Hee dete&s;ted that errour wherewith they were blinded, and had greate compa&s;&s;ion of their mi&s;ery, and out of charitie (which obligeth vs to loue our neighbour) hee wish|ed theire conuer&s;ion from the bottome of his &s;oule: vpon this occa&s;ion hee re&s;olued to goe into his Countrey, and to labour in that holy harue&s;t, of reducing wandering &s;oules, &amp; preaching to them the kingdome of God by the way of penance, and noe labours (which are greate in the&s;e kindes) noe eminent perils of pri&s;ons or death, had any power to diuerte him from this holy purpo&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="18" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="100" REF="201">
<HEAD>Of his going into England; and what happened to him during three yeares that hee was in pri&s;on. THE EIGHTENTH CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THe loue which this good Father did beare to the cro&s;&s;e, did moue him to a greate de&s;ire of shedding his bloud for the quarrell of his mai&s;ter wherefore hee cho&s;e rather to re|tourne into his countrey, which being in the beginning of the heate of per&s;ecution in En|gland when racks and tortures were &s;oe com|mon, that few or none could e&s;cape death by rea&s;on of the mo&s;te bloudy lawes enacted again&s;t Prei&s;ts: Hee went from Paris in the moneth of Iuly, in the yeare, 1589. after hee had receaued the benediction of the mo&s;te Re|uerend Bishop of Modena, Legat of the &s;ea Apo&s;tolique and Nuncio at that tyme of our holy Father Pope Clement the eight, and had the obedience of his &s;uperiour: hee had for his companion Father Iohn Chri&s;o&s;tome a &s;cotish Prie&s;t and preacher, a very zealous and religious Father, whome the incommodities of pri&s;ons could not diuerte from returning &s;ince to his countrey for the reduction of &s;oules.</P>
<P>The intention of this good Father Chri&s;o|&s;tome was, to goe into Scotland for the co~uer|&s;ion, of his father and mo&s;te of his kindred, which were all heretiques, and among the mo&s;t
<PB N="101" REF="201"> ob&s;tinate, fowre of them beeing Mini&s;ters and Preachers. Departing from Paris they went di|rectly to Haurede grace thinking to take ship|ping there, but mi&s;&s;ing of theyre hope, in im|barking there, they went from hauen to hauen, till they came to Callis, where they found a shipp ready to depart, and &s;oe went with many gentlemen Hollanders and other pa&s;&s;engers, mo&s;te of them beeing Heretiques.</P>
<P>They had the winde fauourable enough to pa&s;&s;e, but yet the pa&s;&s;age was painfull to them; for on the one &s;ide, the Reuerend Father Ben|nett was extreamely &s;ea-&s;ick, by rea&s;on of his tender and delicate con&s;titution: on the other &s;ide hee was not a litle afflicted in minde for his companion, who was tormented with a con|tinuall feuer, which hee had contracted by his trauaile, and greate iourneyes which they had made: for be&s;ides that it was in the greate heats of &s;ommer, the heauines of theyre habits did tyre them, fora&s;much as they wore &s;ecular cloathes vpon theyre habits, which they had made of &s;ome light &s;tuffe that by this di&s;gui&s;e|me~t they might auoid da~ger of beeing di&s;coue|red. The morow after they were embarked, they landed betweene Sandwich and Douer, and going on theyr way &s;traight towards Lon|don, they left theyr companye, telling them that for &s;ome occa&s;ions they could not take vp the &s;ame lodging with them, and &s;oe &s;taying a litle while, lett the others goe before.</P>
<PB N="102" REF="202">
<P>How merueilous is God in all his workes, and how doth hee oftentimes di&s;po&s;e of our workes, when wee litle thinke of it! The&s;e good Fathers had greate contentment nowe in that they had quitted the companie of the&s;e heretiques, that they might the better order theire owne bui&s;ines: but God di&s;po&s;ed other|wi&s;e: for the fir&s;t how&s;e which they came too, they thinking that it had beene an inne, was a pri&s;on; whoe can but wonder at this accident? This was doubtle&s;ly Gods prouidence, which by a &s;ecret in&s;piration had incited his &s;eruants to make choi&s;e of this vnplea&s;ing and dolefull lodging, among all other places of the towne. to the end they might worke the conuer&s;ion of many pri&s;oners lodged there for diuers cau&s;es, as they found it by theire experience afterwards effected.</P>
<P>Scarce were they entered, whiles Father Bennett was &s;peaking to the ho&s;te&s;&s;e for the reliefe of his companion, who was growne very weake by his feauer, but the Sergeants knowing them to bee &s;trangers came to &s;igni|fie to them from the Maior of the towne, the lawe which prohibiteth any &s;tranger to take vp his lodging before hee giue an account to the Maior of what qualitie &amp; profe&s;&s;ion hee is; what a beginning is this I pray you? The&s;e good Fathers doe ea&s;ily obey and pre&s;ently followe the Sergeants, and came to the Maior, who began to interrogate them according to the
<PB N="103" REF="202"> v&s;uall manner; when any &s;tranger is brought before him, and hee found pre&s;ently what they were. For be&s;ides that they were found with their breuiaries (which gaue greate occa&s;ion to &s;u&s;pect them for Prei&s;ts) theyr a&s;pect full of reuerence, the &s;weetenes of theyr countenan|ces, the grauitie of theyr behauiour, the mo|de&s;tie of theyr &s;peeche, theyr patience in endu|ring mocking &amp; railing words powred out of durtie mouthes again&s;t them, did bewray them: and many bla&s;phemies belched forth again&s;t the puritie of theire religion, and again&s;t our holy Father the Pope, whome heretiques hold for Antichri&s;t.</P>
<P>After this they were brought back by &s;ente~ce of the Maior, and attended by the &s;ame guarde of &s;ergeants vnto theire fir&s;t lodging, to wit to pri&s;on, to bee kept there vntill they expected the determination of the Queene of England and her priuie Coun&s;ell. They &s;eeing them|&s;elues, thus shutte vpp, armed them &s;elues with patience for the time to come, and be|gan to deale as effectually as they could for the conuer&s;ion of tho&s;e heretiques which were in pri&s;on with them, there beeing at that time a greate number. This good Father beeing much occupied in &s;eruing, and &s;olacing his &s;ick com|panion, was much afflicted that hee had not more time and lea&s;ure to conferre with them, yet it plea&s;ed God &s;o to ble&s;&s;e him in this holy worke, that in the &s;pace of eight daies which
<PB N="104" REF="203"> hee was there, hee conuerted &s;ome whoe did him much plea&s;ure and &s;eruice afterward, in many matters of con&s;equence, when hee was pri&s;oner at London and Wi&s;bich.</P>
<P>After eight daies the Sergeantes were com|maunded to bring them to a certeine Ca&s;tle, where the Queene and the Court was, which was but two daies iourney di&s;tant from thence; It is needeles to tell in what manner they were treated in the way, and how they were putt in feare of death.</P>
<P>Beeing come to London they were fir&s;t brought before the Lord Cobham, who re|ceaued them very curteou&s;ly, and entered into long di&s;cour&s;e with Father Bennett, in &s;omuch that hee &s;eemed to bee not a litle mooued and troubled in minde there vpon. Hee tould him plainly his purpo&s;e, and likewi&s;e gaue him to vnder&s;tand, that hee was a Capucin, and that hee had not abandoned his conuent for any other end but to come into tho&s;e partes, to procure the &s;aluation of &s;oules which here&s;ie had blinded, and that hee was ready to &s;pende his bloud euen to the la&s;te droppe in &s;o good a cau&s;e; and if the per&s;ecutors should excerci&s;e all kinde of torments vpon his poore body, that hee was ready to &s;uffer them, and that nei|ther torme~ts nor death shoulde by Gods grace, haue the lea&s;t power to alter his intention.</P>
<P>The holy Gho&s;t wich &s;pake by the mouth of this ble&s;&s;ed Father, with &s;uch wordes full of
<PB N="105" REF="203"> zeale and &s;weetnes made them take roote in the harte of this Baron, wherevpon hee loo|keth more earne&s;tly on the face of Father Ben|nett, con&s;idereth his comportement, &amp; weigh|heth well all the circum&s;tances of this &s;mall conference hee had with him; and it &s;eemed hee was in con&s;cience already well affected to the Catholique Religion.</P>
<P>They were &s;ent afterward to the Queenes how&s;e at Non &s;uch, where at that tyme the Queene was, and her Coun&s;ell, and for the &s;e|cond &s;tation they were pre&s;ented to the chiefe Secretary of &s;tate, Sir Francis Wal&s;ingham, a man of greate credit and authoritie with the Queenes Maie&s;tie, a man mo&s;te ob&s;tinate and &s;tiffe in his fal&s;e religion hee pre&s;ently began to aske them what they were, and whence they came, and why they came into the countrey? now and then enterlacing &s;ome &s;peeches of meere mocquery. Father Bennett made him briefe and pertinent an&s;weres to all his que|&s;tions, with &s;oe much grauitie and prudence, that all the companye which was there, had him in admiration for his di&s;creete and mode&s;t fashion.</P>
<P>Among other things which the Secretary asked him, this was one, why they came two together, &amp; one in the companie of the other? To whome this good Father an&s;wered, that this was more conformable to the life of our Ble&s;&s;ed Sauiour and his Apo&s;tles, and to putt in
<PB N="106" REF="204"> practi&s;e his commandement to his Di&s;ciples, whom he &s;ent <HI>binos &amp; binos,</HI> by two and two to preache the Gho&s;pell. That this was likewi&s;e the practi&s;e of the primitiue Church, and the particular in&s;titution of their order, to the end that they might comforte one the other in the waie, and that one might partake with the ne|ce&s;&s;i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ies of the other; oh, &s;aid the Secretary, it is rather that one may bee a witnes of the mal|lice and lewdnes of the other; wherevpon this good Father tooke occa&s;ion to make a &s;peeche touching the difference and greate contrariety that there is betweene the children of God and the deuill, the children of light and darke|nes, betweene the elected and reprooued, religious men and heretiques, concluding all with this &s;entence. <HI>Qui male agit odit lucem:</HI> Hee that doth ill hateth the light: Briefely the can|dour of his proceeding, and the freenes of his di&s;cour&s;e, wonne &s;o farre the affection of the Secretary, that although hee was one of the greate&s;t enemies of Catholique Religion, and one of the greate&s;t per&s;ecutors that euer was in England, yet did hee shewe fauour to them: for hee gaue chardge that all theire co&s;t should bee defraied, from the time they were fir&s;te ta|ken, and commanded the Sergeants to re&s;tore them all tho&s;e thinges which they had taken from them, which they did in parte.</P>
<P>The Queene which could not endure to heare of Prei&s;ts, beeing aduerti&s;ed of the con|&s;tancie
<PB N="107" REF="204"> of this ble&s;&s;ed Father, of his prudence, and di&s;creete behauiour, of his profound lear|ning, and his &s;trong defence of the religion hee profe&s;&s;ed, calming her pa&s;&s;ion in this kinde, was de&s;irous to haue a &s;ight of him, wher|vpon she went to a windowe where she might &s;ee him as hee was to goe from her Court to bee carryed to the tower of Lo~don, according to the order of her Coun&s;ellors; In the way the&s;e fathers had lea&s;ure to confe&s;&s;e one to the other, not knowing whether they should haue the like heereafter, becau&s;e they were to be putt a part by the &s;entence of the coun&s;ell, that &s;o they might bee depriued of theyre mutuall con&s;olation, &amp; the rather to shewe theyr hate to the con&s;titutions of theyr religion.</P>
<P>The Capucins of the Prouince of Paris, beeing aduerti&s;ed of the impri&s;onme~t of the&s;e two religious men made &s;ute to his mo&s;t Chri|&s;tian maie&s;tie, that hee would interpo&s;e him|&s;elfe for theyr deliuerance. For they &s;awe they could not bee deliuered by any other meanes: His maie&s;tie conde&s;cended to the Capucins humble reque&s;te heerein, who hating here&s;ie, becau&s;e hee knew well by experience the poi|so~ of it, did beare a particular affection towards Capucins. His letters were deliuered to the Queene to obtayne this fauourable libertie for them; wherevpon Father Chri&s;o&s;tome beeing a Scotish man was inlarged: But Father Be~nett beeing an Englishman, and &s;oe con&s;equently a
<PB N="108" REF="205"> va&s;&s;al of the Queenes, was kept clo&s;&s;e pri&s;oner &s;till, and &s;oe farre was hee from obtayning li|bertie, that hee was now more afflicted, and by a new &s;entence, &s;ent to the Ca&s;tle of Wi&s;bitch, which is a mo&s;te vnwhol&s;ome and vnco~forta|ble pri&s;on, by rea&s;on of the ill ayre of tho&s;e partes, and the remotenes of the place from all that might yielde a&s;&s;i&s;tance and comforte, with a greate number of other Catholique pri&s;oners both eccle&s;ia&s;ticall and &s;ecular per&s;ons.</P>
<P>Heere is worthie the ob&s;eruation, that the very fir&s;t day that this Father was &s;eparated from his companion, hee putting away all feare, for&s;ooke the &s;ecular habit hee wore, and openly made his habit appeare to the worlde, practi&s;ing all the au&s;terities of his rule, as fa|&s;tings, di&s;cipline, and other mortifications; whereby the Catholiques receaued very greate comforte and contentment, but the Here|tiques witne&s;&s;ing their hate and fury again&s;t it, did reuile him mo&s;te bitterly for it; Among others one who&s;e name was Wright, the mi|ni&s;ter of Dumnington, which came to di&s;pute with him, thought hee shoulde putt him to greate shame for wearing his habit, vnderta|king boldly to prooue, that hee was prohibi|ted to weare it, both by &s;cripture and by the canons of the Churche: but hee failed of his proofe, and indeede hee bore away the shame of &s;o bold and fal&s;e an a&s;&s;eueration.</P>
<P>This Capucins habit vnknowen in tho&s;e
<PB N="109" REF="205"> partes occa&s;ioned much deri&s;ion and di&s;daine to Heretiques, and comforte to Catholiques, in&s;omuch that Father Bennett pa&s;&s;ing by Cam|bridge (which is one of the famous Vniuer|&s;ities of the Realme, for the Colledges which are there built long &s;ince by Catholique foun|ders for Catholiques, though now v&s;urped by heretiques, as al&s;o the Churches with the reue|newes contrary to the lawes of God and man and the intention of the founders) pa&s;&s;ing I &s;ay by this vniuer&s;itie, hee was ledd thorough all their &s;treetes as a &s;trange mon&s;trous &s;pectacle: Hee was followed with odious shoutes and cryes, and all de&s;pitefull reproches they could po&s;&s;ibly doe him. In the meane while this ble&s;|&s;ed Father, armed him&s;elfe with extraordinary patience, and inwardly reioyced according to the example of the Apo&s;tles and Martirs, that hee was reputed worthy to &s;uffer &s;uch contu|melies and outrages, for the name of IESVS Chri&s;te crucified.</P>
<P>When hee was come to Wi&s;bitch and shut vp with other pri&s;oners, hee began to excerci&s;e a fresh the rigours of his rule, and during eigh|tene moneths which hee continewed there, hee brought forth greate and notable fruite, both for the con&s;olation of Catholiques, and conuer&s;ion of Heretiques, who could no<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> maugre theyr hate to Catholique religion, but admire this &s;trange manner of life: and the fame of it was &s;oe generally &s;predd, that very
<PB N="110" REF="206"> many were de&s;irous, to &s;ee him, &s;ome to con|tent only theyre curio&s;itie, and others to heare his di&s;cour&s;e, and to knowe the growndes of his doctrine. Among the&s;e there were many Mini&s;ters of the prote&s;tants, who came thin|king to conuince him, but they departed from him with theyre owne shame; that which did inuite and drawe them more to conferre with him, was his etraordinary mode&s;tie, and &s;weete fashion of treating with them, which cau&s;ed (according to the reporte of tho&s;e that were fellow pri&s;oners with him) that they cho&s;e ra|ther to conferre with him, then with any other Prie&s;t, becau&s;e hee did forbeare to reprooue theyr impertinencies and ab&s;urdities, with &s;oe much eagernes as many others would; neyther would hee euer bee tran&s;ported by pa&s;&s;ion, though prouoked to it by the folly and ob&s;ti|nacy of others, knowing well that &s;weetenes and meekenes, often gayneth tho&s;e, when ri|gour rather hardeneth; and that it is an v&s;uall thing for &s;uch ob&s;tinate and proud conceited men, to contradict more vehemently, when they &s;ee their aduer&s;ary in pa&s;&s;ion; our ble&s;&s;ed &s;auiour was meekenes it &s;elfe, and the fir&s;te le&s;|so~ which hee would his di&s;ciples should learne of him, was the practi&s;e of this vertue, com|maunding them aboue all, to bee mode&s;t, and meeke as lambes among wolues.</P>
<P>This good Father wonne many &s;oules in this manner, for there pa&s;&s;ed not day, that hee
<PB N="111" REF="206"> had not conference with one or other, &amp; often hee &s;pent the wholle day in this good worke, &s;oe that hee had &s;carcely tyme to &s;ay his office; other Prei&s;ts wondered much at it, and &s;eeing his &s;oe greate trauayle, ioyned with his au&s;terities, admonished him to &s;pare him&s;elfe, and tould him, that his weake body could not &s;ub&s;i&s;t with &s;oe much labour, and &s;o litle &s;u&s;te|nance; for (&s;aid they) Father you are in conti|nuall action, alwayes in greate occupation of body and &s;pirit, you take litle or noe re&s;t to repayre your &s;trength, this mu&s;te needes drawe on &s;ome infirmitie, to the ouerthrowe of your health; yea rather (&s;aid hee) I am better in health for this excerci&s;e, and was neuer more healthfull &amp; more able in body, the~ I am at this pre&s;ent. And indeede it plea&s;ed God to ble&s;&s;e him heerein extraordinarily in witnes of his acceptance of &s;uch labours; for as I &s;aid before for twelue yeares after his entry among the Capucins, hee was &s;oe weake, that there was allmo&s;te noe di&s;ea&s;e whereof hee had not his parte, beeing oppre&s;&s;ed without any intermi&s;|&s;ion with a greate weakenes of &s;tomack, which infirmitie had now left him, &s;oe that hee felt hardly any indi&s;po&s;ition at all proceeding from his old malady.</P>
<P>Among other conferences which hee had with Mini&s;ters, there was one very remarkea|ble that hee had with the pretended Bishop of Ely, who was named Doctor Eaton, who had
<PB N="112" REF="207"> the fame among them to bee a very &s;ubtile di&s;puter.</P>
<P>When hee came to W<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;bitch (where this re|uerend Father was pri&s;oner) vpon &s;ome impor|tant affaires of the publique a&s;&s;i&s;es, there were &s;ome gentlemen of quality in this Bishops companye, whoe had formerly knowen this Father Be~nett of Canfeild in his youth. Among the re&s;t, was one knight called Sir Iohn Cuts; they earne&s;tly &s;olicited the Bishop to deale with him, and to conuict him of his errour; &s;oe that the Bishop vndertooke it, and hauing ap|pointed the time, they &s;ent for him to the pri|&s;on, without giuing him the lea&s;t aduerti&s;e|ment of this theyr purpo&s;e. Hee &s;uppo&s;ing that it was to bee codemned to death for his Reli|gion, prepared him&s;elfe rather to die, then to di&s;pute; At the fir&s;t, the Bishop began to in|terrogate him as if his Inditement were now to bee made: but hee an&s;wered him plainly and categorically, not a whitt ama&s;ed; but pre&s;ent|ly after a fewe que&s;tions, hee entered vn&s;en&s;i|bly into a que&s;t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">o~ co~cerninge the Popes autho|ritie, which is a matter very odious in England; But when the Father &s;awe that the Bishops intention was not to examine him as a crimi|nall, but to conuince him by argument, hee defended him&s;elfe &s;oe well, and an&s;wered the obiection of his aduer&s;ary &s;o pertinently, that many Catholiques which were there pre&s;ent, thought it was Gods &s;pirit which &s;pake within
<PB N="113" REF="207"> him, to the di&s;honour and confu&s;ion of the Bi&s;|hop &amp; his adhere~ts: &s;oe did this good Father ex|erci&s;e him&s;elfe with greate comme~dation in de|fending Gods quarrell, and dayly working the conuer&s;ion of &s;oules, till &s;uch tyme as after hee had beene kept three yeares in diuers pri&s;ons, &amp; was then &s;ent back by banni&s;hment into Fraunce (for &s;oe he had his &s;entence) at the &s;olicitation of his mo&s;t Chri&s;tian maie&s;tie Henery the fourth of Fraunce: But that which occa&s;ioned the more &s;peedy execution therof, was an other matter, which I will heere &s;et downe.</P>
<P>A certaine vicar of the pretended Bi&s;hop of Norwich, named ma&s;ter Redman, accompanied with &s;ixtie mini&s;ters, which came from a Sinode, came to Framingham Ca&s;tle, where this father now was, being remoued fro~ that of Wisbidge, to confer and di&s;pute with the prie&s;ts, which were there pri&s;oners, who were fortie in num|ber; And to the end that all might be done with the more glorie, the gouernour of the prouince, who is the Lieutenant of the &s;hire, was al&s;o there, called Sir Wingfield, who gaue cou~tenance to this companie by his pre&s;ence.</P>
<P>In the companie of the&s;e mini&s;ters, there was one called Wrigth, who hauing liued at Gene|ua, and there borne a great name, was greatlie e&s;teemed for his learning and &s;ufficiencie. This mini&s;ter, entered into conference with father Be<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">net, and with two other prie&s;tes, but he was &s;o &s;oyled, that the vicar Generall, with manie
<PB N="114" REF="208"> others, did chaunge their colour, and were a&s;ha|med of their champian: and afterwards &s;aid a|mong the~&s;elues, that the faith of the Prote&s;tants, had receiued a great blow that day.</P>
<P>But this man being vain-glorious, was not con|tent with this di&s;grace, but engaged him &s;elfe for another day, to repaire his honor which he had lo&s;t. But to prouide for the wor&s;t, and to reco|uer the honor already lo&s;t, there were cho&s;en three of the mo&s;t able mini&s;ters, which were de|&s;igned for to encounter in a &s;olemne di&s;putation, three Prie&s;tes; vnder promi&s;e made by the Pro|te&s;tants, that they would obtaine warrant from the Councell, for the Prie&s;tes &s;ecuritie in this action, which was otherwi&s;e a matter of great danger. Some weekes pa&s;&s;ed, during which time they treated of the points and circum&s;tances of the di&s;putation, whiles the con&s;ent of the Coun|cell was procured. The Reuerend father Bennet was one of the three Prie&s;tes which were elected, for this di&s;putation, as a man well qualified, both for learning and for pietie; But in the end, all came to nothing, for the&s;e Mini&s;ters becoming wi&s;e by the example of the former, after they had well thought vpon the bu&s;ines, dur&s;t not appeare, nor yet could finde a more hone&s;t excu&s;e, then to ha&s;ten the bani&s;hment of father Bennet and the other Prie&s;ts: which being obtained &s;peedily, they were quit and wholie di&s;charged from this meeting.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="19" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="115" REF="208">
<HEAD>Of his returne into France. THE XIX. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>AFter that Father Bennet had pa&s;&s;ed three yeares in pri&s;on, he was deliuered as afor|&s;aid. Whil&s;t he was in pri&s;on, he made it a Cloi|&s;tre for the au&s;teritie of his profe&s;&s;ion, and a pul|pit, preaching frequentlie there the word of God, and drawing many &s;oules out of the &s;inke of here&s;ie. The Catholiques were glad of his en|largment, in regard of their de&s;ire that he might returne, to enioy the &s;weet contentments of his Cell, but otherwi&s;e they were exceeding &s;orrie to be depriued of his conuer&s;ation, his good in|&s;tructions, and vertuous example.</P>
<P>His bretheren who knew how zealous and &s;trict he was in the ob&s;eruance of his rule, in in|tegritie of life, &amp; great prudence and experience for the direction of &s;oules, made him inconti|nently ma&s;ter of the Nouices. This office he exerci&s;ed a long time at Orleance and Rouen, gi|uing to euery one &s;uch an odour of his holines of life, and of his rare in&s;tructions, that many ex|cellent religious men, could not &s;peake of him, without witne&s;&s;ing &s;ingular affection to honor his memorie, in recompence of tho&s;e &s;pirituall benefits which they thought they receiued from him, or by his meanes.</P>
<P>Among other precepts which he gaue to frame
<PB N="116" REF="209"> a life truly &s;pirituall, that of abnegation was one, as the virtue which doth depriue vs of all that proceedeth from the world, or from our owne proper intere&s;t, to giue our &s;oules entirely to God, for as much as he hateth harts that are de|uided, he &s;eldome imparteth his graces to &s;uch, becau&s;e the affection aymeth at &s;ome other ob|iect, then God alone: at the lea&s;t wi&s;e, he neuer be&s;toweth his graces &s;o abundantlie, as when we are void and quite emptie, of all other loue be&s;i|des his. Therfore (&s;aid father Bennet) there are three &s;ortes of abnegation, one temporall, another corporall, the third &s;pirituall, which doe &s;etle, confirme, and e&s;tabli&s;h our &s;oule, and all her good workes, as fa&s;tinges, di&s;ciplines, prayers, &amp; mortifications again&s;t al the a&s;&s;aults of the eni|mie. The temporall, is again&s;t the world, which by a couetous and di&s;ordered affection, to earth|lie thinges, &s;eeketh to make vs &s;trongly affected on her &s;ide to all vanitie, and &s;o to become tribu|tarie to her. The corporall, is again&s;t the fle&s;h, which by fle&s;hly plea&s;ure, endeuoureth with might and maine, to depriue vs of the knowledg of the true and and &s;oueraigne good, propo&s;ing to vs the fal&s;e and masked, and couered ouer, with the outward appearance of the true. The &s;pirituall is again&s;t the diuell, who by pride blin|deth vs, and hindereth vs to reflect vpon our owne infirmitie, &s;tirring vs vp to take the flight of ambition in &s;oaring on high, to the end we <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ay full head-long into the the flames of hel fire.</P>
<PB N="117" REF="209">
<P>The fir&s;t of the&s;e abnegations, con&s;i&s;teth in the renouncing of gold, &s;iluer, e&s;tates, dignities, enheritances, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, a trayne of &s;eruants, and the like, and was recommended by our Sauiour him &s;elfe, in the 14. of S. Luke. For want hereof, Achab, Giezi, Ananias, Iudas, and many others, ouerthrew them&s;elues mo&s;t mi&s;erablie. The &s;e|cond con&s;i&s;teth in renouncing the actions of all the &s;en&s;es, as &s;eeing, hearing, &s;peaking, ta&s;ting, &s;melling, touching, &s;leeping, cloathing our &s;el|ues, and the like, which S. Paul doth recommend vnto vs, when he &s;aith. Mortifie your members which are vpon earth. For want wherof, Dauid, Salomon, Herod, and infinit others offended God. The third abnegation extending farther then the others, doth depriue vs of all &s;ort of complacencie, which we may take in our owne actions, of all vaine and curious thoughtes, and loue of our &s;elues, and cau&s;eth vs to doe all thin|ges only for the loue of God, &s;eeketh his holy will in all thinges, and that which doth mo&s;t e&s;|pecially tend to his greater glorie. By the fir&s;t, we haue no more to doe with the world, nor the world with vs. By the &s;econd, our &s;oule dwel|ling as yet in the earthly tabernacle of the body, doth lead a life like to Angels. And by the third, we are transformed into God, as far as may be, being in the &s;tate we are. The fir&s;t, maketh vs children of heauen, becau&s;e we doe de&s;pice the earth. The &s;econd, doth prepare for vs a white &s;tole. to goe with the virgins, &s;inging and exul|ting
<PB N="118" REF="210"> after the Lambe. And the third maketh vs to ta&s;t here, the &s;weetnes of tho&s;e liquours, which doe inebriate vs in ble&s;&s;ednes.</P>
<P>This excellent le&s;&s;on was put in practi&s;e by Father Bennet, before he taught it vnto others, which made him &s;o much the more worthie of re&s;pect and honor. The contempt of all thinges, made him for to be indifferent, and to be all vnto all, &s;o that by a wonderfull plea&s;ing and &s;hinning &s;weetnes of affabilitie, he gayned the harts of his very enimies, euen of his owne religious; So that &s;ince his returne from England, many heretiques tooke occa&s;ion, vpon &s;cruple that they had of their religion, to confer with him, by which meanes, Gods holie &s;pirit wrought by him in&s;en|&s;ibly, the conuer&s;ion of a great number.</P>
<P>It hapned one day, whil&s;t he was Gardien at Rouen, in time of the extreame&s;t heates of &s;om|mer, he not thinking of giuing any the lea&s;t ea&s;e vnto his bodie, wore his habit pieced, in the &s;elfe &s;ame maner as in winter. The bretheren &s;eeing him worke in the garden, and to &s;weat &s;uch great drops as ouertooke one an other, had compa&s;|&s;ion on him, and &s;aid. Father, you &s;poile your &s;elfe, this heauie habit killeth you, giue vs leaue to take away the&s;e peeces which maketh it &s;o hea|uie, they will &s;erue you for another winter. What, &s;aid he, you mock me, my habit is as yours is, and I finde it light enough. Pardon me, &s;aid one of them, there is great difference, looke well vpon it, and you &s;hall finde it to be &s;o. They had
<PB N="119" REF="210"> for all this much adoe to per&s;wade him. Loe what mortification this was, not to know in what maner his habit was, as whither it had &s;uch pieces vpon it, yea or no: certainly, this was the mo&s;t extraordinarie grace of God, which held him alwayes raui&s;ht, and by the attract of his loue, held him alwayes fa&s;tned to his Cro&s;&s;e, &s;o that although he endured very much, yet he thought it to be nothing, for as much as the do|lors of his Lord and mai&s;ter were more &s;en&s;ible to him, and kept downe the feeling, of all other exterior paines.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="20" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his virtues. THE XX. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>IT may &s;eeme from the purpo&s;e to &s;et downe &s;o many excellent virtues wherwith this B. Father was adorned, into the narrow compa&s;&s;e of one chapter, but not purpo&s;ing to make any ample di&s;cour&s;e of them (which requireth a great volume to containe them) I will only point out &s;ome few actes of many excellent virtues, and by that &s;cantling, giue the Reader occa&s;ion to &s;ee the true &s;pring and fountaine, though it be not deduced into great &s;treames. Who was there that knew him, that did not admire in him the greatnes of his charitie, the light of his faith, the firmnes of his hope? Who can &s;peake &s;ufficiently
<PB N="120" REF="211"> of the abillitie of his wit, his prudence, and his patience in all &s;orts of afflictions? His &s;weetnes of conuer&s;ation, his profound humilitie, his per|fect and prompt obedience, and of his &s;implicitie and mode&s;tie in all occa&s;ions? Who can worth|lie expre&s;&s;e, the au&s;teritie of his pennance, the fruit of his &s;ilence, the effectes of his preachin|ges, the violence or his labours, the cro&s;&s;es, &s;uf|feringes, watchinges, fa&s;tinges, mortifications and his di&s;ciplines? The Reader him &s;elfe may ea|&s;ily infer mo&s;t of all the&s;e, out of our former di&s;|cour&s;e of his B. life; Therfore I will only here re|cite, &s;ome particular actions of eache virtu, which may moue to a true imitation of them.</P>
<P>And fir&s;t concerning humilitie, which is as it were the foundation of all the other, no man euer conuer&s;ed with him, who will not &s;ay, that he was truly humble. The offices and charges, which his pietie and rare prudence made him to beare in his order, were not accepted of him, but when he could in no wi&s;e auoide them: and not|with&s;tanding the&s;e places of &s;uperioritie, yet he neuer ommitted to &s;toope to tho&s;e meane drud|geries, which the lay bretheren are wont to per|forme; In &s;o much, that when he was Gardien at Rouen, if nece&s;&s;itie enforced him to goe into the towne, to doe bu&s;ines of the couent, or for the comfort of his neighbour, he did ordinarilie carrie the wallet vpon his back, and begged from doore to doore, in going and coming: and to giue ca&s;e to his companion, he alwayes would carrie
<PB N="121" REF="211"> the more heauie burthen, albeit he were very weake and feeble of nature. Thus he put in prac|ti&s;e what we &s;aid before of abnegation in the for|mer chapter, affirming often, that it was not e|nough to haue the habituall virtu, if it were not accompanied with the actuall. We may (&s;aid he) con&s;ider abnegation in three maners; as fir&s;t, ha|bituall and re&s;ident in our &s;oule; &s;econdly, as vir|tuall, for as much as it is ioyned, with an inten|tion of a precedent act; in the third place, as actuall, for as much as it produceth truly, acts conformable to her being, which are, a de&s;pi&s;ing of ones &s;elfe, proceeding from the knowledge of our owne weaknes; The two fir&s;t are good, but without the third, they langui&s;h by litle, and in the end doe drie and wither quite away: where|upon great euills doe often follow, ether in the vnder&s;tanding, by rea&s;on of a certaine darke cloud, which hindreth vs to know our &s;elues, or in the will, which &s;triueth not to get forth out of &s;o dangerous a &s;tate. His humilitie was al&s;o &s;eene, in hiding diligently tho&s;e graces, which God did &s;hew him in an aboundant mea&s;ure. The more he did receiue, the more was he a true follower of S. Frauncis, e&s;teeming him &s;elfe, the mo&s;t imperfect man in the whole world. No man could know his vi&s;ions, but &s;ome very few of his mo&s;t inward and &s;ecret friendes. One day, a brother &s;eeing him &s;tranglie transformed, and as it were vnited with God by contemplation, much more &s;traightly then others were, he
<PB N="122" REF="212"> asked of him &s;omwhat boldy, if he had not &s;ome extraordinarie vi&s;ion in his exta&s;ie. What (&s;aid he) &s;hould I haue vi&s;ions? They are not for &s;uch mi&s;erable &s;inners as I am; So much did he hum|ble, and ca&s;t downe him &s;elfe, in the knowledg of him &s;elfe, and in the nought of his owne weaknes, as God did rai&s;e him vp aboue others in grace and merit.</P>
<P>As for patience, which is the true &s;i&s;ter of hu|militie, he profe&s;&s;ed it in &s;o high a degree, that it &s;eemed almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible, to attaine further in the exerci&s;e of this virtu. Affliction did neuer make him change color: and that which was ve|rie much ob&s;erued in him, whil&s;t he was in En|gland, he had alwayes an extraordinarie force and magnanimitie of &s;pirit, wherby he was wonder|fullie fortified, in enduring of all torments, and garded by the&s;e virtues, again&s;t the violent a&s;|&s;aults of what affliction &s;oeuer. During the great rigours of his di&s;ea&s;e (which were mo&s;t ordinary and daylie, as we haue before declared) albeit he was Gardien and &s;uperior, he was &s;o obedient to the councell of tho&s;e that were to councell him, that he neuer tran&s;gre&s;&s;ed, yea he would obey his brother, or him that kept him, &amp; had a particular charge to &s;erue him, &s;o that often times he found him in the &s;ame po&s;ture, that he had put him &amp; left him the night before, without once &s;tirring an arme. So God who is delighted in the &s;ufferances of his friendes, and doth recompence them with increa&s;e of charitie, made him often ta&s;te the fruit
<PB N="123" REF="212"> therof, by &s;uch actions altogether miraculous.</P>
<P>On a time, hauing had a violent and dangerous &s;icknes, for a long time, he began to complaine a litle of the rediou&s;nes of the &s;ame: not out of any impatience in enduring the &s;icknes (for he did ra|ther wi&s;h to be alwayes &s;o exerci&s;ed) but becau&s;e he could not goe to the quire, &amp; performe other duties of the communitie. For this I will ob&s;er|ue by the way, that he was a great enimie of &s;in|gularitie, and alwayes thought that mo&s;t a&s;&s;ured and true marke of &s;anctitie in a religious man to be, to &s;ee that it doth alwaies follow the com|munitie, without leauing it, vnles it be in ex|treame nece&s;&s;itie. And in this Pope Clement the eight had rea&s;on to &s;ay, that he would not haue a better argument to canonize a religious man, then to be a&s;&s;ured that he had alwayes followed that which is ordained by his rule, for as much as &s;ingular actions &amp; particularities, are neuer with|out &s;elfe loue, which is one of the pe&s;tilences of religion. This ble&s;&s;ed father therfore, di&s;conten|ted in his minde, that he could not follow the communitie, and re&s;igning him&s;elfe whollie into Gods handes, felt in his &s;oule a certaine &s;weetnes, more then v&s;uall, and as it were a certaine voice which &s;pake to the eare of his hart, a&s;&s;uring him that he &s;hould receiue a perfect remedie, on the day and fea&s;t of their Seraphicall father S. Fran|cis, &s;o that he would follow the communitie. The effect &s;hewed it afterward: for the eue of S. Francis being come, he i&s;&s;ueth forth of the
<PB N="124" REF="213"> infirmarie and goeth as well as he can to the re|fectorie with others. They would haue giue~ him &s;ome other meate, becau&s;e on this day they fa&s;t with bread and water, telling him, that he was to weake and &s;ick to fa&s;t, and that he would therby encrea&s;e his &s;icknes: but he forboare to eate other|wi&s;e then the re&s;t did, following the in&s;piration or reuelation which he had had, and contented him &s;elfe only with bread and water. The night following he went to Mattins, and he was no &s;ooner vpon his knees, but lifting vp his hart to God to di&s;po&s;e him &s;elfe to his office, he felt (which he imparted to &s;ome others after|wards) a certaine inward cheerfulnes and iubi|lation of hart, which cannot be expre&s;&s;ed, and he heard as it were a voice full of &s;weetnes, which conforted him, and &s;aid. <HI>Goe and &s;inge confidently, for thou art now wholy cured of thy di&s;ea&s;e.</HI> O how good a thinge is it to endure for the loue of God!</P>
<P>Pre&s;ently vpon this he recouered his health, and beginning to &s;inge more loude then he was wont before he was &s;ick, the other Religious knew right well, that God had &s;hewed him &s;ome particular grace that night: and &s;o recouering more and more, his former voice grew &s;weeter and &s;tronger. Thus doth God repay the trauells which we endure, threefold beyond the valew of them, and maketh vs to &s;ee by infinit effects, that patience is one of the mo&s;t nece&s;&s;arie virtues of this life. For indeed the patience was notable,
<PB N="125" REF="213"> that this B. father did practi&s;e with &s;o much re|&s;ignation; which he did compare to the arke of Noe, which pre&s;erued him and his familie from the vniuer&s;all flood: his wordes are the&s;e. The Arke of Noe was caulked, to the end that the waters might not enter in: what is this Arke floating vpon <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">he deluge of mi&s;chiefes and tri|bulations? and what is this pitch wherwith it was caulked, but the fruit of patience, which keepeth the waters of afflictions, from entring into this Arke wel &amp; clo&s;ely &s;topt, to extingui&s;h charitie? and for this cau&s;e, &s;uch a &s;oule &s;aith. <HI>Aquae multae non potuerunt extinguere charitatem.</HI> Many waters could not quench charitie.</P>
