The second Examination of John Philpot, before the queen's commissioners, M. Cholmley, Roper, D. Story, Doctor Cooke, and the Scribe, the 24th day of October, 1555, at Newgate Sessions' Hall.

Ar my coming, a man of Aldgate of my acquaintance said unto me, "God have mercy on you! for you are already condemned in this world; for doctor Story said, that my lord chancellor* has commanded to do you away.' After a little consultation between them, Master Cholmley called me to him, saying,

Cholm. Master Philpot show yourself a wise man, and be not stubborn in your own opinion, but be conformable to the queen's proceedings, and live, and you shall be well assured of great favour and reputation.

Phil. I shall do as becomes a Christian man.

Story. This man is the rankest heretic in all my lord chancellor's diocese, and has done more hurt than any man else there: and therefore his pleasure is that the law do proceed against him, and I have spoken with my lord herein, and he desireth him to be committed to the bishop of London, and there to recant or else be burned. He howled and wept in the convocation-house, and made such ado as never man did, as all the heretics do when they lack learning to answer. He shall go after his fellows. How sayest thou, wilt thou recant?

Phil. I know nothing I have done that I ought to

recant.

Story. Well, then, I pray let us commit him to the Lollards' Tower, there to remain until he is further examined before the bishop of London, for he is too fine fed in the King's Bench, and has too much favour there. For his keeper said at the door yesterday, that he was the finest fellow and one of the best learned in England.-Dr. Story then rose up and went his way.

Cooke. This man has most stoutly maintained heresies since the queen's coming in, as any that I have heard of; therefore it is most proper that he should be judged by the bishop of London, for the heresies he has maintained.

Phil. I have maintained no heresies.

Cooke. No? Did you not openly speak against the *Bishop Gardiner.

sacrament of the altar in the convocation-house? Call you that no heresy? Wilt thou recant that or no?

Phil. It was the queen's majesty's pleasure that we should reason thereof, not by my seeking, but by other men's procuring, in the hearing of the council.

Cooke. Did the queen give you leave to be a heretic? You may be sure her grace will not do so. Well, we will not dispute the matter with you; my lord of London shall proceed by inquisition upon you, and if thou wilt not recant, thou shalt be burned.

Phil. My lord of London is not my ordinary in this business, and I have already answered to mine ordinary in this matter; and therefore, as I have said before, you would do me great wrong, to vex me twice for one matter, since I have sustained this long imprisonment, besides the loss of my living.

Rop. You were a very unfit man to be an archdeacon. Phil. I know I was as fit a man as he that has it now. Cooke. A fit man, quoth he? He troubled Master Roper and the whole country.

Phil. There was never poor archdeacon so handled at your hands as I am, and that without any just cause you are able to lay unto me.

Cooke. Thou art no archdeacon.

Phil. I am archdeacon still, although another is in possession of my living; for I was never deprived by any law.

Cooke. No, sir, that needed not; for a notorious heretic should have no ordinary proceeding about his deprivation; but the bishop may upon knowledge thereof proceed to deprivation.

Phil. Master doctor, you know that the common law is otherwise; and besides this, the statutes of this realm are otherwise, which give this benefit to every person though he is a heretic, to enjoy his living until he be put to death for the same.

Cholm. No, there thou art deceived.

Phil. About the living I care not. But the unjust dealing grieves me, that I should be thus troubled for my conscience, contrary to all law.

Cholm. Why, will you not agree that the queen's majesty may cause you to be examined of your faith?

Phil. Ask doctor Cooke, and he will tell you that the temporal magistrates have nothing to do with matters of

faith, for determination thereof. And St. Ambrose saith, that the things of God are not subject to the power and authority of princes.

Cooke. No? May not the temporal power commit you to the bishop, to be examined of your faith?

Phil. Yea, sir, I deny not that; but you will not grant that the same may examine any of their own authority. Cooke. Let him be had away.

Phil. Your mastership promised me the last time I was before you, I should see your commission, by what authority you call me, and whether I by the same am bound to answer to so much as you demand.

Rop. Let him see the commission.

Then the scribe exhibited it to Master Roper, and was about to open the same.

Cooke. No, what will you do? He shall not see it. Phil. Then you do me wrong, to call me and vex me, not showing your authority.

Cooke. If we do you wrong, complain of us; and in the meanwhile thou shalt lie in the Lollards' Tower.

Phil. Sir, I am a poor gentleman; therefore I trust of your gentleness you will not commit me to so vile and strait a place, being found no heinous trespasser.

Cooke. Thou art no gentleman.

Phil. Yes, that I am.

Cooke. A heretic is no gentleman; for he is a gentleman that hath gentle conditions.

