 CHAPTER XVI. In the following month of July received the crown of martyrdom. Miller dwelt at Linn, and came to Norwich where, planting himself at the door of one of the churches, as the people came out, he requested to know of them where he could go to receive the communion. For this a priest brought him before Dr. Dunning, who committed him to ward. But he was suffered to go home, and arrange his affairs, after which he returned to the bishop's house and to his prison, where he remained until the thirtieth of July, the day of his burning. Elizabeth Koop, wife of a pewterer of St. Andrew's Norwich, had recanted, but tortured for what she had done by the worm which dyeth not, she shortly after voluntarily entered her parish church during the time of the Popesh service, and standing up, audibly proclaimed that she revoked her former recantation and cautioned the people to avoid her unworthy example. She was taken from her own house by Mr. Sutton, the sheriff, who very reluctantly complied with the letter of the law, as they had been servants and in friendship together. At the stake the poor sufferer, feeling the fire, uttered the cry of O, upon which Mr. Miller, putting his hand behind him toward her, desired her to be of good courage. For, said he, good sister, we shall have a joyful and a sweet supper. Encouraged by this example and exhortation, she stood the fiery ordeal without flinching, and with him proved the power of faith over the flesh. Executions at Colchester It was before mentioned that twenty-two persons had been sent up from Colchester, who upon a slight submission were afterward released. Of these William Munt, of much Bentley, husbandman, with Alice his wife, and Rose Allen, her daughter, upon their return home, abstained from church, which induced the bigoted priest secretly to write to Bonner. For a short time they absconded, but returning again, March 7, won Edmund Tyrell, a relation to the Tyrell who murdered King Edward V and his brother, with the officers, entered the house while Munt and his wife were in bed, and informed them that they must go to Colchester Castle. Mrs. Munt, at that time being very ill, requested her daughter to get her some drink. Leave being permitted, Rose took a candle and a mug, and in returning through the house was met by Tyrell, who cautioned her to advise her parents to become good Catholics. Rose briefly informed him that they had the Holy Ghost for their advisor, and that she was ready to lay down her own life for the same cause. Turning to his company he remarked that she was willing to burn, and one of them told him to prove her, and see what she would do by and by. The unfeeling wretch immediately executed this project, and seizing the young woman by the wrist he held the lighted candle under her hand, burning it crosswise on the back, until the tendons divided from the flesh, during which he loaded her with many approbrious epithets. She endured his rage unmoved, and then when he had ceased the torture she asked him to begin at her feet or head, for he need not fear that his employer would one day repay him. After this she took the drink to her mother. This cruel act of torture does not stand alone on record. Bonner had served a poor blind harper in nearly the same manner, who had steadily maintained a hope that if every joint of him were to be burnt he should not fly from the faith. Bonner upon this privately made a signal to his men to bring a burning coal which they placed in the poor man's hand, and then by force held it closed, until it burnt into the flesh deeply. George Eagle's tailor was indicted for having prayed that God would turn Queen Mary's heart or take her away. The ostensible cause of his death was his religion, for treason could hardly be imagined in praying for the reformation of such an execrable soul as that of Mary. When condemned for this crime he was drawn to the place of execution upon a sledge with two robbers who were executed with him. After Eagle's had mounted the ladder and been turned off a short time he was cut down before he was at all insensible. A bailiff named William Swallow then dragged him to the sledge, and with a common blunt cleaver hacked off the head, in a manner equally clumsy and cruel he opened his body and tore out the heart. In all this suffering the poor martyr repined not, but to the last called upon his saviour. The fury of these bigots did not end here. The intestines were burned and the body was quartered, the four parts being sent to Colchester, Harwich, Kelmsford, and St. Ruses. Kelmsford had the honour of retaining his head, which was affixed to a long pole in the market place. One time it was blown down and lay several days in the street until it was buried at night in the churchyard. God's judgment not long after fell upon Swallow, who in his old age became a beggar, and who was affected with a leprosy that made him obnoxious even to the animal creation, nor did Richard Potts, who troubled Eagle's in his dying moments, escape the visiting hand of God. This is Joyce Lewis. This lady was the wife of Mr. T. Lewis of Manchester. She had received the Romish religion as true, until the burning of that pious martyr Mr. Saunders at Coventry. Understanding that his death rose from a refusal to receive the mass, she began to inquire into the ground of his refusal, and her conscience, as it began to be enlightened, became restless and alarmed. In this inquietude she resorted to Mr. John Glover, who lived near, and requested that he would unfold those rich sources of gospel knowledge he possessed, particularly upon the subject of transubstantiation. He easily succeeded in convincing her that the murmury of puppery and the mass were at variance with God's most holy word, and honestly reproved her for following too much the vanities of a wicked world. It was to her indeed a word in season, for she soon became weary of her formal sinful life, and resolved to abandon the mass and delitrous worship. Though compelled by her husband's violence to go to church, her contempt of the holy water and other ceremonies was so manifest that she was accused before the bishop for despising the sacramentals. A citation addressed to her immediately followed, which was given to Mr. Lewis, who in a fit of passion held a dagger to the throat of the officer and made him eat it, after which he caused him to drink it down, and then sent him away. But for this the bishop summoned Mr. Lewis before him as well as his wife. The former readily submitted, but the latter resolutely affirmed that, in refusing holy water, she neither offended God nor any part of his laws. She was sent home for a month, her husband being bound for her appearance, in which time Mr. Glover impressed upon her the necessity of doing what she did, not from self-vanity, but for the honour and glory of God. Mr. Glover and others earnestly exhorted Lewis to forfeit the money he was bound in rather than subject his wife to certain death. But he was deaf to the voice of humanity and delivered her over to the bishop, who soon found sufficient cause to consign her to a loathsome prism, where she was several times brought for examination. At the last time the bishop reasoned with her upon the fitness of her coming to mass and receiving as sacred the sacrament and sacramentals of the Holy Ghost. "'If these things were in the word of God,' said Mrs. Lewis, I would with all my heart receive, believe, and esteem them. The bishop, with the most ignorant and impious effrontery, replied, If thou wilt believe no more than what is warranted by scriptures, thou art in a state of damnation. Estonished at such a declaration, this worthy sufferer ably rejoined that his words were as impure as they were profane. After condemnation she lay a twelve-month in prison, the sheriff not being willing to put her to death in his time, though he had been but just chosen. When her death warrant came from London she sent for some friends, whom she consulted in what manner her death might be more glorious to the name of God and injurious to the cause of God's enemies. Smilingly she said, As for death I think but lightly of, when I know that I shall behold the amiable countenance of Christ my dear Saviour, the ugly face of death does not much trouble me. The evening before she suffered two priests were anxious to visit her, but she refused both their confession and absolution when she could hold a better communication with the high priest of souls. About three o'clock in the morning Satan began to shoot his fiery darts by putting into her mind to doubt whether she was chosen to eternal life and Christ died for her. Her friends readily pointed out to her those consolatory passages of scripture which comfort the fainting heart and treat of the redeemer who taketh away the sins of the world. About eight o'clock the sheriff announced to her that she had but an hour to live. She was at first cast down, but this soon passed away and she thanked God that her life was about to be devoted to his service. The sheriff granted permission for two friends to accompany her to the stake, an indulgence for which he was afterwards severely handled. Mr. Rinniger and Mr. Bernher led her to the place of execution, in going to which from its distance her great weakness and the press of the people she had nearly fainted. Three times she prayed fervently that God would deliver the land from the potpourri and the idolatrous mass, and the people for the most part as well as the sheriff said, Amen. When she had prayed she took the cup which had been filled with water to refresh her and said, I drink to all them that unfaintingly loved the gospel of Christ and wish for the abolition of potpourri. Her friends and a great many women of the place drank with her, for which most of them afterward were enjoined penance. When chained to the stake her countenance was cheerful and the roses of her cheeks were not abated. Her hands were extended towards heaven until the fire rendered them powerless when her soul was received into the arms of the creator. The duration of her agony was but short as the