<P>Let vs pa&s;&s;e to other virrues, and without in|&s;i&s;ting further in his feruour, nor in the ob&s;erua|tion of his rule, of which we haue already trea|ted, I will here recite a &s;trange accident which hapned whil&s;t he was gardien, and ma&s;ter of the nouices at Rouen. A certaine young gentleman was in&s;pired of God to de&s;pice the world, and to become a Cappucin, who was &s;o at lenght after many delayes and proofe of his con&s;tancie. His parents (as it falleth out commonly) being grie|ued for this his &s;pirituall aduancement, and eni|mies of this de&s;igne, attempted by letters, v&s;ing therin the mediation of others, to draw him back. But when they &s;aw they could not preuaile by this meanes, they deui&s;ed another, which they kept very &s;ecret, vnder pretext of going to vi&s;it him, and to be informed of his behauiour, and of
<PB N="126" REF="214"> his new cour&s;e of life. And after they &s;aw what contentment he found in a religious life, as he accompained them to the dore, they drew him by force out of the gates, and carried him away with them. The Porter hereupon began to crie, and the reuerend Father being aduerti&s;ed of this lewed action, began to runne after as a good &s;hep|heard doth after a Woulfe, which hath taken away a Lambe out of his fould. But &s;eeing his pour&s;uing to be to no purpo&s;e, and that if he &s;hould ouertake them, he was not able to deliuer him forth of their handes; then full of feruour of &s;pirit, and of a holy anger, he threatneth them with the iu&s;t iudgment of God, &s;aying, that he would neuer leaue &s;uch an enormous crime as this, without &s;ome notable &amp; exemplar puni&s;h|ment. A thinge very &s;trange &amp; worthy of marke, that at that very time, &s;entence was giuen from heauen, and was very &s;hortly after put in exe|cution, to ratifie the true prediction of this good father. For &s;ome few monthes after, this younge gentleman, who could not be ouer|come with any &s;ortes of promi&s;es, came back a|gaine to take the habit, and a litle after made his profe&s;&s;ion, who tould them, that from the very time that he was thus taken away, his fa|ther began to grow &s;ick, and impayring &s;till in his health, dyed &s;hortly after. This ought to ter|rifie tho&s;e which &s;eeke to draw their children by all meanes from religion: and although many are not &s;o puni&s;hed in this world, yet ought they to
<PB N="127" REF="214"> a&s;&s;ure them &s;elues, that they &s;hall pay for it in another, if they doe not &s;atisfie for &s;uch haynous crimes, by great and extraordinarie pennances: and principally, if &s;uch children come to be de|bauched and lewed, and lee&s;e their &s;oules by oc|ca&s;ion of worldly encombrances in the way of virtu which leadeth to heauen. For if Religious men haue labour enough and much dlfficultie to &s;aue their &s;oules, why &s;hould not &s;ecular men feare, who haue &s;oules of the &s;ame mould as they haue? I will add another &s;torie, for proofe of this which hapned at the &s;ame time, and in the &s;ame place.</P>
<P>A certaine preacher Capucin, borne of one of the be&s;t and noble&s;t families of Normandie, bore a &s;ingular re&s;pect to the piety of father Bennet, and he likewi&s;e, did &s;ingularly affect him. One day as they conuer&s;ed together, and di&s;cour&s;ed of death, and of the &s;tate of &s;oules, &s;eparated from the ma&s;&s;e of corruptible fle&s;h, they made a mu|tuall pact one to the other, that which &s;hould die fir&s;t, &s;hould adui&s;e the &s;uruiuer of his e&s;tate, if God of his grace and mercie would permit it. This preacher died fir&s;t, and two or three dayes after his buriall, as this good father was in praier in the quire before matins, where he pa&s;&s;ed the mo&s;t part of the nighte, he appeared vnto him in that forme and fa&s;hion, which witne&s;&s;ed a great affliction. After matins he came againe, and euery time he &s;pake only the&s;e wordes. <HI>Multorum ma|nibus, grande leuatur onus:</HI> that is to &s;ay, a great
<PB N="128" REF="215"> burthen is lightned by many mens handes, and &s;odainly he vani&s;hed.</P>
<P>This good father, iudging of his &s;tate by his wordes, could not forbeare to &s;hed teares, and redoubled the feruour of his prayers, and for three dayes &s;pace, he cau&s;ed all the Prie&s;ts to celebrat Ma&s;&s;e for him, and others to communicate after his intention: which done this &s;oule appeared no more: giuing him therby to vnder&s;tand, that his paines were changed into eternall re&s;t in hea|uen. This was the entertaynment of this ble&s;&s;ed father, who occupied him &s;elfe wholy in prayer and contemplation, by which he was continual|lie vnited to God his only obiect, and the virtu of pouertie, did di&s;po&s;e him the more vnto it, which he fo&s;tered as his mother. For to pray well, it is expedient to thinke of nothing but of God, and this thought can not be entire and per|fect, vnles our harts be voide and emptied, from the affection of all earthly thinges. To this end he &s;aid right well, that there were three &s;ortes of pouertie, nece&s;&s;arie for three &s;ortes of prayers, vocall, meditation, and contemplation. The fir&s;t is, a pouertie of affection proper to all Chri&s;tians, which con&s;i&s;teth in nor adhering to earthly thin|ges, but following the councell of S. Paul, to v&s;e them in po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing them, as if we had them not: and tho&s;e which are endued with this &s;pirit, &s;ay ea&s;ilie to their thoughts when they enter into the church; Attend me at the gate, as S. Bernard did. The &s;econd is, the pouertie of pro&s;e&s;&s;ion,
<PB N="129" REF="215"> which belongeth only to religious men, who by their vowe, doe depriue them &s;elues of all thin|ges: and this being more high then the other, doth greatly &s;olace a &s;oule, and maketh it more capa|ble of meditation, lifting it vp &s;o much the more in this &s;tate, as it hath le&s;&s;e proprietie or demai|nes, ether in common, or in priuat.</P>
<P>The third &s;ort of pouertie is yet more excel|cellent then the&s;e two, which is a pouertie of &s;pirit, not as it is ordinarily taken, for that which depriueth vs of all inordinat affection to riches, but for as much it ordereth our affections tou|ching &s;pirituall and heauenly thinges, cau&s;ing that the &s;oule doth not de&s;ire them for it &s;elfe, nor for her particular profit, but only for the glo|rie of God, to whom it hath giuen the hart, the thoughts, and all affections. And this &s;tripping the &s;oule perfectlie of all corporall and &s;pirituall thinges, of all de&s;ires which tend to her particu|lar intere&s;t, is di&s;po&s;ed by this maner to contem|plation, and by continuall actions of loue and charitie, kindleth it &s;elfe, yea and con&s;umeth it &s;elfe, to transforme it &s;elfe, and become vnited vnto God, which is the vtmo&s;t degree of &s;piri|tuall life.</P>
<P>Now it is ea&s;ie to iudge, how this father was poore in the&s;e three kindes of pouerties. His pro|fe&s;&s;ion doth &s;ufficiently proue the two fir&s;t, and his &s;oule fa&s;tned to the Cro&s;&s;e, without inter|mi&s;&s;ion ta&s;ting the fruites wherof, he hath left vs the feede in his booke <HI>of the will of God,</HI> doth de|mon&s;trat
<PB N="130" REF="216"> the third. And from this vnion, procee|deth charitie, yea perfect charirie cannot be with|out this vnion, and hence &s;prunge the peace and tranquillitie of all his de&s;ires within him &s;elfe, a con&s;tant concord with his neighbour, wi&s;dome which is the fir&s;t gift of the holie Gho&s;t, which doth penetrat the mi&s;teries of God, and affectio|nat mercie to confort his neighbour in his nece&s;|&s;itie, promptnes to Gods &s;eruice, the practi&s;e of good workes, and the &s;oule, the life, and the me|rit of a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">l virtues. So that to &s;peake that briefly, which I cannot particularize in a whole volume, this ble&s;&s;ed father being vnited to God, we may truly inferre and conclude, that pa&s;&s;ions did ne|uer trouble the peace, which he did inwardly en|ioy: that the &s;aluation of his neighbour, was as tender to him, as his owne: that he thought no time &s;o well &s;pent, as when he could cooperat therto in any maner: that his wi&s;dome did &s;ound the mo&s;t &s;ecret mi&s;teries: that his good workes were ine&s;timable and great, his affections great, his virtues great, and therfore his memorie and his name, ought to be great among men.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides the&s;e virtues, which made him &s;o ac|ceptable in the &s;ight of God, and his admirable actions in the eyes of the world, he had certaine o her graces or gifts which S. Paul reciteth as &s;in|gular benefits of the holy Gho&s;t, to tho&s;e to whom they are imparted. There was nothing be|longing to &s;pirituall beautie, wherof he had not &s;ome part and portion, and by his pietie and zeale
<PB N="131" REF="216"> which he boare to Gods &s;eruice, he often times did many thinges, which may very well be dee|med miraculous.</P>
<P>Being once &s;ent to Audely there to remaine, it hapned as he came into the chappell, which is in the entrie to the church, he e&s;pied that there was no picture vpon the Altar, wherat he was much moued: for let heretiques &s;ay what they plea&s;e out of their fooli&s;h malice: images are not only bookes of ignorant per&s;ons, but of more perfect men, who finde motiues in them to deuotion, which they would not haue otherwi&s;e. Wher|upon he asked father Gardien, what the cau&s;e was, that their chappell was no better adorned? He an&s;wered him. Father we are &s;o poore in this place, that we know not how to beautifie it, or come by tho&s;e conuenient ornaments. Hereupon he willed him to prouide &s;ome colours, with which although he knew not what belonged to painting, nor euer in his life had handled pen&s;ill, he made an image of our B. Lady, in which are repre&s;ented all the &s;imboles and Hierogliphes, which be required to exalt the virtues of the queene of heauen, and ho &s;o laid and di&s;po&s;ed the colours, that for the beautie therof, and for the deuotion which it doth excite in the harts of tho&s;e that doe behould it, it was changed and put in the place of that image of the high Altar, where it yet remaineth to this pre&s;ent.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="21" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="132" REF="217">
<HEAD>Of his exta&s;ies and rapts, and of the graces which he receiued in them. THE XXI CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IF I &s;hall &s;peake as it is meete of Father Ben|net, and of his &s;traight vnion with almightie God, of the force, of the perfection, and conti|nuation therof, I &s;hould not &s;ay, that he had ex|ta&s;ies or raui&s;hments, but that his whole life from three and twentie yeares of age that he became a Cappucin, was a continuall rapt and perpetuall exta&s;ie. When &s;oeuer he was &s;eene, or where &s;oeuer he was, he had his &s;pirit alwaies lifted vp to God, the &s;ight of the ba&s;e creature, made him to become engulphed in the knowledg of his Creator. This was much noted in him, that when any man &s;pake vnto him, and asked him any mat|ter, he mu&s;t repeate the &s;ame thinge twice vnto him, becau&s;e his &s;oule being otherwi&s;e preoccu|pated, did not heare the fir&s;t time: &s;o that many had not bene edified by his conuer&s;ation, had they not knowen his great pietie; for oftentimes he &s;pake &s;o &s;hort and &s;o brokenly, as if he had wan|ted words to expre&s;&s;e what he would &s;ay.</P>
<P>His exta&s;ies were iudged for &s;uch, by tho&s;e that being very conuer&s;ant in my&s;ticall Diuinitie, found them to be truly &s;upernaturall; for they could not be &s;oundinges as &s;ome might imagin, for as much as a &s;oundinge, according to the opi|nion
<PB N="133" REF="217"> of Galen, the prince of Philo&s;ophers, is an interception of the &s;ence, by an ob&s;truction of the &s;innewes, which taketh away the pul&s;e from the artyres, and doth wholy depriue vs of the v&s;e of rea&s;on. But &s;o far was this Father from being depriued of knowledg, and of the function of the &s;pirit with that of the &s;ence, that on the contrary part, he was lifted vp to God, and receaued great illuminations touching the illuminatiue life, and a&s;&s;ured way of perfection. Soundinges are natu|rall, and doe follow a &s;odaine failling of all the forces of the body, which carrie away with them tho&s;e of the &s;pirit, but exta&s;ies are from God, which by a drawing of loue, attracteth &s;oules to him, to make them ta&s;t tho&s;e &s;weetne&s;&s;es, which they could not otherwi&s;e.</P>
<P>When Father Bennet therfore, recited tho&s;e thinges of &s;o high a nature, after the&s;e exta&s;ies, wherof he now had knowledge before, who can pre&s;ume to &s;ay that this was naturall, and that they were nothing el&s;e but &s;oundinges? For they ari&s;e from a great emptines or priuation of vitall &s;pirits, which cannot pa&s;&s;e to the place, ordained by nature for the functions. But exta&s;ies on the contrary part, proceed from a repleation or aboun|dance of grace, which maketh the &s;oule conuer|&s;ant in heauen, being yet fa&s;tned to this ma&s;&s;e of earth. So S. Peter in the 10. of the Acts, falling into an exta&s;ie of &s;pirit, &s;aw a great &s;heete which came downe from heauen, full of all &s;ortes of vn|cleane creatures, with a voice which &s;aid vnto
<PB N="134" REF="218"> him; <HI>Kill, and eate.</HI> So S. Paul reporteth of him|&s;elfe, that he was rapt euen to the third heauen, and there &s;aw thinges, which the &s;en&s;e cannot comprehend. And S. Iohn in the Apocalips, was fir&s;t rapt in &s;pirit on the Lords day, and &s;aw &s;o many maruellous thinges which he reciteth, con|cerning the circum&s;tances&punc; of the generall iudg|ment. So this holy Father being raui&s;hed in &s;pi|rit, and receiuing the knowledge of that which he could not attaine by great labour and painfull &s;tudie of manie yeares, we cannot but iudge ne|ce&s;&s;arily, that the&s;e were graces which he recei|ued from God, in the &s;weetnes of his exta&s;ies.</P>
<P>Whil&s;t he was Gardien at Charters, he fell into a grieuous &s;icknes, which mo&s;t men thought would haue bene his la&s;t: for the violence of the feuer was &s;o great, that it could not be a&s;&s;wa|ged by anie remedie: and he being but lately re|couered of other former di&s;ea&s;es, be&s;ides his au|&s;terities, he was become &s;o weake and leane, that he was nothing el&s;e but skin and boane, &s;o that it was thought almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible, that he could re&s;i&s;t this brunt. In this ca&s;e, he cau&s;ed an Image of our ble&s;&s;ed Lady to be brought vnto him, being &s;ingularly deuout vnto her, and cau&s;ed it to be &s;et at his beds feete, that &s;o he might the bet|ter behould it. But he was no &s;ooner entred into contemplation, but that he fell into an exta&s;ie, for the &s;pace of eighteene houres, all which time, his &s;ences were depriued of their functions, and during this while, he had no maner of feeling of
<PB N="135" REF="218"> his di&s;ea&s;e; Yea &s;ome did cry in his eare, but he did not heare them. His colour for this time, was far more vermillian and cheerful then before, being more ruddie, where before it was more pale and wanne. To conclude, he was in &s;uch a &s;tate, that both the phi&s;itians, and &s;ome others who came to &s;ee him &s;aid, that there was nothing but his bodie there, and that his &s;oule was vnited to God in &s;uch a maner, that they could not ex|pre&s;&s;e nor well conceiue. This then being &s;aid, is a great argument of his &s;anctitie, which they had formerly beleeued, but that hereafter there was no cau&s;e to make the lea&s;t dout therof. Eigh|teene houres after he came to him &s;elfe, &s;eeming to be wakened out of a profound &s;leepe, and pre&s;ently very cheerfull and well di&s;po&s;ed, he rai|&s;ed him &s;elfe vpon his bed, as if he neuer had been &s;ick: God did that in a moment, which the phi&s;i|tians could not doe in a longe time: and who will now be &s;o hardie, as to affirme, that this was rather a &s;ounding, then an exta&s;ie?</P>
<P>An other time, the zeale of the glorie of God and &s;aluation of &s;oules, particularly of tho&s;e which were infected with here&s;ie, drew him forth into a village nere Orleance, where there were many Hugonots. In all his &s;ermons, his fir&s;t di&s;po&s;ition to enter into &s;o holie a worke, was feruent praier, that he might lighten their darke vnder&s;tandin|ges, and mollifie their ob&s;tinat and peruer&s;e wils. But at this time he was very long, and very fer|uent in his praier before he went to preach, &s;o
<PB N="136" REF="219"> that his companion, turning his eye towards him, &s;aw him compa&s;&s;ed about with a light, and lifted vp more then two foote from the ground, ab&s;orpt in contemplation of the diuinitie, which is the fountaine of all learning and of all virtu, from whom doutle&s;ly he drew all that which he was afterwards to &s;peake, to conduct and guide the poore abu&s;ed &s;oules to God. So that it may be more rightly &s;aid of him, which S. Thomas &s;aid of S. Bonauenture. <HI>Let vs &s;uffer</HI> (&s;aith he) <HI>one Saint to trauell for another:</HI> for as much as he did labour but for one, which had bene formerly a &s;inner; but Father Bennet did labour for Ie&s;us Chri&s;t God and man al&s;o, the fountaine of all holines, and the &s;pringe of our glorie. He was &s;eene di|uers other times in exta&s;ies, whiles &s;taying in the quire after others, he was intentiue vnto prayer. But I haue reported this action more particular|lie, becau&s;e it was accompanied with the conuer|&s;ion of many, who afterwards became deuout and feruent Catholiques, bearing &s;o much the more true and earne&s;t affection to Gods church, as they bore hate and malice to it before.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="22" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of his last &s;icknes and his death. THE XXII CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IN the yeare of our Lord one thou&s;and &s;ix hun|dred and eleuen, died this ble&s;&s;ed father Ben|net, in the couent of the Capucins of our B. Lady,
<PB N="137" REF="219"> being at this time, the ordinarie Confe&s;&s;ar of the religious women of S. Clare, &s;urnamed the daugh|ters of the Pa&s;&s;ion, of whom we haue &s;poken in the life of the B. Father Angell of Ioyeu&s;e, in the chapter of his tran&s;porting to Paris. The graces which God did him during his life, were aug|mented in this la&s;t pa&s;&s;age of his death. His &s;ick|nes was nothing in a maner, but a continuall ex|ta&s;ie, in which he being vnited to God, receiued great contentment in his &s;oule, and in the &s;upe|rior part therof, among the exceeding great do|lours of his body, and the part inferior. His affec|tions alwaies re&s;igned into the handes of God, kept his will &s;o occupied in the contemplation of the glorie which he was &s;hortlie to enioy, that by rea&s;on of a perfect contempt which he had of all earthly con&s;olations, he would hardly be wonne to &s;peake any thinge, de&s;iring rather to &s;peake with Angells, in the inward clo&s;et of his hart, then outwardly with men. Wherupon it came to pa&s;&s;e, that God by a particular grace, which he doth not giue but to the greate&s;t Saints, reuealed to him, the time, the day, and houre of his death, to the end he might di&s;po&s;e him &s;elfe with the more feruor for the &s;ame, and might omit no|thing of that which might be mo&s;t nece&s;&s;arie for him in this la&s;t pa&s;&s;age, whither interior for cha|ritie and compunction, or exterior for Sacra|ments and prayers. For one of their fathers, an eminent man in this holy Religion, vi&s;iting him the day after he was &s;ick in bed, and coming to
<PB N="138" REF="220"> take his leaue of him, becau&s;e he was going to preach in the prouince of Tourain, asked of him, if this &s;hould be his la&s;t &s;icknes, for the &s;eparatio~ of &s;oule &amp; body, in yeelding the one vp to God, and the other to the earth? This B. father, lifting vp his eyes to heauen and &s;ending forth a groane to God, &s;aid, Yea without all dout, and this al&s;o was at that very time, when di&s;cour&s;ing of per|fection, he tould him thinges which can not be learned, but within the practi&s;e of a high con|templation.</P>
<P>Somtimes he was heard to &s;peake within him &s;elfe, wi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">h a &s;pirit wholy ab&s;tract and retired, but with &s;o &s;oft and low a voice, and without any perfect di&s;tinct &s;ound of wordes, that no man could vnder&s;tand what he &s;pake. In the&s;e &s;ecret colloquies a man might &s;ee, as it were a certaine light to &s;treame from his face, and I know not what kinde of &s;erenitie, which droue others in|to admiration of him who vi&s;ited him. O if they could but haue heard and comprehended, tho&s;e di&s;cour&s;es which his &s;oule had with God priuat|lie, if they could haue &s;eene the thinges which he &s;aw, and haue bene made partakers of tho&s;e my|&s;teries which were reuealed to him, how would they haue bene a&s;toni&s;hed? For if the outward &s;hew was &s;o powerfull, how forcible had the truth it &s;elfe bene? But as &s;oone as this Father tooke notice, that &s;omthing was ob&s;erued in him, which might bewray his inward perfection, he retired his &s;pirit as much as he could from this
<PB N="139" REF="220"> contemplation, to the knowledge of his owne infirmitie: or el&s;e informed him&s;elfe of &s;omwhat that was imperfect in him&s;elfe. Which when a brother of his perceiued, who had knowen him a long time, he began to aske him, if he had not &s;ome reuelation of his future e&s;tate, or of his life pa&s;t? To whom he pre&s;ently returned an&s;were. What doe you &s;peake to me of Reuelations, who am the mo&s;t mi&s;erable wretch vnder the cope of heauen? and thus &s;hewed, how much he was of|fended with &s;uch a que&s;tion, which tended to his owne prai&s;e and commendation. During his life, he was &s;ingularly affected to &s;peake of God, and of thinges which helpe a &s;oule to the path way of heauen, but in this la&s;t &s;icknes, this de&s;ire had gayned great increa&s;e, in &s;o much that he was ve|ry de&s;irous to haue a Religious man &s;till about him, endued with the &s;ame &s;pirit: for if any man would &s;eeme to &s;ay, that he &s;hould by Gods grace e&s;cape this &s;icknes, he pre&s;ently &s;hewed, that &s;uch &s;peeches were di&s;gu&s;tfull to him.</P>
<P>He had a Crucifix at his beds feete, on which he continually fixed his eyes, and by the ordina|rie feeling of our Sauiours doulours, wherof he was de&s;irous to be partaker (as we haue noted before) he gaue free pa&s;&s;age vnto teares, notable to hould them any longer, by rea&s;on of the ten|dernes of his loue: and ki&s;&s;ing the Cro&s;&s;e which he had in his hand, he &s;ent forth many groanes, &s;hut his eyes, and adored God in his &s;oule, whom this figure did repre&s;ent vnto him, from whom
<PB N="140" REF="221"> he knew that &s;aluation &amp; all glorie that he could hope for, had their &s;pringe &amp; their begining. His di&s;ea&s;e was violent, and his &s;trength declining by litle and litle, made men to knowe, that the end of his pilgrimage was at hand.</P>
<P>The night before his death, a good Religious man, who had a great care to &s;erue him, and not to for&s;ake him, &s;eeing him very quiet in &s;pirit, and of a cheerfull countenance, as though he had felt no kinde of griefe, asked him, if now he would &s;peake nothing, drawing &s;o nere to his end, for the confort of his bretheren, of whom he had &s;o great care during his life? He made vn|to him this an&s;were, of an affection full of hu|militie, and a great aba&s;ing of him &s;elfe. Alas, mi&s;erable &s;inner that I am, what edification can I giue, and what good thinge can the bre|theren hope for of me, who am the greate&s;t &s;in|ner in the world? And pre&s;ently ioyning his handes, and lifting vp his eyes and hart to God, he added this ver&s;icle of the prophet Dauid. <HI>Pau|per &s;um ego, &amp; in laboribus &agrave; iuuentute mea.</HI> I am poore, and haue liued in labours from my youth.</P>
<P>The day being come wherin he was to rendar vp his &s;oule to God, he would like a true Chri|&s;tian warriar, and &s;ingularly of the company of S. Francis, arme him&s;elfe with compleate armour for this encounter. The mo&s;t holie Sacrament was brought vnto him, and pre&s;ently after, Ex|treame Vnction was mini&s;tred to him, and all the
<PB N="141" REF="221"> bretheren being a&s;&s;embled, could not po&s;&s;ibly re|fraine to weepe, not only for the lo&s;&s;e of &s;o holy and &s;o zealous a man of their Religion, but &s;eeing the effects of his profound humilitie, accu&s;ing him &s;elfe before them all as an vngrateful man, &s;aying, that he had neuer giuen them good example, and demaunded pardon of them, with &s;uch contri|tion as can not be conceiued nor expre&s;&s;ed.</P>
<P>A litle while after he had receiued the Sacra|ments, and giuen thankes vnto God for &s;o great a benefit, he asked them &s;aying. Is not this the day of the Pre&s;entation of our B. Lady? And when it was tould him that it was, he began to cry out with a loud voice. <HI>O virgin which:</HI> and pre&s;ently &s;topt, fini&s;hing the re&s;t with inward wordes full of affection, which is more proper and more common to holie men, then the vocall and exterior.</P>
<P>One of the fathers who &s;pake to him concer|ning &s;pirituall matters, as they are accu&s;tomed to doe in &s;uch ca&s;es, demanded of him, if he were not content and glad in his foule, that he was &s;o nere to his deliuerance out of the mi&s;erie of this life, &amp; now ready to arriue in heauen, there to liue eter|nally, not a dying life as this which we leade, but a quickning life, full of glorie and felicitie, where he &s;hould &s;ee their Seraphicall Father S. Francis, and the &s;oule of the B. Father Angell, where he &s;hould conuer&s;e with them, and &s;inge with them foreuer, ca~ticles of prai&s;es vnto God, beholding no more in a gla&s;&s;e, &amp; thorough the &s;hadow of faith only,
<PB N="142" REF="222"> but face to face in an Angelical maner? He an&s;we|red only this; <HI>That is it wheron I now doe meditate.</HI> He was asked likewi&s;e, if he would not yet con|fes againe, &s;eeing there is no man &s;o iu&s;t, who doth not often fall. To which he replyed with the wordes of the Apo&s;tle: <HI>I am guiltie to my &s;elfe of nothing, but yet in this I am not iu&s;tified.</HI> By his &s;hort an&s;wers he made it appeare, that he had his &s;pirit well occupied, wherfore he was left awhile vnto him &s;elfe, in his meditation, hauing his eyes alwayes behoulding and fa&s;tned vpon the holy Crucifix, which was &s;tanding at his beds feete.</P>
<P>About halfe an houre after, he de&s;ired them to call for father Gardien, <HI>for</HI> (quoth he) <HI>it is now time.</HI> This good Father &s;ick of a violent feuer, felt inwardly the greater griefe, that he could not a&s;i&s;t this ble&s;&s;ed Father at his departure, then he did by the extremitie of his di&s;ea&s;e. For be&s;ides that they were both of the &s;ame contrie, and had borne one to the other a very particular and fer|uent affection, from the time that they fir&s;t met in Flanders, hauing for&s;aken their parents and frien|des, and had both of them the &s;ame de&s;igne, and at the &s;ame time had both taken the habit toge|ther, and receiued great con&s;olation by their mu|tuall conuer&s;ation; notwith&s;tanding, hearing that he de&s;ired to &s;ee him, he went from his chamber, not without much paine being very &s;ick, and they entertayned one the other, in &s;pi|rituall and good di&s;cour&s;es. The violence of Fa|ther Gardiens feuer would not &s;uffer him to &s;tay
<PB N="143" REF="222"> any longer, &s;o that he was forced to retyre him &s;elfe, and to take his la&s;t farwell of him, with his benediction, which he gaue him not without many teares.</P>
<P>His Gardien being gone, he turned him &s;elfe towards the Religious who were pre&s;ent, and be|&s;ought them to pray feruently for him; <HI>For be|hould</HI> (&s;aith he) and pre&s;ently &s;topt. And as one of the Fathers was about to &s;ay, that they were not worthy to pray for him, but that they were in good hope that he would pray for them. Ah, &s;aid he, recite &s;ome prayers to the honor of the B. virgin and of S. Michael, for as much as there is no &s;pirit &s;o &s;trong, but that it may faint. This made them coniecture that he &s;aw &s;omthing, and that the diuell, who during his life, could not in|ueigle him, did now attempt for to wound him. Wherfore, &s;ome of the Religious praying, and one of them reading, he had not read a do&s;en li|nes, but the ble&s;&s;ed Father &s;aid. <HI>It &s;ufficeth:</HI> which made them pre&s;ently beleeue that the tentation was pa&s;t, and the enimie vanqui&s;hed; For pre|&s;ently he lay very quiet, and &s;eemed to be as pro|foundlye occupied in contemplation, as if he had bene in one of his exta&s;ies, which he had in his be&s;t &s;trength. O how ought the wicked to feare death, when &s;uch virtuous men are per|&s;ecuted in &s;uch maner! would to God they would reflect &s;eriou&s;ly hereon, once at the lea&s;t in all their liues.</P>
<P>The time drawing on that he was to depart, he
<PB N="144" REF="223"> turned his eyes vpon tho&s;e that did a&s;i&s;t him, and asked them what it was a clock? And it being an&s;wered him, that it was fiue a clock, then &s;aid he, &s;ay no more to me now, but <HI>Ie&s;us Maria, now pray yee all for me.</HI> Who&s;oeuer had &s;eene at that time the poore Capucins (but rich in heauenly graces) on their knees, their armes &s;pread in forme of a Cro&s;&s;e, their eyes lifted vp to heauen, wa|tering their cheekes with teares, now redoubling the feruour of their prayers, and prouoking the Quires of Angells, and all the the B. Saintes, to come and receiue this ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule, he would doutle&s;ly haue &s;aid, that one moment in the de|&s;ert of religion, bringeth more true contentment to a &s;oule, then an hundred yeares in the faire open fieldes of this mi&s;erable world, and to &s;ee &s;o many deuout &s;oules to pray for a holy &s;oule, who whil&s;t the Prie&s;t did pronounce without in|terruption, tho&s;e holy and &s;acred names of <HI>Ie&s;us</HI> and <HI>Marie,</HI> augmenting the fire of his charitie, and not able to &s;uppres it any longer, brake out into the&s;e wordes with a &s;trange violence. O wonder|full, o incomprehen&s;ible abi&s;le of the loue of God!</P>
<P>This &s;aid, in&s;tantly his &s;pirit fayled him all at once, and lifting vp his eyes to heauen, he entered as it were into a raui&s;hment, where his &s;oule fin|ding true contentment, &amp; the centre of her &s;weet re&s;t, departed &s;o &s;weetly, that he &s;eemed rather to &s;leepe then to dye; and &s;o it was a &s;weet &s;leepe of peace in the vi&s;ion of his God, a &s;leepe of glorie
<PB N="145" REF="223"> and fruition of his Creator: yea &s;uch a &s;leepe it was, that euerie Catholique Chri&s;tian may de&s;ire and &s;ay, that which Balaam con&s;trained by the &s;pirit of God, &s;aid. <HI>Moriatur anima meae, morte iustorum.</HI> Let my &s;oule dye, the death of the iu&s;t. So be it.</P>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>The end of the life of the Reuerend Father Bennet of Canfield, an Englishman and a Capucin.</TRAILER>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="224">
<HEAD>A TABLE OF THE CHAPTERS.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<ITEM><LABEL>CHAP. I.</LABEL> THe miraculous, life, conuer&s;ion, and conuer&s;a|tion of the Reuerend Father Bennet of Canfeild an Englishman, and Preacher of the order of Capu|cins: of his Country, birth, and education, pag. 1.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 2.</LABEL> His exclamation vpon the state of this pre&s;ent life, pag. 7.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 3.</LABEL> What he was, and what hee was be|come, how hee doth detest his life past, and embrace a newe life, pag. 14.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 4.</LABEL> By what meanes hee was called from his worldly, and Hereticall tentations, pag. 20.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 5.</LABEL> How hee was doubtfull in faith; and howe hee purpo&s;ed to &s;tudy: what a vi&s;io~ hee had while hee was abroad in the fieldes, pag. 26.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 6.</LABEL> Of his conference with a Catholique &amp; of his dangers e&s;caped, pag 32.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 7.</LABEL> Of the manner which hee purpo&s;ed to him&s;elfe for his &s;tudies, and howe hee wished, and &s;ought conference with a Puritan, pag. 37.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 8.</LABEL> Of his Spirituall Tentations, pag. 40.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 9.</LABEL> The Tentation beeing ouercome, the con|&s;olation
<PB REF="224"> followeth, the truthe was reuealed to him, and how bee with an other by his meanes being conuer|ted, were reconciled to the Churche, pag. 44.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 10.</LABEL> How hee studied controuer&s;ies, and ha|uing a&s;signed a greate parte of his meanes to his kin&s;|men, hee past beyond the &s;ea, and of the motiues which induced him to enter into Religion, pag. 49.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 11.</LABEL> Of a certaine &s;pirituall rauishment wherein it was reuealed to him, what he should doe: and of the total obligation of all the&s;e things, pag. 57.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 12.</LABEL> How hee entered into Religion, with an expo&s;ition of the fore&s;aid vi&s;ion, pag. 59.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 13.</LABEL> A briefe repetition of the fore&s;aid prin|cipall points by way of Thankesgiuing, pag. 63.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 14.</LABEL> Of his deuotion before hee became a Capucin, pag. 71.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 15.</LABEL> How hee tooke the habit of a Capucin: of his Nouice ship and his admirable actions during that tyme pag. 76.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 16.</LABEL> Of his extraordinarie fashion of life after his profe&s;sion, pag. 85.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 17.</LABEL> Of his learning &amp; how hee v&s;ed it, p. 93.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 18.</LABEL> Of his going into England, &amp; what hap|pened to him during three yeares that hee was in pri|&s;on, pag. 100.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 19.</LABEL> Of his returne into the France, pag. 115.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 20.</LABEL> Of his virtues, pag. 119.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 21</LABEL> Of his exta&s;ies and rapts, and of the gra|ces which he receiued in them, pag. 132.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 22.</LABEL> Of his la&s;t &s;icknes and his death, p. 136.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="errata">
<PB REF="225">
<HEAD>Faults e&s;caped in the &s;econd life.</HEAD>
<P>Pag. 2. wherin many, wherin he. pag. 42. de|duction, deuotion. pag. 90. to very, to be very. pag. 62. Et, And.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="errata">
<HEAD>Faults e&s;caped in the third life.</HEAD>
<P>Pag. 77. line la&s;t, thou cha&s;t, thou ha&s;t cha&s;t eyes.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="approbation">
<P>Totum vidit &amp; approbauit Reuerendus Do|minus Iacobus Pollet, Doctor in Theologia, &amp; in Academia Duacena librorum cen&s;or, die 21. Octobris 1622.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="biography">
<PB N="1" REF="225">
<HEAD>AN HISTORICAL NARRATION OF THE CONVERSION AND CONVER|SATION OF F. ARCHANGEL, BORNE of a noble family in Scotland, of the order of S. Francis, of tho&s;e who are called Cappu|cins: and of the Ladie Margarete Gordon his mother.</HEAD>
<DIV2 TYPE="preface">
<P>WE doe daily &s;ee not without great wonderment, by the great good|ne&s;&s;e and mercie of God, the words of our Redeemer to be fulfilled, wherein he foretelleth, that the Church was to be gathered out of all nations and places: And (&s;aith he) they &s;hall come from the ea&s;t and we&s;t from the North and South, and &s;hall &s;it downe in the kingdome of God: &s;oe that this may truly be called the kingdome of God, like a nett ca&s;t into the &s;ea and gathering of all &s;ort of fi&s;hes. And certainly we reade both in ancient and mo|derne hi&s;tories, that many haue beene called from ea&s;t &amp; we&s;t to the kingdome of God, if we looke backe vpon all the diuers ages of the world, from the time of our ble&s;&s;ed Sauiours incarnation euen
<PB N="2" REF="226"> to this pre&s;ent age wherein we nowe liue. How manie may we number heretofore &amp; euen nowe from the South? But &s;ome may iu&s;tly call in que&s;tion whether there can anie good come from the North whereas it is written. <HI>Ab Aquilone pan|detur omne malum.</HI> All euill shall proceede from the North. But the infinite goodne&s;&s;e of God hath not excluded the people of the North from the benefit of his holie vocation, but hath vouch|&s;afed to call them to his heauenlie kingdome. He hath cau&s;ed his grace to &s;uperabound where &s;inne before did abound, that the promi&s;es of God might be fulfilled. <HI>In thy &s;eede</HI> (Chri&s;t) <HI>shall all nations be ble&s;&s;ed: Their &s;ound went forth in|to all the earth. I was found of tho&s;e who &s;ought me not, and I openly appeared to tho&s;e who did not aske after me.</HI> Soe that by this meanes no na|tion can pretend this excu&s;e. <HI>No man hath hyred vs.</HI> It is no part of my meaning to runne through all nations and regions of the North, nor to ob|&s;erue out of theire Annals who, what men of qualitie, and how manie in number haue beene called to this fea&s;te of the mariage of the lambe, I will nowe only in&s;i&s;t in the kingdome of Scot|land and briefely &s;ett downe the vocation of God in our times, and in this la&s;t houre of the world, for asmuch as it concerneth &s;ome &s;ingular per|&s;ons; which thing hath occa&s;ioned this my treati&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="3" REF="226">
<HEAD>F. Archangels countrie, and his mothers kindred. THE I. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>THe kingdome of Scotland, ancient and well knowne, hath brought forth &s;ome notable per&s;ons both men and women for pietie and ho|line&s;&s;e of life, de&s;cended of blood royall, who in diuers ages haue come thence by Gods proui|dence into the prouinces of Belgium, and as is euident by true &s;tories, by voluntarie pilgrimage haue entred into tho&s;e parts, that they might im|bue the people with good manners and hole&s;ome in&s;tructions, and bring them to the light of faith from the darkene&s;&s;e of infidelitie, or might re|duce them declining by litle and litle from the light, hauing once &s;hined vpon them, to behold the amiable beames thereof againe, and confirme them in the happie enioying of this benefit. And albeit this light &s;eeme to be withdrawen from the kingdome of Scotland, being infected with diuers here&s;ies by the &s;eueritie of Gods iu&s;tice, yet is it not &s;oe wholy taken from them, but that it often breaketh out through the thicke clouds of errours, and &s;endeth forth beames which cau&s;e a &s;pirituall fruictfulne&s;&s;e; &s;o that here and there manie good graines of wheate growe vp among much cockle, and make a litle harue&s;t not to be neglected. For as much, as it is le&s;&s;e in quantitie, it is more preciou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> in vertue and qua|litie.
