for two years as Vice-Chancellor of the University. The reputation of Dr. John Fisher caused Margaret, Countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII., to draw him into her service. As her chaplain and confessor he obtained her complete confidence, and used it, to the best of his knowledge, for the advancement of religion and learning. He caused her to found two colleges at Cambridge, St. John's and Christ's, and also the chair still known as the Lady Margaret's Professorship of Divinity, which he himself held for a time. His funeral sermon on her death was printed by Wynken de Worde, and has been more than once reprinted. In 1504, Henry VII., who trusted much in Fisher's piety and wisdom, made him Bishop of Rochester. The University of Cambridge made him its Chancellor. Henry VIII., who had been indebted to Fisher for care and instruction in his childhood, honoured him in the earlier part of his reign, and told Cardinal Pole that he could never have met in all his travels a man to com

pare in knowledge and virtue with the Bishop of

Rochester.1

John Fisher's treatise ("De Necessitate Orandi") on the Need of Prayer was translated into English at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign (in 1560) as "A Godlie treatisse declaryng the benefites, fruites, and great Commodities of Prayer, and also the True Use thereof. Written in Latin fourtie yeres past, by an Englyshe man of great vertue and learnyng. And lately translated into Englyshe." The translation in Elizabeth's reign of a devotional work by one whom her father had sent to the block, printed in St. Paul's

66

also is the suppression of Fisher's name, while he is described in the preface to the reader as an Englishman, a Bishop of great learning and marvellous virtue of life." The Pelican is taken here also, as by the writer of the Plowman's Tale, as symbol of devotion. There is a little emblematic woodcut added to the pages introducing Fisher's treatise upon Prayer, with Learn to Die for its uppermost thought; a Latin inscription also around the self-sacrificing Pelican, which means: For Law, King, and Commonwealth; and around that an English motto: "Love kepythe the Lawe, obeyeth the Kynge, and is good to the Commenwelthe."

The treatise has for its text the words in the eighteenth chapter of Luke, "that men ought always to pray;" and thus it begins :

PRAYER WITHOUT CEASING.

Forasmuch as this saying of Our Saviour Christ, Oportet semper Orare, A Man must always Pray, written in the Gospel of Saint Luke, appertaineth generally unto all Christian men: who seeth not how profitable and necessary it is for every man diligently and effectually to apply himself to prayer? And so expedient and beneficial a thing is in no wise to be neglected for vain and hurtful delectations and pleasures. Wherefore to the end that our prayer may wax sweet and pleasant unto us, first of all it shall be very commodious and profitable to have ready at hand and in our remembrance certain reasons with the which as most apt and convenient motions (as oft as we perceive ourselves to wax cold in devotion, and be as it were oppressed with a slothful unaptness to serve God) we may stir up our minds and whet our hearts to prayer. Moreover, it shall marvellously profit and exceedingly further us not to be ignorant of the singular fruits and commodities that very many have obtained by prayer; for by the knowledge thereof, we shall more easily invite and prepare ourselves to pray. And finally it shall be very needful for us thoroughly to understand the very true manner which is specially required in every man to be observed in the time of his prayer; forasmuch as in every work of any difficulty that man taketh in hand, the right way of doing thereof being once known doth very much further the due execution and perfect finishing of the same. I have therefore intended by the help of God to intreat in order of these three things: that is to say, of the Necessity of Prayer, of the Fruit of Prayer, and of the true Use and Manner of Prayer.

But forasmuch as the words of Our Saviour before said do cast some scruple and doubt into many men's minds, it shall not be out of purpose for the better understanding thereof if we do first expound and declare how those words are most rightly to be understanded. And to begin withal, this saying of Our Saviour is most assuredly true, Oportet semper Orare, for Prayer is necessary to us every day, every hour, and every minute. And yet doth not Almighty God so severely demand an account thereof of as that he bindeth us to incessant prayer with our mouth, which thing never man hath unto this time, or could be able to observe. But forasmuch as there passeth no moment of time in which we have not great need of the help and assistance of Almighty God: there are we of necessity constrained by continual prayer, humbly with all diligence to require and crave His divine help and succour. For who is he that perceiveth not (so as he give his mind diligently to observe the same) that all we are even presently to be returned to dust and ashes, whensoever God should detain and hold His hand of help

