# The Life of Sir Thomas More/Appendix 8

No. VIII.
When I came next unto my father after, me thoughte it both conuenient and necessary, to shew him your letter. Conuenient, that he might thereby see your loving labour taken for him. Necessarye, that sith he might perceive therby, that if he stande still in this scruple of hys conscience, (as it is at the least wyse called by many that are his frendes and wyfe) all his frendes that seme most able to dooe him good, either shall finally forsake him, or peradventure not be hable in dede to do him anye good at all. And for these causes, at my next being with him after your letter received, when I had a while talked with him, fyrst of his diseases bothe in his breste of olde, and his reynes nowe, by reason of gravell and stone, and of the crampe also that dyvers nights grypeth hym in hys legges, and that I found by his wordes that they wer not much encreased, but continued after theyr manner that they did before, sometime very sore and sometime little grief, and that at that time I found him out of payn, and as one in his case mighte, metelye well minded, after our vii psalmes and the litany, saide, to sit and talke and be merye, begynning first with other thinges, of the good coumfort of my mother, and the good order of my brother, and all my sisters, disposing themself every day more and more to set little by the world, and drawe more and more to God, and that his housholde, hys neighbors, and other good frendes abrode, diligently remembered him in their prayers, I added unto this; I pray God, good father, that their prayers, and ours, and your owne therewith, may purchase of God the grace ​that you may in this great matter (for which you stand in this trouble, and for your trouble all we also that love you) take such a waye by time, as standing with the pleasure of God, may content and please the king, whome ye have alwaye founden so singularly gracious unto you, that if ye should stiffly refuse to doe the thing that wer his pleasure, which, God not displeased, you might do, (as many great, wise, and well learned men, say that in this thing you may), it would both be a great blot in your worship in every wise mannes opinion, and as myself have heard some say (such as yourself have alway taken for well-learned and good) a perill unto your soul also. But as for that point (father) will I not be bolde to dispute upon, sith I truste in God, and your good minde, that ye will looke surely therto. And your learning I know for suche, that I wot well you can. But one thing is ther, which I and other your frendes fynd and perceive abrode, which, but if it be shewed you, you may peradventure to your greate perill, mistake, and hope for lesse harm (for as for good I wot well in this world of this matter ye looke for none) than I sore feare me, shall be likelye to fall to you. For I assure you father, I have received a letter of late from my sister Alington, by whiche I see well, that if ye change not your minde, you are likelye to lose al those frendes that are hable to do you any good. Or if ye leese not their good wils, you shal at the least wise lese the effect therof, for any good that they shal be hable to dooe you. With this my father smyled vpon me and saide: what maistres Eue (as I called you when you came first) hath my daughter Alington plaid the serpent with you, and with a letter set you a worke to come tempte your father again, and for the favour that you beare him, labour to make him sweare against his conscience, and so send him to the devil? And after that, he loked sadly agayne, and earnestly said vnto me Daughter Margaret, we two have talked of this thynge ofter than twyse or thryse. And the same tale in effect, that you tell me now therein, and the same feare too, have you twise told me before, and I have twise aunswered you too, that in this matter if it were possible for me to dooe the thing that might content the kinges grace, and God therewith not offended, then hath no man taken ​this othe already more gladly than I would dooe; as he that reckoneth himselfe more diepelye bounden vnto the kinges hyghnesse, for his most singular bountie, many wayes shewed and declared, than any of them all besyde. But sith standing my conscience I can in no wyse dooe it, and that for the instruction of my conscience in the matter, I haue not sleightly looked, but by many yeres studied, and aduisedly considered, and neuer could yet see nor heare that thing, nor I thinke I neuer shal, that could enduce mine own mind to think otherwise than I do, I have no maner remedy, but God hathe geuen me to that streight, that either I must dedly displease him, or abyde any worldly harme that he shal for mine other sinnes, vnder name of this thyng, suffer to fall vpon me. Whereof (as I before thys haue told you to) I have ere I came here, not left vnbethought nor vnconsidered, the very most and the vttermost that can by possibilitie fall. And albeit that I know mine own frailtie ful well, and the natural faintnes of mine own heart, yet if I had not trusted that God shold geue me strength rather to endure al thinges, than offend him by swearing vngodly against mine own conscience, you may be very sure I woulde not have come here. And sith I looke in this matter, but only vnto God, it maketh me little matter, though men cal it as it please them, and say