The history of the life of Thomas Ellwood: Or, an account of his birth, education, &c. with divers observations on his life and manners when a youth: ... Also several other remarkable passages and occurrences. Written by his own hand. To which is added, a supplement by J. W.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- THE PREFACE.

- [biographicaltestimonies]

- George Bowles his TESTIMONY Concerning Thomas Ellwood.

- A TESTIMONY from the Monthly-Meeting at Hunger-Hill, the Seventh Day of the Fourth Month, 1713. Con cerning our Dear and Well-beloved Friend and Brother in the Truth, Thomas Ellwood, Deceased.

- A TESTIMONY from the Womens-Meeting, Con cerning Thomas Ellwood.

- Concerning our Dear Friend Thomas Ellwood, of Hunger-Hill.

- Richard Vivers his Testimony Concerning Thomas Ellwood.

- An INDEX of the Names of Persons and Places, and some particular Things.

- PAPERS in this BOOK.

- A SUPPLEMENT: Being a Continuation of the History of the Life of THOMAS ELLWOOD; Giving Account in particular of his Books and Writings.

- POSTSCRIPT.

- A Catalogue of his Printed BOOKS before mentioned.

- A List of the MANUSCRIPTS he left behind him.

- AN ANSWER To Some OBJECTIONS OF A Moderate ENQUIRER.

- AN ACCOUNT OF TYTHES In GENERAL.

- [section]

- Of Impropriate TYTHES.

THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF Thomas Ellwood.

ALTHOUGH my Station, not being so Eminent either in the Church of Christ, or in the World, as others who have moved in higher Orbs, may not afford such considerable Remarks as theirs; yet, inasmuch as in the Course of my Travels through this Vale of Tears, I have passed through various, and some uncommon Exercises, which the Lord hath been graciously pleased to support me under, and conduct me •hrough; I hold it a matter excusable, at least, •f not commendable, to give the World some •ittle Account of my Life, that in, Recounting •he many Deliverances and Preservations, which the Lord hath vouchsafed to work for me, both I, by a grateful Acknowledgmen• thereof, and Return of Thanksgivings unt• him therefore, may, in some measure set forth hi• abundant Goodness to me; and others, whos• Lot it may be to tread the same Path, and fal• into the same, or like Exercises, may be encou¦raged to persevere in the way of Holines• and, with full assurance of Mind to trust in th• Lord, whatsoever Trials may befal them.

To begin therefore with mine own Begin¦ning. I was Born in the Year of our Lord 1639, about the Beginning of the Eighth Mont• (so far as I have been able to inform my self• for the Parish Register, which relates to th• time (not of Birth, but) of Baptism, (as the• call it) is not to be relied on.

The Place of my Birth was a little Countr• Town, called Crowell, situate in the upper sid• of Oxfordshire, Three Miles East-ward fro• Thame the nearest Market-Town.

My Father's Name was Walter Ellwood; an• my Mothers Maiden-Name was Elizabeth P•¦man: both well descended; but of declinin• Families. So that what my Father Possesse• (which was a pretty Estate in Lands, and mo• as I have heard in Monies) he received (as h• had done his Name Walter) from his Grandf•¦ther Walter Gray; whose Daughter, and onl• Child, was his Mother.

In my very Infancy, when I was but abo• two Years Old, I was carried to London. F• the Civil War, between King and Parliamen• breaking then forth; my Father (who favou•¦ed the Parliament-Side, though he took not Arms) not holding himself safe at his Country Habitation (which lay too near some Garisons of the King's) betook himself to London, that City then holding for the Parliament.

There was I bred up (though not without much Difficulty, the City Air not agreeing with my tender Constitution) and there continued, until Oxford was surrendred, and the War, in Appearance, ended.

In this time, my Parents contracted an Acquaintance, and intimate Friendship with the Lady Springett; who being then the Widow of Sir William Springett (who died in the Parliament Service) was afterwards the Wife of Isaac Penington, Eldest Son of Alderman Penington of London. And this Friendship devolving from the Parents to the Children, I became an early and Particular Play-fellow to her Daughter Gulielma; being admitted, as such, to ride with her in her little Coach, drawn by her Footman about Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.

I mention this in this Place, because the Continuation of that Acquaintance and Friendship having been an Occasional Means of my being afterwards brought to the Knowledge of the Blessed TRUTH, I shall have frequent Cause, in the Course of the following Discourse, to make honourable Mention of that Family, to which I am under so many and great Obligations.

Soon after the Surrender of Oxford, my Father returned to his Estate at Crowell; which by that time he might have need enough to look after, having spent (I suppose) the great¦est Part of the Monies which had been left him by his Grandfather, in maintaining himsel• and his Family at an high Rate in London.

My elder Brother (for I had one Brothe• and two Sisters, all elder than my self) was• while we lived in London, Boarded at a privat• School, in the House of one Francis Atkinson, a• a Place called Hadley, near Barnet in Hertford¦shire; where he had made some good Profici¦ency in the Latin and French Tongues. But af¦ter we had left the City, and were resettled i• the Country; he was taken from that privat• School, and sent to the Free School at Tham• in Oxfordshire.

Thither also was I sent, as soon as my ten¦der Age would permit: for I was indeed bu• young when I went, and yet seemed younge• than I was, by reason of my low and little Sta¦ture. For it was held, for some Years, a doubt¦ful Point, whether I should not have proved a Dwarf. But after I was arrived to the Fif¦teenth Year of my Age (or thereabouts) I be¦gan to shoot up, and gave not over growing• till I had attained the middle Size and Statu• of Men.

At this School (which at that time was i• good Reputation) I profited apace; havin• then a natural Propensity to Learning: so tha• at the first reading over of my Lesson, I com¦monly made my self Master of it: And y• (which is strange to think of) few Boys in th• •chool wore out more Birch than I. For tho' • was never (that I remember) whip't upon •he Score of not having my Lesson ready, or of not saying it well: yet being a little busie Boy, full os Spirit, of a working Head, and •ctive Hand, I could not easily conform my self to the grave and sober Rules, and (as I •hen thought) severe Orders of the School; but was often playing one waggish Prank or other among my Fellow-Scholars, which subjected me to Correction, so that I have come under the Discipline of the Rod twice in a Forenoon. Which yet brake no Bones.

Had I been continued at this School, and in due time preferred to an higher; I might in likelihood have been a Scholar: for I was observed to have a Genius apt to learn. But my Father having, so soon as the Republican-Government began to settle, accepted the Office of a Justice of the Peace (which was no way Beneficial, but meerly Honorary, and every way Expensive) and put himself into a Port, and Course of Living agreeable thereunto; and having also removed my Brother from Thame-School to Merton-Colledge in Oxford, and entred him there in the highest and most chargeable Condition, of a Fellow-Commoner: he found it needful to retrench his Expences elsewhere; the Hurt of which fell upon me. For he thereupon took me from School, to save the Charge of Maintaining me there: which was somewhat like plucking green Fruit from the Tree, and laying it by, before it was come to its due Ripeness; which will thenceforth shrink and wi¦ther, and lose that little Juice and Relish which it began to have.

Even so it fared with me. For being taken home when I was but young, and before I was well settled in my Studies, (though I had made a good Progress in the Latin Tongue, and was entred in the Greek) being left too much to my self, to ply, or play with my Books, or without them, as I pleased: I soon shook Hands with my Books by shaking my Books out of my Hands, and laying them, by degrees, quite aside; and addicted my self to such youthfu• Sports and Pleasures as the Place afforded, and my Condition could reach unto.

By this Means, in a little time, I began to lose that little Learning I had acquired at School; and by a continued disuse of my Books, became at length so utterly a Stranger to Learning, that I could not have read, far less have understood a Sentence in Latin. Which I was so sensible of, that I warily avoided reading to others, even in an English Book, lest, if I should meet with a Latin Word, I should shame my self, by mispronouncing it.

Thus I went on, taking my Swing in such vain Courses, as were accounted harmless Recreations; entertaining my Companions, and familiar Acquaintance, with pleasant Discourses in our Conversations, by the meer Force of Mother-Wit and Natural Parts, without the Help of School-Cultivation: and was accounted good Company too.

But I always sorted my self with Persons of •ngenuity, Temperance and Sobriety: for I •athed Scurrilities in Conversation, and had a •atural Aversion to Immoderate Drinking. So •at in the Time of my greatest Vanity, I was •reserved from Prophanness, and the grosser E •ils of the World: which render'd me accept •ble to Persons of the best Note in that Coun •ry then. I often waited on the Lord Wenman, •t his House Thame-Park (about two Miles •rom Crowell, where I lived;) to whose Favour held my self intituled in a two-fold Respect: •oth as my Mother was nearly related to his Lady; and as he had been pleased to bestow his Name upon me, when he made large Promises •or me at the Font. He was a Person of great Honour and Virtue, and always gave me a kind Reception at his Table, how often soever I came. And I have cause to think, I should have received from this Lord some advantageous Preferment in this World, as soon as he had found me capable of it (though betwixt him and my Father there was not then so good an Understanding as might have been wish'd) had I not been, in a little time after, called into the Service of the best and highest Lord: and thereby lost the Favour of all my Friends, Relations and Acquaintance of this World. To the Account of which most happy Exchange I hasten, and therefore willingly pass over many Particularities of my youthful Life. Yet one Passage I am willing to mention, for the Effect it had upon me afterwards: which was thus:

My Father being then in the Commission 〈◊〉 the Peace, and going to a Petty-Sessions at Wa•¦lington, I waited on him thither. And whe• we came near the Town, the Coachman see¦ing a nearer and easier Way, than the commo• Road, through a Corn Field, and that it wa• wide enough for the Wheels to run, withou• endammaging the Corn, turned down there• Which being observed by an Husband-ma• who was at Plow not far off, he ran to us; an• stopping the Coach, poured forth a Mouthfu• of Complaints, in none of the best Language• for driving over the Corn. My Father mild¦ly answered him, That if there was an Offenc• committed, he must rather impute it to hi• Servant, than himself; since he neither direct¦ed him to drive that Way, nor knew whic• way he drove. Yet added, that he was going to such an Inn at the Town; whither if h• came, he would make him full Satisfaction, fo• whatsoever Dammage he had sustained thereby. And so on we went, the Man venting his Discontent, as he went back, in angry Accents. At the Town, upon enquiry, we understood that it was a way often used, and without Dammage, being broad enough; but that it was not the common Road, which yet lay not far from it, and was also good enough: Wherefore my Father bid his Man drive Home that way.

It was late in the Evening when we returned, and very dark; and this quarrelsome Man, who had troubled himself and us in the Morning, having gotten another lusty Fellow, like •mself, to assist him, way-lay'd us in the •ight, expecting we would return the same •ay we came. But when they found we did •ot, but took the common Way, they, angry •at they were disappointed, and loth to lose •eir Purpose, (which was to put an Abuse up • us) coasted over to us in the dark, and lay •g hold on the Horses Bridles, stopt them from •oing on. My Father asking his Man, what •e Reason was that he went not on, was an •wered, That there were two Men at the Horses •eads, who held them back, and would not suffer •em to go forward. Whereupon my Father, o •ening the Boot, step't out, and I followed close 〈◊〉 his Heels. Going up to the place where •e Men stood, he demanded of them the •eason of this Assault. They said, We were •pon the Corn. We knew, by the Routs, we •ere not on the Corn, but in the common way, nd told them so. But they told us, They were esolved they would not let us go on any farther, but •ould make us go back again. My Father endea •oured, by gentle Reasoning, to perswade them 〈◊〉 forbear, and not run themselves farther into •he Danger of the Law, which they were run •oo far into already: but they rather derided •im for it. Seeing therefore fair Means would •ot work upon them, he spake more roughly •o them, charging them to deliver their Clubs •for each of them had a great Club in his Hand, •omewhat like those which are called Quarter •taves.) They thereupon, laughing, told him, They did not bring them thither for that En• Thereupon my Father, turning his Head to m• said, Tom, Disarm them.

I stood ready at his Elbow, waiting only fo• the Word of Command. For being naturall• of a bold Spirit, full then of youthful Hea• and that too heightned by the Sence I had, no• only of the Abuse, but insolent Behaviour o• those rude Fellows; my Blood began to boy• and my Fingers itch'd (as the Saying is) to b• dealing with them. Wherefore, stepping bold¦ly forward, to lay hold on the Staff of him tha• was nearest to me, I said, Sirrah, Deliver you• Weapon. He thereupon raised his Club (whic• was big enough to have knock't down an Ox• intending (no doubt) to have knock't me dow• with it; as probably he would have done, ha• I not, in the twinkling of an Eye, whip't o• my Rapier, and made a Pass upon him. 〈◊〉 could not have failed running of him throug• up to the Hilt, had he stood his Ground: b• the suddain and unexpected Sight of my brigh• Blade, glistering in the dark Night, did so a¦maze, and terrifie the Man, that slipping asid• he avoided my Thrust; and letting his Sta• sink, betook himself to his Heels for Safety• which his Companion seeing, fled also. I fo•¦lowed the former as fast as I could: but Tim• addidit Alas, Fear gave him Wings, and mad• him swiftly fly: so that although I was accoun•¦ed very nimble, yet the farther we ran, th• more ground he gain'd on me; so that I coul• not overtake him: which made me think h• •k shelter under some Bush; which he knew •ere to find, though I did not. Mean while •e Coachman (who had sufficiently the outside •a Man) excus'd himself from intermedling, •der pretence that he durst not leave his •rses: and so left me to shift for my self. •d I was gone so far beyond my Knowledge, •t I understood not which way I was to go: 〈◊〉 by Hollowing, and being Hollowed to a •in, I was directed where to find my Company. •We had easie Means to have found out who •se Men were (the principal of them having •en in the Day time at the Inn, and both •arrelled with the Coachman, and threatned •be even with him when he went back:) but •ce they came off no better in their Attempt, •y Father thought it better not to know them, •an to oblige himself to a Prosecutiou of them. •At that time, and for a good while after, I •d no regret upon my Mind, for what I had •ne, and designed to have done, in this Case; •t went on, in a sort of Bravery, resolving to •l, if I could, any Man, that should make •e like Attempt, or put any Affront upon us: •d for that reason, seldom went afterwards, •on those publick Services, without a loaded •stol in my Pocket. But when it pleased the •ord, in his infinite Goodness, to call me out 〈◊〉 the Spirit and Ways of the World, and give •e the Knowledge of his saving Truth; where •y the Actions of my fore-past Life were set in •der before me: a sort of Horror seized on me, •hen I considered how near I had been to the staining of my Hands with Human Blood. A• whensoever afterwards I went that way, a• indeed as often since as the Matter has come i• to my remembrance, my Soul has blessed t• Lord for my Deliverance; and Thanksgivin• and Praises have arisen in my Heart (as no• at the relating of it, they do) to Him, w• preserved, and with-held me from sheddi• Man's Blood. Which is the Reason, for whi• I have given this Account of that Action, th• others may be warned by it.

About this time my dear and Honoured M• (who was indeed a Woman of singular Wor• and Virtue) departed this Life; having a litt• before heard of the Death of her eldest Son: w• (falling under the Displeasure of my Fath• for refusing to resign his Interest in an Estat• which my Father sold, and thereupon desiri• that he might have Leave to Travel; in hop• that Time and Absence might work a Recon•¦liation) went into Ireland, with a Person po•¦erful there in those Times, by whose Means 〈◊〉 was quickly preferred to a Place of Trust a• Profit, but lived not long to Enjoy it.

I mentioned before, that during my Father• Abode in London, in the time of the Civil Wa• he contracted a Friendship with the Lady Spri•¦gett, then a Widow, and afterwards Marri• to Isaac Penington, Esq To continue which 〈◊〉 sometimes Visited them at their Country-Lodg•∣ings (as at Datchet, and at Causham Lodge nea• Reading.) And having heard that they we• come to live upon their own Estate at Chalfo• 〈◊〉 Buckinghamshire (about Fifteen Miles from •well) he went one Day to Visit them there, •d to return at Night; taking me with him.

But very much surpized we were, when, •ing come thither, we first heard, then found, •ey were become Quakers; a People we had 〈◊〉 Knowledge of, and a Name we had, till •en, scarce heard of.

So great a Change, from a free, debonair •d courtly sort of Behaviour (which we for •erly had found them in) to so strict a Gra •ty as they now received us with, did not a •tle amuse us, and disappoint our Expectation •f such a pleasant Visit, as we used to have, and •ad now promised our selves. Nor could my •ather have any Opportunity, by a private •onference with them, to understand the Ground or Occasion of this Change; there be •g some other Strangers with them (related to •saac Penington) who came that Morning from •ondon to Visit them also.

For my Part, I sought, and at length found Means to cast my self into the Company of the Daughter, whom I found gathering some Flowers in the Garden, attended by her Maid, who was also a Quaker. But when I addressed my self to her after my accustomed Manner, with Intention to engage her in some Discourse, which might introduce Conversation, on the Foot of our former Acquaintance: though she treated me with a Courteous Mein; yet, (as young as she was) the Gravity of her Look and Behaviour struck such an Awe upon me, that 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 I found my self not so much Master of my s• as to pursue any further Converse with h• Wherefore asking Pardon for my Boldness, 〈◊〉 having intruded my self into her private Wa• I withdrew, not without some Disorder (a• thought at least) of Mind.

We stay'd Dinner, which was very ha• some; and lacked nothing to recommend it 〈◊〉 me, but the want of Mirth and pleasant D• course: which we could neither have w• them, nor, by reason of them, with one a•¦ther amongst our selves; the Weightiness t• was upon their Spirits and Countenances, kee•¦ing down the Lightness that would have be• up in us. We stay'd notwithstanding till t• rest of the Company took leave of them: a• then we also, doing the same, returned, n• greatly satisfied with our Journey, nor kno•¦ing what in particular to find fault with.

Yet this good Effect that Visit had upon m• Father, who was then in the Commission f• the Peace, that it disposed him to a more f•¦vourable Opinion of, and Carriage towards tho• People, when they came in his way; as not lo• after one of them did. For a young Man, wh• lived in Buckinghamshire, came on a First Day 〈◊〉 to the Church (so called) at a Town calle• Chinner (a Mile from Crowell) having, it seem• a Pressure on his Mind to say something to th• Minister of that Parish. He being an Acquain•¦tance of mine, drew me sometimes to hea• him, as it did then. The young Man stood i• the Isle before the Pulpit, all the Time of th• •rmon; not speaking a Word till the Sermon •d Prayer after it was ended: and then spake 〈◊〉 few Words to the Priest. Of which all that 〈◊〉 could hear was, That The Prayer of the Wicked 〈◊〉 Abomination to the Lord; and that God heareth •t Sinners.

Somewhat more, I think, he did say (which 〈◊〉 could not distinctly hear, for the Noise the •eople made) and more probably he would •ave said, had he not been Interrupted by the •fficers, who took him into Custody, and led •im out, in order to carry him before my Fa •er.

When I understood that, I hastened home, •at I might give my Father a fair Account of •e Matter, before they came. I told him the •oung Man behaved himself quietly and peace•¦bly; spake not a Word, till the Minister had •uite done his Service: and that what he then •ake was but short; and was delivered with •ut Passion, or ill Language. This I knew would furnish my Father with a fair Ground, whereon to discharge the Man, if he would.

And accordingly, when they came, and made 〈◊〉 high Complaint against the Man (who said •ittle for himself;) my Father, having Examined the Officers, who brought him, what the Words that he spake were, (which they did not well agree in) and at what time he spake them, (which they all agreed to be after the Minister had done) and then whether he gave the Minister any reviling Language, or endeavoured to raise a Tumult among the People (which they could not charge him with:) 〈◊〉 finding that he had broken the Law, he Cou•∣selled the young Man to be careful that he d• not make, or occasion any publick Disturbance• and so dismissed him. Which I was glad of.

Some time after this, my Father, having go•¦ten some further Account of the People calle• Quakers; and being desirous to be informed co•¦cerning their Principles, made another Visit 〈◊〉 Isaac Penington and his Wife, at their Hou• called the Grange in Peter's-Chalfont; and to• both my Sisters and me with him.

It was in the Tenth Month, in the Year, 165• that we went thither; where we found a ve• kind Reception, and tarried some Days: o• Day, at least, the longer, for that, while w• were there, a Meeting was appointed, at • Place about a Mile from thence; to which w• were invited to go, and willingly went.

It was held in a Farm-House, called T• Grove; which, having formerly been a Ge•¦tleman's Seat, had a very large Hall, and th• well filled.

To this Meeting came Edward Burrough, b•¦sides other Preachers, as Thomas Curtis an• James Nailor: but none spake there, at tha• Time, but Edward Burrough. Next to who• (as it were under him) it was my Lot to sit (o• a Stool by the Side of a long Table, on whic• he sate;) and I drank in his Words with D•¦sire: for they not only Answered my Under¦standing, but warmed my Heart with a cer¦tain Heat, which I had not till then felt from •he Ministry of any Man.

When the Meeting was ended, our Friends •ook us home with them again; and after Sup •er, the Evenings being long, the Servants of •he Family (who were Quakers) were called in, •nd we all sate down in Silence. But long we •ad not so sate, before Edward Burrough began •o speak among us. And although he spake •ot long, yet what he said did touch, as I sup •ose, my Father's (Religious) Copy-hold, as the •hrase is. And he, having been from his •outh a Professor (though not join'd in that which is call'd Close Communion with any one Sort;) and valuing himself upon the Knowledge •e esteemed himself to have, in the various Notions of each Profession: thought he had now a fair Opportunity to display his Knowledge; and thereupon began to make Objections against what had been delivered.

The Subject of the Discourse was, The universal free Grace of God to all Mankind. To which he opposed the Calvinistical Tenet of Particular and Personal Predestination. In defence of which indefensible Notion, he found imself more at a Loss than he expected. Edward Burrough said not much to him upon it, though what he said was close and cogent. But James Nailor interposing, handled the Subject with so much Perspicuity, and clear Demonstration, that his Reasoning seemed to be irresistable; and so I supposemy Father found it, which made him willing to drop the Discourse.

As for Edward Burrough, he was a Bri• young Man, of a ready Tongue, (and migh• have been, for ought I then knew, a Schola• which made me the less to admire his way o• Reasoning. But what drop't from James Na•¦lor had the greater Force upon me; because h• look'd but like a plain simple Country-Ma• having the Appearance of an Husbandman, o• a Shepherd.

As my Father was not able to maintain th• Argument on his Side: so neither did the• seem willing to drive it on to an Extremity o• their side. But treating him in a soft an• gentle Manner, did, after a while, let fall th• Discourse: and then we withdrew to our re¦spective Chambers.

The next Morning we prepared to retur• Home (that is, my Father, my younger Siste• and my self: for my elder Sister was gone be¦fore, by the Stage Coach, to London.) An• when, having taken our Leaves of our Friend• we went forth; they, with Edward Burroug• accompanying us to the Gate: he there direct¦ed his Speech, in a few Words to each of u• severally; according to the Sense he had o• our several Conditions. And when we were gone off, and they gone in again; they asking him what he thought of us: he answered them, (as they afterwards told me) to this Effect, As for the Old Man, he is settled on his Lees; and the Young Woman is light and airy: but the Young Man is Reach't, and may do well, if he don't lose it. And surely that which he said to me, or rather that Spirit in which he spake it, took such fast hold on me; that I felt Sadness and Trouble come over me, though I did not distinctly understand what I was troubled for. I knew not what I ayled, but I knew I ayled something more than ordinary: and my Heart was very heavy.

I found it was not so with my Father and Sister: for as I rode after the Coach, I could hear them talk pleasantly one to the other, but they could not discern how it was with me, because I, riding on Horsback, kept much out of Sight.

By that time we got home it was Night. And the next Day, being the first Day of the Week, I went in the Afternoon to hear the Minister of Chinner; and this was the last time I ever went to hear any of that Function. After the Sermon, I went with him to his House, and in a Freedom of Discourse (which, from a certain Intimacy that was between us, I commonly used with him) told him where I had been, what Company I had met with there, and what Observations I had made to my self thereupon. He seemed to understand as little of them, as I had done before: and civilly abstained from casting any unhandsome Reflections on them.

I had a Desire to go to another Meeting of the Quakers; and bid my Father's Man enquire, if there was any in the Country thereabouts. He thereupon told me, he had heard at Isaac Penington's, that there was to be a Meeting at High-Wiccomb on Thursday next.

Thither therefore I went, though it was Seven Miles from me. And that I might be rather thought to go out a Coursing, than to a Meeting; I let my Gray-Hound run by my Horse-side.

When I came there, and had set up my Horse at an Inn; I was at a Loss how to find the House where the Meeting was to be. I knew it not: and was ashamed to ask after it. Wherefore having order'd the Horstler to take Care of my Dog, I went into the Street, and stood at the Inn-Gate; musing with my self what Course to take. But I had not stood long, e're I saw an Horse-man riding along the Street; whom I remember'd I had seen before at Isaac Penington's: and he put up his Horse at the same Inn. Him therefore I resolved to follow, supposing he was going to the Meeting, as indeed he was.

Being come to the House (which proved to be John Raunce's) I saw the People sitting together, in an outer Room: wherefore I stept in, and sate down on the first void Seat, the End of a Bench just within the Door; having my Sword by my Side, and Black Cloaths on, which drew some Eyes upon me. It was not long e're one stood up and spake, whom I was afterwards well acquainted with (his Name was Samuel Thornton;) and what he spake was very suitable, and of good Service to me: for it reached Home, as if it had been directed to me.

As soon as ever the Meeting was ended, and the People began to rise, I, being next the Door, step't out quickly; and hastning to my Inn, took Horse immediately homewards: and (so far as I remember) my having been gone was not taken Notice of by my Father.

This latter Meeting was like the Clinching of a Nail; confirming, and fastening in my Mind, those good Principles, which had sunk into me at the former. My Understanding began to open, and I felt some Stirrings in my Breast, tending to the Work of a New Creation in me. The general Trouble, and Confusion of Mind, which had for some Days lain heavy upon me, and pressed me down, without a distinct Discovery of the particular Cause for which it came, began now to wear off; and some Glimmerings of Light began to break forth in me; which let me see my Inward State, and Condition towards God. The Light (which before had shone in my Darkness, and the Darkness could not comprehend it) began now to shine out of Darkness, and in some Measure discovered to me what it was, that had before clouded me, and brought that Sadness and Trouble upon me. And now I saw, that although I had been, in a great degree, preserved from the common Immoralities, and gross Pollutions of the World; yet the Spirit of the World had hitherto ruled in me, and led me into Pride, Flattery, Vanity and Superfluity; all which was Naught. I found there were many Plants growing in me, which were not of the Heavenly Father's Planting: and that all these (of whatever sort or kind they were, or how specious soever they might appear) must be plucked up.

Now was all my former Life ripped up, and my Sins, by Degrees, were set in order before me. And though they looked not with so black a Hue, and so deep a Dye, as those of the lewdest Sort of People did: Yet I found that all Sin (even that which had the fairest or finest shew, as well as that which was more course and foul) brought Guilt, and with and for Guilt, Condemnation on the Soul that sinned. This I felt: and was greatly bowed down under the Sense thereof.

Now also did I receive a New Law, (an Inward Law superadded to the Outward) The Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus, which wrought in me against all Evil, not only in Deed, and in Word, but even in Thought also: so that every thing was brought to Judgment, and Judgment passed upon all. So that I could not any longer go on, in my former Ways, and Course of Life: for when I did, Judgment took hold upon me for it.

Thus the Lord was graciously pleased to deal with me, in somewhat like manner as he had dealt with his People Israel of Old (when they had transgressed his Righteous LAW) whom, by his Prophet, he called back, required to put away the Evil of their Doings: bidding them, First, Cease to Do Evil; Then, Learn to Do Well: before He would admit them to Reason with Him; and before he would impart to them the Effects of His free Mercy, Isa. 1. 16, 17.

I was now required, by this Inward and Spiritual LAW (The Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus) to put away the Evil of my Doings; and to Cease to do Evil. And what, in Particulars, the Evil was, which I was required to to put away, and to cease from: that Measure of the Divine LIGHT, which was now manifested in me, discovered to me: and what the Light made manifest to be Evil, Judgment passed upon.

So that here began to be a Way cast up, before me, for me to walk in: A direct and plain Way; so plain, that a way-faring-Man, how weak and simple soever (though a Fool, to the Wisdom, and in the Judgment of the World) could not Err, while he continued to walk in it: the Error coming in by his going out of it. And this Way, with respect to me, I saw was that Measure of Divine Light, which was manifested in me; by which the Evil of my Doings, which I was to put away, and to cease from, was discovered to me.

By this Divine Light then I saw, that though I had not the Evil of the common Uncleanness, •bauchery, Prophanness, and Pollutions of the •rld to put away, because I had, through the •at Goodness of GOD, and a Civil Educa •, been preserved out of those grosser Evils: yet I had many other Evils to put away, and 〈◊〉 cease from: some of which were not, by t• World (which lies in Wickedness, 1 Joh. 5. 1• accounted Evils: but by the Light of Chr• were made manifest to me to be Evils, and, 〈◊〉 such, condemned in me.

As particularly, Those Fruits and Effects 〈◊〉 PRIDE, that discover themselves in the •¦nity and Superfluity of APPAREL: which I ( far as my Ability would extend to) took, ala• too much Delight in. This Evil of my Doi• I was required to put away, and cease from: a• Judgment lay upon me till I did so. Whe•¦fore, in Obedience to the Inward Law (whi• agreed with the Outward, 1 Tim. 2. 9. 1 P• 3. 3. 1 Tim. 6. 8. Jam. 1. 21.) I took 〈◊〉 from my Apparel those unnecessary Trimmin• of Lace, Ribbands and useless Buttons, whi• had no real Service: but were set on only 〈◊〉 that, which was, by mistake, called Orname• And I ceased to wear Rings.

Again, The giving of flattering Titles to Me• between whom and me there was not any R•¦lation, to which such Titles could be preten•¦ed to belong. This was an Evil I had be• much addicted to, and was accounted a read• Artist in: therefore this Evil also was I •¦quired to put away, and cease from. So th• thenceforward I durst not say, Sir, Master, M• Lord, Madam (or My Dame) or say, Your Se•¦vant, to any one to whom I did not stand i• the real Relation of a Servant; which I ha• never done to any.

Again, Respect of Persons, in Uncovering the •ead, and Bowing the Knee, or Body in Saluta •ns, was a Practice I had been much in the •se of. And this being one of the Vain Customs 〈◊〉 the World, introduced by the Spirit of the World, instead of the true Honour, which this •a false Representation of; and used in Deceit, 〈◊〉 a Token of Respect, by Persons one to another, •ho bear no real Respect one to another. And •esides, This being a Type, and proper Emblem •f that Divine Honour which all ought to pay •o Almighty GOD, and which all, of all sorts •who take upon them the Christian Name) ap •ear in, when they offer their Prayers to Him; •nd therefore should not be given to Men. I •ound this to be one of those Evils, which I had •een too long doing; therefore I was now re •uired to put it away, and cease from it.

Again, The Corrupt and Unsound Form of Speak •g in the Plural Number to a Single Person (YOU •o One, instead of THOU;) contrary to the Pure, Plain, and Single Language of TRUTH (THOU to One, and YOU to more than One) which had always been used, by GOD to Men, and Men to GOD, as well as one to ano •er, from the oldest Record of Time, till Cor •pt Men, for Corrupt Ends, in later and Corrupt Times, to Flatter, Fawn, and work upon the Corrupt Nature in Men, brought in that false and senseless Way of Speaking, YOU to One; which hath since corrupted the Modern Languages, and hath greatly debased the Spirits, and depraved the Manners of Men. This Evil Custom I had been as forward in as others• and this I was now called out of, and require• to cease from.

These, and many more Evil Customs, whic• had sprang up in the Night of Darkness, an• general Apostacy from the TRUTH, and Tru• RELIGION; were now, by the Inshining o• this pure Ray of Divine Light in my Conscience• gradually Discovered to me, to be what I ough• to cease from, shun, and stand a Witness against•

But so subtilly, and withal so powerfully• did the Enemy work upon the weak Part in me, as to perswade me, that, in these things, I ought to make a Difference between my Father and all other Men: And that therefore, though I did disuse these Tokens of Respect to others, yet I ought still to use them towards him, as he was my Father. And so far did this Wile of his prevail upon me, through a Fear, lest I should do amiss, in withdrawing any sort of Respect, or Honour from my Father, which was due unto him; that being thereby beguiled, I continued for a while to demean my self in the same manner towards him, with respect both to Language and Gesture, as I had always done before. And so long as I did so (standing Bare before him, and giving him the accustomed Language) he did not express (whatever he thought) any Dislike of me.

But as to my self, and the Work begun in me; I found it was not enough for me to Cease to do Evil; though that was a good and a great Step. I had another Lesson before me, which To learn to do well: which I could by no •ns do, till I had given up, with full Purpose 〈◊〉 Mind, to Cease from doing Evil. And when •d done that, the Enemy took Advantage of 〈◊〉 Weakness, to mislead me again.

•or whereas I ought to have waited in the •t, for Direction and Guidance into, and •e Way of Well-Doing; and not to have mo • till the Divine Spirit (a Manifestation of •ich the Lord hath been pleased to give unto •e, for me to profit with, or by:) the Enemy, •nsforming himself into the Appearance of an •gel of Light, offered himself, in that Ap •arance, to be my Guide and Leader into the •erformance of Religious Exercises. And I, •t then knowing the Wiles of Satan, and be • eager to be doing some acceptable Service to 〈◊〉; too readily yielded my self to the Con • of my Enemy, instead of my Friend.

He thereupon humouring the warmth, and 〈◊〉 of my Spirit, put me upon Religious Per •mances, in my own Will, in my own Time, and 〈◊〉 my own Strength; which in themselves were •od, and would have been profitable unto me, •d acceptable unto the Lord; if they had been •ormed in His Will, in His Time, and in the •ity which He gives. But being wrought in 〈◊〉 Will of Man, and at the prompting of the •il One; no wonder that it did me Hurt, in •d of Good.

Read abundantly in the BIBLE, and •ld set my self Tasks in Reading; injoying 〈◊〉 self to Read so many Chapters, sometimes an whole Book, or long Epistle, at a tim• And I thought that time well spent, though• was not much the wiser for what I had Rea• reading it too cursorily, and without the tr• Guide, the Holy Spirit, which alone could op• the Understanding, and give the true Sense 〈◊〉 what was Read.

I Prayed often, and drew out my Prayers 〈◊〉 a great length: and appointed unto my self ce•¦tain set Times to Pray at, and a certain Nu•¦ber of Prayers to say in a Day; yet knew no• mean while, what true Prayer was. Whi• stands not in Words (though the Words whi• are uttered in the Movings of the Holy Spirit a• very available;) but in the breathing of th• Soul to the Heavenly Father, through the Ope•¦ation of the Holy Spirit, who maketh Intercessi• sometimes in Words, and sometimes with Sig• and Groans only, which the Lord vouchsafes 〈◊〉 hear, and Answer.

This Will-Worship (which all is, that is pe•¦formed in the Will of Man, and not in th• Movings of the Holy Spirit) was a great Hu• to me, and Hinderance of my Spiritual Growt• in the Way of Truth. But my Heavenly Fa¦ther, who knew the Sincerity of my Soul t• Him, and the hearty Desire I had to Serve Him• had Compassion on me; and in due time wa• graciously pleased to Illuminate my Understand¦ing farther, and to open in me an Eye to discer• the False Spirit, and its way of Working, fro• the True: and to reject the former, and cleav• to the latter.

But though the Enemy had, by his Subtilty, •in'd such Advantages over me; yet I went on •twithstanding, and firmly persisted in my •odly Resolution, of ceasing from, and deny •g those things, which I was now Convinced 〈◊〉 my Conscience were Evil. And on this Ac •unt a great Trial came quickly on me. For •e General Quarter-Sessions for the Peace com •g on, my Father (willing to excuse himself •m a dirty Journey) commanded me to get 〈◊〉 betimes, and go to Oxford, and deliver in •e Recognizances he had taken; and bring him 〈◊〉 Account what Justices were on the Bench, •d what principal Pleas were before 'em; •hich he knew I knew how to do, having often •tended him on those Services.

I (who knew how it stood with me better •an he did) felt a Weight come over me, as •n as he had spoke the Word. For I presently •y, it would bring a very great Exercise upon 〈◊〉. But having never resisted his Will, in any •ng that was lawful, (as this was) I attempt • not to make any Excuse; but, ordering an •rse to be ready for me early in the Morning, •ent to Bed, having great Struglings in my •east.

For the Enemy came in upon me, like a •od, and set many Difficulties before me, •elling them up to the highest Pitch, by repre •ting them as Mountains, which I should ne • be able to get over; And, alas! that Faith •ich could remove such Mountains, and cast them into the Sea, was but very small, an• weak in me.

He cast into my Mind, not only how I shoul• behave my self in Court, and dispatch the B•¦siness I was sent about; but how I should d•¦mean my self towards my Acquaintance (〈◊〉 which I had many in that City) with whom • was wont to be Jolly: whereas now I coul• not put off my Hat, nor Bow, to any of the• nor give them their honorary Titles (as they a• called) nor use the corrupt Language of You• any one of them; but must keep to the pla• and true Language of Thou and Thee.

Much of this Nature revolved in my Min• thrown in by the Enemy to discourage, a• cast me down. And I had none to have r•¦course to, for Counsel or Help, but the Lor• alone. To whom therefore I poured forth m• Supplications, with earnest Cries and Breat•¦ings of Soul, that H E, in whom all Pow• was, would enable me to go through this gre• Exercise, and keep me faithful to Himself the• in. And after some time, he was pleased 〈◊〉 compose my Mind to Stilness, and I went 〈◊〉 rest.

Early next Morning, I got up, and fou• my Spirit pretty calm and quiet; yet not wit•¦out a Fear upon me, lest I should slip, and •¦fall the Testimony, which I had to bear. And 〈◊〉 I rode, a frequent Cry ran through me to th• Lord, on this wise; O my God, Preserve 〈◊〉 faithful, whatever befals me! Suffer me not to 〈◊〉 drawn into Evil, how much Scorn and Contempt soever may be cast upon me!

Thus was my Spirit exercised on the way almost continually. And when I was come within a Mile or two of the City, whom should I meet upon the Way, coming from thence, but Edward Burrough! I rode in a Mountier-Cap (a Dress more used then, than now) and so did he: and because the Weather was exceeding sharp, we both had drawn our Caps down, to •helter our Faces from the Cold; and by that means neither of us knew the other, but passed •y without taking Notice one of the other, till • few Days after meeting again, and observing •ach others Dress, we recollected where we •ad so lately met. Then thought I with my •elf, O! How glad should I have been of a Word 〈◊〉 Encouragement and Counsel from him, when I •as under that weighty Exercise of Mind! But the •ord saw it was not good for me: that my Re •ance might be wholly upon him; and not on Man.

When I had set up my Horse, I went directly 〈◊〉 the Hall, where the Sessions were held; •here I had been but a very little while, before • Knot of my old Acquaintances espying me, •me to me. One of these was a Scholar in his •own; another a Surgeon of that City (both •y School-Fellows, and Fellow-Boarders at •ame-School:) and the Third a Country Gentle •an, with whom I had long been very Familiar.

When they were come up to me, they all sa •ted me, after the usual manner, putting off their Hats and Bowing; and saying, Your Humble Servant, Sir: expecting, no doubt, the like from me. But when they saw me stand still, not moving my Cap, nor bowing my Knee in way of Congee to them; they were amazed, and looked first one upon another, then upon me, and then one upon another again, for a while, without a Word speaking.

At length the Surgeon, (a brisk young Man) who stood nearest to me, clapping his Hand, in a familiar way, upon my Shoulder, and smiling on me, said, What! TOM, a Quaker! T• which I readily, and cheerfully Answered, Ye• A Quaker. And as the Words passed out of m• Mouth, I felt Joy spring in my Heart: for • rejoyced, that I had not been drawn out b• them, into a Compliance with them; and tha• I had Strength and Boldness given me, to Co•¦fess my self to be one of that despised People.

They staid not long with me, nor said an• more (that I remember) to me: but lookin• somewhat confusedly one upon another, after • while took their Leave of me; going off in th• same ceremonious Manner, as they came on.

After they were gone, I walked a while a¦bout the Hall, and went up nearer to the Court to observe both what Justices were on th• Bench, and what Business they had before them• And I went in Fear (not of what they coul• or would have done to me, if they should ha• taken notice of me, but) lest I should be su•¦prized, and drawn unwarily into that, whi• I was to keep out of.

It was not long before the Court adjourned, to go to Dinner: And that time I took to go to the Clerk of the Peace, at his House, whom I was well acquainted with. So soon as I came into the Room where he was, he came and met me; and saluted me after his manner: for he had a great Respect for my Father, and a kind Regard for me. And tho' he was at first somewhat startled at my Carriage and Language: yet he treated me very civilly, without any Reflection, or shew of Lightness. I delivered him the Recognizances, which my Father had sent; and having done the Business I came upon, withdrew: and went to my Inn, to refresh my self, and then to return home.

But when I was ready to take Horse, looking out into the Street, I saw two or three Justices, standing just in the Way where I was to ride. This brought a fresh Concern upon me. I knew, if they saw me, they would know me: And I concluded, if they knew me, they would stop me to enquire after my Father; and I doubted how I should come off with them.

This Doubting brought Weakness on me; and that Weakness led to Contrivance, how I might avoid this Trial. I knew the City prety well; and remembred there was a back Way, which, though somewhat about, would bring me out of Town, without passing by •ose Justices: Yet loth I was to go that Way. Wherefore I staid a pretty time, in hopes they would have parted Company, or removed to •ome other Place, out of my Way. But when I had waited till I was uneasie, for losing so much time; having entred into Reasonings with Flesh and Blood, the Weakness prevailed over me, and away I went the back Way: which brought Trouble and Grief upon my Spirit, for having shunned the Cross.

But the Lord looked on me with a tender Eye; and seeing my Heart was right to him, and that what I had done was meerly through Weakness, and Fear of Falling, and that I was sensible of my Failing therein, and sorry for it: he was graciously pleased to pass it by, and speak Peace to me again. So that, before I got home, as when I went in the Morning, my Heart was full of Breathing Prayer to the Lord, that he would vouchsafe to be with me, and uphold and carry me through that Days Exercise: So now at my Return in the Evening, my Heart was full of thankful Acknowledgments, and Praises unto Him, for his great Goodness and Favour to me, in having thus far preserved, and kept me from falling into any thing that might have brought Dishonour to his Holy Name, which I had now taken on me.

But notwithstanding that it was thus with me, and that I found Peace and Acceptance with the Lord in some good degree, according to my Obedience to the Convictions I had received, by his Holy Spirit in me: yet was not the Vail so done away, or fully rent, but that there still remained a Cloud upon my Understanding, with respect to my Carriage towards my Father. And that Notion, which the Enemy had brought into my Mind, That I ought to put such a Difference between him all others, as that, on the Account of Paternal Relation, I should still deport my self towards him, both in Gesture and Language, as I had always heretofore done; did yet prevail with me. So that when I came home, I went to my Father bare headed, as I used to do; and gave him a particular Account of the Business he had given me in Command, in such manner, that he, observing no alteration in my Carriage towards him, found no Cause to take Offence at me.

I had felt for sometime before, an earnest Desire of Mind to go again to Isaac Penington's. And I began to question whether, when my Father should come (as I concluded e're long he would) to understand I enclined to settle among the People called Quakers, he would permit me the Command of his Horses, as before. Wherefore, in the Morning when I went to Oxford, I gave Direction to a Servant of his, to go that Day to a Gentleman of my Acquaintance (who I knew had a Riding Nag to put off, either by Sale, or to be kept for his Work;) and desire him, in my Name, to send him to me; which he did, and I found him in the Stable, when I came home.

On this Nag I designed to ride next Day to Isaac Penington's: and in order thereunto, arose betimes and got my self ready for the Journey. But because I would pay all due Respects to my Father, and not go without his Consent, or Knowledge at the least, I sent one up to him (for he was not yet stirring) to acquaint him, that I had a Purpose to go to Isaac Peuington's; and desired to know if he pleased to Command me any Service to them. He sent me Word, He would speak with me before I went; and would have me come up to him: which I did; and stood by his Bed-Side.

Then in a mild and gentle Tone, he said, I understand you have a Mind to go to Mr. Penington's. I answered, I have so. Why, said he, I wonder why you should. You were there, you know, but a few Days ago; and unless you had Business with them, don't you think it will look odly? I said, I I thought not. I doubt, said he, You'll tire them with your Company, and make them think they shall be troubled with you. If, replyed I, I find any thing of that, I'll make the shorter Stay. But, said he, can you propose any sort of Business with them, more than a meer Visit? Yes, said I, I propose to my self not only to see them; but to have some Discourse with them. Why, said he (in a Tone a little Harsher) I hope you don't encline to be of their Way. Truly, answered I, I like them, and their Way, very well; so far as I yet understand it: and I am willing to Go to them, that I may understand it better.

Thereupon he began to reckon up a Bead-Roll of Faults against the Quakers; Telling me They were a rude unmannerly People, that would not give Civil Respect or Honour to their Superiors; no not to Magistrates: That they held many dangerous Principles: That they were an immodest, shameless People; and that one of them strip't himself stark-naked, and went in that unseemly manner about the Streets, at Fairs, and on Market-days in great Towns.

To all the other Charges, I answered only, That perhaps they might be either misreported, or misunderstood, as the best of People had sometimes been. But to the last Charge, of Going Naked, a particular Answer, by way of Instance, was just then brought into my Mind, and put into my Mouth, which I had not thought of before: and that was the Example of Isaiah, who went Naked, among the People, for a long time, (Isai. 20. 4.) Aye, said my Father, but you must consider, that He was a Prophet of the Lord, and had an express Command from God to Go so. Yes, Sir, replied I, I do consider that: but I consider also, that the Jews among whom he lived, did not own him for a Prophet, nor believe that he had such a Command from God. And, added I, how know we but that this Quaker may be a Prophet too, and might be commanded to do as he did, for some Reason which we understand not.

This put my Father to a stand; so that letting fall his Charges against the Quakers, he only said, I would wish you not to go so soon; but take a little time to consider of it: you may Visit Mr. Penington hereafter. Nay, Sir, replied I, Pray don't hinder my going now: for I have so strong a Desire to go, that I do not well know how to forbear. And as I spake those Words, I withdrew gently to the Chamber-Door; and then hastning down Stairs, went immediately to the Stable: where finding my Horse ready Bridled, I forthwith mounted, and went off; lest I should receive a Countermand.

This Discourse with my Father had cast me somewhat back in my Journey, and it being Fifteen long Miles thither, the Ways bad, and my Nag but small: it was in the Afternoon that I got thither. And understanding by the Servant that took my Horse, that there was then a Meeting in the House (as there was Weekly on that Day, which was the Fourth Day of the Week, though I, till then, understood it not) I hastened in; and knowing the Rooms, went directly to the Little Parlour, where I found a few Friends sitting together in Silence: and I sate down among them, well satisfied, though without Words.

When the Meeting was ended, and those of the Company, who were Strangers, withdrawn, I addressed my self to Isaac Penington and his Wife, who received me courteously: but not knowing what Exercise I had been in, and yet was under, nor having heard any thing of me, since I had been there before, in another Garb, were not forward at first to lay suddain Hands on me; which I observed, and did not dislike. But as they came to see a Change in me, not in Habit only, but in Gesture, Speech and Carriage, and which was more, in Countenance also: (for the Exercise I had passed through, and yet was under, had imprinted a visible Character of Gravity upon my Face;) they were exceeding kind, and tender towards me.

There was then in the Family a Friend, whose Name was Anne Curtis (the Wife of Thomas Curtis of Reading) who was come upon a Visit to them, and particularly to see Mary Penington's Daughter Guli: who had been ill of the Small Pox, since I had been there before. Betwixt Mary Penington and this Friend, I observed some private Discourse, and Whisperings; and I had an Apprehension that it was upon something that concerned me. Wherefore I took the freedom to ask Mary Penington, If my coming thither had occasioned any Inconvenience in the Family? She asked me, If I had had the Small Pox? I told her no. She then told me, Her Daughter had newly had them; and though she was well recovered of them, she had not as yet been down amongst them: but intended 〈◊〉 have come down, and sate with them in the Par •our that Evening; yet would rather forbear, till •nother time, than Endanger me. And that that •as the matter they had been discoursing of. I assu •ed her, that I had always been, and then, •ore especially, was free from any Apprehen •on of Danger in that respect: and therefore •treated, that her Daughter might come •own. And although they were somewhat •nwilling to yield to it, in regard of me; yet •y Importunity prevailed, and after Supper •e did come down, and sit with us: and tho' •e Marks of the Distemper were fresh upon •er; yet they made no Impression upon me; •aith keeping out Fear.

We spent much of the Evening in Retiredness of Mind, our Spirits being weightily gathered inward: so that not much Discourse pas¦sed among us; neither they to me, nor I to them, offered any Occasion. Yet I had good Satisfaction in that Stilness; feeling my Spiri• drawn near to the Lord, and to them therein.

Before I went to Bed, they let me know• that there was to be a Meeting at Wiccomb nex• Day; and that some of the Family would g• to it. I was very glad of it: for I greatly d•¦sired to go to Meetings; and this fell very ap•¦ly, it being in my way home. Next Mornin• Isaac Penington himself went, having Anne Cu•¦tis with him: and I accompanied them.

At Wiccomb we met with Edward Burroug• who came from Oxford thither, that Day that • going thither, met him on the Way: and h•¦ving both our Mountier-Caps on, we recollecte• that we had met, and passed by each other 〈◊〉 the Road unknown.

This was a Monthly Meeting, consisting 〈◊〉 Friends chiefly, who gathered to it from sever• Parts of the Country thereabouts: so that 〈◊〉 was pretty large, and was held in a fair Roo• in Jeremiah Steevens's House; the Roo• where I had been at a Meeting before, in Jo• Raunce's House, being too little to receive us.

A very good Meeting was this, in its se• and to me. Edward Burrough's Ministry ca• forth among us in Life and Power; and t• Assembly was covered therewith. I also, a•¦cording to my small Capacity, had a Sha therein. For I felt some of that Divine Power, working my Spirit into a great Tenderness; and not only Confirming me in the Course I had already entred, and strengthning me to go on therein: but rending also the Vail somewhat further, and Clearing my Understanding in some other things, which I had not seen before. For the Lord was pleased to make his Discoveries to me by degrees; that the Sight of too great a Work, and too many Enemies to encounter with at once, might not discourage me, and make me faint.

When the Meeting was ended, the Friends of the Town, taking notice, that I was the Man that had been at their Meeting the Week before, whom they then did not know; some of them came, and spake lovingly to me, and would have had me staid with them: but Edward Burrough going home with Isaac Penington. he invited me to go back with him; which I willingly consented to. For the Love I had more particularly to Edward Burrough, through whose Ministry I had received the first awakning Stroke, drew me to desire his Company; and so away we rode together.

But I was somewhat disappointed of my Expectation: for I hoped he would have given me both Opportunity and Encouragement, to have opened my self to him, and to have poured forth my Complaints, Fears, Doubts and Questionings into his Bosom. But he, being sensible that I was truly reach'd; and that the Witness of GOD was raised, and the Work of GOD rightly begun in me: chose to leave me to the Guidance of the good Spirit in my self (the Counsellor that could resolve all Doubts) that I might not have any Dependence on Man. Wherefore, although he was naturally of an open, and free Temper and Carriage; and was afterwards always very familiar, and affectionately kind to me: yet at this time he kept himself somewhat reserved, and shewed only common Kindness to me.

Next Day we parted. He, for London: I home; under a very great Weight and Exercise upon my Spirit. For I now saw, in and by the farther Openings of the DIVINE LIGHT in me, that the Enemy, by his false Reasonings, had beguiled and misled me, with respect to my Carriage towards my Father. For I now clearly saw, That the Honour due to Parents, did not consist in Uncovering the Head, and Bowing the Body to them; but in a ready Obedience to their Lawful Commands, and in Performing all needful Services unto them. Wherefore, as I was greatly troubled for what I already had done, in that Case, though it was through Ignorance: So I plainly felt I could no longer continue therein, without drawing on my self the Guilt of wilful Disobedience; which I well knew would draw after it Divine Displeasure and Judgment.

Hereupon the Enemy assaulted me afresh; setting before me the Danger I should run my self into, of provoking my Father to use Severity towards me: and perhaps to the casting •e utterly off. But over this Temptation the •ord, whom I cried unto, supported me; and •ave me Faith to believe, that he would bear •e through whatever might befal me on that •ccount. Wherefore I resolved, in the Strength •hich he should give me, to be faithful to his •equirings, whatever might come on it.

Thus labouring under various Exercises on •e Way, I at length got home; expecting I •ould have but a rough Reception from my •ather. But when I came home, I understood •y Father was from home. Wherefore I sate •own, by the Fire, in the Kitchin; keeping •y Mind retired to the Lord, with Breathings 〈◊〉 Spirit to Him, that I might be preserved •om falling.

After some time I heard the Coach drive in, •hich put me into a little Fear, and a sort of •ivering came over me. But by that time he •as alighted and come in, I had pretty well •covered my self; and as soon as I saw him, I •ose up, and advanced a Step or two towards •im, with my Head covered, said, Isaac Pen •gton and his Wife remember their Loves to •ee.

He made a Stop to hear what I said, and ob •erving that I did not stand bare, and that I •sed the Word [Thee] to him; He, with a •ern Countenance, and Tone that spake high Displeasure, only said, I shall talk with you, Sir, •nother time: and so hastening from me, went •to the Parlour; and I saw him no more that Night.

Though I foresaw there was a Storm arisi• the Apprehension of which was uneasie to m• yet the Peace which I felt in my own Brea• raised in me a Return of Thanksgivings to t• Lord, for his gracious supporting Hand; whi• had thus far carried me through this Exercis• with humble Cries in Spirit to Him, that 〈◊〉 would vouchsafe to stand by me in it to t• End; and uphold me, that I might not fall.

My Spirit longed to be among Friends, a• to be at some Meeting with them on the Fi• Day, which now drew on; this being the Six• Day Night. Wherefore I purposed to go 〈◊〉 Oxford on the Morrow (which was the Seven• Day of the Week) having heard there was 〈◊〉 Meeting there. Accordingly, having order• my Horse to be made ready betimes, I got u• in the Morning and made my self ready al• Yet before I would go, (that I might be as o• servant to my Father, as possibly I could) I d•¦sired my Sister to go up to him in his Chambe• and acquaint him, that I had a Mind to g• to Oxford; and desired to know if he pleased 〈◊〉 Command me any Service there. He bid h• tell me, He would not have me go, till he ha• spoken with me. And getting up immediately• he hastened down to me, before he was quit• dressed.

As soon as he saw me standing with my Ha• on, his Passion transporting him, he fell upo• me with both his Fists; and having by tha• Means somewhat vented his Anger, he plucked off my Hat, and threw it away. Then stepping hastily out to the Stable, and seeing my •rrowed Nag stand ready Saddled and Bridled, 〈◊〉 asked his Man Whence that Horse came? who •ling him he fetch't it from Mr. — such an •e's: Then ride him presently back, said my Fa •r, and tell Mr. — I desire he will never •d my Son an Horse again, unless he brings a •te from me.

The poor Fellow, who loved me well, would 〈◊〉 have made Excuses and Delays; but my •ther was positive in his Command: and so •gent, that he would not let him stay so much 〈◊〉 to take his Breakfast (though he had Five •iles to ride;) nor would he himself stir from •e Stable, till he had seen the Man mounted, •d gone.

Then coming in, he went up into his Cham •r, to make himself more fully ready; think •g he had me safe enough, now my Horse was •e: for I took so much Delight in Riding, •t I seldom went on Foot.

But while he was dressing himself in his •amber, I (who understood what had been •e) changing my Boots for Shoos, took an •er Hat; and acquainting my Sister (who •ed me very well, and whom I could confide 〈◊〉 whither I meant to go, went out privately, •d walked away to Wiccomb, having Seven •g Miles thither: which yet seem'd little and •e to me; from the Desire I had to be among •ends.

As thus I travelled all alone, under a Load 〈◊〉 Grief, from the Sense I had of the Opposition, and Hardship I was to expect from 〈◊〉 Father; the Enemy took Advantage to Assa• me again, casting a Doubt into my Mind, W•¦ther I had done well, in thus coming away from 〈◊〉 Father, without his Leave or Knowledge?

I was quiet and peaceable in my Spirit, b•¦fore this Question was darted into me; but a•¦ter that, Disturbance and Trouble seized up• me: so that I was at a stand what to do; wh•¦ther to go forward or backward. Fear of offend• inclined me to go back; but Desire of the Meet• and to be with Friends, pressed me to go forwa•

I stood still a while, to consider and weig• as well as I could, the Matter. I was sensib• satisfied, that I had not left my Father with a• Intention of Undutifulness, or Disrespect to hi• but meerly in Obedience to that Drawing 〈◊〉 Spirit, which I was perswaded was of t• LORD, to join with His People in Worshipp• Him: and this made me easie.

But then the Enemy, to make me uneasie •¦gain, objected, But how could that Drawing be• the LORD, which drew me to disobey my Fath•

I considered thereupon the Extent of Pat•¦nal Power; which I found was not wholly A•¦bitrary and Unlimited: but had Bounds set u• it. So that as in Civil Matters, it was restra•¦ed to Things Lawful: so in Spiritual and Reli•¦ous Cases, it had not a compulsory Power over C•¦science: which ought to be Subject to the H•¦venly Father. And therefore though Obedie• to Parents, be enjoyned to Children; yet it 〈◊〉 with this Limitation, [IN THE LORD •hildren, obey your Parents in the Lord: for this 〈◊〉 right, 1 Pet. 6. 1.

This turned the Scale for going forward: •d so on I went. And yet I was not wholly •ee from some Fluctuations of Mind, from the •esettings of the Enemy. Wherefore, altho' • knew that Outward Signs did not properly be •g to the Gospel Dispensation: yet for my bet •r Assurance, I did, in Fear and great Humi •y, beseech the Lord, that He would be pleas • so far to condescend to the Weakness of his •rvant, as to give me a Sign, by which I •ight certainly know, whether my Way was •ght before Him, or not.

The Sign which I asked was, That if I had •e wrong, in Coming as I did, I might be Reject • or but coldly received, at the Place I was Going 〈◊〉 but if this mine Undertaking was right in his •ht, he would give me Favour with them I went 〈◊〉 so that they should receive me with hearty Kind •s and Demonstrations of Love. Accordingly, •en I came to John Rance's House (which, be •g so much a Stranger to all, I chose to go to, •ause I understood the Meeting was com •nly held there;) they received me with •re than ordinary Kindness; especially Frances •nce (John Rance's then Wife;) who was both • Grave and Motherly Woman, and had a •rty Love to Truth, and Tenderness towards 〈◊〉 that, in Sincerity, sought after it. And this 〈◊〉 kind Reception, confirming me in the Be • that my Undertaking was Approved of by 〈◊〉 LORD, gave great Satisfaction and Ease to my Mind; and I was thankful to the Lord therefore.

Thus it fared with me there: but at Hom• it fared otherwise with my Father. He sup¦posing I had betaken my self to my Chamber• when he took my Hat from me, made no En¦quiry after me, till Evening came; and the• sitting by the Fire, and considering that th• Weather was very cold, he said to my Sister• who sate by him, Go up to your Brother's Cham¦ber, and call him down: it may be he will sit the• else, in a sullen Fit, till he has caught Cold. Alas Sir, said she, He is not in his Chamber, nor i• the House neither. At that my Father startling said, Why where is he then? I know not, S• said she. where he is: but I know that, when 〈◊〉 saw you had sent away his Horse, he put on Shoo• and went out on Foot; and I have not seen hi• since. And indeed, Sir, added she, I don't wo•¦der at his going away; considering how you use• him. This put my Father into a great Frigh• doubting I was gone quite away: and so grea• a Passion of Grief seized on him, that he fo•¦bore not to Weep, and to cry out aloud (so tha• the Family heard him) Oh! my Son! I shall ne¦ver see him more! For he is of so bold and refolut• a Spirit, that he will run himself into Danger, an• so may be thrown into some Goal or other, wher• he may lie and die, before I can hear of hi• Then bidding her light him up to his Cham¦ber, he went immediately to Bed; where h• lay Restless and Groaning, and often bemoan¦ing himself and me, for the greatest Part o• the Night.

Next Morning my Sister sent a Man (whom, •or his Love to me, shew knew she could •rust) to give me this Account: and though •y him she sent me also fresh Linnen for my •se, in case I should go farther, or stay out •nger; yet she desired me to come home as •on as I could.

This Account was very uneasie to me. I was •uch grieved that I had occasioned so much •rief to my Father. And I would have re •rned that Evening, after the Meeting; but •e Friends would not permit it: for the Meet •g would in likelihood end late, the Days be •g short; and the Way was long, and dirty. •nd besides, John Rance told me, that he had •mething on his Mind to speak to my Father; •d that, if I would stay till the next Day he •ould go down with me: hoping perhaps, that •ile my Father was under this Sorrow for 〈◊〉, he might work some good upon him. •ereupon, concluding to stay till the Morrow, •ismiss't the Man with the things he brought; •ding him tell my Sister, I intended (God •ling) to return home to Morrow: and •rging him not to let any Body else know, •t he had seen me, or where he had been.

Next Morning John Rance and I set out; and •en we were come to the End of the Town, 〈◊〉 agreed, that he should go before, and knock 〈◊〉 the great Gate; and I would come a little •er, and go in by the back Way. He did so; 〈◊〉 when a Servant came to open the Gate, he •ing if the Justice were at home, she told him, Yes: and desiring him to come in, an• sit down in the Hall; went and acquainted h• Master, that there was one who desired to spea• with him. He, supposing it was one that ca• for Justice, went readily into the Hall to hi• But he was not a little surpized, when he fou• it was a Quaker. Yet not knowing on wh• account he came, he staid to hear his Busine• But when he found it was about me, he 〈◊〉 somewhat sharply on him.

In this time I was come, by the back w• into the Kitchin; and hearing my Fathe• Voice so loud, I began to doubt things wroug• not well: but I was soon assured of that. B• my Father having quickly enough of a Quak• Company, left John Rance in the Hall, a• came into the Kitchin; where he was m• surprized to find me.

The Sight of my Hat upon my Head m• him presently forget, that I was that Son 〈◊〉 his, whom he had so lately lamented as 〈◊〉 and his Passion of Grief turning into An• he could not contain himself: but running 〈◊〉 on me, with both his Hands, first viole• snatch't off my Hat, and threw it away. T• giving me some Buffets on my Head, he 〈◊〉 Sirrah, Get you up to your Chamber.

I forthwith went; he following me at 〈◊〉 Heels, and now and then giving me a Whi• on the Ear: which (the way to my Cham• lying through the Hall, where John Rance 〈◊〉 he, poor Man, might see, and be sorry for 〈◊〉 I doubt not but he was) but could not help 〈◊〉

This was sure an unaccountable thing, That •y Father should, but a Day before, express 〈◊〉 high a Sorrow for me, as fearing he should •ever see me any more: and yet now, so soon 〈◊〉 he did see me, should fly upon me with such •iolence, and that only because I did not put •f my Hat; which he knew I did not keep on, 〈◊〉 Disrespect to him, but upon a Religious Prin •le. But as this Hat-Honour (as it was ac •unted) was grown to be a great Idol; in those •es more especially: so the Lord was pleased 〈◊〉 engage his Servants in a steady Testimony •ainst it; what suffering soever was brought •on them for it. And though some, who have •en called in the Lord's Vineyard at latter •urs, and since the Heat of that Day hath been •uch over; may be apt to account this Testimo• a small thing to suffer so much upon, as some •ve done, not only to Beating, but to Fines, •d long and hard Imprisonments; yet they who, 〈◊〉 those Times, were faithfully Exercised in and •der it, durst not despise the Day of small things; 〈◊〉 knowing that he who should do so, would •t be thought worthy to be concerned in •her Testimonies.

I had now lost one of my Hats, and I had •t one more. That therefore I put on; but 〈◊〉 not keep it long: for the next time my Fa •er saw it on my Head, he tore it violently •m me; and laid it up, with the other, I •ew not where. Wherefore I put on my •untier-Cap, which was all I had left to wear 〈◊〉 my Head; and it was but a very little while that I had that to wear: for as soon as my Fa¦ther came where I was, I lost that also. And now I was forced to go bear-Headed, wher• ever I had Occasion to go, within Doors an• without.

This was in the Eleventh Month (called Jan•¦ary) and the Weather sharp; so that I, wh• had been bred up more tenderly, took so grea• a Cold in my Head, that my Face and Hea• were much swelled: and my Gums had o• them Boyls so sore, that I could neither Che• Meat, nor, without Difficulty, swallow Liquid• It held long, and I underwent much Pain, wit• out much Pity, except from my poor Siste• who did what she could to give me Ease: a• at length, by frequent Applications of Figs, a• stoned Raisins, toasted, and laid to the Boy• as hot as I could bear them, they ripened 〈◊〉 for Lancing; and soon after sunk, then I h• Ease.

Now was I laid up, as a kind of Prison• for the rest of this Winter; having no mea• to go forth among Friends: nor they Liber• to come to me. Wherefore I spent the Ti• much in my Chamber, in Waiting on t• LORD, and in Reading; mostly in the Bib•

But whenever I had occasion to speak to 〈◊〉 Father, though I had no Hat now to offe• him; yet my Language did as much: fo• durst not say [YOU] to him; but THOU, 〈◊〉 THEE, as the Occasion required, and th• would he be sure to fall on me with his Fi

At one of these times, I remember, when •e had beaten me in that Manner, he command • me (as he commonly did at such times) to •o to my Chamber; which I did, and he fol •wed me to the Bottom of the Stairs. Being •me thither, he gave me a Parting-Blow; and 〈◊〉 a very angry Tone, said, Sirrah, If ever I •ar you say Thou or Thee to me again, I'll strike •ur Teeth down your Throat. I was greatly •ieved to hear him say so. And feeling a Word •e in my Heart unto him; I turned again, •d calmly said unto him. Would it not be •t, if God should serve thee so: when thou •est Thou or Thee to Him? Though his Hand •as up, I saw it sink, and his Countenance 〈◊〉, and he turned away, and left me standing •ere. But I notwithstanding went up into •y Chamber, and Cryed unto the Lord, ear •stly beseeching Him, that he would be pleas • to open my Father's Eyes, that he might see •hom he fought against, and for what: and •at He would turn his Heart.

After this I had a pretty time of Rest and •iet from these Disturbances: my Father not •ing any thing to me, nor giving me Occa •n to say any thing to him. But I was still •der a kind of Confinement; unless I would •ve run about the Country bare-headed, like • Mad-Man: which I did not see it was my •ace to do. For I found that, although to be •road, and at Liberty among my Friends, •ould have been more pleasant to me: yet •ome was at present my proper Place; a 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 School, in which I was to learn with Patience to Bear the Cross: and I willingly submitted to it.