from over us, and that there is no man of power without Him to endure the space of one moment of time, as Job sayeth. In His hand is the life of every living creature. Every one of us remaineth in no better estate than as if he did hang in a basket over a great deep pit, borne up and sustained by a cord in the hand of another man. And in that case doubtless the man so placed standeth in great need of the diligent help of him that holdeth the rope, and thereby stayeth him from falling: for if he once let go the rope, the other that hangeth must needs down headlong into the bottom of the pit. And likewise must it needs happen unto every one of us, if God sustain us not incessantly with His mighty hand and power. And He it is that so stayeth the rope that we be not by the grievousness of the fall bruised and crushed in pieces, and so forthwith consumed to nothing. I speak nothing now of many other dangerous perils and headlong falling places wherewith we be continually environed. What is he then so gross witted and so blind in judgment, that understandeth not that there is no time, nor no one moment of time, in the which we have not very great need earnestly to call upon God, to require His aid, defence and succour, and in the which we have not cause incessantly to pray?

But forasmuch as after this understanding and sense there is no man that by actual prayer (as we call it) doth satisfy and fulfil the same words of our Saviour, that is to say, every moment to continue in prayer, therefore we had need to search out some other sense and meaning thereof. And indeed this saying of Our Saviour Christ may rightly be otherwise understanded. As thus: A certain monk, one of the old Fathers, being demanded how he fulfilled that saying or commandment of Christ, Oportet semper Orare, made this answer: When I have (sayeth he) finished, and said my daily prayers, the time that remaineth I use to bestow in labouring with my hands, as far forth as the ability and strength of my body doth permit, whereby it cometh to pass that daily I gain somewhat, with the which I may relieve not only myself, but also some other poor people. And they (sayeth he) pray for me, as oft as by the unquietness and trouble of my body I can not pray for myself: And by this mean he did believe that he satisfied the commandment. And he had the Holy Scripture agreeable with this opinion which sayeth, Absconde Eleemosinam in sinu pauperis, et ipsa pro te orabit.' Hide thy alms in the bosom of the poor, and that shall pray for thee. See then, how the Holy Scripture confirmeth that our alms shall pray for us: and therefore, if a man apply his mind to shew mercy and pity to his neighbours, if he seek to defend the orphans and fatherless children, if he labour to comfort the widows which be destitute of all consolation, if he be careful to deliver those that be oppressed with violence from injury and wrong, finally, if he shew himself ready to help to his power any that want succour or relief, so that besides all this he neglect not the ordinary appointed times for prayer by the Church of God, he may well be judged to have fulfilled the former words of Our Saviour. For that man doth pray always, either by himself or else by his alms and charitable deeds, which supplieth all the want that appeareth in his own prayer. In this wise, then, may the words of Christ aforesaid be understanded, wherein he teacheth us always to continue in prayer, which is as much as to say, always to live and do well, which doth sometime happen to men, yea, when they be sleeping. For as oft as we do sleep or wake, walk or sit still, eat or drink, be vexed or be in quiet, or what else soever we do or suffer, if all these doings be with a true faith referred to the honour and glory of God, no doubt they appertain to the increase of a good and per

1 Ecclesiasticus (in the Apocrypha) xxix.

fect life. For if it were not so, Saint Paul would not have willed the Corinthians, that whatsoever they did, they should intend and direct the same to the glory of God, saying unto them, Sive editis, sive bibitis, sive quid aliud facitis, omnia in gloriam Dei facite. Whether ye eat or drink, or what thing else soever ye do, do all to the honour of God. And surely if God be moved with our words and speaking to be gracious unto us, He will be much more stirred in the same by our good works and well doing, forasmuch as works do now supply the place of words.

A little later Fisher defines prayer "the continual desire of the heart which is always strong, and hath his continual motion in man's mind." Thus we must always pray, not indeed by utterance of forms of words, "but so that there pass no minute of time in which we do not desire the succour of His grace and the felicity to come."

John Fisher wrote against Lutheran opinions, and held firmly by those in which he had been bred. In 1527, he was the only bishop who refused to gratify Henry VIII.'s wish for a divorce from Catherine of Arragon by declaring the king's marriage with her to be unlawful. Thenceforth he had the king for enemy. In 1534, his loyalty to conscience again caused him to stand alone among the bishops in refusal to assent to a denial of the Pope's supremacy in England. When he refused at peril of his life the oath which was refused also by Sir Thomas More, he was deprived of his bishopric, and cast into the Tower. Books were denied him, all his goods were taken, only some old rags were left to cover him, and he was ill-fed. On the 17th of June, 1535, Fisher was brought to trial, and he was beheaded on the 22nd. During his imprisonment in the Tower he wrote to his sister Elizabeth these admonitions of a fallen statesman and a dying brother:—