it is no conscience, but a foolish scruple. At this word I toke a good occasion, and said vnto him thus: In good faith, father, for my parte, I neither doo, nor it cannot become me, either to mistrust your good minde or your learnyng. But because you speake of that that some calle it but a scruple, I assure you you shall see by my sisters letter, that one of the greatesse estates in this realme, and a man learned too, and (as I dare say your self shal thinke when you know him, and as you have already right effectuallye prooued him) your tender frend and very speciall good lord, accounteth your conscience in this matter, for a right simple scruple. And you may be sure he saith it of good mind, and lyeth no little cause. For he saith, that where you say your conscience mooueth you to this, all the nobles of this realme, and almost all other men too, go boldly forth with the contrary, and sticke not thereat, saue only yourself and one other man: whom though he be right ​good, and very well learned too, yet would I wene few that loue you, geue you the counsayle against al other menne to leane to his mind alone. And with this word I toke him your letter, that he might see that my wordes wer not feyned, but spoken of his mouth, whom he much loueth and estemeth highly. Therupon he read ouer your letter. And when he came to the end, he began it afresh and read ouer again. And in the reading he made no maner haste, but aduised it laisorly, and pointed euery word. And after that he pawsed, and than thus he said. Forsooth, daughter Margaret, I find my daughter Alington such as I haue ever found her, and I trust euer shal, as naturally minding me as you that are mine owne. Howbeit, her take I verely for mine own too, sith I haue married her mother, and brought vp her of a child, as I haue browght vp you, in other thinges aud in learning both, wherein I thanke God she fyndeth now some fruite, and bringeth her own vp very verteously and well. Wherof God, I thanke him, hath sent her good store, oure Lord preserue them and sende her much joy of them, and my good sonne her gentle husbande too, and haue mercye on the soule of mine other good sonne her fyrst I am daily bede man (and so write her) for them all. In this matter she hath vsed her self like her self, wisely, and like a very daughter toward me; and in the ende of her letter, geueth as good counsel as any man that wit hath wold wish, God geve me grace to folowe it, and God reward her for it. Now, daughter Margaret, as for my lord, I not only thinke, but haue also found it, that he is vndoubtedly my singuler good lord. And in mine other busines concerning the sely nunne, as my cause was good and clere, so was he my good lord therein, and Mr. Secretary my good master too. For which I shall neuer cease to be faithful bedeman for them both, and daily doe I by my trouth, praye for them as I pray for my selfe. And whensoeuer it shold happen (which I trust in God shall neuer happen) that I be found other than a true man to my prince, let them neuer fauour me neither of them both, nor of trouth no more it could become them so to do. But in this matter, Megge, to tell the trouth betwene thee and me, my lord's Esop's fables do not gretly moue me. But as his wisdom for hys pastime told them merely to mine owne ​daughter, so shal I for my pastime, aunswer them to thee. Megge, that art mine other. The fyrst fable of the rayne that washte away al their wittes that stode abrode when it fell, I hane heard oft ere this: It was a tale so often told among the kinges counsel by my Lorde Cardinall, when hys grace was chauncellour, that [ cannot lightlye forgeatte it. For of trouth in tymes past, when variance began to fall betwene the emperour and the Frenche king, in such wise that they were lykely and dyd in dede, fall together at warre, and that ther wer in the counsayle here sometime sundry opinions, in which some were of the mynde that they thoughte it wisedome, that we should sit stil and let them alone: but evermore against that way, my lord vsed this fable of those wyse men, that because they would not be washed with the rayn that shold make all the people fooles, went themself in caves and hid them vnder the ground. But when the rayne had once made all the remenant fooles, and that they came out of theyr caues and wold vtter their wisdome, the fooles agreed together agaynst them, and there all to bet them. And so sayd his grace, that if we woulde be so wise that we woulde sitte in peace whyle the fooles foughte, they woulde not fayle after to make peace and agree, and fall at length all vpon us. I will not dispute vpon hys graces counsayle, and I truste we netier made warre but as reason woulde. But yet this fable for hys parte, dydde in hys dayes help the king and the realme to spend manyea fayre penye. But that grace is passed, and hys grace is gone, our lord assoyle his soule. And therefore shall I nowe come to this Esope's fable, as my Lorde full merelye layde it furth for me. If those wyse men, Megge, when the rayn was gone at theyr coming abrode, where they found all menne fooles, wished themselves fooles too, because they could not rule them, than seemceth it that the foolish rayne was so sore a showre, that euen thorowe the grounde it sanke into theyr caues, and powred downe vppon theyr heades, and wette theim to the skynne, and made theim