But after some time, a fresh Storm, more fierce and sharp than any before, arose, and fell upon me: the Occasion whereof was this My Father, having been (in his younger Years more especially while he lived in London) • constant Hearer of those who are called Puri¦tan-Preachers, had stored up a pretty stock o• Scripture-Knowledge, did sometimes (not con¦stantly, nor very often) cause his Family t• come together, on a First Day in the Evening• and expound a Chapter to them, and Pray• His Family now, as well as his Estate, wa• lessen'd; for my Mother was dead, my Bro¦ther gone, and my elder Sister at London: an• having put off his Husbandry, he had put 〈◊〉 with it most of his Servants; so that he ha• now but one Man, and one Maid-Servant. • so fell out, that on a First Day Night, he bi• my Sister (who sate with him in the Parlou• Call in the Servants to Prayer.

Whether this was done as a Trial upon m• or no, I know not; but a Trial it proved 〈◊〉 me: For they (loving me very well, and di•¦liking my Father's Carriage to me) made 〈◊〉 haste to go in; but staid a second Summon• This so offended him, that when at length the• did go in, he, instead of Going to Prayer, E•¦amined them, Why they came not in when th• were first Called: and the Answer they gave hi• being such as rather heightned, than abate• •s Displeasure; he, with an angry Tone, said, •ll in that Fellow (meaning me, who was left •one in the Kitchin) for he is the Cause of all •is, They, as they were backward to go in emselves; so were not forward to call me in, aring the Effect of my Father's Displeasure •ould fall upon me: as it soon did: for I, •earing what was said, and not staying for the •all, went in of my self. And as soon as I •as come in, my Father discharged his Dis •easure on me, in very sharp and bitter Ex •essions: which drew from me (in the Grief •f my Heart, to see him so transported with •assion) these few Words; They that can Pray •ith such a Spirit, let 'em: for my part I cannot. With that my Father flew upon me with both •is Fists; and not thinking that sufficient, step't •astily to the Place where his Cane stood: and •atching that up, laid me on (I thought) with •ll his Strength. And, I being bare-headed, I •hought his Blows must needs have broken my •cull, had I not laid mine Arm over my Head, •o defend it.

His Man, seeing this, and not able to con •ain himself, step't in between us; and laying •old on the Cane, by Strength of Hand held •t so fast, that though he attempted not to take •t away, yet he with-held my Father from striking with it: which did but enrage him the more. I disliked this in the Man; and bid him •et go the Cane, and be gone: which he immediately did, and turning to be gone, had a Blow on the Shoulders for his Pains; which ye• did not much hurt him.

But now my Sister, fearing lest my Fathe• should fall upon me again; besought him 〈◊〉 forbear: adding, Indeed, Sir, if you strike hi• any more, I will throw open the Casement, and C• Murther; for I am afraid you will kill my Brothe• This stop't his Hand; and after some Threa•¦ning Speeches, he commanded me to Get to m• Chamber: which I did; as I always did whe•ever he bid me.

Thither, soon after, my Sister followed m• to see my Arm, and dress it: for it was, indee• very much bruised and swelled, between th• Wrist and the Elbow; and in some places th• Skin was broken, and beaten off. But thoug• it was very sore; and I felt for some time mu• Pain in it: yet I had Peace and Quietness i• my Mind; being more grieved for my Fathe• than for my self, who I knew had hurt himsel• more than me.

This was (so far as I remember) the la• time, that ever my Father called his Family t• Prayer. And this was also the last time, tha• he ever fell, so severely at least, upon me.

Soon after this my Elder Sister (who, in al• the time of these Exercises of mine, had bee• at London) returned home; much troubled t• find me a Quaker, a Name of Reproach an• great Contempt then: and she, being at Lon¦don, h•d received, I suppose, the worst Character of them. Yet, though she disliked th• People; her affectionate Regard to me, made her rather Pity, than Despise me: and the more, when she understood what hard Usage I had met with.

The rest of this Winter I spent in a lonesome solitary Life; having none to Converse with, none to unbosom my self unto, none to ask Counsel of, none to seek Relief from, but the LORD alone; who yet was more than All. And yet the Company and Society of Faithful and Judicious Friends, would (I thought) have been very welcome, as well as helpful to me in my Spiritual Travel: in which I thought I made but a slow Progress; my Soul breathing after further Attainments; The Sence of which drew from me the following Lines:

The Winter Tree

Resembles me,

Whose Sap lies in its Root:

The Spring draws nigh;

As it, so I

Shall bud, I hope, and shoot.

At length it pleased the Lord to move Isaac Penington and his Wife to make a Visit to my Father, and see how it fared with me: And very welcome they were to me; whatever they were to him: to whom I doubt not but they would have been more welcome, had it not been for me.

They tarried with us all Night; and much Discourse they had with my Father, both about the Principle of TRUTH in general, and m• in particular: which I was not privy to. Bu• one thing, I remember, I afterwards heard of• which was this.

When my Father and we were at thei• House, some Months before, Mary Penington• in some Discourse between them, had told hi• how hardly her Husband's Father (Alderma• Penington) had dealt with him about his Hat• which my Father (little then thinking that i• would, and so soon too, be his own Case) di• very much Censure the Alderman for: won¦dring that so wise a Man as he was, shoul• take Notice of such a trivial Thing, as the Put¦ting off, or keeping on a Hat; and he spare• not to blame him liberally for it.

This gave her a Handle, to take hold of him by. And having had an ancient Acquaintance with him; and he having always had an high Opinion of, and Respect for her: she, who was a Woman of great Wisdom, of ready Speech, and of a well-resolved Spirit, did pres• so close upon him, with this Home-Argument• that he was utterly to seek, and at a loss how to defend himself.

After Dinner next Day, when they were ready to take Coach to return home; she de¦sired my Father that, since my Company was so little acceptable to him, he would give me leave to Go, and spend some time with them• where I should be sure to be welcome.

He was very unwilling I should go; and made many Objections against it: all which she Answered, and removed so clearly, that not finding what Excuse further to alledge; he, at length left it to me; and I soon turned the Scale for Going.

We were come to the Coach-side before this was concluded on, and I was ready to step in; when one of my Sisters privately put my Father in Mind, that I had never a Hat on. That somewhat startled him: for he did not think it fit I should go from home (and that so far, and to stay abroad) without a Hat. Wherefore he whi•p•red to her, to fetch me a Hat, and he entertained them with some Discourse in the mean time. But as soon as he saw the Hat coming, he would not stay till it came, lest I should put it on before him; but breaking off his Discourse abruptly, took his leave of them, and hastened in, before the Hat was brought to me.

I had not one Penny of Money about me; nor any, indeed, elsewhere. For my Father, so soon as he saw that I would be a Quaker, took from me both what Money I had, and every thing else of Value, or that would have made Money, as some Plate Buttons, Rings, &c. pretending that he would keep them for me, till I came to my self again, lest I, in the mean time should destroy them.

But as I had no Money; so, being among my Friends, I had no need of any, nor ever honed after it: though once upon a particular Occasion I had like to have wanted it. The Case was thus.

I had been at Reading, and set out from thence on the First Day of the Week, in the Morning: intending to reach (as, in point of Time, I well might) to Isaac Penington's; where the Meeting was to be that Day: but when I came to Maidenhead (a thorough-fair Town on the Way) I was stop't by the Watch for Riding on that Day.

The Watchman, laying hold on the Bridle, told me, I must go with him to the Constable• and accordingly I, making no Resistance, suffered him to lead my Horse to the Constable's Door. When we were come there, the Constable told me, I must go before the Warden (who was the Chief Officer of that Town) and bid the Watchman bring me on, himself walking before.

Being come to the Warden's Door, the Constable knock't, and desired to speak with Mr. Warden. He thereupon quickly coming to the Door, the Constable said, Sir, I have brought a Man here to you, whom the Watch took riding through the Town. The Warden was a budge old Man; and I looked somewhat big too: having a good Gelding under me, and a good Riding Coat on my Back; both which my Friend Isaac Penington had kindly accommodated me with for that Journey.

The Warden therefore taking me to be (as the Saying is) Somebody; put off his Hat, and made a low Congee to me: but when he saw that I sate still, and neither bowed to him, nor moved my Hat; he gave a start, and said •o the Constable, You said you had brought a Man, •ut he don't behave himself like a Man.

I sate still upon my Horse, and said not a Word; but kept my Mind retired to the Lord: waiting to see what this would come to.

The Warden then began to Examine me, Asking me Whence I came? and Whither I was •oing? I told him I came from Reading, and was going to Chalfont. He asked me Why I did Travel on that Day? I told him, I did not know •hat it would give any Offence barely to Ride, •r Walk on that Day; so long as I did not Car •y or Drive any Carriage, or Horses laden with Burthens. Why, said he, if your Business was ur •ent, did you not take a Pass from the Mayor of Reading? Because, replied I, I did not know, •or think I should have needed one. Well, said •e, I will not talk with you now, because it is time •o Go to Church; but I will Examine you further •non: And turning to the Constable, Have him, •aid he, to an Inn, and bring him before me after Dinner.

The Naming of an Inn put me in Mind, that •uch publick Houses were places of Expence; •nd I knew I had no Money to defray it. Wherefore I said to the Warden, Before thou •endest me to an Inn, which may occasion some Expence; I think it needful to acquaint thee, that I have no Money.

At that the Warden startled again; and turning quick upon me, said, How! No Money! How can that be? You don't look like a Man that has no Money. However I look, said I, I tell thee the Truth, that I have no Money: and • tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayst no• bring any Charge upon the Town. I wonder• said he, what Art you have got, that you can Tra¦vel without Money: you can do more, I assure you• than I can.

I making no Answer, he went on, and said• Well, well! but if you have no Money, you have • good Horse under you; and we can Distrain hi• for the Charge. But, said I, the Horse is no• mine. No! said he, •ut you have a good Coa• on your Back: and that, I hope, is your own: No• said I, but it is not: for I borrowed both th• Horse and the Coat.

With that the Warden, holding up hi• Hands, and smiling, said, Bless me! I neve• met with such a Man as you are before! What• were you set out by the Parish? Then turning to the Constable, he said, Have him to the Gray¦hound, and bid the People be civil to him. Ac¦cordingly to the Grayhound I was led; my Horse set up, and I put into a large Room• and some Account, I suppose, given of me to the People of the House.

This was new Work to me; and what the Issue of it would be, I could not foresee: but being left there alone, I sate down, and retired in Spirit to the Lord (in whom alone my Strength and Safety was) and beg'd support of Him; even that he would be pleased to give me Wisdom, and Words to Answer the Warden, when I should come to be Examined again before him.

After some time, having Pen, Ink and Paper about me, I set my self to write what I thought might be proper, if Occasion served, to give the Warden. And while I was writing, the Master of the House being come home from his Worship, sent the Tapster to me, to invite me to dine with him. I bid him tell his Master, that I had not any Money to pay for my Dinner. He sent the Man again to tell me, I should be welcome to dine with him, though I had no Money. I desired him to tell his Master, that I was very sensible of his Civility and Kindness, in so courteously inviting me to his Table; but I had not freedom to eat of his Meat, unless I could have paid for it. So he went on with his Dinner, and I with my Writing.

But before I had finished what was on my Mind to write, the Constable came again; bringing with him his Fellow-Constable. This was a brisk, genteel young Man, a Shopkeeper in the Town, whose Name was Cherry. They saluted me Civilly, and told me they were come to have me before the Warden. This put an End to my Writing; which I put into my Pocket, and went along with them.

Being come to the Warden's, He asked me again the same Questions he had asked me before: To which I gave him the like Answers. Then he told me the Penalty I had incurred: which, he said, was either to pay so much Money; or lye so many Hours in the Stocks: and asked me which I would chuse. I reply'd, I shall not chuse either. And said I, I have told thee already that I have no Money: though i• I had, I could not so far Acknowledge my sel• an Offender, as to pay any. But as to lying i• the Stocks, I am in thy Power, to do unto me• what it shall please the Lord to suffer thee.

When he heard that, he paused awhile; and then told me, He considered that I was but a Young Man, and might not, perhaps, understand the danger I had brought my self into: and therefore he would not use the Severity of the Law upon me; but in hopes that I would be wiser hereafter, he would pass by this Offence, and discharge me.

Then putting on a Countenance of the greatest Gravity, he said to me; But, young Man, I would have you know, That you have not only broken the Law of the Land! but the Law of God also: and therefore you ought to ask Him Forgiveness; for you have highly offended Him. That, said I, I would most willingly do; if I were sensible that, in this Case, I had offended Him, by breaking any Law of His. Why, said he, do you question that? Yes, truly, said I: for I do not know that any Law of God doth forbid me to Ride on this Day.

No! said he, that's strange! Where, I wonder, were you Bred? You can read: Can't you? Yes, said I, that I can. Don't you read then, said he, the Commandment; Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy. Six Days shalt thou Labour, and do all thy Work: but the Seventh Day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God; in it thou shalt not do any Work. Yes, replyed I, I have both read it often, and remember it very well. But that Command was given to the Jews, not to Christians; and this is not that Day: for that was the Seventh Day; but this 〈◊〉 the First. How! said he, Do you know the Days of the Week no better? you had need then •e better taught.

Here the younger Constable (whose Name was Cherry) interposing, said, Mr. Warden, the Gentleman is in the right as to that: for this is the first Day of the Week; and not the Seventh.

This the old Warden took in dudgeon; and •oking severely on the Constable, said, What! 〈◊〉 you take upon you to teach me! I'll have you •now, I will not be taught by you. As you please •r that, Sir, said the Constable; but I am sure •u are mistaken in this Point: for Saturday, I •ow, is the Seventh Day; and you know Yesterday •as Saturday.

This made the Warden hot and testy, and •ut him almost out of all Patience: so that I •ar'd it would have come to a downright Quar •el betwixt them: for both were confident, and •either would yield. And so earnestly were •ey engaged in the Contest, that there was no •oom for me to put in a Word between them.

At length the Old Man, having talk't him •lf out of Wind, stood still a while, as it were 〈◊〉

〈◊〉 take Breath; and then bethinking himself of •e, he turn'd to me, and said, You are discharg •, and may take your Liberty to go about your Occa •ns. But, said I, I desire my Horse may be •ischarged too, else I know not how to go. •y, Ay, said he; you shall have your Horse: and turning to the other Constable, (who had no• offended him) he said, Go, see that his Horse b• delivered to him.

Away thereupon went I, with that Consta¦ble; leaving the Old Warden, and the Young Constable to compose their Difference, as they could. Being come to the Inn, the Constable called for my Horse to be brought out. Which done, I immediately Mounted, and began to set forward. But the Hostler, not knowing the Condition of my Pocket, said modestly 〈◊〉 me, Sir, Don't you forget to pay for your Horse• standing? No truly, said I, I don't forget it• but I have no Money to pay it with: and so • told the Warden before. Well, hold you yo• Tongue, said the Constable to the Hostler; I• see you paid. Then opening the Gate, they l• me out, the Constable wishing me a good Jou•∣ney: and through the Town I rode, withou• further Molestation; though it was as muc• Sabbath (I thought) when I went out, as i• was when I came in.

A secret Joy arose in me, as I rode on th• Way; for that I had been preserved from D•∣ing, or Saying any thing, which might gi• the Adversaries of TRUTH Advantage again• it, or the Friends of it: and Praises sprang i• my thankful Heart to the Lord, my Preserve•

It added also not a little to my Joy, that • felt the Lord near unto me, by His Witness i• my Heart, to Check and Warn me; and m• Spirit was so far subjected to Him, as readily 〈◊〉 take Warning, and stop at His Check: An Instance of both that very Morning I had.

For as I rode between Reading and Mainden •ead, I saw lying in my way the Scabbard of an •anger; which, having lost its Hook, had slipt off, I suppose, and drop't from the Side of the Wearer: and it had in it a pair of Knives, whose Hafts being inlaid with Silver, seemed •o be of some Value. I alighted, and took it •p; and clapping it between my Thigh and •he Saddle, rode on a little way: but I quickly •ound it too heavy for me; and the Reprover 〈◊〉 me soon began to Check. The Word arose 〈◊〉 me, What hast thou to do with that? Doth it •elong to thee? I felt I had done amiss in Taking 〈◊〉: wherefore I turned back to the Place where 〈◊〉 lay; and laid it down where I found it. And when afterwards I was stop't, and seized on at Maidenhead; I saw there was a Providence in •ot bringing it with me: which, if it should •ave been found (as it needs must) under my •oat, when I came to be Unhorsed, might •ave raised some evil Suspicion, or sinister •houghts concerning me.

The Stop I met with at Maidenhead, had •ent me so much time, that when I came to •aac Penington's, the Meeting there was half •er: Which gave them Occasion, after Meet •g, to enquire of me, If any thing had befal •n me on the Way, which had caused me 〈◊〉 come so late. Whereupon I related to them •hat Exercise I had met with, and how the •ord had helped me through it: Which when they had heard, they Rejoyced with me, and for my sake.

Great was the Love, and manifold the Kind¦nesses, which I received from these my wor¦thy Friends (Isaac and Mary Penington) while I abode in their Family. They were indeed as affectionate Parents, and tender Nurses to me, in this time of my Religious Childhood. For besides their weighty and seasonable Counsels and Exemplary Conversations; they furnishe• me with Means to go to the other Meetings o• Friends in that Country, when the Meeting was not in their own House. And indeed, th• time I staid with them was so well spent, tha• it not only yielded great Satisfaction to m• Mind: but turned, in good Measure to my sp•¦ritual Advantage in the TRUTH.

But that I might not, on the one hand, bea• too hard upon my Friends; nor on the othe• hand, forget the House of Thraldom: after • had staid with them some Six or Seven Week• (from the Time called Easter, to the Tim• called Whitsuntide) I took my leave of the•, to depart home; intending to walk to Wiccom• in one Day, and from thence home in another•

That Day that I came Home I did not see my Father, nor until Noon the next Day; when I went into the Parlour, when he was, to take my usual Place at Dinner.

As soon as I came in, I observed, by my Father's Countenance, that my Hat was still an Offence to him: but when I was sitten down, and before I had eaten any thing, he made me •nderstand it more fully, by saying to me (but 〈◊〉 a milder Tone, than he had formerly used 〈◊〉 speak to me in) If you cannot content your self 〈◊〉 come to Dinner without your Hive on your •ead (so he called my Hat) pray Rise, and go •ke your Dinner somewhere else.

Upon those Words I arose from the Table, •d leaving the Room, went into the Kitchin; •here I staid till the Servants went to Dinner, •d then sate down very contentedly with •em. Yet I suppose my Father might intend •at I should have gone into some other Room, •d there have eaten by my self. But I chose •ther to Eat with the Servants; and did so, •om thenceforward, so long as He and I lived •gether. And from this time he rather chose, 〈◊〉 I thought, to avoid seeing me; than to re •w the Quarrel about my Hat.

My Sisters, mean while observing my Wa •ess in Words and Behaviour, and being sa •fied, I suppose, that I acted upon a Principle 〈◊〉 Religion and Conscience, carried themselves •ry kindly to me; and did what they could to •itigate my Father's Displeasure against me. 〈◊〉 that I now enjoyed much more quiet at •ome; and took more Liberty to go Abroad •mongst my Friends, than I had done (or could 〈◊〉) before. And having informed my self, •here any Meetings of Friends were holden, •ithin a reasonable Distance from me, I resort •d to them.

At first I went to a Town called Haddenham 〈◊〉 Buckinghamshire, Five Miles from my Father's; 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 where, at the House of one Belson, • few (who were called Quakers) did meet som• times on a First Day of the Week: but I foun• little Satisfaction there. Afterwards, upon fu•¦ther Enquiry, I understood there was a settle• Meeting at a little Village called Meadle (abo• Four long Miles from me) in the House of o• John White (which is continued there still 〈◊〉 and to that thenceforward I constantly wen• while I abode in that Country, and was ab• Many a sore Days Travel have I had thith• and back again; being commonly, in the Wi•¦ter time (how fair soever the Weather was •¦ver head) wet up to the Ancles at least: y• through the Goodness of the Lord to me, • was preserved in Health.

A little Meeting also there was, on t• Fourth Day of the Week, at a Town call• Bledlow (two Miles from me) in the House 〈◊〉 one Thomas Saunders, who Professed the Trut• But his Wife, whose Name was Damaris, 〈◊〉 Possess it (she being a Woman of great Since•¦ty, and lively Sense:) and to that Meeting a• I usually went.

But though I took this Liberty for the S•¦vice of GOD, that I might Worship Him• the Assemblies of his People; yet did I not 〈◊〉 it upon other Occasions: but spent my Ti• on other Days, for the most part in my Cha•¦ber; in Retiredness of Mind, waiting on 〈◊〉 LORD. And the LORD was graciously ple•¦ed to visit me, by his quickening Spirit a• Life; so that I came to feel the Operation of 〈◊〉 Power in my Heart, working out that which was contrary to his Will, and giving me, in measure, Dominion over it.

And as my Spirit was kept in a due Subjecti •n to this Divine Power, I grew into a nearer Ac •uaintance with the LORD; and the LORD •ouchsafed to speak unto me, in the Inward of •y Soul, and to open my Understanding in his •ear, to receive Counsel from Him: so that I •ot only, at sometimes, heard his Voice, but •ould distinguish his Voice from the Voice of •he Enemy.

As thus I daily waited on the LORD, a weighty and unusual Exercise came upon me; which bowed my Spirit very low before the LORD. I had seen, in the Light of the Lord, •he horrible Guilt of those deceitful Priests, •f divers Sorts and Denominations, who made • Trade of PREACHING; and for filthy Lucre •ake held the People always Learning: yet so •aught them, as that, by their Teaching and Ministry, they were never able to come to the Knowledge (much less to the Acknowledgment) •f the Truth: For as they themselves hated the Light, because their own Deeds were Evil: so •y Reviling, Reproaching, and Blaspheming the TRUE LIGHT, (wherewith every Man that •ometh into the World is Enlightned, John 1. 9.) •hey begat in the People a Dis-esteem of the Light; and laboured (as much as in them lay) •o keep their Hearers in the Darkness, that they might not be turned to the Light in themselves, •est by the Light they should discover the Wickedness of these their Deceitful Teachers; and turn from them.

Against this Practice of these false Teachers, the Zeal of the LORD had flamed in my Breast sor some time: And now the Burthen of the Word of the LORD against them fell heavy upon me, with Command to proclaim His Controversie against them.

Fain would I have been excused from this Service, which I judged too heavy for me• Wherefore I besought the Lord to take this Weight from off me (who was, in every respect, but young;) and lay it upon some other of his Servants (of whom he had many) who were much more able and fit for it. But the Lord would not be intreated: but continued the Burden upon me, with greater weight• requiring Obedience from me, and promising to assist me therein. Whereupon I arose from my Bed, and in the Fear and Dread of the Lord, committed to Writing what He, in the Motion of his Divine Spirit, dictated to me to write. When I had done it, though the Sharpness of the Message therein delivered, was hard to my Nature to be the Publisher of: yet I found Acceptance with the Lord, in my Obedience to his Will, and his Peace filled my Heart. As soon as I could, I communicated to my Friends what I had written: and it was Printed in the Year 1660. in one Sheet of Paper, under the Title of An Alarm to the PRIESTS; or, A Message from Heaven, to forewarn them, &c.

Some time after the Publishing of this Paper, •aving Occasion to go to London, I went to visit George Fox the younger, who (with another •riend) was then a Prisoner in a Messenger's •ands. I had never seen him, nor he me be •re; yet this Paper lying on the Table before •im, he (pointing to it) asked me, If I was •e Person that writ it? I told him, I was. It's •uch (said the other Friend) that they bear it. 〈◊〉 is (replied he) their Portion: and they must •ear it.

While I was then in London, I went to a •tle Meeting of Friends, which was then held 〈◊〉 the House of one Humphry Bache a Gold •mith, at the Sign of the Snail in Tower-street. 〈◊〉 was then a very troublesome Time, not from •e Government, but from the Rabble of Boys •d rude People, who upon the Turn of the •imes (at the Return of the KING) took Li •erty to be very abusive.

When the Meeting ended, a pretty Number 〈◊〉 these unruly Folk were got together at the •oor, ready to receive the Friends as they came •th, not only with evil Words, but with •ows; which I saw they bestowed freely on •me of them that were gone out before me, •d expected I should have my Share of, when • came amongst them. But quite contrary to •y Expectation, when I came out, they said •e to another, Let him alone; Don't meddle •th him: he is no Quaker I'll warrant you.

This struck me, and was worse to me, than 〈◊〉 they had laid their Fists on me, as they did on others. I was troubled to think what th• Matter was, or what these Rude People saw i• me, that made them not take me for a Quake• And upon a close Examination of my self, wit• respect to my Habit and Deportment, I coul• not find any thing to place it on; but that • had then on my Head a large Mountier-Cap 〈◊〉 Black Velvet, the Skirt of which being turne• up in Folds, looked (it seems) somewhat abo• the then Common Garb of a Quaker: and th• put me out of Conceit with my Cap.

I came, at this time, to London from Isa• Penington's, and thither I went again, in 〈◊〉 way Home: and while I staid there, among other Friends who came thither, Thomas Loe 〈◊〉 Oxford was one. A faithful and diligent •¦bourer he was, in the Work of the Lord; a• an excellent Ministerial Gift he had. And• in my Zeal for Truth, being very desirous t• my Neighbours might have the Opporunity 〈◊〉 hearing the Gospel, the glad Tidings of Salv•¦tion, livingly and powerfully preached amo• them; entred into Communication with h• about it: offering to procure some convenie• Place, in the Town where I lived, for a Me•¦ing to be held, and to invite my Neighbo• to it; if he could give me any Ground to •¦pect his Company at it. He told me he 〈◊〉 not at his own Command, but at the Lord's; 〈◊〉 he knew not how he might dispose of him: 〈◊〉 wish'd me, if I found, when I was come home, t• the thing continued with Weight upon my Mi• and that I could get a fit Place for a Meeting 〈◊〉 would advertize him of it by a few Lines, directed to him in Oxford (whither he was then going) and he might then let me know how his Freedom stood in that Matter.

When therefore I was come home, and had treated with a Neighbour for a Place to have a Meeting in, I wrote to my Friend Thomas Loe, to acquaint him, that I had procured a Place for a Meeting, and would invite Company to it; if he would fix the Time, and give •e some Ground to hope, that he would be •t it.

This Letter I sent by a Neighbour to Thame, •o be given to a Dyer of Oxford, who constant •y kept Thame-Market; with whom I was pretty well acquainted, having sometimes formerly used him, not only in his way of Trade, •ut to carry Letters between my Brother and •e, when he was a Student in that University: •r which he was always paid; and had been •o careful in the Delivery, that our Letters had •lways gone safe, until now. But this time Providence so ordering, or at least for my Tryal, permitting it) this Letter of mine, in •tead of being delivered according to its Dire •tion, was seized, and carried (as I was told) •o the Lord Faulkland, who was then called Lord-Lieutenant of that County.

The Occasion of this Stopping of Letters at •hat time, was that mad Prank, of those in •atuated Fifth-Monarchy-Men, who from their Meeting-House in Coleman-Street, London, break •ng forth in Arms, (under the Command of their Chieftain Venner) made an Insurrection in the City; on Pretence of setting up th• Kingdom of Jesus; who (it is said) they expect¦ed would come down from Heaven, to be thei• Leader. So little understood they the Natur• of his Kingdom; though he himself had de¦clared it was not of this World.

The KING, a little before his Arrival in England, had, by his Declaration from Breda• given Assurance of Liberty to Tender Conscience• and that no Man should be disquieted, or called in Question for Differences of Opinion in Mat¦ters of Religion, who do not disturb the Peace o• the Kingdom: Upon this Assurance Dissenters o• all sorts relied, and held themselves secur• But now, by this Frantick Action of a few ho• brain'd Men, the King was, by some, holde• Discharged from this his ROYAL WORD an• PROMISE, in his foregoing Declaration pub¦lickly given. And hereupon Letters were in¦tercepted and broken open; for Discovery o• suspected Plots, and Designs against the Go¦vernment: and not only Dissenters Meetings, o• all sorts, without Distinction, were disturbed• but very many were Imprisoned, in most Parts throughout the Nation; and great Search the• was, in all Countries, for suspected Persons who, if not found at Meetings, were fetch'd in from their own Houses.

The Lord Lieutenant (so called) of Oxfordshire had on this Occasion taken Thomas Loe, and many other of our Friends, at a Meeting; and sen• them Prisoners to Oxford-Castle, just before my Letter was brought to his Hand, wherein I •ad invited Thomas Loe to a Meeting: and he, •utting the worst Construction upon it, as if I a poor Simple Lad) had intended a Seditious Meeting, in order to raise Rebellion, ordered •wo of the Deputy Lieutenants, who lived near •… to me, to send a Party of Horse to fetch •e in.

Accordingly, while I (wholly ignorant of •hat had passed at Oxford) was in daily Ex •…ctation of an agreeable Answer to my Letter; •…me a Party of Horse one Morning to my Fa •…er's Gate, and asked for me.

It so fell out, that my Father was at that •…e from home (I think in London) whereup •… he that Commanded the Party alighted, and •…me in. My eldest Sister, hearing the Noise 〈◊〉 Soldiers, came hastily up into my Chamber, •…d told me there were Soldiers below, who •…quired for me. I forthwith went down to •…em; and found the Commander was a Bar •… of Thame, and one who had always been 〈◊〉 Barber till I was a Quaker. His Name was •…ately: a bold, brisk Fellow.

I asked him, what his Business was with me? 〈◊〉 told me, I must go with him. I demand •… to see his Warrant: He laid his Hand on his •…ord, and said, That was his Warrant. I told 〈◊〉, Though that was not a legal Warrant; 〈◊〉 I would not dispute it: but was ready to •…r Injuries. He told me, He could not help 〈◊〉 he was commanded to bring me forthwith be •… the Deputy Lieutenants: and therefore desired me to order an Horse to be got ready, because he was in haste. I let him know, I had no Horse of my own; and would no• meddle with any of my Father's Horses, in hi• Absence especially: and that therefore, if h• would have me with him, he must carry me a• he could.

He thereupon taking my Sister aside, told he• he found I was resolute; and his Orders were pe•¦emptory: wherefore he desired that she woul• give Order for an Horse to be made ready fo• me; for otherwise he should be forced to mou•… me behind a Trooper, which would be ver• unsuitable for me, and which he was very u•¦willing to do. She thereupon ordered an Hor•… to be got ready, upon which, when I had take• Leave of my Sisters, I mounted, and went of• not knowing whither he intended to carry me.

He had Orders, it seems, to take some •¦thers also, in a Neighbouring Village; who•… Names he had, but their Houses he did n•… know. Wherefore, as we rode, he asked m•… If I knew such and such Men (whom he na•…¦ed) and where they lived: and when he unde•¦stood that I knew them, he desired me to she•… him their Houses. No, said I, I scorn to 〈◊〉 an Informer against my Neighbours, to bri•… them into Trouble. He thereupon, riding 〈◊〉 and fro, found, by Enquiry, most of their Ho•¦ses: but, as it happened, found none of the• at Home; at which I was glad.

At length he brought me to the House of •…e called Esquire Clark of Weston by Thame; •…ho being afterwards Knighted, was called •…r John Clark: a jolly Man, too much addict •… to Drinking in soberer Times; but was now •…own more Licensious that way, as the Times •…d now more favour Debauchery. He and I •…d known one another for some Years; though •…t very intimately: having met sometimes at •…e Lord Wenman's Table.

This Clark was one of the Deputy-Lieute •…nts, whom I was to be brought before. And 〈◊〉 had gotten another thither, to joyn with him 〈◊〉 tendering me the Oaths; whom I knew only 〈◊〉 Name and Character: he was called Esquire •…owls of Grays by Henly; and reputed a Man 〈◊〉 better Morals, than the other.

I was brought into the Hall, and kept there. •…d as Quakers were not so common then, as •…ey now are (and indeed even yet, the more 〈◊〉 the pity, they are not common in that Part 〈◊〉 the Country:) I was made a Spectacle, and •…zing-stock to the Family; and by divers I •…s diversly set upon. Some spake to me cour •…ously, with Appearance of Compassion; O •…ers ruggedly, with evident Tokens of Wrath •…d Scorn. But though I gave them the Hear •…g of what they said (which I could not well •…id) yet I said little to them: but, keeping •…y Mind as well retired as I could, I breathed 〈◊〉 the Lord for Help and Strength from him, 〈◊〉 bear me up, and carry me through this Try •… that I might not sink under it, or be prevailed on by any Means, fair or foul, to d• any thing that might dishonour, or displease my GOD.

At length came forth the Justices themselve• (for so they were, as well as Lieutenants) an• after they had saluted me, they discoursed wit• me pretty familiarly: and though Clark woul• sometimes be a little jocular and waggis• (which was somewhat natural to him) ye• Knowls treated me very civilly; not seeming 〈◊〉 take any Offence at my not standing bare b•¦fore him. And when a young Priest (who, 〈◊〉 I understood, was Chaplain in the Famil•… took upon him pragmatically to reprove me 〈◊〉 standing with my Hat on before the Mag•¦strates; and snatch'd my Cap from of 〈◊〉 Head: Knowls in a pleasant Manner correct•… him, telling him he mistook himself, in taki•… a Cap for a Hat (for mine was a Mountier-Ca•… and bid him give it me again; which 〈◊〉 (though unwillingly) doing, I forthwith p•… it on my Head again, and thenceforward no•… meddled with me about it.

Then they began to Examine me, putti•… divers Questions to me, relating to the pres•… Disturbances in the Nation; occasioned by t•… late foolish Insurrection, of those frantick Fif•… Monarchy-Men. To all which I readily A•¦swered, according to the Simplicity of 〈◊〉 Heart, and Innocency of my Hands: for I h•… neither done, nor thought any Evil agai•… the Government.

But they endeavoured to affright me, with •…reats of Danger; telling me (with Innuen •…s) that for all my Pretence of Innocency, •…ere was high Matter against me, which, if would stand out, 〈◊〉 would be brought forth, and •…at under my own Hand. I knew not what •…ey meant by this: but I knew my Innocency, •…d kept to it.

At length, when they saw I regarded not •…eir Threats in general, they asked me, If I •…ew one Thomas Loe, and had written of late 〈◊〉 him. I then remembred my Letter, which 〈◊〉 then I had not thought of, and thereupon •…nkly told them, That I did both know Tho •…s Loe, and had lately written to him: but •…at as I knew I had written no Hurt: so I did •…t fear any Danger from that Letter. They •…ook their Heads, and said, It was dangerous to •…rite Letters to appoint Meetings in such trouble •…e Times.

They added, That by appointing a Meeting, and •…eavouring to gather a Concourse of People toge •…r, in such a Juncture especially as this was, I had •…dered my self a dangerous Person. And there •…e they could do no less, than Tender me the Oaths 〈◊〉 Allegience and Supremacy: which therefore •…y required me to take.

I told them, If I could take any Oath at all, • would take the Oath of Allegiance: for I owed •…legiance to the KING. But I durst not •…ke any Oath, because my Lord and Master •…SUS CHRIST, had commanded me not 〈◊〉 Swear at all: and if I brake his Command, I should thereby both dishonour and disple•… him.

Hereupon they undertook to reason with m•… and used many Words to perswade me, Th•… that Command of Christ related only to common a•… prophane Swearing, not to Swearing before a Ma•…¦strate. I heard them, and saw the Weakn•… of their Arguings; but did not return the•… any Answer: for I found my present Busin•… was not to dispute, but to suffer; and that 〈◊〉 was not safe for me (in this my weak and Ch•…¦dish State especially) to enter into Reasoni•… with sharp, quick, witty and learned Me•… lest I might thereby hurt both the Cause 〈◊〉 Truth (which I was to bear Witness to) a•… my self: Therefore I chose rather to be a Fo•… and let them triumph over me; than by 〈◊〉 Weakness give them Advantage to triumph •…¦ver the Truth. And my Spirit being close•… exercised, in a deep travel towards the Lord, • earnestly begged of him, that he would 〈◊〉 pleased to keep me faithful to the Testimo•… he had committed to me; and not suffer me•… be taken in any of the Snares, which the E•…¦my laid for me. And, blessed be his h•… Name, He heard my Cries, and preserved 〈◊〉 out of them.

When the Justices saw they could not bo•… me to their Wills, they told me they must se•… me to Prison. I told them, I was contented 〈◊〉 suffer whatsoever the Lord should suffer the•… to inflict upon me. Whereupon they wit•¦drew into the Parlour, to consult together wh•… •o do with me: leaving me mean while to be gazed on in the Hall.

After a pretty long Stay, they came forth to me again, with great shew of Kindness; telling me, They were very unwilling to send me to Goal; •ut would be as favourable to me, as possibly they •ould: and that, if I would take the Oaths, they would pass by all the other Matter, which they had •gainst me. I told them, I knew they could not •stly have any thing against me: for I had •either done, nor intended any thing, against •he Government, or against them. And as to •he Oaths, I assured them, that my refusing •hem was meerly Matter of Conscience to me: •nd that I durst not take any Oath whatsoever, 〈◊〉 it were to save my Life.

When they heard this, they left me again; •nd went and signed a Mittimus to send me to •rison at Oxford, and charged one of the Troo •ers that brought me thither (who was one of •…e newly raised Militia-Troop) to convey me •…fe to Oxford. But before we departed, they •…lled the Trooper aside, and gave him private •structions, what he should do with me; •hich I knew nothing of till I came thither; •…t expected I should go directly to the Castle.

It was almost dark when we took Horse; •…d we had about Nine or Ten Miles to ride, •…e Weather thick and cold (for it was about •e beginning of the Twelfth Month) and I had 〈◊〉 Boots; being snatch'd away from home on • suddain: which made me not care to ride •…ry fast. And my Guard, who was a Tradesman in Thame, having Confidence in me, that I would not give him the slip, jogged on, without heeding how I followed him.

When I was gone about a Mile on the Way, I overtook my Father's Man; who (without my Knowledge) had followed me, at a distance, to Weston; and waited there, abroad in the Stables, till he understood, by some of the Servants, that I was to go to Oxford; and then ran before, resolving not to leave me, till he saw what they would do with me.

I would have had him return home; but he desired me not to send him back: but let him run on, till I came to Oxford. I considered that it was a Token of the Fellows affectionate Kindness to me; and that possibly I might send my Horse home by him: and thereupon, stopping my Horse, I bid him, if he would go on, Get up behind me. He modestly refused, telling me, He could run, as fast as I rid. But when I had told him, If he would not ride, he should not go forward; he, rather than leave me, leap'd up behind me, and on we went.

But he was not willing I should have gone at all. He had a great Cudgel in his Hand, and a strong Arm to use it; and being a stout Fellow, he had a great Mind to Fight the Trooper, and Rescue me. Wherefore he desired me to turn my Horse, and and ride off. And if the Trooper offered to pursue, leave him to deal with him.

I check'd him sharply for that, and charged him to be quiet, and not think hardly of the poor Trooper; who could do no other, nor less than he did: and who, though he had an ill Journey, in going with me, carried himself civilly to me. I told him also, that I had no need to fly; for I had done nothing that would bring Guilt, or Fear upon me: neither did I go with an ill Will: and this quieted the Man. So on we went; but were so far cast behind the Trooper, that we had lost both Sight and Hearing of him; and I was fain to mend my Pace, to get up to him again.

We came pretty late into Oxford, on the Seventh Day of the Week, which was the Market Day; and contrary to my Expectation (which was to have been carried to the Castle) my Trooper stop't in the High-Street; and calling at a Shop, asked for the Master of the House: who coming to the Door, he delivered to him the Mittimus, and with it a Letter from the Deputy-Lieutenants (or one of them;) which when he had read, he asked where the Prisoner was. Whereupon the Soldier, pointing to me, he desired me to alight and come in: which when I did, he received me civilly.

The Trooper, being discharged of his Prisoner, marched back: and my Father's Man, seeing me settled in better Quarters than he expected, mounted my Horse, and went off with him.

I did not presently understand the Quality of my Keeper: but I found him a genteel, courteous Man, by Trade a Linnen-Draper: and (as I afterwards understood) he was the City-Marshall, had a Command in the County Troop, and was a Person of good Repute in the Place; his Name was — Galloway.

Whether I was committed to him, out of Regard to my Father; that I might not be thrust into a Common Goal: or out of a Politick Design, to keep me from the Conversation of my Friends, in hopes that I might be draw• to abandon this Profession, which I had but lately taken up; I do not know. But this I know, that (though I wanted no civil Treatment, nor kind Accommodations, where I was) yet, after once I understood, that many Frien•… were Prisoners in the Castle, and amongst the rest, Thomas Loe: I had much rather have been among them there, with all the Inconveniencies they underwent; than where I was, with the best Entertainment. But this was my present Lot: and therefore with this I endeavoured to be content.

It was quickly known in the City, that a Quaker was brought in Prisoner, and committed to the Marshall. Whereupon (the Men-Friends being generally Prisoners already in the Castle) some of the Women-Friends came to enquire after me and to visit me; as Silas Norton's Wife, and Thomas Loe's Wife (who were Sisters) and another Woman-Friend, who lived in the same Street where I was; whose Husband was not a Quaker, but kindly affected towards them: a Baker by Trade, and his Name (as I remember) Ryland.

By some of these an Account was soon given 〈◊〉 the Friends, who were Prisoners in the Castle, of my being taken up, and brought Prisoner to the Marshall's. Whereupon it •…eased the Lord, to move on the Heart of my •ear Friend Thomas Loe, to salute me with a •ery tender and affectionate Letter, in the fol •owing Terms.

My Beloved FRIEND,

IN the Truth, and Love of the Lord Jesus, by which Life and Salvation is revealed in the •aints, is my dear Love unto thee, and in much •enderness do I Salute thee. And dear Heart, a •ime of Tryal God hath permitted to come upon us, 〈◊〉 try our Faith and Love to Him: and this will •ork for the good of them, that through Patience •…dure to the End. And I believe GOD will be •…orified through our Sufferings, and His Name will 〈◊〉 exalted in the Patience, and Long-suffering of •…s Chosen. When I heard that thou wast called •…to this Tryal, with the Servants of the Most High, 〈◊〉 give thy Testimony to the Truth of what we have •…lieved; it came into my Heart to write unto thee, •nd to greet thee with the Embraces of the Power •f an Endless Life: where our Faith stands, and •…nity is felt with the Saints for ever. Well, my •ear Friend, let us live in the pure Counsel of the Lord, and dwell in his Strength; which gives us Power, and Sufficiency to endure all things, for his Name's sake: and then our Crown and Reward will be with the Lord for ever; and the Blessings 〈◊〉 his Heavenly Kingdom will be our Portion. O•… dear Heart, let us give up all freely into the W•… of God; that God may be glorified by us, and 〈◊〉 comforted together in the Lord Jesus: which 〈◊〉 the Desire of my Soul, who am

Thy dear and loving Friend in th• Eternal Truth, THOMAS LO•

We are more than Fourty here, which suffer i•¦nocently, for the Testimony of a good Cons•…¦ence; because we cannot Swear, and bre•… Christ's Commands: And we are all well; 〈◊〉 the Blessings, and Presence of God is with 〈◊〉 Friends here Salute thee. Farewell.

The Power and the Wisdom of the Lord God 〈◊〉 with thee, Amen.

Greatly was my Spirit refreshed, and 〈◊〉 Heart gladded, at the Reading of this Cons•¦lating Letter from my Friend: and my So•… blessed the Lord for his Love, and tender Goo•¦ness to me, in moving his Servant to wri•… thus unto me.

But I had Cause soon after to double, a•… redouble my thankful Acknowledgment to t•… Lord my God; who put it into the Heart 〈◊〉 my dear Friend Isaac Penington also, to vi•… me with some encouraging Lines, from Alesbu•… Goal, where he was then a Prisoner; and fro•… whence (having heard that I was carried P•…¦soner to Oxford) he thus saluted me.

Dear THOMAS,

GREAT hath been the Lord's Goodness to thee, in Calling thee out of that Path of Vanity and Death, wherein thou wast running towards Destruction: to give thee a living Name, and an Inheritance of Life among his People: which certainly will be the End of thy Faith in Him, and Obedience to Him. And let it not be a light thing in thine Eyes, that He now accounteth thee worthy to suffer among his choice Lambs, that He might make thy Crown weightier, and thy Inheritance •he fuller. O that that Eye and Heart may be •ept open in thee, which knoweth the Value of these •hings! And that thou mayst be kept close to the Feeling of the Life, that thou mayst be fresh in thy Spirit in the midst of thy Sufferings, and mayst reap •he Benefit of them; finding that pared off thereby, which hindereth the Bubblings of the Everlasting Springs, and maketh unfit for the breaking forth, •nd Enjoyment of the pure Power! This is the •rief Salutation of my dear Love to thee, which •esireth thy Strength, and Settlement in the Power; nd the utter weakning of thee as to self. My dear Love is to thee, with dear Thomas Goodyare, •nd the rest of Imprisoned Friends. I remain

Thine in the Truth, to which the Lord my God preserve me Single and Faithful. I. P.
•rom Alesbury-Goal, 14th, of 12th Mo. 1660.

Though these Epistolary Visits in the Lov• os God, were very Comfortable, and Confirm¦ing to me; and my Heart was thankful to th• Lord for them: yet I honed after personal Con¦versation, with Friends; and it was hard, • thought, that there should be so many faithfu• Servants of God so near me: yet I should no• be permitted to come at them, to enjoy thei• Company, and reap both the Pleasure and Be¦nefit of their sweet Society.

For although my Marshall-Keeper was ve•… kind to me, and allowed me the Liberty of h•… House; yet he was not willing I should b• seen abroad: the rather, perhaps, because h• understood I had been pretty well known i• that City. Yet once the Friendly Baker g•… him to let me step over to his House; and onc• (and but once) I prevailed with him, to let m• visit my Friends in the Castle; but it was wit• these Conditions, That I should not go fort• till it was dark; That I would muffle my se• up in my Cloak; and that I would not sta• out late. All which I punctually observed.

When I came thither, though there we•… many Friends Prisoners, I scarce knew one 〈◊〉 them by Face, except Thomas Loe; whom • had once seen at Isaac Penington's: Nor did a•… of them know me; though they had generall• heard, that such a Young Man as I was Co•¦vinced of the Truth, and come among Friend•…

Our Salutation to each other was very Grav• and Solemn; nor did we entertain one anothe• with much Talk, or with common Discourse•… •ut most of the little Time I had with them was spent in a silent Retiredness of Spirit, waiting upon the Lord. Yet, before we part •d, we imparted one to another some of the Exercises we had gone through: and they •…eming willing to understand the Ground, and Manner of my Commitment, I gave them a •rief Account thereof; letting Thomas Loe •ore particularly know, that I had directed a •etter to him, which, having fallen into the •and of the Lord Lieutenant, was (so far as 〈◊〉 could learn) the immediate Cause of my be •…g taken up.

Having staid with them as long as my li •itted time would permit (which I thought •as but very short;) that I might keep Touch •ith my Keeper, and come home in due time, • took leave of my Friends there, and with •utual Embraces parting, returned to my (in •…me sense more easie, but in others less easie) •rison; where, after this, I staid not long be •…re I was brought back to my Father's House.

For after my Father was come home (who, 〈◊〉 I observed before, was from home when I •as taken) he applied himself to those Justices •…at had committed me; and (not having dis •…liged them when he was in Office) easily •…tained to have me sent home: which between •…m and them was thus contrived.

There was about this time a general Muster, •nd Training of the Militia-Forces at Oxford: whither, on that Occasion, came the Lord-•ieutenant, and the Deputy-Lieutenants of the County; of which Number, they who Committed me were two.

When they had been a while together, and the Marshall with them; he stept suddainly in, and in haste told me, I must get ready quickly to go out of Town; and that a Soldier would come by and by to go with me. This said, he hastned to them again; not giving me any Intimation how I was to go, or whither.

I needed not much time to get ready in, but I was uneasie in thinking what the Friend• of the Town would think of this my suddai• and private Removal: and I feared, lest a•… Report should be raised, that I had purchase• my Liberty by an Unfaithful Complian•… Wherefore I was in care how to speak wi•… some Friend about it; and that friendly Bake• whose Wife was a Friend, living on the oth•… side of the Street, at a little Distance: I we•… out at a back Door, intending to step over t•… Way to their House; and return immediatel•…

It so fell out, that some of the Lieutenan•… (of whom Esq Clark, who Committed me, w•… one) were standing in a Balcony at a gre•… Inn or Tavern, just over th Place where I w•… to go by: and he, spying me, called out to t•… Soldiers (who stood thick below in the Stree•… to stop me. They, being generally Gent•…¦mens Servants, and many of them knowin• me, did civilly forbear to lay hold on me, b•… calling modestly after me, said, Stay, Sir, sta•… pray come back. I heard, but was not willin• to hear; therefore rather mended my Pa•… •…at I might have got within the Door. But 〈◊〉 calling earnestly after me, and charging •…em to stop me; some of them were fain to 〈◊〉, and laying hold on me, before I could o •… the Door, brought me back to my Place •…ain.

Being thus disappointed, I took a Pen and •…k, and wrote a few Lines; which I sealed 〈◊〉, and gave to the Apprentice in the Shop •…ho had carried himself handsomely to me) •…d desired him to deliver it to that Friend •…ho was their Neighbour) which he promised 〈◊〉 do.

By that time I had done this, came the Sol •…er, that was appointed to conduct me out of •…wn. I knew the Man; for he lived within • Mile of me, being, through Poverty reduced 〈◊〉 keep an Ale-House: but he had lived in bet •… Fashion, having kept an Inn at Thame; •…d by that means knew how to behave him •…f civilly, and did so to me.

He told me, he was ordered to wait on me 〈◊〉 Whately; and to tarry there at such an Inn, 〈◊〉 Esq Clark came thither: who would then •…ke me home with him, in his Coach. Ac •…rdingly to Whately we walked (which is from •…ford some four or five Miles) and long we •…d not been there, before Clark, and a great •…mpany of rude Men came in.

He alighted, and stay'd a while to eat and •…ink (though he came but from Oxford,) and •…vited me to eat with him; but I (though I •…d need enough) refused it; for indeed their Conversation was a Burthen to my Life; an• made me often think of, and pity good Lot.

He seem'd, at that time, to be in a sort 〈◊〉 mix't Temper, between Pleasantness and Sou•¦ness. He would sometimes Joke (which wa• natural to him) and cast out a jesting Flurt a• me: but he would rail maliciously against th• Quakers. If (said he to me) the King wou•… authorize me to do it, I would not leave a Quak•… alive in England, except you. I would make 〈◊〉 more, added he, to set my Pistol to their Ears, a•… shoot them through the Head, than I would to 〈◊〉 a Dog. I told him, I was sorry he had so 〈◊〉 an Opinion of the Quakers: but I was glad 〈◊〉 had no Cause for it; and I hoped he would 〈◊〉 of a better Mind.

I had in my Hand a little Walking-Sti•… with a Head on it; which he commended, a•… took out of my Hand to look on it: but I sa•… his Invention was, to search it, whether it h•… a Tuck in it; for he tryed to have drawn t•… Head; but when he found it was fast, he 〈◊〉 turned it to me.

He told me I should ride with him to his Ho•… in his Coach; which was nothing pleasant 〈◊〉 me: for I had rather have gone on Foot (〈◊〉 bad as the Ways were) that I might have bee• out of his Company. Wherefore I took no n•¦tice of any Kindness in the Offer: but onl• Answered, I was at his Disposal; not min• own.

But when we were ready to go, the Marsha• came to me, and told me, If I pleased I shou•… •ide his Horse; and he would go in the Coach with Mr. Clark. I was glad of the Offer, and only •…ld him, he should take out his Pistols then; •…r I would not ride with them. He took •…em out, and laid them in the Coach by him: •…d away we went.

It was a very fine Beast that I was set on; •y much the best in the Company. But tho' •e was very tall, yet the Ways being very foul, • found it needful, as soon as I was out of •own, to alight, and take up the Stirrups. •ean while, they driving hard on, I was so •…r behind, that being at length missed by the •ompany, a Soldier was sent back to look •…er me.

As soon as I had fitted my Stirrups, and was •emounted, I gave the Rein to my Mare; •hich being Couragious and Nimble (and im •…tient of Delay) made great Speed to recover •…e Company. And in a Narrow Passage, the •…ldier (who was my Barber, that had fetch'd •e from home) and I met upon so brisk a •allop; that we had enough to do, on either •…de, to take up our Horses, and avoid a Brush. When we were come to Weston, where Esq •…ark lived; he took the Marshall, and some •…hers with him into the Parlour: but I was •…ft in the Hall, to be exposed a second time, •…r the Family to gaze on.

At length himself came out to me, leading 〈◊〉 his Hand a beloved Daughter of his; a •oung Woman of about Eighteen Years of •ge: who wanted nothing to have made her Comely, but Gravity. An airy Piece she was• and very merry she made her self at m•… When she had throughly viewed me, He, pu•¦ting her a little forward towards me, said, Her• Tom, will you Kiss her? I was grieved and a¦shamed at this frothy Lightness; and I suppos•… he perceived it: whereupon he drew neare• as if he would have whispered; and the• said, Will you lie with her? At which I, wi•… a disdainful Look, turning away; he said, • think it would be better for you, than to be a Qu•¦ker: and so little Consideration, and Rega•… to Modesty had she, that she added, I thi•… so too.

This was all by Candle light. And wh•… they had made themselves as much Sport wi•… me as they would, the Marshall took his lea•… of them: and mounting me on a Horse 〈◊〉 Clark's, had me Home to my Father's th•… Night.

Next Morning, before the Marshall we•… away, my Father and he consulted togeth•… how to intangle me. I felt there were Snar•… laid, but I did not know in what manner, or 〈◊〉 what End; till the Marshall was ready to g•… And then, coming where I was, to take 〈◊〉 leave of me, he desired me to take notice, Th•… although he had brought me home to my Fathe•… House again; yet I was not discharged from 〈◊〉 Imprisonment, but was his Prisoner still: and t•… he had committed me to the Care of my Father, 〈◊〉 see me forth-coming, whenever I should be cal•… for. And therefore he expected I should in all thi•… •serve my Father's Orders: and not go at any time •…m the House, without his Leave.

Now I plainly saw the Snare, and to what •…d it was laid. And I asked him if this De •…e was not contrived, to keep me from going 〈◊〉 Meetings. He said, I must not go to Meetings. •ereupon I desired him to take Notice, That • would not own my self a Prisoner to any Man, •…ile I coninued here. That if he had Power •…etain me Prisoner, he might take me back •…in with him, if he would, and I should not •…se to go with him. But I bid him assure •…self, that while I was at home, I would •…e my Liberty, both to go to Meetings, and •…isit Friends. He smiled, and said, If I would •…esolute, he could not help it; and so took his •…e of me.

By this I perceived that the Plot was of my •…er's laying, to have brought me under such 〈◊〉 Engagement, as should have ty'd me from •…g to Meetings: and thereupon I expected, •…ould have a new Exercise from my Father.

〈◊〉 was the constant manner of my Father, to 〈◊〉 all the Keys of the Out-doors of his House •…ich were Four, and those link't upon a •…in) brought up into his Chamber every •…ht, and fetch'd out from thence in the •…ning: so that none could come in, or go 〈◊〉 in the Night, without his Knowledge.

• knowing this, suspected, that if I got not 〈◊〉 before my Father came down, I should be •…ed from going out at all that Day. Where •… (the Passage from my Chamber, lying by 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 his Chamber-Door;) I went down softly, with¦out my Shoos, and as soon as the Maid had o¦pened the Door, I went out (though too early) and walk'd towards the Meeting at Meadle, four long Miles off.

I expected to have been talked with about it, when I came home: but heard nothing of it; my Father resolving to watch me better next time.

This I was aware of; and therefore on the next First Day I got up early, went down softly, and hid my self in a Back-Room, before the Maid was stirring.

When she was up, she went into my Father's Chamber for the Keys: but he bid her leave them till he was up, and he would bring them down himself; which he did, and tarried in the Kitchin, through which he expected I would go.

The manner was, That when the commo• Doors were opened, the Keys were hung upo• a Pin in the Hall. While therefore my Fathe• staid in the Kitchin, expecting my Coming; • stepping gently out of the Room where I wa• reached the Keys, and opening another Doo• (not often used:) slipped out, and so got away

I thought I had gone off undiscovered. Bu• whether my Father saw me through a Win¦dow, or by what other means he knew of my going, I know not: but I had gone but a littl• Way, before I saw him coming after me.

The Sight of him put me to a stand in my Mind, whether I should go on, or stop. Ha•… been in any other Case than that of Going to • Meeting, I could not i• any wise have gone a •…ep further. But I considered, that the intent 〈◊〉 my Fathers endeavouring to stop me, was to •…der me from obeying the Call of my heaven •… Father; and to stop me from going to wor •…ip him, in the Assembly of his People: upon •…s I found it my Duty to go on; and observ •…g, that my Father gained Ground upon me, •…mewhat mended my Pace.

This he observing, mended his Pace also; 〈◊〉 at length Ran. Whereupon I ran also; 〈◊〉 a fair Course we had, through a large Mea •…w of his, which lay behind his House and 〈◊〉 of sight of the Town. He was not, I sup •…e, then above Fifty Years of Age; and be •… light of Body, and nimble of Foot, he held 〈◊〉 to it for a while. But afterwards slacking 〈◊〉 Pace to take Breath, and observing that I 〈◊〉 gotten Ground of him; he turned back, 〈◊〉 went home: and (as I afterwards under •…d) telling my Sisters how I had served him, 〈◊〉 said, Nay, if he will take so much Pains to Go, 〈◊〉 him Go, if he will. And from that time for •…rd he never attempted to stop me; but left 〈◊〉 to my liberty, to Go when and whither I •…uld: Yet kept me at the usual Distance, a •…ing the Sight of me, as much as he could; •…ot able to bear the Sight of my Hat on, nor •…ing to contend with me again about it.

Nor was it long after this, before I was left, 〈◊〉 only to my self; but in a manner by my 〈◊〉 For the Time appointed for the Coronation of the KING (which was the 23d of 〈◊〉 2d Month, called April) drawing on; my •…ther, taking my two Sisters with him, went 〈◊〉 to London sometime before: that they might 〈◊〉 there in readiness, and put themselves in•… Condition to see that so great a Solemni•… leaving no body in the House, but my self a•… a couple of Servants. And though this was •…¦tended only for a Visit on that Occasion: ye•… proved the Breaking of the Family: for he •…¦stowed both his Daughters there in Marria•… and took Lodgings for himself; so that aft•…¦wards they never returned to settle at Cr•…

Being now at Liberty, I walked over to •…∣bury, with some other Friends, to visit my 〈◊〉 Friend Isaac Penington; who was still a Pris•… there. With him I found dear John Whit•… and between Sixty and Seventy more; be•… well-nigh all the Men-Friends, that were 〈◊〉 in the County of Bucks: many of them 〈◊〉 taken out of their Houses by Armed Men, 〈◊〉 sent to Prison (as I had been) for refusing 〈◊〉 Swear. Most of these were thrust into a•… Room, behind the Goal, which had ancie•… been a Malt-house; but was now so deca•… that it was scarce fit for a Dog-house. A•… open it lay, that the Prisoners might have g•… out at pleasure. But these were purposely 〈◊〉 there, in confidence that they would not 〈◊〉 out: that there might be Room in the P•… for others, of other Professions and Na•… whom the Goaler did not trust there.

While this Imprisonment lasted (which was 〈◊〉 some Months) I went afterwards thither •…etimes, to visit my suffering Brethren; and •…ause it was a pretty long way (some eight •…ine long Miles) too far to be walked forward 〈◊〉 backward in one Day; I sometimes staid •…ay or two there, and lay in the Malt-house •…ong my Friends, with whom I delighted •…e.

After this Imprisonment was over, I went •…etimes to Isaac Penington's House at Chal •…, to visit that Family, and the Friends there •…uts. There was then a Meeting, for the •…st part, twice a Week in his House; but one •…st Day in four, there was a more General •…eting (which was thence called the Monthly •…eting) to which resorted most of the Friends •…ther adjacent Meetings: and to that I usu •… went; and sometimes made some stay •…re.

Here I came acquainted with a Friend of •…don, whose Name was Richard Greenaway, 〈◊〉 Trade a Taylor; a very honest Man, and one •…o had received a Gift for the Ministry.

He, having been formerly in other Profes •…s of Religion, had then been acquainted •…th one John Ovy of Watlington in Oxfordshire 〈◊〉 Man of some Note among the Professors •…ere:) and understanding, upon Enquiry, •…t I knew him; he had some Discourse with 〈◊〉 about him. The Result whereof was, that 〈◊〉 having an Intention then, shortly to visit •…e Meetings of Friends in this County, and the adjoyning Parts of Oxfordshire and Berksh• invited me to meet him (upon notice giv• and to bear him Company in that Journ• and in the way bring him to John Ovy's Ho• with whom I was well acquainted; wh• I did.

We were kindly received, the Man and 〈◊〉 Wife being very glad to see both their 〈◊〉 Friend Richard Greenaway, and me also; w• they had been very well acquainted with •¦merly, but had never seen me since I w• Quaker.

Here we tarried that Night, and in the •¦vening had a little Meeting there, with 〈◊〉 few of John Ovy's People; amongst who• G. declared the TRUTH: which they a•¦tively heard, and did not oppose, which at 〈◊〉 time of Day, we reckoned was pretty w• For many were apt to Cavil.

This Visit gave John Ovy an Opportunity t• •¦quire of me after Isaac Penington; whose Wri• (those which he had written before he 〈◊〉 among Friends) he had Read, and had a 〈◊〉 Esteem of: and he express'd a Desire to see 〈◊〉 that he might have some Discourse with 〈◊〉 if he knew how. Whereupon I told him, 〈◊〉 if he would take the Pains to go to his Ho• I would bear him Company thither, intro• him, and Engage he should have a 〈◊〉 Reception.

This pleas'd him much; and he embra• the Offer, I undertook to give him Noti• a suitable time: Which (after I had gone 〈◊〉 •tle Journey with my Friend Richard Greena •y, and was retured) I did; making Choice 〈◊〉 the Monthly Meeting to go to.

We met, by Appointment at Stoken-Church, •ith our Staves in our Hands, like a couple of •lgrims, intending to walk on Foot: and ha •g taken some Refreshment and Rest at Wic •mb, went on cheerfully in the Afternoon, En •rtaining each other with Grave and Religi •s Discourse, (which made the Walk the ea •r) and so reached thither in good time, on •e Seventh Day of the Week.

I gave my Friends an Account who this Per •n was, whom I had brought to visit them, •d the Ground of his Visit. He had been a •ofessor of Religion, from his Childhood to •s old Age (for he was now both Gray-headed, •d Elderly:) and was a Teacher at this time •nd had long been so) amongst a People (whe •er Independants or Baptists, I do not well re •ember.) And so well thought of he was, for •s Zeal and Honesty, that in those late Pro •sing Times, he was thrust into the Commission 〈◊〉 the Peace, and thereby lifted up upon the •ench; which neither became him, nor he it. •r he wanted indeed most of the Qualifica •ons, requisite for a Justice of the Peace; an •tate to defray the Charge of the Office, and 〈◊〉 bear him up, in a Course of Living above •ontempt; A competent Knowledge in the •aws; and a Presence of Mind, or Body, or •oth, to keep Offenders in some Awe; in all •hich he was deficient. For he was but a Fellmonger by Trade, accustomed to ride upon 〈◊〉 Pack of Skins; and had very little Estate: • little Knowledge in the Law; and of but • mean Presence, and Appearance to look 〈◊〉 But as my Father, I suppose, was the mea• of getting him put into the Commission: so 〈◊〉 I know, did what he could to countenance hi• in it, and help him through it at every tur• till that turn came (at the King's Retur• which turned them both out together.

My Friends received me in affectionate Ki•¦ness, and my Companion with courteous Ci•¦lity. The Evening was spent in common (〈◊〉 grave) Conversation: for it was not a prop• Season for Private Discourse; both as we we• somewhat weary with our Walk, and the• were other Companies of Friends come into 〈◊〉 Family, to be at the Meeting next Day.

But in the Morning I took John Ovy into • private Walk, in a pleasant Grove near t• House; whither Isaac Penington came to 〈◊〉 and there, in Discourse, both Answered all h• Questions, Objections and Doubts; and ope•¦ed to him the Principles of TRUTH, to 〈◊〉 both Admiration and present Satisfactio• Which done, we went in, to take some Re¦freshment, before the Meeting began.

Of those Friends who were come over Nigh• in order to be at the Meeting, there was Isaac• Brother, William Penington, a Merchant London; and 〈◊〉 with him a Friend (whose Nam• I have forgotten) a Grocer of Colchester in Essex• and there was also our Friend George Whitehead whom I had not (that I remember) seen •efore.

The Nation had been in a Ferment, ever •ce that mad Action of the Frantick Fifth-•onarchy-Men; and was not yet settled: but •…orms, like Thunder-Showers, flew here and •…ere by Coast; so that we could not promise •…r selves any Safety, or Quiet in our Meet •…gs. And though they had escaped Disturb •…ce for some little time before: yet so it fell •…t, that a Party of Horse were appointed to •…me, and break up the Meeting that Day; •…ough we knew nothing of it, till we heard, •…d saw them.

The Meeting was scarce fully gathered when •…ey came. But we that were in the Family, •…d many others were settled in it, in great •…ace and Stilness; when on a suddain, the •…ancing of the Horses gave Notice that •…ght'ning was at hand.

We all sate still in our Places, except my •…mpanion, John Ovy, who sate next to me. •…t he being of a Profession that approved Pe •… 's Advice to his Lord, To save himself, soon •…k the Alarm: and with the Nimbleness of • Stripling, Cutting a Caper over the Form •…at stood before him, ran quickly out at a pri •…te Door (which he had before observed) •…hich led through the Parlour into the Gardens, •…d from thence into an Orchard: where he •…d himself, in a Place so Obscure, and withal 〈◊〉 convenient for his Intelligence by Observation of what passed; that no one of the Famil• could scarce have found a likelier.

By that time he was got into his Burrow• came the Soldiers in; being a Party of th•… County Troop, commanded by Matthew Ar•…¦dale of Wiccomb. He behaved himself civill•… and said, He was commanded to break up t•… Meeting, and carry the Men before a Justice of t•… Peace: but he said He would not take all; an• thereupon began to pick and chuse, chiefly a• his Eye guided him, for I suppose he knew ve¦ry few.

He took Isaac Penington, and his Brothe•… George Whitehead, and the Friend of Colcheste•… and me, with Three or Four more of t•… Country, who belonged to that Meeting.

He was not fond of the Work, and th•… made him take no more. But he must ta•… some (he said) and bid us provide to go wi•… him before Sir William Boyer of Denham, w•… was a Justice of the Peace. Isaac Penington be¦ing but weakly, rode: but the rest of us wa•…¦ed thither, it being about four Miles.

When we came there, the Justice carrie• himself civilly to us all; courteously to Isa•… Penington, as being a Gentleman of his Neigh¦bourhood: and there was nothing charged a¦gainst us, but that we were met together with¦out Word or Deed. Yet this being contrary t• a late Proclamation (given forth upon the risin• of the Fifth-Monarchy-Men) whereby all Disse•¦ter's Meetings were forbidden, the Justice coul• do no less than take Notice of us.

