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A Work wherein niaay remarkable Points of HisWry, rrlntiiis to tlie Sl«te of 

Learning and Religion in tlie Times of King Henry Vlll. Kin^ 

Edward VI. and Queen Mary I. are lirought lo lig\it. 

f Writ by the lud li^arned Knight, 








CI 3 ^4' n 

X HIS edition of Strype's Life of Sir John Cheke, 
as well as that lately published of SirThomas Smithy 
is printed verbatim .from a copy corrected by the 
Author, which is the property of Mr. Watson Tay- 
lor, and with the use of which he was pleased to 
oblige the Delegates of the Clarendon Press. 


^ 2 






xSE pleased to accept this book of the Life of the 
right worthy and ever memorable Sir John Cheke, 
your great great grandfather, who derives an ho^ 
nour upon you that are sprung in a direct line from 
him. To you therefore it most properly belongs. 
And further, it may be of this use to you, that by 
reading and knowing his extraordinary accomplish- 
ments, they may be your continual mementos, not 
to degenerate from, but to imitate, as much as may 
be, such a forefather. 

The cause that moved me to write this Life, was 
the notable figure Cheke made in this island in his 
time ; having been a rare instrument of doing good 
to his country, (the effects whereof remain to this 
day,) not only in the wise and happy modelling of 
an excellent Prince to govern the State, but also in 
furthering most successfully solid and useful learn- 
ing in the University, and the pure religion of the 
Gospel in Court and kingdom: though it raised 
him up implacable enemies of the Popish faction, 
brought him into extreme troubles, and shortened 
his life. And therefore it is highly becoming, nay, 
I may say, a public debt, to preserve his name and 


It is true. Sir, I do not pretend to be either the 
first or only writer of his Life. For Gerard Lang- 
bain, D. D. in the time of the civil wars, and David 
Lloyd since, and Holland before them both, have 
done something that way. But their writings are 
so slight, superficial, and deficient, and so full of 
errors and impositions upon the readers credulity, 
that something more full and correct was necessary, 
to give a better representation of this gentleman to 
the world; which I have endeavoured to do; and 
perhaps I have had greater advantages than others 
to do it. 

My inchnations (I know not how) have carried 
me now for many years to search more curiously 
into the affairs of that age. And in my pursuits I 
have conversed with many records, manuscripts, ori- 
ginal letters, as well as other old thrown-by printed 
books, and some of them rare ones too. And from 
the multifarious collections and transcripts taken 
thence, I have been furnished with materials for 
the composing this tract. Which (whatever it be) 
I have done with all care, faithfulness, and integrity. 
For as I love not to be imposed upon myself, so 
neither to impose upon others. The opportunities 
I have had (I will not say, the pains I have taken) 
in making myself acquainted with Chekc's life and 
actions, may appear by that catalogue of books and 
papers set down afterwards, which I have made use 

There was, Sir, another reason excited me to 
this undertaking. It was not long ago I printed 
the Life of Sir Thomas Smith, his dear friend and 
contemporary ill the same University; both joint- 


promoters of true religion and good literature; both 
King Henry's Scholars ; both raised and brought to 
Court by the fame of their learning ; and both at 
length Privy Counsellors and Secretaries of State, 
and both sufferers for religion ; so that I reckoned 
my work but half done, while Cheke's Life re- 
mained unwritten. Which therefore I have now 
done ; and do shew (somewhat to my own satisfac- 
tion) this incomparable pair to the English world. 

And, Sir, methinks it is not to be passed oVer 
without a remark, how the parallel between these 
two great men still continues; that the heirs of 
both flourish to this day, in two noble seats in the 
same county, mounted upon two pleasant hills, in 
prospect one of another, viz. Hillhall and your Pyr- 
go; remaining lasting remembrances of the names 
of Smith and Cheke. But as God hath blessed 
each of you with an hopeful heir male, so may they 
prove the best monuments of their blessed ances- 
tors: and may they become excellent patterns of 
wisdom, sobriety, and usefulness ; the best way to 
entail God's blessing upon both your houses and 
families, and to perpetuate them in wealth and ho- 
nour. Which is the prayer of. 


Your most humble Servant, 




At the end of this Life is added a Discourse made by 
Sir John Cheke concerning Superstition; which he set 
before his Latin translation of a tract of Plutarch upon the 
same subject, by way of dedication to King Henry VIII. 
It hath lien, for ought I know, this hundred and fifty years 
and more in obscurity ; but lately discovered in the library 
qf University college, Oxon, by the Reverend Mr.W. Elstob, 
then a Fellow of that house : who did not only courteously 
transcribe it for me, but hath now voluntarily taken the 
pains to translate it out of Cheke's elegant Latin into 
English, for the more common benefit. It is indeed im- 
perfect, and defective of some pages, which is great pity ; 
but the greatest part is remaining, and worthy to be pre- 
served, to shew the learning of the writer, and likewise his 
good intention and desire of forwarding a reformation of 
the Church of England in those times, and of exciting 
King Henry, as far as be durst, to cast off the supersti-^ 
tions and corruptions mixed vrith the public worship of 
God then used. 

And as we have retrieved this piece of this learned man, 
so it is heartily to be wished that other of his works and 
writings might come to light. 

J. S. 



A VIEW of Sir John Cheke, from his birth to his leaving 
the University, and advancement at Court. P. 1 

Sect. 1, Cheke's birth and family 5 vindicated. His nativity. Ann. 1514, 
Parents. Sect. 2. His education^ proficiency ^ usefulness at St. ^*^'*' 
John's college. Sect. 3. Made the King's Greek Professor. Re- 1549, 
forms the pronunciation of Greek. Sect. 4. Letters pass between ^^^^* 
Cheke and the Chancellor of the University about it* Sect. 5. 
What and hov^ Cheke read. Sect. 6, Cheke^ University Orator. 

CHAP. n. 

From Cheke's coming to Court, to his advancement to the 
Provostship of King's college in Cambridge. P. 22 

Sect. 1. Cheke removed to Coin-t. Instructs the Prince. The Ann. 1544, 
loss of him at Cambridge. Made Canon of Christ's Church, *^*» 
Oxou. His usefulness. Sect. 2. His offices to his friends. Sect. 3. 1643! 
His private studies. Sect. 4. Cheke's interest under King Edward. 
Applied to. Marries. Sect. 5. His preferments and benefits ob- 
tained from King Edward. Made Provost of King's college. 

CHAP. m. 

From Cheke's retirement to Cambridge, to his receiving 
the honour of knighthood. P. 39 

Sect. ]. Goes to Cambridge. Visits the University by com- Ann. 1549, 
mission from the King, Resides there. Writes a book against ^^^®' 
the rebels. Sect. 2. Cheke's Book, viz. The true Subject to the 
Rebel. Sect. 3. Returns to the CourU His troubles tliere. Ui» 


wife offends the Duchess of Somerset. Sect. 4. Preferred at 
Courts aud does good offices for men of religion and learning. 
Sect. 5. Procures Ascham to go Secretary in an Embassy to the 
Emperor. Sect. 6, Cheke translates the Communion Book. His 
friendship with Martyr and Bucer. Hath a son. Sect. J. Reads 
Aristotle's Ethics in Greek to the King. Instructs him for 
government. Sect. 8. Concerned about the death of Bucer, the 
King's Divinity Professor at Cambridge. Sect. p. Writes piously 
to Dr. Haddon^ being sick. 


From the time of Cheke's knighthood^ to his being made 
a Privy Comisellor and Secretary of State. P. 66 

Ann. 1561, Sect. 1. Cheke is knighted. Sect. 2. Inquisitive after Dr. Red- 
man's declaration concerning religion at his death. Sect. 3. 
His disputations concerning the Sacrament. Sect. 4. Resigns 
his Greek Professorship. Gets Leland*s MSS. Falls sick. Sect. 5. 
Cheke at Cambridge. Departs thence to the King. Places con- 
ferred on him. ^ 


From Sir John Cheke's highest advancements to his exile ; 
and from thence to his surprise^ imprisonment, recanta- 
tion, repentance, and death. P. 91 

Ann. 1553 Sect. 1. Cheke's highest advancements. A Privy Counsellor. 

—1557. Secretary of State. Stands for the Lady Jane. Sect. 2. Com- 
mitted^ indicted^ pardoned. Travels abroad. Sojourns at Strat- 
burg. Sect. 3. Some letters of his printed. Writes to Cecil. 
His condition become mean. Reads a Greek lecture at Stras- 
burg. Taken prisoner^ and brought to England. Sect. 4, Too 
credulous to astrology. Betrayed. Complies. Subscribes. Re- 
cants. Sect. 5. His submission to Cardinal Pole as the Pope's 
Legate; and his recantations. Sect. 6, Observations upon 
Cheke*8 recantations. The Queen grants him lands in exchange. 
Sect. 7* What bappeifed to him after his recantation. Trou- 
bled. Repents. Dies. ' Sect. 8. His circumstances at his death. 
His arms. His person. His lady. Her fortune. Mac Williaint 
her second husband. Some account of him. Her death. 


CHAP. VI. ' 

Sir John Cheke's posterity. P. 188 

Sect. 1 . Cheke*s three sons : Henry Cheke, eldest son ; John 
Cheke, the second 5 Edward, the third. Sect. 2. Henry Cheke> 
Sir John*s eldest son. Sect. 3. Sir Thomas Cheke, son of Sir 
Henry. His honourable posterity. 

CHAP. vn. 

Observations upon Sir John Cheke. P. 148 

Seet. 1. His natural disposition, and the endowments oi his 
mind. Sect. 2. His learning. Sect. 3. Cheke considered as a 
critic. Sect. 4. Cheke an author. His writings. 

CHAP. vin. 

Some observations upon Sir John Cheke^s religion and 
principles. His fortune and his fall. The conclusion, 

P. 173 

Sect. 1. Cheke's religion. Sect. 2. His religious practices. 
Sect. 3. His fortunes. Sect. 4. His fall. 

A learned Discourse of Superstition, by Sir John Cheke. 

P. 189 




ChEKE to Dr. Matthew Parker, Queen Anne's Chap- 
lain, in behsdf of Bill, a Scholar of St. John's college, p. 9. 
To Stephen, Bishop of Winton, Chancellor of Cambridge, 
concerning his new way of pronouncing the Greek, p. 15. 
To Dr. Butts, the King's Physician, being sick, consolatory, 
p. 26. To Peter Osbom, from Cambridge, where he was re- 
tired from Court, p. 39. To the Duchess of Somerset, ex- 
cusing his wife, under her Grace's displeasiu-e, p. 45. To 
Martin Bucer, upon his recovery from sickness, p. 54. To 
the same, concerning John Sleidan's pension, p. 55. To Peter 
Martyr, consolatory upon the death of Dr. Bucer, p. 58. 
To Dr. Parker and the University, on the same occasion, 
p. 61. To Walter Haddon, upon his sickness, p. 63. To 
Sir William Cecil, from Strasburg, giving him warning 
against compliance with the Popish religion, p. 99. To 
Queen Mary, declaring his submission, p. 112. To Cecil, 
in Greek, in behalf of a poor foreign Bishop come into 
England, p. 176. 

The University of Cambridge to Cheke, congratulatory, 
upon the access of King Edward to the throne, p. 33. 

Stephen, Bishop of Winton, and Chancellor of Cam- 
bridge, to Cheke, prohibitory of his new way brought in 
of sounding the Greek letters, p. 15. 

Walter Haddon, LL. D. to Cheke, upon his leaving the* 
University, p. 23. To the same, upon his translation and 
edition of certain Orations of Chrysostom de Fato, p. 31. 

Nicolas Car to Cheke, consolatory, concerning the death 
of Dr. Martin Bucer, p. 58, 

Roger Ascham to Cecil, upon the hope of Cheke's pre- 
ferment to the provostship of King's college, p. 35. To 
Cheke, from Germany, shewing the state of religion and 


learning abroad, p. 49. To the same, congratulatory of his 
high advancement at Com:!, p. 92. 

Yong to Cheke, concerning the declarations of Dr. Red- 
man on his death-bed, concerning certain points of reli- 
gion, p. 67. 

Thomas Lever to Ascham, concerning Cheke's recovery, 
p. 89. 

Archbishop Cranmer to Cecil, signifying his concern for 
Cheke's troubles upon Queen Mary^s coming to the Crown, 
p. 94. 

Lady Frances Cooke to the Lord Burghley, about pre- 
cedency to the Lady Cheke, p. 135. 

John Cheke, son of Sir John Cheke, to the Lord Burgh- 
ley, upon his going to the war, p. 139. 

Bartholomew Clark, LL. D. to Cecil, concerning the 
proficiency of Henry Cheke at Cambridge, p. 140. 


V ARIA penes me MSSta. 
Visitation Books in the Office of Arms. 
Weever's Funeral Monuments. 
Bishop of Lqndon's Register. 
Fuller's Worthies. 
Fox's Acts and Monuments. 
His Martyrology, the first edition. 
A MS. of Dr. Sloan's. 

Checi de Recta Grsec^e Linguae Pronuntiatione. 
Epistola D. Winton Checo in libro preefat. 
Cselii Secundi Curionis Epist. Dedicatoria eidem Libro. 
^Aschami Epistolae. 
Lelandi Epigrammata. 
Dixoni Poemata, MSS. 
Volumen Epistolarum in Biblioth. C. C. C. C. 
Dr. Langbain's Life of Cheke. 


Haddoni Epistolae. 

Register of the University of Oxon. 

Johan. Foxii MSS. 

Sir John Hajm^ard's Life of King Edward VL 

The Hurt of Sedition, written by Cheke. 

HoUnshed's Ohronicle. 

Warrant Book of King Edward VI. Of his Gifts, CirantSy 
Sales, &c. 

Council Book of King Edward VI. 

Athenae Oxonienses. 

Order of the Policy and Offices of the Realm. 


Bale's Centuries, &*st edition, in quarto. 

Dr. Laurence Humphry de Nobilitate. 

Ihr. Ponet's Treatise of Politick Power. 

MSS. of William Petyt, Esq. Keeper of the Tower Re- 

The Decretals. 

Petri Martyris Epistolae. Edit. Genev. 

MSS. of Sir Henry St. George, Knight, Garter King at 

H. Holland's Heroologia« 

Sir Thomas Chaloner's Miscellanea. 

Dugdale's Baronage. 

Dr.^rhomas Wylson's English Translation of DemoatbeiMSs' 

Epistola Nic. Carri de Morte Buceri. 

Life of Sir Thomas Smith, Knight. 

Miscellanea D. in Biblioth. C.C.C.C. 

State Worthies, by Lloyd. 

Grotii Annotationes in Novum Testamentum. 

Monasticon Anglicanum. 







A view of Sir John Chekey from his birth to his leaving 
the University y and advancement at Court. 

OIR JOHN CHEKE was raised purely by his learned Anno isu. 
abilities, and his name requires a place among the most 
memorable men of those times, being oiie of the completest 
scholars for Latin and Greek leammg in that age ; and 
having the happiness to be the chief instructor of the 
blessed King Edward's youth, a Prince so singular for 
learning, knowledge, and religion, that he wanted nothmg 
but a longer life to render him one of the most illustrious 
monarchs in the world : in the prfuse whereof, Cheke, his 
guide and teacher, must have a share. 

Being minded to revive the memory oif this gentleman, 
I shall endeavour to give a view of him ; first, from his 
birth to his leaving of the University, and coming to Court ; 
next, from his coming to Court, to his travels abroad and 
exile ; and lastly, from bis exile to his return and death. 


Cheke* s birth and family ; vindicated. His nativity. 


IT is one of the chief honours of the town of Cambridge, cunbridge, 
that Cheke was bom there ; at which place his father set- I^^]|!pigjce. 



tied, upon occasion of his matching with a gentlewoman 
_ of that county. For the family was anciently of the Isle 
*■ of Wight, where it long flourished in wealth anrf reputa- 
tion, and received accessions <^ honour by divers inter- 
marriages. For Hayward, who wrote the life of King Ed- 
ward VX. must be corrected, who, iu that book, hath done 
this gentleman wrong, in disparaging his pedigree,a8 though 
it were obscure; where, speaking of the Prince's tutors, 
Dr. Cox and Sir John Cheke, he describes them to have 
been " of mean birth ; and that they might be said to be 
" born of themselves, for the esteem of their virtue and 
" learning, by reason of the place of their emplojTnent." 
y He was the sou and heir of Peter Cheke, a younger 
brother of the ancient house of the Chekes of Motaton in 
the Isle of Wight. For to fetch his genealogy for some 
generations backward, as it lies in the visitation-booka of 
the heralds; Richard Cheke of Motston, in the time of 
Richard IL married one of the daughters of Montacute, or 
Montague. His son was called Edward, who married a 
daughter of Trenenian. By whom he had John Cheke of 
Motfitone, that matched with a daughter of Tremain. By 
whom he had issue John, whose wife waa a daughter of 
Glamorgan, of the county of Southampton. His son was 
Robert, who married the daughter of Brcmshot of Brem- 
shot. Whose sons were David and Peter, the father of 
John Clieke, the subject of our story, David's line for 
divers generations after him enjoyed Motstone. 

Peter, the second son, married Agnes, daughter of Duf- 
ford [i. e. De Ufford, a great name once] of the county of 
Cambridge, a grave, wise, and good woman. Ascbmu, tn 
one of his epistles, styles her venerandam it/am /ipt/iinam, 
i. e. that venerable woman. By whom Peter had Anne, 
married to George AUington ; Alice, to Dr. BUtlie, the first 
public King's Reader of the Physic Lecture in the Univer- 
sity of Cambridge. He was of King's college, and some- 
time Proctor there ; and a traveller beyond sea: Elizabeth, 
to Spcringj Mary, matched with Sir William Cecil, af- 
terwards Secretary of State to King Edward and Queen 


Elizabeth; and Magdalen, first married to Eresby, then sect. 
to John Purefoy of Leicestershire. And besides these , 
daughtei-9, he had, by the saine Agnes, John his son andA"no '^u. 

If one were minded to seek further after this family, weOthen of 
might be told of one Margaret Chelie, who obtained a li-of ul^* 
cence from King Richard III. to found a chaimtry for onetii»i"»- 
Priest, in the parish church of Long Ashton, nigh Bristol ; bool^of tii«t 
which bespake her a person of quality and wealth. We ^'"S- 
might be told, that some of this name were dispersed in 
Suffolk, where, in the parish church of Debnani, anno 1 440, weev. Mon, 
was buried John Cheke, gentleman. There also lay buried''' 
Robert Cheke, and Rose his wife, as appears by a monu- 
mental inscription there. The name also flourished in the 
city of London in Queen Elizabetli's time : where was also 
one John Cheke, a wealthy citizen of the Company of 
Mercers ; who, upon a loan from the city, anno 15SS, that 
memorable year, (when tlie richest sort of all the conipa- 
nieB lent their proportions to the Queen,) for his share lent 
her 100/, To which I add another Cheke, named also 
John, ordained Deacon anno 1560, by Grindal, Bishop of 
London ; which John is charactered in the Book of Ordina- 
tions to be liberie conditionis, et laudabilis commendalio- Regist. Bp. 
nis, i. e. of genteel extract, as well as laudable life and 

These I the rather mention, to extinguish that ill report cbeke'a 
Sir John Hayward had suggested to the world of oui" ^"^'Jj'^'"" 
Cheke's mean birth; whom Dr. Fuller also hath taken 
notice of with some just indignation, leaving him this cha- 
racter for his pains, that " he was a learned pen, hut too Full. Wor- 
" free in dealing disgraceful characters on the subjects 
" thereof:" adding this further account of Cliekc's family, 
that the paternal estate was 300?. per annum, never in- 
creased nor diminished till twenty years i^o, [that is, so 
many years before the time of Fuller's writing this,] when 
it was sold outright; and that one of those Chekes in 
Richard the II.'s days married a daughter of the Lord 
Mountague's ; though it may be intjuired, whqfher that 



Ann. I614y 
et fcq. 

In what 
year born. 
Actf and 
Mon. first 
edit. p. 807. 

A MS. of 
Dr. Sloan'f . 


family were advanced to the honour of barons so anciently 
as that King's time. 

The gentleman of whom we are to write was bom in 
the year 1514, as I collect from his age, when he was 
called in for a witness to answer certain interrogatories 
concerning Bishop Gardiner, in December or January, anno 
1550, being then set down to be thirty-six years of age: 
and more certainly from his nativity, calculated by his 
dear friend Sir Thomas Smith, that he was bom the same 
year, on the 16th day of June, at two of the clock five 
minutes afternoon. And perhaps it may not be unaccept- 
able to some to exhibit this scheme of his nativity, drawn 
up by so notable a man. 

HUpM«nU* His parents bore a repute in Cambridge for their ho- 

***"*^'" nesty and integrity : and that character Gardiner Bishop 

of Winchester himself gave of them ; who, while he lived 


in Cambridge, and resided in Trinity hall there, main- SEdt. 
tained a good acquaintance and friendship with them, as ' 

in one of his controversial letters to Chelte he hints ; tell- ^""- '*'*■ 
ing him, that he had his "education under honest parents, '^''* 
and such as were among the number of the h^st. 


His educaiicm, praficienfy ; usefulness at Si. John's 


HE was bred up to learning, and from the grammai-Admitisd 
school was admitted into St. John's college in Cambridge. j"[|^:. 
Which, as it communicated good literature and sound re- 
ligion to him, so he afterwards proved a singular ornament 
to it. For here he seemed not only to receive the grounds 
of learning, but also the principles of true religion, and 
the knowledge and love of the Gospel, which he so closely 
adhered to, and so heartily professed, and endured so much 
for afterwards. For this waa one of the colleges in that 
University, which in Cardinal Wolsey's days was noted 
for reading privately the holy Scriptures and Luther's 
boobB, and for their discovering thereby the abuses of re- 
ligion. In this college, in the middle and latter times of 
King Henry VIII, many excellently learned persons sprang 
np, who unveiled and exposed the groaa errors and cor- 
ruptions wherewith the Popes of Rome and their party 
had imposed upon the Church of Christ. Here were the 
Jjevers and the Pilkintons, afterwards exceeding useful 
preachers under King Edward, and exiles under Queen 
Mary. Here was Taylor, afterward Bishop of Lincoln, 
turned out of the House of Lords in Queen Mary's first 
Parliament, for no reason, whatsoever was pretended, un- 
less for his religion. Here were Roger Ascham, Huttrhin- 
.8on, Raven, Grindal, (tutor to the Lady Elizabeth,) and 
.divers others, who disputed at home, and offered to do so 
lore publicly in the Schools, against the Mass. 

ireatibiu probis {itque adm optioiis. Ep, D. Winlun, Checo, 


Ann. 1S34, 
Made tlie 


Cheke so closely plied his studies, that he soon becat 
a scholar of note, and, though but young, arrived to excel- 
lent skill iu the learned languages. So that the conimen- 
datiou of him, and of hia parts and abilities, came to the 
King, the means of Dr. Butts, the King's Phy- 
sician, who was Cheke's great friend, counsellor, and the 
encouragcr of his studies, and whom he called his patron ; 
and to whom he once wrote a pious letter from Hartford, 
(where he was with Prince Edward,) upon a fit of sick- 
ness. For Chcke being once at Court with Butts, he took 
occasion to recommend him to the King for a singular 
scholar, and particularly for his study and proficiency iu 
the Greek tongue. And being thus known to the King, 
he soon after advanced him to the honour to be his 
Scholar, together with one*" Smith of Queen's college, 
aftenynrds aufficiently known, being Secretary of State, 
and employed in embassies abroad. To both whom the 
King exhibited for the encouragement of their studies* 
and for the bearing of their expenses of travel into foreign 
countries. A very good practice formerly used by our 
Princes, to fit and tnuii up young scholars for the service 
of the King and Court, to be Ambassadors, Secretaries, 
Privy Counsellors, Bishops, Tutors to the nobility, and 
the like ; having learned the languages of other countries, 
acqumnted themselves with their customs, and visited the 
Courts of Princes. This qualified Chcke to be sent for to 
the Court, and to have the young Prince Edward com- 
□utted to his care and charge, as we shall see by and by. 

And aa he :uid Smith were partners and consorts in the 
King's favour, ao were they constant companions, being 
both of like age, conditions, studiousness, and pursuii^ 
the same methods of good learning. And though there 
was an eniulatiou between them, who should outdo the 
other, yet so generoua were the tempers of these young 
men, that it was so far from begetting envy between them, 
that, on the contrary, it knit thtfm together in the most 
intimate Meiidship and endearments, like natural brethren. 

>> SitThuDiu. 


But this distmguiahing favour of the KLig, and that Btart .sect. 
they got m their studies beyond others, khidled a secret ' 
hatred and malice against them in the minds of niany of '^'"i- i&^o 
the rest of the University, and which they more manifestly 
shewed in that opposition they made to them afterwards, 
when they attempted the bringing in ii more correct way 
of residing the Greek tongue. 

While Mr. Cheke was in the college, what with his St. jdUh's 
exemplary industry in liis own studies, what with his dill- j(^url*»a 
gent instruction of the youth under him, St. Jolm's flou- ''yihemsan! 
rished. He directed to a hetter method of study, and to lestning. 
more substantial and useful learning : so that he was s^d 
by one that Ituew him very well, '* '^to have laid the very 
" foundations of learning in that college." Under whom, 
or with whom, were bred Denny, Redman, Bil, Lever, 
Pilkington, Tong, Ayre, Ascham, Cecil, and others, spread 
abroad afterwards m Court, and in places of trust and ho- 
_ nour both in Church and State. The two last mentioned 
were his scholars of such a size and magnitude, that they 
deserve to be mentioned again. Sir William Cecil was one, (fei\, hn 
whom Leland in one of his epigrams to him takes notice ''"'"'■ 
of for this : 

Candidus erudiit noster te Chmcvs amicus, 
Chj&ccs Cecropii gloria prima gregis. 

And one Dixon, a good poet in those times, in certain 
verses dedicated to him, when he came to speak of his 
education at Cambridge, thus expressed it : 

j4tque frequentahas tunc numina docta sorormit, 
Sub Checo hunitmo, doctiloquoqne viro. 

And what an honour must the education of such a miin as 
Cecil derive upon his tutor; that prored afterwards one of 
thewisest,jufitest,andmostfortunate Statesmen in Europe; 
and to whose counsels and deliberations, the wonderful and 
long successes of Queen Ehzabeth must, under God, be 

JipUl. ii. ia. 


chiefly attributed? The other was Roger ABcham'', e 
_ of the politest Latin writers of that generation, or any 
'■ after. Whose learning and ingenuity appear in those two 
, books* he left behind bini, jTAe Svhoolmaxter, and The 
Art of Shooting out of a Bow. He wan tutor in the Latin 
and Greek tongue to the Lady Elizabeth, aftem'ards Se- 
cretary of an embassy from King Edward to the Emperor ; 
and, upon the decease of that Kuig, Latin Secretary to 
Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth successively, as he waa 
designed for that Kingf, had he lived. 

And all that good service that that well known person. 
Dr. Bitlj afterwards did in the Churcli and University, was 
in a great measure owing to the instruction and firiendsbip 
of Cheke, whose scholar he seemed to be : Dr. Bill, I eay, 
that was Master of St. John's college, Dean of Westmin- 
ster, Almoner to Queen Elizabeth, one of the Visitors of 
the University, and concerned in making the statutes for 
that colle^ate Church, and (if 1 mistake not) Provost of 
Eton, and in his time a great promoter of virtue and true 
'■ religion in these capacities. This man, when a student in 
" that college of St. John's, was very poor ; and being Ba- 
■ chelorof Arts, when he should have been clioscn Fellow, had 
not wherewithal to discharge the tirreaj's of college debts ; 
a thing necessary in order to his election. By which means 
it was deferred, and perhaps he might have been forced at 
last to have quitted his course of studies, and left tlie Uni- 
versity. At this pinch Cheke procured him a friend at 
Court with Queen Anne Bolen, a lady extraordinary mu- 
niticent towards deserving scholars that needed snpporta- 
tion in their stucUes. So that nothing was wanting but 
the recommendation of such to her by Skip or Parker, or 
some other of her chief Chaplains, and the business was 
effected. Cheke about Michaelmas earnestly despatched 

' This AKham, ibe<rioK Ihe nilei fur Inir imiUliDn, whitl. Iw uUlt lh« 

,. iwmuiy tooU and uiftivmenli whenwiLli it ii wnmgM, hiUi, " 1 opeoljr 

. '* confru (hcj bt not of mine own fiirgfiiig, hut p»rtlj left uuto me tij lbs 

" cuniiingnt aiuler, ind on* of tli* worthies! jenllimtn, tliil rier EngUnd 



a letter U) Parker, laying open the condition of Bill to him, sect. 
giving him the character of IHeratus et honesius, <)ui el 
rertivi cognitione abtindat et ititegritate morum ; \, e. Ann. imo, 
learned and honest, plentifully endowed with knowledge 
of things, and incorrupt in his nianiiere ; that he had come 
into Ms fellowship before Easter, but that he could not get 
his money ready. He prayed Parker to acquaint the Queen 
with his condition, and to procure him favour from her; 
which if he would do, it would be a thing pious and holy, 
in promoting the studies and good learning of such as were 
overburdened ivith the miefortune of poverty : and that if 
he obtained this for him before All-Saints day, he would , 

hereby do a further good deed ; that is, not only to put Bill I 

in possession of his fellowship, but give an opportunity to I 

others to come into his room, there being then to be an 
election of Scholars to succeed into the empty scholar- I 

ships; and him, viz. Cheke, he should infinitely oblige. 
And this no question was compassed by this seasonable 
mediation, and a foundation laid for Dr. Bill's useful learn- 
ing, preferments, and influence on the public. He prefer- 
red iugenious and studious scholars of his college, as it 
lay in his way. William Grmdal, bred up under Roger 
Ascham, and the best Grecian one of them in the Uni- i 

versity, he took from the college; and after some time I 

keeping him with him, preferred him, in King Henry the 
Eighth's time, to read Greek to the Lady Elizabeth. As- 
cham recommended him to Cheke, with a great character A"*""" *^p- 
(as fit for a Court) for his learning and studiousness, for 
hia taciturnity, fidelity, and abstinence ; and ready to take I 

any business Cheke should put him upon. He died in the ' 

Lady Elizabeth's family, a young man of great hopes. 

And this then was the flourishing estate of the college, 
while Cheke, and his friends, and scholars were there. But 
to keep up the former good condition of that house, As- 
cham, after some discontinuance, desired of Secretary Ce- 
ril to have leave to return back there again, when all the 
rest were gone, like seed to propagate true learning and 
piety. Wherein he thus expressed himself: " Seehig the**''''''*^*'' 
'" goodly crop of Mr. Cheke was almost clean carried from joiin't. 




« takdH 

CHAP. " thence, [i. e. the college,] and I in a manner alone^ 
^- " that time left a standing straggler, peradventure thougn 

Inn. 1540, "my fruit be very small, yet, because the ground from 
'"^' " whence it springs was so good, I may yet be thought 
" somewhat fit for seed, when all you the rest are t 
" up for better store ; wherewith the King and the r 
" now so nobly served." 

In short, Cheke promoted good religion as well as learn- 
ing in hia college by his laboiirs, which had a very good 
influence upon that society long after. So that these hro 
things he made his great aim : the one was to set on foot 
universal learning in the college; that it might not be 
without some that were well studied in each liberal science, 
and that each scholar, according as Ills genius prompted 
him, might make either one or other the main subject of 
his study: and so St. John'sB become a storehouse of i 
good learning. The other thing he aimed at, was 
into the college the study especially of divinity: not a 
a divuiity aa prevailed then in the world, corrupt and d 
founded with such principles and doctrines as were e 
discovered to. be brought in by designing men, on purp 
to obtain secular ends, and to aggrandize the Bishop 4 
Rome, and make all the world dependent on him ; but 
such a divinity as was from God, stripped of all such gross 
frauds and abuses. An<l, for that purpose, he advised tbi 
a man should come to the study of divinity, without h 
at all prepossessed with the commonly received not 
hut that he shoidd fetch the whole doctrine of Christ e 
of the fountains of Scripture, where the avowed principles 
of Christianity lie ; and next unto them, from the priiui- 
tive and apostolical M'ritings, which were the nearest t 
those fountains. And withal he particularly recomnieiM 
this ride, that the greatest care and caution should be Ii 
that nothing be derived from the sink of PelagLamsm'>f ■ 
infect these divine studies. 

• Ut tinguli tic 111 tliigulii, anhiiii iIiicl', rUlwrart'n 

icn grosi 
iaed tfaa^ 
hrist oj^ 

* AMluua, H. 4S. 



What effect these directions of Clieke had in the col- sect. 
lege, for the study of divinity, may appear from a passage ' . . 
that happened there some time after he was gone, anno^'"'- '**"» 
1548; adisputatiou was held in course. The thesiswaatde . ,. ' . 

' _ "^ 'A dispaU- 

Mhsa, ipsane Ccena Dominica fuerit, neate : i. e. concern- tion in St. 
ing the Mass, whether it were the Lord's Supper or no.^^"'™j 
It was managed very learnedly by Tho. Lever and Roger Mws- 
Hutchinson, Some in the University took this private (Ub- 
putation very ill. The matter was brought to that pass at 
length, that Ascham undertook, by the encour;^meut of 
many in that college, to dispute this question in the pub- 
lic schools, and to bring it forth out of their private college 
walls before the pubhc University ; and that for this end 
and intent, to learn freely from learned men what could 
be produced from the fountain of holy Scriptui-e to defend 
the Mass ; whicli had not only taken up the chief place in 
religion, and in the consciences of men, but had, by the 
common practice and custom of Christiana, taken away all 
the frnthfiil ministry of God's word and sacraments. And 
for this purpose, the men of St. John's had conference 
among themselves. They resolved that the canonical Scrip- 
ture should be the authority that they would desire to 
have the whole matter decided by. They also heaped to- 
gether the old canons of the prknitive Church, the councdla 
of Fathers, tlie decrees of Popes, the judgment of Doctors, 
the rout of Questioniats, all later writers, both Gennans' 
and Romanists. All these, as far as they could, they got 
together, for the furnishing themselves the better to state 
this question. But the matter got wind, and the noise of it, 
though they went about it with all the quietness, went atbtixul 
in the University ; insomuch as some took public notice of 
it, and at last obtained so much of the Vice-Chanceliri', Dr. 
Madew, that he, by his letters, stopped this diapBtation. 
Nay, it fled as &ir as to Lambeth, where th«ji enstaes, with 
loud outcries, made complaints to Archbi3ti0fi Cranmer 
against them : and they called them rash and heady. But 
though their disputtktiun was by this means hindered, yet 
their studies proceeded still upon the same subject of the 


CHAT. Mass: and in short time they digested their ar^iments 
_iiito a just book, which they intended to present to the 

I s*"' Lord Protector, unless Cheke and Cecil {unto whom they 
discovered all this) thought it more convenient to forbear so 
to do. Thus inclined and affected stood this college to true 
religion : a great cause whereof was Chefce's influence. In 
short, while Cheke was a member of the college, he in- 
fluenced much, not only in a diligent promoting learning 
and religion, but in wisely pacifying and quieting domestic 
commotidns. After he was gone, he was dearly missed in 
both respects. Of this Ascham, remaining behind there, 
, p. 77. takes notice, and complained once to him of the ill times 
that followed his departure from them, for the went of b ii 
counsels. ^^^ 


Made the King's Greek Professor. Reforms the prontat- 
ciatirm of Greek, 
at ALL this he was to the college ; but his light difTused 

".' ^itself over all the University, to the benefit of it, as well as 
for his own glory. He was of chief esteem for all human 
learning, and was a great judge of it. Leiand, one of the 
floridest scholars there, teaches as much, whilst he sub- 
mits his epigrams to his censure, and bids his book strive 
to make itself approved and acceptable to Cheke. 

Si vis Thespiadnm choro probari, 
Fac, ut consiiio, libelle, nostra, 
Facii/tdo sCudeas ptacere Chbco. 

For he was a great master of language, and a happy ii 
tator of the great orator : and FiicunUus, i. e. Eloquent 
was the epithet Leland thought proper for him. His pre- 
sence and society inspired the University with a love of 
learning; and the youth every where addicted themselves 
to the reading and studying of the best authors for pure 
Roman style, and Grecian eloquence ; such as Cicero and 
Demosthenes ; laying aside their old barbarous writers aud 
schoolmen, with their nice and unprofitable questiooB. 
Tlie benefit whereof was, that as good Iciirniiig iucrcuM:d 






there, so also did true reUgion and the knowledge of the sect. 
Gospel; Popery being sheltered with nothing ho much aa 
barbarism and ignorance. And as it was thus with the*""- '**"• 
University, while Cheke was there, so when he was 
gone from it, learning and reli^on seemed with the ab- 
sence of him to wither and languish. A thing which Cbelie 
himself could not but take notice of with trQuble, in a let- 
ter to a friend of his in the University, that the Cantabri- Aschami 
gians Ta To^Xa utrTspj^eiv, t. e. were wanting in many things, lo^. u. ^a. 
or went much backward. Such a want had the University 
of the daily incitements and good example of .some such 
an one as he. 

But that that gave a great stroke to Cheke 's endeavours Mnde the 
for the restoration of learning here, was that the Univer- Gweii'Lec- 
sity chose him their Greek Lecturer; and this he per-tTer. 
formed without any salary. But the King, about the year 
1540, having founded a Greek lecture, with the salary of 
40^ a year, for the encouraging that study, (not long after 
he had made him his Scholar,} constituted him his first Greek 
Professor, being now Master of Art, and about twenty-six 
years of age. 'I'ogether with Cheke, were now constituted 
other very learned Professors in the University, which 
made it flourish. For as Cheke was Reader of the Greek 
lecture, Wiggin read Divinity, Smith CivU Law, Wakefield 
Hebrew, and Blith (who married Cheke's sister) Physic; 
being all the King's Professors, with the salary of 40/. a 
year: as Ascham acquiunted a friend of his, speaking ofEi.isi.Bran- 
the flourishing state of the University at that time. And 
that which was an addition to Cheke's honour, as well as 
the repute he bad for his excellent skill in the Greek, we 
have been told by one that hath given some short notes of Dr. Lnng- 
hia life, that when this lecture, with the salary before „/ cheke' * 
mentioned, was to be disposed of, Cheke was absent; andi^*'l" '"* 
though there were three competitcrs earnestly making tbe True 
their interest for it, yet Cheke's name obtained it from ^ubject, 
F them. This place it seems he was so well pleased with, 
Ejliat he held it long after he left the University, vh. until 
Loctober 1551. 


CHAP. Hereby Cheke, together ^rith his learned coRtempOttryi 
^" Smith, (who ever went along with hiui in promoting good 
Ann. 1S4S, literature,) was highly instrumental in brining into more 
R r^ til '^l"^^* *^^ study of Greek, in which language all leanung 
pronuiicia- anciently was contauied ; and from Greece it flowed ints > 
Greek. Italy, and other parts of the world. This language vna 
little known or understood hitherto in tins realm. And if 
any saw a piece of Greek, they used to say, Grcecum «rf ; i 
nmi potest legi, i. e. " It is Greek, it caimot be read." And j 
those few that did pretend to some insight into it, read 
it after a strange corrupt manner, pronouncing the row- 
els and diphthongs, and several of the consonants, very 
much amiss : confounding the sound of the vowels and 
diphthongs so, that there was little or no difference be- 
tween them. As for example, ai was pronounced as t, »i 
and ei as iwra ; ij, i, t;, were expressed in one and the same 
sound ; that is, as iairtt. Also some of the consonants were 
pronounced differently, according as they were placed in 
the word ; that is to say, when r was placed after ft, it 
was pronounced as our d. And when % was put after », 
then it was sounded as our h. The letter x was pro- 
nounced as we do ch, )3 as we do the v consonant. But 
since different letters must make different sounds, Cheke, 
with his friend Smith, concluded these to be very felse 
ways of reading Greek, and sounds uttcriy different from 
what the anelent Greeks read and spake. But what the 
true way was, that they both earnestly set themselves to 
consider and find out; which at length they did, partly 
by considering the power of the letters themselves, and 
partly by consulting with Greek authors, Aristophanes 
and others ; in some whereof they found footsteps to cU- 
rect them how the ancient Greeks pronounced. 
The ciun- These errors then Cheke in his lectures plainly disco- 
'»*>'*;' vered, and at length exploded. An<l the more stutfious bj and ingenuoua sort of scholars being convinced, most gladly 
■ decrw. fo,3ooi( their old way of reading Greek, for this more 
right and true, though new found out, shewn them by 
their learned Header. But there was a party in the 


Uiiiversity, who, disliking any thing that was new, and SECT. 
dreading alterations, and blindly admitting every thing 
that was old, would by no means allow of this pronuucia- '^''"' ■ ^*^' 
tion, but opposed it with all their might, by disputing 
jigainst it, and at last, by complaining to Gardiner, Bishop 
of Winchester, the Chancellor of tJie University, against 
Cheke and his adherents for this great misdemeanor. Who 
being of the same mind with the complainants, and fear- 
ing innovation more than was need, made a solemn de- 
cree, dated the calends of June 1342, confirming the old 
"corrupt sounding of (ireek, and enjoining the scholars to 
«iake no variation, and that upon these pains, I'iz. If he 
were a regent, to be expelled out of the senate; if he 
stood for a degree, not to be admitted to it; if a scholar, 
to lose his scholarship ; and the younger sort to be clias- 
tised. And in short, the decree ran, " That none shoidd 
■" philosophize at all in sounds, but all use the present. 
" And that if any thing were to be corrected in them, let 
** it all be left to authority "." 

Littlersi pass hetivten Cheke and the ChanceVor of the 
University aJiotei it. 

. AND besides this, the Chancellor sent a Latin letter to ^"^l P 
Cheke, the Greek Lecturer, to forbear any farther men- hiwts' 
tjoning his new way of pronuncifition in his lectures : ^^^^' 
however treating him like a man of learning, and arguing 
urith him in an humane and scholar-like manner, Begiii- 
iiing his letter in this obliging style : " Stephen Bishop 
*' of Wlnton, Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, 
>* to John Cheke wisheth health. That which the Chaii- 
** celloF according to his right should do, namely, by his 
" authority as a magistrate to abate and restrain unwary 
" rashness, when it waxeth wanton in learning, I thought 
** rather to be attempted by friendship. That I might ob- 

V In loniB ommno ne pbliowipliBtar, Mil iililor piEcsentUnis. to Liis siquid 


CHAP. " tain that by fair means from a mild nature, and im- 
_" proved by human studies, whicli power would exact of 

Anna i6ie.<( the rude and barbarous. Therefore 1 purpose to deal 
'• with you in this epistle, not as a Chancellor with a 
" Bcliolar,but as a man somewliat versed in learning with a 
" hard student ; and to talk at the least with a young man 
" of very great liopes, if the heat of age do not add a hurt- 
" ful and too daring excess j a thing which {I must tell 
" you) many dislike in you. For your attempt, as I hear, 
" not so much with the derision of all, as with their anger 
" also, to bring in a new sound of letters, as well in the 
" Greek as in the Latin, and to settle it among the youth. 
« And you, wlio have by the King's munificence obtained 
" the office of teaching a tongue, do destroy the use of it 
" by a new sound," &c. 
Chek* an- g^j. Cheke could not be persuaded to let go this enter- 
ciiuicei- prise of restoring the tnie and graceful pronouncing the 
lor', iftier. La^jn^ and espeoially the Greek ; which he had upon so 
good and sure grounds undertaken. Vet thought fit to 
give a very submissive answer in Latin to the Chancellor; 
expressing much deference towards him, and yet freely 
discoursing the matter with him, and shewing in much 
exquisite learning upon what reasons and authorttlea he 
went. And thus he began his address to him : 

" How much pleasure, most worthy Prelate, I took in 
" the first letter privately to me sent, wherein I saw my- 
" self treated so friendly and obligingly," &c. But the con- 
troversy afterwards grew more warm between the Chan- 
cellor and Cheke ; who had seriously, and with an ingenu- 
ous freedom, expostulated with him about the decree he 
had made, whereby so commendable a reformation of a 
considerable piece of learning was checked, to the grief 
and discouragement of the best scholars. This bad effect 
he plainly set forth to the Bishop ; and shewed how fully 
he acquitted the place and office the King's Majesty had 
set hini in, in making him his Greek Reader; and how 
much the Bishop's late orders had obstructed his ] 
jeaty's noble designs in this lecture : which ivas for | 



ting scholars upon the study of that learned language^ and sect. 
for the farther advancement of it. For, as he wrote to the ' 

foresaid reverend person, " Is this," said he, " to err from ^'*"*>^***' 
^ my office, [as it seems the Bishop had laid to his charge,] Jiatrj^loa" 
** and from the place wherein the King hath set me,, to" 
^ teach what is most ancient, what is most profitc^le, 
^ what most distinct? Which, since it was granted me 
^ by the King, it afflicts me not a little, that it is by you 
lessened and abridged. For had the University be- 
stowed this lecture on me, I could not without great 
" trouble of mind have been drawn away from it, while I 
*^ profitably and honestly performed my duty therein. 
** With what mind then must I bear it, when the King 
^^ himself hath bestowed it on me? And by!reason of the 
" rejection of that right pronunciation, neither have I the 
" fruit of reading, nor they that come the desire of hear- 
^' ing ; and almost all have cast off the study of the Greek 
*^ tongue. For, when I entered upon this royal office of 
*^ reading the Greek lecture, I found all my auditors well 
" instructed in this way of pronouncing, and earnestly ap-* 
" plied themselves to the study of the Greek ; and all (one 
** or two only excepted) with all cheerfulness addicted to 
" this way. Since therefore thife pironunciation hath been 
*^ received now a good many years, and is widely scat- 
f^ tered among men by a customary use of it, should I 
^^ alone, for no cause, reject that hath been received by all 
*^ upon very great cause ? Should I envy them so great a 
** benefit, by removing it from them, or take it away by 
*^ disparaging it ? Or rather, should not I pursue this 
'^ most glorious institution of the King, by the fruitfiilest 
" way of reading that I could." 

Then he freely told the Bishop the success of his letter cheke 
to the. University, "That since the order therein con-^^*^JJ*^*^ 
^^ tained, many had departed from his lecture; and they the lu ef- 
^* that came, came with so sad and melancholic minds, as[^jj^^'^^^^ 
** one would think they were mourning for the death of a University. 
" friend. For, as he went on, with reluctancy of the best 
" learned, and in effect of the whole University, you have 


CHAP. " again shut them up in this corrupt confueion; whicka 
" BO gross that we may almost feel it with our hand. 
AiinoiS' Wherefore, if any thing hereafter happen otherwise than 
" the King's Majesty expecteth, it is not to be ascribed to 
" me, who have taken the best way, and followed the me- 
" thod used among us ; but it will lay on them who move 
" things well placed," &c. He subjoined, " Tndy, I fear, 
" we must have no more declaiming in Greek, which we 
" daily practised before, since that which was distinct and 
" clear is taken away, and that which is confused and un- 
" sound is only left. For that pronunciation, which our 
" ears so liked and approved, is now gone into the utmost 
" parts of the earth : nor, however profitable it be, how- 
" ever true, however noble and magnificent, can longer 
" tarry at Cambridge by reason of the punishments and 
" mulcts threatened." 

Thus did Cheke with an ingenuous boldness express his 
mind, and argue \vith the Bishop about this matter: 
wherein he shewed as weU his eloquence, as his con- 
scientious care of -discharging the office committed to him 
by the King, and hia zeal for the promoting of learning. 

But whatever opposition of injunctions, decrees, and 

penalties were made against it; yet, as it was said of 

truth, it is great, and will prevail, so this true way of 

speaking and reading Greek got the day in the University. 

chrtf'swsyAnd those that were the greatest ornaments of learning 

(rreik pre- then in Cambridge, Redman, Smith, Ponet, Pickering, 

'*■''■ Ascham, Tong, Bill, and all others, who either read any 

thing publicly in the schools, or privately in the collies, 

gave themselves wholly to this correct way. 

Seven irt- In fine, there passed seven learned epistles between the 

tween G«r- Chancellor and our Greek Professor; wherein was com- 

*"" ■'"' prised, I think, whatsoever could be said on this argument 

pro or cou, containing considerable learning in them. The 

originals whereof were left in the hands of Cielius Secun- 

duB Curio, ii learned man of Basil, by Cheke himself, aa 

he passed through that place in his journey into Italy, in 

the beginning of Queen Marj-'s reign. Prom which ori- 



^nds Caelius printed them anno 1555 : dedicating them SECT, 
to the learned Sir Anthony Cook, Cheke's dear fiiend. 

and fellow instinictor of good King Edward; giving him Anno i54«. 
this reason for publishing them, that after he had di« 
ligently perused them, he saw nothing in that kind ever 
more perfectly written. And therefore judged so great a 
good was by all means to be communicated to all that 
were studious of good literature. 


WTiat and haw Cheke read. 

BUT let us go and hear our Greek Lecturer read. In Cheke reads 
his readings, among other authors he read Herodotus ; and ^"^ ° "'* 
in that ancient historian particularly, the books entitled 
Euterpe and Polyhymnia, where Cheke had occasion to ^ 
speak of some places in Italy and Greece, and to describe 
them. Which he did with that life and advantage of ex- 
pression, ^ that one of the most ingenious of his auditors 
ever after had a most ardent inclination to travel, and see 
those parts of the world : so that he confessed it could 
not be quenched by any fears of labour or danger, which 
commonly are the attendants of travel. It was Ascham, 
whom we have had occasion several times to mention al- 
ready. Who afterwards being Secretary to Sir Richard 
Morisin, King Edward's Ambassador, and now in Ger- 
many, had a fresh mind to pursue his long desire, of which 
he remembers Cheke in a letter to him; adding, that 
though for the bearing of travel, he had not a robust body, 
yet that he could bear labour, and cold, and heat, and any 
kind of food and drink, (the necessary qualification of a 
hard student, and fit as well for a traveller,) wanting no- 
thing but a purse ; praying him, his friend, to assist him 
by his interest with the rich, to supply him with travelling 
expenses; promising him, as some recompense, that he 
would bring him home a fair account of the customs, man- 
ners, and fashions of those places, whereof Cheke was 

* Asch. Epist. iii. 16. 



CHAP, ever held with an admiration. He signified what a good 
' husband he would be ; and that a little would serve a lit- 

Anno 1642. tie ordinary man as he was. No annual pension it was 
that he desired, but only a little money for the present 
expedition to set him out. That he had made noble 
friends in England, and particularly his lady, the Lady 
Elizabeth, who, he made no doubt, would upon the motion 
contribute largely to his petition. And the Duchess <rf 
Suffolk would be another, who had already promised him 
largely and nobly : whose son, the Lord Charles, he had 
instructed for some months in Greek : and her liberality 
he had reserved for this time" and use. The Duke of Suf- 
folk, the other son of the Duchess, favoured him also; 
since by his means and teachings he wrote so fair a hand 
as he did. From both the Marquisses also, viz. Dorset 
and Northampton, he had also great expectation. But 
the imparting of these his requests, he left to be managed 
by his friend Cheke, who, as we heard before, had blown 
up these desires in him; and in his ancient goodwill to 
him he confided. 
The benefit Thus did the lectures of Cheke inflame his auditors to 
lectures, noblc dcsircs and virtuous enterprises; and tended not 
/ barely to instruct them in the understanding of a lan- 
^ guage, but to enlarge their faculties with good knowledge, 
and to furnish their minds with principles of wisdom, by 
his learned expositions and commentaries upon the au- 
thors he read to them. In short, we must dismiss our 
Greek Reader with the character Leland gave him: 

ChcBcus Cecropii gloria prima gregis, 
*^ Cheke the chief glory of th' Athenian tribe." 


Cheke University Orator, 

Cheke Uni- CHEKE was an orator as well as a linguist ; and the 

tor. University made him some time their Orator. And in that 

office he adorned the Roman language, as well as in his 


lectures he did the Grecian. Which place he held till he sect. 


removed to Court; and then was succeeded by Mr. Ascham . 

of the same college. Anno 1543. 