more nodies than them that stodeabrode. For if they had had anye witte, they myght well see, that though they had been fooles too, that thing wold not have suffyced to make theim the rulers over the other fooles, no more than the tother fooles ouer them: and of so manye ​fooles all myght not be rulers. Now when they longed so sore to bere a rule among fooles, that so they so myghte, they would be gladde to leese their witte and be fooles to, the foolishe reyne hadde washed them metely well. Howe be it to saye the trouth, before the rayne came, if they thoughte that all the remenaunte should turne into fooles, than either were so foolishe that they woulde, or so madde to thinke that they shoulde, so fewe rule so many fooles, and hadde not so much wit, as to consider that there are none so vnruly as they that lack witte and are fooles, than were these wyse men starke fooles before the rayne came. Howe be it, daughter Roper, whom my Lorde here taketh for the wyse menne, and whome he meaneth to be fooles, I cannot verye well geasse, I cannot reade well such ryddles. For as Davus saythe in Therence: Non sum Oedipus. I may saye you wot well: Non sum Oedipus, sed Morus, which name of myne what it signieyeth in Greke, I nede not tell you. But I truste my lorde reckoncth me amonge the fooles, and so reckoneth I my self, as my name is in Greke. And I finde I thanke God, causes not a fewe, wherfore I so should in very dede. But surelye among those that long to be rewlers, God and myne owne conscience clerely knoweth, that no man may truely noumber and reckon me. And I wene eche other mans conscience can tell himself the same, since it is so well knowen that of the kinges great goodnes, I was one of the greatest rewlers in thys noble realine, and that at mine owne great labour by his gret, goodnes dyscharged. But whomsoeuer my lord meane for the wyse men, and whomsoeuer his lordeshyp take for the fooles, and whomsocuer long for the rule, and whosoever long for none, I beseche our lord make vs all so wise as that we may euery man here so wiselye rule our self, in this tyme of teares, thys vale of miserye, thys simple wretched world (in which, as Boece sayth, one man to be prowde that he beareth rule ouer other men, is much like as one mouce wold be proude to beare a rule ouer other mice in a barne) God, I say, geue vs the grace so wisely to rule our self here, that when we shall hence in hast to mete the greate spouse, we be not taken slepers, and for lacke of light in our lampes, shyt out of heaven among the v. foolishe virgins. The second fable, Marget, semeth not to ​be Esope's. For by that the matter goeth all upon confession, it semeth to be fained since Cristendom began. For in Grece, before Christes daies, they vsed not confession, no more the men than, than the beastes nowe. And Esope was a Greke, and died long ere Christ was borne. But what? who made it, maketh but little matter. Nor I enuy not that Esope hath the name. But surely it is. somewhat to subtil for me. For whan his lordship vnderstandeth by the lyon,and the woolfe, which both twayn confessed themself, of rauin and dewouring of al that came to their handes, and the tone enlarged his conscience at his pleasure in the construccion of his penance, nor whom by the good discrete confessor that enjoyned the tone a little penance, and the tother none at all, and sent the poore Asse to the byshop, of all these thinges can I nothing tel. But by the foolishe scrupelous Asse, that had so sore a conscience for the taking of a straw for hunger out of hys maisters shoo, my lordes other woordes of my scruple declare, that his lordshyp merely meant that by me: signifying (as it semeth by that similitude), that of ouersight and folye, my scrupulous conscience taketh for a gret perilous thynge towarde my soule, if I should sweare this othe, Wich thing as his lordship thinketh, wer in dede but a tryfle. And I suppose well, Margaret, as you tolde me right now, that so thinketh many mo besyde, as well spirituall as temporal, and that euen of those, that for theyr learning and their vertue, my self not alittle esteme. And yet albeit that I suppose this to be true, yet beleve I not euen very surely, that euerye man so thynketh that so saith. But though they did, daughter, that would not make much to me, not though I shoulde see my Lorde of Rochester say the same, and sweare the oth himself before me teo. For whereas you told me right now, that such as loue me, wold not aduyse me, that against all other men, I should leane vnto hys mind alone, verely daughter no more I dooe. For albeit that of very trouthe, I have him in that reuerent estimacion, that I reckon in this realme no one man, in wisdom, learning, and long approucd vertue together, mete to be matched and compared with him, yet that in this matter I was not lead by him, very wel and plain appeareth, both in that I refused the othe before it was offred him, ​and in that also that his lordship was content to haue sworne of that oth (as I perceyved since by you when you moued me to the same) either somewhat more, or in some other maner than ever I mynded to dooe. Verely daughter, I neuer entend (God being my good Lorde) to pynne my soule at another mannes backe, not euen the best man that I know this day liuing: for I knowe not whither he may happe to cary it. Ther is no man liuing, of