Watch, therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come. Sister Elizabeth, nothing doth more help effectually to get a good and a virtuous life, than if a soul, when it is dull and unlustie without devotion, neither disposed to prayer nor to any other good work, may be stirred or quickened again by fruitful meditation. I have therefore devised unto you this meditation that followeth, praying you, for my sake and for the weal of your own soul, to read it at such times as you shall feel yourself heavy and slothful to do any good work. It is a manner of lamentation and sorrowful com plaining made in the person of one that was hastily prevented by death, as I assure you every creature may be; none other surety we have, living in this world here. But if you will have any profit by reading of it, three things you must do in any wise.

Firstly: When you shall read this meditation, devise in

2 It is here given complete from the English version published m Elizabeth's reign.

3 Prevented, gone before, forestalled.

your mind as nigh as you can, all the conditions of a man or woman suddenly taken and ravished by death: and think with yourself that ye were in the same condition so hastily taken, and that incontinent you must needs die, and your soul depart hence, and leave your mortal body, never to return again for to make any amends or to do any release to your soul after this hour.

Secondly: That ye never read this meditation but alone by yourself in secret manner, where you may be most attentive thereunto, and when ye have the best leisure without any let of other thoughts or business. For if you otherwise behave yourself in the reading of it, it shall anon lose the virtue and quickness in stirring and moving of your soul when you would ratherest have it stirred.

Thirdly: That when you intend to read it, you must afore lift up your mind to Almighty God, and beseech Him that by the help and succour of His grace the reading thereof may fruitfully work in your soul a good and virtuous life, according to His pleasure, and say: Deus in adjutorium meum intende, Domine adjuvare me festina. Gloria patri, &c. Laus tibi Domine rex æternalis gloriæ. Amen.1

Alas, alas, I am unworthily taken, all suddenly death hath assailed me; the pains of his stroke be so sore and grievous that I may not long endure them; my last home I perceive well is come. I must now leave this mortal body, I must now depart hence out of this world never to return again into it. But whither I shall go, or where I shall become, or what lodging I shall have this night, or in what company I shall fall, or in what country I shall be received, or in what manner I shall be entreated, God knoweth, for I know not. What if I shall be damned in the perpetual prison of hell, where be pains endless and without number? Grievous it shall be to them that be damned for ever, for they shall be as men in extreme pains of death, ever wishing and desiring death, and yet never shall they die. It should be now unto me much weary one year continually to lie upon a bed were it never so soft: how weary then shall it be to lie in the most painful fire so many thousands of years without number, and to be in that most horrible company of devils most terrible to behold, full of malice and cruelty? O wretched and miserable creature that I am: I might so have lived and so ordered my life by the help and grace of my Lord Christ Jesu, that this hour might have been unto me much joyous and greatly desired. Many blessed and holy Saints were full joyous and desirous of this hour, for they knew well that by death their souls should be translated into a new life, to the life of all joy and endless pleasure: from the straits and bondage of this corruptible body into a very liberty and true freedom among the company of heaven; from the miseries and grievances of this wretched world, to be above with God in comfort inestimable that cannot be spoken nor thought. They were assured of the promises of Almighty God, which had so promised to all them that be his faithful servants. And sure I am, that if I had truly and faithfully served Him unto this hour, my soul had been partner of these promises. But unhappy and ungracious creature that I am, I have been negligent in His service, and therefore now my heart doth waste in sorrows, seeing the nighness of death, and considering my great sloth and negligence.

I thought full little thus suddenly to have been trapped; but, alas, now death hath prevented me, and hath unwarily

1 "O God, be thou my refuge; O Lord, make haste to help me. Glory be to the Father, &c. Praise be unto thee, O Lord, eternal King of glory. Amen."

attacked me, and suddenly oppressed me with his mighty power, so that I know not whither I may turn me for succour, nor where I may seek now for help, nor what thing I may do to get any remedy. If I might have leisure and space to repent me and amend my life, not compelled with this sudden stroke, but of my own free will and liberty, and partly for the love of God, putting aside all sloth and negligence, I might then safely die without any dread, I might then be glad to depart hence and leave my manifold miseries and encumbrances of this world. But how may I think that my repentance or mine amendment cometh now of my own free will, sith I was before this struck so cold and dull in the service of my Lord God? or how may I think that I do this more rather for His love than for fear of His punishment, when if I had truly loved Him, I should more quickly and more diligently have served Him heretofore? Me seemeth now that I cast away my sloth and negligence compelled by force. Even as a merchant that is compelled by a great tempest in the sea to cast his merchandise out of the ship, it is not to be supposed that he would cast away his riches of his own free will, not compelled by the storm; and even so likewise do I. If this tempest of death were not now raised upon me, it is full like that I would not have cast from me my sloth and negligence.