It was about the year 1 543, that Cheke, being still at Publishes 
Cambridge, gave the first specimen in print of his Greek lies of chry- 
learning, as well as public testimony of his gratitude to «°*^°*- 
the King. For having gotten an authentic Greek MS. of 
two of St. Chrysostom's Homilies, he translated them into 
elegant Latin, and printed them at London, with a dedi- 
cation thereof to his sovereign prince and patron the 
King. Wherein he took occasion to acknowledge and 
extol the King's free and voluntary munificence towards 
him, in making him first his Scholar, and then his Greek 
Lecturer. Dating it from Cambridge, at Christmas 1543, 
subscribing himself, Tu(B Majestatis ScholastictiSy et assi- 
duns Precator; i. e. " Your Majesty's Scholar, and daily 
'' Bedesman," as the phrase then was. 

But Cheke was now to be transplanted into another 
soil, and his learning and virtues were preparing greater 
honours for him. 



CHAP. n. 

Frwa Cheke's coming to Courtj to his advancement to the 
Provostship of King's College in Cambridge. 


Cheke removed to the Court. Instructs the Prince. The 
loss of him at Cambridge, Canon of Christ's Church. 
His usefulness. 

Anno i544.Jj[lS first removc from the University was to the Court; 
SJoXm- ^^ Henry VIII. calling him from thence July the 10th, 
ter to Prince 1544, as judging him a fit person to be schoolmaster to his 
Edward. ^^^^ ^^^ Prince Edward, in the room, as it seems, of Dr. 
Richard Cox, now preferred in the Chiwch, who yet was 
much about him, and his Almoner, as he was when he was 
ICing. To him, joined with Sir Anthony Cook, a man of 
exquisite learning and true virtue, were the tender years 
of that royal youth committed, to instruct him in learning, 
manners, and religion. Both which men, by their joint and 
happy endeavours and counsels, framed a young King of 
the greatest, nay, of divine hopes. There are yet remain- 
ing some in print, and more in private libraries, written 
with his own hand, (particularly in the library at St. 
James's,) several of his pretty elegant Latin epistles to 
.^^^the King, his father; to Queen Katharine Par, his mother- 
^ '"^ \ in-law; to the Duke of Somerset, his uncle; to Cranmer 
Archbishop of Canterbury, his godfather ; and to his two 
sisters, when he w^s as yet very young, as likewise other 
of his exercises ; which shew both his own forwardness in 
his learning, and the diligence of his instructors. Nor did 
he intermit his studies, when he came to wear a crown ; 
but Cheke was always at his elbow, both in his closet and 
in his chapel, and wherever else he went, to inform and 
teach him. And that with so much sweetness and easi- 
ness, that he took a pleasure and delight in his book ; and 

SIR JOH^f CiiEKE. 23 

observed his set hours constantly at his study. So that in SE 

fine, one that knew Cheke and Cook well, writing to the 

latter, had these words: "*That divine youth drew thatAmm 
" instruction from you both, Qua neque Cyrus iiec Acliil- 
" les, neque Alexander, neque iillus unquam Regum poii- 
" Horemque sanctioremque accepit ; i. e. Than which 
" never did Cyrus, nor Achilles, nor Alexander, nor any 
" other Kings, receive more polite and holy. With which, 
" could he have but grown up to man's estate, and arrived 
" to the government of the kingdom, what kingdom in 
" earth had been more happy ? What nation ever extant 
" more blessed?" 

But if we look back to the University, what a want 
Cheke left there is not easily to be spoken; being a man 
that seemed to surpass the rest not only hi learning, but 
in the free communication of it, and that accompanied 
with a marvellous affability and obligingness, and a most 
holy and virtuous behaviour; whereby he became a pub- 
lic pattern and example to the youth there. This loss of 
Cheke may be better understood by a part of a letter, one 
of his University friends wrote to him not long after he 
was gone to Court, " My condition," said he, " is harder The v 
" than the rest. They saw how you excelled in parts ^^:^ 
"and learning; I not only well knew this too, but was int. I 
" throughly acquainted with your more interior oma- ""' 
" ments, which dilftised themselves through all the parts 
" of your life. Which when I then duly weighed, liow 
" great they were in you, I do so much the more want 
*' them now, and so much the less am able to hear the 
*' trifles, the levities, and the ignorances of many of our 
" men. But because this was owing either to your hap- 
" piness, that you should especially be there, where your 
" diligence might flow abroad most extensively into the 
" commonwealth ; or to our unhappiness, that we should 
" undergo the loss of your divine mouth, the loud trum- 
" pet, as one may call it, of all good discipline, our trouble 
" ought to he abated, lest if we appeai- over-much dia- 


CHAP. " quieted, we may seem either not to love the common- 
^^' ^^ wealth enough, or our&elves too much. It was a very 

Anno 1544." good thought of youT Plato, that some changes of com* 
" monwealths are natural, that when there happens an 
" alteration in the state of our afiEdrs, we should not be 
** much moved. And although your body be snatched 
" from us, yet your obliging behaviour, your wit, your 
^^ study, your eloquence, and learning, is present in all our 
^^ schools, and in each of our private thoughts." Arid an- 
other of his learned acquaintance and coUe^ans, R(^^ 
Ascham, thus writes of the want of him in the University. 

^*'«4f b? " ^® ^^ ^^ ^ remember the departing of that man from 
** the University, (which thing I do not seldome,) so oft do 
^* I wel perceive our most help and furtherance to learning 
^^ to have gon away with him. For by the great commo- 
^' dity that we took in hearing him read privatly in his 
^^ chamber, al Homer, Sophocles, and Euripides, Herodo- 
" tus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Isocrates, and Plato, we fed 
^' the great discommodity in not bearing of him Aristotle 
" and Demosthenes, which two authors, with al diligence 
^^ last of al, he thought to have redd unto us. And when 
^' I consider how many men he succoured with his help 
" and his ayd, to abide here for learning ; and how al men 
" were provoked and stirred up by his counsil and daily 
** example, how they should come to learning, surely I 
*^ perceive that sentence of Plato to be true, which saith, 
" * That there is nothing better in any commonwealth, 
" then that there should be always one or other excellent 
^^ passing man; whose life and virtue should pluck forward 
^^ the vrit, diligence, labour, and hope of al other ; that 
" following his footsteps, they might come to the same 
" end, wherunto labour, learning, and virtue, had conveyed 
" him before.* '* 

^^ The great hindrance of learning in lacking this man^ 
^^ greatly I should lament, if this discommodity of ovurs 
'^ were not joined with the commodity and wealth of the 
" whole realm, for which purpose our most noble King> 
" fill of wisdom, called up this excellent man, fill of learn- 


" ing, to teach noble Prince Edward : an office fill of hope, sect. 
" contfort, and solace, to al true hearts of England. For. ^' 



" whom al England daily doth pray that he, passing his A""® **^' 
" tutor in learning and knowledg, following his father in 
•^ wisdom and felicity, according to that example which is 
set afore his eyes, may so set out and maintain Gods 
word, to the abolishment of al Papistry, the confusion 
of al heresy, that therby he, feared of his enemies, loved 
of al his subjects, may bring to his own glory, immortal 
*^ fame and memory 3 to this realm, wealth, honour, and 
'' felicity; to true and unfaigned religion, perpetual peace, 
*' concord, and unity." 

King Henry, having lately new founded the college of Made Ca^ 
St. Frideswide in Oxford, (founded first by Cardinal Wol- HenV» "^ 
sey,) granted Cheke one of the Canonries of that church «»^i«»*»^' 
soon after he became tutor to the Prince, as some r4eward 
and token of his favour towards him. Which was about 
the year 1544, when, according to the registers of that 
University, he was incorporated into Oxford, and studied 
there some time. But the rents of the Canons decaying, 
the King, anno 1545, added special pensions to some of 
them ; as to Peter Vannes, the learned Italian, and some- 
time Ambassador for the King into Italy ; Richard Croke, 
S. Th. P. employed also abroad by the King; and oxxt 
Cheke. Which said pensions were 26/. 13^. 4d. to each. 
By this preferment we may conclude him to be now in 
holy Orders. ^ 

Cheke, as he had now great opportunities by the place cheke't de* 
wherein he was put, so he had as great designs of niddng"J[\^^5' 
himself usefiil to the public. For he set before himself, »»«fi»i- 
how that he was now to instruct a Prince, that was one 
day to take on him the government of a mighty kingdom. 
And therefore he suited his readings and discourses with 
the Prince thereunto ; that he might go out of his hands 
an excellent monarch, and become a true father of his 
country. But besides this, considering how his office re- 
quired him to be i^ways about the Prince's person, where- 


CHAP, by he should have the opportunity of having his ear fire- 
^* quently, he resolved to improve it not so much to his 

Anno 1545. private benefit, as to the benefit of the public, of the Uni- 
versity, and of the deserving men there ; to get them re- 
moved, and placed about the nation in Church and State; 
that by their influences, truth and virtue might every where 
be promoted. Thus he spent his time and cares at Court; 
and ever was a fast friend, and gave his helping hand .to 
learning and religion: which appeared more manifestly 
afterwards, when his royal scholar, by the death of his 
most noble father, was advanced to the crown, 

SECT. n. 

His offices to his friends. 

His letter NOR did this learned man in the midst of the spleiH 
toDr.Butts,dors'of a Court neglect his private studies, nor his offices 
being sick. ^ his friends. Dr. WiUiam Butts, M. D. (and a Knight 
according to his monumental inscription,) domestic Physi- 
cian to King Henry, had taken notice of Cheke firom his 
youth, and been always a favourer of his hopeful parts, 
performing the part of a father to him, and Cheke styled 
himself his son. By this physician's interest he seems to 
have been first made known to the King, and to have re- 
ceived from him those marks of royal favour bestowed 
upon him, while he lived in the University; and after- 
wards by him preferred to the Court. For Butts was a 
friend to good religion and learning. While Cheke was at 
Hertford, (where the Prince's Court was mostly kept, in 
the latter times of his &ther,) this gentleman, in the year 
1 545, was seized with an afflicting dangerous fit of sick- 
ness; which gave a concern to his grateful friend; who 
composed a pious consolatory epistle to him, suitable to 
his condition : which being so expressive of his gratitude 
to the doctor, and withal of piety, and a sense of God, and 
of his dispensations, I cannot but here transcribe it, as 
from whence some character may be taken of the writer. 


The original by time is somewhat defaced in some places, SECT.' 
which 1 have been fain to supply by some words, which are ^^' 

put in Roman. Anno 1545. 

Johannes Checus, D, Guilielmo ButtSy M, D. 

Non dubito quin hanc perturbationem valetudinis tuce, cheke to 
Vir omatissimey imitatione Christi cequissimo animo feras.^^' ®"*^* 
Nam quijide intelUgunt ilium omnia admimstrare, its wi-?:^®'"' 
hit potest malum videriy quod ab illo proficiscitur. JEt qui 
Deum sapientissimum ac optimum judicanty sciunt co«- 
silio cuncta ab illo gubemari, et bonis ab illo ad salutem 
mitti. Et quanquam cegritudines aut alii cruciatus pios 
vexent, non ita autem iis casu aliquo objiciuntuvy sed divi- 
nitus mittuntur hominibus a Patre eorum cselesti. Nam 
prudentissm^ Propheta disit^ non est malum in civitate, 
et ego non feci. Et alio loco scribitur, Dominum marti/i' 
care et vivijicarej deducere ad inferos et reducere. Ut ne- 
gari non potest, Deum hiis cerumnis ac vitce miseriis, ad 
gloriam suam, uti, et pro voluntaie sua hominibus has 
quasi medicinas ad salutem et conservationeni hominum 
adhibere. Cum enim judicamur a Domino, ca^stigamur, 
ne cum- mundo condemnemur. Quod si hcec, morborum, 
cerumnarum, variaque crucis genera depellunt supplicia 
cetema, viam ad salutem muniunt, condemnationem tol^ 
lunt, exercitia pietatis excitant, etjide Domini nostri Jesu 
Christi nituntur, et totos se illius misericordice tradiderunt 
afflicti, hilari ac lubentissimo animo sustinenda nobis ac 
perferenda sunt. Neque tam reputanda qu(B noster sensus 
feraty quam IcBtandum, cum causam cur a Deo missa sint 
perpendamus. Certus, inquit Paulus, sermo est, siquidem 
compatimur, et conregnabimus. Relinqueiidus ergo hie 
dolaris sensus, vel abjiciendus potius a pio viro, quia mini-- 
mus dolor maximam habet adfunctam glories a^ gaudii re- 
munerationem. Sed tu ista omnia per te melius ac pla- 
nius intelligis, qui fide Jesu Christi per gratiam Dei inni- 
teris, qui mortem Christi, remissionem peccatorum, et re- 
conciliationem tuam esse putas, qui omnium redemptorem 
Christum, qui fidelium prsecipue credis; adeo ut cum 


>v\-^ ^:H(#MM D tt fy mo ingenue clames, Deus mens, et Dominus 
iM^^rtk Quare te in hoc trisH {Bgritudmey qttam iu, ut 
S^v*; ^'^ii^^^.j^fMfrm irttnquillissimo ac serenissimo animo fers^ non deti- 
llM^bo langior. Hoc unum a Deo patre Domini nostri Jem 
Vkristi €tssidue precor, ut quern ego in loco patris in terris 
Mkni, sanum atque incolumem aliqtmndo ab hoc cegritu- 
dine propter gloriam nomims sui liberet. Atque utmam 
certe, quemadmodum pnesenSy tecum animo ac voluntate 
sum, sic liceret mihi carpore tecum, adesse, quo mi/dy perd- 
pere solatium conspectus tui, sed aliter turn voluntate tua 
turn negotiis meis impedito,fas essety si non morbmn taum 
tollere ad te veniendo, saltern dolorem meum minuere, 
quern ex invita absentia mea capio. Dominus Jesus, ctffus 
est omnis potestas, pro beneplacito suo uxorem, liberos, 
familiamque tuam conservet, ac ah hac (egritudine eruat. 
HarfordiiB xiii. Octohris. 

Tuus animo JiliuSy 

Ornatissimo viro D. Guliel- JOANNES CHECUS. 
ifno ButtSy Regio Medico, 
ac Patrono suo singulari* 

To this tenor in English. 
" Sir, 
" I doubt not but in imitation of Christ you bear with a 
** most equal mind this loss of your health. For to them, 
** who by faith understand that he disposeth all things, 
** nothing can seem evil which proceeds from him. And 
** they who think God to be very wise and good, know 
** that he governs all by counsel, and that he sends all 
** things to good men for their salvation. And howsoever 
** sicknesses, or other afflictions, do disturb those that arc 
" godly, they are not so thrust upon them by some chance, 
** but sent to them from above by their heavenly Father. 
** For the Prophet spake very wisely, [or rather God by 
" the Prophet,] There is no evil in the dty, and I have 
** not done it. And in another place it is written, that the 
** Lord killeth and restoreth to Iffe, that lie bringeth down 
** to the grave, and bringeth back again. So that it can- 


" not be denied, that God maketh use of these, troubles sect. 
^* and miseries of life to his glory, and according to his ^' 

^^ pleasure prescribes men these medicines, as one may Anno 1545. 

^' call them, for their health and preservation. For when 

*^ we are judged of the Lord, we are chastised, that we 

" may not be condemned with the world. But if these 

*^ divers sorts of diseases, troubles, and crosses, drive 

'^ away eternal punishments, make a way to salvation, 

" free from condemnation, stir up the exercises of piety, 

^^ and if the afflicted depend upon the faith of our Lord 

*^ Jesus Christ, and have submitted themselves wholly to 

^^ his mercy, we should with a cheerful and most willing 

^^ mind sufifer and undergo them. For we are not so much 

^^ to regard what things we feel by our senses, as to re- 

^^ joice when we well weigh the cause why they are sent 

** by God. It is a faithful sayings saith Paul, if we stiffer 

^' with himy we shall reign with him, A godly man there- 

" fore should lay aside, or rather cast off this apprehension 

*^ of pain. Because a very little share of grief hath a very 

" great recompense of glory and joy annexed to it. 

" But you. Sir, of yourself understand better and more 
" plainly all these things, who rest firmly on the faith of 
** Jesus Christ by the grace of God ; who reckon the 
'^ death of Christy the remission of sins, and reconciliation 
^^ to be yours ; who believe Christ to be the Redeemer of 
^' all men, but to be the Redeemer especially of those that 
^* believe ; so that you may freely cry out with Thomas 
^* Didymus, Mt/ God, and my Lord. Wherefore I will not 
** detain you longer in this doleful sickness, which you, I 
" hope, bear with a very calm and composed spirit. This 
'^ one thing I daily beg of God the Father of our Lord 
'^ Jesus Christ, that him whom I had here on earth in the 
^* stead of a father, he would restore to health, and for 
** the glory of his name at length deliver from this sick- 
^* ness. And I wish surely, that as I am present with you 
^^ in mind and will, so I might be in body; whereby I 
^* might partake of the comfort of seeing you, being other- 
*^ wise hindered as well by your will, as mine own busi- 


CHAP. " ness, if not to take away your disease by coming to you, 

^^' ^^ at least to lessen my sorrow which I have from my 

Anno 1545." forced absence. The Lord Jesus, who hath all power, 

" according to his good pleasure, preserve your wife, chil- 

^^ dren, and family, and restore you from this sickness. 

" At Hartford the xiii of Octob. 

" Your Son in heart, 


This pious letter was the more seasonable, since this 
gentleman must now have been very ill, this disease 
proving mortal, and within little .less than a month after 
ending his life ; as appears by his monument in Fulham 
church, against the wall in the chancel, which I will here 
set down, and the rather, he having been Cheke's chief pa- 
tron and dear friend, and that the memory of so worthy 
a man might be preserved : 

CheWa^^A' jSpitaphium D. Guil. Buttii Eg. Aurati, et Medici Regis 
and epitaph. HenHci VIII. qui obiit anno Dom. 1545 ^ 17 Novetnbr. 

Quid medicina vcdety quid honosy quid gratia regumj 
Quid popularis amoVy mors ubi sceva venit? 

Sola valet pietas, quce structa est auspice Christo, 
Sola in morte valet; ccetera cunctafiuunt. 

Ergo mihi in vita fuerit quando omnia Christus, 
Mors mihi nunc lucrum, vitaque Christus erit. 

And what if I should think that this was the issue of 
Cheke's own pious fancy, as his last respects to this 
man, for which he had so high and deserved a veneration ? 
This epitaph, when time had almost defaced, after four- 
score years and upwards, Leonard Buttis, of Norfolk, Esq. 
{viz. in the year 1627,) renewed. 

His private studies. 

NOW also some of the spare hours Cheke could re- 



deem to himself, he employed in reading of Chrysostom in sect, y 

Greek. With whom he was so conversant, that one of 

his friends, speaking to him of that author, called him, Anno 1547. 

Tuus Chrysostomus, i. e. your own Chrysostom. And^^g^^^ 

to make his studies useful to others as well as to himself, atom's ora- 

he translated the six orations of that eloquent and pious ^ming 

Father, De Fato, that is. Of Providence, out of Greek Fate. 

into Latin, and published them about the year 1547, (as he 

had translated some before,) where Cheke lively expressed 

his own style, language, and affection. Insomuch that his 

contemporary at the University, and his good friend told 

him in a letter, ^^ ^That his book conveyed with it an ear- 

^^ nest desire to enjoy his voice, his conversation, his wit : 

^^ all which that writing as a certsdn picture of his mind 

" did admirably represent. So that the voice in this dis- 

*^ putation seemed not to be so much Chrysostom's, as 

** Cheke's own. So plentiful was this whole volume of 

^' most noble sentences concerning God, so handsome the 

^^ placing them, words so well suited to the matter, such 

*' elegant translations, so familiar and delightful narra- 

^^ tions, so great a contexture of arguments, such agree- 

^} ment of the whole oration with the cause. Which were 

*^ all properly Cheke's own virtues, partly natural, and 

^ partly obtained by study and knowledge." And as Had- 

don had a poetical vein, so on a sudden in some heat of 

fancy, when he had read this translation of Cheke's, he 

wrote this tetrastich upon it : 

IHviis Joannes Chrysostomus aurea Grcecay 
Fundere guod possety nomen suscepit ab auro. 
Noster Joannes sit nomine Checus eodem, 
Aurea qui Grams verbis dat verba JLatina. 

And besides the royal youth, Cheke seems to have the Takes care 
care of his sister, the Lady Elizabeth's studies, at least g^j^^^^J 

^ Maximum iste liber mihi desiderium attulit tuae vocis, tuae consuetudinis, 

tui ingenii, quae sane omnia hoc scriptum tanquam effigies quaedam animi tui, 

repraesentavit, &c. G. Haddonus Joan. Checo. 



sometiunes. When the Prince was once at his honour of 
_Ampthil in Bedfordshire, (as at other times, for changing 
'■of air, he was at Hartford, and at Hatfield,) his said sister 
was with him. And she was then under Cheke'a instruc- 
tion, as may be gathered from a copy of versea made by 
Leland to that lady, to this import ; that once going to 
Ampthil to see Prince Edward, and Clieke, his tutor; 
Cheke brought him also to the Lady Elizabeth, to have a 
sight of her, when Cheke also prays her to salate that 
learned man, and speak to him in Latin, which she di4> 
Which honour done him, Leland expresses in these v« 

Tempore quo ChcEcus, musnnim citra, politns 
Me commeitdavit, voce favente, lihi. 

XJtque salutares me tunc sermone Latino, 
Egit, ut kinc s<:irem, qitantus m ore lepos, I 



Cheke's interest tinder King Edward. AppKed io. 

"[' WHEN Cheke's royal cliarge and care came to reign, 

■r King our learned man began to move in an ampler sphere : pre- 
'"*' ferments and favours began to be accumulated upon him 
by his lt)ving and grateful scholar, now his Sovereign; 
and applications begau to be made to him by men of de- 
sert. And he ever readily used his interest with his Prince, 
(to whom he was very dear,) to promote and fnrthex all 
worthy and commendable both men and enterprises. And 
the University of Cambridge, knowing what a careful 
friend he M-aa already, and would be to it on any occasion 
they might have of application to the Court, now near the 
beginning of King Edward's reign, addressed a letter to 
him of high respect, full of his deserved praises, and ex- 
pressive of the assurance they had in his assistance at all 
times : which, because it will serve to give a light to our 
history, and shew in part our learned man, I cannot a 



setting it down in the English for the benefit of the sect. 
reader, though written originally in elegant Latin ; which '^' 
cannot be reached in a translation. Anno i647- 

Ex universo illo numero, ^c. " Of all that number ofThe Uoi. 
« very eminent men, most eminent Cheke, that ever went m"gni^ia- 
" forth from this University into the commonwealth, you"'')'.'***" 
" alone are the man, whom she, above all others, loved be-ter Asch. 
" ing present, and being absent admired: which you also '"''""■^*' 
" in recompense had adorned more than all the rest, when 
*' you were present, and now being absent afford your help 
" unto. For being present, yon delivered such rules of 
" learning for all instruction, and propounded siich ex- 
" amples of ingenuity to all imitation, as when every one 
" followed for their greatest benefit, none perfectly and 
" completely attained. There is none indeed among us 
" all, either so ignorant as knows not, or so envious as to 
" deny it, that these most fortunate fountains of our stu- 
" dies, which many with great industry, pains, and hope, 
" have drunk at, have 6own from your wit, tuition, ex- 
" ample, and counsel. And the perpetual presentation of 
" your memory, is consecrated to those monuments of 
" your humanity, parts, and learning. But being gone, 
" you have heaped upon us greater assistance, and surer 
•* defence, than either the rest of our friends could ever 
•' think, or we ourselves expect. For whilst a King, in- 
* Htructed by your precepts, becomes such a patron of 
" learning by your counsel, we are not ignorant what the 
" rest either will, or at least ought to contribute to our 
" University. We have drawn this our hope, and this dis- 
" cipltne out of your Plato, to Dionysius, a very bad king; 
•" yet we have had experience lately of the fruit and use of 
•* it, by your aid in our beat Prince Edward. Therefore, 
" since so many mutual offices, so many pious closenessea 
*' and ties are between you and the University, that in 
" fetching back the remembrance of it from your very 
•* cradle, to the honour in which you now are, there is no 
** bertefit of nature, or fruit of industry, or praise of wit, or 
defence of fortune, or ornament of honour to be found in 



CHAP. " you, whereunto our University either hath not contri- 
" buted for your uae, er whereof it hath not partaken to 

Auno 1547. « her glorj" : we do not doubt, but the University may 
" liope and receive from you thia fruit of the omanienls 
" she hath conferred on you ; tliat whatever interest and 
" power your honourable place and station may hereafter 
" put into your hands, you will employ it all in preserving 
" the dignity of the University. We do not commend any 
" one, but all our causes to you, wherein we hope you will 
'* take such pains, as cither you ought to bestow upon \ia, 
" or we to expect iTom you." 

Marries. In this year I place Mr. Cheke's marriage, being con- 

firmed by a passage in Ms eldest son's letter to Cecil, tliat 
he was nine years old when his father died, which was In 
the year 155?. She whom he chose for hia consort wa« 
Mary, a young gentlewoman, daughter and heiress of Ri- 

Mra. chard Hill, by Elizabeth, daughter of Ilsley, Esq. 

jiij' ' This Hill hved, as it seems, in the Vintrj', London, and 
was a wine merchant, and died young; yet not before he 
had ten or eleven children by his \vife. He had also a 
place of credit at Court, being master or sergeant of the 
wine ceUar to King Henry VIll. as appears by his monu- 
mental inscription in tlie church of St. iVlichael, Queen- 
htUie, London, where he was buried : which was to this 

w«v. Mod. tenor : Richardo Hil,l potentiss. Regis Henrici Octavi 

^' ' cel/ee vinaricE prefecto, Elizabetha cottfux mecstissima, 
/acta Jam undecimorum Uherorum mater, marito ojitimo, 
immatura tandem mor-te suhlalo, [quod solum potuil) po- 
steritati covimeitdaturum cupiens hoc monumentum, po- 
suit. Obiil, an. Dom. 1539, die mensis Maii 12. 

As for this young lady, (daughter to this good widow 
Mrs. Hill,) we shall meet with a passage concerning her 


His jtrefemmits and bcne^ls ohtairied fr 

THE first benefit I find bestowed on Cheke by 



Kiiig, was an hundred mark rent for twenty-one years, by sect. 
a patent dated at Westminster, Aug, 26, an. 'J. Edward ^' 
VI. which, it seems, was the way of gratifying the King'sAnoo is4a. 
instructors. So I find John Belmair, who was his master ^^^''K 
for the French language, had, in the year 1550, a lease chek« one 
granted for twenty-one years, (that is, of the same space ^"^'J^r^gj,, 
of time that Cheke's grant was,) of the parsonage of Mine- ly. 
head and Cotcomb, with the appurtenances in the county 
of Somerset, and divers other lands, but with a certain 
yearly payment out of it. But this grant to Mr. Cheke 
was followed soon after with others. 

George Day, a learned man. Bishop of Chichester, was Mada Pro- 
Provost of King's college in Cambridge; which provost- ^I'lg",, 
ship he had held itt commendam from King Henry VIll. 
to this time: but was deprived of his bishopric in the 
year 1548, for his disobedience to the King's proceedings, 
in refusing to take down the Popish altars in his diocese. 
It was also thought convenient to displace him from his 
provostship. Then all the talk was, that Cheke should be 
made Provost of King's. And in St. John's college there 
was great and glad expectation and desire that it might 
be so. For thus I find * one of the chief of that house ex- 
pressed his mind in this matter to the Lord Protector's 
Master of Requests ; " 'i It is the common wish among us 
*' here at Cambridge, that at length, yea, very shortly, we 
" may see John Cheke Provost of King's cbllege. That 
** Bishop \i, e. the Bishop of Chichester, the present Pro- 
*' vost] does not promote studies; I wish he hindered them 
** not. And this 1 do not speak for any one's favour, but 
" for the benefit of the whole University. There are many 
*' things that make us of this judgment, and many more 
" your own prudence sees. Thus we friends talk among 
" ourselves, perhaps not so very wisely, yet warily, and at 
*' least very affectionately. Think, Sir, as you please of 
•' this afiair, yet further it as much aa you can." Nor was 



CHAP, it long after that this preferment, according to these hi« 
' friend's good wlahesj fell upon him. For the King, bis 
,nn. isflB, loving scholar, in that year granted him a mandamug, di- 
't the rected to the college, {upon Day's resignation,) to elect him 
their Provost. A place which suited best with his stu- 
dious mind, that ever laboured for retirement, and affected 
couteniplatioii. It is true, the statutes of that college were 
against him. And therefore the mandavttts ran to dis- 
pense with three qnalifications required in a Provost of thU 
college, vix. to be a Doctor, a Priest, and of the foundation. 
Which they would scarcely have complied with, {as they 
have since refused such dispensations, being against their 
statutes,) had it not happened at that time, when the Uni- 
versity wanted some notable reformers, and in respect of 
the extraordinary person recommended to them, so emi- 
nent for his virtue and his learning, and with some re- 
gard also to his greatness at Court. So at length he was 
chosen by the Vice-Provost and Fellows ; who wrote let* 
ters both to the King and him. This place he held about 
five years, till the beginning of Queen Mary, when being 
found tardy ^, he was glad for his safety to resign, though 
the instrument ran ex mero motu, according to the com- 
mon fonn. 

The King expressed also his gratitude to him, by be- 
stowing considerable lands and lordships upon him ; name- 
ly, out of such as fell to the Crown by the dissolution of 
religious houses, colleges, and chantries. For in the third 
year of his reign Cheke obtained of him, (as it is e^c pressed 
in the patent,) propter itidttstriam in imtitttmda adole- 
scentia Domini Regis; i, e. "for his industry in in- 
" structiiig the King's youth," the house and site of the 
late priory of Spalding in the county of Lincoln, the manor 
of Hunden in the same county, and divers other lands and 
tenements in the counties of Lincoln and SufEblk, to tlie 
value of 116/. 1 \d, q. and no rent reserved. And the yCKT 
before he obtained another estate of the King; wherein 
he and Walter Moyle were joint purchasers; and 00 

Th. King 


question a good pennyworth. The 8um to be paid was SECT. 
958/. 3s. 5d. ob. a sign that Cheke had by this time got ^' 

money in his purse. It was the college of St. John Baptist Add. i548, 
de Stoke juxta Clare in Suffolk ; and likewise, all the mes- ***** 
suages, tenements, cottages, cellars, solars, chambers, sta- 
bles, &c. with the appurtenances belonging to the college 
of Corpus Christi, in the parish of St. Laurence Poultney, 
London, lately dissolved 5 together with divers other lands 
and tenements in the counties of Suffolk, Devon, Kent, 
and in- London. The Head of the foresaid college, who 
was styled the Dean of it, was Dr. Matthew Parker, after- p^'^^J ^"^ 
wards Archbishop of Canterbury. He indeed by founding stoke. 
a free school in it for education of children, and by good 
statutes making it an useful foundation, deserved still to 
have enjoyed it. But by the act of Parliament in the first 
of the King, it fell under the same fate with the rest of 
the colleges superstitiously founded. So when Parker 
could not obtain the continuance of it, (which he endea- 
voured,) he gave Cheke (to whom it was granted) such 
friendly counsel and advice concerning the state of it, and 
for the better improvement of it, that he professed his 
great obligations to him in a letter, promising to take care 
that he should be the first to whom a pension should be 
appointed, as soon as the commission came out for stating 
the pensions; and so rewarded, that, as he trusted, no 
pensioner better : writing thus to him ; 

" Mr. Doctor, 
** After most hearty commendation, I am as diligent in Cheke to 
^* your behalf as I would be in my own ; and labour as mssjd.c?* 
** sore, that you may think yourself to have found some c.c. 
^^ kind of friendship at my hand, as indeed I think I have 
^^ received at yours. When the commission is once come 
^^ out, you and yours shall be the first to whom pensions 
*' shall be appointed : and for your part, I trust so or- 
^' dered, that no pensionary better. The time is not now 
*' long, within this sevennight or more, it is thought you 
^^ shall be despatched ; wherefore you need not much now 



CHAP, ^to accnmber yourself with any unqidetnefn or dday; 
"• '' ' ' ' '' ' ^1 be despatdied the best 

Add. ]548,a ^jj^ soonest. Fare you welL 

ct seq. "^ 

^th of Jtme^ from, " Your assured, 

Westminster. •^ JOHN CHEKE." 

He jMomised Dr. Parker also to take his opportunity 
with tlie King effectuaUy to recommend him fcnr some 
preferment, when it should faQ. But Parker remaining 
two years after in statu quo prius, upon another occasion 
of writing to him to Cambridge, Cheke voluntarily. took 
notice, that he had not yet done for him as he would ; yet 
Cbeitt*! assuring him, ^that he did not forget his friendship 
lof *MSS " shewed him aforetime, and was sorry no occasion 
C.C.C.C. ^ served him to shew his good will. But bid him assure 
^' himself, that as it lay long, and took deep root in him, 
*^ so should the time come, he trusted, wherein he should 
^ understand the fruit thereof, the better to endure, and 
^ surelier to take place. Which might as well shortly be, 
^ as be deferred. But good occasion, he said, was alL" 
So that we may hence conclude Cheke had a great hand 
in the places and dignities that afterwards were obtained 
by the said Dr. Parker. 


CHAP. m. 

From Cheke^s retirement to Cambridge^ to his receiving 

the honour of knighthood. 


Croes to Cambridge. Visits the University by commission 
from the King, Besides there. Writes a book against 
the rebels. 

In May this year 1549, 1 find Cheke gotten to the be- Anno 1549. 
loved place of his nativity and education ; and, as it seems, 9^®^® ^' 
settling himself in his provostship lately granted him. Cambridge. 
Whither it appears he was now gladly withdrawn from the 
Court, and all its gay but ticklish splendours, and the 
frowns as well as the flatteries of it : the former whereof 
he had lately experienced. Here he is now busy, in order 
to his residence, fitting up his chamber and study; and 
sends to his friend Peter Osbom, at London, to convey 
down to him thirty yards of painted buckram, to lay be- 
tween his books and the boards in his study, which he 
had trimmed up ; a ream of paper, a perfume pan, and 
some other furniture. And to shew that he was now under 
some cloud at Court, and how glad of this his present re- 
cess he was, these words fell from him in a letter to his 
above mentioned friend ; ** That he now felt the calm of 
" quietness, having been tossed afore with storms, and 
^^ having felt ambition's bitter gall, poisoned with hope of 
" hap. That he could therefore be merry on the bank- 
^ side, without endangering himself on the sea. Your 
" sights** added he, ** is full of gay things abroad, which I 
^^ desire not, as things su£Biciently known and valued. Oh! 
^ what pleasure is it to lack pleasures, and how honour- 
** able to flee firom honour's throes!" Our philosopher 
esteemed this the truest pleasure and the best honour, and 
much beyond that of a Court. And there being a visita- 




. tion of the University instituted by the King this eummer, 
_ Cheke, being now at Cambridge, liad the honour to be no- 
's- minated for a Commissioner; joined with Goodrick and 
1^' Ridley, Bishops of Ely and Rochester; Sir William Paget, 
f- Comptroller of the Houeehold; Sir Thomas Smith, Secre- 
tary of State; Dr. May, Dean of St. Paul's; and Dr. Wen- 
dy, the King's Physician ; all fonnerly choice learned men 
of the said University. The disputations that were now per- 
formed before the Visitors, the correction of superstitious 
practices, the furtherance of the King's good proceedings, 
the reforming of the old statutes of houses, managed und 
provided for by Cheke and his Fellows' care,'! leave to other 
historians to relate. ^^ 


Cheke'a Book, viz. The true Stihject to the Rebel. 

THIS visitation being ovsr, Cheke, who I conclude was 
still in Cambridge, employed his thoughts {and that per- 
haps by order from above) in composing an expostulation 
with the rebels ; who this summer brake out, partly for 
enclosures, and partly for religion, into an open and formi- 
dable insm-rection, in most counties in England, and espe- 
cially in Devon in the west, and Norfolk in the north". 
It was framed by way of a plain and earnest address 
from himself to thent : and being finished, was commit- 
' ted to the press to be dispersed, as well among them, as 
elsewhere in the realm. The book was entitled, TAe 
Hurl of Sedition: how grievous it is to a Comtnon- 
wealth. The running title, T/ie true Subject to the Rebet, 
And as there were two sorts of these mutineers, who pre- 
tended two virtuous causes for their complaints, so Cheke 
suited his discourse to each. Those in the west made their 
disturbances for the restoring the old Popish religion. 
Those ui Norfolk and Suffolk would have amendment in 
the commonwealth ; that the gentlemen should not be put 
into places of honour and trust, and the poor t 


partake of none of these benefits and advancements; but sect. 
that all ranks of people should be brought to an equal _1_ 

level. Anno 1549. 

The former of these thus did our learned man in his Argue* with 
said book accost: ** Ye rise for religion: what religion JJ^-^jq*^?"^ 
*^ taught' you that ? If ye were offered persecution for reli- 
'* gion, ye ought to flee ; tfo Christ teacheth you, and yet 
*' you intend to fight. If ye would stand in the truth, ye 
*^ ought to suffer like martyrs ; and ye would slay like ty- 
** rants. Thus for religion ye keep no religion ; and nei- 
'^ ther will follow the counsel of Christ, nor the constancy 
'* of martyrs. Why rise ye for religion ? Have ye any thing 
" contrary to God's book? yea, have ye not all things 
" agreeable to God's word ? But the new [religion] is dif- 
** ferent from the old, and therefore ye will have the old. 
** If ye measure the old by truth, ye have the oldest. If ye 
" measure the old by fancy, then it is hard, because men's 
" fancies change to give that is old. Ye will have the old 
'^ style. Will ye have any older than that as Christ left, and 
^^ his Apostles taught, and the first Church did use ? Ye will 
have that the Canons do establish. Why, that is a great 
deal younger than that ye have of later time, and new- 
^ lier invented; yet that is it that ye desire. And do you 
** prefer the Bishops of Rome afore Christ ? men's inven- 
^* tions afore God's law ? the newer sort of worship before 
*^ the older ? Ye seek no religion ; ye be deceived ; ye 
seek traditions. They that teach you, blind you ; that 
so instruct you, deceive you. If ye seek what the old 
Doctors say, yet look what Christ the oldest of all saith : 
*^ for he saith, Before Abraham was madej I am. If ye 
*^ seek the truest way, he is the very truth : if ye seek the 
'^ readiest way, he is the very way : if ye seek everlasting 
** life, he is the very life. - What religion would ye have 
*^ other now than his religion ? You would have the Bibles 
*^ in again. It is no marvel, your blind guides would lead 

^ you blind still. But why should ye not like that 

^ [religion] which God's word establisheth, the primitive 



CHAT. ^* Church hath authorized, the greatest learned men of this 
^^^* ** reahn have drawn, the whole consent of the ParUament 

Anno 1549. *^ hath confirmed, the King's Majesty hath set forth? Is it 

** not truly set out ? Can ye devise any truer than Christ's 

** Apostles used ? Ye think it is not learnedly done. Dare 

** ye, commons, take upon you more learning than the 

** chosen Bishops and Clerks of this realm have ? 

" Learn, learn to know this one point of religion, that God 

^^ will be worshipped as he hath prescribed, and not as we 

*^ have devised 5 and that his will is wholly in his Scrip- 

^^ tures, which be full of God's spirit, and profitable to 

*^ teach the truth," &c. 

And about As for the Other malecontents, the other rabble of Nor- 

monweaith. folk rebels, thus he proceeded to argue with them : *' Ye 

" pretend a commonwealth. How amend ye it by killing 

^^ of gentlemen, by spoiling of gentlemen, by imprisoning 

•Ket, their « of gentlemen? A marvellous tanned* commonwealth. 

wa? atan- " Why should ye thus hate them for their riches or for 

ner. (( their rule ? Rule they never took so much in hand as 

** ye do now. They nfever resisted the King, never witb- 

^' stood his Council ; be faithful at this day, when ye be 

^^ faithless, not only to the King, whose subjects ye be, but 

'^ also to your Lords, whose tenants ye be. In this your 

^' true duty, in some of homage, in most of fealty, in all of 

'^ alle^ance ; to leave your duties, go back from your pro- 

'^ mises, &I1 from your faith ; and, contrary to law and 

^^ truth, to make unlawful assemblies, ungodly compa- 

'^ nies, wicked and detestable camps ; to disobey yoar 

■ ^' betters, and to obey your tanners ; to change your 

^* obedience from a. King to a Ket, to submit yourselves 

^ to tndtors, and to break your faith to your true 

" King and Lords ? ^If riches offend you^ because 

^ ye would have the like, then think that to be no com- 
^^ monwealth, but envy to the commonwealth. Envy it is 
^^ to appair another man's estate, without the amendment 
^^ of your own ; and to have no gentlemen, because ye be 
^^ none yourselves, is to bring down an estate, and to mend 


" none. Would ye have all alike rich? that is the over- sect. 


" throw of labour^ and utter decay of work in this realm. ' 

" For who will labour more, if, when he hath gotten more, Anno i64». 

*^ the idle shall by lust, without right, take what him list 

" from him, under pretence of equality with him? This is 

*^ the bringing in of idleness, which destroyeth the com- 

^ monwealth, and not the amendment of labour, which 

^^ maintaineth the commonwealth. If there should be such 

^^ equality, then ye take all hope away from yours, to come 

** to any better estate than you now leave them. And as 

^^ many mean men's children come honestly up, and are 

^^ great succour to all their stock, so should none be here- 

^^ after holpen by you. But because you seek equality, 

^' whereby all cannot be rich, ye would that belike, where- 

** by every man should be poor : and think beside, that 

^' riches and inheritance be God's providence, and given 

** to whom of his wisdom he thinketh good," &c. After 

this manner did he excellently and popularly reason in 

thift book, for the reducing these men to more sobriety. 

This book was reprinted anno 1576, as a seasonable 
discourse upon apprehension of tumults,* by malecontents 
at home, or renegadoes abroad. Holinshed also thought * 
fit to add it in his Chronicle there, where he speaks of this 
rebellion ; as it was his practice to insert divers tracts and 
discourses in suitable places of his history. And since that. 
Dr. Gerard Langbain, of Oxford, about the year 1641, pub- 
lished the book once again, intending it for the use and 
consideration of the rebels against King Chades the First, 
in the time of the civil wars. 

We are told also, that about these times Cheke penned, On« oPOk 
and perhaps published, several other learned and tisefalS^tr 
tracts, bojbh for Church and State. And whereas, in thethe ccdesU 
month of October, thirty-two Commissionenr (consisting \y 

of an equal number of Bishops, Divines, Civilians, and 
common lawyers) were appointed for the examining the 
old ecclesiastical law books, and drawiqg thence a body of 
good and wholesome laws for tiie government of the 
Church, and decision of other civil matters, Cheke was 


THK tlFt^t^ 

CHAP. Darned one of the eight Divines selected for this great 
work : Taylor, Dean of Lincohi; Dr. Cox, the King's 
Aono 1649' Ahnoner, and one of hia teachers; Dr. Matthew Par- 
ker, Master of Bene't college, Cambridge ; Latimer, 
(afterward a martyr;) Sir Anthony Cook, another of the 
King's instructors ; Peter MartjT, the King's public Pro- 
fessor at Oxford; and Joannes a Lasco, a nobleman of 
Poland, and Superintendent of the German congregation 
y in London; bfting the other seven. With such learned 

]/ company was Cheke thought fit to be associated. And 

again, three years after, upon a new Commission for the 
same purpose, he was again nominated one to whom the 
Commission was directed, with the rest above named. 

SECT. m. 

Returns to the Court, His troubles there. His wife offeadt 
the Duchess. 

Chfkest CHEKC'S stay was not long at Cambridge, his roy»I 

master no doubt wanting him to assist him in his studies, 

and to be about hia person, whom he so much affected. 

For I find him at We&tminster this winter, viz. anno 1549. 

And this is the first time I meet with any passage about 

Hii wifu. his wife, who seemed to be a dependent on the family of 

Anne, Duchess of Somerset, and now with child. This 

first occasion I find mention made of her by Cheke, her 

husband, was an unhappy one, she having given some of- 

The Dii- fence unwarily to the Duchess; or the Duchess, a verj" im- 

mrmt of- perious woman, having taken b<ome offence against her for 

fended wiih gome words spoken, or some matters concealed of, I know 

not what. This female fraction employed Cheke to o 

a reconciliation for hia wife, and to qualify the lofty [ 

Chike'i irt-eas's mind towards her. Therefore he takes his pen', 

b(hiUf. ' ' *f'- '^*''*' '" '"*' Ouc&ai of Somrrnl, JimuBr. IS49, «/»■ 
Ihr DucAcM ImH latm agaiiul AU wi/c anii Unurl/. 

1^ JO, '>'*"' Gr»rt> iiDfrular f«vuiir lu«»rdi me hnth alwiijrt liwn ona of mj.d 

rumforta in mj dillgFal ttrxirt of the Kinf^ Mijotjr, orliicb wu (he 4^ 
tu nir, twnniM it wu vtl Islien ; ■nil altbo in tbii dcHrt of uUmi 


with words of the lowliest submission makes his applica- sect. 


tion to her; not in the least excusing his wife's fault, but , 

only using arguments proper to move and mollify the^^^**^^^^* 

Duchess's great spirit, after this manner : *^ That he could 

^^ not choose but make half a suit for half himself, that is, 

" for his wife, in regard of her misbehaviour towards her, 

*^ Grace : for which, whosoever was sorry, he was most 

^* sorry. And yet not ready to excuse that which was 

ble, and mishap of mine own, I know not precisely of your Graces favour- 
able goodness toward me, yet I judge that your good Graces mind towards 
me, undeserved to be gotten, and undeserved to be lost again,. is sich [such], 
that I pass the quieter through the whole course of my danger, and feel the 
less storm of causeless hap, because I do mich [much] stay myself in your 
Graces wisdome of taking things truly, and in your goodness of helping the 
honest favourably. 

Wherefore, presuming to give your Grace thanks for myself, because I trust 
well, and most humbly requiring your Grace of continuance of your favour^ 
worthily, as I trust, to be bestowed on me, I cannot chuse but make half a 
suite for half myself, being dissevered as yet from the other half of myself, 
in my wifes misbehaviour towards your Grace. Whosoever is sorry for it, I 
am most sorry ; not ready to excuse that which is faulty, but desiring of par< 
don where forgiveness is plentiful; and knowing that forgiveness of faults 
past is amendment of time to come ; and no vice in a mean woman to be so 
great, but the vertue of nobility is as large to mercy. My most humble request 
therefore is, that your Graces gentleness overcome my wifes faults ; to favour 
of clemency, where justice would have straitness ; to be more noble in i^ertue 
than others be in offence ; that, wheras fault is greatest, your grace may most 
appear. In other matters I have charged her to be plain ; and I trust her 
honest nature will content your Grace. Wherin if she be faulty (for I must 
needs naturally pitty her) justly, I cannot speak for her ; and yet, as I trust 
she wil shew herself true and plain, so I would fain speak, if I thought there 
were need, and put your Grace in mind that you of wisdome consider, that in 
youth there may be pardon, where experience lacketh ; and sich [such] we 
pitty, as wisdome cannot be looked for of ; and toward women with child, fa- 
vour for the innocents sake. 

But what mean I to enter into sich matters, as your Grace knoweth best ; 
and tel your Grace, that of yourself you consider. Onely I beseech your Grace, 
and that most humbly, to extend your gracious favour so far above the required 
desert toward my wife and me both, as my good mind toward your Grace, 
which is equal with your greatest clients, is above mine habilitee, which is un- 
derneath the common state of wel minded. God send your Grace most plen- 
teous estate, and long quietness to his mighty will. From Westminster, the 
XXVII. of January, 1549. 2 Edv. 

Tour Grace's most bounden Orator, 


CHAP. ^ faulty, but desiring pardon where for^veness was plen- 
^"* " tiful, and knowing that forgiTeness of feuHa past, was 

Anno i549>< amendment for time to come. That no vice in a mean 
^ woman was so great, but the virtue of nobility was as 
<^ large to mercy. That his humble suit was, that her 
^^ Grace's gentleness might overcome his wife's feulte; 
^^ and to be more noble in virtue than others were in of- 
*^ fence; and that where fault was greatest, there her 
** grace might most appear. That of her wisdom she would 
" consider, that in youth there may be pardon where ex- 
" perience lacked ; and towards such women pity, of whom 
^^ wisdom cannot be looked for, and toward women with 
" child, favour for the innocent's sake." Thus was he fain 
to strain his rhetoric, to pacify the wrath of this lofty lady 
toward Mrs. Cheke. And because she was to come under 
examination, he told the Duchess, ^^ he had charged her to 
^^ be plain. And so he trusted her honest nature wodd 
^* content her Grace." 

Cheke himself was scarce yet got out of his own trou- 
bles, occasioned, as it seems, by the troubles that latdy 
befel the Pcotector, the Duke of Somerset, Cheke seeming 
first to be charged as one of the number of those that had 
suggested ill counsels to the said Duke, and after of some 

In Cheke's falgeness to him. But the Duchess herself saw his imio- 


tbcDachesscency, and stood his Mend, and that behind his bad[. 
" "^'^ * Which favour, therefore, he thought fit to make an ac- 
knowledgment of by his pen ; « Professing stiU to depend 
^^ upon her protection and patronage, and protesting that 
^^ he passed the quieter through the whole course of his 
^ danger, by means of her favourable goodness and good 
'^ mind towards him; and felt the less storms of canselgsii 
^ hap, since he so much stayed himself in her Grace's 
^ wisdom of taking things truly, and in her goodness of 
^ helping the honest favourably. And that, in a word, it 
^* was her Grace's singular favour towards him, that had 
** always been one of his chief comforts in his diligent 
" service of the King's Majesty : which was the easier to 
" him, because it was well taken." 



Preferred at Courts and does good offices for men of reli-- 

gion and learning. 

WHEN Cheke had undergone, and well got over this Anno 1 550. 
shock at Court, he stood the firmer afterwards, and re- 
mained fast in his royal master's favour, and his interest 
and authority daily increased : so that he became the great Becomes 
patron of religious and learned men, both English and^f^ig^n^" 
foreigners, and, together with Cecil and Gates, their chief and religion 
advocate with the King. So well did Ridley, Bishop of gp. m. sta. 
London, know this, that he called him 07ie of Christ's spe- 
cial advocates^ and one of his principal proctors. AndAscham 
Ascham, joining Cecil and Cook with him, as the great ^^^'^J^i^ 
triumvirate at Court for favouring all geod causes thatn^iss. 
respected either religion or learning, bespake him once in 
these words: "If you, with Cecil and Cook, [the other 
" instructor of the King,] defend, tis you have opportunity, 
*^ the causes of virtue and learning, ye shall answer the 
^^ opinion that all have of you." 

And his great parts and abilities were now so well Made chief 
known, and his wisdom so tried, that by this time {viz. of °he Pi^ 
1550, the fourth of the King) he was made one of the chief Chamber, 
gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, a high place in those 
times, and was preferred also, as it seems, to a participa- 
tion of the public cares, and involved in the matters of 
State. Certainly very great and weighty business lay upon 
him: for Ascham, in one of his letters to him, excused ill. 9. 
himself for the letter he wrote, not expecting long answers 
again, because he saw he was detained vrith weightier 
matters. And the King's Ambassador in Germany wrote 
weekly to him privately, as well as to the Privy Council, , 
concerning the public affairs abroad. The foresaid Ascham, 
that elegant sdiolar, was Secretary to this Ambassador, 
concerning whom I shall here take occasion to set down a 



ino 1550. prQcuj-gs Ascbam to go Secretary to an Embassy t<f 

AN embasg)^ being to be despatched to the Emperor, 
Charles the Vth, the charge of it was committed to Sir 
Richard Morison, a learned Knight, and abrave gentleman ; 
and Ascham, by the means and recommendation of Cheke, 
was appointed Secretary of the said embassy : two veiy 
fit persons to be companions, and well sorted for their 
tempers, learning, and judgment. This favour obtained 
by Cheke, Agcham gratefully remembered, and profeBsed 
that he made it a spur to him, not to be wanting in any 
respect to the Ambassador with whom he went, lest his 
neglect might reflect any blame upon his friend that pre- 
ferred him ; for he bore, he said, that sentence of Cicero 
in his mind, graviorem esse spotmvitem aliens honeslatit 
guam alieni <eris ; i. e. that it is a greater matter to pass 
one's word for another's good behaviour, than for his debt. 
III. a. The day before the Ambassador went away, Ascham re- 
paired nnto Cheke's chamber in London, (in White Friajs, 
I suppose, for there his house was,) being retired thithtr 
hE'a ml- for his health's sake. Here coming to take his leave, 
n going Cheke, like a Christian philosopher, held a large conference 
I Gir- ^th }jjm^ both concerning true religion, and the rigkt 
method of instituting studies. Which subjects were N 
wisely and gravely handled, that the discourse made saA 
a mighty impression upon Ascham, that, as he sent biiD 
word in one of his letters, he should never forget it. It 
was no doubt intended by our learned man to fortify As- 
cham, now going abroad, and to confirm him in the good 
principles he had imbibed and entertained at Cambridge; 
and that in his travels he might be secured from gathering 
any infection by the various conversation he must neces- 
sarily meet with ; and so be in danger, without some fore- 
arming, of forsaking religion, or that course of solid learn- 
ing that he made so good progress in. 