whom whyle he liueth, I maye make myselfe sure. Some may dooe tor fauour, and some may doo for feare, and so might they carye my soule a wrong way. And some might hap to frame himselfe a conscience, and thinke that while he did it for feare, God would forgiue it. And some may peraduenture thinke that they will repent, and be shriuen therof, and that so shall God remit it them. And some may be peraduenture of the mind, that if they say one thing and thinke the whyle the contrary, God more regardeth their hart than their tonge, and that therfore their oth goeth vpon that they thinke, and not vpon that they say: as a Woman resoned once, I trow daughter you wer by. But in good fayth, Marget, I can vse no such wayes in so great a matter: but lyke as if mine owne conscience serued me, I would not let to do it though other men refused, so though other refuse it not, I dare not do it, mine owne conscience standyng agaynst it. If I had (as I told you) looked but lightly for the matter, I shold have cause to feare. But now haue I so looked for it, and so long, that I purpose at the least wyse to haue no lesse regard vnto my soule, than had once a poore honest man of the country, that was called Cumpanye. And with this he told mea tale, I wene I can skant tell it you agayne, because it hangeth vpon some tearmes and ceremonies of the law. But as far as I can call to mind my fathers tale was this, that ther is a court belongyng of course vnto euerye fayre, to dooe justice in such thynges as happen within the same. Thys courte hath a prety fond name, but I cannot happen on it: but it begynneth with a pye, and the remenant goeth much jike the name of a knyght that I haue knowen I wis, and I trowe you too, for he hath been at my father's oft ere this, at such tyme as you wer there, a metely tall black man, hys name was Syr William Pounder. But tut, let ​the name of the courte for thys once, or call it if ye will a courte of pye Syr William Pounder. But thys was the maiter loe, that vpon a tyme, at suche a courte holden at Bartylmewe fayre, there was an eschetour of London that had arested a man that was outlawed, and had seased hys goodes that he hadde broughte into the fayre, tellying hym out of the fayre by a trayne. The man that was arested, and hys goodes seased, was a northern manne, whiche by his frendes made th'eschetour within the fayre to be arested vpon an accion, I wot nere what, and so was he brought before the judge, of the court of py Syr William Pounder. And at the laste that matter came to a certayne ceremonye to be tryed by a quest of xii men, a jury as I remember they called it, or elles a perjury. Nowe had the clothman by friendshyp of the officers founden the meanes to haue all the quest almost, made of the northern men, such as had theyr boothes there standing in the fayre. Now was it come to the last daye in the afternoon, and the xxi men had herd both the parties, and theyr counsel tel their tales at the barre, and were fro the barre had into a place, to talke, and common, and agree vpon their sentence. Nay let me speke better in my termes yet, I trow the judge geueth the sentence, and the questes tale is called a verdict. They wer skant come in together, but the northern men were agreed, and in effect all the tother too, to cast our London eschetour. They thoughte ther neded no more to proue that he did wrong, than even the name of his bare office alone. But than was ther among them, as the deuill wold, this honest man of another quarter, that was called Cumpany. And because the felowe semed but a foole, and sate still and sayde nothing, they made no reckoning of hym, but sayd we be agreed now, come let vs go geve our verdic. Than whan the poore felowe sawe that they made such haste, and his mind nothing gaue him that way that theirs did, (if their mindes gaue them that way that they said) he prayde them to tary and talke vpon that matter, and tell him such reason therein, that he might thinke as they did: and when he so shold do, he wold be glad to say with them, or els he sayde they must pardone him. For sith he had a soule of his owne to keepe as they had, he ​must say as he thoughte for hys, as they must for theyrs. Whan they herd thys, they wer half angry with him. What good felow (quod one of the northern men) whare wonnes thou? Be not we aleuen here, and thou ne but ene la alene, and all we agreed? whereto shouldest thou sticke? what is thy name, gude felow? Masters, (quod he) my name is called Cumpany. Cumpany, quoth they, now by thy trouth gude felowe playe than the gude companion, come there on furth with vs, and passe euen for gude company. Would God, good maisters, quoth the man agayne, that ther lay no more weight theron. But now when we shall hence and come before God, and that he shal send you to heauen for doing according to your conscience, and me to the deuill for dooyng againste myne, in passing at your request here for good company now, by God, Maister Dykonson, (that was one of the northern men's names) if I shall than say to all you agayne, maisters, I went once for good company with you, which is the cause I gooe nowe to hell, play you the good felowes now agayn with me, as I went than for good companye with you, so some of you goe now for good company with me. Wold ye goe, Maister Dikenson? nay, naye, by our lady, nor neuer one of you all. And