<PB N="4" REF="227"> But if the re&s;t of the graine by rea&s;on of the thicke growth of tares, &s;eemeth to be &s;omwhat, or for the mo&s;t part choaked as that it cannot growe vpp, we knowe that our mo&s;t gracious God liueth, able to rai&s;e of &s;tones children of Abraham, who will cau&s;e at a fitt &s;ea&s;on, the &s;eed of faith which &s;eemeth there to be as it were dead, to &s;prout &s;orth and to be plentifully mul|tiplied.</P>
<P>Herein I will not heape vp manie examples, I will only recite one or two fitting this purpo&s;e. How choice and good a graine was the mo&s;t vertuous queene Marie of Scotland, mother of Iames the &s;ixt, the mo&s;t potent king of greate Britannie; How fruictfull a graine was &s;he euen to death, by who&s;e example manie being prouo|ked, and among others &s;ome mo&s;t noble per&s;ons neare vnto her in the &s;ame royall &s;temme, I meane the two brethrem named Gordons, who at &s;eue|rall times yeelded vp their liues to death for the glorie of God. And that noble per&s;onnage and verie reuerend Father, Iames Gordon Huntley vnkle of F. Archangel, a true and elect Prie&s;t of God, verie lately decea&s;ed after much mi&s;erie which he endured in Scotland for the con&s;ola|tion of the faithfull, refufed peremptorilye the Marqui&s;hip, de&s;cending to him by the death of his elder brethren, though offered to him by the politique &s;tate-&s;men, choo&s;ing rather to be an ab|iect in the hou&s;e of God, and in the mo&s;t holie Societie of Ie&s;us in which he liued and died, and
<PB N="5" REF="227"> vnder the yoake of obedience to pa&s;&s;e a long and voluntarie martyrdome in bani&s;hment, then to haue that contentment and e&s;tate of temporall greatene&s;&s;e and felicitie.</P>
<P>O happie &s;tocke, out of which &s;o manie no|ble branches of &s;anctitie haue &s;prung! among which this F. Archangel &amp; his mother, the &s;i&s;ter of &s;o noble brethren, are not in the la&s;t ranke. For why &s;hould the &s;i&s;ter not be partaker of the holy lott fallen to her brethren? Was not that diuine fauour al&s;o done to her, that &s;he might &s;uffer al&s;o &s;omewhat for Chri&s;t, to the open viewe of the world? In the continuation of this di&s;cour&s;e you &s;hall &s;ee, a vertue and power of God eminently &s;hewing it &s;elfe in this fraile and weake &s;exe, af|ter you haue beheld the birth and &s;tock of her &s;onne, Iohn Forbe&s;e, prede&s;tinated from eterni|tie to be the &s;eruant of God, who&s;e &s;torie we nowe treate of, and who&s;e life we doe begin by Gods a&s;&s;i&s;tance to make knowne; By occa&s;ion whereof, we &s;hall &s;ee manie ca&s;ualties of the &s;onne and mother, and what &s;he &s;uffered with her &s;onne, and he with his mother.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="6" REF="228">
<HEAD>F. Archangels stocke by the Fathers &s;ide. His father infected with here&s;ie. His fathers hate towards his mother for her faith: and his putting of her away for that cau&s;e. The vnfortunate mariages of per|&s;ons of diuer&s;e religions. THE II. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>SHe being the &s;i&s;ter of the forenamed brethre~, who died for the defence of the Catholique faith, from her tender age inwardly couering to be wedded to her heauenly &s;pou&s;e, was greatly inflamed with the loue of virginitie, and when &s;he was mariageable, did earne&s;tly &s;eeke to con|&s;ecrate her &s;elfe to God in &s;ome religious order, if not in her owne countrie, at the lea&s;t in an other foraine countrie. Which de&s;ire when &s;he one day reuealed to her mother, &s;he receiued a blowe on the &s;ide of the cheeke, with an angrie repul&s;e in this manner, I haue (&s;aid her mother) but two daughters, if one chance to die and the other be|come a Nunne, what will become of all my i&s;|&s;ue? whereas my &s;onnes haue voluntarilie lo&s;t their liues. So worldlings imagine their children lo&s;t, who retire them&s;elues to God in a religious cour&s;e. Vpon this &s;he was &s;ilent, notwith&s;tanding had not the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ing and principall of her kinred put in greater letts and hinderances, &s;he might hap|pily haue enioyed her holy de&s;ires; But by the authoritie and coun&s;ell of the great per&s;ons, this
<PB N="7" REF="228"> noble Damoi&s;elle was maried to the Count or Baron of Forbe&s;e, who was rich and mightie in po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions and domaines, though inferiour in nobilitie. In &s;uch manner was S. Elizabeth the daughter of the king of Hungarie, wedded to the Landgraue of Turingia, though &s;he de&s;ired to match her &s;elfe only to the heauenly bridegrome.</P>
<P>Margarite was maried to Forbe&s;e for the com|po&s;ing of &s;ome enmities betweene the two fa|milies. After &s;ome fewe yeares, Forbe&s;e had by this mo&s;t noble matrone, be&s;ides the elde&s;t &s;onne and &s;ome daughters, this &s;econd &s;onne Iohn For|be&s;e, who afterward changing his name, accor|ding to the manner in his fir&s;t entrance into the order of the Cappucins, was called Brother Ar|changell. I may trulie &s;tyle her mo&s;t noble, be|cau&s;e &s;he is of the royall blood of the Stuarts, of who&s;e nearer ancetours a noble per&s;o~ wel know|en in that nation, maried the daughter of the king of Scotland. Archangels Father was de&s;cended from a noble familie of the Forbes in Scotland, verie rich in earthly &s;ub&s;tance, but which is to be lamented, verie poore in &s;oule, as beeing an ob|&s;tinate heretique. His mother from her infancie was alwaies a Catholique, by name Margarete Gordon, the daughter of the Marquis of Hunt|ley, who after the taking of the king of Scotland, gouerned the kingdom as a Prince next in bloud, and as a good Catholique, faithfully a&s;&s;i&s;ted the Queene then regent beeing left a widowe, who afterward was a glorious martyr. While he liued
<PB N="8" REF="229"> the kingdome continued in the Catholique faith, but as &s;oone as he was taken and beheaded through the faction of the ba&s;tard of the king, it fell into here&s;ie.</P>
<P>Moreouer the enmities which were appea&s;ed by the mariage, grue fre&s;h againe, e&s;peciallie a|gain&s;t the mother of F. Archangell. For &s;ome yea|res beeing nowe pa&s;t, that &s;he had &s;uffered manie wrongs and indignities of her husband, princi|pally becau&s;e &s;he was con&s;tant in her faith, &s;he was put away by him, and when he &s;awe her in|uariable for her beleife, he tooke an other of his owne &s;ect, not vnlike to him&s;elfe in manners. She being thus diuorced, was driuen to &s;eeke harbour among her kindred, liuing verie &s;ecretely. It was the more grieuous, becau&s;e at this time &s;he bore in her wombe this mo&s;t worthy fruict and deare infan<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">, Iohn Forbe&s;e. Giue me leaue to in&s;i&s;t a while in recou~ting the mi&s;eries which this noble dame Margarete bore, being great with this child, both in her owne per&s;on and his, the rather to encourage Catholiques in their mi&s;eries by this example: as al&s;o to &s;hewe them the vnhap|pie &s;ucce&s;&s;e of mariage, betweene tho&s;e who dif|fer in religion. It was well &s;aid of the Poet. <HI>Si vis apt&egrave; nubere, nube pari.</HI> If thou wilt marie wel, take an equal mate. Which precept the Lacedemo|nians thought fit to keepe &s;o exactly, that Plu|tarch reporteth of Archidamus king of Lacede|monia, who becau&s;e he tooke a wife of a &s;maller &s;tature then him&s;elfe, he was deepely fined of
<PB N="9" REF="229"> them, who pretended this cau&s;e, that Archida|mus by his vnequal match, would beget to them not kings but Kinglings, which is to &s;ay conte~p|tible for their litlene&s;&s;e. How then are they to be fined and puni&s;hed, who neglecting religion, and re&s;pecting only riches and nobilitie, doe match their &s;onnes and daughters with heretiques? Who can be more vnequal, and more vnlike one to an other, then tho&s;e who profe&s;&s;e a contrarie religion? Howe then are the&s;e mariages made by the parents as the authours and promotours? If the wolfe &s;hall communicate at anie time with the lambe, &s;o the &s;inner with the iu&s;t. Saint Paul &s;aith; Beare not ye the yoake with infidels. For what participation hath iu&s;tice with iniqui|tie? or what &s;ocietie is there, betweene light and darkene&s;&s;e, and what agreement with Chri&s;t &amp; Belial, or what part hath the faithfull, with the infidel, and what agreement hath the temple of God with the Idols? For you are the temple of the liuing God, as God &s;aith. I will dwell and walke in them, and will be their God, and they &s;hall be my people. But if anie one &s;hall violate the temple of God, God will de&s;troy him. Iu&s;t|lie &s;aith the Scripture; yee &s;hall not enter into them, neither &s;hall they (meaning &s;trangers) enter into yours, for they will certainely turne away your hearts to followe their Gods.</P>
<P>But put the ca&s;e there were no daunger which a con&s;tant minde (though experience teach the contrarie) might not preuent, what peace, what
<PB N="10" REF="230"> amitie can there be betweene per&s;ons &s;o mainely oppo&s;ite? Be&s;ide what will become of their chil|dren, the fruict of mariage? Are they not all in daunger of beeing infected with here&s;ie? Yea is it not couenanted betwixt &s;uch per&s;ons, that the &s;onnes be brought vp in their fathers religion, &amp; the daughters in their mothers? What more cruel and dete&s;table couenant then this, to beget chil|dren to be burned in the eternall flames of hell? And what can be more impious, then that Pa|rents &s;hould haue &s;o litle regard, what faith and religion their children ptofe&s;&s;e?</P>
<P>Some Lukewarme Catholiques will an&s;were me; Yea but we will prouide that the children be brought vp Catholiquely. How dangerous is this aduenture? Who knoweth whether of the&s;e &s;hal preuaile mo&s;t with their children? Who can iudge whether carnall affection with the corrupt in|clination to ill, will not &s;way more then true rea|&s;ons to good? Be&s;ides, while one buildeth and an other de&s;troyeth, what auaileth their labour while one prayeth, and an other cur&s;eth, when will God heare? This I thought &s;itt by the way to touch, not that I reprooue anie yong maiden of tran&s;gre&s;&s;ion who is vncapable of guile in this manner, and yeeldeth a &s;imple obedience to her parents, but that Catholiques may vnder&s;tand, howe iu&s;tly &s;uch mariages are forbidden, and howe vnhappie they are to their childre~, who are innocently contracted by their parents meanes.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="11" REF="230">
<HEAD>The diuer&s;e per&s;equutions and practi&s;es, v&s;ed again&s;t the mother of F. Archangel. THE III. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>LEt vs &s;ee how exce&s;&s;iue the rage and furie of this inhumane husband was towards his wife, who tran&s;ported with deadly hate towards her, inuented diuers mole&s;tations and practi&s;es, which when they tooke no effect, he attempted to make his wife away treacherou&s;ly, neither did his bill of diuorce &s;ufficiently &s;atisfie his anger kindled again&s;t her, which he &s;ent her by rea&s;on of the difference of religion, but he thought on a farre more cruell manner of reuenge. Once as &s;he poore matron was going to vi&s;it &s;ome of her kin|dred, hauing &s;ome in her companie who did at|tend her in the high way, her husband hauing notice of it, came with &s;ome hor&s;emen, and vio|lently a&s;&s;ailing her, tooke from her all manner of furniture which &s;he carried, and left her only one mantle to couer her &s;houlders: which he did to the end, that by &s;uch vexation, he might remoue her from her con&s;tancie in the profe&s;&s;ion of her faith. After this imparting his griefe and trouble of minde to &s;ome of his friends, he by their ad|ui&s;e attempted to make her away by poi&s;on.</P>
<P>The day was determined, on which he ma|king all faire outward &s;hewes and pretence of re|conciliation, giueth order to entertaine his wife
<PB N="12" REF="231"> with a great banquet, euen in that ca&s;tle wherein he cau&s;ed her to be kept, bearing in her wombe quicke at that time this Sonne Iohn Forbe&s;e, in|tending thereby to di&s;patch both together. But God who had preordained otherwi&s;e of this child and the mother, defeated this wicked purpo&s;e, who moued &s;odainely one of the confederates in this de&s;igne, to go about midnight to the ca&s;tle, and to gett vp to the windowe of this poore pri|&s;oner, who di&s;couered all this mi&s;chieuous prac|ti&s;e extended to her the day following. Where|vpon fearing vehemently her owne and her chil|des de&s;truction, &s;he adui&s;ed with this faithfull me&s;&s;enger, what &s;he was to doe in this ca&s;e.</P>
<P>The next morning, at the dawning of the day, &s;he obtained leaue of the keeper of the ca&s;tle, that for &s;olacing her &s;elfe, &s;he might goe to a ca&s;tle of one of her kindred, which was but two leagues from that place. The keeper graunted it ea&s;ily, becau&s;e he knewe by proofe of her in that kind, that &s;he had faithfully returned, after that (attended with a &s;mall retinewe) &s;he had taken a litle recreation by &s;o &s;mall a iourney. But when &s;he reuealed the cau&s;e of her comming to her kin&s;man, &s;he remained vnder his garde for a time, iu&s;tly refu&s;ing to returne with her keeper, and &s;o di&s;appointed her husband of his wicked pur|po&s;e. And thereby he grieuou&s;lie offended with his wiues kindred, gaue them occa&s;ion to &s;eeke reuenge on him, either by violent and open meanes or by &s;ecret, had not their medling beene
<PB N="13" REF="231"> hindred by the kings commandement and care|full proui&s;ion.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Newe attempts to take away the life of this matron, and newe plotts to depriue her of her honour: and likewi&s;e the tentation of the deuil. THE IV. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>WOuld a man thinke, that after all the&s;e plotts &s;oe defeated, the malice of her husband &s;hould be &s;o re&s;tle&s;te, as to goe forward in his mi&s;chie|uous intention? Certainly although by fal&s;e di&s;|&s;imulation he &s;eemed to haue depo&s;ed the former ob&s;tinate rancour of minde, yet the blind and in|temperate lu&s;t towards his &s;trumpet, who could not endure a mate, pricketh him forward to &s;eeke newe wayes, howe he may effect his old wicked de&s;eigne. His &s;eruants likewi&s;e did watch thou to depriue the afflicted matrone of her life. As &s;he was once walking on the top of a mountaine for her recreations &s;ake, her husband vnder&s;tanding of it, came in hot furie on a &s;uddaine vpon her beeing mounted on hor&s;e backe, and thought ve|rily to ca&s;t her into a riuer, which was at the foote of the hil, hoping perchance (as it is proba|ble) that vpon a rumour &s;pred, that &s;he was fallen into the riuer, &s;he might be thought to be the authour of her owne death. But while &s;he began to fall, calling vpon God and the Ble&s;&s;ed Virgin the mother of God, &s;he was pre&s;erued at that
<PB N="14" REF="232"> time. In the meane while this treacherous per|&s;on departed with &s;hame and confu&s;ion.</P>
<P>An other time hauing &s;uborned a noble per&s;on of his bloud, who &s;hould fal&s;ely accu&s;e her, that &s;he had conceiued by keeping companie with an adulterer, he ea&s;ily beleeued that by this accu&s;a|tion he &s;hould obtaine leaue of the Mini&s;ters (though the go&s;pel be directly contrarie) to keepe his harlot in &s;teed of a wife, and that hereby he might haue a plau&s;ible rea&s;on, to make the com|mon &s;ort of people beleeue, that he was inno|cent. But when they failed in proofe, the&s;e vn|iu&s;t iudges found out an other pretext of per|mitting him to marie a &s;econd wife, while his fir&s;t was liuing. For they decreed that the husband might lawfully take an other wife, becau&s;e the fir&s;t was &s;tiffe in her religion, which they called Popi&s;h. And this they determined might be done publiquely &amp; &s;olemnely, &s;eeing that the fir&s;t was to be reputed dead before God in her &s;oule, and mo&s;t worthy of all &s;hame and ignominie.</P>
<P>Amid&s;t all the&s;e troubles and per&s;equutions, the vertue and con&s;tancie of this noble dame was &s;o eminent, that her verie enemies had her in admiration, in &s;o much that manie noble men, though infected with here&s;ie, did &s;eeke to marrie her, who thought that the mariage was lawfull in regard of the diuorce which her husband had made, and the wrongs which &s;he had &s;u&s;tained. But &s;he by the grace of cha&s;titie which God had giuen her, and not forgetting her troth plighted
<PB N="15" REF="232"> in wed-locke, could neuer be per&s;uaded to com|mit &s;o &s;hamefull an act, as to &s;oile her Chri&s;tian puritie, or the honour of a Catholique woman. Wherfore &s;he cho&s;e rather like a mourning turtle doue, to leade a &s;olitarie life, then liuing in all worldly plea&s;ure, to be reputed fal&s;e to her hus|band, to di&s;honour her children, and to leaue an infamy vpon her mo&s;t deare infant Iohn Forbe&s;e, with whom &s;he was great at that time.</P>
<P>Thus &s;he couragiou&s;ly ouercame al the a&s;&s;aults of tho&s;e who cea&s;ed not to &s;olicite and impor|tune her to the&s;e euill cour&s;es. Neither did &s;he beare all this for a &s;mal time, but very long and patientlie, which happily God in his proui|dence ordained for an example to her children, &amp; the true Catholiques of that countrie. Sweete Ie&s;u how manie waies doe&s;t thou exerci&s;e in af|flictions, tho&s;e &s;oules whom thou ha&s;t cho&s;en for thine, that in &s;ome thing they may be made con|forme to thy mo&s;t bitter and holy pa&s;&s;ion!</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The Father of Archangel taketh him from his mother to be brought vp in here&s;ie: but the mother giueth not ouer her care of her &s;onne. THE V. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>AFter this noble matron had pa&s;&s;ed her tra|uaile of childbirth, in bringing in to the world this her deare infant Iohn Forbe&s;e, &s;he en|tred into newe trauaile and paine, in bringing
<PB N="16" REF="233"> him vp with all care and diligence, and giuing him milke of her owne brea&s;ts, with which he drewe and &s;uckt the good and &s;weete nature of his mother. She was not ignorant, that it did not litle auaile for the infu&s;ion of pietie into tender age, with what nur&s;es milke children are nouri&s;|hed: and therefore &s;he thought it no paine to nou|ri&s;h him of her owne milke, whom &s;he had nou|ri&s;hed of her owne bowels. Wherein manie noble woemen are to be blamed, who refu&s;e to vndergoe the trauaile of nouri&s;hing their owne babes. Hence it cometh to pa&s;&s;e, that commit|ting them to other nur&s;es, they drinke in al&s;o cor|rupt and peruer&s;e manners, with the milke they &s;ucke from them. As &s;oone as the father heard that his lawfull wife had bore him this &s;onne, he began vpon due con&s;ideration to thinke &s;eriou&s;ly of his lawfull &s;ucce&s;&s;our of his hereditarie do|maines, if peraduenture his elde&s;t &s;onne &s;hould die, or &s;hould vpon di&s;like (as by the euent it &s;elfe it fell out a litle after) fly from him. Wherefore he thought it be&s;t by way of proui&s;ion for the&s;e future in conueniences, that as &s;oone as his child was weaned, he &s;hould either by force, or by &s;ome &s;light, be taken fro~ his mother, and brought vp with him. He often communicated this his purpo&s;e to certaine freinds, who coun&s;ailed him to the timelie and &s;peedy execution of it, which he did pre&s;ently after the weaning of the child, which was no &s;mall affliction to the mother, to &s;ee her child brought vp &s;o contrarie to her good
<PB N="17" REF="233"> de&s;ires. In this ca&s;e &s;he cea&s;ed not to pray for him dayly. Thrice happie child, who began beeing but a tender infant to &s;uffer for iu&s;tice, herein giuing good occa&s;ion of pre&s;age, that he would by Gods holie prouidence be one day a true Ca|tholique.</P>
<P>So was he taken from his mothers brea&s;t, to be nouri&s;hed among wolues and foxes; Before he was borne they would haue depriued him of in|ioying the vi&s;ible light, &amp; pre&s;ently they &s;ought to take from him the inward light of his &s;oule, practi&s;ing the &s;tratagemes of wicked Naaz, who &s;aid he would enter into league with the I&s;rae|lites, vpon condition that he might putt out all their right eyes. But netheir Gods hand, nor the mothers vigilancie was wanting to this child. As he grewe in yeares and v&s;e of rea&s;on, his good mother dealt with him by &s;ecrete and faithfull me&s;&s;engers, per&s;uading him earne&s;tly to the Ca|tholique faith, &amp; to the declining from the poi&s;o|nous errours of Prote&s;tants; at lea&s;t &s;he endeuo|red to breed &s;ome impre&s;&s;ions of doubting, lea&s;t otherwi&s;e he might be too deepely &s;ea&s;oned with their wrong in&s;tructions. O how much doth it concerne parents in the&s;e vnhappie times, wher|in heretiques liue in common with Catholiques, to take great heede lea&s;t their children be cor|rupted by their conuer&s;ation! Their &s;peech (as the Apo&s;tle &s;aith) creepeth like a canker. It is not &s;ufficient for parents to haue begotten children in fle&s;h, yf they neglect to beget them in Chri&s;t.
<PB N="18" REF="234"> This belongeth to Parents. In&s;truct thy &s;onne, &s;aith the wi&s;e man; and Eccle&s;ia&s;ticus &s;aith. If thou ha&s;t children in&s;truct them and bowe them from their childhood. For in that age their vnder&s;tan|ding is like to a white frame which is readie to receiue anie kind of figure or image, or like vnto white woll, which as yet hath not had anie die, or like a yong twig, which may be ea&s;ily bowed anie way, but what image, coulour, or plie they take at fir&s;t, the&s;e are likely to continue. If there|fore they loue their &s;onnes, let them teach them what belongeth to the &s;eruice of God, for he that hath pitie, teacheth &amp; in&s;tructeth as a &s;hepheard doth his flocke. For it is certaine, that euen as the branches of trees cannot bing forth fruict, vnle&s;&s;e the roote and truncke afford them vitall &s;appe: &s;o can not children bring forth fruicts of vertue, vn|le&s;&s;e their parents mini&s;ter to them, the fruitfull &s;appe of good education and di&s;cipline, which they ought to doe no le&s;&s;e by good examples then precepts. For all inferiours doe more ob&s;erue examples then words, and children doe ea&s;ily ab&s;taine from euill, if they &s;ee a horrour and de|te&s;tation of it in their parents: whereas on the contrarie part, if they &s;ee their parents forbeare not to doe it, the cu&s;tome of beholding, taketh libertie of imitation, as Valerius Maximus &s;aith.</P>
<P>In this kind of in&s;truction, parents doe not on|lie benefitt their children, but them&s;elues al&s;o mo&s;t of all in the &s;ight of God and men. Howe acceptable this is to God for their owne good,
<PB N="19" REF="234"> the Scripture te&s;tifieth, by that which fell out to Abraham. Can I hide (&s;aith God) from Abraham what I will doe? for I knowe that he wil in&s;truct his children and his hou&s;e after him, that they keepe the way of the Lord, and doe iudgement and iu&s;tice, and before men they receiue benefit. For a wi&s;e &s;onne is the glorie of his Father, and on the contrarie part, a fooli&s;h &s;onne, is the grief of his father. Hence Ecclea&s;ticus &s;aith. Prai&s;e no man before death, becau&s;e a man is knowne in his children: and againe, Take no plea&s;ure in wicked children if they be multiplied, neither be delighted in them, if the feare of God be not in then: doe not tru&s;t to their life, that is, tru&s;t not although thou doo&s;t &s;ee them in good health &amp; &s;trong, &amp; doe not re&s;pect their labours by which they performe great and noble acts, to procure you in your opinion a &s;uruiuing &s;onne &amp; name. For one fearing God, is better then a thou&s;and impious per&s;ons, and it is better to die without childre~, then to leaue wicked ones; For impious children doe di&s;honour their parents, &amp; prouoke Gods wrath. Therefore to preuent this euil in lea|uing a bad i&s;&s;ue, let parents teach them to feare God, euen from their cradle; Let them con&s;ider that if they be careful, that they may conuenie~tly vnder&s;tand matters of this world, and how they may be gracious in humane &s;ocietie, howe much more is it nece&s;&s;arie to take care, that they may knowe their dutie to God, and howe to plea&s;e him. This was the principall care of this pious
<PB N="20" REF="235"> matron, in the bringing vp of her children.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The mother is carefull of the good of her elder &s;onne, the brother of Archangell. He goeth into the Lowe-countries, becometh a Cap|pucine, and endeth his life piou&s;ly in the or|der, before the coming of his brother. THE VI. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>AS the mother was carefull of her yonger &s;onne, &s;o was &s;he as carefull for the &s;etling and &s;trengthning of her elder &s;onne, according to his age, in the true faith. Whereas he was much grieued with the wrong and di&s;honour done to his mother, he went boldly to his father, and &s;ig|nified that he was minded to trauaile into foraine countries, and as occa&s;ion &s;hould be offered, to beare armes in &s;ome honourable &s;eruice. His fa|ther knowing his auer&s;ion from him &s;elfe, and &s;toutne&s;&s;e in defending his mothers cau&s;e (wheras the &s;i&s;ters held with the father) gaue way to the motion, and lett him goe. He arriued happily in the lowe countries, and offering his &s;eruice to the mo&s;t warlike Prince of Parme, was well en|tertained of him, and &s;o had for &s;ome time a pen|&s;ion paid him from the Catholique king, and his table in the companie of other noble gentlemen, who belonged to the Prince. In a &s;hort time af|ter, for&s;aking this cour&s;e of militarie life, and aba~|doning
<PB N="21" REF="235"> his countrie, his domaines and lands due to him by inheritance, by the &s;weete inward mo|tion of the holie gho&s;t, he entred into the order of the Friars Cappucins, which order that noble Prince of Parma (much deuoted to the ble&s;&s;ed &amp; Seraphicall Father S. Francis) brought into tho&s;e crountries, after he had pro&s;perou&s;ly re&s;tored Ant|werpe, and mo&s;t happily recouered it by a noble &s;tratageme of warre. And hauing obtained the Popes Bull for confirmation of it, he planted the~ in their fir&s;t &s;eate at Antwerpe. Shortly after died the brother of Archangell, hauing liued but a &s;hort time in the fore&s;aid order: who leauing a &s;weete odour of good commendation behind him, for his ab&s;tinence and &s;ingular feruour in prayer, went to take po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of a greater in|heritance in heauen, then that which he had left on earth for Chri&s;ts &s;ake. He ended his life in the Quire at the time of the Complie, hauing pa&s;t the day in the common exerci&s;es of the brethren, &amp; accu&s;tomed labours, &s;o that from the Quire of religious per&s;ons &s;inging p&s;almes he went to the Quire of Angels, to be ioyned in con&s;ort with tho&s;e yong min&s;trell Maydens, that is of holie and of ble&s;&s;ed &s;oules.</P>
<P>Who then is there that marketh, how manie men die vnhappilie, &s;ome in bla&s;pheming, &s;ome in &s;urfeting, &s;ome in combating, &s;ome in co~mitting whoredome and adulterie, yea &s;ometimes in the horrible acts of the&s;e &s;innes, and con&s;idering the death of this holie brother (if it be to be
<PB N="22" REF="236"> called a death) after &s;o manie pennances, after &s;o pious and deuout prayers and meditations, after &s;o much fa&s;ting and affliction of bodie, which death befell him while he was lauding and prai|&s;ing God, would not earne&s;tly wi&s;h, and wi&s;hing &s;end forth a &s;weete &s;igh &s;aying. <HI>Who will grant to me, that I may die the death of the iust, and that my end may be like theirs?</HI> His name in religion was Archangel, which his yonger brother al&s;o tooke. Who will call in doubt whether his &s;oule was not mo&s;t acceptable to God? for me I doubt not of it. And in te&s;timonie of it, at the time of his death, there appeared to a certaine deuote per&s;on, a mo&s;t bright and cleare light, which &s;hined aboue the Quire. But we doe not &s;o much in&s;i&s;t in the&s;e and the like &s;ignes, but in the infallible te&s;ti|monie of his vertuous and religious life, and his deuout &s;eruice of God, who rewarded his &s;hort trauaile with eternall happine&s;&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The deuotion of the most noble Duke of Parma Alexander Farne&s;io, towards this order of S. Francis. THE VII. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>WHereas by occa&s;ion of treating of the elder brother, there was &s;peach offered concerning the Duke of Parma, I thought it meete to &s;peake briefly touching his &s;ingular deuotion, towards
<PB N="23" REF="236"> the Seraphicall order, for which we may piou&s;ly beleeue, that God rewarded him for his good wil and deuout affection, which is as acceptable to him, as the worke it &s;elfe, when it cannot be put in execution. For it is well knowne, that this Duke after greate victories which he had gotten of his enemies, after manie labours and trauailes &s;u&s;tained for the deliuerie of the lowe countries, did earne&s;tly couett &s;ome quiet repo&s;e and re&s;t of minde, by which he might not without the foile of the greate&s;t enemies of eternall bli&s;&s;e, di&s;po&s;e his &s;oule to God for a happie pa&s;&s;age.</P>
<P>To the effecting whereof he determined with him&s;elfe, incited the rather by the exa~ple of this noble Scoti&s;h man, the brother of our Iohn For|be&s;e, to enter into that religion which he had fir&s;t brought into that countrie. And he had entred without doubt, if he had not beene hindred by the right reuerend Father by name, Mon&s;ieur Li|uernois, his mo&s;t eloquent preacher, who was af|terward Bi&s;hop of S. Omers: who told him, that the publique good was to be preferred before the priuate, &amp; that the commo~ wealth could not want his pre&s;ence, in &s;o vrgent nece&s;&s;itie of the French warrs; Wherefore if he did otherwi&s;e, he &s;hould per&s;uade him&s;elfe that he &s;hould offe~d God. Whereupon &s;aith his Preacher. Sir, be of of good courage, when the French warres be en|ded, you &s;hall obtaine my leaue (but I knowe not whether the Catholique king will grant you it) to performe your vowe. A litle after the
<PB N="24" REF="237"> Prince going towards France, fell grieuou&s;ly &s;icke and died at Arras.</P>
<P>Two houres before his death, he would needs be cloathed in a Cappucins habit, to te|&s;tifie his deuotion towards this holie order of Saint Frauncis. Therefore two of the ancient brethren being called, brought the habit which he would put vpon his naked bodie, which by rea&s;on of his weakene&s;&s;e, was verie painefull to him, as his countenance and the contrac|tion of his lips did euidently &s;hewe. But the &s;harpene&s;&s;e of the fle&s;h, is the &s;weetene&s;&s;e of the &s;pirit and &s;oule. God be mercifull to his &s;oule and reward him, for all the good which he did, in defence of his countrie and the Ca|tholique faith. Let his memorie be honou|red and followed with benediction and than|kes-giuing more particularly among our re|ligious brethren, whome he allwaies in regard of his deuotion to Saint Francis &s;o reuerenced, that he attributed &s;o much to the R. Father Felix of Lapidon (one of the principall reli|gious who came into this countrie) that by his coun&s;aile he did much good, would willingly heare his admonitions and reproofes, would ki&s;&s;e on his knees the rope wherewith he girt him&s;elfe, yea he would &s;ett him in his chaire as his mo&s;t deare Father, while he was giuing him good and whole&s;ome in&s;tructions. I hope the Reader will pardon this digre&s;&s;ion, wher|in I was willing by occa&s;ion of mention made
<PB N="25" REF="237"> of this noble Prince, to &s;hewe a gratefull me|morie of his bountie towards vs; Neither is it to Iohn Forbe&s;e his preiudice, if this di&s;cour&s;e be a litle interrupted, whereas he had the &s;ame obligation as we, to &s;o great a Patron and fauourer of our order.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Archangel is conuerted to the Catholique faith. His father &s;eeketh to diuert him from it by a wife, who was an heretique. THE VIII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>TO returne thither whence we made a di|gre&s;&s;ion, the brother of Iohn Forbe&s;e (who ended his life in the poore Conuent of Cappucins, newely planted in the lowe countries) arriued there, where there was not any feare of &s;hipwracke, and in a &s;hort &s;pace of time, fullfilled the cour&s;e of many yeares, be|cau&s;e his &s;oule was plea&s;ing to God. He, I &s;ay, both before and after his entrance into re|ligion, did often &s;ecretly exhort him by letters, full of religious coun&s;aile, to the faith and loue of Chri&s;t. Truly herein a brother which is holpen of his brother, is as a &s;trong citie; For howe could &s;o &s;yncere loue of brethren be idle and vn|fruictful? Howe &s;hould not he procure his brother
<PB N="26" REF="238"> to be partaker of that good, wherein he tooke &s;o much ioye? In this he was not vnlike to S. An|drewe the Apo&s;tle, who hauing found out the mo&s;t innocent lambe of God which taketh away the &s;innes of the world, came pre&s;ently to his brother Simon Peter, and &s;aid to him. <HI>We haue found out the Me&s;sias: and brought him to Ie&s;us.</HI> Which al&s;o Philip the Apo&s;tle being called of Chri&s;t, did to Nathanael, bringing him to Ie&s;us. The &s;ame was &s;poken in a type by Io&s;eph the Pa|triarch, to his brethren. Bring your yonge&s;t bre|thren that you may not dye. Such is the plentie and excellencie of &s;pirituall goods, that the more they be po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed by manie, the more euerie one particularly doth po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e them, and reioice more in the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of them. Whereupon all men doe wi&s;h, others partakers with them of the&s;e goods. But &s;uch is the barene&s;&s;e of temporall goods, that all heaped together, are not &s;ufficient for one. Soe that no ma~ de&s;ireth a partner herein, but rather &s;o refu&s;eth it, that if he haue one, he pi|neth away with enuie.</P>
<P>The brother of our Archangel, whom without doubt he had refu&s;ed to admitt a partner in his temporall e&s;tate, he now laboureth to haue him ioyned with him in the heauenly inheritance. He directs him to his vnkle the noble per&s;on Iames Gordon, a mo&s;t worthy Prie&s;t of the Societie of Ie&s;us, who was then employed in Scotland for to gaine &s;oules. He exhorted him to followe his good in&s;tructions, and &s;tirred him vpp to it, as a
<PB N="27" REF="238"> matter of wonderfull importance, which is the eternall &s;aluation of his &s;oule. He being thus moued, both by the adui&s;e of his mother and his brother, and a&s;&s;i&s;ted from aboue by grace, which the teares and &s;ighes of both of them, did beg for him at the length, fearing more to offend God then his Father, he went to his vnkle, who&s;e pre&s;ence in tho&s;e parts was wincked at by rea&s;on of his noble birth, and the conniuen|cie of his owne kindred, which were the chiefe Princes.</P>
<P>This noble and reuerend per&s;on, with infinite ioye embraced him, and &s;aid. O happie child, what good &s;pirit doth moue thee to come to a coun&s;ailour &s;o contrary to thy fathers profe&s;&s;ion and thine? I knowe not, &s;aid he, vnle&s;&s;e the often groanes and mournings, both of my mother and brother haue cau&s;ed it, and on the other &s;ide my fathers bad life, which I haue found contrarie in verie deed and effect, to that holy Scripture which we pretend by reading at the table after the man|ner of Prote&s;tants, and v&s;ing it often in our mouths, as a rule of our liues; To whom this pious Prie&s;t replied. O &s;onne (&s;aith he) the holy Scripture doth dazel the eyes of your Father, and men of this newe profe&s;&s;ion, as the &s;unne doth dazel the eyes of owles, which are not capabl<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> of &s;uch light, becau&s;e they are borne in darkenes. So Prote&s;tants being couered with the thicke cloude of &s;innes, doe looke vpon the Scriptures with a mo&s;t dimme fight, and cannot behold the
<PB N="28" REF="239"> light thereof, becau&s;e their incon&s;tancie of minde darkeneth their vnder&s;tanding. Therefore who|&s;oeuer de&s;ireth to beholde this light, mu&s;t ha&s;ten to rid him&s;elfe out of the darkene&s;&s;e of misbe|liefe. The yongman an&s;wered. Herein I am ready to follow your coun&s;ell.</P>
