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Wensdaie Nighte. Of the Hower of Deathe

THIS DAIE (WHEN THOV HAST MADE THE SIGNE OF the Crosse, and prepared thy selfe hereunto,) thou hast to meditate vpon the houre of deathe: which is one of the most profitable consideratiōs, that a Christian man may haue, as well for the obteyninge of true wisedome, and eschewinge of sinne: as also to moue him to begynne to prepare him selfe in time for the howre of death.

BVT to the intent that this consideration maie be proffitable vnto thee, it shall behoue thee to make thy petition vnto almightie God, beseachinge him to graunte thee some feelinge of such thinges as are wōt to passe in this last conflicte: that thou maiest dispose of thy landes, and goodes accordinglie, and direct thy lyfe in such sorte, as at that time thou wouldest wishe thou haddest done. Now therefore that thou maiest haue the better feelinge in this matter, thinke vpon it, not as thou wouldest of a thinge that were to come, but as it were euen now present: and thinke vpon it, not as of a thinge, that apperteyneth to others, but as of a thinge that belongeth properlie to thine owne selfe, makinge this accompte, that thou lyest now verie sicklie, and weake in thy bed, ād in such a daungerous case, that thou art vtterly forsaken of thy phisitions, and that they are all perswaded that thou wilt die within fewe howers.

Consider now first, how vncertain that houre is,1 in which death will assault thee. For thou knowest not, neither what daie, nor in what place, nor how thou shalt be disposed when death shall come vnto thee. Onely this thou knowest for most certain, that die thou shalt: all the rest is vncertain, sauinge that ordinarily this houre is wonte to steale vpon vs at such a time, as a man is most careles, and thinketh least of it.

Secondlye, consider what a separation shall then be made,2 not onely betwene vs and all the thinges we loue in this worlde, but also euen betwene the sowle and the bodie, which haue bene such auncient, and louinge companions. If it be thought so grieuous a matter, to be banished out of our natiue countrie, and from the naturall aier in which a mā hath bene bredde and brought vp, although the banished man myghte carie awaye with him what soeuer he loueth: how much more grieuous then shall that vniuersall bannishement be from all thinges that we haue, from our landes, from our goodes, from our howse, from wife, father, mother, children, kinsfolke, friendes, and acquaintance, from this light, and common aier, yea to be short from all thinges of this worlde? If an oxe make so great a bellowinge at what time he is seperated from an other oxe, with whom he hath bene vsed to be yoked, and to drawe in the ploughe: what a bellowinge will thy hart then make, when death shall seperate thee from all those thinges, wherewith thou hast bene yoked, and carried the burthens of this lyfe?

Consider also what a grieuous paine it shal then be to a man,3 when a certayne representation shalbe made vnto his mynde foreshewinge in what case his bodie and sowle shalbe after his death. For as towchinge the bodie, he knoweth for certaine alreadie, that though it hath bene heretofore neuersomuch cherished and honored, yet there shall no better prouision be made for it, but onelie a hoole seuen foote longe, where it shall remayne in companie of other dead bodies. But as concerninge the sowle, he knoweth not certainlie what shall becomme of it,4 nor what lotte shall fall vnto it. For although the hope which he hath in the mercie of almightie God maie strengthen and comforte him: yet the consideration of his owne sinnes maie dismaie him, and make him afraied: especiallie if he consider withall the greate iustice of almightie God, and the profoundnes of his iudgementes, who vseth oftentimes to crosse his handes, and to alter the lottes of men.5 The theiffe went vp from the crosse to paradise:6 and Iudas fell downe from the honorable dignitie of Apostelshippe into hell fier. Manasses also after his so manie abhominations,7 and wickednes, obteined grace to become repentant: And as yet we knowe not whether Salomon obteined the like for all his vertues. This is one of the greatest grieffes, and angwishes, that men are commonlie trowbled withall at the houre of death: to vnderstande, that there is to ensue glorie euerlastinge, and paine euerlastinge, and that then a man is so neare both vnto the one, and to the other, and yet knoweth not whether of these two lottes beinge so farre different as they are, shall fall vnto his share.8

After this angwishe there followeth an other no lesse then this: to witt: the particular accompte of all our whole lyfe which at the verie hower of euerie mans deathe must be made vnto almightie God. This accompt is so dreadfull, that it causeth euen the most stowtest men that are to tremble and qwake for verie feare. It is written of the famous holie father Arsenius, that beinge at the point of death, he beganne to be afraied, whereat his schollers meruayled and saied vnto him: What father are you now afraid of your accompt? Vnto whom he answered: yea yea my sonnes, this feare is no newe thinge in me: for I haue alwaies liued with the same. At that time all the synnes of a mans former lyfe are represented vnto him, lyke a squadrone of enemies readie sette in battayle arrye to assaulte him. Then are the greatest sinnes and those wherein he hath taken greatest delight represented most liuely vnto him, and are the cause of greater feare. Then commeth the yonge virgine to his minde, which he hath dishonored: Then come the maides and howsholde seruantes, whom he hath solicited and prouoked to lewdnes: Then come the poore folkes whom he hath iniuried and euill entreated: Then come his neighboures whom he hath offended: Then shall there crie out against him, not the bloode of Abell,9 but the pretious blood of our Sauiour Iesus Christ, which he shedde when he gaue scandale and offence to his neighbour. And if his cause must be adiudged accordinge to the lawe, that saieth: Eie, for eie:10 tooth for tooth: and wounde, for wounde: what shall he looke for, that by his euill counsell or lewde example hath bene the occasion of the losse of a Christian sowle, if he be iudged by that lawe? O how bitter shall the remembrance of the delightes and pleasures past be at that time vnto him, which at other times seemed so sweete? Vndowtedly the Wiseman had verie good cause to saie:11 Looke not vpon the wine when it is redde, and when it shewethe his coullour in the glasse: for although at the time of drinkinge it seeme delectable, yet at the ende it will byte like a serpent, and poison like a cockatrice. O that men woulde vnderstande, how true a sayinge this is, that we haue here rehearsed! What serpentes stinge is there that doth so prycke and and vexe a man, as the dreadfull remembrance of his pleasures past shall doe at the howre of his death? These are the dregges of that poisoned cuppe of the enemye.12 These be the leauinges of the cuppe of Babilon,13 that seemeth so gaylie gilted in outwarde apparance.

After this there followeth the Sacrament of Confession, the blessed Sacrament of the Aultar, and last of all the Sacrament of extreme Vnction,14 which is the last succour, and releefe that our mother the Catholike Churche maie helpe vs withall in that troublesome time. And as well herein, as in the other thinges, thou hast to consider what great greiffe and anguishe of mynde the sycke person shall then abide in callinge to minde his wicked and synfull lyfe: and how gladly he wishethe at that time that he had taken a better waie: and what an awstere kinde of lyfe he woulde then determine to leade, if he might haue time to doe the same: and how fayne he woulde then enforce himselfe to call vpon almightie God, and to desier him of helpe and succour. Howbeit the verie paine, greife, and continuall increasinge of his syckenes and death will scarcely permitte him so to doe.

Consider then also those last accidentes, and panges of the sicknes,15 (which be as it were the messingers of death) how fearfull and terrible they be. How at that time the sicke mans breast panteth: his voyce waxeth hoarce: his feete begynne to die: his knees waxe colde, and stiffe: his nostrels ronne out: his eies sincke into his head: his countenāce looketh pale, and wanne: his tonge faultereth, and is not able to doe his office: finally by reason of the hast of the departure awaye of the sowle out of the bodie, all his senses are sore vexed, and troubled, and they doe vtterlie leese their force, and vertue.

But aboue all, the sowle is then in most payne,16 and suffereth greatest greifes, and troubles. For at that time she is in a verie great conflicte, and agonie: partely for her departure from the bodie: and partely for feare of her dreadfull accompte, which is then to be made. Because she is naturally lothe to departe from the bodie, and she liketh well her lodginge, and is in verie great dread to come to her accompt before almightie God.

Now when the sowle is thus departed out of the fleashe, yet there remayne two voiages for thee to make with him: the one, to accompanie the bodie vntill it be layed in his graue, the other, to followe the sowle vntill her cause be determined. And thou hast to consider diligentlie what shall become of eache one of these two partes.