under- sheriff at the request of her friends had prepared such excellent fuel that she was in a few minutes overwhelmed with smoke and flame. The case of this lady drew a tear of pity from everyone who had a heart not callous to humanity. Executions at Islington About the seventeenth of September suffered at Islington the following four professors of Christ, Ralph Allerton, James Alstu, Marjorie Alstu, and Richard Roth. James Alstu and his wife of St. Alhalo's Barking, London, were sentenced for not believing in the presence. Richard Roth rejected the seven sacraments and was accused of comforting the heretics by the following letter written in his own blood and intended to have been sent to his friends at Colchester. Oh, dear brethren and sisters, how much reason have you to rejoice in God that he hath given you such faith to overcome this bloodthirsty tyrant thus far? And no doubt he that hath begun that good work in you will fulfill it unto the end. Oh, dear hearts in Christ, what a crown of glory shall ye receive with Christ in the kingdom of God. Oh, that it had been the good will of God that I had been ready to have gone with you, for I lie in my Lord's little leaves by day, and in the night I lie in the coal-house, apart from Ralph Allerton, or any other, and we look every day when we shall be condemned, for he said that I should be burned within ten days before Easter, but I lie still at the pool's brink, and every man go within before me. But we abide patiently the Lord's leisure, with many bonds in fetters and stalks, by which we have received great joy of God. And now fare you well, dear brethren and sisters, in this world, but I trust to see you in the heavens face to face. Oh, brother Munt, with your wife and my sister Rose, how blessed are you in the Lord that God hath found you worthy to suffer for his sake. With all the rest of my dear brethren and sisters known and unknown. Oh, be joyful even unto death. Fear it not, sayeth Christ, for I have overcome death. Oh, dear heart, seeing that Jesus Christ will be our help, oh, tear you the Lord's leisure. Be strong, let your hearts be of good comfort, and wait you still for the Lord. He is at hand. Today the angel of the Lord pitcheth his tent around them that fear him, and delivereth them which way he seeeth best. For our lives are in the Lord's hands, and they can do nothing unto us before God suffer them. Therefore give all thanks to God. Oh, dear hearts, you shall be clothed in long white garments upon the mount of Zion, with the multitude of saints, and with Jesus Christ our Savior, who will never forsake us. Oh, blessed virgins, you have played the wise virgin's part, in that ye have taken oil in your lamps, that ye may go in with the bridegroom, when he cometh into the everlasting joy with him. But as for the foolish, they shall be shut out, because they made not themselves ready to suffer with Christ, neither go about to take up his cross. Oh, dear hearts, how precious shall your death be in the sight of the Lord, for dear is the death of his saints. Oh, fare you well, and pray. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen, amen, pray, pray, pray. Written by me, with my own blood. Richard Roth. This letter, so justly denominating Bonner, the blood-thirsty tyrant, was not likely to excite his compassion. Roth accused him of bringing them to secret examination by night, because he was afraid of the people by day. Resisting every temptation to recant, he was condemned, and on September 17, 1557, these four martyrs perished at Islington, for the testimony of the Lamb, who was slain that they might be of the redeemed of God. John Noyce, a shoemaker of Lacksfield Suffolk, was taken to Eye, and at midnight, September 21, 1557, he was brought from Eye to Lacksfield to be burned. On the following morning he was led to the stake, prepared for the horrid sacrifice. Mr. Noyce, on coming to the fatal spot, knelt down, prayed, and rehearsed the fiftieth psalm. When the chain enveloped him, he said, Fear not them that kill the body, but fear him that can kill both body and soul, and cast it into everlasting fire. As one cadman placed a faggot against him, he blessed the hour in which he was born to die for the truth, and while trusting only upon the all-sufficient merits of the Redeemer, fire was set to the pile, and the blazing faggots in a short time stifled his last words. Lord, have mercy on me! Christ, have mercy upon me! The ashes of the body were buried in a pit, and with them one of his feet, whole to the ankle, with the stocking on. This is Sicily Orms. This young martyr, aged twenty-two, was the wife of Mr. Edmund Orms, worsted weaver of St. Lawrence, Norwich. At the death of Miller and Elizabeth Cooper before mentioned, she had said that she would pledge them of the same cup they drank of. For these words she was brought to the Chancellor, who would have discharged her upon promising to go to church, and to keep her belief to herself. As she would not consent to this, the Chancellor urged that he had shown more lenity to her than any other person, and was unwilling to condemn her, because she was an ignorant foolish woman. To this she replied, perhaps with more shrewdness than he expected, that however great his desire might be to spare her sinful flesh, it could not equal her inclination to surrender it up in so great a quarrel. The Chancellor then pronounced the fiery sentence, and September twenty-third, fifteen-fifty-seven, she was brought to the stake, at eight o'clock in the morning. After declaring her faith to the people, she laid her hand on the stake, and said, Welcome thou cross of Christ. Her hand was sooted in doing this, for it was the same stake at which Miller and Cooper were burnt. And she at first wiped it, but directly after again welcomed and embraced it as the sweet cross of Christ. After the tormentors had kindled the fire, she said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit doth rejoice in God my Saviour. Then crossing her hands upon her breast, and looking upwards with the utmost serenity, she stood the fiery furnace. Her hands continued gradually to rise until the sinews were dried, and then they fell. She uttered no sigh of pain, but yielded her life, an emblem of that celestial paradise in which is the presence of God, blessed forever. It might be contended that this martyr voluntarily sought her own death, as the Chancellor scarcely exacted any other penance of her than to keep her belief to herself. Yet it should seem in this instance as if God had chosen her to be a shining light, for a twelve-month before she was taken, she had recanted, but she was wretched until the Chancellor was informed by letter that she repented of her recantation from the bottom of her heart. As if to compensate for her former apostasy, and to convince the Catholics that she meant to more to compromise for her personal security, she boldly refused his friendly offer of permitting her to temperize. Her courage in such a cause deserves commendation. The cause of him who has said, whoever is ashamed of me on earth, of such will I be ashamed in heaven. Reverend John Ruff. This pious martyr was a Scotchman. At the age of seventeen he hindered himself as one of the order of black friars at Sterling in Scotland. He had been kept out of an inheritance by his friends, and he took this step in revenge for their conduct to him. After being their sixteen years, Lord Hamilton, Earl of Iran, taking a liking to him, the Archbishop of St. Andrews induced the provincial of the house to dispense with his habit and order, and he thus became the Earl's chaplain. He remained in this spiritual employment a year, and in that time God wrought in him a saving knowledge of the truth, for which reason the Earl sent him to preach in the freedom of air, where he remained four years. But finding danger there from the religious complexion of the times, and learning that there was much gospel freedom in England, he traveled up to the Duke of Somerset, then Lord Protector of England, who gave him a yearly salary of twenty pounds, and authorized him to preach at Carlisle, Berwick, and Newcastle, where he married. He was afterward removed to a benefice at Hull, in which he remained until the death of Edward VI. In consequence of the tide of persecution then setting in, he fled with his wife to Friesland, and at Norton they followed the occupation of knitting hoes, caps, etc., for subsistence. Impedded in his business by the want of yarn, he came over to England to procure a quantity, and on November 10th arrived in London where he soon heard of a secret society of the faithful, to whom he joined himself, and was in a short time elected their minister, in which occupation he strengthened them in every good resolution. On December 12th, through the information of one Taylor, a member of the society, Mr. Ruff, with Cuthberth Simpson, and others, was taken up in Saracen's head, Islington, where under the pretext of coming to see a play, their religious exercises were holding. The Queen's Vice Chamberlain conducted Ruff and Simpson before the Council, in whose presence they were charged with meeting to celebrate the Communion. The Council wrote to Bonner, and he lost no time in this affair of blood. In three days he had him up, and on the next, the 20th, resolved to condemn him. The charges laid against him were that he, being a priest, was married, and that he had rejected the service in the Latin tongue. Ruff wanted not arguments to reply to these flimsy tenants. In short he was degraded and condemned. After Ruff, it should be noticed, when in the north, in Edward the Six's reign, had saved Dr. Watson's life, who afterwards sat with Bishop Bonner on the bench. This ungrateful prelate, in return for the kind act he had received, boldly accused Mr. Ruff of being the most pernicious heretic in the country. The godly minister reproved him for his malicious spirit. He affirmed that, during the thirty years he had lived, he had never bowed the knee to ball, and that twice at Rome he had seen the pope born about on men's shoulders