and officers, be wise and circumspect, look to your charge, and see you do your duties; and rather be glad to amend your ill living than to be angry when you are warned or told of your fault.  What ado was there made in London at a certain man, because he said, (and indeed at that time on a just cause,) “Burgesses!” quoth he, “nay, Butterflies.”  Lord, what ado there was for that word!  And yet would God they were no worse than butterflies!  Butterflies do but their nature:  the butterfly is not covetous, is not greedy, of other men’s goods; is not full of envy and hatred, is not malicious, is not cruel, is not merciless.  The butterfly glorieth not in her own deeds, nor preferreth the traditions of men before God’s word; it committeth not idolatry, nor worshippeth false gods.  But London cannot abide to be rebuked; such is the nature of man.  If they be pricked, they will kick; if they be rubbed on the gall, they will wince; but yet they will not amend their faults, they will not be ill spoken of.  But how shall I speak well of them?  If you could be content to receive and follow the word of God, and favour good preachers, if you could bear to be told of your faults, if you could amend when you hear of them, if you would be glad to reform that is amiss; if I might see any such inclination in you, that you would leave to be merciless, and begin to be charitable, I would then hope well of you, I would then speak well of you.  But London was never so ill as it is now.  In times past men were full of pity and compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door between stock and stock, I cannot tell what to call it, and perish there for hunger:  was there ever more unmercifulness in Nebo?  I think not.  In times past, when any rich man died in London, they were wont to help the poor scholars of the Universities with exhibition.  When any man died, they would bequeath great sums of money toward the relief of the poor.  When I was a scholar in Cambridge myself; I heard very good report of London, and knew many that had relief of the rich men of London:  but now I can hear no such good report, and yet I inquire of it, and hearken for it; but now charity is waxen cold, none helpeth the scholar, nor yet the poor.  And in those days, what did they when they helped the scholars?  Marry, they maintained and gave them livings that were very papists, and professed the pope’s doctrine:  and now that the knowledge of God’s word is brought to light, and many earnestly study and labour to set it forth, now almost no man helpeth to maintain them.