This ironical language was to cost Latimer dear. To no purpose had he spoken in one of those churches which, being dependencies of a monastery, were not under episcopal jurisdiction: everybody about him condemned him and embittered his life. The courtiers talked of his sermons, shrugged their shoulders, pointed their fingers at him when he approached them, and turned their backs on him. The favor of the king, who had perhaps smiled at that burst of pulpit oratory, had some trouble to protect him. The court became more intolerable to him every day, and Latimer, withdrawing to his closet, gave vent to many a heavy sigh. ‘What tortures I endure!’ he said; ‘in what a world I live! Hatred ever at work; factions fighting one against the other; folly and vanity leading the dance; dissimulation, irreligion, debauchery, all the vices stalking abroad in open day.... It is too much. If I were able to do something ... but I have neither the talent nor the industry required to fight against these monsters.... I am weary of the court.’ [Sidenote: Latimer Quits The Court.] Latimer had recently been presented to the living of West Kington, in the diocese of Salisbury. Wishing to uphold the liberty of the Christian Church, and seeing that it existed no longer in London, he resolved to try and find it elsewhere. ‘I am leaving,’ he said to one of his friends: ‘I shall go and live in my parish.’—‘What is that you say?’, exclaimed the other; ‘Cromwell, who is at the pinnacle of honors, and has profound designs, intends to do great things for you.... If you leave the court, you will be forgotten, and your rivals will rise to your place.’—‘The only fortune I desire,’ said Latimer, ‘is to be useful.’ He departed, turning his back on the episcopal crosier to which his friend had alluded. Latimer began to preach with zeal in Wiltshire, and not only in his own parish, but in the parishes around him. His diligence was so great, his preaching so mighty, says Foxe,[187] that his hearers must either believe the doctrine he preached or rise against it. ‘Whosoever entereth not into the fold by the door, which is Christ, be he priest, bishop, or pope, is a robber,’ said he. ‘In the Church there are more thieves than shepherds, and more goats than sheep.’[188] His hearers were astounded. One of them (Dr. Sherwood) said to him: ‘What a sermon, or rather what a satire! If we believe you, all the hemp in England would not be enough to hang those thieves of bishops, priests, and curates.[189]... It is all exaggeration, no doubt, but such exaggeration is rash, audacious, and impious.’ The priests looked about for some valiant champion of Rome, ready to fight with him the quarrel of the Church.