Of this communicJitioii, the next diiy after, 173. Sept. 21, sect, 
Ascham gave his fellow collegian and friend, Edward Ra- 
ven, an account from Gravesend ; which was to this pur- A""" isso. 
port, that from noon to nine at night, they two passed the commtmi. 
time in various philo^ophica] discourses. Tliey handled t«ven 
many things relating to religion, to the Court, to the com- ^j^hsin" 
manwealth, and to the University : and particularly that Aacii. Epist. 
Cheke hugely approved of the state of St. John's college, ni. a. 
and the discipline and course of learning there used, 
Ascham, out of his love to the learned men there, and his 
desire of their promotion, took this occasion to speak much 
of the Pilkingtona, the Leavers, Wylsons, Elands, and 
other good and deserving scholars of that college, and 
particularly his friend Raven, (to whom he now wrote,) 
whose sweetness of manners, wit, prudence, diligence, and 
judgment, he commended and recommended to Cheke; 
and chiefly a troublesome business of Ms, wherein he 
might need the assistance of the Court : wliich the other 
readily promised that he would get despatched, 

Cheke 'a great mind towards the advancement of learn- rn'eui- 
ing and religion contained not itself within the limits of him of the 
these nations united under the English government; butj'*'*."' 
the good-will he bare thereto made him heartily desirous and religion 
of the propagation of these excellent things abroad in* "" ' 
the world. And some tidings of the present posture of 
them, in the parts beyond seas, catne to him now in the 
month of November, from the pen of his hefore-men- Asch. Ep. 
tioned learned friend, who was (with the Ambassador) by''' 
this time got as far as Ausburg. He shewed him first, in 
general, how he had visited monasteries, churches, libra- 
ries ; seen ancient both books and coins, a number whereof, 
both very old and very fine, he promised him at his return : 
also, how he had taken notice of the customs of cities, 
^eir situation and discipline ; diligently viewed their build- 
ings, walls, strength, ports, and all opportunities of land and 
water round about : and that he had made memoranda of 
bU these things : whereof Cheke was to be partaker when 
Ascham csme home. He proceeded to particulars: he 


CHAP, spake first of Lower Germany, which he called the lou^eit 
_ indeed, and the deepest, as, he said, was easily perceivable, 

.0 1560. g[|(j tijat in all respectB ; (except only in the mighty con- 
;r If ' course of merchants ;) for into it flowed a sink of Roman 
erGer- dfcgs and filth, and now seemed there to stagnate. This 
was the ill character lie gave of that country, which after- 
wards, by the vindication of its liberty from oppression 
and superstition, is become in these our days one of the 
richest and most considerable places in Europe, At Ant- 
werp he saw'a commentary upon Plato's Timfeus, but of 
some Latin writer. At Louvain, in the college, he heard, 
for the space of an hour, Theodorus Candiua, a man of 
fame, read upon Sophocles's Tyninnus : where, by the 
way, he acquainted Cheke, that in liis reading he read and 
pronounced according to the late way discovered by him, 
wlien he read the Greek lecture at Cambridge. " But," 
said he, " if that reader were compared \vith Car, [who 
" was the present reader of Greek there,] Louvain with 
" Cambridge, both the former would fall much short of 
" both the latter," That at Colen, Justus Velsius, once 
of Argentine, now an Herodian, [i. e. I suppose a comi^ier 
with the mteritn,] read in Greek Aristotle's Ethics ; wboa 
indeed he [Ascham] did approve, though he did not ad- 
mire. That the same day he heard Alexander Blaiicart, i 
Cannelite, reading upon the Acts of the Apostles. ThU 
man he described to be a notable Papist ; that he turned 
the ninth epistle of the first book of Cyprian for oblatdons 
in favour of the dead ; and that he was esteemed to be 
leameder, and worse [r. e. in respect of his rigour agidnat 
Luthcranism] tlian ]idvardu8 BilUcus, who there publicly 
professed to read on Genesis. That for the fame that this 
Billicus carried, he repaired to his monastery, and there 
he saw the man ; and having a mind to enter into < 
course with him, he signified to bun, that he was toUlM 
had certain books of St. Bernard, as yet never prii 
Tliia he aaid, that he might pravoke the man to a 
course, and bo make some trial of his parts aixl aliilitieh 
But being full of bui^itiese, as his servant told Awchniu, be 



was not then at leisure: so as being cast off to another secjt. 
time, he caat off thafr proud Papist. He proceeded in his ^' 
relation; that he had looked over many libraries in those Anno isso. 
parts, but saw not one eminent book. That at Spire, 
the report was, there was an excellent library, well fur- 
niehed with ancient Latlo, Greek, and Hebrew books : but 
the library-keeper being absent, he saw not the books, 
which otherwise he had taken a view of. That at Gaves- 
burgh, a town nine German miles distant from Ausburg, 
many Jews dwelt ; where he was, and saw many Hebrew 
books well written; but they woidd not sell hiuxsotuuch 
as one, though he offered them money. He also-iHw an- 
cient coins there ; and bought two, a Nero and an Au- 
gustus. Also they shewed him an old Hebrew piece of 
money, of gold, with very handsome Hebrew letters; 
whicii he had bought, had not the price been too unrea- 
sonable. That the city Ausburg, where he now was, had 
a very copious library, furnished with very many ancient 
Greek and Hebrew books. They that had the care of it 
bad laid aside threescore of their best books, lest the Em- 
jperor (now at Ausburg) or the Imperialists should take 
them away, [either perliaps for their choiceness and excel- 
lency, or containing some things contrary to the Imperial 
or Popish interest.] There was a whole Chryaostom in 
Greek, together with other very valuable books : and 
"though he had not yet seen them, he waa promised that 
he should. 

, This for the state of learning. Ne.xt he acquainted Cheke 
in what condition relif^on was in those parts. Tliat it flou- 
rished at Ausburg, thougli the Emperor himself were at 
that time in person there : " Just, methinks," said he, " as 
*' your pronunciation of Greek flourished at Cambridge, 
" even under the contrary commands and injunction of 
f* Winchester. At this success of religion, we all," added 
iie, " do rejoice, and I congratulate the same ; but fear, lest 
." Caesar, while present he shews himself, with fraud, easy 
#* ui the cause of religion, when he is absent, more easily, 
*' without being suspected, break all their political power ; 


CHAP. " and that, by the ruin of their policy, religion also should 
_" be ruined mth it." That the citieffof Hamburg, Breme, 

Anno 15S0. and Magdeburg defended religion with their minds, their 
pens, and tbeir swords. That he saw the Magdeburg 
Confeseion. That the argument of the book was this. Si 
superior magistratus vim e^ercet in subditos cotitra jtu 
aut naturale aut divinuTn, licet turn inferiori magistratui 
resistere ; i. e. " That if the superior uiagiBtrate exercisetli 
" force upon hia subjects contrary to the law, either natural 
" or divinC) in that case it is lawful for the inferior niagistraU 
*' to resist." That for the city of Magdeburg, and their 
spirit, he could not but praise both, but this thesis he like<i 
not ; for that hence might great commotions and disturb- 
ances easily arise. This book, very scarce to be got, he sent 
to Cheke for a present ; and would, as he wrote to him, hav« 
sent him many other tracts concerning the interim and the 
adiapkryrists, but that Gipkin (who was a Dutch book- 
seller in London) had taken care of procuring them for 
bim. That the city of Wittenburg with Melancthon, and 
Leipsic with Camerarius, the chief Doctors in those ci- 
ties, were blamed by many good men, that they admittfd 
the interimintical and adiap/iaricfil doctrine. That Jtu^ 
chim Camerarius, in an oration delivered at Leipsic the 
last year, had distdrbed the minds of a great many at that 
time in matters of religion. Finally, that as soon as aaj 
thing of certainty, either relating to religion or the dvfl 
state, came to his hand, be would write all at large; but 
that now, upon their first commg, he had not much, nor of 
much consequence, to impart. 
c:iieiie put In this correspondence Ascham descended from public 
j|Jj"'^"to more private matters. He took occasion now to »- 
nionhtnn member Cheke of that admirable discourse that he enter- 
'"' tained him with at their parting at London, and bow 
much he spake concerning Demosthenes, declaring how it 
rejoiced him to perceive that noble Greek orator waa w 
familiar with him, who was also the great subject of Ab- 
cham's delight and study. And here he took occarions 
(knowing the excellent Latin style of Cheke) to put him 


upon translating the oration of Demosthenes, and of his sect, 
antagonist iEschines, into Ivatin: which would he take 

ia hand, he should, he SMd, undertake a thing most proper A^noi^ao. 
and agreeable to his place, his study, his wit, his judg- 
ment, and hia ability : and that thereby he would hold 
. forth a great light to the commendable imitation of De- 
mosthenes and Tully, the princes of the Greek and Latin 
■peech. He now also propounded to him to disperse and 
eommunieate hia pronunciation of Greek abroad in theAndupoD 
world, that other nations might be acquainted with it : h^ [iranun- 
adding, that if he would but send him the copy, he would""'"" "^ 
soon offer it to the view of mankind; and that he doubted langu age. 
not but to obtain the assistance of Johannes Sturmius (the 
most learned Professor of Strasburgh) to give some illus- 
trations to it. Pity it was, that this suggestion prevailed 
Dot with Cheke to set forth his learned exercitations upon 
the Greek tongue, and the correct way of sounding it, 
having this convenience of printing the book well, in some 
printing-house abroad, and whilst Ascham, or some of his 
friends, might have had the supervising of it; whether it 
were our learned man's modesty, or his other cares and 
business hindered. Yet tlie siuu of his thoughts upon this 
subject came to light soon after his death, in his exquisite 
|i X<atin letters to Bishop Gardiner, printed at Basil, as we 
bave told already. And as to the other motion made by 
Aacham, of translating something of that prince of Greek 
motors, that he did, either upon this advice or before. And 
beside these, many other of that orator's works, as his 
Philippics and Olynthiace, he translated, and left behind 
him, (though I fear now utterly perished,) as we shall be 
told hereafter, when we come to mention his writings. 


Cheke translates the Communion Book. His friendship 
with Martyr and Bucer. Halh a son. 

BUT now to look at home. It was not far from this 

lime that the Archbishop of Canterbury thought it necea- 


Book put 
into Utin 
b; Chcke. 


sary tliat the first Coinmuuioii Book should be carefully re- 
vised and corrected ; and that in this work foreign DiriiKs 
of the greatest learning in divinity, and best acqututded 
with the ancient ecclesiastical writers, should be consaltedi 
There were many in England at that time, the chirf 
whereof were Bucer and Peter MartvT : both whoEW jw^ 
ments the said Archbishop required, and willed them towt 
down their censures in writing for his use. In this matter 
our Cheke was concerned: he translated into Latin the 
substance of the said Communion Book for P. Martyr, 
(not understanding English,) now being at Lambeth with 
the Archbishop : and from this translation Martyr made 
his censures by way of annotation, And, moreover, Cheke 
had conference with that learned man concerning the 
amendments to be made, and concerning a meeting of the 
Kisliops that were to consult and deliberate about it ; many 
of which secretly bcajing a good-will to Popery, Mdrtyr 
tonfeased his fears to Cheke, that the reformation of the 
book would stick with them. But Cheke hinted to him, 
" ''that if the Bishops would not alter what was fit to be 
" altered, the King would do it by himself, and when the 
" Parliament met, he woidd interpose his own authority." 
Cheke was a fast friend and patron to these outlandish 
learned Confessors. And as we have seen something be- 
tween Peter Martyr and him this year 1550, so in the 
same year there was a kind correspondence between liim 
and Bucer. Upon his first coming to Cambridge to be tlic 
King's Professor there^ he had been dangerously sick : and 
as the fear of losing so useful a man in that public station 
caused no small trouble to Cheke, and such friends of the 
Reformation as he, so his recovery gave tbem no small 
content. And Cheke, by way of congratulation and coun- 
sel, wrote thus from the Court at Greenwich to tiim in 
May : Audio te firmiorem, ^c. i. e. " 1 hear you are 

■it. tSittrr, ii( qux oiUUnda tint, 

•d PullauEntum nnliun (tirril, i 

/. Fmkn'i Ltll. C. f. f. < 

[llcnlur, Ilri per u-ipun 
•inr iniij«lil!i nullion 
pl r. AKh. p. 43S. 


" grown stronger, and that all your weakness and sickness /SECT. 
'* which had afflicted you is gone : for which I do ear- • * 

5^ nestly, as I ought, give thanks to God, the Father of all Anna j650. 

'* comfort, who hath delivered you from so great a disease, 

" and strengthened you to take in hand and undergo such 

" an office in the Church. But pray take heed you be not 

^^ too earnest in your beginning, and undertake more than 

" the measure of your health will bear. We must so labour, 

" as to think, not how soon, but how long we shall be able 

*^ to perform our work. You know how far that of St. Paul 

" reaches. Use a little wine; and how it may diffuse itself 

" to all the actions of life. I do that to you which I could 

^^ never induce myself to do to any else \ that is, to advise 

" that you be more remiss and moderate in this your al- 

^^ most intolerable labour of mind : for the greatness of it 

" stretched beyond one's strength distresses the body, and 

^^ disables it to take care for meaner things." This was the 

advice of a true friend. 

Bucer had solicited Cheke in behalf of his friend and coun- Bacer soii- 
tryman Sleidan the historian, who had a yearly honorary f*^ sigi^^^*^ 
pension assigned him by King Edward the Vlth, for his 
excellent learning and abilities. This pension, behind and 
unpaid, (for money was not very plentiful with this King,) 
it was Bucer's request to Cheke to use his interest for it, 
signifying what address had been made to the Archbishop 
of Canterbury in this behalf. To this Cheke's answer wae, 
" That the Archbishop was of a benevolent disposition, 
^^ but a slow patron of causes ; and that in this business 
^^ there was need of a Privy Counsellor, and likewise of a 
^^ greatness of spirit, that might be fit to undertake causes 
^^ with moderation and judgment ; adding^ that if the 
^^ opportunity once slipped away, it would be more easily 
'^ sought than found. That, for his part, he did not cease 
^^ to put the Archbishop ih mind, and that he would stiU 
^^ do further what he could." Asch. Ep. 

In the same year, the xii. of the calends of Novembet, P* ^^^' 
there passed another letter from Bucer to Cheke, styling che ke bu 
him therein his inost honoured patrmi.: herewith, sending ^*^**^ ^® 

^ , ° Regno. 

E 4 


him up his famous book that he wrote for the use of the 
_Kmg in reforming religion, De Regno Christi coniti- 
"tuendo; signifying that he had shewn it to none but P. 
Martyr, who was, as he said, of the same opinion with 
him. He added, tliat this book should be read by none 
but such who should read it for their own and the Church's 
profit. And he desired him to recommend this his labour 
and pains to the King. 

This year Cheke was about coming to Cambridge, as 
we find him afterwards to do, in a considerable capacity. 
*■ But when some doubted of his coming, Bucer entreats him 
to come, because his presence would be so very necessary 
for that School; he meant that University. He lastly 
prayed the Lord to keep him, his most honoured 
and his son, who might now be about two years old. 


Cheke reads j4nstoile's Ethics in Greek to the K 
Instntcis him for gov- 


CHEKE still plied his duty close with the King, iu fol- 
lowing him in his studies. A Cambridge friend of his (who 
' was wise and learned, and well understood the education 
of noble youth) took occasion now to tell Cheke his judg- 
ment concerning the instruction of his royal charge, whoj 
being now about thirteen years of age, and endued with 
an understanding beyond his years, should be let into the 
reading of such books as might be proper to shew him his 
duty as a Prince. And a book of that nature having been 
composed by Xenophon the Grecian, for the institution of 
Cyrus, he thought the King might be a double gainer in 
reading of it, both by forwarding him in Greek, and also 
by the imble and. wise instructions proper for a Prince's 
behaviour. But though Cheke approved well of this coun- 
sel, yet he thought fit first to "enter him into Aristotle's 
Ethics in Greek: that so Ids royal mind might first be 
well principled in moral virtues ; and when he tmda 
well these precepts, and hod imbibed the knowledge « 




the parts of virtue and vice, he would be the better enabled SECT, 
to look into and judge of the manners and actions of men ; _ 

and thence might more properly be led into history, and A"'">i55' 
be able to pass a judgment upon the matters he should 
read there. Cheke had read over TuUy'a philosophy to 
him already; and, by his piuns, Latin and Greek were •♦«i' 
become easy to him, both to write and speak elegantly 
the former, and to translate into the latter. 

Let ua add here some few things more relating to instmcu 
Cheke's care in the education of his Prince. Among other j,'^p'" '!*' 
things that he instructed him in, one was about matters interest oi 
of the kingdom. He shewed him the general history of jj,^'"^" 
£ngland, the state and interest, the laws and customs of 
it, and such bkc : and this he taught him before he was 
King. Where Cheke shewed himself bo well skilled in the 
mysteries of this State, that it is said that King Henry 
observing it, had an eye upon him for Secretary. 

And that all King Edward's transactions, and the emer- Directs hi 
gencies of his kingdom, whether public or private, might j^r!^'' " 
be the better remembered by him, (whereby his experience 
might be the greater,) Cheke directed him to keep a diary 
of all occurrences of weight ; and to write down briefly, 
under each day of every month, debates in Council, des- 
patch of Ambassadors, honours conferred, and other re- 
marks, as he thought good : and this, we may conclude, 
produced that escellent Journal of this King preserved in 
the Cotton library, and printed thence by Bishop Burnet. 
And, to set forth the benefit of keeping of such a day's 
book, Cheke is said to use this aphorism, " That a dark 
" and imperfect reflection upon aiFairs floating in the me- 
*' moryjWas like words dispersed and insignificant; where- 
" as a view of them in a book, waa like the same words 
•• digested and disposed in good order, and so made signi- ■ ^i 
** ficant." , ,7*1 



"*• SECT. vni. 

Anno 1550. 

Concerned about the death of Bucer, the King^s Professor 

at Cambridge. 

Cheke is THOUGH Chcke was gone from the University, yet he 
l^w^ ** ^^^^ ^ great share in the affairs there. The latter end of 
death. the year 1550, .Martin Bucer, whom the King had sent 
thither to read divinity, died ; which did very much affect 
him, considering the great loss the University sustained 
in being deprived of such a man, whose readings had been 
so beneficial to the students there, for the enlightening 
them about the truth of religion, and freeing their minds 
from the corrupt notions that had hitherto so infected the 
study of theology ; and, as Cheke himself wrote to Peter 
Martyr upon this occasion, that the Cantabrigians had 
been in this respect happier than others, that God had 
sent so great a man to them, and that Christ's discipline 
took such deep root by him. Bucer's death was bitter to 
Cheke upon this public account ; and not therefore only, 
but because of that deamess and friendship that was be- 
tween them. Which Nicolas Car (one of Cheke's Unirer- 
sity friends) well knowing, cpuld not but by a letter relate 
to him the sad news of his death. And that for this rea- 
CarriEpist. son, 'Q£«t^ euim illo charior tibif guem is dilexit fe ma- 

BucT ^ ^ ^^' ^- ®- " P^r ^^^ was dearer to you than he ? 

" whom did he love more than you ? for whom did he per- 

" form more offices of respect and love ? and whom did 

^ you embrace as you did him ? So that he, methinks,'wa8 

^^ happy, who had a value for such a man as you ; and. you 

^^ most happy in holding so strait a conjunction with so 

^ holy and learned a man as he." 

Writes to And knowing how heavily the other pious and his fel- 

newsof Bu-'^w foreigner, and Professor at Oxford, Peter Martyr, must 

cert death, nccds take his death, Cheke thought good, in a consolatory 

letter, to acquaint him with it; beginning, Ita natura 

ferty Sfc, And to give you a taste of his pious spirit, I 

shall translate some passages of his said letter : " He 


" thought," he sMd, " that such a man aa he [Peter Mar^ SEOT.* 
*^ tyr] was, would bear moderately and Ghristiantf the 

^^ death of that grave and religious man ; and that his na--^*""* **^' 

" ture would not shew itself so repugnant to the will of 

" God, as to suffer any too vehement disturbance to enter 

^^ into his mind in such a common and natural accident, to 

" which all were subject. You know," said he, " whose 

^^ he was when he lived ; who dwelt in him ; how he was 

" not his own, nor at his own command, who had devoted 

" himself wholly to the service of Him by whom he was re- 

" deemed. And sinqe God gave him not to us, but lent him 

^^ for some time, shall we bear it the more bitterly that God 

'^ hath called for him, and not rather give him thanks that 

'^ he hath so long left him with us ? That his years and 

" age was such, that though he were worthy of longer life, 

" yet nature could not extend it further. And when he 

'^ had led a most constant life, and with the same con- 

'^ stancy finished it, with how much joy ought his Mends 

^^ and acquaintance to be affected, that he was thus taken 

^' away by God, that malice might not pervert his mind; 

^^ and that by the constancy of his death he might com- 

" plete and crown the innocency of his life. And who is 

^^ there that can doubt of the Divine power, wisdom, and 

" goodness ? Nor ought we to contend with him, but to 

*^ submit ourselves to his greatness and power : that we 

^^ take with a thankful mind whatsoever is offered to us 

<^ from so great an Author, lest we be found stubborn in 

'^ crying out against his doings, or weak in not bearing 

^^ what he lays on us, or ingrateful in taking amiss what 

" he sends. But it is a very fond thing, and unworthy of 

^^ the spirit of Christ, to think that we can do any thing 

"better. than the rule of Divine Providence hath ap- 

" pointed ; the foolishness of which [Providence] doth far 

f^ exceed all the reach of human understanding. But wis-' 

" dom can be seen by none, when nothing spiritual or 

" divine can affect our understanding, in many respects 

f* depressed and dark, unless brought in by the light of the 

" Spirit. But they that think God is good and favourable 

CHAP. " UDto his people, (who turneth all things to good, not 

' " only miseries and afflietions, but even sinful and wicked 

Anno isso. « actions,) how can they persuade their minds, that this ia 
" unprofitable, hurtful, and damageable to those that be- 
" long to him? of whom he taketh so exact a care, that 
" not a hair of tiieir heads fiills to the groiind without \\a 
'* will. And when in all our prayers to God we join this, 
" that his will may be done, how inconstant and light 
" shall we be, if before we ask of God to do what he 
" pleaseth, but afterwards we cannot bear that which we 
" have asked: and that which we prayed for before, we 
" now do pray against ; not bearing that change, whereby 
" God would have his people exercised and instructed to 
" patience and sufTering. For although we have lost a 
" great ornament and pillar of integrity, religion, and doc- 
" trine; yet he is not to be lamented, who is gone to his 
" Father's inheritance, for which we here are labouring 
" with miserj- ; neither is the state of the Church to be 
" lamented, which hath sent away so great a man to hea- 
" ven. Nor ought wc to lament our own afflicted (as they 
" appear) and decaying affairs, who should place more 
" hope and safety in the Spirit of Christ, than in the voice 
" even of an Apostle. But let us," as he subjoined, " learn 
" hence to draw away our thoughts unto Christ, and again 
" and again to beg his saving Spirit ; that the Church, 
" being, as it were, devoid of all outward defence, may be 
" refreshed by the inward aid of his Spirit ; and while we 
" are deprived of our so great a parent, may be relieved 

" by the authority of his Spirit, But why do 1 thus 

" discourse with you? While I talk with you, 1 comfort 
" myself; and while I meditate the ease of your sorrow, 1 
" seek some medicine for mine own disease : not so much 
" studying what is fit for me to write to you, as what 
" seems convenient to ease mine own grief." And then, 
as a further means to comfort Peter Martyr, (to wbmu he 
wrote all this,) when he should hear with what honour 
and respect his funerals were celebrated by the Uoivenity, 
Chekc descended to shew him how he was interred in the 



University church : that his corpse was attended thither by f 
the Vice-Chancellor, the Doctors, and others that had ob- _ 
tained degrees in the University, and by all the rest of the Ai 
Scholars ; and likewise by the Mayor of the town, and the 
townsmen, who joined themselves with the University, the 
more to honour his funerals, to the number, in all, of three 
thousand persons. And that after the customary prayers 
were said, Haddon, Doctor of Laws, and Orator of the 
University, made an excellent Latin oration, aettmg forth 
the praises of the great man deceased ; and Dr. Parker, 
Head of a college, [he that was afterwards advanced to be 
Archbishop of Canterbury,] made a sermon in English. 
That the next day they resorted to the church again, when 
Dr. Redman, another venerable man of the University, 
preached a sennon upon the occasion ; and the students 
did their parts, in honouring his hearse with copies of 
verses. And lastly, that the good Archbishop Cranmer 
took care of his family ; and that the University had wrote 
lo the King and his Council in that behalf. All this did 
Cheke impart to Martyr, concerning Bucer's death, by a 
letter sent to Oxford. 

To which I may add another letter upon the same aub- ci 
ject, by the same pen, sent to Cambridge to Dr. Parker y, 
afore-mentioned, who was Bucer's executor: it is extant," 
and remaining among the MSS. of Bene't college, i 
lately pubhshed in the Memorials of Archbishop Cranmer. 
Therein he signified, that he had delivered the University's 
letter to the King, and spoke with the Lords of the Coun- 
cil, and with Archbishop Cranmer, for Bucer's widow. 
That he doubted not, but " she would be well and worthily 
" considered. That the University had not done so great 
" honour to Mr. Bucer, as credit and worship to themselves. 
" The which, if they would continue in, as they ceased not 
." to complain, they might be a great deal better provided 

*' for than they thought they were. ^ITiat if they would 

'* have sought either to recover or to increase the good 
.*' opinion of men, they could not have devised wherein by 
'' more duty they might worthily be commended, than in 

papers fnr 
the Kins-^ 


following so notable a man with sucli testimony of ho- 
nour, aa the child oiight to do to his father, and the 
lower to his superior. And though he doubted not, but 
the King's Majesty would provide some grave, learned 
man to maintain God's true -learning in Ms University, 
yet he thought, that of all learned men, in all pointg, 
they should not receive Mr. Buccr's like ; whether his 
deepness of knowledge were considered, or his eamesl- 
ness in religion, his fatherliness in life, or his authorit]' 

in knowledge. He wished that what was wanting 

now by Mr, Bucer's death, they would, by diligence and 
wisdom, fulfil in themselves; and what they praised in 
others, would labour to obtain themselves, " Then he 
prayed Dr. Parker, that Bucer's books and scrolls unwrit- 
ten might be sent up, and sa^ed for the King, that he, 
choosing such as should like him best, might return the 
other without delay; except Mrs. Bucer thought some 
other better thing to be done with tlieni, or that she 
ehoidd have loss by them, if they should not be in ber 
ordering. He was tender of being in the least prejudkU 
to the benefit of her whose husband he so much valued^ 
however desirous he was to furnish the young Kin^f 
library with the books and MSS. that once belonged to t 
man of such worth and note as Bucer was. 


Cheke piously writes unto Dr. Haddou, being sick. 

MENTION was made of Dr. Hnddon. He waa Dodor 
of JjawB, of King's college, and one of the topping men of 
the University for piety, good learning, and especially tat 
a cleanly Ciceronian style, and was one of Cheke'B diirf 
friends. At this very time he laboured under a dangenMt 
lingexing sickness, that had brought him very low. And ycf^ 
in the midst of it, however indisposed he was, his respeett 
to Bucer put him upon pronouncing an oration at his (iiBe^ 
r^s, as was shewed before, when he seemed in all ootwud 
appearance to be the verj' next man to follow him. ChcIA 


was now at Court, but was not umiiindful of Haddoti's ' 
decliiiiDg condition, aad did the part of a true epiritual — 
fidend, by sending him his couneel and comfort in a wise ^' 
and compassionate letter; which, ha-ving such a mixture of 
piety and eloquence, and to preserve the small remainders 
we have of this great man's composures, I shall translate 
for the Engliah reader's benefit, though falling far short of 
the writer's elegant Latin. It began, ^ittmntE et miserite 
uoslrtE, quibus noli niodo guotidie j'actaniiir, sed Jluctua- 
tnus etiam, t^c. 

I " Our afflictions and miseries, wherewith we are not 
f only daily tossed, but also are fluctuating up and down, 
*' do administer great ease to your ailments, and comforts 
*' in your sickness. I suppose, now you do not only look 
*' upon death, which is the cud of life, but also upon 
•' Christ, who ia the end of death, whose servants we are, 
^' whether we live or die ; you have the example of a good 
" and religious man, whose departure you lately most elo- 
'* quently bewailed, [in his funeral oration upon Bucer,] 
*f who hath prepared you an entrance to Christ. That if 
" any must leave this light, the enjoyment whereof ia wont 
•* to be dear to us all, he cannot be furnished with so many 
" nor more noble exhortations, if he would turn over all 
** the monuments of antiquity, than you have now placed 
*• before your eyes; viz. the length of the distemper, which 
" by much premeditation mitigates all grief; the frequent 
•* and necessary thoughts of death, wliich take away the 
** dehghts of this world, and diminish the childish appre- 
" hensions of life and ease ; the great and heavy assaults 
" of a disease, which break strength, and draw you neces- 
** sarily into the meditation of death ; the death of Bucer, 
*' the worth of whose life, if it could not deliver him from 
" the jaws of death, what hope may we have of others, 
f* whose praise, although great, yet of him there could not 
« be greater and worthier ; but as childieii, so you per- 

* baps, when they see their parents going out, they la- 
P ment, they take on, they pray they may go abroad with 
V them. Servants, who are employed upon ordinary and 

* domestic work within doors, do not ask for that which 


CHAP. " they cannot obtain; nor do they know what they should 

. " do abroad, being not accustomed to the business thai 

Aqdo isso." lieth without, nor skilful how to manage it. You gee 

" Bucer going before you. In his departure, you, half dead, 

" cry [after him;] your friend doth not hear; you go not 

" where fain you would : but there is one perhaps that 

" hears, and leads you after your parent ; and in the mean 

" time increaseth the anguish of your disease, which presa- 

" eth you with grief, to make you weary of your body 

, " as a prison; that your mind, free and at large, might 

" take her flight to heaven, as your dwelling-house, and 

" deliver it from these common and daily afflictions, which 

" set 80 hard upon human life. 

" Considering all this, what else may you think than 
" this : My father is gone home; he calls me ; I must fol- 
" low : so my will, so my nature bids me ; and so the wise 
*' and the good God will have it; whose goodness I per- 
" ceive as a son, whose wisdom I perceive as a mortal 
" man, and whose presence as a creature. You arm your- 
" self against the rage of the flesh, which if it be not quite 
" buried, yet it ia broken with diseases ; and it teacheth 
" you, (unless the eternal Workmaster restore you,) that 
" an inveterate evil cannot be mended, and that we must 
" look for another house whither to go, when we see the 
" imminent and tottering ruin of this. But why do I call 
" it a house ? A kingdom, and that hereditary, and a spa- 
" cious territory, is prepared for you ; which, when it was 
" once lost, Christ purchased for his people, by redeeming 
" them from their sins, and bestowing on them his Spi- 

" Here, perhaps, you will interpose, and say, Not nil who 
" are oppressed with these pains presently ought to dis 
" spair of health. It is not of necessity indeed ; but, how- 
" ever, it is the part of wisdom to provide against the 
" worst; and, that nothing may happen unawares, to think 
" of eictremities, not to be afflicted for the loss of hfe, and 
" not to despair of a better state : for neither should we 
" live without hope, nor die with care ; lest either the life 
" be miserable, wanting the comfort of hope, or death be 


** bitter, being in a torture at the approach of it* For there sect. 
are twelve hours in the day; which being spent, the sun 
sets; being not spent, the light difiuseth itself to mor-Anno 1550. 
" tals : nor does it set before the time prescribed by God 
" come ; nor doth it stay longer than the appointed end of 
^^ its course. Not so much as an hair falleth to the earth 
'* without the will of our heavenly Father, at whose com- 
** mand they all fall, and without it they remain ; giving 
^' us to understand, that life and death are governed by his 
^ authority and pleasure. And we should not be afraid of 
^ what he provides, nor shun what he sends, nor decline 
'^ what he commands. But I have no time for further dis- 
** course of these things, by reason of my business ; nor 
" have you leisure to read them, by reason of your indis- 
'^ position. You will therefore excuse me, that here I make 
'^ a stand. Farewell in Christ, dear Haddon. March 19, 
** anno 1551. [£. e, anno 1550 eseunte.]" 

This was the sum of Cheke's Christian as well as elo- 
quent letter to the sick Haddon ; wherein he shewed him- 
self a true friend, in the spiritual comforts and counsels 
suggested to him. But Haddon (though at this present 
low ebb of health) at length recovered, and lived to be 
made use of both by King Edward and Queen Elizabeth. 
To the latter whereof, after she had employed him in em- 
bassies abroad, he became Master of her Requests. And 
as he not long after this was preferred by the King, so was 
Cheke: the one to be President of Magdalen college in 
Oxford, anno 1552; the other, as a special mark of the 
King's favour, to the honour of knighthood this ensuing 
year, as we shall hear by and by. 



From t/ie time of Cheke's ktdghthoody to his beitig made a 
Privy Counsellor and Secretary of State. 


Cheke is knigkted. 

HonowB £ OR in the year 1551, and in the month of October^ was 
the Ring ^ ^ ff^^ advancement to honour granted unto certain of the 
"PJ^J^I^* nobility : Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, who married a 
daughter of the late Duke of Suffolk, (which daughter he 
had by Mary of the royal blood,) was created Duke of 
Suffolk ; John Sutton, alias Dudley, ^EaA of Warwick, was 
created Duke of Northumberland; Pbulet, Earl of Wilts, 
was created Marquis of Winchester; Sir William Herbert 
was made Lord Cardiff, and soon after Earl of Pembroke; 
and at the same time, for the greater splendour of the day, 
the King knighted his Secretary Cecil, his schoohiiaster 
Cheke, and two that were chief gentlemen of his privy 
chamber, Nevyl and Sidney. 
The Ring*! To which I add the King's gift to him about six mcmths 
^^^ before namely, in May, to enable him the better to main- 

tain the port and honour that he was ere long to be in- 
vested with. It was a gift in fee simple to John Cheke, 
Esquire, (as it is set down in the warrant book,) in conn- 
deration of the surrendry of an hundred mark rent, granted 
him by letters patents, dated the 26th of August, in the se- 
cond year of his reign for twenty-one years, if it should so 
long please the King, of all the manor of Stoke juxta Clare 
(as he had before given him the site of the coll^^ and 
other lands belonging to it) in the counties of Suffolk and 
Essex, with divers other lands, tenements, &c. all to the 
yearly value of 145/. 19^. 3rf. To hold all the premises m 
capite, by the fortieth part of a knight's fee, (except the 
Fuller Mill in Stoke, and the Guildhall house there,) the 
Pistery pasture, and other premises in Spalding, and the 


toryofSandon, and other premises in Sandon; to be holden sect, 

as of the manor of Greenwich by feailty only, paying yearly ' 

to the King for the manor of Stobe 4l. 1 7s. "Jd. '^""'' '^^'• 

C/ieke iuquisitive after Dr. Redman's declaration concern- 
ing religion at hia death. 

NOTHING of moment passed at Cambridge, or relating Tong's Ist- 
to the members of it ; but Sir John Cheke was inquisitive ^n',^^^* 
about it. Dr. Redman, Master of Trinity college, some R^iiainQ. 
time fellow collegian with Clieke, one of the learnedest 
and gravest men in that University, in the month of No- 
vember, anno 1551, departed this life. A man he was of 
such great esteem for his deep knowledge in divinity, and 
acquaintance with the eccIesiaBtical fathers and writers, 
and skill in the Scriptures, that his words bore a very 
great weight and authority. This Doctor was reckoned 
rather of the Popish side, than that of the Protestants. He * 

owned outwardly transubstautiation and justification by 
works ; though in other matters he was more loose from 
the corruptions and superstitions of the Roman Church. 
But coming to lie on his deathbed at Westminster, the 
leameder sort attended him, and prayed him, as a dying 
man, (since the world had such a deference for his learn- 
ing,) to declare impartially his thoughts of several matters 
then controverted in the Church, wliich he promised he 
would do most sincerely. His answers were all in fiivour 
of the Reformation, and particularly he shewed the rotten- 
ness of those distinguishing Papal doctrines tjefore men- 
tioned, which he seemed outwardly to have adhered to. 
There were then present Wilks, Master of Christ's col- 
lege, Cambridge ; Alexander Nowell, Master of the King's 
school at Westminster, and divers others ; and particularly 
Mr. Yong, B. D. of Trinity college, none of the most ear- 
nest favourers of religion, and a great opposer of Martin 
Bucer, but a learned man. Cheke, desirous to know the 
truth of these things, sent to the said Yong, praying him 


CHAP- for a juBt account of the declaration that grave and reve- 
' rend man had made. In answer to which he sent him a 
Anno 1551. large letter, the original whereof fell into the haodsof John 
Foi, first Fox, the MartjTologist j and he printed it in his first edi- 
''■''' ' lion of hia Acts and Monuments. The translation whereof 
into English remaineth in the after editions. It began, 
Etst ammus mihi 7ion mediocri dolore percuhus est, vir 
amplissime, propter itnmaturam {nisi ita Deo visum) et 
Jiebilem sanctissimi et erudilissimi viri J). Redmamii mor- 
tem; adeo ut luctu et nuerore multum stupefactus, vvc 
tandem semet aut ad agendum, aut ad cogttandiim expe- 
dial ; tamen cum id tuam amplitttdinem me facere velU 
inlelligam, libenter me ipse colligo, atque qua ab ipso jm 
et docto Redmanno bonis mmioricE viro, dum adkxic diu- 
tuma infirmitate contabescens certam mortem expectaret, 
de religionis cantroversiis, quibus hodie Christi spoma 
Ecclesia misere dtvexatur, projiuntiata audiverim, Jide- 
liter et vere hisce meis Uteris enarrare instituo : i, e. " AI- 
' " though, worthy Sir, I am strucli with do small grief 

" at the untimely {had it not so pleased God) and deplo- 
" rable death of Dr. Redman, that most holy and ex- 
" cellently learned man, so that much overcome with 
" mourning and sorrow, I scarce can recover myself freely 
" to do or think any thing ; yet since I understand it is 
" your pleasure I should do it, I willingly recollect myself, 
*' and do resolve faithfully and truly to declare in this my 
*' letter, what I heard the pious and learned Redman of 
" good memory speak, while he was wasting with sick- 
" uess, and expected certain death, concerning the con- 
" troversies of religion, with which the Church, Christ's 
" spouse, is miserahly vexed." . Then he shewed Chcke 
how Mr. Alexander Nowell, one that was always a lover 
and valuer of him, accosted him once, being near hia end, 
to shew his mind concerning certain points to him aoid 
the rest present; and what they should look upon, M 
though it were an oracle from heaven. The points were 
these : concerning his judgment of the Bishop and sm of 
Rome ; concerning purgatory j whether the wicked eat t!ve 


body of Christj whether Christ be present in the Sacra- sect. 

ment, and be to be worshipped there; concerning the car- '__ 

rying about of the Sacrament in solemn pomps and pro- Anno 1&5 
cessions ; concerning commemoration of the dead, justifi- 
cation by faith, and the merit of good works. To all 
which, that reverend man gave his reaohition the Protest- 
ant way, as Yong shewed Cheke at large in Ms letter, 
which he thus concluded : Alque h<BC quidem sunt, guee 
ego ad questiones siM propositas, eum respondisse audivi. 
Nee vera usquam (quad memini) ab ea quam ab ipso 
enuntiatam audivi sententia dejlexi. D. nosier Jesus 
Christus has turbulentas, quibus Ecclesia jactatur, teni- 
pestates compescere dignetur, miserumque suum, ovile mi- 
serahiliter jam dissipatum et dispersum propiHus intuea- 
tur et aspiciatf propter nomen sanctum suum. Amen. 
Ipse tuam nmplitudinent gubeniare dignetur et servet. 
Z-otuUm, 3 Novemhr. Sfc. i. e, " And these are the things 
" which I heard him answer to the questions to him pro- 
" pounded. Nor have I ever myself (as far as I remem- 
" ber) wandered from that opinion which I heard declared 
" by him. Our Lord Jesus Christ vouchsafe to allay these 
*' stonny tempests, with which the Church is tossed, and 
" regard and look in mercy upon his poor aheepfold, nii- 
" serably dispersed and scattered for hia holy name sake. 
" Amen. May he vouchsafe to rule and keep you. Lon- 
*' don, the 3d of November, &c." 

SECT. m. 

C/te/ce's disputations coticembig the Sacrament. 

ABOUT this time Cheke, with some others, was en-AMiaiioi 
gaged in two disputations, or rather friendly conferences, "eteu^J 
privately with Feckenham, (who was afterwards Dean ofLiiekenn 
St. Paul's and Abbot of Westminster,) and one or twOai„ut'th« 
more of his party, in the great controversy of the real pre- Sacramen 
eence in the Sacrament. The first was lield at Secretary 
Cecil's house, and the latter at Sir Richard Morison's. 
The auditors were but six, viz. the Lord Russel, Sir Tho- 
p 3 


CHAP, mas Wroth of the Bedchamber ; Sir Anthony Cooke, (me of 
^' the Kfaig's instructors ; Throgmorton, Chambeiliun of tbe 

Anno 16S1. Exchequer ; Mr. KnoUes and Mr. Harrington ; with wham 

were jcmied the Marquis of Northampton and the Eail of 

Rutland in the second conference. The disputants were 

^ y^ Sir John Cheke, and with him Sir WiUiam Cecil, Secre- 

{ ^ tarjr of State; Horn, Dean of Durham; Whitehead and 

Grindal; who were against the real presence : Feckenham, 
\y Vong, and, at the second disputation, Watson; who were 
for it. Some account of these (fisputations are still extant 
in Latin, in the MS. library of Bene't cdlq^ in Cam* 
bridge. And to preserve what remainders we can of 
Cheke's, and Ukewise to satisfy any that are desirous to 
look into the Church history of England in those days, I 
have translated them into English^ and exemplified then 
here: only first premising, that I suppose this confer- 
ence might be occasioned from an appearance of the said 
FeckeDham Feckenham before Cheke by public order, to be examined 
Tower, hy him; when Cheke entered into discourse with him 
^"^"^^^ ^ about points of religion, and endeavoured to bring him 
from his Popish principles, but could not prevail, which 
might provoke to a more particular disputation iK^tween 
them upon the great master-controversy of transubstantia- 

27te sum of a conference held Nov. 25, an. Dom. 1551, «» 

the house of Cecil, the King*s Secretary, concerning the 



The Lord Russel Mr. Throgmorton 

Mr. Hales Mr. Knolles 

Mr Wroth Mr. Harrington 
Sir Anthony Cooke 


Sir William Cecil Mr. Feckenham 

Sir John Cheke 

Mr. Horn, Dean of Durham and 

Mr. Whitehead 

Mr. Grindal Mr. Yonge 


Mr. Cheke began to propound; but first Mir. Cecil SECT, 
made a protestation^ that it should be free for any one to ™' 

produce his sentence or opinion, and that whatsoever inAnnoissii 
this discourse should be spoken, should redound to no^Bibiioth. 
man's harm or prejudice. 

The question. What was the true and genuine sense of 
the words of the Supper, This is my body; whether thcd 
which the words taken in the grammatical sense hold 
forth, or some other. 

Feckenham. All the words of Christ are either ostensive 
or effective: ostensive,- as, / am the good shepherd, Sfc; 
effective, as to the leper, Be clean : Ephphata, Se opened, 
Sfc. But in effective speeches, the Lord doth those things 
which the words sound, and that by reason of his omnipo- 
tency. Since therefore these words are effective, it fol- 
loweth, &c. 

Cheke to this answered ; Admitting that division, it may 
be answered. The Lord hath done that which he would, if 
the speech be effeotive. But he would here institute a 
sacrament ; to the institution of which it is not necessa* 
rily required^ that the words should be understood in a 
grammatical sense. 

Feckenham. The Lord would not institute a sacrament 
only, but also give his body in the sacrament, according 
to his promise in these words. This is my hod^; and ac- 
cording to that, John vi. T%e bread which I will give is 
my flesh, which I will give, S^c. There is / wiU give 
twice ; once in the Supper, and again in the crosi^. 

Cheke. That we may therefore come, said he, briefly Qucstio. 
to what we would have, I demand, whether the Lord 
would institute here a sacrament, or not ? 

Feckenham answered he would; but not only a bare 
figure, but a sacrament, and the matter of a sacra- 

Cheke. I ask, therefore, whether this is the true sense 
of the word. This is my body, that is, my natural body ; 
or this rather. This is the sacrament of my bocfy ? 



Feckenham answered, Both might be the sense of the 
_ words. 

1. Cli. But Thin is the sacrament of my body can be no 
Bense, unless we admit a trope in those words, 

Mr. Whitehead. There can be no grammatical sense 
of this place. For Christ said, / leave the world ; which 
all confess to be understood of the humanity of Christ: 
but to leave the world, and to be in the world, are repug- 
nant. Ergo. 

Feck, He left the world as to his visible presence and 
conversation; but in his invisible presence, the substance 
of his body is present in the Sacrament, according to bis 
own words. This is my body. 

JVhiteh. To be in the world, and to be not in the 
world, are terms contradictory; but God cai]»ot malce 
contradictories to be true together, as Scotus said. Ergo. 

Yang. Then Yong, when the nature of contradictories 
was urged,said,Theyare not contradictories, but sj(i«//CTTia. 

ffh. Yea, they are singularia, not an universal, and a 
particular, / leave the world, and / am in the world. 

Yong. But it may be contradicted out of the Scrip- 
tures from this place. For I am with you always, Sfc. 
which eeem to be understood of his humanity. 

When the contrary was urged, that this is to be under- 
stood, according to the opinion of St. Augustin, of the 
divine majesty and grace, then 

Yong. But, said he, according to his mq/esiy and gran 
he was always present to the Fathers of the Old Testfr 
ment. Therefore what greater matter seems to be pn* 
mised to the Apostles than was given to the Fatbenf 
This must be understood of liis humanity. 

Then all with one mouth said, The Lord was prewnt 
with his Apostles, acc-ording to the more plentiful grace 
and energy of the Holy Spirit, than he was with the Fa- 
thers, and this was asserted by all interpreters, 

Yong ingeniously confessed it was so, and that he 
brought this for disputation's sake. 


Therefore the mtermitted argument was resumed, viz. SECT. 


Absent is not present, and the same answer was given as 

above. Anno 1561, 

Cheke, Whether can this be truly spoken, Christ left 
the world, therefore the substance of Christ left the world. 
How Feckenham answered, he remembereth not. 
That of Augustin was added, ^^ Take away the spaces 
** of places from bodies, and they will be no where." And 
because they are no where, they are not. And this is the 
difference between the Creator and a creature, that God 
alone may be at every time every where, or in more 
places; whence the ancients prove the divinity of the 
Holy Ghost. But no creature can be together in more 
places; therefore the body of CImst, though it be now 
glorified, yet is not a spirit, and if it were a spirit it would 
signify nothing ; for the angels, if they are not in a place 
circumscriptive, yet they are definitive, &c. therefore the 
body of Christ cannot be in more places at once. 

Feck. The body of Christ is in more places at once 
tanquam in loco. He is in heaven as in a place. In the 
Sacrament, although he hath quantity, quality, and other 
proprieties of a true body, yet he is not in the Sacrament 
secundum modum quantiy or, as the Schoolmen speak, he 
is not there quantitative or localiter. 

Cheke. These are monsters of words, which cannot be 
comprehended by human understanding. 

Feck. The thing is of faith, not reason; therefore we 
ought to believe the word of God. 

Cheke propounded an argument of evil men, and of un- 
worthy receiving the Eucharist. 

If this be the sense of the words, which the words hold 
forth, then the evil eat the body of Christ. 

But Christ saith. He that eateth wyfiesh B^c. shall live 
for ever. 

Therefore the evil have eternal life. 

Feck. The wicked receive Christ's body ; but to con- 
denmation, according to. that of St. Paul, He that eateth 


CHAP, and drMteth unworthibfj eaMh and drinkeih damnor 

iMi. When it was on the contrary objected, that Christ oodU 
not remain together with Satan in wicked men : 

Yong interropted this discourse, and said, that there 
was a great variety of opinions in asserting this doctrine^ 
[of the wicked eating Christ's body,] many absiurdities 
concerning the length of the time of his tarryii^, (in the 
communicant,] concermng the time of his departing; and 
pretending, as he seemed, that this assertion, that the 
wicked eat Christ, did not sufficiently please him. 

Horn said, that the circumstances of the jdace evince 
that Christ spake not according to the grammatical sense. 
For Christ, when he said. This is my body, added also, vi 
SiSoftfyoy, delivered. But an adjective in i^eech cannot be 
drawn from its substantive in grammatical sense : it fol- 
loweth therefore, that the body of Christ was ddivered, 
when these words were spoken : and so it was delivered 
[or ^ven] before his passion. 

Feck, Although it be here read, tradituniy ^ delivoed," 
yet it may be easily perceived, tiiat Christ spake of the 
time to come as though it were past. 

Ham. I ask whetiier the body of Christ was a true and 
natural body, and qualified with all the accidents of aa 
human body, or had some privileges? 

Feck, When he admonished, that the question w» 
double, and answered both were true, viz. That he had all 
the accidents of human nature ; and yet, when it seemed 
good to him, he had some privil^es ; then 

Horn. The body of Christ before his passion was a 
mortal body, and in some place; but if we admit the 
grammatical sense, when he reached fcnrth to each the Sa- 
crament, it was in their hands to whom he gave it. And 
he sat not only there, but in the Aposties' hands ; he was 
at once in various places : therefore Christ's body had not 
' the true accidents of an human body. 

Feck. Therefore, because of this I said, that Christ's 


body had certain privileges. For when he walked upon ^^,^^" 
the water, he retained not the natural reason of a ponder- 

ous body. So therefore in the Supper. And if he were'^' 
then mortal, yet he gave his body after an immortal man- 
ner. So also in the Mount he trdnsfig\ired himself, and 
yielded a certain specimen of immortality; where he kept 
not the natural accidents of an human body, but shewed 
there an immortal body- 
When Yong had come in with something, I know not 
what, as though by some other answer he would oppose 
the former argument ; 

Feckenham said, that he nothing helped the cause. For 
by your answer it would follow, that the body of Christ 
would be at the same time mortal and immortal ; which is 
absurd ; for some interpreters affirm the body of Christ in 
the Mount for a time was immortal, and could not in that 
time by any means be put to death by the Jews. 

When Mr. Horn had pursued the same thing a good 
while by subtile reasons, Edmund Grindal was bid to pro- 
pound a reason or two. 

Then he ; Because we ought to argue out of the Scrip- 
tures, it would be best to compare the circumstances of 
places, and other words of the Supper together: first, 
therefore, this seemeth worthy to be noted, that the Holy 
Ghost calleth it so often the Ijread, and Paul the bread, 
and the Holy Ghost best knoweth the names of things : 
therefore it is bread. 