therfore must ye pardon me, from passing as you passe, but if I thought in that matter as you doe, I dare not in such a matter passe for good company. For the passage of my poore soule passeth al good company. And when my father had told me thys tale, than sayde he ferther thus: I praye thee nowe, good Margaret, tell me this, wouldest thou wishe thy poore father, being at the lest wise somewhat lerned lesse to regard the peril of his soule than did there that honest vnlearned man? I medle not (you wot wel) with the conscience of any man, that hath sworne: nor I take not vpon me to be theyr judge. But now if they doe well, and that theyr conscience grudge them not, if I with my conscience to the contrary, shoulde for good company passe on with them, and sweare as they doe, when all our soules hereafter shall passe out of this world, and stand in judgement at the barre before the High Judge, if he judge them to heaven and me to the deuil, because I did as they did, not thinking as they thought, if I shold than say (as the good man Cumpany sayd): myne olde good lordes and frendes, naming such a lord and such, ​yea and some bishoppes, peraduenture of suche as I loue best, I sware because you sweare, and wente that way that you went, doe likewyse for me now, let me not go alone, if there be any good felowshippe with you, some of you come with me: by my trouth, Marget, I may say to thee in secret counsayle, here betwene vs twayn (but let it goe no ferther I beseche the heartily), I fynde the frendship of thys wretched worlde so fickle, that for any thing that I could trete or pray, that would for good felowshyp goe to the deuill with me, amonge them all I wene should not I fynde one. And than, by God, Marget, if you thinke so too, best it is, I suppose, that for any respecte of them all, were they twyse as many moe as they be, I haue my selfe a respecte to myne own soule. Surely, father, quod I, without any scruple at all, you may be bolde I dare saye for to sweare that. But father, they that thinke you shold not refuse to sweare the thyng, that you see so manye so good menne, and so well learned sweare before you, meane not that you shoulde sweare to beare thym felowshyp, nor to passe with thym for good companye: but that the credence that you may with reason geue to theyr persones for theyr aforesayde qualities, shoulde well moue you to thinke the oth such of it selfe, as euerye man may well sweare withoute perill of theyr soule, if theyr own priuate conscience to the contrarye be not the lette: and that ye well oughte and hauc good cause, to chaunge your own conscience, in confyrminge youre own conscience to the conscience of so many other, namely, being such as you knowe they be. And syth it is also by a lawe made by the parlement commaunded they thynke that you be vpon the peryll of your soule, bounden to change and refourme your conscience, and confyrme your owne as I sayd vnto other mennes. Mary, Marget, (quod my father agayne) for the part that you playe, you playe it not much a mysse. But Margaret, fyrst, as for the lawe of the lande, thoughe euerye man beynge borne and inhabityng therein is bounden to the keepinge in euerye case vpon some temporall payne, and in many cases vpon payne of Goddes displeasure too, yet is there no manne bounden to sweare that euery lawe is well made, nor bounden vpon the payne of Goddes displeasure, to perfourme anye suche poynte of the lawe, as were ​in dede vnlawefull. Of which maner kynd, that there maye suche happe to bee, made in anye parte of Crystendome, I suppose no manne doubteth the generall counsayle of the whole bodye of Cristendom euermore in that poynte excepte: which, though it may make some thynges better than other, and some thynges maye growe to that poynte, that by another lawe they maye neede to be refourmed, yet to institute any thing in suchewyse to Goddes displeasure, as at the making might not lawfully be perfourmed, the spirit of God that gouerneth his church, neuer had yet suffered, nor never hereafter shall, hys whole catholike church lawfullye gathered together in a generall counsayle, as Chryste hathe made playne promises in Scripture. Now if it so happe, that in anye particular parte of Crystendome, there be a lawe made, that be suche, as for some parte thereof some menne thinke that the law of God cannot beare it, and some other thynke yes, the thing being in suche maner in question, that thorow diuers querters of Crystendome, some that are good men and cunning, bothe of our owne dayes, and before oure dayes, thinke some one way, and some other of lyke learnynge and goodnesse thynke the contrarye, in thys case he that thynketh agayneste the lawe, neither maye sweare that lawe lawefullye was made, standynge hys owne conscience to the contrarye, nor is bounden vpon payne of Goddes displeasure to chaunge hys owne conscience therein, for anye particular lawe made any where, other than by the generall insayle, or by a general fayth growen by the woorkinge of God vniuersally thorowe all Cristen nacions; nor other authoritie than one of these twayne (except speciall re uelacion and expresse commandement of God) sith the contrarye opinions of good menne and well learned, as I putte you the case, made the vnderstandynge of the Scryptures doubtefull, I can see none that lawefully maye commande and compell anye man to chaunge his