17 Consider now in what plight the bodie is after the sowle hath forsaken it: and what a worthie garment they prouide to winde it in, and what haste his friendes and executors doe make to get him quickly rydde awaye out of the howse. Consider also the funerals, with all the other circumstances that are wonte to happen therein: The often ringinge of the belles: the goinge aboute of the belman cryinge vnto the people to praye for his sowle: the questionynge in the streates one of an other, who is dead: the diriges, and dolefull seruice of the Churche: the accompanyinge of his corps to the Churche: and mourninge of his wife, children, kynsfolke, seruātes, and friendes for him: and finally all th' other particulars, that are then wont to happen vntill the bodie be laide and lefte in the graue, where it shall lye buried vntill it be raysed agayne by the terrible sownde of the trompet at the generall daie of iudgement. And such is the great chaunge and alteration in worldlie affaires that it maie so come to passe, as a time maie happen, when some buildinge maie be made neare vnto thy graue, (be it neuer so gaie, and sumptuous,) and that they maie digge for some earthe out of the same to make morter for a walle, and so shall thy seelie bodie (beinge now changed into earth) become afterwardes an earthen walle, although it be at this present the most noble bodie and most delicately cherished of all bodies in the worlde. And how manie bodies of Kinges and Emperors trowest thou haue come already to this promotion.

Now when thou hast left the bodie in the graue,18 goe from thence forthwith and followe after the sowle: and cōsider what waie it taketh through that newe region: whither it goeth: what shall euerlastinglie become of it for euer, and euer: and what iudgement it shall haue. Imagin that thou arte now present at this iudgemēt, and that thou seest all the whole cowert of heauen to expecte the ende of this sentence,19 where the sowle shal giue a particular accōpte, and be chardged and dischardged of all that he hath receaued, euen to the valewe of a pinnes poynte, yea,20 and (as our Sauiour himselfe affirmeth) of euerie idell worde. There an accompt shalbe required of his life, of his lādes, ād riches: of his howseholde, ād familie: of the inspiratiōs of almightie God: of the meanes and opportunitie he hath had to leade a vertuous and godlie lyfe: and aboue all, he shalbe streitelie examined what estimation he hath made of the most pretious bloude of our sauiour Christe: and of the vse of his Sacramentes. And there shall euerie man be iudged accordinge to the accompt he shall make of the giftes and graces he hath receaued of almightie God.

THE THIRDE TREATISE, WHEREIN IS TREATED OF THE consideration of death: Where the former meditation…

THE consideration of death is verie profitable for manie purposes, and espetially for three. First for the obteyninge of true wisedome: that is, to knowe how a man ought to gouerne, and frame his lyfe. For (as the Philosophers doe saie) in thinges that are ordeined to anie ende,21 the rule and measure whereby to directe them, is to be taken of the same ende, and therefore when men doe either builde, or Saile, or doe anie thinge, they haue alwaies their eie fixed vpon the ende which they pretende, and accordinge to the same doe frame and direct all the rest of their doinges. Now consideringe that emonge the endes and tearmes of our lyfe, death is one of them (whither we goe all to take our rest) he that will endeuour to direct his lyfe in good order, let him fixe his eies vpon this marke, and accordinge to the same let him dispose and directe all his affaires. Let him consider how poore, and naked he must depart out of this worlde, and what a strait iudgement he must passe at the hower of his death, and how he shall lie in his graue all betroden, and quyte forgotten of all men: and accordinge to this ende let him consider how to frame and direct the whole order and course of his lyfe. By this rule a certaine Philosopher gouerned, and directed his lyfe that saied: Naked came I out of my mothers wombe,22 and naked must I retourne againe to my graue: To what purpose then shoulde I lose my time, in purchasinge and heapinge together landes, and riches, seing nakednes shalbe my ende. For want of consideration of this our ende doe growe all our errours, and deceites. Hereof commeth our presumption, our pride,23 our couetousnes, our pleasures, our nicenes, and delicatenes, and the vaine castelles and towres of winde, which we builde vpon sande. For if we woulde consider, in what case we shalbe after a fewe daies whan we are once lodged in that poore selie cottage of our graue, we shoulde be more humble, and more temperat in our lyfe. How cowlde he possiblye haue anie sparcke of presumption, that woulde consider, that he shalbe there dust, and asshes? How cowlde he finde in his harte to make a God of his belly, that woulde consider that he shall become there wormes meate? Who coulde euer be perswaded to occupie his brayne in such loftie and phantasticall thoughtes, and deuices, if he did but consider and wayghe how fraile and weake the foundation is, wherevpon all his fonde designementes are grownded? Who woulde endaunger the losse and destruction of himselfe, in seekinge for riches both by lande, and Sea, if he considered that at his death he shoulde carie no more with him, but a poore windinge sheete? To conclude, all the workes of our lyfe woulde be dewlie corrected and framed in good order, if we woulde measure and square them out by this rule.

24 For this cause the Philosophers saied, that the lyfe of a Wiseman was nothinge els but onely a continuall cogitation and thinkinge of death: forsomuch as this consideration teacheth a mā what thinge is somewhat, and what is nothinge, what he ought to followe, and what to eschewe, according to the ende whereunto he must certaynelye arriue. It is written of those Philosophers called Brackmanni, that they were so much geuen to thinke vpon their ende, that they had their graues alwaies open before the gates of their howses, to the intent that both at their entrie and goinge forth by them they might alwaies be mindefull of this iourney and passage of death.

Almightie God saied vnto the Prophet Ieremie,25 that he shoulde goe downe into a howse where earth was wroughte, for that he woulde there speake with him. Almightie God coulde haue spokē with his Prophet in anie other place, but he chose to speake with him in that place, to geue vs to vnderstande, that the howse of earthe (which is our graue) is the schoole of true wisedome, where almightie God is wonte to teach those that be his. There he teacheth thē how great is the vanitie of this worlde: There he sheweth vnto thē the miserie of our fleashe, ād the shortnes of this life. And aboue al, there he teacheth them to knowe themselues, which is one of the most highest pointes of Philosophie that maie be learned. Wherefore (ô thou man) discend downe with thy spirite into this howse, and there shalt thou see,26 who thou art: whereof thou art come: where thou shalt rest: and wherein the bewtie of thy fleashe and glorie of this worlde do ende: so shalt thou learne to despise all those thinges, that the worlde hath in reuerence for wante of dewe knowledge how to consider it. Because the worlde considereth no more but onely the paynted face of Iezabel, that shyned verie bewtifully and gaylie at the windowe:27 It considereth not the miserable extreme partes of her, which after that her bodie was deuoured with dogges, almightie God woulde haue to remaine whole, that thereby we might see, that the worlde is an other maner of thinge in deede than it appeareth in outwarde shewe, and that we shoulde in such wise consider the face of it, as to be mindefull also of the extreme greifes, and sorrowes, wherein the glorie of it endeth.

Secondlye, this consideration is a great helpe to cause vs to eschewe and forsake sinne, accordinge as Ecclesiasticus witnesseth, sayeinge:28 Remember the last ende and thou shalt neuer sinne. It is a great matter not to sinne, and a great remedie also for the same is for a man to remember that he must die.29 S. Iohn Climacus writeth of a certaine monke, that beinge sore tempted with the bewtie of a woman, whom he had seene abroade in the worlde, and vnderstandinge that she was deade, went to the graue where she was buried, and rubbed a napkin in the stinkinge bodie of the dead woman. And he vsed alwaies afterwardes whensoeuer the deuill troubled him with anie euill thought of her to take the stinkinge napkin, and to put it to his nose, and saie to him selfe: Beholde here thou miserable wretche the thinge thou louest, and beholde here, what ende the delightes and beawties of the worlde haue. This was a great remedie to ouercome this synne. And the deepe consideration of death is of no lesse importance than it,30 as S. Gregorie saieth: There is nothinge that doth so mortifie the appetites of this our peruerse fleash, as to consider in what plight the same shalbe after it is deade.

The same holie father rehearseth a like storie of an other monke, who hauinge his table readie prouided to goe to dinner, to eate somewhat for the refresshinge of his weake and wearie bodie, chaunced sodenly to haue a remembrance of death, which cogitation (euen as though it had bene a constable or other lyke officer there readie to attache him) put him in such a terrour, and feare, that it caused him to refraine from his meate. Consider therefore how much the remembrance of the dreadfull accōpte that we must make at the houre of our deathe is able to worke in the harte of a iust man, seinge it caused this holie monke to abstaine from a thinge that is so lawfull and necessarie to be done.