J^eck. Then it was called bread, because it was bread; 
or the rod of Moses, &c. and therefore in Paul is always 
added. That bread, Sfc. 

Grind. What did Christ take into bis hand ? . 

Feck, He answered. Bread. 

Grind. What did he break ? 

Feck, Bread also; but, saith he, we must consider 
also, that he brake it before the consecration, and before 
these words, This is my body. 

Grind. You differ indeed from others, that he brake it, 
being akeady consecrated ; and yet the breaking was not 



CHAP, in the body, but ui those species, and that also absurdl; 
• enough ; but we shall not tairj' upon these thioga, but be- 
Anno is&i. cause it is much more plain of the other part of the Sa- 
crament, therefore I shall produce that before us. The 
words are manifest enough, / will not drink hera^^ 
of this fruit of the vine. Therefore there is nothing but 

Feck, Luke twice makes mention of the cup; once, be- 
fore the mention of the Sacrament; the second time, when 
the Supper was over. These words of Christ seem to be 
referred to the cup not consecrated. 

Gritui. This conjecture is not a demonstration; for 
Matthew and Mark presently after these words. This u 
mi/ bofli/, (which are the words, as you say, of c-onae- 
cration,) join the words recited before. And although 
Luke twice makes mention of the cup, yet Augustin, in 
his book of the consent of the Gospels, thinks the same 
thing is twice told in Luke : but I demand whether Christ 
drank of the cup consecrated ? 

Feck. He answered, he drank of it. 

Grind. What therefore did he drink? his own ble 

Feckenhani acknowledged it. 

Grind. But for what end did he drink of his own blood? 
Chrjsostom writ, " That he, by drinking, did call off hifi 
*' Disciples from this thought ; that they should not 
" or say, Behold, we drink blood," &c. 

When Feckenham always urged these words of 
This is my blood which is shed for j/oti, as clear, 
therefore no man should doubt of them, it was asked him 
by the way (because he noted the emphasis of the words, 
that Christ said hie and hoc.) 

What was shewn by hie, " this?" 

Feckenham answered, The blood. 

Then Grindal, What grammatical sense is this, 
guis est sanguis, i. e. *' This blood is blood." 

Lastly, he propounded this argument ; These words < 
Supper, This is my hotly, can be by no better way i 
out, whether they be spoken figuratively or properly, 


I blood? 
> off his 
lot Uij^^_ 

f 0^1 

ear, im^* 


if the words of the other part of the Supper^ as I stdd^ be sect. 
viewed together ; for if in the other part a trope shall ma- 1. 

nifestly appear^ why not also in this ? Anno iwi. 

Feckenham denied there was a trope in these words^ 
TThis cup is the new testament in my blood. 

Grind. Neither the cup, nor that which was contained 
in the cup, can be the new testament. For the new 
testament is defined the covenant of grace between God 
and the elect; therefore neither the symbol itself, nor the 
blood of Christ, can properly be called the new testa- 
ment, when the blood of Christ is the confirmation of the 
new testament. 

Feck. The blood of Christ in the cup (for this cup 
hath a trope) is both a confirmation of the new testa- 
ment, and also the new testament. 

Grind. That which is contained in the cup, whatever it 
be, is a substance. The new testament is a relation, and 
so also an accident. From whence follows, (the word be- 
ing rightly understood,) that a substance is an accident, 
and that there is an identical predication between sub- 
stance and relation or accident. 

Feckenham and Yong by long fetches endeavoured to 
shew, how the body of Christ might properly be said to be 
the new testament, &c. 

The second conference, Dec. 3, an. Dom. 1551, in Sir 

Richard Morison's house. 



The Marquis of Northampton. MSS. 

The Earl of Rutland. ^' ^' ^' ^' 

The Lord Russel, with the rest formeriy named, toge- 
ther with Mr« Watson on the Papist side. 

Cheke. Whether the words of the Supper are to be im- \/ 
derstood according to the grammatical sense, or rather, in 
a figurative sense. 

Watson answered the same to this, as Feckenham be- 


CHAP, fore; namely, that there were two kinds of speaking,^ 
one narratory, the other operatory, &c. 
Annoiasi. Being desired of Mr. Cecil, that he would propotBtd 
more contractedly wliat he said a little before more 
largely, he propounded this argument : 

These words, This is my bwly, are the form of the «a- 
crament of the Eucharist : but in every form of a sacra- 
ment God worketh that which the words signify. There- 
fore in these words, This is my body, God worketh that 
which his words signify. 

Mr. Cheke desired him to confirm the major with res- 


Then he brought the example of Baptism : in whicli 
these words, " I baptize thee in the name of the Father," 
&c. are the form of the sacrament, but God worketh that 
which the words signi^', taken in the grammatical sense. 
For as the body is washed with water, so inwardly the 
soul is washed by the Holy Spirit. Moreover, stuth he, 
this is a principle in divinity, God workelh those t/dtigt 
which the words signify in f he forms of the sacramenis. 

Cheke. I do not acknowledge that principle in divinity, 
(truly so called,) that words should he all taken according 
to the grammatical sense and proper meaning of speech. 
It is as if God worketh that which the Spirit of God wonU 
signify by his word, whether taken figuratively or 

Cheke propounded a new question, whether Christ' 
the Supper instituted any sacrament or not ? 

Jfntson. Here is an equivocation in the word sarra- 
ment. For a sacrament is taken both for the sign and 
for that very thing that is signified. So among the (in- 
cients, that which they call the Sacrament of the /jodtf of 
Christ, and the body of Christ, speaking of the Euchuis^ 
is the same. 

Cheke. This distinction is unseasonable ; for if CI 
instituted a sacrament^ it is necessary that there be 
crament and the mutter of a sacrament. 

Watson granted it. 




Cheke. But a sacrament and the matter of a sacra- SECT. 
ment are membra il'widoitia, and so dtsparata ; therefore ' 

one thing i^nnot be another. And so the same thing caii-AnQoissi. 
not be the Sacrament and the matter of the Sacrament. 

fVatson. I opened before the equivocation of the word, 
that we may more briefly pass it over. For in thia Sacra- 
ment the body of Christ is the true matter of the Sacra- 
ment, and the Sacniment also; for it ia the Sacrament of 
the mystical body of Christ. 

. Cheke. The same thing cannot be a sacrament and 
the matter of a sacrament by the definition. For the Sa- 
crament is a visible sign of an invisible grace, and the sign 
of a sacred thing, &c. 

Grind. No better way can be gone for the understand- 
ing of these words, than by comparison of the sacraments, 
and the circumstances of the words; which you seem 
yourselves very much to approve of. Let Baptiam there- 
fore and the Eucharist be compared, whence we may col- 
lect after this manner; God doth not work that which 
the words taken in the granAnatical sense do signify con- 
cerning Baptism, therefore neither in the Eucharist. 

Watson hade him confirm his antecedent. 

Grind. Concerning Baptism it is said thus, Unless a 
man he horn again of water and of the Spirit, Sfc. But 
according to the proper and grammatical manner of 
speech, no man ia born agMn in Baptism. Therefore the 
same may be afiirmed in the Eucharist. 

fVatson. 1 said, that God performs those things which 
the words do signify in the forms of the sacraments ; but 
these words. Unless a man be' ham again of water, Sfc. 
are not the formal words of Baptism ; but these, " I bap- 
" tize thee in the name of the Father," &c. 

Grind. Although these are not, as the schools speak, 
the form, yet these do express the true effect of Baptism, 
when nevertheless they are metaphorical : but let us ex- 
amine even the formal words, " I baptize thee in the 
« name," &c. Is / baptize here taken properly or meta- 
phorically ? 





HAP. Watson answered, Properly. 

' Grind. To baptize in the proper sense is to wash ; Init 

II issi.the true effect of Baptism is not the washing of the bodj, 
as Peter teacheth, but of the soul. The soul is not washed, 
if we speak properly ; therefore neither is it baptized, 

ffatson. The soul properly spealung is washed. 

Grind. Nothing is washed besides the body. The soul 
is not the body. Ergo. 

Grind. I demand, when Christ said. Take ye, must we 
beheve he spake properly? 

ff^atson. Properly. 

Grind. Eat ye; was that properly spoken 

Wataon said, Yes. 

Grind. Therefore the body of Christ properly speak- 
ing is eaten or chewed. 

Watson. He granted that too. 

Grind. To eat, if it be defined according to the pro- 
priety of the word, is to divide with the teeth, and to 
carry it down into the stomach; but the body of Christ 
properly speaking is not divided, because it sufFereth not 

Watson here cavilled much of I know not what Jpi- 
ritual eating; which yet was proper, and without any ne- 
cessity of suffering. 
I Mr. Cecil would have had some demonstration pro- 

_!*^ ;Ji pounded by somebody syllogistically, which might evince 
it to be a trope, that Watson might answer. Therefore 
this argument was offered : 

A trope is to be admitted, rather than a contrariety to 
be suffered in the Scriptures ; but these words of the Sup- 
per properly understood do bring in a contrariety in the 
Scriptures : therefore a trope must be admitted in tbeoi. 

Watson would have the minor proved. 

Grind. The Scriptures distribute to us the fleah of 
Christ, with all the accidents of a true body ; but if in the 
Eucharist there be a true and natural body, to wit, longi- 
tude and latitude, whence a contrariety is brought into 


Admitting the propriety of the words, it followeth, that SECT, 
the evil and the wicked do eat the body of Christ. But "^* 

that brings with it a contrariety and repugnancy in the^^^^^^^^' 
Scriptures. Therefore the propriety of the words is not 
to be admitted, but a trope. 

Watson. That the wicked eat the body of Christ is not 
repugnant to the Scripture. 

Grind. He that eateth the flesh of Christ hath eternal 
life^ John vi. The wicked have not eternal life. Therefore 
they eat not the body of Christ. 

Watson. The matter of the Sacrament is twofold; the / 
natural body of Christ, and the mystical body of Christ. V 
The wicked eat the body as to his substance, but the vir- 
tue of the Sacrament, that is, the mystical body of Christy 
they eat not. 

Grind. The Church is the mystical body of Christ; 
but who saith that the Church is eaten ? 

After followed a subtle kind of dispute between Cheke 
and Watson, of essential and accidental grace ; for Wat- 
son had said, that Christ himself was the essence of grace. 

Cheke. If the wicked eat Christ, they receive essential 
grace; but essential grace is somewhat a greater thing 
than accidental. But he that receiveth the greater, re- 
ceiveth that which is less. Therefore the wicked in the 
Sacrament do receive Christ and remission of sins, or the 
fruit of Christ's passion, which you call accidental grace. 

Watson eluded the argument with I know not what lo- 
gical distinction. 

Whitehead's argument. Transubstantiation destroys the 
nature of a sacrament, which ought to have some simili- 
tude with the thing itself; as Augustin in his Epistle to 
Boniface. And Paul brings an argument from this simili- 
tude. We being many are one bread and one body, Sfc. 
There is a similitude, as bread in the Sacrament is made 
of many corns, so we, &c. But now if there be no bread, 
there is no similitude. 

Watson. This place very much strengtheneth my opin- 
ion ; for Paul saith, We all partake of one bread. But 


CHAP, what is that one bread but Christ? For the bread wluch 
' you take in the Sacrament one time, and 1 at another, is 
Anno 1351. not one bread, but many. Paul saith, We all eat of one 
bread, Sjc, 

fVMlek. It ia one, because it is taken for the same end, 
, and 19 used in the aauie mysteriea. For Paul doth not 
Bpeak of that which ia one in number, but one in specie. 

Then followed a new wranghng with Mr, Cheke, iriifr 
ther it might be truly said, that it ia the same water of B^ 
tism in which various pcraone are baptized at various timet. 

Watson said, It is one BaptiBm, hut not one water. 

Cheke added another reason, viz. that all that were 
baptized had put on Christ, and received the Spirit of 
Christ; for, witosoever hath not this Spirit of Christ is 
none of his : by Baptism it is effected, that we are bre- 
thren and coheu^ of Christ; which cannot be, unless we 
do participate of his body and blood in Baptism. There- 
fore Paul, 1 Cor. xii. expressed by these words the same 
effect of Baptism and the Eucharist ; JUj/ one Spirit we art 
alt baptized into one hody, and have all drank into one 
Spirit: which latter clause Chrysostom understands of 
the Eucharist. Therefore he attributed to Baptism incor- 
\j' poration with Christ; to the Eucharist the receiving of 
the Spirit: that from, hence it may be manifestly col- 
lected, even in Baptism the same communion of Christ is 
conferred upon us, as is in the Eucharist. But because in 
\j/ Baptism there is no need of a real and natural presence of 
Christ, there will not be need of it also in the Eucharist. 

fVatson. There is a diverse reason of Baptism and the 
Eucharist, and different effects. For in Baptism we re- 
ceive the Spirit of God to regeneration, and so by his Spirit 
our spirit is quickened : but in the Eucharist we reccire 
the true substance of his flesh ; from which not only our 
spirit, but our flesh is quickened. And so tliat comes to 
pass which is so often in Cyril; that we are naturally 
united to Christ, and that there is a natural union betwixt 
the flesh of Christ (which hath a power of quickening) ttad 
our flesh, which without it cannot have life. And to this 


sense he took the words of John^ chap. vi. Unless ye eat SECT. 
the flesh of the Son of man^ Sfc. that is, unless in the 

Euchari^ ye be partakers of his natural flesh, ye shall not Anno issi, 
have life in you, that is, in your bodies, or in the flesh ; for 
*^ our flesh would not rise to glory without the flesh of 
^^ Christ,*' as it is in Hilary. 

Here the condition of infants was urged, and dying in 
infancy ; and of adult persons dying soon after the par- 
taking of the Eucharist. 

Watson did endeavour to evade by certain distinctions ; 
to wit, that nisiy ^^ unless," makes not an absolute neces- 
sity, but if he have the Sacrament, or the desire of the Sa- 
crament. As it is in Baptism, where it is said^ Unless one 
he bom again^ S^c. Yet nevertheless he seemed to attri- 
bute something less to children departing before the Eu- 
charist, than to the adult which have communicated. 

Grind. If our flesh cannot rise any otherwise to life 
(which you assert) but by eating the natural body of 
Christ, and by that natural unions as you call it, we shall 
indeed fall into many absurdities. For what shall we say 
of the Fathers of the Old Testament ? Paul saith, ITiey 
eat the same spiritual meat, which we do, and drank the 
same ^ritual drinky to wit, Christ: but they could not eat 
the natural flesh of Christ, as being not yet bom, therefore 
we may together with them eat Christ, though we do not 
eat his natural flesh. 

Watson denied that the Fathers eat the same mesA, 
which we do. For they eat the same spiritual meat; but 
we eat not only the same spiritual meat, but real food 

Grind, If the Fathers had not the same communion 
with Christ, and natural conjunction with him, as we have 
in the Eucharist, it would follow, the Fathers should not 
have life in their bodies ; and so in the resurrection, the 
bodies and flesh of the Patriarchs, wanting this substantial 
participation, would not rise to life, which is most absurd. 
Augustin saith, " Many shall come from the east and 
*' from the west, and shall sit down, not above Abraham, 



CHAP. ^^ Isaac^ and Jacob, but with Abraham, Isaac^ and Jacob, 
^^ in the kingdom of heaven." 

Anno 1551. 

Arguments from, the Fathers. 

A place of Augustin was produced from the twelfth 
chapter of the book. Contra Adamantum Manichesum. 
^^ Nor did the Lord doubt to say, This is my body, Yrhen 
^* he gave a sign of his body." 

Feckenham confessed a sign, but not a sign only. 

Another place was produced out of Augustin^ in his 
third book of Questions upon Leviticus, chap. Ivii. where 
he saith. The se^en ears of com are seven years. He 
saith not, they signify. The Rock was Christ; not, lastly, 
as though that were which indeed for the substance was 
not, but by signification. The Rock was Christ, and. This 
is my body J are of the same nature; but the first proposi- 
tion is figurative, therefore the second. 

Watson contended that this proposition, T%e rock was 
Christ, was not figurative. 

A place was brought by Watson, which is in St. Angus- 
tin, lib. i. Of the Merits and Remission of Sins. ^^ We do 
^^ not doubt but the blood is shed for baptized infants, 
^^ which before it was shed, &c. So the Sacrament was 
^^ given and commended, that it might be said, T^is is my 
^' blood:' 

To which place it was answered thus ; That none were 
ignorant that the ancients used that form of speech, as 
Christ himself, calling the sacraments by the same names 
as the matters of the sacraments were. Augustin in his 
Epistle to Archbishop Boniface, numero 23. saith, ^* The 
^^ sacraments have the names of those things of which 
^^ they are the sacraments ; therefore the sacrament of 
'' faith is caUed faith," &c. 

fPatson. That place to Boniface makes nothing for yon; 
for although it may be taken according to a certain man- 
ner, yet that manner is not to be thought significative ; 
for otherwise it may be inquired, according to what man- 
ner the sacrament of- faith is called faith? 


Then he, [Grindal, I suppose,] According to whatever sect. 
manner you will. Properly speaking. Baptism, or the sa- 

crament of faith, may not be called faith; and so neither -^^©i 65 1. 
the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, according 
to that reason, is the body and blood of Christ. 

The Marquis of Northampton produced a place out of 
Cyprian, and it is in the sermon de Unctione. Let the 
place be read. 

*' The Lord gave in the table bread and wine, in the 
^' cross," &c. 

In which place Watson laboured after a wonderful man- 
ner. The first antithesis, viz. *^ The Lord gave bread," he 
lightly passed over; he insisted on the following words, 
namely, ^* That Christ should teach the Apostles, that 
*^ they in like manner might teach the people, how bread 
*^ and wine is flesh and blood;" for otherwise, saith he, if 
bread and wine are only signs, he might easily teach this. 
That way he wrested that which followeth. 

Cheke. He saith not how they were changed, but how . 
they were : but bread and wine by no means can be the \y 
body and blood of Christ, unless after a sacramental and 
significative manner. And therefore afterward he saith, 
the things that signify, and the things signified, are to be 
reputed under the same names. 

That place also of Augustin was objected, lib. iii. Of the 
Christian Doctrine; Sijlagitium autfacinusy Sfc. It is a / 

JigtATadve speech; and therefore it was urged, it was a / 
figurative speech to eat the flesh of Christ j John vi. and 
therefore the words of the Supper are figurative. 

Feckenham acknowledged this place to be difficult, yet 
to it, it might thus be answered; Augustin saith, Videtur 
prcBcipere fcuAnitSy ** He seemed to command a wicked 
^* deed;" but indeed in these words no wickedness is com- 
manded. And Augustin in another place hath it, ^' It is 
^^ forbid in the law to eat the blood of living creatures ; 
*' but to us it is commanded, not to drink the blood of a 
** living creature, but of Christ himself." 

Cheke. See therefore how you endeavour to invert St. 




CHAP. Augustiii'a opinion; for he gathereth, that it is a i 

' from thence, that he aeemeth to command a wicked i 

Anno 1551. ;y)j therefore he subjoineth, " Therefore it is a figure."* 

Watson saidj tliat the speech was proper, as it per 
eth to the true eating of Christ ; but figurative, as it be- 
longeth to such things as follow in Augustin, mx. when it 
is taken for the imitation of the passion, and remembraoce 
of the death of Christ. 

But this answer was ahewu to repugn Eufficiently to 
the scope of Augustin, who makes the whole speech to be 
tropical ; not proper, but tropical : for, saith he, " in the 
" proper sense he seemeth to command a wicked deed," 

Another place was produced out of the same hook in 
these words, " As it ia the part of servile infintuty to fol- 
" low the letter, and to interpret signs for things, so to 
" interpret the signs unprofitably is the part of extrava- 
" gant error," 

Watson answered, that Augustin speaketh there of the 
signs of the Old Testament; but when he had read the 
place, where it speaks manifestly of Baptism and the Eu- 
charist, he agdn gidnsaid somewhat, I know not wbU. 
And the most rose up, that here might be an end. ^^H 

SECT. IV. ^1 

liesigm /lis Greek Professorship. Gels LelmuPs MSS. 
Falls sick. 

CHEKE had liitherto held the place of the Greek lec- 
ture in Cambridge, conferred upon him by his old master, 
King Henrj' VII!. though 1 suppose he substituted some- 
body else to read in his stead, who seems to have been 
Nicholas Car, Fellow of Trinity college; who now, tlie 
12th day of October this year, being an exquisite Greciaii, 
was appointed to succeed Cheke in that lecture, by order 
of the Privy Council, find that by procurement, as it seenU) 
of Chcke himself. 

It was Cheke'a practice (in order to the fumistung op 
an excellent library for the King) to procure us nun? 

»edi Cheki 



MSS, as he could of learned men, into hU possession, for sect. 
King Edward's use. Thus, as he got the papers and books of 
Dr. Martui Bucer, after his decease the last year, so he did -*■""> 'ssa. 
those of John Leland, the antiquarian, this, upon hia death, 
which happened in April 1552. And all the MSS. and col- 
lections, (as we are told by a late author,) with many Procures 
other matters of moment belonging to Leland, by virtue '^p,'^,*" 
of a commandment from the King, were brought into SirK'ngi 
John Cheke's custody, for the use of that King's library ; oxno. p. 
■and which the King seemed to have a right and title to,''^' ^''■ 
since Leland had been employed by the King's father to 
make those collections out of the libraries of the dissolved 
monasteries and elsewhere, and had a salary allowed him 
for that purpose, and other preferments granted him. 
That author adds, that not long after, our Cheke {it must 
rather be his son Heni-y, who was Secretary to the Coun- 
cil in the north under Queen Elizabeth) gave four volumes 
of these collections to Humphrey Furefoy, Esq. one of the 
Kud Coimcil, whose son, Thomas Purefoy of Barwel in 
Leicestershire, gave them to the antiquarian Will. Burton 
of Lindley in the same county, anno 1613, who made use 
of them in his description of Leicestershire. And many 
years after by his gift they came at last to be safely 
lodged in the public library at Oxford. Lastly, the same 
author tells us, that some other of these collections, after 
Cheke's death, came into the hands of William Lord 
Paget and Sir William Cecil. 

Now we are speaking of the King's library, it may notKeepets of 
be amiss to note here, that the keeper of it was the jfj^^^^'"^ * 
learned and ingenious Roger Ascham, preferred to it by 
Cheke's means, with an honourable salary : and after him 
Bartholomew Traheron, preferred afterwards in this reign 
to be Dean of Chichester. For Ascham beuig now abroad, 
as was shewed before, Cheke thought good he should resign 
this place to some other that could daily attend; and recom- 
mended the uaiA Traheron to Ascham, who shewed himself 
witUng he should succeed him, whom, he stud, he loved 
upon many accounts ; and that he should the more easily 


CHAP, suffer himself to be shut out of thiit library, [however 
_ highly he esteemed the place,] for the sake of so worthy 

Anno isss-a man to be let into it. This was in January 1550. 
Chcke fulls It ^^^ been a very crazy time in England by reason of 
dsngeromijF the sweating sickness that raged the last year, and by fe- 
vers before and after that, whereby very many persons 
were cut off, and some escaped very hardly, after that 
they had been brought even to the gates of death : and as 
Haddon, Cheke's dear friend, was one of these the last 
year, so Cheke himself nnist have his turn this. Hia dis- 
temper (under which he laboured in May) brought bim 
exceeding low. The King and aU good men were extra- 
ordinarily concerned for him, knowing how useful a man 
the nation was in danger of losing; the King inquired of 
the physicians every day how he did, who, not able to 
conquer the malignancy of the distemper, at last told the 
King the heavy news, that there was no hope of his life, 
and that they had given hira over as a man for another 
world. But the pious King had not only recommended 
his schoolmaster to the care of his physicians, but also 
to the heavenly Physician, whom in his devotions he ear- 
nestly implored to spare his life; and upon his prayers 
such a strange assurance was imprestied in his mind that 
Cheke would recover, that when the doctors (as was said) 
despaired of him, the King made this surprising reply to 
them ; " No," said he, " Cheke will not die this time ; for 
" tlus morning I begged his Ufe in my prayer, and ob- 
Betovers. « tained it." And so it came to pass ; for towards the 
latter end of the month of May he recovered. This was 
attested (saith Fuller) by the old Earl of Huntingdon, 
bred up with the King in his young years ; who told it 
to Cheke's grandchild. Sir Thomas Cheke of Pyrgo, agtd 
near eighty years, anno 1G5-1, who then, it seems, made i 
relation of it to the said Fuller. His recovery was looked 
upon as a public blessing, and all good men rejoiced at il. 
Biibop Bid- Bishop Ridley, in a letter to the Secretary, speaking of 
Li!»*r, iheir luni) added, "in whoBC recovery God be blessed." *'" 
joj *i It, ijever, a very learned and pious preacher, wrote to A 



(of whom we have spoke before,) now at Villacho in Carin- sect. 
thia, and in his letter prayed to God, that England might 
be thankful for restoring such a man again to the King.-^"®^^^*' 
^' And I am firmly persuaded," said he, " that God wist 
" and would we should be thankful, and therefore be- 
*^ stowed this gift upon us. He trusted,"' as he went on, 
*^ that God's wrath was satisfied in punishing divers or- 
^^ ders of the realm for their misorder, having taken away 
*^ many singular ornaments from them, as learning by the 
death of Bucer, counsel by Denny, nobility by the two 
young Dukes [of Suffolk, who died very shortly after 
one another of the sweating sickness,] courtship by gen- 
^* tie Blage, St. John's college by good Eland ; but if 
learning, counsel, nobility. Court, and Cambridge, should 
have been all punished at once by taking away Mr, 
*^ Cheke, then I should have thought our wickedness had 
*^ been so great, as cried to God for a general plague, in 
^^ depriving us of such a general and only man as he." 


Cheke at Cambridge. Departs thence to the King. Places 

conferred on him. 

I FIND him this year at Cambridge, gone thither, I sup- 
pose, to enjoy his native and beloved air after his sickness ; 
and taking perhaps the opportunity of the King's progress 
this summer, to go to his residence upon his Provostship 
in King's college. Now at a Commencement, (as we are cheke dis- 
told,) Sir John Cheke did the University the honour tog^^**^*^ 
make himself a part in the learned exercises then per-ment, 
formed; for when one Christopher Carlile, whose oflSce itoxon/p. 
was to keep a divinity act, maintained the tenet of Christ's " ^• 
local descent into hell, our learned man in disputation op- 
posed him. This seems to have been done by consulta- 
tion, and the argument resolved on, on purpose to meet 
with the Popish doctrine of the limbus patrum; that is, 
an apartment of hell, where, they say, the ancient patri- 
archs and good men before Christ were detained, and 


CHAP, whither Christ- descended to deliver them tlience. For 
^^' Carlile's question was, that our Saviour went into no 

AoDo 1551. other hell but the very lowest, that is, that of the damned. 
The ques- This disputation making some noise. Dr. Richard Smith, 
puted. " sometime Professor of Divinity at Oxford, wrote a pre- 
tended confutation of it; which was after printed, anno 
1562, at Louvain, as it seems, where he now resided. 
Places and Soon after the Commencement, Cheke seems to have 
granted departed from Cambridge, and to have gone after the 
^;r«.e King, then in progress in the south-west parts. And » 
the King, his gracious master, had the last year honoured 
him with knighthood; so he thought it fit now to add 
some farther royal testimonies of his favour to him, and to 
qualify him the better to bear that post: therefore this 
summer he granted him certain places of honour, and 
some of benefit too. First, he granted him a patent, bear- 
ing date July 23, that one of his household servants, at aU 
times, might shoot in the crossbow, hand-gun, hack-butt, 
or demy-hack, at certain fowl and deer expressed in the 
patent, notwithstanding the statute made to the contrary 
in 33 Henry VIII. This was dated at the honour of Ptet- 
worth in Sussex, the seat of Sir Anthony Brown, late 
Master of the Horse, where the King now was in the way 
Made of his progress. Again, August the 25th follo^ring, a par 
u^fthe *'®"* ^''^^ granted him to be one of the Chamberlains of 
Eicheqpier. the Exchequer, or of the Receipt of the King's Extheqiier, 
which was once Sir Anthony Wyngfield's office, now dead; 
and also to appoint the keeper of the door of the said Re- 
ceipt, when his room should fall, and the appointing of all 
other officers belonging to the same, pro termino vii€B. 
This was dated at Sarum, where the King was now gotten* 
Also, as a further token of his interest and favour with the 
King, he obtained the wardship and marriage of llionias 
Bamardiston, son and heir of Sir Thomas Bamardistoii, 
Knight, in the counties of Bedford and Suffi)lk, and the 
annuity of 30/. per ann. But his last and highest steps 
were to be a Privy Counsellor, and Secretary of State* Of 
which we shall hear more in the ensuing chapter. 




From Sir John Cheke's highest advuricements to his exile; 
and from thence to his surprise, impristmtnent, recanta- 
tion, repentance, and death. 


C/iefce's highest advancements. A Privif Counsellor, Se- 
cretary of State. Stands for tlie Lady Jane. 

We come now to the thirty-ninth year, or thereabouts, Anno isss. 
of Sir John Cheke's age, a year t]iat saw him advanced 
very high, and soon after pulled down as low, stripped of 
all his honour and ^yealth, and first made a prisoner, and 
then an exile ; for as this yeac concluded the life of that 
dear person his royal scholar, so with him of all his tem- 
poral felicity. 

He was now Clerk of the CouncU, and so he is entitled Ke ii ciuk 
in one of the hooks of the Office of Heralds, under the^oQ^j 
Chekes of Hampshire, And in May anno 1553, the King 
bestowed on him and his heirs male, Clare in Suifolk, with 
divers other lands, (as he had given him the manor of 
Stoke juxta Clare a year or two ago,) to the yearly value 
of 100/. But this clerkship was but in order to an higher 
advancement, namely, to that of one of the principal Se-snii s»cre- 
cretaries of State, which he was called to in June, andg'^te! 
made a Privy Counsellor. For to me it seems that in 
this juncture one of the Secretaries waa intended to be 
l^d aside, and he perhaps was Cecil, who cared not to go 
along with the purposes of the amhitious Duke of North- 
umberland, to advance his daughter-in-law, married to 
Guilford Dudley hie son, to the crown, and so to bring the 
kingly dignity into his blood ; though the attempt proved 
to his own and his children's niin, Cecil was now absent 
from Court, sick in mind as well as in body. But Cheke's 
zeal for religion made him willmg to side with Northum- 


CHAP, berland and his party, who put the sick King upon set- 
tling the kingdom upon the Lady Jane, eldest daughter df 

Addo 1558. Grey Duke of Suffolk, excluding the next legal heirs, his 
two sisters. And it must be placed among the slips of the 
loose pen of the author of the State Worthies, when he 
writes that Cheke was against this will of King Edward, 
and puts this sentence in his mouth thereupon, ^^ That he 
^^ would never distrust God so far in the preservation of 
^^ true religion, as to disinherit the orphans to keep up 
*^ Protestantism/' 
His indina- It swaycd him, while he foresaw what a persecution was 
Grey. like to ensue, and what an overthrow of that reformed re- 
ligion, that had been so carefully planted by good IQi^ 
Edward. For though some secular and ambitious ends 
drove on the Duke in these lofty and dangerous projects, 
yet the fears of the return of Popery, and miserable times 
consequent thereupon, both to the nation and to the state 
of true religion, were the arguments that prevailed with 
Cheke to countenance that interest; and his inclination 
perhaps to this party made the way for him to be Secre- 
tary. To which office he was sworn and admitted June 
the 2d, and the two other Secretaries were yet continued^ 
and an three Secretaries appeared in Council together. 
And this appears from the Council Book. So that a cer- 
sute Wor- tain observator, that tells the world that Cheke enjoyed 
******* this place three years, imposes upon his readers, since in 
truth he enjoyed it little above four weeks : to which we 
may add the nine days of the Lady Jane Grey's reign. 
Ascbam Now wc may look upon him employed in the public af- 

^^^' fairs of state, and advanced into a high and hmiooraUe 
high place station. On occasion of which, Ascham, being now at 
^Md to.' Brussels * with Morison the King's Ambassadcnr^ b^^ged 
Ep. in. 9. his pardon for detaining him with his letters, fbrgettiiig 
the authority he had, and the momentous businesses with which he was now taken up. And in another letter con- 
gratulated the high place he was advanced to; adding, 
*^ that this was an honour long before due to his learnings 

■ Augsburg. 


^^ his prudence, and integrity, by the voice of all; and that sect. 
^^ he did not so much congratulate him alone, as those to ' 
^^ whom, in his opinion, it was a greater commendation of A^*"^** ^^^*- 
^^ their prudence in choosing him, than a part of his hap- 
^^ piness in ascending to this promotion. He congratulated 
^^ therefore," he said, ^^ the whole British name, and first, 
^^ and chiefly indeed, the Prince ; that as his childhood en- 
^^ joyed Cheke, a most excellent preceptor, so his youth, . 
^^ and hereafter his elder age, should make use of him as a 
^^ most prudent and faithful Counsellor for many long 
^^ years to come ;" [but alas ! that could not be, the good 
King was dead just a day before Ascham wrote this letter.] 
He proceeded i ^^ I extremely congratulate our civil state 
^^ our land, and our Christian state ; the safety of all which 
^^ three was always so dear to you, that the single tran- 
^^ quillity of each man, the desired name of studies, the 
^^ quiet of purer religion must henceforth abide in your 
^^ authority alone, in your excellent learning, and in your 
^^ ardent love of God. I heartily congratulate Cambridge, 
" which brought you forth ; but above all, St. John's col- 
^^ lege, which taught you : of the one you were a native, 
^^ of the other a most flourishing scholar; both see you 
^^ now their best and ablest patron." But alas ! all these 
congratulations, which came to Cheke's hands not many 
days after his master the King's death, were to him but 
like the joy of Jephthah's daughter to Jephthah, when^he 
came out to him with her timbrels and dances, congratu- 
lating his victory; it was but a trouble and unspeakable 
grief to him to hear and see it. 

King Edward being dead, and the Lady Jane set up and ci^'eke as 
proclaimed Queen, letters at this time were sent from the writes let- 
Council to the ffentry, and other state letters were written**" toriht 

" ^ , Council. 

by Cheke as Secretary. He checked his brother Cecil, 
who would not be induced to meddle in this matter, but 
endeavoured to be absent ; and to the very utmost day of 
Queen Jane's reign, viz. to July the 19th, he acted as Se- 
cretary to her and her Council. On which day, upan in- 
formation from the Lord Rich, Lord Lieutenant of the 


CHAP, ooanty of Eraez, that the Eail of Osfond (who lived in 
^' that ooanty,} had gone orer to the La^ Skhry, a letter 

m^mgoed bjr the Lords of Qneen Jane's Council, attiiq; in 
the Tower, to excite that Lord to stand finn, was dnnm 
1^ by Cheke's own pen, and by him ^ned with the rest: 
which letter he thus worded; ^ reqoiring Urn like a ndbk 
^ man to renuun in that promise and stedbustness to our 
^ sovereign Lady Queen Jane, as ye shall find ns ready 
^ and firm with all our force to maintain the same : whiA 
^ neither with honour, nor with safety, nor yet with duty, 
^ we may now forsake." 

SECT. n. 

Cammitiedf indicted, pardoned. Travels abroad. So- 
journs at Strasburg. 

Cbcke com- IT was but the next day that the Lords that signed 

tbcTovcr. this letter turned about, proclaimed Mary Queen, and 

wrote their letters to her, owning her their Sovereign; 

and thus was poor Sir John Cheke left in the lurch, (for 

he could not do as they did,) and on a sudden thrown 

down from his worldly greatness, which indeed he never 

Fox't Aas. affected; and within eight or nine days after, vi%. July the 

28th, U^ether with the Duke of Sufiblk, oonunitted to the 

Tower as a traitor. And whereas the rest that acted as 

Queen Jane's Counsellors, being either P^nsts or indif-^ 

ferent in religion, were easily pardoned, Cheke and some 

few others « (as the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 

Lord Russel) were sent to the Tower, or kept under 

Indicted, harder and longer restraint. An indictment was drawn 

against him the 12th or 13th day of August; and his 

Cnuimer't friends feared it woiild go hard with him. Archluahop 

^^ax^ Cranmer, who valued him highly for his learning and 

Epiit. MS. goodness, privately sent to Cecil to know ^^ whereupon 

'^ he was indicted ; and signifying withal, that he had 

^ great cause to hope that he should be one of them that 

^ should feel the Queen's pardon, as one who had been 

^' none of the great doers in this matter against her, [as 



" was Northumberland, and those that were actually in sect. 

" arms;] and that his trust waa not yet gone, except it. 

" were for his earnestness in religion. For which," aaid'^"'""^**' 

the good Archbishop, " if he suffer, blessed is he of God, 

" that suffereth for his sake, however the world judge of 

" him :" adding, out of hia dear respect for him, and his 

usefulness to be continued in the Tvorld, "Alas! if any 

" means could be made for him and my Lord Russel, it 

" were not to be omitted, nor in any wise to be neg- 

" lected." 

Sir John, (together with some others,) the next year, Psrdocea. 
being almost spoiled of all his substance, obtained the (&- J^ ''™"»*'i 
vour of the Queen's pardon. But being not able to satisfy abroad. 
his conscience in the religion that waa setting up, and 
foreseeing the evil times that were drawing on, obtained a 
licence from the tiueen for some time to travel into foreign 
parts; but intending a voluntary exile, with many other 
noble and reverend personages, who fled their own coun- 
try upon this change, and sojourned in divers places in 
Germany and Switzerland, or elsewhere, where they might 
enjoy their religion with safety. Such were Sir Anthony 
C^oke, Sir Thomas Wroth, Mr. Knolles, Mr. Hales, the 
Duchess of Suffolk and her husband Mr, Bcrtue, Mr. Ro- 
gers, and many of t!ie best and eminentest sort of divines, 
as Barlow, Scory, Bale, and Ponet, Bishops ; Cox, Grindal, 
Home, Parkhurst, Jewel, Sandys, Pilkington, Nowell, 
Whittingham, Fox, Lever, and many more. And some 
took this opportunity to travel into Italy, and to see the 
countries : and of these were Sir Anthony Cooke, and our 
Sir John Cheke, who passed into Italy through Basil ;Ci 
■where staying some time, (for there were divers Eitghah 
Protestants here,) he came acquainted with Cteliua Secun- 
dus Curio, a learned man, father-in-law to Hieronymus 
Zanchius. With this man he happened in their learned 
conferences to discourse of the pronunciation of the Greek 
tongue, and communicated to him at length the letters of 
that argument that passed between himself and the Bi- 
shop of Winchester, But because Cielius coidd not read 


CHAP, them over suddenly, Cheke, at his request, left them ^rith 
' him, till he should call for them again, and so pursued Us 

Anno 1554. journey into Italy. 

ReadsGreek And being come to Padua, where was a famed Umver- 
»t Pftdua. gj^^ j^^ met^with Dr. Thomas Wylson, sometime FeDow 
of King's college in Cambridge, (afterwards S^retaryof 
State to Queen Elizabeth,) and other English youth also, 
students there. To whom Cheke in an obliging way ad- 
dressed, and exhorted them to follow their books, and cC- 
rected them in their studies ; and for the time he stayed 
there, read to Wylson and others certain orations of De- 
mosthenes out of the Greek; the interpretation whereof 
they had from his mouth. And Wylson made his use of 
this afterwards, when being in England, aiid preferred for 
his learning to be Master of St. Katharine's near the 
Wylson sets Tower, he looked among his writings for Cheke's transla- 
moftiienes* ^^^ ^^ thosc oratious ; and some he found, though not all, 
Orations in which he tumcd out of his Latin into proper English, and 
from printed anno 1570, viz, three Orations in &vour of the 

^J^'-' Olynthians, and four against King Philip of Macedon j de- 
dicating the book to Sir William Cecil, Cheke's brother- 
in-law and most dear friend; taking occasion there to 
speak largely of the great skill and learning of the siud 
Sir John Cheke. 
Settles at When he returned from Italy, he cared not to go into 
strasburg. England, observing how rigorously tMngs went there, and 
what a dark and dismal cloud hung over his own country, 
but chose rather to settle himself at Strasburg^ where the 
English service was kept up, and a great many of his 
learned and pious friends resided. This was taken hold of 
at home, and his back-friends aggravated matters against 
him ; of whom his old antagonist Bishop Gardiner, now 
Lord Chancellor, may be reckoned none of the least. He 
had been chief instructor of King ELdward, in hia princi- 
ples of religion, to which he stuck so fast : he was one of 
the great stays of evangelical doctrine, and had complete 
learning to maintain it against the gunsayers : and there- 
fore, whatsoever his innocence and merits otherwise were, 



it waa concluded by these Popish politicians, thiit he was sect. 

to be dealt severely withal. And thia advantage in DOt '__ 

coming home at the expiration of his travel was to be'^"'""** 
taken against him. 

So first Cheke'a demeans, lands, and estate were con- iris estau 
fiscated to the Queen's use, whatsoever was left him. Nor'^'*' 
would this suffice, till by an inhuman piece of craft, and 
insidious way-laying, they got his person too, as we shall 
bear in the process of our story, 

SECT. Hi. 

Some letters nf his printed. Writes to Cecil. His condi- 
tion become mean. Reads a Greek lecture at Stras- 
hurg. Taken prisoner, and brought to Eiigland. 

IT was shewed before ho\V our learned exile had left his Annn i^s 
papers concerning the true pi-onouncing of Greek, at Basil, gbflut^pit^ 
in Curio's hands ; who, after he had them a year or better, "oancing 
and by perusing them understood the excellent learning prinud at 
^d use of them, put them into the press without the au-^**^"'' 
l^tB-'s knowledge, setting only his own dedication before 
the book to Sir Anthony Cooke ; wherein he prayed him, 
that in case Sir John Cheke should take amiss what he 
kad done, that Sir Anthony would appease him ; consider- 
ing that he thought he might take the boldness to do that, 
which would neither be injurious to Cheke's name, and 
would serve so much to the profit of others. The book 
nras printed at Basil in octavo, bearing this title, Joannia 
Cheki jingli de PronuntiaHone Gr*ec<e potissimum Lin- 
gKtE, Disputationes cum Stephano WintonienH JSpiscopo, 
aeptem contrariis Epistolis compreKensce, magna guadaru 
et elegantia et eruditione refertcB. In these elegant, co- 
pious, and learned epistles, both the Bishop and Cheke 
■hewed so great learning, parts, and reading, that they 
seemed not epistles, but rather the antagonistical orations 
of the best orators, as the publisher wrote. And it was a 
token of the constancy and presence of Cheke's mind, in a 
good cause, and a cause of truth, that he was not ahraid of 



CHAP, the power of ao great a man as he conteaded with, and^ 
much then above him: nor would forsake the cause he 

Anno isss. had undertaken, but atedfaatly persisted in it; having this 

in his thought, that nothing is stronger than IriUfi. 
Cheke nt J" this year 1555 he was at Straaburg, among the rest 
stiMbnrg. of ti,e godly exiles there, where he enjoyed indeed his 
liberty and his religion; but his lands and livings were 
seized, and the stock he brought out of England in efifect 
spent; so that now was the time come for him to exer- 
cise his philosophy an<l religion, to uphold him under such 
» change of fortune : but this mean condition he willingly 
chose, rather than to swim in his former plenty and gran- 
deur; which undoubtedly had been restored him, if he 
would have returned into England, and renounced his for- 
writcs to mer good principles. In this juncture he wrote a letter to 
Cecil. sjj \yiiiiam Cecil, advising him most piously to etedfiist- 
ness in religion, knowing how sharp the persecution now 
grew, and what severity was commonly exercised to all 
that would not go to mass, and believe tr an substantiation. 
But Cecil had the favour and connivance of Cardinal Pole, 
and other great friends, that he made a shift to rub out 
the reign, and was reserved for better times. 
Cheke tick. And in this year of his exile he fell into an ill state of 
body, and was oppressed with a fit of sickness : for which 
cause he excused his omission of writing to his frieads in 
England. He and the rest of the good men abroad, in 
their pilgrimage for the sake of religion, had often made 
their inquiries after the state of affairs in their own coun- 
Fieuedwith try, and particularly concerning religion. In a Parliament 
CMir^'ta"^ ^'^'^ year, Sir WilliaDQ Cecil, however Popery now carried 
hsviour in all before it, had the courage to speak boldly in the Pw- 
r lauien . jj^jng^t House against some abuses and uitrusions of the 
Pope upon the ancient liberties of this imperial crown and 
kingdom ; whereby the said Cecil did not a little endanger 
his own peace and safety. The fame of which speech, M 
it made a great noise in the realm, so coming abroad as 
far as Cheke, created in him a satts^tion : and when he 
first heard that Cecil was a member of that Parliament, be 


was glad, expecting some service to be done by liim there; sect. 
BuppoHJng, as he told hU friends, that such fruits of ho- "^' 
nesty were left in him, as would and should sen'e for the Anno isss, 
good of the commonwealth. And his expectation, as he 
said, was not deceived in him, being glad to hear tell of his 
well-doing, to his priuac, and others' profit. 

He had a great eye upon this man, remaining still in chetc'i 
England, whom he seemed to foresee like to prove after- ^™^""" 
ward one by whom great things would be brought to pass, 
being also his brother-in-law, and sometime his pupil; 
who made a shift, by a wary behaviour and some great 
friends, (as was shewed before,) to continue these hard 

times in the realm. Cheke heard now and then of him; 

and was sorry sometimes on his account, lest he should go 
too far in straining of his conscience to secure his peace. 
And therefore in the latter end of this year, he took upon 
him to be his monitor, and by an excellent letter to him 
to remind him, " ^ that he had much to do in this brittle His 


' Thii letter of Cheke's lo Cecil, transcribed fmin the original, Piactlyword 
fill word, (according to his way of reforming the spelling uf English,] wu u 

If I reraved t. letter from yon, & mud noo unswear to the saim, ye thinh 
perftdrenture I wold mach lesse hsv written unto you unprovoaked, I wnld 
heerin eicos miMlf, if my staat of hellh weer or hav been unknown unto mi 
frende; bat bicBus it is known unto them, u I direnlie do perceive, I prelum 
it nut unknown unio you, and therfoar think mi leltres do not maak mi eicm, 
but coafirm them mud. 

I was vene glsd to beer of your being In the pari. b. Bupposiug to be left in 
you luch fruits of honejtee M wold and shold lerv for the C. W. [commoa- 
wealth.] Mi looking ms not utierlie decelFed in yoo, nnd was and am ta glad 
to he«r tell of yoar vel doing, to your pniis and others profit ; as I am soric 
many tyma, when I heer the contrarie. 

Yon hBT much adoe in this britjl staat of lyf, as everie good examiner of bis 
lyf hath, to content God quietlie. Si to satisQe an unhardened conicience, 
-wherin hlcanse you be wys iooagb your self,. & habil to gir others counsil in 
(Uch a QU, I need not sai much nnto you. On thing 1 wold wish whatsoever 
multitud of men, the dazed lel of the ignorant, the comuiun nllowant in order 
doth appror, deeeiv not your «lf in judgment : whatioeTer ye know to be evil 
indeed, m judg it, & taak it a]w«a, and let nother your own doings whatso- 
eier, nor comniun u»dg, nor faTour of anil fre?ndiliip carrie yon away U de- 
eeiv your self in error, that yee may avoid the extreem curs of the Prophet that 
crieth again them that cal gud had, & bad gud. For thooi nbo of fnultle do 


" state of life, as every good examiner of his life had,fi 
" content God quietly, and to satisfy an unhardened c 

Anno 1555." science. Wherein, because he was wise enough himself, 

iniiB9, & rejoisf io their tvel u gud, hot asknowledg bi fautins tbrei week- 
nu, bar so mucb tbe peeler degree to amend meal, tlist thear own koawlwlg 
praieth od tbem to amend; rebiihetb invard thear dniugj, & strivMb again 

men, Ihat tolJeri [publiciuis] tt barloU whoot fautes aotber wtu nor cuald be 
unknown to them, >bold enter into tbe kingdum of Leaveo, btfforv the Pfain- 
■ees, wlmat liertj were w blinilcd, tbat seeing & beering tbey nought uh nor 

Yce know in pbilosopbie wbat diflVrence is between infU [ini 
and ixai.icr'.a [pelulaatia,'] and vbit the wys pbilosophen hnv disputed af lb* 
tnmparlson of thoos vices, & what a man in liii swn Ijtf maj jmjg« of iImb. 
I hail rather for my part hate you corrupted in the lower part of your mind, 
then beer of yon tbat twth your parts weer utterly rotted away from lliat 
■oundnes ttiat common opinion of juit causes bath had of you. So long u a 
man liath sparks left in himself, he may be asiarrd, ns in a fire ttcI nlied af. 
to liRbt a candle or make a fyr in a coorenient tym. If becsuK IhJugi U 
lunally don in olbtn commonly, or ela of a tew, or of yourself, they ihold Ix 
taaken to be gu<), it should follow tbnt either use shold make gud & bad, & not 
Gods commandment, or ets mens judgments shold caute gudnes or bailnes ia 
things, & not Scripture. But you think not, I dare say, tbat becaiut tfainp 
be doD theerfoar they be gud ; but rather bicauie they be gud, thenfan ttity 
shold be don. PUto saith wel, tbat bi plesure and grief gud may be judged 
from evel. Not tbat whosoerer followetb plesure, be ii gud, but bicBuie *hs- 
•oeier apptieth to delight in gild things and to be grieTed with eTel, he u foJ 
& honest. That plesure rulei! ti aetuoiied might shew gudneas) unmled ft 
w&ndrint; might declaar the erel. Even lo (be opinion in judgment, ai Ibt 
other in choise, tfl be no nile, but ruled. And then a man to be judged hi 
Ilia opinion wjs, when be j;eeldeth in agreement to truth, & his ditagmBrDl 
to fabbood. And so not to judg simplle by liking, but bi liking truly. Wbnia 
in manirs reaioiiing staadcth tbe whole doubt, what should be tbonghl truth- 
science cannot he removed nor altered, which hath hud not onel j a fair tben ol 
liklihood, but also n necessary cans of assent, & t Ihinh verily, yee doubt lul, 
having given to you of God as much understanding as hath been nut mlj 
needful for judgment, but alto praisable for lyf. 

Thus much I have said for tliis end, that yee do not, 13 diien others n*f} 
whecr do, wbalHKver they do either in priiat malten. or common cauiH. M 
allow it, when they hare don it, & to lUod to the saam aa gut and laata. 
And theerfnar either convenient Id be don or sulferablc. Te uk me, wtel bJ 

DO great e« 

In writing. And theerfoai 

thu< much gud, that if the 

IS long ? 

oingsi and you know Ihat mi wit i* itrtit 
ut my paper u ye see. I mean my Inradt 
Tupl theer own doings, as I caa ny rnilUt) 


" and able to give others counsel in such a cause, he sect. 
' needed not say much unto him. One thing he wished, _ 

" that whatsoever the multitude, the dazzled zeal of the aqqo 
" ignorant, and the commou allowance in the order of reli- 
" gion approved, that he deceived not himself in judg- 
" ment : that whatsoever he knew to be evil indeed, so 
" to judge and take it always ; and that neither his own 
" doings whatsoever, nor common usage, nor favour, or 
" any friendship, carried hi"" away to deceive himself in 
** error; that so he might avoid the extreme curse of the 
" Prophet, that cried against them that called good evil, 
"and evil good. That as for those that of mere frailty 
" did amlsa, and rejoiced not in their evil as good, hut ac- 
" knowledged their weakness, they came up bo much the 
" more to amendment, aa thor own knowledge -called al- 

of joiira; fGtwbcre 1 fear tlist I knew, 1 wu tb&raldmg that I ffat; if they 
wold keep theer judgmenta louad, Sc not bo Idt theer ovn doings, that Itiej 
ivil mak« theu the lu] of theer judgment. But of tb'u eaougb. 