Wherefore he Examined all of us (whom he did not personally know) asking our Names, and the places of our Respective Habitations. But when he had them, and considered from what distant Parts of the Nation we came; he was amazed. For G. Whitehead was of Westmorland in the North of England; The Grocer was of Essex; I was of Oxfordshire; and W. Penington was of London.

Hereupon he told us, That our Case look't Ill, and he was sorry for it: for how (said he) can it be imagined that so many could jump altogether at one Time and Place, from such remote Quarters and Parts of the Kingdom; if it was not by Combination and Appointment.

He was Answered, That we were so far from coming thither by Agreement, or Appointment; that none of us knew of the others Coming, and for the most of us, we had never seen one another before: and that therefore he might impute it to Chance, or, if he pleased, to Providence.

He urged upon us, That an Insurrection had been lately made by Armed Men, who pretended to be more Religious than others; that that Insurrect•∣on had been Plotted and Contrived in their Meeting-House, where they Assembled under Colour of Worshipping GOD; that in their Meeting-House they hid their Arms, and Armed themselves; and out of their Meeting-House issued forth in Arms, and killed many: so that the Government could not be safe, unless such Meetings were supprest.

We reply'd, We hoped he would distinguish, and make a Difference between the Guilty and the Innocent; and between those who were Principled for Fighting, and those who were Principled against it: which we were, and had been always known to be so. That our Meetings were publick, our Doors standing open to all Comers, of all Ages, Sexes and Perswasions; Men, Women and Children, and those that were not of our Religion, as well as those that were: and that it was next to Madness, for People to Plot in such Meetings.

He told us, We must find Sureties for our good Behaviour, and to Answer our Contempt of the King's Proclamation, at the next General Quarter-Sessions: or else he must Commit us.

We told him, that knowing our Innocency, and that we had not mis-behaved our selves, nor did meet in Contempt of the King's Authority; but purely in obedience to the LORD's Requirings, to Worship Him, which we held our selves in Duty bound to do; we could not consent to be bound, for that would imply Guilt, which we were free from.

Then, said he, I must commit you: And ordered his Clerk to make a Mittimus. And divers Mittimusses were made, but none of them would hold: for still, when they came to be read, we found such Flaws in them, as made him through them aside, and write more.

He had his Eye often upon me: for I was a young Man, and had at that time a Black Suit on. At length he bid me follow him, and went into a private Room, and shut the Door upon me.

I knew not what he meant by this: but I cryed in Spirit to the Lord, that He would be pleased to be a Mouth and Wisdom to me, and keep me from being Entangled in any Snare.

He asked me many Questions, concerning my Birth, my Education, my Acquaintance in Oxfordshire; particularly what Men of Note I knew there. To all which I gave him brief, but plain and true Answers; naming several Families, of the best Rank, in that Part of the Country where I dwelt.

He asked me, How long I had been of this Way, and how I came to be of it: Which when I had given him some Account of; he began to perswade me to leave it, and return to the right Way (the Church, as he called it.) I desired him to spare his Pains in that respect, and forbear any Discourse of that kind: for that I was fully satisfied, the Way I was in was the right Way; and hoped the Lord would so preserve me in it, that nothing should be able to draw, or drive me out of it. He seemed not pleased with that; and thereupon went out to the rest of the Company; and I followed him; glad in my Heart, that I had escaped so well, and Praising God for my Deliverance.

When he had taken his Seat again, at the upper End of a fair Hall, he told us, he was not willing to take the utmost Rigour of the Law against us; but would be as favourable to us as he could. And therefore he would dis¦charge, he said, Mr. Penington himself, becaus• he was but at Home in his own House. An• he would discharge Mr. Penington of London• because he come but as a Relation, to visit hi• Brother. And he would discharge the Groce• of Colchester, because he came to bear Mr. Pen¦ington of London Company; and to be acquaint¦ed with Mr. Isaac Penington, whom he ha• never seen before. And as for those others o• us, who were of this Country, he would dis¦charge them, for the present at least, because they being his Neighbours, he could send for them when he would. But as for you, said he to George Whitehead and me, I can see no Business you had there; and therefore I intend to hold you to it: either to Give Bayl, or Go to Jayl.

We told him we could not give Bayl, Then, said he, You must go to Jayl; and thereupon he began to write our Mittimus: which puzzled him again. For he had discharged so many, that he was at a Loss what to lay, as the Ground of our Commitment; whose Case differed nothing in Reality, from theirs whom he had discharged.

At length, having made divers Draughts (which still G. W. shewed him the Defects of) he seemed to be weary of us; and rising up said unto us, I consider that it is grown late in the Day, so that the Officer cannot carry you to Alesbury to Night; and I suppose you will be willing to go back with Mr. Penington: therefore if you will promise to be forth-coming at his House to Morrow Morning, I will dismiss you for the present; and you shall hear from me again to morrow.

We told him, we did intend, if he did not otherwise dispose of us, to spend that Night with our Friend Isaac Penington; and would (if the LORD gave us leave) be there in the Morning, ready to Answer his Requirings. Whereupon he dismist us all, willing (as we thought) to be rid of us: for he seemed not to be of an ill Temper, nor desirous to put us to Trouble, if he could help it.

Back then we went to Isaac Penington's. But when we were come thither, O the Work we had with poor John Ovy! He was so dejected in Mind, so Covered with Shame and Confusion of Face; for his Cowardliness, that we had enough to do to pacifie him towards himself.

The Place he had found out to Shelter himself in, was so commodiously contrived, that undiscovered he could discern when the Soldiers went off with us, and understand when the Bussle was over, and the Coast clear. Whereupon he adventured to peep out of his Hole; and in a while drew near, by degrees, to the House again: and finding all things quiet and still, he adventured to step within the Doors, and found the Friends, who were left behind, peaceably fettled in the Meeting again.

The Sight of this smote him; and made him sit down among them. And after the Meeting was ended, and the Friends departed to their several Homes; addressing himself to Mary Penington (as the Mistress of the House) he could not enough magnifie the Bravery and Courage of the Friends: nor sufficiently debase himself. He told her how long he had been a Professor, what Pains he had taken, what Hazards he had run, in his Youthful Days, to get to Meetings; how, when the Ways were forelaid, and Passages stop't, he Swam through Rivers to reach a Meeting: And now, sai•… he, that I am grown Old in the Profession of Religion, and have long been an Instructor and Encourager of others; that I should thus shamefully fall short my self; is matter of Shame and Sorrow to me.

Thus he bewailed himself to her. And when we came back, he renewed his Complaints of himself to us; with high Aggravations of his own Cowardice. Which gave Occasion to some of the Friends, tenderly to represent to him the Difference between Profession and Possession, Form and Power.

He was glad, he said, on our Behalfs, that we came off so well, and escaped Imprisonment.

But when he understood that G. Whitehead and I were liable to an After-Reckoning next Morning; he was troubled: and wish't the Morning was come, and gone; that we might be gone with it.

We spent the Evening in grave Conversation, and in Religious Discourses; attributing the Deliverance me hitherto had to the LORD. And the next Morning when we were up, and had Eaten, we tarried some time to see what •he Justice would do further with us; and to •ischarge our Engagement to him: the rest of •he Friends, who were before fully discharg •d, tarrying also with us, to see the Event.

And when we had staid so long, that on all •…ands it was concluded we might safely go; •. W. and I left a few Words in Writing (to •e sent to the Justice, if he sent after us) im •orting that we had tarried till such an Hour; •nd not hearing from him, did now hold our •…lves free to depart: yet so, as that, if he •ould have Occasion to send for us again, upon •otice thereof, we would Return.

This done, we took our leave of the Family, •…d one of another; they who were for Lon •… taking Horse; and I and my Companion, •…ting forth on Foot for Oxfordshire, went to •…ccomb; where we made a short Stay, to •…t and refresh our selves, and from thence •…ched our Respective Homes that Night.

After I had spent some time at Home; •…ere, as I had no Restraint, so (my Sisters be •…g gone) I had now no Society: I walked up 〈◊〉 Chalfont again; and spent a few Days with 〈◊〉 Friends there.

As soon as I came in, I was told, that my •…ther had been there that Day to see J. P. •…d his Wife: but they being abroad at a •eeting, he returned to his Inn in the Town, •…ere he intended to Lodge that Night. After •…pper, M. P. told me she had a Mind to go •…d see him at his Inn (the Woman of the •…use being a Friend of ours:) and I went with her. He seem'd somewhat surprized to see me there, because he thought I had been at home at his House: but he took no notice of my Hat; at least shewed no Offence at it• for (as I afterwards understood) he had no• an Intention to sell his Estate, and thought h• should need my Concurrence therein; whic• made him now hold it necessary to admit m• again into some Degree of Favour. After w• had tarried some little time with him; 〈◊〉 rising up to be gone, he waited on her hom•… and having spent about an Hour with us 〈◊〉 the Family, I waited on him back to his 〈◊〉 On the way, he invited me to Come up•… London, to see my Sisters; the younger 〈◊〉 whom was then newly Married: and direc•… me where to find 'em; and also gave 〈◊〉 Money to defray my Charges. According•… I went; yet staid not long there: but retu•…¦ed to my Friend J. P's, where I made a lit•… Stay; and from thence went back to Crowell.

When I was ready to set forth, my Frie•… Isaac Penington, was so kind to send a Serva•… with a Brace of Geldings, to Carry me as 〈◊〉 as I thought fit to ride, and to bring the Ho•… back. I, intending to go no farther t•… Day than to Wiccomb, rode no farther than Beconsfield Towns-End; having then but F•… Miles to walk. But here a new Exercise •…¦fel me; the manner of which was thus.

Before I had walked to the middle of 〈◊〉 Town, I was stop't, and taken up by 〈◊〉 Watch. I asked the Watchman, What A•¦thority he had to stop me, travelling peaceably on the High-Way. He told me he would shew me his Authority; and in order thereunto, had me into an House hard-by, where dwelt a Scrivener, whose Name was Pepys. To him he gave the Order which he had received from the Constables; which directed him to take up all Rogues, Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars. I asked him, For which of these he stopped me: but he could not Answer me.

I thereupon informed him, what a Rogue in Law is, viz. One, who for some notorious Offence has burnt on the Shoulder: and I told them, they might search me, if they pleased, and see if I was so branded. A Vagabond, I told them, was One that had no Dwelling House, nor certain Place of Abode; but I had, and was going to 〈◊〉: and I told them where it was. And for a Beggar; I bid them bring any one that could •…y, I had begged or asked Relief.

This stop't the Fellow's Mouth; yet he would not let me go: but (being both weak •eaded, and strong-willed) he left me there •ith the Scrivener, and went out to seek the •onstable; and having found him, brought •im thither. He was a young Man, by • Trade Tanner; somewhat better Mannered than •…is Wardsman: but not of much better Judg •ent.

He took me with him to his House. And •aving settled me there, went out; to take Ad •ice (as I supposed) what to do with me: •aving no Body in the House, to Guard me, but his Wife; who had a young Child in her Arms.

She enquired of me, upon what Account I was taken up; and seeming to have some Pity for me, endeavoured to perswade me not to stay; but to go my way: offering to shew me a back way from their House, which would bring me into the Road again beyond the Town; so that none of the Town should se• me, or know what was become of me. But • told her, I could not do so.

Then having sate a while in a muze, she ask¦ed me, If there was not a place of Scripture wh•… said, Peter was at a Tanner's House. I to•… her there was such a Scripture; and direct•… her where to find it.

After some time, she laid her Child to sle•… in the Cradle; and step't out on a suddai•… but came not in again in a pretty while.

I was uneasie that I was left alone in t•… House; searing lest, if any thing should be m•…¦sing, I might be suspected to have taken 〈◊〉 yet I durst not go out to stand in the Stree•… lest it should be thought I intended to slip •…¦way.

But besides that, I soon found Work to i•…¦ploy my self in; for the Child quickly waki•… fell to Crying; and I was fain to Rock 〈◊〉 Cradle in my own Defence; that I might 〈◊〉 be annoyed with a Noise, to me not more 〈◊〉¦pleasant than unusual. At length the Wom•… came in again; and finding me Nursing 〈◊〉 Child, gave me many Thanks: and seemed well pleased with my Company.

When Night came on, the Constable him •…lf came in again, and told me, Some of the •hief of the Town were met together, to Consider •hat was fit to do with me; and that I must go with •…m to them. I went, and he brought me to a •…ttle nasty Hut, which they called a Town •ouse (adjoining to their Market-House) in •hich dwelt a poor old Woman, whom they •…lled Mother Grime: where also the Watch used 〈◊〉 turns, to come in, and warm themselves in •…e Night.

When I came in among them, they looked •…ome of them) somewhat sourly on me; and •…k'd me some impertinent Questions: to which • gave them suitable Answers.

Then they consulted one with another, how •…ey should dispose of me that Night, till they •…uld have me before some Justice of Peace, to 〈◊〉 Examined. Some proposed, That I should be •…d to some Inn, or other publick House; and a •…ard set on me there. He that started this was •…obably an Inn-keeper, and consulted his own •…terest. Others objected against this, That it •…uld bring a Charge on the Town. To avoid •…ich, they were for having the Watch take •…arge of me; and keep me walking about •…e Streets with them till Morning. Most •…ices seemed to go this way; till a Third •…shed them to consider, Whether they could an •…er the doing of that, and the Law would bear •…m out in it: And this put them to a stand. I heard all their Debates; but let them alone and kept my Mind to the LORD.

While they thus bandied the Matter to and fro, one of the Company asked the rest, If any of them knew who this young Man was, and whither he was going? Whereupon the Constable (to whom I had given both my Name, and the Name of the Town where I dwelt) told them my Name was Ellwood, and that I lived at a Town called Crowell in Oxfordshire.

Old Mother Grime, sitting by and hearin• this, clap'd her Hand on her Knee, and cry'• out, I know Mr. Ellwood of Crowell very we•… For when I was a Maid I lived with his Gran•…¦ther there, when he was a Young Man. A•… thereupon she gave them such an Account of 〈◊〉 Father, as made them look more regardful•… on me: and so Mother Grime's Testimo•… turned the Scale; and took me off fr• walking the Rounds with the Watch t•… Night.

The Constable hereupon bid them take • further Care; I should lie at his House t•… Night: and accordingly took me home wi•… him; where I had as good Accommodation 〈◊〉 the House did afford. Before I went to Be•… he told me, That there was to be a Visitation, 〈◊〉 Spiritual Court (as he called it) holden next D•… at Amersham, about four Miles from Beconsfie•… and that I was to be carried thither.

This was a new Thing to me, and it broug•… a fresh Exercise upon my Mind. But be•… given up, in the Will of God, to suffer w•… •…e should permit to be laid on me; I endea •…ured to keep my Mind quiet and still.

In the Morning, as soon as I was up, my Spi •… was Exercised towards the Lord, in strong •…ies to Him; that He would stand by me, •…d preserve me: and not suffer me to be taken •…the Snare of the Wicked. While I was thus •…ying to the LORD, the other Constable •…e; and I was called down.

This was a budge Fellow; and talked high. 〈◊〉 was a Shoo-maker by Trade; and his Name •…s Clark. He threat'ned me with the Spiri •…l Court. But when he saw I did not re •…rd it, he stop't; and left the Matter to his •…rtner; who pretended more Kindness for •…e, and therefore went about to perswade •…rk, to let me go out at the Back Door; so 〈◊〉 away.

The Plot, I suppose, was so laid, that Clark •…uld seem averse; but at length yeild, which 〈◊〉 did: but would have me take it for a Fa •…r. But I was so far from taking it so, that 〈◊〉 would not take it at all: but told them plain •… That as I came in at the Fore-Door; so I •…uld go out at the Fore Door. When there •…e they saw they could not bow me to their •…ll, they brought me out at the Fore Door, •…o the Street, and wished me a good Journey. •…t before I went, calling sor the Woman of •…e House, I paid her for my Supper and Lodg •…g for I had now getten a little Money in my •…cket again.

After this, I got home (as I thought) very well: but I had not been long at home, before an Ilness seized on me; which proved to be the Small-Pox. Of which so soon as Friends had Notice, I had a Nurse sent me; and in a while, Isaac Penington, and his Wife's Daughter, G•∣lielma Maria Springett (to whom I had been Play-Fellow in our Infancy) came to visit me, bringing with them our dear Friend Edward Burrough, by whose Ministry I was called 〈◊〉 the Knowledge of the Truth.

It pleased the Lord to deal favourably wi•… me in this Ilness, both Inwardly and Outwa•¦ly. For his Supporting Presence was with m•… which kept my Spirit near unto him: a•… though the Distemper was strong upon m•… yet I was preserved through it, and my Cou¦tenance was not much altered by it, But aft•… I was got up again, and while I kept 〈◊〉 Chamber; wanting some Employment, 〈◊〉 Entertainment sake, to spend the Time wit•… and there being at hand a pretty good Libra•… of Books (amongst which were the Works 〈◊〉 Augustine, and others of those Ancient Write•… who were by many called the Fathers;) I be¦took my self to Reading. And these Books be¦ing Printed in the old Black-Letter, with Ab¦breviations of the Words, difficult to be re•… I spent too much time therein: and thereb• much impaired my Sight, which was n•… strong before, and was now weaker than usu•… by reason of the Ilness I had so newly ha•… which proved an Injury to me afterwards; for which reason I here mention it.

After I was well enough to go abroad, with •espect to my own Health, and the Safety of •thers; I went up (in the beginning of the •welfth Month, 1661.) to my Friend Isaac Pen •…gton's at Chalfont, and abode there sometime: •…r the Airing my self more fully; that I might •e more fit for Conversation.

I mentioned before, that when I was a Boy, • had made some good Progress in Learning; •…d lost it all again before I came to be a Man: •…or was I rightly sensible of my Loss there •…, until I came amongst the Quakers. But •…en I both saw my Loss, and lamented it; •…d applied my self with utmost Diligence, at •…l leisure Times to recover it: so false I found •…at Charge to be, which in those Times was •…st, as a Reproach upon the Quakers, That •…ey despised and decried all Humane Learning; •ecause they denied it to be essentially necessary 〈◊〉 a Gospel-Ministry, which was one of the Con •…oversies of those Times.

But though I toiled hard, and spared no •ains, to regain what once I had been Master •f; yet I found it a Matter of so great Diffi •ulty, that I was ready to say as the Noble Eu •uch to Philip in another Case; How can I, un •ess I had some Man to guide me?

This I had formerly complained of to my •special Friend Isaac Penington; but now more •arnestly: which put him upon Considering, and Contriving a Means for my Assistance.

He had an intimate Acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a Physician of Note in London; and he with John Milton, a Gentleman of great Note for Learning, throughout the Learned World for the accurate Pieces he had Written, on va¦rious Subjects and Occasions.

This Person, having filled a publick Statio• in the former Times; lived now a private an• retired Life in London: and having wholly l•… his Sight, kept always a Man to read to hi•… which usually was the Son of some Gentlem•… of his Acquaintance, whom, in Kindness, 〈◊〉 took to improve in his Learning.

Thus, by the Mediation of my Friend Isa Penington with Dr. Paget, and of Dr. Pag•… with John Milton, was I admitted to come 〈◊〉 him; not as a Servant to him (which at t•… time he needed not) nor to be in the Ho•… with him; but only to have the Liberty•… Coming to his House, at certain Hours, wh•… I would, and to read to him what Books 〈◊〉 should appoint me; which was all the Favo•… I desired.

But this being a Matter, which would •…¦quire some time to bring it about: I, in 〈◊〉 mean while returned to my Father's House 〈◊〉 Oxfordshire.

I had before received Direction, by Lett•… from my Eldest Sister (written by my Fathe•… Command) to put off what Cattle he had 〈◊〉 about his House, and to Discharge his Serva•… •…ich I had done at the time called Michaelmas •…fore. So that all that Winter, when I was 〈◊〉 Home, I lived like an Hermit all alone; •…ing a pretty large House, and no Body in •…but my self, a Nights especially: but an el •…rly Woman (whose Father had been an old •…rvant to the Family) came every Morning, •…d made my Bed; and did what else I had •…asion for her to do; till I fell Ill of the •…all Pox, and then I had her with me, and 〈◊〉 Nurse. But now, understanding by Letter •…m my Sister, that my Father did not intend 〈◊〉 return to settle there; I made off those Pro •…ions which were in the House (that they •…ght not be spoiled when I was gone:) and •…cause they were what I should have spent, if •…ad tarried there, I took the Money made of •…em to my self, for my support at London, if •…e Project succeeded for my Going thither.

This done, I committed the Care of the •…use to a Tenant of my Father's, who lived 〈◊〉 the Town; and taking my leave of Crowell, •…nt up to my sure Friend Isaac Penington a •…in. Where understanding that the Media •…n used for my Admittance to John Milton, •…d succeeded so well, that I might come when • would; I hastned to London: and in the first •…ace went to wait upon him.

He received me courteously; as well for the •…ke of Dr. Paget, who introduced me: as of •…aac Penington, who recommended me; to •…oth whom he bore a good Respect. And •…ving enquired divers things of me, with respect to my former Progression in Learning; h• dismist me, to provide my self of such Accomo¦dations, as might be most suitable to my futur• Studies.

I went therefore and took my self a Lodging• as near to his House (which was then in Jewe• Street) as conveniently as I could: and fro• thenceforward went every Day in the After¦noon (except on the first Days of the Wee•… and sitting by him in his Dining-Room, re•… to him in such Books in the Latin Tongue, as 〈◊〉 pleased to hear me read.

At my first sitting to read to him, observi•… that I used the English Pronounciation, he t•… me, If I would have the Benefit of the Lat•… Tongue (not only to read and understand Latin A•¦thors, but) to Converse with Foreigners, either •¦broad or at home, I must learn the Foreign Pr•¦nounciation. To this I consenting, he instru•…¦ed me how to sound the Vowels; so differe•… from the common Pronounciation used by t•… English (who speak Anglice their Latin) th•… (with some few other Variations in soundi•… some Consonants, in particular Cases; as C. be¦fore E. or I. like Ch. Sc. before I. like Sh. &c. the Latin thus spoken, seemed as different from that which was delivered as the English generally speak it, as if it were another Language.

I had before, during my retired Life at my Father's, by unwearied Diligence and Industry so far recovered the Rules of Grammar (in which I had once been very ready) that I could both read a Latin Author, and after a sort hammer out his Meaning. But this Change of •…nounciation proved a New Difficulty to 〈◊〉. It was now harder to me to read, than 〈◊〉 was before to understand when read. But

— Labor omnia vincit

Improbus. —

Incessant Pains,

The End obtains.

And so did I. Which made my Reading the •…re acceptable to my Master. He, on the o •…r hand, perceiving with what earnest De •… I pursued Learning; gave me not only all 〈◊〉 Encouragement, but all the Help he could. 〈◊〉, having a curious Ear, he understood by 〈◊〉 Tone, when I understood what I read, and •…en I did not: and accordingly would stop 〈◊〉 Examine me, and open the most difficult •…sages to me.

Thus went I on, for about Six Weeks time, •…ding to him in the Afternoons, and Exerci •…g my self, with my own Books, in my Cham •…, in the Forenoons: I was sensible of an •…provement.

But, alas! I had fixed my Studies in a wrong •…ce. London and I could never agree for •…alth: my Lungs (as I suppose) were too •…der to bear the Sulphurous Air of that City. 〈◊〉 that I soon began to droop; and in less than •…o Months time, I was fain to leave both my •…dies and the City; and return into the Country to preserve Life: and much ado I had 〈◊〉 get thither.

I chose to go down to Wiccomb; and to Jo•… Rance's House there: both as he was a Phy•…¦cian; and his Wife an honest, hearty, discre•… and grave Matron; whom I had a very goo•… Esteem of, and who (I knew) had a good R•…¦gard for me.

There I lay ill a considerable time, and 〈◊〉 that degree of Weakness, that scarce any, w•… saw me, expected my Life. But the Lord w•… both gracious to me in my Ilness; and w•… pleased to raise me up again, that I might ser•… Him in my Generation.

As soon as I had recovered so much Streng•… as to be fit to Travel; I obtained of my •…¦ther (who was then at his House in Crowel•… dispose of some things he had there, and w•… in my Ilness had come to see me) so much M•¦ney as would clear all Charges in the Hou•… for both Physick, Food and Attendance: a•… having fully discharged all, I took leave of m• Friends in that Family, and in the Town; a•… returned to my Studies at London.

I was very kindly received by my Maste•… who had conceived so good an Opinion of m•… that my Conversation (I found) was acceptab•… to him: and he seem'd heartily glad of my Re¦covery and Return; and into our old Metho• of Study we fell again, I Reading to him, an• he Explaining to me, as Occasion required.

But, as if Learning had been a forbidde• Fruit to me, scarce was I well settled in my Work, before I met with another Diversion, which turned me quite out of my Work.

For a suddain Storm arising, from I know •ot what Surmise of a Plot, and thereby Dan •er to the Government; and the Meetings of •issenters (such I mean as could be found, which •erhaps were not many besides the Quakers) were broken up throughout the City: and the •risons mostly filled with our Friends.

I was that Morning (which was the 26th •ay of the 8th Month, 1662.) at the Meeting 〈◊〉 the Bull-and-Mouth by Aldersgate; when on • suddain, a Party of Soldiers (of the Trained •ands of the City) rushed in, with Noise and •lamour: being led by one who was called Major Rosewell; an Apothecary (if I misremem •er not) and at that time under the ill Name •f a Papist.

As soon as he was come within the Room, •aving a File or two of Musketteers at his •eels; he commanded his Men to present their Muskets at us: which they did; with Intent I suppose) to strike a Terror into the People. Then he made a Proclamation that all, who were not Quakers might depart if they would.

It so happened, that a Young Man, an Ap •rentice in London, whose Name was — Dove (the Son of Dr. Dove of Chinner, near Crowell, in Oxfordshire) came that Day in Curiosity, to see the Meeting: and Coming early, and finding me there (whom he knew) came and sate down by me.

As soon as he heard the Noise of Soldiers, he was much startled; and asked me softly, 〈◊〉 I would not shift for my Self, and try to get out. I told him, No; I was in my place; and was willing to suffer, if it was my Lot. When he heard the Notice given, that they who were not Quakers might depart; he solicited me again to be gone. I told him, I could not do so: for that would be to renounce my Profession; which I would by no means do. But as for him, who was not one of us, he might do as he pleased. Whereupon, wishing me well, he turned away, and with Cap in Hand, went out. And truly I was glad he was gone: for his Master was a rigid Presbyterian, who (in all likelihood) would have led him a wretched Life, had he been taken and Imprisoned among the Quakers.

The Soldiers came so early, that the Meeting was not fully gathered when they came; and when the mixt Company were gone out, we were so few, and sate so thin in that large Room, that they might take a clear view of us all, and single us out, as they pleased.

He that Commanded the Party, gave us first a general Charge to come out of the Room. But we, who came thither at God's Requirings, to Worship Him (like that good Man of Old, who said, We ought to obey God, rather than Men, Acts 5. 29.) stirred not; but kept out Places. Whereupon he sent some of his Soldiers among us, with Command to Drag, or Drive us out; which they did, roughly enough.

When we came out into the Street, we were •…ceived there, by other Soldiers, who with •…eir Pikes, holden length-ways from one ano •…er, encompassed us round, as Sheep in a •…und: and there we stood a pretty time, •…ile they were picking up more, to add to •…r Number.

In this Work none seemed so eager and ac •…e, as their Leader, Major Rosewell. Which •…bserving, stept boldly to him, as he was •…sing by me; and asked him, If he intended • Massacre: for of that, in those times, there •…s a great Apprehension and Talk. The sud •…nness of the Question, from such a young •…n especially, somewhat startled him: but •…ollecting himself, he answered, No; but I •…end to have you all hanged by the wholsome Laws 〈◊〉 the Land.

When he had gotten as many as he could, or •…ught fit (which were in Number Thirty •…; whereof Two were catch'd up in the •…eet, who had not been at the Meeting) he •…ered the Pikes to be opened before us: and •…ing the Word to March, went himself at the •…ad of us; the Soldiers with their Pikes ma •…g a Lane to keep us from scattering.

He led us up Martins; and so turned down 〈◊〉 Newgate; where I expected he would have •…ged us. But to my Disappointment, he •…nt on through Newgate; and turning through 〈◊〉 Old-Baily, brought us into Fleet-Street. I •…s then wholly at a Loss, to conjecture whi •…r he would lead us; unless it were to Whitehall (for I knew nothing then of Old-Bridwell; but on a suddain he gave a short Turn, a•… brought us before the Gate of that Priso•… where knocking, the Wicket was forthwi•… opened, and the Master, with his Porter, r•…¦dy to receive us.

One of those two, who were picked up 〈◊〉 the Street, being near me, and telling me 〈◊〉 Case; I stept to the Major, and told him, Th•… this Man was not at the Meeting, but was •…¦ken up in the Street: and shew'd him 〈◊〉 hard, and unjust a thing it would be to 〈◊〉 him into Prison.

I had not pleased him before, in the Questi•… I had put to him about a Massacre; and t•… I suppose, made this Solicitation less accepta•… to him from me, than it might have been fr•… some other. For looking sternly on me, 〈◊〉 said, Who are you! that take so much upon 〈◊〉 Seeing you are so busie, you shall be the first 〈◊〉 that shall go into Bridewell: and taking me 〈◊〉 the Shoulders, he thrust me in.

As soon as I was in, the Porter, pointing w•… his Finger, directed me to a fair Pair of Sta•… on the further side of a large Court; and 〈◊〉 me Go up those Stairs, and go on till I could go 〈◊〉 farther.

Accordingly I went up the Stairs; the 〈◊〉 Flight whereof brought me to a fair Chap•… on my left hand: which I could look i•… through the Iron-Grates; but could not h•… gone into if I would.

I knew that was not a Place for me. Where •…e following my Direction, and the 〈◊〉 winding the Stairs, I went up a Story higher; which •…ought me into a Room, which I soon perceiv •… to be a Court-Room or Place of Judicature. •…ter I had stood a while there, and taken a •…ew of it; observing a Door on the further •…e, I went to it, and opened it, with inten •… to go in: but I quickly drew back; being •…ost affrighted at the Dismalness of the Place. •…r besides that the Walls quite round were laid •…over from Top to Bottom, in Black; there •…d in the middle of it a great Whipping-Post, •…ich was all the furniture it had.

In one of these two Rooms Judgment was •…en, and in the other it was executed, on •…se ill People: who for their Lewdness were •…t to this Prison; and there sentenced to be •…hip'd. Which was so contrived that the urt might not only hear, but see (if they •…ased) their Sentence Executed.

A Sight so unexpected, and withal so unpleas •…, gave me no Encouragement, either to rest; •…ndeed to enter at all there: till looking ear •…tly, I spy'd on the opposite side a Door; •…ich giving me Hopes of a further Progress, I •…entured to step hastily to it, and opened it.

This let me into one of the fairest Rooms, •…t (so far as I remember) I was ever in; and 〈◊〉 wonder: for though it was now put to this •…an Use, it had, for many Ages past, been 〈◊〉 Royal Seat, or Palace of the Kings of Eng •…d; until Cardinal Woolsey Built Whitehall, and offered it as a Peace-Offering to King HE•¦RY the Eighth; who until that time had ke•… his Court in this House, and had this (as t•… People in the House reported) for his Dini•… Room, by which Name it then went.

This Room in length (for I lived long •¦nough in it to have time to measure it) 〈◊〉 Threescore Foot: and had Breadth proporti•…¦able to it. In it, on the Front-Side, were v•… large Bay-Windows, in which stood a la•… Table. It had other very large Tables 〈◊〉 with Benches round: and at that time the F•… was covered with Rushes, against some So•… Festival, which (I heard) it was bespoken.

Here was my Nil ultra: and here I fou•… might set up my Pillar: for although there 〈◊〉 a Door out of it, to a Back-Pair of Stairs w•… led to it; yet that was kept locked. So 〈◊〉 finding I had now followed my Keeper's •…¦rection to the utmost Point; beyond whi•… could not go: I sate down, and considered 〈◊〉 rhetorical Saying, That the Way to Heave•… by the Gate of Hell; the Black Room, thr•… which I passed into this, bearing some Re•…¦blance to the latter, as This comparatively, 〈◊〉 by way of Allusion, might in some sor•… thought to bear to the former.

But I was quickly put out of these Thou•… by the Flocking in of the other Friends, 〈◊〉 Fellow-Prisoners; amongst whom yet, 〈◊〉 all were come together, there was but 〈◊〉 whom I knew so much as by Face; and 〈◊〉 him I had no Acquaintance. For I having 〈◊〉 a little while in the City, and in that time •…t close to my Studies; I was, by that Means, •…wn to very few.

•oon after we were all gotten together, came 〈◊〉 the Master of the House after us, and de •…ded our Names: which we might reason •… have refused to give; till we had been •…lly convened before some Civil Magistrate, 〈◊〉 had Power to Examine us, and demand 〈◊〉 Names. But we, who were neither Guil •… nor Wilful, simply gave him our Names; •…ch he took down in Writing.

〈◊〉 was (as I hinted before) a general Storm •…ch fell that Day; but it lighted most, and •…t heavy, upon our Meetings; so that most •…ur Men-Friends were made Prisoners, and 〈◊〉 Prisons generally filled. And great Work 〈◊〉 the Women, to run about from Prison to •…on, to find their Husbands, their Fathers, •…r Brothers, or their Servants; for accord •…y as they had disposed themselves to several •…etings; so were they dispersed to several •…ons. And no less Care and Pains had they, •…n they had found them; to furnish them 〈◊〉 Provisions, and other necessary Accom •…lations.

But an excellent Order, even in those early •…ys, was practised among the Friends of that •…y; by which there were certain Friends, of •…er Sex, appointed to have the Oversight of 〈◊〉 Prisons in every Quarter; and to take Care •…ll Friends, the Poor especially, that should 〈◊〉 Committed thither.

This Prison of Bridewell was under the C•… of two honest, grave, discreet and mothe•… Women; whose Names were Anne Mer•… (afterwards Vivers) and Anne Travers: b•… Widows.

They, so soon as they understood, that t•… were Friends brought into that Prison, •…¦vided some hot Victuals, Meat and Broth, 〈◊〉 the Weather was cold;) and ordering their •…¦vants to bring it them, with Bread, Cheese 〈◊〉 Beer, came themselves also with it: and ha•… placed it on a Table, gave notice to us, T•… was provided for all those, that had not othe•… provide for them; or were not able to prov•… themselves. And there wanted not among 〈◊〉 competent Number of such Guests.

As for my part, though I had lived as •…¦gally as possibly I could, that I might draw•… the Thread of my little Stock to the ut•… length: yet had I, by this time, reduced 〈◊〉 Ten Pence; which was all the Money I h•… bout me, or any where else at my Comman•…

This was but a small Estate, to enter 〈◊〉 an Imprisonment with: yet was I not 〈◊〉 discouraged at it; nor had I a murm•… Thought. I had known what it was (•…¦rately) to Abound: and if I should now 〈◊〉 to suffer Want, I knew I ought to be co•… and through the Grace of GOD I was s•… had lived by Providence before (when 〈◊〉 long time, I had no Money at all:) and 〈◊〉 always found the LORD a good Provide•… made no doubt therefore that He, who se•… •…vens to feed Elijah, and who cloaths the Lil •…, would find some means to sustain me, •…th needful Food and Raiment: and I had •…rn'd by Experience the Truth of that Say •…g, Natura paucis contenta; i. e. Nature is cont with few things, or a little.

Although the Sight and Smell of hot Food, •…s sufficiently enticing to my empty Stomach •…r I had Eaten little that Morning, and was •…gry:) yet considering the Terms of the In •…ation, I questioned whether I was included •…t; and after some Reasonings, at length con •…ed, That while I had Ten Pence in my •…cket, I should be but an injurious Intruder to •…t Mess, which was provided for such as, •…haps, had not Two Pence in theirs.

Being come to this Resolution, I withdrew 〈◊〉 far from the Table as I could; and sate •…wn in a quiet Retirement of Mind, till the •…past was over, which was not long: for •…re were Hands enough at it, to make light •…rk of it.

When Evening came, the Porter came up 〈◊〉 Back-Stairs, and opening the Door, told us, 〈◊〉 we desired to have any thing that was to be had 〈◊〉 the House, he would bring it us: for there was 〈◊〉 the House a Chandler's-Shop; at which Beer, •…ead, Butter, Cheese, Eggs and Bacon might be •…d for Money. Upon which many went to 〈◊〉, and spake for what of these things, they •…d a Mind to; giving him Money to pay for •…em.

Among the rest went I, and (intending 〈◊〉 spin out my Ten Pence, as far as I could) de¦sired him to bring me a Penny Loaf only• When he returned, we all resorted to him, 〈◊〉 receive our several Provisions; which he de•…¦vered: and when he came to me, he told m•… He could not get a Penny Loaf; but he had broug•… me two Half-Penny Loaves.

This suited me better: wherefore returni•… to my Place again, I sate down, and Eat 〈◊〉 one of my Loaves; reserving the other for 〈◊〉 next Day.

This was to me both Dinner and Suppe•… And so well satisfied I was with it, that I 〈◊〉 willingly then have gone to Bed; if I had h•… one to go to: but that was not to be expect•… there; nor had any one any Bedding broug•… in that Night.

Some of the Company had been so conside¦rate, as to send for a Pound of Candles; th•… we might not sit all Night in the dark: and h•∣ving lighted divers of them, and placed the• in several Parts of that large Room; we kep• walking to keep us warm.

After I had warmed my self pretty throug•¦ly, and the Evening was pretty sar spent; • bethought my self of a Lodging; and castin• mine Eye on the Table, which stood in t•… Bay-Window; the Frame whereof look't, • thought, somewhat like a Beadstead. When •…¦fore willing to make sure of that, I gathered 〈◊〉 a good Armful of the Rushes, wherewith t•… Floor was covered; and spreading them und•… •…at Table, crep't in upon them in my Cloaths: •…d keeping on my Hat, laid my Head upon •…e End of the Tables Frame, instead of a •…lster.

My Example was followed by the rest, who •…thering up Rushes, as I had done, made •…emselves Beds in other Parts of the Room: •…d so to rest we went.

I, having a quiet, easie Mind, was soon a •…ep; and slept till about the middle of the •…ght. And then waking, finding my Legs •…d Feet very cold, I crep't out of my Cabin, •…d began to walk about apace.

This waked, and raised all the rest; who find •…g themselves cold as well as I, got up and •…lked about with me, till we had pretty well •…rmed our selves: and then we all lay down •…ain, and rested till Morning.

Next Day, all they who had Families, or be •…g'd to Families, had Bedding brought in, of •…e Sort or other; which they disposed at the •…ds, and Sides of the Room, leaving the Mid •… void to walk in.

But I, who had no Body to look after me, •…t to my Rushy-Pallet under the Table, for •…r Nights together, in which time I did not •…t off my Cloths: yet, through the merciful •…odness of GOD unto me, I rested and slept •…ll, and enjoyed Health, without taking •…ld.

In this time divers of our Company, through •…e Solicitations of some of their Relations, or •…quaintance, to Sir Richard Brown (who was at that time a great Master of Mis-rule in the City, and over Bridewell more especially) were released: And among these, one William Mucklow, who lay in an Hammack. He, having observed that I only was unprovided of Lodging came very courteously to me, and kindly offered me the Use of his Hammack, while I should continue a Prisoner.

This was a Providential Accommodation 〈◊〉 me; which I received thankfully, both fro• the LORD, and from him: and from thenc• forth I thought I lay as well as ever I had do•… in my Life.

Amongst those that remained, there were se¦veral Young Men, who cast themselves into • Club; and laying down every one an equ•… Proportion of Money, put it into the Hand 〈◊〉 our Friend Anne Travers: desiring her to lay 〈◊〉 out for them in Provisions, and send them in •¦very Day a Mess of hot Meat; and they kin•¦ly invited me to come into their Club wi•… them. These saw my Person, and judged 〈◊〉 me by that; but they saw not my Purse; n•… understood the Lightness of my Pocket. B•… I, who alone understood my own Conditio•… knew I must sit down with lower Commo•… Wherefore not giving them the true Reaso•… I as fairly as I could excused my self from e•¦tring, at present into their Mess; and we•… on, as before, to eat by my self, and that ve•… sparingly, as my Stock would bear. A•… before my Ten Pence was quite spent, Prov•¦dence, on whom I relied, sent me in a fresh Supply.

For William Penington (a Brother of Isaac Pen •ngton's) a Friend and Merchant in London (at whose House, before I came to live in the Ci •y, I was wont to Lodge) having been at his Brothers that Day upon a Visit, escaped this Storm; and so was at Liberty: And under •tanding when he came back, what had been •one, bethought himself of me; and upon En •uiry hearing where I was, came in Love to •ee me.

He, in Discourse, amongst other things, asked me, How it was with me as to Money? and how well I was furnished? I told him, I could not boast of much: and yet I could not say I had none (Though what I then had was indeed next to none.) Whereupon he put Twenty Shillings into my Hand; and desired me to accept of that for the present. I saw a Divine Hand in thus opening his Heart and Hand in this manner to me. And though I would willingly have been excused from taking so much, and would have returned one half of it: yet he pressing it all upon me, I received it with a thankful Acknowledgment, as a Token of Love from the Lord, and from him.

On the Seventh Day he went down again (as he usually did) to his Brother's House at Chalfont: and in Discourse gave them an Account of my Imprisonment. Whereupon, at his Return, on the Second Day of the Week following, my affectionate Friend Mary Penington sent me, by him, Fourty Shillings; which he soon after brought me: out of which I would have repaid him the Twenty Shillings he had so kindly furnished me with; but he would not admit it, telling me, I might have Occasion for that, and more, before I got my Liberty.

Not many Days after this, I received Twenty Shillings from my Father; who being then at his House in Oxfordshire, and, by Letter from my Sister, understanding that I was a Prisoner in Bridewell, sent this Money to me, for my Support there; and withal a Letter to my Sister, for her to deliver to one called Mr. W•… (who lived near Bridewell, and was a Servant to Sir Richard Brown, in some Wharf of his, requesting him to interceed with his Master (who was one of the Governors of Bridewell for my Deliverance. But that Letter coming to my Hands, I supprest it; and have it y•… by me.

Now was my Pocket from the lowest Ebb• risen to a full Tide. I was at the Brink o• Want, next Door to nothing; yet my Confi¦dence did not fail, nor my Faith stagger: an• now on a suddain I had plentiful Supplies, show¦er upon shower, so that I abounded, yet wa• not lifted up; but in Humility could say, Thi• is the LORD's Doing. And, without defraud¦ing any of the Instruments, of the Acknowledgments due unto them; mine Eye looked o¦ver and beyond them, to the LORD, who • saw was the Author thereof, and prime Agen• therein; and with a thankful Heart I returned Thanksgivings and Praises to him. And this •reat Goodness of the Lord to me, I thus Re •…ord, to the End that all, into whose Hands •…is may come, may be Encouraged to Trust 〈◊〉 the Lord; whose Mercy is over all his Works, •…d who is indeed a God near at hand, to help 〈◊〉 the needful time.

Now I durst venture my self into the Club, 〈◊〉 which I had been invited; and accordingly •…aving by this Time gained an Acquaintance with them) took an Opportunity to cast my self •…mong them: and thenceforward, so long as we continued Prisoners there together, I was •…e of their Mess.

And now the chief thing I wanted, was Im •loyment; which scarce any wanted, but my •elf: for the rest of my Company were gene •ally Tradesmen, of such Trades as could set •hemselves on work. Of these divers were Taylors, some Masters, some Journey-men; and with these I most inclined to settle. But be •ause I was too much a Novice in their Art, to •e trusted with their Work: lest I should spoil •he Garment: I got Work from an Hosier in Cheap-side: which was to make Night-Waist coats, of Red and Yellow Flannel, for Women and Children. And with this I entred my self among •he Taylors, sitting Cross-leg'd as they did; and •o spent those Leisure-Hours, with Innocency and Pleasure, which want of Business would have made tedious. And indeed, that was, in a manner, the only Advantage I had by it: for my Master (though a very wealthy Man, and one who professed not only Friendship, but particular Kindness to me) dealt, I thought, but hardly with me. For (though he knew not what I had to subsist by) he never offered me a Penny for my Work, till I had done Working for him; and went (after I was released) to give him a Visit; and then he would not Reckon with me neither, because (as he smilingly said) he would not let me so far into his Trade, as to acquaint me with the Prises of the Work; but would be sure to give me enough. And thereupon he gave me one Crown Piece, and no more; tho' I had wrought long for him, and made him many Dozens of Wastcoats, and bought the Thread my self: which, I thought. was very poor Pay. But, as Providence had ordered it. I wanted the Work, more than the Wages: and therefore took what he gave me, without Complaining.

About this time (while we were Prisoners in our fair Chamber) a Friend was brought and put in among us; who had been sent thither by Richard Brown to beat Hemp: whose Case was thus.

He was a very poor Man, who lived by Mending Shoos; and on a Seventh Day Night late, a Car-Man (or some other such labouring Man) brought him a pair of Shoos to mend, desiring him to mend them that Night, that he might have them in the Morning, for he had no other to wear. The poor Man sate up at work upon them till after Mid-night; and then finding he could not finish them; he went •o bed; intending to do the rest in the Morning.

Accordingly he got up betimes; and though •e wrought as privately as he could in his Chamber, that he might avoid giving Offence •o any: yet could he not do it so privately, but •hat an ill-natur'd Neighbour perceived it, who went and informed against him for working on the Sunday. Whereupon he was had before Richard Brown; who Committed him to Bride •…ell for a certain time, to be kept to hard Labour, in Beating Hemp: which is Labour hard enough.

It so fell out, that at the same time were Committed thither (for what Cause I do not now remember) two lusty Young Men who were called Baptists, to be kept also at the same Labour.

The Friend was a poor little Man, of a low Condition, and mean Appearance: Whereas •hese two Baptists were topping Blades, that •ooked high, and spake big. They scorned to •eat Hemp; and made a Pish at the Whipping-Post: but when they had once felt the Smart of it, they soon cried Peccavi; and submitting to the Punishment, set their tender Hands to the Beetles.

The Friend, on the other hand, acting upon a Principle, as knowing he had done no Evil, for which he should undergo that Punishment, refused to work; and for refusing was cruelly Whipt; which he bore with wonderful Constancy, and Resolution of Mind.

The manner of Whipping there is, To stri• the Party to the Skin, from the Waste upwards• and having fastned him to the Whipping-Post (so that he can neither resist, nor shun the Strokes) to lash the naked Body, with long, but slender Twigs of Holly, which will bend almost like Thongs, and lap round the Body• and these having little Knots upon them, tear the Skin and Flesh, and give extream Pain.

With these Rods they tormented the Friend most barbarously; and the more, for that, hav¦ing mastered the Two braving, Baptists, they disdained to be mastered by this poor Quaker. Yet were they fain at last to yeild, when they saw their utmost Severity could not make him yield. And then, not willing to be troubled longer with him, they turned him up among us

When we had enquired of him, how it was with him; and he had given us a brief Account of both his Cause and Usage: it came in my Mind, that I had in my Box (which I had sent for from my Lodging, to keep some few Books, and other Necessaries in) a little Gally¦pot with Lucatellu's-Balsam in it.

Wherefore, causing a good Fire to be made and setting the Friend, within a Blanket, befor• the Fire; we stripped him to the Waste (as 〈◊〉 he had been too be Whipt again:) and foun• his Skin so Cut, and Torn with the knott• Holly-Rods, both Back, Side, Arm and Breast• that it was a dismal Sight to look upon. The• melting some of the Balsam, I with a Feathe• anointed all the Sores; and putting a softe• •…oth between his Skin and his Shirt, help •… him on with his Cloaths again. This •…essing gave him much Ease; and I continu •… it till he was well. And because he was a •…ry poor Man, we took him into our Mess; •…triving that there should always be enough 〈◊〉 him, as well as for our selves. Thus he •…ed with us, until the time, he was commit •…d for, was Expired; and then he was Re •…sed.

But we were still continued Prisoners, by an •…bitrary Power, not being Committed by the •…vil Authority, nor having seen the Face of •…y Civil Magistrate, from the Day we were •…ust in here by Soldiers (which was the 26th •ay of the Eighth Month) to the 19th of the •…nth Month following.

On that Day we were had to the Sessions at •…e Old Baily. But not being called there, we •ere brought back to Bridewell, and continued •…ere to the 29th of the same Month, and then •e were carried to the Sessions again.

I expected I should have been called the first, •…cause my Name was first taken down: but 〈◊〉 proved otherwise, so that I was one of the •…t that was called; which gave me the Ad •…ntage of hearing the Pleas of the other •risoners, and discovering the Temper of the •ourt.

The Prisoners complained of the Illegality of •…eir Imprisonment, and desired to know what •…y had lain so long in Prison for. The Court •…garded nothing of that; and did not stick to tell them so. For said the Recorder to them If you think you have been wrongfully Impris•… you have your Remedy at Law; and may take 〈◊〉 if you think it worth your while. The Court (sa•… he) may send for any Man out of the Street, a•… tender him the Oath: So we take no Notice 〈◊〉 you came hither; but finding you here, we te•… you the Oath of Allegiance: which if you ref•… to take, we shall commit you, and at length P•…¦munire you. Accordingly, as every one Refu•… it, he was set aside, and another called.

By this I saw it was in vain for me, to 〈◊〉 upon False Imprisonment, or ask the Cause 〈◊〉 my Commitment; though I had before •…¦nished my self with some Authorities, and M•…¦ims of Law, on that Subject, to have plead•… if room had been given; and I had the B•… (out of which I took them) in my Bosom; 〈◊〉 the Weather being cold, I wore a Gown, g•… about the middle, and had put the Book wi•… in it. But I now resolved to wave all th•… and insist upon another Plea; which just th•… came into my Mind.

As soon therefore as I was called, I ste•… nimbly to the Bar, and stood up upon the St•…¦ping (that I might the better both hear and 〈◊〉 heard) and laying my Hands upon the B•… stood ready, expecting what they would 〈◊〉 to me.

I suppose they took me for a confident you•… Man: for they looked very earnestly upon 〈◊〉 and we faced each other, without Words, 〈◊〉 a while. At length the Recorder (who was 〈◊〉¦d Sir John Howel) asked me, If I would take •…e Oath of Allegiance.

To which I answered, I conceive this Court •ath not Power to tender that Oath to me, in •…e Condition wherein I stand.

This so unexpected Plea seemed to startle •…em, so that they looked one upon another; •…d said somewhat low one to another, What! •…h he demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court? •nd thereupon the Recorder asked me, Do you 〈◊〉 demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court? Not •bsolutely, answered I, but Conditionally; •…th respect to my present Condition, and the •ircumstances I am now under.

Why, what is your present Condition? said the •…corder. A Prisoner, replied I. And what is •…t, said he, to your taking, or not taking the •…th? Enough (said I, as I conceive) to exempt •e from the Tender thereof; while I am un •…r this Condition. Pray, what is your Reason 〈◊〉 that? said he. This, said I; That, if I •…htly understand the Words of the Statute, I 〈◊〉 required to say That I do take this Oath free •… and without Constraint: which I cannot say, •…cause I am not a Free Man, but in Bonds, and •…der Constraint. Wherefore I conceive that, 〈◊〉 you would tender that Oath to me, ye ought •…t to set me free from my present Imprison •ent.

But, said the Recorder, will you take the Oath 〈◊〉 you be set free? Thou shalt see that, said I, •…en I am set free. Therefore set me free first, •…d then ask the Question.

But, said he again, you know your own M•…¦sure, and can tell now what you would do, if you we•… at Liberty. Yes, replied I, that I can: but • don't hold my self obliged to tell it, until I at at Liberty. Therefore set me at Liberty, a•… ye shall soon hear it.

Thus we fenced a good while, till I was bo•… weary of such Trifling; and doubted also, •… some of the Standers by should suspect, I wo•… take it; if I was set at Liberty. Wherei•… when the Recorder put it upon me again, 〈◊〉 him plainly, No; though I thought they ou•… not to tender it me, till I had been set at •…∣berty: yet if I was set at Liberty, I could 〈◊〉 take that, nor any other Oath, because 〈◊〉 Lord and Master, CHRIST JESUS, had •…¦presly Commanded his Disciples Not to S•… at all.

As his Command was enough to me: so•… Confession of mine was enough to them. T•… him away, said they; and away I was tak•… and thrust into the Bail-Dock to my oth•… Friends, who had been called before me. A•… as soon as the rest of our Company were call•… and had refused to Swear, we were all Co•…¦mitted to Newgate: and thrust into the Co•…¦mon Side.

When we came there, we found that Side 〈◊〉 the Prison very full of Friends, who were P•…¦soners there before (as indeed were, at that ti•… all the other Parts of that Prison, and most of t•… other Prisons about the Town) and our Addi•…¦on caused a great Throng on that Side. No•¦withstanding which, we were kindly welcomed 〈◊〉 our Friends, whom we found there; and •…ertained by them, as well as their Condition •…ould admit, until we could get in our own •…commodations, and provide for our selves.

We had the Liberty of the Hall (which is on •e first story over the Gate, and which, in the •…y time, is common to all the Prisoners on that •…de, Felons as well as others, to walk in, and 〈◊〉 Beg out of:) and we had also the Liberty of •…e other Rooms over that Hall, to walk or •…rk in, a Days. But in the Night we all •…dged in one Room, which was large and •…nd, having in the Middle of it a great Pillar •f Oaken Timber; which bore up the Chap •… that is over it.

To this Pillar we fastned our Hammacks at 〈◊〉 one End, and to the opposite Wall on the o •…er End, quite round the Room, and in three •…grees, or three Stories high, one over the o •…r: so that they who lay in the Upper and •…ddle Row of Hammacks, were obliged to 〈◊〉 to Bed first, because they were to Climb up 〈◊〉 the Higher, by getting into the Lower. And •…er the Lower Rank of Hammacks, by the •…ll-sides were laid Beds upon the Floor; in •…ich the Sick, and such weak Persons as could •…t get into the Hammacks, lay. And indeed, •…ough the Room was large, and pretty airy: •…t the Breath and Steam that came from so •…ny Bodies, of different Ages, Conditions •…d Constitutions, pack't up so close together, •…s enough to cause Sickness amongst us; and I believe did so. For there were many Sick; and some very weak: though we were not long there, yet in that time one of our Fellow Prisoners, who lay in one of those Pallet-Beds, died.

This caused some Bustle in the House. For the Body of the Deceased, being laid out, and put into a Coffin, was carried down, and set in the Room called the Lodge; that the Coroner might enquire into the Cause and Manner of his Death. And the manner of their doing it, is thus. As soon as the Coroner is come, the Turnkeys run out into the Street under the Gate; and seize upon every Man that passes by, till they have got enough to make up the Coroner's Inquest. And so resolute these rude Fellows are, that if any Man resist, or dispute it with them; they drag him in by main Force, not regarding what Condition he is of. Nay, I have been told, the will not stick to stop a Coach, and pluck the Men out of it.

It so happened, that at this time they lighted on an Ancient Man, a grave Citizen, who was trudging through the Gate in great Haste; and him they laid hold on, telling him He must come in, and serve upon the Coroner's Inquest. He pleaded hard, beg'd and besought them to let him go; assuring them He was going on very urgent Business, and that the stopping him would be greatly to his Prejudice. But they were deaf to all Intreaties; and hurried him in, the poor Man Chaffing without Remedy.

When they had got their Complement, and were shut in together, the rest of them said to this Ancient Man, Come Father, you are the oldest Man among us: You shall be our Foreman. And when the Coroner had Sworn them on the Jury, the Coffin was uncovered, that they might ;ook upon the Body. But the Old Man, disturbed in his Mind at the Interruption they had given him; was grown somewhat fretful upon it: said to them, To what purpose do you shew us a dead Body here! You would not have us think, sure, that this Man died in this Room? How then shall we be able to judge how this Man came by his Death, unless we see the Place wherein he died, and wherein he hath been kept Prisoner before he died? How know we, but that the Incommodiousness of the Place wherein he was kept, may have occasioned his Death? Therefore shew us (said he) the place wherein this Man died.

This much displeased the Keepers; and they began to banter the Old Man, thinking to have beaten him off it. But he stood up titely to them: Come, come, said he, Though you have made a Fool of me, in bringing me in hither; ye shall not find a Child of me, now I am here. Mistake not your selves: I understand my Place, and your Duty; and I require you to Conduct me, and my Brethren, to the Place where this Man died: Refuse it at your Peril.

They now wished they had let the Old Man go about his Business, rather than by troubling him, have brought this Trouble on themselves. But when they saw he persisted in his Resolution, and was peremptory, the Coroner told them, They must go shew him the Place.

It was in the Evening when they began this Work; and by this time it was grown Bed-time with us: so that we had taken down our Hammacks (which in the Day were hung up by the Walls) and had made them ready to go into; and were undressing our selves in Readiness to go into them. When on a suddain we heard a great Noise of Tongues, and of Tramplings of Feet, coming up towards us. And by and by One of the Turnkeys, opening our Door, said, Hold, hold, Don't undress your selves, here's the Coroner's Inquest coming to see you.

As soon as they were come to the Door (for within the Door there was scarce room for them to come) the Foreman, who led them, lifting up his Hand, said, Lord bless me, what a Sight is here! I did not think there had been so much Cruelty in the Hearts of Englishmen, to use Englishmen in this manner! We need not now question (said he to the rest of the Jury) how this Man came by his Death: We may rather wonder that they are not all dead: for this Place is enough to breed an Infection among them. Well, added he, If it please God to lengthen my Life till to Morrow, I will find means to let the KING know how his Subjects are dealt with.

Whether he did so, or no; I cannot tell; but I am apt to think that he applied himself to the Mayor, or the Sheriffs of London. For the next Day, one of the Sheriffs (called Sir William Turner, a Wollen-Draper in Paul's-Yard) came to the Press-Yard; and having ordered the Porter of Bridewell to attend him there; sent up a Turnkey amongst us, to bid all the Bridewell Prisoners come down to him: for they knew us not; but we knew our own Company.

Being come before him, in the Press-Yard, he looked kindly on us, and spake courteously to us. Gentlemen, said he, I understand the Prison is very full; and I am sorry for it. I wish it were in my Power to release you, and the rest of your Friends that are in it. But since I cannot do that, I am willing to do what I can for you. And therefore I am come hither to enquire how it is; and I would have all you, who came from Bridewell, return thither again; which will be a better Accommodation to you: and your Removal will give the more room to those that are left behind; and here is the Porter of Bridewell, your Old Keeper, to attend you thither.

We duly acknowledged the Favour of the Sheriff, to us and our Friends above, in this Removal of us; which would give them more Room, and us a better Air. But before we parted from him, I spake particularly to him, on another Occasion: which was this.

When we came into Newgate, we found a shabby Fellow there, among the Friends; who (upon Inquiry) we understood had thrust himself among our Friends, when they were taken at a Meeting, on purpose to be sent to Prison with them; in hopes to be maintained by them. They knew nothing of him, till they found him shut in with them in the Prison: and then took no Notice of him, as not knowing how or why he came thither. But he soon gave them cause to take Notice of him: for where¦ever he saw any Victuals brought forth fo• them to Eat; he would be sure to thrust in with Knife in hand, and make himself his own Carver, And so impudent was he, that if he saw the Provision was short; whoever wanted• he would be sure to take enough.

Thus lived this lazy Drone upon the Labours of the Industrious Bees; to his high Content, and their no small Trouble: to whom his Company was as Offensive, as his Ravening was Oppressive: nor could they get any Relief, by their complaining of him to the Keepers.

This Fellow, hearing the Notice which was given, for the Bridewell-Men to go down, in order to be removed to Bridewell again; and hoping (no Doubt) that fresh Quarters would produce fresh Commons, and that he should fare better with us, than where he was: thrust himself amongst us; and went down into the Press Yard with us. Which I knew not of, till I saw him standing there, with his Hat on; and looking as demurely as he could, that the Sheriff might take him for a Quaker: at Sight of which, my Spirit was much stirred.

Wherefore, as soon as the Sheriff had done speaking to us, and we had made our Acknowledgment of his Kindness; I stept a little nearer to him, and pointing to that Fellow, said, That Man is not only none of our Company, for he is no Quaker: but is an idle dissolute Fellow, who hath thrust himself in among our Friends, to be sent to Prison with them, that he might live upon them: therefore I desire we may not be troubled with him at Bridewell.

At this the Sheriff smiled; and calling the Fellow forth, said to him, How came you to be in Prison? I was taken at a Meeting, said he, But what Business had you there? said the Sheriff. I went to hear, said he. Aye, you went upon a •…rse Design, it seems, replied the Sheriff; but I'•… disappoint you, said he: for I'll change your Company; and send you to them that are like your self. Then calling for the Turnkey, he said, Take this Fellow, and put him among the Felons; and be sure let him not trouble the Quakers any more.

Hitherto this Fellow had stood with his Hat on, as willing to have passed (if he could) for a Quaker; but as soon as he heard this Doom passed on him, off went his Hat: and to bowing and scraping he fell, with Good your Worship have pity upon me, and set me at Liberty. No, no, said the Sheriff, I will not so far disappoint you: since you had a Mind to be in Prison, in Prison you shall be for me. Then bidding, the Turnkey take him away; he had him up, and put him among the Felons: and so Friends had a good Deliverance from him.

The Sheriff then bidding us Farewel, the Porter of Bridewell came to us, and told us, We know our Way to Bridewell without him; and he could trust us: therefore he would not stay nor go with us; but left us to take our own time; so we were in before Bed-time.

Then went we up again to our Friends in Newgate; and gave them an Account of what had passed: and having taken a solemn Leav• of them; we made up our Packs to be gone• But before I pass from Newgate, I think it no• amiss, to give the Reader some little Accoun• of what I Observed while I was there.

The common Side of Newgate is generally accounted, as it really is, the Worst part of that Prison; not so much from the Place, as the People: it being usually stocked with the veriest Rogues, and meanest sort of Felons, and Pick-Pockets; who not being able to pay Chamber-Rent on the Master's Side, are thrust in there. And if they come in Bad, to be sure they do not go out better: for here they have an Opportunity to instruct one another in their Art; and impart each to other what Improvements they have made therein.

The Common Hall (which is the first Room over the Gate) is a good Place to walk in, when the Prisoners are out of it (saving the danger of catching some Cattle, which they may have left in it:) and there I used to walk in a Morning, before they were let up; and sometimes in the Day time, when they have been there.

They all carried themselves respectfully towards me; which I imputed chiefly to this, That when any of our Women-Friends came there to Visit the Prisoners, if they had not Relations of their own there, to take care of them: I, (as being a young Man, and more at leisure than most others, for I could not play the Taylor there) was forward to go down with them to the Grate, and see them safe out. And sometimes they have left Money in my Hands for the Felons (who at such times were very importunate Beggars:) which I forthwith distributed among them in Bread; which was to be had in the Place. But so troublesome an Office it was, that I thought one had as good have had a Pack of hungry Hounds about one, as these when they knew there was a Dole to be given. Yet this, I think, made them a little the more observant to me; for they would dispose themselves to one side of the Room, that they might make way for me to walk on the other. And when I walked there, I had usually a Book in my Hand; on which I had mine Eye: which made them think I did not heed what they said. By this Means, mine Ear being attentive to them, I heard them relate one to another many of their Roguish Pranks.

One Day, as I was thus walking to and fro beside them, I heard them recounting one to another what feats they had done at Pocket-picking and Shop-lifting. Whereupon, turning short upon them, I asked them, Which of you all will undertake to pick my Pocket? They were not very forward to Answer; but viewed me round. I wore a long Gown, which was lap't over before, and tied about the Middle; and had no Pocket-Holes in it. When they had a while considered it, and I (having taken another Turn) was come up again to them, One of them said, Why, Master, If you will Promise not to Prosecute us, we will show you a Piece of our Skill. Nay, hold there, said I, I won•… so far encourage you in Evil, as to promise no• to prosecute: and away I turned again; hav¦ing mine Eye on my Book; but mine Ear• to them. And in a while I heard them contriv¦ing how they would have done it. I, said one of them, would give him the Budge; and before he can recover himself, you (said he to another of them) having your Penknife ready, should 〈◊〉 his Gown; and then (said he) let Honeypot alone for the diving Part. This Honeypot was a little Boy (then in Prison with them for Picking a Pocket) who, by his Stature, did not seem to be above Ten, or a Dozen Years old: but for his Dexterity at Pocket-picking, was held to be one of the top of the Trade. As for the Budg•… I had had it given me often in the Street; but understood not the Meaning of it till now; and now I found it was a Jostle, enough to throw one almost upon his Nose.

I have sometimes occasionally been in the Hall in an Evening; and have seen the Whores let in unto them (which I take to be a common Practice:) Nasty Sluts indeed they were; and in that respect the more suitable. And as I have passed by them, I have heard the Rogues and they making their Bargains, which and which of them should Company together that Night. Which abominable Wickedness must be imputed to the Dishonesty of the Turnkeys; who, for vile Gain to themselves, not only suffer, but further this Leudness.

These are some of the common Evils, which make the Common Side of Newgate, in measure a Type of HELL upon EARTH. But there was, at that time, something of another Nature, more Particular and Accidental, which was very Offensive to me.

When we came first into Newgate, there lay in a little By-place like a Closet, near the Room where we were Lodged) the Quartered Bodies of three Men; who had been Executed some Days before, for a real or pretended Plot: which was the Ground, or at least Pretext, for that Storm in the City, which had caused this Imprisonment. The Names of these three Men were Philips, Tongue and Gibs: and the Reason why their Quarters lay so long there was, The Relations were all that while Petitioning to have leave to bury them: which at length with much ado was obtained for the Quarters; but not for the Heads, which were Ordered to be set up in some Parts of the City.

I saw the Heads, when they were brought •p to be Boyled. The Hangman fetch'd them •n a dirty Dust Basket, out of some By-Place; •nd setting them down amongst the Felons, he •nd they made Sport with them. They took •hem by the Hair, Flouting, Jeering and Laugh •ng at them: and then giving them some ill Names, box'd them on the Ears and Cheeks. Which done, the Hangman put them into his Kettle, and parboyl'd them with Bay-Salt and Cummin-Seed: that to keep them from Putrefaction, and this to keep off the Fowls from seizing on them. The whole Sight (as we•… that of the Bloody Quarters first, as this of th• Heads afterwards) was both frightful an loathsom; and begat an Abhorrence in my Na¦ture. Which as it had rendered my Confine¦ment there by much the more uneasie: so 〈◊〉 made our Removal from thence to Bridewell even in that respect, the more welcome. Whi¦ther we now go.

For having (as I hinted before) made up our Packs, and taken our Leave of our Friends, whom we were to leave behind; we took our Bundles on our Shoulders, and walked, Two and Two a Breast, through the Old Baily into Fleet-Street, and so to Old Bridewell. And it being about the middle of the Afternoon, and the Streets pretty full of People; both the Shop¦keepers at their Doors, and Passengers in the Way, would stop us, and ask us what we were, and whither we were going. And when we had told them we were Prisoners, going from one Prison to another (from Newgate to Bride¦well) What, said they, without a Keeper! No• said we, for our Word, which we have given• is our Keeper. Some thereupon would advis• us not to go to Prison, but to go home. Bu• we told them, we could not do so: we coul• suffer for our Testimony; but could not fl• from it. I do not remember we had any Abus• offered us: but were generally pitied by th• People.