with the false-named sacrament carried before him, presenting a true picture of the very antichrist. Yet was more reverence shown to him than that to the wafer, which they accounted to be their god. Ah! said Bonner, rising and making toward him, as if he would have torn his garment. Hast thou been at Rome and seen our holy father, the pope, and dost thou blaspheme him after this sort? This said he fell upon him, tore off a piece of his beard, and that the day might be to his own satisfaction he ordered the object of his rage to be burnt by half-past-five the following morning. End of Chapter 16 Part 8 Chapter 16, Part 9 of Fox's Book of Martyrs, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Fox's Book of Martyrs, Volume 2 by John Fox. Edited by William Byron Forbush. Chapter 16. Persecutions in England during the reign of Queen Mary. Part 9. Cuthbert Simpson Few professors of Christ possessed more activity and zeal than this excellent person. He not only labored to preserve his friends from the contagion of popery, but he labored to guard them against the terrors of persecution. He was deacon of the little congregation over which Mr. Rowe presided as minister. Mr. Simpson has written an account of his own sufferings, which he cannot detail better than in his own words. On the thirteenth of December, 1557, I was committed by the council to the Tower of London. On the following Thursday I was called into the wardroom before the constable of the tower, and the recorder of London, Mr. Chomley, who commanded me to inform them of the names of those who came to the English service. I answered that I would declare nothing. In consequence of my refusal I was set upon a rack of iron, as I judged for the space of three hours. Then they asked me if I would confess. I answered as before. After being unbound I was carried back to my lodging. The Sunday after I was brought to the same place again, before the lieutenant and recorder of London, and they examined me. As I had answered before, so I answered now. Then the lieutenant swore by God I should tell, after which my two four fingers were bound together, and a small arrow placed between them. They drew it through so fast that the blood followed and the arrow break. After enduring the rack, twice again, I was retaken to my lodging, and ten days after the lieutenant asked me if I would not now confess that which they had before asked of me. I answered that I had already said as much as I would. Three weeks after I was sent to the priest, where I was greatly assaulted, and at whose hand I received the pope's curse for bearing witness of the resurrection of Christ. And thus I commend to you, God, and to the word of his grace, with all those who unfaithedly call upon the name of Jesus, desiring God of his endless mercy, through the merits of his dear son, Jesus Christ, to bring us all to his everlasting kingdom. Amen. I praise God for his great mercy shown upon us. Sing Hosanna to the highest with me, Cuthbert Simpson. God forgive my sins. I ask forgiveness of all the world, and I forgive all the world, and thus I leave the world in the hope of a joyful resurrection. If this account be duly considered, what a picture of repeated tortures it does present. But even the cruelty of the narration is exceeded by the patient meekness with which it was endured. Here are no expressions of malice, no invocations even of God's retributive justice, not a complaint of suffering wrongfully. On the contrary, praise to God, forgiveness of sin, and a forgiving all the world, concludes this unaffected, interesting narrative. Bonner's admiration was excited by the steadfast coolness of this martyr. Speaking of Mr. Simpson in a consistory, he said, You see what a personal man he is, and then of his patience I affirm that if he were not a heretic, he is a man of the greatest patience that ever came before me. Thrice in one day has he been wracked in the tower, and my house also he has felt sorrow, and yet never have I seen his patience broken. The day before this pious deacon was to be condemned, while in the stocks in the bishop's coal-house, he had the vision of a glorified form which much encouraged him. This he certainly attested to his wife, to Mr. Austin and others, before his death. With this ornament of the Christian Reformation were apprehended Mr. Hugh Fox and John DeVinish. The three were brought before Bonner, March 19, 1558, and the pepistical articles tendered. They rejected them and were all condemned. As they worshipped together in the same society at Islington, so they suffered together in Smithfield, March 1928, in whose death the God of Grace was glorified, and true believers confirmed. Thomas Hudson, Thomas Carmen, and William Seaman were condemned by a bigoted vicar of Alesbury, named Barry. The spot of execution was called Lollard's Pit, without Bishop's Gate at Norwich. After joining together in humble petition of the Throne of Grace, they rose, went to the stake, and were encircled with their chains. To the great surprise of the spectators, Hudson slipped from under his chains and came forward. A great opinion prevailed that he was about to recant. Others thought that he wanted further time. In the meantime his companions at the stake urged every promise and exhortation to support him. The hopes of the enemies of the cross, however, were disappointed. The good man, far from fearing the smallest personal terror at the approaching pangs of death, was only alarmed that his saviour's face seemed to be hidden from him. Falling upon his knees, his spirit wrestled with God, and God verified the words of his son, Ask, and it shall be given. The martyr rose in an ecstasy of joy, and exclaimed, Now I thank God I am strong, and care not what man can do to me. With an unruffled countenance he replaced himself under the chain, joined his fellow sufferers, and with them suffered death to the comfort of the godly, and the confusion of Antichrist. Barry, unsatiated with this demoniacal act, summoned up two hundred persons in the town of Ailesham, whom he compelled to kneel to the cross at Pentecost, and inflicted other punishments. He struck a poor man for a trifling word with a flail which proved fatal to the unoffending object. He also gave a woman named Alice Oxes so heavy a blow with his fist, as she met him entering the hall when he was in an ill-humour, that she died with the violence. This priest was rich, and possessed great authority. He was a reprobate, and like the priesthood he abstained from marriage, to enjoy the more a debouched and licentious life. The Sunday after the death of Queen Mary he was reveling with one of his concubines before Vespers. He then went to church, administered baptism, and in his return to his lascivious pastime he was smitten by the hand of God. Without a moment given for repentance he fell to the ground, and a groan was the only articulation permitted him. In him we may behold the difference between the end of a martyr and a persecutor. The story of Roger Holland. In a retired close near a field in Islington, a company of decent persons had assembled, to the number of forty. While they were religiously engaged in praying and expounding to the scripture, twenty-seven of them were carried before Sir Roger Chomley. Some of the women made their escape. Twenty-two were committed to Newgate, who continued in prison seven weeks. As to their examination they were informed by the keeper, Alexander, that nothing more was requisite to produce their discharge than to hear mass. Easy as this condition may seem these martyrs valued their purity of conscience more than loss of life or property. Hence thirteen were burnt, seven in Smithfield and six at Brentford, two died in prison, and the other seven were providentially preserved. The names of the seven who suffered were H. Pond, R. Estland, R. Southeon, M. Rickerby, J. Floyd, J. Holiday, and Roger Holland. They were sent to Newgate June 16th, 1558, and executed on the twenty-seventh. This Roger Holland, a merchant-taylor of London, was first an apprentice with one master, Kimption, at the Black Boy in Whitelink Street, giving himself to dancing, fencing, gaming, banqueting, and wanton company. He had received for his master certain money to the sum of thirty pounds, and lost every groat at Dice. Therefore he purposed to convey himself away beyond the seas, either to France or into Flanders. With this resolution he called early in the morning on a discreet servant in the house named Elizabeth, who professed the gospel and lived a life that did honor to her profession. To her he revealed the loss his folly had occasioned, regretted that he had not followed her advice, and begged her to give his master a note of hand from him, acknowledging the debt, which he would repay if ever it were in his power. He also entreated his disgraceful conduct might be kept secret, lest it would bring the gray hairs to his father with sorrow to a premature grave. The maid, with a generosity and Christian principle rarely surpassed, conscious that his imprudence might be his ruin, brought him the thirty pounds, which was part of a sum of money recently left her by legacy. Here, she said, is the sum requisite. You shall take the money, and I will keep the note. But expressly on this condition, that you abandon all lewd and vicious company, that you neither swear nor talk amodestly, and game no more, for should I learn that you do, I will immediately show this note to your master. I also require that you shall promise me to attend the daily lecture at All Hallows, and the sermon at St. Paul's every Sunday, that you cast away all your books of pobri, and in their place substitute the testament and the book of service, and that you read the scriptures with reverence and fear calling upon God for his grace to direct you in his trust. Pray also fervently to God to pardon your former offenses, and not to remember the sins of your youth, and would you obtain his favor ever dread to break his laws or offend his majesty? So shall God have you in his keeping, and grant you your heart's desire. We must