_Domine, ante te omne desiderium meum,_ _Et a te gemitus meus non est absconditus._ The sweetest life, Sovereign, in this world with some Is to have meditation of our Lord Jesus, Very contemplative God worshipped thus, Bethinking in the soul without any speech. God tendeth right more the prayer with the heart of us Than the prayer of the mouth. The text doth teach In meditation whoso hath forfence, The mouth cannot express the thoughts of the heart. That holiest fruition is of so high intelligence As it ravisheth the soul into a blessèd desert; It feeleth no earthly thing unto the time it revert. Thus fared Magdalen when Martha complained: She heard her not, in God her heart was so expert; Nor the angel at the sepulchre, love so her constrained-- The cause why I rehearse you, the holy meditation, For it is mine exercise express. Whoso will labour in this must see His habitation, Be solitary in soul, of great quietness. Therefore ever to the church I do me dress; Rest, reverence, and worship therein should be, With crying on Christ, and our sins confess. _Beati qui habitant in domo tua, Domine!_ _Eugenio._ _Qui cum Deo Patri_--granted by the pope A thousand four hundred, and never a day less-- That hath heard this noble sermon, and thereon doth hope, _A poena et culpa_ here I them release. Is it not pity such a pulpit man to lose? I pray you, sir, let us hear more of your pope holiness, For methink I have heard you preach on this at Paul's Cross. A2,_v._ _Irisdision._ Whom call you pope-holy? _Eug._ Such a fool as thou art, that clappest ever in divinity. _Iris._ All virtuous people to commend is my property. _Eug._ Then is Caton false, and that he indites, For he saith _"Nec te collaudas nec te culpaberis ipse."_ Great laudations loveth these hypocrites! _Qui se collaudat_, etc. No more to you at this time. But understand you this Latin? _Iris._ Yea, sir, I trow. _Eug._ _Responde, tunc, domine, doctor clericorum._ But sir, know you any justice of quorum? _Iris._ Why so? _Eug._ A fellow of mine was take[n] with a cuculorum For a couple horses he stole in an evening. _Iris._ What would ye have me do in that case? _Eug._ _Sursum corda_ for him to sing, Ye should have [? known] well why. _Iris._ I cannot sing. _Eug._ No, sir, ye should but make a spring A3,_r._ Under a perch looking up toward the sky. _Iris._ Without God be thy friend, that same death thou shalt die. _Eug._ Marry, I beshrew his heart that so can prophesy! _Iris._ What is thy name? _Eug._ A, read! _Iris._ Eugenio, I trow; the same! _Eug._ A, sir; the devil strike off thy head! Whoreson, who taught thee so right to read? I trow some evil spirit be within thee.