When we were come to Bridewell; we wer• not put up into the great Room in which we ha• •…en before; but into a low Room in another •…ir Court, which had a Pump in the Middle 〈◊〉 it. And here we were not shut up as be •…re: but had the Liberty of the Court to walk 〈◊〉 and of the Pump to wash or drink at. And •…deed, we might easily have gone quite away 〈◊〉 we would, there was a Passage through the •…urt into the Street) but we were true and •…ady Prisoners; and looked upon this Liberty, •…sing from their Confidence in us, to be a •…nd of Paroll upon us; so that both Conscience •…d Honour stood now engaged for our true •…prisonment.

Adjoyning to this Room, wherein we were, •as such another; both newly fitted up for •ork-Houses, and accordingly furnished with •…ry great Blocks, for Beating Hemp upon, •…d a lusty Whipping-Post there was in each. •…d it was said, That Richard Brown had Or •…red those Blocks to be provided, for the Qua •…s to Work on; resolving to try his Strength •…ith us in that Case: but if that was his Pur •…se, it was over-ruled; for we never had any Work Offered us, nor were we treated after the Manner of those, that are to be so Used. Yet we set our selves to Work on them; for, being •ery large, they served the Taylors for Shop •…ards, and others wrought upon them, as •…ey had Occasion: and they served us very well for Tables to eat on.

We had also besides this Room, the Use of •ur former Chamber above, to go into when we thought fit: and thither sometimes I withdrew, when I found a Desire for Retiremen• and Privacy, or had something on my Mind t• write, which could not so well be done in Com¦pany. And indeed, about this time my Spiri• was more than ordinarily Exercised; though on very different Subjects. For, on the one hand, the Sense of the Exceeding LOVE and GOODNESS of the LORD to me in his Gracious and Tender Dealings with me did deeply affect my Heart; and caused me to break forth in a SONG of THANKSGI¦VING and PRAISE to Him: And, on the other hand, a Sense of the Prophaneness• Debaucheries, Cruelties, and other horr•… Impieties of the AGE, fell heavy on me and lay as a pressing Weight upon my Spi¦rit. And this drew from me a close Exp•…¦bration; which my mournful Muse vented i• the following Lines: to which I gave for a Title,

Speculum SECULI: OR, A LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE TIMES.

•hich began with this Expostulatory Preface.

WHY should my Modest MUSE forbidden be

To speak of that which but too many see?

•…y should she, by Conniving, seem t' uphold

•…s Wickedness; and thereby make them bold

•…l to persist in't? Why should she be shy

•…call them Beasts, who want Humanity?

•…y should she any longer Silence keep,

•…d lie secure, as one that's fast asleep?

〈◊〉 how indeed can it expected be,

•…t she should hold her Tongue, and daily see

•…se wicked and enormous Crimes committed,

•…ich she, in Modesty, has pretermitted?

Which but to name would with their Filth defile

Chast Ears, and cast a Blemish on her Stile.

Yet, of so many, she cannot forbear

To mention some, which here detected are.

LOUD were the Cries, which long h•… pierc'd mine Ear:

Foul the Reports, which I did daily hear.

Unheard of, new-invented Crimes were brough•…

By Fame unto my Knowledge; which I thoug•…

Too foul and loathsome to have found a place

In any Heart, though ne'er so void of Grace.

This made me take a more observant View,

Whether Report spake what of Men is true.

But as the celebrated Southern QUEEN,

When she the Court of Solomon had seen;

And had, with more than usual Diligence,

Observ'd his Splendor and Magnificence;

Consider'd well his Pomp, his Port, his State,

The great Retinue that on him did wait:

As one with Admiration fill'd (no doubt

Not able longer to contain) burst out

Into such Words as these; Thrice happy KIN•…

(Whose Fame throughout the Universe doth ri•…

•…ough of thine Acts I thought Report too bold,

•…t now I see one half hath not been told.

•…st so did I (though in another kind)

•…ter I had intently fix'd my Mind

•…on Mens Actions; and had duly weigh'd

•…ot only what they did, but what they said

〈◊〉while I stood (like one that's struck with Thunder)

•…l'd with Astonishment, and silent Wonder.

•…t length my Heart, swelling with Indignation,

•…ented it self in such an Exclamation.

〈◊〉 O Hellish Doings! O Infernal Crew!

•…f whom, who says the worst he can, says true.

〈◊〉 Herd of Lustful Satyrs, Monsters, Brutes!

For such a Name to such a Nature sutes:)

What Ink is black enough to write! What Pen

•…it to delineate such Beasts; not Men!

Words are too shallow to express the Rage,

The Fury, Madness of this Frantick AGE.

Numbers fall short to reckon up the Crimes,

Which are the Recreations of these Times.

Was Sodom ever Guilty of a Sin,

Which England is not now involved in?

By Custom, Drunkenness so common's grown•

That most Men count it a small Sin, or none.

Ranting and Roaring they affirm to be

The true Characters of Gentility.

Swearing and Cursing is so much in Fashion,

That 'tis esteem'd a Badge of Reputation.

What dreadful Oaths! What direful Execrati•…

On others! On themselves what Imprecations

They tumble out, like roaring Claps of Thund•…

As if they meant to rend the Clouds a sunder!

Mockers do so abound in ev'ry Place,

That rare it is to meet a sober Face.

Ambition, Boasting, Vanity and Pride

(With Numbers numberless of Sins beside)

Are grown, thro' Use, so common, that Men c•…

Them Peccadillo's; small, or none at all.

But, Oh! the Luxury, and great Excess

Which by this wanton Age is us'd in Dress!

What pains do Men and Women take, alas!

To make themselves for arrand Bedlam's pass!

The Fool's py'd Coat, which all Wise Men dete

Is grown a Garment now in great Request.

More Colours in one Wastcoat now they wear,

Than in the Rain-bow ever did appear;

As if they were ambitious to put on

All Colours that they cast their Eyes upon:

Thereby outstripping the Chamaelion quite,

Which cannot change it self to Red or White.

Each Man, like Proteus his Shape doth change,

To whatsoever seemeth new or strange:

And he that in a modest Garb is Drest,

•s made the Laughing-stock of all the rest.

For are they with their Baubles satisfied:

But Sex-Distinctions too are laid aside.

The Women wear the Trowsies and the Vest:

While Men in Muffs, Fans, Peticoats are drest.

•ome Women (Oh, the Shame!) like ramping Rigs,

•ide flaunting in their Powder'd Perriwigs:

Astride they sit (and not ashamed neither)

Drest up like Men, in Jacket, Cap and Feather.

All things to Lust and Wantonness are fitted:

Nothing that tends to Vanity omitted.

To give a Touch on every Antick Fashion

Which hath been worn of late within this Nation,

Might fill a Volume, which would tire, no doubt,

The READER's Patience, if not wear it out.

Come now, ye ranting Gallants of the Times

Who nothing have to boast of, but your Crimes

Ye Satan's Hectors, who disdain to Swear

An Oath beneath God damn me if he dare.

Blasphemous Wretches! whose Impieties,

With rude Assaults, have storm'd the very Skie•

And dar'd the God of Heaven, a dreadful Strok•

Shall yo receive, by which ye shall be broke:

And in the fiery Lake those Torments find,

Which for such Desperado's are assign'd.

And ye, who take so great delight to Curs•

As that you think your selves a deal the worse

Unless unto the highest Strain ye swell,

And wish the Devil make you Bed in Hell:

This know, the long provoked God is come,

From whom ye must receive that dreadful Doom

Depart, ye Cursed, and for ever dwell,

Where Beds of Torment are prepar'd, in Hell.

'Twas wonderful to see in what a Trice,

This Zealous Nation was o'er-run with Vice.

As when the boyling Gulf, with furious Gales

Puff't up, o'erslows its Banks, and drowns th• Vales;

And when again it Ebbs, it leaves (we find)

A loathsom Scum, and noisom Stink behind

So great was, in a Word, the Wickedness

Of that black Day; such the uncurb'd Excess;

As if the Fatal Hour had then been come,

For the Deliv'ry of Hells pregnant Womb;

And that the Devil had a Patent got,

To vend whatever Merchandize he brought:

Or that Pandora's Box (which POETS feign

Did all Calamities in it contain)

Had then been newly op'ned; and from thence

Had flutter'd out this raging Pestilence:

Which since, the common Body hath o'erspread

With such a Lep'rous Scab from Foot to Head;

That 'tis a lamentable Sight to see,

How each Sex, old and young, debauched be.

A sort of Men have over-run this Nation,

Who are a Burthen to the whole Creation:

Men shall I call them, or the Viper's Brood?

Lovers of Evil: Haters of all Good.

These, swell'd with Envy, in a great Despight

To Christ, with Fist of Wickedness do smite

(Not their own Fellow-Servants; for they are

The Devil's Slaves, by him bor'd thro' the Ear:

But) God's Ambassadors, whom he hath sent

To warn them of their Sins, and cry, Repent;

Or to denounce his Judgments against those,

That set themselves his Message to oppose.

These Persecute the Innocent, and say,

When they are gone, 'twill be a merry Day.

These grind the Poor; The Needy these Oppres•

Widows devour; Tread on the Fatherless.

Far from themselves they put the Evil Day;

Remove impending Judgments far away:

And yet in vain they strive t'escape the Stroke

Of that just God whom boldly they provoke.

For they afflict his People; slay his Sheep:

Beat those whom he appointed hath to keep

And feed his tender Lambs; rend, tear, devour

Suppress God's Worship to their utmost Pow'r.

A Cursed Generation, who are bent

To spare the Wicked; slay the Innocent:

Whose Blood doth Cry, whose Blood doth Cry aloud,

As loud as Abel's, pierceth thro' the Cloud;

Presents it self before the Judgment-Seat,

And Justice doth of the just Judge intreat,

That speedy Vengence he will take on all,

Who Persecute his Saints, and them Enthrall.

Nor is He deaf; its Cry with him prevails:

And He hath promised (who never fails

In the Performance) that he will arise,

And put a Period to their Cruelties:

And that he will, with more than winged Speed,

Send Comfort to his poor afflicted Seed;

Which under Pharaoh's heavy Yoke hath groan'd,

And in Captivity it self bemoan'd.

O Bloody Sin of Persecution!

'Tis thou that pluckest Judgments down upon

The Heads of Kings, Princes, Plebeians, All

That Act thee, and by thee the Saints enthral.

This is that Sin, that Sin which Cries aloud;

Louder than all the rest, The Guilt of Blood:

Which is the strongest Cord the Devil hath

To draw down on Mankind God's heavy Wrath.

Weeping I sigh, and sighing weep to see

The Rod, which God prepared hath for thee,

O England, who dost evilly intreat

His Messengers; and dost his Prophets beat.

Ah, England, Ah, poor England, I bewail

Thy sad Estate: O that I might prevail

In my Desires for thee! Then shouldst thou be

As full of Joy, as now of Misery.

For then should Plenty in thy Fields be found,

And all thy Garners should with Grain abound:

Then Peace, long-lasting Peace should in thee dwell;

For God would all thine Enemies repel:

And he himself would take delight in thee;

So Thou the Glory of the World would'st be.

But, ah, alass! small Hope I have to see

Such happy Symptoms of good Health in thee,

No, No, sad Isle, my Reason it doth tell me,

That all the Crosses, which have yet befel thee,

Are but an Earnest of that dreadful Day,

Wherein God will upon thy Head repay

Wrath, Fury, Vengeance and Destruction;

The just Reward of Persecution.

The due Consideration of thy State,

And thine (I fear) inevitable Fate,

Doth move my Heart with Pity and Compassion

And leads me to this short Expostulation.

Who to the Eye gave Sight? what shall not he

The Cruel Sufferings of his People see?

And shall not he that formed hath the Ear,

The mournful Groans of his dear Children hear?

Are Men so stupid grown, they think GOD's Blind?

Or that he doth not heed? or cannot find

A way, to ease the Suff'rings of his Seed?

Whose Cry unto him is, Father, with speed

Arise, arise; Rend thou the Clouds, Descend:

Avenge us of our Enemies, Defend

Us from their Cruelties; and let them see

Thy Care of us, exceeds our Love to Thee.

Nor are these Sighs in vain: for he indeed

Is rising, yea is ris'n, our Cause to plead

In Righteousness; and henceforth us who kicks,

Shall know 'tis hard to kick against the Pricks.

Be warned then ye Rulers, and let all

Of whatsoever Rank, both great and small,

Tremble before the Lord; and cease to Rage

Against our God's peculiar Heritage.

For, of a Truth, his long-provoked Hand

Is stretched out, in Judgment, o'er this Land;

And ye must feel it: for he hath decreed,

To vindicate his long oppressed Seed.

And in his Fury, he will Vengeance take

In our Behalfs, who suffer for his sake.

Then shall ye know, That he, who sits on high,

Regards us as the Apple of his Eye.

To this, occasionally I subjoined a POSTSCRIPT, thus.

SINCE what precedes was written, I have found

An Accusation form'd, but without Ground,

Against me, That with uncontrouled Pen,

I too severely lash the Faults of Men:

And take upon me, in Satyrick Rhimes,

To pass a rigid Censure on the Times.

This drew me on to add another Line,

To shew them that the Fault's their own, not mine.

No Crime can justly to my charge be laid:

Unless it be a Crime, That Truth be said.

Nor can, without Injustice, any blame

My Muse, for Echoing the Common Fame.

If any should Object, That wise Men hold,

That Truth at all times ought not to be told.

Nor that whatever comes into ones Head

Should straight, because 'tis true, be published.

I readily assent, because I know

Pearls before Swine we are forbid to through.

Some Truths, I grant, may better be conceal'd,

Than if they out of Season were reveal'd.

Yet would I not that any, through Mistake,

Should of my Words a Misconstruction make.

Than that should happen, I had rather be

Tax't by the Reader for Prolixity.

Thus then, in brief, would I be understood.

If what I know, concerns my Brother's good,

For him to know: Ought I not then unfold

It to him, rather than from him with-hold

A Benefit? So on the other side,

It is, I think, too plain to be deny'd,

That if I see what certainly doth tend

To the Hurt of my Neighbour, or my Friend;

I am oblig'd, by Christian Charity,

To give them warning of the danger nigh:

To shew them, that they stand upon the brink

Of certain Ruin; and if then they sink,

By wilful Running on, I shall be free

From Guilt, their Blood on their own Heads will be.

'Tis plain I think; yet if ye can't believe it

Without a Scripture-Proof, lo, here
Levit. 19. 17. Ezek. 33

I give it.

This is the very Case; which, if well weigh'd,

Will fully justifie what I have said.

I saw Men Running to a Precipice,

At Foot of which was such a vast Abyss

As could have swallow'd Nations; so immense

That 'twas impossible to climb out thence.

For if a Man, we see, but chance to pitch.

O'er Head and Ears, into some miry Ditch;

How quickly is he smothered, unless

Some Friendly Hand assist in that distress!

And if, with strugling, out at length he get▪

Yet how besmear'd is he with Dirt, and wet!

But into this deep Pit who falls, in vain

Expects an Hand, to help him out again.

No, 'tis of Grace that Men forewarned are,

And, e'er their Feet are taken, shew'd the Snare.

And warned they must be. For so was I

While roving in their Paths of Vanity:

•oil'd and bewild'red in a dismal Night

•f thick Egyptian Darkness, from the Light.

•…om whence the Lord hath, by his Love, me drawn,

•nd in my Heart hath caus'd his Day to dawn,

•is glorious Day, his never-setting Sun

〈◊〉 Rise, and darkness to Expel begun.

•…is Love, as it arises, warms my Heart,

•…d fills it with Desires to impart

〈◊〉 others of its Goodness; that none may

〈◊〉 want of good Direction, miss their Way.

〈◊〉 Know therefore thou, who hitherto hast spent

•…y Time in Vanity, and wholly bent

•…y utmost Strength, thy Lusts to satisfie,

•…d surfeit, with Delights, thy wanton Eye;

•…e Lord hath in thy Conscience plac'd a Light,

〈◊〉 teach thee how to guide thy Steps aright.

•…is checks when into Evil thou hast run:

•…d gives thee warning, e'er thou hast begun.

•…st thou not heard, when in thy full Career,

•…mething within thee say, What do I here?

•…d when thy Mind is cool, another Day,

•…th it not sometimes cause thee thus to say;

O that I had not run into Excess!

O that I had not done this Wickedness!

My Conscience tells me that I have done ill,

In yielding to my own corrupted Will:

And though no Eye did see me, yet my Heart

I feel is full of Torment, Pain and Smart.

Were it to do again, I'd have more Care,

And not run wilfully into the Snare.

Consider what that is, which thus doth raise

A Trouble in thee for thy Evil Ways.

And what that is, which many times doth grieve thee;

And often makes thee Cry out, God forgive me.

When thus it checks thee next, strait call to Mind,

That Word, Thine Ear shall hear a Voice behind

Thee, saying Hither turn; this is the way,

When to the Right, or Left, thou go'st astray.

And having heard, Obedience forthwith give

To its Reproof: Hear, and thy Soul shall live.

For were Men subject to Christ's Light within,

It certainly would lead Men out of Sin,

•…d, thro' Believing, bring them into Heav'n:

•…r that's the End, for which by him 'tis giv'n.

〈◊〉 Thus have I faithfully discharg'd a Part,

•hich long lay as a weight upon my Heart:

•…gardless of what Danger may ensue,

•…r seasonably speaking what is true.

•…d if ungrateful Men shall ill requite

•…y signal Love, with Enmity and Spight:

•…t them know, That my undaunted Pen

•…rns the contracted Brows of angry Men.

•…par'd I am to suffer with Content,

•…e worst that canc'red Malice can invent:

•…ich is no more than to my Lord befel,

〈◊〉 Suffer Evil things for Doing well.

Bona agere, & Mala pati, Regium est.

〈◊〉 suffer Evil, for Well-doing, brings

•…e Sufferer to share Renown with Kings.

After I had, in the foregoing POEM, some •…at eased my Spirit of that; which, for some •…e, had lain as a Load upon me: I breathed •…th the following HYMN to God, in Ac •…owledgment of his great Goodness to me, •…fession of my grateful Love to Him; and •…plication to Him, for the Continuance of his Kindness to me, in Preserving me from t•… Snares of the Enemy, and keeping me faith•… unto Himself.

THEE, thee alone, O God, I fear

In thee do I confide:

Thy Presence is to me more dear

Than all things else beside.

Thy Vertue, Power, Life and Light,

Which in my Heart do shine;

Above all things are my delight:

O make them always mine!

Thy matchless Love constrains my Life,

Thy Life constrains my Love,

To be to thee as chast a Wife,

As is the Turtle-Dove

To her elect, espoused Mate,

Whom she will not forsake:

Nor can be brought to violate

The Bond she once did make.

Just so my Soul doth cleave to thee,

As to her only Head;

With whom she longs conjoin'd to be

In Bond of Marriage-Bed.

But, ah, alas! her little Fort

Is compassed about

Her Foes about her thick resort,

Within, and eke without.

How numerous are they now grown!

How wicked their Intent!

let thy mighty Power be shown,

Their Mischief to prevent!

They make Assaults on ev'ry side,

But thou stand'st in the Gap:

Their Batt'ring-Rams make Breaches wide▪

But still thou mak'st them up.

•ometimes they ufe alluring Wiles,

To draw into their Pow'r:

•nd sometimes weep, like Crocodiles;

But all is to devour.

Thus they beset my feeble Heart

With Fraud, Deceit and Guile:

•lluring her from thee to start,

And thy pure Rest defile.

•ut oh! the Breathing and the Moan,

The Sighings of the Seed;

•he Groanings of the Grieved One,

Do Sorrows in me breed.

And that Immortal, Holy Birth,

The Off-spring of thy Breath,

(To whom thy Love brings Life and Mirth

As doth thy Absence, Death:)

That Babe, that Seed, that panting Child

Which cannot thee forsake,

In fear to be again beguil'd,

Doth Supplication make;

O suffer not thy Chosen One,

Who puts her Trust in thee,

And hath made thee her Choice alone,

Ensnar'd again to be.

Bridewell, London: 1662.

In this sort did I spend some leisure Ho• during my Confinement in Bridewell; especi• after our return from Newgate thither; w• we had more Liberty, and more Opportu• and Room for Retirement and Thought. as the Poet said,

Carmina Scribentes Secessum & Otia quaer•…

They who would write in Mea•…

Retire, where they may Stilness have, and 〈◊〉

And this Priviledge we enjoyed, by the Indulgence of our Keeper, whose Heart God disposed •o Favour us. So that both the Master and his •orter were very civil, and kind to us; and •ad been so indeed all along. For when we were shut up before, the Porter would readily •…t some of us go home in an Evening, and stay •t Home till next Morning, which was a great Conveniency to Men of Trade and Business: which I being free from, forbore asking for my •elf; that I might not hinder others.

This he observed, and asked me when I •eant to ask to go out. I told him, I had not •uch Occasion, nor Desire; yet at sometime or •ther, perhaps, I might have: but when I had, • would ask him but once; and if he then de •…ed me, I would ask him no more.

After we were come back from Newgate, I •ad a Desire to go thither again, to visit my •riends who were Prisoners there; more espe •ially my dear Friend (and Father in Christ) •dward Burrough, who was then a Prisoner, •ith many Friends more, in that Part of New •ate, which was then called Justice-Hall. Whereupon the Porter coming in my way, I •sked him to let me go out for an Hour or two, •o see some Friends of mine that Evening.

He to enhanse the Kindness, made it a matter •f some Difficulty; and would have me stay •…ll another Night. I told him, I would be at 〈◊〉 Word with him: for as I had told him before, •hat if he denied me, I would ask him no •ore; so he should find I would keep to it.

He was no sooner gone out of my Sight, bu• I espied his Master crossing the Court. Where¦fore stepping to him, I asked him, If he was willing to let me go out for a little while, to see some Friends of mine that Evening. Yes, said he, very willing; and thereupon away walked I to Newgate; where having spent the Evening among Friends, I returned in good time.

Under this easie Restraint we lay, till the Court sate at the Old-Baily again: And then, whether it was that the Heat of the Storm was somewhat abated, or by what other means Providence wrought it, I know not; we were called to the Bar, and without further Question, discharged.

Whereupon we returned to Bridewell again, and having raised some Monies among us, and therewith gratified both the Master and his Porter, for their Kindness to us; we spent sometime in a solemn Meeting, to return our thankful Acknowledgement to the LORD, both for His Preservation of us in Prison, and Deliverance of us out of it: and then taking a solemn Farewel of each other, we departed with Bag and Baggage. And I took care to return my Hammack to the Owner; with due Acknowledgement of his great Kindness, in lending it me.

Being now at Liberty, I visited more generally my Friends that were still in Prison; and more particularly my Friend and Benefactor, William Penington, at his House: and then went to wait upon my Master Milton. With whom yet I could not propose to enter upon my intermitted Studies, until I had been in Buckinghamshire, to visit my worthy Friends Isaac Penington, and his Virtuous Wife; with other Friends in that Country.

Thither therefore I betook my self, and the Weather being Frosty, and the Ways, by that means, clean and good; I walked it thorow in a Day: and was received by my Friends there, with such Demonstration of hearty Kindness, as made my Journey very easie to me.

I had spent in my Imprisonment that Twenty Shillings, which I had received of William Penington; and Twenty of the Fourty, which had been sent me from Mary Penington, and had the Remainder then about me. That therefore I now returned to her, with due Acknowledgement of her Husband's and her great Care of me, and Liberality to me, in the time of my Need. She would have had me kept it. But I beg'd her to accept it from me again; since it was the Redundancy of their Kindness, and the other Part had answered the Occasion, for which it was sent: and my Importunity prevailed.

I intended only a Visit hither, not a Continuance: and therefore purposed, after I had staid a few Days, to return to my Lodging, and former Course in London: but Providence ordered it otherwise.

Isaac Penington had at that time two Sons and one Daughter (all then very young) of whom the Eldest Son (John Penington) and the Daughter (Mary, the Wife of Daniel Wharley) are yet living at the writing of this. And being himself both Skilful and Curious in Pronounciation; he was very desirous to have them well grounded in the Rudiments of the English Tongue: to which End he had sent for a Man out of Lancashire (whom, upon enquiry, he had heard of) who was undoubtedly the most accurate English Teacher, that ever I met with, or have heard of. His Name was Richard Bradley. But as he pretended no higher than the English Tongue; and had led them, by Grammar Rules, to the highest Improvement they were capable of in that: he had then taken his Leave of them, and was gone up to London, to Teach an English School of Friends Children there.

This put my Friend to a fresh Straight. He had sought for a New Teacher, to instruct his Children in the Latin Tongue, as the Old had done in the English: but had not yet found one. Wherefore one Evening as we sate together by the Fire in his Bed-Chamber (which, for want of Health, he kept) He asked me (his Wife being by) If I would be so kind to him, as to stay a while with him, till he could hear of such a Man as he aimed at; and in the mean time enter his Children in the Rudiments of the Latin Tongue.

This Question was not more unexpected, than surprizing to me; and the more, because it seemed directly to thwart my former Purpose, and Undertaking, of endeavouring to improve my self by following my Studies with my Master Milton: which this would give at least a present Divertion from; and for how long I could not foresee.

But the Sense I had of the manifold Obligations I lay under to these worthy Friends of mine, shut out all Reasonings; and disposed my Mind to an absolute Resignation to their Desire; that I might testifie my Gratitude, by a Willingness to do them any friendly Service, that I could be capable of.

And though I questioned my Ability to carry on that Work, to its due Height and Proportion; yet as that was not proposed, but an Initiation only, by Accidence into Grammar: I consented to the Proposal, as a present Expedient (till a more qualified Person should be found;) without further Treaty, or mention of Terms between us, than that of mutual Friendship. And to render this Digression from my own Studies the less uneasie to my Mind, I recollected (and often thought of) that Rule in Lilly,

Qui docet indoctos, licet indoctissimus esset,

Ipse brevi reliquis doctior esse queat.

He that th' Unlearn'd doth teach, may quickly be

More Learn'd than they, though most Unlearned He.

With this Consideration I undertook this Province; and left it not until I Married: which was not till the Year 1669, near Seven Years from the time I came thither. In which time, having the Use of my Friends Books, as well as of mine own, I spent my leasure Hours much in Reading; not without some improvement to my self in my private Studies: which (with the good Success of my Labours bestowed on the Children, and the Agreeableness of Conversation, which I found in the Family;) rendered my Undertaking more Satisfactory, and my Stay there more easie to me.

But, alas! not many Days (not to say Weeks) had I been there; e're we were almost overwhelmed with Sorrow, for the unexpected Loss of Edward Burrough, who was justly very dear to us all.

This not only Good, but Great-good Man, by a long and close Confinement in Newgate, through the Cruel Malice, and Malicious Cruelty of Richard Brown, was taken away by hasty Death, to the unutterable Grief of very many, and unspeakable Loss to the CHURCH of CHRIST in general.

The particular Obligation I had to him as the immediate Instrument of my Convincement; and high Affection for him, resulting therefrom, did so deeply affect my Mind; that it was some pretty time, before my Passion could prevail, to express it self in Words: so true I found that of the Tragoedian,

Curae leves loqunntur,

Ingentes Stupent.

Light Griefs break forth, and easily get vent,

Great Ones are, thro' Amazement, closely pent.

At length my MUSE, not bearing to be any longer mute, brake forth in the following ACROSTICK; which she called

A Pathetick ELEGY on the Death of that dear, and faithful Servant of GOD, EDWARD BURROUGH. Who died the 14th of the 12th Month, 1662.

And thus she Introduceth it.

HOW long shall Grief lie smother'd! Ah, how long

Shall Sorrow's Signet seal my silent Tongue!

How long shall Sighs me suffocate! And make

My Lips to quiver, and my Heart to ake!

How long shall I, with Pain, suppress my Cries!

And seek for Holes to wipe my wat'ry Eyes!

Why may not I, by Sorrow thus opprest,

Pour forth my Grief into another's Breast!

If that be true which once was said by one,

That
Ille dolet vere, qui sine Teste dolet.

He mourns truly, who doth Mourn alone:

Then may I truly say, My Grief is true

Since it hath yet been known to very few.

Nor is it now mine Aim to make it known

To those, to whom these Verses may be shown:

But to Asswage my Sorrow-swollen Heart,

Which Silence caus'd to taste so deep of Smart.

This is my End, that so I may prevent

The Vessel's Bursting, by a timely vent.

— Quis talia fando

Temperet à Lacrymis! —

Who can forbear, when such things spoke he hears,

His Grave to Water with a Flood of Tears.

E cho ye Woods: Resound ye hallow Places.

L et Tears and Paleness cover all Mens Faces.

L et Groans like Claps of Thunder, pierce the Air▪

W hile I the Cause of my just Grief declare.

O that mine Eyes could, like the Streams of Nile,

O 'erflow their watry Banks: and thou, mean while,

D rink in my trick'ling Tears, O thirsty Ground;

S o might'st thou henceforth fruitfuller be found.

L ament, my Soul, Lament; thy Loss is deep:

A nd all that Sion love sit down and weep.

M ourn, O ye Virgins: And let Sorrow be

E ach Damsel's Dowry: And (alas, for me!)

N 'er let my Sobs and Sighings have an End,

T ill I again embrace m' ascended Friend;

A nd till I feel the Virtue of his Life

T o Consolate me, and Repress my Grief:

I nfuse into my Heart the Oyl of Gladness

O nce more, and by its strength remove that Sadness

N ow pressing down my Spirit, and Restore

F ully that Joy I had in him before.

O f whom a Word I fain would stammer forth;

R ather to ease my Heart, than shew his Worth:

H is Worth, my Grief, which words too shallow are

I n Demonstration fully to declare

S ighs, Sobs, my best Interpreters now are.

E nvy be gone. Black Momus quit the place.

N 'er more, Zoilus, shew thy wrinkled Face.

D raw near, ye bleeding Hearts, whose Sorrows are

E qual with mine; in him ye had like Share.

A dd all your Losses up, and ye shall see

R emainder will be nought but Woe is me.

E ndeared Lambs, ye that have the white Stone.

D o know full well his Name, It is your own.

E ternitiz'd be that right-worthy Name.

D eath hath but kill'd his Body, not his Fame:

W hich in its Brightness shall for ever dwell;

A nd, like a Box of Ointment, sweetly smell.

R ighteousness was his Robe; bright Majesty

D ecked his Brow: His Look was Heavenly.

B old was he in his Master's Quarrel, and

U ndaunted; Faithful to his Lord's Command.

R equiting Good for Ill: Directing all

R ight in the Way that leads out of the Fall.

O pen and free to ev'ry thirsty Lamb:

U nspotted, pure, clean, holy; without Blame.

G lory, Light, Splendor, Lustre was his Crown.

H appy his Change to him: The Loss our own.

Unica post Cineres Virtus veneranda beatos

Efficit. —

Virtue alone (which Rev'rence ought to have)

Doth make Men happy, e'en beyond the Grave.

While I had thus been breathing forth my Grief,

〈◊〉 hopes thereby to get me some Relief;

• heard, methought, his Voice say, Cease to Mourn:

Live. And though the Vail of Flesh once worn,

〈◊〉 now stript off, dissolv'd and laid aside,

〈◊〉 Spirit's with thee; and shall so abide.

•…is satisfy'd me: Down I threw my Quill:

•…illing to be resign'd to GOD's pure Will.

Having discharged this Duty to the Memory 〈◊〉 my deceased Friend, I went on in my new •…vince, Instructing my little Pupils in the •…diments of the Latin Tongue; to the mutual •…tisfaction of both their Parents and my self. As •…n as I had gotten a little Money in my Poc •…t (which, as a Premium without Compact I •…eived from them) I took the first Opportu •…y to return to my Friend William Penington 〈◊〉 Money which he had so kindly furnished 〈◊〉 with in my need, at the time of my Imprisonment in Bridewell; with a due Acknowledgement of my Obligation to him for it. He was not at all forward to receive it: so that I was fain to press it upon him.

While thus I remained in this Family, various Suspicions arose in the Minds of some concerning me, with respect to Mary Penington's fair Daughter Guli. For she having now arrived to a Marriageable Age; and being in all re¦spects a very desirable Woman (whether re¦gard was had to her outward Person, whic• wanted nothing to render her compleatly Come¦ly: or to the Endowments of her Mind, whic• were every way Extraordinary, and highly O¦bliging; or to her outward Fortune, whic• was fair (and which with some hath not th• last, nor the least place in Consideration:) sh• was openly, and secretly sought, and solicite• by many; and some of them almost of ever• Rank and Condition; Good and Bad, Ric• and Poor, Friend and Foe. To whom, in the•… respective turns (till he at length came, 〈◊〉 whom she was reserved) she carried her se•… with so much Evenness of Temper, such cou•¦teous Freedom, guarded with the strictest Mo¦desty: that as it gave Encouragement, 〈◊〉 ground of Hopes to none; so neither did it a•¦minister any matter of Offence, or just Cau•… of Complaint to any.

But such as were thus either engaged 〈◊〉 themselves, or desirous to make themselves Ad¦vocates for others, could not, I observed, 〈◊〉 look upon me with an Eye of Jealousie a•… Fear; that I would improve the Opportunities I had, by frequent and familiar Conversation with her, to my own Advantage, in working my self into her good Opinion and Favour, to •he Ruin of their Pretences.

According therefore to the several Kinds and Degrees of their Fears of me, they suggested 〈◊〉 her Parents their ill Surmises against me.

Some stuck not to question the Sincerity of •y Intentions, in Coming at first among the •uakers; urging, with a why may it not be so? •hat the Desire and Hopes of obtaining, by that •eans, so fair a Fortune, might be the prime and •…ief Inducement to me, to thrust my self amongst •…at People. But this Surmise could find no •…ace, with those worthy Friends of mine (her •…ther in Law, and her Mother) who, besides •…e clear Sense, and sound Judgment they had 〈◊〉 themselves, knew very well upon what •…erms I came among them, how straight and •…rd the Passage was to me, how contrary to 〈◊〉 worldly Interest (which lay fair another •…ay) how much I had suffered from my Fa •…er for it, and how regardless I had been of •…tempting, or seeking any thing of that Na •…re, in these three or four Years that I had •…en amongst them.

Some others, measuring me by the Propen •…y of their own Inclinations, concluded I •…uld Steal her, run away with her, and Mar •…her. Which they thought I might be the •…re easily induced to do, from the advanta •…us Opportunities I frequently had, of riding and walking abroad with her, by Night as well as by Day, without any other Company than her Maid. For so great indeed was the Confidence that her Mother had in me; that she thought her Daughter safe, if I was with her, even from the Plots and Designs that others had upon her. And so Honourable were the Thoughts she entertained concerning me, as would not suffer her to admit a Suspicion, that I could be capable of so much Baseness, as to betray the Trust she, with so great Freedom, reposed in me.

I was not Ignorant of the various Fears which filled the jealous Heads of some concerning me, neither was I so stupid, nor so divested of all Humanity, as not to be sensible of the real and innate Worth, and Vertue, which adorned that excellent Dame; and attracted the Eye and Hearts of so many, with the greatest Im¦portunity to seek and solicit her: Nor was I 〈◊〉 devoid of Natural Heat, as not to feel som• Sparklings of Desire, as well as others. But th• Force of TRUTH, and Sense of Honour, su•¦prest whatever would have risen beyond th• Bounds of fair and vertuous Friendship. Fo•… easily foresaw, that if I should have attempte• any thing, in a dishonourable way, by For•… or Fraud, upon her; I should have thereb• bought a Wound upon mine own Soul, a fo•… Scandal upon my Religious Profession, and 〈◊〉 infamous Stain upon mine Honour: either 〈◊〉 which was far more dear unto me than my Li•… Wherefore having observed how some othe•… had befool'd themselves, by misconstruing her common Kindness, (expressed in an innocent, open, free and familiar Conversation, springing from the abundant Affability, Courtesy and Sweetness of her natural Temper) to be the Effect of a singular Regard and peculiar Affection to them: I resolved to shun the Rock, on which I had seen so many run and split; and remembring that Saying of the POET,

Foelix quem faciunt aliena Pericular cautum.

— Happy's He,

Whom others Dangers wary make to be.

I governed my self, in a free, yet respect •ul Carriage towards her, that I thereby both •reserved a fair Reputation with my Friends, •nd Enjoyed as much of her Favour and Kind •ess, in a virtuous and firm Friendship, as was fit for her to shew, or for me to seek.

Thus leading a quiet and contented Life, I •ad Leisure sometimes to write a Copy of Ver •s, on one Occasion or another, as the Poetick Vein naturally opened, without taking Pains to •olish them. Such was this which follows; •ccasioned by the suddain Death of some lusty People in their full Strength.

Est VITA caduca.

AS is the fragrant Flower in the Field,

Which in the Spring a pleasant Smell doth yield,

And lovely Sight; but soon is withered:

So's MAN; to Day alive, to Morrow dead.

And as the Silver-dew-bespangled Grass,

Which in the Morn bedecks its Mothers Face:

But e're the scorching Summer's past, looks brown;

Or by the Syth is suddainly cut down.

Just such is Man, who vaunts himself to day,

Decking himself in all his best Array:

But in the midst of all his Bravery,

Death rounds him in the Ear, Friend, thou must Dye.

Or like a Shadow in a Sunny Day,

Which in a Moment vanisheth away;

Or like a Smile, or Spark; such is the Span

Of Life, allow'd this Microcosm, MAN.

Cease then vain Man to boast: for this is true,

Thy brightest Glory's as the Morning Dew;

Which disappears when first the rising Sun

Displays his Beams above the Horizon.

As the Consideration of the Uncertainty of HUMANE LIFE drew the foregoing Lines from me: so the Sense I had of the FOLLY of MANKIND, in mis-spending the little Time allow'd them, in Evil Ways, and vain Sports; led me more particularly to trace the several Courses, wherein the Generallity of Men run, unprofitably at best, if not to their Hurt and Ruin. Which I introduced with that Axiom of the Preacher, Eccles. 1. 2.

ALL IS VANITY.

See here the State of MAN as in a Glass:

And how the Fashion of this World doth pass.

SOME in a Tavern spend the longest Day:

While others Hawk and Hunt the Time away.

Here one his Mistress Courts; Another Dances:

A Third incites to Lust by wanton Glances.

This wastes the Day in Dressing; Th'other seeks

To set fresh colours on her with'red Cheeks:

That, when the Sun delines, some dapper Spark

May take her to Spring-Garden, or the Park.

Plays some frequent, and Balls: Others their Prime

Consume at Dice; Some Bowl away their Time,

With Cards some wholly captivated are:

From Tables others scarce an Hour can spare.

One to soft Musick mancipates his Ear:

At Shovel-board another spends the Year.

The Pall-Mall this accounts the only Sport:

That keeps a Racket in the Tennis-Court.

Some strain their very Eyes and Throats with Singing.

While others strip their Hands and Backs at Ringing.

Another sort with greedy Eyes are waiting

Either at Cockpit, or some great Bull-baiting.

This dotes on Running-Horses: T'other Fool

Is never well, but in the Fencing-School.

Wrestling and Football, Ninepins, Prison-base,

Among the rural Clowns find each a place▪

Nay Joan unwash'd will leave her Milking-Pail,

To Dance at May-Pole, or a Whitsun-Ale.

Thus wallow most in Sensual Delight,

As if their Day should never have a Night:

Till Nature's pale-fac'd Serjeant them surprize:

And as the Tree then falls, just so it lies.

Now look at home, thou who these Lines dost Read;

See which of all these Paths thy self dost tread:

And e're it be too late that Path forsake,

Which, follow'd, will thee Miserable make.

After I had thus enumerated some of the many Vanities, in which the Generality of Men, mis-spent their Time, I sang the following ODE in Praise of VERTUE.

WEALTH, Beauty, Pleasures, Honours, all adieu:

I value Vertue far, far more than you.

Y'are all but Toys

For Girls and Boys

To play withal; at best deceitful Joys.

She lives for ever: ye are transitory.

Her Honour is unstained: but your Glory

Is meer Deceit;

A painted Bait,

Hung out for such as sit at Folly's Gate.

True Peace, Content and Joy on her attend:

You (on the contrary) your Forces bend

To blear Mens Eyes,

With Fopperies;

Which Fools Embrace, but Wiser Men Despise

About this time my Father, resolving to se• his Estate, and having reserved for his own us• such parts of his Houshold-Goods, as he though• fit; not willing to take upon himself the Tro•¦ble of selling the Rest, gave them unto me• Whereupon I went down to Crowel, and ha•¦ing before given Notice there, and thereabou•… that I intended a Publick Sale of them, I So•… them; and thereby put some Money into my Pocket. Yet I Sold such things only as I judged Useful; leaving the Pictures and Armour (of which there was some store there) unsold.

Not long after this, my Father sent for me to come to him at London about some Business; which, when I came there, I understood was, to joyn with him in the Sale of his Estate: Which the Purchaser required for his own Satisfaction and Safety; I being then the next Heir to it in Law. And although I might probably have made some Advantageous Terms for my self by standing off; yet when I was satisfied by Counsel, that there was no Entail upon it, or Right of Reversion to me; but that he might •awfully dispose of it, as he pleased; I readily •…yned with him in the Sale, without asking, •…r having the least Gratuity, or Compensation; •…o, not so much as the Fee I had given to Coun •…l, to secure me from any Danger in doing it.

There having been, some time before this, a •ery severe Law made against the Quakers by Name; and more particularly, Prohibiting our Meetings under the sharpest Penalties, of Five •ounds for the first Offence so called, Ten Pounds •…r the Second, and Banishment for the Third; •nder pain of Felony for Escaping, or Returning without License. Which Law, was looked up •n to have been procured by the Bishops, in or •er to bring us to a Conformity to their way of Worship: I wrote a few Lines in way of Dialogue •etween a Bishop and a Quaker, which I called,

CONFORMITY Prest and Represt.

B. WHAT! You are one of them that do deny

To yield Obedience by Conformity.

Q. Nay: We desire Conformable to be.

B. But unto what? Q. The Image of the Son.
Rom. 8. 19.

B. What's that to us! We'll have Conformity

Unto our Form. Q. Then we shall ne'er have done.

For, if your fickle Minds should alter, w

Should be to seek a New Conformity.

Thus who to Day Conform to Prelacy,

To Morrow may Conform to Popery.

But take this for an Answer, Bishop, we

Cannot Conform either to Them, or Thee

For while to Truth your Forms are opposite,

Whoe'er Conforms thereto doth not aright

B. We'll make such Knaves as you Conform, or lie

Confin'd in Prisons till ye Rot, and Die.

Q. Well, gentle Bishop, I may live to see,

For all thy Threats, a Check to Cruelty;

And thee, Rewarded, with thy envious Crew,

According as unto your Works is due:

But, in the mean time, I, for my Defence,

Betake me to my Fortress, PATIENCE:

No sooner was this Cruel Law made, but it was put in Execution with great Severity. The sense whereof, working strongly on my Spirit, made me Cry earnestly to the Lord; that he would Arise, and set up his Righteous Judgment in the Earth, for the Deliverance of his People from all their Enemies, both Inward and Outward: And in these Terms I uttered it

AWake, awake, O Arm o'th' Lord awake;

Thy Sword up take:

Cast what would thine forgetful of thee make,

Into the Lake.

Awake, I Pray, O mighty Jah, awake;

Make all the World before thy Presence quake:

Not only Earth, but Heaven also shake.

Arise, arise, O Jacob's God, arise;

And hear the Cries

Of ev'ry Soul, which in Distress now lies,

And to thee Flies.

Arise, I Pray, O Israel's Hope arise;

Set free thy Seed, Opprest by Enemies.

Why should they over it still Tyrannize!

Make Speed, make Speed, O Israel's Help, make Speed;

In time of Need:

For Evil Men have Wickedly decreed

Against thy Seed.

Make Speed, I Pray, O mighty God, make Speed;

Let all thy Lambs from Savage Wolves be freed,

That fearless on thy Mountain they may Feed.

Ride on, Ride on, thou Valiant Man of Might,

And put to Flight

Those Sons of Belial, who do Despight

To the Upright.

Ride on, I say, Thou Champion; and Smitc

Thine and thy Peoples En'mies with such Might,

That none may dare 'gainst thee, or thine, to Fight.

Although the Storm, raised by the Act fo• Banishment, fell with the greatest Weight an• Force upon some other Parts (as at London• Hertford, &c.) Yet we were not, in Bucking¦hamshire, wholly exempted therefrom, for a part of that Shower reached us also.

For a Friend of Amersham (whose Name was Edward Perot, or Parret) departing this Life and Notice being given, that his Body would be Buried there on such a Day (which was the First Day of the Fifth Month, 1665.) the Friends of the adjacent parts of the Country resorted pretty generally to the Burial: So that there was a fair Appearance of Friends and Neighbours, the Deceased having been well beloved by both.

After we had spent some time together in the House (Morgan Watkins, who at that time happen'd to be at Isaac Penington's, being with us) the Body was taken up, and born on Friends Shoulders along the Street, in order to be Carried to the Burying-Ground; which was at the Towns End: being part of an Orchard belong •ng to the Deceased; which he in his Life time, •ad appointed for that Service.

It so happened, that one Ambrose Benett, a •arister at Law, and a Justice of the Peace for •hat County, Riding through the Town that Morning in his way to Alesbury, was by some 〈◊〉-disposed Person or other, Informed, that •here was a Quaker to be Buried there that Day; •nd that most of the Quakers in the Country were come thither to the Burial.

Upon this he set up his Horses, and staid; •nd when we (not knowing any thing of his Design against us) went Innocently forward, to •erform our Christian Duty, for the Interrment •f our Friend, He rushed out of his Inn upon •s, with the Constables, and a Rabble of Rude •ellows, whom he had gathered together; and •aving his drawn Sword in his Hand, Struck •ne of the Foremost of the Bearers with it, Commanding them to set down the Coffin. But the Friend who was so stricken (whose Name was Thomas Dell) being more concerned •or the safety of the Dead Body, than his own, •est it should fall from his Shoulder, and any In •ecency thereupon follow; held the Coffin fast: Which the Justice observing, and being enraged •…at his Word (how unjust soever) was not •…rthwith Obeyed, set his Hand to the Coffin, •…d with a forcible Thrust threw it off from the •…earers Shoulders, so that it fell to the Ground 〈◊〉 the midst of the Street, and there we were •…rced to leave it.

For immediately thereupon, the Justice giving Command for the Apprehending us, the Constables with the Rabble fell on us, and drew some, and drove others into the Inn; giving thereby an Opportunity to the rest to walk away.

Of those that were thus taken, I was one And being, with many more, put into a Room under a Guard; we were kept there till another Justice (called Sir Thomas Clayton, whom Justice Benett had sent for to joyn with him in Committing us) was come. And then, being called forth severally before them, they picked out Ten of us, and Committed us to Alesbury Goal, for what neither we nor they knew: For we were not Convicted of having either done or said any thing, which the Law could take hold of: For they took us up in the open Street (the King's High-way) not doing any Unlawful Act; but peaceably Carrying and Accompanying the Corps of our Deceased Friend, to Bury it. Which they would not suffer us to do; but caused the Body to lie in the open Street, and in the Cart-way; so that all the Travellers that passed by (whether Horse-Men, Coaches, Carts, or Waggons) were fain to break out of the Way, to go by it, that they might not drive over it, until it was almost Night. And then, having caused a Grave to be made in the Unconsecrated part (as it is accounted) of that which is called the Church-Yard, they forcibly took the Body from the Widow (whose Right and Property it was) and Buried it there.

When the Justices had delivered us Prisoners to the Constable, it being then late in the Day, which was the Seventh Day of the Week; He (not willing to go so far as Alesbury (Nine long Miles) with us that Night, nor to put the Town to the Charge of keeping us there that Night, and the first Day and Night following) Dismist us upon our Parole to come to him again •t a set Hour on the Second Day Morning: Whereupon we all went home to our respective Habitations; and coming to him punctually •ccording to Promise, were by him (without Guard) Conducted to the Prison.

The Goaler (whose Name was Nathaniel •irch) had not long before behaved himself ve •y Wickedly, with great Rudeness and Cruel •y, to some of our Friends of the lower side of •he County; whom he (Combining with the Clerk of the Peace, whose Name was Henry Wells) had contrived to get into his Goal, and •fter they were legally Discharged in Court, •etained them in Prison, using great Violence, •nd shutting them up close in the Common Goal •mong the Felons, because they would not give •im his Unrighteous Demand of Fees; which •hey were the more straightned in, from his Treacherous Dealing with them. And they •aving, through Suffering, maintained their •reedom, and obtained their Liberty. We were the more concerned to keep, what they •ad so hardly gained; and therefore resolved •ot to make any Contract or Terms for either 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 Chamber-Rent or Fees, but to Demand a Fre• Prison; which we did.

When we came in, the Goaler was Ridde• out, to Wait on the Judges (who came in tha• Day to begin the Assize;) and his Wife wa• somewhat at a Loss how to deal with us: Bu• being a cunning Woman, she treated us wit• great Appearance of Courtesy, offering us th• Choice of all her Rooms; and when we asked• upon what Terms, she still refer'd us to he• Husband, telling us, she did not doubt but tha• he would be very Reasonable, and Civil to u• Thus she endeavoured to have drawn us to tak• Possession of some of lier Chambers at a ven¦ture, and trust to her Husbands kind Usag• But we, who at the Cost of our Friends, had • Proof of his Kindness, were too wary to b• drawn in by the fair Words of a Woman: an• therefore told her, we would not settle an• where till her Husband came Home; and the• would have a Free Prison, wheresoever he put u•

Accordingly, Walking all together into th• Court of the Prison, in which was a Well o• very good Water; and having before hand sen• to a Friend in the Town (a Widow Woma• whose Name was Sarah Lambarn) to bring u• some Bread and Cheese, we sate down upon th• Ground, round about the Well; and when w• had Eaten, we Drank of the Water out of th• Well.

Our great Concern was for our Friend Isa•… Penington, because of the Tenderness of h•… Constitution: But he was so lively in his Spirit, •nd so cheerfully given up to Suffer, that he ra •her encouraged us, than needed any Encou •agement from us.

In this Posture the Goaler, when he came •…me, found us; and having before he came to 〈◊〉, consulted his Wife, and by her understood 〈◊〉 what Terms we stood: When he came to 〈◊〉, he hid his Teeth, and putting on a shew of •indness, seemed much troubled that we should 〈◊〉 there abroad, especially his old Friend, Mr. •enington; and thereupon invited us to come in, •…d take what Rooms in his House we pleased; •e asked, upon what Terms; letting him know •ithal, that we determined to have a Free Prison. He, like the Sun and Wind in the Fable, that ove which of them should take from the Tra •…ler his Cloak; having (like the Wind) tried •…gh, boisterous, violent Means to our Friends •…fore, but in vain: resolved now to imitate •…e Sun, and shine as pleasantly as he could up •… us. Wherefore he told us, we should make 〈◊〉 Terms our selves, and be as free as we desired: 〈◊〉 we thought fit, when we were Released to give 〈◊〉 any thing, he would thank us for it; and if 〈◊〉, he would Demand nothing.

Upon these Terms we went in, and disposed •…r selves; some in the Dwelling-House, others 〈◊〉 the Malt-House, where they chose to be.

During the Assize, we were brought before •…dge Morton (a Sowre Angry Man) who very •…ely Reviled us, but would not hear either us or the Cause; but referred the matter to t•… Two Justices who had Committed us.

They, when the Assize was ended, sent for 〈◊〉 to be brought before them at their Inn; and Fi•¦ed us (as I remember) Six Shillings Eight Pen•… a piece; which we not consenting to Pay, th•… Committed us to Prison again for one Mon•… from that time, on the Act for Banishment.

When we had lain there that Month, I (wi•… another) went to the Goaler, to Demand o•… Liberty: Which he readily granted; telling 〈◊〉 The Door should be opened, when we pleased to go.

This Answer of his I reported to the rest 〈◊〉 my Friends there, and thereupon we raised •¦mong us a small Sum of Money, which th•… put into my Hand, for the Goaler: Whereup•… I (taking another with me) went to the Goa•… with the Money in my Hand; and remindi•… him of the Terms upon which we accepted t•… use of his Rooms, I told him, That althou•… we could not pay Chamber-Rent or Fees: Yet •…¦asmuch as he had now been Civil to us, 〈◊〉 were willing to acknowledge it by a small T•…¦ken; and thereupon gave him the Money. 〈◊〉 putting it into his Pocket, said, I thank you 〈◊〉 your Friends for it: and to let you see I take it 〈◊〉 Gift, not a Debt, I will not look on it, to see 〈◊〉 much it is.

The Prison Door being then set open for 〈◊〉 we went out, and departed to our respecti•… Homes.

But before I left the Prison, considering 〈◊〉 Day with my self the different Kinds of Lib•… and Confinement, Freedom and Bondage, •…ook my Pen, and wrote the following Aenig •…, or Riddle.

LOE here a Riddle to the Wise,

In which a Mystery there lies:

Read it therefore with that Eye,

Which can discern a Mystery.

The RIDDLE.

•ome Men are Free, while they in Prison Lie:

•thers, who ne'r saw Prison, Captives Die.

CAUTION.

He that can receive it, may;

He that cannot, Let him stay:

And not be hasty, but suspend

His Judgment, till he sees the End.

SOLUTION.

He only's free indeed, that's free from Sin:

And he is fastest bound, that's bound therein.

CONCLUSION.

This is the Liberty I chiefly Prize:

The other, without this, I can despise.

Some little time before I went to Alesbur• Prison, I was desired by my quondam Maste• Milton to take an House for him, in the Neig•¦bourhood where I dwelt, that he might go ou• of the City, for the Safety of himself and hi• Family, the Pestilence then growing hot in Lo•¦don. I took a pretty Box for him in Giles-Cha•¦font, a Mile from me; of which I gave hi• notice: and intended to have waited on hi• and seen him well settled in it; but was pr•¦vented by that Imprisonment.

But now being released, and returned Hom• I soon made a Visit to him, to welcome him i•¦to the Country.

After some common Discourses had passed be¦tween us, he called for a Manuscript of his• which being brought he delivered to me, bi•¦ding me take it home with me, and read it a• my Leisure. and when I had so done, return i• to him, with my Judgment thereupon.

When I came home, and had set my self t• read it, I found it was that Excellent POEM• which he entituled PARADISE LOST • After I had, with the best Attention, read i• through, I made him another Visit, and re¦turned him his Book, with due Acknowledge¦ment of the Favour he had done me, in Com¦municating it to me. He asked me how I liked it, and what I thought of it; which I modestly but freely told him: and after some further Discourse about it, I pleasantly said to him, Thou hast said much here of Paradise Lost; but what hast thou to say of Paradise Found? He made me no Answer, but sate some time in a Muse: •hen brake off that Discourse, and fell upon a •other Subject.

After the Sickness was over, and the City well cleansed and become safely habitable again, •e returned thither. And when afterwards I went to wait on him there (which I seldom fail •d of doing, whenever my Occasions drew me •o London) he shewed me his Second POEM, •alled PARADISE REGAINED; •nd in a pleasant Tone said to me, This is owing •o you: for you put it into my Head, by the Question •ou put to me at Chalfont; which before I had not •hought of. But from this Digression I return •o the Family I then lived in.

We had not been long at home (about a Month, perhaps) before Isaac Penington was taken out of his House in an Arbitrary manner; by Military Force, and carried Prisoner to Ales •ury Goal again: where he lay Three Quarters of a Year, with great Hazard of his Life; it being the Sickness Year; and the Plague being not only in the Town, but in the Goal.

Mean while his Wife and Family were turned out of his House (called the Grange at Peter's-Chalfont) by them who had seized upon his Estate. And the Family being by that means broken up, some went one way, others another. Mary Penington her self (with her younger Children) went down to her Husband at Alesbury. Guli (with her Maid) went to Bristol, to see her former Maid (Anne Hersent) who was Married to a Merchant of that City, whose Name was Thomas Biss, I went to Alesbury, with the Children; but not finding the Place agreeable to my Health, I soon left it, and returning to Chalfont, took a Lodging, and was dieted in the House of a Friendly Man; and after some time, went to Bristol, to Conduct Guli home.

Mean while Mary Penington took Lodgings in a Farm-House (called Bottrels) in the Parish of Giles-Chalfont; where, when we returned from Bristol, we found her.

We had been there but a very little time, before I was sent to Prison again, upon this Occasion. There was, in those times, a Meeting once a Month, at the House of George Salter a Friend of Hedgerly; to which we sometimes went: and Morgan Watkins being with us, He and I, with Guli and her Maid, and one Judith Parker (Wife of Dr. Parker, one of the Colledge of Physicians at London) with a Maiden Daughter of theirs (neither of whom were Quakers, but as Acquaintance of Mary Penington were with her on a Visit) walked over to that Meeting, it being about the Middle of the First Month, and the Weather good.

This Place was about a Mile from the House of Ambrose Benett, the Justice, who the Summer before had sent me and some other Friends to Alesbury Prison, from the Burial of Edward Parret of Amersham: And he (by what Means I know not) getting Notice, not only of the Meeting, but (as was supposed) of our being there, came himself to it: and as he came, •atched up a Stackwood-stick, big enough to •ave knock't any Man down, and brought it with him, hidden under his Cloak.

Being come to the House, he stood for a while without the Door, and out of Sight; listning •o hear what was said: for Morgan was then speaking in the Meeting. But certainly he heard very imperfectly, if it was true which we heard he said afterwards among his Companions, as an Argument, that Morgan was a Jesuit, viz. That in his Preaching he trolled over his Latin as fluently as ever he heard any one: whereas Morgan (good Man!) was better Versed in Welch, than in Latin; which, I suppose, he had never learned, I am sure he did not understand it.

When this Martial Justice (who at Amersham had with his drawn Sword struck an unarmed Man, who he knew would not strike again) had now stood some time abroad, on a suddain he rushed in among us, with the Stackwood-stick held up in his Hand, ready to strike; crying out, Make way there: and an Ancient Woman not getting soon enough out of his way, he struck her with the Stick, a shrewd Blow over the Breast. Then pressing through the Croud to the place where Morgan stood, he plucked him from thence; and caused so great a Disorder in the Room, that it brake the Meeting up: yet would not the People go away, or disperse themselves; but tarried to see what the Issue would be.

Then taking Pen and Paper, he sate down at the Table among us; and asked several of us our Names, which we gave and he set down in Writing.

Amongst others he asked Judith Parker (the Doctor's Wife) what her Name was; which she readily gave: and thence taking Occasion to discourse him, she so over-mastered him by clear Reason, delivered in fine Language; that he, glad to be rid of her, struck out her Name, and Dismist her; yet did not she remove, but kept her place amongst us.

When he had taken what Number of Names he thought fit, he singled out half a Dozen; whereof Morgan was one, I another, One Man more, and three Women: of which the Woman of the House was one, although her Husband then was (and for divers Years before had been) a Prisoner in the Fleet for Tythes, and had no body to take care of his Family and Business, but her his Wife.

Us six he committed to Alesbury Goal. Which when the Doctor's Wife heard him read to the Constable, she attacked him again; and having put him in Mind that it was a sickly Time, and that the Pestilence was reported to be in that Place; she, in handsome Terms, desired him to Consider in time, how he would Answer the Cry of our Blood, if by his sending us to be shut up in an Infected Place, we should lose our Lives there. This made him alter his Purpose, and by a new Mittimus sent us to the House of Correction at Wiccomb. And although he committed us upon the Act for Banishment, which limited a certain time for Imprisonment: yet he, in his Mittimus, •imitted no time, but ordered us to be kept till we should be delivered by due Course of LAW; so little regardful was he, though a Lawyer, of keeping to the Letter of the LAW.

We were committed on the Thirteenth Day of the Month called March, 1665. and were kept close Prisoners there till the Seventh Day of the Month called June, 1666; which was some Days above Twelve Weeks: and much above what the Act required.

Then were we sent for to the Justices House, and the rest being Released, Morgan Watkins and I were required to find Sureties, for our Appearance at the next Assize; which we refusing to do, were committed a-new to our old Prison (the House of Correction at Wiccomb) there to lie until the next Assizes: Morgan being, in this second Mittimus, represented as a Notorious Offender in Preaching; and I, as being upon the second Conviction, in order to Banishment. There we ay, till the Five and Twentieth Day of the same Month; and then, by the Favour of the Earl of Ancram, being brought before him at his House, we were discharged from the Prison, upon our Promise to appear (if at Liberty and in Health) at the Assizes. Which we did, and were there discharged by Proclamation.

During my Imprisonment in this Prison, I betook my self, for an Imployment, to making of Nets for Kitchin-Service, to boil Herbs, &c. in; which Trade I learned of Morgan Watkins, and Selling some, and Giving others, I pretty well stocked the Friends of that Country with them.

Though in that Confinement I was not very well suited with Company for Conversation; Morgan's natural Temper not being very agreeable to mine: yet we kept a fair and Brotherly Correspondence, as became Friends, Prison-fellows and Bed-fellows; which we were. And indeed, it was a good Time, I think to us all; for I found it so to me; the Lord being graciously pleased to visit my Soul with the refreshing Dews of his divine Life, whereby my Spirit was more and more quickned to him, and Truth gained ground in me over the Temptations and Snares of the Enemy. Which frequently raised in my Heart Thanksgivings and Praises unto the LORD. And at one time more especially, the Sense I had of the Prosperity of Truth, and the spreading thereof, filling my Heart with abundant Joy, made my Cup overflow, and the following Lines drop out.

For Truth I suffer Bonds, in Truth I live;

And unto Truth this Testimony give;

That TRUTH shall over all Exalted be,

And in Dominion Reign for evermore:

The Child's already born, that this may see;

Honour, Praise, Glory be to God therefore.

And underneath thus,

Tho' Death and Hell should against Truth combine,

It's Glory shall through all their Darkness shine.

This I saw with an Eye of Faith, beyond the reach of Humane Sense. For.

As strong Desire

Draws Objects nigher

In Apprehension, than indeed they are:

I, with an Eye

That pierced high,

Did thus of Truth's Prosperity declare.

After we had been discharged at the Assizes, I returned to Isaac Penington's Family at Bottrel's in Chalfont; and (as I remember) Morgan Watkins with me: leaving Isaac Penington a Prisoner in Alesbury Goal.

The Lodgings we had in this Farm-House (Bottrel's) proving too strait and inconvenient for the Family, I took larger and better Lodgings for them in Berrie-House at Amersham; whither we went at the time called Michaelmas, having spent the Summer at the other Place.

Some time after, was that memorable Meeting appointed to be holden at London, through a divine Opening, in the Motion of Life, in that eminent Servant and Prophet of God, George Fox; for the Restoring, and bringing in again those, who had gone out from Truth, and the Holy Unity of Friends therein, by the Means and Ministry of John Perrot.

This Man came pretty early amongst Friends, and too early took upon him the Ministerial Office: and being, though little in Person, yet great in Opinion of himself, nothing less would serve him than to go and Convert the POPE: In order whereunto, he (having a better Man than himself, John Luff, to accompany him) travelled to Rome, where they had not been long, e're they were taken up, and clap't into Prison; Luff (as I remember) was put in the Inquisition, and Perrot in their Bedlam, or Hospital for Madmen.

Luff died in Prison (not without well-grounded Suspicion of being Murthered there) but Perrot lay there some time, and now and then sent over an Epistle to be Printed here, written in such an affected and phantastick Stile, as might have induced an indifferent Reader to believe, they had suited the place of his Confinement to his Condition.

After some time, through the Mediation of Friends (who hoped better of him, than he proved) with some Person of Note and Interest there, he was released, and came back for England. And the Report of his great Sufferings there (far greater in Report, than in Reality) joined with a singular Shew of Sanctity, so far opened the Hearts of many tender and compassionate Friends towards him, that it gave im the Advantage of insinuating himself in •o their Affections and Esteem, and made way •or the more ready Propagation of that peculiar Error of his, of Keeping on the Hat in time of Prayer, as well publick as private, unless they had 〈◊〉 immediate Motion at that time to put if off.

Now although I had not the least Acquaint •nce with this Man, not having ever exchanged • Word with him (though I knew him by •ight;) nor had I any Esteem of him for either •is Natural Parts, or Ministerial Gift, but ra •her a Dislike of his Aspect, Preaching and way of Writing; yet this Error of his being •roached in the Time of my Infancy, and Weakness of Judgment as to Truth (while I •ived privately in London, and had little Converse with Friends.) I, amongst the many who were catch't in that Snare, was taken with the Notion, as what then seemed, to my weak Understanding, suitable to the Doctrine of a Spiritual Dispensation. And the Matter com •ng to warm Debates, both in Words and Wri •ing, I, in a misguided Zeal, was ready to have entred the Lists of Contention about it: not then seeing what Spirit it proceeded from, and was managed by; nor forseeing the Disorder and Confusion in Worship, which must naturally attend it.

But as I had no evil Intention, or sinister End in engaging in it; but was simply betrayed by the specious Pretence and Shew of greater Spirituality: the Lord, in tender Compassion to my Soul, was graciously pleased to open my Understanding, and give me a clear Sight of the Enemies Design in this Work, and drew me off from the Practice of it, and to bear Testimony against it, as Occasion offered.

But when that solemn Meeting was appointed at London, for a Travel in Spirit on behalf of those who had thus gone out, that they might rightly return, and be sensibly received into the Unity of the Body again. My Spirit rejoyced, and with Gladness of Heart I went to it: as did many more of both City and Country; and with great Simplicity, and Humility of Mind, did honestly and openly Acknowledge our Outgoing, and take Condemnation and Shame to our selves. And some that lived at too remote a Distance, in this Nation as well as beyond the Seas, upon Notice given of that Meeting, and the intended Service of it• did the like by Writing, in Letters directed to and openly read in the Meeting, which for that Purpose was continued many Days.

Thus, in the Motion of Life, were the healing Waters stirred; and many through the Virtuous Power thereof, restored to Soundness• and indeed not many lost. And though most of these, who thus returned, were such as with my self, had before renounced the Error• and forsaken the Practice: yet did we sensibly find, that Forsaking without Confessing (in Case of publick Scandal) was not sufficient• but that an open Acknowledgment (of ope• Offences) as well as Forsaking them, was ne¦cessary to the obtaining compleat Remission.

Not long after this, G. F. was moved of the Lord to Travel through the Countries, from County to County, to Advise and Encourage Friends to set up Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, for the better ordering the Affairs of the Church, in taking Care of the Poor, and Exercising a true Gospel-Discipline, for a due Dealing with any that might walk disorderly under our Name, and to see that such as should Marry among us, did act fairly and clearly in •hat respect.

When he came into this County, I was one •f the many Friends that were with him, at •he Meeting for that Purpose. And afterwards • travelled with Guli and her Maid, into the West of England to meet him there, and to visit Friends in those Parts: and we went as •ar as Topsham in Devonshire, before we found •im. He had been in Cornwall, and was then •eturning: and came in unexpectedly at Top •ham, where we then were providing (if he •ad not then come thither) to have gone that Day towards Cornwall. But after he was come •o us, we turned back with him through De •onshire, Somersetshire and Dorsetshire; having •enerally very good Meetings where he was: •nd the Work, he was chiefly concerned in, went on very prosperously and well, without •…y Opposition or Dislike: save that in the General Meeting of Friends in Dorsetshire, a •uarrelsom Man, who had gone out from •riends in John Perrot's Business, and had not •ome rightly in again (but continued in the Practice of keeping on his Hat in time of Prayer, to the great Trouble and Offence of Friends) began to Cavil, and raise Disputes, which occasioned some Interruption and Disturbance.