<P>The reuerend Prie&s;t &s;eeing him well di&s;po&s;ed, and kindled with the &s;parkles of the loue of God, began to feede him with the milke of the heauen|ly word, in&s;tructed him in the Catholique faith, and &s;trengthned him therein: and in &s;hort time, deliuered him from the corruption of here&s;ie, &amp; finally by the benefit of ab&s;olution, reconciled him to his mother the holie church. Afterward he gaue him litle deuout images, and an Agnus Dei to weare about his necke, which holy amu|lets his father e&s;pied one morning as he ro&s;e be|times out of his bed, and was much troubled in|wardly there at. But yet &s;uppre&s;&s;ing his grief in &s;i|lence, he would not &s;eeme to take notice of it, nor impart it to anie of his familie.</P>
<P>But for remedie of this, he entreth into con&s;i|deration of marying him with a noble maide, very beautifull and gracefull for her outward pre&s;ence, but inwardly foule in her &s;oule, being tainted with here&s;ie. He hoped that the yong ma~, would be &s;o en&s;nared with the beautie of this Damoi&s;el|le, that he might ea&s;ily be diuerted from the Ca|tholique faith, &amp; brought to ca&s;t off tho&s;e deuout amulets which he wore. For as Eccle&s;ia&s;ticus &s;aith A woman is the &s;nare of hunters, her heart is like
<PB N="29" REF="239"> a nett and her hands are bands. And the booke of wi&s;edome &s;aith. The bewitching of vanity, ob&s;cu|reth good things, and the incon&s;tancie of concu|pi&s;cence, peruerteth the vnder&s;tanding that is without malice. But vnhappie wiline&s;&s;e thou doe&s;t not preuaile, the nett is ca&s;t in vaine before the eyes of the winged &s;oules, in vaine doe&s;t thou &s;eeke to &s;upri&s;e him, who is bound with the band of charitie, which cannot be broken. The vertue of the Sacrament with which this yong &s;oldiour is fortified, is &s;tronger then thy enchantments. So farre will it be that thou &s;h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">lt preuaile again&s;t him, that eue~ the Damoi&s;elle his &s;pou&s;e, God pre|uenting her with good in&s;pirations, shall be con|uerted to the Catholique faith by his &s;weete per&s;ua&s;ions, and F. Gordons good in&s;tructions, and &s;hall patiently endure the delay of the mar|riage, and the ab&s;ence of her deare &s;pou&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Archangel behaueth him&s;elfe like a woer. He is inuited to the Seraphical order by an vnu|&s;ual vi&s;ion, &amp; taketh his leaue of his &s;pou&s;e, whom he per&s;uaded to become a Catholique THE IX. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>IN the meane time, both father &amp; &s;onne did di&s;|&s;emble, each of the~ co~cealing their maine pur|po&s;e. The father incited his &s;onne to all delights and pompes of the world, conuenient for yong
<PB N="30" REF="240"> noble Wooers, that by the&s;e &s;weete enticements, he might ouerthrowe his con&s;tancie in his faith The &s;onne, as though he were readie to followe his fathers will, pretended though verie vnwil|lingly, to be a great louer of this yong Damoi|&s;elle, putt on gallant apparell, &s;ported him&s;elfe in dauncing, hunting and &s;uch youthfull games, to the end his Father might not haue the lea&s;t &s;u&s;pi|cion of his purpo&s;e, and &s;o might auoide his di&s;|plea&s;ure. He knewe well enough for al this, what his father had &s;aid before to &s;ome of his familiar friends, when he fir&s;t e&s;pied the Agnus Dei about hi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> necke, he brake forth into the&s;e words. And will my &s;econd &s;onne al&s;o be a Papi&s;t? Therefore it was nece&s;&s;arie for him to v&s;e all good circum|&s;pection and to take courage. Herein his witt fai|led him not, neither was gods helpe wanting.</P>
<P>On a certaine day, as he was &s;porting him&s;elfe in hunting, being in companie with others of his owne yeares and qualitie, it happened as he was &s;eparated farre from his companions, and being wearie of following his game, and repo&s;ing him|&s;elfe by a hedge &s;ide, there appeared to him a great number of religious men in a poore habit and vn|knowne to him, going in a decent order; whom he wondring at, was ignorant of what order they were, or what they ment: yet vnwardly he felt him&s;elfe much affected to them, and much moued to the imitation of them. Con&s;idering this mat|ter deepely with him&s;elfe, and laying it vp verie &s;afe, he fell to examine this vi&s;ion, and not able to
<PB N="31" REF="240"> pearce into the meaning of it, prayed God that he would reueale to him his holie will, which not with &s;tanding he neuer perfectly knewe, till by Gods prouidence he came to Antuerpe: where when he mett with the Cappucins before he was witting of anie &s;uch companie, he pre&s;ently called to minde his old vi&s;ion, and preceiued that he was thereby called and inuited, to followe Chri&s;t by voluntarie pouertie and contempt of the world, vnder the rule of the Seraphicall Father S. Fran|cis, and &s;o he found flames of his de&s;ire daylie kindled in him&s;elf.</P>
<P>Iohn Forbe&s;e after he was profe&s;&s;ed &s;ome yea|res, related this for a truth to &s;ome of the brethre~, who were mo&s;t inwardly acquainted with him. He therefore entertaining more and more hea|uenly thoughtes, being preuented by Gods holie in&s;piration, began to thinke howe and in what manner he might ea&s;ily &s;hunne the &s;nares of he|retiques, which put him in greate da~ger while he liued among them in his owne countrie, where|as his father, his &s;i&s;ter, his vniu&s;t &s;tep mother, and finally all with whom he was faine to cou|uer&s;e, were tainted with here&s;ie, he might liue vertuou&s;ly and deuoutly after the precepts of the Catholique faith. Hauing therefore receiued aduerti&s;ements from his mother, by way of cau|tion again&s;t the&s;e dangers, and &s;trengthned by his vnkles in&s;tructions, he determined to vn|dergoe a voluntarie exile and bani&s;hment, and &s;et him&s;elf the la&s;t day, where in he would make
<PB N="32" REF="241"> his la&s;t fea&s;t and iollitie with his &s;pou&s;e. Which time being expired, when as both his father and his brides pare~ts, with greate concour&s;e of noble per&s;ons, came to congratulate tho&s;e mariages promi&s;ed and prepared (I knowe not after what rites or manner of Prote&s;tants) he &s;eing the houre of the night drewe on when all the gue&s;ts would tetire them&s;elues, he tooke this virgin (&s;carcely mariage-able for her yeares) a part, and after his wonted louing greetings and &s;peeches, fetching a deepe &s;igh, he &s;pake vnto her in this manner.</P>
<P>My beloued and deare virginall &s;i&s;ter, you &s;ee howe our parents doe &s;eeke to ioyne vs in matri|monie, being as yet both verie yong, what can become of this, but chat we &s;hall be committed to we knowe not what tutours and gardians, who will make their owne priuate profit by vs. The &s;tate of mariage requireth more prudence and maturitie of iudgment, then is incident to our tender age. Wherefore I am earne&s;ly to en|treat this fauour of you, with your good liking, that before we vndergoe this yoake, I may tra|uaile a while into foraine countries, and we &s;hall haue time to accompli&s;h that bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, which our vnripe age nowe doth not &s;o well compre|hend. To this &s;he made a milde replie, not &s;he|wing anie trouble of minde hereupon. Your pro|po&s;ition &s;aid &s;he, is verie rea&s;onable, God &s;peed you in your iourney, and &s;end you a good re|tourne. And yf happily you &s;hall change your minde and affection, I wi&s;h you better fortune,
<PB N="33" REF="241"> them you &s;hould haue had yf you had liued with me. God forbid, &s;aith the yong man, that I &s;hould entertaine anie &s;uch thought. What &s;oeuer I haue &s;aide, I haue &s;poken &s;yncerely and from my heart; yet there is an other &s;ecrete which I would impart to you, yf you will promi&s;e me by your noble and good di&s;po&s;ition, to conceale it. She not vnlike one other &s;exe, de&s;irous to knowe what it was, &s;aid pre&s;ently. I doe make you this promi&s;e. Then he began thus.</P>
<P>O my &s;weete heart, I doe much pittie thy ca&s;e, who hauing other contentments of life doe&s;t followe blind guides and conductours. I haue beene hitherto with thee in damnable dar|kene&s;&s;e, &amp; haue beene nulled by my kin&s;men and friends. There is no other faith, but only the Romane Catholique faith which leadeth to &s;al|uation. I thanke God nowe by his holie in&s;pira|tion and in&s;truction of a good guide, I knowe that I &s;peake a truth, and I confe&s;&s;e my &s;elf to be a Catholique, and your &s;oule is as deare to me as mine owne: therefore I reque&s;t you, that we louing one an other, may haue the &s;ame will in louing God, and embracing the true faith. When &s;he heard the&s;e &s;peeches from him, &s;he was much a&s;toni&s;hed, but pre&s;ently recouering her &s;elf a|gaine, &s;he replied. If anie other be&s;ids your &s;elfe &s;hould giue me this coun&s;ell, I &s;hould e&s;teeme it for idle and vaine; But I haue great confidence in you, that you would not in anie &s;ort delude me, but that you tender my good as heartily as your
<PB N="34" REF="242"> owne. Yet I thinke it meete to take &s;ome re&s;pit to thinke of this, being a matter of &s;o great impor|tance, lea&s;t I be reputed for ra&s;h and incon&s;ide|rate, in for&s;aking the religion in which I haue beene brought vp hitherto.</P>
<P>Wel, &s;aith he, lea&s;t you may haue occa&s;ion to wauer, if herein you &s;hould re&s;t on my iudgeme~t, I will prouide that you &s;hall haue an in&s;tructour for vertuous life and learning, beyond all excep|tion, I meane my vnkle Gordon, who hath wrought my conuer&s;ion. And I doubt not, but after con&s;ideration of his meeke conuer&s;ation, &amp; his euident proofes of the Catholique Roman faith, you will put great difference betweene that which con&s;i&s;ted only in &s;peech, and that which is truly powerfull and effectuall. For the kingdome of God is not in wordes, but in vertue and power: then &s;hal you di&s;cerne manife&s;tly, whether that be true religio~, which in power of the worde, mini&s;treth faith, in faith vertue, &amp; in vertue know+ledge, &amp; in knowledge ab&s;tine~ce, &amp; in ab&s;tinence, patience, and in patience pietie, and in pietie loue of fraternitie, and in loue of fraternitie charitie. Whether that be likely to be true, which only &s;peaketh good wordes, or that which doth that which it &s;aith. In the end &s;he was plea&s;ed with his di&s;cour&s;e (&s;o &s;weetely tempered with much affection) and followed his coun&s;ell. And for the mo&s;t part it falleth out, that &s;ectaries are gained &s;ooner by faire meanes and good wordes, then by rough dealing.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="10" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="35" REF="242">
<HEAD>Archangel taketh his flight, and exchanging his cloaths with a poore shepheard, for&s;a|keth his fathers hou&s;e. THE X. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>HAuing ended this di&s;cour&s;e with this noble Damoi&s;elle, and hauing well performed this worke of charitie towards her, he departed. She concealed this &s;ecrete committed to her, and &s;eemed to be ignorant of his &s;uddaine departure, yet in her heart &s;he laid vpp and con&s;idered well his la&s;t &s;peeches. He returning home gaue him|&s;elfe to re&s;t, but this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e beating in his head brake his &s;leepe, for he was much perplexed howe and in what manner he might take this in|tended iourney. The next morning ca&s;ting eue|rie way howe he might e&s;cape mo&s;t dexterou&s;ly, looking vpon his fathers ca&s;tle where he walked full pen&s;iuely, at length he put on a couragious &amp; noble re&s;olution, to take a &s;ecrete &amp; priuy flight. O noble heart feare not; Flie o my beloued and be like to the R<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e, and to the Fawne of harts vpo~ the mountaines of aromaticall &s;pices, leauing thy father and thy deare &s;i&s;ters, and thy be&s;t be|loued &s;pou&s;e, without bidding thy deare mother fare-well, abandoning thy fathers home, all thy familiar friends and kin&s;men, quitting al thy right and title to all tho&s;e domaines and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, which were thine by right of inheritance (for
<PB N="36" REF="243"> his elder brother had left it to him, when he en|tred in to religion) neglecting noble de&s;cent, reie|cting the hereticall poi&s;on, of his companie with whom he was bred and likewi&s;e infected, till he was about fourteene yeares of age: relinqui&s;hing moreouer his &s;weete countrie, and the grace of the king: leauing (I ca~ not but repeate it) his &s;pou&s;e of equall ranke, who was to him, the one halfe of his owne &s;oule, repre&s;enting herein an other Alexius.</P>
<P>The day before the fea&s;t of which noble Sainct, he ranne downe from the ca&s;tle, as though for recreation &s;ake he would &s;port him&s;elfe in run|ning and youthfull exerci&s;e. Vnder which cou|lour being come &s;ome di&s;tance from his fathers hou&s;e, by making &s;ome youthful leaping, he ligh|ted on a lad which was one of his fathers &s;hep|heards, feeding a flocke of &s;heepe, with whom, being of his owne yeares he di&s;ported: and ta|king occa&s;ion, at length &s;aid to him. Let vs cha~ge cloaths, Giue me thine and thou &s;halt haue mine. To whom the &s;hepheard an&s;wered; I dare not, lea&s;t I &s;hould be beaten of your Father. Feare not &s;aid he, it is I that bid thee doe it, I meane to to make my father merrie, I will goe to our fea&s;t &s;o di&s;gui&s;ed, and giue occa&s;ion of mirth, I wil an&s;|were for thee: If thou wilt not, I will make thee. The yong &s;hepheard obeyed him, and the noble yong man &s;oe fled, and was not &s;eene after. He litle regarded what would happen to this poore lad, but folwed that coun&s;ell which is giuen in
<PB N="37" REF="243"> Gene&s;is. Saue thy &s;oule, doe not looke backe. Hence he manife&s;ted to vs the wordes of our Sauiour. I came not to bring peace, but the &s;word, to make diui&s;ion betweene the Father and the &s;onne, betweene the mother and daughter, and a mans enemies, ar his owne do|me&s;tiques. O admirable &s;eparation, which is made not by a materiall &s;worde but by the &s;word of God! We doe &s;ee &s;ome times an only &s;on|ne, not onlie to de&s;pi&s;e all earthly &s;ub&s;tance, and what&s;oeuer belongeth to it, but al&s;o with a cheerefull heart and ioyfull countenance, to leaue his parents and to retire him&s;elfe from the iolitie and plea&s;ure of this world, to a hard mo|na&s;ticall life. In &s;o much that neither the fa|thers lamentations nor mothers weepings, can retaine him, in who&s;e heart this two edged &s;word of the &s;pirit, worketh this mo&s;t won|derfull &s;eparation, hauing force to diuide aboue the reach of nature.</P>
<P>Iohn Forbe&s;e felt the edge of this &s;word in him &s;elfe, in this &s;eparation which was made, not by his owne, but by diuine power, in the flower and fir&s;t feruour of his youth, being nowe but &s;eauenteene yeares of age. Wherein he was a true and perfect follower of Alexius, euen abhorringe (which he &s;hewed by flying from them) once to ta&s;t of tho&s;e alluring bai|tes of the fal&s;e and fading contentments and de|lights of the world. Thrice happie herein was
<PB N="38" REF="244"> he who for&s;ooke them before he was for&s;aken of them. This is a &s;trong and inuincible proofe of the &s;pirit of God, dwelling in the Catholi|que church by &s;peciall grace, &s;ince we &s;ee &s;uch heroical acts of pietie no where el&s;e to be exerci|&s;ed, yea rather to be &s;lighted ouer or reputed im|po&s;&s;ible among &s;ectaries. The magicians of Pha|rao, when they could not &s;hewe tho&s;e &s;ignes which Moi&s;es did, iu&s;tly cried out to Pharao. This is the finger of God! And the Apo&s;tle Saint Paul &s;aith. The pre&s;ence of God may be plainely di&s;|cerned by the &s;pirit of prophecie, of tho&s;e that enter into the congregation, who can not forbeare to &s;ay that God is among you.</P>
<P>Who then will not acknowledge the finger of God in the church, and God to be trulie in it, wherein &s;o manie noble heroicall workes are done by Catholiques? Why are they not euident &s;ignes of Gods &s;pirit dwelling in it? Saint Iames &s;peaking of the &s;ignes of true religion &s;aith. The Wi&s;edome which is from aboue, is fir&s;t cha&s;t. Howe then can the wi&s;edome of heretiques be from God, to whom this fir&s;t note is wanting? whereas there are none among them who haue the gift of continencie, but euerie one (and e&s;|peciallie the mini&s;ters) mu&s;t haue his wife becau&s;e of fornication, and euerie woman her husband, there is none among them who will choo&s;e that &s;tate, although S. Paul doth coun&s;aile all to it, and that by the &s;pirit of God, as to that which is the better: Which as it enableth it bet|ter
<PB N="39" REF="244"> without impediment to pray to God, and to all good deuotions, &s;o doth it make vs more ble&s;|&s;ed. But all choo&s;e that which is graunted by per|mi&s;&s;ion and indulgence, neither is it coun&s;ailed but onlie to auoide euill.</P>
<P>It is no &s;mal meruaile, that they who brag that they receiue all the words of the holie Go&s;pell, haue none among them, who can or will receiue this worde: That it is not expedient to marrie. That there is none among them who will make him&s;elfe cha&s;t for the kingdome of heauen &s;ake, and renou~ce tho&s;e carnall plea&s;ures. And likewi&s;e while they glorie in reformation, that there are none who will freely for&s;ake their wiues &amp; po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ions for Chri&s;ts &s;ake, but doe thinke Chri&s;ts coun&s;aile a matter of impo&s;&s;ibilitie. But how &s;hould they leaue their owne po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions, who&s;e profe&s;&s;ion is to robbe other men if they can, at lea&s;t couet to doe it if they can not? For what &s;poile haue they made of church goods, and ha|uocke of po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ions of Catholiques? Therfore it is a manife&s;t &s;igne, that they haue not the &s;pirit of God, but a carnall earthly and diueli&s;h &s;pirit; For the &s;pirit which is of the earth, &s;peaketh of the earth, and &s;auoureth of tho&s;e things which are of the fle&s;h.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="11" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="40" REF="245">
<HEAD>His voiage to Antwerpe, where he was ca&s;t into pri&s;on. What happened to the poore yong shepheard. There is great enquirie made after him. THE XI. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THis fir&s;t euening of his voiage vndertaken, tooke he vp a lodging which he lighted vpo~ in his way, hauing verie litle money on his parte, tru&s;ting much to Gods prouidence, being a louer of Chri&s;tian pouertie; Where, as he was refre&s;|hing his wearie delicate bodie, not accu&s;tomed to &s;uch trauaile, three noble Scoti&s;h men came into the hou&s;e, whom he knewe verie familiarlie, who~ as &s;oone as he e&s;pied, he was greately afraid, that they were &s;ent after him by his father. Where|upon he was put to inuent &s;ome willie &s;hift for him &s;elfe. Soe pre&s;ently he ranne into the chim|ney corner, and drawing downe on his browes his old &s;hepheards cap, he began to groane and &s;hiuer, as though he had a fitt of an ague: and &s;o was no more regarded then a poore &s;icke lad, who was glad to creepe into a chimney corner. The next day verie earely, he &s;etteth forward on his iourney, which both by &s;ea and land he pa&s;&s;ed with great courage, though not without much paine. At length by Gods helpe he came to the wi&s;hed place and hauen, where he embarqued him&s;elfe in a &s;mall boate for Antwerpe. But he could not come to Antwerpe, but by pa&s;&s;ing a
<PB N="41" REF="245"> ca&s;tle nere to Lillo, &s;ome three miles di&s;tant fro~ it.</P>
<P>Here certaine wicked &s;oldiours both Engli&s;h and Scoti&s;h, &s;ought to &s;tay him, for he would not reueale to them who he was, thinking him fit for his yeares to be employed in the gard with them. But he gott out of their hands by his owne indu|&s;try, and hauing e&s;caped this danger, he fell into a greater, arre&s;ted by a &s;oldiour of the king of Spaine, who &s;u&s;pected him for a &s;pie: the rather becau&s;e he chaunced to &s;ee &s;ilke &s;tockings, vnder his long &s;hepheards gabardine, hauing forgotten for ha&s;t to change his &s;tockings, as he did his other cloaths. Hereupon this &s;oldiour at the commandement of his Captaine, D. Labeui|lot gouernour at that time of the fort Noordame, led him pri&s;oner to the ca&s;tle of Antwerpe, and there pre&s;ented to the Gouernour de Mondrago, he ru~neth a &s;eco~d hazard; For being asked for his pa&s;&s;eport, he an&s;wered he had none, immediately he was co~mitted to pri&s;on, to be examined as lea|&s;ure did permitt, and was in danger either of the racke to be more exactly interrogated, or of han|ging to be di&s;patched &s;peedily out of the way.</P>
<P>But be of good courage, o noble youth, haue patience to abide in pri&s;on til we haue beheld the tumult of this tragedie, which happened both a|mo~g thy kin&s;me~, &amp; through al thy cou~try for thy ab&s;ence: Repo&s;e thy &s;elfe in the inward clo&s;ett of thine owne &s;oule, being humble in thine owne eyes, yet fixe thy hope aboue in Gods prouidence watching ouer thee. Both the&s;e holds ar fit refuges for
<PB N="42" REF="246"> Catholiques newly conuerted, that he may re|fre&s;h his minde by &s;itting downe at the table where Angells &s;erue, and no earthly food is to be had. In the meane while I may &s;ay that thou art one of them, of whom the Apo&s;tle &s;pake. Not ac|cepting redemption that they might finde a bet|ter re&s;urrection, had triall of mockerie &amp; &s;tripes, moreouer al&s;o of bandes and pri&s;ons: they went about in &s;heepe skins, in goates skins, needie, in di&s;tre&s;&s;e, afflicted, of whom the world was not worthie, wandering in de&s;erts, in mountaines, dennes, and caues of the earth, and all the&s;e ap|proued by the te&s;timonie of faith, becau&s;e they &s;uffered all this for the te&s;timonie of faith.</P>
<P>The &s;hepheard &s;taid long in the field, clad in his Ma&s;ters &s;onnes rich habit, expecting his re|turne. When he &s;awe he came not, he brought his &s;heepe to the fold. Tho&s;e who &s;awe him all in &s;ilke, wondered at this noueltie, e&s;pecially his ma&s;ter with all his familie. They thought at the fir&s;t it was a matter of &s;port, and that the hang|man would recreat him&s;elfe in this manner. The &s;hepheard being asked, how of a &s;hepheard he became &s;uch a gentleman, he an&s;wered. The wheele of fortune turneth all thinges. At the length required to tell what this meant, he told the whole hi&s;torie of this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, betweene his Ma&s;ters &s;onne and him. His father receiuing contentment vpon this narration, and thinking that his &s;onne was with his &s;pou&s;e, and was there playing the &s;hepheard by way of meriment, he
<PB N="43" REF="246"> &s;lept that night without anie trouble of minde. But when his &s;onne did not returne, nether the next day, nor the day after, and being &s;ought for in the hou&s;e where his &s;pou&s;e was, coulde not be founde, nor coulde it be knowen where he was, this former mirth of his, ended in mourning, and his ioy in much heauine&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>Vpon this occa&s;ion, the yong &s;hepheard was verie carefully examined: who, when he could not &s;ay anie other thing for him&s;elf, then that he was forced to change his garments by his mai|&s;ters &s;onne, to the end he might make &s;port for his friends who were mett to fea&s;t together, he was laid in pri&s;on with bolts at his heeles, for his frinds began to &s;u&s;pect, that this &s;hepheard had killed him, either by the in&s;tigatio~ of &s;ome other greate per&s;on, or by &s;ome wilie plott of that a|dultere&s;&s;e, of whom we haue &s;poken before. They &s;u&s;pected that they had &s;ecretely buried him, whererpon manie graues were opened, and dead bodies taken out, for &s;earch of his bodie; And &s;o they &s;ought in vaine him that liued truly in Chri&s;t, among they dead. When they found him not among the liuing nor dead, manie were &s;ent into all coa&s;ts, towards Italie, France, Holland, and by the Kings commandement through all Britannie. But they lo&s;t their labour, &s;o circum|&s;pectly did he carie him&s;elf, that he made manie windings &amp; turnings, asking of diuers whom he mett, diuer&s;ly the way, till he &s;awe he was in a &s;afe and &s;ecure place. Therefore when husband|men
<PB N="44" REF="247"> were asked, whether they had &s;eene on pa&s;te in that habit which he wore, they varied much in telling which way he was gone. The poore &s;hepheard was kept in pri&s;on two yeares, but God pre&s;erued him being innocent from being put to death, and happily the rather by the prayers of his yong mai&s;ter, who was a volun|tarie bani&s;hed man. God graunt al&s;o he may be deliuered from blindne&s;&s;e of minde, and enioye the true light of our holie Catholique faith.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="12" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The yong mans kin&s;men, doe &s;eeke to reuenge the lo&s;&s;e of this yong man, by the death of his fathers concubine, to whom they impute his death, but the Ladie Margarete hin|dreth them. THE XII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>WHen &s;earch had beene made farre and neare, and no tidings could be brought, what was become of this yong man, his kin&s;men con&s;ulting togeather, determined fully to &s;ett the ca&s;tle on fire where Forbe&s;e his concubine was, and to burne her although it &s;hould happen that he were with her, thinking certainely that &s;he had made him away, and buried his bodie, or cau&s;ed it to be buried in &s;ome &s;ecrete place. Which when Iohn Forbe&s;e his mother vnder&s;tood, &s;he entrea|ted in&s;tantly her kin&s;men on her behalfe, and
<PB N="45" REF="247"> hindred them in this de&s;igne, telling them that &s;he doubted not but God would reueale, what was become of him verie &s;hortly. So did &s;he ouercome ill with good, and heaped coales vpon her enemies head.</P>
<P>It may here be demanded, how his departure could be vnknowne to his mother? Fir&s;t we may ea&s;ily ghe&s;&s;e, that he had not free acce&s;&s;e to his mother, becau&s;e his father would forbid it. And be&s;ides, had he had &s;o ea&s;ie acce&s;&s;e vnto her, he might iudge it verie inconuenient to make her acquainted ther with, lea&s;t his father might take occa&s;io~ thereby of augme~ting his cruelty towards his deare mother. Therefore he prude~tly thought it meete to impart this matter to his confe&s;&s;our and his &s;pou&s;e, who was a faithfull keeper of the tru&s;t repo&s;ed in her. In the meane time, For|be&s;e his crueltie towards his wife, gaue much oc|ca&s;ion of complaint again&s;t him amo~g good me~, who moued with compa&s;&s;ion of the poore La|dies &s;tate, did ope~ly wi&s;h Gods vengeance again&s;t tho&s;e treacherous great per&s;ons, fal&s;e Prelates, and corrupt iudges, who were con&s;enting to this vniu&s;t proceeding.</P>
<P>Behold I pray you the puritie of life of Puri|tan Prote&s;tants, who blu&s;h not to practi&s;e mi&s;|chieuous plotts to take away the life of their law|full wiues, euen when they are great with child, which if they can not effect, they may ea&s;ily haue leaue to marie an other, though their owne be li|uing. Is this the fruict of their go&s;pell, and of
<PB N="46" REF="248"> their zeale, who would &s;eeme to reuerence &s;o much the word of God, that at their tables they will haue it reade? To whom &s;hall I pre&s;ent the&s;e complaints, &s;hal I flie for aide to them that v&s;urpe the places of Bi&s;hops, there &s;urely they doe not permitt anie to pleade his owne cau&s;e, vnle&s;&s;e (&s;uch was the crueltie of Pagans towards Chri|&s;tians) they will fir&s;t abiure their faith. It is well knowne, how litle regard they haue of anie Ca|tholique mans cau&s;e. For if anie become a Ca|tholique, he becometh a man infamous among them, &s;o litle e&s;teeme doe they make of that faith, by which our ance&s;tors were fir&s;t enroled Chri|&s;tians, and con&s;equently they di&s;honour, yea they condemne all their progenitours. O vngratefull and degenerate children, who hate that faith in their brethren, and per&s;ecute it, without which they neuer had had anie knowledge of Chri&s;t!</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="13" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>What Archangell did while he was in pri&s;on. What he did after his deliuerie. How he grewe acquainted with the Cappucins, amo~g whom he would haue beene a lay brother, but by their adui&s;e he followeth his &s;tudie. THE XIII. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>LEt vs returne to vi&s;it this &s;tranger, whom we left impri&s;oned in the ca&s;tle of Antwerpe. Methinkes his countenance is cheerefull &amp; gay.
<PB N="47" REF="248"> This is an euident proofe that God for&s;ooke him not in pri&s;on. The keeper of the ca&s;tle (in who&s;e &s;ight he found much fauour) gaue him liberty to conuer&s;e with his people, he being readie to &s;erue them in carying of wood and water, and doing all drudging worke, in &s;o much that the ma&s;ter of the hou&s;e and his people, and likewi&s;e his fellowe pri&s;oners, had him in great admiratio~ for his &s;weete fa&s;hion of cariage towards all, for his vertuous and good life, and cheerefulne&s;&s;e in his great want: but principally that in the &s;ilence of the night, he retired him&s;elfe &s;ecretely to his prayers and deuotions. So did Paulus and Silas when they were in bands, who at midnight did not cea&s;e to laude God. When the keeper of the pri&s;on related this to the Gouernour, he was farre from &s;u&s;pecting him for a vagabond per&s;on or a &s;pie, who was &s;o vertuous. Therefore compa&s;|&s;ionating his ca&s;e, he gaue order for his enlarge|ment, and willed the keeper to forgiue him his fees and arrereages in pri&s;on, &amp; to repaire his lo&s;|&s;es by making his profit and gaine of &s;ome richer per&s;on hereafter. He had but thirtie &s;ix &s;tiuers in his pur&s;e, of which money the keeper tooke twentie eight. He al&s;o offered him his &s;ilke &s;toc|kings, of which we &s;pake before, but he tooke them not, but left them to his keeper.</P>
<P>Being deliuered out of pri&s;on, he enquired out our Ladies church, bearing great deuotion to our B. Ladie. There he humbly rendred all thankes vnto her ble&s;&s;ed &s;onne and her, for their protec|tion
<PB N="48" REF="249"> of him and pre&s;eruation. He daily frequen|ted this church with extraordinarie deuotion and fa&s;ting, of which a certaine good Prie&s;t taking notice, wondred at his feruour, and inuited him to take a meales meate with him. He fir&s;t asked him what countrie man he was. He an&s;wered, I am a Scotti&s;h man, and am come out of my co|untrie, that I may &s;aue my &s;oule among good Catholiques. But Sir (&s;aid he) howe are they called I pray you, whom I &s;aw, going two toge|ther, pa&s;&s;e through the church, after they had humbly pro&s;trated them&s;elues on the earth? The deuout Prie&s;t, perceiuing more by his &s;ignes then by his language (vnknowen to him) after who~ he enquired, told him they were Cappucins, and de|declared to him as well as he could, their rule and their manner of life.</P>
<P>This yong man pre&s;ently remembring the vi|&s;ion that appeared to him in Scotland, whe~ he re|po&s;ed him in a wood being wearie after hunting, moued with an extraordinarie ardour of &s;pirit, brake forth pre&s;ently into the&s;e &s;peeches. I de&s;ire aboue all things to become a Cappucin. Come (&s;aith the Prie&s;t) my &s;onne, and I will bring you to the hou&s;e of the &s;pirituall father of the Cap|pucins, which was then the father of Roger Claris now liuing, a worthie man and a great pa|tron of the poore. Who immediatly being inci|ted thereto by his daughter, and out of a bountifull minde, comforted and cheri|&s;hed this yong man, and at length entertained
<PB N="49" REF="249"> him at his owne <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">able, though he had a naturall abhorring of poore &s;traungers, in that ca&s;e as he was in, full of filth and lice. But the vertue which did &s;hine eminently in this yong mans face, aba|ted this apprehen&s;ion, &s;o that his fore&s;aid dau|ghter in lawe, in fauour and commendation of this &s;tranger would &s;ay. I would to God our children were of as good behauiour as this yong man.</P>
<P>After one or two daies, his noble ho&s;te kno|wing his good de&s;ires, brought him to the Cap|pucins, his &s;pirituall children, to whom he reuea|led the &s;ecretes of his heart, in fauour of this &s;traunger. Vpon the &s;ight of him they al&s;o much affected him, and e&s;pecially for his holie de&s;ire: yet was there one great barre in the way, becau&s;e he had no language but his owne natiue, whereas it was requi&s;ite that he &s;hould not onlie vnder|&s;tand the Latin tongue, but the Dutch al&s;o, or the French in &s;ome rea&s;onable manner. For Forbe&s;e his father, would not permit his &s;onne to learne &s;o much, as the fir&s;t rudiments of the Latine ton|gue, lea&s;t &s;ome knowledge might giue him occa|&s;ion of reading of bookes, and applying his minde to his &s;tudies, and &s;o happily thereby might be|come a Catholique.</P>
<P>When this ble&s;&s;ed exiled man for Chri&s;ts &s;ake, heard the Cappucins iudgement of him, he an&s;|wered them in word and ge&s;ture, that he had no need of the Latin tongue, being minded to be|come a lay brother in this holie congregation,
<PB N="50" REF="250"> and mo&s;t willing to &s;erue the Prie&s;ts in all ba&s;er and more &s;eruile offices: which offer of his, gaue no &s;mall contentement to them. But they &s;eemed much to doubt of his &s;ufficient &s;trength and abi|litie of bodie for that end, and therefore they per&s;uaded him to followe his &s;tudies with other poore &s;chollers of the citie. In the meane time with &s;ome trauaile he might learne the Dutch tongue, &amp; growing daily to yeares of more iud|gement, might make good proofe of him&s;elfe, whether he would per&s;i&s;t in the choice of this religious &s;tate.</P>
<P>He followed, as an obedient child the coun|&s;aile of his elders, and by rea&s;on of want and pe|nurie, frequented &s;ometimes one &s;chole, &s;ometi|mes an other. He v&s;ed extraordinarie diligence in ob&s;eruing and carying away his Ma&s;ters le&s;&s;ons. When he had obtained to be admitted in anie &s;chole but for a &s;hort time, it is almo&s;t incredible how much he &s;uffered, and what paines he tooke that he might attaine to that which he aimed at, which was to be a poore Cappucin. And that he might more frugally releiue him&s;elf, he graued litle images either in ledd or wood, which &s;ome of his &s;choole fellowes &s;ought to gett from him, and would giue him either pieces of bread and butter, or el&s;e &s;ome portions of flesh in exchange for them. Sometimes his nece&s;&s;itie was &s;uch, that he would &s;earch his &s;choolefellowes &s;achels for &s;ome poore fragments which they would not eate, &s;uch as is giuen to hogs, and &s;uch would
<PB N="51" REF="250"> he eate verie hungrily and &s;auourily.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="14" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>How diligent he was in his studies: how con|stant in concealing his birth: and how fre|quently he vi&s;ited the Cappucins. THE XIIII. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>IMmediatly after his deliuerie out of pri&s;on, he &s;lept euerie night for &s;ix weekes &s;pace like a vagabond or poore companion, in a litle lodge made of wood, which the citizens were wont to v&s;e for their watch: there he had a cold lod|ging and vnea&s;ie re&s;ting place for his delicate bo|die, vnaccu&s;tomed to &s;uch extremitie, by which we may &s;ee what force Chri&s;tian feruour hath, euen in yong impes. He was neuer &s;eene to play when his fellowes plaid, but alwayes was occu|pied, either in praying or in &s;tudying. His Mai&s;ter commi&s;erating his ca&s;e, procured him &s;ome old bookes, and &s;eeing his good wit and indu&s;trie, ioyned with hone&s;tie and pietie, began to affect his &s;choller extraordinarily, and to helpe him by all meanes po&s;&s;ible. Whererpon he determined to commend him to a certaine Scoti&s;h man li|uing at Anwerpe, a bani&s;hed man for his faith, who&s;e name was Alexander, one that was ve|rie good to all poore, as farre as his &s;mall mea|nes did &s;tretch, to the end that if he could not helpe this youth his countriman by his pur&s;e, he Would at lea&s;t a&s;&s;i&s;t him with good coun&s;aile.