O would to God that I might now have some farther respite, and some longer time to amend myself of my free will and liberty! O if I might entreat Death to spare me for a season! but that will not be, Death in no wise will be entreated, delay he will none take, respite he will none give, if I would give him all the riches of this world. No, if all my lovers and friends would fall upon their knees and pray him for me. No, if I and they would weep, if it were so possible, as many tears as there be in the seas drops of water; no pity may restrain him. Alas, when opportunity of time was, I would not use it well, which if I had done, it would now be unto me more precious than all the treasures of a realm. For then my soul as now should have been clothed with good works innumerable, the which should make me not to be ashamed when I should come to the presence of my Lord God, where now I shall appear laden with sin miserably, to my confusion and shame. But, alas, too negligently have I let pass from me my time, not regarding how precious it was, nor yet how much spiritual riches I might have got therein, if I would have put my diligence and study thereunto. For assuredly no deed that is, be it never so little, but it shall be rewarded of Almighty God. One draught of water given for the love of God shall not be unrewarded. And what is more easy to be given than water. But not only deeds, but also the least words and thoughts shall be rewarded in like wise. O how many good thoughts, deeds, and words might one think, speak, and do in one day! But how many more in one whole year! O, alas, my great negligence! O, alas, my foul blindness! O, alas, my sinful madness, that knew this well, and would not put it in effectual execution!

O if now all the people of this world were present here to see and know the perilous condition that I am in, and how I am prevented by the stroke of death, I would exhort them to take me as an example to them all, and while they have leisure and time to order their lives and cast from them sloth and idleness, and to repent them of their misbehaviour towards God, and to bewail their offences, to multiply good works, and to let no time pass by them unfruitfully. For if it shall please my Lord God that I might any longer live, I would otherwise exercise myself than I have done before. Now I wish that I may have time and space, but righteously I am denied. For when I might have had

But now I repent me full sore of my great negligence, and right much I sorrow that so little I regarded the wealth and profit of my soul, but rather took heed to the vain comforts and pleasures of my wretched body. O corruptible body, O stinking carrion, O rotten earth, to whom I have served, whose appetites I have followed, whose desire I have procured, now dost thou appear what thou art in thy own likeness. That brightness of thy eyes, that quickness in hearing, that liveliness in thy other senses by natural warmness, thy swiftness and nimbleness, thy fairness and beauty, all these thou hast not of thyself, they were but lent unto thee for a season. Even as a wall of earth that is fair painted without for a season with fresh and goodly colours, and also gilted with gold, it appeareth goodly for the time to such as consider no deeper than the outward craft thereof; but when at the last the colour faileth, and the gilting falleth away, then appeareth it in his own likeness. For then the earth plainly showeth itself. In like wise my wretched body, for the time of youth it appeared fresh and lusty, and I was deceived with the outward beauty thereof, little considering what naughtiness was covered underneath : but now it showeth itself. Now, my wretched body, thy beauty is faded, thy fairness is gone; thy lust, thy strength, thy liveliness, all is gone, all is failed! Now art thou then returned to thine own earthly colour. Now art thou black, cold, and heavy, like a lump of earth; thy sight is darkened, thy hearing is dulled, thy tongue faltereth in thy mouth, and corruption issueth out of every part of thee. Corruption was thy beginning in the womb of thy mother, and corruption is thy continuance. All thing that ever thou receivest, were it never so precious, thou turnest into corruption, and now to corruption thyself returnest: altogether right vile and loathly art thou become, where in appearance before thou wast goodly; but the good lines were nothing else but as a painting or a gilting upon an earthen wall, under it was covered with stinking and filthy matter. But I looked not so deep, I contented myself with the outward painting, and in that I took great pleasure. For all my study and care was about thee, either to apparel thee with some clothes of divers colours, either to satisfy thy desire in pleasant sights, in delectable hearings, in goodly smells, in sundry manner of tastings and touchings, either else to get thee ease and rest as well in sleep as otherwise; and provided therefore pleasant and delectable lodgings, and to eschew tediousness in all these, not only lodgings but also in apparel, meats and drinks procured many and divers changes, that when thou wast weary of one, then mightest thou content thyself with some other. O, alas, this was my vain and naughty study whereunto my wit was ready applied; in those things I spent the most part of my days. And yet was I never content long, but murmuring or grudging every hour for one thing or other. And what am I now the better for all this? what reward may I look for of all my long service? or what great benefit shall I receive for all my great study, care, and diligence?