honor the memory of this excellent domestic, whose pious endeavors were equally directed to benefit the thoughtless youth in this life and that which is to come. God did not suffer the wish of this excellent domestic to be thrown upon a barren soil. Within half a year the licentious Holland became a zealous professor of the gospel, and was an instrument of conversion to his father and others whom he visited in Lancashire, to their spiritual comfort and reformation from pobri. His father, pleased with his change of conduct, gave him forty pounds to commence business with in London. Then Roger repaired to London again, and came to the maid that lent him the money to pay his master with all, and said unto her, Elizabeth, here is thy money I borrowed of thee, and for the friendship, goodwill, and the good counsel I have received at thy hands, to recompense thee I am not able, otherwise than to make thee my wife. And soon after they were married, which was the first year of Queen Mary. After this he remained in the congregations of the faithful, until, the last year of Queen Mary, he, with the six others afore said, were taken. After Roger Holland there was none suffered in Smithfield for the testimony of the gospel, God be thanked. Fledulations by Bonner When this Catholic hyena found that neither persuasions, threats nor imprisonment, could produce any alteration in the mind of a youth named Thomas Hinchaw, he sent him to Fulham, and during the first night set him in the stocks, with no other allowance than bread and water. The following morning he came to see if this punishment had worked any change in his mind, and, finding none, he sent Dr. Harpsfield, his archdeacon, to converse with him. The doctor was soon out of humor at his replies, calling him peevish boy, and asked him if he thought he was about to damn his soul. I am persuaded, said Thomas, that you labor to promote the dark kingdom of the devil, not for the love of the truth. These words the doctor conveyed to the bishop, who, in a passion that almost prevented articulation, came to Thomas and said, Dost thou answer my archdeacon thus, thou naughty boy? But I'll soon handle thee well enough for it. He assured. Two willow twigs were then brought him, and causing the unresisting youth to kneel against a long bench, and an arbor in his garden. He scourged him until he was compelled to cease for want of breath and fatigue. One of the rods was worn quite away. Many other conflicts did Hinchaw undergo from the bishop, who at length, to remove him effectually, procured false witness to lay articles against him, all of which the young man denied, and in short refused to answer any interractories administered to him. A fortnight after this the young man was attacked by a burning ague, and at the request of his master. Mr. Pugson of St. Paul's Churchyard he was removed, the bishop not doubting that he had given him his death in the natural way. He however remained ill above a year, and in the meantime Queen Mary died, by which act of providence he escaped Bonner's rage. John Willis was another faithful person on whom the scourging hand of Bonner fell. He was the brother of Richard Willis, before mentioned Burt at Brentford. Hinchaw and Willis were confined in Bonner's co-house together, and afterward removed to Fulham, where he and Hinchaw remained during eight or ten days in the stocks. Bonner's persecuting spirit betrayed itself in his treatment of Willis during his examinations, often striking him on the head with a stick, seizing him by the ears, and flipping him under the chin, saying he held down his head like a thief. This producing no signs of recantation, he took him into his orchard, and in a small arbor there he flogged him first with a willow-rod, and then with birch, until he was exhausted. This cruel ferocity arose from the answer of the poor sufferer, who upon being asked how long it was since he had crept to the cross, replied, not since he had come to years of discretion, nor would he, though he should be torn to pieces by wild horses. Bonner then bade him make the sign of the cross on his forehead, which he refused to do, and was thus led to the orchard. One day, when in the stocks, Bonner asked him how he liked his lodging and fare. Well enough, said Willis. Might I have a little straw to sit or lie upon? Just at this time came in Willis's wife, then largely pregnant, and entreated the bishop for her husband, boldly declaring that she would be delivered in the house if he were not suffered to go with her. To get rid of the good wife's importunity, and the trouble of a lying in-woman in his palace, he bade Willis make the sign of the cross and say, in nominee Patrice, et filie, et spiritus sancti amin. Willis omitted the sign, and repeated the words in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen. Bonner would have the words repeated in Latin, to which Willis made no objection, knowing the meaning of the words. He was then permitted to go home with his wife, his kinsman Robert Rouse being charged to bring him to St. Paul's the next day. Whether he himself went, and subscribing to a Latin instrument of little importance, was liberated. This is the last of twenty-two taken at Islington. Rev. Richard Yeoman. This devout aged person was curate to Dr. Taylor at Hadley, and eminently qualified for his sacred function. Dr. Taylor left him the curacy at his departure, but no sooner had Mr. Newall gotten the benefits, than he removed Mr. Yeoman, and substituted a Romish priest. After this he wandered from place to place, exhorting all men to stand faithfully to God's word, earnestly to give themselves unto prayer, with patience to bear the cross now laid upon them for their trial, with boldness to confess the truth before their adversaries, and with an undoubted hope to wait for the crown and reward of eternal felicity. But when he perceived his adversaries lay wait for him, he went into Kent, and with a little pack of laces, pins, points, et cetera, he've traveled from village to village, selling such things, and in this manner subsided himself, his wife, and children. At last Justice Moyley of Kent took Yeoman and set him in the stocks a day and a night, but having no evident matter to charge him with, he let him go again. Coming secretly again to Hadley, he tarried with his poor wife, who kept him privately, in a chamber of the townhouse, commonly called the Guild Hall, more than a year. During this time the go-old father abode in a chamber locked up all the day, spending his time in devout prayer, in reading the scriptures, and in carting the wool which his wife spun. His wife also begged bread for herself and her children, by which precarious means they supported themselves. Thus the saints of God sustained hunger and misery, while the prophets of Baal lived in festivity, and were costly pampered at Jezebel's table. Information being at length given to Newell that Yeoman was secreted by his wife, he came attended by the constables, and broke into the room where the object of his search lay in bed with his wife. He reproached the poor woman with being a whore, and would have indecently pulled the clothes off, but Yeoman resisted both this act of violence and the attack upon his wife's character, adding that he defied the pope and popery. He was then taken out and set in stocks until day. In the cage also with him was an old man named John Dale, who had sat there three or four days, for exhorting the people during the time service was performed by Newell and his curate. His words were, O miserable and blind guides, will ye ever be blind leaders of the blind? Will ye never amend? Will ye never see the truth of God's word? Will neither God's threats nor promises enter into your hearts? Will the blood of the martyrs nothing mullify your stony stomachs? O abdurate, hard-hearted, perverse, and crooked generation to whom nothing can do good. These words he spake in fervency of spirit against the superstitious religion of Rome, wherefor Newell caused him forthwith to be attached and set into the stocks in a cage, where he was kept until Sir Henry Doyle, a justice, came to Hadley. When Yeoman was taken, the parson called earnestly upon Sir Henry Doyle to send them both to prison. Sir Henry Doyle as earnestly entreated the parson to consider the age of the men and their mean condition. They were neither parson's of note nor preachers. Wherefore he proposed to let them be punished a day or two and to dismiss them, at least John Dale, who was no priest, and therefore as he had so long sat in the cage, he thought it punishment enough for this time. When the parson heard this he was exceedingly mad, and in a great rage called them pestilent heretics unfit to live in the commonwealth of Christians. Sir Henry, fearing to appear too merciful, Yeoman and Dale were pinioned, bound like thieves with their legs under the horse's bellies, and carried to bury jail where they were laid in irons. And because they continually rebuked Popory, they were carried into the lowest dungeon where John Dale, through the jail's sickness and evil keeping, died soon after. His body was thrown out and buried in the fields. He was a man of sixty-six years of age, a weaver by occupation, and well learned in the holy scriptures, steadfast in his confession of the true doctrines of Christ as set forth in King Edward's time, for which he joyfully suffered prison and chains, and from this worldly dungeon he departed in Christ to eternal glory, and the blessed paradise of everlasting felicity. After Dale's death Yeoman was removed to Norwich prison, where after straight and evil keeping he was examined upon his faith and religion, and required to submit himself to his holy father the Pope. I defy him, quote he, and all his detestable abomination. I will in no wise have to do with him. The chief articles objected to him were his marriage and the mass sacrifice. Finding he continued steadfast in the truth, he was condemned, degraded, and not only burnt, but most cruelly tormented in the fire. Thus he ended this poor and miserable life, and entered into