Ye intpudi^il in K. Edwardi lime two things. Tbe one an order of the po- 
licie & offiien of the realm, their order and duties. Aoothet, the aettjng forlll 
of Bmcton, the Lnwicr, tbst be might be seen & rend of al men. Tben ye 
Itoktd iriaur, 8c in mqcli businu ye eougbt to add tbat labour. Now ye have 
more leiKur, ye thold not hare lea will- Seek to pro6t with your Iclsur your 
native countree not only of fuminhmeot but of idftie. Let jour wis- 
dom appeer in JFiinr, as your taoneitie [in bueines.] I wold be glad to se 

yet bir tbe forwfmluFss of some common gud. 

J am leartiiDj; how to lir, & imagining by wbst oixupatioo I shal be abJe 
to feed myself. For if wben licenced to go, be shut out when they be gOD, & 
cannot tarrie without dispksur, whither they were licenced nith favour, nor re- 
turn iritbont danger whither tbey be by extremity called, what is tbear left, 
hot in thii old ending of lyf, to begin a new living, 4 learn at length bow to 
(onie way, while death end lyf & liring. And bioaus necessity maaheth it de- 

cayeth to content himself with present staat flS«red, aud bicaus be feeleth no 
batter to judg it verie god. 

But I niuit leav, mi paper biddetb uie to. And thu> I commend to yon It 
to my ladie, and you boath to God; wishing you that stedfastnes of truth, & 
that choia of doing wel, that I do desyr of God for myself. Fare ye wel, 8l 
bring up your son in the true fear of God. From Slrousborough, the 18 of 

Tour asiurrd br 



, " ways on them to amend, and rebuked inwardly their do- 
_" ings, and strove agidnst wilfulness of affection. And 
5-" that therefore Christ siud well of the different sort of 
" sinnera, that tollers and harlots {whose fault neither 
" was nor could he unknown to them) should otter into 
" the kingdom of heaven before the Pharisees ; whose 
" hearts were so blinded, that seeing and hearing, they 
" neither saw nor heard. That he knew in phlloeopby 
" what difference was between ixpcuriix [i. e, irilempe- 
" ranee] and axoAoirta, [as one would say, custom and 
" wilfulness in that vice,] and what the wise philosophers 
" have disputed of those vices, and what a man in his own 
" life may judge of them. That for his part, he had ra- 
" ther to have him corrupted in the lower part of his 
" mind, than hear of him, that both his parts were utterly 
" rotted away from that soundness which common opin- 
" ion for just causes had of him. So long," added he, " a* 
" a man hath sparks left in himself, be may be assured, as 
'' in a fire raked up, to light a caudle, or make a fire in t 
" convenient time." 

He went on ; " If because things be usually done, nths 
" commonly, or elae of a few, or of yourself, they should 
" be taken to be good ; it should follow, that either use 
" should make good and bad, and not God's commond- 
" ments, or else men's judgments should cause goodness 
" and badness in things, and not Scripture : but he dared 
" to say, that Cecil thought not, that because things were 
" done, therefore they were good ; but rather, because they 
" were good, therefore they should be done. He alleged 
" Plato, who said, that ' by pleasure and grief good men 
" were judged from evil.' Not, that whosoever foUownl 
" pleasure, he was good; but because whosoever ^plied 
" to delight in good things, and to be grieved with evil, 
" he was good and honest. That pleasure ruled and se*- 
" soned, might shew goodness ; unruled and wandering, 
" might declare the evil. That even so was opinion in 
" judgment, as the other in choice, to be no rule, hut 
" ruled. And then a man was to be judged by his opinion 



" wise, when he yielded agreement to trutli, and his dia- SECT. 

" agreement to falsehood, and so, not to judge simply hy 

" liking, but by liking truly. Anno 155s. 

" That he [via. Cecil, to whom he was writing] 
" doubted not, nor had doubted, what should be thought 
" truth; and therefore advised him not to doubt of it now, 
" if science could not be removed nor altered; which had 
" not only a fair shew of likelihood in It, but also a ne- 
" cessary cause of assent. That he thought verily, he 
" [Cecil] doubted not; so much understanding having been 
" given him of God, as had been not only needful for judg- 
*' ment, but always praisable for life. That he had said 
*' thus much for tliis end, that he did not as divers others 
"every where did; that whatsoever they did in private 
" matters or common causes, to allow it when they had 
" done it, and to stand to the defence of the same as good 
" and lawfiil : and therefore convenient to be done or suf- 
" ferable." Thus bravely and wis€ly did this Christian 
philosopher argue. 

But it was not Cheke's meaning in all this, to charge 
this his &iend with absolute guilt of some sinful compli- 
ance against his conscience : for he excused himself from 
being so understood ; " since he waa no great examiner of 
" other men's doings ; and that his -wit was flerixw in writ- 
" ing ; and therefore, that he spent out his paper in that 
" manner as he did. And that he meant his friends so 
' " much good, that if they would corrupt their own doings, 
" (as he could say nothing of this liia friend,) that where 
,*' he feared that he knew, he wished the avoiding of that 
1" he feared. Yet that they would keep their judgments 
-" sound; and not so to love their own doings, that they 
" should make them the rule of their judgment." 

Cheke took this opportunity to put on Cecil to be bene- Moves ce- 
• £cial to his country, by despatching certain useful things j';,,,*"^^;^ 
■ for the view of the public, that he had formerly in his boots. 
' 'mind to do, but wanted that leisure which now he had. 
. And they were the setting forth an Order of the Policy 
': and Oncers 0/ Me itea/wt, theb: order and duties ; and the 

CHAP, publishing of Bractoii the Lawyer, that then was but in 
_ MS. that he might be seen and read of all men. And to 

bis tic k- 

Anno 1556. gxcite him to this, Cheke used such words as these to 
him : " that in King Edward's time in much business, he 
" desired to take that labour upon him ; and that now 
" he had more leisure, he should not have less will: that he 
" should seek to profit "with his leisure his native country, 
" which had not only [need] of fumishment, but of safety: 
" that his wisdom would appear in leisure, ae his honestf 
" had done in business : that he [Cheke] would be glad to 
" see some fruit made of an evil time, if not for the reme- 
" dying of an overgrown evil, yet for the forwarding <ff 
" some common good." But as this advice shewed Cheke 'a 
generous principle towards the promoting of the public 
good, so probably the reason tlie other thought not cou«c- 
nient to do this now, was to avoid the hazard of this tick- 
lish time, and to keep himself as private and as unti 
notice of as possible. 
Anno isr>8. This good Knight began now to be reduced to i 
^^"f^"_ circumstances; insomuch, that he was put upon devisinf 
stBDtei. ways to live in this his exile condition, and imagining by 
what occupation he should be able to feed himself. H« 
complained, " that he was licensed indeed to go abroad, 
" but he was in effect shut out, when he was gone ; and 
" that yet he could not tarry where he was without dia- 
" pleasure, nor return without danger, where he had been 
" by extremity called. So that now," he swd, " nothii^was 
" left for this old ending of life, but to begin a new living; 
" and learn at length how to live some way, while death 
" ended both his life and living." And this he seemed 
rfieerfully to submit to ; " because," as he said, *' occes* 
" sity made it desirable, and desire made it ungrievous ; 
" and did daily learn us hope of better, and to content a 
" man's self with the present state offered; and becaaae 
" he felt no better, to judge it very good." Thus long dU 
he play the part of a steady Christian, if he could bttt 
Itndi ft have persisted, ^en the greatest shock of all cnaw. 
^^ '"^ Some tell us he read a Greek lecture now at Strasbarg : 


which might be the way he took for a present eubeist- sec 

It was not long after this, the poor gentleman met with '^""" 's^^- 
;faarder Bufferings ; and the sadder share by far of his afflic- ^i;* pe™"" 
tiona is behind. His enemies are resolved to have himbrougbt 
one way or other, and to bring him into England, there toP""^^ 
yput him to death or to shame. In the country where he 
thought himself secure, even there he was caught in the 
liigh way, together with Sir Peter Carew, {who had been 
in Wyat's business,) and both brought prisoners to Eng- 
land after a strange and barbarous manner, which we shall 
relate by and by. The reason that was pretended for this And whj, 
aiaage was, that he having obtained leave to travel, and 
^censed thereupon to go out of the realm, had trans- 
gressed in not returning again, but abiding abroad without 
leave, and settling himself out of the Queen's dominions : 
though his being a Gospeller was the chief, if not the only 
true cause, as indeed was told hira, when he was a pri- 
soner in England. 

We are now therefore drawing near to the most deplor- Cheke mn- 
able conclusion of this gentleman's life : to which his toojst^i^^ 
.much confidence in that uncertain art of astrology contri-e"'' *" 
.buted in part. For together with his knowledge in other 
sciences, he was not unskilful in astrology. And doubtful 
of his own safety in an intended journey to Brussels, he 
consulted with this art, to know whether he might go 
without danger. And according to the satisfaction he ga- 
thered thence to himself, being about the spring of the 
year 1556, he went, (being now in the Low Countries, 
come thither to fetch his wife.) His gouig to the said town 
of Brussels was occasioned by an earnest invitation given 
him by the Lord Paget and Sir John Mason, two of his 
former learned acquaintance, but who had complied with 
Queen Mary's religion, and were come in great honour 
and reputation with her, and now arrived in those parts ; 
the former in a more private capacity to use the baths, the 
liitter in quality of her Ambassador at the Court of JJrus- 
. sels. These had made the motion to Sir John Cheke to 



CHAP, take that opportunity to come and see them; aod far hk 
_ better security. Mason had assured Mm of safe-conduct 

AuDDisse.thither in King Philip's and hia own name. He weal 
with Sir Peter Carew in his company, and enjoj'etl his 
Mends, Paget and Mason, (if they might now be called 
\a& friends, and not his betrayers;} whom after be bad at- 
tended towards the sea, as be was coming back, he fell 
into a fatal snare between Brussels and Antwerp : for in- 
telligence and order having been sent from Kiiig Philip, 
Seized in Jig being there waylaid, was on a sudden, May 15, seized 
the ProvMt on by the Provost Marshal, with his fellow-traveller, un- 
Mirebd. horsed, bUndfolded, bound, and thrown into a waggon, 
and BO conveyed on shipboard, and brought over sea unto 
the Tower of London, " Being taken as it were with 
" whirlwind," (as he was taught to word it in hia recanta- 
tion,) " from the place he was in, and brought over sea, 
" and never knew whither he went, till he found himself 
" in the Tower of London." And this chiefly out of cha- 
rity to his soul, as he was told at his examination, " out 
^^ " of compassion," forsooth, " to his soul, to bring him 

^ . " from hia false religion," An excellent way, no questioa, 

to do it. Thus are the foulest actions of princes coloured 
over by their favourites with the most specious pretence*, 
and their malice goes for reli^on and charity. 
The Kizing Seldom hath such an act been heard of, or read in hift- 
ioruew?»t '"T> '"''^SB perhaps the seizuig of Dr. Story in the ye« 
psmiid. 1569 may have some resemblance of it; who was sur- 
prised also in Flanders, and brought to the Tower by a 
wile. But Story had been a most bloody persecutor of 
religion under Queen Mary, and ever an implacable enemy 
to Queen Eli?Jkbeth. This man Bed abroad to Antwerp 
under this Queen, and was much favoured by the Span- 
iards, the Queen's enemies, and appointed by the Duke 
d'Alva searcher of all ships that came thither, for English 
goo<ls and heretical hooks: by which means he still con- 
tinued his former practice of persecution. One l*arkcr, 
master of a small vessel, employed by certain person^ 01^1 
which Secretary Cecil, brother to Cheke, was thouf^it'^^l 


be privy,) arriving at Antwerp, repaired to Story, and in- 
fonned him of a little ship come from England. Where- _ 
upon, in pursuance of his office, he presently went aboard, '^ 
and according to his wont searched about, and then going 
down into the hatches, they in the ship presently clapped 
them down, and the wind proving favourable, brought him 
away, and lodged him safely in the Tower. And in the 
year 1571, being found guilty of treason, he was executed. 
Whether this were to make some atonement for the trea- 
cherous apprehension of Cheke, I leave others to conjec- 

But sure it is, that Cheke upon this seizure was appre- hls friendi' 
bended by his friends to be in great danger. And bo Bale'^^f™ 

about tliis time, that he fell in the hands of tliose wbojau. 
always hated him ; and subjoins this prayer, " The Lord ''' 
** direct his heart into the love of Cod, and the patience 
" of Christ, and let him be delivered from absurd and 
*' wicked men." 


?bo credulous to astrology, Betraifed. Complies. Sub- 
scribes, Recants, 

HERE then we leave Sir John Cheke a disconsolate chcte de- 
prisoner in the Tower, now the second time under Queen ^^io~ 
Mary, to repent his credulity to the words and promises 
of Romanists, and his too much confidence in astrology, 
■whereby he is imposed upon to his destruction. He went 
safe indeed to Brussels, but was far from returning safe 
back again. This art of conjecturing at or foreknowing Astroiogj 
things and events by the position of the stars, was about j|"j i^' 
these times exceedingly studied by both nobility and gen-theie d«ji. 
try; insomuch, that Or. liawrence Humfrey, (who lived 
in these days, and was afterwards a learned Professor of 
Divinity at Oxford,) in a book which he wrote for the use oe Nobiui. 
and instniction of the gentry, exhorting them to the study ''J."'' P- 
of divers sciences, observed how this science, above the 



CHAP, rest, was '"^so eiiatched at, no beloved, and even devoured 
^' " by moat persoDS of honour aod worship," that they 
Anno I sse. needed no enticements to this, but a bridle rather; not a 
trumpeter to set them on, but a reprover to take tbeni off 
from their heat. And that many had so trusted to this, 
that they almost distrusted God, and partook of such 
events aa proved unhappy, not in truth foretold by the 
stars, nor expected by themselves : yet as he would not 
wholly condemn the art, bo should not the nobility have 
him a persuader nor an applauder of it; for that there 
were enow of them edready. So he. But return we to 
Cheke's misfortunes. 
Cheiw b«- There was a person then living, and be of considerable 
his friends, quality and knowledge of the intrigues of those tiuies, that 
makes this to have been a base laid plot of the Lord Paget 
and Sir John Mason, great acquaintance and friends uf 
Cheke and Carew under King Edward, but now under 
Queen Mary strong Papists, Thougli 1 will not charge 
the memory of these two great men with so treacherous 
Ponct'i an act, yet I will relate it as I find it. " By Mason's 
p™[k' " " worldng," saith my author, " and Paget "« devising. Sir 
Power. " Peter Carew went into Flanders, (who was before id 
" France,) Mason pledgbig for his safeguard King Philip's 
" fidelity and hia own honesty. Afterwards be and Sir 
" John Cheke, being enticed both to come to Brussels to 
" see the Queen's Ambassadors, and having brought Paget 
" on the way toward England, both in their return were 
" taken by the Provost Marshal, spoiled of their horses, 
" and clapped into a cart, their legs, arms, and bodies tied 
" with halters to the body of the cart, and so earned to 
" the seaside, and from thence into the Tower of London. 
" And before Paget came to Calais, Sir Peter's man cocd- 
" ing out of EnglanJ raeeteth him, and asketh for his 
" master; Paget smiletb, and said nothing, but that his 
" roaster was in health. But how cometh this to pass? 
" Mark well; the Queen thought Paget a meet man for 
" her in all things, seeing that without cause she sus- 

* Sic nfi, lic aduuitri, et JeTOcari ■ pleritque notnlibiH. 



" pected his religion. And at his ii coming over she like a sec 

" woman uttereth to him what she thought of him, and 

" promiseth, if she may perceive his heart and mouth to Ann" 
" agree together, she would set him aloft. He asaureth 
** her, that whatsoever she ehoiild will him should be 
" done ; yea, he would do more than she should require 

" him." And a little after, *' coming over he bruited, 

" that he liked not the state in Enj^land, (for he is one of 
" them that hangeth now on prophecies, but of a wrong 
" thing,) and therefore would be out of the way in tiie 
" height of the mad month of May, [when insurrections 
** frequently used to be in the city of Ix)ndon,] and pre- 
" tendeth to come to the bains to ' Aeon ; but indeed the 
** intent was to see if he could practise with some of the 
" Duke of Clcvea's men, to betray the poor Duchess of 
" Suilblk, {who was fled abroad for her religion,) and Bome 
■ of the English congregation at Wesel ; that he, to per- 
" form his promise, might send them to the Queen. But 
** when he saw his purpose failed, {God had better pro- 
" vided for the Duchess, to keep her from traitor's hands,) 
" he cometh not to the bains, he needeth them not at that 
" time. But then he caused Carew and Cheke, whom 
•* Mason had prepared ready to serve his turn, to be taken 
" and carried away, as before ye have heard. And at his 
" return had great thanks, and the Queen's favour in- 
** creased towards him." Thus that relator. And sure 
enough there was some truth in this matter, if you lay to 
this what Mr, John Fox relates, namely, that Sir William Pol's j 
Paget was set craftily to catch Mr. Bertie and the DuchesB*"^gg; 
of Suffolk, newly come to Wesel : of which, {when they 
thought themselves happily settled there,) a watchword 
came from Sir John Mason, the Queen's Ambassador in 
the Netherlands, that my Lord Paget had feigned an er- 
rand to the baths that way : and whereas the Duke of 
Brunswick was shortly with ten ensigns to pass to Wesel, 
for service of the House of Austria against the French 
Kng, the s^d Duchess and her husband should be with 
* turning Pipiit. ■ Ai». 


CHAP, the same charge and company intercepted. To prevent 
_ which, Mr. Bertie and Ms Duchess fled away hastily from 

AuDoiasG.^ggel^ and came to Wineheim in High Dutchland; and 

in April 1 557 they hastened to Poland. 
cheke'tpre- But howsoever it was, Cheke being now fast, fomid 
itsio''*"' t^^^^ ^'^ "f W'^y f*"" ^"™) but either to forsake those doc- 
trines, which he had upon the best and strongest grauDds 
embraced himself, and recommended to others, or else to 
be put to a cruel death as an heretic. 
Cbeke's For when he was first examined, he understood it wta 

nlieioD " *b^ matter of religion that was the great quarrel against 
him. Confused indeed he was at first to be so used ; and 
seeing it was for his religion he suffered this, he very re- 
solutely chose in his own mind to die any death, rather 
than to renounce it. Soon after, two of the Queen's Chap- 
lains came to the Tower to confer with him, to trj' to 
change him, pretending much good-will and charity to 
him. Whereupon he received them with the like civility, 
and communicated to them his doubts that hindered bis 
compliance with the corporeal presence, and other Popish 
doctrines; and desired to be better informed by them. 
But Cheke's doubts were too hard for thein to solve, and 
their endeavours gave him little or no satisfaction; nor 
could they move him any thing, and so left him, as givug 
little hope of being reconciled to tlte unity of the Chunk, 
as they called his turning Papist. But the desire of gaiD- 
ing over BO great a man, whereby such a glory might re- 
dound to their Church, caused the Queen to try once 
rtckenfiom ^giun, and to send to him Feckenham, Dean of St. Paul's, 
C'"'kl''«i ^ ™^^ "^ raoTt learning, it seems, than the two former, 
™.iferwnh and of whose abilities the Queen had a great opioiuo. 
This man was of a moderate and obliging temper, uxl 
with wlioni Cheke haU been acqufdnted in the late King'a 
reign ; and to whom, being then in the Tower, Cheke wu 
sent to confer with him, in order to reduce him to the re- 
ligion then established, but could not. He was nuw to 
perform the same o£Bcc to Cheke, aud in the same phc^ 
and was furnished with one great argument to uw to 



Cheke, which Cheke had not to use to Feckenbara, Ws. SRi 

... 1 ■' 

compliance or death. 

By this time, by bard imprisonment, and seeing nothing -*""" 
but burning to follow, if he persisted in his resolutions, 
hia courage began to quail; and so the coming and com- 
munication of Feckenbara made some impression upon 
him. Cheke had a muid to speak with Cardinal Pole, for 
some satisfaction and favour ; and he had his desire. For 
by his order, Feckenham brought him out of the Tower to 
hini : who, when he came, gravely advised him to depart Brouf 
from the variety of Doctors to the unity of the Church, ^^.^p, 
In fine, Cheke cannot, nor durst hold out any longer, and 
Feckenham has the credit to prevail with him to " commit 
" his sense and reason to the doctrine of the Church," as it 
was worded for him in one of bis recantations. And this 
being done, he is fain to submit his person, to be ordered 
as it should be thought beat for his soid's wealth, to them 
that bad authority in the Church upon such offenders. 

The matter being thus far effected, the poor gentleman Wtiii 
was put upon making a writing; therein to signify hisX"! 
sentence for the carnal presence ; to which, and to this P"" 
conclusion, in hoc causa et in reliquis omnibus idem me 
pro^etyr dicere et senttre, quod Sancta Chrisli, el Catho- 
lica tenet Ecclesia, he subscribed his own name. The 
writing consisted of certain allegations out of Hilary, 
Chiysostom, Cyril, and Augustin, which seemed to favour 
that doctrine; hoping that this writing might have suf- 
ficed to obtmn his liberty, without more confessions and 
public declarations of his change. This paper, written and writ 
Bubacribed by himself, he sent by the Dean of St. Paul's „J_ 
to the Cardinal, with his letter from the Tower, dated 
July the 15th, praying him that this might put an end to 
any fitrther question concerning him, and that he would 
favourably grant certain petitions, that were then by the 
Dean put into his hand ; the chief of which seems to be, 
that he would have so much compassion of his frailty, as 
to spare him from making an open recantation. But that 
would not be granted him ; and it required some time be- 



. fore hciwould be brought to do that; but after !i double 
_ communication with him in one day, he was fain to yield 
'H- to Pole's order, and dissemble a willingiieaa too, viz. to re- 
cant and to recant again, and that in the most public 
manner, that they might make the greater triumph of him. 
|« Cheke likewise sends a letter to the Queen of the same 
date, and brought by the same mesBenger, the Dean ; who, 
as he wrote, should shew her his mind now, as to the mat- 
ters of religion, trusting, that as it was truly minded of 
him, so she would agreeably receive it. He promised all 
obedience to her lawa, and to her orders in reli^oa. The 
letter ran in this tenor : 

" Pleaaeth it your Majesty to understand, that in mat- 
,t," ters of religion I hitve declared my mind nnto your Ma- 
- " jesty by your virtuous and learned Chaplain, Mr. Dean 
** of Paul's ; trusting, that as it is truly minded of me, 
" BO your Highness will agreeably receive it. I beseech 
" your Majesty therefore, as I have been ajid am your 
" faithful subject, whom I do aa God's minister foitbMly 
" honour and serve, ttat your Majesty will have the same 
" opinion present of me, that my faithfulness, I trust, and 
" duty hereafter, shali shew unto you. And I trust, among 
" many obedient and quiet subjects, which God storeth 
" your Highness with, I shali be found, though not in abl- 
" lity of other qualities, yet in wiU and readiness, and obe- 
" dience of your lawa, and other orders of religion, as glad 
" to serve and obey as any other, desiring your Majesty 
" moat humbly to favour such poor suits for my liberty, as 
" Mr. Dean shall make to your Majesty in my behalf. Al- 
" mighty God prosper and increase your Majesty in aU 
" honour and godliness. From your Majesty's Tow 
" London, the I5th of July, l.SStJ. 

" Your Majesty's most humble 

"and obedient subject, 



His submissifm to the Cardinal as the Pope's Legate ^ and 
his recantations. 

AFTER this, to dedare his repentance for liis rejection Aano isse. 
of the Pope, he was to do as the Parliament and the^'^'j^ 
Clerg)', and other apostates, had done before upon theirtedbythe 
knees, in order to their reconcilement ; namely, to make *''"^""'- 
his solemn submission before the Cardinal, suing to be 
■absolved, and received into the Church: which he did; 
and so was graciously admitted a member of the Roman 
Catholic Church. 

But notwithstanding these supplications and submis- The order 
sions, he was kept in prison two months and better, after of hi, re- 
all this hard service, before he was admitted to his public" 
shame ; I mean, to make his recantation : which was done 
Jjy him October the 4th, in a most public manner before 
■the Queen ; and for the greater formality ushered in by 
an oration of Dr. Feckenham, his ghostly father and con- 
verter, made by him to the Queen, as it were, in fiivour of 
Sir John Cheke, standing by him : which ran in these 

"Virtuous, good Queen, Lady, Mistress; whereas itreciwn- 
" hath pleased your Highness, among other of your learn- tion to the 
" ed Chaplains to send me unto this man, Mr. Cheke, Q''e«°'«-. 
" your Highness's subject, for his conversion and reconci- reomuiioD. 
" liation to the unity of Christ's Church, from his most [-"Jji^^'t. 
*' dangerous error and wicked heresy of Berengai-y, theAnnig. 
*' first denier of Christ's very true real presence in the 
*' most blessed Sacrament of the Altar ; I am by so much 
" the more bolder here, openly to put myself in place with 
" him, and, by humble suit unto your Highness here, to 
" opeu my mouth for him. Forasmuch as he is at present 
" a very sorrowful and penitent man for the same; and, 
" with the Apostle St. Peter, hath shed bitter tears for the 
1*' denial of Christ ; and, with St. Paul, did presently make 
" his humble submissions, saying, Domine, tfidd me vis fa- 


CHAP. " ceref and, with the Apostle St. Thomas, is a 

" so certified and eatabliebed in the Catholic faith of Chriet, 
Aduo isse.« aa^ ^th him, forced to wonder at the marvellous worka 
" of God, and to say, Dominus meus, et Deus meus. Most 
" humbly, therefore, good gracious Lady and Mistress, 1 
" beseech your Highness now mercifully to receive him 
" into your favour and mercy, which, with so much loyalty 
" and obeisance of heart and mind, doth yield himself 
" wholly unto your mercy; and let him taste now of that 
" your Highness's great mercy, accustomed to all coi 
" and penitent offenders, which doth here so openly 
" and beg for the same j most humbly suing, with the 
" child in the Gospel, Peccavi in coelum, et coram 
"jam non sum dignits vocari Jilitis tutu. Fac me titul 
" unutn de mercenariis tuis. And by so much the more as 
" he sheweth, at the least wise here openly in this place, 
" more repentance than any other man hath done hereto- 
" fore, more sori'ovv and detestation of his offence, more to 
" the pacifying of God's wrath and displeasure, more to 
" the contentation and satisfying of the world for his slan- 
" der given in the same ; (whereof so many of your High- 
" ness's subjects, which, wdthout number, within this latter 
" atomi and trial of faitli made in this realm, were carried 
" away into no small errors and horrible heresies ;) tbia 
" only man, Mr. Cheke, is now the first that here openly 
" hath given the example of true Christian penance ; wbert 
" he only is content openly to acknowledge hia error, and 
" confess his heresy ; and he only here present doth sob- 
" mit himself to recant the same. This man, Mr, Cheke, 
" doth, in plucking off the visor of all feigned and counter- 
" feit penance, stand here openly to beg for the renuaBton 
" of his offence at the hand of God, forgiveness of tbc 
" whole world, and pardon of your Highness's laws. And 
" therefore, most gracious Queen, think him only in re- 
" spect of the rest most worthy the same : most hninbly 
" beseeching your Highness to take him to your mercy, 
" and how down your moHt gracious and n 
'* ears to hear him." 



And then the JtiBiutccI ^ntleman began his palinode, aa sect. 
follows : " The acknowledging of an error is the right entry ' 

" into a truth. For even as in life, the first degree [of Anno isse. 
" goodness] is to avoid evil, and then to do good ; so in ^"^^^■' "' 
" faith errors must be avoided, that the right religion may pronounced 
*' take place. Wherefore, as before I made my humble q^h^™"* 
" submission unto my Lord Cardinal 'e good Grace, who first 
" accepted the same well, and so received me as a member 
" of Christ's Catholic Church ; so now, before your Majesty, 
" whom God hath marvellously brought unto your noble 
" and due place of govemiiient under him, I do profess and 
" protest, that whatsoever mine opinion of the blessed Sa- 
" crament of Christ's body and blood, and of the sense of 
" Christ's words spoken of the same, hath been hereto- 
" fore ; I do now, after conference had with certain learned 
" men, your Majesty's Chaplains, and especially the right 
" worshipful Master Dean of Paul's, believe firmly the 
" real presence of Christ's very body and blood in the Sa- 
" crament, and none other substance there remaining : 
" moved thereunto by invincible reasons of the Catholic 
*' Doctors against the Arians, of Christ's very true and 
*' natural being in us, and also by the consent of Christ's 
" Catliolic Church. Unto the which, both iu these and in 
" all other matters of my faith, I most humbly submit 
" myself. Whereiii, [as] for the saccess, [so] I do most 
" humbly thank God for the manner and the clemency 
" thereof, shewed in drawing me with mercy thereunto. 
" I do most humbly give thanks unto the ministers of 
" mercy in Christ's Church, whereof 1 do acknowledge the 
" Pope's Holiness to be head ; and especially my Lord 
*' Cardinal's good Grace, Legate of England from the 
" Pope's Holiness, and Primate of the same. Unto whom 
** 1 made my submission ; not moved by policy and worldly 
" respects, but persuaded by learning and conscience, when 
" otherwise I could have been contented to yield myself to 
" the contrary. And also I do give most humble thanks 
" to your Majesty for yoitr great mercifulness towards me ; 


CHAP. " who as in other excellenciea do follow your heavenly 
^' " Father, so in this precise quality of mercifulness do ex- 
Anno I5S6. " press his holiness, that commandeth you to be tnerciftil. 
" Your Majesty herein hath great cause to give God 
" thanks, as in all other your princely gifts, that ye need 
" not under God to seek no example of mercifulness to 
" follow, but yourself: who, daily inclining to follow God 
" in mercy, shew great evidence whose heavenly child 
" your Majesty is. 

" And, as I beseech God, your Majesty do continue the 
" same grace to others that have need of mercy, so I tnisl 
" God our Saviour will work the like in others, that he b}- 
" your Majesty hath wrought in me. For as tliey may 
" well learn of me to beware of singularity, and trusting 
" unto certain sayings of Doctors, rather than to the 
" Church, and preferring private judgments before the 
" Catholic consent of Christ's Church ; so shall they easier 
" be led from error to truth, when they see them drawn 
" by your Highneas's mercy, and not plucked by extre- 
" mity ; and that their life and mendment is sought, not 
" their [death] and shame. In the which lesson they ehsU 
" find, 1 doubt uot, as I do, much contentation of BV^H 
" and quietness of conscience. Which 1 trust, for my j^^| 
" continually to keep in all matters pertaining to tha4^H 
" tholic Faith of Christ's Church : and hope to slicw 
" myself, in the residue, so faithful a subject to your 
" Highness, as my bounden duty serveth me for; and in 
" matters of religion so obedient, as hecometh a ChristiaB 

" According unto the which my doings, I most honbly 
" beseech your Highness to shew your clemency and h- 
" vour; none otherwise. And 1 shall pray unto God, w- 
" cording to mine humble duty, that as he hath troddm 
*' down errors, and set your Highness marvellously in thn 
" your high state of your most lawful kingdom, so he WJI 
" preserve your Majesty with the same providence, to tbt 
" increase of his glnrj', and honour both of \o\ 



" and of the noble King and Frince, King Fhilip, youi- sect. 
" Majesty's dear husband; and the quietness of your Ma- ^' 

" jesty's subjects." Anno l5Se. 

Besides this recantation, I meet with another, framed Another re- 
fer Sir John Cheke's mouth by Cardinal Pole's pen orti,cke, 
direction : the above written recantation, spoken before »!*''^" •«- 
the Queen, being, in the Cardinal's judgment, not enough; court. 
but, since he had lived long in the Court, and had been 
instruQiental to sow the doctrine of the Gospel in the 
hearts of many there, it was thought convenient, that he 
should recant likewise in the face and hearing also of the 
Court. And this also the poor man was forced to do. This 
fonn of recantation is long, according to the usual tedious 
style of the Cardinal : however, I shall here exemplify it. 

" I am come hither afore this most honourable and E Foiii 
" gracious audience, to accuse myself, and to give thanks 
" to Almighty God, especially for this cause, that he hath 
"given me the grace to accuse myself: which, without 
" his great special grace, I could never have done, being 
" BO far gone in mine own conceit, and so much delighting 
" in the same. So that being now brought from the same, 
** and willingly to confess my error, I count one the great- 
*' est grace that ever came unto me ; and such, without 
*' this, no other gift of God (of whose grace cometh all the 
" good that 1 have ever had, or can be in me) may do me 
" any good. But the more his gifts have been towards 
" me aforetime, the more they be to my condemnation, 
" without this grace that God hath given me now, which 
** is willingly and gladly to accuse myself. And the same, 
** for to be called a grace, must bruig with it a knowledge 
*• and detestation of my most grievous and horrible otfence, 
" with desire of mercy of that is past, and submitting 
" myself most humbly to that order that it shall please 
** them to set, whom God, the Lord of mercy, hath made 
" governors in his Church, of like offenders as 1 have 
" been. 

" And all this having pleased the goodness of God to 
" work in the secret of my heart, I am come now to utter 


" the eame openly before you, to the praise of h 

_" and, as I trust, to the edification of some other; which I 
^'* " do, following the order which hath been given UQlo me 
*' by tlieui whom in such case I am most bound to obey. 
" Wherein also I do knowledge the goodness of God, that 
" hath put in their mind to enjoin me to make the confes- 
" sion of my grievous error, in that place where I did most 
" grievously offend, both to the ruin of myself, and of other 
" that were conversant with me, which are here in the 
" Court ; where I had more occasion to do hurt, for the 
" place of schoolmaster 1 had with young King Edward, 
" and with all the youth of the nobility, than any other 
" had. And albeit mine office was not to teach him the 
" matters of religion, which was committed to others ; yet 
" I confess, touching my pestilent error, I peradventure 
" did no less to confirm and set forward the same in his 
" mind, and aJl the rest of the youth, than any other. 

" And what mine error was, though it be not unkiiown, 
" I think, to any in this honourable assembly, yet coining 
" to confess the same, which I myself, a little before, iooik 
" for no error, it may please you to understand the quaUty 
" thereof: which was a blasphemy of the holy name at 
" God, under colour to glorifj- the same ; and a persecution 
" of the name of Christ, more grievous than ever were 
*' they, tliat, deceived by others, crucified Christ, or af- 
" terward did persecute those that were his disciples; I 
" having a greater cause than ever St. Paul had to say »o, 
" when he went from town to town, hax'ing obtuined au- 
" thority of the chief heads of the Priests, to imprison 
" those that professed the name of Christ. But tliat pcr- 
" accution I made was not so open as bis was, as my blos- 
" phemy also was more hid ; and so hid to myself, that I 
" thought all were blasphemers that held contrary opinion. 
" Wherefore I may well say in this part with St. iVul, 
" Misericordiam cunsecutus sum, quia igitoram fevi. 

" Albeit mine ignorance was not such, but that it did 
" rather aggravate mine offence than excuse it j beinf: 
" nmch more excusable the ignorance of the Jews ifaac 


" killed Christ, and also of St. Paul, that did persecute 
" hia servants ; both following the motive of those whom _ 
" the law of God gave authority to be judges in all such Ai 
" matters, as were principes sacerdolum ; of whom St. 
" Paul had letters to persecute Christ's servants ; and by 
" their motion the people were set up to cry against Christ, 
" Crucifige eum : for whom Chriat did pray to his Father, 
" Ignosce illis, quia nesciunt quid faciunt. And St, Paul 
" might well ask Chriat, Quis es Domine ? having no 
** knowledge of him by the doctrine of hia auperiors, that 
" it was Christ he did persecute. But mine ignorance was 
*' not such ; for if I would have believed my superiors, all 
** told me contrary to that I did ; all did forbid me to do 
" as I did, and curse me if I did attempt the same. Which 
*' they did, following the rule and knowledge of their fore- 
" fathers, that were counted most to have lived in the 
" grace of God, So that mine ignorance can have no 
" colour of excuse, but all to aggravate my greater damna- 
** tion ; entering into the same by mine ovnx election, and 
** prosecuting the same by mine own authority, when I 
" would he wiser than all other : and by the justice of 
" God was made more ignorant than all other, as the 
" effect did shew. For what an arrogant blindness was 
" this, what gi-eat madness, to thbik I saw more touching 
*' the Sacrament of the Altar, than first all the Prelates of 
" the Church in this realm, since the time the faith was 
" received ! For if it were true tha,t I took for true, that 
" the sacrifice of the Mass was idolatry, never-ceasing 
" Mass to be said in that manner it is now, and never no 
" fault to be found therein ; either this must be a deep 
" ignorance in them that brought in the faith, that saw 
" not this, or in me the most execrable, that condemned 
" both them and the rest of the world in the same. Which 
*' ia the most blasphemy that could be said against the 
*' providence of God, and against the love that Christ 
>' beareth to hia Church : making him more benevolent to 
-" the old Synagogue than to the Church, qitam acquUivU 
" saTiguine suo ; letting them never to fall into idolatry. 


' but they had warners thereof, and great chaatiseni 
' therefore ; and we to have no warner in this long space ol 

Anne 1SS6. u gg many years living in idolatry. What would blaspheme 
" more the providence of God towards his Church, &om 
" the which he promiseth never to be absent. 

" And whenas we know the old people could not fiiU 
" in coma) vices, but they had Priests and Prophets to 
" warn them ; and if they did not of themselves, then God 
" himself warneth them, and reproveth them for their si- 
" lence, calling them sometimes canes miitas tton valenta 
" latrare. But what reproof were worthy our Priests and 
" Prophets, if, when such idolatry crept into the Chun-h, 
" there was not found the space of so many humired yeara 
" as passed from the primitive Church to Berengariss's 
" time, that did reprove men of this idolatry? 

" So that here, when f consider myself, I cannot so 
" much marvel at mine own blindness, that 1 saw not in 
" this point how I blasphemed Christ, and condemnrd the 
" Church, taking that for idolatry, tlmt the Church eonti- 
" nually had used, and was never condemned. But yet 
" here I cannot say I was so blind, but I aaw somewhat 
" tliis inconvenience, what a thing it was thus to go 
" against the whole consent of the Church. But to avoid 
" that, and to amend it, I fell into another; which was, to 
" displace the Church where Christ had set it, as I had 
" displaced the body of Christ iu the Sacrament. So that 
" the congregation of all Christian men, which was com- 
" jnonly called the Church, 1 took not for the Church; but 
*' sometime I made the Church a spiritual congregation 
" without a body, invisible as the spirit is ; and yet, Bering 
" some inconvenience in that, I began to belie the Chun^, 
" and say it was visible, and seen on ejirth, but most seen 
" in the Apostles' time, which was the primitive Church. 
" And those I took to be of mine opinion, and diven 
" Doctors that followed, whose sentence I did interprctate 
" aa to agree with mine. Wherein I went from error to 
" error, mending the first with a second, and so iiio-PMing 
" in blindness, which 1 took for light, and did what 1 could 



"to bring the whole realm into blindness; as it was as sect. 
*• much as man's wit and malice could do, by them that ' 
*' had highest authority in the realm.. But non est consi- *""" '^^^■ 
" Hum contra Dominum -■ et potestatt efus guis resistet f 

" This God hiiving ever shewed most notable, hath now 
" also shewed it in this realm, preserving a virgin to shew 
" the marvellous work of his presence, his true doctrine, 
" in all the time of that tempestuous world, as it were a 
" lamp-light in the midst of a stormy wind in a maiden's 
** hand; whom no learning, no perauaaion, no fear could 
" turn, no power oppress ; hut made her oppress them 
" that had all the power of the realm in their hand : which 
" was a great miracle to all them that had grace to see it. 
" But here, alas ! I was so far from grace to see it, and to 
" receive it aa all the rest did, that I began to think how 1 
" might flee it, and judged it most wisdom so to do. And 
" BO I did, fleeing from that place, where true religion, 
" being trod under foot afore, began to spring again ; and 
** went thither, where I had more occasion to be con6nned 
*' in my corrupt opinion. But in my case I may say also, 
" non est consilium contra Dominum : which, when I 
" thought least, subverted all my counsel, and, as it were 
" with a hurlc-wind, took me from the place I was in, and 
" brought me over the sea, and never knew wliither I went, 
" afore I found myself in the Tower of London, which of 
" all places 1 abhorred most. 

" And yet at last I came to have that comfort, that I 
*' coniess now I never came into place where I had more 
" cause to thank God. But at the beginning I was so 
" confused with this strange chance, that when I knew at 
•' mine ejcamination the cause of my sudden bringing, 
" which was chiefly for religion, there was no death but 1 
* bad liever sufiered it, than to change that opinion I 
" brought with nie. Albeit, after a few days that I was 
♦' first examined, being sent unto me two learned men, as 
" they shewed full of charity, 1 shewed myself to hear 
*' them not unwillingly ; and gladly to confer my doubts 
^ with them, and desired to be better informed. Yet the 



. " conclusion was such with them, thut in very deed t 
_" moved me nothing, and so left me as desperate to be 
'*■ " reconciled as their desire was ; and so continued, until 
" it pleased God to put in the Queen's Majesty'B mind, of 
" her grace, mercy, and charity, to prove me yet better. 
" And her Grace, not knowing, sent unto me one, who, in 
" King Edward's time, being in prison in that same place 
" where I was now, by order that was ^ven then, was 
" fetched out to be examined afore me. To whom I sliewed 
" that courtesy the case could require; but I could not 
" bring him to mine opinion. And the selfsame man now 
" was the mean to bring me utterly unto his ; and fetched 
" me out of the Tower to come afore my Lord Legate ; 
" which in truth I did desire. 

*' Beginning now to incline to the Catholic sentence; 
" but not so far as to make any manner of confessioa of 
" mine error, or open recantation, (wherein I desired my 
" Lord Legate to have compassion of my frailty ;) but after 
" twice communication in one day of the same matter, ax 
" last, God of his mercy was stronger in me, and made 
" me, as I did in the doctrine, submit my reason and sense 
" to the doctrine of the Church : so also my person I aub- 
" mitted to be ordered, as it should be thought best (or 
" my soul's wealth, of them whom God had given autho- 
" rity in the Church upon such otfenders. And this hang 
" my Lord Legate's order, that I should appear in this 
" place to confess and retract my pernicious sentence, i 
" this I thank Almighty God, first, with an bumble I 
" contrite heart, that it hath pleased him to use this n 
" with me ; and afterwards the Queen's Highuess, t 
" she vouchsafed first to bear with my infinite offencea, i 
" to send unto me such men as she did, to direct me, i 
" confirm me in the right way; and finally, to be c 
" to let me cume to her presence ; and so withal to my 
" Lord Legate that gave the order, and all thut hare been 
" ministers thereui. 

" And for an assured token, that I say witii my moath 
" that which I think with my heart, being fallen into the 

ence, la 
ble ^^ 



*' error which Berengarius fell into, I make the selfsame SK 

" recantation that he did, only changing the name. 

" I, Sir John Cheke, Knight," &c. The tenor of which Anne 
waa, that he pretended with heart and mouth to profess, ^f'^V 
that he acknowledged the true catholic and apostolical 
&ith, and did execrate all heresj-, and namely that where- 
with he lately had been infamed, as holding that the bread 
and wine upon the altar, after the consecration of the 
Priest, remained only a sacrament, and were not the very 
body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, neither could be 
handled or broken by the Priest's hands, or chewed with 
the teeth of the faithful, otherwise than only in manner of a 
sacrament. That he consented now to the holy and aposto- 
Hcal Church of Rome, and professed with mouth and heart 
to hold the same faith touching the sacrament of the Lord's 
Mass, which Pope Nicolas, with his Synod* at Rome • Ms 
anno 105S, did hold, and commanded to be held by hiSg^l-)',^ 
evangelical and apostolical authority: that is, that thercng: 
bread and wine upon the altar, after consecration, are not 
only a sacrament, but also are the very true and selfsame 
body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, felt and broken 
with hands, and chewed with teeth : swearing by the holy 
Evangelists, that whosoever should hold or say to the con- 
trary, he should hold them perpetually accursed ; and that 
if he himself should hereafter presume to teach against the 
same, he should be content to abide the severity and rigour 
of the Canons, &c. 

*' Thus you have heard mine open and plain confession ; 
" which it may please Almighty God so to accept, that not 
•' only it be to the wealth of my soul, but of as many as 
•' hear it. Upon which trust T came the gladlier hither ; 
*' nothing more desiring at this time, than that it may 
*' please the goodness of God to give me time and grace, 
*' that, as mine example, holding my perverse opinion, hath 
" been cause of ruin and slander of many, that either, by 
" my occasion, or by another, be fallen in the like error, or 
" yet be in any wavering in their opinion of the blessed 
" Sacrament t which, that it may be better eschewed, I 


CHAP. " shall udjoin (pleasing you to hear it) the very begiuung 
_ " of my fall ; which is uone other than the same beginning 

Anno issG." that bringeth men to all kind of heresy. And that ^ 
" pride, which stood in confidence of mine own wit, 
" making myself a master and judge of the doctrine of the 
" Church : whereas I was not come to the perfectncaa Ui 
" be a good scholar. But when 1 heard other men begin 
" to put a. doubt in this article of the Sacrament, and also 
" afore I heard them doubtf I began myaclf to make doubt 
" to myself, seeing that doctrine so far beyond all reason 
" and sense, whether this were a figurative speaking, as 
" many other be in Scripture hke, or else a plain literal 
" sense, as the words sounded; and seeing divers places, 
" both in Scripture, and in some other Doctors that 
" seemed to favour the opinion of a figurative speaking; 
" seeing also that, taking it in that sense, it should not be 
" so much abhorred commonly of men, of what religion 
" soever they were, nay, of the Jews themselves ; which, 
" if they did take the thing, that Christ made himself 
" victima paschalis for us, would never abhor this mamier 
" of sacrifice to be a figure of that. Upon this groatut, 
" hearing and reading what was written at this time of 
" learned men in Germany, and what a great number wen 
" ^en into tliis opinion, this confirmed me utterly in the 
" same ; especially seeing {as 1 took it) the providence of 
" God had wrought, that-also it was accepted in the wtxrie 
" realm, ail masses cast away, and condemned as a aacri- 
" fice of idolaters ; whereby I was so confirmed. Seeing 
" withal, that many places of Scripture, being more illufl- 
" trate than they were in our fathers' days ; and the whole 
" Scripture more read, and the intelligence of it more 
" sought, than it was these years past, when this opinkm 
"was less doubted of; I thought this was one greater 
" light given to the world, which by the more study of the 
" word of God was more revealed ; and that the other w»» 
*' brought in when men began to fall from studies of Scrlp- 
'* tures, and gave them U> their own inventions : which 
" was after the Apostles' times and the primitive Church, 


' which I took utterly to be of mine opinion. And that sect. 

' when men were more deceived, as they relented from ^" 

'the life and doctrine of the primitive Church, which Anaoisse. 

■' I took most of all to be in our days, when the Clergy 

' were so far gone from the ensample of life of their first 

* fathers, and gave themselves more to all kind of studies 

' than to the Scriptures, Which experience greatly con- 

' finned me to think that God had blinded them, and with 

i* the study of Scriptures had brought in more light ; and 

'* especially in this article of the Sacrament of the Altar : 

■' wherein I judged them ntterly blinded, that had not so 

■' well boulted the Scriptures as they have done in Ger- 

" many, which hold most this opinion that I was in. 

" So that you see now how 1 fell : which I counted no 
■' fall ; but that all other fell, that held the contrary opin- 
?* ion ; I standing in the true faith of the primitive Church : 
'* thinliing withal, that Lanfrancus, Archbishop of Canter- Unfrank, 
" bury, which was one of the first writers that set forth o/canwr-'' 
" the opinion of the real presence of the body and blood of """T' 
" Christ, impugning the contrary, did defend his own opin- 
io ion, and not that of the Church ; and that opinion whicli 
" he defended began with him, when all true knowledge 
" was much obscured, and the life of the Clergy more de- 
'.' formed. 

" Thus far I was gone : which was not only to go in 
" consilio impiorum, et stare in via peccatorum, but to 
" firm ray seat in cathedra irrisorum et pestUentiee. Which 
" 1 did, making myself judge of the catholic doctrine and 
" the Doctors ; scorning the same in the greatest article 
" of all, toucliing the Sacrament ; and infecting with my 
" pestilent opinion as many as I -wss conversant withal. 
" In the which chair I was so fixed, that no power, but 
" only God, could subvert the same, to make me know 
" myself. Which so now the hand of God, by his mira- 
" culous power, as I do knowledge it, hath done of his 
" high mercy, both for mine own self, and, as I trust, for 
" the edification of many, whom I had afore ruinate, sitting 
" in my chair of pestilence. In which hope standeth now 


■ " alt the joy of my life. And this is that tempereth the 
_ " sorrow of my mind, that I take for mine horrible offence ; 
^■"trusting that God will turn all the more to his glorj-. 
" Without the which trust, now that I know my foult, I 
" were not able surely to bear myself. But if I have anr 
" part of contentatioii in this lil'e, all standeth in this, as 1 
" may see God glorified by my sin, giving me true repent- 
" ance thereof, that the good may be confirmed in their 
" good faith, and the ill returned to the same ; as I trust 
" this day the same grace that hath worked in me shall 
" work in many, 

" This only I will warn all that have been tempted with 
" the same false doctrine that I have been, and now shew 
" themselves outwardly to refiise the same, that they be 
" well ware of another great tempfaition, and a pernicious 
" counsel, which to follow is more odious to God, than to 
'* profess openly the false opinion; that is, if they should, 
" for poUcy sake, shew themselves to follow the Prince's 
"opinion, which is catholic; and to think otherwise io 
" their mind of God ; which we liave seen hath lighted 
" upon some already : for nihil est occultum, quod mm 
" revelabilur. And this is a more mocking of Christ, and 
" more dishonouring, than when the Jews saluted him, 
" saying, Ave Rex Judceorum '. with their mouth, the same 
" time they brought him to be crucified as a malefactor. 
" Wherefore let all men beware of this ; whereof I do the 
" more earnestly warn you, because there hath not lacked 
" that would have given like counsel to me : &oiu the 
" which the mercy of God hath utterly delivered me, and 
" maketh me the more earnestly warn you of the same. 

" Now having none other thing to say at this present, 
" but to desire you all, upon my kneee prostrate, and 
" especially my noble Mistress, that it will please her to 
" give thanks for me to God, for recovering a servant of 
" hers that was utterly lost. And though I am not wortbjr 
" of myself to be remembered, yet if the angels tn faeivtn 
*< make more joy of one sinner converted, than of so many 
"just men, my ronversion, being to the glory of God, ii 


" not unworthy to be reraeinbere<l on earth, with due 
" thanks to the goodness of Goil, by whose grace I am _ 
" returned. In tlie rest, submitting myself with all humi- A 
" lity to all the order of penance and satisfaction, that it 
" will please my Lord Legate to put unto me : which can- 
" not be so sore, as I trust God shall give me grace and 
" will to fulfil it to the uttermost. 

" And thus Almighty God, that hath begun to shew his 
" mercy on me, of the same his infinite mercy, may do the 
" like upon all the rest that be either contrary or waver- 
" ing. jimen." 


Observations upon Cheke's recantations. 77ie Queen grants 
him lands in exchange. 