now am wrapped in. May not I think my wit to have been well occupied in this lewd and unfruitful business? have not I well bestowed my labour about this service of my wretched body? hath not my time been well employed in these miserable studies, whereof now no comfort remaineth, but only sorrow and repentance? Alas, I heard full often that such as should be damned should grievously repent themselves, and take more displeasure of their misbehaviour than ever they had pleasure before; and yet that repentance then should stand them in no stead, where a full little repentance taken in time might have eased them of all their pain. This I heard and read full often, but full little heed or regard I gave thereunto. I well perceived it in myself, but all too late I dread me. I would that now by the example of ne all other might beware, and avoid by the gracious help of God these dangers that I now am in, and prepare themselves against the hour of death better than I have prepared шe. Alas, what availeth me now any delicacy of meats and drinks which my wretched body insatiable did devour? What availeth my vanity or pride that I had in myself, either of apparel or of any other thing belonging unto me? What availeth the filthy and unclean delights and lusts of the stinking flesh, wherein was appearance of much pleasure, but in very deed none other than the sow hath, weltering herself in the miry puddle? Now these pleasures be gone, my body is nothing better, my soul is much the worse, and nothing remaineth but sorrow and displeasure, and that a thousand-fold more than ever I had any pleasure before. O lewd body and naughty, which hast brought me to this utter discomfort! O dirty corruption, O satchel full of dung, how must I go to make answer for thy lewdness: thy lewdness I say, for it all cometh of thee. My soul had nothing need of such things as was thy desire. What need my soul, that is immortal, either clothing, or meat, or drink: What need it any corruptible gold or silver? What need it any houses or beds, or any other things that appertaineth to these? For thee, O corruptible body, which like a rotten wall daily needeth reparations and botching up with meat and drink, and defence of clothing against cold and heat, was all this study and diligence taken, and yet now wilt thou for sake me at my most need, when account and reckoning of all our misdeeds must be given before the throne of the Judge most terrible. Now thou wilt refuse me, and leave me to the jeopardy of all this matter. O, alas, many years of deliberation suffice not before so great a Judge to make answer, which shall examine me of every idle word that ever passed my mouth. O then how many idle words, how many eval thoughts, how many deeds have I to make answer for! and such as we set but at light, full greatly shall be weighed in the presence of His most high Majesty. O, alas, what may I do to get some help at this most dangerous hour: Where may I seek for succour? Where may I resort fr any comfort?

y

My body forsaketh me, my pleasures be vanished away as the smoke; my goods will not go with me. All th worldly things I must leave behind me. If any comfort shall be, either it must be in the prayers of my friends, or in mine own good deeds that I have done before. But as for my good deeds that should be available in the sight of God. they be few or none that I can think to be available; must be done principally and purely for His love. But 21 deeds when of their kind they were good, yet did I tr them by my folly. For either I did them for the pleas of men, or to avoid the shame of the world, or else for my ONE affection, or else for dread of punishment. So that in I did any good deed in that purity and straightness that ought of right to have been done. And my misdeeds, my

lewd deeds that be shameful and abominable, be without number. Not one day of all my life, no not one hour, I trow, was so truly expended to the pleasure of God, but many deeds, words, and thoughts miscaped me in my life. Alas, little trust then may I have upon my deeds. And as for the prayers of my friends, such as I shall leave behind me, of them many peradventure be in the same need that I am in. So that where their own prayers might profit themselves, they cannot so profit another. And many of them will be full negligent, and some forgetful of me. And no marvel, for who should have been more friendly unto me than mine own self? Therefore I that was most bounden to have done for myself, forgot my own weal in my life-time; no marvel therefore if others do forget me after my departing hence. Other friends there be by whose prayers souls may be holpen, as by the blessed and holy saints above in heaven, which verily will be mindful of such as in earth here have devoutly honoured them before. But, alas, I had special devotion but to a few, and yet them I have so faintly honoured, and to them so coldly sued for favour, that I am ashamed to ask aid or help of them. At this time indeed, I had more effectually meant to have honoured them, and more diligently to have commended my wretched soul unto their prayers, and so to have made them my special friends; but now death hath prevented me so, that no other hope remaineth but only in the mercy of my Lord God: to whose mercy I do now offer myself, beseeching him not to look upon my deserts, but upon his infinite goodness and abundant pity.