Certainlie this is one of the most wonderfull thinges in all the worlde, that men knowinge so assuredlie,31 that at the verie howre of their death, a particular accompt shalbe required of them of all their whole life, yea and of euerie idell worde, will notwithstandinge ronne headlonge with such facilitie into sinne. If a waiefaringe man, hauinge but one farthinge in his purse, shoulde enter into an inne, and placinge him selfe downe at the table, shoulde require of the host to bringe in Partridges, Capons, Phesauntes, and all other delicates, that maie be founde in the howse, and shoulde suppe with verie great pleasure, and contentation, neuer remembringe that at the last there must come a time of accompt: who woulde not take this fellowe, either for a iester, or for a verie foole? Now what greater folie or madnes can be) deuised, than for men to geue them selues so looselye to all kindes of vices, and to sleepe so sowndlie in them, without euer remembringe, that shortly after at their departinge out of their Inne, there shall be required of them a verie strayt and particular accompte of all their dissolute and wicked lyfe?

Wherefore it is verelye to be thought, that the diuell labourethe all he can to make vs vtterlie to neglecte and forgette the remēbrance of our accompte,32 that we must make at the verie hower of our deathe, because he knoweth full well, what great proffit and commoditie woulde arise vnto vs by the continuall remembrance of the same. For otherwise how were it possible that men shoulde forget a thinge that is so terrible, and fearefull, yea such a thinge, as they knowe most assuredly will come, and steale verie shortelie vpon them at their owne howses. If we haue but the least doubte or suspition in the worlde of losynge a litle wordly riches, or of some other like thinge, it maketh vs oftentimes very carefull, and watchfull, and causeth vs to lose both our sleepe, and our health. How happeneth it then that the remembrance of death which aswell to the bodie, as to the sowle, is the most horrible and dreadfull thinge that maie come vnto vs, causeth vs not to be likewise verie carefull and watchfull in makinge prouision beforehande for the cōminge of it? Suerlie it seemeth vnto me a thinge verie much to be meruayled at that men shoulde be so carefull as they be in tryfles, and matters of smalle importance, and liue so negligently, and without all care in thinges that are of so greate importance vnto them as is their euerlastinge saluation or damnation.

33 Thirdly, this consideration of our death is a great helpe not onely to prouoke vs to liue a good lyfe, (as it hath bene saiede,) but besides that to die well. In thinges that be harde, and difficult, foresighte and preparation beforehande is a very great helpe to bringe them well to passe. Now so great a leape as is the leape of death, (which reacheth from this lyfe to the euerlastinge lyfe to come) can not well be leaped vnles we make a great course, and fetche a longe race to ronne the same. No great thinge can be well and perfitlie done at the first time. Seinge therefore it is so great a matter to die, and so necessarie to die well, it shalbe verie expedient for vs to die oftentimes in our life, that we maie die well at the verie time of our death. The souldiors that be appoynted to fight doe first practice themselues in such feates, and exercises, as whereby they maie learne in time of peace, what they must doe in time of warre. The horse also that must ronne at the Tilte trauerseth all the grownde before, and trieth all the steppes thereof, that at suche time as he cōmeth to make his cowerse he be not founde newe and straunge in doyinge his feate. Wherefore sith we all must needes ronne this cowerse (forsomuch as there is no man aliue but must die,) consideringe also that the waie is so obscure and stonie (as all men knowe,) and the daunger so great that whosoeuer falleth shalbe tombled downe headlonge into the bottomles pit of hell fyer, it shalbe requisite that we doe now tread diligentelie beforehand all this waie, and consider particularlie all the steppes and places thereof one by one, forsomuch as in euerie one of them there is much to be considered.

And let vs not thinke it enoughe to consider onely what passeth outwardelye aboute the sicke mans bedde, but let vs endeuour much more to vnderstande what passeth inwardlie within his harte.

Of the vncertaintie of the hower of death: And what a greife it is at that tyme to departe from all…

TO beginne now euen from the beginninge of this conflicte: Consider how when death shall come vpon thee,34 it will come at such a time, as when thou thinkest thy selfe in most safetie, and suspectest least of the comminge thereof, as we see by experience it is wont to happen vnto manie. The daie of our Lorde (saith the Apostle) shall come like a thieffe: Which watcheth alwaies to come at such times, as men are most careles, and thinke themselues in most safetie, that it maie take vs vpon a sodeine at vnwares. And so we see it happeneth most often, that euen at that time when men doe least thinke to dye, and when they are least mindfull of their departure out of this lyfe, yea when they cast their accomptes before hande to make great purchases, and buildinges, and to set vpon great enterprises of many daies, and yeares, then cō meth death sodenly vpon them, and disapointeth them of all their vaine hopes, and designementes, and vtterly ouerthroweth all their fonde imaginations and buildinges, which they made in the aier. And so is that sayenge fulfilled of the holie kinge.35 My lyfe (saieth he) was cutt of like as the weauer cutteth of his thread: while I was as yet in the beginning he cut me of: from morninge to eueninge thou wilt make an ende of me.

36 The first stroke wherewith death is wont to strike, is the feare of death. Suerlie this is a very great anguishe vnto him that is in loue with his lyfe: and this forewarninge is such a great greife vnto a mā, that oftētimes his carnall friē des doe vse to dissemble it, and will not haue the sicke man to beleue it, least it shoulde vexe and disquiet him: and this they will doe sometimes although it be to the preiudice and destruction of his miserable sowle. Kinge Saule had a verie stowte and valiant courage: but after that the shadowe of Samuell appeared vnto him, and had tolde him, that he shoulde die in the battell, addinge moreouer theise wordes:37 Tomorrowe both thou and thy sonnes shalbe here with me: The feare and terror which he conceaued at these tidinges was so great, that at that very instant he lost all his force and courage, and fell downe to the grounde as a dead man. Now what a greife will it be to a man, that is in loue with this life, when such lyke newes shalbe signified vnto him? For immediatly vpon this denuntiation there shalbe represented vnto him his departure and perpetual bannishement from this worlde, and from all thinges that be in the same. Then shall he see that his howre is now come, and that the dawninge of that dreadfull daye appeareth now at his howse, wherein he shall departe from all thinges that he hath loued in this lyfe. His bodie shall die but once, but his harte shall die as often as he shall remember the losse of all those thinges whereunto it beareth loue and affection. Forsomuch as death shall put the knife betwene him, and them all, and make an euerlastinge diuision. The deeper rootes the toothe hath in the iawe, the greater greife it causeth at what tyme it is plucked out. Now the harte of a wicked man beinge so fast rooted in the loue of the thinges of this lyfe,38 it cannot be, but that it must needes be a very great greife vnto him, when he seeth the howre is now come wherein he must depart from thē all. At that time those thinges whereunto he beareth most affection shall wounde his hart most greiuously: and that thinge which was wont to be a comfort vnto him in his trouble shalbe then a most cruell torment in vexinge him. S. Augustine declareth that at what time he determined to seperat him selfe from the worlde, and from all the pleasures and delightes thereof, it seemed vnto him that they all represented themselues liuely vnto him, and saied: What wilt thou leaue vs for euer? and wilt thou neuer haue any more to doe with vs? Consider now then with thy selfe, what a greife it wilbe to a carnall harte, when those thinges that he hath most loued, doe represent themselues at that hower vnto him, ād when he seeth that he shal be spoyled of them all in such wise, that he shalbe enforced to saie. Now shall this worlde haue no more to doe with me, neither this aier, nor this sonne, nor this element. Now shall I haue no longer conuersation and comfort of my children, my wife, my howse, my landes, my goodes, my pleasures, and delightes. Of all thinges I am now left naked, and bare. Now will death spoile me of them all. Now is my olde age at an ende: now is the nomber of my daies fulfilled: now shall I die vnto all maner of thinges, and they all vnto me. Wherefore ô thou worlde, I bid thee farrewell: yee my landes, my goodes, and riches, I bid you farewell: my friendes, my acquintance, my kinsfolke, my deare wife, and my louinge children I bid you all farewell. For now shall we neuer see one an other anie more in this mortall fleash.