I SHALL not make observations upon these foregoing Popish 
recantations, though many might be made ; only 1 cannot ^^1° 
but observe two or three things eti passant. As, how ri-ch«ke. 
gorously these Popish masters dealt with Cheke, now they 
had got him into their power, in putting him to make one 
long recantation after another: and in them prescribing 
him words and sentences, so grievous and grating upon 
his very heart ; whereby he was fain so to belie and be- 
spatter himself, as in effect to accuse himself to be one of 
the vilest wretches on earth : iia. " That he blasphemed 
" the name of God, and persecuted the name of Christ, 
" and that more than they that crucified bim ; and that 
" the ignorance of the Jews that killed Christ was more 
" excusable than his. That he did what he could to bring 
" the whole realm into blindness. That since he came 
" into the Tower, he never came into place where he had 
*' more cause to thank God. And that for an assured 
" token to the auditors, that what he stud with bis mouth 
" he thought with his heart, they put the very words of 
" Berengarius's recantation into his mouth, to own all the 
" absurdities of tran substantiation ; and divers such like 
" expressions," 



Chck»-s an 

I observe also, by a clause of the recantation, upon what 
__ reason their anger and malice against Cheke was chieBy 
''■ grounded ; namely, because he had been the great iiistni- 
'^meiit of good religion unto King Edward, and other noble 
youth of the Court, more than any other; whenas his 
office, as he was instructed to say, was not to teach him 
matters of religion, an employment committed to others. 
1- And, lastly, I make one remark with great commiaen- 
tion ; and that is, in what a deplorable anguish and per- 
plexity, not to be expressed, this poor gentleman was, 
whilst he was thus constrained to speak matters bo utterly 
against his knowledge and conscience ; and what a woful 
fall this good man made to save a poor life. Such wetk 
frml creatures the best are, considered in themselves. Which 
makes me think what Archbisliop Parker writ on the mai^ 
of the copy of one of these recantations. Homines aanmi, 
i. e. " We are but men," 
> Nor yet was this all the penance that Sir John Chekt 
was to do, (though one would think this had been enou^ 
of all conscience;) hut further, after all this, he was to an- 
dergo penances, whatsoever they should be, (aud he pro- 
mised it,) that should be enjoined him by the Pope's Le- 
gate, the Cardinal. 
D And now, having done all this drudgery, and undei^ooe 
all these hardships for bis life, (wherein the Romaoisti 
were to triumph and glory,) he makes all his interest to 
obtain his lands of the Queen £^^n, which in his absence 
she had taken possession of. And his lands at length be 
had restored to him ; but upon condition of an exchai^ 
with the Queen for others. And so he was required to 
make a surrender to her of all his lands and manors iku 
be had obtmned under his late royal master. King Edirard. 
Which having been the revenues of religious houses m 
chauntries, the Queen thought fit to take uito her bandl, 
perhaps with an hitention, ui due time, to resettle Ifam 
upon the old foundations, and restore them to their Irit 
purposes ; yet granting him other Church lands at a gmt' 
cr di.->I^nce from London, aa in Devonshire and S<Hnenet- 


[ shire: which it may be afterwards, means should have sect. 
been made to dispo:ie also to their Qriginal constitutions. ^'' 
Which required surrender, Cheke complying with the-^i""> isss. 
Queen, granted him a patent, (which I have seen in the 
hands of my honoured friend, John Conyers, Esq.) dated 
April the 12th, in the 3d and 4th of King Philip and Queen 
Mary : wherein mention is made of the manor of Bramp- 
ton Abbot in Devonshire, given by King Henry VIII. to 
Sir Hugh Stukely, Knight ; and of the customary lands 
and reversions in Freshford and Woodwick in Somerset- 
ahire, given by King Edward VI. to Philip Juys, one of 
the said King's gardeners, &c. All these lands and manors 
Sir John obtained of the Queen, in consideration, as the 
patent runs, of a certain recognizance of the town of Clare, 
and the site of the college of Stoke ; and of the manors of 
Stoke, Clare, Hundon, Ashton, and Pitley, alias Pightley, 
with the appurtenances in the county of Essex; and of 
the advowsons of the churches of Clare, Hunden, and 
Ashton ; and also of the office of Feodary of the honour of 
Clare, and the hundred of ChUton, Cbibel, &c. in the 
county of Cambridge ; and of the manors of Preston, Beck- 
wel, &c. in Sussex ; and of the priory of Spalding, &c. in 
Lincolnshire ; and other demeans in Norfolk ; and of di- 
vers other manors and tenements ; levied and done by Sir 
John Cheke, and Mary his wife, to the Queen and her 
heirs, at Westminster, in Hilary term, in the 3d and 4th 
of the said King and Queen. For which and other causes 
their Majesties moving, they of their special grace granted 
to the said Cheke and Peter Osborn, Esq. the reversion of 
the said manor of Brampton Abbot in Devon, belonging 
formerly to the monastery of Clive; and the annual rents 
of 37'- -*. 6oA. ; and the reversion of the customary lands 
of Freshford and Woodwick in Somersetshire. They grant- 
ed also to him and the said Osbom the manor of More in 
Devon ; and the capital messuage of Batokysborough, and 
the manor of Aiashetote, alias Ayscote, in Somersetshire ; 
and the manor of Northlode, parcel of the possessions of 


the monastery of Glascon ; together with some other 
_ things granted to the smd Sir John Cheke and Maryli(^ 

Anno issG.wife, and Peter Osboi-n, 


ffhaf happened to Cfieke after his recantation. Tmt/bled. 
Mepeiits. Dies. 
chek* mtHje BUf fjj thesc temporal accessions could not heal the 
with Pb- wounds he had given his mind by his apostasy or hypo- 
^""' crisy ; which so excessively dejected him, that within lew 
than a year after it ended his life, as we shall be told by 
and by. But the Papists now outwardly made much of 
their convert; had him frequently in their companies, at 
their tables, to eat with them ; and on their benches, when 
the pretended heretics were summoned before them, and 
examined ; to shew him openly, no doubt, as an example 
to them, what a leading and learned man had forsaken 
their party; and for him to exhort them to do as he liail 
done. Which were hut so many fresh stings to him. 
cmoke re- -j^g Protestants extenuated as much as they could his 
dismal fall, making it not so foul as was at first represent- 
ed. An Englishman in exile, sojourning at Strasburg, 
(and seems to be Grindal,) wrote to Peter MartjT, then at 
Zurich, March 15 anno 155(>, informing him, that Cheke 
had given significations of his repentance and sorrow fbt 
bis fall. Which gave such satis&ctiou to that rcrenuwi 
Father, that he wrote back to his friend tliat gave him tlii» 
intelligence, that it was very acceptable to hear what he 
had wrote concerning Cheke, because Cheke had now de- 
Iiii. I'.Mar-clared, "that his faith was rather bent, than brokf mid 
P^Ts/'eoi. " quite extinguislied, however reports might be carried of 
s.eiiit, "him." But Martyr added, that he thought it almost 
past belief, that he should persevere while he tarried in 
England ; and subjoined his earnest pr4iyer, " that God, 
" the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, would so by Ul 
" Spirit repair his shipwreck, that, with as little lai 


*' might be, he might at last arrive at the haven of salva- sect, 

" tion." And God heard his prayer: for it was not long 

after that Cheke made his exit. Anno 1557. 

And piniog away with the shame and regret of what he Dies, 
had done, he died Sept. 13, 155?, aged 43, at his Mend 
Mr. Peter Oabom's house, in Wood-street, London ; and 
was buried in St. Alban's church there, in the north chapel 
of the quire, Sept. 16. On whose grave were engraven 
these verses, made by his learned acquaintance, Dr. Walter Mss. d. H. 
Haddon ; which I shall here set down, as I have them Kt_ ^nlr. 
transciibed from the monumental stone, taken by Charles 
Lancaster, herald, anno 1611, rather than as they are 
varied in Cheke's life, composed by H. Holland, and from 
him by Dr. Gerard Langbain. On the stone, on the right 
side of the inscription, is engraven the coat of arms of him 
and his wife ; being three crescents, and a crescent in the 
midst for distinction. The woman's coat, a salteir vaire, 
with a martlet in the nombril point, between five martlets. 
The epitaph as follows : 

DoctriiitB lumen Checvh vit<Bque magister, 

Aurea natura fabrica, mortejacet. 
Mm erat e multis umis, sed prtEstitit units 

Omnibus et patriajios erat ille sua. 
Gemma Britmina fuit, tarn magnum, nulla tukrunt 

Tempora ihesaiirum, tempora nulla ferent. 

Where one may observe, that neither his religion, his fall, 
□or his repentance, arc in the least touched, those times 
not suffering it. 

To which I will add the verses that Sir Thomas Chalo- 
ner, a gentleman and excellent scholar that lived in those 
times, iu his miscellanies made of him : 

Epitaphium D. Joannis Checi. 
Til nunc exuvins liquisti corporis Mtjus, 

Chekk, Deo vivens, lux nova Jmicto polo. 
FulsUti inter tios Iwnen radiantins ; et nunc 
Astra tuo e.rnrfu languidioru micant, 
K 2 


SECT. vm. 

His circumstances at his death. His arms. His pi 
His lady. Her fortune. Mac Williams hi 
husband. Some account of him. Her death, 

HE left Henry, hia son and heir, but in ba«j 
stances, dying a thousand marks and more in debt. He 
left behind him, in land, to the value of three hundred 
marks a year ; his wife being joint purchaser with him for 
two hundred marks thereof, and Peter Osbora (at whose 

■ house he died) for the third. But that true friend of Sir 
John, though he had an estate in that land for the term of 
fals hfe, and might have taken all the profits thereof to \m 
own use, was contented to forbear it, of very kindness to 
the Lady Cheke his widow, and to Henry Cheke and his 
brothers ; as in divers other respects he had shewn himself 
kind to that family, and discharged Sir John's debts, and 
maintained Henry at school during his minority, and fully 
answered such debts as his father owed him ; and, whrn 
he came to full age, he released him the commodities aris- 
ing of the land, and suffered him to receive them to 
own use during his life. 

Sir John's paternal coat of anns was argent, three 
cents gules. There be tivo crests shewn in the Henili 
Office for his crest. The one is a leopard seiant, with a 
collar and chain : the other a crescent of the colour of the 
ereacents in the coat, with a cross patee fitehe placed 
within the horns of it, of the same ; which was that be 
commonly bore ; and seems to have relinquished the other 
for this. Which very aptly denoted (as it were by soinc 
prophetic spirit in him or the herald) that great cross and 
affliction that befell him for the sake of Christ, 

n All that I can describe of his person is from a picture of 
him yet remainuig at PjTgo, in the long gallery thore: 
where he is represented with a round cap on his head, 
and a letter and other papers in his right hand, as Clerk 
of the Council, or principal Secretary. A book lying upon 



the table before him, signifying either his own learning, or sect. 
his place and charge of instructing t he King. A full comely ^'"' 
countenance, somewhat red; with a yellow lai-ge beard,A"Qo iss?. 
covering his upper lip, and hanging helow his chin, some- 
what forked. A visage portending wisdom and careful- 

His lady (who no question suffered deeply with liim) ^"^y_ t:''*''" 
yet lived to see better days, and enjoyed a long life. For gnia to m«c 
she married again to Henry Mac Williams, of Irish extract, *^'"'»°»»' 
Esquire, a gentleman of the Court, and of considerable 
quality. But a match that proved unhappy for tlie children 
she had hy Sir John Cheke; her estate (which was consi- 
derable) going to her second husband, and the children by 

Her fortune brought to this gentleman was, in western Th» esute 
knds, by year, 132^. 3.?. 4rf. The fines and casualties tt'ium."^''' 
thereof was worth the first year 30O/. ; the yearly casual- 
ties afterwards were, commnnibus annis, 66/. I3s. Ail. 
She had in plate 1000 marks, in jewels 800 marks ; gowns, 
five ; kirtles, nineteen ; partlets, sleeves, and other linen, 
to the value of above 300/.; household stuff that cost 
above 400?. For her service of her Majesty she had a 
lease in Wales, which, first and last, was worth 1000/. ; 
she had moreover in sheep 360/. she had Bamardiston, a 
ward, worth 500 marks ; more, two leases for the provision 
of her house, that, to be sold, were worth 200/. Such a for- 
tune was she to ber second husband, and such an injury her 
Becond marriage did to her children by the former husband, 
leaving them in the mean time very bare and needy. 

This Henry Mac Williams was a person of valour and'niisMac 
chivalrj', being one of those that were chosen by the Earl n,„Q ^f ,1,]. 
of Leicester, in a great exercise of tilts and tournaments, ''^'^J'- 
anno 1565, before Queen Elizabeth, (wherein he met with 
a remarkable accident,) at the marriage of Ambrose Dud- 
ley, Earl of Warwick, with a daughter of Francis Ruesel, 
JEarl of Bedford, solemnized before the said Queen, at her 
palace at Westminster, Sunday, 11th of November, the Bi Officio 


year above-aaid. For the greater magiiificeacj', on the 
said Sunday, and two days after, were holden justs, tour- , 
7.neys, and barriers, at Westminster, by four gentLemen 
challengers against all comere, viz. Sir Henry Knoles, soa 
and heir to Sir Francis Knoles, Vice-ChamberMn ; Thomw 
Leighton, Christopher Hattou, and Robert Colshill. 

Robert, Earl of Leicester, being chief defendant, with 
twenty-two other noblemen and gentlemen in his coift. 
pany; namely, Henry L. Herbert, son and heir to WiUiam 
Herbert, Earl of Pembroke; Arthur L. Grey, of Wiltoaj 
Walter Winsor, Henry Norrj's, and, among the rest, Henry 
Mac Williams. The third day, being Tuesday, Henry Mac 
Williams ran with Henry Knoles at the toiirney, who over- 
threw both Mac Williams and his horse. Whereupon the 
said horse and armour became a due droit to the officers 
at arms ; who, according to their right, and according to 
the judgment of the Lord Judge there present, saxei 
upon the simie. But being put in question, whether it 
were a droit to them, the Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marehil, 
called before blui the Kings of Anns and Hcraldo, willing 
them to bring to him, and shew him such precedents a» 
they had for their [right therein : wliich they did ACcon^ 
ingly. Upon the sight of which precedents, the said 
Duke awarded unto the said officers, in consideration of 
the premises, the sum of 20/. Which sum, for redemplion 
of the said horse and armour, was paid to the said com- 
pany by the Earl of Leicester } and so discharged the said 
Mac Williams, 

IliiB Mac Williams, by the Lady Cheke, had Heiuy 
Mac Williams, (who died without issue,) and five daugh- 
ters ; viz. Margaret, n-ife of John L. Stanhope ; Susiui, 
wife of Edward Sandeys, Esq. married again to GoJdard 
Pemberton, Knight, and after to Thomas Ireland, Kiu^t; 
Ambrosia, wife to William Kingswel, Knight; Cafisandim, 
wife of Geoi^e Cotton, Knight; Cicilia, wife to Tbomaa 
Bidgeway, Knight, Treasurer of Ireland. In short, tU* 
gentleman, Mr. Mac Williams, was a Justice of Pmcc in 


Easex, and died in December anno 1536. And so the si 

lady Cheke was a widow a second time. But for some ^ 

description of her. Adq 

She was a comely comtly lady, bred up in the Court Dcbc 
from her childhood. In Queen Elizabeth's time was much t;]!^] 
at Court, being one of the Ladies of the Privy Chamber, an 
honourable station in those days. Nor was she backward 
in taking her place of the other Court Ladies ; insomuch 
that once, vix. in the year 1591, complaint was made of 
the Lady Cheke by a Viscount's daughter (or, at least, so 
valuing herself) to the Lord Burgbley, (that then held the 
Eari Marshal's place by commission from the Queen,) for 
that the Lady Cheke went before her at Court. This lady 
compliunant was the Lady Frances Cooke, wife to Wil- 
liam, a son of Sir Ajithony Cooke, Knight, and daughter of 
the Lord John Grey, brother to the Duke of Suffolk. She, 
by a letter, dated from Charing Cross the yeai' aforesaid, 
•* humbly beaeeched him, as he was honourable himself, 
" so it might please his Lordship to vouchsafe his honour- 
*' able favour towards the house she was come of; which, 
" as his Lordship best knew, was once not least honourable, 
" tiiough, by misfortune, brought low ; whereof, it seem- 
" eth," as she proceeded, "my Lady Cheke, to whom I 
" never gave cause of just offence, taketh great advantage. 
" For she doth not only offer me all the wrong and dia- 
" grace that she can in Court, in taking place afore me, 
" where it becometh not me, in modesty, to strive for it ; 
'* but she openly publisheth to every body, that I have no 
" place at all. Truly, my Lord, I sbould think my fortune 
" hard, and my deserts ill, if my hap fall out to be put 
" down by a woman of no greater bhrth than I take my 
" Lady Cheke to be. [ hope her Majesty and your X^ord- 
*' ship will make some difference between om- two births. 
" And I trust, never having oifended her Majesty, that I 
" shall receive that gracious favour from her, that I may 
" still possess the place I did in my Lord my father's 
'* time, and ever since his death, till of late ; which place 
" I took as a younger Viscount's daughter." 


CHAP. Ladies are apt to value themselves, and affect prece- 
" dency ; and so, it seems, did these two : the Lady Cheke, 

Anno 1&S7. as she was the relict of a Knight, sometime Secretary of 

Mdeu/ dui ^*^^^' ^""^ ^ Privy Counsellor; and the Lady Frances 

to 111* Ladj Cooke, as being the daughter of a son of a Marquis, viz. 

t«>k™ Mar(|uis of Dorset, and younger brother of a Duke, viz. 

Duke of Suffolk. Whereupon she gave her fether the 

title of a younger Viscount; though, according to the lawB 

of heraldry, she could not take place upon any of these 

accounts : and therefore I am afraid the Lord Marshal's 

decision went not for her, and the Knight's Lady had the 

right of taking place; though, out of courtesy and respect 

to her father, she had precedency in his life-time. 

Yet, as she was daughter (and eldest daughter) to a son 
and heir male of a Marquis, (his elder brothers being 
dead,) as he claimed by bearing a label of three points in 
his arms, and as he is styled in the inscription upon bit 
monument in the chapel at Pyrgo, I leave to the Office of 
Arms to determine what place she was to have on that 
^y . But 90 much shall suffice for the Lady Cheke, aiW I 

draib and shall have brought her to her end. She was buried in the 
nioiiumtnt- chancel of the church of St. Martin's in the Fields, about 
iion. the year 1616; (that is, about sixty years after her first 

husband's death, and twenty years after her second :) 
where she hath still a very fair monument against the 
north wall ; with a marble figure of her lying along, of 
excellent work, and an inscription, wherein both her hus- 
bands are mentioned, with their issue by her, and the 
former with the title of Secretary of State to King Edward 
VI. Which inscription is as follows; declaring her birth, 
marriage, children, and quality. 

Hie Jacet Maria Domina Cheke, filia B. Hill, Armig. 
Ftemma pia el prudens, et qua; fiiit ad ohitum una Domi- 
narum in Privata Camera RegintB Eltzabelha; {qua: fuU 
ttinc ilignitaH in jtra-cipiio honors.) Nupta fuit prima 
Jvhnnni Cheke, Militi, Alagistro, et Principali Secretario 


Regis JEdwardi VL viro optimo et eruditissimo. Cut pe- sect. 
perit Henrtcumj hceredem patemcB virtutis et Regies Mor- ^^^' 

jestati a Secretis in Condlio Eboracensi; Johannem Cheke,Anno 1557. 
virum egregium et magnanimum; et Edwardum Cheke. 

Secimdo nupta Henrico MackwilliamSy Armigeroj viro 
ex nobilissima familia Hibemorum. Cui peperity Sfc. 
Fixit drciter 84 antds. Obiit Novemb. 30^ 1616. 

Now to turn our eyes again to Sir John^ the husband of 
her youth. 


Sir John Cheke*s posterity. 


Cheke^s sons, three: Henry Cheke, eldest son; John 
Cheke, the second; Edward, the third. 

^^* THUS died Cheke in acloud; and his name. Once mort 

jet flourish, honoured, much eclipsed by his infirmity. But his re- 
pentance (which would have shewed itself more, had he 
lived longer) must reconcile him to men of the like firail 
nature; and his former singular merits will undoubtedty 
preserve his memory fair and in credit with all candid 
men. And the name of Cheke hath still lived in a posterity 
of men of worth, sprung from him ; the family flouiishu^ 
to this day in wealth and reputation at Pyrgo, a noble seat 
in the county of Essex, belonging to it ; purchased by Sir 
Thomas Cheke, Knight, grandson to Sir John; and now 
possessed by Edward Cheke, Esq. 

His SODS. His sons were three : (for Dr. Langbain mistook mudi 
when he wrote that he left no issue but one son, bearii^ 
his father's name :) their names were, Henry, John, and 
Edward ; the first and the last probably so called from his 
two royal masters, in grateful remembrance of their favours. 
The continuation of his posterity depended upon his ddest 
son, Henry; John and Edward dying without issue, at 
least as far as I could ever by search and inquiry find. 

John John was a youth of great hopes, comely and learned, 

^' and of a genUeman-like and very obli^g deportment : of 
whom also his uncle, the Lord Treasurer Burghley, took 
particular care, making him one of his own family. And 
upon his parting thence, in some employment abroad^ he 
wrote a very courteous letter to Mr. Hickes, Secretary to 
the said Lord Treasurer, as sensible of some kindnesflct 
done him by the said Hickes. Among his other qualities, 
he was courageous and brave ; which spirit carried bim to 



, the wars in Ireland, to serve the Queen his mistress; where, si 

in the year 1579 or 1580, he was unfortunately slain in an 

engagement against aonje Italians and Spaniards that had*^'» 
invaded that country for King Philip ; and was the only 
man that fell by those Popish hands, as his father and 
namesake before him had his days shortened by men ef 
lilie principles. 

For this gentleman had remained six years at least in His 
the retinue of his uncle, whom on that account he called g^'! 
his master; and being impatient to remain in this unactive his i 
life, he resolved to push on his own fortunes, choosing the 
life of a soldier. But his own mean circumstances hin- 
dered him ; so that, having not wherewith to furnish him- 
self out with a horse, he was fain to embolden himself to 
ask for one of his Lordship; which he did in a modest 
letter, dated from London, in July 1578, thus bespeaking 
him : " That he found at that time nature and duty strave 
" very much within him : the one, to procure importu- 
*' nately that which might secure it safe ; the other, wiUing 
" him to forbear to offend in craving, where he honoured, 
" served, and feared : but that his Lordship had much en- 
" couraged him, because he had not acquainted him with 
" denials. He begged, therefore, for the safety of his life, 
" and the increase of his reputation, to bestow his dun 
" horse on him ; a horse which he cliiefly desired, be- 
" cause, as he said, he was wedded to him for his gentle 
" nature, and trust hi iiim, knowing his goodness, and 
" would most willingly hazard his life on him. That ne- 
" cessity forced him, and life willingly spoke for itself. 
" He prayed his Lordship to favour him, and to forget 
" that duty which he owed him that forbade him this ; 
" since nature swayed more with him than reason, though 
*' he feared more to offend his Lordship than any : but 
" chiefly that his excuse might be, because he wanted," 
This was his style, and this his awful behaviour towards 
hb uncle : and thus he set out like a soldier of fortune ; 
and pity it was so hopeful a gentleman bad not better 



CHAP. Of Edward Cheke, Sir John's youngest son, I know 

^'' little, but that Henry, his eldest brother, was, by his fe- 

Edwurd ther's will, to pay him an annuity of ten pounds a year, 1 

reckon he died young also : for I find the payment of his 

annuity ceased after his brother had payed it him six 


SECT. n. ^M 

Henry Cheke, Sir John's eldest son. ^^| 

HENRY, the eldest, {who was nine years old at his 
father's death,) was bred up to learning also, by the care 
of Mr. Osborn, his father's friend ; and afterwards, for 
improvement of his studies, was removed to King's college 
in Cambridge, where his father was sometime Provost 
Here Bartholomew Gierke, LL, D. {afterward that offi- 
ciated Dean of the Arches,) an exquisite scholar, took 
great care of his education ; under whom he made a good 
progress. But to go a little back to the times before. In 
the year I5(i3 (when he must have been but young, thkt 
is, about fifteen) he wrote a Greek epistle to Cecil, his 
uncle : wherein he mentioned the ancient friendship that 
was between his father and him ; and that, for his sake, 
he was a friend to those that were his father's Menda ; 
and whereby he hoped also to ingratiate himself with him : 
shewing him withal, that his estate was but small, uid 
that his dependance must be upon his learning : and, 
lastly, devoting himself to his service, and avowing that 
he honoured him as his father, and hoped in him as the 
stay and pillar of his family. And accordingly Sir WiUiam 
Cecil took care of him also, and admonished him, that in 
any need he should apply himself to him for his aid, and 
promised that he would be ever ready at hand to do uiy 
thing for him that might redound to his benefit. Aod 
when he was at the University, he had a special eye orer 

By the characters that were given of him to hi* uncle 
and patron, he did pairhare ; treading in his excellent 



father's steps, and, in respect of his probity and learning, 
.surpassing others. Eartholoniew Doddington, the Greek _ 
Professor, who wan his companion, and, as it seems, his 
fellow collegian, gave this character «f him, that he was a 
■ yonth sitmmtE jtrolritaiis, ingetiii, studii, suavissimorum mo- 
rum ; I. e. of notable goodness of nature, wit, studiousness, 
and of the sweetest disposition. Dr. Clark, his tutor, wrote 
frequent letters to Cecil concerning his nephew's good 
proficiency in his studies. The UniverHity, out of a singu- 
■lar love they bore to him, as well as their honourable re- 
spect to Cecil, (who was their High Chancellor,) soon 
gave him his grace for Master of Arts, and adopted him 
into the rank of their senators in the year 1568, being then 
scarce twenty years old, and that without any petition or 
Buit of his made for it. Of this Dr. Clerk informed the 
Baid Cecil, and withal prayed him to allow Henry to ac- 
cept it, and to enjoy an honour the University had voted 
him ; since, by his friends' advice, he was purposed neither 
to accept nor refuse it, till he had the assent and counsel 
of him, his said uncle. He took this occasion to commend 
this young student for his parts^, well of his religion 
and piety, of his stayedness and modesty, his learning and 
prudence ; in all which respects, he siud, one might behold 
in him the express image of his best and most holy parent ; 
and, that those his abilities might appear to all, the Uni- 
versity had appointed him to dispute in the next Com- 
mencement. And, lastly, that they had done this as a 
testimony of their reverence to his excellent father, and 
knowing the young gentleman to be the beneficiary and 
candidate of the most wise Cecil. Thus was he made 
acquainted ^vith all proceedings relating to Mr. Cheke. 

To trace this gentleman further. About the year 1569 .M 
or 1570 he marries ; fidling in love with Frances, daughter ^ 
of the Lady Ratcliff, who was wife to Sir Humphry Rad- 
cliff, of Elstow, Knight, whose son Edward was Earl of 

et pniJeDtiam spectes, omni n parte vidcbji in eo exprenun pitrii optimi ac 




Hit condi' 

Sussex. Of this his affection he acquainted his uiicle Cecil, 
to whom he confessed his love, but, notwithstanding, 
without his advice he would not proceed. And his consent 
and furtherance he seems to have obtained ; for he mar- 
ried her, and had children by her. 

In the year 1572 he wrote hia uncle a Greek epistle 
congratulatory, upon his being made Lord High Treasurer, 
dated from Elnest in Bedfordshire. 

Henry Cheke's condition was somewhat strait, and his 
incomes scarcely sufficient for his expenses. It appears, 
those lands that Queen Mary made over to Sir John Cheke 
were still held fast, either by the crown or private hands, 
and not yet possessed by his heir : for, in one of his letters 
to Cecil, he shewed him, that he had indeed some estate, 
but not to be enjoyed without much trouble and expense 
for the recovery, being gotten into other men's posses- 
sions, and bis houses upon his farms much out of repair. 
He petitioned the Queeu for his estate, and Sir WiUiam 
Cecil presented and forwarded his suit. It was for the 
manor of Hunden, iji the county of SulToIk. The fee sim- 
ple was in his father, but now in the Queen, and she bul 
promised hia mother to restore such things as were fail 
father's. He set forth in his petition, that it was no pre- 
judice to the Queen, but only losing the fine : for as to 
the parks, they were more charges to her than she recdved 
commodity by them. By this it seems to appear, that tbe 
exchange before mentioned, between Queen Mary and Sir 
John, was not completed at his death, or at least was not 
enjoyed by him, though that Queen detained and enjojed 
his lands so exchanged. Certain it is, that his circwB- 
stances were at this time but short, and annuities went 
out of his estate. He paid lOl. a year to hiw yuungol 
brother, and 10/. a year to his schoolmaster; a gnUi^ 
common in those times from gentlemen to their ifistndo 
ors. The remainder was 74G/. Gn. Sd. wh' '■ conic yekriy 
into his purse. He was fain to make ao- ipgfik^^J^ 
lands by 6ucs; but yet, notwithst 
hand, whatever his good huBban 


qiiitted himself of houeekeepiiig, and paying for his board, sect. 
by the courtesy of some of his friends; otherwise he muBt 
have' fallen into extreme debt, and sold his land, as he 
Bignified his case to his uncle Cecil: notwithstanding a 
lease also, which be had of the Bishop of Winchester, 
obtained by means of his said uncle, and Mr, Vice-Cham- 

For two or three years he and his wife and children Sojourns 
resided in the country with some of liis friends there, vix. I>iends. 
in the year 1574 at Wintney in Hantshire, and in 1575 at 
Bear, in Bear Forest, in the same county. 

The Queen was acquainted with his drcurastances, and He travels. 
intended to take him into her service ; hut she would have 
him first to travel, the better to fit him for it, which he 
forthwith undertook. And to "fit himself out, he sold so 
much land as yielded him 400/. the which yet served not 
to maintain all his charge and expense abroad. In the year 
1576 he went abroad, being now about eight and twenty 
years of age. In this year I find him at Antwerp, hasten- 
ing towards Italy, and comes to Genoa. In the beginning 
of the next year he was at Florence, where he was in dan- His danger. 
ger of his Ufe or liberty ; means being used to entrap him, 
by laying in wait to catch him, with intention perhaps to 
serve him as they had done his fether, out of a hatred 
conceived to his name. He was advised of this by a cer- 
tain English gentleman, who coming into the company of 
one Stewkely, fi-om Genoa to ^iena, gave him warning to 
seek some other place, and to look carefully to himself, as 
one greatly noted by some of his countrymen, who had 
spoken such words in his hearing, he said, as he might not 
declare unto him the particulars. Upon which Mr, Cheke 
thought fit to ask the counsel of an Italian friend, Seignior 
Lorenzo Guicciardini, brother unto Vincenzo Guicciardini 
of London; a grave wise gentleman, and very friendly 
onto him, and of great credit with the great Duke of Tus- 
cany. By his advice he resolved for Padua. So in the 
beginning of April he took himself to Ferrara, and found 
great difficulty to enter into the Duke's estate; forasmuch 



?, as being a neighbour unto the Venetians, (where the 
plague then was,) he kept the passages of his territories 
very strait. From thence he travelled to Padua about 
the end of the spring. 
r- His endeavour waa (among the pleasures of his travels 
\^_ through this brave countrj') to attain to speak the language 
truly and readily, which he hoped to do by Michaelmas ; 
and then he should think he had spent that year profitably ; 
as he wrote to the Irfird Treasurer. He noted various 
things, and made his observations in his travels here. But 
in the whole he made this remark, " That he had seen 
" many notable cities, much rich soil, and great variety of 
" states ; but in his opinion he had not seen any city so 
" beautiful as Florence, any soil so rich as that of Lom- 
" hardy, nor any state ao happy as the state of Eng- 
" land." 

He is at home in the year 1 579. How much sooner he 
returned I find not. Now he resided with his family at 
*' Occhani in Surrey. He daily attended the Court, though 
with little or no salary, yet in expectation of some place 
or preferment ; for which he ceased not, as he might with 
modesty, to solicit hia uncle, the Ixird Treasurer, being hi» 
highest friend, at whose hand he looked for his greatest 
comfort in his necessity: for he had again lately sold some 
more of bis land. He prayed that honom^ble person to 
bestow upon him some office in possession or reversioD, 
whereby he might reap some yearly commodity, to the 
increase of his Uving. He was forced now, not by his un- 
thriftinesH, but by need, to sell a manor, amounting b 
yearly rent to the sum of 37^. 15s. lOd. as well to pay his 
debts with part of the money, as to employ the rest in use 
to the best advantage. His debts were contracted by his 
late travel, and afterwards by his attendance at Court with- 
out fee, and other extraordinary expenses. 

But some time after, viz. in the year 1581, (when he 
.{J almost now desptured of succeeding at Court,) by the in- 
terest of the Lord Treasurer, he was made Secretary to the 
Council in the north, in the room of one Rlyth, a very ho- 


iiest able man, deceased. The Earl of Huntingdon, Pre- SECT, 
sident of that Council, wrote to the said Lord for Henry's * 
speedy repair to the north ; saying, that he was right glad 
of his promotion to that place : for though a worthy man 
were taken away, yet he hoped a good one should succeed ; 
so as the want of Mr. Blyth there was not like to be 
missed, as else it would. But, he added, that he needed 
not to commend him to his Lordship, who better knew 
him, and could judge better of such than he. Besides this 
office, he obtained the honour of knighthood also of the And 
Queen his mistress. ^'''^^^^' 

How long Sir Henry lived, I cannot tell : but I find one His death, 
Thomas Cheke, (by which name Sir Henry's eldest son 
was called,) in the year 1 586, writing a Greek letter and 
Latin verses to the Lord Treasurer; therein calling himself 
an orphan, and speaking of his father being gone to the 
joys of heaven. And he prays his Lordship, that as he 
was always an help and a sanctuary unto his father, so he 
would be to him. And this I conclude to be Sir Henry's 
eldest son, who might now be of the age of fifteen or six- 
teen : and if so, then at this year we must fix the period 
of his life, 

SECT. in. 

Sir Thomas Cheke^ son of Sir Henry. His honourable 


SIR HENRY CHEKE'S issue by his before-said wife sir Henry'. 
Frances, was Thomas, his eldest ; Hatton, who followed ^^^^^ 
the wars in Flanders, and was slain in a duel by Sir Tho- 
mas Dutton, Knight, near the town of Calais, (whose 
corpse was brought over, and buried at Dover;) and 
Henry, his third son, who died without issue, and was also 
buried at Dover, near his brother Hatton. 

Thomas being thus left a minor, was bred in a school sir Thomas 
at York : where he had two memorable schoolfellows, ^***''*- 
though of different inclinations and reputations. The one 
was Morton, afterwards Bishop of Durham ; an excellent 




iberty m 

and most learned Prelate, that wrote much and 
_ against the Papists : the other, Guy Faux, infamous to 
posterity for his unparalleled Popish zeal and villainy. 
Thomas was knighted by King James I, and was then 
styled Sir Thomas Cheke of the county of Lincoln, in 
respect perhaps of his estate at Spalding in that county. 
After styled Sir Thomas Cheke of Pyrgo, in the liberty of 
Havering in Essex; being an estate which he purcl 
of the Grays, and where he lived anno lfi34. 

He married, first, a daughter of Peter Osborn, Esq^ 
very beautiful woman ; as her picture shews, preserved in 
the long gallery of Pyrgo. To her he was married neai 
twenty years, and had no issue. Afterwards he married 
Essex, daughter of Robert lord Rich, Earl of Warwick. By 
whom he had three sons, Robert, Thomas, Charles ; and 
five daughters, Frances, Essex, Anne, Isabel, and Eliza' 
beth. And living to a great age, waa buried, March 25, 
1659, in St. Alban's church in Wood-street, {according to 
his desire and will,) near his grandfather, in the i 
chapel, without the furthest pillar, as appears by t 
gister of the said parish. Upon the rebuilding i 
church, in clearing the rubbish, the labourers thereabf 
met with a grave bricked up, which probably was w 
about his corpse. Of whose progeny, and the honoui 
intermarriages thereof, partly Dugdale's Baronage, 
partly the visitation books in the Office of Arms, (in one 
book whereof is Sir Thomas Cheke's own testimonial,) 
give this relation : 

Robert Cheke was bom in the year 1 625. He HI 
crooked, but a man of exquisite parts, and very d 
the Lord Cranbom, eldest son of the Karl of Salisbury, i 
sometime governor of one of King Charles the Second'* 
natural children. 

Thomas, who inherited the estate, called Colonel Cheke, 
was Lieutenant of the Tower under King Charlirs IL and 
King James il. He married, first, Dorothy, a daughter of 
Philip Sydney, Lord Viscount Lisle, afterwards Eari of 
Leicester; by whom he had no issue. He afterwards mar> 


ried Lsetitia, daughter of Edward Russel^ second son to SECT. 
Francis, Earl of Bedford ; by whom he had issue Henry, ™' 
who, living to the age of eight or nine years, died, and was 
buried in the chapel at Pyrgo, besides other children dying 
young. He had by his said wife a son named Edward, the 
only son surviving, and now enjoying the seat of Pyrgo in 
honoiu: and reputation : who married a daughter of Sir 
William Ellis, of Nocton in the county of Lincohj, Bart. 
The daughters of the said Thomas and LsBtitia are, Essex, . 
tmmarried, and Anne, wife of Sir Thomas Tipping, of 
Oxfordshire, Bart. This is the posterity male of Sir Tho- 
mas Cheke, grandson to our Sir John. 

The daughters of the said Sir Thomas were ,five, all ho- His daugh- 
nourably matched : 1. Frances, the eldest, was married to thd'r^ 
Sir Lancelot Lake, of Canons, in the county of Middle- «^**^^*»' 
sex. Knight. 2. Essex, the second daughter, was wife of . 
Sir Robert Bevyl, of Chesterton, in the county of Hun- 
tingdon, Knight of the Bath ; afterward of Edward, Earl 
of Manchester, Lord Chamberlain of the Household to 
King Charles IL by whom he had six sons and two daugh- 
t«-s. 3. Anne, the third daughter, married to Richard Ro- 
gers, of the county of Dorset, Esq* and after to Robert Lord 
Rich, Earl of Warwick. 4. Isabel, the fourth daughter, 
married to Sir Francis Gerard, of Harrow-the-hill in Mid- 
dlesex, Bart. And 5. Elizabeth, to Sir Richard Franklin, 
of More Piurk, in the county of Hertford, Bart. 

Thus may we see the offspring of the righteous to flou- 
rish, and our good and religious Cheke signally blessed in 
a very honourable house and a flourishing descent now for 
above an hundred and fifty years ; and his family spreading 
in much noble blood to this day. 




Obtervations upon Sir John Cheke, 


His natural disposition, and the endowments of his mirtd. 

Hi> qusiLfi- X HAVE finished the history of this eminent man, as to 
the external appearances and events of his life. There 
seems one thing yet wanting to be done, viz. to give the 
world a true idea of him in his inward qualifications, and 
the disposition of his mind : which may indeed in a great 
part be gathered tram what hath been already said of 
him ; yet^ for the giving farther satisfaction in this matter, 
I shall add a few things more to all 1 have writ. 
SoBwiMm- We must then, in the first place, declare him to be one 
•* m™'> of the leaniedest and best men of that affe : and one of 
of him. the most extraordinary wits : such as Providence raiseth 
up now and then, (but very sparingly,) for great ends, to 
be public documents and examples, and to do some extra- 
ordinary service in the world. A very learned man in those 
times, contemporary with Cheke, and one that knew him 
well, speaking of these singular men, particidarly men- 
Aich. tions him to be one; attributing unto him, " a wit quick 
*■"" without lightness, sharp without brittleness, desirous of 
" good things without new fan glen ess, diligent in painful 
" things without wearisomeness, and constant in good-will 
" to do all things well." And this, he said, he knew well 
Dr. Wji- was in Sir John Cheke. And another in those times, aa 
u"ofDe- gr^** ^ )^^^ of learning as he, sometime Secretary of 
"""'- Ot»t- State to Queen Elizabeth, styles Cheke, " that rare learned 
" man, and singular ornament of this land." 

To make up the triumvirate to give their judgment of 
our excellent man ; Nicolas Car, of Trinity college, Grvtb 
Professor after Cheke, one of the best scholars in Cam- 



bridge, styled him, " "One that did not exceed many in 
" age, but aU in learning, and was esteemed the very top _ 
" of Cambridge men in every respect." 

He had a mind, even from his tender yeara, much dia- H 
posed to virtue and study. And as a great advantage and ^l 
Bpur to both, he was educated under pious and wise pa- ^^ 
rents ; who perceiving the natural genius of the lad, 
Bpared for no care nor pains to cultivate his nature, and 
encourage hia good inclinations. Therefore, if we may be- st 
lieve one of our historians, they appointed a German scho- 
lar to take care of his younger studies, and a Frenchman 
of his behaviour; the godly matron his mother following 
%im with good precepts ; and this among the rest, that 
" he should take care of three things, his God, his soul, 
" and his company." 

He was earnestly inquisitive after truth, and sagacious in 
to find it. And this appeared both in the choice of his"*' 
religion and of his learning; both being then overrun 
with error and corruption : which his clear and searching 
reason and parts soon discovered to him. 

His learning. 

UNDER the topic of his learning, several things deserve Hii diii- 
remark, as first, hia diligence.. He stood upon no pains^""*' 
to inform his understanding, and improve his knowledge, 
and to find out errors, and overcome them, and to restore 
learning, and advance it higher than it ordinarily shewed 
itself in the Universities, and amDng such as went in 
those times for learned men. We are told, that King Ed-stat* wo 
ward said to Cardan, the learned foreigner that came to""^'' 
wait upon him, " that he had two masters, Diligence and 
** Moderation;" meaning Cheke for the fonner, and Cox 
for the latter. 

He eat not down contented in the present learning of smjies 

• Qui ■ 

e pntarii. In Efiiil 



the Schoolmen, but had a mind to know what learning 
_ was, when the Greeks and Romans flourished, bo cele- 
brated for their learning. And therefore to compass that, 
he sedulously applied himself to know the Greek language, 
that he might the more thoroughly read and understand 
the books of the learned Greek philosophers, historians, 
orators, and poets. Which was an hidden sort of learning 
then, and very rare. And herein he found a strain of 
learning and language far beyond the present, which w»s 
all barbarous and corrupt in comparison with it, A learn- 
ing proper to instruct, and excite to live virtuously, and to 
love and do just and worthy actions ; and also to enable 
men to speak properly and persuasively in any at^iment. 
And of all the Greek writers, he was most a lover of De- 
,. moathenes, the Greek omtor; whose writings were so 
noble, and his spirit and ratiocination so inimitable, that 
he thought it pity none should be able to read him, but 
such as could read Greek. This put him upon trantjLating 
him (which he did many of his orations) into Latin, fur tbc 
greater numbers to read, learn, and improve by. 

And here I will set down his judgment of that orator, 
and what skill he had in him, and why he judged him so 
fit to be read and studied. And all this in the words of a 
learned man in those days contemporary with him, vix. 
Dr. Thomas Wilson, the learned civilian before-men- 
' tioned. " The enterprise," siuth he, " of translating I>e- 
. * " mosthenes into English, if any might have been bold lo 
" have taken upon him. Sir John Cheke was the man of 
" all that ever I knew, or do yet know in England : such' 
" acquaintance had he witli this notable orator; so ghidy 
" did he read him, and so often, that I think there wm 
" never old priest more perfect in his porteise, nor super- 
" Btitious monk in onr Lady's Psalter, as they call it, nor 
" yet good preacher hi the Bible and Testament, than this 
" man was in Demosthenes. And great cause moved Win 
" 80 to be. For that he saw him to be the perfectest 
" orator that ever wrote for tliis two thousand years «1- 
" most by-past, (for so long it was since he was,) and al«o 


" for that he perceived him to have before his eyes in iUl sect, 
" his orations the advancement of virtue, as a thing chiefly "' 
" to be sought for, together with the honour and welfare of 

" his country. Moreover, he was moved greatly to 

" like Demosthenes above all other, for that he saw him 
" so familiarly applying himself to the sense and under- 
" standing of the common people, that he sticked not to 
" say, that ' none ever was more fit to make an English- 
" man tell his tale, praise worthily in an open hearing, 
" either in Parliament or pulpit, or otherwise, than this 
•' only orator was,' " ITiese were the things Cheke looked 
for from learning, that it might become truly useful to 
human life, and this was the reason he so valued this 
Greek author. 

Another branch of his diligence, was his ingenuous Hi* emuic 
emulation to be as learned as the best. A good quality in"""' 
a scholar, when the great proficiency of others beyond 
him provokes him to follow hard after, to arrive unto the 
same perfections. Cheke'a first application of himself to 
good learning was occasioned by John Redman of St. 
John's college, (afterwards Dr. Redman, and Dean of 
Westminster,) who had lived and studied in the Univer- 
eity of Paris, and came over very accomplished in the two 
learned languages : and by conversing much in the books 
of Tully, became both an excellent philosopher and orator, 
Redman's learning made him admired and much esteemed 
by all : which Cheke and hia fellow Smith well observed ; 
and being themselves truly addicted to their studies, took 
occasion hence to pursue that sort of learning which Red- 
jnan was become so eminent for. And thenceforth forsook 
the common course of studies in the Universities then 
used, wiiich consisted in the barbarous terms and idle 
disputations of the modem schools and schoolmen, and be- 
took themselves to the reading of good Latin and Greek Life 0/ Sir 
authors, aa I have observed elsewhere. eil-'th*" 


Cheke considered as a critic. 

NOW to look farther, and more closely iuto Cheke's 
learning, we may consider hira both aa a critic and an au- 

First, he was a good critic, and judge of learning, and 
particularly of classic authors. To give you his judgment 

- of two or three of them. Being asked his opinion of Sal- 
lust, the Latin historian, he shewed his piercing judgment 
of him by this censuj-e : for after he had said, " that be 

"'■" was not very fit for young men to learn out of liim the 
" purity of the Latin tongue, he gave these reasons, ti'a. 
" because he was not the purest in propriety of words, nor 
" choicest in aptness of phrases, nor the best in framing of 
" sentences. And therefore, that his writing was neither 
" plain for the matter, nor sensible for meu's uiiderstand- 
" ing." And when Ascham, to whom he spoke this, asked 
him what n'as the cause thereof, " Verily," said he, " bc- 
" cause Salhii^t's writing is more art than nature, and 
" more labour than art. And in his labour also too much 
" toil, as it were with an uncontented care to write better 
" than he could ; a fault common to vcrj' ninny men. And 
" therefore that he did not express the matter lively and 
" naiiually with conimon speecb, as Xenophoii did in 
" Greek, but it was carried and driven forth artiJictally, 
*' after too learned a aort." 

no- Hence also we ma.y sec his approbatimt of that Greek 
historian before mentioned; and upon what reason, ot». 
because his style is so natural, and flowing with easy lan- 
guage, accommodated without any great labour to every 
reader, and whatever art he wrote with, concealing it. 
He was a great admirer of Demosthenes, another Greek 

"' author, esteeming hiin the ])erfectest orator that evw 
wrote ; and that for this reason among others, that he ap- 
plied himself so closely to the understanding of the com- 
mon people, and cotdd so raise their iifrectiona ; and that 



he drove mEunly at the promoting of virtuous undertak- sect. 

ings, and inspired men with a great honour and love to ' 

their country, as was told before, 

- So that these books, with some few more, {and it waa What boot* 

no great matter if all the rest were laid aside,) were sufli- ",, "o" " 

cient, in his judgment, to make a substantial learned man ; m*"''*''- 

and withal to make him wise and good ; which indeed is 

the true end of learning. For Ascham, who conversed 

much with Cheke, reports, that he often heard him say, 

" I would have a good student pass rejoicing through all 

" authors, both Greek and Latin; but he that will dwell 

" in these few books only, first, in God's holy Bible, and 

" then join with it Tully in Latin^ Plato, Aristotle, Xe- 

" nophon, Isocrates, and DemoHthenes in Greek, must 

" needs prove an excellent man." 

Another part of Cheke 's criticism consisted in his ex- Che'ke gave 
quisite skill in imitation ; as a great part of scholarship ia J^iit^^^ 
seen in imitating well the good authors one reads. For 
this is one of the great ends and benefits of reading, to at- 
tain to those peculiar excellences of writing and speaking 
that our authors were noted for ; an art not so easy to be 
obtained ; for there is great difference between aping and 
sound imitation. Cheke made great attainments herein, 
and that partly by a curious obsen'ing how Tully imitated 
Demosthenes : how lie retained thus much of the matter, 
these sentences, these words. Again, how this and that 
he left out, which he did willingly to a certain end and 
purpose: how he added in one place, and diminished in 
another ; how one thing he ordered one way, by placing 
it here, not there ; and how he altered and changed either 
in property of words, in fonn of sentence, in subwtance of 
the matter, or in one or other convenient circumstance of 
the author's present purpose. By these critical observa- 
tions of his, which he discovered and explained to Mr. 
Ascham, he was enabled to lay down certain rules for imi- 
tation, which he did in his •ScAo/ar(TAa,or"Schoolmastcr;"schoD]mtist. 
in which he wrapt up all the necessary tools and instru-'"' 
ments, wherewith true imitation is right wrought withal 


CHAP, in any tongue. " Which tools," he confessed, " were not 
'^"' " his own forging, but partly borrowed out of the shop of 
" John Sturniiua, a le:arned foreigner, aiid partly left unto 
" him by the cunning'est master, and one of the worthiest 
" gentlemen that ever England bred," [meaning Sir John 
Cheke.] " These rules," Ascham said, " he left to his 
" children ; and as they used them right, he should be 
" more glad," he said, " than if he were able to leave 
" them a great quantity of land." 
Hiijudg- Cheke had also an excellent judgment in trmulation, 
transintioQ. *"<! * notable faculty that way ; a good and useful piece <rf 
learning; to translate properly out of Greek into Latin, 
and Greek or X^tiu into our mother tongue. To the 
doing of which there must be a thorough skill in the lan- 
guages, and a treasure of proper words and phrases and 
idioms of speech. He had a practice relating hereunto, 
which some of his hearers made a remark upon j ^baX 
when he was reading Latin or Greek, he would often 
English hiB matter upon a sudden, by looking on the book 
only; without reading or construing any thing at all. A 
Dr. WfiKin. usage, saith the remarker, very profitable for all men, as 
well for the understanding of the hook, as also for the 
aptness of framing the author's meaning, and bettering 
thereby their judgments, and therewithal perfecting their 
tongues and utterance, 
WyUon'i Cheke's translations of divers seiect pieces of some of 
Uon'of" ^^ ^A Greek authors into Latin, shew His skill this way. 
Chekt'i And Dr. Wylson in some critical observations upon the 
tioDi. Latin translators of Demosthenes, (as namely, Hiemo. 
Wolfius, Chriatopherus Hegendorphius, Melancthon, Joa- 
chim Camerarius, Petrus Clobardus, Nicolas Car,} gives 
this character of Cheke ; " Mr. Cheke, whom I dare match 
" with any other before-named, for his knowledge in the 
" Greek tongue, having travailed in Demosthenes as much 
*' as any of them all, and famous for his learning through- 
" out Europe : yet [for I will not conceal what WyUon 
" thinks fit to add] wa6 he never an passing in this tmu- 
" lation, that no exception could be made aguuat him." 


He was a critic also in the prmutnciation and ortkogra- SECT. 
pAy of the learned languages. As to the former, viz. his 
endeavour to make a reformation in the University, of aCorrecuthc 
very bad and false way of sounding and uttering the Greektionof the 
language, stirred up a great deal of dust, (as we heard ^'"™^ '"■'' 
partly before in the history,) and had not a few adversaries, ° 
who generally were of the elder sort, or favourers of Po- 
pery ; and so dreaded any thing that looked like innova- 
tion. The chief of these was Dr. Cains, who asserted, 
that neither France, Germany, nor Italy owned any such 
pronunciation. Cheke could not endure that noble lan- 
guage, the Greek, to be so ignorantly read : whereby the 
gracefulness of the sound of it was much impeached, be- 
eides the palpable falseness of pronouncing, in confound- 
ing the vowels and diphthongs one with another. But 
I the Bishop of Winton, Chancellor of Cambridge, sided 
with Cheke's adversaries, and made a peremptory decree 
for the continuance of the bad way of pronouncing the 
Greek. Hereupon a great controversy was begun be- 
tween the said Bishop and Cheke; who, out of his love to 
Greek, and the useful learning attainable by the study of 
it, could not away with this decree. And seeing that all Eipostu- 
bis pains, in instructing the sholars his auditors in this Gardiner 
particular, was like to come to nothing, thought con-'''""' 
venient to take iip his pen, and in an eloquent letter to Greek. 
expostulate this matter freely with the Chancellor; yet 
with all due deference to a person of his quality, and so 
much advanced above him. The Chancellor in another 
letter shewed all his art and learning, for the confirming 
of his former order, and for the persuading and convincing 
of Cheke, if he could. 

Whereupon they entered into an epistolary conflict to- An episto 
gether concerning this argument. Winchester contended ^'J^ ^"" 
to have the old way of reading Greek kept upon the au- ''■"««'> Wi 
thority of custom. Cheke on the contrary urged the tiitke. 
amendment of the sounds, because the old were certainly 
false. Winchester warned Cheke, that he should not be- WintUej- 
come an author to the youth, to frame any sounds, either ^ent,. 


