Then, for the first time was heard in England the question since become familiar, “Can I not do as I like with my own?” They say, said Bernard Gilpin, “the Apostle of the North,” in a sermon preached before the Court of Edward VI.—“they saie, their lande is their owne, and forget altogether that the earth is the Lords & the fulnesse thereof. They turn them out of their shrouds as thicke as mice.”[155] Henry Brinklow, puritan of puritans, admits that “but for the faith’s sake,” it had been more profitable to the commonwealth that the abbey lands had remained in the hands of those “imps of Antichrist,” the abbeys and nunneries. “For why? thei neuer inhansed their landys, nor toke so cruel fynes as doo our temporal tyrauntes.”[156] The governing classes, themselves atheistic,[157] ready to change their professed religion as often as was necessary to keep their grip on the lands stolen from the people, played on the fanaticism of a section of the people by means of imported preachers of the new doctrine, sharked up in every corner of Europe. When the commons, oppressed beyond endurance, rose at last in revolt, they were butchered in thousands by foreign mercenaries, the first seen in England for centuries.[158] The Guilds, lay associations of men and women banded together for mutual help, were among the oldest things in England—older than King Alfred. They were the precursors of the modern Trades Unions and Benefit Societies, but wider in their constitution, embracing various classes, and more human in their administration.[159] These, too, were swept away. The very hospitals were seized, the sick thrust forth. The dispossessed people wandered about, workless, aimless, foodless. “Thousandes in England through such [landlords] begge nowe from dore to dore, which haue kept honest houses.”[160] The Slave Act of the first year of the reign of Edward VI. made it lawful to brand an Englishman on the forehead with the mark of slavery, “to putt a rynge of Iron about his Necke Arme or his Legge for a more knowledge and suretie of the kepinge of him.”[161] In 1547 Ascham, about the time he was appointed tutor to Elizabeth, wrote, “The life now lived by the greatest number is not life, but misery,” words which a modern writer has said should be inscribed over the century as its motto. “Most lamentable of all,” writes Ascham, “is it, that that noble ornament and strength of England, the yeomanry, is broken and destroyed.”[162]