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ㅤ࣭ ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆ ┈ @ SILLY
egosuperior
practically perfect.
lonesomedreamer
another stubborn scorpio
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Samra Facilities INC
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Mr Fell. Since you are so good at doing your own accounts and tax returns, would you like to do mine too? The best part of volunteering with the kids is doing stuff with them each week. The worst part is the annual accounts!
I really need to do them this weekend, but even just the thought of that spreadsheet makes me want to hide in bed and/ or scream. Hence why it's the end of April, and the paperwork is still not done.
I can pay you in homemade shortbread!
While the offer of shortbread is certainly appealing, I think that you’re going to set a wonderful example to those children by taking on a task you dread and besting it. Go and spend an hour on it now, and then take a break with something you enjoy. Perhaps — once you’ve made a start — it won’t seem so daunting.
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The tenth of September, 1601. What wounds an angel?
Another angel. But it was all a very long time ago.
#hashytag good omens#All holy water under the bridge#or possibly hellfire#What’s done is done is what I’m trying to say
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Hello Mister Fell,
I came across some of your posts which showcase writing and I had some questions. I’ve been (sort of) studying Paleography for a couple of months and wondered about the scripts used.
Firstly this post, is the text Textura Quadrata, Textura Prescissa, Minscule or something else?
Secondly this post, is the text some sort of Gothic bastarda, chancery hand, minuscule cursive or something else?
Also did you write the text in the posts or did a scribe do it for you?
Do you have a favourite script?
Thank you!
What an excellent pastime! It’s not really an area of expertise for me, but I’d call the blackletter writing textura quadrata or semi-quadrata. It doesn’t have the cut-off strokes of precissa sine-pedibus. The other is some sort of bastard secretary hand. Neither were penned by me. I was sent the first by a collector of old acquaintance who was surprised by the resemblance (and rather more so after she passed on) of one of the angels, and the second was a souvenir from rather longer ago, which I recently rediscovered in the back of a rare quarto. The writer, needless to say, is no longer with us.
I used to write a fairly passable bastarda Anglicana back in the day, but I’m out of practice now. Perhaps I should take up writing again. Quis michi tribuat vt scribantur sermones mei?
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Only half?
Aziraphale is literally such a good character. The more I think about him the more I go completely feral. He was specifically created as a warrior to fight and protect. He’s soft and camp and likes feather boas. He’s spent 6000 years acting like he’s the most kind and polite perfect little angel but he’ll fucking destroy you with a single glare. He’s an absolute bitch. His face lights up with the smile of a thousand suns. He’ll kill someone for crêpes with his boyfriend. He lies to God. He needs the biggest hug in the whole world. His standards will NEVER be met. He has travel sweets. He painted his bookshop the colour of his soulmate’s eyes. He’s one bad day away from having a mental breakdown so intense it would explode half the planet. He loves humans so much but if any of them so much as speak to him he’ll require three business days to recuperate. He is THE Southern Pansy. He declared war on Hell because they interrupted the Jane Austen ball he meticulously planned just to dance with his boyfriend. He is so so traumatised and hasn’t experienced a straightforward emotion in his life. He WOULD bite people if he was given the opportunity. He is the most annoying bastard you’ve ever met (affectionate). He can’t speak French.
#Not my guillotine#Certainly not my fault if people are going to start lopping off heads because they don’t like one’s outfit#Technically I didn’t *lie* to Her#It was more of an evasion#Yes there *is* a difference actually#it was all going so well until Shax and her little cabal arrived#I had a whole speech planned out#Of course I love humans#You’re very loud though#More hashytags
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No echoes tonight but the ones I choose for myself.
#good omens 2#spoilers#crowley#aziraphale’s diaries#hashytag good omens#Wouldn’t want to get into any scrapes#The Magic Circle still won’t accept me#Hashytag: From the Eastern Gate to the West End
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This is alarmingly accurate.
season 1 vs season 2
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What a splendid idea!
Hello, everyone!
In light of Neil Gaiman's comment that Amazon is close to officially renewing Good Omens but hasn't done so yet, I think those of us who can should start sending physical postcards to Amazon Studios!
The TL;DR of this post is that you can easily send a postcard from MyPostcard.com for about $3 (USD, I'm sure other currencies can vary). The Web site will print and mail it for you, so you don't have to do any printing or mailing yourself. The postage is included in the $3.
If you don't already have an image or card you want to use, you can just use one of mine above. Some of them are small because of small source images, but the site seems to resize them appropriately for the card. There are bigger versions in a Google Drive folder that you shouldn't have to be logged in to see.