<PB N="52" REF="251"> He fearing to be knowne who he was, drewe backe as farre as he could; But his mai&s;ter did pre&s;&s;e him &s;o, that he could not auoide this meeting.</P>
<P>When his mai&s;ter and he came to &s;alute ma|&s;ter Alexa~der. Loe (&s;aith the mai&s;ter) here is the yong man whom you were willing to &s;ee and conferre withall. The yong man &s;toode mode&s;tly before him, and expected his que&s;tions. Ma&s;ter A|lexander asked him in his owne mother tongue, what his name was? he an&s;wered his name was Iohn&s;on, becau&s;e his name was Iohn, and li|kewi&s;e his fath<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">r was &s;o called. He asked farther, whether there were any citi&s;en of his kindred that was of qualitie and &s;ub&s;tance, dwelling in anie citie of Scotla~d. He an&s;wered he had in one place, marie a mo&s;t remote part of the countrie, whe|rein ma&s;ter Alexander knewe no man. Finally this yong man went away with the victorie he &s;ought in defending his owne cau&s;e, which was to be reputed &s;till a poore and bare wretch; So that both in his flight, and in his place of abode, he might be a true follower of holie Alexius.</P>
<P>His countrieman asked him, whether he was not much amazed with his late impri&s;onment and feare of hanging, which was threatned to him by the Gouernour of the ca&s;tle? He replied. I thanke God, I neither feared impri&s;onment, nor death. For &s;ince I haue beene a Catholique, I am content to vndergoe what God &s;hall &s;end, both life and death, want and &s;upplie of nece&s;&s;aries
<PB N="53" REF="251"> are all one to me. Behold with what grace he was fortified again&s;t all the&s;e terrible batteries, which a&s;&s;aults of the deuill he ouercame &s;toutly, though not without difficultie. For he confe&s;&s;ed that once by rea&s;on of the&s;e &s;harpe tentations, he had &s;o much &s;orrowe and tediou&s;ne&s;&s;e, that he thought to returne home to his old cour&s;e of life. And what meruaile is this, when the ble&s;&s;ed A|po&s;tle S. Paul was wearie of liuing, as he him&s;elf confe&s;&s;eth? Yet not with&s;tanding all the&s;e trou|bles, he tooke courage, and neuer yeelded him|&s;elf in this &s;ore batterie. In all difficulties he fol|lowed the coun&s;ell of his Confe&s;&s;our, and was much conforted and refre&s;hed both in bodie and &s;oule, by the conuer&s;ation of the Cappucins. Soe did the holie go&s;t &s;tregthen and direct him, who neuer abandoneth the meeke and humble in &s;pirit.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="15" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>His progre&s;&s;e in studies, by the almes and helpe of Lewis Claris. He ouercometh manie other difficulties and tentations. THE XV. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THE formamed ma&s;ter Alexander, being much incited by the cariage of this yong man, and principally by his comportement in the &s;choole mai&s;ters hou&s;e, brought his Ma&s;ter and him to Lewis Claris, a mo&s;t &s;weet patron of
<PB N="54" REF="252"> the poore, and recommended him with all po&s;|&s;ible affection and in&s;tance. His &s;chole mai&s;ter &s;econded this commendation, with a faithfull re|lation of the yong mans towardne&s;&s;e, indu&s;trie and patience. Here vpon this honourable patron of the poore, promi&s;ed to pay an hundred florens for him to his mai&s;ter, for his table and teaching. By this meanes being holpen and refre&s;hed, v&s;ing exact diligence, he learned verie commendably the Latin tongue, and the Dutch, &s;ufficiently for his v&s;e. He al&s;o was cheared vp &s;omewhat by better &s;u&s;tenance, although he was cloathed ve|rie poerely, going alwayes in wooden &s;hoes which verie poore mens &s;onnes v&s;e in this coun|trie. He wore al&s;o as yet that long &s;hepheardes ca&s;&s;acke, which was nowe all foule and full of manie peeces and patches.</P>
<P>Tel me (I pray thee) o yong man, how woulde&s;t thou behaue thy &s;elf, if thy delicate bride whom thou did&s;t lately for&s;ake, &s;hould chance to haue &s;eene thee in this attire? If &s;he &s;hould &s;ee thee (I &s;ay) helping thy &s;choole-mai&s;ters maid-&s;erua~ts, not only in wa&s;hing di&s;hes, but in &s;cowring the~, and doing &s;uch drudging worke in the kitchin, or eating hungrily &s;ome knawed cru&s;ts or fragme~ts, which other children had left, woulde&s;t thou haue runne away for &s;hame, and for&s;aken the&s;e exerci&s;es which were plea&s;ing to thee? I haue no &s;uch opinion of thee, yea rather I thinke, if with &s;corne and di&s;daine &s;he would reproche thee for it, that thou woulde&s;t make that an&s;uer, that ble&s;|&s;ed
<PB N="55" REF="252"> Agatha made to her iudge vpbraiding her. I am a hand-maide of Chri&s;t, The humble &s;eruice of Chri&s;tians, is better then the glorie and wealth of kings. Therefore if &s;he &s;hould crie out again&s;t thee and &s;ay. Art thou not a&s;hamed being nobly borne, to followe this ba&s;e life of Catholiques, and to make thy &s;elf as contemptible as my &s;wi|neheard? Is this the e&s;tate, is this the fortune which you are arriued too in a &s;trange countrie, which you haue preferred before an honourable life in wedlocke with me? Is it for this trimme and worthie condition of life, which you haue now taken, that there &s;hould be &s;o much adoe betweene your kindred and mine, and that I for your &s;ake am become a mocking &s;tocke in the prese~ce of the king &amp; his nobles? Returne againe my (deare loue) flie this &s;ordid pouertie, come and enioy my goods, my amitie, the kings good grace, and thy domaines which want an heire male. Reuiue thy father and mine, who are more then half dead with grief and &s;orrowe.</P>
<P>To the&s;e words I &s;uppo&s;e thou woulde&s;t an&s;uer, that which the prophet Dauid &s;aide to his wife, in&s;ulting ouer him in &s;uch a ca&s;e. I will play and become more vile then I haue beene, neither is there cau&s;e my deare &s;pou&s;e, that thou &s;houlde&s;t be a&s;hamed or troubled at this my voluntarie and vile &s;ubiection of my &s;elfe, as though it were a matter of di&s;honour and di&s;grace for me. I tru&s;t rather that within a &s;mall time, you will be &s;o affected, that you will not di&s;daine the like con|dition
<PB N="56" REF="253"> of life, but that with ble&s;&s;ed Agatha, you will &s;ay from the botome of your heart. I am a &s;eruant of Chri&s;t, Nowe doe I &s;ee that &s;uch ba&s;e and lowly &s;ubiection of Catholiques, is more ho|nourable, then the glorious pompe and pride of tyrants.</P>
<P>Doubt not (deare Reader) though thou &s;ee&s;t not the&s;e great tentations, take place or trouble this yong man outwardly, but that inwardly through the &s;ugge&s;tion of the deuill, the flattering and tickling of naturall corruption, he had terrible combats. But there is noe glorious victorie got|ten, where the fight is not fought, and by how much the enemie is more potent, the fight lon|ger and &s;harper, by &s;o much is the conque&s;t more honourable and more gratefull. This newe cha~|pion though well tried in this kind of fight, yet &s;ought to put him&s;elf in a more &s;afe combate, where in battle aray vnder good and skilfull lea|ders, he might valiantly fight vnder the &s;tandard of Chri&s;t. Therefore he cea&s;ed not night and day to prepare him&s;elf by prayer, to fullfill that to which he was &s;weetly and &s;trongly moued by the in&s;tinct of the holie &s;pirit, which was, to be|come a good religious per&s;on of the Seraphicall order of S. Francis. This good will, of his and preparation of minde, was accompaned with great diligence in his &s;tudies, &amp; a gracious can|dour in his life and manners.</P>
<P>In the ende the inward fire of his holie de&s;ires brake into &s;uch flames, that he went to the Cap|pucins,
<PB N="57" REF="253"> and reuealed to them how feruently he d<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;ired to be admitted in to their order, &s;ignifying to them that how much the &s;ooner he &s;hould he receiued, &s;o much the more ioyfull he &s;hould be. Which de&s;ire of his, when the religious men con&s;idered well, they thought him fitt to enter into this holie campe, being &s;o well tryed and exerci&s;ed already in bearing pouertie, and in meekene&s;&s;e of conuer&s;ation, &s;hining as in exam|ple to his Schoole-mai&s;ter and fellowes.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="16" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>For what rea&s;ons this yong man made choice of the order of S. Francis. His conuer&s;ation a|mongst the Cappucins: and his conctancie and behauiour in his Nouice-ship. THE XVI. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>HIs fir&s;t and principall motion to be a Cap|pucin was, becau&s;e he &s;eemed to be called by that vnexpected vi&s;ion (where of we haue be|fore &s;poken) to this order; And be&s;ides, whereas he was de&s;irous to embrace the mo&s;t Apo&s;tolicall rule of life, the thought this religious &s;ort of life, to be mo&s;t agreable to that rule. He con&s;idered the au&s;teritie of life in the Profe&s;&s;ours of this rule, &amp; their roughne&s;&s;e &amp; cour&s;ne&s;&s;e of habit, hardly able to keepe off the cold. He remembred the words of Chri&s;t. <HI>Matth.</HI> 11. <HI>That they who are cloathed in &s;oft garments, are in kings hou&s;es.</HI> He cal|led to minde, that the Apo&s;tles followed Chri&s;t
<PB N="58" REF="254"> in vile garments, for they were poore fi&s;her|men; neither did they putt off tho&s;e garments, and put on finer or more co&s;tly to follow Chri&s;t. He reflected al&s;o vpon tho&s;e words of S. Paul, <HI>Cor.</HI> 2.11. who &s;ayed of him&s;elfe, that he was more then others in cold and nakedne&s;&s;e, which not|with&s;tanding could not &s;eparate him fro~ the loue of Chri&s;t, though his &s;ufferings were not &s;mall. He al&s;o knewe, that the witne&s;&s;es of God &s;hould prophecie, cloathed with &s;acke cloth, <HI>Luc.</HI> 10. and he remembred al&s;o the word of our Lord. <HI>Marc.</HI> 6. <HI>Carie not pur&s;e, nor &s;crip, nor shoes, but bee shoed with &s;andals.</HI> He con&s;idered al&s;o their &s;parene&s;&s;e in dyet, who v&s;ing verie often fa&s;ting, did often ten times onlie eate hearbs and pul&s;e on|ly: finally, did &s;eeke their meate from doore to doore, and had nothing el&s;e. Soe they liue ca&s;ting all their care vpon God, becau&s;e he hath care of vs.</P>
<P>He had read al&s;o, how the Apo&s;tles for hun|ger did pull the eares of corne, pa&s;&s;ing by the corne fields; and al&s;o what the Apo&s;tle &s;peaketh of him&s;elfe and his fellowes in the Apo&s;tle&s;hip. <HI>Vntill this houre we doe both hunger and thirst, and are naked, are beaten with buffets, and are wanderers, and labour, working with our owne hands.</HI> He did al&s;o thinke vpon the perfect con|tempt of money, which all things obey, and which all men couett, remembring what Chri&s;t had &s;aid. <HI>Matth.</HI> 10. <HI>Doe not po&s;&s;e&s;se gold nor &s;iluer, nor money in your pur&s;es: Actor.</HI> 1.8.
<PB N="59" REF="254"> and knewe that money was the perdition of Iu|das and Simon. He vnder&s;tood al&s;o, that the pouertie of this religion was &s;uch, that they doe not only renonce al proprietie in particular but in common, calling to minde our Sauiours words. <HI>The foxes haue holes, and the foules of the aire nests, but the &s;onne of man hath not where to lay his head.</HI> All the&s;e premi&s;es being well exami|ned of him, he concluded noe rule to be more Apo&s;tolicall and perfect then this, and there|fore entred into this with greate feruour and deuotion.</P>
<P>Who can well expre&s;&s;e the ioy and exultation of &s;pirit, which this yong man had, when he once obtained that which he had long de&s;ired, for de&s;ires prolonged, growe more and more? How ioyful a thing had it beene, to haue &s;eene the great and ble&s;&s;ed armie in heauen, who were rancked vnder Saint Francis coulours, &s;o|lemnizing this day, and reioycing at the admi&s;|&s;ion of this new enroled yong champion? Surelie tho&s;e heauenly mountaines leaped like rammes, and the hills of religious in this earthly campe, like yong lambes. This was certainly a happie day, and very remarqueable to the honour of God. He tooke the Cappucins habit the 23. yeare of his age, and the yeare of our Lord 1593. at Tournay, vpon the daye of the litle Portion which is a daye &s;o|lemnized to our ble&s;&s;ed Ladie the &s;econd of Augu&s;t: to her I &s;ay, as the &s;ingular patro|ne&s;&s;e
<PB N="60" REF="255"> of the litle flocke, and &s;mall portion of religious brethren, a&s;&s;embled togeither in S. Fran|cis time, in a church dedicated to our ble&s;&s;ed La|die. The yeare following vpon the &s;ame day he made his profe&s;&s;ion, and the verie &s;ame day thir|teene yeares after his Nouice-&s;hip, he ended his life, as we will &s;hewe here after: which was a good &s;igne, that his &s;eruices performed to the &s;on|ne of that virgin, and offered vp vpon &s;uch a day, were gratefull to the virgin, to whom he was al|wayes &s;ingularly deuout.</P>
<P>At his fir&s;t entrance into religion (as the ordi|narie cu&s;tome is) he changed his name, and whe|reas he was called before Iohn, he was afterward called brother Archangel. Hauing now taken the habit of a penitent, it was &s;trange with what fer|uour he &s;erued almightie God, in true feare and doue-like &s;implicitie of hart, e&s;pecially in that age which is &s;o prone to all worldly delights, which he well &s;hewed in daily cha&s;ti&s;ing his bodie, and bringing of it into &s;ubiection (yet vnder the di&s;|creete bridle of his Superiour.) Whereby &s;o farre are they fro~ not reaping the fruict of their pious trauaile, which is ordered by the circum&s;pect care of others, that they merit much more by vertue of their obedience, which is the elde&s;t and fir&s;t bor|ne daughter of humilitie. And what meruaile if hauing laid a &s;ure foundation of humilitie, he rai&s;ed the re&s;t of a faire building, in all kind of vertues an&s;werable thereto? The eyes of our Lord regard the voluntarie poore, and he doth
<PB N="61" REF="255" MS="y"> a&s;&s;ure them of him &s;elfe, who put their a&s;&s;urance in him fir&s;t. And when God hath taken anie into protection, who is there who can take him out of his handes?</P>
<P>Certaine Scoti&s;hmen, wi&s;e according to the fle&s;h, who were fled into the Low countries for their faith, vnder&s;tanding that a yong Scoti&s;h man, &s;hould &s;hortly make his profe&s;&s;ion among the Cappucins, &s;earching and enquiring what he &s;hould be, doe per&s;uade them&s;elues (neither was their per&s;ua&s;ion vaine) that he was nobly borne: and as they ob&s;erued his countenance and his ge&s;ture, they began to &s;u&s;pect, that this was the noble yong man, who flying out of his countrie, had for&s;aken his noble Spou&s;e, of whom they had heard &s;uch &s;trange matters. Therefore with|out anie further deliberation, they concluded a|mong&s;t them&s;elues, that this matter was to be propo&s;ed to the Doctours and Profe&s;&s;ours of the vniuer&s;itie of Doway, in this &s;ort. Whether it be lawfull for a noble gentleman, who is his fathers heire and elde&s;t &s;onne, to abandon his hou&s;e and familie, to the preiudice of his owne countrie &amp; Catholique religion? They an&s;were, that it is in no ca&s;e lawfull. So that by the in&s;tance of the&s;e men, the yong Nouice is called before our mai&s;ters in a &s;olemne meating, and by precept of obedience, he is per&s;uaded to leaue this purpo&s;e, yea he is told, that he is bound in con&s;cience &s;o to doe. All doe expect the yong mans an&s;wer, who after this &s;entence giuen, &s;pake with greate
<PB N="62" REF="256" MS="y"> feruour of minde, yet tempered well with mo|de&s;tie, &s;aying.</P>
<P>Good Sirs, I am verie weake and vnable in bo|die, and worne already both with in and with|out with long penurie and hunger, and by &s;harpe di&s;cipline I am feeble and blood-le&s;&s;e. I am not fit either for warre or procreation of children. Not|with&s;tanding if you hinder my profe&s;&s;ion in this countrie, I will goe to an other. If I be there hindred al&s;o, I will retire my &s;elfe to &s;ome &s;olitarie life, where as no man &s;hall finde me out. Vpon this &s;peech all men fell into won|derment of his con&s;tancie, &amp; cryed out with one voice. This calling is from God, Goe &s;onne in peace. It is held an euident &s;igne of an elected &s;oule when the deuil rai&s;eth manie impediments to tho&s;e, who would enter into a religious cour&s;e of life, which hath befallen manie Saincts of both &s;exes. So during the time of his Nouice &s;hip, he concealed his noble familye, &s;o that he liued vn|knowne among his brethren, being thought to be the &s;onne of &s;ome poore Scoti&s;hman, alwayes readie to performe all vile and ba&s;e &s;eruices of religion, both in will and deed, both before and after his profe&s;&s;ion. So that if this acci|dent had not arriued, and thereupon if he had not by vertue of obedience, beene forced to tel the truth, he would neuer haue made anie ac|quainted with the &s;ame, &s;o great a de&s;ire he had of de&s;pi&s;ing him &s;elfe. And when he told the Guardian and his mai&s;ter this, he humbly en|treated
<PB N="63" REF="256"> them to keepe it to them&s;elues, and not to publi&s;h it to anie of the brethren; And by this meanes he remained as befor vnknowne to them.</P>
<P>Hence it came to pa&s;&s;e that he was called vpon oftner, both by the Seniours and his brethrem, to doe manie drudgeries, and had no humane fauour &s;hewed him in &s;paring him from tho&s;e troubles which are incident to religious per&s;ons. And this is our manner to exerci&s;e them, who are with vs in the &s;choole of the cro&s;&s;e, that they may learne by the example of Chri&s;t, to &s;uffer &s;eriou&s;ly eue|rie where, and in all things. Yet I did much won|der (whe~ I after knewe what he was) that he bore all without the lea&s;t contradiction, without anie di&s;contentment in outward &s;hewe, yea certainly mo&s;t cheerefully and gladly.</P>
<P>He was &s;o willing to &s;uffer, that once when a matter was impo&s;ed vpon him, of which he was no way guiltie, which was &s;o greate that a Nouice might haue beene di&s;mi&s;&s;ed for it, notwith&s;ta~ding although he was mo&s;t innocent, he neuer &s;pake one word in defence of his innocencie, but com|mitted the defence of his innocencie to God. For his diet he was of that temperance, that he was not only an enemie to gluttonie, but to the lea&s;t plea&s;ure and delight which might be taken in ea|ting his meate. He was often &s;eene vpon fa&s;|ting dayes (which are frequent with vs) when fi&s;h was &s;ett before him, though not fre&s;h but &s;alt, either not once to haue ta&s;ted of it, although hu~ger did prouoke him to it, or if by the co~mandeme~t of
<PB N="64" REF="257" MS="y"> his Superiour he did eate of it, he would not dippe his fi&s;h into the butter which was &s;erued with the fi&s;h, lea&s;t he might haue the lea&s;t inordinate plea&s;ure, which he thought was hard to auoide, euen while we &s;atisfie nature in eating and drin|king. For manie other mortifications which he endured, I &s;hall haue occa&s;ion to &s;peake of them hereafter.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="17" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>He maketh his profe&s;sion, and followeth his studies. His good life and manners, af|ter his profe&s;sion. THE XVII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>AFter &s;o manie conflicts of mortification, hauing made his profe&s;&s;ion, he is &s;ent for to &s;tudie into a Conuent de&s;igned for the &s;tudies of Philo&s;ophie, vnder a reader of our owne order. There F. Arch. was fir&s;t knowne to me, hauing ne|uer &s;eene him before. Neither is it fit for Iuniours to enquire curiou&s;lie of what familie and nobili|tie others are, but to con&s;ider well in what ex|ample of vertue and pietie they doe excell. And then I did diligently ob&s;erue, and &s;o did manie moe with me, the ge&s;ture and comportement of this &s;tranger. Fir&s;t I did note his mode&s;t and humble countenance and looke, his compo&s;ed and well ordered manner of gate, both at home and abroad. For he which doth not carie him&s;elfe
<PB N="65" REF="257"> as well in his Conuent and in his cel, as he doth abroad in the &s;treets, is to be iudged an hypocrite. He humbled him&s;elfe to doe all vile offices verie promptly, he was the fir&s;t for the mo&s;t part, in wa&s;hing the di&s;hes and di&s;h clouts: vpon the ac|cu&s;tomed dayes he &s;wept the hou&s;e, yea he tooke often a conuenient time to make cleane the pri|uie, which he did the more &s;ecretly, that his de|ba&s;ing of him&s;elfe, might not &s;eeme to proceed from &s;o much humilitie.</P>
<P>When he tooke care of the &s;acri&s;tie, you would haue iudged him as an Angel of God, mi|ni&s;tring in a holie place and in the church, he kept all things &s;o neatly and &s;o &s;weetly. He prepared all things in time, and by his diligence, kept all the ornaments verie decent, and verie beautifull, &s;hining with a plea&s;ing &s;plendour and lu&s;tre of honourable pouertie. Forced pouertie is filthie, but voluntarie is neate and cleanly. Therefore this rule is often taught by the Cappucins. Let pouertie be cleane and neate. He had a care to keepe the walls, the pauement, and the win|dowes from all filth: yet in all the&s;e externall &s;eruices, he was carefull to keepe God in his heart, with a mo&s;t amorous affection: for this is the maine &s;cope and butt of all. He vi&s;ited the &s;icke with that carefullne&s;&s;e and true charitie, that the &s;icke were wonderfully comforted by his pre&s;ence with them. For as occa&s;ion &s;erued, either he would &s;peake to them &s;weete words of comfort, or &s;trengthen them which were faint|hearted,
<PB N="66" REF="258"> in this or the like manner. Take courage deare brother, our B. Sauiour Ie&s;us is on the cro&s;&s;e with you, he is neuer more ea&s;ie to be found, then in affliction. If you are gold, you are tried of him: if dro&s;&s;e you are purged. With which kinde of exhortations, the &s;icke were readie to endure their &s;ickne&s;&s;e patiently, and as long as it plea&s;ed God, to exerci&s;e them in their affliction. In euerie &s;icke per&s;on, he con&s;idering our Sauiour Ie&s;us wearied with labour &amp; &s;orrowe &s;pake vnto the~ on his knees, and after &s;ome &s;hort &s;peech, he pre&s;entlie fell to worke in &s;eruing the &s;icke. He would make cleane tho&s;e ve&s;&s;ells which were ne|ce&s;&s;arie for them, &s;weepe all places about them, and wipe off their &s;weate with a towell. To conclude, he did all nece&s;&s;arie duties with all &s;peed, If he were to watch, if the canonicall hou|res were to be &s;aid, in an&s;wering one the other, he was readie for all good offices.</P>
<P>Hauing performed the&s;e things, he went to the common &s;eruice of the brethren. He was obe|dient to the gardner or Cooke, and willing to doe tho&s;e things that were mo&s;t contrarie to his in|clination. In the end he would thanke them on his knees, that they vouch&s;afed to call him to worke, and make him partaker of their labours, He was &s;o obedient at the becke of his Supe|riour, that there was nothing &s;o hard, which he would not doe with a cheerefull heart and con|tenance. He gaue as much reuerence to Prie&s;ts, as if he had &s;eene &s;ome of the holie Apo&s;tles or
<PB N="67" REF="258"> Confe&s;&s;ours pre&s;ent. To his fellowes and equals, he was &s;o mild, and &s;o louing, as if he had beene their &s;eruant. In the Refectorie he &s;ate at the table &s;o inwardly recollected, that his meate &amp; drinke was tedious to him, had he not beene compel|led by nece&s;&s;itie and common obedience, to &s;ub|iect him &s;elfe thereto: and this was not to be marueiled at in him, when as he had learned to &s;ubdue the rage and furie of gourmandi&s;e long &s;ince.</P>
<P>After his refection the di&s;hes being wa&s;hed, hauing &s;aid the office of our ble&s;&s;ed Ladie, ma|king a round about the garden, all the re&s;t of the time euen till euening, if there were nothing to be done in common, he retired him&s;elfe to a &s;o|litarie place, and did then goe to his cel. Hither he did inuite &s;weete Ie&s;us, &s;ometimes with deep groanes, &s;ometimes with amorous &s;ighs, and was wont to commend all the nece&s;&s;ities of Chri&s;ts vniuer&s;all familie, to his holie conduct. The la&s;t day will reueale what &s;acred &s;weete dainties he ta&s;ted, in communing there with his beloued one. For whereas he knewe that bodily exerci&s;e is profitable to litle, but pietie is profi|table to all thinges, according to the coun&s;aile of the &s;ame Apo&s;tle, he did pur&s;ue the better gifts and did diligentlie followe the more excellent way &s;hewed to him, e&s;pecially in mo&s;t perfect quitting of all proprietie, yea of things mo&s;t &s;pi|rituall, in a mo&s;t &s;imple &s;tripping of him&s;elfe from all things created, in a mo&s;t profound re|mouing
<PB N="68" REF="259"> of all repre&s;entations though mo&s;t noble, out of the clo&s;et of his &s;oule, that he might attaine to a mo&s;t inward vnion with God, by an actuall and mo&s;t feruent charitie, which as he had learned by the Apo&s;tle, doth neuer fal away. But the other gifts (as S. Thomas &s;aith) becau&s;e they haue imperfection, are to be ta|ken away, according to that. When that &s;hall come that is perfect, that &s;hall be made voide that is in part, that is that which is imperfect. For a part doth implie imperfection, as the An|gelicall Doctour teacheth. In keeping &s;ilence he was &s;o &s;euere, that in time of common recreation (which is permitted but one or two dayes, to the end the obligations of fa&s;ting might be the better performed) he &s;eemed to force him &s;elfe to be merrie a litle with his companie, to auoide the note of &s;ingularitie. Neither is it for nought that the raines are loo|&s;ed &s;ometimes to yong men. For by this the elder will iudge much, of the rigour and vi|uacitie, or &s;lowne&s;&s;e and heauine&s;&s;e of yong mens &s;pirits.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="18" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="69" REF="259">
<HEAD>Of his outward compo&s;ition and feruour in prayer. THE XVIII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>WHen he was &s;ent out into the citie, either to vi&s;ite the &s;icke, or to demand almes, or vpon anie other cau&s;e, his countenance and behauiour was &s;o mode&s;t, and indeed &s;o mortified, that euen by his outward pre&s;ence, he did moue the hearts of &s;inners, and did checke the vanitie of youth, and &s;ometimes wholie &s;ubdue it. For in this kind, a Lay brother may doe the dutie of a preacher. For we reade in our Chronicles, that S. Francis &s;aide &s;o to his brother. Let vs goe to preach (&s;aith he) through the &s;treets of the citie. They went &s;ilently through one or two &s;treets bare footed, though the cold was verie great, and returning home, they found a wild licentious man at the gate of their Conuent, humbly re|que&s;ting to be admitted to their order; whom the S. fore&s;awe no doubt in &s;pirit, was to be gained by &s;uch meanes. Let no man therefore meruaile if God doth ordaine diuer&s;e kinds of orders and diuer&s;e habits, and cau&s;e their manners to be compo&s;ed in di&s;tinct and diuer&s;e decencie. For by the&s;e as by diuer&s;e nets, he taketh worldly me~. Let them therefore creepe vnder &s;ome whole &amp; perfect net, if they de&s;ire with S. Antonie, to auoid
<PB N="70" REF="260"> the daungers of this world. In the deuine office and p&s;almodie, if anie man had well ob&s;erued, this brothers compo&s;ed and &s;erene countenance, and the po&s;ture of his bodie bolt vpright, the cheerefulne&s;&s;e of his voice, his vnmoueable eyes, the attention of his heart, the teares often tric|ling downe by rea&s;on of internall gu&s;t, he would haue &s;aid he had &s;eene an Angel rapt vp in &s;pirit into the heauenly quire.</P>
<P>In the time of his mentall prayer, the habit whereof he got with much labour and exerci&s;e, he enioyed &s;ometimes &s;uch inward aboundance of the ioy of &s;pirit, that it &s;treamed forth with euident tokens, &s;o that his bodie was pertaker or it. And when wicked tentations or anie heauy &amp; and dull weari&s;omne&s;&s;e did take hold of him, he did &s;hake them off with &s;uch force, that he hath beene &s;eene in that combate to encounter the deuill, and to foile him, as al&s;o to rai&s;e vpp his dull iadi&s;h fle&s;h, by applying his bare feete to the cold pauement, and to gall his backe with chai|nes of iron, which kind of weapons are v&s;ed in &s;uch ca&s;es by religious champions. Finally pan|ting after God, and cleauing wholie to him, with all quickne&s;&s;e of memorie, &s;harpne&s;&s;e of vnder|&s;tanding, preparation and readine&s;&s;e of will, ele|uation of heart, with intention of all his pow|ers, and exten&s;ion of his handes, he did &s;eeme to enforce God after a manner, that in the retraict and bottome of his &s;oule, he might be held fa&s;t with the &s;weete embracements of his beloued,
<PB N="71" REF="260"> and in the&s;e might flowe and runne from him|&s;elfe, and &s;o con&s;equently wholie flowe into the Ocean of his infinite bountie, and in the&s;e flouds of loue, might become one with God and with him, by an ab&s;olute melting and re&s;olution of all his powers, and an annihilation into God and his holie will and plea&s;ure.</P>
<P>Who is able to expre&s;&s;e what God &s;peaketh in that heart, in which the peace of God dwel|leth, which pa&s;&s;eth all vnder&s;tanding, and what God worketh in that &s;oule which is transfu&s;ed into God, and God into it, by the vn&s;peakeable enioying of his goodne&s;&s;e? But the &s;en&s;uall man doth not perceiue tho&s;e things, which are of the &s;pirit of God, for the&s;e things &s;eeme follie to him. Hence Saint Paul affirmeth, that he could not &s;peake to the Corinthians as to &s;pirituall men, but as to carnal, concerning that wi&s;edome whereof he &s;pake confidently among perfect me~, who haue the &s;en&s;e of Chri&s;t. It is to be lamen|ted, that we are now fallen into tho&s;e times, as the Seraphicall Doctour S. Bonauenture &s;aith, in his fir&s;t booke of perfection of religion c. 18. in which there is &s;carce anie mention of &s;pirituall delights, which doe &s;o farre exceed all worldly delights, as honey doth dung, yea among tho&s;e who &s;eeme to them&s;elues, to be deepe in religion, the &s;weete drunkenne&s;&s;e of &s;uch de&s;ires is e&s;tee|med follie, and reputed as an abomination, and tho&s;e which are &s;pirituall, are iudged to be po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ed with the deuill, and are called heretiques.</P>
<PB N="72" REF="261">
<P>All the &s;piritualitie of manie, con&s;i&s;teth rather in que&s;tioning and di&s;puting, who as Saint Paul &s;aith, doe alwayes learne, and neuer come to the knowledge of truth. And in an other place, they langui&s;h about que&s;tions and &s;trife of words. Curious men would not occupie their &s;pirits about the&s;e things, if they would choo&s;e rather with Saint Bernard, to feele compunction, then to knowe the definition of it. For we &s;ee the&s;e manner of que&s;tions are handled, whether the &s;upereminent vnion be anie thing el&s;e but habi|tuall and actuall charitie, whether this vnion be &s;uch that it may truly be &s;aid, that man be|cometh God, and God man, &s;o that all actions that are in this man, are not mans but only Gods actions, yea euerie pa&s;&s;ion and omi&s;&s;ion is of God only, and &s;o in all a man is merely pa&s;&s;iue not ac|tiue in re&s;pect of God, of whom he is taught, il|luminated, and immediatly &s;ubiect. The&s;e que|&s;tions I &s;ay would neuer much trouble mens cu|rio&s;itie, if they could keepe the order pre&s;cribed by the Prophet: Ta&s;t and &s;ee, that by the ta&s;t thereof they might iudge what it is. For no man knoweth but he which ta&s;teth. If that they might well ta&s;t this, they would purge the palate of the &s;oule from all inordination, both of the vnder|&s;tanding and will, and would labour to depriue both faculties of all that is not God, which if they would doe, they &s;hould no doubt finde by experience, that the fore&s;aid vnion, doth import &s;omewhat el&s;e beyond actuall charitie, when as
<PB N="73" REF="261"> by it man doth &s;o perfectly pa&s;&s;e into God, and is no more him&s;elfe, but he giueth place to God, &s;o that he may not only &s;ay with the &s;pou&s;e: My &s;oule was melted as &s;oone as my beloued &s;pake, but with the royall Prophete he may &s;ay. I was brought to nothing, and not knowing. He &s;hall al&s;o finde according to that of S. Paul. He which adhereth to God is one &s;pirit, &amp; that by the &s;ame vnion, in a far more excellent manner then by the ordinarie Acts of charitie, that man beco|meth God.</P>
<P>The P&s;alme &s;aith. I haue &s;aid ye are Gods. And S. Augu&s;tine in his &s;econd Treati&s;e vpon the fir&s;t epi&s;tle of S. Iohn &s;aith. If thou loue&s;t God thou art God. And S. Hierome vpon the p&s;alm. 114. according to the Hebrewes v. 5. As long as we are men, we doe erre and lye, but when we &s;hall be made God, we cea&s;e to lye. And immediatly after he &s;aith. If therefore anie man become holie, he is made God, and when he &s;hall be made God, he cea&s;eth to be man, and lyeth no more. And Clement Alexandria &s;aith. Man which is brought to be impatible is made God, yea God him&s;elfe in &s;ome manner is made, that man him&s;elfe, to witt, not the old man, but the newe who is crea|ted according to God in holine&s;&s;e and iu&s;tice of truth. So that of Saint Paul is verified. When al things &s;hall be &s;ubiected to him, then &s;hall the &s;onne be &s;ubiect to him who hath &s;ubiected all things to him&s;elfe, that God may be all in all. And then there is no Gentile and Iewe, circumci|&s;ion
<PB N="74" REF="262"> and prepuce, barbarous &amp; Scythian, bond &amp; free, but all and in all Chri&s;t. For it is certaine out of S. Pauls words, that while the newe man is produced in vs, and while we put on the newe man, we put on Chri&s;t.</P>
<P>This once being, they would finde (I &s;ay) that all actions and pa&s;&s;ions in man a&s;&s;umpt to this ex|cellent vnion, not to be of man, but of God alone, for a&s;much as he is the principall cau&s;e, either ef|ficient or finall, of all actions and pa&s;&s;ions which are in &s;uch a man. Whereupon S. Paul &s;aith. Nowe do not I liue, but Chri&s;t liueth in me. So in mo&s;t things man is merely pa&s;&s;iue to God, while he is in this vnion. And manie Doctours doe teach, that he is merely pa&s;&s;iue, not only in the receiuing of habituall gifts, but &s;ome actuall. So this vnion which the my&s;ticall writers terme &s;upereminent, is only from God, according to that P&s;alm. 38. Our a&s;&s;umption is our Lords, and our holie king of I&s;rael; of which vnion Ricardus &s;peaking of the 4. degrees of violent charitie, ci|ted by Saint Bonauenture; As (&s;aith he) the fir&s;t degree doth wound him that is affected, &s;o the &s;e|cond doth bind him being wounded, the third doth &s;o implicate his action, that the minde can|not intend anie thing, but where the enclining of Gods will doth drawe him and moue him, and &s;o they who haue attained to this degree, doe nothing of their proper will, leane nothing to their owne di&s;po&s;ition, but commital to God.</P>
<P>But whether haue the embracements of the
