To that gentleman of great authority, Sir Herman Rinck, patrician and senator, and Knight of the Golden Spur, that most prudent counsellor of kings of the highest rank, Ortwin Gratius of Deventer, least among the exponents of the liberal arts, sends his warmest greetings.

A little while ago I respectfully sent you a printed letter, noble Sir Hermann, not in my own name, as you know, but in that of the printer himself. Now, though, so as to pay even fuller respect to Your Worship in this matter, and at the same time purge myself of any taint of dissimulation, it is necessary for me to open my breast to you. Luther bitterly laments and bewails the fact that he offended his Royal Majesty. And quite properly. For kings and princes have long arms, nor is it safe to kick (as they say) against the pricks, or for a milksop to pick a fight with a mighty lion. If only the Trojans wised up in time not to look as though they were taking back their move or had snapped the thread thoughtlessly. The wise man has no use for the phrase ‘I didn't think’. For this whole cesspit of vulgar abuse is useless and entirely swept aside: and the strife of schismatic contentions is utterly contemptible to everyone. As soon as the renowned king saw the whole of Christ's Church thrown into confusion and felt himself unfairly wounded by intolerable insults, he manifested his glory to his people by donning his armour like a giant and girding himself with warlike weapons suitable for the sacred combats of the learned, and triumphantly keeping his fortunate stronghold safe with his two-edged sword. For which reason, to tell the truth, as Erasmus said to Luigi Marliano, ‘nobody harms Luther more than he does himself ‘. And Erasmus also reckons that we should steer clear of that Scylla of his in such a way as not to rush headlong into the Charybdis of the opposite side, and testifies that at first he urged him, to avoid give up writing factious and incendiary pamphlets. But as things are, Luther has beyond any doubt mired himself in a bottomless pit of vituperation, though that is neither here nor there to me. He’ll see if he can offend such a mighty prince without regretting it.