. of the Liitiii or Greek language by hiis own conject 

_ other than what they had received from their ancestors, or 

which the learned then retained. That he would not 

be too much a Stoic in weighing of sounds ; and to re- 
member, that as words, so also sounds, receive their au- 
thority from use and from reason. Utere, added he, tmti- 
quis moribus, verbis vera prcesenttbus, et multo magit 
sonis; i. e. " Use ancient manners, but present words, and 
" mueh more sounds," That he feared, if Cheke pro- 
ceeded in these new matters, that he would turn Oim- 
bridge into Babylon by a woful metamorphosis, or, if any 
thing, be more confused than Babylon. 

Cheke had objected, that letters and sounds were 
changed and defiled in the last barbarous age, which it was 
better to cleanse and restore, than to imitate. And for 
this he appealed to Erasmus, and other learned men that 
had taken notice of these errors. But the Bishop said, 
" they did not shew a contamination in the aomids of let- 
" ters, but a mutation only : which he acknowledged there 
" was in the present sounds; but yet affirmed, that every 
" change was not to be disproved ; and that the sounds of 
" letters were more likely to be changed by the learned, 
" [than the illiterate common sort,] sijice the learned were 
" wont to take heed to euphony, [that is, agreeable and 
" grateful somid,] whereas the vulgar regarded it not so 
" much. And that Cheke being persuaded by a ridiculous 
" collection concerning the use of writing, supposed all to 
" be uttered that was written; and so brought in iipou 
" the ears of the present age, that absurd and ill sound, 
" which by fallacious conjectures he thought he had 
" found to be that which the ancients used. He insisted 
" upon that argument, that it was convenient and decent 
" to pronounce according to the custom and mode of the 
" present age, a new way of pronouncing words being »o 
" surprising, and the reducing it to the use of the ai>- 
" cients, offensive to people's ears." Thus when Cheke 
would have the Greek T not pronounced like iwT« [as tbry 
then used to do,] but HltP llie letter I', the Bishop, for «x- 


ample, brought the word KYSS, which he said no man : 
would pronounce KUSS, the old rude way of sounding _ 
that word, instead of KVSS the modern way ; wlien people 
for the more handsomeness of speech had moUilied the U 
into I. And so Winchester would have had the way of 
pronouncing the Greek U by I, to have been done, not ig- 
norantly, but by judgment, and for the sake of urbanity. 
The Biabop added a verse made by one Nic, Rowle, an old 
contemporary of his at the Uiuvcrsity, who, being a witty 
man, made a difference between a foul and a fair nuud, 
only by the sound of the same word, virgo. 

Si piilchra est nnco, sin turpis culgo voc.etur. 

But that Cheke had no regard to this, whereby he made 
himself ridiculous. Therefore where Cheke urged that the 
way he endeavoured to bring in, was the reducing sounds 
to their first and original truth, Winchester answered, 
" * Let all things have their age and their youth, and as 
" words do words, so let us allow sounds to succeed 
" sounds." 

Besides this, he laid to his charge arrogance and rash- 
ness ; and added, " that it were much better, that the 
" Greek language itself with its sounds were wholly ba- 
'* nkhed, than that youth by his teaching should imbibe 
" rashness, arrogance, and vanity, most peniicious pests 
" to all the rest of the life. And he complained, that now 
" by his means the young men insulted over the old ; and 
" being guiJty <if an exotic way of pronunciation, made it 
" a kind of delight, that they were not understood of their 
" seniors. And all that he would allow the Greek Pro- 
" fessor was, that in reading his Greek lectures, he might 
" instruct his auditors, as concerning old words, so con- 
" ceming the old sounds ; that they might knoxv them, 
" but not use them ; that they became not ridiculous to 
" all. In short, he charged him, that he were not the 
" cause malum bene positum de lijco movendi, i. e. 'of re- 

• Sit wbui omnibus lunin wniuni, sun jiiveiilus, et ill vrtba verliis, *if plimii 



'. " moving an evil well placed ;' especially when that which 

_" he called evil being taken away, he had nothing tliat was 
" good to put in the place of it." 

ir- This was the substance of the arguments, ingenious 
enough, that the Chancellor of the University used. But 

'I"- Cheke, with a due deference, and yet with a scholarlike 
freedom, learnedly asserted his reasons and refutation of 
what the said Chancellor had writ with so much plausibi- 
lity against all reforming of abuses iu learning, as well as 
in religion. His business was to shew, how evidently 
false the present way of sounding many of the letters and 
vowels was. And then he thought no scruple could be 
made, but that they ought to be rectified ; and whatsoever 
was amiss ought to be amended, and not to persist in a 
known error. And for example he shewed how in one 
word, consisting but of three syllables, there were as 
many evident errors in the pronouncing. As in the word 
xu^epvai, which was commonly then pronounced chh'errto; 
to wit, by mispronouncing all the three first letters, like- 
wise in pronouncing oi the diphthong as the letter JitB, 
whereby no manner of difference was made between two 
different words in Greek, viz. XoifAo; pestis, and Xifiw 
fames. And the diphthong that consisted of two rowels 
was sounded but as one. At length he brought all these 
on his side, vix. the authority of the ancients, the perpe^ 
tiud consent of the old grammarians, the benefit of learn- 
ing, sweetness in speaking, perspicuity and clearness in 

" That he could not be 'convicted neither of rashness, 
" boldness, nor arrogance, though the Bishop had laid it 
** to his charge. Not of rashness, because he was ready 
" to acquiesce in the judgment of the most learned and 
" most ancieut men. \ot of confident boldness, in tlul 
" he approved of the consent of almost all ages: nor of 
" arrt^nce, if he refuted such things as were crept in un- 
" justly and unprofitably, by the authority of eminent and 
" knowing men. 

•' That therefore he thought he slinuld be rather i 



" rished and encouraged by him, their learned Chancellor, ; 
" for his endeavour to reduce the Greek language to its _ 
" true antiquity ; and that he should have been assisted 
" by his authority in the whole matter of antiquity ; since 
" it appeared, that he was himself studious of aU anti- 
" quity, and did with all his heart and will dislike and ab- 
" hor all the innovation of later memory. For it was not 
" novelty, to discover this way of pronouncing Greek 
" words according to the truth ; since it was only inter- 
" tnitted and Imd away for a time. Nor was this to inno- 
" vate any thing, to introduce that -which was ancient and 
" profitable." 

He added moreover, " that such was his success, when 
" he first propounded this reformation in the language, 
" that it was received with much applause and commenda- 
" tion ; and, except a few, that woiild rather aeem to be 
" Grecians than were so indeed, all that either read or 
" understood the language, were so convinced and well 
" pleased with this true way, that they all used it. And 
" the benefit of reading Greek this way was, that they 
" that learnt it profited more in the knowledge of it in a 
" year, than they did before in two ; and arrived much 
" sooner to an ability of speaking and writing it; which 
" took up a very long time before. And this the experi- 
" encc of some years shewed. That there was so much de- 
" Kght and sweetness now perceived in Homer's or So- 
" phocles's verses, by reason of the variety of sounds and 
'* modulation of the numbers, that no music, no lute could 
" be more pleaiiant. Further, that this that he [Cheke] 
" did now in the Greek, was no more in effect than his 
" Lordship himself had done, when he resided at Cam- 
" bridge, and was Reader of the Civil Law there ; at 
" which time he endeavoured commendably to purge that 
" study ; and turned the minds of the students thereof 
" from the Glosscmatarians: and thereby he ran into great 
" offence of some, and had great contention about it. 

" That this opposition by many in the University, to 
" the right sounding of the Greek, seemed to spring from 


CHAP, "a dislike of the language itself. As some in the age« 
" past were jealous of all the learned languages, Latin, 
" Greek, and Hehrew ; and affecting ignorance rather. 
" When the Latin tongue began to be replaced, it was 
" received not without great commotion, and indignation 
" of men's minds, The Greek language was odious to 
" many, and yet it is; and some there were that dis- 
" couraged youth from the knowledge of it. The Hebrew 
" hath its reprovers, that the study of it puts the learner's 
" fame and reputation into danger. That it was but a few 
" years ago, but he that spake hotter Latin than tlie rest 
" was esteemed as arrogant, was derided as rude. When 
" in truth this came to pass, not by the fault of the 
" speaker, but the fault of the hearers. Nor was it any 
" such misery, to be laughed at by such, who indeed are 
*' themselves ciiiefly to be laughed at ; because they know 
" not what it is they deride : and as usually naughty per- 
" sons seek occasion in the best things to make sport, so 
" wise men do not regard so much to accommodate t 
" selves to the opinion of the multitude." 

I have been lai^c upon tliis point ; and that parttyil 
cause this reforming the Greek pronunciation is one o 
chief things redounds to the honour of Cheke's memory; 
and partly, that the reader may be entertained a little with 
the fine spirit that ran through Cheke's discourses. 

Here I may subjoin a merry story, that Richard Cheny 
(afterwards Bishop of Glocester) lold to Sir Williara 
Cecil, concerning this ill pronouncing of Greek, which 
Cheke, as we heard, laboured to reform. Tliat he, the 
said Cheny, had lately been at Oxford, (it was about the 
beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign,) where this contro- 
versy of pronouncing Greek had floivn from Cambridge to 
that other University. There he had some conversation 
with certain learned men ; among «hom were Dr. Bnbing- 
ton, Dr. Wright, Archileacon of Oxford, and the Provost 
of Oriel college. Discourse happening concerning the 
tnie way of pronouncing Greek, and they stiffly defending 
the iiKtml manner of pronouncing it ; Cheny replied. " Re- 

port, so 
1 thQ^^_ 



" ware, my masters, that whilst you wilfiilly go about to SECT. 
" defend an untruth m this matter, you fall not into such ' 

'^ an inconvenience as I once knew a Bishop do/' And 
when they would know how and where, he said, he sat 
once at table with a Bishop that did as you do, defend the 
untrue pronunciation of the letter ^ru, [that is, as loura,] , 
and that after he had declared many absurdities that fol- 
lowed thereon, he desired him to read a few words written 
in the xxviith of Matthew : the Bishop immediately called 
for the Testament in Greek : Cheny appointed him a line or 
two. Where among other words he read these, *HXi, ^x), 
XatfjLci aafioLxioLvij " Making false Greek," saith Cheny, " but 
*^ true English ; pronouncing plainly, / /y, / /y." Where- 
upon, not without mirth. Dr. Babington presented Cheny 
with Cheke's book of that argument. 

Another piece of that exactness that was in Cheke ap- His cnre 
peared in his care about orthography, that is, for true and'j^jJ^^Vra! 
right writing, as well as pronouncing. And here both the phy of La- 
Latin and our mother tongue fell under his correction. As 
for the Latin, that it might be spoken truly, and the syl- 
lables in reading pronounced long or short, according to 
their nature, he devised a way to write the vowels accord- 
ing to their quantity. As the long vowel O, after this 
manner, eo, like a Greek omegOy as in itxwrem, libercos. And 
the long I with two tittles over it, as in divinitus. And as 
for the long E, especially the diphthong, which before was 
commonly writ as the ordinary E, he put a tail to it, as in 
lector: and so I find he wrote in some of his letters; yet 
I observe in his writings after, he did not so much regard 
it, excepting the E diphthong. 

And whereas the writing and spelling of our English And of 
tongue was in those times very bad, even scholars them- "^ " ' 
selves taking little heed how they spelt, (as appears 
both by the MSS. and books then printed,) he endea- 
voured the correcting and regulating thereof, in these re- 
spects following: 1. He would have none of the letter E 
put to the end of words, as needless and unexpressive of 
any sounds ; as in these words, excus, giv, deceiv^ praiSy 




n : unless where it is sounded, and then to be writ 
_with a double E, as in necessitee. 2, Where the letter A 
was sounded long, he would have it writ with a double A, 
in distinction from A Ehort ; as in matui, sfraat, daar. 3. 
Where the letter I was sounded long, to be writ with a 
double I, as in desUr, liif. ■!, He whoUy threw out the 
letter Y out of the alphabet, as useless, and supplied it 
ever with I, as mi, sat, awai. b. V long he wrote with r 
long stroke over it, as iii presiim. G. The rest of the long 
vowels he would have to be written with double letters, ss 
weer, theer, {and sometimes t/iear,) noo, noon, adtio, thorn, 
loov, to avoid an E at the end. J. Letters without sound 
he threw out; as in these wordB,/rM(e«, woldjfaitt, timit, 
again for against, hole, meeti for mean. And 8. changed 
the spelling in some words, to make them the better ex- 
pressive of the sounds ; as in giid, britil, praisalnl, »nff'fT- 

And here I must add, that he laboured much in the re- 
. Gtdration of our English language. Dr. W'yison before- 
' mentioned asserted, that he had better skill in our Eng- 
lish speech, to judge of the phrases and properties of 
words, and to divide sentences, than any else had that hf 
knew ; and that he was thought, by some judicious meti, 
greatly to have improved the language by a pmctice he 
had, when he read his Greek lectures, to take the book, 
and only looking upon the Greek, to read it into English : 
whereby he did not -only give a clearer understanding of 
the author, but enabled his hearers the better to judge of 
the things, and to perfect their tongue and utterance, as 
was remembered before. 

What he did further for the English language was, that 
he brought in a short and expressive way of writius;, 
lot without long and intricate periods. And moreover, in 
'l„ writing any discourse, he would allow no words but »ach 
as were true English, or of Saxon origuial ; suffering no 
adoption of any foreign word into the English speech, 
which he thought was copious enough of itself, witfaont 
borrowing words from other countries. Thus in his oini 


translations into English he would not use any but pure sect. 
English phrase and expression: which indeed made his 

style here and there a little affected and hard ; and forced 
him to use sometimes odd and uncouth words, as de* 
siirfulj ungrevous, tollers for publicans^ Sfc; which per- 
haps might occasion that rude' character Sir John Hay- 
worj gave of him, ^^ allowing his eloquence in the Latin Hapirard'a 
** and Greek tongues ; but for other suflSciencies, so far as q^^I^^I^ 
** it appears by his books, pedantic enough/* A censiffesured. 
too rash upon a man of such fame and learning, and indeed ward\i. * 
bespake Hayward to be but little acquainted Mdth him or 
his books; being far otherwise thought on by those 
learned men his contemporaries that well knew him, and 
wanted not for skill to judge of men. But to return where 
we were, that indeed was Cheke's conceit, that in writing 
English none but English words should be used, thinking 
it a dishonour to our mother tongue, to be beholden to 
other nations for their words and phrases to express our 

Upon this account Cheke seemed to dislike the English Goes about 
translation of the Bible, because in it there were so many faSon of the 
foreign words: which made him once attempt a new^ewTesu- 
translation of the New Testament ; and he completed the j^. .j^^^ 
Gospel of St. Matthew, and made an entrance into St.D. 
Mark; wherdn aU along he laboured to use only true * 
English Saxon words. The original under his own hand 
still remains in the MS. library at Bene't college, Cam- 
bridge. A specimen whcfreof, for the reader's diversion, I 
shall here set down. 

The common translation. Cheke*s translation, 


17. So aD the generations 17- Therefor from Abra- 

from Abi-aham to David are ham unto David there wer 

fourteen generations ; and fourteen degrees ; and from 

from David until the carry- David trato the out-peopling 

ing away into Babylon are to Babylon, fourteen dc^- . 

M 2 



fourteen generations, and 
_ from the carrjiiig away into 
Babylon unto Christ are 
fourteen generations. 

18. Now the birth of Je- 
sus Christ was on this wise. 
When as his mother Mary 
was espoused to Joseph (be- 
fore they came together) she 
was found with child of the 
Holy GhoEt. 

19. Then Joseph her hus- 
band, being a just man, and 
not willing to make her a 
public example, was minded 
to put her away privily. 

20. But when he thought 
on these things, behold, the 
angel of the Lord appeared 
unto him in a dream, &c. 

CHAP. n. 

16. Then Herotl, when he 
saw that he was mocked of 
the wise men, &c. 

grees; and from the cot* 
peopUng to Babylon 
Christ, fourteen degrees. 


18. And Jesus Christs 
birth was after this nort. 
After his mother Man was 
ensured to Joseph, before 
thei weer cupled together, 
she was prelved to be with 
child ; and it was indeed by 
the Holi Ghoost. 

19. But Joseph her bus- 
band, being a juat man, and 
loth to use extremitee to- 
ward her, entended priviii to 
divorse himself from her. 

20. And being in thii 
mind, lo the angel of the 
Lord appeired bi dream, &c. 

CHAP. n. 

It!. Then Herod 
that he was plaid withal 
the wise-heards, &c. 


lUf; inipr 
cd by 

Yet one may observe in this so over-laboured a tranBkr 
tion, (as I may term it,) he is forced to make use of seveisl 
words of foreign derivation. 

Add this lastly to the rest of the regulations Cheke oiade 
''of the English, that he brought in fair and graceful writiD;; 
by the pen, as he wrote an excellent, accurate hand himself. 
And all the best scholars in those times practised to write 
well. So did Sndtli and Cecil, and especially Aschan); 
who, for hix exqiusite hand, was the person appointed tt 
teach the Lady Elizabeth to write. So that fair wrilil 
and good learning seemed to commence together. 



Cheke an author. His writings. 

AND as our learned man was furnished with all good Cheke's 
learning, so he occasionally wrote upon several, both ^^^ ^°^* 
learned and pious subjects for the general good; namely, 
in divinity, as well as other human learning. The cata- 
logue of his books and writings, prmted or unprinted, is 
^ven us by the author of the Heroologia ; and Dr. Lang- 
bain follows him ; but taken by both (or at least by the 
former) out of Bale's Centuries ; and that imperfectly, and 
erroneously in some things, and withal displacing the order 
of them. I shall present them as they lie in Bale, and add 
some cursory conjectures and observations upon some of 

1. De Pronuntiatione Gr<Bca. This was writ in Latin, 
and afterwards printed; and was nothing else but the 
learned letters that passed between Cheke and the Bishop 
of Winton, concerning the pronouncing of Greek ; which 
being printed at Basil, were entitled, De recta Li^igutB 
GrueciB Pronuntiatione. 

2. Damna ex Seditione^ i. e. "The Losses by Sedition." 
This was writ and printed in English, for the public ser- 
vice of the kingdom in a rebellion anno 1549; and the 
book (which is well enough known) is entitled, 7%e faith- 
ful Sufjject to the Rebel. 

3. In quosdam Psalmos. 

4. In Psalmumj Domine prohasti. These, I suppose, 
were nothing but some pious meditations of his. 

5. De Fide justijkante. Against the Papists, no ques- 

6. De Eucharistice Sacramento. Whether this were 
his disputations with Feckenham against transubstantia- 
tion, or something else, it is uncertain to me. 

7. In Obitum D. Anthonii Dennei; beginning. Cum 
claras honiinum vitas. This Sir Anthony Denny was bred 
at St. John's college, an excellent scholar, and a person of 

M 3 


CHAP, great worth, whose merits raised him to be one of the 
bedchamber to Henry VIII. and one of his Pri\-y Council. 
The deserved esteem Cheke had for him, as well as an- 
cient acquaintance with him, miide him honour his me- 
mory with an heroic poem : which shall follow by and by. 

8. Super 3Iortem Buceri. This perhaps is his epistle 
to Peter Martyr, Bucer's dear friend, consolatory concern- 
ing his death. It is printed in Bucer's Scriptu jJagHcana, 
and elsewhere. Unless it should rather mean the Kpice- 
dium, which Cheke bestowed upon that most learned di- 
vine; which shall be set down among lus epitaphs, to 
preserve as much as we can of the worthy man we are 
giving the history of. 

9. Epitapbiorum Hb. 1 . This one book of epitaphs, or 
inscriptions and verses iijwn persons deceased, means no 
more, but according to Bale's way, that these epitaphs, if 
they were all collected, might be sufBcient to make one 
book. Of this sort, besides his verses upon Denny and 
Bucer, were probably the nioimmental inscriptions upon 
his patron, Dr. Butts, in Fulham church, and upon Richard 
Hills, his wife's father, buried in the church of Queenhith, 
mentioned before. And hitherto may be reduced an Eng- 
lish elegy, wherein the sickness of King Edward, together 
with the circumstances of time and place, and his death, is 
described, (if we may helievc it,) and was printed, anno 

Hffooiogifl. iGlo, by H. Holland, as he tells us himself. 

Hii poetry. For he was no stranger to poetry. What his abilitiei 
were in this art, may be seeo by these funeral verses 
some of his friends ; which I have retrieved, and think 
amiss to preserve, as some further remains of bis studii 

Marix Cicellx Sororis Checi, l/xuris D, GuU. Ctctlli, 
EpUapkUim. Qute olnit Meiue Febrttario, an. I)om. 

'OsTtA T^{ Maf/af SiriXAi); hiait xtlrai 

nvfUfia rtXiurwn); xufio; aura; ^rt, 
'H irarpef fJTf a's t* ayatt'i*, kvS^i^ t iyaS<M.\ 


In Obitum D. Martini Buceri. sect. 


Fita gravis miseroy gravior mors; sed HM tanto ' 

Mors nee vita potest esse, Bucere, gravis. 
Fitafiiit Christus, mors lucrum; vivere cessas 

NaturcBy ac Christo vitaperennis adest. 
j4lmajides Christie quam tu super astra ferebas, 

Te super astra eadem sustulit alma fides. 
Cumque tui mores, pietas, doctrina probentur. 

Mors tua non gravis est, et gravis est eadem. 
Mors gravis est nobis, orbatis lumine tanto, 

Non gravis est tibi, quce vita beata tibi est. 
DoctfiniB stadium, vitije constantia, mortis 

Mantus, O ! idem sit mihi, Christe, precor. 

In Antonium Deneium clarissimum virum. 

Carman heroicum. 

Cum claras hominum vitas modulata Thalia, 
Gloria quos celebreis altum in subvexit Olympum : 
Aptaret digitis numeros ad carmina suavis, 
Certaretque alias cantando vincere Musas ; 
Interpres subito divum Cyllenius alis 
Prcspetibus venit, in medium seque ingerit agmen : 
AtqiLe inter mediae illas est deinde locutus. 

Nata Jovis, medium tu nunc abrumpito carmen, 
Argutos nunc linque sonos numerosque fluentes, 
Te vocat omnipotens Genitor divumque hominumque, 
Te manet ad citharam doctus crinitus Apollo, 
Te manet et reliquum ccelestis turba Deorum. 
Desine nunc laudem veterum, et clarorum heroum. 
Sunt molienda tibi nova carmina, plena laborum, 
Queis poteris veterum laudes superare canendo. 
Materiam nacta es claram, te pulcher Apollo 
Invito^, vireisque suas in carmine jactat : 
Altemis tecum contendet versibus. Ergo 
Sume animum, depone metum, pnestantia quanta 
Sit tiM, declara : poteris vicisse canendo. 
Deneiu8 venit ad superos mortalid linquens, 
Britannos inter clarus {laus maxima quorum est, 

M 4 


CHAP. Omnes quod vera sint relligionis amantesy 
' JEt pia vota Deo fcuAunt, Christique sequantur 
Doctrinam, Sanctis longe lateque patentem 
Scripturis, parvo totamque volumine clatisam.) 
Quis dignam illiusfactis vocem, quispromere verba. 
Possit, et excelsas laudes cequare canendo f 
QucB pietasj et quanta viri? Quis fervor in ilia 
Melligionis erat ? Quam purus cultus in ilia 
Ccelestis patris f Quanta in Christum Jidei vis 
Extitit illius sacrata morte redempti f 
Munera quce rursum ? Quos et libavit honores 
Justiticcque speique Deo ? Qucb victima laudis 
CcRsafuit? grati cordisque orisque diuma 
Hostia, quam scope est hominum divumque parenti 
Oblata in Christo. Christinam haud immemor unquam 
Hie fuitf propter divinam sanguine fuso, 
Mortem mortales qu(^primum condliavit, 
Peccatif scelerisque ruina^ et pendere presses. 

Quid memorem Henricum claro de stemmati Megentj 
Henricum Octavum terrce marisque potentem ? 
O ! quibus hie studiis, quo ilium est amplexus amore 
Quem sibi subfectumque bonum, servumquejidelem 
Scribatf et officia hcsc haud parvo munere pensans, 
Ostenditf se herumque bonum, regemque benigtmm. 
Consiliumque lepos quantum superadditus auget, 
Etjuvat optatas ad res bene confidendasj 
Hie alios tantum superat, quijlectere mentem 
Henrici potuitj miscens nunc utile dulci, 
Seria nunc levibus texens, nunc grandia parvis. 
Quamfacilem cur sum hie aliis ad vota sequettda 
Feceraty atque aditum multis facilem patefeck f 
Quam bona multa aliis, et quam mala nulla cuiquam 
Intulit f Et laudem summam virtutis habebat 
HujtiSj qui nullos nee apertos l<Bserat hostes. 

[Hie desunt multa.] 

Hie ubi dicta dedit, celeri turn concita cursu 
Festinatj cytheramque novam vocemque Thalia 


Prceparat, ingenio divesque, et carmine felis, sect. 

Atque Jovis magni ad solium^ Divosque ptdentes ' 

Advolatj et vibrat tremulos ad carmina nervos. 

Totum compleri turn Divis undique ccelum. 

Cemere erat, late sparsos ita congregat alia 

Vbxque sonusque DecB, suavisque ad carmina cantus. 

Tmn ccelum reboat totum j magnusque per alta 

It clamor plaususque Deum plaususque heroumf 

Nervorum ^diumque soni concentibus implent 

Omnia, suffitu redolent et mascula thura, 

Electra et molles aspirant pinguia odares. 

Omnia Deneium resonant cytharceque Deique 

Istos sic meritis claros accepit honores. 

10. De Nativitate Prindpis, i. e. " Of the Nativity of 
" the Prince." This the author of the Heroologia will 
have to be a panegyric upon his nativity. I rather con- 
jecture (for neither of us, I believe, saw this tract) it was 
some private calculation of Prince Edward's nativity, as 
Cheke studied that art, and built too much upon it. 

1-1. -dfn licet nubere post Divortium, i. e. " Whether a 
^^ woman might marry after a divorce." A case much 
handled in those times. And this seems to have been a 
case put to him in behalf of a great lady, whose husband, 
being a nobleman, had obtained a divorce from her. 

12. Introductio GrammaticcB. 

13. De Jjudimagistrorum Officio. Both these seem to 
have been vmt primarily by him for the use of the Prince, 
to whom he was schoolmaster. 

14. De Superstitione. Ad Begem Henricum. A very 
learned treatise. This was a discourse drawn up upon the 
argument of superstition^ for the use of that King, in order 
to the reformation of religion, which in his reigfl was 
much pestered with superstitions. This was set by way 
of dedication before his translation of Plutarch's book of 
that argument, and vmt in a very elegant Latin style. 

The book is extant in the library of University college, 
Qxon, curiously vrrit, and bound up in cloth of silver: 



CHAP, which makes it very probable it might be the very book 
that he presented to the King: as hatb been signified to 
me by Mr. William Elstob, a Fellow of that college ; now 
the reverend and learned Rector of St. Swithiii's, London. 
This is now published in English at the end of thia work 
by hia care. 

15. De Cvieribus el Palmis. ^d fintonieiisem. Gar- 
diner Bishop of Winchester was earnest with the Lord 
Protector for the retaining the old usages in the Church, 
and particularly sprinkling ashes on Ash Wednesday, and 
Acu and carrying palms on Palm Sunday. There is a letter of ids 
"'"'"■ writ to the Lord Protector on that subject. Perhaps the 
said Lord put Cheke upon giving an answer to that letter. 
To these books and tiucts mentioned by Bale, I add these 
not mentioned by him : 

IK. De Ecclesia; an potest errare: i. e. "Of the 
" Church ; whether it can err." Wrote in Latin, yet ex- 
tant among the Foxiaii MSS. It is an argument learnedly 
managed by him against the Papists. Wherein he pro- 
ceeded ujwn these questions : Whether there be a Chureb ; 
what the Church is ; and whether it can err. 

17. His Epistles. Whereof several are extant; as \m 
Epistle to Peter Martyr at Oxford, concerning the death 
of Martin Bucer. Another letter consolatory to Dr. H»d- 
don in his sickness, very pious and devout, besides diven 
others before mentioned. 

IS. Hia two recaiilaiio/is might have been mentionod; 
but that in truth they were no further his, than as he ut- 
tered them with his mouth, hut did not compose them. 

19. Another branch of his labours be his translations. 
Some whereof were done out of Greek into Latin: nnd 
several undoubtedly for the use of his roj'al scholar, viz. 
\, Ditfers pieces of St. Chrysoatora : as, De Fato, homilite 
tres; De Providentiu, hom. tres; Coulrti Obsenatom 
Novilunii, hom. 1 ; Dr Dorittientibtts in Christo, hom. 1 ; 
together with other pieces of that ancient Father. U. Jo- 
sephus's Antiquities, &ve books. IlL Leo de ^pparalu 
Jtellico, Ub. I. This Leo was the Emperor Leo V. who 



writ a book in Greek, Of the Slights and Policies of fFar, sect. 
From Ascham we have this account of the book, and Cheke'e ' 

translation of it: "That it was a rare book aeldome heard Totoph.f. 
" of; that Cheke dedicated his translation of it to King 
" Henry Vlll. while he was at Cambridge ; and that of his 
" gentleness would have Ascham very- oft in hia chamber, 
" and for the familiarity he had with him, more than many 
•' other, would suffer him to read of it when he would. 
" The which thing to do," Ascham saith, " he was very 
" desirous and glad, because of the excellend handling of 
*' al things that ever he took in hand." Ascham, Eng. 
Works,^. 104. IV. j^sceticum Maximi Monachi, lib. 1. 
V. Plularclms de Superstitione, lib. 1. VI. Several pieces 
of Demosthenes ; as bis Philippics, lib. 3, His Olynthiacs, 
lib. 3, Adversus Leptinem, lib. 1. Demosthenes and 
^^schines, their adverse Orations, lib. ] . VII. Sophocles, 
translated ad Uteram,y\h. 1. VIII. Euripides also, lib. 1. 
IX. Aristotle de Aiiima, lib. 1. All these out of Greek 
into Latin, 

Other of his translations were out of English into Latin; 
as the Archbishop of Canterbury's book of the Lord's Sup- 
per: this book was printed abroad. The Communion 
Book : this was done for the use of Bucer, that he might 
understand it, and give his judgment of it; it is extant 
in his Opuscula Anglicana. And lastly, out of Greek into 
English, he translated the Gospel of St. Matthew, before 
spoken of. 

Add to the rest of his writings and leanied labours, that 
he collected the arguments and reasons of both sides, 
upon the business of the Eucharist in Parliament : where 
that point was learnedly and largely debated, when the 
Communion Book was appointed. He also made some 
corrections of Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, Demosthenes, 
Xenophon, and other Greek authors. This is all we know 
of the fruits of his learned head, though no question this 
catalogue is very imperfect, and that he did write much 
more than we at this distance know. But this is sufficient 
to inform us what a scholar he was. 



CHAP. Cheke also translated the New Testament into English, 
^"' with annotations; which was printed both in octavo and 

decimo sexto^ but this last without the notes ; which copy 
Christopher Barker^ Queen Elizabeth's printer, gave to the 
Company of Stationers anno 1583, with some others, for 
the relief of the poor of the said Company ; as appears by 
Penes me. a MS, relating to the Company in these words : *^ The 
^^ profit and benefit of the two most vendible volumes of 
^^ the New Testament in English, commonly called Mr. 
^^ Cheke's translation, that is, in the volume called octavo, 
^^ with annotations as they be now, and in the volume 
^^ called decimo sexto of the same translation, without 
^^ notes in the Brevier Elnglish letter onely. 

^^ Provided that Mr. Barker himself print the said Tes- 
^^ taments at the lowest value, by the direction of the 
^^ Master and Wardens of the Company of Stationers for 
^^ the time being. Provided always, that Mr. Barker do 
^^ retein some smal number of these for divers services 
^^ in her Majesties Courts, or elsewhere," 


CHAP. vm. 

Some observtttions upon Sir John Cheke's religion and 
principles. His fortune and his fall. The Conclusion. 

Cheke's religion. 

Jl5UT that which advanced the value of Cheke's learning How Cheke 
was, that it was seasoned with religion and the fear ofi^^p^J]^' 
God. This sanctified his learning, and put him upon 
study, to render his parts and abilities useful for the pro- 
moting and doing of good. To stay therefore a little upon 
4hat great consideration of him, mz. his religion. Upon 
good and substantial grounds, he was a hearty professor 
of the reformed religion, which he took not up upon a pre- 
carious account, or any secular reason or interest; but 
upon mature examination and trial of the principles of 
that religion that generally swayed, and was professed in 
his time. He, being of an inquisitive philosophical mind, 
first of all began to doubt of the great distinguishing Po- 
pish doctrine, That the. body and blood of Christ is sub- 
stantially and carnally present in the Sacrament ; because 
he saw it so far beyond all possibility of being reconciled 
to reason and sense. Afterwards also, he heard other 
learned men call this doctrine into question, by inquiring, 
whether those words, that the Papists built their doctrine 
upon. This is my body^ were not a figurative way of 
speech, as many other expressions were in Scripture, or 
were to be understood in the very letter. 

And for the better enlightening himself, and satisfying His course 
his mind in this controversy, he took the right course, viz.^. ^"^jnn 
to examine the Scriptures, which were the word of God ; 
and likewise the ancient Doctors of the Church, that had 
their writings still extant. Many places, .both in them and 
in the Scripture, he found to impugn that opinion, and to 


CHAP, favour the figurative sense. He considered also, i 

whprens the literal sense made all men, and particulariy 
the Jews, to abhor the doctrine, and consequently the re- 
ligion too ; the other sense would take off that abhorrency 
out of their minds. Then he became confirmed in this 
opinion of the spiritual sense, partly by reading the late 
books of the learned Germans, and observing what num- 
bers in those parts fell off from Popery, and partly by tak- 
ing notice of the providence of God in this realm, that is, 
in King Edward's days, wherein this doctrine was gene- 
rally embraced; and all masses and other auperatitions 
rejected, and thrown out of the Church. He oliserved also, 
how the Scriptures were more studied by learned men, 
and well examined, niuch beyond what was done in for- 
mer UmeB, when that doctrine was less doubted of: and 
he concluded, that it was brought in when men began to 
fail from the study of the Scriptures, and gave themseJve* 
to their own inventions, which was in the days after the 
Apostles and primitive age ; and that as men grew more 
and more sla^k and loose in their lives, and sensibly fell 
short of the primitive Christians, so they sunk further into 
errors and mistakes in religion. And observing, how in 
the latest times the Clergy was visibly and fearfully apo- 
statized from the holy lives of the ancient Fathers; and 
gave themselves to other studies, almost wholly neglecting 
the study of the Scriptures, (whereby they became by God's 
just judgment blind,) and that as the study of the Scrip- 
tures came into Germany and other parts, so more li^t 
in matters of religion came in with it; upon these firm 
and sure grounds, he concluded that the faith he stood in 
was the true faith of the Catholic Church. And all this 
was but the sum of what he confessed at his recantation ; 
but was forced to revoke it, and to acknowledge it to h 
been the very ground of his nuining into error and bei 



His religious practices, 

AND his life bore a proportion unto hiB principles. He His Mfr, 
made it his business to do good, and to help persons in 
necessity, and to promote works of charity. For these 
ends he used hia uiterest with the King, whensoever there 
was occasion, or application made to him. He was one of 
the three, Cecil and Cook being the two other, (to which 
we may add Sir John Gates, the Vice-Chamberlain, for a 
fourth,) noted for their furthering all good causes at Court, 
that respected either rehgion or learning. Hence it was, 
that Bishop Ridley called him " one of Christ's principal 
" proctors," 

When the reverend Miles Coverdale, anno 1551, wasFonwdi 
appointed Bishop of Exeter, an excellent and able preacher fj^^^.J^"" 
of the Gospel, and thence judged -very fit to govern the bminess. 
Church, and to preach in those western parts, much over- 
run with Popery and ignorance, and to settle matters of 
religion there after a dangerous rebellion : yet notwith- 
standing his business stuck at Court, whereby his going 
down was hindered. Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, 
was troubled at these delays, and sent a letter to Secre- 
tary Cecil, joining Cheke with him, to get this business 
ba&tened; that so he, the Archbishop, might have order 
for his consecration, (which some, it seems, obstructed,) 
and so he might go down imto his bishopric, which, the 
Archbishop said, needed him. And it was soon after des- 

But to poor strangers, chiefly divines or scholars, that Charitable 
had fled their country for the preserving of their religion, ^^5"^^^ 
and had left friends, and habitations, and Uvelihood, for 
the sake of their consciences ; to these he had a special 
compassion, and was their sure friend. There is a letter Ia GKeii 
have seen in Greek of Cheke's writing to his brother Cecil, I'/^j'J^ ^^ 
in behalf of a poor foreign Bishop, whose name indeed I 
cannot retrieve, but he was one that came over into Eng- 



CHAP, land, and seemed to have business with the Protector, and 


__L« applied himself first to Sir John Cheke: whose cause he 
espoused, and wrote earnestly in his letter to the said 
Cecil, who was now Master of Requests to the Lord Pro- 
tector, to get him speech of the said Protector, and to^ as- 
sist him in his matters ; adding, that what he should do 
for him, should be as well taken as though it were his 
own business. This was, I suppose, some poor p^secuted 
Greek Bishop; and that to be the reason why Cheke 
wrote his letter in Greek, that this Bishop, who was the 
bearer of it, might understand the import of it; which, 
being short, I shall here insert. 

Aeo/jia/ (rot aieXfe ^/Arare ^otfifiv tox/tm tm xoLkmxayaim Mpi 
irrKTK^cp ^ivcpy ctntifao^ ^yvoviiievco, 6e\st wpoivfjuos ld§iv xei XaXfa 
fji,iTci Tou irpOTixToopos^ (TV de el ayriAafb/Savei^ raov TrpayfJiJn'ooiv au- 
ToS, ovTcos ^oLpUv iFoi^a-ets fjLOiy w$ ay eTi} roL irgiyfJMTa jxoO* tp^oo^o 
tJ SsxaTij Tou oxTojSpou. * AfTifoLCfiiJMt T^v a$f A^^y fto5. 

T(o aie>^ avTOu xcp Fot/AieA/toi SiereAAcp 6 <rog aSiXfig 

TOO hvXep Kov UgoTeKToopos sv (^^^* 'Icoavwis Kjxo^. 

Which is thus in English ; 

" I pray you, dearest brother, to help this good honest 
^^ man, a Bishop, a stranger, needy, unknowh. He would 

willingly see and speak with the Protector. If you arc 

assisting to his affidrs, you shall do me such a &vour, as 
" though the business were mine own. Farewd the 8th 
" of October. My commendations to my sister. 

To my brother Mr. Will. " Your brother, 

Sicell, servant to the L. " JOHN CHEKE." 

Protectory in Shene. 

CommQni- Another point of his charity appeared, in that he was so 
S^owiedg.. communicative of his learning and knowledge : an excel- 
lent disposition observed in some persons of the greatest 
learning. This generous spirit of his was taken notice of 
by one who had received great advantage by it ; namely. 
Dr. Wylson before-mentioned : who occasionally speaking 
to Cecil concerning Cheke, after he was dead and gmie, 



had these words: " As the remembrance of him ia dear sect. 
" unto me, for his manifold gifts and wonderful virtues ; so "' 
" did I think of his moat gentle nature, and so good dis-'^pi'^-Dedi- 
," posed mind, to help all those with his knowledge and J'uoiihenr 
"understanding, that any ways made means unto bim,o™t- 
" and sought his favour. And, so I say for myself among 
" others, I found him such a friend to me, for communi- 
" eating the skill and gifts of his mind, as I cannot but 
" during my life speak reverently of so worthy a man, and 
" honour in my heart the heavenly remembrance of him," 

It must be remembered for another branch of his piety. His tcsi for 
his earnest care to promote the true knowledge of reli-*^g^"'" 
gion, and the profession of it : for as upon good and sure 
grounds he was convinced, and abundantly satisfied of the 
Reformation of the Church of England, us it was settled 
and eatablished under King Edward, so he laboured all 
that he could, that it might get more and more ground. 
And he was a notable instrument at the Coxirt, to forward 
it in the minds of the young nobility, as well as in the 
yomig King : which was one of the causes of the anger of 
Queen Mary's courtiers against him^ of all others. And I 
cannot but think, how all succeeding generations in this 
kingdom are beholden to him, under God, for the settle- 
ment of that mighty blessing of the Protestant religion 
among us, by the means of instUling such good principles 
of sound Christianity in the head and heart of that peer- 
less Prince, his royal scholar. 

And how fast and firm the impressions of religion were, 
that be made in that good King, there is this remarkable 
instance. When upon ends of policy, as the grati^ing 
the Emperor Charles's request, the Privy Council inchned 
to yield, that the Lady Mary should have the Mass said 
in her chapel, however it was abolished by statute, Arch- 
bishop Cranmer and Bishop Ridley were sent to the King, Archbiihop 
to signify, that it was the opinion and desire of his Ma- 1^™°"^* 
jesty's Council, that it should be allowed her for a time, him, 
vid that he would condescend to it. And for his aatisfac-p^i'jg,*^ ' 
tion in point of conscience in this matter, tbey propounded 



. certain reaBons to him. But the King, on the other 
_alleged Scripture for the contrary; and that so fiilly to 
the purpose, that the Bishops allowed the same to be true. 
They descended then to other arguments to persuade him, 
as the fear of breaking off good friendship with the Em- 
peror, and what evils might succeed to the realm by wars 
at that time. To which the good King again replied, that 
he was ready to spend his life, and all that he had, rather 
than knowingly go against the truth. But the reverend 
men stUl endeavouring to satisfy the King in this point, 
as, that it was but for the present necessity, and but a 
little time, the pious Prince hurst forth into tears j and 
they could not forbear to weep with him ; and so took 
their leave. Mr. Cheke was not far off, being always near 
his person: the Archbishop taking him by the hand, as be 
passed, said, "Ah! Master Cheke, you may be glad all 
" the days of your life, that you have such a scholar." 
Adding, that " he had more divinity in his little finger, 
" than we have in our whole bodies," More divinity, 
in the theory and the practice too. And this 
in a great measure to Cheke's instructions. 

SECT. lU. 
C/teke's forhmes. 


ei HAVING seen Cheke in his abilities, and in the fliBpo- 
sition of his mind, we shall in the next place observe him 
in his fortunes. Which were various, as usually the con- 
dition of men in Princes' Courts are, be their virtues uid 
merits what they will. For as his learning preferred tiim 
to honour, so he several times felt the effects of a cour- 
tier's life : and often therefore wished heartily for a retire- 
ment ; though that would not be granted him. But by 
the conscientiouB and prudent discharge of his duty to- 
wards the Prince, he was entirely beloved by him. .And 
as he instructed that most noble Prince, and brought him 
to great perfection in learning, knowledge, and religion, 
beyond his years; so a constant sense of gratitude and 



love possessed his mind towards hia schoolmaster. He sect. 
had the favour to stand by the King's side at his chapel, ' 

when he was present to hear sermons : which was the "," ^™"' 
cause that he was once brought in an evidence at the ex- King. 
amination of Bishop Gardiner, concerning a sermon which 
he was appointed by the Privy Council to make : wherein 
he should declare for the satisfaction of others, concerning 
the King's power and authority in his minor age, to wit, 
that it was equal, and of the same effect, as when he 
should be grown up to man's estate; which the Bishop, 
after he had preached his sermon, was accused not to 
have done. Whereof many witnesses were sworn to tes- 
tify : and among the rest Mr. Cheke, who said, " that he 
" was personally present at the aaid Bishop's sennon, 
" standing beside the King's Majesty's person ; where he 
" might and did perfectly hear the Bishop." 

In short, the King was a grateful scholar, and Cheke Teiiimoniei 
r was a wise instructor, that had acquired the right method "■ "" ' 
of instilling knowledge into the mind of the royal youth, 
while he did it with that ease and gentleness, as raised a 
love, not a hatred, (a thing that often happens to school- 
masters,) an esteem, not a disaffection towards his teacher. 
For how many testimonies of his good will did he heap 
Tipon him : bestowing on him ample possessions of landa 
and revenues : taking him into his Privy Chamber, confer- 
ring on him the honour of knighthood ; and at last making 
him a Privy Counsellor, and actually constituting him one 
«f his principal Secretaries of State, and that when there 
were two Secretaries already, which was hardly ever be- 
fore or since done. 

For these are the words of the minutes in the Council '^'"''f » 
"Book; "Anno 1553, Jun. 2, Sir John Cheke was SM'om srcretary. 
"and admitted one of the principal Secretaries of State, ^'"K '^" 
" Petre and Cicil being continued." And June 1 1, all three Cmmeti 
Secretaries sat in Council. **" ' 

And among the rest of these greater gifts of the King, I T'le Kins 
must not forget the mention of one smaller, a token yet of hij clock. 
•the love he had for him ; and that was of his own clock, 


CHAP, by which it is probable his Majesty with his schoolmac 

!^had studied many an hour. This clock, which he gave 

him, 1 can trace for two or three removes. From Cheke 
it came, whether by gift or otherwise, into the bands of 
Dr. Edwin Sandys; who, being Bisbop of Worcester in 
the beginning of Queen Elizabeth, about the year I5(i3, 
made a new year's gift of this old clock to Cecil the Se- 
cretary. " Which," he said, " he was sure he would the 
" rather accept, because it was his old master's of happy 
" memory. King Edward, and after, his loving and kind 
" brother's." Thus Cheke stood fair and Bouriahing in 
the days of King Edward. 

SECT. IV. ^1 

His fait. ^H 

■t BUT upon his dear master's death, farewell all his 
'' happy days. And be is willing, out of a hearty love of 
true religion, to part with all his honour and all his 
worldly substance, and become an exile with a great 
, many more noble and learned men. But his greatest mi*- 
fortune, that fer outweighed all the rest, and left some 
stain up(»n his memory, was, that he was prevailed with 
by fear and terror, and other temptations, to renounce his 
religion with his lips, and in such an open and formal 
manner to disclaim that good profession, which be had 
shewn 80 much zeal to before. And what shall we say for 
him ? It was somewhat strange that he should deny and 
abjure that religion, that he bad upon such mature study 
and consideration been grounded in. But neither bad hU 
philosophy nor grace (which is much more) furnished 
him with such a degree of courage, as voluntarily to meet 
death, how good soever his mind was. Cbeke's falling 
may be considered to he of the nature of the Discipiro' 
fall, when they forsook their master Christ in his suf- 
ferings. Which a very learned man mollified by sayii^, 
" that that fpivruLa r^s o-o^xi;, i. e. that lusl of the JUih, 
" that rebelled against their mind at that time, was not of 


** those grosser dregs of the affections towards riches and sect. 
'' sensual pleasures, and such like things; but desires very — ill. 

^^ natural ; as the care of life, and the avoiding of sorrow 

^^ and pain. ^And they were in the rank of those per- 

** sons, who, as Aristotle * saith, are overcome by violent, 
^' excessive, and overpowering griefs, however they strive 
'^ against them. Which he saith is especially (rt/yyvoojxovi- 
^ xov, i. e. that may admit of pardon." 

Finally, therefore, in such cases as these, we should not 
censure too hardly, but rather say as Archbishop Matthew 
Parker writ upon this poor man's recantation. Homines 
sumus, i. e. " We are men;" or as one John de Hoo, an 
Abbot of old of Vale Royal, being a meek and compassion- 
ate man, used to say of those that were guilty of such 

Peccantes dampnare cave, nam Idbimur omnes^ Monaitio. 

j» • 1 . » . Anglic. 

^ut sumuSf autfutmus, velpossumus esse guod htc est toI. a. 

Condemn not thy poor brother^ 

That doth before thee lay ; 
Since there is none but falls : 

I have, thou dost, all may* 

V 3 





/Oy OOt, Ycr/C^y ^ fij...4x^ 





X HAVE sent you the English of that excellent frligment 
of Sir John Cheke concerning Superstition^ which in Latin 
has that elegance and masculine force of style and judg- 
ment^ that is worthy of its author. The habit it now vi- 
sits you in^ is what the donor in his present circumstances 
could fit it with^ not such as it deserves. But you inti- 
mated a willingness to take it for better for worse^ and 
must not be worse than your word^ though some late avo- 
cations would not permit him to be better than his. As 
to the original discourse^ it appears to have been a Dedi- 
cation of the author to his Sovereign Lord King Henry 
the Eighth, before that little tract of Plutarch concerning 
Superstition, which he had most elegantly translated out 
of the Greek. But the Dedication would have itself con- 
tained a more complete treatise on that subject, had the 
favourers of the Popish cause been able to answer the 
force of those arguments, with which it so strongly shook 
their metropolis, and which no doubt would have been 
insuperable, had they been allowed to have remained hi- 
therto upon record. But such is the nature of that set of 
men, that what is wanting to them in reason, is made 
up by that diligence which they use, to uphold so weak a 
cause, as could never have been able to subsist so long, 
without an unwearied caution, that omits nothing that 
can any way yield to its support. 

It is much to be suspected, that for this cause the 

[ 186 ] 

reader will have occasion to lament the loss of sonic 
shcetB in the following treatise, which the Komaiiistt), not 
caring they should look them in the face, have despatched 
with their usual sleight of hand. For you know they are 
famed for legerdemain, and are noted for a clean couvey- 
imce. This might be done upon the 6rst revolt to Popeiy 
in Queen Mary's days ; but more probably in that of later 
date : when their celebrated champion Ob. got this MS. 
into his power. And it is no wonder, if he who bad so 
good a knack at concealing, as to hide his religion for 
so many years, should afterwards manifest an equal dex- 
terity in suppressing arguments against it. 

The design of the Dedication in the original is congra- 
tulatory to his then Majesty, King Henry the Eighth, upon 
his reformation of religion, and the victonee, glories, and 
blessings that ensued thereon, agreeable to what he had 
observed to have happened in the like case to the several 
pious kings in holy Scripture. And were it not some- 
wliat out of countenance in this change of habit, it might 
with niUL'h better grace address itself to her sacred Ma- 
jesty that now is, wiio is a most undoubted friend to the 
reformed religion. Yet one who seeks not refonnation by 
distracting the revenue of the Church ; but that deiightjt 
in doing true and real honour to God, by providing for the 
true welfare of his Mniisters. It is this that fills our 
hearts with so much joy, and our tongues with praise to 
Almighty God, for successes obtmned by our most reli- 
gious Queen, greater than those of her predecessore : 
whose steady example in religion, and judicious deport- 
ment in all the parts and offices of it, will, we hope, hate 
that blessed influence, as to shame all manner of superatH 
tion from future converse amongst us, equally discoin 

[ 187 ] 

ing that kind of it, which pretends to be afraid of doing 
too much, and that which fears to do too little. I mean 
the superstitious pageantry of Rome, and the ^rdid su- 
perstitious meanness of the several sects. Which could 
not, through the grace of God, fall short of having that 
happy eflTect, which is so much her Majesty's earnest de- 
sii^, and should be the endeavour of us all, our being 
united at homey nor of putting an end to those divisions, 
from which alone the Queen's enemies and those of our 
religion can have any hopes. Such, as if her Majesty's 
royal pattern and advice can sway any thing with us, we 
shall think ourselves concerned not to countenance in the 
least. And surely no man of reason will reject her pious 
admonition and example, who has either any value for his 
own and the public good, any loyalty to his Queen, or 
any honour for the name of God, who is most highly dis- 
honoured by every kind of superstition. Now that all 
would thmk of thus behaving themselves, and be admon- 
ished by such discourses, was no doubt a very good reason 
for your desiring in this manner to publish this treatise, 
and of his complying with that desire, who is 

Your assured friend, 

and obliged humble servant, 

W, E. 