You can send the postcards asking for a third season of Good Omens addressed to Jennifer Salke and Vernon Sanders, co-heads of Amazon Studios, at:
AMAZON STUDIOS
1620 26TH STREET, SUITE 4000N
SANTA MONICA, CA 90404
USA
@fuckyeahgoodomens was the first to post this contact information for Amazon, so thank you, Ixi.
If it's something you don't mind, I would very deeply appreciate reblogs on this, since it works better if lots of people see it! No pressure if you don't want to, though.
And if you have Questions, click through below for my reasoning on all this.
Why should we send postcards to Amazon Studios?
We've made lots of noise online about renewal, and we've done a lot of streaming Good Omens. But I haven't seen much discussion of sending physical mail or, specifically, postcards.
Mail takes up space in the real world. It's slightly harder to ignore than email. It's way more attention-grabbing than posts on X or Tumblr or any other social media site. Because postage is required, physical mail can also appear more "committed."
Postcards specifically are great because of their convenience for the recipient. No one has to open them to read them. All it takes is a quick glance to see what we're asking for, and realistically, a quick glance is the best we can ask for in a corporate office. That's why I'm emphasizing postcards over regular letters (although really, anything helps).
Is sending postcards really going to motivate Amazon to make more Good Omens?
Postcard and letter-writing campaigns have helped get shows renewed in the past. Star Trek: The Original Series is a good example of a series that got another season after a letter-writing campaign. This article has more examples.
We don't actually know what's going on in Good Omens's case. Maybe postcards would make a difference; maybe they wouldn't. We can only make our most determined effort at making sure we're heard, and sending mail is part of that.
The cost of sending a postcard is too much for me.
I understand that sending a postcard will not be an option for many of us. This post isn't intended to try to push you into spending money you don't have. If you still want to find a way to participate, you can also send an email to [email protected] with your comments about wanting Good Omens 3. It's not physical mail, but it is still a personal message from a customer.
In fact, people who are sending postcards might want to follow up with an email, too.
Do we have to use your postcard designs?
No! Not necessarily! You can use anything.
As long as the message you write includes how much you want Good Omens 3, your postcard's image doesn't necessarily have to relate. You could send a souvenir postcard that says "Greetings from Los Angeles, CA / Tadfield, England / etc" from your local post office and just write your message on the back.
Technically, even a plain index card should be thick enough to mail as a postcard, at least by USPS standards. Just write your desire for Good Omens 3 on it, put a stamp and Amazon's address on it, and make sure it's at least 90mm x 127mm (3.5in x 5in).
Isn't Amazon Studios going to notice a bunch of postcards being mailed from the same Web site?
I'm sure they will. But the messages will each be unique, and again, they'll know each card represents a person who had to order the card and postage themselves.
Speaking of unique messages, what should I write?
One sentence is enough. Definitely indicate that you want Season 3 of Good Omens. If you want to add more, you could also write a sentence or two about how much you love the series so far.
Above all, be polite and straightforward! Remember that sarcasm and jokes often do not come across well in print, so it may be best to stick with simple statements that can be taken at face value.
What address should the cards go to?
The co-heads of Amazon Studios appear to be Vernon Sanders and Jennifer Salke; you can address them by name, although I'm guessing it will be someone else who does the reading/glancing.
Amazon Studios's address is:
AMAZON STUDIOS
1620 26TH STREET, SUITE 4000N
SANTA MONICA, CA 90404
USA
Where did you get these images?
The images for the nightingale postcard and the Crowley postcard are screencaps from directedbypiper.
The Please Do Not Lick the Walls and Fell the Marvelous posters were downloads from the Amazon X-Ray feature.
The Nice and Accurate Prophecies postcard was adapted from cover art I did for A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine. Most of it is my own, although the mottled background is an extremely blurred version of a free stock texture from Pixabay, users chrisfiedler and/or humusak.
The bookshop postcard is a promotional image from Amazon used in a Den of Geek article.
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After some questions about my ‘true’ form and whether or not I have a thousand eyes and a veritable farmyard of creatures emerging from my collar, I have decided to show you this record of an encounter between myself and a certain writer at the latter end of the Elizabethan period. I remember the event slightly differently, but I suppose one has to make room for artistic licence.
I’m assured that if you click ‘keep reading’, the full transcript will appear.
To assist you, I’ve added a glossary at the end.
And no, Crowley, this still doesn’t count as having wheels.