that blessed bosom of Abraham, enjoying with Lazarus that rest which God has prepared for his elect. Mr. Binbridge was a single gentleman in the diocese of Winchester. He might have lived a gentleman's life in the wealthy possessions of this world, but he chose rather to enter through the straight gate of persecution to the heavenly possession of life and the Lord's kingdom, than to enjoy present pleasure with disquietude of conscience. Manfully standing against the papists for the defense of the severe doctrine of Christ's gospel, he was apprehended as an adversary to the Romish religion, and led for examination before the Bishop of Winchester, where he underwent several conflicts for the truth against the bishop and his colleague, for which he was condemned, and some time after brought to the place of martyrdom by Sir Richard Pexel, Sheriff. When standing at the stake he began to untie his points and to prepare himself. Then he gave his gown to the keeper by way of fee. His jerkin was trimmed with gold lace, which he gave to Sir Richard Pexel, the High Sheriff. His cap of velvet he took from his head and threw away. Then lifting his mind to the Lord, he engaged in prayer. When fastened to the stake, Dr. Seton begged him to recant, and he should have his pardon. But when he saw that nothing availed, he told the people not to pray for him unless he would recant, no more than they would pray for a dog. Mr. Binbridge, standing at the stake with his hands together in such a manner as the priest holds his hand in his memento, Dr. Seton came to him again, and exhorted him to recant, to whom he said, A way, Babylon, away! One that stood by said, Sir, cut his tongue out. Another, a temporal man, railed at him worse than Dr. Seton had done. When they saw he would not yield, they bade the tormentors to light the pile, before he was in any way covered with faggots. The fire first took away a piece of his beard, at which he did not shrink. Then it came on the other side and took his legs. And the nether-stalking of his hose being leather, they made the fire pierce the sharper, so that the intolerable heat made him exclaim, I recant! And suddenly he trust the fire from him. Two or three of his friends being by wished to save him. They stepped to the fire to help remove it, for which kindness they were sent to jail. The sheriff also of his own authority took him from the stake, and remitted him to prison, for which he was sent to the fleet and lay there some time. Before, however, he was taken from the stake, Dr. Seton wrote articles for him to subscribe to. To these Mr. Benbridge made so many objections that Dr. Seton ordered them to set fire again to the pile. Then with much pain and grief of heart he subscribed to them upon the man's back. This done his gown was given him again, and he was led to prison. While there he wrote a letter to Dr. Seton, recanting those words he had spoken at the stake, and the articles which he had subscribed, for he was grieved that he had ever signed them. The same day's night he was again brought to the stake, where the vile tormentors rather broiled than burnt him. The Lord give his enemies repentance. Mrs. Prest. From the number condemned in this fanatical reign it is almost impossible to obtain the name of every martyr, or to embellish the history of all with anecdotes and exemplifications of Christian conduct. Thanks be to Providence our cruel task begins to draw toward a conclusion, with the end of the reign of papal tear and bloodshed. Monarchs who sit upon thrones possessed by hereditary right should of all others consider that the laws of nature are the laws of God, and hence that the first law of nature is the preservation of their subjects. Maxims of persecutions, of torture and of death, they should leave to those who have affected sovereignty by fraud or by sword. But where, except among a few miscreant emperors of Rome and the Roman Pontiffs, shall we find one whose memory is so damned to everlasting fame as that of Queen Mary? Nations bewail the hour which separates them forever from a beloved governor. But with respect to that of Mary it was the most blessed time of her whole reign. The King has ordained three great scourges for national sins-plague, pestilence, and famine. It was the will of God in Mary's reign to bring a fourth upon this kingdom, under the form of papistical persecution. It was sharp but glorious. The fire which consumed the martyrs has undermined the popedom. And the Catholic States, at present the most bigoted and unenlightened, are those which are sunk lowest in the scale of moral dignity and political consequence. May they remain so, until the pure light of the Gospel shall dissipate the darkness of fanaticism and superstition. But to return. End of Chapter 16, Part 9. Chapter 16, Part 10 of Fox's Book of Martyrs, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Fox's Book of Martyrs, Volume 2 by John Fox. Edited by William Byron Forbush. Chapter 16. Persecutions in England during the reign of Queen Mary. Part 10. Mrs. Prest, for some time, lived about Cornwall, where she had a husband and children whose bigotry compelled her to frequent the abominations of the Church of Rome. Resolving to act as her conscience dictated, she quitted them and made a living by spinning. After some time returning home, she was accused by her neighbors and brought to Exeter to be examined before Dr. Troubleville and his Chancellor, Blackston. As this martyr was accounted of inferior intellect, we shall put her in competition with the bishop and let the reader judge which had the most of that knowledge conducive to everlasting life. The bishop, bringing the question to issue, respecting the bread and wine being flesh and blood, Mrs. Prest said, I will demand of you whether you can deny your creed, which says that Christ doth perpetually sit at the right hand of his Father, both body and soul, until he come again. Or whether he be there in heaven our advocate and to make prayer for us unto God his Father. If he be so, he is not here on earth in a piece of bread. If he not be here, and if he do not dwell in temples made with hands, but in heaven, what shall we seek him here? If he did not offer his body once for all, why make you a new offering? If with one offering he made all perfect, why do you with a false offering make all imperfect? If he be to be worshiped in spirit and in truth, why do you worship a piece of bread? If he be eaten and drunken in faith and truth, if his flesh be not profitable to be among us, why do you say you make his flesh and blood and say it is profitable for body and soul? Alas, I am a poor woman, but rather than to do as you do, I would live no longer. I have said, sir. Bishop, I promise you you are a jolly Protestant. I pray you in what school have you been brought up? Mrs. Prest, I have upon the Sundays visited the sermons and there have I learned such things are so fixed in my breast that death shall not separate them. Bishop, oh foolish woman, who will waste his breath upon thee or such as thou art, but how chanceth it that thou wentest away from thy husband? If thou were an honest woman, thou wouldst not have left thy husband and children and run about the country like a fugitive. Mrs. Prest, sir, I labored for my living and as my master Christ counseleth me, when I was persecuted in one city I fled to another. Bishop, who persecuted thee? Mrs. Prest, my husband and my children, for when I would have them to leave idolatry and to worship God in heaven, he would not hear me, but he with his children rebuked me and troubled me. I fled not for Hordam nor for Theft, but because I would be no partaker with him and his of that foul idol the mass, and wheresoever I was, as oft as I could, upon Sundays and holidays. I made excuses not to go to the Popes Church. Bishop, be like, then you are a good housewife to fly from your husband the church. Mrs. Prest, my housewifery is but small, but God gave me grace to go to the True Church. Bishop, the True Church, what dost thou mean? Mrs. Prest, not your Popes Church, full of idols and abominations, but where two or three are gathered together in the name of God, to that church will I go as long as I live. Bishop, be like, then you have a church of your own. Well, let this madwoman be put down to prison until we send for her husband. Mrs. Prest, know I have but one husband, who is here already in this city and in prison with me, from whom I will never depart. Some persons present endeavoring to convince the bishop she was not in her right senses, she was permitted to depart. The keeper of the bishop's prisons took her into his house, where she either spun, worked as a servant, or walked about the city, discoursing upon the sacrament of the altar. Her husband was sent for to take her home, but this she refused while the cause of religion could be served. She was too active to be idle, and her conversation, simple as they affected to think her, excited the attention of several Catholic priests and friars. They teased her with questions, until she answered them angrily, and this excited a laugh at her warmth. Nay said she, you have more need to weep than to laugh, and to be sorry that ever you were born, to be the chaplains of that whore of Babylon. I defy him in all his falsehood, and get you away from me, you do but trouble my conscience. You would have me follow your doings, I will first lose my life. I pray you depart. Why thou foolish woman, said they, we come to thee for thy prophet and soul's health. To which she replied, What prophet ariseth by you that teach nothing but lies for truth? How save you souls, when you preach nothing but lies, and destroy souls? How provost thou that, said they. Do you not destroy your souls, when you teach the people to worship idols, stocks, and stones, the work of men's hands, and to worship a false god of your own making of a piece of bread, and teach that the pope is God's vicar, and hath power to forgive sins, and that there is a purgatory, when God's son by his passion purged all, and say you make God and sacrifice him, when