<PB N="75" REF="262"> beloued tran&s;ported me, that I haue made this di|gre&s;&s;ion for my hi&s;torie. The ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule of our brother Archangel, which cau&s;ed the&s;e, hath oc|ca&s;ioned this di&s;cour&s;e: but nowe I will returne to my former narration.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="19" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>What cour&s;e he kept in his studies, and with how manie mortifications he was exerci&s;ed. THE XIX. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>HE did neuer &s;o follow his &s;tudies, that he would intermitt the time of prayer, or the exerci&s;e of the Communitie, much le&s;&s;e neglect them. For he knewe, that he was &s;o to attend the profit of others, and the gaine of &s;oules, that without neglecting him&s;elfe, he did not endom|mage his owne &s;oule. Therefore whether he were to apply him&s;elfe to reading, or to his &s;tu|dies, he was wont to v&s;e prayer before, and to direct a &s;treight &s;imple holy intention to his &s;weete Ie&s;us, and al&s;o to imploy the helpe and interce&s;&s;ion of the ble&s;&s;ed mother of God, and of his patron Saint Frauncis. All which good exerci&s;es and holie cu&s;tomes when he was made prie&s;t, he neglected not, but rather being made a &s;uperiour again&s;t his will (as we will &s;hewe hereafter) he encrea&s;ed them, and all other good vertues, bearing both the loue and feare of God
<PB N="76" REF="263"> fa&s;tned in his heart. Hence it came to pa&s;&s;e, that he lay pro&s;trate with his face on the ground verie often, when he was both to enter into the Church, and to goe forth, deuoutlye ki&s;&s;ing the earth with bended knees. So did he teach others by his example, to adore him that reig|neth in heauen, &amp; humbled him&s;elfe for vs euen to the earth.</P>
<P>He did frequent the holie communion, with exceeding greate ardour and compun|ction of heart, allwayes making before a &s;a|cramentall confe&s;&s;ion, and cleaning him&s;elfe diligently from the lea&s;t corruption of his de|fects, which he &s;trictlie examined. Thus he did (I &s;ay) with &s;uch deuotion, that o|ther being excited by his feruour, did take fre&s;h courage to runne all to the wi&s;hed goale. When he was young, he did &s;erue the Prie&s;t with &s;o much reuerence (for he had virginall beautie and grace all&s;o in his countenance, which did kindle deuotion in tho&s;e who be|held him) that manie who were without the Chancel, were as much moued with his deuout manner of &s;eruice, as with the glo|rious office of him that &s;acrificed. And by &s;uch deuout attendance at the Altar, Saint Bonauenture confe&s;&s;eth, that he obtained of God great trea&s;ure of graces. To &s;peake of all gifts and prerogatiues of vertues, it would be too long a di&s;cour&s;e.</P>
<PB N="77" REF="263">
<P>Marke I pray you, and I will declare vnto you, with how happie &s;ucce&s;&s;e he proceeded, not if we &s;peake accordinge to carnall &s;en&s;e, but according to the &s;piritt, which mounteth to God by cliftie and hard wayes, and coue|teth again&s;t the fle&s;h, as the Apo&s;tle &s;aith. The&s;e thinges which thou dide&s;t both priuat|lie and publiquelie (o brother Archangell) were approued of all to be good and prai&s;e-worthie, not fal&s;e and farded. But how? If &s;urely for prai&s;e and applau&s;e due to thy me|rits, thou had&s;t bitter mockings, reproches, &s;corne-full deri&s;ions, chidings, reproofes, bit|ter words pearcing euen to the heart, is not this a worthie and condigne reward? No: it is too &s;mall. Let vs proceede on. Let vs &s;ee what di&s;cipline thou wert commaunded to in|flict on thy &s;elfe, how manie cro&s;&s;es thou wa&s;t made to drawe with thy tongue vpon the pauement, how often a wooden gag was putt in thy mouth, and for what cau&s;e, I pray you? Peraduenture you were too full of pratling and babling? No, but lea&s;t vaine glo|rie might creepe vpon you, becau&s;e you kept &s;ilence better then others. But why is a di&s;h-clout like a vaile bound about your head be|fore your eyes? They de&s;erue it, who doe not &s;hut their wandering eyes, and doe not keepe them from vaine a&s;pects. Although thou cha&s;t cha&s;teyes (for the di&s;ciple is not
<PB N="78" REF="264"> aboue his mai&s;ter) yet art thou to be vexed in them. Sometime thy &s;uperiour or thy elder bro|ther, &s;tandeth by thee which &s;etteth vpon thee as it were with iniurious words, and as though he were offended, reuileth thee and proclaimeth thee wholy vnprofitable for religion, putteth thee to confu&s;ion of face before all, and intima|terh that thou doe&s;t all things but fainedly and di&s;&s;emblingly. If thou doe&s;t de&s;ire to fa&s;t, thou art commanded to eate and deuoure &s;o much, that thou mai&s;t be called a glutton and a rauenner. If thou doe&s;t intend to refre&s;h thy &s;elfe, and feede liberally vpon &s;ome &s;olemne day, pre&s;ently thou &s;halt be commaunded to fold vp thy napkin. When nature is oppre&s;&s;ed with heauine&s;&s;e, thou mu&s;t pre&s;entlie be commaunded to be merrie &amp; cherefull: and if thou reioyce&s;t and cheere&s;t vpp thy &s;elfe at their commaundement, loe &s;traight-wayes a &s;uddaine whirle-winde ri&s;eth, and dri|ueth thee from that &s;tate of minde. Doe&s;t thou re|ioyce in the health of bodie? Tribulations and &s;orrowes growe vpon thee &s;ome other way, and be&s;et thee on euerie &s;ide. That I may confe&s;&s;e a truth, I &s;ee the holy gho&s;t, not only directing both the words and actions, both of the mai&s;ter and &s;uperiours, but al&s;o inciting, &s;o that nothing is wanting for the proofe and tryal of the &s;ol|diours of Chri&s;t, why they may not iu&s;tly v&s;e tho&s;e words of the Prophete. Thou ha&s;t laid tri|bulations on our backe, and thou ha&s;t &s;ett men vpon our heads.</P>
<PB N="79" REF="264">
<P>Neither is it needfull here, to hire a &s;colding queane to vexe his hart, and braine, with crying and &s;colding at him, that by &s;uch exerci&s;e he might at length learne patience, for &s;urely the Cappucins giue occa&s;ion of &s;uch exerci&s;e to the yonger &s;ort, verie plentifully and without cau&s;e for Chri&s;ts &s;ake, that by their &s;ufferings, they may learne patience, by the example of Chri&s;t. Clima|cus &s;aith. If thou wilt clime to the highe&s;t top of vertue, &s;eeke a guide &amp; a mai&s;ter, who&s;e name is hard and rough, vnder whom thou mai&s;t conti|nue drinking and dige&s;ting dayly chidings, and reproche full mockings, as hony and milke: yea thinke thou ha&s;t &s;u&s;tained great dommage that day, when thou ha&s;t had no &s;uch afflictions. For as trees which are &s;haken by great windes, haue deepe rootes: &s;o they who liue in obedience and are diuer&s;ly proued, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e vn&s;haken and valiant hearts. But peraduenture the&s;e &s;eeme to be light and &s;light matters to the worldly man, yea &s;eeme ab&s;urd and ridiculous? Notwith&s;tanding as he who hath gotten health by &s;ome bitter potion, doth not iudge that it is therefore to be de&s;pi|&s;ed, becau&s;e it is made of &s;ome vile and common herbs: &s;o mu&s;t we thinke of the&s;e trialls, which &s;eeme to be de&s;piceable. A yong fre&s;h nouice co|ming fir&s;t to the magazin of his in&s;tructour, won|dreth to what end all tho&s;e in&s;truments are, till he learne to practi&s;e them.</P>
<P>In the beginning of my conuer&s;ion, I was much troubled at &s;uch kind of exerci&s;es, in &s;o
<PB N="80" REF="265"> much that I could hardly forbeare to breake out into the&s;e words &s;ome-what malepertly. I came hither to this end hoping for quietne&s;&s;e &amp; peace, after manie turmoiles in the world, and here I find continuall crying. The Superiour is both the accu&s;er, and the iudge. The accu&s;ed per&s;on can haue no licence to an&s;were for him&s;elfe, neither can the innocent be heard. All that he doth is condemned. His diligence is puni&s;hed as well as his negligence. While we are to take our natu|rall refection, we heare litle but raylings and cryes. Be&s;ides there are manie &s;euerities, and di&s;|ciplines. I had rather goe &s;upperle&s;&s;e to bed, then come forth to the Cappucins chapter. I de&s;ire therefore this only fauour, that I may eate my portion in my cel, as I did for eight dayes before I was cloathed. It &s;eemed to me a verie good propo&s;ition, but God knoweth and I, what con|clu&s;ion followed, to whom I giue infinite than|kes. For happie is he, as Climacus &s;aith, who thinketh him&s;elfe worthie at all howres of ig|nominie and vilifying, and who being charged with reproches, holdeth his peace here, for he &s;hall reioice there, and &s;hall be made equall to the Angells.</P>
<P>See the mercie of God, he doth not only pu|ni&s;h &s;inners in religion, but he maketh them rich in good workes, and by this methode encrea&s;eth their crowne. For by how much the labour is greater, the crowne and reward is greater. And &s;o they bring forth fruicts worthie of repentance,
<PB N="81" REF="265"> that they may gett &s;o much greater gaine of good workes by pennance, by how much they haue runne in greater arrerage through &s;inne, as Saint Gregorie &s;aith. The Prophete fore-&s;eeing this &s;aid. We haue reioyced for the dayes wherein thou did&s;t humble vs, &amp; for the yeares in which we &s;awe euill, that is affliction. And againe. How manie tribulations ha&s;t thou &s;hewed to me both manie and euill, but thou being conuerted ha&s;t quickned me. If vexation doth afford this to the nocent, what doth it to the innocent? O noble Archangel, what profit ha&s;t thou receiued out of &s;o manie vexations? Great indulgence and re|ward is due to voluntarie pennance, but much ra|ther to the patient &s;uffering of tho&s;e pennances and vexations, which are inflicted by others.</P>
<P>We reade in the liues of the fathers, that a yong monke, by nation a Graecian, hauing too &s;lipperie a tongue, did often manife&s;t the impa|tiencie of his heart before his brethren, whom the Abbot committed to be cha&s;ti&s;ed and amen|ded by the &s;eniours. They treated him &s;o, that they made him often failing into this frailtie, goe without dinner and &s;upper to bed. He being dead appeared to the Abbot, and confe&s;&s;ed, that tho&s;e kinde of vexations, cau&s;ed him to obtaine a heauenly crowne, without feeling anie paines of purgatorie. Therefore we cannot but render this prai&s;e to thee (o Archangel) who as a yong &s;imple lambe, wa&s;t allwayes meeke and chearefull. Thou wa&s;t neuer &s;eene to depart when thou
<PB N="82" REF="266"> had&s;t done thy pennance, but that humbly on thy knees, thou did&s;t ble&s;&s;e God, as thy exerci&s;er and &s;ingular benefactour, who is wi&s;e and will keepe his, that they may vnder&s;tand the wages of our Lord, and his hidden wayes. The&s;e things be vn&s;auorie to the wi&s;e of this world, they &s;eeme follies to tho&s;e that are fal&s;ely great, yet are they mini&s;tred to the litle ones, who profes the Go&s;pel. Out of the&s;e is ta&s;ted the hidden Manna, by which they are pacified in the palate of the heart, being pacified obtaine the heritage of the &s;onnes and freinds of God. Which being obtained, what can be kept from his inward and &s;ecrete freinds? He &s;peaketh to them thus Ioan. 15. Now I will not call you &s;eruants, but freinds. For all that I haue heard of my father, I haue made knowne to you; To this honour was Archangel exalted.</P>
<P>I will now proceede to the re&s;t of his life, which though I de&s;ire to make perfect, and to omitt nothing of importance, yet I am not able to performe it, becau&s;e he changed often his &s;ta|tions or places of dwelling, by order from our Superiours, and I haue not had commoditie to conferre with the religious of all tho&s;e places with whom he conuer&s;ed, nor I haue wrote no|thing here, which either I &s;awe not my &s;elfe, or did not vnder&s;tand by verie good and mo&s;t cre|dible relation of other religious, whom I haue alwayes ob&s;erued to be verie &s;paring in reuealing the vertuous qualities of their brethren, as not making &s;o much e&s;teeme of them. So happily the
<PB N="83" REF="266"> propre and inbred complacencie of men is quel|led, when they are not affected with &s;uch vaine glorie.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="20" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>He is remoued from the Conuent of Bruges, becau&s;e his countrie-men lay in waite for him. THE XX. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>WE haue recited before one cau&s;e why Archan|gel, by order of his Superiour, came not with|out danger of his life from Bruges to our Con|uent. Nowe we will relate an other occa&s;ion, which will make way for the pro&s;ecution of the re&s;t of the narration. In this famous citie of Bru|ges, there is a Conuent of Cappucins, though vnhole&s;omely &s;ituated, yet mo&s;t conuenient for a &s;olitary quiet life, in which Archangel was pla|ced by his &s;uperiours, &s;o that he might the rather giue him&s;elfe to pious exerci&s;es and prayers, which were his true delights before he was a Preacher. While he thought all things were mo&s;t quiet, a &s;udden di&s;turbation of his re&s;t arriued. The Guardian had notice from &s;ome citizens, that certaine Scoti&s;h-men who &s;eemed to be men of re&s;olution and of hardie attempts, did walke about the Conuent, tooke a viewe of all, and ob&s;erued the countenance of the yonger brethren (though they knewe it not, for the yonger men
<PB N="84" REF="267"> doe not of &s;ett purpo&s;e ca&s;t vp their eyes) where|upon they gaue occa&s;ion to &s;u&s;pect, that they bea|ring extraordinarie affection to Archangels father (as grieuing that he &s;hould be depriued of his onlie &s;onne and heire) conceiuing al&s;o that their countrie &s;u&s;tained a great lo&s;&s;e herein, would attempt to take him by force and carrie him away. For auoiding this inconuenience he was &s;ooner &s;ent away thence to Li&s;le, which was a place de&s;igned for &s;tudies, where he pa&s;&s;ed his cour&s;e in Philo&s;ophie, and afterward in Di|uinitie.</P>
<P>The &s;ame attempt was enterpri&s;ed by cer|taine Scoti&s;h men at Antwerpe before; The Cappucins hou&s;e being clo&s;e to the gate which is toward Holland, gaue them occa&s;ion to thinke, that they might doe that which they de&s;igned. We knowe it al&s;o to be true, that certaine Sco|ti&s;h men, both in the&s;e parts and in Scotland, made their complaints in the pre&s;ence of Pre|lates and Catholique Princes, that brother Ar|changel was a Cappucin, alleaging manie rea|&s;ons, for the defence of their countrie and the faith, that he &s;hould be per&s;uaded to beare ar|mes as Fa. Archangel the Cappucin Duke of Ioyeu&s;e did in the like exigent. But God did not permitt this, for that what he did not in that kinde, being an vnexerci&s;ed &s;oldiour, he performed more effectually by prayers and teares.</P>
<P>Notwith&s;tanding lea&s;t the profit of the com|mon
<PB N="85" REF="267"> wealth &s;eeme to be neglected, by the lo&s;&s;e of this noble gentleman, let vs &s;ett downe what God wrought by other noble in&s;truments. For at the &s;ame time, God &s;tirred vp the heart and &s;trength of his noble vnkle, who &s;pent his life for the Catholique faith in defending his countrie; Who with a &s;mall number of Catho|lique &s;oldiours, like an other Iudas Macchabaeus, who tru&s;ted not in his number of &s;oldiours but in God, put to flight valiantly his enemies which were heretiques: which victories he gained of|ten in diuer&s;e skirmi&s;hes, and in his la&s;t conflict with them he &s;lewe manie, though his enemies were farre greater in number, and forced manie to yeeld them&s;elues, till at the length the hor&s;e of this warlike Prince &s;troken with a di&s;ea&s;e, &s;tood as &s;tiffe as a &s;take, and would not moue one foote. For the hor&s;e was enchaunted by a cer|taine maide-&s;eruant of a neighbour woman of this noble warriour. The enemie perceiuing his &s;trange &s;tifne&s;&s;e of hor&s;e flying before him, ioyned their forces againe, and tooke courage vpon this aduantage beeing offered to them, by the bewitching of his hor&s;e. Whereupon the Catholique &s;oldiours were al&s;o much trou|bled, and wanting their Generall, both to encourage and lead them, lo&s;t their liues and the battle. Their Gouernour was taken by the enemie, and without anie feeling of humanitie, they cruelly butchered him, cutting off his eares, his no&s;e, his eyelids, and other parts of his bodie,
<PB N="86" REF="268"> left him halfe aliue in the field, when the battle was fought. Not vnhappie to him, if there be due re&s;pect had of the gaine of his &s;oule, who be|fore he gaue vp the gho&s;t, taking a golden key out of his bo&s;ome, with his hand which was halfe cut off, deliuered it to a friend of his, with the&s;e worde which he &s;pake imperfectly. Here is the key of my chappel and oratorie, which was my great &s;olace. Deliuer this to my mo&s;t deare brother, and commend me to him, and require him that in that holie place he call for helpe from God, and prepare him&s;elfe to die nobly for the truth.</P>
<P>This noble leader in this iu&s;t warre was the Mar|quis Huntley, one of the brethren which were &s;laine for the defence of religion, and vnkle to Archangel, whom he did a&s;&s;i&s;t alwaies by feruent prayer and voluntarie affliction of him&s;elfe, &s;o that both folowed their vocation in a diuer&s;e kind; the one in &s;pirit, the other in power and ar|mes: the one in &s;ilence and quiet retraict of minde &s;peaking to God, the other in warlike acts and valiant interpri&s;es: Therfore we are not to thinke, that the common good was hindred by the ab|&s;ence of Archangel, but rather promoted after a more effectuall manner. Neither was it de&s;titute of defenders, by occa&s;ion of his entrie into reli|gion, for God prouided &s;ufficient defendours, ac|cording to the time in which he hath determined to make manife&s;t his iu&s;tice in the Scoti&s;h nation, and the bordering countreis. But you will &s;ay.
<PB N="87" REF="268"> How hath God prouided, &s;eeing that in a man|ner all the Catholiques were ouerthrowne by oc|ca&s;ion of the lo&s;&s;e of this battaile, wherein the Gordons were &s;ubdued? But we mu&s;t not iudge of the vnhappine&s;&s;e of the battle of Catholiques by &s;uch ouerthrowes, as though it were a newe and &s;trang thing, that Chri&s;tians, euen by dying haue carried the victorie, and haue taken the king|dome of heauen by &s;uch violence, and &s;o haue quelled their einmies. For we find by experience, that &s;uch blood&s;hed, doth yeeld great encrea&s;e, &amp; doth bring forth ten fold more noble &amp; heroical per&s;ons in their place, to fight again&s;t the enemie. So after the death of Iudas Macchabeus, whom the Iewes did much lament, as though in humane con&s;ideration they were wholy ouerthrowne, yet it happened that his death was more precious then his life, and &s;tirred vp manie to die valiant|lie, &s;o that the &s;hedding of his blood, did not &s;trike a terrour, but gaue courage to manie Cap|taines of I&s;rael, &s;ucceeding one after an other.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="21" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of the conuer&s;ion of a certaine noble Scot|tish man to the faith: and of his pro|motion to be a Prelate. THE XXI. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>I Will not let pa&s;&s;e here a &s;trange accident, which father Henrie of Aldenrade, the Gardian of
<PB N="88" REF="269"> the Cappucins at Antwerpe, and reader of di|uinitie, affirmed for a truth to me and others, who were vnder his gouerment, when this brother Archangel, and this father remained in the &s;ame Conuent at Li&s;le together, where the yong bre|thren followed their &s;tudies vnder a reader de|puted for them. It happened that two Scoti&s;h yong men came thither, one was of the ranke of Counts, the other of Barons, and both of them neare to him in kindred, but the Count was nea|rer. Both of them came to &s;ee brother Archangel whom they lo~ged much to &s;ee, hauing heard that he was in tho&s;e parts, and &s;o hauing obtained &s;afe conduct, at length they found him at Li&s;le, where they came to the Cappucins Conuent, &amp; enqui|ring after a Scoti&s;h man, were brought to him, whom they de&s;ired to &s;ee and conferre withall.</P>
<P>The Count as &s;oone as he &s;awe brother Ar|changel, fel back ward, being much a&s;toni&s;hed &amp; troubled both in bodie and minde. Brother Ar|changel lifting him vp, asked of what religion he was? when he an&s;wered a Prote&s;tant. Then &s;aid Archangel you are abominable to vs. For the Sa|maritans had not co~merce or fellow&s;hip with the Iewes: purpo&s;ing to vrge him with a &s;harper que|&s;tion, he being much moued thereat was by litle and litle in&s;tructed more fully in the Catholique faith, &amp; was admitted to the rites of Catholiques, and bapti&s;ed vnder co~dition with manie ceremo|nies, &amp; reconciled to the Church. Who doth not wonder at this? Who can &s;earch the &s;ecret con&s;ail
<PB N="89" REF="269"> of God? Two yong men made a long iourney to|gether, both of them came to the Cappucins gate to geather, the one is receiued, the other reiected. The eternal word of truth hath &s;aid it &s;hould be &s;o. God be mercifull to the other, that the feareful for&s;aking be not fulfilled in him.</P>
<P>Moreouer father Henrie did affirme, that B. Ar|changel was of inuincible patience in &s;ickne&s;&s;e &amp; all aduer&s;ities, and inwardly had the &s;piritual ioye of continuall holie meditation and conte~plation. No ma~ knoweth the&s;e ioyes, but tho&s;e who haue them. Heare the &s;ecrete of an auctour illuminated, what fruict there is by this co~merce with a &s;oule wel di&s;po&s;ed. He maketh often vi&s;its to the inter|nall man, and hath &s;weete conference with him, whereupo~ much peace followeth &amp; familiarity to be much wo~dered at, but not able to be expre&s;&s;ed.</P>
<P>When father Archangell at his fit time was made Gardian of Bru&s;&s;els by the co~maund of his &s;uperiour, he refu&s;ed it with exceeding humilitie and ba&s;h-fulne&s;&s;e. For &s;uch a charge, was indeed verie contrarie to his natural di&s;po&s;ition and ba&s;h-fulne&s;&s;e, which made him wi&s;h that he might pa&s;&s;e his time in re&s;t and vnknowen. He laboured to excu&s;e him&s;elfe as wel as he could, &s;ignifying that he was too yong for &s;uch a charge, and like|wi&s;e that he wanted experience, which was re|qui&s;ite in &s;uch a &s;uperiour. But he could not re&s;i&s;t Gods ordination, yet he obtained that the yeare following he might be in &s;ome more &s;e|crete and retired place then neare the Court,
<PB N="90" REF="270"> if he were to &s;u&s;taine the like charge. Where|upon he went to Teneramund, where a Conuent was built by the almes of Spani&s;h &s;oldiours in a mo&s;t conuenient place, which was walled in with a plea&s;ant garden, and a mo&s;t cleare riuer, which did ebbe and flowe twice a day, and had trees and herbes verie nece&s;&s;arie for our &s;ou&s;te|nance. To conclude, It was a place verie fit for a religious retraict, and for &s;ilence and meditation, in which Fa. Archangell was much delighted. There was al&s;o an other brooke which running through the midle of this &s;ituation (vpon the bridge of which brooke we &s;hall vnder&s;tand that fa. Archangel ended his life the day ordained by God) which doth &s;eparate one garden from an other, which further garden was bought by the mo&s;t noble Prince Albert, and giuen in almes to the religious: for he thought that the garden ioy|ning to the hou&s;e before, was not large enough for their nece&s;&s;aries, when he was plea&s;ed to viewe the mona&s;terie of Teneramund, and vouch&s;afed by his per&s;onal pre&s;ence to vi&s;it the religious, and to honour them much with ex|ceeding humanitie, and verie rare in tho&s;e of his ranke.</P>
<P>The reuerend fa. Clement a Flemming, late Guardian of the Cappucins at Bru&s;&s;els, and the pre&s;eruer of this Prouince, who in the yeare 1600. when all the &s;tate began to totter in the we&s;t part of Flanders, by rea&s;on of an ouerthrowe that the heretiques had giuen the Catholiques,
<PB N="91" REF="270"> did greate &s;eruice in encouraging the people of Bruges, being much afraid and amated vpon the victorie of the enemie. This fa. I &s;ay told me, that he earne&s;tly per&s;uaded Archangel, who&s;e inward freind he was, that he would take &s;ome good occa&s;ion to write verie re&s;pectfully and dutifully, yet as forcibly and mouingly by good rea&s;ons as he could, to the mo&s;t potent and great Prince Iames, then kinge of Scotland, to whom he was ioyned in nearene&s;&s;e of blood, and whom he had attended often in his youth, both in the Court and abroad in his hunting and &s;port. Which he did at his reque&s;t, and &s;ent him a letter written in the mother tongue, wherein he &s;hewed how ne|ce&s;&s;arie the profe&s;&s;ion of the Catholique faith was vnto &s;aluation, and in it he did di&s;couer the vanitie of Prote&s;tants, and the odious vn&s;auori|ne&s;&s;e of the Puritans. The king at the &s;ame time pretending the crowne of England, which was fallen to him by the death of Elizabeth, neuer made him anie reply. And Archangel did earne&s;t|lie intreate this father, that he would not reueale it, lea&s;t by this meanes he might make knowne his noble birth, which he did de&s;ire to keepe &s;ecrete.</P>
<P>Fa. Archangell finding great inward gu&s;t and contentment, in the di&s;e&s;teeming and de&s;pi&s;ing of him&s;elfe, in his pouertie, in his long bani&s;h|ment, in the want of carnal comfort, and ab&s;ence of kindred: for the word of Chri&s;t cannot deceiue vs, who hath promi&s;ed one hundred fold recom|pence
<PB N="92" REF="271"> to &s;uch, not only in the life to come, but in this pre&s;ent, did labour out of meere and mo&s;t abundant loue and charitie, to make the afflicted &s;oule of his mother partaker of this &s;pirituall banquet, and he v&s;eth manie meanes to this end, by which the wi&s;edome of God doth aptly di&s;|po&s;e the good of his elect. He was mindfull how his elder brother had lately liued in bani&s;hment, and entred the religion of the Cappucins, and being a religious man, how he had dealt with him by letters and other entercour&s;e, for to be perfectly conuerted to God, and how he per&s;wa|ded him to an auer&s;ion from all vaine comforts of what creatures &s;o euer. Which that he might effectually doe, he coun&s;ailed him to ha&s;ten his flight and departure from his countrie, that &s;oe he might couragiou&s;ly at fir&s;t pa&s;&s;e by rough waies, to come to the plaine and euen way, and to a firme and &s;trong adhe&s;ion and vnion with the fir&s;t fountaine and beginning, full of all de|light and contentment.</P>
<P>He was al&s;o mindfull, how by the prouident and faithfull care of his mother he had beene la|tely deliuered, God protecting him from the wicked &s;nares, from the words of lying, from the vniu&s;t and defiled tongue, from the lips of tho&s;e that worke lies, from the hands of tho&s;e that &s;ought his &s;oule, and from the &s;harpe word of fu|ture iudgement. And therefore his &s;oule with all its forces prai&s;ed God, and being moued to the vertue of Gratitude, he thought to requite it
<PB N="93" REF="271"> towards his mother, and to folow the example of his brother, whom he had found to be a fa|ther to him in &s;pirit, and &s;pirituall proceedings. And that he might begin to giue &s;pirituall com|fort to his deare mother, who liued as a de&s;olate matron in her countrie, he wrote confortable letters to her, and exhorted her to &s;eeke after per|fection of vertue, to which &s;he was verie well prepared and di&s;po&s;ed, hauing ta&s;ted &s;o much of the bitter cup of affliction, and among other things, he per&s;waded her to folow both her &s;on|nes, in abandoning hir countrie.</P>
<P>But how can this be done, where are &s;o manie great per&s;ons of her kindred, who being iealous of her, watch ouer her? Godwill a&s;&s;i&s;t her de|uour de&s;ires, and will heare the prayer of her re|ligious &s;onne. Again&s;t God, neither &s;trength, nor craft, can preuaile. Let vs therefore behold the pro&s;perous arriuall of this matron. The day it not farre off when &s;he will be here, attended only with one handmaid, bringing a few Iewels and precious &s;tones with her. It is reported that &s;he is arriued in the&s;e parts, not without &s;ome cro&s;&s;e accidents, let her not feare to come hither with the leaue of our noble Princes, to make a happie entrie into this land, renowned for wealth and armes, not inferiour to the mo&s;t flouri&s;hing king|domes. Here doth her only &s;onne expect her co|ming, with much longing affection of a dutifull childe.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="22" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="94" REF="272">
<HEAD>The coming of the mother of Archangell into the Lowe-countries. THE XXII. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>NOwe is the greatefull day ariued, wherein the &s;onne receiued fir&s;t his mother at Li&s;le, in the pre&s;ence of his &s;eniour brethren, whom he entertained not with anie outward pompe or fea&s;ting banquets, but in great exultation of the holie Gho&s;t, with great ioy. At the fir&s;t they embraced one the other, and were not able to &s;peake for exceeding ioy. At the length, after this raui&s;hment of ioy, they conferred together, and when they had ended their conference, the reli|gious men came to reioice with this noble Dame for her &s;afe arriuall, and receiued her with all ho|nour po&s;&s;ible they could doe her, and a&s;&s;i&s;ted her being exiled for Chri&s;ts &s;ake, and cheared her with good coun&s;aile and comfort, and &s;hewed all tokens of exceeding charitie towards her. How ioyfull was &s;he, to &s;ee her &s;onne become of a Prote&s;tant, an earne&s;t enemie of al brangling &s;ects, and of an ignorant yong man, who had learned no good letters, to become learned without his fathers expences, and to haue changed his earth|lie domaines and territories, for royall Prie&s;t|hood? The&s;e thinges made her forget all &s;orrowe pa&s;t, being as it were ab&s;orpt in ioyfull prai&s;e of the Creatour.</P>
<PB N="95" REF="272">
<P>Before this meeting, as &s;oone as &s;he came into this countrie (kindled with fire of deuotion) &s;he went to the fir&s;t church which &s;he &s;awe, in which with great reuerence on her knees, &s;he adored the ble&s;&s;ed Sacrament, &s;hedding many teares for ioy. There &s;hee powred forth her heart, in tha~k&s;giuing and other meditations, and continued in them with great feruour and &s;piritual gu&s;t. In the meane while, her handmaide (of a good familie) who attended her faithfully in this voyage and bani&s;h|ment, being as yet tainted with the infection of the religion of the countrie, and to &s;peake the truth, brought vp in here&s;ie, and &s;hortly to be gained to the church, was curious to behold all thinges in the church, and ob&s;erued all her ladies behauiour and her actions: who when &s;he did bowe her &s;elfe, and did reuerence after the man|ner of Catholiques to the Images of Saincts, &s;he looked about her to &s;ee if there were anie per&s;ons of qualitie, to whom her Ladie did this reueren|ce. When &s;he &s;awe no bodie, &s;he asked her La|die and mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, to whom &s;he did v&s;e that reue|rence? To the&s;e noble per&s;onages (&s;aith &s;he) poin|ting a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> the Images of Saints. The maide &s;miled and &s;aid. The&s;e noble per&s;ons are &s;carce well cloathed, for me thinkes they are halfe naked. As &s;he looked about her on euerie &s;ide at length &s;he came neare to S. Chri&s;topher, at the &s;ight of whom &s;he was &s;troken &s;uddenly with feare, and made him a verie lowe reuerence, and pre&s;ently made as much &s;peed as &s;he could to be gone our
<PB N="96" REF="273"> of the church, and there waited for her Ladie. To whom when &s;he asked her why &s;he made &s;uch ha&s;t to be gone, &s;he &s;aid. I was afraid lea&s;t that great man which I &s;awe, would haue &s;troke me with the great &s;taffe on which he leaneth. Her Ladie laught at the &s;tupid &s;implicitie of this yong wench, who as I &s;aid before, was rather brought vp in here&s;ie, then infected with it.</P>
<P>When this yong maide did after enquire of Fa. Archangel, what was meant by that giant like Image of St. Chri&s;topher, wading through the &s;ea, leaning on a &s;taffe, and carrying a yong child vpon his backe, he freindly in&s;tructed her in this manner. Although it be true, that St. Chri&s;to|pher was of a goodly great &s;tature, notwith&s;tan|ding becau&s;e the forme of his &s;oule was much more eminent, and that his &s;pirituall &s;tature was eminent among tho&s;e who liued at the &s;ame time, it came to pa&s;&s;e that painters and grauers, who fir&s;t drewe his Image, did rather &s;eeke to expre&s;&s;e his eminent gifts of vertue wherein he did ex|ceed others, and did rather repre&s;ent his noble mind, then the outward lineaments of his bodie. For the art of grauing and caruing, doth often expre&s;&s;e by certaine vi&s;ible &s;ignes and &s;imbols, that which is &s;pirituall and inui&s;ible, though in progre&s;&s;e of time this &s;imbole occa&s;ioneth the fiction of manie fables, among ignorant per&s;ons, as this particularly of St. Chri&s;topher. Therefore his greatne&s;&s;e, &s;ignifieth the greatne&s;&s;e and ver|tue of his mind, in ouercoming bruti&s;h vices, and
<PB N="97" REF="273"> leaning on the vertue of Chri&s;ts cro&s;&s;e, which is figured by his &s;taffe, he pa&s;&s;ed confidently through the maine &s;ea of this world, which &s;welleth with the billowes of tentations, and &s;o merited to car|rie the child Ie&s;us vpon his &s;houlders, not in his bodie, but in his minde, not outwardly, but in|wardly and &s;piritually. He &s;hewed the effects of his loue and zeale, in preaching Chri&s;t, &s;o that he conuerted eight and fortie thou&s;and &s;oules to Chri&s;t, and &s;o he bore Chri&s;t in his bodie, accor|ding to the &s;peech of the Apo&s;tle, they exhibited Chri&s;t in forme of a child, becau&s;e Chri&s;t is but a litle one in tho&s;e that are newly conuerted to the faith, though he be the gouernour of the whole world, &amp; therefore beareth in his hand the figure of the world. He being preuented with the bene|diction of this child, did &s;ubdue all his enemies. This benediction is repre&s;ented by two fingers of this &s;weete and world-bearing child (the Sa|uiour of the world) which are lifted vp to giue a ble&s;&s;ing. So &s;pirituall arte doth pre&s;ent that to out vnder&s;tanding, vnder &s;en&s;ible &s;imboles &amp; &s;ignes, which is not di&s;plea&s;ing to God and his Saints. For God appearing to the Prophetes, repre&s;ented him&s;elfe by diuer&s;e vi&s;ible &s;ignes, both in the old and new te&s;tament. This maide gaue often occa|&s;ion of mirth when they &s;pake of this matter: but afterward being conuerted, &s;he gaue God thankes for her deliuerance from darkene&s;&s;e, all things cooperating to the elect for their good.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="23" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="98" REF="274">
<HEAD>Fa. Archangel is placed at Antwerpe. His mo|ther folowed him thither, and what things happened to him there. THE XXIII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>FA. Archangel hauing fini&s;hed his cour&s;e of &s;tudies at I&s;le in Flanders, he was &s;ent by his Superiour to Antwerpe, that he might be there Vicar of the Conuent. For one cannot &s;u&s;taine the whole charge alone. But where &s;hall the mo|ther remaine? She will folow without doubt her &s;onne, if opportunitie permitt that &s;he may re|ceiue the nouri&s;hment of mind and &s;pirit from him, whom &s;he had begotten in bodie, and to whom &s;he had &s;o louingly mini&s;tred the nou|ri&s;hment of her mothers milke. Goe on confi|dently (o matron) noble in pietie, in blood, and in thy children, folow thy &s;onne to Antwerpe: The benignitie of the citizens doth inuite thee, yea the nobles are as fauourable and courteous to &s;trangers, as the citizens. Therefore feare not, but thou &s;hall be welcome to them, and to vs who are your &s;onnes brethren.</P>
<P>As &s;oone as Fa. Guardian of this Conuent at Antwerpe, heard that the mother of his Vicar was neare at hand, he prepareth him&s;elfe to re|ceiue this exiled matron of Ie&s;us Chri&s;t, and to giue her all manner of good comfort. This Fa.