“This is an true accounting of mine own eyes, set down by mine hand this tenth night of September, in the yeare of Our Lord sixteen hundred and one. They will say I am gone mad, for such visions belong to those who dwell in Beth’lem Monastery, but I swear on all that is precious to me, this se’nnight past I saw an Angel.
I was but newly set out from the towne, and some light yet remained to guide my path, when I looked to the east and saw of a sudden a second dawn. T’was no earthly fire; Aye, I warrant you, I am not bestraught! My father spoke, in Harry’s day, of the great conflagration of Edinburgh. He told me that Hell had claimed the sky, for all above was a fury dress’d in crimson and wretched with soot. But here was nothing of red.
I have seen it since in dreams and will, I ken enow, see it as I draw my final breath. Hasten the day.
It was akin to a man. I gleaned as much in those moments when I looked upon it, ere it saw me and my wits fled me. But also unlike a man, for where a man has but one pair of hands were there some severall, and where a man has flesh and bone was there flame. Such pale fire have I never seen but I should think it alchymy, and mine eyes were indeed ensorceled, for I saw colours without name, and things too marvellous and awful to relate. I will. I must. This labour’d span is raised to worthy work, knowing the glory that awaits. But oh, I am affraid. I pray my sins have not snatched the cup from my lips.
This fearful apparition stood upon the hill, and the white fire that was its crown was with the thin night clouds commingled. Its face — no. Of that no more, yet. I cannot. All about was compassed in armillary radiances which turned one within another, the forme entire and every hand with pearlie lustre enwheeled.
Below, the flames of Tuscalonian hue that formed a body for the Presence were so and so girded with armour: bright fragments, the whole twixt corslet and grand guard, matched with cushes; all of nacreous stuff and lapis-ensigil’d but for one place high ‘pon the rightmost thighpiece where the intricate device was marred and running gold in place of gore.
What can wound an Angel? I think on this and tremble as the very earth trembled where it stood, ague-shooke by a low’ring thunder.
I have held golden angels in my palm and have seen them in holy glass and in base iron gaulle, with doves’ wings upon their shoulders. Foh, we are God’s own fools. Its wings were the clouds pierced by stormlight, dark upon light upon dark, and where they moved was printed a world beyond my understanding, witnest through a furnace shimmer.
I saw a flock of stars draw close around it, and it seemed to dote upon them and cosset them as a hunter with his favourite hounds, and I would there have fainted all away an if I had not been fixed in terror. For they were not specks and embers laid distant upon the sky, a sailor’s comfort and guide, but each and each an inferno pluck’d from Heaven; baleful sentinels from which no secret could be hidden. Such fell lights would render trivial the earthly fires of Nebuchadnezzar.
Words are meat and drink to me, yet do I tell this so poorly I should be ‘shamed and nevermore lift a goose-pen. Still, ‘tis no matter for who shall read it? When all is said, I’ll put these lines away and think on them no more. In telling will I win myself a little peace.
Wheretofore had I been silent, so now instantly did I weep, and laugh, and cry out for God’s mercy, and it looked upon me. Od's-me, it turned its Phoebean eyes on me and I saw its face. Above the gleaming corselet had that most blessed igenieur placed a maske of fine, unblemish’d parchment, in th’ likeness of a gentle visage, before the sainted flame. Troth, a kindely lanthorne of such boundlesse compassion that I fell upon my knees and made to crawl into the fire, sooner to know its forgiuenesse. Then did it smile, as no painted visor could, and all my knotted thoughts were ravel’d out and I was at once a babe, a foole, unfolded and sanctuarized. Under this soft and clement regard I swounded, onely to wake in my lodgings, ‘tired, but not tyred, my travells lost beyond recover.”
Glossary:
Beth’lem Monastery — Bishopgate hospital that would later become the notorious ‘Bedlam’.