owne opinion, and to translate his own conscience from the tone syde to the tother. For an ensaumple of some such maner thinges, I haue I trow before this time tolde you, that whither our blessed lady wer conceved in original sinne or not, was sometime in great question among the great learned men of Cristendom. And whether it be yet decyded and deter​mined by any generall counsayle, I remember not. But this I remember well, that notwithstanding that the feaste of her concepcion, was than celebrate in the church (at the least wyse in diuers provinces) yet was holy S. Bernarde, whiche, as his manifold bokes made in the lawde and prayse of our ladye dooe declare, was of as deuoute affection towarde all thinges sowning toward her commendacion, that he thought might well be verifyed or suffered, as any man was liuinge; yet, I saye, was that holye deuoute manne, agaynste that part of her prayse, as appereth well by a pistle of hys, wharein he ryghte sore and with gret reason argueth theragainst, and approueth not the institucion of that feaste neither. Nor he was not of thys mynde alone, but many other well learned menne with hym, and ryghte holye menne too. Nowe was there on the tother syde, the blessed holye byshop Sayute Anselme, and he not alone neither, but many well learned and verye vertuous also with him. And they bee both twayne holye sayntes in heauen, and many moe that wer on eyther side. Nor neither parte was there bounden to chaunge theyr opinion, for thother, nor for anye prouinciall counsayle eyther. But lyke as after the determinacion of a well assembled general counsayle, euerye manne had bene bounden to give credence that waye, and confirme theyr own conscience to the determinacion of the counsayle generalle, and than all they that helde the contrarye before, were for that holdynge oute of blame, so if before suche decision a man had agaynst his own conscience, sworn to mayntayn and defend the other side, he hadde not fayled to offende God very sore. But marye, if on the tother side a man wolde in a matter take a way by himselfe vpon his owne mynde alone, or with some few, or with neuer so many, agaynste an euident trouth appearynge by the common fayth of Crystendome, thys conscience is verye damnable., Yea, or if it be not euen fullye so playn and euident, yet if he see but himselfe with farre the fewer parte, thinke the tone way, agaynste farre the more parte of as well learned and as good, as those are that affyrme the thing that he thinketh thinking and allyrmynge the contrarye, and that of such folke as he has no reasonable cause wherefore he shoulde ​not in that matter suppose, that those which say they think against hys mynde, affyrme the thing that they saye, for no other cause but for that they so thinke in dede, thys is of verye trouthe a verye good occasion to moue him, and yet not to compell him, to conforme his mynde and conscience vnto theyrs. But Margaret, for what causes I refuse the othe, that thyng (as I haue often tolde you) I will neuer shew you, neither you nor no bodye elles, excepte the kinges highnes should like to commaund me. Whyche if hys grace did, I haue ere this tolde you, therein howe obedientlye I have sayde. But surelye, daughter, I haue refused it, and doe, for mo causes than one. And for what causes soeuer I refuse it, thys am I sure, that it is well knownen, that of theym that haue sworne it, some of the best lerned before the othe geuen theym, sayde and playne affyrmed the contrarye, of some suche thinges as they haue nowe sworne in the othe, and that vpon theyr trouthe and theyr learninge than, and that not in haste nor sodaynely, but often and after greate diligence doone to seeke and fynde out the trouthe. That might be, father, (quod I) and yet since they myghte see more. I will not (quod he) dispute, daughter Margaret, against that, nor missejudge any other man's conscience, whiche lieth in theyr own harte farre out of my sighte. But thys will I saye, that neuer hearde my selfe the cause of their chaunge, by any new ferther thinge founden of aucthorite, than as farre as I perceiue they hadde looked on, and as I suppose, verye well wayed before. Nowe of the self same thinges that they sawe before, seme some other wyse vnto them nowe than they did before, I am for theyr sakes the gladder a greate deale. But anye thing that euer I sawe before, yet at thys daye to me they seme but as they did. And therfore, though they maye dooe otherwyse than they myghte, yet, daughter, I maye not. As for suche thynges as some men woulde happelye saye, that I myghte with reason the lesse regard their change, for anye saumple of theym to be taken to the change of my conscience, because that the kepyng of the princes pleasure, and the auoyding of hys indignacion, the feare of the losing of theyr worldlye substaunce with regarde vnto the dyscoumforte of theyr kin​dredde and theyr frendes, myght happe make some men either sware otherwise than they think, or frame theyr conscience a freshe to think otherwise than they thoughte, anye suche opinion as thys is, will I not conceyue of them. I have better hope of theyr goodnesse, than to thinke of theym so. For if suche thinges sholde haue tourned theym, the same thynges hadde been likelye to make me dooe the same: for in good faythe, I knewe fewe so faynte hearted as my selfe. Therfore will I, Margaret, by