Christ's body was a sacrifice once for all? Do you not teach the people to number their sins in your ears, and say they will be damned if they confess not all? When God's words sayeth, Who can number his sins? Do you not promise them trintles and dirges and masses for souls, and sell your prayers for money, and make them by pardons, and trust to such foolish inventions of your imaginations? Do you not altogether act against God? Do you not teach us to pray upon beads, and to pray unto saints, and say they can pray for us? Do you not make holy water and holy bread to fray devils? Do you not do a thousand more abominations? And yet you say you come from my prophet and to save my soul? No, no, one hath saved me. Farewell, you with your salvation. During the liberty granted her by the bishop before mentioned, she went into St. Peter's Church, and there found a skillful Dutchman, who was affixing new noses to certain fine images which had been disfigured in King Edward's time. To whom she said, What a madman art thou to make them new noses, which within a few days shall all lose their heads. The Dutchman accused her, and laid it hard to her charge. And she said unto him, Thou art accursed, and so are thy images. He called her a whore. Nay said she, Thy images are whores, and thou art a whore-hunter. For doth not God say, You go ahouring after strange gods, figures of your own making, and thou art one of them? After this she was ordered to be confined, and had no more liberty. During the time of her imprisonment many visited her. Some sent by the bishop, and some of their own will. Among these was one Daniel, a great preacher of the Gospel, in the days of King Edward, about Cornwall and Devonshire, but who, through the grievous persecutions he had sustained, had fallen off. Ernestly did she exhort him to repent with Peter, and to be more constant in his profession. Mrs. Walter Rowley, and Mr. William and John Keed, persons of great respectability, bore ample testimony of her godly conversation, declaring that unless God were with her, it were impossible she could have so ably defended the cause of Christ. Indeed, to sum up the character of this poor woman, she united the serpent and the dove, abounding in the highest wisdom joined to the greatest simplicity. She endured imprisonment, threatenings, taunts, and the vilest epithets, but nothing could induce her to swerve. Her heart was fixed. She had cast anchor. Nor could all the wounds of persecution remove her from the rock on which her hopes of felicity were built. Such was her memory that, without learning, she could tell in what chapter any text of Scripture was contained. On account of this singular property, one Gregory Bassette, a rank-papest, said she was deranged and talked as a parrot, wild without meaning. At length, having tried every manner without effect, to make her nominally a Catholic, they condemned her. After this one exhorted her to leave her opinions and go home to her family, as she was poor and illiterate. True, said she, though I am not learned, I am content to be a witness of Christ's death. And I pray you make no longer delay with me, for my heart is fixed, and I will never say otherwise, nor turn to your superstitious doing. To the disgrace of Mr. Blackstone, treasurer of the Church, he would often sin for this poor martyr from prison, to make sport for him and a woman whom he kept, putting religious questions to her, and turning her answers into ridicule. This done he sent her back to her wretched dungeon, while he battened upon the good things of this world. There was perhaps something simply ludicrous in the form of Mrs. Prest, as she was a very short stature, thick-set, at about fifty-four years of age. But her countenance was cheerful and lively, as if prepared for the day of her marriage with the Lamb. To mock at her form was an indirect accusation of her Creator, who framed her after the fashion he liked best, and gave her a mind that far excelled the transient endowments of perishable flesh. When she was offered money, she rejected it. Because, said she, I am going to a city where money bears no mastery, and while I am here, God has promised to feed me. When sentence was read, condemning her to the flames, she lifted up her voice, and praised God, adding, This day have I found that which I have long sought. When they tempted her to recant, Thou will I not, said she, God forbid that I should lose the life eternal, for this carnal and short life. I will never turn from my heavenly husband to my earthly husband, from the fellowship of angels to mortal children, and if my husband and children be faithful, then I am theirs. God is my father, God is my mother, God is my sister, my brother, my kinsman. God is my friend, most faithful. Being delivered to the sheriff, she was led by the officer to the place of execution, without the walls of Exeter, called Southenhay, where again the superstitious priests assaulted her. While they were tying her to the stake, she continued earnestly to exclaim, God be merciful to me a sinner. Patiently enduring the devouring conflagration, she was consumed to ashes, and thus ended a life which in unshaken fidelity to the cause of Christ was not surpassed by that of any proceeding martyr. Richard Sharp, Thomas Banyan, and Thomas Hale. Mr. Sharp, weaver of Bristol, was brought the ninth day of March, 1556, before Dr. Dalby, Chancellor of the City of Bristol, and after examination concerning the sacrament of the altar was persuaded to recant, and on the 29th he was enjoined to make his recantation in the parish church. But scarcely had he publicly avowed his backsliding, before he felt in his conscience such a tormenting fiend that he was unable to work at his occupation. Hence shortly after, one Sunday, he came into the parish church called Temple, and after high mass stood up in the choir door and said with a loud voice, Neighbours, bear me record that Yonder Idol, pointing to the altar, is the greatest and most abominable that ever was, and I am sorry that I ever denied my Lord God. Notwithstanding, the constables were ordered to apprehend him. He was suffered to go out of the church, but at night he was apprehended and carried to Newgate. Shortly after, before the Chancellor, denying the sacrament of the altar to be the body and blood of Christ, he was condemned to be burned by Mr. Dalby. He was burnt the 7th of May, 1558, and died godly, patiently, and constantly confessing the Protestant articles of faith. With him suffered Thomas Hale, Shoemaker of Bristol, who was condemned by Chancellor Dalby. These martyrs were bound back to back. Thomas Banyan, a weaver, was burnt on August 27th of the same year, and died for the sake of the evangelical cause of his Savior. Jay Cornerford of Wortham, C. Brown of Maidstone, Jay Hurst of Ashford, Alice Snoth, and Catherine Knight, an aged woman. With pleasure we have to record that these five martyrs were the last who suffered in the reign of Mary for the sake of the Protestant cause. But the malice of the papists was conspicuous in hastening their martyrdom, which might have been delayed until the event of the Queen's illness was decided. It is reported that the Archdeacon of Canterbury, judging that the sudden death of the Queen would suspend the execution, traveled post from London to have the satisfaction of adding another page to the black list of papistical sacrifices. The articles against them were, as usual, the sacramental elements and the idolatry of bending to images. They quoted St. John's words, beware of images, and respecting the real presence they urged, according to St. Paul, the things which are seen are temporal. When sentence was about to be read against them, and excommunication to take place in the regular form, John Cornford, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, awfully turned the latter proceeding against themselves, and in a solemn, impressive manner, recriminated their excommunication in the following words. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Most Mighty God, and by the power of His Holy Spirit, and the authority of His Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, we do here give into the hands of Satan to be destroyed the bodies of all those blasphemers and heretics that maintain any error against His Most Holy Word, or do condemn His Most Holy Truth for heresy, to the maintenance of any false church or foreign religion, so that by Thy just judgment, O Most Mighty God, against Thy adversaries, Thy true religion may be known to Thy great glory and our comfort and to the edifying of all our nation. Good Lord, so be it. Amen. This sentence was openly pronounced and registered, and as if Providence had awakened that it should not be delivered in vain, within six days after, Queen Mary died, detested by all good men, and a cursed of God. Though acquainted with these circumstances, the Archdeacon's implacability exceeded that of his great exemplary, Bonner, who, though he had several persons at that time under his fiery grasp, did not urge their deaths hastily, by which delay he certainly afforded them an opportunity of escape. At the Queen's decease many were in bonds, some just taken, some examined, and others condemned. The writs, indeed, were issued for several burnings, but by the death of the three instigators of Protestant murder, the Chancellor, the Bishop, and the Queen, who fell nearly together. The condemned sheep were liberated, and lived many years to praise God for their happy deliverance. These five martyrs, when at the stake, earnestly prayed that their blood might be the last shed, nor did they pray in vain. They died gloriously, and perfected the number God had selected to bear witness of the truth in this dreadful rain, whose names are recorded in the Book of Life. Though last, not least among the saints, made meat for immortality through the redeeming blood of the Lamb. Catherine Finlay, alias Knight, was first converted by her sons expounding the scripture to her, which wrought in her a perfect work that terminated in martyrdom. Alice Snoth at the stake