There is yet an other separation after this more terrible and dreadfull then this is: to witt: betwene the sowle, and the bodie, which haue kept cōpanie so longe time together, and haue bene such hartie friendes. The deuill had spoyled the holie man Iob of all maner of thinges sauinge onely of his lyfe, and it seemed vnto him, that in comparison of the spoile thereof, all the rest were of none accompt: and therefore he saied: Skinne for skinne, and all that a man hath he will geue for his lyfe. This is the thinge that naturally is most loued,39 and the separation whereof causeth most greife. If the seperation of one waifaringe man from an other, when they haue trauayled in iourney together anie time, doe cause such greife and solitarines: what a griefe shall it be, when two such entier friendes, and companions, as the sowle, and the bodie haue bene, are seperated the one from the other, which haue traueyled together from their mothers wombe vntill that verie houre, and haue had so manie knottes, and bondes of friendshippe betwene them? What a greife will it be when the spirite shall saie vnto the fleash. I must now remaine all alone without thee. And the fleash shall likewise make answere vnto the spirite, sayeinge: and in what case then shall I be without thee, seinge all the beinge I haue, I haue receiued of thee?

Of the horror and lothsomenes of our Graue. § II

AFTER this it commeth naturally to a mans minde, to thinke what shall become of his bodie, when his sowle is departed out of it. And in thinkinge hereupon, he seeth that the best happe his bodie maie haue, can be no better than to be laide in a little graue of earthe. The basenes of which conditiō maketh him to be as it were astonnied. For cōsideringe on the one side what great estimation he hath made of his bodie in tymes past, and seinge on the other side what a base and vyle place that is, wherein it must now be laide, he cannot but wonder excedinglie at it. He considereth and waygheth with himselfe, that the lodginge which they will prepare for him in the earth, shalbe strait, and narrowe, that it shalbe also obscure, stinkinge, full of wormes, maggottes, bones, and dead mens skulles, and withall so horrible, that it shalbe verie ircksome to thē that be aliue onely to looke vpon it. And when he seeth that his bodie which he was wont to make so much of, his bellie which he esteimed for his God, his mowth for whose delightes the lande and sea coulde scarselie serue, and his fleash for which golde and silke was wont to be wouen with great curiositie, and a soft bed prepared to laie it in, must now be laide in such a filthie and miserable donghill, where it shalbe troden vpon, and eaten with fowle wormes, and maggottes, and within fewe daies be of as owglie a forme, as a dead Carrion that lyeth in the feildes, insomuch that the waiefaringe man will stoppe his nose, and ronne awaie in great hast to auoid the stinkinge sauour of it: when (I saie) he considereth all this, and seeth that in steede of his soft bed, he must lie there vpon the harde grownde: ād in steede of his pretious and gorgious apparell he must haue there but onely a seely poore windinge sheite, and in steede of his sweete odoriferous parfumes and muskes, filthie rottonnes and horrible stenches, and in steede of his multitude of delicate dishes, and waitinge seruinge men, he must haue there such an infinite nomber of crawling wormes, and fylthie maggottes feedinge vpon him, he cannot chuse (if he haue anie sense or Iudgment remaininge in him) but merueill to see vnto how base a condition such a noble creature is now come, and to consider with whom he must now keepe companie there, euē fellowe, and fellowe like, who in his life tyme had no fellowe, nor equal. It is not the part of wise men to wonder at thinges: and the customable seinge of thinges euerie daie, taketh awaye from them (be they neuer so greate) all admiration and wounder. And yet all this notwithstandinge, the great Wiseman wondered at this miserie (though it be a matter whereof we haue dailie experience) when he saide: If man and beast doe die both after one sort,40 what auaileth me that I haue trauailed so much in seekinge for wisedome? If it were so, that the bodie in this separation shoulde ende in some thinge that were of anie price or proffit, it woulde be some kinde of comfort vnto vs. But this is a thinge to be wondered at, that so excellent a creature shall ende in the most dishonorable and lothsome thinge in the worlde. This is that great miserie whereat the holie man Iob wondered (and suerlie not without good cause) when he saide:41 The tree after it is cut, hath hope to reuiue, and springe againe, and if the roote of it doe rott in the grownde, and the stocke be dead in the earth, yet with the freshenes of water it springeth againe, and bringeth forth leaues, as if it were newlie planted. But man after he is once dead, withered, and consumed, what is become of him? Great (vndowtedlie) was the tribute that was laide vpon the children of Adam for sinne. And the euerlastinge Iudge vnderstode verie well, what penance he gaue vnto man, when he saide: Thou art dust, 42 and into dust thou shalt retourne againe.

Of the great feare and dowte the sowle hath at the hower of deathe, what shall happen vnto it after…

HOWBEIT this is not the greatest cause of feare, that a man hath at the hower of his death, but there is yet one farre greater, and that is, when the sowle casteth her eies further, and beginneth to thinke vpon the daungers of the life to come, and imagineth what shall become of her hereafter. For this is now as it were to depart from the hauen mowth, and to launche into the mayne Sea, where none other thinge is to be seene on what side so euer ye looke, but onely heauen, and the water, the which is woū te to be occasion of greater feare in such as are but newe Seamen. For when a man considereth that eternitie of worldes, which followeth after death: and withall casteth his eie into that newe ād straunge region, which was neuer knowen nor traueyled by anie man aliue, where he must now beginne to take his iourney, when he considereth also the euerlastinge glorie or paine which there must fall to his lotte, and seeth that wheresoeuer the tree falleth,43 there it shall remaine for euermore, and knoweth not on which of the two sides he shal falle, whē he considereth (I saie) all these thinges, he cannot but be in a verie great feare, and trouble of minde. We reade that when Benadad kinge of Siria was sicke,44 he was in so great anguishe and greife of minde, for that he knewe not whether he should die of that sicknes or not, that he sent the generall of his armie with fowertie Camels loden with treasure vnto the Prophet Elizeus, requestinge him with wordes of great humilitie, to rid him out of that perplexitie he was in, and to put him out of all dowt, whether he shoulde recouer of that sicknes, or not. Now if the loue of so short a lyfe as this is be able to cause a man to be in such a greate care and pensiuenes, how great care will a Wiseman take, when he perceiueth him selfe to be in such a case, as that he maie trulie saie, that within two howres he shall haue one of these two lottes: to witt, either lyfe euerlastinge, or death euerlastinge, and that he knoweth not certainlie whether of theise two shall come vnto him? What martirdome maie be compared to such a painfull angwishe and greife as this is? Put the case now that a kinge were taken prisoner emonge the Turckes, and when his Embassadours shoulde come to raunsome him, the Turckes woulde propounde, that the matter shoulde be determined by castinge of lottes, and that if he happened to haue a good lotte, he shoulde be raunsomed, and goe home with his Embassadours to his kingdome, but if contrariewise, that thē immediatly he should be throwē into a great fyerie furnace, which were there prepared burninge and flaminge before him. Tell me I praie thee, at the time when they shoulde be castinge the lottes, and puttinge their hande into the vessell to take them out, and all the worlde in great expectation, waitinge what shoulde be the ende thereof, and the kinge him selfe standinge there present, beholdinge the doutfull happe that must be alotted vnto him: in what a dolefull case (thinkest thou) woulde he then be? How troubled? How fearfull? How quakinge and tremblinge? And how readie to promise and vowe vnto almightie God all he cowlde possiblye doe, to be quite ridde out of that terrible angwishe? Now what is all this (be it neuer so great) but as it were a shadowe, if it be compared with this daunger that we speake of? How farre greater is the kingdome that we seike? How farre greater is the fierye furnace that we doe feare? How farre more greiuouse is the perplexitie ād doutefulnes of this matter, thā of the other? For on the one side the angels shalbe there expectinge for vs, to carrie vs to the kingedome of heauen, and on th'other side the deuills, to cast vs into the horrible furnace of hell fier, and no man knoweth whether of these two lottes shall happen vnto him, which shalbe determined eyther the one waye or the other within the space of one houre after his death. Consider therefore in what a heauie plight thy harte shalbe at this last instant: how fearfull, how humble, how abased before the face of him, who onelie cā deliuer thee out of this daunger. Suerlie I am of this opinion, that there is no tonge in the worlde able to declare this matter as it is indeede.