my will, thinke no worse of other folke in the thing that I knowe not, than I find in my self. But as I know well myne onely conscience causeth me to refuse the othe, so will I truste in God, that accordinge to theyr conscience they haue receyued it and sworne. But whereas you think, Marget, that they bee so manye, moo than there are on the tother side that thynke in this thynge as I thynke, surelye for your own comfort that you shall not take thoughte, thynking that your father casteth hym selfe awaye so lyke a foole, that he woulde jeobarde the losse of hys substaunce and peraduenture his bodye, withoute anye cause why he so shoulde for peryll of hys soule, but rather hys soule in peryll thereby too, to thys shall I saye to thee, Marget, that in some of my causes I nothing doubte at all, but that though not in this realme, yet in Chrystendome aboute, of those well learned menne and vertuous, that are yet aliue, they be not the fewer part that are of my mynde. Besydes that, that it were ye wotte well possible, that some menne in thys realme too, thinke not so cleare the contrarye, as by the othe receiued they haue sworne to say. Nowe thus farre foorth I saye for them, that are yet alyue. But goe me nowe to theym that are deadde before, and that are I trust in heauen, I am sure that it is not the fewer parte of them, that all the tyme whyle they liued, thoughte in some of the thinges, that way that I think now. I am also, Margaret, of this thing sure ynouth, that if those holy doctors and sayntes whiche to be with God in heauen long a go no good Cristen man doubteth, whose bokes yet at this day remayn here in men's handes, there thought in some suche thynges as I thynke nowe. I say not that they thought all so, but surelye such and so manye as will well appeare by ​their wryting, that I praye God geve me the grace that my soule maye folow theyrs. And yet I shew you not all, Marget, that I haue for my selfe in that sure discharge of my conscience. But for the conclusion, daughter Margaret, of all this matter, as I have often tolde you, I take not vpon me neither to dyffine nor dyspute in these matters, nor I rebuke not nor impugne any other man's dede, nor I neuer wrote, nor so much as spake in any company, anye woorde of reproche in anye thing that the parlement hadde passed, nor I medle not with the conscience of any other man, that either thinketh, or saith he thinketh, contrarye vnto myne. But as concerning mine owne selfe, for thy comfort shal I say, daughter, to thee, that mine own conscience in this matter (I damne none other man's) is such, as may well stand with mine owne salvacion; thereof am I, Megge, as sure, as that God is in heaven. And therefore as for al the remenant, goodes, landes, and life both, (if the chance sholde so fortune) sith this conscience is sure for ine, I verelye trust in God, he shall rather strengthe me to beare the losse, than agaynste this conscience to sweare and putte my soule in peril, sith al the causes that I perceue moue other men to the contrary, seme not suche vnto me, as in my conscience make anye change. When he saw me sit with this very sadde, as I promise you Sister, my hearte was full heauye for the perill of his persone, ne, for in fayth I feare not his soule, he smiled vpon me and said: how now, daughter Marget? What howe mother Eue? Where is your minde nowe? Sit not musing with some serpent in your brest, vpon some new perswasion, to offer father Adam the apple once agayne? In good fayth, father, quoth I, I can no ferther goe, but am (as I trowe Cresede saith in Chaucer) comen to Dulcarnon, euen at my wittes ende. For sith thensaumple of so manye wyse men cannot in this matter moue you, I se not what to say more, but if I should loke to perswade you with the reason that master Harry Pattenson made. For he met one day one of our men, and when he had asked where you were, and heard that you were in the Towre still, he waxed euen angry with you and said: Why? what eyleth him that he will not sweare? wherefore shold he sticke to swere? I have sworne the oth my self. ​And so I can in good faith go now no ferther neither, after so many wyse men, whom ye take for no saumple, but if I should say like M. Harry: why shold you refuse to swere, father? for I haue sworn my self. At this he laughed and sayde. That word was like Eue too, for she offered Adam no worse fruit than she had eaten her self. But yet, father, quoth I, by my trouth, I fere me very sore, that this matter will brynge you in merueilous heauy trouble. You know well that as I shewed you, M. Secretary sent you word as your very frend, to remember that the parlement lasteth yet. Margaret, quod my father, I thanke hym right hertely. But as I shewed you than agayn, I left not this geare vnthought on. And albeit 1 knowe well that if they would make a lawe to doo me any harme, that lawe coulde neuer be lawfull, but that God shall I trust kepe me in that grace that concernyng my duetie to my prynce, no man shall doe me hurte, but if he doo me wronge, (and than as I tolde you, thys is lyke a ryddle, a case in whiche a man may lese his head and haue no harme); and not withstandyng, also, that I haue good hope, that God shal neuer suffer so good and wyse a prince, in such wyse to requyte the long seruice of his true faythfull seruaunte, yet sith there is nothynge vnpossible to