Vincent:  Then shall he peradventure answer me that whether I believe him or not maketh to him no matter; the thing toucheth himself and not me, and he himself is in himself as sure that it is a true revelation as that he can tell that he dreameth not but talketh with me awake.

Anthony:  Without doubt, cousin, if he abide at that point and can by no reason be brought to do so much as doubt, nor can by no means be shogged out of his dead sleep, but will needs take his dream for a very truth, and—­as some men rise by night and walk about their chamber in their sleep—­will so rise and hang himself; I can then see no other way but either bind him fast in his bed, or else essay whether that might hap to help him with which, the common tale goeth, a carver’s wife helped her husband in such a frantic fancy.  When, upon a Good Friday, he would needs have killed himself for Christ as Christ did for him, she said to him that it would then be fitting for him to die even after the same fashion.  And that might not be by his own hands, but by the hand of another; for Christ, perdy, killed not himself.  And because her husband would take no counsel (for that would he not, in no wise), she offered him that for God’s sake she would secretly crucify him herself upon a great cross that he had made to nail a new-carved crucifix upon.  And he was very glad thereof.  Yet then she bethought her that Christ was bound to a pillar and beaten first, and afterward crowned with thorns.  Thereupon, when she had by his own assent bound him fast to a post, she left not off beating, with holy exhortation to suffer, so much and so long that ere ever she left work and unbound him (praying nevertheless, that she might put on his head, and drive well down, a crown of thorns that she had wrought for him and brought him), he said he thought this was enough for that year.  He would pray God to forbear him of the rest till Good Friday came again!  But when it came again the next years, then was his desire past; he longed to follow Christ no further.

Vincent:  Indeed, uncle, if this help him not, then will nothing help him, I suppose.

Anthony:  And yet, cousin, the devil may peradventure make him, toward such a purpose, first gladly suffer other pain; yea, and diminish his feeling in it, too, that he may thereby the less fear his death.  And yet are peradventure sometimes such things and many more to be essayed.  For as the devil may hap to make him suffer, so may he hap to miss, namely if his friends fall to prayer for him against his temptation.  For that can he himself never do, while he taketh it for none.

But, for conclusion:  If the man be surely proved so inflexibly set upon the purpose to destroy himself, as being commanded by God to do so, that no good counsel that men can give him nor any other thing that men may do to him can refrain him, but that he would surely shortly kill himself; then except only good prayer made by his friends for him, I can find no further shift but either to have him ever in sight or to bind him fast in his bed.