Of Pride. Now since I have somewhat laid afore thy face the bodily pains of death, the troubles and vexations spiritual that come therewith by thy ghostly enemy the devil, the unrestful cumbrance of thy fleshly friends, the uncertainty of thyself, how soon this dreadful time shall come, that thou art ever sick of that incurable sickness by which, if none other come, thou shalt yet in few years undoubtedly die, and yet, moreover, that thou art already dying, and ever hast been since thou first beganst to live,—let us now make some proof of this one part of our medicine, how the remembrance of death, in this fashion considered in his kind, will work with us to the preservation of our souls from every kind of sin, beginning at the sin that is the very head and root of all sins, that is to wit, pride, the mischievous mother of all manner vice.