Alas, my duty had been much better to have remembered this terrible hour, I should have had this danger ever before my eyes, I should have provided therefore so that now I might have been in a more readiness against the coming of death, which I knew assuredly would come at the last, albeit I knew not when, where, or by what manner, but well I knew every hour and moment was to him indifferent, and in his liberty. And yet my madness ever to be sorrowed! Notwithstanding this uncertainty of His coming, and the uncertainty of the time thereof, I made no certain nor sure provision against this hour. Full often I took great study and care to provide for little dangers, only because I thought they might happen, and yet happed they never a deal.1 And but trifles they were in comparison of this. How much rather should I have taken study and care for this so great a danger, which I knew well must necessarily fall unto me once. For this cannot be eschewed in no wise, and upon this I ought to have made good provision, for in this hangeth all our wealth. For if a man die well, he shall after his death nothing want that he would desire, but his appetite shall be satiate in every point at the full; and if he die amiss, no provision shall avail him that ever he made before. This provision therefore is most effectually to be studied, sithens this alone may profit without other, and without this none can avail.

O ye that have time and space to make your provision against the hour of death, defer not from day to day like as I have done. For I often did think and purpose with myself that at some leisure I would have provided; nevertheless for every frivolous business I put it aside, and delayed this provision always to another time, and promised with myself that at such a time I would not fail but do it, but when that came another business arose, and so I deferred it again unto another time. And so, alas, from time to time, that now death in the meantime hath prevented me. My purpose was good, but it lacked execution; my will was

1 Never a deal, never in any part, never a bit.

straight, but it was not effectual; my mind well intended, but no fruit came thereof. All for because I delayed so often and never put in effect that that I had purposed. And therefore delay it not as I have done, but before all other business put this first in surety, which ought to be chief and principal business. Neither building of colleges, nor making of sermons, nor giving of alms, neither yet any other manner of business shall help you without this. Therefore first and before all things prepare for this. Delay not in any wise, for if you do, you shall be deceived as I am now. I read of many, I have heard of many, I have known many that were disappointed as I am now. And ever I thought and said, and intended, that I would make sure and not be deceived by the sudden coming of death. Yet nevertheless I am now deceived, and am taken sleeping, unprepared, and that when I least weened of his coming, and even when I reckoned myself to be in most health, and when I was most busy, and in the midst of my matters.

Therefore delay not you any farther, nor put your trust over much in your friends. Trust yourself while ye have space and liberty, and do for yourself now while you may. I would advise you to do that thing that I by the grace of my Lord God would put in execution if His pleasure were to send me longer life. Account yourself as dead, and think that your souls were in prison of Purgatory, and that there they must abide till that the ransom for them be truly paid, either by long sufferance of pain there, or else by suffrages done here in earth by some of your special friends. Be your own friend. Do you these suffrages for your own soul, whether they be prayers or almsdeeds, or any other penitential painfulness. If you will not effectually and heartily do these things for your own soul, look you never that other will do them for you; and in doing them in your own persons, they shall be more available to you a thousand-fold than if they were done by any other. If you follow this counsel, and do thereafter, you shall be gracious and blessed; and if you do not, you shall doubtless repent your follies but too late.

Thus seeking that his latest words might aid a sister's soul upon the heavenward way, John Fisher freely gave his life for that which he believed to be the truth. A few words, spoken against conscience, would have saved him from the scaffold.

While Fisher was founding colleges in Cambridge, impulse had been given to Greek studies by the fall of Constantinople, in the year 1453. Exiled Greeks carried their scholarship abroad. William Grocyn, an English clergyman, learnt Greek at Florence under Demetrius Chalcondylas, and the brilliant Italian poet and scholar, Poliziano; then came home, and in 1491 began, at Exeter College, the teaching of Greek in the University of Oxford. He was aided in this work by Thomas Linacre, who also had learnt his Greek at Florence. One of their comrades was John Colet, who was twenty-four years younger than Grocyn, and six years younger than Linacre.

John Colet, born in 1466, studied in France and Italy after seven years' training at Magdalen College, and was one of many who drew aid from the new study of Plato to their aspiration for the In Plato there was not only highest spiritual life.