Not only George, and Alexander Parker (who was with him) but divers of the Ancient Friends of that Country, endeavoured to quiet that troublesom Man, and make him sensible of his Error: but his unruly Spirit would still be Opposing what was said unto him, and justifying himself in that Practice. This brought a great Weight and Exercise upon me (who sate at a Distance in the outward Part of the Meeting:) and after I had for some time bore the Burthen thereof, I stood up in the constraining Power of the LORD, and in great Tenderness of Spirit, declared unto the Meeting, and to that Person more particularly, how it had been with me in that respect; how I had been betrayed into that wrong Practice, how strong I had been therein, and how the Lord had been graciously pleased to shew me the Evil thereof, and recover me out of it.

This coming unexpectedly from me, a young Man, a Stranger, and one who had not intermedled with the Business of the Meeting, had that Effect upon the Caviller, that if it did not satisfie him, it did at least silence him, and made him for the Present sink down and be still, without giving any further Disturbance to the Meeting. And the Friends were well pleased with this unlooked for Testimony from me; and I was glad that I had that Opportunity to Confess to the Truth, and to Acknowledge once more, in so publick a manner, the Mercy and Goodness of the Lord to me therein.

By the time we came back from this Journey, the Summer was pretty far gone, and the following Winter I spent with the Children of the Family as before, without any remarkable Alteration in my Circumstances, until the next Spring: when I found in my self a Disposition of Mind, to change my Single Life for a Married State.

I had always entertained so high a Regard for Marriage, as it was a Divine Institution, that I held it not lawful to make it a sort of political Trade to rise in the World by. And therefore as I could not but, in my Judgment, blame such, as I found made it their Business to Hunt after, and endeavour to gain those who were accounted great Fortunes; not so much regarding What she is, as what she has, but making Wealth the chief, if not the only thing they Aimed at: so I resolved to avoid, in my own Practice, that Course; and how much soever my Condition might have prompted me (as well as others) to seek Advantage that way, never to engage on the Account of Riches, nor at all to Marry, till judicious Affection drew me to it, which I now began to feel at Work in my Breast.

The Object of this Affection was a Friend (whose Name was Mary Ellis) whom for divers Years I had had an Acquaintance with, in the way of common Friendship only; and in whom I thought I then saw those fair Prints of Truth and solid Virtue, which I afterwards found in a sublime Degree, in her: but what her Condition in the World was, as to Estate, I was wholly a Stranger to, nor desired to know.

I had once, a Year or two before, had an Opportunity to do her a small Piece of Service, which she wanted some Assistance in: wherein I acted with all Sincerity, and Freedom of Mind, not expecting, or desiring any Advantage by her, or Reward from her; being very well satisfied in the Act it self, that I had served a Friend, and helped the Helpless.

That little Intercourse of common Kindness between us Ended, without the least Though (I am verily perswaded, on her Part; well-as¦sured on my own) of any other or further Re¦lation, than that of free and fair Friendship Nor did it, at that time, lead us into any close Conversation, or more intimate Acquaintan• one with the other, than had been before.

But some time (and that a good while) a•¦ter, I found my Heart secretly drawn, and in¦clining towards her: Yet was I not hasty i• proposing; but waited to feel a satisfactory Set¦tlement of Mind therein, before I made an• step thereto.

After some time, I took an Opportunity 〈◊〉 open my Mind therein unto my much honou•¦ed Friends, Isaac and Mary Penington, who th•… stood Parentum loco, in the Place or Stead 〈◊〉 Parents to me. They having solemnly weig•¦•d the Matter, exprest their Unity therewith: •nd indeed their Approbation thereof was no •mall Confirmation to me therein. Yet took I •urther Deliberation, often retiring in Spirit to •he Lord, and Crying to him for Direction, •efore I addrest my self to her. At length, •s I was sitting all alone, waiting upon the •ord for Counsel and Guidance in this (in it •…lf, and) to me so important Affair. I felt • Word sweetly rise in me, as if I had heard • Voice, which said, Go, and Prevail. And •…ith springing in my Heart with the Word, • immediately arose and went; nothing doubt •…g.

When I was come to her Lodgings (which •ere about a Mile from me) her Maid told •e she was in her Chamber (for having been •…der some Indisposition of Body, which had •…liged her to keep her Chamber, she had not •…t left it.) Wherefore I desired the Maid to •…quaint her Mistress, that I was come to give •…r a Visit: Whereupon I was invited to go 〈◊〉 to her. And after some little time spent in •…mmon Conversation, feeling my Spirit weigh •…y concerned, I solemnly opened my Mind un •… her, with respect to the particular Business •…ame about; which I soon perceived was a •…eat Surprisal to her for she had taken in an •pprehension (as others also had done) that •ine Eye had been fixed elsewhere, and nearer •ome.

I used not many Words to her: but I felt • Divine Power went along with the Words, and fixed the Matter expressed by them so fast in her Breast, that (as she afterwards acknowledged to me) she could not shut it out.

I made, at that time, but a short Visit. For having told her, I did not expect an Answer from her now; but desired she would, in the most solemn Manner, weigh the Proposal made, and in due time give me such an Answer thereunto, as the Lord should give her: I took my leave of her, and departed; leaving the Issue to the Lord.

I had a Journey then at hand, which I foresaw would take me up about two Weeks time. Wherefore, the Day before I was to set out, I went to visit her again; to acquaint her with my Journey, and excuse my Absence: not yet pressing her for an Answer; but assuring her, that I felt in my self an Increase of Affection to her, and hoped to receive a suitable Return from her in the Lord's time; to whom, in the mean time, I committed both her, my self and the Concern between us. And indeed, I found at my Return, that I could not have left it in a better Hand: for the Lord had been my Advocate in my Absence, and had so far answered all her Objections, that, when I came to her again, she rather acquainted me with them, than urged them.

From that time forwards we Entertained each other with Affectionate Kindness in order to Marriage; which yet we did not hasten to, but went on deliberately. Neither did I use those vulgar ways of Courtship, by making •requent and rich Presents: Not only for that my Outward Condition would not comport with the Expence: But because I liked not to •btain by such Means; but preferred an un •ribed Affection.

While this Affair stood thus with me, I had •ccasion to take another Journey into Kent and •ussex: Which yet I would not mention here, •ut for a particular Accident, which befel me •n the Way.

The Occasion of this Journey was this. Mary Penington's Daughter Guli intending to go to •er Uncle Springett's in Sussex, and from thence •mongst her Tenants; her Mother desired me •o accompany her, and assist her in her Busi •ess with her Tenants.

We tarried at London the first Night, and •et out next Morning on the Tunbridge-Road; •nd Seven-Oak lying in our way, we put in here to Bait: But truly, we had much ado to get either Provisions or Room for our selves, or our Horses; the House was so filled with Guests, and those not of the better Sort. For the Duke of York being (as we were told) on the Road that Day for the Wells, divers of his Guards, and the meaner sort of his Retinue, had near filled all the Inns there.

I left John Gigger (who waited on Guli in this Journey, and was afterwards her menial Servant) to take Care for the Horses, while I did the like, as well as I could for her. I got a little Room to put her into, and having shut her into it, went to see what Relief the Kitchin would afford us: and with much ado, by Praying hard, and Paying dear, I got a smal• Joint of Meat from the Spit; which served ra¦ther to stay, than satisfie our Stomachs; for w• were all pretty sharp set.

After this short Repast, being weary of ou• Quarters, we quickly Mounted, and took th• Road again; willing to hasten from a Place, where we found nothing but Rudeness: fo• the Roysters, who at that time swarmed there, besides the Damning Oaths they belched out a• one another, looked very sowerly on us, as i• they grudged us both the Horses we rode, and the Cloaths we wore.

A Knot of these soon followed us, designing (as we afterwards found) to put an Abuse upon us, and make themselves Sport with us. We had a spot of fine, smooth, sandy Way, whereon the Horses trod so softly that we heard them not, till one of them was upon us. I was then riding a Breast with Guli, and discoursing with her; when on a suddain hearing a little Noise, and turning mine Eye that way, I saw an Horseman coming up on the further Side of her Horse, having his left Arm stretched out, just ready to take her about the Waste, and pluck her off backwards from her own Horse, to lay her before him upon his. I had but just time to thrust forth my Stick, between him and her, and bid him stand off: and at the same time reigning my Horse, to let hers go before me, thrust in between her and him and being better Mounted than he, my Horse run him off. But his Horse being (tho' weaker than mine, yet) Nimble, he slipt by me, and got up to her on the near Side; endeavouring to offer Abuse to her: To prevent which, I thrust in upon him again, and in our Jostling, we drove her Horse quite out of the Way, and almost into the next Hedge.

While we were thus Contending, I heard a Noise of loud Laughter behind us; and turning my Head that way, I saw three or four Horse-men more, who could scarce sit their Horses for Laughing, to see the Sport their Companion made with us. From thence I saw it was a Plot laid; and that this rude Fel •ow was not to be dallied with: Wherefore I bestirr'd my self the more to keep him off; Admonishing him to take Warning in time, and give over his Abusiveness, lest he Repented too late. He had in his Hand a short thick Truncheon, which he held up at me; on which laying hold with a strong Gripe, I suddainly wrenched it out of his Hand, and threw it at as far a Distance behind me, as I could.

While he rode back to fetch his Truncheon, I called up honest John Gigger; who was indeed a right honest Man, and of a Temper so throughly Peaceable, that he had not hitherto put in at all. But now I rouzed him, and bid him ride so close up to his Mistress's Horse, on the further Side, that no Horse might thrust in between; and I would endeavour to Guard the near Side. But he, good Man, not thinking it, perhaps, decent enough for him to Ride so nea• his Mistress, left room enough for another t• Ride between. And indeed, so soon as ou• Brute had recovered his Truncheon, he cam• up directly thither; and had thrust in again• had not I, by a nimble turn, chopt in upon him• and kept him at a Bay.

I then told him, I had hitherto spared him 〈◊〉 but wish'd him not to Provoke me further. This I spake with such a Tone, as bespake an high Resentment of the Abuse put upon us and withal pressed so close upon him with my Horse, that I suffered him not to come up any more to Guli.

This his Companions (who kept an equal distance behind us) both heard and saw; and thereupon Two of them advancing, came up to us. I then thought I might likely have my Hands full; but Providence turn'd it otherwise. For they, seeing the Contest rise so high, and probably fearing it would rise higher, not knowing where it might stop, came in to part us: Which they did, by taking him away; one of them leading his Horse by the Bridle, and the other driving him on with his Whip, and so carried him off.

One of their Campany staid yet behind. And it so happening, that a great Shower just then fell, we betook our selves, for shelter, to a thick and well-spread Oak, which stood hard by. Thither also came that other Person (who wore the Duke's Livery) and while we put on our defensive Garments against the Weather, which •…en set in to be wet, he took the opportunity 〈◊〉 discourse with me about the Man that had •een so Rude to us; endeavouring to Excuse •…m, by alledging that he had drunk a little too •iberally. I let him know, that one Vice would •ot Excuse another; That although but one of •…em was actually concern'd in the Abuse, yet •oth He, and the rest of them, were Abettors •f it, and Accessaries to it; that I was not Ig •orant whose Livery they wore, and was well •ssured, their Lord would not maintain them in •ommitting such Outrages upon Travellers on •he Road, to our Injury, and his Dishonour; That I understood the Duke was coming down; •nd that they might expect to be called to an Account for this rude Action.

He then begg'd hard that we would pass by the Offence, and make no Complaint to their Lord: for he knew, he said, the Duke would be very severe; and it would be the utter Ruin of the Young Man. When he had said what he could, he went off before us, without any ground given him to expect Favour: And when we had fitted our selves for the Weather, we followed after, our own Pace.

When we came to Tunbridge, I set John Gigger foremost, bidding him lead on briskly, through the Town; and placing Guli in the middle, I came close up after her, that I might both Observe, and Interpose, if any fresh abuse should have been offered her. We were expected, I perceived: for, though it Rained very hard, the Street was thronged with Men; who looked very earnestly on us, but did not put •¦ny affront upon us.

We had a good way to Ride beyond Tu•¦bridge, and beyond the Wells, in By-ways, a¦mong the Woods; and were the later, for th• hinderance we had had on the Way. An• when, being come to Harbert Springett's Hous• Guli acquainted her Uncle what Danger an• Trouble she had gone through on the way; h• resented it so high, that he would have had th• Persons been Prosecuted for it. But, since Provi¦dence had interposed, and so well Preserved an• Delivered her, she chose to pass by the Offence•

When Guli had finished the Business she wen• upon, we returned home, and I delivered he• safe to her glad Mother. From that time forward, I continued my Visits to my best beloved Friend, untill we Married; which was on the 28th Day of the 8th Month (called October) in the Year 1669. We took each other in a Select Meeting, of the Ancient and Grave Friends of that Country, holden in a Friend's House, where, in those times, not only the Monthly Meeting for Business, but the Publick Meeting for Worship was sometimes kept. A very Solemn Meeting it was, and in a weighty frame of Spirit we were; in which we sensibly felt the Lord with us, and Joyning us: the sense whereof remained with us all our Life time; and was of good Service, and very Comfortable to us on all Occasions.

My next Care, after Marriage, was to Secure to my Wife what Monies she had, and •ith her self, bestowed upon me. For I held it •…ould be an Abominable Crime in me, and sa •…ur of the highest Ingratitude, if I (though •…t through Negligence) should leave room for •y Father (in case I should be taken away sud •…nly) to break in upon her Estate; and de •…ive her of any part of that which had been, •…d ought to be her own. Wherefore with the •…st opportunity (as I remember, the very next •y, and before I knew particularly what she •…d) I made my Will; and thereby secured to •…r whatever I was Possessed of, as well all that •hich she brought either in Monies, or in •…oods, as that little which I had before I Mar •…ed her: Which indeed was but little, yet •ore, [by all that Little,] than I had ever gi •en her Ground to expect with me.

She had indeed been Advised by some of her •elations, to secure before Marriage, some part, •t least, of what she had, to be at her own •isposal. Which (though perhaps not wholly •ree from some Tincture of Self-Interest in the Proposer) was not, in it self, the worst of Counsel. But the worthyness of her Mind, •nd the sense of the Ground on which she re •eived me, would not suffer her to entertain any •uspicion of me: And this laid on me the greater Obligation, in point of Gratitude, as well as of Justice, to Regard and Secure her; which I did.

I omitted in its proper place (because I would not break in upon the Discourse I was then upon) to insert a few Lines, which I writ as a Congratulation to an Honoured Friend, upon his Marriage; and presented him with the ne• Morning, thus.

MY Heart's affected with a weighty Se•…

Of Yesterdays Proceedings, and fr•… thence

Desire arises to CONGRATULATE

My happy Friend in his New Married State.

Not in that strain, wherewith some use to Cl•…

Mens Ears with tedious Peals of giving Joy.

But, shunning all Extreams, I chuse to tread

The Middle Path, which doth to Vertue lead

This then my Heart desires for thee, my Frie•…

Thy Nuptial Joys may never here have End.

May Happiness with thee take up her Rest:

And sweet Contentment always fill thy Breast

May GOD thee bless with numerous Increase

And may thy utmost Off-spring rest in Peace.

Accept this Pledge of Love (tho' but a Pa•…

Of what is Treasur'd for thee in my Heart)

From him, who herein hath no other End,

Than to declare himself

Thy faithful Friend T. E
Stepney, 9th. 2d. Month, 1669.

I had not been long Married, before I was •…licited, by my dear Friends Isaac and Mary •enington, and her Daughter Guli, to take a •ourney into Kent and Sussex, to Accompt with •…eir Tenants, and overlook their Estates in •…ose Countries; which, before I was Married, • had had the Care of: and accordingly the •…ourney I undertook, though in the depth of Winter.

My Travels into those Parts were the more •…ksome to me, from the Solitariness I underwent, and want of suitable Society. For my Business lying among the Tenants, who were a •ustick sort of People, of various Perswasions •nd Humours; but not Friends: I had little Op •ortunity of Conversing with Friends; though • contrived to be with them, as much as I could, •specially on the First Day of the Week.

But that which made my present Journey more heavy to me, was a sorrowful Exercise, which was newly fallen upon me from my Fa •her, harder to be born, than any I had ever met with before.

He had, upon my first acquainting him with my Inclination to Marry, and to whom, not only very much approved the Match, and vountarily offered, without my either asking or expecting, to give me a hansome Portion at present, with Assurance of an Addition to it hereafter. And he not only made this Offer to me in private; but came down from London into the Country on purpose, to be better acquainted with my Friend: and did there make the same Proposal to her; offering also to give Se•…¦rity to any Friend, or Relation of hers, for t•… Performance. Which Offer she most generou•… declined; leaving him as free as she found hi•… But after we were Married, notwithstan•¦ing such his Promise, he wholly declined t•… Performance of it, under Pretence of our n•… being Married by the Priest and Liturgy. Th• Usage, and Evil Treatment of us thereupo• was a great Trouble to me: and when I ende•¦voured to Soften him in the matter, he forbi• me speaking to him of it any more; and remo•¦ed his Lodging that I might not find him.

The Grief I conceived on this Occasion, wa• not for any Disappointment to my self, or to m• Wife: for neither she nor I had any strict, 〈◊〉 necessary Dependence upon that Promise; bu• my Grief was partly for the Cause assigned b• him, as the Ground of it: which was, That o•… Marriage was not by Priest or Liturgy; and part•… for that his lower Circumstances in the World might probably tempt him to find some such though Unwarrantable, Excuse to avoid per¦forming his Promise.

And surely hard would it have been for m• Spirit to have born up under the weight of thi• Exercise, had not the LORD been exceedin• gracious to me, and supported me with the In¦flowings of his Love and Life; wherewith h• visited my Soul in my Travel. The Sens• whereof raised in my Heart a thankful Remem¦brance of his manifold Kindnesses, in his for¦mer Dealings with me. And in the Evening• •hen I came to my Inn, while Supper was get •ng ready, I took my Pen, and put into Words, •hat had in the Day revolved in my Thoughts. •nd thus it was.

A Song of PRAISE.

THY Love, dear Father, and thy tender Care,

Have in my Heart begot a strong Desire,

〈◊〉 celebrate thy Name with Praises rare;

That others too thy Goodness may admire,

And learn to yield to what thou dost require.

•…ny have been the Tryals of my Mind,

My Exercises great, great my Distress;

•…ll oft my Ruin hath my Foe design'd:

My Sorrows then my Pen cannot express;

Nor could the best of Men afford Redress.

•…en thus beset, to thee I lift mine Eye,

And with a mournful Heart my Moan did make:

•…w oft with Eyes o'erflowing, did I cry,

My God, my God, O do me not forsake!

Regard my Tears! Some Pity on me take!

And, to the Glory of thy holy Name,

Eternal God, whom I both Love and Fear,

I hereby do declare, I never came

Before thy Throne, and found thee loath to h•…

But always ready, with an open Ear.

And tho' sometimes thou seem'st thy Face to h•…

As one that had withdrawn thy Love from me

'Tis that my Faith may to the full be try'd,

And that I thereby may the better see

How weak I am, when not upheld by thee

For underneath thy holy Arm I feel

Encompassing with Strength, as with a W•…

That, if the Enemy trip up my Heel,

Thou ready art to save me from a Fall.

To thee belong Thanksgivings over all.

And for thy tender Love, my God, my King

My Heart shall magnifie thee, all my Days

My Tongue of thy Renown shall daily sing:

My Pen shall also grateful Trophies raise,

As Monuments to thy Eternal Praise.

T. •
Kent 11th Mo. 1669.

Having finished my Business in Kent, I struck •…f into Sussex; and finding the Enemy endea •…uring still more strongly to beset me: I be •…ok my self to the Lord for safety, in whom I •…ew all help and Strength was; and thus pour •… forth my Supplication, directed

To the Holy ONE.

ETERNAL God, Preserver of all those

(Without respect of Person, or Degree)

•ho in thy Faithfulness their Trust repose,

And place their Confidence alone in Thee;

〈◊〉 thou my Succour: for thou know'st that I

〈◊〉 thy Protection, LORD, alone rely.

•…rround me, Father, with thy mighty Pow'r;

Support me daily by thine Holy Arm:

•…eserve me faithful, in the Evil Hour;

Stretch forth thine Hand, to save me from all Harm.

•…e thou my Helmet, Breastplate, Sword and Shield:

•…nd make my Foes before thy Power yield.

•…each me the Spirit'al Battel so to fight,

That when the Enemy shall me beset;

•…rm'd Cap-a-Pe, with th' Armour of thy Light,

A perfect Conquest o'er him I may get:

And with thy Battle-Ax may cleave the Head

Of him, who bites that part whereon I tread.

Then being from Domestick Foes set free,

The Cruelties of Men I shall not fear;

But in thy Quarrel, Lord, undaunted be:

And, for thy sake, the Loss of all things bea•

Yea, tho' in Dungeon lock'd, with Joy will sin•

An ODE of Praise to thee, my God, my Kin•

T. E
Sussex, 11th Mo. 1669.

As soon as I had dispatch't the Business I we•… about, I returned home without delay; and 〈◊〉 my great Comfort, found my Wife well, a•… my self very welcome to her: both which 〈◊〉 esteemed as great Favours.

Towards the latter part of the Summer fo•¦lowing, I went into Kent again; and in 〈◊〉 Passage through London, received the unwe•¦come News of the Loss of a very hopeful Yout•… who had formerly been under my Care for Ed•¦cation. It was Isaac Penington (the second S•… of my worthy Friends Isaac and Mary Peningto•… a Child of excellent natural Parts; whose gre•… Abilities bespake him likely to be a great Ma•… had he lived to be a Man. He was designed 〈◊〉 be bred a Merchant; and before he was thoug•… ripe enough to be entred thereunto, his Paren•… atsome-bodies Request, gave leave that •…ght go a Voyage to Barbadoes, only to spend •…ttle time, see the Place, and be somewhat •…uainted with the Sea, under the Care and •…nduct of a choice Friend and Sailor, John •…ve of London, who was Master of a Vessel, 〈◊〉 Traded to that Island: and a little Venture • had with him, made up by divers of his •…nds; and by me among the rest. He made • Voyage thither very well; found the wat'ry •…ent agreeable; had his Health there; liked 〈◊〉 Place; was much pleased with his Enter •…ment there; and was returning home, with 〈◊〉 little Cargo, in Return for the Goods he car •…d out; when on a suddain, through Unwari •…s, he drop't over Board; and (the Vessel be •… under Sail, with a brisk Gale) was irreco •…ably lost, notwithstanding the utmost La •…r, Care and Diligence of the Master, and •…ors to have saved him.

This unhappy Accident took from the afflict •… Master all the Pleasure of his Voyage; and he •…urn'd for the Loss of this Youth, as if it had •…en his own, yea, only Son: for as he was in •…self a Man of a worthy Mind; so the Boy, by •…witty and hansome Behaviour in general, and •…equious Carriage towards him in particular, 〈◊〉 very much wrought himself into his Favour.

As for me, I thought it one of the sharpest •…okes I had met with: sor I both loved the •…ild very well, and had conceived great hopes 〈◊〉 general Good from him; and it pierced me 〈◊〉 deeper to think how deeply it would pierce 〈◊〉 afflicted Parents.

Sorrow for this Disaster was my Compani•… in this Journey, and I travelled the Roads •…¦der great Exercise of Mind, revolving in 〈◊〉 Thoughts the manifold Accidents, which 〈◊〉 LIFE of Man was attended with, and sub•… to, and the great Uncertainty of all Hum•… Things; I could find no Center, no firm B•… for the Mind of Man to fix upon, but the Div•… Power and Will of the Almighty. This Consid•…¦ation wrought in my Spirit a sort of Conte•… of what supposed Happiness or Pleasure 〈◊〉 World, or the things that are in and of it, 〈◊〉 of themselves yield; and raised my Conte•…¦plation higher: which, as it ripened, and ca•… to some degree of Digestion, I breathed fort•… mournful Accents, thus.

Solitary THOUGHTS. On the Uncertainty of Humane Thing• Occasioned by the suddain Loss of an HOPEFUL YOUTH.

Transibunt citò, quae vos mansura putatis.

Those things soon will pass away,

Which ye think will always stay.

WHAT ground, alas, has any Man

To set his Heart on things below

Which, when they seem most like to stand,

Fly, like an Arrow from a Bow!

•hings subject to exterior Sense

•re to mutation most propence.

〈◊〉stately Houses we Erect,

And therein think to take Delight:

〈◊〉 what a suddain are we Check't,

And all our Hopes made groundless quite!

•e little Spark in Ashes lays

•hat we were building half our Days.

〈◊〉 on Estate an Eye we cast,

And Pleasure there expect to find;

〈◊〉 secret Providential Blast

Gives Disapointment to our Mind.

•ho now's on Top, e're long may feel

•he circling Motion of the Wheel.

〈◊〉 we our tender Babes embrace,

And Comfort hope in them to have:

•las, in what a little Space,

Is Hope, with them, laid in the Grave!

Whatever promiseth Content

〈◊〉, in a Moment, from us rent.

This World cannot afford a thing,

Which, to a well-composed Mind,

Can any lasting Pleasure bring;

But in its Womb its Grave will find.

All things unto their Center tend:

What had
Ʋnderstand th• of Natural Things.

Beginning will have End.

But is there nothing then that's sure,

For Man to fix his Heart upon?

Nothing that always will endure;

When all these transient things are gone;

Sad State! where Man, with Grief opprest,

Finds nought whereon his Mind may rest.

O yes! There is a God above,

Who unto Men is also nigh:

On whose unalterable Love

We may with Confidence rely.

No Disappointment can befall

Us, having him that's All in All.

If unto him we Faithful be

It is impossible to miss

Of whatsoever he shall see

Conducible unto our Bliss.

What can of Pleasure him prevent,

Who hath the Fountain of Content?

In Him alone if we delight,

And in his Precepts Pleasure take;

We shall be sure to do aright,

'Tis not his Nature to forsake.

A proper Object's He alone,

For Man to set his Heart upon.

— Domino Mens nixa quieta est.

The Mind which upon God is stay'd,

Shall with no Trouble be dismay'd.

T. E.
Kent, 7bris 4to 1670.

A Copy of the foregoing Lines, inclosed in a Letter of Condoleance, I sent by the first Post into Buckinghamshire, to my dear Friends the afflicted Parents: And upon my Return home, going to visit them, we sate down and solemnly mixed our Sorrows and Tears together.

About this time (as I remember) it was, that some Bickerings happening between some Baptists, and some of the People called Quakers in or about High-Wiccomb in Buckinghamshire; occasioned by some reflecting Words a Baptist-Preacher had publickly uttered in one of their Meetings there, against the Quakers in general, and W. Penn in particular: it came, at length, to this Issue, that a Meeting for a publick Dispute was appointed, to be holden at West-Wiccomb, between Jeremy Ives (who espoused his Brother's Cause) and W. Penn.

To this Meeting, it being so near me, I went; rather to Countenance the Cause, than for any Delight I took in such Work: for indeed, I have rarely found the Advantage, equivolent to the Trouble and Danger, arising from those Contests. For which Cause I would not chuse them, as, being justly engaged, I would not refuse them.

The Issue of this proved better than I expected. For Ives having undertaken an Ill Cause, to argue against the Divine Light, and Universal Grace, conferr'd by God on all Men; when he had spent his Stock of Arguments, which he brought with him on that Subject: finding his Work go on heavily, and the Auditory not well satisfied; stept down from his Seat, and departed, with purpose to have broken up the Assembly. But, except some few of his Party, who followed him, the People generally stay'd, and were the more attentive to what was afterwards delivered amongst them. Which Ives understanding came in again, and in an angry railing Manner, expressing his Dislike that we went not all away when he did, gave more Disgust to the People.

After the Meeting was ended, I sent to my Friend I. P. (by his Son and Servant, who returned Home, though it was late, that Evening) a short Account of the Business in the following Distich.

Praevaluit VERITAS: Inimici Terga dedêre:

Nos sumus in tuto; Laus tribuenda Deo.

Which may be thus Englished.

Truth hath prevail'd; the Enemies did fly:

We are in Safety; Praise to God on high.

But both they and we had quickly other Work found us: It soon became a stormy time. The Clouds had been long gathering, and threatned a Tempest. The Parliament had sate some time before, and hatched that unaccountable Law, which was called The Conventicle Act: (If that may be allowed to be called a Law, by whomsoever made) which was so directly contrary to the Fundamental Laws of England, to common Justice, Equity and right Reason; as this manifestly was. For

1st, It brake down and overrun the Bounds and Banks, anciently set for the Defence and Security of Englishmens Lives, Liberties and Properties, viz. Tryal by Juries. Instead thereof directing and authorizing Justices of the Peace (and that too privately, out of Sessions) to Convict, Fine, and by their Warrants Distrein upon Offendors against it; directly contrary to the Great Charter.

2. By that Act, the Informers (who Swear for their own Advantage, as being thereby entituled to a Third Part of the Fines) were many times concealed, driving on an underhand private Trade: so that Men might be, and often were Convicted and Fined, without having any Notice or Knowledge of it, till the Officers came and took away their Goods, nor even then could they tell by whose Evidence they were convicted. Than which, what could be more opposite to common Justice? which requires that every Man should be openly charged, and have his Accuser Face to Face, that he might both Answer for himself before he be convicted, and object to the Validity of the Evidence given against him.

3. By that Act, the Innocent were punished for the Offences of the Guilty. If the Wife or Child was convicted of having been at one of those Assemblies, which by that Act was adjudged Unlawful; the Fine was levied on the Goods of the Husband or Father of such Wife or Child: though he was neither present at such Assembly, nor was of the same Religious Perswasion that they were of; but perhaps an Enemy to it.

4. It was left in the arbitrary Pleasure of the Justices to lay half the Fine for the House or Ground where such Assembly was holden, and half the Fine for a pretended unknown Preacher; and the whole Fines of such and so many of the Meeters as they should account Poor, upon any other or others of the People, who were present at the same Meeting (not exceeding a certain limitted Sum;) without any regard to Equity or Reason. And yet (such Blindness doth the Spirit of Persecution bring on Men, otherwise sharp sighted enough) that this Unlawful, Unjust, Unequal, Unreasonable and Unrighteous Law took place in (almost) all Places, and was vigorously prosecuted against the Meetings of Dissenters in general; though the Brunt of the Storm fell most sharply on the People called Quakers: not that it seemed to be more particularly levelled at them: but that they stood more fair, steady and open, as a But to receive all the Shot that came, while some others found means, •nd freedom to retire to Coverts for Shelter.

No sooner had the Bishops obtained this Law, for suppressing all other Meetings but their own, but some of the Clergy of most Ranks, and some others too, who were over-much bigotted to that Party, bestirr'd themselves with might and main, to find out and Encourage the most profligate Wretches to turn Informers; and to get such Persons into Parochial Offices, as would be most obsequious to their Commands, and ready at their Beck, to put it into the most rigorous Execution. Yet it took not alike in all Places; but some were forwarder in the Work than others, according as the Agents intended to be chiefly imployed therein, had been predisposed thereunto.

For in some Parts of the Nation care had been timely taken, by some not of the lowest Rank, to chuse out some particular Persons (Men of sharp Wit, close Countenances, pliant Tempers and deep Dissimulation) and send them forth among the Sectaries, so called; with Instructions to thrust themselves into all Societies, Conform to all, or any sort of Religious Profession, Proteous-like change their Shapes, and transform themselves from one Religious Appearance to another, as occasion should require. In a word, To be all things to all: not that they might win some; but that they might (if possible) ruin all, at least many.

The Drift of this Design was, That they who imployed them might, by this means, get a full Account what Number of Dissenters Meetings of every sort, there were in each County; and where kept: what Number of Persons frequent¦ed them, and of what Ranks; who amongst them were Persons of Estate, and where they lived: that when they should afterwards have troubled the Waters, they might the better know where, with most Advantage, to cast their Nets

He, of these Emisaries, whose Post was assigned him in this County of Bucks, adventured to thrust himself upon a Friend, under the counterfeit Appearance of a Quaker: but being by the Friend suspected, and thereupon dismist unentertain'd, he was forced to betake himself to an Inn or Alehouse for Accommodation. Long he had not been there, e're his unruly Nature (not to be long kept under by the Curb of a feigned Sobriety) broke forth into open Prophanness: so true is that of the POET,

Naturam expellas furcâ licèt, us{que} recurret.

To Fudling now falls he with those whom he found Tippling there before; and who but he amo•gst them! In him was then made good the Proverb, In Vino Veritas: for in his Cups he out with that, which was, no doubt, to have been kept a Secret. 'Twas to his Pot-Companions, that (after his Head was somewhat heated with strong Liquors) he discovered that he was sent forth by Dr. Mew, the then Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, on the Design before related, and under the Protection of Justice Morton, a Warrant under whose Hand and Seal he there produced.

Sensible of his Error too late (when Sleep had restored him to some degree of Sense) and discouraged with this ill Success of his Attempt upon the Quakers, he quickly left that Place; and crossing through the Country, cast himself among the Baptists, at a Meeting which they held in a private Place: of which the over-easie Credulity of some that went among them (whom he had craftily insinuated himself into) had given him Notice. The Entertainment he found amongst them, deserved a better Return than he made them. For, having smoothly wrought himself into their good Opinion, and cunningly drawn some of them into an unwary Openness, and Freedom of Conversation with him, upon the unpleasing Subject of the Severity of those Times; he most villanously impeached one of them (whose Name was — Headach, a Man well reputed amongst his Neighbours) of having spoken Treasonable Words: and thereby brought the Man in danger of losing both his Estate and Life; had not a seasonable Discovery of his abominable Practices elsewhere (imprinting Terror, the Effect of Guilt upon him) caused him to fly both out of the Court and Country; at that very instant of Time, when the honest Man stood at the Bar, ready to be arraigned upon his false Accusation.

This his false Charge against that Baptist, left him no further room to play the Hypocrite in those Parts. Off therefore go his Cloak and Vizor. And now he openly appears, in his pro¦per Colours, to disturb the Assemblies of God's People: which was indeed the very End, for which the Design at first was laid.

But because the Law provided, That a Con¦viction must be grounded upon the Oaths of two Witnesses; it was needful for him, in order to the carrying on his intended Mischief, to find out an Associate, who might be both sordid enough for such an Imployment, and vicious enough to be his Companion.

This was not an easie Task: yet he found out one, who had already given an Experiment of his Readiness to take other Mens Goods: being not long before released out of Alesbury-Goal, where he very narrowly escaped the Gallows, for having Stolen a Cow.

The Names of these Fellows being yet unknown, in that Part of the Country where they began their Work; the former, by the general Voice of the Country, was called The Trepan: the latter, The Informer; and, from the Colour of his Hair, Red-head. But in a little time the Trepan called himself John Poulter: adding withal, That Judge Morton used to call him John for the King; and that the A. B. of Canterbury had given him a Deaconry. That his Name was indeed John Poulter, the reputed Son of one — Poulter, a Butcher in Salisbury; and that he had long since been there branded for a Fellow egregiously Wicked and Debauched, we were assured by the Testimony of a young Man, then living in Amersham, who both was his Countryman, and had known him in Salisbury: as well •s by a Letter from an Inhabitant of that Place; •o whom his Course of Life had been well known.

His Comrade, who for some time was only •alled The Informer, was named Ralph Lacy of Risborough; and Sirnamed the Cow-stealer.

These agreed between themselves where to •ake their first Onset (which was to be, and was, •n the Meeting of the People called Quakers, •hen holden at the House of William Russell, cal •ed Jourden's, in the Parish of Giles-Chalfont in •he County of Bucks) that which was wanting •o their Accommodation, was a Place of Har •our, fit for such Beasts of Prey to lurk in: for Assistance wherein Recourse was had to Parson Philips; none being so ready, none so willing, •one so able to help them, as he.

A Friend he had in a Corner, a Widow-Wo •an; not long before one of his Parishioners. •er Name was Anne Dell; and at that time •he lived at a Farm called Whites, a By-place in •he Parish of Beconsfield, whither she removed •rom Hitchindon. To her these Fellows were •ecommended, by her old Friend the Parson. •he, with all readiness, received them; Her •ouse was at all times open to them: what she •ad, was at their Command.

Two Sons she had at home with her, both at Man's Estate; to the Eldest of which her Maid-•ervant, not long before, had laid a Bastard: which Infamy to smother up proved Expensive 〈◊〉 them. The younger Son (whose Name was •ohn Dell) hoping, by the Pillage of his honest Neighbours, to regain what the Incontinency o• his lustful Brother had mis-spent; listed himsel• in the Service of his Mothers New Guests, t• attend on them, as their Guide, and to inform them (who were too much Strangers to pretend to know the Names of any of the Persons there whom they should inform against.

Thus consorted, thus in a triple League con¦federated, on the 24th Day of the Fifth Mont• (commonly called July) in the Year 1670, the• appeared openly, and began to Act their i•¦tended Tragoedy upon the Quakers Meeting, a• the Place aforesaid; to which I belonged, an• at which I was present. Here the chief Acto• Poulter, behaved himself with such impetuo• Violence, and brutish Rudeness, as gave Occ¦sion for Enquiry who, or what, he was. An• being soon discovered to be the Trepan, so Inf•¦mous, and abhor'd by all sober People; and afte•¦wards daily detected of gross Impieties, and •¦ven Capital Crimes (such as Christ'ning (so th• common Term is) of a Cat in contempt of th• Practice which is used by many upon Childre• naming it Catharine-Catherina, in derision of t•… then Queen; And the Felonious taking of c•…¦tain Goods from one of Brainford; whom a•… he cheated of Money. These things raising 〈◊〉 Out-cry in the Country upon him, made h•… consult his own Safety; and leaving his Part 〈◊〉 be Acted by others, quitted the Country 〈◊〉 soon as he could.

He being gone, Satan soon supplied his Pla•… by sending one Richard Aris, a broken Ironm•…∣er of Wiccomb, to join with Lacy in this Service; •…ompted thereto, in hopes that he might there •y repair his broken Fortunes.

Of this New Adventurer this single Charac •…r may serve, whereby the Reader may make •…dgment of him, as of the Lion by his Paw; •…at at the Sessions, holden at Wiccomb in Octo •…r then last past, he was openly accused of •…ving enticed one Harding, of the same Town, 〈◊〉 be his Companion and Associate in Robbing 〈◊〉 the Highway; and Proof offered to be made, •…at he had made Bullets in order to that Ser •…e: Which Charge Harding himself, whom 〈◊〉 had endeavoured to draw into that hainous •ickedness, was ready in Court to prove upon •…th; had not the Prosecution been discounten •…ced and smothered.

Lacy (the Cow-stealer) having thus got Aris •…e intended Highway-man) to be his Com •…de; they came (on the 21st of the Month cal •… August, 1670.) to the Meeting of the People •…led Quakers, where Lacy with Poulter had •…en a Month before; and taking for granted •…at the same, who had been there before, were •…ere then, they went to a Justice of the Peace •…led Sir Thomas Clayton, and Swore at all ad •…nture, against one Thomas Zachary and his •…ife (whom Lacy understood to have been there •…e Month before) that they were then present 〈◊〉 that Meeting: Whereas neither the said Tho •…s Zachary nor his Wife were at that Meeting; •…t were both of them at London (above Twen •… Miles distant) all that Day; having been there sometime before and after. Which no•…¦withstanding, upon this false Oath of these fal•… Men, the Justice laid Fines upon the said Thom•… Zachary, of 10l. for his own Offence, 10 l. f•… his Wife's, and 10l. for the Offence of a pr•…tended Preacher (though indeed there was n•… any that preached at that Meeting that Day•… and issued forth his Warrant to the Officers•… Beconsfield (where Thomas Zachary dwelt) for t•… levying of the same upon his Goods.

I mention these things thus particularly (t•… not an immediate Suffering of my own;) •…¦cause, in the Consequence thereof, it occasio•… no small Trouble and Exercise to me.

For when Thomas Zachary, returning H•… from London, understanding what had been 〈◊〉 against him; and advising what to do, was 〈◊〉 formed by a Neighbouring Attorney, that his •…¦medy lay in appealing from the Judgmen•… the Convicting Justice, to the General Qu•… Sessions of the Peace: he thereupon ordering 〈◊〉 said Attorney to draw up his Appeal in For•… Law, went himself with it, and tendered 〈◊〉 the Justice. But the Justice, being a Man ne•… well principled, nor well natured; and u•… that he should lose the Advantage, both of 〈◊〉 present Conviction, and future Service of 〈◊〉 (in his Judgment) useful Men, as those bold Informers were likely to be: fell sh•… upon Thomas Zachary, charging him that h•…¦fer'd justly; and that his Suffering was 〈◊〉 a Religious Account.

This rough and unjust Dealing engaged the •…od Man to enter into further Discourse with •…e Justice, in defence of his own Innocency. •…om which Discourse the insidious Justice, tak •…g offence at some Expression of his, charged 〈◊〉 with saying, The Righteous are Oppressed, and 〈◊〉 Wicked go Unpunished. Which the Justice in •…preting to be a Reflection on the Govern •…nt, and calling it an high Misdemeanour; re •…ired Sureties of the good Man to answer it at •…e next Quarter Sessions, and in the mean time 〈◊〉 be bound to his good Behaviour, But, he, •…ll knowing himself to be Innocent of having •…ken any Law, or done in this Matter any E •… could not answer the Justices Unjust De •…nd; and therefore was sent forthwith a Pri •…er to the County Goal.

By this Severity, it was thought, the Justice •…igned, not only to wreak his Displeasure on 〈◊〉 good Man; but to prevent the further Pro •…ution of his Appeal: Whereby he should at •…e both Oppress the Righteous; by the Levy •… of the Fines unduly imposed upon him; •…d secure the informers from a Conviction of •…ful Perjury, and the Punishment due there •…e, that so they might go on, without Controul, •…he wicked Work they were engaged in.

But so great Wickedness was not to be suffer •… to go unpunished, or at least undiscovered. •herefore, although no way could be found at •…sent, to get the good Man released from his •ust Imprisonment: Yet that his Restraint •…ght not hinder the Prosecution of his Appeal, on which the Detection of the Informers V•…¦lany depended: Consideration being had the•… of amongst some Friends, the 〈◊〉 Management the Prosecution was committed to my Care, w•… was thought (with respect at least to Leisu•… and disengagement from other Business) most 〈◊〉 to attend it; and very willingly I undertook 〈◊〉

Wherefore at the next general Quarter-Sessi•… of the Peace, holden at High-Wiccomb in Oct•…¦ber following, I took care that Four Substant•… Witnesses, Citizens of unquestionable Cred•… should come down from London, in a Coa•… and four Horses, hired on purpose.

These gave so punctual and full Eviden•… that Thomas Zachary and his Wife were in Lond•… all that Day, whereon the Informers had Sw•… them to have been at an Unlawful Meeting, a•… place more than Twenty Miles distant fr•… London, that, notwithstanding what Endeavo•… were used to the contrary, the Jury found th•… Not Guilty. Whereupon the Money deposi•… for the Fines, at the Entring of the Appe•… ought to have been returned: and so was T•… Pounds of it; but the rest of the Money bei•… in the Hand of the Clerk of the Peace, wh•… Name was Wells, could never be got out aga•…

Thomas Zachary himself was brought fro• Alesbury Goal to Wiccomb, to receive his Trya• and though no Evil could be charged upon hi•… yet Justice Clayton, who at first committed hi•… displeased to see the Appeal Prosecuted, and 〈◊〉 Conviction he had made set aside, by Imp•…¦tunity prevailed with the Bench to rema•… •im to Prison again, there to lie until another •essions.

While this was doing, I got an Indictment •rawn up against the Informers, Aris and Lacy, •or wilful Perjury, and caused it to be delivered •o the Grand Jury; who found the Bill. And •lthough the Court adjourned from the Town Hall to the Chamber at their Inn (in favour, as •t was thought, to the Informers, on Supposition we would not pursue them thither;) yet thither •hey were pursued: and there being two Coun •ells present from Windsor (the Name of the one was Starkey, and of the other, as I remember, Forster; the former of which I had before retained upon the Tryal of the Appeal) I now retained them both, and sent them into Court again, to Prosecute the Informers upon this Indictment, Which they did so smartly, that the Informers (being present, as not suspecting any such suddain Danger) were of necessity called to the Bar, and Arraigned; and having pleaded Not Guilty, were forced to enter a Traverse, to avoid a present Commitment: All the Favour the Court could shew them, being to take them Bail one for the other (though probably both not worth a Groat) else they must have gone to Goal for want of Bail, which would have put them besides their Business, spoil'd the Informing Trade, and broke the Design; whereas now they were turned loose again, to do what Mischief they could, until the next Sessions.

Accordingly they did what they could, and yet could make little or no Earnings at it: For this little step of Prosecution had made them so known, and their late apparent Perjury had made them so detestable; that even the common sort of bad Men shunned them, and would not willingly yield them any Assistance.

The next Quarter-Sessions was holden at Alesbury, whither we were fain to bring down our Witnesses again from London, in like manner, and at like Charge (at the least) as before. And though I met with great Discouragements in the Prosecution, yet I followed it so vigorously, that I got a Verdict against the Informers for wilful Perjury: and had forthwith taken them up, had not they forthwith fled from Justice, and hid themselves. However, I moved by my Attorney for an Order of Court, directed to all Mayors, Bayliffs, High Constables, Petty Constables, and other Inferiour Officers of the Peace, to Arrest and take them up, where-ever they should be found within the County of Bucks: and bring them to the County Goal.

The Report of this so terrified them, that, of all things dreading the Misery of lying in a Goa• (out of which they could not hope for Deliver¦ance, otherwise than by, at least, the Loss o• their Ears) they, hopeless now of carrying o• their Informing Trade, disjoyned; and one o• them (Aris) fled the Country: So that (what¦ever Gallows caught him) he appeared no mo•… in this Country. The other (Lacy) lurked pri¦vily, for a while, in Woods and By-places, 'ti• Hunger and Want forced him out; and the•… casting himself upon an hazardous Adventu•… which yet was the best, and proved to him the •est Course he could have taken) he went di •ectly to the Goal (where, he knew, the Inno •ent Man suffered Imprisonment by his Means, •nd for his sake:) where asking for, and being •rought to Thomas Zachary, he cast himself on •is Knees, at his Feet; and with appearance of •orrow, confessing his Fault, did so earnestly beg •or Forgiveness, that he wrought upon the ten •er Nature of that very good Man, not only to •ut him in hopes of Mercy, but to be his Advo •ate by Letter to me, to mitigate, at least, if •ot wholly to remit the Prosecution. To which I so far only consented, as to let him know, I would suspend the Execution of the Warrant upon him, according as he behaved himself, or until he gave fresh Provocation. At which Message the Fellow was so overjoyed, that, relying with Confidence thereon, he returned openly to his Family and Labour, and applyed himself to Business (as his Neighbours observed and reported) with greater Diligence and Industry, than he had ever done before.

Thus began, and thus ended, the Informing-Trade, in these Parts of the County of Bucks; the ill Success that these first Informers found, discouraging all others, how Vile soever, from attempting the like Enterprize there ever after. And though it cost some Money to carry on the Prosecution; and some Pains too: Yet, for every Shilling so spent, a Pound, probably, might be saved, of what (in all likelihood) would have been lost, by the Spoil and Havock that might have been made, by Distresses taken on the•… Informations.

But so Angry was the Convicting Justi•… (whatever others, of the same Rank were) a•… this Prosecution, and the loss thereby of the Se•¦vice of those Honest Men, the Perjur'd Informer•… For as I heard an Attorney (one Hitchcock of A¦lesbury, who was their Advocate in Court) sa•… A great Lord, a Peer of the Realm, called them 〈◊〉 in a Letter directed to him; whereby he recommend¦ed to him the Care and Defence of them and thei• Cause; that he prevailed to have the Oath o• Allegiance tendred in Court to Thomas Zachary• which he knew he would not take, because h• could not take any Oath at all; by which Sna•… he was kept in Prison a long time after; and (〈◊〉 far as I remember) until a general Pardon r•¦leased him.

But though it pleased the Divine Providenc• (which sometimes vouchsafeth to bring Goo• out of Evil) to put a stop (in a great Measur• at least) to the Prosecution here begun: Yet i• other Parts, both of the City and Country, • was carried on with very great Severity and R•¦gour; the worst of Men, for the most part, b•¦ing set up for Informers; the worst of Mag•¦strates encouraging and abetting them; and th• worst of the Priests (who first began to blo the Fire) now seeing how it took, spread an• blazed, Clapping their Hands, and Hallowin• them on to this Evil Work.

The Sense whereof, as it deeply affected m• Heart with a Sympathizing Pity for the Oppre•¦sed Sufferers: So it raised in my Spirit an Holy Disdain, and Contempt of that Spirit and its Agent; by which this ungodly Work was stirred up, and carried on. Which at length brake forth in an Expostulatory POEM, under the Title of GIGANTOMACHIA (The Wars of the Giants against Heaven.) Not without some Allusion to the Second Psalm, thus.

WHY do the Heathen in a brutish Rage,

Themselves against the Lord of Hosts Engage!

Why do the frantick People entertain

Their Thoughts upon a thing that is so vain!

Why do the Kings themselves together set!

And why do all the Princes them abet!

Why do the Rulers to each other speak

After this foolish manner, Let us break

Their Bonds asunder! Come let us make hast,

With joint Consent, their Cords from us cast.

Why do they thus joyn Hands! and Counsel take

Against the Lord's Anointed! This will make

Him, doubtless, Laugh; who doth in Heaven Sit:

The Lord will have them in Contempt for it.

His sore Displeasure on them he will wreak:

And in his Wrath will he unto them Speak.

For on his Holy Hill of Sion, He

His King hath set to Reign; Scepters must be

Cast down before him: Diadems must lie

At foot of him, who sits in Majesty

Upon his Throne of Glory; whence he will

Send forth his fiery Ministers, to Kill

All those his Enemies, who would not be

Subject to his Supream Authority.

Where then will ye appear, who are so far

From being Subjects, that ye Rebels are

Against his Holy Government; and strive

Others from their Allegiance too to drive;

What Earthly Prince such an Affront wou'd bear

From any of his Subjects, shou'd they dare

So to encroach on his Prerogative!

Which of them wou'd permit that Man to live!

What shou'd it be adjudg'd but Treason? And

Death he must suffer for it, out of hand.

And shall the King of Kings such Treason see

Acted against him, and the Traytors be

Acquitted! No, Vengeance is his: and they

That him Provoke, shall know he will repay.

And of a Truth, provoked he hath been,

In an high Manner, by this daring Sin.

Of Usurpation, and of Tyranny

Over Mens Consciences, which should be free

To Serve the Living God, as he requires,

And as his Holy Spirit them Inspires.

For Conscience is an Inward thing, and none,

Can govern that aright, but God alone.

Nor can a well-Informed Conscience low'r

Her Sails to any Temporary Pow'r;

Or bow to Mens Decrees: For that wou'd be

Treason in a Superlative Degree;

For God alone can Laws to Conscience give,

And that's a Badge of his PREROGATIVE.

This is the Controversie of this Day,

Between the Holy God, and sinful Clay.

God hath, throughout the Earth, Proclaim'd, that he

Will over Conscience hold the Sov'raignty;

That he the Kingdom to himself will take,

And in Man's Heart his Residence will make:

From whence his Subjects shall such Laws receive,

As please his Royal Majesty to give.

Man heeds not this: but most audaciously

Says, Unto me belongs Supremacy:

And all Mens Consciences, within my Land,

Ought to be subject unto my Command.

God, by his Holy Spirit, doth direct

His People how to Worship: And expect

Obedience from them. Man says, I ordain,

That none shall Worship in that way, on pain

Of Prison, Confiscation, Banishment;

Or being to the Stake, or Gallows, Sent.

God, out of Babylon, doth People call:

Commands them to forsake her Ways, and all

Her sev'ral sorts of Worship, to deny

Her whole Religion, as Idolatry.

Will Man thus his usurped Pow'r forgo,

And lose his ill-got Government? Oh no:

But out comes his Enacted, be't, That all

Who, when the Organs Play, will not down fall

Before this Golden Image, and adore

What I have caus'd to be set up; therefore

Into the fiery Furnace shall be cast:

And be consumed with a flaming Blast.

Or, in the mildest Terms, Conform, or Pay

So much a Month, or so much ev'ry Day;

Which we will Levy on you, by Distress,

Sparing nor Widow, nor the Fatherless:

•nd if you have not what will Satisfie,

•are like in Prison, during Life, to lie.

Christ says, Swear not: but Man says, Swear, or lie

•n Prison, praemunir'd, until you Die.

Man's Ways are, in a Word, as Opposite

To God's, as Midnight-Darkness is to Light.

And yet fond Man doth stive with Might and Main

By Penal Laws, God's People to constrain

To Worship What, When, Where, How he thinks fit;

And to whatever he Injoyns, submit.

What will the Issue of this Contest be!

Which must give place, the Lord's, or Man's Decree!

Will Man be in the Day of Battle, found

Able to keep the Field, maintain his Ground,

Against the mighty God! No more than can

The lightest Chaff before the Winnowing Fan:

No more than Straw cou'd stand before the Flame;

Or smallest Atoms, when a Whirlwind came.

The LORD (who in Creation, only said,

Let us make Man, and forthwith Man was made)

Can, in a Moment, by one Blast of Breath,

Strike all Mankind with an Eternal Death.

How soon can God all Man's Devices quash,

And, with his Iron Rod, in Pieces dash

Him, like a Potter's Vessel! None can stand

Against the Mighty Power of his Hand.

Be therefore wise, ye Kings; instructed be,

Ye Rulers of the Earth, and henceforth see

Ye serve the Lord in Fear: and stand in aw

Of sinning any more against his Law,

His Royal Law of Liberty; to do

To others as you'd have them do to you.

Oh stoop, ye mighty Monarchs, and let none

Reject his Government; but kiss the Son

While's Wrath is but a little kindled, lest

His Anger burn, and you that have transgrest

His Law so oft; and wou'd not him obey,

Eternally shou'd perish from the Way;

The Way of God's Salvation. where the Just

Are bless'd, who in the Lord do put their trust.

Foelix quem faciunt aliena Pericula cautum.

— Happy's He,

Whom others Harms do wary make to be.

As the unreasonable Rage, and furious Vio •…nce of the Persecutors had drawn the for •er Expostulation from me: so, in a while after, •…y Heart being deeply affected with a Sense of •…e great Loving-kindness, and tender Goodness •f the LORD to his People, in bearing up their •pirits in their greatest Exercises, and preserv •…g them through the sharpest Tryals, in a faith •…l Testimony to his blessed Truth, and open •…g, in due time, a Door of Deliverance to •…em, I could not forbear to celebrate his Praises 〈◊〉 the following Lines, under the Title of

A SONG of the Mercies and Deliverances of the LORD.

HAD not the Lord been on our Side,

May Israel now say,

We were not able to abide

The Tryals of that Day.

When Men did up against us rise,

With Fury, Rage and Spight;

Hoping to catch us by surprize,

Or run us down by Might.

Then had not God for us arose,

And shewn his mighty Pow'r;

We had been swallow'd by our Foes,

Who waited to devour.

When the joint-Pow'rs of Death and Hell

Against us did combine:

And, with united Forces, fell

Upon us, with design

To Root us out: then had not God

Appear'd to take our Part,

And them chastized with his Rod,

And made them feel the Smart:

We then had overwhelmed been,

And trodden in the Mire,

Our Enemies on us had seen

Their cruel Hearts Desire.

When Ston'd, when Stock't, when rudely stript

Some, to the Waste, have been,

(Without regard of Sex) and whip't,

Until the Blood did spin:

Yea, when their Skins, with Stripes look't black,

Their Flesh to Jelly beat,

Enough to make their Sinews crack,

The Lashes were so great:

Then had not God been with them, to

Support them, they had dy'd;

His Pow'r it was, that bore them thro',

Nothing cou'd do't beside.

When into Prisons we were throng'd

(Where Pestilence was rife,)

By bloody-minded Men, that long'd

To take away our Life:

Then had not God been with us, we

Had perish't there, no doubt;

'Twas He preserv'd us there, and He

It was that brought us out.

When Sentenced to Banishment

Inhumanly we were;

To be from Native Country sent,

From all that Men call dear:

Then had not God been pleas'd t' appear,

And take our Cause in hand;

And struck them with a pannick Fear,

Which put them to a stand.

Nay, had he not great Judgments sent,

And compass'd them about;

They were, at that time, fully bent

To root us wholly out.

Had he not gone with them that went,

The Seas had been their Graves:

Or, when they came where they were sent,

They had been Sold for Slaves.

But God was pleased still to give

Them Favour where they came;

And in his Truth they yet do live,

To Praise his Holy Name.

And now afresh do Men contrive

Another wicked Way,

Of our Estates us to deprive,

And take our Goods away.

But will the Lord (who, to this Day,

Our Part did always take)

Now leave us, to be made a Prey;

And that too for his sake?

Can any one, who calls to Mind

Deliverances past;

Discourag'd be at what's behind,

And murmur now at last!

O that no unbelieving Heart

Among us may be found,

That from the Lord wou'd now depart;

And, Coward like, give ground.

For, without doubt, the God we serve

Will still our Cause defend;

If we from him do never swerve,

But trust him to the End.

What if our Goods, by Violence,

From us be torn, and we,

Of all things but our Innocence,

Should wholly stripped be?

Would this be more than did befal

Good Job? Nay sure, much less:

He lost Estate, Children and all;

Yet he the Lord did bless.

But did not God his Stock augment,

Double what 'twas before?

And this was writ to the Intent

That we should hope the more.

View but the Lillies of the Field,

That neither Knit, nor Spin:

Who is it that to them doth yield

The Robes they're decked in?

Doth not the Lord the Ravens feed,

And for the Sparrows care?

And will not He, for his own Seed,

All needful things prepare?

The Lions shall sharp Hunger bear,

And pine for lack of Food:

But who the Lord do truly Fear

Shall nothing want that's good.

Oh! which of us can now diffide

That God will us defend,

Who hath been always on our Side,

And will be to the End.

167•

Spes consisa Deo nunquam confusa recedet.

Hope, which on God is firmly grounded,

Will never fail, nor be confounded.

Scarce was the before-mentioned Storm 〈◊〉 outward Persecution from the Government, blow•… over; when Satan rais'd another Storm, of a•¦other kind, against us on this Occasion. T•… foregoing Storm of Persecution, as it lasted lon•… so, in many Parts of the Nation, and partic•¦larly at London, it fell very sharp and violen•… especially on the Quakers. For they having 〈◊〉 Refuge, but God alone, to fly unto, could n•… dodge and shift to avoid the Suffering; as othe•… of other Denominations could, and in the•… worldly Wisdom and Policy did; altering the•… Meetings, with respect both to Place and Tim•… and forbearing to meet, when Forbidden, 〈◊〉 kept out of their Meeting-Houses. So that of the s•¦veral Sorts of Dissenters, the Quakers only he•… up a publick Testimony, as a Standard or Ensig• of Religion, by keeping their Meeting duly a•… fully, at the accustomed Times and Places (〈◊〉 long as they were suffered to Enjoy the Use 〈◊〉 their Meeting-Houses:) and when they we•… shut up, and Friends kept out of them by Forc•… •…ey assembled in the Streets, as near to their Meeting-Houses as they could.

This bold, and truly Christian Behaviour in •…e Quakers disturbed, and not a little displeas •… the Persecutors; who fretting complained, •…at the Stubborn Quakers brake their Strength, and •…e off the Blow from those other Dissenters, whom, 〈◊〉 they most feared, so they principally aimed at. •…r indeed the Quakers they rather despised, •…an feared; as being a People, from whose •…aceable both Principles and Practices, they held •…emselves secure from Danger: whereas hav •…g suffered severely, and that lately too, by •…d under the other Dissenters; they thought •…ey had just cause to be apprehensive of danger •…m them, and good reason to suppress them.

On the other hand, the more Ingenious a •ongst other Dissenters, of each Denomination, •…nsible of the Ease they enjoyed by our bold •…d steady Suffering (which abated the Heat of •…e Persecutors, and blunted the Edge of the •word, before it came to them) frankly acknow •…dged the Benefit received; calling us The Bul •…ark that kept off the Force of the Stroke from them, •nd praying That we might be preserved, and en •bled to break the Strength of the Enemy: nor •ould some of them forbear (those especially who were called Baptists) to express their kind •nd favourable Opinion of us, and of the Prin •iples we profess'd; which emboldened us to go thro' that, which but to hear of was a Ter •or to them.

This their Good-will rais'd Ill-will in some 〈◊〉 their Teachers against us; who, though willi•… to reap the Advantage of a Shelter, by a R•¦treat behind us, during the time that the Sto•… lasted: yet, partly through an Evil Emulatio•… partly through Fear, lest they should lose so•… of those Members of their Society, who h•… discovered such favourable Thoughts of o•… Principles and us; they set themselves, as so•… as the Storm was over, to represent us in as ug•… a Dress, and in as frightful Figure to t•… World; as they could invent, and put upon 〈◊〉

In order whereunto one Thomas Hicks, • Preacher among the Baptists at London, took u•…¦on him to write several Pamphlets successivel• under the Title of A Dialogue between a Christia• and a Quaker; which were so craftily contrive• that the unwary Reader might conclude the• to be (not meerly Fictions, but) real Discourse• actually held between one of the People called • Quaker, and some other Person. In these feig•¦ed Dialogues, Hicks (having no regard to Ju¦stice, or common Honesty) had made his Coun¦terfeit Quaker say whatsoever he thought woul• render him, one while, sufficiently Erronious• another while, Ridiculous enough: forging, i• the Quaker's Name, some things so abominabl• False, other Things so intolerably Foolish; a• could not reasonably be supposed to have com• into the Conceit, much less to have droppe• from the Lip or Pen of any that went under th• Name of a Quaker.

These Dialogues (shall I call them, or rather •iabologues) were answered by our Friend W. •enn, in two Books; the first being entituled, •eason against Railing; the other, The Counter •…it Christian detected: in which Hicks being •harged with manifest, as well as manifold For •eries, Perversions, downright Lyes and Slanders •gainst the People called Quakers in general, W. Penn, G. Whitehead, and divers others by Name; Complaint was made, by way of an Appeal, to the Baptists in and about London, for •ustice against Thomas Hicks.

Those Baptists (who, it seems, were in the Plot with Hicks to defame, at any rate, right or wrong, the People called Quakers) taking the Advantage of the Absence of W. P. and G. W. •who were the Persons most immediately con •erned, and who were then gone a long Jour •ey, on the service of Truth, to be absent from the City, in all probability, for a considerable time) appointed a publick Meeting, in one of their Meeting-Houses, under pretence of calling Thomas Hicks to account, and hearing the Charge made good against him: but with design to give the greater Stroke to the Quakers, when they, who should make good the Charge against Hicks, could not be present. For upon their sending Notice to the Lodgings of W. P. and G. W. of their intended Meeting, they were told by several Friends, that both W. P. and G. W. were from home, travelling in the Countries, uncertain where; and therefore could not be informed of their intended Meeting, either by Letter, or Express, within the time by them limitted: for which reason they were desired to deferr the Meeting, till they could have Notice of it, and time to return that they might be at it. But these Baptists whose Design was otherwise laid, would not be prevailed with to deferr their Meeting: but, glad of the Advantage, gave their brother Hick• opportunity to make a colourable Defence where he had his Party to help him; and none to oppose him! and having made a mock Shew of Examining him and his Works of Darkness they in fine having heard one side, Acquitted him

This gave just Occasion for a New Complaint and Demand of Justice against him and them. For as soon as W. P. return'd to London, he in Print exhibited his Complaint of this unfair Dealing, and demanded Justice, by a re-hearing of the Matter, in a publick Meeting, to be appointed by joint Agreement. This went hardly down with the Baptists, nor could it be obtained from them, without great Importunity, and hard pressing. At length, after many delays, and Tricks used to shift it off, constrained by Necessity, they yielded to have a Meeting at their own Meeting-House, in Barbican, London.

There, amongst other Friends, was I, and undertook to read our Charge there against Thomas Hicks: which, not without much Difficulty, I did; they, inasmuch as the House was theirs, putting all the Inconveniencies they could upon us.

The particular Passages, and Management •f this Meeting (as also of that other, which, •ollowed soon after, they refusing to give us any •ther publick Meeting, we were fain to ap •oint in our own Meeting-House, by Wheeler •treet near Spittle-Fields, London, and gave •…em timely notice of) I forbear here to men •…on; there being in Print a Narrative of each, 〈◊〉 which, for particular Information, I refer •he Reader.

But to this Meeting Thomas Hicks would not •ome; but lodged himself at an Ale-house hard •y: yet sent his Brother Ives, with some others •f the Party, by clamorous Noises to divert us •rom the Prosecution of our Charge against •im; which they so effectually performed, that •hey would not suffer the Charge to be heard, •hough often attempted to be read.

As this rude Behaviour of theirs was a Cause of Grief to me; so afterwards when I understood, that they used all evasive Tricks, to avoid another Meeting with us, and refused to do us Right, my Spirit was greatly stirred at their Injustice: and in the Sense thereof, willing, if possible, to have provoked them to more fair and manly Dealing, I let fly a Broad-side at them, in a single Sheet of Paper, under the Title of A Fresh Parsuit. In which, having re-stated the Controversie between them and us, and reinforced our Charge of Forgery, &c. against Thomas Hicks and his Abettors: I offered a fair Challenge to them (not only to Thomas Hicks himself, but to all those his Compurgators, who had before undertaken to acquit him from our Charge, together with their Companion Jer• Ives) to give me a fair and publick Meeting• in which I would make good our Charge against him, as Principal, and all the rest of them, as Accessaries. But nothing could provoke them to come fairly forth.

Yet not long after, finding themselves galled by the Narrative lately published of what had passed in the last Meeting near Wheeler-Street; they, to help themselves, if they could, sent forth a Counter Account of that Meeting, and of the former at Barbican, as much to the Advantage of their own Cause, as they, upon deliberate Consideration cou'd contrive it. This was published by Thomas Plant (a Baptist-Teacher, and one of Thomas Hicks his former Compurgators) and bore (but falsly) the Title of A Contest for Christianity; or, A faithful Relation of two late Meetings, &c.

To this I quickly writ and published an Answer. And, because I saw the Design, and whole drift of the Baptists was to shroud T. Hicks from our Charge of Forgery, under the specious Pretence of his and their standing up, and contending for Christianity; I gave my Book this general Title, Forgery no Christianity: or a brief Examen of a late Book, &c. And having from their own Book, plainly convicted that which they called A faithful Relation to be indeed A false Relation; I, in an Expostulatory Postscript to the Baptists, reinforced our Charge, and my former Challenge: Offering to make it •ood against them, before a publick and free •…uditory. But they were too wary to appear •…rther, either in Person, or in Print.