<PB N="99" REF="274"> Guardians name was Cornelius of Aecanate, well knowne to the Italians, to the Loue-countrie men, to the Switzers, to the Germans, a man all fierie in performance of brotherly charitie, who for the loue of his Prince and of this countrie, went with an vndaunted courage to tho&s;e &s;edi|tious &s;ouldiours, who had a fewe yeares before attempted the Ca&s;tle of Hoo&s;trate, and with whom he &s;o dealt, that by his words of zeale and feruour, he pacified them and made them &s;ub|mitt them&s;elues to their Prince. At who&s;e &s;peech they were much inwardly moued, but the oath they had giuen to their fellowes being ab&s;ent, held them in the rebellion; yet did they &s;hewe all good re&s;pect to this religious man, by &s;up|plying him with all nece&s;&s;aries, and bringinge him &s;afely on his way. This good Father ho|ped to haue preuailed with them as he had done before with tho&s;e &s;editious &s;oldiours at Wattem, whom he kept by his &s;ermons and exhortations in &s;o good militarie di&s;cipline, as if he had beene their true &s;pirituall father cho&s;en by them. In time he &s;o wonne their hearts that they became mo&s;t peaceable, in &s;o much that it was &s;aid, that this co~motion was not vnprofitable to the coun|trie and common weale, by rea&s;on of the&s;e good &s;eruices which the &s;oldiours did at that time. This good father was made afterward generall Commi&s;&s;arie of the Prouinces of Colen, which charge how wel he performed it is, needle&s;&s;e now to recount.</P>
<PB N="100" REF="275">
<P>But to returne to our purpo&s;e. This reuerend father, commaunded all that were vnder his go|uerment, that they &s;hould doe all good &s;eruices for the comfortt of this noble matron, and he him&s;elfe gaue &s;o good example of all candour and pietie, that he did helpe her by all po&s;&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ble meanes, and by a faithfull interpretour, did make a mo&s;t confortable exhortation to her, being now in affliction and exile for Chri&s;tes &s;ake, &s;o that this &s;econd meeting with her &s;onne, &s;eemed to be more &s;olemne then the fir&s;t. She was &s;o affec|ted at this, that for verie dilatation of heart, &s;he &s;eemed to haue forgotten her husba~d, her daugh|ters, and all her mi&s;eries pa&s;t, being readie as an other Elizabeth, to gaine her liuing by her owne hands, and the arte of her needle or di&s;taffe: Nei|ther did &s;he &s;corne when &s;he liued at Antwerpe (being commended to rich men) to take Almes: and when a marchant &s;ent a peece of gold to her by his &s;eruant, &s;he receiued it with her owne hands, &s;o humbly that manie wondered at this deba&s;ing of her &s;elfe, who refu&s;ed not to take an almes like a poore begger. At length the mo&s;t element Princes hauing commi&s;eration on her, gaue her an hone&s;t yearly pen&s;ion of the Catho|lique king for her maintainance: who notwith|&s;tanding for her greater comfort, followed her &s;onne where&s;oeuer he was &s;ent by his Supe|riours in this Prouince.</P>
<P>Here I mu&s;t not pa&s;&s;e in &s;ilence, what happe|ned to Madame Margarete being at Antwerpe,
<PB N="101" REF="275"> who vpon Ember Wedne&s;day in Aduent, was vp early to heare a &s;olemne Ma&s;&s;e, which was wont to be celebrated euerie yeare in &s;ome great churches, in memorie of the ioyful tidings, which were brought from heauen to mankind, but e&s;pe|cially to the Ble&s;&s;. Virgin. In which morning &s;a|crifice, manie lights burning in a place made to this end, where there was al&s;o a liuely repre&s;en|tation of per&s;ons, &s;itting to expre&s;&s;e the matter, and a doue as it were falling from heauen, in the mid&s;t of this mo&s;t radiant and bright light, that by the&s;e outward ceremonies, the mindes and eyes of the beholders, might be lifted vpp with deuotion, in &s;igne of a ioyfull and reuerend me|morie of &s;o great a benefit, done to vs by the in|finite goodne&s;&s;e of God. At this &s;olemnitie (I &s;ay) this woman was pre&s;ent, &s;hewing much ioy|fulne&s;&s;e and exultation of heart, not accu&s;tomed to &s;ee anie &s;uch thing in her countrie. She being wholy good her &s;elfe, and &s;u&s;pecting no euill, thought that in &s;uch an a&s;&s;embly, there were none who would &s;eeke that which was none of their owne in others pur&s;es. But when her pur&s;e was emptie (for as yet &s;he had receiued nothing of her pen&s;ion graunted to her) and when the theeues could find no monie about her, they lay in waite for her mantle or &s;hort cloake, which was lined after the manner of the countrie with white skins, be-&s;peckled with blacke, which was taken from her &s;houlders in the mid&s;t of the pre&s;&s;e before &s;he was aware,
<PB N="102" REF="276"> and they which tooke it, went away cleanly with it without being knowne. When &s;he perceiued that &s;he had lo&s;t it, &s;he was &s;o farre from complai|ning of this misfortune, that &s;he rather &s;miled at it as an other S. Elizabeth.</P>
<P>Her &s;onne and his brethren the Cappucins, ha|uing compa&s;&s;ion on her, commended her nece&s;|&s;ities to God and to the B. Virgin, and it happe|ned that the &s;ame euening, the&s;e &s;acrilegious per|&s;ons being inwardly pricked in co~&s;cience, brought backe this cloake to the matron, &amp; in&s;ta~ly with|drewe the~&s;elues, that they might not be knowne. Which kind of re&s;titution from the&s;e &s;ort of men, was much wondered at. Therefore S. Peter doth well exhort vs, to tru&s;t in God and not in our &s;elues, becau&s;e he hath care of vs. Why &s;aith Chri&s;t are ye carefull of your garments? God giueth to all aboundantly and vpbraideth none, and that both in &s;piritual things appertaining to the &s;oule, and in corporall things nece&s;&s;arie for our life. For all things come from him, and God hath no &s;mall care of his &s;eruants, as it is euident in this exiled woman the Ladie Margarete, and in her hand-maide, to whom he gaue abilitie to learne the Dutch tongue immediatly after her conuer|&s;ion, that &s;he might be fit to be receiued among the religious &s;i&s;ters of S. Brigit, and gaue her &s;uch grace and courage to enter into this &s;tate of life, that no man could di&s;&s;uade her from it.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="24" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="103" REF="276">
<HEAD>The hand maide of the Ladie Margarete, be|cometh a deuote to God, of the order of Saint Brigit. What happened to the &s;pou&s;e of Ar|changel, left for Gods &s;ake. THE XXIV. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THe maide-&s;eruant, who was the only com|panion to the Ladie Margarete in all her iourney, and bore part of her labours and afflic|tions, and nowe was a comfort to her in &s;eruing for an interpreter to vnder&s;tand the language, will nowe for&s;ake her. What will Archangell her &s;onne doe in this ca&s;e? Will he hinder the good purpo&s;e of this Virgin to giue contentment to his mother? God forbid, that the loue of a mo|ther, be preferred before Gods ordination. Yea rather he encouraged the virgin to goe forward in her good purpo&s;e, and &s;trengthned his mo|ther to be obedient to the will of God, and of her maide-&s;eruant in this ca&s;e. Honourable is this for&s;aking of her Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, to &s;erue God conti|nually among the holie &s;i&s;ters of S. Brigit, who were of &s;o good fame at Teneramund. There &s;he entred and liueth yet. In this we &s;ee her Mi&s;|tre&s;&s;e wholy re&s;igned to the will of God for &s;weete Ie&s;us &s;ake, though &s;en&s;e and &s;en&s;uall affec|tion did much &s;way her to the contrarie.</P>
<P>This virgin as (I &s;aid before) was rather by
<PB N="104" REF="277"> education and out of ignorance an heretique, then by anie obliquitie and peruer&s;ene&s;&s;e of will (for which cau&s;e her mi&s;tre&s;&s;e brought her out of Scotland) &s;o that by the good in&s;tructions of Archangell, and conuer&s;ation of good people, &s;he was &s;o chaunged in a &s;hort time, that &s;he ab|horred the &s;ect of Prote&s;tants, and receiued into the church (according to the cu&s;tome) by the ce|remonies of bapti&s;me, &s;he proceeded euen to the top of true Chri&s;tian perfection. I haue vi&s;i|ted at conuenient times this religious virgin, with the leaue of my Superiour and mother Ab|be&s;&s;e, and haue had conference of edification with her. I thought likewi&s;e and hoped not in vaine, that I might be informed of her in &s;ome matters to my purpo&s;e which either I knewe not, or had forgotten. Therefore when I came to the mona&s;terie at Teneramund, after I had obtained leaue to &s;peake with her, the vaile by a &s;ingular priuiledge was remoued, which couereth the windowe of the &s;peaking place. As &s;oone as &s;he heard me, &s;he remembred my voice, &s;ince that I had &s;peech with her when &s;he dwelt with her La|die and Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e. When I told her that I did en|tend to write the hi&s;torie of Archangels life, &s;he and her religious &s;i&s;ters reioyced not a litle, who euer much honoured him being well knowne to him, and obtained by earne&s;t entreatie his Cappucins Beades. Whereupon taking a litle time of re&s;pit, &s;he recited to me all thinges in order verie &s;hamfa&s;tlie and mode&s;tly, which
<PB N="105" REF="277"> I haue dige&s;ted in their places, whereof &s;ome &s;he had heard often repeated by her Lady and Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, and &s;ome other &s;he had &s;eene with her owne eyes. When I heard this deliuered to me, I had in companie with me, father Adrian a Prie&s;t of Gant, who was a faithfull witne&s;&s;e of this, and did helpe me afterward in remembring that which was related.</P>
<P>At my fare-well, I praid the Virgin, that &s;he &s;hould endeuour to call to minde, if &s;he did yet remember anie thing worthie to be noted concerning Archangell, whether it were done before he left his countrie, or &s;ince. She being al&s;o asked of me, whether &s;he liued there content, hauing no acquaintance nor any freind to vi&s;it her, &s;he an&s;wered &s;he was vn|worthie of the good companie of her religious &s;i&s;ters, and that all other companie was irke|&s;ome to her. For better a&s;&s;urance and credit of her relation, &s;he alleaged a faithfull wit|ne&s;&s;e Mai&s;ter Alexander Ci&s;ton a Scoti&s;h man, exiled for his religion, who had liued long in this countrie, and was able of his owne know|ledge to confirme all that &s;he had &s;aid for a truth: With whom I haue had often and &s;e|rious &s;peech, concerninge this matter, and he did confidentlie auouch, that the life of Archangell was like the life of Saint Alexius in manie thinges, in for&s;akinge his coun|trie, in his lacke of meate and drinke, in his de&s;tre&s;&s;es, labours, pouertie, nakedne&s;&s;e, trauaile
<PB N="106" REF="278"> to foraine countries, and e&s;pecially in leauing his &s;pou&s;e.</P>
<P>I &s;uppo&s;e nowe the reader doth long &s;ince de|&s;ire to know, what became of his de&s;olate &s;pou&s;e, and what cour&s;e &s;he taketh in the ab&s;ence of her husband, and whiles he prayeth vnce&s;&s;antly for her, whether &s;he be endued with light in her vn|der&s;tanding, and taketh courage accordingly. How gracious and mercifull is God! This mai|den being e&s;pou&s;ed, or rather promi&s;ed to Iohn Forbe&s;e, at thirteene yeares of age, was brought vp and &s;trongly imbued from her infancie with here&s;ie, yet not long time after folowinge the councell of her &s;pou&s;e, after that dolefull &s;epara|tion, was conuerted to the Catholique faith, and &s;ecretely reconciled to the Catholique church, by the meanes of the fore&s;aid deuout father of the &s;ocietie of Ie&s;us, and was &s;trengthened and confirmed by the Sacraments of the church. O how often (her &s;pou&s;e being ab&s;ent from her) did &s;he commend her &s;oule to Almightie God, to the Ble&s;&s;ed Virgin, and St. Francis, praying that the corruption of th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">t nation, might haue no power to &s;eaze vpon her! His prayers hee offered to God in the&s;e and the like wordes.</P>
<P>O mo&s;t &s;weete Ie&s;us, louer of mankind, au|thour and infu&s;er of all cha&s;t and pure councell, heare the prayer of thy faithfull exiled &s;eruant, and receiue graciou&s;ly my humble petition. Let teares trickling downe my cheekes moue thee, let &s;ight sighs from the bottome of my heart take place
<PB N="107" REF="278"> with thee. The prayers of the humble and litle ones, haue euer beene plea&s;ing to thee, who doe&s;t di&s;po&s;e of them &s;weetly according to time and place. Behold the voice of her &s;pou&s;e is heard in heauen, and &s;he prayed for her &s;elfe, in per|&s;i&s;tinge in pious workes, and obeying her in|&s;tructour.</P>
<P>It was decreed in the con&s;i&s;torie of the mo&s;t Bl. Trinitie, that the beloued &s;oule of this virgin, &s;hould leaue her cha&s;t bodie, and be taken from it by the mini&s;terie of Angels, and to be rewarded with eternall bli&s;&s;e, on the di&s;mall and prefixed day of the departure of her be&s;t beloued. Soe &s;he ended her life after two yeares had pa&s;&s;ed, &s;ince her husbands for&s;aking of his countrie, whom within a few yeares after, Archangel and his mo|ther will folow. In this &s;hort time of her conuer|&s;ion, Archangels &s;pou&s;e gained her &s;i&s;ter, who abandoning her natiue &s;oile, went to Rome, where as yet &s;he liueth, giuing her &s;elfe to Catholique deuotion, till it &s;hall plea&s;e God to call her to him, and ioyne her with this ble&s;|&s;ed companie.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="25" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The death of the mother of B. Archangel and the constancie of both of them therin. THE XXV. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>WHo is there now if he marke wel, how &s;weet|lie and powerfullie, and by how conuenient
<PB N="108" REF="279"> meanes, God hath wrought the &s;aluation of the&s;e his elects, by drawing them to him one af|ter an other mo&s;t graciou&s;ly, but will reioyce in &s;pirit with Chri&s;t, and &s;ay. I confe&s;&s;e to thee o father Lord of heauen and earth, becau&s;e thou ha&s;t hid the&s;e thinges from the wi&s;e and prudent, and ha&s;t reuealed them to litle ones; yea Father for &s;oe hath it well plea&s;ed thee. In this truly ap|peared the bountie &amp; goodne&s;&s;e of our Sauiour: Wherefore not without cau&s;e was the voice of reioycing heard in the tabernacle of the iu&s;t, but &s;pecially in the tabernacle of the minde of the Ladie Margarete, who &s;eeing the&s;e greate wor|kes of God in her two &s;onnes, and other per|&s;ons before mentioned, being nowe po&s;e&s;&s;ed of her de&s;ires, did begin with iu&s;t Simeon to &s;ing. <HI>Lord now lett thy &s;eruant depart in peace, becau&s;e mine eyes haue &s;eene thy &s;aluation. I de&s;ire to be di&s;&s;olued and to be with thee. Lett my combate be ended. I haue fought a good combate, I haue finis|hed my cour&s;e, I haue kept the faith.</HI> For now &s;he began to be &s;icke, and verie grieuou&s;lie in the iudgement of the Phi&s;itians. Now therefore o God mightie Creatour, who doe&s;t giue life to mortall men, and take&s;t it from them when thou wilt. Thou doe&s;t take that &s;pirit againe which thou gaue&s;t. Thou doe&s;t take away their &s;piritt and they faile and returne into their du&s;t, not that thou doe&s;t bring in corruption or death, of which (o fountaine of life) thou can&s;t not be the authour, for God did not make death,
<PB N="109" REF="279"> but thou leafte&s;t mans bodie to his owne na|ture, which like water not kept within its ban|kes, falleth vpon the earth and peri&s;heth. For euen as a torch-light is nouri&s;hed by the waxe of which it is made, if it be turned downeward, is pre&s;entlie extingui&s;hed, becau&s;e the waxe melteth and wa&s;teth away too fa&s;t not without crackling of the flames: Soe &s;urely the creature is held in the hands of the Creatour, either vp|right that it may liue, or turned downe-ward that it may peri&s;h.</P>
<P>Now o mo&s;t mightie Creatour, who ha&s;t &s;ett the bound of euerie one which cannot be pa&s;&s;ed, if it be decreed by thee to put an end to the life of thy &s;eruant Margarete, and a litle after to her &s;on|nes life, ble&s;&s;ed be thy will which is holie, well plea&s;ing, and perfect, which we be&s;eech to en|cline in mercie to thy faithfull &s;eruant Marga|rete. O &s;weet Ie&s;us our Sauiour, behold the tra|uailes of thy exiled &s;eruant, which &s;he hath &s;u&s;tai|ned &s;toutly for thy ble&s;&s;ed name, and for the faith of thy church. O holy &s;pirit comfort her, thou that art the &s;trength of the weake. O mo&s;t B. Tri|nitie helpe her, becau&s;e thou doe&s;t now begin to lay vpon her &s;ickne&s;&s;e and infirmities, vnle&s;&s;e by this afflicting her thou doe&s;t meane to vi&s;ite her, and inuite her louingly to thy kingdome, to the rewardes which thou ha&s;t promi&s;ed and eternall retribution. She wanteth (o Lord) the comfort of her only &s;onne, whom &s;he followed at the fir&s;t euen to Teneramund,
<PB N="110" REF="280"> not &s;o much for her naturall motherly comfort, as &s;pirituall food of her &s;oule, both by good in&s;truc|tions and by Sacramentall Confe&s;&s;ions (her &s;onne hauing lice~ce to mini&s;ter to her becau&s;e &s;he could not finde a Prie&s;t who vnder&s;tood the Scoti&s;h tongue, neither could &s;he &s;peake Dutch.) But her &s;onne &s;eeing that his mother was well aduanced in &s;pirituall life, and hauing found an Engli&s;h Prie&s;t which liued at Antwerpe, of whom &s;he might receiue the Sacrament of pennance, be|gan by litle and litle for her better perfection, to with-drawe him&s;elfe from her, and at length dealt with her to goe to Antwerpe, that &s;he might wholy want his pre&s;ence, and learne to be content in enioying thee only o God. A&s;&s;i&s;t her now (o Lord) thou knowe&s;t how wil|lingly &s;he obeyed her &s;onne, and with how greate con&s;tancie &s;he permitted her &s;elfe to de|part from him.</P>
<P>After her departure from her &s;onne &s;he was alwayes &s;ickly and weake, hauing made &s;o ab&s;o|lute re&s;ignation but &s;he grewe &amp; encrea&s;ed much in &s;pirit. Her di&s;ea&s;e groweth more and more, dayly her &s;trength faileth her, &s;he prayeth with groanes of de&s;i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">e. <HI>O let me rest and &s;leepe in peace.</HI> Tho&s;e who a&s;&s;i&s;t her, an&s;wer. Re&s;t in our Lord faithfull and holie matron. She &s;aith. I re&s;t will|ingly, but one thing I will aske of God, that my beloued &s;onne Archangel, may be &s;hortly with me, and may recouer the reward of his fidelitie, and his labours in the kingdome of heauen. I
<PB N="111" REF="280"> haue &s;ent before mee my elde&s;t &s;onne, who was a &s;oldiour &s;eruing vnder the banner of the Cro&s;&s;e in the Cappucins order of S. Francis, hauing obtai|ned tho&s;e heauenly rewards, and I de&s;ire my bo|die may be enterred by his bodie, which is to be glorified, and lieth nowe buried in Gaunt, in the church of the Cappucins. Doubt not, o pious Dame, but thy will &s;hall be herein fulfilled: as it was.</P>
<P>It is euident by the te&s;timonie of M. Alexan|der Ca&s;ton a Scoti&s;h man, that the Ladie Marga|rete foretold the day of her death &s;ix weekes be|fore, in the&s;e or the like wordes. O Alexander, my mo&s;t faithfull friend and countriman, on &s;uch a day (which was the fea&s;t of the circumci&s;ion) I &s;hall leaue this world and goe to God, my mo&s;t pure beginning, whom I haue wi&s;hed for, whom I haue loued, to whom though I haue done litle &s;eruice, yet I haue loued with &s;incere affection. When the time of her departure drewe on, Alex|ander asked her, if &s;he did de&s;ire that her &s;onne &s;hould be &s;ent for to her from Teneramund (for there he was Superiour, and &s;he lay &s;icke at An|twerpe) &s;he an&s;wered, that &s;he was willing to want her &s;onne, to the end that &s;he might more purely and more inwardlie enioy God, without anie thing betweene God and her, and without anie impediment. This was a manife&s;t &s;igne of her &s;anctitie and perfection: but &s;aith &s;he. Require my &s;onne from me, as opportunitie &s;erueth, to giue thankes to the mo&s;t clement Princes for
<PB N="112" REF="281"> their charitie to me, and their pen&s;ion which they procured me from the Catholique king.</P>
<P>Therefore after &s;he had receiued the ble&s;&s;ed Sacrament, and extreme vnction, her mo&s;t pure &s;pirit went to heauen. And becau&s;e &s;he was wil|ling to want that humane con&s;olation, which &s;he in motherly affection had by her &s;onne, I doubt not but by this abnegation, &s;he receiued an hundred fold, according to the promi&s;e of our Sauiour, both in this life, in her body, and now in her &s;oule. When fa. Archangell vnder&s;tood this by faithfull me&s;&s;engers, he was &s;o farre from being moued with &s;orrowe, or anie humane pa&s;|&s;ion, that he rather gaue infinite thankes to God, that he had giuen her &s;uch courage, that &s;he cau|&s;ed others to admire her vertue, in this conflict which &s;he had with death. It is the priuiledge of a &s;pirituall man, that no accident what&s;oeuer can make him &s;ad, not death it &s;elfe. For no aduer&s;itie hurteth, where no iniquitie beareth &s;way. Death it &s;elfe is an entrance to the iu&s;t to heauen, which way made the feete of this deuoute &s;oule &s;tand in thy courts o Hieru&s;alem, o citie to be enquired out of vs. Therefore father Archangell vpon ti|dings of his mothers departure, brake out into the&s;e words. I reioyced in that which was &s;aid to me, we will goe into the hou&s;e of our Lord. Shall I &s;hortly follow my deare mother? what can be more gratefull to me! O happie pa&s;&s;age out of this world to heauen! o happie &s;ocietie! o forgetfulne&s;&s;e of all euills! o &s;hort time, if that
<PB N="113" REF="281"> &s;hort time be yet remaining, how long will it &s;eeme to me! In the meane while (o mo&s;t deare mother) I will doe the office of a faithfull reli|gious &s;onne. I will not be wanting to you in the powerfull &s;acrifices and &s;uffrages of my brethren, according to the laudable manner of our order, to expre&s;&s;e all due &s;ignification of a gratefull minde. Yee haue &s;eene o Burge&s;&s;es of Antwerpe and Teneramund, this womans pious and ver|tuous conuer&s;ation. Pray therefore for her &s;weete and eternall re&s;t.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="26" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Of how great expectation Archangel was, and how vnwilling to take anie charge of &s;uperio|ritie, and how humble he was in it. THE XXVI. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>IN the meane while (o Archangel) prepare thy &s;elfe to a &s;peedie pa&s;&s;age, out of this world to the eternall father, who hath alreadie taken thy mother and thy brother, in<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">o eternall taberna|cles. For what will God denie to his faithfull &s;eruant, who hath begged of him in the other life, that &s;he might pre&s;ently enioy thy compa|nie? Wherupon I &s;eeme to heare thy religious brethren, mourning and breaking into words of griefe and &s;orowe. Shall we (&s;ay they) be depri|ued of &s;o deare and well de&s;eruing a father, and mo&s;t &s;weete Brother? Alas &s;hall the order lee&s;e
<PB N="114" REF="282"> &s;uch a &s;tay and comfort? Shall the glorie of youth faile in the mid&s;t of his cour&s;e? But thy beloued &s;oule was plea&s;ing to Chri&s;t, and was full of wi&s;|dome, and the age of a wi&s;e per&s;on, is not mea|&s;ured by the number of yeares. It is a ioyfull thing to call to minde, how he did euerie where &s;hine in example to his brethren, in &s;ingular pro|bitie, and maturitie of life and manners, which was tempered with a &s;weete grauitie, how pea|ceable, &s;obre, mode&s;t, and cha&s;t he was, and how &s;paring in his diet. For he being a rigid ob&s;eruer of mona&s;ticall di&s;cipline, had irreconcileable warre with bellie cheare, being mo&s;t humble in all his wordes and actions.</P>
<P>For though he was exalted to the function of a Preacher, &amp; burden&s;ome honour of a Superiour, euen while he was yong, yet did not the&s;e things (which often cau&s;e &s;ome &s;welling and tickling of pride in that age) any whit alter him, yea he was the &s;ame man, not lee&s;ing one inch of his for|mer &s;ubmi&s;ne&s;&s;e, but rather kept that decencie befitting him, without anie outward &s;taine: in &s;o much that the ancient fathers of the order, much moued by his cariage, cho&s;e him for Dif|finitour or one of the foure coun&s;ailours, who are ioyned with the Prouinciall for the go|uernment of the religious of the Prouince. In which place he behaued him&s;elfe &s;o, that he cau|&s;ed manie to hope that he &s;hould be Prouinciall in a &s;hort time, and a man worthie of that charge. Yea the verie reuerend Fa. Archangel of Arimi|num,
<PB N="115" REF="282"> a mo&s;t graue man, and one who had de&s;er|ued exceedingly well of our order, hauing beene manie yeares Procuratour generall for the order in the Court of Rome, as al&s;o Diffinitour in the generall Chapter, who moreouer was &s;ent Com|mi&s;&s;arie and generall Vi&s;itour, to manie Prouin|ces on this &s;ide the Alpes and beyond, thought it verie expedient that he &s;hould be lent into Scot|land and Britannie to preach <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">s an other Apo&s;tle of Euangelicall truth, by an <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1+ letters">dult from the Sea Apo&s;tolique. This reuerend Father when he did vi&s;it the Prouinces of the Lowe-countries, had &s;ecretely determined this mi&s;sion of Archangel, as the Reuerend Fa. Francis an Iri&s;h man borne, well knowne for his &s;ufficiencie both in Schola|&s;ticall and my&s;tical diuinitie, lately generall Com|mi&s;&s;arie of the Prouince of Colen, who much re&s;pected our Archangel, told me. But God cal|ling him to him&s;elfe, preuented his mi&s;&s;ion into Britannie.</P>
<P>Here I may fitly &s;hewe by occa&s;ion of his ad|uancement to &s;uperioritie, that this was one of the greate&s;t inward afflictions which he had, at lea&s;t in his e&s;timation, that he was promoted being yet yong to the dignitie of Prie&s;thood, and afterward by vertue of obedience, to &s;uperioritie. Whereas the&s;e promotions and titles of honour were much contrarie to his humilitie, which was naturally inbred in him, and augmented by his owne indu&s;trie. For who doth not &s;ee by the for|mer di&s;cour&s;e of his life, that he was truly poore
<PB N="116" REF="283"> in &s;pirit. Yet when as it is not lawfull to re&s;i&s;t the &s;ecrete prouidence of God, and his Superiours ordinance, he did violently force him&s;elfe, and executed diligently the charge vndertaken, and inwardly fought again&s;t tho&s;e honours, which were outwardly giuen to him, which he had done a while before again&s;t the di&s;e&s;teeming and di&s;pi&s;ing of others. In both the&s;e combates he &s;hewed him&s;elfe verie dexterous, both in pa|tiently and cheerefully accepting deba&s;ements, and in attributing tho&s;e honours not done to him but to God, by making a vigorous and wi&s;e reflexion on the excellencie of God.</P>
<P>Both the&s;e vertues are hard to attaine, it &s;ee|meth more ea&s;ie and plea&s;ing to commaund, then to be commaunded, to enioyne pennance, than to take it, to be &s;erued of others, then to &s;erue o|thers. But fa. Archangel was otherwi&s;e minded wee haue &s;eene him often when he was to forbid anie thing, or to commaund his bre|thren who were &s;ubiect to him, exerci&s;ing his au|thoritie with wonderfull reuerence and mode|&s;tie. For he did be&s;eech the elder according to the coun&s;el of St. Paul as fathers, where in he &s;hewed the ingenuitie of his noble nature. But when mona&s;ticall di&s;cipline was to be ob&s;erued &s;tricktly (for without exerci&s;e of &s;harpene&s;&s;e the edge of it would growe blunt) he was more grie|ued in him&s;elfe when pennance was to be impo|&s;ed vpon others, then the delinquents or offen|dours, euer mixing and tempering the oile of
<PB N="117" REF="283"> mercie with the wine of iu&s;tice. If a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> anie time anie great puni&s;hment were to be inflicted, he would take part of the pennance vpon him&s;elfe, as though it were &s;ome great matter of gaine, and &s;o did he heape vp to him&s;elfe, greater merit by this newe way, wherein God directed him, I meane in this manner of exerci&s;ing others, then he did before when he was exerci&s;ed by others.</P>
<P>He was alwaies more willing to doe anie thing of labour with his owne hands, then to haue commaunded others to haue done it, if it had beene lawfull &s;o to haue done. He was ordina|rily the fir&s;t and the la&s;t in the common exerci&s;es of his brethren, e&s;pecially in tho&s;e which were ba&s;e and vile, and what&s;oeuer he had done when he was a &s;imple clerke, he did not forbeare to doe nowe. He was diligent in vi&s;iting the &s;icke, and comforting them mo&s;t &s;weetly, and in pro|uiding verie affectionately, all nece&s;&s;aries for them. He was not wanting to doe ba&s;e offices in &s;weeping and making cleane their chambers, and wa&s;hing and emptying tho&s;e vncleane ve&s;&s;els, which be v&s;efull for &s;icke per&s;ons. He &s;eemed to haue that &s;aying of St. Francis, deepely imprin|ted in his mind, which he doth inculcate in hi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter"> rule. If a mother doth nouri&s;h and loue her car|nall &s;onne, how much more ought one to loue and nouri&s;h his &s;pirituall brother. If anie fall &s;ick, the re&s;t ought to &s;erue him, as they would them|&s;elues be &s;erued in the like nece&s;&s;itie. So is the au|&s;teritie of pouertie mitigated by remembrance of
<PB N="118" REF="284"> mutuall brotherly loue, whereby they knowe <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">hat they are to be cheri&s;hed, and &s;o taking cou|rage are content with aduer&s;itie.</P>
<P>He kept nothing to him&s;elfe; If anie had asked his garment, or his cloake of him by the lea&s;t in|timation, he pre&s;ently would &s;trippe him&s;elfe and giue it him as I haue &s;eene, although the change were made to his lo&s;&s;e. So in other matters, if he did perceiue that an other mans things were wor&s;e then his, he was readie (ob&s;eruing an ho|ne&s;t decencie) to depriue him&s;elfe of his for their benefit. Neither did this Euangelicall per&s;on, ob|&s;erue the precept of Cato, Keepe thine owne. He &s;ett his heart vpon nothing, he did abandon co|uetou&s;ne&s;&s;e, he did po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e all things in com|mon, he had a &s;peciall care to be&s;towe vpon o|thers what was in his power, choo&s;ing rather al|waies to giue, e&s;pecially of &s;pirituall gifts giuen by God to him, with which when he was richly furni&s;hed, there was none more meeke, more milde, more affable then he, &s;o that anie way an other might be gained to Chri&s;t, or be holpen in anie hone&s;t and nece&s;&s;arie affaire.</P>
<P>Howe pure his hands were, and how full of good workes, how well they were &s;oftned with the oile of mercie, which were prepared euerie day to offer vp the holie and maie&s;tical &s;acrifice to God the father for the quicke and the dead, how ince&s;&s;antly almo&s;t were they lifted to God, how laborious were they in profitable employ|ments, con&s;tant in a true confidence, how well
<PB N="119" REF="284"> enformed to intercede for tho&s;e that are of the hou&s;e-hold of faith. To conclude, they were &s;o plentifully watered with cele&s;tiall dewe, that they did not only releiue him, but others. Hence was it, that he celebrated Ma&s;&s;e with &s;o great at|tention of minde, and &s;o reuerent outward deuo|tion, that he was as it were &s;u&s;pended from him &s;elfe in a holie kind of raui&s;hment, and both heart and fle&s;h did reioice in the liuing God. There was none which did not de&s;ire much to &s;erue him when he was &s;acrificing, and to communicate at his hands, hoping that their dulne&s;&s;e &amp; drow|&s;ine&s;&s;e could not but be wakened by his feruour and attention, and kindled or rather inflamed by his Colloquie with God, which was &s;o pure and all on fire.</P>
<P>There was no &s;mall contentment to behold his angelicall countenance, his delicate bodie, wa&s;ted with long ab&s;tinence and fa&s;ting, which was nothing but skine and bones, and &s;eemed to approach neare to a &s;pirituall &s;ub&s;tance. He ther|fore was &s;uch a Prie&s;t as St. Gregorie requireth, that is a &s;tone of &s;alt, &s;ett before bea&s;ts which they are to licke and to be fatned therby. He had &s;o much care what he might &s;ay to euerie one, &amp; how he might admoni&s;h them, that who&s;oeuer kept companie with him, did profit much by him, and was &s;ea&s;oned with a feruour of eternall life, by the touching as it were of this &s;alt.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="27" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="120" REF="285">
<HEAD>How fa. Archangel was adorned with the gift of the holy Ghost, and of other vertues. THE XXVII. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>WHo&s;oeuer &s;hall diligently con&s;ider with him &s;elfe, &s;hall finde that he was enriched with the &s;eauenfold operation of the holie Gho&s;t, or with the gifts thereof, by a&s;cending all the de|grees, and likewi&s;e with the eight beatitudes ac|cording to St. Augu&s;tine, and to haue attained other vertues in no &s;mall mea&s;ure. And to begin with the gift of the feare of God (which is the be|ginning of wi&s;edome) how poore became he in &s;pirit when he de&s;pi&s;ed earthly things, and tram|pled vpon the pompe and glorie of the world? Yet this did not occa&s;ion anie &s;welling of pride, for he thought mo&s;t b<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;ely of him&s;elfe, and did ca&s;t him&s;elfe downe profoundly in con&s;ideration of him&s;elfe, which he e&s;teemed as nothing. He did obey all for God, &s;ubmitt him&s;elfe to others, and continue in true humilitie, &amp; childlike feare.</P>
<P>For the gift of pietie, it is vaine now to repeate here how milde and meeke he was. For the gift of &s;cience his often trickling teares, his deepe of|ten &s;ights and groanes for the time lo&s;t, and the neglect of the mo&s;t &s;oueraigne good, may &s;uffi|ciently demo&s;trate it to vs. For the gift of forti|tude, what force and violence did he not v&s;e to|wards him&s;elfe, that he might withdrawe him|&s;elfe
<PB N="121" REF="285"> from tho&s;e things, with which he was en|tangled by the pe&s;tilent &s;weetne&s;&s;e of them; and likewi&s;e might re&s;i&s;t couragiou&s;ly all euill mo|tions and &s;ugge&s;tions? To performe this the bet|ter, he had the gift of coun&s;ell infu&s;ed in him, from aboue, that he might helpe anie weaker then him&s;elfe wherein he could if he would re|quire helpe in di&s;tre&s;&s;e of one &s;tronger then him|&s;elfe. So that he extending the bowells of mercie to euerie one, found mercie him&s;elfe. And he ob|tained cleanne&s;&s;e of heart by his continuall good employments for him&s;elfe and others (for idle men are for the mo&s;t part vncleane) &s;o that he was fitt to contemplate that &s;oueraigne good, which can onlie be di&s;cerned by a pure and cleare vn|der&s;tanding. And certainly there could not but the la&s;t gift of wi&s;edome be infu&s;ed of the holy Gho&s;t into &s;o pure an vnder&s;tanding, to pacifie and moderate the whole man, and to make him the &s;onne of God, I meane in likene&s;&s;e. And who dur&s;t &s;peake this, vnle&s;&s;e the naturall &s;onne of God had giuen this honour to the &s;onnes of men by his merits?</P>
<P>Archangel confirmed in this peace and tran|quillitie of minde, was able to &s;u&s;taine all aduer|&s;ities and per&s;ecutions for Chri&s;ts &s;ake and for iu|&s;tice. O &s;auoury and &s;weete wi&s;edome, how fewe know thee, how happie are they that ta&s;t it, and drinke out of it a &s;ober drunkenne&s;&s;e! How vn|knowne are &s;uch men to the world, who&s;e &s;im|ple and true Chri&s;tian conuer&s;ation no man ea&s;ily
<PB N="122" REF="286"> marketh? Hauing receiued this gift, he was &s;weete and gratious to all in his conuer&s;ation, readie to make him&s;elfe common to all, not verie &s;euere but gentle, and ful of compa&s;&s;ion towards al, per|forming all thinges, not in di&s;traction of anxie|tie, but in the &s;olid and true vnitie of charitie.</P>
<P>Chri&s;t loued this faithfull &s;oldiour, being en|dued with vertue from aboue, as he was loued in this world of his Father, and &s;o con&s;equently &s;ent him not to temporall ioyes, but to great combates, not to honours but to di&s;graces and contempts, not to re&s;t but to labours, not to re|po&s;e but to bring forth much fruict in patience. So hauing di&s;po&s;ed in his hart his &s;cale of a&s;cen|&s;ions, he went from vertue to vertue, and &s;awe the God of Gods in Sion, in the mo&s;t &s;ecrete re|traict of his minde, in the bottome of his &s;oule, after a manner not knowne to all. Ri&s;e here and be enlightned o Hieru&s;alem, I &s;ay o deuout &s;ou|le, becau&s;e the glorie of our Lord is ri&s;en vpon thee, and thou art brought euen to behold his Highne&s;&s;e, &s;tearing thee with the light, thou art rapt into the louely and infinite abi&s;&s;e of his diui|nitie, and brought into a mo&s;t cleare knowledge of thy owne nothing. True peace and true ioye, are mini&s;tred vnto thee, and the fire of feruent prayer inflaming the temple of thy &s;oule, draw|ing all thy forces and faculties to it, that thou maie&s;t there adore God in &s;pirit and truth. Let the mi&s;t of earthly con&s;iderations be farre hence, and the &s;moke of worldlie wi&s;edome. Therefore
<PB N="123" REF="286"> prai&s;e and glorie be to thee (o wi&s;edome of the father) becau&s;e thou ha&s;t multiplied the&s;e thy gifts in this religious brother, for all things are gouerned by thy wi&s;edome.</P>
<P>Since now we haue &s;eene thee (o Archangel) &s;o richly furni&s;hed with the gifts of the holie Gho&s;t, we will nowe &s;ee how well that precious golden chaine of vertues which St. Peter made, doth become thee, that of the&s;e radiant and &s;hi|ning rings &s;et together, thou maie&s;t be adorned as it were with a regall pre&s;ent. For who can de|nie it to be due to thee, when thou ha&s;t valiant|lie ringed and hemmed in them all the powers of thy &s;oule, and ha&s;t laboured to &s;ubdue inordi|nate pa&s;&s;ions in thy neighbours, &amp; in thy charge committed to thee, not only admini&s;tred words, as mini&s;ters of words were wont to doe, neither ha&s;t &s;hewed a faith de&s;titute of workes and other vertues, but as a Chri&s;tian Catholique in name and deed, ha&s;t mini&s;tred in faith vertue, in ver|tue knowledge, in knowledge ab&s;tinence, in ab|&s;tinence patience, in patience pietie, in pietie loue of brotherly fellow&s;hip, in loue of brotherly fel|low&s;hip charitie, with all which vertues being at|tended, thou can&s;t not be called blind nor feeling with the hand (thy way) but that thou being girt with vertue, treading the right path, thou ha&s;t ar|riued at the place of heauenly re&s;t.</P>
<P>And thou (o S. Peter) hauing beene bound with tho&s;e dreadfull chaines in Iudea, wherein thou wa&s;t kept till death, ha&s;t well de&s;erued to
<PB N="124" REF="287"> make this glorious chaine for the benefit of po|&s;teritie. Obtaine o Bl. Apo&s;tle by thy prayers hel|pe from aboue, that we may be girt and adorned with it. This thy doctrine hath a &s;weete &s;ound, but it is &s;harpe to the Lukewarme, who forgett their old offences, the weight whereof, as it were chaining cordes, doth pull them downe into the pitt of hell. But our mo&s;t wi&s;e and iu&s;t Archan|gel, hauing folowed thy whol&s;ome doctrine, when he &s;hall behold thee a neare a&s;&s;e&s;&s;our of the great iudge, and weare this ine&s;timable chaine, he certainely &s;hall haue thy hand to helpe him, and to drawe him to the glorie of heauen, where he &s;hall &s;ecurely triumph.</P>
<P>This chaine (o my brother) worne about thy necke, made of &s;uch radiant precious &s;tones of vertues, doth now &s;end forth a great lu&s;tre into the eyes of the beholders, which we doe deuout|lie reuerence, when as thou doe&s;t offer it to vs to be imbraced with a holy imitation. Therefore thou art ble&s;&s;ed and &s;halt be foreuer, who ha&s;t re|ceiued more of God, then thou could&s;t aske or hope for; Honour and glorie be to him, of whom being mo&s;t mightie and &s;trong, thou ha&s;t beene &s;o &s;weetly fo&s;tered in great preuenting grace, as al&s;o &s;ub&s;equent, that thou grewe&s;t to that &s;trength that thou did&s;t not &s;eeme to trangre&s;&s;e one title or yot of the rule of St. Francis, ob&s;eruinge it wholy both in formall precepts &amp; equipollents, in all the hole&s;ome admonitions and &s;weete ex|hortations of it: yea he ob&s;erued the Con&s;titu|tions
<PB N="125" REF="287"> of the order, and diuers ordinances of Su|periours, made according as occa&s;ion of time re|quired, as exactly as human frailtie can doe, with mo&s;t rigorous endeauours, and euer re&s;pected them with all filiall reuerence.</P>
<P>No man can hardly performe the&s;e things, vn|le&s;&s;e he be able to &s;ing with the &s;pou&s;e in the Can|ticles to the eares of her beloued. <HI>His left hand is vnder my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.</HI> His left hand is vnder the head of the &s;pou&s;e, lea&s;t the feruour of faith growe lukewarme in her. Farre be it, that &s;he hurt it, but as a &s;ubtill and warie &s;erpent, keepe the head of his faith &s;afe and &s;ound. But his right hand embraceth his &s;pou&s;e, that &s;he doth not only keepe the commaunde|ments and lawes of God, but al&s;o endeauoureth to execute the Coun&s;els of &s;upererogatio~s accor|ding to her vowe, not without much inward reioycing and exultation of &s;pirit, and &s;o reioy|ceth to offer her &s;elfe, a liuing and plea&s;ing &s;acri|fice to God, in all rea&s;onable &s;eruices. The left hand is vnder the head of the &s;pou&s;e in time of tribulation, and the right hand cheri&s;hing her in time of con&s;olation. By enterchange of both Fa. Archangel knewe what is the holie plea&s;ing and perfect will of God, by which experience he be|came in &s;ome manner perfect, and not a litle practi&s;ed in &s;pirituall life, and conuer&s;ant in the my&s;ticall practi&s;e of it. Prai&s;e and thankes be gi|uen to the infinite power of God, who cho&s;e this his &s;eruant, and made him conformable to