How we come to vnderstande hereby the errours and blindnes of our lyfe past. § IIII

AFTER this anguishe there followeth yet an other as great as it, (namelye in such persons as haue liued a wicked and dissolute lyfe) which is, to come so late to thinke vpō the accōpt they haue then forthwith to make of all the disorders, and offences of their former lyfe.45 O how wō derfullie shall the wicked be confounded at that time, when the griefe of their paine shall cause them to open their eies, which heretofore the delight and pleasure of sinne had closed vp: insomuch as they shall then clearlie perceiue what false goddes those were which they haue serued, and how deceitfull those riches were which they haue so greidelie gaped after, and how by followinge that waie, whereby they thought to haue fownde rest, they finde in conclusion their vtter ruin and destruction. The seruantes of the kinge of Siria came to apprehende the Prophet Heliseus, and when almightie God had stricken them all blinde by meanes of the praier of the Prophet, the Prophet said vnto them: Come goe with me, and I will shewe you him whom you seeke. 46 And when he had thus said, he caried them with him vnto Samaria, and brought them into the market place of the cittie, in the middes of al their enemies. And then made his praier againe, and saide. O Lorde open the eies of these miserable men, that they maie see where they are. Now tell me I praie thee, when those men opened their eies, and sawe whither they were come, (beleuinge certainlie before, that they went to finde the partye they sought for,) how amased and ashamed were they when they sawe how fowlie they were deceiued. Now what thinge in the worlde coulde make a more liuely resemblance of the proces and deceites of our lyfe? We all doe walke here in this worlde by the waie of our appetites, and desires. Some seeke after golde: others to purchace lādes: others to make great buildinges: others seeke for pleasures, and delightes: others for offices, and dignities: and each one is fullie perswaded, that he taketh the best and wisest waie to obtein the thinge he disiereth. But when the terrible presence of death, and the daunger of our accompt discouereth the vanitie of our hopes, then findinge our selues to be in arrerages for our accompt, we shall clearlie perceiue how fowlie we haue bene deceiued: and we shall see that by followinge that waie, whereby we thought to haue founde quietnes, and rest, we finde our perdition. O what miserable men are we? How blindly doe we now wander vp and downe in the worlde? What eies shall we then haue? How shall our iudgement be then altered? How farre different shall it be from that it was before? Then shall we playnelie see how all the thinges of this worlde are miserable, her goodes false, her waies crooked, her hopes vaine, her promises lyinge, her pleasures bitter, her glorie shorte, and vaine: Then shall we perceiue (though to late) how her riches were thornes, and her delightes poyson. To be short, then shall we see how our eies haue bene closed vp, and that we neuer knewe whither we went: and at the ende of our iourney we shall finde our selues in the streites of Samaria, and in the snare of the iudgement of almightie God, and compassed about with all our enemies, to witt: the diuells and our sinnes. O how shall the wicked be confounded at that howre, and how fowly shall they see them selues beguiled! How truelie maye euerie one of them saie at that tyme: O miserable wretch that I am, what other commoditie haue I now by all my pleasures past, but onely that I haue prouoked at this dreadfull howre the indignation of the iudge against me, who must geue sentence vpon me? Now my pleasures are all ended, and gone, and there remaineth of them neither relique nor memorie to comfort me withall, no more than if they neuer had bene: yea contrariewise they remaine as thornes that lye prickinge all about my harte, they make my cause doutfull, they torment my wofull sowle now presently, and peraduenture shall torment it euerlastinglie for euer and euer. This is the fruit that I haue gathered of my dissolute and wanton lyfe, and of all my carnall delightes: This is the settinge of my teeth on edge, that my gluttonies past doe cause me now to haue. My pleasures and delightes haue now forsaken me: They are quite gone awaie, and will neuer retourne againe: yea perhapps in steede of pleasures that cō tinued but a momente, there are prepared for me euerlastinge horrible tormentes in hell fier. Now what blindnes can be greater than this? How much better had it bene for me neuer to haue bene borne, than to haue offended him, of whose helpe and fauour I haue at this presente so great neide? How much better had it bene for me, that the earth had opened, and swalowed me vp, before I had once thought to offend him? O vnfortunat daie! O cursed howre, wherein I offended thee ô Lorde! Why did I not consider beforehande of this dreadfull howre? Why was I not sooner mindfull of this terrible iudgement? How were mine eies blynded with so smalle a glimse? Is this the waie that I tooke to be so certayne and sure? Is this the ende that all the honours of the worlde come vnto? What? are all those thinges which I haue so greatlie estiemeed heretofore of so litle accompte at this presente?

Of the terrour of the deadfull accompt we must make at the howere of our death vnto almightie God…

AFTER this griefe there followeth also an other as great as this: which is, the feare of the accompt that shall then be required of vs.

This is one of the greatest troubles, and greifes, we shall haue at that time. For besides this that it is so terrible a matter to enter into iudgemēt with almightie God, the very deuils also, and fyendes of hell will increase this feare at that howre, which before they were wont to extenuate, and diminishe vnto vs, with the hope and coulour of gods mercie. Then will they put vs in minde of the greatnes and profoundenes of the iudgemēntes of almightie God, and of his iustice, which they will then shewe to be so great, that he pardoned not his owne onely sonne for the sinnes of others.47 If this then be done in greine woode, what shalbe done (saie they) in drye woode? Then the wicked man shall beginne to tremble, and qwake for feare, and saie to him selfe. O miserable wretche that I am! If that be true, which al the scripture reporteth, to wit, that almightie God will geue to euerie one accordinge to his workes, what maie I hope to receiue at his handes, that haue done so manie wicked workes? If the Gospell saie,48 That the tree shalbe iudged accordinge to the frute that it yeldeth? What iudgement maie I looke for, that haue brought forthe so manie wicked fruites? If it be true, which the Prophet saieth: That none shall ascend vp to the hill of God, vnles he haue innocent handes,49 and an vndefiled harte: whither shall I then goe, that haue had such wicked handes, and such a filthie harthe? If the sayeinge of the Wiseman be true:50 That whosoeuer shutteth his eares and will not heare the lawe, shall crie, and not be harde: what maie I looke for, that haue had mine eares shutt against almightie God, and yet haue had them so open to harken after lies, and vanities of the worlde? Wherefore (ô my omnipotent God) with what face shall I now appeare before thee, and desire thee to geue eare vnto me, seinge thou hast so often times called me, and I woulde geue no eare vnto thee? How can I request thee to receiue me into thy howse, seinge thou hast so often times called at my howse, and I haue shutt my gates against thee? How shall I finde thee now at the time of my neede, seinge thou hast had so oftentimes neede of me in thy poore and impotent members, and hast not found me? By what title or right maie I request thee now at the ende of my iourney to graunt me heauē, seinge I haue spente all my lyfe time in the seruice of the deuill thine enemie? O how iustly maist thou then (ô Lorde) saie vnto me: Thou hast serued the worlde and the deuill, get thee therefore vnto them, and let them geue thee thy hyre. The like answere made the Prophet Heliseus to kinge Ioram the sonne of Achab. Who when he had spente and emploied all his lyfe in the seruice and worshippinge of Idols, and came in the time of his necessitie to the Prophet of God, requestinge him of helpe and remedie,51 the holie Prophet answered and saide: O kinge Ioram, what hast thou to doe with me? Get thee hence to the Prophettes of thy father,52 and mother, and desier them to helpe thee at this tyme. O how manie of vs doe followe this wicked kinge both in our life, and death? In our lyfe we serue the worlde, and at the point of death we calle vpon almightie God. What answere maie we looke to haue at that dreadfull howre, but euen the same that he hath alreadie geuen in the like case? Which is: what hast thou to doe with me, sith thou diddest neuer seruice vnto me? Get thee hence to thy counsellors whom thou hast folowed, and to thy idols whom thou hast loued, serued and adored, and speake vnto them to geue thee thy wages for thy seruice.

When yee shall crie (saieth almightie God by his Prophet Esaie) let them that yee haue gathered together deliuer you, but the winde shall take them all awaie.