This was the End of that Controversie; which was observed to have this Issue: That what those Dialogues were written to prevent, was, by the Dialogues, and their unfair, un •anly, unchristian Carriage, in endeavouring 〈◊〉 defend them, hastened and brought to pass: 〈◊〉 not a few of the Baptist-Members, upon this •ccasion left their Meetings and Society, and •…me over to the Quakers-Meetings, and were •…yned in Fellowship with them. Thanks be 〈◊〉 God.

Though many of the most eminent among t•e Baptists, in and about London, engaged •hemselves in this Quarrel: to have defended, 〈◊〉, at least, to have brought fairly off (if it •ad been possible) their Brother Hicks: yet the •…ain Service lay upon Jeremy Ives. Who, having •een an unsuccessful Trader in Cheese, and there •n failed more than once; had now for some •ime, given over that Imployment, and (like a Mercenary Switzer) undertook to be the Cham •ion for the Baptists, and to maintain their Quarrels against all Comers.

His Name was up, for a topping Disputant: but indeed, on the best Observation I could make of him (both now, and formerly) I could not find him a clean and fair Disputant. He seemed, I confess, well read in the Falacies of Logick, and was indeed rather ready, than true and sound, in framing Syllogisms. But his chief Art lay in Tickling the Humours of rud• unlearned and injudicious Hearers; thereby i•¦sinuating himself into their good Opinion: an• then Bantering his Opponent.

He lived not long after this; but the Impre•¦sion his crafty false and frothy Carriage (as we• at this time, as before) had made upon m• Mind, drew from me, when I heard of h•… Death, something like an Epitaph, in a drollin• Stile, as himself was wont to Use. And th•… it was.

BEneath this Stone deprest doth lie.

The Mirrour of Hypocrisie,

IVES; whose mercenary Tongue

Like a Weather-Cock was hung:

And did this, or that way play,

As Advantage led the way.

If well-hir'd, he wou'd Dispute;

Otherwise he wou'd be mute:

But he'd Baul nigh half a Day,

If he knew, and lik'd his Pay.

For his Person, let it pass.

Only Note, his Face was Brass:

His Heart was like a Pumice-Stone;

And for Conscience, he had none.

Of Earth and Air he was compos'd,

With Water round about enclos'd,

But Earth in him had greatest Share:

For, questionless his Life lay there;

And thence his cankred Envy sprung,

Which poyson'd both his Heart and Tongue.

Air made him frothy, light and vain,

And puff't him up with proud Disdain;

Flouting and fleering, more like a Stage-Player,

Than an Anabaptist Preacher and Prayer:

Fitter to be a Mountebank's Fool,

Than peep into a Divinity-School;

More Tricks he had than Jack Pudding by Half,

To raise the rude Multitude into a Laugh.

Into the Water oft he went,

And through the Water many sent;

That was, ye know, his Element:

The greatest Odds that did appear,

Was this (for ought that I can hear)

That He in Cold did others dip;

But did himself Hot Waters sip.

Sip! said I? Nay, more than so,

Sipping wou'd not serve his turn;

He did unto Quaffing go

('Twas much his Guts he did not burn:)

For, if Credit may be given

To Report, he'd Fuddle, even

Till he Reeled to and fro;

And his Cause he'd never doubt,

If well-soak'd o'er Night in Stout.

But, mean while, he must not lack

Brandy, or a Draught of Sack.

One Dispute wou'd shrink a Bottle

Of three Pints, if not a Pottle.

One wou'd think he fetch'd from thence,

All his dreaming Eloquence;

And his four-leg'd Syllogisms,

Proving Breakings are no Schisms.

Wot ye why? Himself Brake twice.

Say no more: the Point is nice.

But let us now bring back the Sot

Unto his Aqua-Vitae-Pot;

And observe, with some Content,

How he fram'd his Argument.

That his Whistle he might wet,

The Bottle to his Mouth he set;

And, being Master of that Art,

Thence he drew the Major part:

But left the Minor still behind,

Good reason why: He wanted Wind.

If his Breath wou'd have held out,

He had Conclusion drawn, no doubt.

But to't again he went, and thence

He fetch'd a lusty Consequence.

Then finding all his Drink was spent,

He thus wound up his Argument.

My Sides are not of Iron, neither

Are my Lungs made of Whit-leather.

If therefore you've not, I have done.

Then, Leaping down,
From the Dispute at Wheeler-Street, London; the 16th of October, 1674.

away he Run.

The Controversie which had been raised by •…ose cavilling Baptists, had not been long end •…; before another was raised, by an Episcopal •…iest in Lincolnshire: Who, fearing, as it seem •…, to lose some of his Hearers, to the Quakers, •rote a Book, which he miscalled, A Friendly •…nference between a Minister and a Parishioner of 〈◊〉 inclining to Quakerism. In which, he Mis •…ted, and greatly Perverted the Quakers Prin •…ples, that he might thereby beget in his Pa •…hioners an Aversion to them: And that he •…ght Abuse us the more securely, he concealed •…self; sending forth his Book without a Name.

This Book coming to my Hand, became m• Concern (after I had read it, and considere• the evil Management, and worse design ther•¦of) to Answer it: Which I did in a Treati•… called Truth Prevailing, and detecting Erro•… Published in the Year, 1676.

My Answer I divided, according to the sev•¦ral Subjects handled in the Conference, into d•¦vers distinct Chapters; the last of which trea•¦ed of TYTHES.

This being the Priests Delilah; and th• Chapter of mine pinching them (it seems) 〈◊〉 a tender part, the Belly; they laid their Hea•… together, and with what speed they could, se• forth a distinct Reply to the last Chapter Tythes in mine, under the Title of The Right 〈◊〉 Tythes Asserted and Proved. This also ca•… forth without a Name; yet pretended to 〈◊〉 written by another Hand.

Before I had finished my Rejoynder to t•… came forth another, called A Vindication of 〈◊〉 Friendly Conference; said to be written by 〈◊〉 Author of the feigned Conference, who was 〈◊〉 yet willing to trust the World with his Na•… So much of it, as related to the Subject I w•… then upon, Tythes, I took into my Rejoynde•… the Right of Tythes; which I Published, in 〈◊〉 Year, 1678. with this Title. The Foundat•… of Tythes Shaken, &c.

After this, it was a pretty while befor•… heard from either of them again. But at len•… came forth a Reply to my Last, supposed to 〈◊〉 written by the same Hand, who had be•… •ritten the Right of Tythes Asserted, &c. but •ll without a Name. This latter Book had •ore of Art, than Argument, in it. It was in •ed a Hash of ill-cook'd Crambe, set off with as •uch Flourish as the Author was Master of, •…d swell'd into Bulk by many Quotations: But •…ose so wretchedly misgiven, misapplied or •…verted; that, to a judicious and impartial •…ader, I durst oppose my Foundation of Tythes •…ken, to the utmost Force that Book has in it. •…t, it coming forth at a time when I was pret •… well at leisure, I intended a full Refutation •…ereof; and in order thereunto had written be •…een Forty and Fifty Sheets: When other Bu •…ess, more urgent, intervening, took me off, •…d detained me from it so long, that it was then •…ged out of Season; and so it was laid aside.

Hitherto the War I had been engag'd in, was 〈◊〉 a sort, Foreign; with People of other Reli •…us Perswasions, such as were open and avow •… Enemies: but now another sort of War a •…e, an intestine War, raised by some among 〈◊〉 selves; such as had once been of us, and yet •…ained the same Profession, and would have •…n thought to be of us still: But having •…ough ill-grounded Jealousies, let in Discon •…ts, and thereupon fallen into Jangling, chief •… about Church-Discipline; they at length •…ke forth into an open Schism, headed by two •…rthern Men of Name and Note, John Wil •…on and John Story. The latter of which, as •…ng the most active and popular Man, having •…ed a considerable Interest in the West, carried the Controversie with him thither, an• there spreading it, drew many, too many, t• abet him therein.

Among those, William Rogers, a Merchant 〈◊〉 Bristol, was not the least, nor least accounted 〈◊〉 (by himself and some others.) He was a bo•… and an active Man, moderately Learned, b•… immoderately Conceited of his own Parts a•… Abilities; which made him forward to Engag•… as thinking none would dare to take up t•… Gauntlet he should cast down. This high Op•…¦nion of himself made him rather a Troub•…¦some, than Formidable Enemy.

That I may here step over the various ste•… by which he advanced to open Hostility (〈◊〉 what I was not Actually, or Personally engag•… in:) He in a while arrived to that height 〈◊〉 Folly and Wickedness, that he Wrote and Pu•¦lished a large Book, in Five Parts, to which 〈◊〉 Maliciously gave for a Title [The Christian Q•…¦ker distinguished from the Apostate and Innovat•… thereby Arrogating to himself, and those w•… were of his Party, the topping Stile of Christ•… Quaker; and no less Impiously, than Uncha•…¦tably branding, and rejecting all others (e•… the main Body of Friends) for Apostates a•… Innovators.

When this Book came abroad, it was no•… little (and He, for its sake) cryed up by his 〈◊〉 judicious Admirers; whose Applause setting 〈◊〉 Head assoat, he came up to London at the ti•… of the Yearly-Meeting then following, and at 〈◊〉 Close thereof, gave notice in writing to this •…¦ct, viz. That if any were Dissatisfied with his •…ok, he was there ready to Maintain and Defend •…h it and himself against all Commers.

This daring Challenge was neither dreaded, •…r slighted; but an Answer forthwith returned 〈◊〉 Writing (Signed by a few Friends, amongst •hom I was one) to let him know, that as ma •… were Dissatisfied with his Book and him, he •…ould not fail (God willing) to be met by the •…xth Hour next Morning, at the Meeting •…ace at Devonshire-House.

Accordingly we met, and continued the Meet •…g till Noon, or after; in which time he (sur •…unded with those of his own Party, as might •…et and assist him) was so fairly foiled and baf •…d, and so fully exposed, that he was glad to •…it the Place, and early next Morning the own also; leaving, in excuse for his going so •bruptly off (and thereby refusing us another Meeting with him, which we had earnestly pro •oked him to) this slight shift, that he had be •…re given Earnest for his Passage in the Stage-Coach home, and was not willing to lose it.

I had before this gotten a sight of his Book, •nd procured one for my use, on this occasion; •ut I had not time to read it through: But a while after, Providence cast another of them in •o my Hands very unexpectedly: For our dear •riend, G. Fox, passing through this Country a •ong Friends, and lying in his Journey at my House, had one of them in his Bags, which he •ad made some Marginal Notes upon. For that •ood Man (like Julius Caesar) willing to improve all parts of his time, did usually, even i• his Travels, dictate to his Amanuensis, what h• would have committed to Writing. I knew not that he had this Book with him (for he ha• not said any thing to me of it) till going in th• Morning, into his Chamber, while he wa• Dressing himself; I found it lying on the Tabl• by him. And understanding that he was goin• but for a few Weeks, to Visit Friends in the Meet¦ings hereabouts, and the Neighbouring parts 〈◊〉 Oxford and Berkshire, and so return through th•… County again: I made bold to ask him, if 〈◊〉 would Favour me so much, as to leave it wit• me till his Return; that I might have the op¦portunity of reading it thorough. He consente•… and as soon almost as he was gone, I set my se• to read it over. But I had not gone far in i e're, observing the many foul Falshoods, ma•…¦lious Slanders, gross Perversions and false Do¦ctrines, abounding in it; the sense thereof in¦flamed my Breast with a Just and Holy Indigna¦tion against the Work, and that Devilish Spi•… in which it was brought forth. Wherefor•… finding my Spirit raised, and my Understandin• Divinely opened to Refute it; I began the Boo• again, and reading it with Pen in Hand, An¦swered it Paragraphically, as I went. And 〈◊〉 clear were the Openings I received from th• Lord therein, that by the time my Friend cam• back, I had gone through the greatest part of it• and was too far engaged in Spirit, to think o• giving over the Work: Wherefore, requesting him to continue the Book a little longer with me, I soon after finished the Answer; which, with Friends Approbation, was Printed, under •he Title of An Antidote against the Infection of W. Rogers his Book, miscalled, The Christian Qua •er, &c. This was written in the Year, 1682. But no Answer was given to it (either by him •r any other of his Party; though many others were concerned therein, and some by Name) so •ar as I have ever heard. Perhaps there might •e an Hand of Providence over-ruling them •herein; to give me leisure to attend some other •ervices, which soon after fell upon me.

For it being a Stormy time, and Persecu •ion waxing hot, upon the Conventicle-Act, •hrough the busie Boldness of Hungry Infor •ers, who, for their own Advantage, did not •nly themselves hunt after Religious and Pea •eable Meetings; but drove on the Officers •not only the more Inferior and Subordinate, •ut, in some places, even the Justices also) for •ear of Penalties, to Hunt with them and for •hem: I found a Pressure upon my Spirit to write a small Treatise, to inform such Officers •ow they might secure and defend themselves from being ridden by those Malepert Informers, and made their Drudges.

This Treatise I called, A Caution to Constables, and other Inferior Officers, concerned in the Execution of the Conventicle-Act. With some Observations thereupon, humbly offered by way of Advice, to such Well-meaning and Moderate Justices of the Peace, as would not willingly Ruin their Peaceable Neighbours, &c.

This was thought to have some good Service where it came, upon such Sober and Moderate Officers, as well Justices, as Constables, &c. as acted rather by Constraint than Choice; by incouraging them to stand their Ground, with more Courage and Resolution, against the In¦sults of sawcy Informers.

But whatever Ease it brought to others, it brought me some Trouble, and had like to have brought me into more Danger, had not Provi¦dence wrought my Deliverance, by an unex¦pected Way.

For as soon as it came forth in Print (which was in the Year, 1683.) one William Ayrs o• Watford in Hertfordshire, a Friend, and an Ac¦quaintance of mine (who was both an Apothecay and Barber) being acquainted with divers of the Gentry in those Parts, and going often to som• of their Houses, to Trim them; took one o• these Books with him, when he went to Tri•… Sir Benjamin Titchborn of Rickmansworth, an• presented it to him: supposing he would have ta¦ken it kindly, as in like Cases he had formerly done. But it fell out otherwise. For he lookin• it over, after Ayrs was gone; and taking it b• the wrong Handle, entertained an evil Opinio• of it, and of me for it, though he knew me no•

He thereupon communicated both the Book• and his Thoughts upon it, to a Neighbouring Justice, living in Rickmansworth, whose Nam• was Thomas Fotherly; who concurring with hi• in Judgment, they concluded that I should b• taken up and Prosecuted for it, as a Seditiou• Book: For a Libel they could not call it, my Name being to it at length.

Wherefore sending for Ayrs, who had brought the Book, Justice Titchborn examined him if he knew me, and where I dwelt. Who telling him, He knew me well, and had been often at my House: He gave him in charge to give me Notice, that I should appear before him and the other Justice, at Rickmansworth on such a Day: Threatning that if I did not appear, he himself should be Prosecuted for spreading the Book.

This put William Ayrs in a Fright. Over he came in haste with this Message to me; troubled that he should be a means to bring me into Trouble. But I endeavoured to give him Ease, by assuring him I would not fail (with God's Leave) to appear at the time and place appointed; and thereby free him from Trouble or Danger.

In the Interim I received Advice, by an Express out of Sussex, that Guli Penn (with whom I had had an Intimate Acquaintance, and firm Friendship from our very Youths) was very dangerously Ill (her Husband being then absent in Pennsylvania) and that she had a great Desire to see and speak with me.

This put me to a great Straight, and brought a sore Exercise on my Mind. I was divided betwixt Honour and Friendship. I had engaged my Word to appear before the Justices; which to omit, would bring Dishonour on me and my Profession. To stay till that time was come and past, might probably prove (if I should then be left at Liberty) too late to Answer her desire, and satisfie Friendship.

After some little Deliberation, I resolv'd (as the best Expedient to answer both Ends) to go over next Morning to the Justices, and lay my Straight before them; and try if I cou'd procure from them a Respit of my Appearance before them, until I had been in Sussex, and paid the Duty of Friendship to my Sick Friend. Which I had the more Hopes to obtain, because I knew those Justices had a great respect for Guli. For when William Penn and she were first Married, they lived for some Years at Rickmansworth; in which time they contracted a Neighbourly Friendship with both these Justices and theirs; who ever after retained a kind regard for them both.

Early therefore in the Morning I rode over. But being wholly a Stranger to the Justices, I went first to Watford, that I might take Ayrs along with me, who supposed himself to have some Interest in Justice Titchborn: And when I came there, understanding that another Friend of that Town, whose Name was John Wells, was well acquainted with the other Justice, Fotherly; having imparted to them the Occasion of my coming, I took them both with me, and hasted back to Rickmansworth. Where having put our Horses up at an Inn, and leaving W. Ayrs (who was a Stranger to Fotherly) there; I went with John Wells to Fotherly's House: and being brought into a fair Hall, I tarried there, while Wells went into the Parlour to him, and having acquainted him that I was there, and desired to speak w•th him, brought him to me with Severity in his Countenance.

After he had asked me (in a Tone which spake Displeasure) what I had to say to him? I told him, I came to wait on him, upon an Intimation given me, that he had something to say to me: He thereupon, plucking my Book out of his Pocket, asked me, If I owned my self to be the Author of that Book? I told him If he pleased to let me look into it; if it were mine, I would not deny it. He thereupon giving it into my Hand, when I had turned over the Leaves, and look'd it through, finding it to be as it came from the Press; I told him, I wrote the Book, and would own it, all but the Errors of the Press. Whereupon he, looking sternly on me, answered, Your own Errors you should have said.

Having Innocency on my side, I was not at all daunted at either his Speech, or Looks: but feeling the Lord present with me, I replied, I know there are Errors of the Press in it, and therefore I excepted them: but I do not know there is any Error of mine in it, and therefore cannot except them. But (added I) if thou pleasest to shew me any Error of mine in it, I shall readily both acknowledge and retract it. And thereupon I desired him to give me an Instance, in any one Passage in that Book, wherein he thought I had Erred. He said, he needed not go to particulars: but charge me with the general Contents of the whole Book. I replied, that such a Charge would be too General, for me to give a Particular Answer to: but if he would assign me any particular Passage, or Sentence in the Book, wherein he apprehended the ground of Offence to lie; when I should have opened the Terms, and explained my meaning therein, he might perhaps find Cause to change his Mind, and entertain a better Opinion, both of the Book and me. And therefore I again intreated him, to let me know what particular Passage, or Passages had given him an Offence. He told me, I needed not to be in so much haste for that; I might have it timely enough, if not too soon: But this, said he, is not the Day appointed for your Hearing; and therefore (added he) what, I pray, made you in such haste to come now? I told him, I hoped he wou'd not take it for an Argument of Guilt, that I came before I was sent for: and offered my self to my Purgation, before the time appointed. And this I spake with somewhat a brisker Air: which had so much Influence on him, as to bring a somewhat softer Air over his Countenance.

Then, going on, I told him, I had a particular Occasion, which induced me to come now; which was, That I received Advice last Night, by an Express out of Sussex, That William Penn's Wife (with whom I had had an intimate Acquaintance, and strict Friendship, ab ipsis ferè Incunabilis, at least, à teneris Unguiculis) lay now there very ill; not without great Danger (in the Apprehension of those about her) of her Life: and that she had exprest her desire that I would come to her, as soon as I could; the rather, for that her Husband was absent in America. That this had brought a great Straight upon me, being divided between Friendship and Duty; willing to visit my Friend in her Ilness, which the Nature and Law of Friendship required: yet unwilling to omit my Duty, by failing of my Appearance (before him and the other Justice) according to their Command and my Promise; lest I should thereby subject, not my own Reputation only, but the Reputation of my Religious Profession to the Suspicion of Guilt, and Censure of willingly shunning a Tryal. To prevent which I had chosen to anticipate the Time, and come now; to see if I could give them Satisfaction, in what they had to object against me; and thereupon being dismist, pursue my Journey into Sussex; or if by them detained, to submit to Providence; and by an Express to acquaint my Friend therewith, both to free her from an Expectation of my Coming, and my self from any Imputation of Neglect.

While I thus delivered my self, I observed a sensible Alteration in the Justice; and when I had done speaking, he first said he was very sorry for Madam Penn's Ilness; of whose Virtue and Worth he spake very highly (yet not more than was her due:) Then he told me, That, for her sake, he would do what he could to further my Visit to her, But, said he, I am but one; and of my self can do nothing in it: therefore you must go to Sir Benjamin Titchborn, and, if he be at home, see if you can prevail with him to meet me, that we may consider of it.

But I can assure you, added he, the matter which will be laid to your Charge, concerning your Book, is of greater Importance, than you seem to think it. For your Book has been laid before the KING and Council; and the Earl of Bridgwater (who is one of the Council) hath thereupon given us Command to Examine you about it, and secure you.

I wish, said I, I could speak with the Earl my self: for I make no Doubt but to acquit my self unto him: And, added I, if thou pleasest to give me thy Letter to him; I will wait upon him, with it, forthwith. For although I know, continued I, that he hath no Favour for any of my Perswasion; yet knowing my self to be wholly innocent in this matter, I can with Confidence appear before him, or even before the KING in Council.

Well, said he, I see you are Confident; but for all that, let me tell you, how good soever your Intention was, you timed the publishing of your Book very unluckily: for you cannot be ignorant, that there is a very dangerous Plot lately discovered, contrived by the Dissenters, against the Government, and His Majesty's Life. (This was the Rie-Plot, then newly broke forth, and laid upon the Presbyterians:) And for you, added he, to publish a Book, just at that Juncture of time, to discourage the Magistrates, and other Officers, from putting in Execution those Laws, which were made to suppress their Meetings; looks, I must tell you, but with a scurvy Countenance upon you.

If (replied I, with somewhat a pleasanter Air) there was any Mis-timing in the Case, it must lie on the Part of those Plotters, for timing the breaking forth of their Plot while my Book was a Printing: for I can bring very good Proof, that my Book was in the Press, and well-nigh wrought off, before any Man talked, or knew of a Plot; but those who were in it.

Here our Discourse ended, and I, taking, for the present, my leave of him, went to my Horse. and, changing my Companion, rode to Justice Titchborn's, having with me William Ayrs, who was best acquainted with him, and who had casually brought this Trouble on me.

When he had introduced me to Titchborn, I gave him alike Account of the Occasion of my coming at that time, as I had before given to the other Justice. And both he, and his Lady (who was present) exprest much Concern for Guli Penn's Ilness.

I found this Man to be of quite another Temper than Justice Fotherly: for this Man was smooth, soft and oily; whereas the other was rather rough, severe and sharp. Yet at the winding up, I found Fotherly my truest Friend.

When I had told Sir B. Titchborn, that I came from Justice Fotherly, and requested him to give him a Meeting, to consider of my Business; he readily, without any Hesitation, told me he would go with me to Rickmansworth (from which his House was distant about a Mile;) and calling for his Horses, mounted immediately; and to Rickmansworth we rode.

After they had been a little while together, I was called in before them; and in the first place they Examined me what was my Intention an• Design in writing that Book. I told them the I•¦troductory Part of it, gave a plain Account o• it (viz.) "That it was to get Ease from the Pe¦nalties of a Severe Law; often Executed wit• too great a Severity, by unskilful Officers• who were driven on beyond the Bounds o• their Duty, by the impetuous Threats of a sort of Insolent Fellows (as needy as greedy) who, for their own Advantage, sought out Ruin. To prevent which was the Design, and Drift of that Book; by acquainting such Officers how they might safely demean themselves, in the Execution of their Offices, towards their honest and peaceable Neighbours, without ruining either their Neighbours, or themselves, to enrich some of the worst of Men. And that I humbly conceived It was neither Unlawful, nor Unreasonable for a Sufferer to do this: so long as it was done in a fair, sober and peaceable Way.

They then put me in Mind of the Plot; told me It was a troublesome and dangerous Time, and my Book might be Construed to import Sedition, in discouraging the Officers from putting the Laws in Execution, as by Law and by their Oath they were bound. And in fine brought it to this Issue, That they were directed to secure me, by a Commitment to Prison, until the Assize, at which I should receive a further Charge, than they were provided now to give me: but because they were desirous to forward my Visit to Madam Penn, they told me they would admit me to Bayl; and therefore if I would enter a Recognizance, with sufficient Sureties, for my Appearance at the next Assize, they would leave me at Liberty to go on my Journey.

I told them, I could not do it. They said •hey would give me as little Trouble as they could; •nd therefore they would not put me to seek Bail: but •ould accept those two Friends of mine, who were •hen present, to be bound with me for my Appearance.

I let them know my Straight lay not in the Difficulty of procuring Sureties; for I did sup •ose my self to have sufficient Acquaintance, •nd Credit in that place, if, on such an Occasion I could be free to use it: but, as I knew my •elf to be an innocent Man, I had not Satis •action in my self, to desire others to be bound •or me, nor to enter my self into a Recogni •ance; that carrying in it (to my Apprehension) Reflection on my Innocency, and the Repu •ation of my Christian Profession.

Here we stuck, and strugled about this a pret •y while; till at length, finding me fixed in my •udgment, and resolved rather to go to Prison, •han give Bail, they ask'd me If I was against Appearing, or only against being bound with Sure •ies to Appear. I told them I was not against Appearing; which as I could not avoid, if I would; so I would not, if I might: but was •eady and willing to Appear, if required; to •nswer whatsoever should be charged against me. But in any Case of a Religious Nature, or wherein my Christian Profession was concerned (which I took this Case to be) I could not yield 〈◊〉 give any other, or further Security than my Word, or Promise, as a Christian.

They, unwilling to commit me, took hold o• that; and ask'd, If I would promise to appear. • answered, Yes; with due Limitations. What d• 〈◊〉 you mean by due Limitations, said they. I mea•… replied I, if I am not disabled, or prevented by Sickness, or Imprisonment. For (added I) a• you alledge that it is a troublesome Time; I per¦haps may find it so. I may, for ought I know• be seized and imprisoned elsewhere, on the sam• Account for which I now stand here before you• and if I should, how then could I appear at th•… Assize in this County? Oh, said they, these ar• due Limitations indeed! Sickness or Imprisonmen• are lawful Excuses; and if either of these befal yo•… we shall not expect your Appearance here: but the• you must Certifie us that you are so disabled by Sicknes• or Restraint.

But, said I, how shall I know, when and where I shall wait upon you again, after my Re¦turn from Sussex? You need not, said they, trou¦ble your self about that: we will take care to giv• you Notice of both Time and Place; and till you hea• from us, you may dispose your self as you please.

Well then, said I, I do promise you, tha• when I shall have received from you a fres• Command to Appear before you, I will (if th• Lord permit me Life, Health and Liberty) ap¦pear when and where you shall appoint.

It is enough, said they, we will take your Word• And, desiring me to give their hearty Respect• and Service to Madam Penn, they dismist m• with their good Wishes for a good Journey.

I was sensible, that in this they had dealt ve •y favourably and kindly with me: therefore I •ould not but acknowledge to them the Sense I •ad thereof. Which done, I took leave of them, •nd mounting returned home, with what haste • could, to let my Wife know how I had sped. •nd having given her a summary Account of •he Business; I took Horse again, and went so •ar that Evening towards Worminghurst, that I got thither pretty early next Morning: and, to my great Satisfaction, found my Friend in an •opeful Way towards a Recovery.

I stay'd some Days with her; and then find •ng her Ilness wear daily off, and some other •riends being come from London to visit her: I •mindful of my Engagement to the Justices, •nd unwilling, by too long an Absence, to give •hem Occasion to suspect I was willing to avoid •heir Summons) leaving those other Friends to •ear her Company longer, took my leave of her •nd them, and set my Face homewards; car •ying with me the welcome Account of my •riend's Recovery.

Being returned home, I waited in daily Ex •ectation of a Command from the Justices, to •ppear again before them: but none came. I •pake with those Friends, who had been with me when I was before them: and they said, They had heard nothing of it from them, although •ey had since been in Company with them. At length •he Assize came; but no Notice was given to me, that I shou'd appear there: In fine, they •er troubled themselves, nor me, any further a •out it.

Thus was a Cloud, that look'd black, an threatned an• great Storm, blown gently over, b• a providential Breath; which I could not bu• with a thankful Mind, acknowledge to the Al•¦great, All-good, All-wise Disposer, in whos• Hand, and at whose Command, the Hearts o• all Men, even the greatest, are, and who turn• their Counsels, disappoints their Purposes, and defeats their Designs and Contrivances, as He pleases. For if my dear Friend Guli Penn had not fallen Sick; if I had not thereupon been sen• for to her, I had not prevented the time of my Appearance, but had appeared on the Day ap¦pointed: And, as I afterwards understood, tha• was the Day appointed for the Appearance of a great many Persons, of the Dissenting Party in that side of the County, who were to be taken up, and secured, on the Account of the afore¦mentioned Plot, which had been cast upon the Presbyterians. So that if I had then appeared• with and amongst them, I had, in all likelihood• been sent to Goal with them for Company; and that under the Imputation of a Plotter: tha• which nothing was more contrary to my Profes¦sion and Inclination.

But though I came off so easie, it fared no• so well with others: for the Storm increasing• many Friends, in divers Parts, both of City and Country, suffered greatly; the Sense whereo• did deeply affect me: and the more, for that I observed the Magistrates, not thinking the Laws, which had been made against us, severe enough, perverted the Law, in order to punish •s. For calling our peaceable Meetings Riots which in the Legal Notion of the Word [Riot] 〈◊〉 a Contradiction in Terms) they indicted our •riends as Rioters, for only sitting in a Meeting, •…o' nothing was there either said or done by •…em; and then set Fines on them at pleasure.

This I knew to be not only against Right and J•stice; but even against Law: and it troubled •…e to think that we should be made to suffer •…t only by Laws made directly against us; but •…en by Laws that did not at all concern us. •or was it long before I had Occasion offered •…ore throughly to consider this Matter.

For a Justice of the Peace in this County (who •as called Sir Dennis Hampson of Taplow) break •…g in, with a Party of Horse, upon a little Meet •…g near Wooburn, in his Neighbourhood, the 1st 〈◊〉 the Fifth Month, 1683. sent most of the Men, 〈◊〉 the Number of Twenty three, whom he found •…ere, to Alesbury Prison, tho' most of them were •…r Men, who lived by their Labour: and not •…ing himself to the next Quarter-Sessions at •…ckingham, on the 12th of the some Month, sent 〈◊〉 Clark, with Direction, That they should be in •…cted for a Riot. Whither the Prisoners were •…ried, and indicted accordingly; and being •…essed by the Court to Traverse and give Bail, •…y moved to be tryed forthwith; but that was •…ied them. And they, giving in Writing the •…ason of their refusing Bail and Fees, were re •…nded to Prison till next Quarter-Sessions; but •…lliam Woodhouse was again Bailed, (as he had •…en before) and William Mason and John Reeve, who not being Friends, but casually taken at that Meeting, entred Recognizance, as the Court desired; and so were released till next Sessions Before which time Mason died, and Reeve, being sick, appeared not, but got himself taken off• And in the Eighth Month following, the Twenty one Prisoners that remained were brought to Tryal, a Jury was found, who brought in a pr•¦tended Verdict, that they were Guilty of a Rio•… for only sitting peaceably together, without Wo•… or Action, and tho' there was no Proclamatio• made, nor they required to depart: but one 〈◊〉 the Jury-men afterwards did confess, he kne• not what a Riot was; yet the Prisoners we•… fined a Noble a Piece, and re-committed to P•…¦son during Life (a hard Sentence) or the King• Pleasure, or until they should pay the said Fin•… William Woodhouse was forthwith discharged, 〈◊〉 his Kinsman's paying the Fine and Fees for hi•… Thomas Dell and Edward Moor also, by other Pe•¦ple of the World, paying their Fines and Fees 〈◊〉 them; and shortly after Stephen Pewsey, by t•… Town and Parish where he lived, for fear 〈◊〉 Wife and Children should become a Charge u•… on them. The other Seventeen remained P•…¦soners, till King JAMES's Proclamation of P•…¦don: whose Names were Thomas and Willi•… Sexton, Timothy Child, Robert Moor, Richard Jam•… William and Robert Aldridge, John Ellis, Geo•… Salter, John Smith. William Tanner, William B•…¦chelor, John Dolbin, Andrew Brothers, Rich•… Baldwin, John Jennings and Robert Austin.

FINIS.

THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF Thomas Ellwood. Or, an Account of his BIRTH, EDUCATION, &c. WITH Divers Observations on his Life and Manners when a Youth: And how he came to be Convinced of the Truth; with his many Sufferings and Services for the same. Also Several Other Remarkable Passages and Occurrences.

Written by his own Hand.

To which is added, A SUPPLEMENT By J. W.

Heb. 11. 2.
By Faith the Elders obtained a good Report.

The Second Edition.

London: Printed and Sold by the Assigns of J. Sowle, in White Hart-Court in Gracious-Street, 1714.

THE PREFACE.

GAther up the Fragments that remain, that nothing be Lost, John 6. 12. Was the direction of our Saviour to his Disciples, after he had fed the Multitude. Which may well and usefully be applied, to the Collecting and Preserving the Accounts of the Lives of Good Men: Men who in their Day, have been eminently useful in those Stations of Life, wherein God, by his good Providence, hath placed them. And this preserving, by Publication, is the rather to be done, when themselves do leave behind them, in Writing, an Account of their Lives, and of the signal Mercies of God to them therein: For from such Accounts, may best be gathered, by the Reader, the Man's particular State, Exercise and Growth in the Work of Restoration, out of the Fall and Degeneracy: And, in the Reading thereof, be not only excited to Bless the Name of the Lord, on his behalf; but also gain some direction from the Path, so fairly tract out, and ground of Hope; that by being Faithful, they may likewise attain to the same good Experience.

There is not with me any doubt, but something of this kind may be the Lot of many, into whose Hands this Treatise may happen to come; for that they will herein meet with variety of Exercises, and the Providences of God therein, all related with great strength and plainness of Speech: Our Deceased Friend Thomas Ellwood, having been a Man whom God had endued with singular Abilities, both as a Man, and as a Christian; which is evident, not only from this short Account of his Life, which was written by himself, and by the Supplement added hereunto; but more largely from his many useful Labours and Services in the many Books which he writ in the Defence of Truth, and the Friends thereof: For which Service he was in a particular manner qualified, by Spiritual Wisdom and Christian Obedience; to which, in him, was added great strength and depth of Judgment, wherein he could discern the Spirits of others, and was very much the Master of his own, as did appear to such who knew him, not only by the soundness of his Reasoning, and the Seasonableness of his Words; but also by his great and exemplary Modesty, in that he was not hasty to propose, nor rudely tenacious to insist on what he had proposed; if any thing, though not well exprest, yet well intended, was offered by any one much Weaker; nay, though but by a Babe in Christ.

His Countenance was Manly and Chearful; His Deportment Grave, yet Affable and Courteous, even to the meanest Person; His Conversation Innocent, Pleasant and Instructive, yet severe against any thing that was beyond the Liberty of Truth. These, with his other Qualifications of Body and Mind, did render him both very Acceptable and very Useful, as a Friend, as a Neighbour, and as a Member and Elder in the Church of Christ; and the more, for that his Time was chiefly Imployed in being Serviceable in one or other of these Capacities.

I might here particularly mention the several Labours of our Deceased Friend, according to their respective Times, and the Nature of their several Subjects; but much of this being already done in the ensuing Pages, I chuse to remit the Reader thither; by which possibly he may be excited to the Perusal of them, and shall only say concerning them, that the Judicious Reader will easily Observe, that his Method and Stile do denote him to have been a Scholar: And yet not farther so, than the Simplicity and Purity of the Truth, whereof he made Profession, would permit him.

I was with our Friend Thomas Ellwood, the greater part of his Sickness: In which he was also very frequently visited by our Friend George Bowles, who was his Neighbour; to whom therefore I refer, for the Account which he may give of his Sickness and Dying Words.

As it was my good Lot to be well acquainted with him (though only in the latter Years of his Life) and know that he did neither use nor encourage the bestowing Elaborate Encomiums upon Persons Deceased: So neither shall I add further concerning him, than to say with the Apostle concerning the Faithful,
Heb. 11. 4.

That he was Righteous, God Testifying of his Gifts; and by it being Dead, yet Speaketh.

J. W.
London the 12th of the 2d Month, 1714.

George Bowles his TESTIMONY Concerning Thomas Ellwood.

Dear Friends,

It is in my Heart briefly, on this Occasion, to commemorate the tender Dealings of the Lord with his People in this latter Age of the World, when it hath pleased him, in Love to poor lost Man, graciously to appear, by the breaking forth of his Glorious Gospel Day. And by the secret divine Reaches of the Hand of God, which hath been felt and seen in the Light of it, many have been drawn in their Spirits to seek after the Lord, and to enquire after the Knowledge of the Way of Life and Salvation; and blessed be his Holy Name, who was graciously pleased, by the Inshinings of this Divine Light in the Hearts of many, to expel the Darkness and rend the Vail. And then was the Arm of his mighty Power made bare, for the gathering many Thousands to the saving Knowledge of Himself. And in that Day was the Lord pleased according to his Promise, to pour forth of his Spirit upon Sons and upon Daughters; yea, upon Servants and upon Handmaids, and many were made to Prophesie; and being qualified by the Holy Spirit, which they received, and were baptized by it into his Name, became willing, and were freely given up in Obedience to the Lord, and in Bowels of tender Love to the Souls of Mankind, in his Power, to preach the Gospel of Life and Salvation to those to whom they were sent, and many were turned from Darkness to Light, and from the Power of Satan unto God, by their Ministry: Amongst whom our dear deceased Friend and Brother, THOMAS ELLWOOD, was one, whose Conscience was reached and awakened by the Powerful Ministry of dear Edward Burrough, as I have heard him relate (and as by the following Sheets will more plainly appear.) And of that Day and Time, and the worthy Instrument by whose Ministry he was Convinced, and turned unto God, and made sensible of the Divine Principle of Life and Light in his own Heart, have I heard him speak with great Regard; and also of the Sufferings which did attend him after he received the Truth in his Father's Family, for the Truth's sake: and how the Lord preserved him in that time, under the various Exercises, which he passed through for Truth's Testimony; which for Christ's sake he was Conscientiously Concerned to stand in, according to that Plainness and Simplicity which Truth then led, and still continues to lead the sincere Disciples of Christ into, by which they were distinguished from the World; and, for the sake thereof, they were despised of Men, and hated of the World. Such was the Plain Language of Thou to one, and refusing the Hat-Honour; For which, Dear T. E. suffered not a little in that Day, as, by the following Account of his Life more fully appears. And it were well if all, who come up in a Profession of the Blessed Truth in this Time, were Faithful in these, and in the other Branches of its Testimony. And let all consider, that the neglecting thereof, is, in a Degree, a making void the Sufferings of the Faithful (and strengthening the Hands of Evil Doers) who for the sake of their Testimony, loved not their Lives to the Death; but underwent cruel Mockings, Buffetings, Stonings, Whippings, Stockings, Revilings, Imprisonments, and Spoiling of Goods; Rejoycing in the Lord, that they were counted worthy to Suffer, either less or more, for his Name sake. In respect of which, this my dear Friend was a good Example, he being a Man of a steady Mind, and very patient in Suffering, as well as Faithful in his Testimony for Truth, and took joyfully the Spoiling of his Goods, wherein he was tryed but a few Years before his Death. He was often Concerned in Defence of Truth's Testimony, both against our Professed Adversaries, and also against the Libertine Spirit which appeared in some, Professing the same Truth with us, who Opposed themselves against that good Order and Discipline which the Truth led Friends into. All which will abundantly appear from the Books themselves, which are in Print, which he writ upon Various Occasions, and upon Divers Subjects; and let not his great Labour and Industry be Forgotten, in his writing those Two Historical Volumes, relating to the Old and New Testament: A Work truly Great, and is, and may be of great Use and Service. By all which his many Labours, it may be perceived by the wary and inlightned Reader, that the Lord had Endowed him with an excellent Gift, and Qualified him for the Service of Truth, his Church and People; in which he imployed the Talent which the bountiful Lord had given him, to the Honour of the great Giver, and to the Comfort and Edification of the Church of Christ: But more especially were his Services known to the Brethren in this County of Bucks; Most of which are fallen asleep, and but few remaining here, who knew him in his beginning, or his first Services for the Lord, his Church and People; amongst whom he was a Zealous Asserter of that excellent Discipline the Lord had opened in, and led his People to, for the preserving his Church as a Garden enclosed: for which cause how did many of those Libertines set themselves fiercely against him, and shot their Arrows at him; but the Lord Defended him, and covered his Head in the Day of Battle, and his Bow abode in Strength, and his Bough spread over the Wall, and continued fresh and green: But a Blast from the Lord came upon their Evil Work; And how have they melted away? And how is their Strength failed, and their Work brought to Naught? But the Blessing of the Lord is with his People, even with the Faithful, to this Day, whom he hath preserved as a peculiar Treasure to himself: Blessed be his Holy Name for evermore. And furthermore, it may be truly said of this our dear Friend, that as the Lord fitted him for his Service, so was he eminently serviceable in his Hand, in the Church of Christ; particularly in these Parts, of which there are many Living Witnesses, in this and the adjacent Counties, of his great Labour of Love, having served the Church Freely, with great Diligence and Faithfulness: The true sense of which, •ucheth me and others, with the deeper sense of the •reat Loss, the Church hath by his Removal; but •eing also sensible through the Lord's Goodness, that ur• Loss is his Eternal Gain, I feel in my Heart •n humble Submission to the Will of him, who doth •hatsoever pleaseth him, both in Heaven and in Earth; and who shall say unto him, What doest thou? And it is the tender breathing of my Spirit to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he would be graciously pleased, in Pity and Compassion to his poor People, to raise up, fit and furnish more faithful Servants for his Work and Service, and make them Zealous for his Name and Truth upon the Earth, that the place of this my Dear Friend, and other Faithful Servants of the Lord and his People, of late removed from amongst us in these Parts, may be supplied; and that the Spouse of Christ may, amidst all her Tribulations, Afflictions and sore Exercises, be made to Praise the Lord, and Bless his Holy Name, who taketh away one, and raiseth up another, and Blesseth his Children with his Goodness; according to his Promise made of Old, by the Holy Prophet, Isa. 44. ver. 3. saying, I will pour my Spirit upon thy Seed, and my Blessing upon thine Off-spring. And thus hath the Lord preserved Zion from Age to Age: And I doubt not, but am fully perswaded, that he will still Bless his People, and Preserve Zion, and Deliver her from all her Enemies.

And my Dear Friends, Brethren, and Sisters, although it be matter of Sorrow to us, to part with our Dear Friends; especially such as have been made Serviceable in their Day, and have faithfully served the Lord and his People in their Generation, as it may (I hope without just occasion of Offence to any) be said of dear T. E. that he was a Man who served the Lord in Faithfulness, and his People with Chearfulness, and his Neighbours with Uprightness and Integrity: And therefore both they and we have the greater Loss; Yet may we not sorrow unseasonably, as those which sorrow without Hope, but, believing that the Lord hath taken him to himself in Mercy (though it may be in Judgment, to some who were unworthy) let us all learn Resignation to his blessed Will, and say with Holy Job, The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away: Blessed be the Name of the Lord. And dear Friends, I may farther signifie unto you, that it being my Lot to be with this our dear Friend (of whom I am speaking) almost every day of his last Ilness, I did observe in him, to my great Comfort and Satisfaction, a quiet composed Frame of Mind and Spirit, and Resignation to the Will of God. When I came first to him, which was soon after I heard of his being taken ill, which was the 24th day of the 2d Month, I found him very much disabled by the Distemper, which was thought to be a Palsie, that had seized him, especially on his right Side, so that he could not stand alone, nor help himself, but a little with his left Hand; and his Speech was also very much interrupted, insomuch that it was with great difficulty, for the most part, that he expressed himself so as to be Understood: Some time after I came to him, there being also other •iends with him, we sate down together under a •ighty Exercise of Spirit, waiting upon the Lord • deep Silence, with our Eye to him, it pleased the •ord eminently to appear amongst us, and to fill our •earts with the refreshing Streams of his Divine •ove, and to open the Mouth of one of us in Prayer •nd Supplication; and the Lord was graciously Pleas •d abundantly to replenish our Spirits, to our mutu • Comfort, in a Living Sense of Divine Goodness; •nd this our Dear Friend, expressed himself in great •enderness and Brokenness of Spirit, on this wise, • am sensibly Comforted and Refreshed in this Visit. And that Afternoon, he, fixing his Eyes upon me, with great Earnestness of Spirit, expressed, as well as he could at that time, a great Concern that was upon his Mind for Truth, and the Friends of it, in divers Particulars; especially, in Relation to our own Monthly and Quarterly-Meetings, the Writings of both which, had been under his Care for more than Fourty Years: After which, he was much eased in his Spirit, and so continued to the last, so far as I perceived; often saying, when asked how he did, I am easie, I am quiet. And he was often very tender in his Spirit, expressing his Resignation to the Will of God, whether in Life or Death, saying, If the Lord hath no more Work for me to do, I am content and resigned to his Will; and my hearty Farewel to all my Brethren. And at another time, nearer his End, he said to us present, in much Brokenness of Heart, I am full of Joy and Peace, my Spirit is filled with Joy; or to this Effect: for by reason that his Speech was so weakned, sever• things could not be so well collected, which he at time• spake, in a tender sense of the Lord's Goodness: th• sense of which deeply affected some of as who were with him. And my Heart is sorrowfully affected at this time, in a sense of the great Loss which the Church of Christ (in these Parts especially) hath by his Removal: But in this I am comforted, in a living sense of the Lord's Mercy and Goodness towards him, in carrying him through his Affliction in great Patience and Quietness; under which he was sweetly refreshed, by the Streams of Divine Love, and his Cup was often made to overflow: And we, who were present, being touched with a Sense thereof, were comforted therein, being in a Travail of Spirit for him, and did in our Measures truly sympathize with him under his Affliction. And I am fully satisfied, he laid down his Head in Peace with the Lord, and is gathered to his everlasting Rest. He departed this Life the 1st of the 3d Month, 1713. about the 2d Hour in the Morning, in the 74th Year of his Age. He received the Truth in the Year 1659, and lived in Fellowship with the Friends of it about 53 Years. And I think it may be truly said of him, That as he Lived so he Died, the Servant of the LORD and His People, and hath left a sweet Savour behind him, and his Memory is blessed with the Righteous for ever, Amen.

GEORGE BOWLES.
The 8th Month, 1713.

A TESTIMONY from the Monthly-Meeting at Hunger-Hill, the Seventh Day of the Fourth Month, 1713. Concerning our Dear and Well-beloved Friend and Brother in the Truth, Thomas Ellwood, Deceased.

THAT the Dead which Die in the Lord, are Blessed of him, we have great Assurance of, from John the Divine his writing to the Seven Churches, Rev. 14. ver. 13. Where he tells them, that he Heard a Voice from Heaven, saying, Write, Blessed are the Dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may Rest from their Labours; and their Works do follow them. Of which Number, we have no Cause to doubt, but this our dear friend is one; who was eminently Serviceable in the Church of Christ. A Man to whom the Lord had given a large Capacity beyond many, and furnished him with an excellent Gift; whereby he was qualified for those Services in the Church, in the performance of which, he did shine as a Star, which received its Luster and Brightness from the Glorious Sun of Righteousness. He was Wise, but Humble; Condescending to the Weak, and ready to Help, where he saw and felt Sincerity; but Sharp to that which he apprehended to be Insincere and Deceitful; for which Cause, he was not acceptable to Hypocrites and Disorderly Walkers: Yet he was a Man of a very acceptable and agreeable Conversation, as well as Sober and Religious, both in the Church and in the World, being of a free and affable Temper and Disposition, far from Affecta¦tion; but of a Courteous Behaviour and Graceful Car¦riage to all, and very Serviceable to and amongst 〈◊〉 Neighbours: He was very Near and Dear to many 〈◊〉 us, who were most intimately Acquainted with him and his Memorial is sweet to us: His Services in o• Meetings, and in the Quarterly Meeting for the County of Bucks, were very Great, and of many Years C•¦tinuance; in which he shewed great Diligence, be• of a ready Mind, willing to Serve the Church, according to that Ability which the Lord had given him; and his Heart and House was open to his Friends, and the Monthly-Meeting was kept there more than Forty Years, and remains there to this Day. Our Loss is great by his Removal: But in this we are satisfied, that it is his Everlasting Gain; being gathered, as we have good Cause to Believe, to his Eternal Rest. The knowledge we had of him, and the good Account which we have received of him, in the time of his last Ilness, by those who were most constantly with him, and of his quiet and peaceable Departure, doth sensibly Engage our Hearts to acquiesce in the Will of the Lord; and therein we have Peace and Comfort. He departed this Life, the First of the Third Month, 1713, and was Honourably Buried in Friends Burying place at New Jourdens, in the Parish of Giles Chalfont, in the County of Bucks, the Fourth Day of the same Month.

Signed by the Appointment of the Monthly-Meeting, by us,

- George Bowles,

- William Grimsdall,

- James Smith,

- Daniel Wharley,

- Daniel Roberts,

- Abraham Barber,

- Thomas Olliffe.

A TESTIMONY from the Womens-Meeting, Concerning Thomas Ellwood.

A Concern is upon our Spirits, to write somewhat concerning our dear deceased Friend and El •r, Thomas Ellwood, who was highly Valued by 〈◊〉, for that Wisdom and Counsel were with him; and •ing of a free and affable Temper, ready to Assist •ose which stood in need thereof, encouraged many to •ply to him for Advice, under the divers Circum •nces, and various Exercises which this Uncertain •orld affords; which we have found to be for our •od, as we followed it. He was an early Comer to •eetings, seldom hindred by Weather (though he Liv • Three Miles distant) when Bodily Weakness did 〈◊〉 hinder, of late Years, being oft indisposed as to his •ealth. The Monthly-Meeting was held at his •ouse about Forty Years, and he always look'd very kind •d Courteous on Friends, when they came there, and •ok Care and Notice of the Meanest, who came in •ncerity. He was Zealous for Good Order, and a •inst such, who, being in an Apostatized Spirit, Op •sed it; and may well be numbred amongst the Wor •ies, whose Names are upon Record for their Valour; •is this our Friend worthy to be; who never turned his •ck on such who Opposed the Truth; but stood his •round, as his Printed Sheets on such occasions do •w. As also his other Works of several kinds, do •nifest how great Endowments God had bestowed on 〈◊〉, (Yet we, who knew him in his Conversation, are Engaged to set forth how Kind and Condescending he was to the Weakest Capacity, and would help out when they wanted a Word) that Generations to come may learn how good it is to forsake All, and follow Christ Jesus, as this our Friend did, and the Account of his Life, following, shews; who not only Gives Wisdom, but Teacheth Humility also.

He was greatly respected by his Neighbours, for his Services amongst them; his Heart and Doors were open to the Poor, both Sick and Lame, who wanted Help, and had it freely, taking Care to provide things useful for such Occasions, (blest also with good Success) often saying, He mattered not what Cost he was at, to do Good. Such Lament their Loss; what then may we do, who miss him in an Higher Station, in his great Service in the Church of Christ, but even desire to be resigned to the Will of the Lord? who Preserved him through all his Hardships, to a Dominion over False Brethren, and is now out of their Reach, and of Temptation too; on whose Head, the Blessing, ask'd for Joseph, rests; who as a Fruitful Bough his Branch spreads over the Wall of Opposition, and his Bow abode in Strength; the Hands of whose Arms were made Strong, by the help of the Mighty God of Jacob, to whom be the Glory for what he hath wrought in our Day, whose own Works Praise him for Evermore. And the Tears of Sorrow that we shed, for the Loss of this our Deceased Friend, let them be remembred to bow our Spirits each of us, into a Godly Care, that we may com• up according to our several Capacities, to follow th• Lord Faithfully, in a Godly Zeal for his Honour• and so come to lay down our Heads in Joy and Peac• as this our Friend expressed he did.

This Eminent Servant of Christ, was Early Convin•¦ed of the Way of Truth, wherein he continued to th• finishing of his Days; for the sake of which, he soo• became a Sufferer; not only by Imprisonment, for Worshipping God in the Assemblies of his People, but also, from his Father, by whom he was made as an Outcast, for no other Cause, but for his Faithful Testimony in taking up the Cross to the Worlds Behaviour and Language: Whereupon he was Invited by his much valued Friend Isaac Penington, to his House; where he abode several Years, until he Married. He was a Blessing in, as well as a great Comfort and Help to that Family; and by his wise Conduct therein, gained much Esteem, not only from the Elders, but the Youth, whom he Instructed in Learning; and though most of them are by Death Removed, yet One still Remains, who from Certain and Experimental Knowledge, can Commemorate his Worth; being engaged thereto, from a Sense of the Benefit of his Good and Wholsom Advice, given at Sundry Times, and on Divers Occasions. Which Friendship continued firm to the Last.

His Natural Capacity was large, and his Understanding, in the things of God, very deep; which excellent Qualifications meeting in one, rendred him useful beyond many, to his Country, as well as very serviceable in the Church; by both which he is, and will be greatly missed. But he is gone to his Grave in a full Age, and gathered as a shock of Corn in its Season, having done his Days Work Faithfully: So that saying may be verified in him, The END Crowns all.

His Sickness was sudden, which soon deprived him of the use of his Limbs, yet he retained the Faculties of his Inward and Outward Senses clear all along; and notwithstanding, at times, his Pains were Great; his Exemplary Patience, and Composed Resignation, was remarkably apparent to those that Visited and Attended him; so that their Sorrow in parting with so dear a Friend, was intermixed with Comfort in beholding the Heavenly Frame of Mind wherewith he was Adorned.

Thus after all his Labours, he entred into Everlasting Rest, and left many behind Weeping, though not without Hope, that they shall again meet at the General Assembly of Saints, where the redeemed shall sing Praises to their blessed Redeemer, whose Right it is to Reign for ever.

We have this farther to add, namely, That our Esteem of him was great, because of that real worth that was in him, through the Operation of the mighty Power of the Lord that separated him from the Love of the World: So that he chose (with Moses) rather to suffer Affliction with the People of God, than to enjoy the Pleasures of Sin for a Season, and it pleased the Lord to fit him with Wisdom and Counsel, so that he was made able to give Judgment in difficult Cases, wherein many of us have particularly received Benefit, and therefore have cause to lament the loss we have by his Removal. And Oh! say our Souls, That the Lord would raise up many more in his Room, to the Praise and Honour of the good Husbandman. And it is our Desire that we, who are yet behind, may be made able so to Steer our Course, through this troublesome World, that when our End comes, we may lay down our Heads in Peace with the Lord, and leave a good Savour behind us, as this our Friend hath done.

This is written in true Love and Respect, to the Memory of our Deceased Friend, as it pleased the Lord, to move upon our Hearts. And being read and approved in our Womens-Meeting at Hungerhill, the 4th of the 11th Month, 1713. was subscribed in behalf of the said Meeting by us,

- MARY BAKER.

- MARY WHARLEY.

- MARY LARCUM.

Concerning our Dear Friend Thomas Ellwood, of Hunger-Hill.

HE was much esteemed amongst good Men: Good Men, in their Day and Station upon the Earth, represent him, who made all things good in the beginning, who said, Gen. 1. 3. Let there be Light, and there was Light. And also said, ver. 26. Let us make Man in our Image, after our Likeness. Oh, high Favour! So God created Man in his own Image, in the Image of God created he him; Male and Female created he them, v. 27. and blessed them, and gave them Dominion under himself; for he was chief Commander then; and so he is witnessed to be now, where his Heavenly Image is come into again, and Men Live in it, as did this our dear Friend, who did good in his Day and Generation: Counsel was with him, to give to such as needed, and did apply to him: He was of a Tender Spirit, and had Dominion over Passion, over Pride, and over Covetousness: So he was Comfortable to, and in his Family. He was Amiable in the Church of Christ, and a Doer of Good amongst his Neighbours. And being an Elder amongst, and with the Elders; he hath not only obtained a good Report, but also the Blessing in the Promised Seed, which bruises the Serpent's Head. He was Valiant in suffering for his Testimony which he held in the Truth; and may not I say, unwearied in his Labours, for the setting forth the Fame and Excellency of it: Whereby we see what the Truth makes Men to be, who do come under the Conduct and Power of it; even as fixed Stars in the firmament of his Divine Power; who has caused the Morning of his Heavenly and Glorious Gospel-Day to break forth; and as with the Day that springs from on High, in tender Mercy, hath he visited many Souls. And early did this our Worthy deceased Friend Embrace it, as it appears by his Testimony con¦cerning that Eminent, and Blessed Messenger, and M•∣nister of the Gospel, G. F.

And now, he having endured the Times of Proving• and the Days of Tribulation and Suffering; togethe• with the Perils and Slights, and Undervaluings of Fal• Brethren; against whose Ungodly Work, he was en¦gaged to stand, as a noble Warrior, in the defence of and for the glorious Gospel of Christ: Not admiring Mens Persons, but the Work of the Gospel-Power. And altho' he was endowed with Parts and Accomplishment• above many, he was Humble and Grave; not Self-seek¦ing, but esteeming the Power of Truth, tho' it did appear through mean Instruments. He was Honourable; and Honoured, for that he sought not his own Honour• but the Honour of Truth; not only by his Sufferings fo• it, and Labours in it; but also, in standing firmly a¦gainst the loose Libertine Ones; who would have thrust in amongst the Lambs and Flock of Christ, i• an unclean adulterating Spirit, from the Life of the true Shepherd, and heavenly Husband, Christ Jesus. But to the tender Hearted, and sincere Minded, he was Strengthening and Comfortable. I knew him when 〈◊〉 was but Young; and I can truly say, my Heart has often been affected, on his behalf, with Thankfulness to the Lord, who made him as a strong Pillar, in his spiritual House, with many more of his dear Servants and Children; who shall no more go out. His Memory is in my Heart esteemed, beyond what I can Write. Oh surely! The Righteous shall be had in Everlasting Remembrance, Psal. 112. 6. And they that be Wise, shall shine as the brightness of the Firmament: And they that turn many to Righteousness, as the Stars for Ever and Ever, Dan. 12. 3.

ELIZ. RICHARDSON.
Hunger Hill, the 5th of the 7th Month, 1713.

Richard Vivers his Testimony Concerning Thomas Ellwood.

HE was a Man of great Wisdom and Understanding; and the Lord, the Giver of it, being pleased to visit him in his early Days, made choice of him▪ and by the Sanctification of his Holy Spirit, fitted, and prepared him for his Work and Service, whereunto he was called. And although he did not often appear as a Minister; Yet, in those Meetings set a-part for the Affairs of Truth; he often appeared in great Wisdom, having an extraordinary Talent given of the Lord for that Work, more than many other Brethren: And faithful he was in waiting for Instruction from God, to improve the same to his Glory, and the Churches Advantage; for nothing was more desirable to him, than to be imployed in the Lord's Service: So it pleased the Almighty to furnish him with Understanding and Strength, faithfully to do his Days work. And now he hath taken him to himself, where his Soul is at Rest; and although our Loss be his Gain, therein I with many more are greatly comforted, for I can truly say, I loved him, in the Truth, from the First of my acquaintance with him, and so it remained to the End of his Course, being near Fourty Years, since we knew each other: And when ever we conversed together, our Discourse was chiefly, concerning Heavenly Things, and the Affairs of the Church, and I always thought my Time well spent with him; although opportunity would not serve for so much of it as I desired, had it been the Will of God.

And this I can say, according to my Observation, He was a Man True to his Friend, and deliberate in the Choice of his Acquaintance, to whom he shewed real Love, and sincerity of Heart. And he was one of a steady and sound Judgment, as to the things of God; often desiring, that those who came amongst us, especially Children of Believing Parents, might not settle down only in a Form of Godliness, without the Power (at which Door, the Apostacy entred) but that they might be raised up to walk in that, wherein the Saints Fellowship doth stand, which is the Light of our Lord Jesus Christ, enlightening every Man that cometh into the World: And then the Ancient Testimony of Truth will be more and more raised up in their Hearts, and they being Preserved of the Lord in it, it will more be maintained in its several Branches, as in former Days. Blessed be the Name of the Lord, who hath a People in these latter Ages of the World, to whom he hath given Power to stand for his Truth, whilst on Earth, and to be Tender of the Honour of his Name; of the Number of whom, this our Deceased Friend and Brother was; who, although Dead, yet his Memory Liveth, and will be preserved amongst the Righteous, in Generations yet to come.

RICHARD VIVERS.
Banbury the 30th of the 11th Month, 1714.

An INDEX of the Names of Persons and Places, and some particular Things.

A

- AChelous, p. 425

- Aldridge William, p. 342

- — Robert, ditto

- Ancram, Earl of, p. 251.

- A. B. of Cant. p. 289

- Archdale Matth. p. 138

- Aris Rich. p. 290, 291, 295, 296

- Atkinson Francis, p. 36

- Augustine, p. 152

- Austin Rob. p. 342

- Ayrs William, p. 328, 329, 330, 335

- Abbington, p. 459

- Alesbury, p. 132, 152, 239, 296

- — Goal, p. 120, 241, 247, 288, 341

- Amersham, p. 150, 238, 253, 288, 452, 463.

- America, p. 333, 405, 411, 442

- Ash in Kent, p. 444

B

- Bache Humph. p. 105

- Bachelor William, p. 342

- Baldwin Rich. p. 342

- Belson, — p. 102

- Bennet Ambr. p. 239

- Birch Nath. p. 241

- Biss Thomas, p. 248

- Blome Rich. p. 447, 449.

- Bradly Rich. p. 218

- Broughton Hugh, p. 447, 448

- Bowyer Sir William, p. 138

- Brothers Andrew, p. 342

- Brown Rich. p. 172, 175, 193, 220

- Bugg Francis, p. 363

- Burrough Edw. p. 50, 63, 72, 152, 215

- Butterfield Abra. 452, 453, 455

- Barnet, p. 36

- Bail-dock, p. 180

- Barbadoes, p. 277

- Barbican, p. 314

- Beconsfield, p. 146, 289, 292

- Berkshire, p. 326, 459.

- Berrie (House) p. 252

- Bledlow (Town) p. 102

- Bottrel's (House) p. 248, 253

- Brainford, p. 290

- Bridewell, p. 166, 175, 177, 184, 192, 216

- Bridgwater, Earl of, p. 334

- Bristol, p. 247, 324, 359, 443.

- Bucks 132, 289, 296, 452, 453.

- Buckingham, p. 341.

- Buckinghamshire, p. 45, 46, 217, 238, 281, 463

- Bull-and-Mouth Meeting, p. 159

- Bury (St. Edmond) p. 432

- Banishment-Act, p. 251

- Baptists, p. 176, 281, 287, 311, 312, 313, 321

C

- Catch William. p. 452, 453, 455

- Clark, Esq p. 111, 124, 125, 127.

- — Sir John, p. 111

- Clark Constable, p. 151

- Cherry, — p. 95

- Child Timothy, p. 342.

- Christ (Jesus) p. 436, 437, 442, 456

- Clayton, Sir Thomas, p. 240, 291, 294

- Coale Benj. p. 391, 393

- Coole Benj. p. 443, 444

- Comber (Priest) p. 346

- Cowley Abra. p. 461

- Cradock Sam. p. 458.

- Crisp Thomas p. 363.

- Croese Gerard, p. 414, 444

- Curtis Tho. p. 48, 71

- — Ann (his Wife) p. 71, 72

- Causham Lodge, p. 44

- Chalfont, p. 44, 93, 133, 145, 171, 248

- Chesham, p. 453

- Chinner, p. 46, 51, 159

- Coleman-street, p. 107

- Cornwall, p. 257

- Crowell, p. 34, 35, 39, 45, 132, 146, 155, 158, 234

- Civil Wars, p. 34, 44

- Conventicle-Act, p. 283

- Catharine-Catharina, what, p. 290

D

- David K. of Israel, p. 386, 461

- Dell Thomas, p. 239, 342

- — John, p. 289

- — Anne, p. 289

- Demetrius, p. 347, 349

- Diotrephes, p. 362, 402, 411

- Dolbin John, p. 342

- Dove, — p. 159

- — Doctor, Ibid

- Drake Humph. p. 452

- Duke of York, p. 263, 267

- Datchet, p. 44

- Denham, p. 138

- Devonshire, p. 257

- Devonshire-House, p. 325

- Dorsetshire, p. 257

- Declaration from Breda, p. 108

- Divine Light, p. 55, &c.

E

- Ellis Mary, p. 259

- — John, p. 342

- Ellwood Walter, p. 34, 150

- Ellwood Thomas, Convinced, p. 48. taken up by the Watch 92. by a Party of Horse, p. 109. by the Watch, p. 146. at Bull-and-Mouth Meeting, p. 160. committed to Bridewell, 162. tried at the Old-Baily, 178. committed to Newgate, p. 180. and to Bridewell again, p. 185 taken at a Burial, and committed to Alesbury-Goal, p. 241 and from a Meeting, p. 250 to the House of Correction, ib. on the Act of Banishment, 251 Married, 268. Answer'd the Priests about Tythes, 322, 344, and W. Rogers, 327, 352, Questioned for his Caution to Constables, 331, &c. Epistle to Friends, 367. Answers the Separates, J. R. C. H. p. 387, J. H. 389. L. K. 390. J. R. and L. K. 392. G. Keith, 398, 405, 408, 416. the Snake, 425. the Norfolk-Priests, 432. A nameless Author, 450. subpoena'd into the Exchequer, 452. sequestrated, 454. dies 464.

- Erasmus, p. 344.

- Edward the 6th, p. 349.

- Europe, p. 412, 442

F

- Faldo John, p. 418, 426

- Faulkland Lord, p. 107

- Fotherly Tho. p. 328, 330, 335

- Forster (Counsellor) p. 295

- Fox Geo. 254, 257, 258, 325, 397

- — the Younger, p. 105

- Farringdon, p. 459

- Fleet-street, p. 161, 192

- Fifth-Monarchy-Men, p. 107, 112, 137, 138

- Flattering Titles, p. 56

- Free Grace, p. 49, &c.

G

- Galloway, Marshall, p. 118

- Gell, Dr. p. 447

- G— E—, p. 453

- Gigger John, p. 263, 265, 267

- Gray Walter, p. 34

- Greenaway Rich. p. 133, 134, 135

- Godwin Thomas, p. 447

- Goodyare Thomas, p. 121.