To the most illustrious and most potent Henry the Eighth 

, of England, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of 

the Faith, and supreme Head upon earth of the Churches 

of England and Ireland. John Che/ce wisketh much 


J.T ia the effect of great ingenuity and judgment, (andGn 
perhaps proceeds not merely from human nature, but from ^■ 
dirine grace,) to be able accurately to separate truth from thii 
falsehood, and to distinguiah between things decent and 
dishonest : for so great a resemblance is there between 
the most distant things, and such a seeming agreement 
between those things that are of natures really differing 
one from another, that unless the best and most excellent 
disposition shall be enlightened by learning and superna- 
tural grace, and be cultivated as it were by continual exer- 
cise, it will be impossible for things so much entangled and 
confused to be parted and discerned by it. Craftiness imi- 
tates prudence ; severity is often taken for justice ; boldness 
has a semblance of valour; stupidity is not easily distin- 
guished from temperance ; pride draws to itself the com- 
mendation of magnificence ; and not oidy the pretence of 
holiness, but what is even almost a mere old wives super- 
Btition, puts itself ofT for religion, and for the true worship 

- And as it usually comes to pass, that swollen bodies, Ar 
and such as are coloured by art, do exceed the solid bulk *"! 
and natural colour of bodies; and as thoae things tbatpei 
have been tinctured with bull's gall are not far from having 
a kind of golden lustre; even so, such things as are in 
their own nature vicious, and have nothing excellent in 
them, have nevertheless the figure and appearance of things 
the most illustrious and magnificent. Concerning which 
there is a diligent caution to be had : and we should labour 
with our utmost study, that the one be not taken for the 



other ; and that those things being quite passed by, tLat 
have the express characters of honesty, and the image of 
truth, we do not totally give ourselves over to catch at the 
shadows and resemblances of things. Therefore, in the 
ordering of religion, we ought to be very cautious and 
circumspect, that we do not through carelessness mo 
headlong into any rash judgments and opinions ; and that 
we yield but so far to the bent of our own genius, as not 
to turn out of the right way tliat God has prescribed, 
without framing new modes of worship for ourselves ; or 
endeavouring to appease God with such things as he has 
either not commanded to be done, or left not to be en- 
joined. For if even those things which are of divine pre- 
script are not capable of pleasing God, unless they shall be 
done as he would have them ; what human reason invents, 
what superstition dictates, what the heat of a man's tem- 
per liurries him on to pursue, must needs be much fiirther 
from pleasing God, when these things neither have any 
means of rendering themselves grateful to him, nor, if they 
had, could they merely of themselves be worthy (rf the 
divine care. 

But there is nothing that is of so great moment, as to 
■ the whole eoncem of this or a future life, as religion: 
tohicft iHsiritctn us m the right discipline and method of 
life, and of the worship of God; and does alone rompre- 
liend the hopes of a future immortal state. And what is 
there preferable to this ? What thing can come in com- 
petition with it? What is there that either in point of ad- 
vantage, or divinity, or safety, can approach or come op 10 
the least part of it ? For that which as soon as we seek 
after it, is not only found with as much ease as othcr 
things ; but does, over and above besides itself, draw along 
with it other good things, that are the greatest, and mmit 
abundantly such : shall we not thiniv this chiefly to be laid 
hold of, and pursue it with our utmost care ? For to what 
other end should we labour with all our might, than thai 
having obtained those things that are greatest and moct 
happy, we ourselves ahoidd have a full enjoyment of tn»e 
and perfect fi^Iicity, as constantly and long as may t 


inasmuch as mankind is both naturally inclined to wish 
after it, and the grace of God does likewise call upon us 
to embrace it. But the religion which ia now proposed by t hrisfi 
Christ, and that is manifested to all degrees of men ; which '^'''B">"- 
ifl neither hidden from the good, nor concealed from such 
as are studious, nor ia harsh and difficult to those that fol- 
low after it ; it is not only most easily sought out, but is 
even revealed to us. Which being oiiL-e possessed, what 
can be wanting, that may seem to any man worthy of 
being desired, when wanting ? what can be present to him, 
that he shall think greatly deserving to be wished for? 
■For even our Saviour Christ has told us, that religion being 
first laid hold of, other things will not with much labour 
be brought in, hut will naturally follow of their own ac- 
cord. Seek ye first, says he, the kingdom of God, and allMatth. 
these things shall he added unto yon. For if he who has^'' ^^' 
^ven ua Christ, will with him likewise give us all things, 
' xince in Christ are all the treasures of wisdom and of 
^knowledge ; how will he not, who through him hath made 
secure the way to peace and reconcilement with God, 
teach Tis also the way, whereby things less considerable, 
*nd of lighter value, may either flow in nnto us without 
4abour, or he present without trouble, or be taken from us 
wthout sorrow? But if Solomon, upon his request of 
wisdom and judgment, to enable hun to distinguish be- 
tween right and wrong, had so great an addition of riches, 
^wer, and glory bestowed upon him, as none of his 
[ancestors had ever seen, and aa did never again shine 
lorth upon any of his posterity; how great things God 
lAlmighty will give those, who, in the true and pious wor- 
ship of him, have given up themselves wholly to seek after 
^m; who have prepared themselves to hear his divine 
voice, and \vith their whole will and study to live after it! 
Xlertmnly it cannot be, but that whatsoever they require 
\ipon any occasion, they nmst have just so much, or what 
they at present hare, be it never so little, yet they require 
no more ; either of which, if they have once arrived to, 
-tJiey are most happy : inasmuch as they ture of a quiet and 
'contented mind; and it is a thing indifferent to them, 





^y Soi, ^'(rfL.2v ^ fu^u^ 




in uxe 

been recommended to Almighty God. And in the ful 
discourses of men, the mention wliich shall be made 
religion will a\tol the memory of what you have done, nnd 
the often commemorating the fame of your ample praises 
and commendation, will hring in tlie discourse about reli- 
gion. Whereby it conies to pass, that since the advantage 
of religion is of so large an extent, and since in many 
places of Scriptiire it has both the promises of this present 
life, and of that which is to come ; they take a good and 
prudent course, who, laboming not unfruitfidly in the 
lesser things, and in the single parts of religion, have 
bestowed all their pains, study, industry, and age, in the 
thorough reformation of religion, which is aa it were 
mother of all virtues. 

But since things of a more excellent and noble 
, are not so much desired by wise men, that they may 
the real possession of them, as they are sought after by 
the imprudent, that they may induce an opinion of their 
having them into others; and many are not voluntanly, 
but through mistake, drawn after a corrupt resemblance of 
things, and are not easily diverted from an opinion thai 
has taken deep root ; a greater care and industry is to be 
Imd out in giving a right tincture to our minds, than in 
sowing our fields. And principal caution is to be uaed, 
lest in matters of greatest moment and advantage we dtfacr 
slip through error, or are drawn aside by passion, or hur- 
ried on by imprudence : but of all things there is nothing 
surrounded with greater difQculties, or is beset with thin^ 
of more different natures than religion. Which being the 
pure worship of God, for the retaining his favour, and tlic 
averting his wrath ; revealed and prescribed to us by Go<i 
himself, and not the device or invention of human couiiwl ; 
the greater earnestness that is used by good and bad men, 
to be and to appear religious ; so more and greater will be 
the contrivances and machinations of men, (if through the 
difficulty of the thing, or through ignorance, they ctumut 
attain it,} to make boost even of the shadow of it by »ci- 
ence, falsely so called ; or pretend to it through hypocmy, 


or set it off by affectation, or make shew of it by innova- 
tion, or by following it give it strength. Now of this rdi- Two parts 
gion, since there are two parts, the one of which is placed^ " ^'*'*' 
in the searching after knowledge, and in the tracing out 
of these things which are grateful and wiell-pleasing unto 
God; but the other is employed in action, which puts for- 
ward into life and performance, what she understands to 
have the divine approbation. Each of these parts is on all 
sides surrounded with so many evil and vicious motions, 
that being intercepted as it were in the midst of its ene- 
mies, it comes in danger of quite overturning and distract- 
ing all religion. 

But that all may be set in better order before our eyes,^Ug*on^ 
and that our whole meaning may more cleaiiy be distin- ^*'^' 
guished, not in reality and science only, but in express 
terms and words, we shall so make use of such words as 
are not indeed very frequent hi Scripture, yet well enough 
suited to the genius of our own times, as to call that part 
which consists in a thorough inqmry into the divine will, ^ 

and the method of pure worship, by the name of sanctity; Sanctity, or 
and that which is altogether active, and which applies ^w^J* 
itself to the fulfilling of that,«which by sanctity it under- 
stands will please God, we may name piety. But that*P»«5y» 
which in this place I call sanctity, is that knowledge which diTinity. 
is a kind of foundation-principle of human life, and of all 
our actions ; and which being once well laid, if the whole 
ordering of our lives be built upon it, and all things flow 
out of it as from a fountwi, we shall have nothing vicious 
or corrupt, nothing vain or hypocritical : but if that igno- igrnonuMe. 
raaee, which is opposed to sanctity, pours out such dark- 
ness upon the mind of man, and draws such a cloud over 
it, that it cannot discern that light of truth, which sanctity 
uses to look into ; let men's devices and contrivances be 
as they please, and let them hug themselves in them as 
much as they will, yet can they not be able to fi«e them- 
selves from error, rashness, and deceit : for besides that it 
is a most base thing to be ignorant, when man is purposely 
framed for the knowledge of God, and the comprehending 




him in his mind ; so QotluDg can be imagined more i 
coming and diahoDom^ble, than that be should volantarily 
make choice of being ignorant, who is cominanded to be 

I Pet. Hi. prepared, and ready to give a reason of that faith tchicfi it 

'*■ m him. For if the benefit of Christ is so highly lo be 

esteemed, that the verj* knowledge of him is etemid life, 
how earnestly is that ignorance to be avoided, that docs 
most of all obstruct us in our passage unto God ? And if 
Pakd, in all bis epistles, gives thanks tliat they are filled 
with knowledge, that they abound in all science, aiid in all 
wisdom ; with how much labour ought we to deprecate 
and drive away from us such gross ignorance and ihidi 
darkness? But that is not the only ignorance, which, 
knowing nothing, does not think itself to know any thing. 
Which, although it is a fault, because it ia ignorance, a 
nevertheless a tolerable one, and more easily to be excused. 
But that is a far more grievous and infectious kind of ig- 
norance, which either knows things corruptly, and is full 

DFpnrrd of crror. Of pretends to know what it does not. This cor- 
now ge. juptjpi^ Qf science, is when some opiniative person does not 
' V much inquire what it is the Scripture does confimn, as ho«' 
he may by novelty of invention, or subtle distinctions, ei- 
ther weaken what is abeady established, or break through 
and crumble the whole in pieces ; and rests upon his own 
notions, and not the Scriptures ; and thereby causes many 
specious and plausible errors, which, grown old with time, 
are scarce extinguished by their age, or tiiken away by his 
authority, who says. Ye err, not knowing the Scripttirtt. 
He opens not the school of Christ, but sets forth a doc- 
trine of his own, different from all others, and repugoaul 

Herny. to the truth, which is named heresy. For the truth, whid) 
cannot be other than what it is, being deserted and abaa- 
doned, he takes up with every new thing he has a nuod 
to ; nor does he follow the Scriptures, as of necessity he 
ought, but pursues those fancies and opinions that ought 

PntcDded least of all to come under his choice. The pretaict a 
■ htftwledge is that which, having no knowledge or b 
tion, does imagine itself to comprehend idl things, I 

ntledgt. . 


into the force of all arguments, and the reason that infers 
thrar conclusions. A delightful error to the authors, but 
most dangerous to the Church, hurtful in the very delight, 
and splendid in the wickedness itself; and deceiving itself, 
it thinks to instruct others ; making shew of wisdom, it de- 
tects its own want of knowledge. And when it appears to 
itself to have the clearest insight into things, yet even then 
knows nothing as it ought ; and being involved in the 
thickest darkness of ignorance, believes itself placed in the 
clearest day-light. It may in this place be styled that''!'''''"^" 
bragging of the Gnostics, which we may term arrogance, Gnania. 
and the tumour of science. We may therefore make a dis- '^ '"^^""'' 
tinction of these three kinds: That ignorance is like to mute. 
those, whose eyes do not admit the light, who love dark- 
ness, and cannot endure the day ; as we see it usually falls 
out with owla, and persons that are sick. There is another »■ 
sort, who, whatever they see, they think it to be larger 
than it really is, as in a mist it commonly happens ; or 
judge those things to be of one colour, that are of several. 
Ab those who behold any object through a coloured glass, 
have all things represented to them of the same colour 
with the glass through which they appear : and as those 
who are sick of the jaundice, having their eyes overflowed 
with choler, think all things appear with a saffron hue. As, 
third kind there is, which mistake the thickest darkness 
for brightest day-light ; and these men think nothing is or 
can be better than their own conceptions and tenets. 
Such are they, who spend all their age in Plato's Cave. 
So that it comes to pass, that mortal men do less perceive 
the Ught of knowledge and sanctity, while every entrance 
or passage, which to sanctity ought to be laid open, is 
either intercepted or stopped up. Which things are so 
much the harder to be avoided, by how much the miud of 
man, in this floating and unstable motion of things, is less 
qualified to look upon the true light : being so afiected, as 
the greatest philosophers and defenders of human nature 
assert, as the owl's eyes are with the rays of the sun. 
Wherefore it is less to be admired, if through the weak- 



ness of nature, iind the force and greatness of differe 
things, the true knowledge of religion, being either iat«r^ 
mitted for aonie time, or corrupted by men's judgments, 
or abandoned through their tiloth, or let alone by reason 
of the difficulty of the thing itself, is at so low an ebb with 
ahnost all ages and degrees uf men ; and that men seek su 
little after it with their studies, or having sought after it, 
recover it, or preserve it after recovery. And, concerning 
the first part of religion, this may be explication enough. 

The remaining part is placed in the effidaicy of those 
things which sanctity does contain. For notliing can be 
fitly performed and administered, without a true notion 
and foreknowledge of the thing we are in pursuit of, to 
govern the whole action with counsel, and to appoint and 
manage it with reason. And those things are unprofitubly, 
and scarce are knowingly comprehended, out of which no 
consequent action buddeth forth, and in which there is not 
a steadiness of reason and judgment, to curb the turbulent 
and vicious insurrections of the mind. 

But this piety is variously opposed, and is besieged 
as mauy kinds, on every side, of things to infest it, 
that provoke it with continual skirmishes, as we have 
served sanctity to be for the most part attacked with. For 
there ore those things which manifestly oppose it, and that 
wage open and perpetual war with piely. There are otbera, 
who have the semblance of piety, and carry all tlie worth 
and dignity of it in their looks, their words, and gesture^ 
but have nothing of solid and sincere piety in them. There 
are not wanting those, who, through a mistake of the tnic 
worship, do that which ought least of all to have bwii 
done, and fall into a depraved and corrupt method of devo- 
tion, and account it for that which is most right and true. 
For those who nm out with loose incliuationa, and are 
hurried whithersoever their passion carries them ; they ore 
neither restrained by reiison troni rumiing headlong, nor 
arc reclaimed by grace from an impure and fiagitiuiu tife( 
«■/(« turn the grnce of God into iasciviousnesn, and li 
if God were altogether without care of them ; and 



neither consider ^rith themselves, nor care whether there 
be a God or no, or whether he has any administriition or 
foresight of Iiuman affairs, or that he will recompense good 
men with good things, and bad men with what is evil. The 
Scriptures mark them out under several titles; but it is 
most agreeable to our present purpose to c.Ul them 
Atheists ! who know, indeed, and understand what ought Aiiitisis, 
to be done, what is good, what pleases God, and what is " ''"' 
perfect ; who lay out much pains and study in the know- 
ledge of the divine law, but perform nothing that is real ; 
I who carry a fair outside in looks and gestures, as though 
they were fiill of piety, while they are at the same time 
internally empty of all good works ; and if they are given 
to alms, or fasting, or devotion, they determine not the 
doing of these things upon any sucli grounds, but propose 
to themselves another end of all their actions than God 
has appointed. The Scripture calls them hypocrites. Hypotrite 

But those who neither openly oppose piety, nor pretend 
to it, but are mistaken in it ; who strive to please God in 
things that he would not have, and study to worship him, 
and fear him in matters wherein he is not to be feared; 
who have, as it were, a kind of zeal, but without know- 
ledge, and without sanctity ; who think, that in killing 
men, they in an extraordinary manner do God service; 
who are afraid upon the least omission of any of those 
things wherewith they fancy God to be pleased, and be- 
lieve that there is no means, nor no religion, that can take 
away and expiate such omission : so that they are fluc- 
tuating in perpetual fear and error. These are said to be 
AeiiriSixiyavE;, vaiitli/ timorous without a cause; the Latins 
name them superstitious. These kinds are very different Supenti- 
frum one another, and do much prejudice the soundness of """*' 
reli^on, and are great impediments throughout the whole 
course of a pure and Christian life ; so that even sanctity 
and piety, being associated and linked together, cannot, 
with all men, make religion to be completely entire and 
perfect. For wicked men seem to me to be not unlike those 
who break their constitution by drmikenncss and intern- 


ht bufMMds Adkj and be tor- 
paiiiB^ till Satcgo my pttt of 

'Sks to them, vliBy bd^ i ur Uii e d with 
tiie FroKii Asose. or sonr soc^ iwrnrahlr aod loathioiiie 
dteemper. do. xn tfe nodsl cf tins moBt giicfUUB Tcntiop, 
ind snacsiUr fittte «f bodkv insfeOBd 1k«t tliey ai^ 
and do W d poaBBile moaiB Jfwpmlilr tfcrir puns, and 

fak iiid vnonieas. dan to be cdled wlort; tliey lodly are. 
Tbe n^entiljatf sv not far from bci^ in their state 
and < nMrnk» L who bong ack to cUU r mity , yet tUnk 
tiiemsdrcE in good beaUi; and irbo^ bcii^ widun the 
TOT jaiTB cf death, through tikft wnkwnm of natore hafe 
nopciddngorsenseof paxii,feelnorackii^(]f the jointe; 
but as natnre, being vanquished and a» ctm ui e by the force 
of the dSbease, yidds to the greatness of the dEaorder, wikh- 
oot farther leastanoe, and falaaes ontalittleligfatof heahfa 
eren befiore death, and is ncidier a&aid of death, nor enjoys 
health: oo these, who are in the moat nnseraUe and de- 
plorable state, and in perpetoal oonfiict widi God, see nol 
the danger they are in; pncsanung upon little matten^ 
and not terrified widi great ones ; imagining themsehei 
religions, whoi they are &r othenrise; and whom they 
fear, they aipprehend not how to fear in such a manner ai 
they ought. 

From all whidi, in this so blind and troobieaome a lifc^ 
whoever is fi:-ee and guiWeas, is not to be jodged hiqppy 
through any direction at natoie, but blessed by the abui* 
dance of grace. For so great difficulties, such {wecqMoes of 
opinions, such perturbations of mind, what man can avoid? 
who is able to escape them? Since there is no govern- 
ment of life or prudence in election, gCHoig before our ear- 
liest age, but rather following us when we grow old, nor 
give us their company till we are in the end and passage 
Not our- out of life ; affording us no manner of guidance and direc* 
^^' ^^ tion at our first entrance and coming into it, did not the 
goodness of the divine mercy choose out such as it would 


save, and ftimish them in order to that salvation with all 
manner of grace and good things. Wherefore, as religion is 
to be pursued and retained by us, with all the faculties and 
affections of our minds ; so the common and popular, but 
uncomely and deformed sects and parties of irreligion, are 
all of them to be exploded and cast out : nor is the least 
room to be afforded them, I do not say in a whole king- 
dom, but in the single judgments and opinions of men^ 

And now, when every one of these parts is corrupt and 
vicious, what matters it to make inquiry which of them 
does most prejudice human nature, or most obstruct divine 
grace, or be most corrupt and wicked of itself. But were 
I now to enter into the merits of the cause, and were 
necessitated to declare what I thought fit to be deter- 
mined, not about all the singulars I have now mentioned, 
but that alone, in particular, which above all others ought 
chiefly to be avoided and declined, my judgment wjould be 
this, that there is no one thing is nearer in resemblance, 
and yet nothing really more remote and distant from reli- Supewti- 
gion, than superstition ; which most easily insinuates itself ^^gj^from 
into the minds of good but ignorant men, and is most™^s»on. 
deeply rooted there, and with greatest difficulty pulled 
from thence. Concerning the several parts of it, several 
things have been hinted here and there by many, none of 
them have said all they might. Plutarch and the philoso- 
phers have attempted to treat concerning the nature of it 
in general : our Christian writers have passed it over. But 
it is a shame that they, in an irreligious religion, should be 
more diligent to search out what reason teaches, than we, 
who enjoy a most certain worship, and the truest service 
of God, to search after what the sacred Scripture pre- 

But since there may be some dispute as to the name, 
while men are agreed about the thing itself; and the mat- 
ter under debate is better understood, when the variety of 
doubtful meanings is taken away ; I shall first speak of the 
name, and then take the thing under examination ; that 
when we are less perplexed about the signification of the 


word, the thing may offer itself more fully and plainly 
be treated of, 

Aiji7iS«ifion'a, i, e. Superslition, 
Of the word The word itself shews to us what notions the Grecians 
'lim'." had of this vice; making little difference between it and the 
fear of God. Now the fear or dread of God they reckoned 
in the number of those things that were worthy of praise, 
and judged it to be a duty that is most becoming us to- 
wards God. Hence came these sayings of the Greeks, 
Fear God, and honour your parents. Therefore is the 
word superstition treated with equal respect ; and from thia 
duty did the most renowned amongst the Greeks receive 
their commendations ; as Agesilaus is represented in Xe- 
nophon^ "to be always possessed with the fear of God; 
'•' esteeming these not yet happy, who live well ; but be- 
" lieving them to be then really blessed, who had niade an 
" honourable exit out of the world." So St, Paul in the 
Acts pndses the Athenians as men of religion, when he 
calls them DetsideBJiitmes, such as/eared God, or were su- 
perstitious. And those controversies iu religioii, which 
happened between the Jews and St. Paul, are by St. Luke 
styled certain^ questions about superstition, or /ear of 
God. These are taken in the favourable sense : but for 
the most part it is taken in a different sense ^m such a 
godly fear, and has a worse meaning; and then the word 
contains in it a notion of nnpro^tahle fear of God. 

For as a frugal person is scarcely distinguished from one 
that is covetous, because the covetous man sordidly and 
corruptly imitates biiu : and there is a kind of wild and 
rugged hardiness imitates that which is the true patience 
of mind ; so superstition conies very near in resembliuicc 
to that which is the true fear of God, when it is djntAnt 
from it very widely, and would appear not to be far off: 
when it cannot come in any near conjunction with it, nor 

:.l )i )..nW/ 

,^;>, , 


conspire with it in a laudable moderation, and in n, virtuous 

But ia 80 many senscB as the notion of fear may be Pear twr>- 
underatood, bo many ways is superstition also to be taken : [upg'^t^l' ' 
inasmuch as everywhere, such as the shadow shews thet>o»- 
image of the body agreeable to its oppositiou to the sun, 
BO this carries an umbrage of fear, uistead of that force and 
dispOBition, which is denoted by it. But although fear is 
trariuuiily taken in Scripture, yet there are two significa- 
tione of it of greatest latitude, which will be enough for us 
m this place. Tlie one of these is that which signifies our 
religion in general, together with our righteousness to- 
wards God. The other declares those thoughts and motions 
of the mind, which regard the justice of God in the punish- 
ment of evil and wicked men. For since there are two 
tilings in God, which are chiefly to be looked upon by 
Christians ; his justice, whereby he restrains such as are 
evil; and his mercy, that prepares and protects the good; 
our confidence regards the mercy of God, takes and em- 
braces it ; fear respects the justice and severity of God iu 
punishing and avenging evil, which it conceives not with- 
out some commotion of the mind ; for so the Apostle 
had described both. Se not high minded, but fear : far if^fm. li. 
God spared not the natural branches, take heed He aha ' ' 
spare not thee. Sehold therefore the goodness and severity 
f^ God: on them which fell, severity ; but totvards thee, 
goodness, if thou continue in his goodness. Serve the Lord P^- "■ "> 
with fear, and rejoice with trembling. Lay hold of in- 
struction, lest he being angry, ye perish from the right 
way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are 
alt they that put their trust in him. The eyes of the LordPK- ">iv. 
are upon the righteous, and his ears are open unto their 
prayer. The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, 
to root out the remetnbrance of thent from the earth. But 
^ce there are those who turn the grace of God into lasci- 
viousness, and their hberty into licentiousness, and an oc- 
casion to the flesh ; so there arc those who traduce the 
justice of God, as being severe, ai)d who esteem his mercy 


to be too mnch lenity, and remissness, and indulgence: 
and thus, while they trust too mnch to themselves, and 
are hurried on by thdr own inclinations, and hqpe, while 
they commit sin, that God will remit their offences; 
they have not confidence in God, but a bcdd pfresumption. 
Against whom it is wisely and wholesomdy written, Sof 
not J I have transgressed^ what trouble shall come unto me ? 
the Lord indeed is slow to wrath, yet will he not let thee 
go unpunished. Because thine offence is forgiven thee, be 
not careless in thy prosperity j so as to add sin to sin. Nor 
say^ that his compassion is mani/bldy he will forgive the 
multitude of my sins. For mercy and wrath proceedeth 
from him, and his anger resteth upon sin n ers. Those who 
do not reckon this confidence and security amcrngst the 
greatest of sins, understand not what the true trust 
and confidence in God is: so those who, rejecting the 
true fear of God, look upon him as a fierce and cruel pun- 
isher and avenger of wickedness, and whose minds are not 
vigilant to escape his just wrath ; but are tortured with an 
opinion of God's austerity and cruelty ; what else will they 
answer to our Lord, or what other account will they ddi- 
ver up to him, than that of the foolish servant in the Gos- 
Matt xxw, pel? Lordj I knew thee that thou art an hard man^ reap- 
ing where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou 
hast not strawed. 
Saperati- Such as have this not only useless but pernicious fear, 
modemtc"* *"^^ ^^^ *^"^ aside out of the right course of true fear, are 
d«^ o^ called superstitious ; and this fwur, which is vehement be- 
yond the just measure, is termed superstition. Wfaidi 
superstition is hinted at by the Apostle whom our Saviour 
loved. There is, says he, no fear in love : tor those whom 
we heartily love, how can we be possessed with any vam 
terrors, or entertain any needless fears of them? 

And when the end of the law is love, that which wan- 
ders at the greatest distance from the end, how can it pos- 
sibly be confined within the bounds of love? There is 
nothing more wide and distant, than that him, whom 
on the account of his great and many benefits, we ought 


to love and reverence, we should have the most horrid 
dread and terror of, in our whole hearts and wills, by rea- 
son of an opinion of his being severe and crueL And this 
is one kind of superstition and fear 4 ^-^ 

The Scripture sometimes, under the name of fear, com- Fear b 
prebends religion in general, and the devout worship of "'*^**"' 
God. So that nothing is signified under the name of reli- ^ 

gion, that is not included also in the name of fear. Hence 
it is that we have so large and so remarkable a description 
of it in Ecclesiasticus. Hence it is that we have so ample 
commendations of it in so many places of Scriptiu:e« And 
hence is that of the Prophet : Come, ye children, hearken Ps. xxxiv. 
unto 7ne : I will teach you the fear of the Lord. What 
man is he that desireth life, and would see good days f 
Let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that 
they speak no guile. And St. James says the same thing 
in other words : Pure religion and unde/iled h^ore God 
and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and toidows 
in their qfflictixin, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
world. And therefore the two Evangelists did fitly trans- 
late these words of the law. Thou shall fear the Lord thy jamcs i. 27. 
Godf in this manner. Thou shall worship the Lord thy 
God: that hereby they might demonstrate fear and wor- 
ship to be the same. 

But the Prophet, celebrating the praises of the law of 
God, while he would distinguish it not only with orna- 
ments of matter, but with variety of expressions, saith. 
The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: theFs. xix. 7, 
testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple.^* ^" 
2%€ statutes of the Lord are right, refoicing the heart : 
the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the 
eyes. The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever : 
the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altoge- 
ther. But though the Psalms exhibit to us a repeated way 
of writing, they do not always fiimish us with new matter, 
but they retain the same weighty things, under a variety 
of devout expressions. Whence it comes to pass, that by 
joint words and phrases, different things are not signified. 


but the same matter ag^fravated and enlarged. And ttius 
is religion oftentimes joined witli fear ; not as two things 
of a separate nature, but that two words of like importanec 
niiglit answer in discourse to one another : for it is in the 
"■ Hilaw, ^nd nou; Ltrael, what doth the Ijord thy God regmre 
of thee, hut to fear the Lord thy God, and to walk in all 
his ways, and to love him, and to serve the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul? And again, 
Tfiou shall fear the Lord thy God, and him shult thou 
serve, and to him shalt thou cleave, and swear by his name. 
snir.And in the speech of Joshua, Now therefore fear the Lord, 
.. and serve him in sincerity and in truth. And Samuel, If 
ye will fear Ihe Lord, and serve him, and obey his voirr, 
and not rebel against the commandment of the Lord. And 
King Jehoshaphat, Let the fear of the Lord he with you, 
be circumspect, and do your duty. And St. Peter in the 
1- 35. Acts, He that feareth God, and worketh righteowniess. 
Hence it is that St. Luke styles those who are reli- 
gious and devout, not only liXa^tic, as being men of cau- 
tion and circumspection, and who did not undertake 
any thing without great prosieion and foresight ; but he 
calls them hkewise ire;3o'/*e>oi, worshippers; such who, de- 
liberately resolving and foreseeing what ought to be done, 
pertbnu it with all dutifulness and diligence. For Simeon 
i. *s,wa8 called (i\a^^;, a devout man; and they are termed 
i. s. j«Sgic edXafiiif, who are the devout men of every nation 
under heaven ; and in several places of the Acts they are 
sometimes called <rE^6fi.ivoi, worshippers, sometimes fifjt- 
fills, devout men. But why should Ecclesiasticus call the 
fear of the Lord, the lioliness of knowledge or wisdom it- 
self, and discipline ? or in other places should name the 
performance of the law with the highest wisdom, and with 
the knowledge of the precepts of the Lord ? tmless he in- 
tended hereby both parts of religion, sanctity and jrirty ; 
and so believed universal religion to be contained under 
the name of fear. But of a thing that is not over difficult 
we have been too tedious : for the result of all that hu 
been said is this, thai the name of fear does comprehend 



under it all religion, and ia sometiEnea taken for religion 

This being laid down, this follows, which we are now 
chiefly concerned about, that superstition, which is the 
rival of fear, is univeraal error in religion. So that the 
notion of fear does not extend itself with a greater latitude 
to all manner of good, than superstition shoots itself into 
idl the branches and fibres of en'or. For as fear stands with 
respect to universal religion ; so superstition regards not 
the errors of each part separately considered, but the com- t 

plex error both of sanctity and piety. Therefore, such who Au np- 
define superstition to be, when any one fears God in things oiiionofiu- 
not to be feared, or places the worship of God in such pefst-tion. 
.things as he will not be worshipped in ; these men, in my 
O^Hnion, rightly and prudently discover wherein the whole 
power and natiire of superstition does consist. And they 
do not amiss, who define an endeavour after piety, without 
sanctity, to be superstition. For since all matters are dis- 
cerned in these three things, in knowledge, in action, and 
in endeavour; neither is knowledge, nor yet action, right 
in superstition; not witli standing there remains endeavour, 
which, if it be approvable without the rest, is all the praise 
that superstition deserves. And there is in it perhaps some- 
what to soften and allay in some measure the greatness of 
the evil that is in the other two. So St. Paul testifies of 
fais brethren and kinsmen, That they had a zeal of God, hut itom- «■ t- 
not according to knowledge : that in the midst of their so 
great wickedness, and such bhndness of their understand- 
ings, he might not take away the evil, but qualify it, and 
shew that there was some spark of good among all that 
evil. In which St. Paul endeavoured not to favour igno- 
rance, which does corrupt zeal ; but to correct zeal, that it 
might come to knowledge. 

But superstition cannot be without ignorance; for did Supersti- 
it really know what it thinks it does, and put in practice poseth ig- 
what it knows, with all the powers of the mind, it would "o™""- 
tben be no longer superstition, but religion. Therefore, 
while the Scripture does not name superstition, but de- 


scribe it, it always makes mention of ignorance, as in this 
example : Tlie time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will 
think that Ite doth God service, jdnd these things will they 
da unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor 

i. me. And again, For they being ignorant of God's right- 
eousness, and going about to establish their own righteom- 
ness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousnm 
of God. But where knowledge is wanting, who can hofe 
to liave any action entire and perfect? For a man will 
either act rashly and at adventures, if he does any thing 
ignorantly; or else unsteadily, in case he be at a loss what 
he ouglit chiefly to adhere to ; or with some doubting, if 
GO be he understand not the true quality of tbe thing be 
has undertaken. But those persons are void and destitute 
of all knowledge of divine worship, that have once yielded 
up themselves to superstition : for they do those tbii^ 
the nature of which did they but thoroughly know and 
perceive, not so muclx from the judgment of right reawn, 
as from the aid of the grace of God, they would, as much 
as it were possible, have them in the greatest abhorrence. 
For what a thing is it, to render good men and Minis- 
ters, as the Evangelist words it, aioo-uvaytoyouf, excommu- 
nicate, or thrown out of the synagogue? How great a 
matter ia it to condemn them to death, and deliver them 
up to be torn asunder with all manner of tortures? What 
a thing is it to provide for the establishing their own 
righteousness ? What a fearful thing is it, as much as in 
them lies, to betray Christ their Lord and Saviour, and la 
fix on him the extremest disgrace, and to crucify him? 
But the superstitious, while tliey think they desire to 
please God, kill, destroy, and betray those, whom with 
duty, kindness, and favour, they ought rather to embmcc. 
And while Uiey stand fixed in their own rigbteousneas, u 

. in a strong hold, they never arrive at that law of right- 
eousness, the end of which is Christ .■ and him, wbotu had 
they known to be the Lord of life and glory, they hiul not 
crucified as a traitor and malefiictor, they put U> the niwl 
cruel and shameful death. 



From these tilings we understand, that there can neither 
be true knowledge nor right action in superstition ; and 
that it is tossed to and fro with ignorance and error, 
entertaining a depraved opinion of that which is right. 
For how can it otherwise come to pass, if men will worship 
God with things not to be worshipped? If, leaving the 
commandment and the word of the Lord, (wherein is con- 
tained, as it were, the fountain of knowledge and wiBdom,) 
they follow after their own inventions, and their own wills ? 
If they detennine otherwise about things than God Al- 
mighty has appointed and prescribed; and direct them 
not to that end and use for which they were designed by 
him? Thus it comes to pass, that the whole matter in 
which superstition is concerned, is either this, that such 
things are applied to the worship and service of God as 
ought to be thrown out altogether and rejected ; or else 
that mean and little things are had in greater price and 
esteem than is lit ; or are bent and distorted to some other 
way than ought, and to which they were intended. But 
if those things are alone to be made use of, and applied to 
the service of God, which he has cummanded; if nothing 
is to be added, nothing taken away ; if we are not to in- 
cline to either side, but are to keep on right in the way of 
his commandments ; all those things which have not the 
word of God and the Scriptures, either commanding wj«i, 
or approving the things, must necessarily be rejected and 
taken away, if so be the service of God be sought by us, 
and we apply ourselves to God's pure and sincere wor- 
ship, and prapose to ourselves such a religion as is holy 
itnd un defiled. 

Nor are we here to attribute too much to our own in- hok 
ventions, or tread too dose upon the footsteps of our an-^^IJ^^' 
cestors, or be led on by the example of the most powerful 
nations. Our own inventiaiis are such, that wlien we fol- i 
low them, we hearken not to the voice of the Lord; we""™ 
approve what is our own, and reject what is from others : 
but are not therefore the wiser, because wc applaud our- 



selves; but therefore may justly be punished by God, be-^ 
cause we reject what comes froui him. 

For as ui the past ag-es of men he suffered all nations to 
walk in their own ways, so will he suffer all our counselB 
to be iueffectual, our endeavours fmitless, our service to 
be vain : and he will deservedly bring that of the Psalnust 

■ ag^st us; My people would not hear my voice, afut 
Israel would not obey me. So I gave Ibem up unto thiir 
own hearts' lust : and let them /olloiv their own mven- 
tions. This branch of superstition St. Paul fitly names 

' eSi^oflpijffxBiaj will-worsMp : which is wholly contained tn 
those voluntary inventions and judgments of ours, framed 
after our own lusts. Tliis vice is so reprehended in Scrip- 
ture, that to will any indifferent thing is hardly allowed 
there. Hence is that grave and severe reprehension of St, 

'i-Paul, Tell »ie, ye that would he under the law. Hence 
that sacrifice of Saul, which he offered prudently, as he 
thought himself, but yet inconsiderately, and without any 
command of God; nay, without and contrary to his will. 
This turned away the favour and clemency of God, and 
armed his anger and his fury against him. Let us leam, 

"■ therefore, what we are to hold to, that obedience is belter 
than sacrifice, and to hearken is more excellent than the 
fat of ra/ns. Let us leam that rebellion ts as the sin of 
witchcraft, and not to acquiesce in the word of the Lord is 
as great a crime as idolatry. Let ua leam, that the Lwd 
will have mercy and not sacrifice, and that the knowledge 
of God is better than whole burnt-offerings. But, lastly, 
which' is the greatest of all, we think this will-worship to 
be the perversest idolatry, because tbey who feign new 
kinds of worship, think God to be other than be really is; 
and so tbey do in effect frame to themselves a new deity 
in their own minds. 

There is another kind of the superstitious persona, who 
seek not novelties, but are content with what is andeotf 
who trouble not their inventions to contrive, b 
what has been in use ; and what has been left tbem I 



their ancestors, they judge to be firm and sure ; they ad- 
mit not of other things, but adhere to that alone. But it 
is a grievous thing to establish that which your forefathers 
have used, to hold that certain and fixed, and to reject and 
- set at nought what Christ, elder than all your ancestors, 
commanded. Christ saith, Before Abraham was, / cm.Joiin viii. 
But how wicked and ahominahle were it to relate those 
things which the Prophet had said, j^s for the word thai''"- "'i*- 
■tAou hast spoken to us in t/ie name of the Lord, we will ' ' 
not hearken unto thee. But we will certainly do whatso- 
ever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth, to bum in- 
cense to the frame of Iteaven, and to pour out drink-offer-Q'^'^n. 
ings unto if, as we have done, we, and our fathers, our 
kings, and our princes, in the dfies of Judah, and in the 
streets of Jerusalem : for then had we plenty of victuals, 
and were well, and saw no evil. But since we left off' to 
bum ijwense to the frame of heaven, and to pmtr put 
drink-offerings unto it, we have wanted all thi7igs, and 
Have been consumed by the sword and by the famine. 
These things said the men of Judah, while they sojourned 
in Egypt. Ah, miserable men ! How mistaken were they, 
not knowing the Scriptures! How did they harden their 
hearts, disbelieving Jeremiah! How did they through 
blindness turn away the true cause of their miseries ! For 
Moses had foretold it to them ; iVbi for thy righteousness, Deut. ix, a 
or for the uprightness of thine heart, dost thau go to possess 
the laud : for thou art a stiff-necked people, when thou pro- 
vokedst the Lord, when thou didst worship idols, when thau 
• refusedst to put thy trust in the Lord. Remember, and for- 7., a. 
get not, how thou provokedst the Lord thy God to wrath in 
the wilderness : from the day that thou didst depart out of 
the land of Egypt, atul till ye came unto this place, ye have ■ 
been reliellious against the Lord, -dlso in Horeb ye pro- 
voked the Lord to wrath, so thai the Lord was angry with 
yoK to have destroyed you. And the Psalmist cries out. 
They kept not the covenant of God, and refused to walk in !*•■ ixxriii, 
his law ; and forgot his works, and his wonders that he ' 
had shewed them. Marvellous things did he in /he sight of 
V 2 


their fathers. Nevertheless they aimed yet more agt 
him by provoking the Most High in the wilderness. And 
they tempted God in their heart by asking meat fur their 
lust. Yea, they speak agaitist God in these words, Can 
God furnish a table iu the wilderness ? 

Let us not therefore approve the vices of our forefa- 
thers, as if they were virtues, but of whatever quality their 
vices are, let us acknowledge them: and let us place our 
* confidence in God, and not foi^t the things that he has 
done ; let us do his commandments, lest we become, as 
the Psalmist speaks, like mtto our fathers, a people, who 
turned back and rebelled, a generation that set jutt ifieir 
heart aright, and whose spirit was not stedfast with God. 
But why hearkened thev not to Jeremiah, whom the Lord 
set apart, whom he had ordained a Prophet to the nations, 
in whose mouth God had placed his word ? Why did they 
not rather turn the cause of their misfortuncB, aa Jeremy 
commanded, upon their own actions? Why did they not 
aBcribe it to their oivu perverseness, to their own 
ness ; that they obeyed not the voice of the I^ord ; that 
walked not in his laws, and that they offered incense 
Btratige gods ; but that this very opinion of their ances^ 
tors, which stuck so close, and was difficult to be remoted, 
had taken such deep root, that it was not to be plucked 
away, or drawn out ? They thought that their fathers were 
to be necessarily followed, their ancestors imitated, and alt 
their words and actions towards God to he approved and 
re But if our fathers are to be followed, there is one who 
is o>ir heavenly Father, who is not only King of king*, 
and Lord of lords, but Father of fathers also, who oui^t 
chiefly to be followed. If our fathers are to be followed, 
why do we rather reckon their numbers, than weigh thdr 
worth ? Why do we rather take after the moat in numbrr, 
than wisest in understanding, and most holy in life ? It tt 
not fbllowinj; the falhera, to huitate their faults j but to be 
willing to exprcHs their virtues and knowledge, propounded 
to our iinitntion, in our own life and endeavour. Tbe 

T not 


commendatioii of the kings of Israel, is not that they 
walked in the sins of Jeroboam, and the other kings ; but 
in that they directed all their actions according to the ex- 
ample of David. The greatest reproofs of the kings of 
Israel and Judah were, that they did not those things 2 
which were well-pleasing to the Ijord, as David their fa- I 
ther had done ; but walked in the ways of the kings of I 
Israel. The best way to acknowledge God, and to know I 
true religion, is to think that it may fall out, and almost | 
in all ages doth, which tbey in the Book of Psalms confess 
to God, We have shincd with oar fathers. This is that 
part of superstition, which St Peter calls ^vain conversa- • ?»*■ 
Hon received by tradition from tlte fathers, which judges 
of the strength of any thing, from its having been in use 
and reputation with their ancestors: not understanding, 
that as in the ages of men, so in the succession of ages it 
happens, those are not always the wisest that are oldest 
f in years, but that possess that cause of wisdom, which-the 
I Psalmist produceth, / have understood more than the 

(aged, because I sottght thy commattdments. And when 
the psalm declares that God was angry with the genera- 
I tion of their fathers fortj' years ; yet the same spirit did 
I as Ixuly prophesy, that the people which should be born 

should praise the Lord. 
I Hence it comes to pass, that not because some things After- 

' went before, therefore any thing is better; but because ittaJeo 
follows that which has been prescribed by the most wise f^itia 
I and good God, therefore it is good. And following ages 
being taught by the ignorance of the former, correct many 
things, and make many alterations, not for the worse, but 
for the better. This the wisest Prophet saw and took no- 
tice of, and left it to be observed by us. Day unto ttayPa-^i: 
uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge. 
But if any one would reckon up all the ages, yea centuries 
from Seth to Noah, and from thence to the times of the 
Patriarchs, then to Moses and Joshua, from them to the 
memory of David, afterwards to Ezecbias and Josias, and 




a con- 

of the 


ght of 
le igno- 

so on to Esdras and Nehemiah ; from them to Christ, 
Christ, and the certain succession of the Apostles to this 
very age; he will perceive mighty declensions of times, 
and the greatest ignorance and impiety prevailing in them. 
And at these certain spaces of time limited by God, they 
have been repulsed, and agiun called back to some light of 
divine rehgion ; and that again by the authority of 
and by neglect often extinguished. 

For aa there are in the body certain joints and 
ments, by which it is tied together, and in these the 
est firmness and stability of strength is esteemed to con- 
sist ; so in a long ti-act of years, and in the ages of the 
world, there have always been, and ever will be certain 
periods, wherein will be the greatest force and weight of 
truth; the divine Providence, either repelling the igno- 
ranee, or quickening the sloth, or lessening the wicki 
and naughtiness of men. j^nd thus much of the vain 
versation received front the fathers. 

And why should the example of any nation witht 

^^"^you from God, when all of them are his, and created to 
serve the living God? For all nations shall srrve him. 
If those nations which excel others in exquisite learning 
and in good religion, are not to he drawn into example; 
and a pattern of life and manners is not to be taken from 
them ; then no human discipline, no institution ought to 
prevail to establish worship, or bring any authority to con- 
stitute religion. For if those things which in men's opin- 
ions are of greatest excellence, and to the wits of men 
seem most admirable, have no place, no right here, things 
of less weight, and more inconsiderable, are much leas to 
be introduced and applied to any part of piety and divino 
worship. But God rejected the imitation of the best and 
most flourishing nations, proposed his own word to be fol- 
lowed, and taught us, that all other religions are empty, 

ri. false, and vain. For he saith by Moses, .4fter the rloiugt 
of the land of Egypt, wherein ye dwelt, shall ye nttl do, 
and after the doings of the land of Canaan, xchitlter I mm 
about to bring you, shall ye not do, neither .shall ye waii 


iti their ordinances, ye shall do my judgments, and keep 
mine ordinances to walk therein '; I am the Lord your 
God, ye shall therefore keep my statutes, and my Judg- 
ments, which if a man do, he shall live in them. Not only The u 
profane histories set forth most magnificent and famous ^^^ 
things concerning Egypt ; but even Scripture supposed all 
the fountains of all human wisdom flowed thence, vhich 
watered almost all the world with its precepts and opnions. 
For the Scripture, when it would commend the learning 
and education of Moses, says, that he was trained up and 
instructed in all the learning of the Egyptians. And 
when the wisdom of Solomon was shewn to have far sur- 
passed the wit and prudence of all others; his under- 
standing is not only set forth to have been greater than 
the wisdom of all the men in the Kast, but is declared to 
have exceeded the cunning of those in Egypt. So that 
the being accomplished in the arts and learning of Greece, 
was not a thing of greater esteem and reputation among 
the Romans, and with the other nations of Europe, and of 
Asia the Less, than was the glory of those who were 
masters of the wisdom and learning of Egypt, throughout 
India, and over the Greater Asia and Africa, 

Away therefore with them, and let ua put far from usa 
the ordinances of all nations of what kind, and how S^^^^^\o^^^ 
soever they be ; lest they draw us off from the word of the prejcrip- 
Lord, and from tlie true religion prescribed and appointed ' 
us. For as there is no respect of single persons, so nei- 
ther is there of particular nations with God. For in him 
that made us, there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision 
nor uncircumcision. Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free; 
but Christ is all and in all. 

But if neither Jew be any thing, nor Greek, if drcum-Cbri.t»ioni 
cision be nothing, nor uncircumcision, but Christ be alijo^jj/' 
and in all; why do we set before us theJr example for our 
authority and imitation, who are not only without Christ, 
but against him ? And why do we not rather follow him, 
who, being all in all, hath suffered death for all, that whe- 
ther we live or die, we might all be his. But what need 


we say more : they whose whole life is transacted in a 
blind ignorance, who neither hold to what they should 
follow, nor see what they should hold to; what can these 
persona have to draw men over to imitate them in reli- 
gion ? But unless all had been in ignorance, why was it 
commanded the Apostles, that they should go and teach 
all mitiwts? Forasmuch as we do not teach the knowing, 
but admonish them ; we do not punish the ignorant, but 
instruct them. 

To thin part of superstition, the Scripture has not as- 
signed an universal name, yet from the Scripture there 
may one be ^ven it. For aa among the Greeks they are 
said Kfi^Ti'^Eiv, Sjx.x/^eiv, 'lo-flfAia^Eiy, Augi'^a.y, to CreiizCy to 
Sidlize, &c. who imitate the customs and vanities of those 
countries, the Cretans, the Sicilians, the Isthmians, the 
Lydians; and they are said in Latin pergrtecari, to be 
thorough-paced Greeks, who follow the levity and good 
fellowship of that people in their lipes ; so those who run 
after the superstition of the Jews, are said by St. Paul 
'JouBa^eiK, to Judaize. And those who propose to them- 
selves the laws and ceremonies of other nations, are said 
'Eflnxtuj ^py, M«i flilx 'looSaiitref, to live after the manner of 
How to Mil the Gentiles, and not as the ifews. And since the greatest 
iupenti- " controversies at the beginning in the Church, while yet a 
tioQ. growing, were concerning the law of Moses, concerning the 

ceremonies, concerning the rites of the Jews ; as in other 
matters, bo in this particular, I shall have a right to be ex- 
cused, if that which is most famous in its kind I make to 
serve for alt, and name thcimitating the manner of thai 
nation in point of worship, Judaimng, or playing the Jew. 
Therefore, so far as was convenient to be said summa- 
rily, concerning the things to be rejected, (that neither our 
own devices, nor the practice of our ancestors, nor the ox- 
ample of any nations, ought to call us off, or slacken us 
from the word of God,} I think it has been sufficiently de- 
clared in this place. It remains that the things going !»• 
fore be throughly handled, which are things i 


/ suppose he was going to apply the premises to the 
Roman Church : but here being a chasm in the original, 
and divers pages wanting, so far I presume as he touched 
Popery ; the other sheets were in all probability conveyed 
away hy Mr. O, W. and that party, during their reign in 
University college; being ashamed of those arguments 
they could not answer, and resolved that they should never 
again be produced against them, far their reproach and 

The fragment that is left is a^ follows : 

Your Majesty, who every day brings to light the de- The benefit 
&ced and oppressed parts of reUgion for the use of Hienj^^^^^JJ^^^"* 
that things most wholesome and sound being by you dis- 
covered^ may drive away these miseries of ignorance and 
error, and that true religion may by degrees shoot up till 
it arrive to full perfection and maturity. Thus shaU igiio- 
rance give place to the knowledge of the Lord ; the flesh 
offer less resistance unto holiness ; the judgment of men 
shall prevail in civil causes; the word of the Lord shall 
bear the sway in religion; the custom of our forefathers 
shall assume nothing to itself, unless the force of truth do 
establish it, and the examples of nations shaU not pervert 
the rule of life. So shall such things as are great be 
esteemed for great, and light and trivial things be reck- 
oned as they are. The imitation of our fathers shall not 
tend towards ei*ror ; but the conservation of its own state 
will tend to soundness. There shall be no confusion of 
things, but things of different natures shall be distin- 
guished. So every thing shall go directly towards its end, 
and not be diverted some other way by the depravations 
of men's judgments. Thus regard will be had, not only 
what is done, but wherefore it is done: and things being* 
joined with their causes shall not be rashly and at hap- 
hazard administered. And it shall be known for what end 
God hath appointed every thing, not whither our wills 
would hurry all things. That we may give praise and 
thanks unto God, and enumerate all his benefits ; that we 

218 A DISCOURSE, &c. 

may perform that worship, which he prefers before all sa- 
crifices, and offerings, and slaughterings of beasts ; that 
we may remember the righteousness of God alone, and 
perpetually praise and call upon his holy name, who only 
doth wondrous works. 
Conclusion, And let us yield him our greatest and most earnest ac- 

an^nmyen '™^^^^^^^"*®* that he hath given his judgme^its, as we 
for the see, to your Majesty, and that he hath imparted righteom- 
Prince!" nesSf as we hope, to our Prince, that ye both may admin- 
'ister right with justice to the people, and may help in 
judgment the afflicted. For from these things we promise 
ourselves, what in greatest part we see effected, that there 
may be neither ignorance, nor hypocrisy, nor corruption of 
any part in religion ; that there may neither be any per- 
Terseness in life, nor error in worship, nor counterfeiting 
in our actions ; but that all parts being rightly and en- 
tirely constituted, we may not be esteemed maimed before 
God, with some piece of religion cut off, but being upright 
in heart, we may be found perfect and complete. 

The Lord Jesus preserve your Majesty in most flourish- 
ing estate. 

Hartfordy December 30.