And this doth reason alone in many cases, where it hath much less help to take hold of than it hath in this matter of faith.  For you know well that to take a sour and bitter potion is great grief and displeasure, and to be lanced and have the flesh cut is no little pain.  Now, when such things are to be ministered either to a child or to some childish man, they will by their own wills let their sickness and their sore grow, unto their more grief, till it become incurable, rather than abide the pain of the curing in time.  And that for faint heart, joined with lack of discretion.  But a man who hath more wisdom, though without cause he would no more abide the pain willingly than would the other, yet, since reason showeth him what good he shall have by the suffering, and what harm by refusing it, this maketh him well content and glad also to take it.

Now then, if reason alone be sufficient to move a man to take pain for the gaining of worldly rest or pleasure and for the avoiding of another pain (though the pain he take be peradventure more, yet to be endured but for a short season), why should not reason, grounded upon the sure foundation of faith, and helped toward also with the aid of God’s grace—­as it ever is, undoubtedly, when folk for a good mind in God’s name come together, our Saviour saying himself, “Where there are two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I also even in the very midst of them.”  Why should not then reason, I say, thus furthered with faith and grace, be much more able first to engender in us such an affection, and afterward, by long and deep meditation thereof, so to continue that affection that it shall turn into a habitual purpose, fast-rooted and deep, of patiently suffering the painful death of this body here in earth for the gaining of everlasting wealthy life in heaven and avoiding of everlasting painful death in hell?

VINCENT:  By my troth, uncle, I can find no words that should have any reason with them—­faith being always presupposed, as you protested in the beginning, for a ground—­words, I say, I can find none with which I might reasonably counter-plead this that you have said here already.

But yet I remember the fable that AEsop telleth of a great old hart that had fled from a little bitch, which had made pursuit after him and chased him so long that she had lost him, and (he hoped) more than half given him over.  Having then some time to talk, and meeting with another of his fellows, he fell into deliberation with him as to what it were best for him to do—­whether to run on still and fly farther from her, or to turn again and fight with her.  The other hart advised him to fly no farther, lest the bitch might happen to find him again when he would be out of breath by the labour of farther fleeing, and thereby all out of strength too, and so would he be killed lying where he could not stir himself.  Whereas, if he would turn and fight, he would be in no peril at all.  “For the