se’nnight — seven nights — a week
warrant — assure/promise
bestraught — mad
Harry — another name for Henry — in this case Henry VIII
ere — until
ensorceled — enchanted
commingled — mixed with
compassed — surrounded by
armillary — resembling concentric rings set at angles
pearlie lustre — a pearl-like glow
enwheeled — encircled (shush, Crowley)
Tuscalonian — pale straw-yellow
girded — armoured
twixt — between
corslet — armour covering the upper body
grand guard — armour protecting the heart and left shoulder
cushes — armour for the thighs
nacreous stuff — resembling mother-of-pearl
lapis-ensigil’d — decorated in blue
intricate device — complicated symbol
ague-shooke — shivering, as with a sickness
low’ring — threatening/ominous
golden angels — gold coins stamped with the likeness of Michael defeating Lucifer
holy glass — church windows
iron gaulle — ink
Foh — an exclamation of disgust
cosset — fuss over
an if — if
goose-pen — a quill
Wheretofore — while until now
instantly — at the same time
Od's-me — an exclamation: ‘God save me’
Phoebean — relating to Phoebus/the sun
blessed igenieur — The creator
visage — face
Troth — an exclamation: ‘indeed’
lanthorne — lantern
painted visor — an immobile mask
ravel’d out — unwound
unfolded — exposed
sanctuarized — protected/sheltered
clement — forgiving
swounded — fainted
‘tired, but not tyred — a pun: ‘tired (attired) meaning dressed, tyred meaning weary
recover — remember
Addendum:
I’ve been asked to provide a translation for the Latin community. My grasp of Elizabethan Spanish would, I fear, let me down, so this is couched in modern terms…
Este es un relato verdadero de lo que vi, escrito por mi mano esta décima noche de septiembre, en el año de Nuestro Señor mil seiscientos uno. Dirán que me he vuelto loco, pues tales visiones pertenecen a los que viven en el Monasterio de Beth'lem, pero juro por todo lo que me es precioso, que la semana pasada vi a un Ángel.
Hacía poco que había salido de la ciudad, y aún quedaba algo de luz para guiar mi camino, cuando miré hacia el este y de repente vi un segundo amanecer. No era fuego terrestre; ¡te juro que no estoy loco! Mi padre hablaba, en tiempos de Harry, del gran incendio de Edimburgo. Me dijo que el infierno había reclamado el cielo, pues todo lo alto era una furia vestida de carmesí y desdichada por el hollín. Pero aquí no había rojo.
Desde entonces lo he visto en sueños y estoy seguro de que lo veré cuando exhale mi último aliento. Ojalá sea pronto.
Era como un hombre. Me di cuenta de ello en el breve momento en que lo miré, hasta que me vio y perdí la razón. Pero también era distinto de un hombre, porque donde un hombre tiene un solo par de manos había varias, y donde un hombre tiene carne y hueso había llamas. Nunca he visto fuego pálido como éste, a menos que fuera hecho por alquimia, y mis ojos estaban realmente encantados, porque vi colores sin nombre, y cosas demasiado maravillosas y horribles para relatarlas. Lo haré. Debo hacerlo. Esta vida dura merece la pena, sabiendo la gloria que aguarda después de la muerte. Pero tengo miedo. Rezo para que mis pecados no me hayan arrebatado la copa de los labios.
Esta temible aparición se alzaba sobre la colina, y el fuego blanco que la coronaba se enredaba con las delgadas nubes nocturnas. Su rostro... no. Aún no puedo hablar de ello. Todo estaba rodeado de ruedas de luz que giraban unas dentro de otras, y toda su forma y cada una de sus manos estaban rodeadas de un resplandor nacarado.
Debajo, las llamas de color amarillo pálido que formaban el cuerpo de la Presencia estaban cubiertas por piezas de armadura: fragmentos brillantes que, todos juntos, formaban una coraza, y una armadura para las piernas; parecían de nácar cubiertas de símbolos azules brillantes, excepto en un lugar en lo alto del muslo derecho, donde los adornos estaban dañados y sangraban oro.
¿Qué puede herir a un ángel? Pienso en esto y tiemblo como tiembla la tierra donde estaba, sacudida por truenos ominosos.
He tenido ángeles de oro (monedas) en la palma de mi mano y los he visto en vidrio sagrado y en tinta simple, con alas de paloma sobre sus hombros. Buaj, somos los propios tontos de Dios. Sus alas eran las nubes atravesadas por la luz de la tormenta, oscuridad sobre luz sobre oscuridad, y donde se movían vi un mundo más allá de mi entendimiento, presenciado a través de un resplandor como de horno.
Vi una bandada de estrellas acercarse a su alrededor, y parecía adorarlas y mimarlas como un cazador a sus sabuesos favoritos, y me habría desmayado si no me hubiera quedado helado de terror. Porque no eran motas y ascuas lejanas en el cielo, consuelo y guía de un marinero, sino cada una un infierno arrancado del Cielo; torvos centinelas a los que no se podía ocultar ningún secreto. Luces tan terribles harían que los fuegos terrenales de Nabucodonosor parecieran triviales.