- Grimes, call'd Mother, 149, 150

- Grove John, p. 277

- Grove (House) p. 48

- Grange, ditto p. 48, 247

- Giles-Chalfont, p. 246, 248, 289

- Grays, by Henly, p. 111

H

- Hampson, Sir Dennis, p. 341, 354

- Harding — p. 291

- Harris Charles, p. 387, 391

- Headach — p. 287

- Henry VIII. p. 349

- Hersent Anne, p. 247

- Hicks Thomas, p. 314, 315, 418, 426

- Hitchcock, Attourney, p. 298

- Hog John, p. 389

- Howell, Sir John, p. 179

- Haddenham, p. 101

- Hadley, by Barnet, p. 36

- Hedgerly, p. 248

- Hertford, p. 238

- Hertfordshire, p. 328, 453, 463

- Hitchinden-Parish, p. 289

- High-wiccomb, p. 52, 281, 294

- Holton, near Alesbury, p. 391

- Holland, p. 415

- Hungerhill, p. 463

- Hull, p. 389

- Hat, p. 62, 76, 82, 90, 100

- Hat-Honour, p. 83

I

- James Richard, p. 342

- Jennings John, p. 342

- — Samuel, p. 397

- Jeroboam, p. 378

- Ives Jer. p. 281, 316, 317

- Julius Caesar, p. 325

- Jewen-street, p. 156

- Jourdans, p. 289, 464

- Ireland, p. 44

- Justice-Hall, p. 215

- Independants, p. 135

K

- Keith George, p. 397, 404, 407, 409, 414, 419, 427, 429, 433, 440, 442

- Key Leonard, p. 391

- King and Parliament, p. 34

- — and Council, p. 345

- King Henry the 8th, p. 164

- — Charles, p. 418

- — James, p. 342, 386

- Knowles, Esq p. 111, 112

- Kent, p. 263, 271, 275, 276

L

- Lacy Ralph Informer, p. 289 291, 295, 296

- Lamburn Sarah, p. 242

- Leaper Joshua, p. 452, 454

- Lilly William, p. 219

- Love John, p. 444

- Luff (or Love) John, p. 254

- Loe Thomas, p. 107, 109, 113, 118, 120, 122

- — His Wife, p. 118

- Lancashire, p. 218

- Lincolns-Inn-Fields, p. 35

- Lincolnshire, p. 321

- London, p. 35, 44, 50, 74, 86, 105, 132, 146, 154, 157, 234, 238, 253, 256, 263, 276, 294, 296, 310, 313, 359, 391, 392, 403, 415, 432, 456, 463, 464.

M

- Mason William, p. 341

- Mather C. p. 441

- Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, p. 458

- Merrick Anne, p. 166

- Mew, Doctor, p. 286

- Milton John, p. 154, 216, 218, 246

- Morton, Judge, p. 243

- — Justice, p. 286, 288

- Moor Edward, p. 342

- — Rebecca, Ibid.

- Mucklow William, p. 170

- Maidenhead, p. 92

- Martins-le-grand, p. 161

- Meadle, p. 102, 130

- Merton-Colledge, p. 37

N

- Naylor James, p. 48, 49, 50

- Nebuchadnezzar, p. 358

- Nehemiah, p. 365

- Ness Christopher, p. 448

- Norton Silas, his Wife, p. 118

- Newgate, p. 161, 180, 187, 188, 191, 215, 216, 220

- Norfolk, p. 432

- New and Inward Law, p. 54

O

- Ovy John, 133, 134, 136, 137, 143

- Orange, Prince of, p. 386, 460

- Old Baily, p. 161, 192,

- Old Bridewell, p. 162, 192

- Oxford, p. 35, 61, 67, 76, 106, 107, 115, 117, 123, 125, 286, 326

- Oxford-Castle, p. 108, 117, 122

- Oxfordshire, p. 34, 36, 108, 133, 139, 141, 145, 154

- Oath of Allegiance, p. 178

- Paget, Doctor, p. 154, 155

P

- Parker Alexander, p. 258

- — Doctor, p. 248

- — Judith, p. 248, 250

- Paul the Apostle, p. 459

- Penn William, p. 281, 313, 314, 330, 333, 388, 397, 428, 433, 435, 437, 442

- — Gulielma Maria, p. 329, 330, 332, 335

- Penington, Alderman, p. 35, 90

- — Isaac, his Son, p. 35, 44, 48, 51, 67, 70, 73, 89, 92, 120, 132, 134, 136, 138, 142, 152 153, 154, 217, 238, 242, 247 253, 260, 271, 276

- — Mary, his Wife, p. 89 144, 145, 171, 217, 226, 248, 260, 263, 271, 276

- — Isaac, their Son, p. 276

- — John, ditto p. 217, 452

- — William, p. 136, 138, 142, 171, 217, 225

- Pennsylvania, p. 329, 397, 412, 433

- Pepys — p. 147

- Philips, Parson, p. 289

- — Tongue and Gibs, Plotters, 191

- Plant Thomas, p. 316

- Perrot Edward, p. 238, 248

- — John, p. 254, 257

- Pewsey Stephen, p. 342

- Potman Eliz. his Mother, p. 34

- Poulter John, a Cheat, p. 288, 290

- Peters-Chalfont, p. 48, 247

- Philpot-Lane, p. 415

- Party of Horse, p. 109, 137, 341

- Plain Language, p. 57, 75, 85

- Persecution, p. 356. at Jourdens, 289. wax'd hot, 327. at Wooborn, 341. in London and Bristol, 359

- Praedestination, p. 49

- Presbyterians, p. 334, 340

- Pride, p. 56

- Priests, p. 103.

- Puritan Preachers, p. 86

Q

- Quakers, p. 45, 48, 49, 51, 64, 67, 111, 126, 159, 235, 23•, 281, 284, 287, 289, 310, 313, 321, 354, 391, 410, 412, 415, 417, 419, 432, 435, 441

- Quarter-Sessions, p. 61, 341

- Q. Elizabeth, p. 349, 359

R

- Rabshakeh, Sanballat and Tobiah, p. 362, 364

- Raunce John, p. 52, 72, 79, 81, 158, 387, 391, 393, 407

- — Frances, his Wife, p. 79

- Red-Head, Informer, p. 288.

- Reeve John, p. 341

- Rogers William, p. 324, 352, 361, 363

- Rosewell, Major, 159, 161.

- Russel William, p. 289

- Ryland — his Wife, p. 118

- Reading, p. 44, 92, 390

- Richmansworth, p. 328, 329, 330, 335

- Risborough, p. 289

- Rome, p. 254

- Republican-Governmennt, p. 37

- Rie-Plot, p. 334

S

- Salter George, p. 248, 342

- Sansom Oliver, p. 459

- Saunders Thomas, p. 102

- — Damaris, Ibid.

- Selden John, p. 346

- Sewell William, p. 450

- Sexton Thomas, p. 342

- — William, Ibid.

- Shockling John, Priest, p. 444

- Smith John, p. 342

- Snake in the Grass, p. 423, 425, 430, 444

- Snow Robert, p. 1

- Springett Lady, p. 35, 44

- — Sir William, p. 35

- — Gulielma Maria, p. 35, 45, 71, 152, 226, 248, 257, 263, 268, 271

- — Herbert, p. 263, 268

- Starkey, Counsellor, p. 295

- Steevens Jeremiah, p. 72

- Story John, p. 323

- Sulpitius Severus, p. 449

- Salisbury, p. 289

- Seven-Oaks, p. 263

- Somersetshire, p. 257

- Spittle-Fields, p. 315

- Stoken-Church, p. 135

- Suffolk, p. 432

- Sussex, p. 263, 271, 275, 329, 332

- Salutations, p. 57

T

- Tanner William, p. 342

- Thornton Samuel, p. 52

- Titchborn Sir Benj. p. 328, 335

- Tournay William, p. 359

- Travers Ann, p. 166, 170

- Tremelius and Junius, p. 447

- Turner Sir William, p. 184

- Thame, p. 34, 36, 107, 116, 125

- — School, p. 36, 37, 63

- — Park, p. 39

- Taplow, p. 341

- Topsham, p. 257

- Tower-street, p. 105

- Tunbridge, p. 263, 267

- Turners-Hall, 415, 420, 425, 433

- Toleration, p. 359

- Tythes, p. 322, 344, 346, 347, 452, 453, 455, 459, &c.

V

- Venner Ralph, p. 108

- Vivers Anne, p. 166

- Uncovering the Head, 57, 58, 74

W

- Watkins Morgan, p. 238, 248, 249, 251, 253

- Wells, Clerk, p. 294

- — Henry, p. 241

- — John, p. 330

- Wenman, Lord. p. 39, 111

- Wharley Daniel, p. 218

- — Mary, his Wife, Ibid.

- Whately —, p. 109

- Whately, Town, p. 125

- White John, p. 102

- Whitehead John, p. 132

- — George, p. 136, 139, 142, 145, 313, 361, 427, 431, 437

- Wilkinson John, p. 323

- Woodhouse William, p. 341, 342

- Woolsey Cardinal, p. 163

- Wray, — p, 172

- Wyeth Joseph, p. 433

- Watford, p, 328, 330

- Watlington, p. 40, 133

- West-Country, p. 323

- West-Deerham, p. 432

- Weston, by Thame, p. 111, 116, 127

- West of England, p. 257

- Westminster, p. 452

- Westmorland, p. 139

- West-Wiccomb, p. 281

- Wheeler-street, p. 315, 321

- White's Farm, p. 289

- Whitehall, p. 161, 163

- Wiccomb, p. 72, 77, 100, 135, 145, 158, 291, 387, 390, 393

- Winsor, p. 295

- Wooborn, p. 341, 354

- Worminghurst, p. 339

- Will-Worship, p. 60

Y

- Yearly Meeting, p. 397, 408, 412, 461, 463

Z

- Zachery Tho. p. 291, 292, 294, 297

PAPERS in this BOOK.

- 1. A Letter from T. Loe, p. 119

- 2. A Letter from I. P. 121

- 3. A Looking-glass, &c. 195

- 4. A Post-script, to ditto 206

- 5. An Hymn to God, 212

- 6. An Elegy on E. Burro. 221

- 7. Est Vita caduca, 230

- 8. All is Vanity, 231

- 9. An Ode on Vertue 233

- 10. Conformity prest and represt, 235

- 11. A Cry to the Lord 237

- 12. An Aenigma, or Riddle 245

- 13. On his Imprisonment, 252

- 14. A Congratulation, 270

- 15. A Song of Praise, 273

- 16. To the holy One, 275

- 17. Solitary Thoughts, &c. 278

- 18. Gigantomachia, a Poem 299

- 19. A Song of the Mereies of the Lord. 305

- 20. An Epitaph on J. Ives. 318

- 21. Collaudemus Dominum. 360

- 22. An Epistle to Friends 367

- 23. On perusal of B. C's Answer to G. K. 443

- 24. A Copy of Verses, 462

- 25. An Answer to R. Snow's Objections, (added) 1

- 26. An Account of Tythes. 17

A SUPPLEMENT:
Being a Continuation of the History of the Life of THOMAS ELLWOOD; Giving Account in particular of his Books and Writings.

OUR dear Friend Thomas Ellwood, for whom we cannot but have an honourable Esteem, for his Service in the Church, •aving written an Historical Account of Part of •is Life, well worth the Knowledge of Posterity, 〈◊〉 far as it goes; viz. to the Year 1683. and •…ere left off. Whether he writ any further; 〈◊〉 whether ever he designed it; or for what •eason he did not proceed, is uncertain: but so 〈◊〉 is, that no more of it can be found at present; •hich is to be lamented, he being a Man so E •inent many Ways, that any Part of it should •e lost. In Consideration whereof, it rose in my •eart to write something in order to supply the •eficiency thereof: many things occurring to •y Mind, which its pity should be omitted. •herefore for the Respect I bore him, and owe 〈◊〉 his Memory (being acquainted with him for ore than the last Twenty Years of his Life) I •…all endeavour to make up that Defect as far as • am capable of; tho' far short of what himself •ight have done, by giving an Account of some of the most material Passages of the remaining Part of his Life: and such Memorials of him, and his Works, as came to my Hands: which I shall set down with as much Brevity and Plainness as I can, in Sincerity to him, and the Truth he professed and adorned. Particularly, of his Labours, Writings, Sufferings and End, from the time he left off.

But first I must look back a little, to give some additional Account of some Passages in re¦lation to his Answers to the Priests about Tythes for the Readers Information and Satisfaction• which every Body may not know, to preven• Misapprehensions in the Case.

In the Year 1676, he answered a Namele•… Book, miscalled, A Friendly Conference between • Minister, and a Parishioner of his inclining to Qua¦kerism; in a Book intituled Truth prevailing a•… detecting Error: which he divided into Nin• Chapters, according to the various Subjects trea•¦ed of (wherein that nameless Author had endea¦voured to misrepresent us) the last of whic• was of Tythes. 'This (to use his own Words• pinching the Priests in a tender Part, the Bel•… (as Erasmus wittily said Luther did the Monk• made them bestir themselves, and lay the•… Heads together, to consider what was to b• done.
Preface to Foundation of Tythes Shaken, Pag. 1. 2.

After divers Debates, and much Co•¦sultation (as he was informed) about it; it wa• at last resolved, to Answer that first: which, th• the last Chapter in his Book, yet having the fi•… and chiefest Place in the Priests Minds and A•¦fections, the Priests Delilah; the very Darling a•… Minion of the Clergy (says T. E.) the Oil by which their Lamp is Nourished; the Pay by which their Army is maintained (as the Priest confesses:) and to take away Tythes, would be to stop the Oil that nourishes the Lamp, and force them to disband for want of Pay.
Introduction. Page 3. Right of Tythes. p. 13.

This being I say their chiefest Concern, and lying nearest at Heart, obtain'd from them the first and chiefest Defence: which at length came forth by a nameless Author also, in a Book, intituled, The Right of Tythes asserted and proved. To which T. E. reply'd (in 1678,) in a large Book, intituled, The Foundation of Tythes shaken, and the four principal Posts (of Divine Institution, Primitive Practice, Voluntary Donation and Positive Laws) on which the Nameless Author of the said Book had set his pretended Right to Tythes, removed. Tracing them all along, from the Patriarchs to the time of the Law; shewing the Design and Use of them under it; and how they were abolished by the Coming, and Suffering of Christ in the Flesh: and how they came to be set up again in the Declension of the Church, by Popish Kings and Councils, in the Night of Apostacy, for supersticious and Idolatrous Ends and Uses; contrary to the Gospel Dispensation, and consequently not Obligatory on Christians, by any Divine Right, to pay in this Gospel Day; answering all the Objections and Pretences, which were brought by that Author for them, from the Four forementioned Topicks.

To this Book of T. E's. there was a pretended Answer put forth Two Years after, supposed by the Author of the former; but Nameless still: the Author not daring to own his Work with his Name, (though since called Combers) intituled, The Right of Tythes Re-asserted: wherein the Proofs from the four former Points are said to be further strengthened and vindicated: especially from the Objections taken out of Mr. Selden's History of Tythes: as if it was chiefly designed against John Selden, T. E.'s Name, or Book, not being so much as mentioned in the Title Page, though often in the Book; as if it was however designed as an Answer to him: which therefore T. E. (though not entituled to it) took in Hand, to rejoin to, and had begun and made some considerable Progress in it; but before he had gone through, or finished it, some other Occasions falling in his way (of which hereafter) it was laid by, and never finished: though he had writ (as he told me) near Sixty Sheets (though I find but Fourty Six among his Papers; but these, with his Notes and Quotations will make near Sixty) for he had Collected a vast Number of Materials out of Authors, in order thereto, as appears by his Papers, which I have since seen. For thus it was, That some of the Priests party, vaunting that this Second Book of the Priests was not answered, I took occasion once at London, in the Year 1692, to speak to him about it; and he told me, That the Substance of the Priests Arguments, in this Second Book, were answered in his former (The Foundation of Tythes shaken) only some New Quotations, which he had brought; and that was what he chiefly designed to deal with the Priest about, to Examine and Clear, by adding some New Ones also: but that he never expected to have the last Word with the Priests about Tythes; which their Interest lay so much in, that they would never be satisfied; but always be Cavilling about, some way or other, how little soever it was to the Purpose: and some other Services taking him off (as aforesaid) he laid it by. Which I mention to satisfie any who may Question in their Minds, why it was never answered (or at least gone through) and this is the Reason why I resumed this Matter.

'In handling the Argument of Tythes (says he, in a Paper found among his Manuscripts, as an Introdnction to his said intended Answer) I write with this Disadvantage, That I encounter a numerous Party and Order of Men, with whom Interest is far more prevalent than Truth; whose Profit will not permit them to yield to Reason; whose Advantage will not suffer them to acknowledge the plainest Demonstration: their Gain as apparently lying in that which I oppose, as Demetrius's, and his Fellow-Craftsmen, the Silversmiths of Ephesus did in that which the Apostle preached against, Acts 19. 25, 26. Hence is it that they bend all their Strength, and imploy their utmost Force to maintain this Point, by which they are maintained; and like those Shrine-makers of old, they endeavour to carry it by Noise and Clamour, instead of Truth and Reason. Nor do they regard what they say, how false soever; or whom they bespatter, how undeservedly soever, in order to the upholding their adored Diana, and enjoying their most beloved Delilah, TYTHES. My present Adversary is not ashamed to say (p. 1, 2.) That I, and my fellow Quaking Speakers (as he reproachfully calls us) have our Gain by Railing against Tythes. A Charge so apparently and rediculously False, that it needs no more than its own Malice and Folly to detect it. With equal Reason might Demetrius have charged St. Paul, that he and his Brethren had their Gain by impugning the Idolatrous Worship of Diana.

'Sacriledge and Idolatry, the Priests say, are Sins near of kin: but Covetousness and the Clergy are perhaps nearer. The great Outcry against Sacriledge is made for the most part by Idolaters and false Ministers; who, as they are most greedy and crafty to get, so are they most solicitous and careful to keep, most enraged and clamourous, when they come to lose their unjustly acquired Gains. Thus was it with the Popish Clergy, after they had gull'd the People by a religious Cheat, of a great part of their Substance, they laboured to terrifie them, by the Name of Sacriledge, from attempting to recover that which had been so fraudulently gotten from them, and doubtless the English Clergy, as they derive [in chief part] the Maintenance they possess from their Predecessors, the Popish Clergy; from whom they received their Priesthood, have therewith also taken up from them their Old Cry of Sacriledge, with which, as a Bugbear, they would scare all from attempting to discover the Cheat. But the legal Alienation of a great Part of those surreptitius Acquisitions of the Clergy, begun in HENRY the Eighth's Time, carried on in EDWARD the Sixth's, and compleated in Q. ELIZABETH's (of these three, the two last were Protestant Princes) hath abated the Edge of that Clerical Weapon, and satisfied the dis-intrested Part of the Nation, that the Word [Sacriledge] in this Case, is but like a Scare-crow, especially when used by the Priests for their own Profit; as most commonly it is: for though they pretend the Maintenance of God's Worship, yet it is their own Maintenance they intend. And herein Demetrius and they most patly agree: for he also urged (as the most specious Pretence, and which was most likely to impress the People) the Danger, lest, by Paul's Preaching, the Temple of the great Goddess Diana should be despised, and her Magnificence destroyed, Acts 19. 27. Whereas the great Inducement to him for stirring, was the danger lest his Craft should be set at nought, and he should thereby lose the Gains he made by Diana's Temple, ver. 25, 27. Do the Priests now cry out against Sacriledge? So did Demetrius and his Craftsmen then. Did they cloak their private Interest with a seeming Regard, and Care for the Temple and Magnificence of their Goddess Dinna? So do the Priests theirs now, with a pretence of Zeal for the Worship of God. Did they in their Fury take no notice of th• Magistrates nor Laws of their Country? S• neither do many of the Priests now, who wit• out regard to Law or Magistrates, run Fur•¦ously and Tumultuously into their Neighbou•… Grounds, with their Servants and Teams and Forcibly, and Arbitrarily Take, and car¦ry away their Corn and Hay; when, where and in what Quantity they please: Will the Priests alledge, that, notwithstanding these irregular Practices; yet they have the Law• and Magistrates on their sides: So had De¦metrius and his Company too, while the good Apostle, not backt by Laws, nor counte¦nanced by Magistracy; was yet Enabled, by Divine Assistance, to stand the shock of a•… their Rage and Fury, and boldly to Testifie a¦gainst that which was Corrupt and Naugh•… although it had the Favour and Support of 〈◊〉 Law and Magistracy too: And indeed, so ap• is the Comparison in most Respects, betwee• those Shrine-Makers, and these Tythe-Taker• that my Adversary in vain Labours to Reto•… it; for even the very particulars he instanc•… to cast it upon me, fix it the more firmly 〈◊〉 the Head of himself, and his own Party.

'Nor is he less put to it, to avoid the force 〈◊〉 his own unwary Expressions of the Oyl for t•… Lamp, and Pay for the Soldier; whereby 〈◊〉 hath discovered, that he and his Brethren, a•… meer mercinary Men, whose Lamp will bu• no longer than it is fed with the Oyl of Tyth•… This was one of the Arcana Cleri, a Secret 〈◊〉 seems) that should not have been divulged. But Children, and he knows who besides, are said to tell true. And he having inconsideratly blab'd it out, his chief Care and Art is now how to palliate, extenuate and mince the Matter, and varnish it over, with some kind of flourish, that the ground of it may not be seen; but this he does so weakly, and lays his Colour so thin, that even the weakest Eye may easily see through it. The mention I made of these Passages in my former Book, he calls tedious and nauseous Repetitions: and tedious no doubt, and nauseous it is to him and his Brethren, to see the false Foundation of their Ministry so openly exposed: but so little do I fear those Repetitions being nauseous or tedious to the indifferent Reader, that upon this Occasion I desire him to peruse them again, in the 6, 7, 8 and 9 Pages of my former Book.

'From Tythes, being the Oyl to their Lamp, and Pay to their Army, He says, I draw (as I imagin) a cutting Consequence, viz. That their Lamps will not burn without Oyl, nor they Fight without Pay. This Cutting Consequence (as he calls it) he touches as tenderly, as if he was afraid it would cut his Fingers; though he well knew, that in the Wording of it, he had taken off its Edge as much as he could: For if my Consequence had been only that their Lamps will not burn without Oyl, it would not then have been so Keen. He might then have Replied, Whose will? Can any Lamp burn without Oyl? No sure: Every Lamp must have Oyl: But the Oyl should be suitable to the Lam•… an Outward Lamp, should have Outward Oy•… an Inward Lamp, Inward Oyl. Now they pr•¦tending their Ministry to be a Spiritual Lam• a Religious Lamp (as the True Ministry inde•… is; and is, and can be, Nourished only by t•… Spiritual Heavenly Oyl of the Divine Eter•… Word;) and yet Confessing Tythes to be the O•… that Nourishes their Ministerial Lamp, and wit• out which their Lamp will not Burn: This plai•¦ly shews, their Lamp is not Spiritual, nor th•… Ministry what they Pretend, &c.

By this we may Judge, Ex pede Herculem, 〈◊〉 the Priests performance; and T. E's Answ•… had he gone through and finished it; which y•… I hope, so far as he hath gone, may, one ti•… or other, see the Light, being well worth t•… Perusal as it is; and had he finished it, I am •…¦tisfied, it would have been a very serviceab•… Piece: No Hand, in my Judgment, being m•… Capable of such a Performance. But he ha•… as I said, some other Services on his Hands divert him: Of which, his Answer to Willi•… Rogers's great Book aforesaid, in 1682. Inti•¦led, An Antidote against the Infection of Willia• Rogers's Book, miscalled the Christian Quak•… In Five Parts, soon after; no doubt, was o•… containing above Thirty Sheets: In which 〈◊〉 Answered him, Chapter by Chapter; and 〈◊〉 most Paragraph by Paragraph; in Relation 〈◊〉 Church Government, and the good Order 〈◊〉 Truth, Established amongst us; and also as 〈◊〉 most of the Principles of Truth, which the 〈◊〉 W. R. in one part of his Work, had endeavour •d to Pervert to his own Ends. A Laborious Work it was, and difficult task to go through •o evenly as he hath done: And though it is Controversie, yet pleasant to Read. As also his •aution to Constables, and other Inferior Officers, •…ncerning the Execution of the Conventicle-Act. With some Observations thereupon. Humbly offered, 〈◊〉 way of Advice, to such Well-meaning and Mode •…te Justices of the Peace, as would not willingly •…in their Peaceable Neighbours, &c. Which is •entioned in his own Account.

And now to come to the time, where he •…eaks off his own Relation, and to carry it on, 〈◊〉 some measure; though far short and infe •…ur, to what his own Hand could have done: •…r it cannot be expected, that any one can •…ite another Man's Life like himself; there •…ing many Passages, Publick and Private, Out •ard and Inward, even as to the frame of his •wn Mind and Condition, between God and 〈◊〉 own Soul; which, as No Man knoweth the •…ngs of a Man, save the Spirit of a Man which is •…im: So none can Relate but himself; or like •…self: For as the Wise Man says, The Heart •…weth his own Bitterness, and the Stranger can •… intermeddle whith his Joy. But what occurs •…m my own Knowledge, or from his Books •…d Papers, pertinent to the case in Hand, shall •…thfully be Related.

Therefore to resume the Thread of his Dis •…rse, and begin where he leaves off. He inti •…tes at the Close of his own Account that the Magistrates not thinking the Laws made a¦gainst us (viz. the Conventicle-Act, &c.) s•¦vere enough, perverted the Law, by makin• our Peaceable Meetings Riots; and Indicting o•… Friends as Rioters, that they might Fine at Plea¦sure: Which he knew to be contrary to Law and Justice; nor was it long (says he) before h• had occasion offered, more throughly to Con•…¦der this matter (viz. the breaking up of t•… Meeting near Wooburn, by Justice Hampso•… sending Friends to Prison, and Indicting the•… for a Riot;) which shews he design'd to write 〈◊〉 Book on that Subject (though he doth not me•¦tion it) and accordingly did this Year (aft•… the Caution to Constables, &c. as aforesaid.) T•… he called A Discourse concerning Riots: Occasion•… by some of the People called Quakers being Indict•… for a Riot, &c. Of which he gives (by way 〈◊〉 Preface) this further Account. 'The Procee•¦ings of late in City and Country, against 〈◊〉 of the People called Quakers for Riots, for o•… Meeting Peaceably together to Serve and W•…¦ship GOD, first put me upon enquiring i•… the Nature of Riots: What, upon inquiry, • have found, I here present to publick Vie•… for common Benefit; that none through Ig•…¦rance, may be the occasion of bringing an U•¦just Suffering upon an Innocent People, a•… thereby Guilt on themselves. I do not prete•… much Skill in Law (a Study and Professio•… was never bred to) but having spent so•… Hours on this occasion, in searching what 〈◊〉 Law Books say in this Case; I hope I 〈◊〉 (without incurring the Censure of Presumption) communicate my Gleaning to such of my well meaning Country Men, as have not Leizure or Opportunity to inform themselves otherwise. I solemnly declare, I have no other End, or Aim in this Work, than to do Good, and prevent Evil: Which Consideration, with Men of Candour and Ingenuity, will be, I hope, a sufficient Apology, for my seeming boldness in this Undertaking. And so he proceeds to set forth what Riots are in the Law, and Law Books; of which he cites divers (and Scripture too) to shew that our Peaceable Meetitgs (which in those Days they used to make Riots; that they might Imprison and Fine us at Pleasure) could not be Riots; tho' thro' Ignorance, or Envy, they were often so rendred (which shewed their Injustice) Saying, 'How truly I have stated the Case on the one hand, with respect to Riots; the many Quotations in the foregoing Discourse, will shew. How true an Account, on the other Hand, I have given of our Meetings, the whole Nation (and all Nations where we have Meetings) may Judge upon the whole. (says he) My request is, that all, both Justices and Jurors, who have or shall be Concerned, in this or the like Case, will seriously weigh the matter; and not strain the Law beyond its due Extent. (adding) To Oppress any by colour of Law, is the greatest abuse of Law. Concluding with a serious Re-capitulation, and Application of the whole: That none for the future might Err Ignorantly in that Respect; and if any would willfully, they might be left without Excuse.

About the same time, or not long after, he writ also, A Seasonable Disswasive from Persecution: Humbly and Modestly, yet with Christian freedom, and plainness of Speech, offered to the Consideration of all concerned therein; on Behalf generally, of all that suffer for Conscience sake: Particularly the People called Quakers. In the beginning of which, he defines what Persecution is. 'Persecution (says he) is a word of so harsh a Sound, and so generally Distastfull to English Ears, that scarce any of those who are most forward and active in that Work, are willing to have their Actions called by that Name. That none therefore, who have set an Hand to that Work, or whose Minds are any whit inclining thereto; may, from the dislike they have to the Word [Persecution] Reject this Disswasive, as a thing wherein they are not Concerned: I think it needful here to declare, what it is I mean by Persecution. By Persecution then, I intend a Forcing, or Compelling any, by Pains or Penalties, Bodily or Pecuniary, to Relinquish or Forsake that Exercise of Religion, or way of Worship, which they believe to be the Right way of Worship; and the true and acceptable Exercise of Religion, which God hath required of them. And to Receive, Embrace, Conform to and perform some other Exercise of Religion, and way of Worship; which they who are so Compelled are either firmly perswaded is not the Right; or at least, have no belief that it is Right. This (in short) is that which I call Persecution; and this is that which I Disswade from, whatever other Name, the Actors of it may please themselves in calling it by.

I. To begin with the first of these, viz. the Forcing, or Compelling any to Forsake, and and Leave that Exercise of Religion, or way of Worship, &c. The Reasons by which he endeavours to disswade all Men from such an undertaking, are these. [i. e. the Heads of them] '1. You may, for ought you know, be found Fighting against God: You are not, you cannot be, upon your own Principles, infallibly sure, that that way of Worship, which you thus endeavour to force us from, is not the true Worship of God.— 2. By endeavouring to force us from that way of Worship, which we believe the Lord hath led us into, and requireth of us; you endeavour to force us, to make Shipwrack of Faith.— 3. In endeavouring by Force and Cruelty, to Restrain us from Worshipping God as (we are fully perswaded) he hath Taught us, and doth Require us: You go out of the Path of the Righteous, and tread in the Steps of the Wicked and Ungodly.— 4. That Exercise of Religion which you would force us from; is not simply of it self, Condemned and Disallowed by that Law, by the Severity of which, you would force us from it.— 5. In thus eagerly Pursuing us, and Disturbing our Peaceable Meetings; you give your selves, as well as us, a great deal of needless Trouble.— Refrain from these Men, and let them alone.— 6. And lastly, Be pleased to Consider, what sort of Agents and Instruments you are fain to make use of (and not seldom are your selves made use of by) to carry on this Work. Concluding this part thus: O never give Cause for this Epitaph to be written on your Tombs, Here lies a Persecutor of the People of God.

II. Now for the other Branch of Persecution, viz. The Forcing, or Compelling of any, by Pains or Penalties,— to Receive, Embrace, Conform to, and Perform some Exercise of Religion, and way of Worship, &c. The Reasons by which he endeavours to disswade all Men from such an Undertaking, are these (viz, the Heads.)

'1. In thus imposing your way of Worship upon others, you act quite contrary to Christ and his Apostles.— 2. In thus imposing your way of Worship upon others, you follow the worst of Patterns, Nebuchadnezzar King of Babylon, &c.— 3. In forcing People to your way of Worship, who have no Belief that it is the right, you cause them to Sin: for whatsoever is not of Faith is Sin.— 4. In forcing People to your way of Worship, who have a firm Perswasion and Belief that it is not the right; you make Men Hypocrites and Time-servers.— 5. By obtruding and inforcing your Religion upon others, you greatly disparage and undervalue it, and give Men the more ground to suspect and dislike it.— 6. You break that great Command, which Christ says is the Law and the Prophets, viz. All things whatsoever ye, would that Men should do to you, do ye even so to them, Mat. 7. 12.—

All these Reasons are illustrated and backed with Scripture and Reason, concluding with a •ery close and seasonable Application to our Per •…cutors. A solid serious Discourse it is, if any Arguments had been sufficient to disswade Men •…om Persecution (of which there was very great bout this time; particularly in London, Bristol, •nd divers other Places) the whole being well worth Perusal: and I should have inclined to in •ert it at large, but that it hath pleased God to •…cline the Hearts of our Superiours to ease us in •hat respect, by Granting a Toleration to Prote •…ant Dissenters: for which we are thankful. These three, viz. the Caution to Constables, Discourse of Riots, and Disswasive from Persecu •ion, were all Written, or at least Printed, this Year, 1683.

And he acquitted himself so well on these Subjects, that one William Tournay (to him unknown) sent him a Letter from London, taking Notice of the aforesaid Tracts, which he was so well pleased with, that he desired his Judgment on the 23d, 29th and 35th of Q. ELIZABETH, in Relation to the Proceedings then upon them: to which our Friend T. E. return'd him an Answer in a large Letter, which is in his Decades of Letters, among many others, to divers Persons, and on various Subjects, well worthy the Perusal, from the Year 1670, down to his latter Times: and if they were published, 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 would help to supply the deficiency of his own Account of the latter Part of his Life.

About this time he writ the following POEM or HYMN of Praise to the Lord; whic• I think well deserves to be inserted in thi• Place: Intituled,‘’

But to proceed:

William Rogers, whom our Author Answered in the Year 1682, (as aforesaid) though he did not Reply to it, or ever attempted it that I have heard of, putting forth a Rhiming Scourge for George Whitehead; against whom he bent his most Inveterate Spleen, and who had also Answered his great Book, falsly called, The Christian Quaker, in a Book intituled, The Accuser of the Brethren cast down, &c. T. E. writ an Answer to his Scourge in Verse, intituled, Rogero-Mastix, A Rod for William Rogers, in return for his Rhiming Scourge: For which he gives the following Reason.‘’

And begins thus:‘’

And having recounted the Opposition made by Rabshaketh, Sanballat and Tobiah, &c. to the Jews, and Diotrephes to the Apostles; he proceeds, Page 6.

By these Examples, plainly it appears,

How Satan play'd his Pranks in former Years;

What Arts he us'd; how craftily he wrought;

What Instruments, whereby to work, he sought:

One while, professed Enemies, and then

Another while he chose false Brethren.

And though those Agents now are dead and gone,

Satan remains the same, the Evil One.

He Mischief always to the Church intends,

And, Mischief to effect, his Agents sends.

Though Rabshaketh be dead, Tobiah rotten,

Sanballat and Diotrephes forgotten,

The wicked Spirit that in them did strive

Against God's Truth and Church, is still alive;

And other Instruments doth daily raise,

To hinder Truth's fair Progress, in these Days.

He Agents has, great store, of ev'ry Size

And Sort. How numerous are Truth's Enemies!

Yet blest be God! A greater Number's those

That stand for Truth, than those that it oppose.

I list not here a Muster-Roll to make

Of all who, from without, in hand did take

To Battle against Truth, and shake their Spears

At Israel's Camp within these Twenty Years.

Nor do I purpose to ennum'rate all,

Who, in that time, themselves did Quakers call,

That through misguided Zeal, or Discontent,

Their Bows against their Brethren have bent.

But since some few, of late, appear to be

With Rage and Envy fill'd, to that degree,

That with more Bitterness than all the rest,

Their Malice against Truth they have exprest.

My Purpose is to single out from these

Him, that appears as their Diotrephes.

And that is ROGERS: For tho' Crisp and Bug,

With other some, do at the same Oar tug,

And Toil hard at it too, with all their Might,

•et can they do no more but shew their Spight.

And for the rest, that lie behind the Skreen,

And move the Wheels, but like not to be seen;

Although they help to carry on the Work,

take less notice of them, while they Lurk.

Them therefore leaving I return again,

To view Will. Rogers his Poetick Strain;

Who having been too often foil'd in Prose,

To try his Fortune now in Verse hath chose;

•… Verse, without Offence, that may call'd,

Which is delivered in Rhimes so bald,

So flat, so dull, so rough, so void of Grace,

Where Symphony and Cadence have no place;

So full of Chasmes, stuck with Prosie Pegs,

Whereon his tired Muse might rest her Legs.

(Not having Wings) and take new Breath, that the

She might, with much a do, hop on agen.

His [Words to that Effect,— Why so,— How so?

Hence I observe,— Hence I conclude,—] do show

His Pursy Muse was often out of Wind,

And glad when she a perching place could find.

What drew thee William, to this Rhiming fit,

Having no more Propensity to it?

Could'st think such hobling, and unequal Rhimes,

That make a Jangling, like disorder'd Chimes,

Could of a POEM e'er deserve the Name,

Or e'er be read without the Author's Shame?

What Clouds of Darkness in thy Lines appear!

How is thy Stile perplex't! How far from clear!

Thy Muse is wrapt in thickest Fogs of Night,

Which shews thou art departed from the Light.

Nor Sun, nor Moon, nor Star throughout thy Boo•

Is to be seen. No Spring nor Christal Brook

Glides through thy Margin. No, thy Waters ru•

Black, like the Streams of Styx, or Phlegeton.

And having gone through, and Answered this Adversaries Book, he sums it up, and con¦cludes as followeth. Page 29.

William, Thy Work is weigh'd, thy Spirit try'd

And both thy Work and Spirit are deny'd.

Thy Spirit is the same that wrought of old

In Sanballat, Tobiah, and the bold

Assyrian Railer, Rabshakeh, who sought

God's Work and People to have brought to nought,

As thou hast done: And what the Prophet cry'd

In that Case, may to thee be well apply'd.

The Virgin hath despis'd thee, Zion's Daughte•

Makes thee the Object of her Scorn and Laughte•

The Daughter of Jerusalem hath shook

At thee her Head (with a disdainful Look:)

•or, whom hast thou Reproached and Blasphem'd,

And against whom hast thou so loudly scream'd,

And lift thine Eyes on high? Thy Spleen doth swell

Against the Holy One of Israel.

To this effect the Prophet did declaim

Against the Proud Assyrian, from whom came

That cursed Railer, who e'en seems to be,

〈◊〉 Railing Blasphemies, a Type of thee.

What Nehemiah to Sanballat said,

When he foul Slanders to his Charge had laid)

That I to thee, of all thy Slanders, Thus,

There are no such things acted, amongst us,

As thy abusive Pamphlet doth contain;

But out of thine own Heart thou dost them feign.

And where thou carp'st at what we do aright,

We can for Truth's sake, in Reproach delight.

The Lord rebuilding is his Holy City,

Which thou and others envy (more's the pity)

And put forth all the Strength and Art you have,

The Work to stop, the Workmen to deprave.

But never be so vain, to think you can

The Work obstruct: 'tis not the Work of Man.

The God of Heaven, He will prosper us;

And therefore we his Servants, (strengthned thus)

Will rise and build, as God shall us endue

With Courage, Strength and Counsel for't: But you

No Portion have, who do the Work condemn,

Right nor Memorial in JERUSALEM.

My Soul laments your State, who once have felt

That tend'ring Pow'r, which stony Hearts can melt.

And have been in some measure, tend'red by it,

But now so hard'ned are as to defie it:

All you I mean, who have in Print appear'd

(With Envious Hearts, and Conscience doubly sear'd

To fight against the Truth, and to expose

God's People to the Fury of their Foes.

And all you too, who do that Work abet,

Although your Names thereto ye have not set.

Ah! had ye kept unto the heav'nly Grace,

(Which in your inward Parts the Lord did place

And not, in discontented Humour, run

After Lo-heres, Lo-theres, as you have done;

Ye might, in Truth, the Bond of Peace have known

And in the Spirits Unity have grown,

Which is the Churches Girdle, highly priz'd

By all the Faithful, though by you despis'd,

Whereas (by letting in first false Surmisings

Of others, which e're long produc'd Despisings,

And so made way for Prejudice to enter,

Till cancred Malice in your Hearts did center)

Ye now are broke, and into Pieces Shatter'd,

And from the Body and Head are Scatter'd.

Without the Camp ye stand (Oh dismal State!)

Snarling amongst the Dogs, without the Gate;

Belching forth Slander and Calumniation

'Gainst those that in the Light have kept their Station.

Oh! may the God of Heaven stop your Way

That ye no more the Simple may betray.

I could not but recite thus much, of the Beginning and End of that Book, which is so Excellent, both for the Subject and Composure, that one may sooner Transcribe too little than too much; the whole being well worth the Reading.

In the Second Month, 1686, he had a Concern upon his Spirit, in a deep Sense of the Enemies working, to sow Divisions, and endeavouring to lay waste the Testimony of Truth, to write an Epistle to Friends, which he did, very solidly and weightily; to stir up Friends to Faithfulness, and to beware of the Enemies Wiles, and avoid that Rending Dividing Spirit, which was then at work, to cause Division and Strife among Friends: which being so Seasonable and Excellent, both for Matter and Stile, the whole is thought meet to be here inserted at large; and is as followeth:

An EPISTLE to FRIENDS.

DEAR Friends, unto whom the gathering Arm of the Lord hath reached, and who have known, in your several Measures, a being gathered thereby into the heavenly Life, and are Witnesses of the preserving Power, by which ye have been kept faithful to the Lord, and regardful of his Honour: Unto you, in an especial manner, is the Salutation of my true and tender Love in the Lord; and for you, as for my self, are the Breathings and fervent Desires of my Soul offered up, in the One Spirit, unto Him, who is your God and mine; that both you and I may be for ever kept in the fresh Sense of his tender Mercies, and great Loving-kindness unto us, that therein our Souls may cleave firmly unto Him, and never depart from Him. For Friends, it is a trying Day, a Day of great Difficulty and Danger, wherein the Enemy is at work, and very busie, setting his Snares on every side; and spreading his Temptations on every hand: And some, alas! have entred thereinto, and are caught and held therein, for whom my Soul in secret mourns.

And truly Friends, a great weight hath been upon my Spirit for many Days, and my Mind hath been deeply exercised, in the sence I have of the Enemy's prevailing, by one Bait or other, to unsettle the Minds of some, whom the Arm of the Lord had reached unto, and in some measure gathered to a resting Place: But not abiding in that pure Light, by which they were at first visited, and to which they were at first turned, the Understanding hath been vailed again; the Eye, which was once in some measure opened, hath the God of the World insensibly Blinded again, and Darkness is again come over, to that degree, that they can now contentedly take up again, what in the Day of their Convincement, and in the time of their true Tenderness, they cast off as a Burthen too heavy to be born. O my Friends, this hath been the Enemy's Work: therefore it greatly behoves all to watch against him; for it hath been for want of Watchfulness, that he hath got entrance into any. For when the Mind hath been from off the true Watch, in a secure and careless State, then hath he secretly wrought, and presented his fair Baits, his Allurements or Enticements by Pleasure or Profit, to catch the unwary Mind. And hence it hath come to pass that some, who have come out fairly, and begun well, and have seemed in good Earnest to have set their Hands to God's Plow, have looked back, and been weary of the Yoke of Christ, and have either lusted after the Flesh-pots of Egypt again, or turned aside into some By-path or crooked way in the Wilderness, and thereby have fallen short of the promised good Land.

But you, my dear Friends, in whom the Word of Life abides, and who abide in the Vertue and Savour thereof, ye know the Wiles of the Enemy, and the Power which subdues him, •nd the Rock in which the Preservation and •afety is. So that I write not these things unto •ou, because ye know them not: But the End •f my thus writing is, to stir up the pure Mind •n all, upon whom the Name of the Lord is cal •ed, that we all may be provoked to Watchful •ess against the Workings of the wicked One. Therefore, dear Friends, bear, I beseech you, •he Word of Exhortation, though from one •hat is little and low (and through Mercy sensile of it) and who hath not been accustomed •o appear after this manner: For the Wind, ye •now, bloweth where it listeth.

Friends, Call to Mind the former Times, and remember the Days that are past and gone, when the Day of the Lord first dawned unto you, and his Power seized upon you. Ye know how weighty and retired the Spirits of Friends then were, how grave and solid their Deportment and Carriage; how few and savoury their Words, tending to edifie the Hearers; how great a Fear and Backwardness was in them to enter into Familiarity with the World's People. O Friends, that was a good Day, and tha• was a safe State; for Fear begets Watchfulness• and Watchfulness is a means to prevent Danger• Therefore all Friends, keep in the Holy Fear• and therein watch against the Enemy, that h• entangle you not, nor hurt your Spirits, by a too near Familiarity, and intimate Conversing with the People of the World; for therein I assure you, lies a Snare. For though it be bot• lawful and necessary, and in some Cases al• useful and serviceable to the Truth to Convers• with them that are without: yet if any Frien• should adventure in a frank and free Mind, b•¦yond the Limits of the pure Fear, to entertain F•¦miliarity with the World's People, the Spiri• of the World in them will seek an Entrance, and• if not diligently watched against, will also g•… an Entrance; and bring a hurt and a loss upo• him or them into whom it so gets. For bein• once entred, it will insensibly work, and dis¦pose the Mind into which it is got, to a Conde¦scention to, and Compliance with the People o• the World it converses with, first in one thing• then in another, in Words, in Behaviour, &c. (little things in Appearance, but great in Consequence) till at length an Indifferency gets up in the Mind, and the Testimony of Truth by degrees is let fall. But while the pure Fear is kept to, and dwelt in, the Watch is always set, the Spirit is retired and weighty, and an holy Awfulness rests upon the Mind, which renders such Converse both safe to the Friends, and more serviceable to them they converse withal.

And, Friends, not only in your conversing with the World's People, but in all your Conversation and Course of Life, watch against the Spirit of the World, for it lies near to tempt, and to draw out the mind, and to lead back into the World again. You know, Friends, that at the first, when the visiting Arm of the Lord reached to us, he led us out of the World's Ways, Manners, Customs and Fashions, and a close Testimony, both in Word and Practice, was born against them. But how hath this Testimony been kept up, and kept to by all, who have since made Profession of the Truth? Ah, how hath the Enemy, for want of Watchfulness, stole in upon too too many, and led out their Minds, from that which did at first Convince them, into a Liberty beyond the Cross of Christ Jesus; and in that Liberty they have run into the Worlds Fashions, which the worldly Spirit continually invents to feed the vain and airy Minds withal, that they may not come to Gravity and Solidity?

Thence it hath come to pass, that there is scarce a New Fashion come up, or a Fantastick Cut invented, but some one or other, that professes Truth, is ready, with the foremost, to run into it. Ah, Friends, the World sees this and smiles, and points the Finger at it. And this is both a Hurt to the particular, and a Reproach to the general. Therefore, O let the Lot be cast, let Search be made by every one, and let every one Examine himself, that this Achan, with his Babylonish Garment, may be found out and cast out: for indeed he is a Troubler of Israel. And all Friends, who upon true search shall find your selves concerned in this particular, I warn and exhort you all, Return to that which at first Convinced you; to that keep close, in that abide, that therein ye may know, as at the first (not only a Bridle to the Tongue, but) a Curb to the roving Mind, a Restraint to the wandring Desire. For assuredly, Friends, if Truth be kept to, none will need to learn of the World what to wear, what to put on, or how to shape and fashion their Garments: but Truth will teach all how best to answer the End of Cloathing, both for useful Service and modest Decency. And the Cross of Christ will be a Yoke to the unruly Will, and a Restraint upon the wanton Mind; and will Crucifie that Nature that delights in Finery and in Bravery of Apparel, in which the true adorning doth not stand, but in the hidden Man of the Heart, in that which is not corruptible, even a meek and quiet Spirit, 1 Pet. 3. 4. And the Grace of God, which hath appeared to all, and which hath brought Salvation to many, will not only teach to deny all Ungodliness and worldly Lusts, and to live soberly, righteously and godly in this present World, Titus 2. 11, 12. but will also lead those that obey it out of all Excess, and out of all Superfluities and worldly Vanities, and will teach them to order their Conversation aright. Therefore to this heavenly Grace let every Mind be turned, and therein stay'd, that thereby all who profess the Truth may be kept in the holy Limits of it; that in their whole Conversation and Course of Life, in Eating, in Drinking, in putting on Apparel, and in whatsoever else we do, or take in hand, that all may be done to the Glory of God, 1 Cor. 10. 31. that our Moderation in all things may appear unto all Men.

And let not any deceive and hurt themselves with a False Plea, saying, I will be left to my Liberty; I have freedom to do, go, or wear so and so; And Religion stands not in Cloths, &c. For that Liberty which the worldly Spirit leads into, is not indeed the true Liberty, but is a false and feigned Liberty, which leads into true and real Bondage. And though Religion stands not simply •n Cloths; yet true Religion stands in that which •ets a Bound and Limit to the Mind with respect •o Cloths, as well as to other things. So that where there is a running out into Excess and Va •ity in Apparel, that is a certain Indication and •oken that the Mind is got loose, and hath cast off •he Yoke, and is broke away from its due Sub •…ction to that Divine Power, in which the true •eligion stands.

Great hath been the Hurt which the Enemy hath done in this Day, by leading into a false Freedom, and crying up a wrong Liberty: for under this Pretence have crept in great Disorders, some running out one way, and some another; some mixing in Marriages with the World's People, and some going to the Priest to be married. And many loose and unclean Spirits have shrouded themselves under this plausible Pretence of being left to their Liberty, unto whom Truth's Order is irksome and uneasie; and they kick against it, and call it Imposition, because it checks their licentious Liberty. Therefore all, who join with their Plea, examine and try what Liberty it is ye claim and stand for: for the true Liberty is not inconsistent with the Cross of Christ, nor repugnant to his Yoke; but agrees with it, and is obtained through it, and maintained by it. And none whom the Son hath made free indeed, will, or can plead or make use of that Liberty, in Opposition to any Means, which the God of Order hath appointed, or set up in his Church for the keeping out Confusion, Disorder and Loosness. And hereby all may take a right Measure, and may certainly know what kind of Liberty that is, which some have so hotly contended for, in Opposition to that ne¦cessary and commendable Order, which God hath led his People into, and which the Enemy• in his Agents, labours so hard to lead them ou• of. For the Enemy well knows, that the Ten¦dency and Service thereof is to detect and disco¦ver his secret workings, and to bring his Deeds t • Light and Judgment; and therefore he strives with might and main to overturn it, crying out through his Instruments, Away with your Order, Let every one be left to his Liberty. By which seemingly fair and specious Plea, not only the loose, disorderly, factious Spirits have been let up, and encouraged to greater Boldness and Licentiousness: but some simple and well-meaning Friends also, not seeing the Design of Satan therein, have been misled thereby, and made use of by the Enemy, and the more subtle of his Instruments, to oppose the good order of Truth. Thus hath the Enemy wrought, and sought to lay waste the Work of the Lord. But the Lord (magnified be his holy Name) hath not been wanting to his People, who in sincerity of Heart have diligently waited on him, and trusted in him; for he hath all along raised up some, whose Eye he hath opened to see the Design and working of the Evil One; and whose Spirits he hath engaged to stand up in a faithful Testimony against him, contending for the way of Truth. Which when they, in whom the Enemy wrought, perceived, and found they could not run over the Heads of Friends, and carry things on as themselves pleased, they set themselves, in a heady wilful Spirit, to raise Disturbances in Meetings for Business, by encouraging and abetting such heady, loose, contentious and disorderly Persons as wou'd join with them; thus hardning themselves, and provoking the Lord to give them up to Blindness and Hardness of Heart, till at length the Enemy prevailed so far upon them, as to work them by degrees, from Discontent to Prejudice, then to Enmity, and so at length, in divers Places, to an open Defection, Apostasy and Separation.

Now although I know, my dear Friends, that ye who have kept your Habitation in the Light of the Lord, and whose Eye is single therein, have a clear Sight and Understanding, that the Spirit, which hath thus wrought and fought against the Truth, is not, nor can be, of God, but is of the wicked One; and although the Fruits it hath brought forth, through the Agents and Instruments in and by which it hath wrought, viz. Making Disturbances in Meetings, to the breaking the Churches Peace; Causing Divisions amongst Friends; Publishing to the World most wicked, malicious, railing and scandalous Books, against Friend• (an Effect of the greatest Enmity) shutting an• keeping Friends out of their common Meeting-Hou¦ses, in which they have a just Right and Property• and not suffering them to meet therein (which is a part of the Persecution inflicted on Friends by the World) and at length also set up separate Meetings, in Opposition to the Meetings of God's People• Although, I say, these Fruits are sufficient o• themselves to discover and manifest, to an un¦clouded Mind, what Spirit that is, and mus• needs be, which hath brought them forth; ye• inasmuch as some, partly through Weakness o• Judgment, and partly through personal Affectio• to some of those leading Separatists, are yet in dan¦ger to be betrayed by their fair Words and feign¦ed Speeches, wherewith they lie in wait to deceive, 〈◊〉 feel a Concern remain upon my Spirit, in the Love of God, to warn all such, that they join not with, nor give Countenance unto that Spirit, that hath thus wrought against the Lord, and against his People.

For Friends, in the holy Fear of the living God, and in the Openings of the Spring of his pure Life in my Soul, at this time, and from the certain Knowledge, and clear Demonstration which I have received from him therein; I testifie and declare unto you, That this Spirit, which in this Day hath run out, and hath drawn out some, into Opposition against the Way and Work of the Lord, into Division and Separation from the People of the Lord, and from the holy Assemblies which the Lord hath gathered, and by his powerful Presence hath owned, and daily doth own: This Spirit, I say, is the same with that which hath formerly wrought, in other Appearances, against the Truth in our time; and is the same with that Spirit, that wrought against the Work of the Lord in the Days of the Holy Apostles. This Mystery of Iniquity then wrought, and caused many to turn aside, and to leave the right way of the Lord, and to forsake the Assemblies of God's People, Heb. 10. 25. Yea, and to run into Separation too, Jude 19. Upon whom the holy Ghost hath set his Brand; that they were Sensual, having not the Spirit. And many close and sharp Testimonies did the Lord give forth through his Servants in that Day against this Spirit, and against those that were joined to it, and acted by it, as may be seen in the Holy Scriptures.

Yea, Friends, this Spirit that hath led some now to set up their Separate Meetings, is the same that led Jeroboam the Son of Nebat to set up his separate Altar at Bethel, of which you may read 1 Kings 12, and 13 Chapters. He was afraid, that if the People should continue to go up to the House of the Lord, to do Sacrifice there, as they had been accustomed to do, and as the Lord had required, they would then forsake him, and return to the Lord again. And this Spirit now is afraid, that if they whom he hath seduced, and drawn aside, should still frequent the Assemblies of God's People, and continue to meet with Friends as before; that heavenly Power which is eminently manifest in the Meetings of God's People, might at one time or other reach unto them, touch their Hearts, open the right Eye in them, and give them to see the Mischief and misery he is leading them into. And therefore to prevent this, and to keep his Captives close unto him, he hath contrived to set up Separate Meetings, in Opposition to the Meetings of God's Appointment, as Jeroboam set up his Separate Altar, in Opposition to the Altar which God hath commanded to be set up; and to keep the People from going thereto. And so subtilly did this Spirit work then, as well as now, that Jeroboam contrived to have his false Worship bear some Resemblance to the true; that he might the more easily beguile the People: For he ordained a Feast like unto the Feast that was in Judah, 1 Kings 12. 32. But it was in the Month which he had devised of his own Heart, ver. 33. Mark that, there is a Blot upon it: How fair or specious soever the Worship he set up appeared, or seemed to be, yet it was but the Devise of his own Heart; it was neither appointed by God, nor accepted of God. For you may read in the 13th Chapter, that the Lord sent a Prophet, a Man of God, out of Judah to Bethel; and he cryed against the Altar in the Word of the Lord, and prophesied the Destruction thereof by Josiah; which was afterwards outwardly fulfilled, as you may read, 2 Kings 23. 15, &c. Now Josiah signifies, The Fire, or Burning of the Lord. And, in the holy Dread of the living Eternal God, I declare, The Fire of the Lord is kindled, and kindling against this accursed separating Spirit, and against its Work, and against all those that join with it therein. Therefore all Fear before the Mighty God, and stand still and consider your Ways; and let none resist or reject the Warning of the Lord, lest such be hardned to Destruction. For Jeroboam, you may read, stood by his separate Altar, vers. 1. And when he heard the saying of the Man of God, which he cryed against the Altar in Bethel, he put forth his Hand, saying, Lay hold on him. But his Hand which he put forth against him, dried up, so that he could not pull it in again to him, vers. 4. O Friends, consider, How hath Driness and Withering come upon many a great and stout One in this Day, who have lifted up themselves against the Lord; and have sought, by the De¦vices of their own Hearts, to establish themselves in their own Way, against the Way of the Lord; so that the Hand they have put forth in that Work, they could not pull in again. Now mind, I pray you, Friends, and observe the way of the working of this Spirit in that Day. Here was the Enmity, the rough Nature of Cain and Esau, the Spirit of Persecution, got up first in Jeroboam, to dismay the Man of God: Lay hold of him, says he. But when he saw that would not do; then the subtle Serpent, the crafty Fox, the fair Speeches, the smooth Words, the seeming Friendship and shew of Kindness to betray him. Come home with me, says he to the Man of God, and refresh thy self, and I will give thee a Reward, vers. 7. O Friends, stand in the Fear and Counsel of the Lord, and in the Dominion of his Power, over this wicked Spirit in all its Twistings and Twinings. Let neither the Frowns nor the Fawnings, the Threats nor the Flatteries, the hard Speeches nor the Oyly Words, the Pharisaical Friendship, the dissembling Love, the seeming Kindness, the familiar Carriage, the free Entertainment, the fine Bit, the Offer of Advantages, &c. have any Influence upon you, to draw you, in the least measure, to join or touch with God's Enemy; with him that sets up a separate Altar, a separate Meeting, in Opposition to, and to draw or keep from the right Way of the Lord: Mind well the Answer, which the Man of God gave to Jeroboam's tempting Invitation. If •said he) thou wilt give me half thine House, I •ill not go in with thee; neither will I eat Bread, nor •rink Water in this Place, ver. 8. (This was where •he Separate Altar was set up.) And he gives 〈◊〉 forcible Reason for it: For so it was charged 〈◊〉 by the Word of the Lord, Vers. 9.

Here now you see both the Charge of the Lord, and the good Resolution of the Man of God: I will not go in with thee, who hast re •olted from God; neither will I eat or drink in •…is Place, where an Ensign of Separation and Opposition to the way of God is set up. Con •…der this well, I warn you All, in whom there 〈◊〉 yet any true Breathings after the living God, •…ho retain any Tenderness, and in whom there 〈◊〉 any Simplicity left: Consider this well, I say, •…hen thy pretended Friend, or Friends, in a •…eat deal of seeming Love and Kindness, shall •…vite thee to partake with them at their Separ •…e Altar, to sit down with them in their Se •…rate Meeting. Thou canst not be a Man of •…od, and go in with them, or eat or drink in •…at Place. Thou canst not sit down there, to •…ait for the Bread of Life, or the Water of •…ife to be given thee there: No, the Word of •…e LORD, if thou givest heed unto it, will •…arge thee otherwise. Therefore to that pure •…ing Word let every Mind be turned, and •…ereto kept, in a diligent Waiting to receive Wisdom, Strength and Power from the Lord •…erein; that none may be betrayed by the •…btilty of the the Enemy, with whatsoever •…ir pretences he may come. For remember how the Man of God, that was enticed by a•…¦other to eat and drink outwardly at Bethel, t•… place where the separate Altar was set up, lo•… his outward Life therefore, ver. 18. and 2•… And if thou shalt presume to go in, to eat o• to drink spiritually; that is, to join in Worshi• with the Sons of Nebat at this Day, in the s•¦parate Meetings, which any of them have s•… up, in Opposition to the Assemblies of God•… People, and to the Blessed Way and Work 〈◊〉 the Lord; how knowest thou, but thou may 〈◊〉 for ever lose thy spiritual Life, and never kno•… a Day of Quickning more.

Therefore all Friends, watch against eve•… Temptation thereunto, as you love your Liv•… as you regard the Good and Eternal Welfare 〈◊〉 your Souls; and let not the Name, nor Pers•… of any Man have Power over you, to dra•… you aside, neither let Numbers sway with yo•… in which, I know, these Adversaries of Tru•… do not a little boast (though, blessed be G•… with little Reason) But remember that Je•…¦boam of Old had Ten Tribes out of Twelve 〈◊〉 cry up his separate Altar; Notwithstandi•… which, he is branded to Posterity in the H•… Record with this Brand, Jeroboam the Son•… Nebat, WHO MADE ISRAEL TO S•… 2 Kings 14. 24. Therefore let not any foll•… a Multitude to do Evil, Exod. 23. 2. But 〈◊〉 follow that which is Good, both among your selv•… and to all Men, 1 Thess. 5. 15. For Friends, y•… know whither the Broad Way leads, and w•… it is the Wide Gate opens into, which 〈◊〉 MANY go in at: but keep ye to the Straight Gate, and walk ye on in the NARROW Way; for in it is Safety, and at the End of it everlasting Happiness.

But Friends, because of the Straightness of this Gate, and the Narrowness of this Way, some that have attempted to walk in it, are grown weary of it, and have sought out another way, a way which (Jeroboam like) they have devised of their own Hearts; wherein they may have more Room, more Scope, more Company, Ease in the Flesh, Liberty to the Flesh, and all without controul. And this I am satisfied, hath not been the least Motive to the Separation in this Day (as it was the greatest in Days past) tho' some that have been drawn into it, may not perhaps see the Ground upon which it was undertaken. But the Lord hath opened an Eye in many, which sees the Rise and Ground, Entrance and End of this libertine Spirit, and its Work. And this Eye will the Lord daily open more and more in all, that diligently and in Sincerity wait upon Him. Therefore all Friends every where, who have not yet a clear Sight, and a thorow Understanding of the Nature and Work, Design and Drift of this dividing Spirit; wait, I beseech you, in Simplicity of Heart, and Lowliness of Mind, upon the Lord, and keep to the Measure of the Grace you have received from him; and suffer not your Minds to be swayed or byassed by any personal Kindness, natural Affection, Relation, Kindred or Acquaintance; but stand single and open to the Lord, not joining to, nor any way countenancing that which the Testimony of Truth, in the Arisings of the heavenly Life, and Breakings forth of the divine Power thro' any, goes forth against. So will your present Standing be safe, and you be preserved out of the Snares of this insinuating and treacherous Spirit: And the Lord in his appointed time, as ye abide with him, will open your Understandings further, and give you a clearer Sight of that, which at present you do not fully see; and thereby bring you to that Certainty and Assurance, which (blessed be his Name) he hath brought many unto.

And you, my dear Friends, whose Spirits the Lord hath stirred up, and whose Hearts he hath engaged, in an Holy Zeal, to stand up for his Blessed Name and Truth, and to bear a faithful Testimony against this wicked rending Spirit; go on in the Strength and Power of the Lord, in the Might of the God of Jacob; for you are assuredly on the Lord's Side, and the Lord Jehovah, the Strength of Israel, is on your Side. Therefore, Friends, be encouraged in the Lord, to stand stedfast in your Testimony, not giving way to the Enemy, no not for a Moment. And take heed, I beseech you in the Love of God, how ye enter into any Treaty of Peace, or Terms of Agreement with this Ungodly Treacherous Spirit, which is out of the Truth, and draws out of the Truth, and Fights against the Truth: For there is no Peace unto it, saith my God. And they who have joined themselves unto it, and have wickedly given themselves up to be acted by it, and to act for it, must pass through the River of Judgment, if ever they be redeemed from under its Power. Friends, Condemnation must first be felt and owned, before Reconciliation can be known; and the Fire of the Lord must pass upon the Transgressor, to consume the Works of Darkness, the ungodly Deeds, the envious reviling Speeches, the wicked malicious slanderous Books and Pamphlets, &c. and to burn up the Ground from whence they sprang. For a flaming Sword hath the Lord God set in his Eden, which turneth every Way; and none that are gone out can ever come in again, but they must pass under the flaming Edge thereof. Therefore, my dear Friends, stand your Ground, in the Authority of the heavenly Life, and tamper not with God's Enemies: Remember the Word of the Lord to the Prophet, Let them return unto thee, but return not thou unto them, Jer. 15. 19. And then what follows? I will make thee unto this People a fenced brazen Wall, and they shall fight against thee, but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, to save thee, and to deliver thee, saith the Lord, ver. 20. So the God of Life fill your Hearts daily more and more with a Phineas Zeal for the Honour of his Name; and furnish you abundantly with Wisdom and Counsel, with Boldness and Courage, with Strength and Power, to encounter and overcome the Enemy: And make every one more watchful against the Spirit of the World, to withstand it in all its Allurements to Vanity, of whatsoever kind; that whatsoever would defile the Camp of the Lord, may be purged out, and kept out, that the Lord may more and more delight in his People; and shower down his Blessings upon them; which is the fervent desire of,

Your faithful Friend in the Love and Service of the unchangeable Truth, Thomas Ellwood.
The 24th of the 2d Month, 1686.

After this, I do not find he writ any thing (only some private Letters in his Decades) but lived Retired till the Year 1688. In wich time of Privacy (as fittest for it) he began a Work which he did not finish till many Years after; and that was The Life of David King of Israel, in Verse; which he began for his own Diversion, not thinking then of Printing it, and carried it on to the End of the Third Book. But then the Prince of Orange Landing, and the Revolution following, the Nation being in Arms against King James; the Noise of Guns, and Sound of Drums, &c. so desturbed his Meditation, and gentle Muse (which like the Halcion, breeds in Calm Weather) that his Poetical Genius left him for a time, and he thereupon left his Work, for above Twenty Years; of which more hereafter in its Place.

And here he retired again for two Years; so that I find nothing to Remark of him, either publick or private, but some private Letters, till the Year, 1690. When John Raunce and Charles Harris of Wiccomb, in that County, publishing A Memorial (as they call'd it) for the present Generation; and also for that which is to come: Being an Account from Wiccomb, concerning the Difference, &c. This Thomas Ellwood answered in a Book intituled, The Account from Wiccomb (lately published by John Raunce and Charles Harris) examined, and found false. And a Warning thereof given, to all such well-meaning Persona among the People called Quakers, as through Personal Affection, want of Consideration, or Weakness of Judgment, have been betrayed, or may be in danger to be betrayed by them, or any other in the same dividing Spirit with them; and led aside from the Way of Truth, into a Separation from the People of God: For whose Recovery and Preservation this is written. Which begins thus.

'For your sakes it is, O ye much pittied Ones; more than for any weight in the Account it self, or worth in the Authors of it, that I have thus taken notice of it. For indeed, as soon as I had perused it, I felt a compassionate Concern spring in my Heart on your behalfs, and a direction in Spirit to open some Passages therein, and relating thereto, to you, that ye might be preserved from being taken: Or, if in any measure taken, might be rescued and delivered from the Snare, which the Enemy of your Souls, and of all Righteousness, hath made use of these Men to set, to entangle, entrap and catch you by. And to the true Witness of the Holy God, in every one of your Consciences, who retain any honest Breathings after the Lord, and the Way of Holiness, do I recommend this my Undertaking, and the Sincerity of my Intention herein. Wherein he discovered their Deceit, as to their Separation; and that it was not for Conscience, but from a libertine Spirit, to lay waste the good Order in the Church, as their Actions manifested: Of which he gave some Instances, not to their Advantage. But their Works have made them manifest.

