much testimony of approbation. The Judge seemed well apaid with the choice. I promised acceptance; he, the strength of his favour. No sooner had I parted from the Judge, than, in the street, a messenger presented me with a letter, from the right virtuous and worthy Lady, of dear and happy memory, the Lady Drury of Suffolk, tendering the Rectory of her Halsted, then newly void, and very earnestly desiring me to accept of it. Dr. Chaderton, observing in me some change of countenance, asked me what the matter might be. I told him the errand, and delivered him the letter; beseeching his advice: which when he had read, "Sir," quoth I, "methinks God pulls me by the sleeve; and tells me it is his will, I should rather go to the east than to the west." "Nay," he answered, “I should rather think that God would have you go westward, for that he hath contrived your engagement before the tender of this letter; which therefore coming too late, may receive a fair and easy answer." To this I besought him to pardon my dissent; adding, that I well knew, that Divinity was the end whereto I was destined by my parents; which I had so constantly proposed to myself, that I never meant other, than to pass through this Western School to it but I saw that God, who found me ready to go the farther way about, now called me the nearest and directest way to that sacred end. The good man could no further oppose; but only pleaded the distaste, which would hereupon be justly taken by the Lord Chief Justice, whom I undertook fully to satisfy: which I did with no great difficulty; commending to his Lordship, in my room, my old friend and chamber-fellow Mr. Cholmley: who, find ing an answerable acceptance, disposed himself to the place; so as we two, who came together to the University, now must leave it at once.

Having then fixed my foot at Halsted, I found there a dangerous opposite to the success of my ministry, a witty and bold atheist, one Mr. Lilly; who, by reason of his travails, and abilities of discourse and behaviour, had so deeply insinuated himself into my patron, Sir Robert

Drury, that there was small hopes, during his entireness, for ine to work any good upon that Noble Patron of mine; who, by the suggestion of this wicked detractor, was set off from me before he knew me. Hereupon, I confess, finding the obduredness and hopeless condition of that man, I bent my prayers against him; beseeching God daily, that he would be pleased to remove, by some means or other, that apparent hinderance of my faithful labours: who gave me an answer accordingly; for this malicious man, going hastily up to London to exasperate my patron against me, was then and there swept away by the pestilence, and never returned to do any farther mischief. Now the coast was clear before me; and I gained every day of the good opinion and favourable respects of that Honourable Gentleman and my worthy neighbours.

Being now therefore settled in that sweet and civil country of Suffolk, near to St. Edmund's-Bury, my first work was to build up my house, which was then extremely ruinous.

Which done, the uncouth solitariness of my life, and the extreme incommodity of that single housekeeping, drew my thoughts, after two years, to condescend to the necessity of a married estate: which God no less strangely provided for me; for, walking from the church on Monday in the Whitsun-week, with a grave and reverend Minister, Mr. Grandidge, I saw a comely and modest gentlewoman standing at the door of that house where we were invited to a wedding-dinner; and, enquiring of that worthy friend whether he knew her, "Yes," quoth he, "I know her well, and have bespoken her for your wife." When I further demanded an account of that answer, he told me she was the daughter of a gentleman whom he much respected, Mr. George Winniff of Bretenham; that, out of an opinion had of the fitness of that match for me, he had already treated with her father about it, whom he found very apt to entertain it; advising me not to neglect the opportunity, and not concealing the just praises of the modesty, piety, good disposition, and other virtues

that were lodged in that seemly presence. I listened to the motion, as sent from God; and, at last, upon due prosecution, happily prevailed; enjoying the comfortable society of that meet help for the space of forty-nine years.

I had not passed two years in this estate, when my Noble Friend, Sir Edmund Bacon, with whom I had much entireness, came to me; and earnestly solicited me for my company in a journey, by him projected to the Spa in Ardenna laying before me the safety, the easiness, the pleasure, and the benefit of that small extravagance, if opportunity were taken of that time, when the Earl of Hertford passed in Embassy to the Arch-Duke Albert of Brussels. I soon yielded; as for the reasons by himn urged, so especially for the great desire I had to inform myself ocularly of the state and practice of the Romish Church; the knowledge whereof might be of no small use to me in my holy station.

Having, therefore, taken careful order for the supply of my charge, with the assent and good allowance of my nearest friends, I entered into this secret voyage.