Las palabras son carne y bebida para mí, pero estoy contando esto tan mal que debería avergonzarme y no volver a levantar una pluma. Aun así, no importa porque ¿quién lo leerá? Cuando termine, guardaré este escrito y no pensaré en él. Contando esto me ganaré un poco de paz.
Había estado en silencio, pero ahora lloré, y reí, y supliqué la misericordia de Dios, y el ángel me miró. mSobre la coraza reluciente El Creador había colocado una máscara de pergamino fino y sin mancha que parecía un rostro amable, frente al fuego sagrado. De hecho, era una linterna bondadosa de una compasión tan ilimitada que caí de rodillas e intenté arrastrarme hasta el fuego, para poder sentir su perdón. Entonces sonrió (como nunca podría hacerlo una máscara), y todos mis confusos pensamientos se desenredaron y me sentí simultáneamente un bebé, un tonto, expuesto y protegido. Bajo esta atención suave e indulgente me desmayé, sólo para despertar en mi alojamiento, vestido, pero no cansado, incapaz de recordar cómo había llegado hasta allí.
#hashytag good omens#they aren’t wheels they’re parhelia#unofficial Appear Unto#Now with added Spanish
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we definitely do not fucking talk enough about how Crowley was left in charge of the bookshop and within 0.05 seconds he was wearing fucking SLEEVE GARTERS like some kind of goth Aziraphale cosplay
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Revisiting 1941.
Crowley knows some magic tricks of his own.
#He’s awfully clever with his tongue#An excellent year#You should see what he can do with a cherry stem
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I was asked to provide a guide to the Celestial Hierarchy, so this is a very rough guide, with certain details omitted for various reasons.
The ‘alt text’ thingy didn’t seem willing to contain a full description, so I include it below:
An attempt at describing the informative ‘graphical’ representation.
The image describes the Hierarchy of Heaven, with the titles of angelic choirs and notes on their roles and functions.
God is, of course, at the top (although in a more dimensionally accurate depiction, this would be the centre).
Beneath God is the Metatron - Voice of God. The appended note reads ‘TECHNICALLY PART OF THE SERAPHIM’ but further information is blocked out with ‘REDACTED’ in its place.
There are three groups of angels below Metatron. They are the First, Second and Third Spheres.
The First Sphere includes Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones.
The following notes are attached:
1: ARCHANGELS (this is written with a capital A)
Senior management, drawn from the ranks of Seraphim and Cherubim.
Theirs are CENTRE-FACING ROLES (Enacting the Will of God, facilitation of the Plan, long-term strategies and Angelic Resources).
2: As a point of etiquette, Seraphim and Cherubim are only to be spoken of as a plurality. Do not refer to one Seraph or one Cherub.
3. Cherubim are not to be confused with Cherubs — young/neonate angels, or cherubs — quasi-sentient firmament devices. (The word ‘cherub’ is written with strangely accented letters, suggesting that the words may sound different.)
Thrones have their own role description: LOGISTICS & LARGE-SCALE
MACROCOSMIC FORCES, and an additional, emphatic note: NO WHEELS. NONE OF US HAVE WHEELS.
The Second Sphere includes Dominions, Virtues and Powers.
The role description for Dominions and Virtues reads: ARCHITECTS. ENGINEERS, FIRMAMENT-SMITHS, but the description beside Powers has been redacted.
The Third Sphere includes Principalities, archangels (with a small a) and Angels.
A note on etiquette regarding archangels reads ‘don’t forget the small a. But don’t bring it up in conversation’.
This Sphere is characterised as ‘EARTH-FACING ROLES & ADMINISTRATION — Guidance, observation, soul-conservation & procurement, record-keeping’.
A note on Principalities warns ‘Don’t make jokes about how few of them there are’ and ‘This means you, Sandalphon.’
Conversely, regarding Angels, the advice says ‘There are so many of them. Millions. Don’t try to remember every name when you can generally get away with ‘Mumble-iel’.
#good omens#good omens 2#The Hierarchy of Heaven#informational graphic image#don’t rely on Ezekiel#Pseudo-Denys was drunk#although to be fair so was I
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Yes, it’s his. I have a couple and one of his feathers, as he has mine.
@steven-cartoons https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1571999963/aziraphale-fob-medal-3d-printed-good?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=good+omens+key+fob&ref=sc_gallery-1-11&pro=1&referrer_page_guid=c29e213c-6bcc-4167-b3bf-e88987afc46f&plkey=35b4aa660fe1d4395fac293c5bc84fc6080ab543%3A1571999963 I wonder if this would be of any use?