<PB N="126" REF="288"> him&s;elfe, hauing made him to be willing and to be able and potent in Chri&s;t Ie&s;us our Lord.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="28" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>Archangel is &s;ent to Dixmunde, there he con|uerteth more then three hundred Scotish|men from here&s;ie to the Catholique faith. He compo&s;eth a &s;edition ri&s;en betweene the Spaniards and the Scotishmen. He falleth &s;icke of his la&s;t di&s;ea&s;e. THE XXVIII. CHAPTER.</HEAD>
<P>IN the meane while, the Reuerend Prouin|ciall of the Cappucins, exhorted him in this manner &s;aying. Goe Fa. Archangel whether thy &s;peedie obedience doth inuite thee, that now thy end approaching (if we beleiue the words of thy mother) thou maie&s;t like a torch almo&s;t &s;pent, &s;end forth more cleare light, both by thy ardour in preaching the word of God, and in attractiue example of life. The companies and bands of &s;ol|diours of thy nation, who are in darkene&s;&s;e and langui&s;h with hunger of the foode of the heauen|lie word, doe want the foode and reliefe of thy doctrine, yea and they haue the &s;ame common tongue, they will not refu&s;e thee being well knowne. Thou art expected and inuited to Dix|mund, in the We&s;t part of Flanders, thou &s;halt be welcome to the burge&s;&s;es, and to thy countri|men there. A harue&s;t of &s;oules waiteth for thee,
<PB N="127" REF="288"> a great matter of ioye to the angelical quires, when &s;inners are conuerted is to be effected by thee. Ha&s;ten thy pace, whette thy tongue, take courage again&s;t all difficulties what&s;oeuer &s;hall ri&s;e, God will pro&s;per thy labours in the begin|ning and end; what fruict and good &s;ucce&s;&s;e fol|lowed we &s;uppo&s;e it is not vnknowne.</P>
<P>For where as in the yeare 1606. a certaine num|ber of Scoti&s;h men came into Flaunders to &s;erue the Princes of the Loue-countries, and were &s;ent as it were into garri&s;on to Dixmund, with about a thou&s;and Spani&s;h &s;oldiours, and mo&s;t part of the&s;e Scoti&s;h men brought vp in here&s;ie, were &s;hrewdly corrupted with it, it was a matter wor|thie the labour, and a verie nece&s;&s;arie employ|ment (when as God hath giuen euerie one char|ge of his neighbour) to reduce and bring home the&s;e poore &s;heepe, &s;cattered and &s;trayed from the flocke. And who was fitter to vndertake this charge, then Archangel, who was &s;ufficiently prepared for it by the gift of &s;cience, and burned with &s;ingular charitie to doe &s;o holie a worke? He was therfore &s;ent to preach to the&s;e &s;oldiours, armed with the merit of obedience, and the loue of the common good, and in a &s;hort time by the &s;weete word of God, by his hole&s;ome doctrine, and e&s;pecially by his &s;ingular example of life, and mature and di&s;creet cariage, he wonne a whole band of more then three hundred, and brought them to the Catholique faith, not all at once, but by litle and litle, in per&s;wading nowe one, now
<PB N="128" REF="289"> an other: be&s;ides about eighteene of his countri|men which he gained at Mennen in the &s;ame iourney. When he had wonne them to be Catho|liques, he kept them in that di&s;cipline at Dix|mund by the authoritie of his nobilitie, and &s;harpe reprehen&s;ion of the offendours, that all the citizens and neighbours of that place, did much wonder at them, and were exceeding loath to be depriued of &s;o well ordered and well beha|ued &s;oldiours. So he re&s;tored lo&s;t &s;ight to the blind, wandering from the way of truth, or if they neuer had &s;ight, he prepared and quickned their &s;ights to them wherewith Chri&s;t is &s;eene.</P>
<P>He appea&s;ed a &s;edition which ro&s;e among the Spani&s;h and Scoti&s;h &s;oldiours, which were in gar|ri&s;on. For whiles he attended in the beginning to the gaining of the &s;oules of his countriemen, he heard a &s;oldiour crie, and a great alarum: and ha&s;tning to &s;ee what it &s;hould be, he found both &s;ides readie to enter combate one with an other. There was nothing wanting but the &s;igne which was to be giuen by the Captaines on both &s;ides, which when he &s;awe, he ca&s;t him&s;elfe into the mid&s;t on his knees, his armes &s;tretched in the manner of a Cro&s;&s;e, and together with his com|panion praying and exhorting them to peace, &s;peaking &s;ometimes &s;weetly to them, &s;ometi|mes terrifying them, one while in his mother tongue, an other while in the french tongue. At la&s;t he preuailed &s;o much with them, that they forbore this bloudie combate, which they were
<PB N="129" REF="289"> euen entring into, and became quiet. The citizens be&s;ought to &s;tay the Cappucins, that they &s;hould not put them&s;elues into &s;o manife&s;t daunger, but the loue of God and our neighbour is held by no hands. For this act of exceeding charitie, the Prince, and al&s;o the Gouernour of the We&s;terne part of Flaunders, who was called Count Frede|ric van den Berg, gaue great thankes to fa. Ar|changel and to God, for the benefit obtained by him. Whereupon Archangel obtained that grace of the Prince, that he pardoned at his earne&s;t in|&s;tance, the chiefe authours of this commotion, who were to haue beene puni&s;hed with death for &s;o great an offence. Brother Adam of Li&s;le, who was &s;till in companie of fa. Archangel in this iour|ney, auowed in the pre&s;ence of his Superiour, all this to haue beene done by Archangel. He te&s;ti|fied al&s;o, that the Minorits, who were at Dix|mund at that time, who entertained fa. Archan|gel in their Conuent, did &s;o re&s;pect and reue|rence him, that they were wholy guided and go|uerned by him, perceiuing (as they related them|&s;elues) that the pre&s;ence of the holie gho&s;t did di|rect him, and mo&s;t euidently manife&s;t it &s;elfe in all his actions.</P>
<P>No citizen or &s;oldiour at Dixmund, could euer obtaine &s;o much of him, as to come to their ta|ble, though they were neuer &s;o importune, nor the Gouernour him&s;elfe. But he was euer con|tented with one meale a day, and that a &s;mall one, &s;eeking quiet retraict, and &s;tudying for the
<PB N="130" REF="290"> recouerie of poore misbelieuing &s;oules: And his &s;trict fa&s;ting, did afford him time to pray &amp; &s;tudie.</P>
<P>The Gardian of that place, a wi&s;e and learned man, did &s;ay (as it were diuining) that Archangel would not liue long, but that God would &s;pee|dily render him the reward of his labours and trauailes. At midnight while he was at his accu|&s;tomed prayers and deuotions, he &s;eemeth to heare with the eare of his &s;oule, that he was thus admoni&s;hed by holie in&s;tinct. O fa. Guardian Ar|ch<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">ngel returne now, hauing fulfilled thy obe|dience, re<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">urne to Teneramund to thy &s;onnes, that thou maye&s;t comfort them a while. For the time of thy departure is at hand, and thy mother expecteth thee with ince&s;&s;ant prayers powred forth to God. Thy elder brother with his Sera|phicall companions, hauing S. Francis for their head, prepare for thy meeting, to the end that they may ioyfully receiue an exiled of Chri&s;t, &amp; bring a &s;ouldiour of Chri&s;t, to the throne of his happie countrie and eternall &s;eate.</P>
<P>Hauing therefore atchieued this noble worke, and hauing gotten the victorie again&s;t the enemie of mankind, he returned from Dixmund (reioy|cing much in &s;pirit) to his owne Conuent, being mo&s;t welcome to them and expected. But by the diuine prouidence &s;o di&s;po&s;ing it, he went a litle after to Wae&s;tmunter, &s;carce two leagues from Teneramund, to doe &s;ome &s;eruice to the inhabi|tants of that place, according to their reque&s;t. Where whe~ as the infectious &s;ickne&s;&s;e did raigne,
<PB N="131" REF="290"> which di&s;ea&s;e our countrimen cal the gift of God (becau&s;e it is &s;ent by the &s;ingular prouidence of God) and God would not that this his &s;eruant &s;hould be without this gift, that the wicked may &s;ee when the &s;courge approacheth to the taberna|cles of the iu&s;t, how iu&s;tly they are to feare pu|ni&s;hment, and to returne by doing penance, be|cau&s;e as the Prophete Hieremy &s;aith. <HI>Behold they who&s;e iudgment was not to drinke the cup, drinking shall drinke, and shalt thou be left innocent?</HI> Thou &s;halt not be innocent, but drinking &s;halt drinke. And is there &s;uch a &s;courge in the hou&s;e of God for the iu&s;t? For the Pagans did vpbraid this to Chri&s;tians, and &s;eemed to in&s;ult with peeui&s;h re|proofes ouer them, when the faithfull Prelates &s;aid, that God did &s;courge and plague their em|perours for the effu&s;ion of Chri&s;tian bloud, and that they felt bani&s;hment inflicted vpon them more cruell then death. Were there anie Chri|&s;tia~s (&s;aid they) which were exempted more then Gentils from raging tempe&s;ts, from plague, fa|mine, and &s;uch calamities?</P>
<P>Pontius Diaconus doth make St. Ciprian ex|cellently replying to them. Some are troubled that we haue the &s;ame mortalitie as others, but what is there in this world, which is not com|mon to vs with others, as long as wee are cloa|thed in the &s;ame fle&s;h with them, according to the lawe of our fir&s;t natiuitie? yea if a Chri&s;tian doe well vnder&s;tand and knowe, vpon what condi|tion or lawe he is to beleiue, he is to knowe, that
<PB N="132" REF="291"> he mu&s;t endure more in this world then others, whereas he is to haue a greater combate with the tentation of the Deuill. But what di&s;paritie there is, betweene tho&s;e &s;courges, which &s;eeme equal|lie to befal both, in the iudgement of the Genti|les, he declareth afterward, &s;aying. Manie of ours die in this mortalitie, that is leaue this world, but this mortalitie as it is a plague to the Iewes and Gentiles, &s;o is it a healthfull and happie departure for the &s;eruants of God. Therefore in his Inuec|tiue again&s;t Demetrius the Procon&s;ul, St. Cyprian doth v&s;e manie golden &s;entences, &s;eruing to this purpo&s;e, which I could wi&s;h I and others could call to minde in time of affliction. Among other things he &s;aith. They haue noe grief or &s;orrowe for pre&s;ent mi&s;eries, who haue a &s;trong confiden|ce of hauing future happine&s;&s;e. Finally, &s;aith he; we are neither di&s;amaied nor di&s;couraged, neither doe we murmure in anie calamitie or afflictions of our bodies, and liuing alwaies rather in &s;pirit then in fle&s;h, we doe ouercome the infirmitie of the bodie, with firmitie and &s;trength of &s;oule. And doe ye thinke that we doe &s;uffer affliction equal|lie with you, when yee &s;ee wee &s;u&s;taine it farre otherwi&s;e? Yee are tran&s;ported with crying and co~plaining by impatience, and we put on a noble and religious patience, which is quiet and grate|full in the pre&s;ence of God. For the re&s;t I referre the Reader to the authour.</P>
<P>This good fa. finding at his returne an vnu&s;uall burning heate of his bodie, began to growe hot
<PB N="133" REF="291"> in his &s;oule, longing after his beloued &s;weete Ie|&s;us. Hauing recouered his Conuent he called his &s;onnes to him, and after a louing exhortation, and a benediction of a farewell be&s;towed vpon them, in fewe words by rea&s;on of death approa|ching, he tooke the Sacraments with ioye and exultation. Why &s;hould he feare to die, who lear|ned to die &s;o often, when his feete were now &s;tanding in the gates of Hieru&s;alem pa&s;&s;ing wil|lingly by the gates of death, by which there was a plea&s;ant entrie into the &s;upping place or parlour of Hieru&s;alem? His brethren &s;ee him in a hott burning fit of a feuer, and his &s;trength and his &s;peech failed him. The Phi&s;itians vpon good ad|uice, and likewi&s;e at the in&s;tance of the &s;icke per|&s;on, coun&s;el him to be remoued to a backe hou&s;e, which was a good di&s;tance from the Conuent, to preuent danger of infection. How manie wayes, and in how diuers manners, is a true Chri&s;tian exerci&s;ed of God in this life, that being afflicted in fewe things, he may be well di&s;po&s;ed in manie things, that God may find him worthie of him|&s;elfe? But what are the &s;ufferings of this life, in re&s;pect of the glorie to come, which our merci|full God &s;endeth to his elect, out of his infinite loue, that he doth (that I may &s;o &s;peake) often bethinke him&s;elfe, whether he &s;hall lay this or that cro&s;&s;e, vpon this or that man, and &s;o in a cer|taine manner feareth, lea&s;t &s;o precious a pre&s;ent be neglected, or the Cro&s;&s;e which is of &s;uch va|lue, be &s;haken off from our la&s;ie &s;houlders Wher|fore
<PB N="134" REF="292"> Archangel hauing a true feeling hereof, was readie euen to the brinke of old decaying age, to &s;uffer humbly and cheerefully with Ie&s;us, which prompt will and affection of his, without doubt &s;hall haue the recompen&s;e &amp; reward due vnto it.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="29" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>The con&s;ummation and death of Archangel. THE XXIX. CHAP.</HEAD>
<P>THe king of heauen tooke the deare &s;oule of his pilgrim to him, as his feeble bodie was nowe carried in the mid&s;t of the garden, vpon the bridge which is ouer the brooke. O happie &s;oule, goe thou out of thy earthly garden of the Cappucins, to the plea&s;ant gardens of the hea|uenly Paradice! And thou which left vs vpon the brooke, be thou ab&s;orpt vp in the immen&s;e floud of the Diuinitie? Thou which on earth wa&s;t tur|moiled with manie conflicts, by meanes wherof thou wa&s;t free from the bodily de&s;ires, being ac|cu&s;tomed in the palace of thy minde, to attend only to diuine wi&s;edome, but now hauing attai|ned a place &s;ilent from all earthly cares, reioyce and triumph in the contemplation of the Deitie, and in eternall delights! In not vnlike manner, and euen by the &s;ame di&s;ea&s;e, did God call the be|loued &s;oule of St. Lewes king of France to him, who died in a &s;trange land. He al&s;o embraced him taking him out of his armie, which was en|camped again&s;t the enemie: Sweete was this em|bracing,
<PB N="135" REF="292"> and the gift of this di&s;ea&s;e was worthie to be embraced. He that can conceiue this, let him conceiue.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e that loue God, and haue ta&s;ted the ver|tue of the Cro&s;&s;e, vnder&s;tand well what I &s;peake. O infinite trea&s;ure and benefit of anie tribulation &s;uffered for Chri&s;t! O gaine knowne to fewe, and &s;weete to fewe! Heare S. Andrewe crying. Suffer me nor o Lord to be taken downe from the Cro&s;&s;e, by the wicked iudge, becau&s;e I haue ac|knowledged the vertue of the holie Cro&s;&s;e. Will ye I expre&s;&s;e my &s;elfe in one word? If our Ar|changel had rai&s;ed a hundred dead, if he had cu|red all &s;icke per&s;ons of his time, I &s;hould not e&s;|teeme all this to be valued with his labours and trauailes from his youth, which I haue declared to you. If you will not beleiue me, beleiue Saint Chry&s;o&s;tome &s;aying. To &s;uffer for Chri&s;t, is a gift of greater admiration, then to rai&s;e the dead, and to worke miracles: For doing the&s;e I am a debtour to Chri&s;t, but in the other I haue Chri&s;t my debtour. Therefore we are to thanke God much for our brother Archangel, who was &s;o &s;tout and faithfull in &s;u&s;taining the Cro&s;&s;e of Ie|&s;us. The weight of glorie which he hath obtai|ned is greater then can be valued. For if a proui|dent and iu&s;t mai&s;ter of a familie, be carefull to giue his labourer his hire, in the euening when he re&s;teth from worke, how much more wil the heuenly ma&s;ter and father, be careful to performe his promi&s;e to his &s;eruant? Reioyce in the Lord
<PB N="136" REF="293"> o ye iu&s;t, make your dayes of fe&s;tiuitye with him, and thou Sonne with thy mother, thinke &s;ome|times of vs, and of the Senate and people of Ant|werpe and Teneramund, where thou did&s;t end thy dayes, who harboured and fauored thee being an exiled per&s;on, and likewi&s;e thy deare mother.</P>
<P>This religious man Archangel, was buried in the yeare 1606. in the 26. yeare of his age, in the bodie of the Cappucins church at Teneramund, neare to the holie water ve&s;&s;el. After he was tran&s;|lated to the common burying place of the other brethren, who re&s;teth &s;weetly in our Lord, held manfully the &s;terne of faith, now hath fixed his anchour of hope in a &s;afe roade, and hath placed his &s;hip laden with rich merchandi&s;e, in the long wi&s;hed for hauen. It is a thinge not vnworthie the ob&s;eruation, that the father and mother of Archangel, and he him&s;elfe, dyed the &s;ame yeare 1606. one after an other, who did all of them re|ceiue their reward, according to their workes: the mother and the &s;onne, both iu&s;t and full of con&s;tancie &s;hall &s;tand vp in the la&s;t day, again&s;t tho&s;e who were the fir&s;t mouers and cau&s;ers of their affliction.</P>
<P>His cruell father, when he heard that his law|full wife was dead, he could not refraine to weepe and &s;ay. O faithfull, and thrice faithfull wi&s;e! O my deare Margarit, art thou departed this life after &s;o manie di&s;tre&s;&s;es and trauells? He died a litle after (which is much to be la|mented)
<PB N="137" REF="293"> impenitent for his life pa&s;t.</P>
<P>Some fewe dayes before Archangel died, the Reuerend father Michael of Arimini, was &s;ent as Commi&s;&s;arie to the&s;e parts of the Lowe-coun|tries, to vi&s;ite the Prouinces of the Cappucins, &s;ituate on this &s;ide the Alpes; who when he heard of the death of this mo&s;t deuout father, he &s;hed manie teares, lamenting much his death, though he &s;carce knewe him, but by the &s;weete odour of a good fame and reputation: and &s;o manie others were exce&s;&s;iuelie &s;orrie, out of much loue and compa&s;&s;ion of the Prouince, which had &s;uch a lo&s;&s;e, yea the remembrance of his life pa&s;t, and his amiable conuer&s;ation tempered with &s;uch hu|militie, did moue all that knewe him to moane his decea&s;e. I doe repeate againe his humilitie, becau&s;e he was &s;o humble that he would &s;carce &s;peake in his owne cau&s;e, &s;o humble that he was neuer heard to &s;peake an idle word among his brethren, &s;o fearefull lea&s;t he &s;hould commit anie thing again&s;t the commandements of God and his Sauiour: and not only the commandements, but the coun&s;ailes of Euangelicall perfection, that he did offer dayly manie deaths of his fle&s;h and &s;en&s;ualitie, as an acceptable &s;acrifice, &s;acrificing him&s;elfe vpon the &s;traite and &s;harpe altar of true abnegation, fulfilling the word of our Sauiour. <HI>Vnle&s;&s;e the graine of wheate falling into the ground dye, it &s;elfe remaineth alone, but if it die, it bringeth much fruict.</HI> Againe, <HI>if anie man will come after me, let him denie him &s;elfe.</HI> May not I therefore cal
<PB N="138" REF="294"> Archangel a Martyr, who cho&s;e to dye &s;o often in him&s;elfe for Chri&s;t? Moreouer, I may call the di|&s;ea&s;e by which he ended his life, a kind of &s;hining martyrdome by fire, which he ouercame by the fire of diuine charitie kindled in him.</P>
<P>O graine perfectly dead to the world, and to it &s;elfe! o pure graine accordinge to the minde of our Sauiour, which remained not alone in the earth, but brought forth much fruict. Who may not &s;ee, that he was a cho&s;en graine from the be|ginning, although it were couered with a litle chaffe, and rough with the eare of the corne, to witt, not as yet &s;o purged from &s;ecular de&s;ires, till he was fourteene yeares of age? But by Gods mercie protecting him, this graine was not tro|den vpon and broken or bru&s;ed, becau&s;e it was purged and clean&s;ed &s;eauenfold by mo&s;t apt mea|nes. How pure a graine al&s;o his mother was, ye doe well remember, alwaies fre&s;h and vigourous, al&s;o whole and &s;ound, in pro&s;peritie and aduer|&s;itie, together with her noble brethren, Princes who are to be renowned to po&s;teritie: &s;auing one only whom we haue heard for&s;ooke the faith, not without great mourning of his freinds and kin&s;men, and the domage of Catholiques. And how came it to pa&s;&s;e, but becau&s;e he did not &s;hunne outwardly the companie of bad per&s;ons, &amp; was not &s;o fearefull of this plague as he &s;hould haue beene. <HI>Ble&s;sed is the man</HI> (&s;aith the &s;cripture) <HI>who is alwaies fearefull.</HI> It is therefore mani|fe&s;t by this di&s;cour&s;e, that the graines of mer|cie
<PB N="139" REF="294"> are &s;o &s;weetly di&s;po&s;ed of by the mercie of God, that the vnfruictfull cockle doth not hin|der their fruict.</P>
<P>I wil not omitt in this place, the loue and chari|tie of a certaine religious Prie&s;t, who was &s;ubiect to him in the Co~uent, who bore in his armes this fa. Archangel when he gaue vp the gho&s;t, &amp; &s;hew|ed him&s;elfe a louing and faithfull brother, that he would doe him this &s;eruice, which was accompa|nied with &s;uch danger of death, by rea&s;on of the contagion. He folowed him &s;hortly after into an other life. His name was Michael of Louaine, of the familie of Wachelge~. He being the only heire, for Chri&s;ts &s;ake left his mother a widowe who is yet liuing, and hath offered this pledge of hers to God for &s;acrifice, and to her &s;elfe for a renuncia|tion of the world. God exerci&s;ed this religious man Michael, with much &s;ickne&s;&s;e, and it is cre|dible not without &s;igne of his loue. He was of a liuely and quicke witt and nature, and God will purge him in this manner from earthly corrup|tions. He was well exerci&s;ed in &s;pirituall direc|tions, hauing performed well the office of the ma&s;ter of the Nouices. He ouercame all indi&s;po|&s;ition of bodie, by the vertue and courage of his minde.</P>
<P>A mutuall loue al&s;o made one that was newly profe&s;&s;ed, Simplician the &s;onne of a citizen of Antwerpe, to a&s;&s;i&s;t Archangel in his &s;ickne&s;&s;e, who was &s;imple in name &amp; deed, who died with a cheareful countenance reioycing alwaies in &s;pi|rit.
<PB N="140" REF="295"> There a&s;&s;i&s;ted him al&s;o with much affection, though his &s;trength did not &s;erue him, Nica&s;ius who was of the familie of Vrebde, well knowne in the&s;e countries, who continued to the end a faithfull lay brother and humble &s;eruant, in pro|curing almes and doing the &s;eruices belonging to him. There was al&s;o a religious Prie&s;t a French man by nation, of mo&s;t &s;weete behauiour, who ended his life by helping him. So while they con|gratulated one an other, one drewe on the other as it were by the hand to the kingdome of hea|uen. So God who vi&s;ited his familie, would not take him away without companie, and in his pro|uidence he &s;ent two religious Cappucins Prie&s;ts, who in obedience to their Superiours volunta|rily vndertooke the care of the &s;icke. So we &s;ee truly what it is, to lay downe our liues for our brethren: for it plea&s;e God, to pre&s;erue the&s;e two and the re&s;t, all &s;afe and &s;ound.</P>
<P>The Prophete Dauid did mourne for his belo|ued &s;onne, &s;laine in an vnhappie battaile, &s;aying. <HI>O my brother Ionatha, I mourne for thee.</HI> Which dolefull &s;peech, I may v&s;e for thee (o brother Ar|changel) &s;ince we are depriued of thy &s;o &s;weete and profitable conuer&s;ation and amitie. Who can not but de&s;ire thy gratefull pre&s;ence, thy &s;weete and hole&s;ome conferences, yet alwayes &s;ea&s;oned with &s;alt? who doth not wi&s;h to haue the light of thy edification, and thy wi&s;e and graue actions, to &s;hine alwayes before him? Who would not be excited a fre&s;h with the eminent
<PB N="141" REF="295"> vertues of thy patience and con&s;tance? O how &s;oone hath God ha&s;tened, to drawe thee out of the allurements of this world, and the mid&s;t of the iniquities thereof? It was not needfull to prouoke thee to plea&s;e him, for thy &s;oule was plea&s;ing to him. Therefore what hath plea&s;ed God, let it plea&s;e vs al&s;o. In the meane while, deare brother, &s;ing ioifully with iubilation to God, ioyned in quire with thy mother. Sing (I &s;ay) that of the Apo&s;tle. <HI>As the &s;ufferings of Chri&s;t abounded in vs, &s;o doth now our con&s;olation abound by Chri&s;t.</HI> I meane tho&s;e &s;ufferings which haue beene laid, not only vpon thee, but vpon all Ca|tholiques in the kingdome of Scotland, and the re&s;t of the I&s;les of Britannie, and almo&s;t through all tho&s;e we&s;terne parts. In the mid&s;t of which thou &s;toode&s;t &s;o much the more &s;tout, becau&s;e thou wert farther off from iniquitie. It is only iniquitie which &s;eparateth vs from God, and ad|uer&s;ity which doth mo&s;t &s;traictly ioyne vs to him. The example of the great Prophete Moy&s;es, doth witne&s;&s;e this, who cho&s;e rather to be afflicted with the people of God, then to haue the plea|&s;ure of temporall &s;inne, e&s;teeming the reproche of Chri&s;t to be greater riches, then the trea&s;ure of the Aegyptians, for he looked to the finall reward.</P>
<P>Ble&s;&s;ed be thy name (o &s;weet Ie&s;us) for tho&s;e whom thou ha&s;t cau&s;ed to be borne in this vn|happie age, wherein they haue &s;eene the mi&s;e|ries of their nation, in which thy faithfull haue
<PB N="142" REF="296"> beene truly tryed, as we hope for their correc|tion, but not to perdition. What harme haue the&s;e now who are &s;o departed, who were rea|die to haue &s;uffered more if they had happened? Nowe are the teares wiped from your eyes, now doth the grief continue no longer, there is no crie nor mourning in your &s;treetes. Behold God hath made all newe. Reioyce therefore (o Archangel) in our Lord, for he hath giuen thee the de&s;ires of thine owne heart.</P>
<P>But &s;ome will &s;ay, it is meruaile if this mans life hath beene &s;o vertuous, that God hath not permitted him to &s;hine with &s;ome miracles? We an&s;were, this is not nece&s;&s;arie to the &s;anctitie of anie man. Miracles are done when&s;oeuer, and by whom it &s;hall plea&s;e God, to whom it only be|longeth to worke miracles. If at anie time they be nece&s;&s;arie, they are not for that end as though they were anie part of &s;anctitie, but they &s;erue for te&s;timonie to tho&s;e, who either doubt of the &s;anctitie of anie Sainct, or to whom God will re|ueale that &s;anctitie. But it is euident, that Gods will is not that manie Saincts &s;hould be manife|&s;ted to the world, that he may honour them more in heauen, by how much they are le&s;&s;e honoured on earth. Moreoue, they who&s;e holie life is &s;uffi|ciently knowne by good workes, need not the proofe of miraculous &s;ignes. So we reade in the Go&s;pel, that Iohn Bapti&s;t, the forerunner of our Sauiour, did no miracle: likewi&s;e we reade of S. Lyduma a virgin of Schiedam, yea in the golden
<PB N="143" REF="296"> and fre&s;h flouri&s;hing age of St. Francis, we doe finde diuer&s;e eminent for &s;anctitie, and mo&s;t ex|cellent for contemplation of diuine things, who did not &s;hine with this light of miracles, as may appeare by the Chronicles which treate of the li|ues of the fir&s;t twelue di&s;ciples of S. Francis.</P>
<P>We doe not reade of anie miracles that were done by Bl. S. Egidius, who fell often into ex|ta&s;ies and raui&s;hments of &s;pirit, whom when the Pope that then was, found in &s;uch an exta&s;ie that he could not be awaked, neither with &s;harpe prickings, nor applying hot fire to his bodie, being commaunded by the vertue of holie obe|dience, to returne againe to him&s;elfe (by way of prophecying) he &s;aid. Yee &s;hall haue no &s;igne of me, but the &s;igne of Ionas: which words when no man vnder&s;tood, they who digged his graue vnder&s;tood afterward, for in digging they found a marble &s;epulchre, in which the hi|&s;torie of Ionas was artificially engrauen.</P>
<P>We reade in our Chronicles in the time of Saint Francis, that a certaine Guardian called brother Peter, did manie miracles after his death. To whom Saint Francis comming to his &s;e|pulcher, &s;pake in this manner. My &s;onne and brother Peter, thou ha&s;t alwayes beene obedient to me when thou did&s;t liue, be now al&s;o obe|dient to me after thy death. I commaund thee by holie obedience, that thou cea&s;e from doing miracles, that the Brethren of this Conuent may be quiet and free from this con|cour&s;e
<PB N="144" REF="297"> of people, and &s;erue God in more &s;i|lence and &s;pirituall retraict. The &s;onne obeyed his father pre&s;ently, and the miracles cea&s;ed. The in&s;titute of the Seraphicall father hath now beene approued by manie ages, and by the chiefe Bi&s;hops who haue declared it to be truly euangelicall, and witne&s;&s;ed by manie fa|mous per&s;ons, both for &s;anctitie and glorie of mi|racles, and therefore it needeth no more proofes, although by Gods holie di&s;po&s;ition, there want not manie miracles, both to the church and to our order in particular. The Collection of which is happily to come forth verie &s;hortly to the view of the world.</P>
<P>I thought therefore it was not expedient to in|&s;i&s;t in the&s;e, but to pro&s;ecute my purpo&s;e in pro|ducing plaine te&s;timonies of Sanctitie. But tho&s;e &s;ignes are, to &s;uffer willingly tribulations for Chri&s;ts &s;ake, of which the Apo&s;tle doth &s;ometi|mes glorie. Yea, God would haue him to be pro|ued by this &s;igne, that he was a ve&s;&s;el of election. For when Ananias thought verie i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="pdcc" EXTENT="1 letter">l of Saint Paul, and that not without iu&s;t cau&s;e, neither dur&s;t ap|proach neare to him, Goe &s;aith Chri&s;t to Ana|nias, for a ve&s;&s;el of election is this man to me to carie my name before the Gentils and kings, and the children of I&s;rael, and I will &s;hewe him how great things he mu&s;t &s;uffer for my name. Hereby doth our charitie mo&s;t appeare. Not miracles, but only charitie makes the &s;eruantes God, as S. Augu&s;tine &s;peaketh well vpon Saint Iohn. Wher|fore
<PB N="145" REF="297"> Saint Paul &s;aith, that all other things profit vs nothing without charitie, no not faith which can remoue mountaines, no not to &s;peake with the tongues of Angels, nor the di&s;tribution of all our goods to the poore, all which though the Apo&s;tle &s;uppo&s;eth may be without charitie, yet doth he after prooue him&s;elfe the &s;eruant of God, by tho&s;e &s;ufferings which he had patiently vnder|gone for Chri&s;ts &s;ake.</P>
<P>To conclude, I &s;ay, that where it is euident, that anie man hath liued according to the precept of the holie Go&s;pell, in an approued religion as ours is, certainly he needeth not miracles to pro|ue his &s;anctitie, becau&s;e he hath an other &s;ufficient kind of proofe of his &s;anctitie. The Iuri&s;ts &s;ay, where the intention of the partie is &s;ufficiently knowne one way, it &s;hould be &s;uperfluous to re|quire other proofes: For there is more &s;affe and &s;ure credit to be giuen, to the election of anie man or to his &s;anctitie by this fore-&s;aid kind of proofe, then if it were founded in miracles. For the word of Chri&s;t is &s;ufficient for the te&s;timonie of their &s;anctitie, who &s;aith. <HI>Ye are my friends.</HI> Againe, <HI>ye that haue left all and folowed me.</HI> There is no man which can iu&s;tly doubt, whether Archangel were an euangelicall man in his life, after his conuer&s;ion. The greate&s;t miracle that is, is to &s;ee a man daily &s;tand without intermi&s;&s;ion ouerco|ming him &s;elfe. In doing miracles, man is a deb|tour to God, but in victorie of him&s;elfe and pro|per abnegation, he hath God his debtour, if we
<PB N="146" REF="298"> belieue Saint Chri&s;o&s;tome. The life of a good re|ligious man, is a continuall miracles of an vnbloo|die martyrdome. Therefore I hope my labour well be&s;towed, in &s;etting forth the life of this ho|lie per&s;on, that I may take delight to imitate him, whom I haue with much affection &s;o co~mended.</P>
<P>Neither let it &s;eeme &s;trange, that I a Lowe-countrie man, doe &s;o celebrate a Scoti&s;h man, principally him which hath for Gods cau&s;e for|&s;aken his countrie, and cho&s;e this from his yong yeares. For in this countrie he hath &s;hined to the world, in education, conuer&s;ation, &s;tate of life and death, he hath &s;hined (I &s;ay like) a mo&s;t ra|diant precious &s;tone, he hath flouri&s;hed like a &s;weete ruddie ro&s;e, and in&s;teed of a mo&s;t &s;auorous &s;ea&s;oning, he hath refre&s;hed the mindes of men with his honie flowing di&s;cour&s;es, and yeelded an odour like a white lilie. In which re&s;pect I may rather call him a Lowe-countrie man, or a Flemming, then a Scoti&s;h man, who al&s;o coun|&s;ailed his mother to abandon Scotland, depraued with here&s;ie, and to retire her&s;elfe into Flaunders, where &s;he and her elde&s;t &s;onne al&s;o ended their liues. So we reade of Saint Iodocus the &s;onne of a king of Brittanie and Scotland, who came into the&s;e parts with his &s;i&s;ter, and liued mo&s;t holily, and here ended his life. He was not afterward re|puted for a Scoti&s;h man, but for one of our na|tion and honoured in our prayers: after whom manie were called by the name of Iodocus. Who knoweth whether this Archangel be not de&s;cen|ded
<PB N="147" REF="298"> from this holie per&s;on, e&s;pecially by the mo|thers &s;ide, by rea&s;on of the royall &s;temme of the Stuarts, to which he is ioyned?</P>
<P>Wherefore not I, but all the orthodoxe &s;ocie|ties of Britannes, and the congregation of Cap|pucins of this Countrie, ought iu&s;tly to &s;hewe deuotion in powring forth their prayers and wi|&s;hes in honour of this ble&s;&s;ed &s;oule, &s;aying. God be with thee mo&s;t &s;weete Archangel. O newe light of noble Brabant, fo&s;ter child of the noble citie of Antwerpe, ornament of the Lowe-coun|tries, honour of Flaunders, bright &s;hining starre of Scotland! o fragant and &s;weete plant of the Cappucins, out of which yong buds doe yet &s;proute! o fruictfull tree, which hath brought forth plea&s;ant fruict, contayning in it the mo&s;t li|uely aple of &s;o vigorous a &s;eede; O goodly &s;truc|ture, which being rai&s;ed vpon a lowe and hum|ble foundation, doth touch the roofe of heauen! Ble&s;&s;ed be thy entrie into the land of the liuing. Ble&s;&s;ed be thy labours, and the examples of light which thou ha&s;t &s;hewed to vs. God graunt we may merit to folow them, and thee in them, and &s;o con&s;equently &s;ee thee &s;hining as a glorious bright &s;tarre to all eternitie.</P>
<P>I vnworthie and poore Prie&s;t, which write this, &s;awe much of this with mine eyes, and as it were touched them with my hands, being &s;o euident|lie palpable. Some things I had of my brothers, who are true witne&s;&s;es and relatours of that which they knowe, and &s;ome fewe things of per|&s;ons
<PB N="148" REF="299"> of good credit: &s;o that there is no doubt of the whole &s;torie. Yet notwith&s;tanding for the better confirmation of truth, by the manie te&s;ti|monies of diuers religious Prie&s;ts and brethren, &s;ent to Rome by the commandement of our verie R. Father Generall, I thought good to &s;et downe one or two. The fir&s;t was, of the verie Reuerend Father Cornelius of Recantum, in the&s;e words. I doe ratifie the wonderfull conuer&s;ion, and not only laudable, but eminent conuer&s;ation of R. F. Archangel a Scoti&s;hman, and the yonger Cappu|cin, of which I haue beene informed by witne&s;&s;es beyond exception, and &s;awe manie things with mine owne eyes: &s;o that for a certaine &s;pace of time, his mo&s;t exemplarie life was well knowne to vs. Fr. Cornelius of Recant.</P>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="299">
<HEAD>A TABLE OF THE CHAPTER'S.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<ITEM><LABEL>CHAP. I.</LABEL> _F. Archangels countrie, and his mothers kindred. pag. 3.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 2.</LABEL> F. Archangels stocke by the Fathers &s;ide. His father infected with he|re&s;ie. His fathers hate towards his mother for her faith: and his putting of her away for that cau&s;e. The vnfortunate mariages of per&s;ons of diuer&s;e religions. pag. 6.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 3.</LABEL> The diuer&s;e per&s;ecutions and practi&s;es, v&s;ed again&s;t the mother of F. Archangel. p. 11.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 4.</LABEL> Newe attemptes to take away the life of this matron, and newe plotts to depriue her of her honour: and likewi&s;e the tentation of deuils. p. 13.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 5.</LABEL> The Father of Archangel taketh him from his mother to be brought vp in here&s;ie: but the mother giueth not ouer her care of her &s;onne. p. 15.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 6.</LABEL> The mother is carefull of the good of her &s;onne, the brother of Archangell. He goeth into the Lowe-countries, becometh a Cappucine, and endeth his life piou&s;ly in the order, before the coming of his brother. p. 20.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 7.</LABEL> The deuotion of the most noble Duke of
<PB REF="300"> Parma Alexander Farne&s;io, towards this order of S. Francis. p. 32.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 8.</LABEL> Archangel is conuerted to the Catholique faith. His father &s;eeketh to diuert him from it by a wi&s;e, who was an heretique. p. 25.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 9.</LABEL> Archangel behaueth him&s;elfe like a woer. He is inuited to the Seraphicall order by an vnu&s;uall vi&s;ion, and taketh his leaue of his &s;pou&s;e, whom he per|&s;uaded to become a Catholique. p. 29.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 10.</LABEL> Archangel taketh his flight, and ex|changing his cloaths with a poore shepheard, for&s;a|keth his fathers hou&s;e. p. 35.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 11.</LABEL> His voiage to Antwerpe, where he was cast into pri&s;on. What happened to the poore yong shepheard. There is great enquirie made after him. pag. 40.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 12.</LABEL> The yong mans kin&s;men, doe &s;eeke to re|uenge the lo&s;&s;e of this yong man, by the death of his fathers concubine, to whom they impute his death, but the Ladie Margarete hindreth them. p. 44.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 13.</LABEL> What Archangell did while he was in pri&s;on. What he did after his deliuerie. How he grewe acquainted with the Cappucins, among whom he would haue beene a lay brother, but by their adui&s;e he followeth his studie. p. 46.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 14.</LABEL> How diligent he was in his &s;tudies: how constant in concealing his birth: and how frequently he vi&s;ited the Cappucins. p. 51.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 15.</LABEL> His progre&s;&s;e in &s;tudies, by the almes &amp; helpe of Lewis Claris. He ouercometh manie other difficulties and tentations. p. 53.</ITEM>
<PB REF="300">
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 16.</LABEL> For what rea&s;ons this yong man made choice of the order of S. Francis. His conuer&s;ation a|mongst the Cappucins: and his constancie and beha|uiour in his Nouice-ship. p. 57.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 17.</LABEL> He maketh his profe&s;sion, and followeth his &s;tudies. His good life and manners, after his pro|fe&s;sion. p. 64.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 18.</LABEL> Of his outward compo&s;ition and feruour in prayer. p. 69.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 19.</LABEL> What cour&s;e he kept in his studies, and with how manie mortification he was exerci&s;ed. pag. 75.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 20.</LABEL> He is remoued from the Conuent of Bruges, becau&s;e his countrie-men lay in waite for him. pag. 83.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 21.</LABEL> Of the conuer&s;ion of a certaine noble Scottish man to the faith: and of his promotion to be a Prelate. p. 87.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 22.</LABEL> The coming of the mother of Archan|gell into the Lowe-countries. p. 94.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 23.</LABEL> Fa. Archangell is placed at Antwerpe. His mother followed him thither, and what things happened to him there. p. 98.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 24.</LABEL> The hand-maide of the Ladie Mar|garete, becometh deuote to God, of the order of Saint Brigit. What happened to the &s;pou&s;e of Archangel, left for God &s;ake. p. 103.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 25.</LABEL> The death of the mother of B. Ar|changell, and the con&s;tancie of both of them therin. pag. 107.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 26.</LABEL> Of how great expectation Archangell
<PB REF="301"> was, and how vnwilling to take anie charge of &s;upe|rioritie, and how humble he was in it. p. 113.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 27.</LABEL> How father Archangell was ador|ned with the gift of the holy Gho&s;t, and of other vertues. p. 120.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 28.</LABEL> Archangell is &s;ent to Dixmunde, there he conuerteth more then three hundred Scotishmen from here&s;ie to the Catholique faith. He compo&s;eth a &s;edition ri&s;en betweene the Spaniards and the Scotish|men. He falleth &s;icke of his last di&s;ea&s;e. pag. 126.</ITEM>
<ITEM><LABEL>Chap. 29.</LABEL> The con&s;ummation and death of Ar|changel. pag. 134.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<PB REF="301">
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</GROUP>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