Phil. The offence cannot take away the state of a gentleman as long as he lives, although he were a traitor; but I mean not to boast of my gentlemanship, but will put it under my feet, since you no more esteem it.

Story came in again, and said, What, will you suffer this heretic to prate with you all this day?

Cooke. He saith he is a gentleman!

Story. A gentleman, quoth he? he is a vile heretic knave; for a heretic is no gentleman. Let the keeper of. the Lollards' Tower come in, and have him away.

The Keeper. Here, sir.

Story. Take this man with you to the Lollards' Tower, or else to the Bishop's Coalhouse.

Phil. Sir, if I were a dog you could not appoint me a worse and more vile place; but I must be content with whatever injury you offer me. God give you a more merciful heart: you are very cruel upon one that never

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has offended you. I pray you, Master Cholmley, show me some friendship, that I be not carried to so vile a place.

Cholmley called me aside, and said, I am not skilled as to their doings, neither of their laws: I cannot tell what they mean. I would I could do you good.

Phil. I am content to go whither you will have me. There was never man more cruelly handled than I am at your hands, that without just cause known should be thus treated.

Story. Shall we suffer this heretic thus to reprove us? Have him hence.

Phil. God forgive you, and give you more merciful hearts, and show you more mercy in the time of need. 'Do quickly that you have in hand.'

Story. Do you not hear how he makes us to be Judases? Phil. That is after your own understanding.

After this, I with four more were brought to the keeper's house in Paternoster-row, where we supped, and after supper I was called up to a chamber by the archdeacon of London's servant, who in his master's name offered me a bed for that night. To whom I gave thanks, saying, that "it should be a grief to me to lie well one night, and the next worse; wherefore I will begin as I am like to continue, to take such part as my fellows." And with that we were brought through Paternoster-row to my lord of London's Coalhouse; unto which is joined a little blind* house, with a great pair of stocks appointed both for hand and foot; but, thanks be to God, we have not played on those organs yet, although some before us have tried them; and there we found a minister of Essex, a married priest, a man of godly zeal, with one other poor man. And this minister, at my coming, desired to speak with me, and greatly lamented his own infirmity, for through extremity of imprisonment he was constrained by writing to yield to the bishop of London; whereupon he was once set at liberty, and afterward felt such a hell in his conscience, that he could scarcely refrain from destroying himself, and never could feel quiet until he had gone unto the bishop's registrar,desiring to see his bill again, which as soon as he had received, he tore it in pieces, and afterwards he was as joyful as any man might be. Of which when my lord of

* Dark place.

+ His name was Thomas Whittle. He was burned shortly after.

London* was told, he sent for him, and fell upon him like a lion, and like a manly bishop buffeted him well, so that he made his face black and blue, and plucked away a great piece of his beard; but now, thanks be to God, he is as joyful under the cross as any of us, and very sorry for his former infirmity. I write this, because I would all men should take heed how they do contrary to their conscience; which is to fall under the pains of hell. And here an end.

The manner of my calling first before the bishop of London, the second night of mine imprisonment in his Coalhouse.t

THE bishop sent M. Johnson, his registrar, to me, with a mess of meat and a good pot of drink, and bread, saying that my lord had no knowledge till then of my being here, for which he was sorry; therefore he had sent me and my fellows that meat, not knowing whether I would receive the

same.

I thanked God for my lord's charity, that it pleased him * Bishop Bonner.

The palace of the bishop of London at that period was at the north-west corner of St. Paul's Churchyard, on the site of the houses and courts now called London House Yard. It was of considerable size, and extended quite to the old cathedral, which was longer and wider than the present building, so that it was easy to convey the Protestants from one part of these large piles of building to another without passing through the streets. Along the north side of St. Paul's Churchyard were a cloister, a burying-ground, a library, a charnel-house, and several chapels, which had been partly demolished in the reign of Edward VI., and between Cannon Alley and Cheapside was St. Paul's Cross, about the spot where a tree now stands. At that time the whole of the churchyard was enclosed and entered by gates, like the cathedral close at Wells, and some other cities. The convocation-house stood on the south side, and Lollards' Tower was over St. Gregory's church, which was built against the cathedral at the south-west corner, about the spot where the clock tower now stands. The bishop's palace contained a great number of apartments; the Coalhouse, in which Philpot and many others were confined, was at the back of the building in Paternoster-row, near the narrow alley which now passes from that street to St. Paul's Churchyard. These particulars will render Philpot's narrative more intelligible to the reader; and when he passes by the places just mentioned, he will be reminded of the sufferings of THE BRITISH ReforMERS, and let him feel thankful that "the blood of the martyrs has indeed proved the seed of the church."