At this time the sicke man beginneth to wishe, that he might haue some space to doe penance for his former wicked lyfe. And he thinketh then with himselfe that if he might obteyne it, ô how he woulde fast, and praie, and doe great worckes of mercie: Yea he woulde not contente him selfe with euerie common kinde of penāce, but woulde liue the most straite, and austere kinde of lyfe of all men in the worlde. But alas, when he perceiueth by the encreasinge of his sicknes, that his request will not be graūted: and calleth to minde what time opportunitie and meanes he hath had to prepare himselfe for this dreadful howre, ād how fondly he hath suffered the same to passe in vaine, then is he wonderfullie greiued and vexed for this losse, and acknowledgeth him selfe to be well worthie of such punnishement, for that he woulde not be mindfull beforehande of his dreadfull accompt, but omitted to doe penance for his synnes when he had time and space to doe it. O vnto how manie of vs doth it happen to be beguiled after this sorte, spēdinge and consuminge the time (which almightie God hath geuen vs to doe penance for our sinnes) in vanities, and pleasures, and afterwardes when we stande in most neede of it we wante it.53 And so it happeneth vnto vs, as it doth commonlie to the pages, and seruitours in the Cowert, who beinge alowed a candle to light them selues to bedde, doe spende their candle in plaie all the night, and afterwardes are constrained to goe to bedde darkelinge.

OF THE SACRAMENT OF EXTREME Vnction: And of the agonie of death. Infirmatur quis in vobis

54 NOw approcheth the sicke person to his last ende: and the Catholike Church as a verie louinge and pittiefull mother, beginneth then to helpe her Children with praiers, and Sacramentes, and with all the meanes she maie possiblie doe. And because his necessitie is so great (for at that instant it shalbe determined what shall become of him for euer and euer,) greate hast is made to calle vpon all the Sainctes in heauen, that they all will helpe the sicke mā in this his great perill and daunger. For what other thinge is the Letanye which then by commandement of the Church is to be saied ouer him that is at the poynt of death, but that the Catholicke Churche as a pittifull mother, beinge verie carefull for the daunger of her sicke childe, knocketh at all the gates of heauen, and cryeth vnto all the Sainctes, desiringe them to be intercessors before the diuine maiestie for the saluation of him, that standeth now in so great neede of their helpe, at the time of his passinge out of this worlde.

55 Then the Preist out of hande annointeth all the senses and members of the sicke person with the holie Oyle, accordinge as the holie Scripture commaundeth in the Epistle of S. Iames. cap. 5. vers. 14. And desireth almightie God to pardon the sicke person all that he hath offended by any of his senses. And then annointinge his eies he saieth: Almightie God by this Vnction and of his diuine mercie pardon thee all the sinnes that thou hast committed by meanes of thine eies. And in this wise he annointeth all the other partes of the sicke person. Now if the miserable sinner haue bene dissolute in his eies, or in his tōge, or in anie other of his bodelie senses: If all his former dissolute disorders and wanton pleasures be represented vnto him at that time, in such sorte that he seeth well what litle fuite he is lyke to finde then by all his former delightes and pleasures: If he perceiue withall into what a narrowe strait he is brought by meanes of his wicked and licentious life, how can he chose but feele an extreme angwish and griefe therewith? What woulde he geue at that time (trowe yee) that he had neuer lifted vp his eies from the grownde to beholde anie woman with anie wanton looke, and that he had neuer opened his mowth to speake anie wordes of lyenge, slaunder, detraction, or anie other wicked worde?

56 After this followe the panges and agonie of death, which is suerlie the greatest of all the conflictes we haue in this lyfe. Then is the holie Candle lighted, and his friendes and executors beginne to prouide his wyndinge sheete, and other thinges for his funerals: Then they beginne to faie to the sicke man, that the hower of his departure out of this worlde is now come: and therefore they counsell him to recommende himselfe vnto almightie God, and call vpon the holie virgin Marie his blessed Mother, who is wonte at that hower to helpe all them that calle vpon her. Then the sicke man beginneth to heare the woefull cries and pittiefull lamentations of his poore wife, who now presently beginneth to feele the discommodities of her newe widowhode, and solitarie lyfe. Then the sowle of the sicke man is readie to departe frō the bodie: and at the time of hir goinge euerie one of his members is sore grieued and vexed therewith. Then are the cares of the sowle renewed a freshe. Then is the sowle in a merueilous great conflict, and agonie, not so much for her departure, as for feare of the howere of her dreadfull accompt, approchinge so neare vnto her. Then is the time of tremblinge, and quakinge, yea euen of such as be most stowte, and couragious. The blessed holie father Hilarion,57 as he was passinge out of this worlde, beganne to tremble, and feare, and was lothe to die, howbeit the holie man encouraged himselfe, sayienge: Goe forth my sowle: goe foorth out of this bodie: whereof shouldest thou be afraid? It is threescore and tenne yeares that thou hast serued Christ, and art thou yet afraide of death? Now if this holie man were afraid of his passing out of this worlde, who serued Christ so manie yeares, what shall he doe, who peraduenture hath offended him so manie yeares? Whither shall he goe? Whom shall he call vpon? What counsell shall he take? O that men vnderstode how great this perplexitie and anguishe is at this dreadfull howre? Imagin now (I beseach thee) in what a dolefull case the harte of the Patriarke Isacke was,58 when his father held him bounde handes and feete, and had laide him vpon the woode to sacrifice him, when he sawe his fathers glisteringe sworde ouer his heade, and vnderneth him the flames of fiere burninge, and the seruantes that might haue succoured him stayinge at the foote of the hill, and he himselfe bownde handes and feete in such sort that he cowlde neither flie, nor defende himselfe, in what plight trowe yee was the harte of this blessed younge man, when he sawe himselfe in so narrowe a strayte?59 And surelie in farre greater perplexitie is the sowle of the wicked man at this dreadfull hower: because he can tourne his eies on no syde, where he shall not see occasions of great terrour, and feare. If he looke vpwarde, he seeth the terrible sworde of the iustice of almightie God threateninge him: If he looke downwarde, he seeth the graue opē euer gapinge, and tarienge for him: If he looke within himselfe, he seeth his owne conscience gnawinge, and bytinge him: If he looke about him, there be Angels, and deuils, on both sides of him, watchinge and expectinge the ende of the sentence, whether of them shall haue the praie: If he looke backwarde, he seeth his dolefull wyfe, his littell younge children, his poore seruantes, his kinsfolke, his freindes, his companions, his acquaintance, his howse, his landes, and the goodes of this lyfe to remaine all behinde, and are not able to succoure him in this his great distresse: forsomuch as he must depart all alone out of this lyfe, and they all must remaine still here. To conclude; if after all this he take a vewe of him selfe, and consider what he is inwardelie, he shalbe wonderfully amased, and afraide to see himselfe in such a daungerous and terrible state: insomuch as if it were possible, he woulde flie awaie euen from himselfe. Nowe alas, to depart from the bodie is a thinge intollerable: To continewe still therein is a thinge impossible: And to differre his departure anie longer will not be graunted. All the time past seemeth vnto him but as a blast of wynde: and that which is to come appeareth (as it is in deede) infinite. Now what shall the miserable sowle doe beinge thus compassed and enuironed about with so manie straites? O how fonde and blynde are the sonnes of Adam, that wil not prouide in time for this terrible passage?

HOW FILTHIE, AND LOTH-some the bodie is after it is dead: And of the bur • inge of it in the graue.…

LAST of all, when this great conflict is ended, the sowle is violently taken awaie from the bodie, and departeth from her auncient habitation, the bodie remayninge vtterly spoyled of all the beawtie, and qualities it had.

Now let vs consider what lotte each one of theise two partes must haue. First consider, in what case the bodie is,60 after the sowle is departed out of it. What thinge is more esteimed than the bodie of a prince whiles he is a liue? And what thinge is more contemptible, and more vyle, than the verie same bodie when it is dead? Where is then that former pryncely maiestie become? Where is that royall behauiour, and glorious magnificence? Where is that highe authoritie, and soueraintie? Where is that terrour, and feare, at the beholdinge of his presence? Where is that cappinge, and kneelinge, and speakinge vnto him with such reuerence, and subiection? How quicklie is all this gaye pompe vtterly ouerthrowen, and come to nothinge, as if it had bene but a mere dreame, or a plaie on a stage, that is dispatched in an howre?

Then out of hande the wyndinge sheet […]s prouided, and brought forth,61 which is the […]ichest iewell he maie take with him out of this lyfe. And this is the greatest recompence that the richest man in this worlde shall haue of all his goodes at that hower. I w[…]she this pointe were well considered by e[…]erie couetous man, and by those that make their money their God, whose blindnes and follie the Prophet reprehendeth in theise wordes: Be not afraide when a man waxeth riche, and when thou seest the glorie of his howse verie much multiplied, and increased: for when he dieth he shall not carie his goodes awaye with him, neither shall his glorie goe downe with him.