sent for her grandmother and godfather, and rehearsed to them the articles of her faith, and the commandments of God, thereby convincing the world that she knew her duty. She died calling upon the spectators to bear witness that she was a Christian woman, and suffered joyfully for the testimony of Christ's gospel. Among the numberless enormities committed by the merciless and unfeeling bonner, the murder of this innocent and unoffending child may be ranged as the most horrid. His father, John Fetty, of the parish of Clerkenwell, by trade a tailor, and only 24 years of age, had made blessed election. He was fixed secure in eternal hope, and depended on him who so built his church that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. But alas, the very wife of his bosom, whose heart was hardened against the truth, and whose mind was influenced by the teachers of false doctrine, became his accuser. Brokenberry, a creature of the pope, and parson of the parish, received the information of this wedded Delilah, in consequence of which the poor woman was apprehended. But here the awful judgment of an ever-righteous God, who is of pure eyes than to behold evil, fell upon this stone-hearted and perfidious woman. For no sooner was the injured husband captured by her wicked contriving, than she also was suddenly seized with madness, and exhibited an awful and awakening instance of God's power to punish the evildoer. This dreadful circumstance had some effect upon the hearts of the ungodly hunters who had eerily grasped their prey. But, in a relenting moment, they suffered him to remain with his unworthy wife, to return her good for evil, and to comfort two children who, on his being sent to prison, would have been left without a protector. Or have become a burden to the parish. As bad men act from little motives, we may place the indulgence shown him to the latter account. End of Chapter 16, Part 10. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. John Fox. edited by William Byron Forbush. Chapter 16. Persecutions in England during the reign of Queen Mary. Part 11. We have noticed, in the former part of our narratives of the martyrs, some whose affection would have led them even to sacrifice their own lives, to preserve their husbands. But here, agreeable to scripture language, a mother proves, indeed, a monster in nature. Neither conjugal nor maternal affection could impress the heart of this disgraceful woman. Although our afflicted Christian had experienced so much cruelty and falsehood from the woman who was bound to him by every tie, both human and divine, yet with a mild and forebearing spirit he overlooked her misdeeds, during her calamity, endeavoring all he could to procure relief for her malady, and soothing her by every possible expression of tenderness. Thus she became, in a few weeks, nearly restored to her senses. But alas, she returned again to her sin, as a dog returned to his vomit. Malice, against the saints of the Most High, was seated in her heart too firmly to be removed, and as her strength returned, her inclination to work wickedness returned with it. Her heart was hardened by the Prince of Darkness, and to her may be applied these afflicting and soul-howering words. Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard his spots? Then may ye also do good that are accustomed to do evil. Weighing this text duly with another, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy. How shall we presume to refine away the sovereignty of God by arranging Jehovah at the bar of human reason, which, in religious matters, is too often opposed by infinite wisdom? Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in there at. Narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. The ways of heaven are indeed inscrutable, and it is our bounden duty to walk ever dependent on God, looking up to him with humble confidence and hope in his goodness, and ever confess his justice, and where we cannot unravel there learn to trust. This wretched woman, pursuing the horrid dictates of a heart hardened and depraved, was scarcely confirmed in her recovery when, stifling the dictates of honor, gratitude, and every natural affection, she again accused her husband, who was once more apprehended, and taken before Sir John Mordent, Knight, and one of Queen Mary's commissioners. Upon examination, his judge finding him fixed in opinions, which militated against those nursed by superstition and maintained by cruelty, he was sentenced to confinement and torture in Lollard's Tower. Here he was put into the painful stocks, and had a dish of water set by him with a stone put into it, to what purpose God knoweth, except it were to show that he should look for little other substance, which is credible enough if we consider their like practices upon divers before mentioned in this history, as among others upon Richard Smith, who died through their cruel imprisonment touching whom, when a godly woman came to Dr. Story to have leave she might bury him, he asked her if she had any straw or blood in his mouth. By what he means thereby, I leave to the judgment of the wise. On the first day of the third week of our martyr's suffering, an object presented itself to his view, which made him indeed feel his tortures with all their force, and to execrate with bitterness only short of cursing the author of his misery. To mark and punish the proceedings of his tormentors remained with the most high, who knoweth even the fall of a sparrow, and in whose sacred word it is written, vengeance is mine, I will repay. This object was his own son, a child of the tender age of eight years. For fifteen days had its hapless father been suspended by his tormentor by the right arm and left leg, and sometimes by both, shifting his positions for the purpose of giving him strength to bear and to lengthen the date of his sufferings. When the unafending innocent, desirous of seeing and speaking to its parent, applied to Bonner for permission to do so, the poor child being asked by the bishops chaplain the purport of his errand, he replied that he wished to see his father. Who is thy father? said the chaplain. John Fetty returned the boy, at the same time pointing to the place where he was confined. The interrogating miscreant on this said, Why thy father is a heretic. The little champion again rejoined, with energy sufficient to raise admiration in any breast, except that of this unprincipled and unfeeling wretch, this miscreant, eager to execute the behests of a remorseless queen. My father is no heretic, for you have Bollum's mark. Irritated by reproach so aptly applied, the indignant and mortified priest concealed his resentment for a moment and took the undaunted boy into the house, where, having him secure, he presented him to others, whose baseness and cruelty being equal to his own, they stripped him to the skin, and applied their scourges to so violent a degree that, fainting beneath the stripes inflicted on his tender frame, and covered with the blood that flowed from them, the victim of their ungodly wrath was ready to expire under his heavy and unmerited punishment. In this bleeding and helpless state was the suffering infant, covered only with his shirt taken to his father by one of the actors in the horrid tragedy, who, while he exhibited the heart-rending spectacle, made use of the vilest taunts and exalted in what he had done. The dutiful child, as if recovering strength at the sight of his father, on his knees implored his blessing. Alas, will, said the affected parent in trembling amazement, who hath done this to thee? The artless innocent related the circumstances that led to the merciless correction which had been so basely inflicted upon him. But when he repeated the reproof bestowed on the chaplain, and which was promptly an undaunted spirit, he was torn from his weeping parent, and conveyed again to the house, where he remained a close prisoner. Bonner, somewhat fearful that what had been done could not be justified even among the blood-hounds of his own voracious pack, concluded in his dark and wicked mind to release John Fettie, for a time at least, from the severities he was enduring in the glorious cause of everlasting truth, whose bright rewards are fixed beyond the boundaries of time, within the confines of eternity, where the arrow of the wicked cannot wound, even where there shall be no more sorrowing for the blessed, who in the mansion of eternal bliss shall glorify the Lamb for ever and ever. He was, accordingly, by order of Bonner, how disgraceful to all dignity to say bishop, liberated from the painful bonds, and led from Lollard's tower to the chamber of that ungodly and infamous butcher, where he found the bishop bathing himself before a great fire. And at his first entering the chamber Fettie said, God be here and peace. God be here and peace, said Bonner, that is neither godspeed nor good moral. If ye kick against this peace, said Fettie, then this is not the place that I seek for. A chaplain of the bishop, standing by, turned the poor man about, and thinking to abash him, said, and amocking wise, what have we here, a player? While Fettie was thus standing in the bishop's chamber, he aspired, hanging about the bishop's bed, a pair of great black beads, whereupon he said, my lord, I think the hangman is not far off, for the halter, pointing to the beads, is here already, at which words the bishop was in a marvelous rage. Then he immediately after aspired also, standing in the bishop's chamber, in the window a little crucifix. Then he asked the bishop what it was, and he answered that it was Christ. Was he handled as cruelly as he is here pictured, said Fettie? Ye that he was, said the bishop, and even so cruelly will you handle such as come before you, for you are unto God's people as Kyphus was unto Christ. The bishop, being in a great fury, said, Thou art a vile heretic, and I will burn thee, or else I will spend all I have unto my gown. Nay, my lord, said Fettie, you are better to give it to some poor body, that he may pray for you. Bonner, notwithstanding his passion, which