d together again
that the way is not perceived in which the arrow went. And in like
wise we, as soon as we were born, are forthwith vanished away, and
have left no token of any good virtue behind us, but are consumed
and wasted and come to naught in our malignity. They, lo, that
have lived here in sin, such words have they spoken when they lay
in hell."

Here shall you, good cousin, consider, that whereas the scripture
here speaketh of the arrow shot into its place appointed or
intended, in the shooting of this arrow of pride there be divers
purposings and appointings. For the proud man himself hath no
certain purpose or appointment at any mark, butt, or prick upon
earth, at which he determineth to shoot and there to stick and
tarry. But ever he shooteth as children do, who love to shoot up
cop-high, to see how high their arrow can fly up. But now doth the
devil intend and appoint a certain mark, surely set in a place into
which he purposeth--fly this arrow never so high and the proud
heart on it--to have them both alight at last, and that place is in
the very pit of hell. There is set the devil's well-acquainted
prick and his very just mark. And with his pricking shaft of pride
he hath by himself a plain proof and experience that down upon this
prick (unless it be stopped by some grace of God on the way) the
soul that flieth up with it can never fail to fall. For when he
himself was in heaven and began to fly cop-high, with the lusty
light flight of pride, saying, "I will fly up above the stars and
set my throne on the sides of the north, and will be like unto the
Highest," long ere he could fly up half so high as he said in his
heart that he would, he was turned from a bright glorious angel
into a dark deformed devil, and from flying any further upward,
down was he thrown into the deep dungeon of hell.

Now may it, peradventure, cousin, seem that, since this kind of
temptation of pride is no tribulation or pain, all this that we
speak of this sorrow of pride flying forth in the day of
prosperity, would be beside our matter.

VINCENT: Verily, mine uncle, and so seemed it unto me. And
somewhat was I minded so to say to you, too, saving that, whether
it were properly pertaining to the present matter or somewhat
digressing from it, methought it was good matter and such as I had
no wish to leave.

ANTHONY: But now must you consider, cousin, that though
prosperity be contrary to tribulation, yet unto many a good ma