62 Then doe they make a hole in the earthe of seuen or eight foote longe, (and no longer though it be for Alexander the great, whom the whole worlde coulde not holde) and with that smalle rowme onelie must his bodie be contence. There they appoint him his howse for euer: There he taketh vp his perpetuall lodginge vntill the last daye of generall Iudgment, in companie with other dead bodies: There the wormes crawle out to geue him his interteinment: To be short, there they let him downe in a poore white sheete, his face beinge couered with a napkin, and his handes and feete fast bownde: which trewlie needeth not, for he is then suer enough for breakinge out of prison, neither shall he be able to defende himselfe against anie man. There the earthe re […]eyueth him into her lappe: There the bones of dead men kisse, and welcome him: There the dust of his auncesters embraceth him, and inui[…]e him to that table, and howse, which is appointed for all men liuinge. And the last honour that the worlde can doe vnto him at that time is to cast a litle earth vpon him, and to couer him well therewith, that the people maie not feele his stinckinge sauour, ād beholde his dishonour. And the greatest pleasure that his verie deare and spetiall friendes can doe then vnto him (besides prayinge for his sowle,) is to honour him with castinge a handfull of earthe vpon him. And therefore the faithfull people are wont to vse this ceremonie towardes the dead, that almightie. God maye dispose others to doe the same vnto them, whē they shalbe in the like case. Now what greater confession and acknowledginge of our miserie can we diuise, than to see how men doe preuent before hande that they may not want after their death so smalle a benefite as this is? O greidie couetousenes of the lyuinge, and great pouertie of the dead. Why shoulde a man desire and gape after so manie thinges for this presente lyfe, beinge so shorte as it is, seinge so litle will content him at the howre of his death?

Then the graue maker taketh the spade, and pykeaxe into his hande, and beginneth to tumble downe bones vpon bones, and to tread downe the earth verie harde vpon him. Insomuch that the fairest face in all the worlde, the best trimmed, and most charily kepte from wynde, and sonne, shall lye there, and be stamped vpon by the rude graue maker, who will not sticke to laie him on the face, and rappe him on the sculle, yea and to batter downe his eies and nose flatte to his face, that they maie lye well and euen with the earth. And the fyne dapperde gentleman who whiles he liued might in no wise abide the wynde to blowe vpon him, no nor so much as a litle heare or moore to falle vpon his garmentes, but in all hast it must be brusshed of with great curiositie, here they laie and hurle vpon him a donghill of filthines, and dirte. And that sweete mynion gentleman also that was wont forsooth to goe perfumed with Amber, and other odoriferous smelles, must be contented here to lye couered all ouer with earthe, and fowle crawlinge wormes, and maggottes. This is the ende of all the gaie braueries, and of all the pompe, and glorie of the worlde.

In this plight doe all his freindes nowe leaue him, lyenge in that strait lodginge, in that earthe of obliuion, and in that darcke prison, where he shall remaine accompanied with perpetuall solitarines vntill the generall daye of Iudgment. O worlde what is become of thy glorie? O yee my howses, landes, and riches, where is your power? O my wyfe, my children, my freindes, and kinsfolke, where haue ye now left me? How happeneth it, that yee my olde freindes and companions doe so quickly forsake me, and leaue me here in the earthe thus solitarie alone? How chaunceth it, that the wheele of my so great prosperitie and felicitie is so quickly ouerturned, and defaced? They that sawe Quene Iezabell when she was (by the iust iudgement of God) eaten with dogges,63 when they sawe that there remained nothinge els of her bewtie, but onelie her sculle, and the extreme partes of her feete, and handes, those (I saie) that had knowen her before in so greate flourishinge and royall estate, and sawe her at that time in such a miserable plight, wonderinge at that so great alteration, and chaunge, demaunded, and saied: Haeccine est illa Iezabel? Is this that Iezabell? 64 And as manie as passed by that waie, and behelde her thus eaten with dogges, repeted the same exclamation, merueylinge at so great a chaunge, and saied: Is this that Iezabell? Is this that great Quene, and Ladie of Israëll? Is this she that was so mightie, that she vsurped and seased the landes and goodes of her subiectes, by sheedinge of their bloude? Is death able to bringe the mightie and puissaunte Princes to such a base, and miserable calamitie?

Now therefore my deare brother goe downe I praie thee with thy spirit into the graues and Sepulchers of such Princes, and great noble personages, as thou hast either harde of, or knowen in this worlde: and consider what a horrible and deformed forme of their bodies is there to be seene. And thou shalt see, that thou hast good cause to make the like exclamation, and to vse the same wordes, and saie: Is this that Iezabell? Is this that amiable face, which I knewe so faire, and liuelie? Are these those eies, that were so cleare, and brighte to beholde? Is this that pleasaunt rowlinge tongue, that talked so eloquently, and made such goodlie discourses? Is this that fyne and neyte bodie, that was so trimlie pollished, and adorned? Is this the ende of the maiestie of Princes scepters, and roiall crownes? Is this the ende of the glorie of the worlde? O how often times (saieth a Wise man) hath it bene my chaunce to enter into the sepulchres of some dead bodies, where wonderinge or rather beinge greatlie astonied at the sight that I sawe, I fixed mine eies aduisedlie vpon the shape of the dead corps: I sette the bones in order, I ioyned the handes together, and sette the lippes in their proper places, and spake thus secretlie to my selfe. Beholde these feete, that haue trauayled such crooked pathes, and waies: These handes also, that haue committed so manie wicked actes: These eies, that haue behelde so manie vanities: This mouth, that hath eaten and deuoured so manie delicate, and superfluous meates. Beholde this sculle of his head that hath built so manie vaine castels, and towers in the aier: This dust, and filthie skinne for whose pleasure and delight he hath committed so many sinnes, and wickednes: and for which cause the sowle of this bodie doth and shall perhappes suffer euerlastinge horrible tormentes in hell fier. This done, I departed out of that place wholy astonied, and amased: and meitinge with certain persons both men, and women, yonge and olde, I behelde them likewise, and considered, that both they and I shoulde shortelie appeare in the like vglie forme, and sieme as vyle, and lothsome to beholde, as those dead bodies are now presentelie. Wherefore what a fonde wicked wretche am I, to liue in suche wise as I doe? To what ende is my purchasinge, ād heapinge together of lādes, and riches, ād my buildinge of such sumptuous howses, seinge I shall shortly be here so poore and naked? To what ende are my gaie braueries, and gorgious ornamentes in my apparell, and furniture of howsholde stuffe: seinge I shall shortly be here so filthie, and lothsome to beholde? To what ende are my delicate disshes, my sugered sawces, and deyntie fare, seinge I shall shortly be here meate for the wormes and maggottes of the earthe?

Of the waie, that the sowle taketh after it is departed out of the bodie: And of the dreadfull…

65 LET vs now leaue the bodie lyinge thus buried in the graue, and let vs see what waie the sowle taketh throughe that newe worlde, which is as it were an other hemespherie, where it findeth a new heauen, a newe earthe, an other kinde of lyfe, and an other maner of vnderstandinge, and knowledge. The sowle then after it is departed out of the bodie entereth into this newe region, where those that by liuinge neuer entered: a place full of feare, and terrour, and of shadowes of death. But now what shall this new straunger doe in this so straunge a countrey, vnlesse it be so, that he hath deserued in this lyfe to haue the garde and defence of Angells for this time. O my sowle (saieth S. Bernarde) what a terrible daie shal that be, when thou shalt enter all alone into that vnknowen region, where those hellishe monsters that are so horrible and vglie to beholde, shall encounter and assault thee in the waie? Who will then take thy part? Who will then defende thee? Who will then deliuer thee from those rampinge lions, which beinge raginge madde for honger, do lie there in waite to deuour thee?