Hiii aziraphale!! If you don't mind my asking, where did you get this beautiful angel fob medallion pictured in this post? I've been trying to find one like it for ages. Thank you for the help! :)
https://www.tumblr.com/mister-a-z-fell/721821589355855872?source=share
Mine was formed with a tiny miracle to adjust an old fob to a more angelic style. I do believe facsimiles were available on-the-line for a while, but I haven’t been able to find anything, I’m afraid. I’m sure there are ingenious people out there who might be able to make something for you, though.
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True forms…
‘There’s this little bird…’
And, oh, the mountain is vast.
It’s hard, and cold, and that little bird doesn’t belong there, not at all.
There’s no joy there. No music but the wind, and it tears at your feathers with its chill, crystal, ineffable song, patient and implacable, but containing not one speck of pity.
What a lonely way to spend eternity.
A bright desk. A moment of weakness. A sword and sigil, chained with gold.
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youtube
You might already have seen this videograph elsewhere, but I was rather excited to add this particular book to my collection! One of only twenty-four copies, I feel deeply privileged to be able to share it with you all.
Not only is the story itself very special to me (and worryingly accurate in many respects), it is most gloriously and skilfully bound, and contained in a burr oak box with brass fittings, lined with hand-marbled paper of celestial blue, and illustrated by that marvel of portraiture, Mister Paul Kidby.
Within the box are an assortment of ephemera, some of which are pictured below.
(And yes, I can read the alien ‘penalty notice’.)
#hashytag Good Omens#leave it alone Jim#Fenella Fudge reads the news#we like holding hands#don’t ask about the leopard#All Hail#terry pratchett#neil gaiman#paul kidby#rob wilkins#dunmanifestin#a very nice courier named Graham#and a host of artisans including bookbinders#Lyra’s Books#paper marblers#metalworkers#printers#cabinetmakers and diuerse others#Youtube
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Hello Mr. Fell!
I'd like to ask this question for future reference, and I apologize if someone has asked it before. What are your preferred pronouns?
Sincerely, Star Anon ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
I’ve always enjoyed ‘whom’, but if you mean personal pronouns, I’ve found ‘he’ and ‘him’ generally applicable. Appearing to be a man has tended to make my job slightly easier, so I’ve gone along with that for the most part. Of course, technically any of them are as accurate as the others.
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@justmori This is from the notorious ‘London Bridge Oddity’, also known as the ‘Buggre Alle This Bible’. My previous bookshop on London Bridge in the 1600s allowed me unprecedented access to the compositor’s proofs, and I couldn’t resist making one or two little amendments…
1 Then was Jeſus led aſide of the Spirit into the wilderneſs, to be tempted of the deuil.
2 And when he had faſted forty days, and forty nights, he was afterward hvngry.
3 Then came to him the tempter, and ſaid, If thou be the Son of God, command that theſe ſtones be made bread.
4 But he anſwering, ſaid, It is written, Man shall not live by bread only, but by euery word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
5 And the deuil ſaid, That is Alle Very Well, but the bread helps.
6 Then the deuil took him up into the holy city, and ſet him on a pinnacle of the Temple.
7 And ſaid vnto him, If thou be the Son of God, caſt thyſelf down, for it is written, that he will give his Angels charge over thee, and with their hands they ſhall lift thee up, leſt at any time thou ſhouldeſt daſh thy foot againſt a ſtone.
8 And in ſpeaking theſe wordes did the deuil raiſe his voice, as if calling vnto another, though none was there preſent.
9 Jeſus ſaid unto him, It is written again, Thou ſhalt not tempt the Lord thy God.
10 Then ſaid the deuil, I do not knowe who is doing the writing, but verily they are ſtarting to get vpon mine wicke.
11 Again the deuil took him up into an exceeding high mountain, and ſhewed him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them,
12 Saying, theſe are the Iſlands of the Tideleſs Sea. Not a Roman to be found for ten thouſand mīl.
13 And, Juſt ſay the Worde, and thou couldſt be there, no qveſtions aſked.
14 Then ſaid Jeſus unto him, Avoid Satan: for it is written, Thou ſhalt worſhip the Lord thy God, and him only ſhalt thou ſerve.
15 Then the deuil left him: and behold, the Angels came, and miniſtered vnto him.
#hashytag bible extracts#nice and accurate#possibly too accurate#they burned the entire print run#which is one way of making a book particularly rare
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