falle, I forgat not in thys matter the counsell of Chryst in the Gospell, that ere I shold begynne to buylde thys castell for the sauegarde of myne owne soule, I shold sytte and rekon what the charge would be. I coumpted, Marget, full surely many a restles night, whyle my wyfe slept, and wente I had slept too, what peryll were possible for to falle to me, so farre furth that I am sure ther can come none aboue. And in deuisyng, daughter, thereupon, I had a full heavy heart. But yet I thanke oure Lorde for all that, I neuer thought to change, though the very vttermoste shoulde happe me that my feare ranne vpon. No, father, (quod I), it is not lyke to thinke vpon a thynge that may be, and to see a thynge that shal be, as ye shoulde (our Lorde saue you), if the chance shoulde so fortune. And than shoulde you pereduenture thynke, that you thinke not nowe, yet then pereduentuie it woulde be to late. To late, daughter (quod ​my father) Margaret? I beseche our Lord, that if euer I make such a cheaunge, it maye bee to late in dede. For well I wotte the chaunge can not be good for my soule, that chaunge I saye that shoulde growe but by feare. And therefore I pray God that in thys world I neuer haue good of such change. For so muche as I take harme here, I shall haue at the least wise the lesse therfore when I am hence. And if it so were that I wiste well nowe, that I sholde feynte and falle, and for feare sweare hereafter, yet woulde I wyshe to take harme by the refusyng fyrst: for so shold I haue the better hope for grace to ryse againe. And albeit (Marget) that I wot well my lewdenes hath been suche: that I knowe my selfe well woorthye that God shoulde let me slippe, yet can I not but trust in hys mercifull goodnes, that as his grace hath strengthed me hetherto, and made me contente in my hearte, to leese, good, lande, and lyfe too, rather than to sweare agaynst my conscience, and hath also putte in the kyng toward me, that good and gracious mynde, that as yet he hath taken fro me nothing but my libertie, (wherwith, as helpe me God), his grace hath doone me so great good by the spiritual profite that I trust I take thereby, that among all his great benefites heaped vppon me so thycke, I reckon vpon my fayth my prisomment euen the very chief; I cannot, I saye, therfore mistruste the grace of God, but that either he shall conserue and kepe the king in that gracious mynde still, to doe me none hurt, or els if hys pleasure be, that for myne other synnes I shall suffer in suche a cause in sighte as I shall not deserue, his grace shal geue me that strength to take it pacientlye, and peraduenture somewhat gladdely to, wherby his high goodnes shall (by the merites of his bitter passion joyned thereunto, and farre surmounting in merite for me, all that I can suffer my selfe), make it serue for release of my payne in purgotorye, and ouer that for encrease of some rewarde in heauen. Mystruste him, Megge, will I not, though I fele me faynt. Yea, and though I shoulde feele my feare euen at poynt to ouerthrowe me to, yet shall I remember howe Saynte Peter with a blaste of a wynde beganne to synke for his faynt fayth, and shall doe as he did, call vpon Christ and pray him to helpe. And than I truste ​he shall sette his holy hande vnto me, and in the stormy seas, hold me vp from drowning. Yea, and if he suffer me to playe Saint Peter ferther, and to fall full to the grounde, and sweare and forsweare too, (whiche oure Lorde for his tender passion kepe me fro, and let me leese if it so fall, and neuer wynne thereby): yet after shall I trust that his goodnesse will caste vpon me his tender pitteous eye, as he did vpon Saint Peter, and make me stand vppe agayne and confesse the trouth of my conscience a freshe, and abyde the shame and the harme here of myne own faulte. And finally, Marget, thys wotte I verye well, that withoute my faulte he will not lette me be loste. I shal therfore with good hope, committe my selfe wholye to him. And if he suffer me for my fautes to perish, yet shal I than serve for a prayse of his justice. But in good fayth, Meg, I trust that his tender pitie shal kepe my pore soule safe, and make me commend his mercy. And therfore mine own good daughter, neuer trouble thy mind, for anye thyng that euer shall happe me in this world. No thyng can come, but that that God wille. And I make me verye sure, that what soeuer that bee, seme it neuer so badde in sight, it shal in dede be the best. And with thys, my good chylde, I pray you heartely, be you and all your sisters, and my sonnes too, comfortable and seruisable to your good mother my wyfe. And of youre good housbandes mindes I haue no maner dout. Commende me to theym all, and to my good daughter Alington, and to all my other frendes, sisters, neces, nephews, and alies, and vnto all our seruauntes, man, woman, and chylde, and all my good neyghbours, and oure acquayntance abrode. And I right hartely, praye both you and them, to serue God, and be mery and rejoyce in hym. And if any thing happe me that you wold be lothe, pray to God for me, but trouble not your self: as I shall full heartely praye for vs all, that wee maye meete together once in heaven, where we shall make merye for euer, and neuer haue trouble hereafter.
* ↑ The court of pie-poudre.
* ↑ She toke the othe with this excepcion, as farre as would stande with the law of God.