66 Vndoubtedlie this is a verie fearfull waie, but the iudgment that shall then so solemnlie be geuen, is farre more terrible. Who is able to declare, how strait the decision of this particular iudgement shalbe? How righteous the iudge? How busie, and solicitous the deuills our accusers? How fewe intercessors on our syde? What a particuler examination shalbe made of euerie point of our accompte? And what a longe proces shalbe drawen of all our whole lyfe? And as our Sauiour affirmeth: we must then render an accompte of euerie idell worde. Wherefore, if the iust man (as S. Peter saieth) shal hardly be saued, where shall the sinner and wicked man shewe them selues? It is a thinge trulie verie worthie to be noted, that whereas a man woulde thinke that those thinges that we haue most loued, and for which we haue taken most paines, shoulde most helpe vs in this greate distres, it falleth out quite contrarie. For they shall not onely not helpe vs, but also be an occasion at that tyme of more paine and griefe vnto vs.67 The thinge that Absolō loued, ād esteemed aboue all thinges, was his goodlie heare of his head. And that verie heare almightie God ordeined by his iust iudgement to be the cause of his death.68 Now the verie same iudgement is prepared for all wicked persons at that howre: that those thinges that euerie man most loued in this lyfe, and for which he committed most haynous offences against almightie God, the verie same thinges shall make his accompt more doutfull, and be occasion of greater torment vnto him. There shall our children whom we sought to enriche, not passinge whether it were by right or wronge accuse vs. There shall the nawghtie harlotte (for whose wanton loue we haue broken the lawes and commaundementes of almightie God,) pleade against vs. There shall our landes, our goodes, our offices, our dignities, our pleasures, and delightes, (which were our idolles) be our hangmen, and tormente vs most cruellie. There shall almightie God geue iudgement vpon all the gods of Egipt, ordeyninge the matter in such sorte, that those verie thinges wherein we haue put all our glorie, shall at that tyme be the cause of our ruine.

Now if the seueritie of the dreadfull sentence of almightie God be answerable to our sinnes, who shalbe able to abyde it? One of those auncient holie fathers that liued in the wildernes was wont to saie, that of thre thinges he liued continually in greate feare. The first was, when his sowle shoulde departe out of his bodie. The seconde, when it shoulde be presented before the iudgment seat of almightie God. The thirde, when the sentence of his cause should be geuen and pronounced. But now (which is most terrible of all) what if almightie God shall geue this most terrible sentence ageinst thee, that thou shalt be damned for euer and euer to the horrible tormentes of hell fier, there to continewe infinite millions of yeares, and worlde without ende? In what a terrible strait shalt thou then be? What sorowe? What greife? What anguishe shalt thou then feele? Againe, what ioye, and triumphes, will the deuills thyne enemies make at that tyme? Then shall that sentence of the Prophet be fulfilled: sayeinge:69 All thine enemies shall open their mouthes vpon thee, they shall laughe thee to scorne, and gnashe their teath at thee, and saie: we will deuour him: this is the daie we haue so longe loked for, we haue found him, we haue espied him.

But thou ô sweite Iesus,70 Illuminat the eies of my sowle (I beseeche thee) that I steipe not in death, that myne enemie maie neuer saie: I haue preuailed against him. Amen.

Footnotes

  1. Of the vncertaintie of the houer of our deathe. ↩

  2. Of the separation from all worldlie thinges, and of the partinge of the sowle from the bodye, at the hower of our deathe. ↩

  3. Of the payne that is at the houre of our deathe, to consider what shall then become of our bodie and sowle. ↩

  4. what considerations maye moue vs at the houer of death both to hope, and feare. ↩

  5. Luc. 23. ↩

  6. Math. 27. ↩

    1. Paral. 33.
    ↩

  8. Of the particular accounte we must make to almightie God at the houer of our deathe of all our whole lyfe. Arsenius. ↩

  9. Genes. 4. ↩

  10. Exod. 21. ↩

  11. Prouerb. 23. ↩

  12. Ierem. 51. ↩

  13. Apoc. 14. ↩

  14. How the Catholicke Churche cōforteth ād helpeth the sycke person with Sacramētes, and prayers, at his departure our of this worlde. ↩

  15. Of the pā ges of deathe. ↩

  16. Of the greate payne ād agonie the sowle abideth at her departure out of the bodie. ↩

  17. Of the funeralles ād buryenge of the bodie. ↩

  18. what becō methe of the sowle, after it is departed out of the bodie. ↩

  19. Eccles. 12. vers. 14. Iob. 14.13. Iob. 31.14.23. ↩

  20. Math. 12.36. Math. 19.17. Rom. 2.6. 1. Co. 4.4. 1. Cor. 9.27. 2. Cor. 5.10. Ephes. 6.8. Philip. 2.12. Haeb. 9.27. 1. Peter. 4.18. 2. Pet. 1.10. Apoc. 2.23. Apoc. 14.7.13. ↩

  21. The consideration of death causeth a man to gouerne and frame his life. ↩

  22. Iob. 2. ↩

  23. For wante of consideration of our death doe growe all our fonde errours and deceites. ↩

  24. The lyfe of a wise mā, is a contynuall thinkinge of deathe. ↩

  25. Ierem. 18. ↩

  26. To knowe a mans selfe, is one of the highest pointes of philosophie. ↩

    1. Reg. 9. 3. Reg. 21.
    ↩

  28. Eccles. 7. ↩

  29. S. Iohn Climacus. ↩

  30. S. Gregorie. ↩

  31. Math. 12.36. Hebr. 9.27. 1. Pet. 4.18. Apoc. 14.7.13. ↩

  32. The diuell laboureth all he can to make vs neglecte and forgette the accompte we must make of all our whole lyfe at the hower of our deathe. ↩

  33. The consideration of our deathe prouoketh vs not onelie to liue a good lyfe, but also to dye well. ↩

  34. Deyth stealeth vpon vs at such a tyme as we thincke least of it. 1. Thess. 5.2. ↩

  35. Esa. 38. ↩

  36. The first stroke of death is the feare of deathe. ↩

  37. 1 Reg. 28. ↩

  38. The more we be in loue with worldelie thinges, the more griefe it wilbe vnto vs, to departe from them at the hower of our deathe. S. Augustine. ↩

  39. Iob. 2.4. ↩

  40. Eccles. 2.3. ↩

  41. Iob. 14. ↩

  42. Genes. 4. ↩

  43. Eccles. 11. ↩

  44. 4 Reg. 8. ↩

  45. At the houer of deythe it is a great greife to a sicke man if he haue liued licentiouslie, that he thinketh so late vpō his accompte. ↩

    1. Reg. 6.
    ↩

  47. Luc. 23. ↩

  48. Math. 6. vers. 27. Rom. 2.6. 2. Cor. 5.10. Math. 3.10. Math. 7.19. ↩

  49. Psal. 23.3.4, ↩

  50. Prou. 28.9. ↩

    1. Reg. 3.13.
    ↩

  52. whēsoeuer a synner earnestlie repenteth, and cōuerteth trewlie vnto God he will forgeue and receiue him: but fewe sicke persons (that haue liued dissolutelie) doe so: but if they recouer there health, doe retorn ordinarielie againe to their former wicked lyfe. Esa 57.13. At the hower of our deathe we wishe that we had more time to doe penance for our synnes. ↩

  53. A verie apt similitude. ↩

  54. The Catholicke Churche helpethe her childrē at the hower of their deathe with prayers, ād Sacramentes. ↩

  55. The Preiste then annoyntethe all the senses, and members of the sicke person. ↩

  56. Of the agonie of deythe. ↩

  57. S. Hilariō. ↩

  58. Genes. 22. ↩

  59. In what greate perplexitie the sowle of the wicked man is at the hower of deathe. ↩

  60. In what case the bodie is, after the sowle is departed out of it. ↩

  61. The richest man in this worlde shall haue no more with him, of all his gooddes at the hower of his deathe, but onelie a wyndinge sheete. Psal. 48.17.18. ↩

  62. Of the buriall of the bodye. ↩

    1. Reg. 9.
    ↩
    1. Reg. 9.37.
    ↩

  65. Note, that there be two iudgemētes: one is at the hower of euerie mās deathe, which is called the particular iudgemente: And the other is at doomesdaye, which shalbe the vniuersall iudgmente of all mankinde together. S. Bernarde. ↩

  66. At the hower of deathe the sowle müst rendre a particular accompte vnto almightie God of all thinges: ād then it shalbe iudged what shall become of her for euermore: and this is termed her particular iudgemēt. Math. 12.36. 1. Peter. 4.18. ↩

    1. Reg. 14. 2. Reg. 18.
    ↩

  68. The thinges that we loue most in this lyfe, shall make our accompte more dowtefull, and be greater greife vnto vs at the hower of our deathe. ↩

  69. Ierem. Lam. 2. vers. 16. ↩

  70. Psalm. 12. ↩

Chapter 17 of 29