well.  For beside that, he repented forthwith very sorely that he had so done, and wept for it forthwith full bitterly.  He came forth at the Whitsuntide ensuing, and confessed his Master again, and soon after that, he was imprisoned for it.  And not ceasing so, he was thereupon sore scourged for the confession of his faith, and yet after that imprisoned again afresh.  And, being from thence delivered, he stinted not to preach on still until, after manifold labours, travails, and troubles, he was in Rome crucified and with cruel torment slain.

And in like wise I think I might (in a manner) well warrant that no man who denieth our Saviour once and afterward attaineth remission shall escape through that denial one penny the cheaper, but that he shall, ere he come to heaven, full surely pay for it.

VINCENT:  He shall peradventure, uncle, afterward work it out in the fruitful works of penance, prayer, and almsdeed, done in true faith and due charity, and in such wise attain forgiveness well enough.

ANTHONY:  All his forgiveness goeth, cousin, as you see well, but by “perhaps.”  But as it may be “perhaps yea,” so may it be “perhaps nay,” and where is he then?  And yet, you know, he shall never, by any manner of hap, hap finally to escape from death, for fear of which he forsook his faith.

VINCENT:  No, but he may die his natural death, and escape that violent death.  And then he saveth himself from much pain and so winneth much ease.  For a violent death is ever painful.

ANTHONY:  Peradventure he shall not avoid a violent death thereby, for God is without doubt displeased, and can bring him shortly to as violent a death by some other way.

Howbeit, I see well that you reckon that whosoever dieth a natural death, dieth like a wanton even at his ease.  You make me remember a man who was once in a light galley with us on the sea.  While the sea was sore wrought and the waves rose very high, he lay tossed hither and thither, for he had never been to sea before.  The poor soul groaned sore and for pain thought he would very fain be dead, and ever he wished, “Would God I were on land, that I might die in rest!” The waves so troubled him there, with tossing him up and down, to and fro, that he thought that trouble prevented him from dying, because the waves would not let him rest!  But if he might get once to land, he thought he should then die there even at his ease.

VINCENT:  Nay, uncle, this is no doubt, but that death is to every man painful.  But yet is not the natural death so painful as the violent.

ANTHONY:  By my troth, cousin, methinketh that the death which men commonly call “natural” is a violent death to every may whom it fetcheth hence by force against his will.  And that is every man who, when he dieth, is loth to die and fain would yet live longer if he could.