was raised to the utmost by the calm and pointed remarks of this observing Christian, thought it most prudent to dismiss the father, on account of the nearly murdered child. His coward soul trembled for the consequences which might ensue. Fear is inseparable from little minds, and this dastardly pampered priest experienced its effects so far as to induce him to assume the appearance of that he was an utter stranger to, namely mercy. The father, on being dismissed by the tyrant Bonner, went home with a heavy heart with his dying child, who did not survive many days the cruelties which had been inflicted on him. How contrary to the will of our great king and prophet, who mildly taught his followers, was the conduct of this sanguinary and false teacher, this vile apostate from his god to Satan. But the archfiend has taken entire possession of his heart, and guided every action of the sinner he had hardened, who, given up to terrible destruction, was running the race of the wicked, marking his footsteps with the blood of the saints, as if eager to arrive at the goal of eternal death. Deliverance of Dr. Sands This imminent prelate, Vice Chancellor of Cambridge, at the request of the Duke of Northumberland, when he came down to Cambridge in support of Lady Jane Gray's claim to the throne, undertook at a few hours' notice to preach before the Duke and the University. The text he took was such as presented itself in opening the Bible, and a more appropriate one he could not have chosen, namely the three last verses of Joshua. As God gave him the text, so he gave him also such order and utterance that it excited the most lively emotions in his numerous auditors. The sermon was about to be sent to London to be printed when news arrived that the Duke had returned, and Queen Mary was proclaimed. The Duke was immediately arrested, and Dr. Sands was compelled by the University to give up his office. He was arrested by the Queen's order, and when Mr. Mildmay wondered that so learned a man could willfully incur danger and speak against so good a Princess as Mary, the Doctor replied, If I would do as Mr. Mildmay had done, I'd need not fear bonds. He came down armed against Queen Mary, before a traitor, now a great friend. I cannot with one mouth blow hot and cold in this manner. A general plunder of Dr. Sands' property ensued, and he was brought to London upon a wretched horse. Various insults he met on the way from the bigoted Catholics, and as he passed through Bishopsgate Street, a stone struck him to the ground. He was the first prisoner that entered the tower in that day on a religious account. His man was admitted with his Bible, but his shirts and other articles were taken from him. On Mary's coronation day the doors of the dungeon were so laxly guarded that it was easy to escape. A Mr. Mitchell, like a true friend, came to him, afforded him his own clothes as a disguise, and was willing to abide the consequence of being found in his place. This was a rare friendship, but he refused the offer, saying, I know no cause why I should be in prison. To do thus were to make myself guilty. I will expect God's good will, yet do I think myself much obligated to you. And so Mr. Mitchell departed. With Dr. Sands was imprisoned Mr. Bradford. They were kept close in prison twenty-nine weeks. John Fowler, their keeper, was a perverse papist, yet, by often persuading him, at length he began to favor the Gospel, and was so persuaded in the true religion that, on a Sunday, when they had mass in the chapel, Dr. Sands administered the Communion to Bradford and to Fowler. Thus Fowler was their son begotten in bonds. To make room for Wyatt and his accomplices, Dr. Sands and nine other preachers were sent to the Marshall See. The keeper of the Marshall See appointed to every preacher a man to lead him in the street. He caused them to go on before, and he and Dr. Sands followed conversing together. By this time, Popory began to be unsavory. After they had passed the bridge, the keeper said to Dr. Sands, I perceive the vain people would set you forward to the fire. You are as vain as they if you, being a young man, will stand in your own conceit, and prefer your own judgment before that of so many worthy prelates, ancient, learned, and grave men, as be in this realm. If you do so, you shall find me a severe keeper, and one that utterly dislikes your religion. Dr. Sands answered, I know my years to be young, and my learning but small. It is enough to know Christ crucified, and he hath learned nothing who seeth not the great blasphemy that is in Popory. I will yield to him, and I will give him to him. Who seeth not the great blasphemy that is in Popory. I will yield unto God, and not unto man. I have read in the scriptures of many godly and courteous keepers. May God make you one. If not, I trust he will give me strength and patience to bear your hard usage. Then said the keeper, Are you resolved to stand to your religion? Yes, quote the doctor, by God's grace. Truly said the keeper, I love you the better for it. I did but tempt you. What favor I can show you, you shall be assured of, and I shall think myself happy if I might die at the stake with you. He was as good as his word, for he trusted the doctor to walk in the fields alone, where he met with Mr. Bradford, who was also a prisoner in the king's bench, and had found the same favor from his keeper. At his request he put Mr. Saunders in along with him, to be his bedfellow, and the communion was administered to a great number of communicants. When Wyatt with his army came to south work, he offered to liberate all the imprisoned Protestants, but Dr. Sands and the rest of the preachers refused to accept freedom on such terms. After Dr. Sands had been nine weeks prisoner in the Marshall Sea, by the mediation of Sir Thomas Holcroft, Knight Marshall, he was set at liberty. Though Mr. Holcroft had the queen's warrant, the bishop commanded him not to set Dr. Sands at liberty, until he had taken sureties of two gentlemen with him. Each one bound in unreadable, that Dr. Sands should not depart out of the realm without license. Mr. Holcroft immediately after met with two gentleman of the north, friends and cousins to Dr. Sands, who offered to be bound for him. After dinner the same day, Sir Thomas Holcroft sent for Dr. Sands to his lodgings at Westminster, to communicate to him all he had done. Dr. Sands answered, I give God thanks, who hath moved your heart to mind me so well, that I think myself most bound unto you. God shall requite you, nor shall I ever be found unthankful. But as you have dealt friendly with me, I will also deal plainly with you. I came a free man into prison. I will not go forth a bondman. As I cannot benefit my friends, so will I not hurt them. And if I be set at liberty, I will not tarry six days in this realm, if I may get out. If, therefore, I may not get free forth, send me to the Marsal Sea again, and there shall you be sure of me. This answer, Mr. Holcroft much disapproved of. But like a true friend, he replied, Seeing you cannot be altered, I will change my purpose and yield unto you. Come of it what will, I will set you at liberty. And seeing you have a mind to go over sea, get you gone as quick as you can. One thing I require of you, that, while you are there, you write nothing to me hither, for this may undo me. Dr. Sands, having taken an affectionate farewell of him and his other friends in bonds, departed. He went by Winchester House, and there took a boat, and came to a friend's house in London, called William Banks, and tarried there one night. The next night he went to another friend's house, and there he heard that strict search was making for him, by gardener's express order. Dr. Sands now conveyed himself by night to one Mr. Bertie's house, a stranger who was in the Marsal Sea prison with him awhile. He was a good Protestant, and dwelt in Mark Lane. There he was six days, and then removed to one of his acquaintances in Cornhill. He caused his man Quinton to provide two geldings for him, resolved on the morrow to ride into Essex, to Mr. Sands, his father-in-law, where his wife was, which, after a narrow escape, he effected. He had not been there two hours before Mr. Sands was told that two of the guards would that night apprehend Dr. Sands. That night Dr. Sands was guided to an honest farmer's near the sea, where he tarried two days and two nights in a chamber without company. After that he removed to one James Mowers, a shipmaster, who dwelt at Milton Shore, where he waited for a wind to Flanders. While he was there, James Mower brought to him forty or fifty mariners, to whom he gave an exhortation. They liked him so well that they promised to die, rather than he should be apprehended. The sixth of May, Sunday, the wind served. In taking leave of his hostess, who had been married eight years without having a child, he gave her a fine handkerchief, and an old royal of gold, and said, Be of good comfort, before that one whole year be passed, God shall give you a child, a boy. This came to pass, for that day twelve month, wanting one day, God gave her a son. Scarcely had he arrived at Antwerp, when he learned that King Philip had sent to apprehend him. He next flew to Augsburg, in Cleveland, where Dr. Sands tarried fourteen days, and then travelled towards Strasburg, where, after he had lived one year, his wife came to him. He was sick of a flux, nine months, and had a child, which died of the plague. His amiable wife, at length, fell into consumption, and died in his arms. When his wife was dead, he went to Zurich, and there was in Peter Marder's house, for the space of five weeks. As they sat at dinner one day, a word was suddenly brought that Queen Mary was dead, and Dr. Sands was sent for by his friends at Strasburg, where he preached. Mr. Grindel and he came over to England, and arrived in London the same day that Queen Elizabeth was crowned. This faithful servant of Christ, under Queen Elizabeth, rose to the highest distinction in the Church, being successively Bishop of Worchester, Bishop of London, and Archbishop of York.