We waited some days at Harwich for a wind; which we hoped might waft us over to Dunkirk, where our Ambassador had lately landed: but, at last, having spent a day and half a night at sea, we were forced, for want of favour from the wind, to put in at Queenborough: from whence coasting over the rich and pleasant country of Kent, we renewed our shipping at Dover; and, soon landing at Calais, we passed after two days by waggon to the strong towns of Gravelines and Dunkirk: where I could not but find much horror in myself to pass under those dark and dreadful prisons, where so many brave Englishmen had breathed out their souls in a miserable captivity. From thence we passed through Winnoxberg, Ypres, Ghent, Courtray, to Brussels; where the Ambassador had newly sat down before us.

That Noble Gentleman, in whose company I travelled, was welcomed with many kind visitations. Amongst the rest, there came to him an English Gentleman, who,

having run himself out of breath in the Inns of Court, had forsaken his country, and therewith his religion; and was turned both bigot and physician, residing now in Brussels. This man, after few interchanges of compliment with Sir Edmund Bacon, fell into a hyperbolical predication of the wonderful miracles done newly by Our Lady at Zichem, or Sherpen-Heavell, that is Sharp Hill, by Lipsius Apricollis: the credit whereof when that worthy Knight wittily questioned, he avowed a particular miracle of cure wrought by her upon himself. I, coming into the room in the midst of this discourse, habited not like a Divine but in such colour and fashion as might best secure my travel, and hearing my countryman's zealous and confident relations, at last asked him this question: "Sir," quoth I, "put case this report of yours be granted for true, I beseech you teach me what difference there is, betwixt these miracles which you say are wrought by this Lady, and those which were wrought by Vespasian by some vestals by charms and spells; the rather, for that I have noted, in the late published report of these miracles, some patients prescribed to come upon a Friday, and some to wash in such a well before their approach, and divers other such charm-like observations." The gentleman, not expecting such a question from me, answered, “Sir, I do not profess this kind of scholarship; but we have in the city many famous Divines, with whom if it would please you to confer, you might sooner receive satisfaction." I asked him whom he took for the most eminent Divine of that place. He named to me Father Costerus: undertaking that he would be very glad to give me conference, if I would be pleased to come up to the Jesuits' College. I willingly yielded. In the afternoon, the forward gentleman prevented his time to attend me to the Father, as he stiled him; who, as he said, was ready to entertain me with a meeting. I went alone up with him. The porter, shutting the door after me, welcomed me with a Deo gratias. I had not staid long in the Jesuits' Hall, before Costerus came in to me who, after a friendly salutation, fell into a

formal speech of the Unity of that Church, out of which is no salvation; and had proceeded to lose his breath and labour, had not I, as civilly as I might, interrupted him with this short answer: "Sir, I beseech you mistake me not. My nation tells you of what religion I am. I come not hither, out of any doubt of my professed belief, or any purpose to change it; but, moving a question to this gentleman concerning the pretended miracles of the time, he pleased to refer me to yourself for my answer: which motion of his I was the more willing to embrace, for the fame that I have heard of your learning and worth; and, if you can give me satisfaction herein, I am ready to receive it." Hereupon we settled to our places, at a table in the end of the hall; and buckled to a further discourse. He fell into a poor and unperfect account of the difference of divine miracles and diabolical; which I modestly refuted. From thence he slipped into a choleric invective against our Church, which, as he said, could not yield one miracle; and when I answered, that, in our Church, we had manifest proofs of the ejection of devils by fasting and prayer, he answered, that, if it could be proved, that ever any devil was dispossessed in our Church, he would quit his religion. Many questions were incidently traversed by us; wherein I found no satisfaction given me. The conference was long and vehement in the heat whereof, who should come in but Father Baldwin, an English Jesuit, known to me, as by face (after I came to Brussels) so much more by fame. He sat down upon a bench, at the further end of the table, and heard no small part of our dissertation; seeming not too well apaid, that a gentleman of his nation, (for still I was spoken to in that habit, by the stile of Dominatio vestra) should depart from the Jesuits' College no better satisfied. On the next morning, therefore, he sends the same English Physician to my lodging, with a courteous compellation; professing to take it unkindly, that his countryman should make choice of any other to confer with, than himself, who desired both mine acquaintance and full satisfaction. Sir