The next Book he published, was in 1691, viz. A Reply to an Answer lately published, to a Book long since written by W. Penn: Intituled, A brief Examination and State of Liberty Spiritual; both with respect to Persons in their private Capacity, and in their Church Society and Conversation. Which Book was written, or at least published by W. Penn, in the Year 1681. To distinguish between true and false Liberty, little understood by some, and too frequently abused by others: Liberty from Sin, not to Sin, to do his (God's) Will, and not our own; as W. P. expresses it. Which true spiritual Liberty, being abused by some in the Profession of the Truth (as our Friend T. E. observes in his Preface) 'Who under pretence of being left to that Liberty in themselves, and to their own Freedom therein; both took Liberty to do such things as were inconsistent with that true Liberty, and with the Principle of Truth which they professed; and despising those useful, good and necessary Helps and Means which the Lord hath provided, and furnished his Church and People with, for the preventing and keeping out such Disorders, Evils and Scandals, as the unruly Nature of Man, thro' such a Mistake of true Liberty, might and would bring in: Did reject the Counsel, Admonition or Reproof of their Brethren, with What hast thou to do with me? Leave me to my own Freedom. To reclaim (if it might be) those who are thus deceived, and prevent others from being so: the Author being pressed in Spirit for Zion's sake, and for the Peace of Jerusalem; and having a deep Sense (as himself expresses) of the working of the Enemy of Zion's Peace, to rend and divide the Heritage of God, did write the forementioned Treatise, for the Establishment of the Faithful, Information of the Simple-hearted, and Reproof of the Arrogant and High-minded. Which striking at the false Liberty and Pre •ences of the Separate Party; it seems it had •ain on their Stomachs undigested these Ten Years, and then came forth an Answer to it by J. H. (supposed to be John Hog, one of the Se •arates about Hull.) This Answer our Friend T. Ellwood undertakes, and replies to, in a pretty •arge Book; in which he shews what is meant •…y true spiritual Liberty, in W. P's own Defi •ition, which he defends; shews their Abuse •f it, answers their Arguments, or rather Ca •ils against it, in behalf of their false libertine •pirit and Practices, which too many ran into, 〈◊〉 their own Hurt, and Separation from the Church, the Body of Christ, whereof He is Head: saying, in the Preface, 'The God of Truth knows, I have no other End in this Reply, than to defend Truth, and the Children of it, against the slanderous Suggestions, false Charges, and wicked Insinuation of the Adversaries; to lay open their deceitful Dealing, and to remove (as the Lord shall enable me) the stumbling Blocks, which they have laid in the Way of the Weak, whereby they have caused some to fall into Misapprehensions and hard Thoughts of Friends, without Cause. And I beseech the God of Mercy to open the Understandings, and clear the Sight of all those, whose Simplicity has been betrayed by the others Subtilty, that they may see and escape the Enemies Snares, and return to the true Fold, from which they have been led astray. To which I never heard of any Rejoinder; only some private Letters past between J. H. and T. E. about some Passages in it.

His next were two Broadsides; the first (in 1692. viz. T. E's Answer to so much of Leonard Key's late Printed Sheet as relates to him. Which Paper of L. K's was intended mostly to excuse their shutting Friends out of their Meeting-House at Reading. But therein taking Occasion to slant at some Passages in T. E's Answer to the Account from Wiccomb; gave our Friend Thomas an Occasion, not only to open that Matter further; but also to lay open their Deceit in Relation to that Affair, as well as L. K's, and his Party at Reading. To which I refer the Reader.

The Second was (in 1693.) viz. Deceit discovered, and Malice manifested, in L. Key's late Paper from Reading. Thomas being then at London, at the Yearly-Meeting, met with B. Coal's Expedients, for a true Reconciliation among the People of God called Quakers: Which L. K. it seems promoted. But when T. E. came home, he found a Letter at his House directed to him, from L. K. with a Printed Sheet inclosed, so different in Terms and Tendency from the other, sign'd by B. C. and C. H. (that proposing Expedients for Peace, this renewing the Difference;) and yet but one Day different in the Dates (this being dated the 3d, the other the 4th of the 4th Month, 1693.) that he could not but admire at it; which therefore he compares, and shews the Difference of, and discovers their Deceit in; and not only in that, but also in Relation to the Difference at Wiccomb, which they were not yet easie under, and yet would not confess the Truth; but instead thereof J. Raunce endeavours to fix a Slander on T. Ellwood about his Father's Burial, pretending he was not Buried in the right Ground, but among Strangers; he and his Party Riding Twenty Miles, or more, about the Country; and J. R. going himself to the place where he was Buried at Holton, to pick up a Stone at the Father's Grave, to throw at the Son, above seven Years after his Death; enquiring, examining, yea, provoking some to pretend as if T. E. had been unkind to his Father, and that they had shewed him Kindness, to bring Thomas under Obligation of Requital, or upbraid him for Ingratitude if he did not. In all which J. R's Malice was manifest more than any thing else; for as to the Ground he was buried in, T. E. confesses, he was not so well acquainted with the Grave-Yard, as to know the Difference of Places in it or whether some Parts of it be more Holy than others; which he thinks, considering their former Principles, they should not have quarrel'd with him about. However the Place was not of his appointing; for he was prevented of being at the Burial, by a Message his Father received in his Sickness, that his Sister (but which of them he doth not say) lay then Sick in London, near unto Death. After he had waited on his Father until he had finished his Life, and given Direction for his Interrment, he hastened up to his Sister at London, thinking he might be more serviceable to the Living than to the Dead, and knew not in what Part of the Ground his Father was buried, till after his Return from London, he went thither to defray the Charges of his Sickness and Funeral, as some of them knew: and therefore the more shame to raise such a Story. And as to the other of Unkindness, they could prove nothing, but shew their Envy against him; which we shall have Occasion to take further notice of, e're we have done.

The next and last Book he writ in Relation to this Controversie with the Separates, was, A fair Examination of a foul Paper, called, Observations and Reflections, &c. lately published by John Raunce and Leonard Key; who after their separate Bickerings, come now to join their Forces together in this Paper, which seems to be Reflections on T. E's last mentioned Paper; and which Paper of theirs our Friend answers in this Examination, wherein their Envy is rebuked, and their Folly and Falshood laid open, in endeavouring to excuse L. K's former Paper of Revival of the Difference, at the same time when B. C's Expedient for Reconciliation was for having it all forgotten and buried: which T. E. exposes in its proper Colours, beginning thus, 'We read among the Proverbs of Solomon, that the Way of the Wicked is as Darkness, they know not at what they Stumble, Prov. 4. 19. This is verified in J. Raunce and L. Key, and others of their separate Party. Since their turning against the Truth, their way is become as Darkness; they stumble and know not at what. They fall into many idle Absurdities, many gross Follies and Errors, and into many hurtful Evils, and labour to draw others (better than themselves) after them: for whose sake chiefly the following Lines are written, that the Deceit and Hypocrisie of these Men, their Falshood and Envy being further and further laid open, the more Simple and Well-meaning Ones amongst them, may see them as they are, and be no longer beguiled by them. So he goes on to Answer their Cavils, confirming by Certificate his former Charge of their scandalous Practice at Wiccomb; then answers their new Slander (the old proving false) That he suffered his Father to want; raking into his Ash•… when he had been dead above Ten Years, to ca•… something at his Son (so restless is Envy) as if h• had been short in his Duty to his Father: whic• T. E. fairly and clearly wipes off, vindicating himself as to his not being at his Father's Bu¦rial (which J. R. throws at him) though Thoma• in his last had fairly related the Occasion; which was his Sister's Ilness at London (though she recovered;) and which one would think might have satisfied any one, not overgrown with Envy; which yet J. R. revives again: and also about his Burial, &c. All which appears to be nothing but J. R's Rancor: which seeing he has made so much a-do about, out of his Inveterate Malice to T. E. under pretence of Friendship to his Father, but to be sure Hatred to the Son; and as T. E. says, If this be the Effect of his Friendship, he should not desire to be numbred among his Friends. To set which in a clear Light, I shall here set down his Vindication in his own Words, because it bears some Analogy to his Relation of the former part of his Life; viz. Pag. 20. of the Fair Examination. 'Tis well known to many, that my Father was possest of a good Estate; and they that knew him well, knew also that he had the spending of it himself. How he spent it becomes not me to speak; he was my Father, to whom I ow'd and always paid Respect and Honour, while living; and whose Frailty, being dead, I desire to cover. It is enough for me to say, I did not help him spend his Estate, nor was I much chargeable to him, after I was capable of shifting for my self. And when it pleased the Lord to visit me with the saving Knowledge of his Truth, and bring me under the visible Characters of the Profession thereof (which was about the 20th Year of my Age) my Father expressing a dislike to me on that Account, by degrees withdrew his Care of me, not making any Provision for my Maintenance, save the giving me such of his Houshold Goods as he could spare, upon his giving over House-Keeping; though he had then a plentiful Estate remaining. When afterwards he Sold his Estate, I had no part at all of the Money.—[Though upon his Marriage he promised both him and his intended Wife to do something considerable for them, yet after they were Married he refused to give them any thing (as aforesaid, p. 272.) and so far withdrew himself, that he would not let him know where he lodged.—] 'Notwithstanding this (says T. E.) he would sometimes come to my House, which was always open and free to him, to come when he pleased, and to tarry as long as he pleased; whenever he came he was well Habitted, both for Linnen and Woolen, and made no Appearance of Want, other than such as may befal any Man, to have his Money fall short in a Journey: upon which Occasion (when he had, as he said, been longer from home than he expected, or when, being here, he had a mind to go further, than at his coming forth he intended) he has divers times asked me to lend him Money• which I always did, and never asked him fo• it again. And, to the best of my Remem¦brance, it was not above two Weeks time be¦fore his last Sickness, that he had been at my House, and had Money of me on that Account• As soon as I heard of his Ilness, I hastened t• him; and took the best Care of him I could during his Life; and after his Death defrayed the Charge of his Sickness and Burial, and re¦paid to my Sister that Money she had sen• him, before I knew of his Ilness. I could say more on this Subject than I intend, or at pre¦sent think fit: But I forbear, and commit my Innocent Cause to the Lord, not doubting but that, as I am clear in his Sight from any Undutifulness, or Unkindness towards my Father, so he will clear mine Innocency in the Hearts of his People, and of all unprejudiced Persons.

This I hope will satisfie the Reader of T. E's Carriage towards his Father, which we are beholding to J. R. for, or else perhaps might never have had this Account, which one would think Envy it self should not be able to cavil at▪ yet after this J. R. being restless, trumpt up another Story, answered by T. E. in his Postscript to that Book; which we shall meet with again hereafter, on another Occasion; and therefore I shall say no more of it here.

Here ends his Controversie with the Separates: In which I must needs say, he acquitted himself as an Ingenuous Man, a Christian, and a fair Opponent. And now to come to something more pleasant. Our dear Friend G. Fox dying •n the Eleventh Month, 1690. and leaving be •ind him an excellent Journal of his Travels •nd Sufferings, our Friend T. E. (as no body fit •er) about this time was at the Pains of Tran •cribing it, and fitting it for the Press. (A Labo •ious Work.) Which was Printed next Year in • large Folio: To which T. E. prefixed a nota •le Account concerning him; which is the only •ingle Testimony Printed with it; except his Wifes M. F's, and an Excellent Preface by W. Penn.

But now a new Scene opens: for George Keith, who had known better things than most Oppo •ers that ever rose up against Truth and Friends, •aving been a Quaker, and a Preacher among •hem, near Thirty Years, and had writ many Books in Vindication of Truth and Friends: but •ow falling out, and differing with some of his Brethren in Pennsylvania (whither he went some Years before) because he could not have his own way in every thing, came over with some of his Party, full fraught with Contention, against the Yearly-Meeting, 1694. Which difference coming •efore the Meeting, by some Letters from be •ond Sea, which were read in Course in the Meeting: whereupon G. K. desired to be heard; which, after the other Business of the Meeting was over, Friends condescended to for several Days, to hear him and his Party; and S. Jen •ings, &c. on the other Side; in hopes to have •econciled the Difference before it went any further: But as the Prophet (Hos. 7. 1.) said, Wh•… I would have healed Israel, then the Iniquity of •…¦phraim was discover'd, &c. which may be applie• to him: for the more Endeavours were used 〈◊〉 reconcile him to his Brethren, the more his D•¦ceit appear'd; and the more Tenderness an• shewed towards him, the more perverse he wa• in turning it to a wrong Use, and strengt•¦ening himself in his Opposition. There was 〈◊〉 holding what would away (as the Proverb is Resolved he was for a Breach: by opposin• Friends more and more, till he ran himself qui• out from among them. Which our Friend T. • observing the bent and tendency of; not only i• the Yearly-Meeting, but after: and how he e•¦deavoured to make Divisions among Friends, 〈◊〉 divide the Heritage of God. He took up 〈◊〉 Pen again, and writ an Excellent Epistle 〈◊〉 Friends: briefly Commemorating the gracious Dea•¦ings of the Lord with them; and warning them 〈◊〉 beware of that Spirit of Contention and Divisio• which hath appeared of late in George Keith, 〈◊〉 which he Addresses to Friends thus.

'Dear Friends, whom the Lord hath calle• with an Holy Calling; and who, throug• Faithfulness to the heavenly Call, are becom• the Chosen of the Lord. It is in my Hear• in the Openings of the Love of God, to se•… these few Lines amongst you, as a Salutatio• of true and hearty Love unto you; and in th• tendering Sense of the Lord's Unspeakab•… Goodness unto us: which at this time rest•… with an affecting Weight, upon my Spiri•… briefly to Commemorate the Gracious Dealings of the Lord with us, since we have been a People. Which he Commemorates as follows.

'Great and manifold have been the Mercies of our God, unto his People, in this his Day, and his Loving Kindnesses are beyond expressing: when we were young and little his fatherly Care was over us, he preserved us, and nourished us, and caused us to grow up before him. How did he carry his Lambs in his Bosom, when the Beasts of Prey roar'd on every side, seeking to devour! Who can rehearse the many Deliverances he hath wrought for his People, in their Passage from Spiritual Egypt! How hath he girded their Loins with Strength, and covered their Heads in the Day of Battle! How hath he subdued their Enemies before them, and put to flight the Armies of Aliens! How hath he fed them with Bread from Heaven, and made them to suck Honey out of the Rock! Yea, he hath caused the Rock to give forth Water abundantly, and hath been to his People as a Brook in the way [and the Shadow of a mighty Rock in a weary Land.] So that from a sencible Experience we can say, to his Praise, Our Bread hath been sure, and our Water hath not failed, as we have singly relied on him. Oh! his Goodness is unutterable, and his Faithfulness hath never failed them that have trusted in him: when have we ever been in Prison for his sake, and he hath not visited and comforted us there? What Sufferings have any undergone on his Account, and he hath not abundantly recompenced the Loss 〈◊〉 Nay, hath he not often stopped the Mouths o• Lions, and reproved Rulers for the sake of hi• People, saying, Touch not mine Anointed, an• do my Prophets no harm. In all our Exercises h• hath been with us, and he hath stood by us i• our sorest Trials; yea, he hath caused his An¦gel to encamp round about us, so that no Wea¦pon formed against us hath prospered; but e¦very Tongue that hath risen up against us, the Lord hath given us Power to condemn: blessed be his holy Name, and exalted and magnified be his Glorious Power for ever.

'These things and much more than I can write, I doubt not but ye, my dear Friends, are Witnesses of; ye especially, my elder Brethren, who were called early in the Morning of this Day, and have stood faithful in your Te¦stimony for God until now, who from your own both early and late Experiences can set your Seals to the Truth hereof; and unto you I do believe this brief Commemoration of the Goodness and Loving-Kindness of the Lord to his People, will be pleasing and delightful, as I hope it may prove useful and profitable unto us all, in the stirring up of the Pure Mind, and putting us in fresh Remembrance of the Lord's manifold Favours towards us, and gracious Dealings with us; which should be as a renewed Engagement upon us to cleave fast unto the Lord, and in Humility of Heart, to walk closely with him, both that we may, as far as in us lies, answer his great loving-Kindness to us-ward, and receive from him still daily Strength and Ability to stand, and withstand the Assaults and Temptations of the Enemy, and escape his Snares, wherewith he is, at this time, as busie and Industrious to betray, and draw aside from the Simplicity of the Truth, as ever he was.

'For Friends, ye know we have a restless Adversary to watch against, and to war with; one that sometimes walks about, as a Roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour; and sometimes creeps about, as a subtil Serpent, seeking whom he may betray; whom, in each Appearance, it is our Duty and Interest to resist, stedfast in the Faith which overcomes. I need not recount unto you, my Friends, the many Winds and Floods, Storms and Tempests, of open and cruel Persecutions, which this roaring Adversary hath often raised, and and caused to beat upon us, to have driven us (if possible) from off our Foundation; ye cannot have forgotten it, nor that noble Arm of the Lord, which was made bare for our Preservation, and by preserving us against the most furious Shocks, gave Evidence even to the World, that we are that People whose House is founded and built upon the immoveable Rock Christ Jesus. At this sort of Fighting the Enemy hath been foiled; which hath made him shift his Hand, and like a cunning Hunter spread his Nets, set his Snares, lay his Baits, to catch the simple and unwary Ones. Thus wrought this subtil Enemy in the early times of Christianity, sometimes stirring up the Rulers, both Jews and Gentiles, to fall, with violent and bloody Hands, upon the little Flock of Christ; and sometimes in the Intermissions of those Storms, covering his Hooks with the taking Baits of Pleasure, Profit and Preferment, catch some (perhaps of those that had withstood the strongest Storm of outward Persecution) and made them Instruments for himself to work by, to betray others. Such was Diotrephes of old, whose aspiring Mind, loving and seeking Praeeminence, laboured to make a Schism in the Church, prating against even the Elders thereof with malicious Words, &c. 3. John 9. 10. What Mischief the wicked One hath wrought in our Day, by such ambitious Spirits, I need not recount; nor is it pleasing to me to remember, ye know it, to your Grief, as well as I. But this in all such Cases is observable, that such as have made Disturbances in the Church, and have run into Divisions and Separations from Friends, have framed to themselves some specious Pretence or other, as the Inducement to their Undertaking, which they have Industriously spread abroad, and varnished over with the fairest Colours they could, to allure and draw others to join with them, &c.

This, with much more to the same purpose, which might be cited, I thought meet to mention, of the Mercies of the Lord to his People, and Preservation of them from the Beginning, well worth the Reading. Then recounting the Wiles and Workings of the Enemy, in drawing some aside from the Simplicity of the Truth, and stirring them up to make Divisions (on one Pretence or other) to disturb the Peace of the Church, and hinder the Work of the Lord in the Earth; as lately in the Separates: so now being disappointed in that, he hath formed a new Design in G. Keith; yet to shew the difference between the former and this (and consequently the Confusion of their Pretences) Theirs relating to Discipline, This to Doctrine; They alledged That Friends were gone too much from the Inward to the Outward, This That Friends were gone too much from the Outward to the Inward, &c. (for our Adversaries seldom agree in their Charges.) And so he goes on to examine and compare his Books (published beyond Sea, with those he writ here) as to the Ground of the Difference and Separation, which he lays at his Door, manifesting his deceitful Pretences, Falacies and Self-Contradictions. Answering his Cavils, and confuting his Calumnies, that none might be deceived by him. Concluding by way of Application and Warning to Friends, to beware of the Enemies Wiles: which I doubt not had a good Effect as to many, in preserving them out of the Enemies Snare, who were in danger of being stagger'd by him.

When our Friend T. Ellwood had written this Epistle he went up to London with it, and presented it to the Second-Days Morning-Meeting, where such Books and Writings of Friends, as are intended for the Press, use to be read and consider'd, and read it through in that Meeting, and not one Friend (though the Meeting was pretty full) shewed any Dis-unity therewith; but approved it, and left it to him to publish it. And yet G. Keith pretended that it was Printed in great Dis-unity, and against the mind of many Friends, as though it was only approved and promoted by a Party, &c. Which I mention, to shew that he stuck at nothing to make good his Part.

Against this Book of T. E's, G. K. made a heavy Complaint to Friends to have it called in, as very injurious to him (to his Cause to be sure) Poor Man! who had writ so many Books against Friends, after he had writ so many for them, and would not take Friends Advice himself; and how then could he expect they should answer him? So that his Complaint and Clamour not prevailing to stifle it, he takes another way, first putting out a Sheet against it, called a Loving Epistle, but envious enough: In which he charged T. E. with Fifty Pervertions, &c. which he said he had noted in his Book; but left his Proofs behind to come after (The first by Post, as the Proverb is, the second by Tom Long the Carrier) in another Book which he threatned to Publish, if T. E's was not called in and disowned: which not prevailing neither, some Weeks after he sent forth his threatned Book, miscalled A Seasonable Information, &c. but very unseasonable for himself, as to his Reconciliation with Friends; which he pretended he had rather lay down his natural Life (or have his Right Hand cut off) than be dis-united (or disjointed) from them. This Book he pretended to be an Answer to T. E's Epistle, and to contain his Proofs (such as they were) of the Charge he had published before. To both these our Friend T. Ellwood replied this Year (1694.) In a Book intituled A further Discovery of that Spirit of Contention and Division, which hath appeared of late in George Keith, &c. wherein his Cavils are Answered, his Falshood is laid open, and the Guilt and Blame of the Breach and Separation in America, &c. are fixed faster on him: written by way of Epistle (as the former was) and recommended as a farther Warning to Friends. Which begins thus:

'Dear Friends, who have received the Truth in the Love of it, and have kept your Habitation therein, unto whom the Truth is exceeding precious, and who desire the Prosperity thereof above all things; unto you is the Salutation of my endeared Love, in this blessed Truth, in which the Fellowship of the Faithful stands. In this it is I desire to know you, to be known by you, and to have Fellowship with you; earnestly breathing to the God of Truth, the Father of Spirits, that he would be pleased to pour forth more abundantly of his Good Spirit into all our Hearts, and fill us with the blessed Fruits thereof, that there may be no room for the Enemy to enter, to break this Holy Fellowship: But that all, who profess to believe in the Light, may so walk therein, that a clear Sight they may have thereby, and a true Discerning between things that differ, and may be able to make a right Judgment what is of God, and what is not; that so the design of that Spirit (by whatsoever Instrument it works) which would break or disturb the Churches Peace, and cast Reproach upon the Heritage of God, may be so discovered and laid open, that all may see and shun it. As this is the Exercise and Travel of my Spirit; so it is the Service I have been of late, and am at present engaged in. For Friends, 'tis not many Months since I saluted you with an Epistle, wherein my Spirit was drawn forth briefly to Commemorate the gracious Dealings of the Lord with his People; and, as in a general way, to remind you of the many Attempts the Enemy hath made, by Force and Fraud, to hinder the Work of God from going on: so more particularly to warn you to beware of that Spirit of Contention and Division, which hath appeared of late in George Keith, and some few others that join with him, who have made a Separation from Friends in some parts of America. In writing that Epistle I did not consult Flesh and Blood, neither had I an Eye to my own Ease and Quit, as outwardly (for I had no Reason to expect Rest from so restless a Man, nor fair Treatment from One, who in his late Writings and Personal Debates hath so notoriously let loose his Pen and Tongue, to an unbridled Liberty of Railing and Reviling) But I clear'd my Conscience, in discharging my Duty to God, and to his Church, and therein have that Peace, which all his Abuses cannot disturb.

And so he proceeds to clear himself of the Perversions, &c. which G. K. charged him with, and answers all his Cavils against his Book; manifesting his Deceit, Evasions and Sophistry so effectually, that I do not find that G. Keith ever replied to it, being answered home, and having his Belly full, I suppose of the Controversie with T. Ellwood; for though our Friend Thomas answered several other of G. Keith's Books afterwards (of which hereafter) he never replied to any of them: which shews he had enough of it.

At the end of this Book of G. Keith's, J. Raunce came forth again, with a new Slander against T. E. (all his old ones being bafled) as if his Father had not been buried decently; which however False. G. K's mean Mind, it seems, could not resist J. R's slight Offer, to take off an Hundred of his Books; but rather glad of any Help to run down his Opponent, if he could with Slander, which he found he could not do with Arguments: but had G. K. been a Man of any Worthiness (says T. E.) or his Cause defensible, he would not (though an Adversary) have suffer'd J. R. to have clapt on his Abusive Piece at the end of his Book, to throw Dirt at his Opponent. And had J. R. been a manly Adversary, he would have scorn'd to have crept in at the Tail of another's Book, to renew his Slander, no way relating to the Subject of the Book, when T. E's Fair Examination had lain a Twelve-Month at his Door unanswered. But to creep behind such a mickle Man as G. K. was taken to be, J. R. perhaps might count it no Disgrace, to repeat his Slander; which T. E. had answered in his Postscript to the fair Examination: and for a final Stroke to it, he produces Certificates from those who were concerned about his Father at the time of his Death and Interrment, that he was decently Buried as usual; which may be seen at the End of this Book, in Reply to G. K. And there's an End of all those Lying Stories raised concerning the Dead, to asperse the Living, to the Shame and Confusion of all the Inventors and Fomentors of them, the Man was dead, and in his Grave, and there should have rested without Envy or Detraction; and I am only sorry he seemed to retain his Aversion to his Son for the Truth's sake, which he received in his early Days. To the Honour of which I attribute it, that he was preserved, and carried through and over all Opposition, and lived in Reputation and Renown to his Dying Day.

His next Book is in 1695, intituled Truth defended, and the Friends thereof cleared from the false Charges, foul Reproaches, and envious Cavils cast upon it and them, by George Keith (an Apostate from them) in two Books by him lately published; one called A true Copy of a Paper delivered into the Yearly-Meeting, &c. The other, The Pretended Yearly-Meeting's nameless Bull of Excommunication, &c. In which last G. K. gives an Account of his Coming to the Yearly-Meeting (1695.) and of his Entertainment in it (when admitted) as if he had never been there before, viz. That he was allowed to sit at the Great Square Table among the Ministers and Commissioners (as he calls them) that could hold about it, either fully, or near double, to the Number of Twenty four: whether by Allusion to the Twenty four Seats and Elders, mentioned Rev. 4? but doubling the Number he doth not determin; adding, I think it suits not their Crying out so much as they were wont against chief Seats in the Synagogues, to erect such a stately Fabrick in their Meeting-House, at that time, little differing from the manner of a Throne, but that it is low upon the Floor, covered with Green Cloth. All which only serves to shew his own Pageantry, and which our Friend T. Ellwood corrects him for according to his deserts. For the Table will hold few more than Twenty four, or Twenty eight at most, and only necessary to lay Books and Papers on to Write.

In the Beginning of this Book, our Friend T. E. resumes the Controversie from the Beginning, shews the Rise of the Difference, and Proceedings thereupon, in relation to George Keith, particularly after his coming into England in the beginning of 1694; and how he came to be disowned by the Yearly Meeting in 1695, for his rejecting the Advice of the former, and opposite Carriage thereunto; which being so excellent to the matter in hand, and setting the Controversie in a clear light, I shall here insert it; which begins thus:

'It is an old Observation, That none prove more angry and implacable Enemies to any Society of People, than those that, for their Disorders and unruly Behaviour, have been disowned by the Society they once were of; a certain vindictive Enmity usually getting up in such, and stirring them up to load that Society, by which they were denied, with all the Reproach and Infamy they can, thereby both gratifying a revengeful Spirit in themselves, and thinking also, by recriminating others, to extenuate at least their own Crimes. That thus it was in the early Times of Christianity, may be gathered from the Writings of the Apostles, particularly 2 Tim. 4. 14. 2 Pet. 2. 1 John 2. 18, &c. 3 John 9, &c. Jude vers. 4. Among those in this Age, whom Satan hath drawn to this degree of Malice and Madness, George Keith a Scotchman, is the latest, but not the least; whether with respect to his Anger, or his Envy. He, having been bred a Scholar, before he came amongst the People called Quakers, and having acquired more of School-Learning than most (it may be, in his own Opinion, than any) of that People have, hath given, in himself, a demonstrative Proof of the Apostle's Proposition (1 Cor. 8. 1.) Knowledge puffeth up, where Edifying Chais not joined with it. For Humane Knowledge is apt of it self to lift up Mens Minds, that have, or think they have it, in any degree of Eminency; and makes them think better of themselves, than of others, or than themselves deserve: whereas true Charity useth Knowledge to instruct, and thereby builds up; not to puzzle and confound, and thereby destroy others: but that Charity this Man not having but being vainly puffed up in his Fleshly Mind, from a proud Conceit of his own Abilities; and being gotten into America (among a plain People, who better understood the plain and simple Truth, than the nice Distinctions and Subtilties of the Schools) and there advanced to the Office of a School-Master, with a standing Sallary (as I have been informed) of an Hundred and Twenty Pounds by the Year, he soon began, like Diotrephes of old (3 John 9. 10.) to affect Praeeminence in the Church; and nothing less would serve his turn, than to rule and over-rule all. And that he might not want Matter to work upon, and some Pretence to begin on, he not only found fault with Friends Ministry and Discipline there; but having, in private Discourses, put some captious and ensnaring Questions to some particular Persons there, whose Simplicity he thought he might most easily betray, he (by wresting their Answers to a wrong Sense) took Advantage to complain against them, for holding, as he said, gross and vile Errors; and with impetuous Heat prosecuted his Charge: and not being so fully nor speedily answered, as he expected, by those Friends to whom he complained, who seeing the Innocency of the Accused, and his evil Design in Accusing, could not Countenance him therein, he involved them also in the like Charge of Cloaking, or Covering gross and vile Errors, Damnable Heresies and Doctrines of Devils, &c. Nor gave he over, till by continua• Clamours and frequent Disturbances, he ha• filled Friends Meetings with Strife and Con¦tention; and at length having leavened a Par¦ty to himself, made an open Division and Se¦paration from Friends, setting up separate Meetings for himself and his Party, in Oppo¦sition to the Meetings of Friends before settled there. And having got the Printer to hi• Party (and thereby the only Press there at hi• Command) he maliciously put the Difference into Print, and thereby spread it not only in those Parts of America, but in these of Europ• also. These things drew Friends there, afte• much Patience and long Forbearance, to dea• with him in a Church-way, and to give forth at length a Testimony against him; which proving uneasie to him, he came over from thence to England, about the beginning of the the Year 1694, of which some Friends o• Pennsylvania having Notice, came over also; and at the Yearly Meeting of the People called Quakers, holden at London in the 4th Mon• that Year, the Matters relating to that Difference being fully heard and considered, the Sence of that Meeting was, That the Separation lay at G. K's door; and that he had done ill, in Printing and Publishing those Differences as he had done. And the Advice of the Meeting to him thereupon was, To call in those Books of his, or publish something innocently and effectually to clear the Body of the People called Quakers, and their Ministers, from those gross Errors charged on some few in America; and retract the bitter Language in them, so far as he was concerned: and sincerely to use his utmost Endeavours with his Friends concerned to remove the Separation, &c. Which Sence and Advice, being drawn up at large in Writing, was then in that Meeting delivered to him, and soon after Printed by one of his Party, with very envious Reflections upon it, as may be seen in a small Pamphlet, called A True Account, &c. to which I refer. But so far was G. K. from regarding the Sence, or following the Advice of that Yearly Meeting, that in several printed Books by him soon after published, he rejected it, denying it to be the Sence or Advice of the Yearly Meeting, or that to be the Yearly Meeting that gave it. Which Abuse this last Yearly Meeting (in the 3d Month past) taking notice of, and upon further dealing with him, finding him, instead of being humbled and sorry for the Evil he had done, more hardned therein, justifying himself both by Word and Writing, and rejecting the Meetings Advice. That Meeting (after it had heard him patiently, till he of his own accord withdrew) gave forth a Testimony against him: which he hath since Printed, with his Answer thereunto. As he hath also (in another Pamphlet) a Copy of his Paper which he read in the Meeting; together with a Narrative (of his own making) of the Proceedings of the Meeting with him, and a List of Errors charged by him on some particular Persons. To each of these I intend to speak, now that I have premised this short Introduction; which I thought needful for the Information of any such Reader as had not before heard the Ris• of the Difference, nor the Course of Proceed¦ings thereupon.

This I thought fit to insert, being so materia• as to the Ground of the Controversie with •… Keith: after which T. E. proceeds to Answe• all his Cavils in his said two Books or Papers• And shews that by his disorderly Practices h• had excluded himself from our Society, befor• Friends disowned him. So leaving him withou• Excuse, and the weight of his Iniquity upon hi• own Head; which he could never get from under, but waxed worse and worse, as evil Me• and Seducers use to do: so that Truth was se• over his Head, and Friends were clear of him•

But now another Occasion offer'd, and that was, one Gerard Croese a Dutchman, publishing A general History (so called) of the Quakers; containing the Lives, Tenets, Sufferings, Tryals, Speeches and Letters (as pretended) of the most eminent of them; First in Latin: which was Translated, and Printed in English in the Year 1696. Wherein, though he had represented some things pretty fairly; yet in others, through Inadvertancy or Ignorance (I hope not wilfully) he had misrepresented us, and our Principles and Practices: whereupon our Friend T. Ellwood, according to an Advertisement at the End of the said History in English, that some Remarks on it would be published, he writ some Remarks on it in Latin (perhaps before the English came out, which would no doubt have been turn'd into English) intending, doubtless, to publish 'em; but in the mean time before they were finished, a Book of the same Nature, and to the same purpose, in Latin, was published in Holland (by way of Remarks or Observations on the said History) which seemed again to circumvent him in his intended Remarks on it, so that he laid 'em by, and never finished them; and so the World was deprived of this Piece also.

But now G. Keith being gone out from the Fellowship of the Faithful, and hardened in his Enmity against Friends, he arrived to the Top or Height of Opposition, he had been playing small Stakes hitherto; but now came to throw all at once. In order to which he Erected a Stage of Contention at Turners-Hall in Philpot-Lane, London (where he had held Separate Meetings for some time before) to oppose Friends in general, under pretence of discovering divers Errors out of the Quakers Books (that were never in them) and published an Advertisement of a Meeting he intended to hold there, in the 4th Month, 1696, to discover the Quakers Errors (though he had been one so long himself, and vindicated them, as to all that any could Object against, and yet now came to accuse them himself;) but Friends slighted him, not thinking it worth their while to follow him, or Dance after his Pipe to Turners-Hall. Of which contentious Meeting he afterwards published a Narrative; which our Friend T. E. answered, this Year, in a Book intituled An Answer to George Keith's Narrative of his Proceedings at Turners-Hall, &c. wherein his Charges against divers of the People called Quakers (in that and another Book of his, called Gross Errors, &c.) are fairly considered, examined and refuted. And he made his Title good in a close Answer, and entire Confutation of all his Cavils against our Friends Books: which, because I have given the Preambles or Introductions of his former, to illustrate the matter, I shall also, in like manner, introduce this with his general Account of the Controversie (by way of Introduction to his Answer) being so pertinent to the Case in hand, for the Readers better Information and Satisfaction, which follows, beginning thus:

'It is not surely, without good Reason, that the Church of Christ, here on Earth, is called the Church Militant: For (besides the Inward and Spiritual Enemies, which her several Members have to encounter with, in their Pilgrimage through this troublesome World) such hath been, and is, her Lot and Portion, that she hath rarely been free from outward Enemies of one kind or other, her great Adversary, Satan, continually raising up some Evil Instruments or other to fall upon her; all aiming at her Ruin, though after divers ways and manners. Sometimes the Civil Powers, under which she hath lived, have been stirred up to proclaim, as it were, open War against her, and to inflict severe and heavy Penalties upon her, for her faithful Adherence to her Lord and Master, Christ Jesus. When through Faith and Patience, she hath overcome, and the Wrath and Fury of Men hath been asswaged, so that she hath had some respit from those outward Snfferings; Then hath her old Adversary (the common Enemy of Mankind) bestirr'd himself in another way, to raise up Persecution against her of another kind, by instigating some or other (either such as were always avowed Enemies to her, or such as for sometime appeared to be of her, but by the sweep of his Tail had been struck off from her) to speak or write against her, falsly to accuse her, and load her with the foulest Reproaches, and most infamous Slanders and Scandals, that by so misrepresenting her, they might hinder others from joining to, or favouring her, and stir up the Civil Magistrate again, to persecute her afresh. This hath been the Lot, this the Condition of the Little Flock of Christ in former Ages, as Ecclesiastical Histories declare. As for the present Age, and with respect to the People called Quakers (whom God, by an invisible Arm of Power, hath raised up, and held up, and made a peculiar People to himself) Experience gives sufficient Proof, the Matter being yet fresh in Memory. For (not to look back so far as that which was called the Commonwealth's Time, wherein many of the Leading Men, in most Professions, put forth their utmost Strength against us, both in Preaching and Printing, raising those false Reports concerning us, and charging many false Accusations upon us, with respect both to Doctrine and Practice, which others of our Adversaries, that followed after, have taken up upon trust from them) no sooner was that great Persecution a little abated (which soon after the Restoration of K. Charles the Second, through the Fault of some Dissenters, fell upon all, but most heavily upon us) and that a little Calm and Quiet ensued; but out came several Books against us, written by some of those Professors, who either in some measure did suffer, or (if they had been faithful to their own Principle) should have suffered in the same Storm with us. By that time the Dust, which those Books had raised, was laid by our Answers thereunto, a fresh Persecution from the Government arose, upon the Informing Act, the main weight of which, it is well known, fell upon us; they who before, and afterwards, assaulted us in Print, finding ways then to hide, and save themselves from Suffering. But when that Storm was a little over, out they came again, and in divers Books, written by Faldo, Hicks, and others, heaped up many wrong Charges, Defamations, Slanders and false Accusations against us; all which were refuted, and wiped off in our Books, Printed in Answer thereunto: Nor have those of other Professions been so forward to attack us since. But now that Liberty of Conscience, in the free Exercise of Religious Worship, is by Authority granted, and thereby outward Sufferings, in a great measure, abated; our old Enemy, envying us so great a Benefit (though but in common with others) hath contrived ways and means to raise a New War against us; by stirring up some, who have formerly walked with us, and for some time professed to be of us (but upon some peevish Discontent or other, have turned aside and left us) to turn now against us, and oppose us, and to pour forth Floods of Reproach, Slanders and false Accusations upon us. His chief Agent, at present, in this Work, is George Keith a Scotchman, whose ambitious Aims not being answered, nor his absurd and fantastical Notions received by and amongst the People called Quakers, he is now become, of a seeming Friend, a real Enemy. He having published many Books against us, and in defence of those Books wrangled with us for a while in Print, till he found himself too closely pinched, to be able to give an Answer fit to be seen in Print, hath at length bethought himself of a Wile to excuse himself from answering: which was, To set up a kind of Judicial Court, of his own Head, and by his own Authority, in a place at his own Command, on a Day of his own Appointing, there to charge and try divers of us who are called Quakers, whether present or absent, concerning Matters of Faith and Doctrine; and that the rude Multitude might not be wanting to his Assistance there, he gave publick notice of it some time before, by an Advertisement in Print, and therein a sort of Summons to some of us by Name, to others by Designation, to be present. This Arbitrary Proceeding, and Usurped Authority, as we judged it unreasonable in him to impose, so we did not think fit to submit to, or own, and therefore forbore to appear at the time and place by him appointed. Yet lest any whom he should draw thither, might mistake the Cause of our not appearing, the Reasons thereof, drawn up in short Heads, were sent thither to be Read, and given among the People: which they were. However, according to his before declared Intention, to proceed whether any of us were there or no, he, being Judge in his own Court, over-ruled our Reasons, and went on to Arraign, and Convict us absent. The Pageantry of which Days Work, as acted there by himself, he hath since Published, with his Name to it, under the Title of An Exact Narrative of the Proceedings at Turners Hall, &c. Together with the Disputes and Speeches there, between G. Keith, and other Quakers, differing from him in some Religious Principles. How Idle is this in him, to pretend in his Title to give an Account of Disputes and Speeches between him and other Quakers, when as his Narrative it self gives no Account of any Dispute there, nor any thing like it and of that little that was said by any of those few Quakers, that were present, most was to the People (tending to shew them the Unreasonableness of his Undertaking, and desiring them to reserve one Ear for the other side) very little of it to him.

Then he goes on to shew G. K's. Falshood• in calling it An Exact Narrative; and yet not Inserting the Reasons why our Friends did not Appear, which he Confesses were Read; and his Falacies in evading them, which therefore T. E. sets down, Obviates G. K's Quibbles on them: So proceeds to Answer his Narrative, Clearing the Quotations he brought out of our Friends Books, from his Perversions (being either unfairly or falsly Quoted, or perverted in their Sense, to what they never intended; according to his Carping and Caviling Way.) Vindicating the soundness of their Doctrine, shewing G. K's self-contradictions (in opposing what he had so often Vindicated as Orthodox; and yet pretending to hold the same Doctrines and Principles still) and laying open his Deceit, Falshood and Prevarications so plainly and effectually, that G. K never reply'd to it; and good reason why; because he could not to the Purpose, being Answered home, and defeated in all his Vile Pretences, Envious Cavils, and False Accusations.

But being Pinch'd and driven to a Nonplus, by Quotations out of his own Books, in favour of what he opposed (which he could not Answer;) wherein he had Asserted or Defended the same Doctrines and Principles, in as plain or higher Words, which he now blamed Friends for as Gross Errors, &c. Which yet he would not allow to be so in himself, but paliated them under the soft Term of Mistakes: Saying, Narrative p. 15. I know not any fundamental Principle, nor indeed any one Principle of Christian Faith, that I have varied from to this Day, ever since I came among the Quakers; which is about Thirty Three Years ago.— And in his Preface to his Nar. p. 6. he says, The things (he does not call them Errors, nor hardly ever uses the word Error with respect to himself, and his own Writings.—) that need Correction in my Books, compared with the vile Errors in theirs, are but as my Motes to their Beams:— Nor are they such things as oppose any Christian Principles of Faith: But of an inferior Nature. [and yet they were as full in the Points, as any he could Cite out of ours.] And in The true Copy of a Paper, Printed 1694. where, in p. 17. he faintly intimates a purpose, to Publish some short Explication, &c.— of some Words and Passages in his former Books. He adds, For upon a Review of my former Books,— I freely Acknowledge, I have found some Passages and Words, that not only need some farther Explanation; but even in some part, an Emendation and Correction. How gently doth he Touch himself? (says T. E.) How softly doth he handle his own Sores? Not a Syllable of Errors or Heresie there; No, the hardest word he can afford to give them, is, his former Mistakes: And lest the Reader should extend them too far, he explains it in the next Page, saying, Upon the most Impartial search I have made, I find not any Cause to Correct either my Judgment or Books, as touching any of the great Doctrines and Principles of the Christian Religion; nor do I know that I am of another Faith in any one Principle of Christian Doctrine, contrary to what I believed, ever since I went under the Profession of a Quaker, so Called. With much more to the same purpose.

Thus Partial was he as to himself, notwithstanding his loud Clamours and outcries of vile Errors against the Quakers, for the same things he had held himself, which yet were no Errors in him; such a Hypocrite was he to Dissemble with God and Man. So that when he found his Doctrines Compared with what he Accused Friends of, and saw they were the same, or parallel; 'twas to no purpose for him to go to Vindicate or Clear himself of what was so Notorious▪ And therefore procured another, or at least he undertook it for him, under disguise of the Snake in the Grass: And so to slide by the Quotatious out of his Books, that lay in his Way; which would have been a shame for G. K. to do (a Snake in the Grass indeed) pretending in his Preface, that it was not meant as a Defence of George Keith, any further than he defended the Truth of the Christian Faith; for which Reason (says he) I have wholly omitted all the Personal Reflections cast upon him, and the Contradictions which Thomas Ellwood pretends to find in his former Books (while he was a Quaker of their Communion) to the Doctrine he now sets up in opposition to them. And so gave the go by to whatever pincht him, which was the design, as T. E. observes, to help G. Keith off at a dead Lift, from his manifold and manifest self Contradictions, which it was impossible for him to Reconcile or Defend; and because it had been as absurd for him to have undertaken a Reply to T. E's Answer. and not have attempted to acquit himself of those Contradictions charged upon him therein, as it would have been impossible for him to have Clear'd himself of them. Therefore this Contrivance was found out, that another (or perhaps he in a Mask, under the disguise of another, for Satan, though disrob'd from his Disguise of Light, has many black Robes and dark Disguises to put on) should undertake the Task of Replying (for a Task it seems it was) upon such a Foot, and under such Circumstances, as might give him some colourable Pretence to wave the Contradictions, and wholly to omit them, and with them whatsoever else he found too hard to meddle with.

So that any one might plainly see this was a Contrivance (as our Friend T. E. observes) to help G. K. out at a dead Lift. To which Book of the Snake's, T. E. writ an Answer, though he did not quite finish it, or publish it: Of which, and that Controversie, he gives the following Account.

'This Controversie begun by George Keith (upon a Pick he took against the People called Quakers; because they could not Answer his Ambitious desire of Rule, nor receive some Wild and Fantastical Notions of his) has been carried on by him, in his own Name, 'till he could go no further. The Doctrines he Condemns us for, as Erroneous and Heritical, have been either so clearly cast off by us, as Slanders, or so Rivetted on himself by undeniable Instances and Proofs taken out of his own Books, that (having fore-closed his way to a Retractation of them, as shall be shewed anon) he had no way left, but (as his last shift) to shift the Cause into anothers Hand; to carry it on under the disguise of a-another Person; which brought to my Mind the Fable of Achelous, who being too weak for his Antagonist in fair Force, was fain to shift from one Shape to another; first to that of a Snake, then to that of a Bull; and is thereupon brought in by the Poet: Saying,

Inferior Virtute, meas divertor ad Artes

Elaborque Viro, Longum formatus in Anguem, &c.

Metam. Lib. 9. Fab. 1.

In Strength too Weak, I to my Wiles betake,

And slide from Man, into a Twining Snake.

Somewhat a like Crafty Course has G. Keith taken; who finding himself over prest the last Year with Books, which he knew not how to Answer; got (as was supposed) an Adjutant of his, to Publish a Book against us under Disguise, without a Name to it, and with the very Title of The Snake in the Grass: Thereby to have diverted us from pursuing the Controversie (then, and still in Hand) with him: But when he found that would not do (for the design was seen) he Roar'd against us like a Bull, at Turners-Hall, in the Month called June, 1696. and afterwards in his Narrative thereof: The Answer to that (which soon followed) has, it seems, involv'd him in such difficulties, that he hath not thought fit to appear against it in his own Shape; but either assuming another Person, or turning over his broken Forces (with the united Forces of the whole Party) to the Hissing Author of the Snake; they have amongst them, lately thrust forth another Book, as a Reply to that Answer of mine to G. Keith's Narrative: This (without a Name too, and said to be written by the Author of the Snake in the Grass) is called Satan Dis-rob'd from his disguise of Light. But the observant Reader will find Cause enough, I think, to Conclude, that whoever writ it, was fully Inrob'd in Satan's over-Guise and proper Dress of Darkness, from the many bitter and scornful Invectives therein used against the Light.

And for the Controversie it self, he Remarks.

'1. That the matters therein Charged upon us, are generally the same that have been charged on us heretofore, by Faldo, Hicks, and other Adversaries; and always Refuted over and over, both formerly and of late.

'2. That the things they Charge on us, as Errors and Heresie, are not pretended to be proved by any plain express Positions or Assertions of ours; but from our Adversaries own perverse meanings, and wrested Constructions of our Words; always Denyed and Rejected by us.

'3. That the Words and Passages brought by our Adversaries for Proof of their Charges against us, are not taken out of our Doctrinal Treatises, or Declarations of Faith and Principles; but (for the most part) out of Controversial Books; wherein, oft times, the scope and aim of the Author is, not so much to Assert or Express his own Principles or Doctrines, as to Impugn and Expose his Adversaries, by shewing the Contradictions, Absurdities, and ill Consequences of his Adversaries Opinions; from whence, Positively to conclude the Authors own Judgment, is neither safe nor fair.

'4. That however any of our former Adversaries, might have been misled in their Judgments concerning us, G. Keith, who hath now moved this Controversie against us, knows full well, that we do not hold those things either generally as a People, or as particular Persons, which he has charged on us as Errors. As a People he has clearly acquitted us from them, in his Preface to his Narrative, P. 6. where hesays, I charge them not, either upon the Generality, far less upon the Universality of all them called Quakers. For particular Persons, hear what he says of George Whitehead, one of the principal Butts he shoots at Nar. p. 16. where having charged him with Denying that Christ in Heaven has any bodily Existence without us, being conscious that G. Whitehead did not so hold, but that he had therein abused him, he immediatly adds, If he (G. W.) has said otherwise in any of his late printed Books, I am glad of it. And a Line lower, There is a G. Whitehead Orthodox, and a G. Whitehead not Orthodox. He is— in this and some other things Orthodox and not Orthodox: and a little further, I own it, that I have cited divers Passages out of his later Books, that are Orthodox, to prove him sound. What can be made of all this, but that G. Whitehead was Orthodox and Sound in his own both Intentions and Expressions; not Orthodox in G. Keith's perverse and false Constructions? And whereas he harps upon the Word later Books, thereby to insinuate as if G. W. had of late altered his Judgment: he has cut off that also in his Nar. p. 38. where he gives an Account, That in the Year 1678. (which is Eighteen Years ago) some (whom he would not Name) Questioning him about some Principles in a Book of his, both G. Whitehead and W. Penn took part with him against them, though those Principles (as he calls them) which he says he was then Questioned about, were of the same Nature with some of those he now charges upon them as Errors. From whence it appears, that he found them then, as well as now, Sound and Orthodox in those Principles.

'5. That as this Controversie lies properly and directly between G. Keith and us, and that he being bafled in it, and driven to a Ne plus ultra on his own Part, hath contrived to carry it on under Disguise, by the Assistance of another (yet without a Name) who under pretence of Indifferency, and being unconcerned with or for G. Keith, should drop the Quotations I had loaded him with, out of his own Books against himself, and thereby free him (if he could) from those pinching Dilemma's which lay against him, and draw Dun (as the Proverb speaks) out of the mire, he was plung'd into: so to obviate and disappoint the Design. That I may not suffer my self to be bubbled by such Artificial Shams, but that the Controversie may be kept (as much as may be) upon its first Bottom, I have thought fit in this Rejoinder, so to order the Matter, as not to let G. Keith slip away (which I perceive he would fain do) while I am contending with I know not whom in this Quarrel. Therefore as I pass through the several Heads of the Controversie, I purpose not only to Answer the most material Cavils of the present Adversary, but withal to repeat (some at least of) those Passages that lay so heavy upon G. Keith, and settle (not to use his own smithing Metaphors of Clinching and Rivetting) them faster on him; to the end that both the Reader may more plainly see the true Reason why G. Keith did not himself reply, in his own Name, to my Answer to his Narrative, and G. Keith may know that I expect it from him, and in the mean time look upon him but as a bafled shifting Adversary.

'He begins his Epistle with telling his Reader that his Reply is short in Comparison of the Answer. Therein he and I agree, but in Words rather than in Meaning; for he means in Number of Pages, I mean in Truth and fair Dealing, in which I am confident the indifferent Reader will find his Reply short indeed: And even as to Bulk, upon due Consideration, the Disproportion is not so great as he would represent it, for his Book is rather more than half as big as mine, though he replies not to the Tenth Part of the Matter contained in mine. He makes nothing of skipping over Ten or Fifteen Pages at a time, so nimble heel'd he is. [And yet this is the Man that caution'd the Quakers, that if they answer'd his Book (Snake, 3d Edit. p. 344.) that they would reply distinctly,— and not Answer a Book as Rats do, by nibling at some Corners of the Leaves, stealing through it like Moths, to no other Purpose than to deface some Words at a venture; who yet could reply thus slightly himself] 'Nay in his first Page he throws off no less than Twenty Five Pages at once, and barely mentioning, in less than Nine Lines, a few Words contained in some of them, without a Syllable of Reply thereto, sets in his Margin Reply to the first Twenty three Pages; and yet he hath the Confidence to miscal his Book, and that even in the same Page, A full Reply (he might better have called it a foul and false Reply) to T. Ellwood's Answer. And in his Epistle says, he has omitted nothing that is material. I suppose he means, that he has omitted nothing which he thought might tend to abuse and defame the Quakers, and me: for that he has omitted the most material Parts of my Book, and thrust in many Passages, idle, impertinent, false and wholly foreign to the Subject, only that he might misrepresent, ridicule and slander us, I shall have occasion hereafter, by plenty of Instances, to shew.

I might cite a great deal more, to explicate this Controversie, and shew their Dis-ingenuity in it; but by this we may judge what a Reply this of the Snake's was, and by this Taste (to use his own Words at the End of the Snake) the Reader may guess what a plentiful Meal we might have had, if T. E. had published his Rejoinder, but that, as I said, he did not; for what Reason I cannot justly assign: for though our Friend George Whitehead (in his Answer to the Snake in the Grass) writ also A brief Examination of some Passages in the said Book of the Snake's, stiled Satan Disrob'd, &c. as being concerned therein; yet he refer'd to a further Answer by T. E. p. 186. judging it 'No fair Reply to T. Ellwood's Answer; and so it appears (says he) and I expect will be made further appear, if T. Ellwood deems it worth the while to undertake it: Which he did, and writ Twenty seven Sheets in order thereto; and why he should be prevented from publishing it, by G. Whitehead's Brief Examination, I do not see, being much larger and fuller; but perceive he was so modest, that he was apt to be put by of his Work, if any other put in before him; as will further appear on another Occasion hereafter. And so I shall leave it, hoping however one time or other, to see this, and some other of his Posthumous Works published by themselves, as they well deserve.

And here our Friend drop'd his Pen, till another Occasion offer'd.

And that was next (or at least the next he laid hold on) after a Vacancy of two or three Years, on this Occasion.

Some Angry Priests in Norfolk, on our Friends having a Meeting near one of them, and Truth spreading to their regret, they challenged a Dispute with some of our Friends at West-Deerham in that County, the 8th of the Tenth Month, 1698. where some of our Friends appearing, and answering them, so disappointed the Priests in their envious Designs in the said Dispute, that they afterwards promoted two Petitions against our Friends to the Parliament (one from Norfolk, the other from Suffolk) to stir up Persecution against them, that what they could not do by Arguments, they might by Force. To which two Petitions our Friend T. Ellwood (having obtained Copies of them) writ A sober Reply on behalf of the People called Quakers, to two Petitions against them (the one out of Norfolk, and the other from Bury in Suffolk) being some brief Observations upon them, &c. Printed 1699, manifesting their mischievous Machinations against the Truth and Friends; which, with some other Discouragements, through the Labour and Industry of Friends at London, in attending the Parliament, and delivering Printed Papers; particularly, A few Considerations humbly offered to the Members of Parliament, to obviate some Evil Jealousies and Designs against the People called Quakers, so quashed their malicious Purposes, that their Petitions were never delivered to, or receiv'd by the Parliament; but fell, and came to nothing, and their Evil Designs were frustrated, Friends were preserved, and Truth prospered over their Heads.

About this time also, our Friend William Penn being gone to Pennsylvania (in the 7th Month this Year) and G. Keith continuing his Opposition against Truth and Friends; sometimes more general at Turners-Hall, where, as the Course of his Dilirious Distemper returned (as Joseph Wyeth observes, in his Answer to his Advertisement this Year) he held his Contentious Meetings, once a Year, to pick Passages out of our Friends Books to Cavil at (though he could not Answer nor Clear himself of T. Ellwood's, or others that were writ against him) And sometimes more particularly against single Persons, especially William Penn, against whom he chose to vent his Malice above most others; especially now in his Absence, making him the Butt of his Indignation; and published two Books against him, one called The Deism of William Penn and his Brethren, &c. This our Friend T. Ellwood undertook to Answer, and made a considerable Progress in it, in a large Book, of between Thirty and Forty Sheets: which I shall cite some of, Beginning thus.

'We read of one in former Times, who, because he had given up himself to do Evil, was said to have sold himself to work Wickedness in the Sight of the Lord, 1 Kings 21: 20, and 25. Whether George Keith hath directly sold himself, or only let himself out to hire, I will not undertake to determine; but evident it is, that since he crept into the Interest of that which is called the Church of England, and become a mercenary Hackney to some of the Clergy, he hath laid out himself, with his utmost Vigour, to work Wickedness, not only in the Sight of the Lord, but in the Sight of the Sun; asserting, defending, maintaining and upholding divers both Doctrines and Practices in Religion, which upon a declared full Conviction, and from a professed Assurance of Divine Openings, and Immediate Guidance of the Holy Spirit, he had before not only Renounced, but declared and written against, as False, Superstitious (if not Idolatrous) and Antichristian; And to fill up his Measure of Iniquity, and heap it up, that it might run over, he hath not only (to gratifie his Supporters) shot his unadvised Bolts at the several other Bodies of Protestam Dissenters, but, in an especial manner (and in a most virulent, and to him peculiar Stile) hath evomitted Floods, not of Reproach only and bitter Revilings; but of the most malicious Slanders and Falshoods, that ever, perhaps, were poured from the Pulpit, or squeezed through the Press against the People called Quakers, whom once he owned for his Brethren, and with whom he professed to hold Communion for more than Thirty Years. Herein he hath exceeded good Joseph of Old in his Liberality, but in another kind: that good Man bestowed a Fivefold-Mess of his good Things on his Brother Benjamin, as a Token of his peculiar and abundant Love to him. This bad Man has bestowed double and treble that proportion of his evil Things on us: The Effect of his peculiar and superabundant Hatred to us, to say nothing here of his railing Rhetorick and bitter Invectives against us, wherewith he hath prophaned the Pulpit (which lie under the just Censure of the more discreet and well-minded of his Auditors) An Instance of his Malice and Injustice from the Press, is a late Book of his (now lying before me) called The Deism of William Penn and his Brethren, destructive to the Christian Religion, exposed, &c. The Word [Deism] being somewhat an uncommon Term, may not, perhaps, be readily understood by every Reader. As it has been opposed to Atheism, it has been taken in a good Sense; but as it is now used it is taken in an ill sence, as importing an Acknowledgment, or owning of God only, or of the Godhead; but not of Christ, with respect to his Incarnation, or being manifest in the Flesh, for the Redemption of Man: So that to Charge any one now with Deism, is to Charge him with denying that Christ is Come, and hath Suffered in the Flesh. Now herein G. Keith's both Injustice and Malice, is the greater, in Charging W. Penn, and his Brethren the Quakers, with Deism; in as much as he assuredly knows (which some other Adversaries have not had the like opportunity to know, as he hath had) by certain Experience, drawn by so many Years intimate Conversation with W. P. and the Quakers, in free and familiar Conferences, and in Reading their Books, that W. P. and the Quakers, both in Word and Writing, Publickly and Privately, have always, and on all Occasions, Confest, Acknowledged, Owned as well as Believed, the Incarnation of Christ, according to the Holy Scriptures, viz. That the Word was made Flesh (John 1. 14.) That when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth his Son made of a Woman, made under the Law, to Redeem them that were under the Law (Gal. 4. 4, 5.) That Christ Jesus being in the form of God, and thinking it no Robbery to be equal with God; made himself of no Reputation, and took upon him the form of a Servant, and was made in the likeness of Men; and being found in fashion as a Man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto Death, even the Death of the Cross (Phil. 2. 5, 6, 7, 8.) Christ Dyed for our Sins, according to the Scriptures, and that he was Buried, and that he Rose again the Third Day, according to the Scriptures (1 Cor. 15. 3, 4.) That he was delivered for our Offences, and was raised again for our Justification (Rom. 4. 25.) That he is the Propitiation for our Sins; and not for ours only, but for the Sins of the whole World. (1 John 2. 2.) That he ascended up far above all Heavens, that he might fill all things (Ephes. 4. 10.) That he is the one Mediator between God and Men, (1 Tim. 2. 5.) That he is at the Right Hand of God, and maketh intercession for us, (Rom. 8. 34.) And is our Advocate with the Father, (1 John 2. 1.) And that it is he which was ordained of God, to be the Judge of Quick and Dead. (Acts 10. 42.) These things, I say, G. Keith certainly knows, have been constantly Held, Believed, Professed and Owned by W. Penn and his Brethren, the Quakers, in General, both Privately and Publickly, in Word and Writing. These things are so often Testified of in our Meetings, and have been so fully and plainly asserted and held forth in our Books, that we might call in almost as many Witnesses thereof, as have frequented our Meetings, or Attentively Read our Books.

'The Book of W. P's. Called A Discourse of the general Rule of Faith and Life. (To which G. K's Deism is an Answer) G. K. tells us in his Preface, was first Printed in the Year, 1673. As an Appendix to W. P's. part of the Christian Quaker. (A Folio Book, in Two Parts; the former written by W. Penn, the latter by G. Whitehead) In that former part of the Christian Quaker, written by W. Penn (though the tendency of it is to Assert and Defend the Divinity of Christ, and his Spiritual Appearance, by his Divine Light in the Hearts of Men; yet) there it enough said concerning his Manhood, his Outward Appearance, and Sufferings in the Flesh; to free W. Penn from the Imputation or Suspicion of Deism.— In p. 101. W. P. says, Notwithstanding the same Light and Life, with that which afterwards cloathed it self with that Outward Body, did in measure, Inwardly appear for the Salvation of the Souls of Men: Yet, as I have often said, never did that Life so eminently put forth it self, to that end, as in that Sanctified and prepared Body; so that what he then Suffered and did, in that Transcendent Manifestation, may, by way of Eminency, assume the whole work unto it self, that he ever did before, or might do afterwards. P. 102. His Righteous Life, with respect to its appearance in that Body, was grieved by Sin, and the weight of the Iniquity of the whole World, with the concernment of its Eternal Well-being, lay hard upon him; nor was his Manhood insencible of it, under the load of this, did he Travel: He alone trod the Wine-press, &c.— Not that we would irreverently Rob the Holy Body of whatsoever acknowledgement is justly due; nor yet separate what God joined, P. 104.— Chap. 21. A Confession in particular, to Christ's Redemption, Remission, Justification and Salvation.— Which was actually to the Salvation of some, and intentionally of the whole World.— As there was a necessity that one should Die for the People; so whoever then, or since, Believed in him, had, and have a Seal, or Confirmation of the Remission of their Sins, in his Blood.— This grand assurance of Remission do all receive, in the Ratifying Blood of Christ, who Repenting of their Sins, Believe and Obey the Holy Light, with which he hath Illuminated them.— P. 107. But there is yet a further Benefit that accrueth by the Blood of Christ, viz. That Christ is a Propitiation and Redemption, to such as have Faith in it: For though I still place the stress of particular Benefit upon the Light, Life and Spirit Revealed and Witnessed in every Particular: Yet in that general Appearance, there was a general Benefit, justly to be attributed to the Blood of that very Body of Christ; to wit, that it did Propitiate: For however it might draw stupendious Judgments upon the Heads of those who were Authors of that dismal Tragedy, and died Impenitent; yet doubtless, it thus far turned to very great Account, in that it was a most precious Offering in the sight of the Lord, and drew God's Love the more eminently to Mankind; at least, such as should Believe in his Name. P. 108. Doubtless it did greatly Influence, to some singular Tenderness and peculiar Regard unto all such, as should Believe in his Name, among other his weighty Performances: For the sake of that last, and greatest of all his External Acts, the resisting unto Blood, for the Spiritual good of the World, thereby offering up his Life upon the Cross, through the Power of the Eternal Spirit that Remission of Sin, God's Bounty to the World, might be Preached in his Name, and in his very Blood too, as that which was the most Ratifying of all his Bodily Sufferings. And indeed, therefore might it seem meet to the Holy Ghost, that Redemption, Propitiation and Remission should be Declared, and held forth in the Blood of Christ, unto all that have a right Faith therein; as saith the Apostle to the Romans;— because it implies a firm Belief, that Christ was come in the Flesh, and that none could then have him as their Propitiation and Redemption, who withstood the acknowledgment of, and belief in his Visible Appearance.— P. 110. Faith in his Blood was requisite, that they might Confess him, whose Body and Blood it was, to be Christ. To Conclude, we confess, He who then appeared, was and is the Propitiation, &c. and in him was Redemption obtained by all those, who had such true Faith in his Blood.

'Thus much (and much more which I have omitted) against Deism, in that very Treatise of W. P's. to which, the Book out of which G. K. by his Art of Counterfeit Chymistry, would Extract Deism, was an Appendix; and yet this was not the direct Subject of that Treatise, but only toucht on occasionally, or by the by: Should I gather up all Quotations on this Argument out of our other Books; such especially as have more directly handled this Subject, I might therewith fill a large Volume: To prevent which, I refer the Reader to my Answer to G. Keith's First Narrative of his Proceedings at Turners-Hall. from P. 33. to 63. where he may find this Cavil fully Confuted. Which Answer to his first Narrative, may serve for an Answer to his other following Narratives also; they for the most part, being but the Scraps of his First, heated again, and served up afresh with some new Garnish.

'It is observable that that Book, called A Discourse of the general Rule of Faith and Life, was first Printed (as G. K. in his Preface to his Deism takes Notice) in the Year 1673. which is 27 Years ago, and about 20 Years before he quite left us; it appears he had Read it in the first Impression; for making as if when he saw the last Impression, he did not know but that it was a New Book,— So little had I Read or Considered the Contents of it. Both Read it then, it seems he had, and Considered the Contents of it, and though here he would suggest he had but slightly Read it, yet he would not be taken for an heedless Reader, or a superficial Considerer of what he Reads. Now since he held the same Doctrine, with respect to the General Rule of Faith and Life, which is laid down by W. Penn in that Discourse, during the time he was amongst us, and Professed himself one of us, as well after the Publishing of that Book, in the Year, 1673. as before; and did not only openly Defend and Maintain that Doctrine in publick Disputations both in England, and in Scotland, after the Year, 1673. But, no longer ago than in the Year, 1692. Nineteen Years after that Book of W. Penn's (Called A Discourse of the General Rule of Faith and Life) was in Print, G. K. in his Serious Appeal, p. 7. says, According to the best Knowledge I have of the People called Quakers, and those most generally owned by them, as Preachers and Publishers of their Faith, of unquestioned esteem among them, and worthy of double Honour (as many such there are) I know none that are Guilty of any one such Heresies and Blasphemies as thou Accusest them.: And I think I should know, and do know these called Quakers, better than C. Mather (against whom he then writ) or any of his Brethren; having been Conversant with them, in Publick Meetings as well as in Private Discourse, with the most Noted and Esteemed among them, for above 28 Years past; and that in many places of the World, in Europe; and for these divers Years, in America. I say, all this Considered, how will G. Keith (upon the Charges he now makes against W. P.) acquit himself from having been a Profest Deist, all the while he was among the Quakers? Yet he himself well knows, that neither he, nor W. Penn, nor any of the Quakers ever were Deists; ever did Deny, Disown, or Disbelieve the Coming, Incarnation, Sufferings and Death of Christ, as Man outwardly in the Flesh, his Resurrection, Ascention and Mediatorship; and he himself has undesignedly acquitted W. Penn from his present Charge of Deism, by a story he told in his first Narrative, P. 38. That upon some urging him to give an Instance of one English Quaker that he ever heard Pray to Christ: W. Penn being present, said, I am an English Man, and a Quaker, and I own I have oft Prayed to Christ Jesus; even him that was Crucified. This, he says, was in the Year 1678. Which was Five Years after the Publishing of that Book, from which he attempts to prove him a Deist; that is, a Denyer of the Man Christ Jesus, who was Crucified. Judge now, Reader, how Rank the Malice of G. Keith must needs be against W. Penn, and his Brethren the Quakers, who would choose to subject himself with them, to the foul imputation of Deism (though in his own Conscience, he knows the Charge is false on them, as well as on himself) rather then not gratifie his Envy and Revenge upon them: In this resembling the Envious Man in the Apologue, who desired that he might loose one of his Eyes, on Condition his Neighbour might loose both his.

Whence th' Observation rose, a wicked Will

Would wound it self, to work another's Ill.

But before he had finished this Answer (tho' he had gone about two thirds through it) Benjamin Coole of Bristol, Published a Book there, Intituled, Honesty the truest Policy, shewing the Sophistry, Envy and Perversion of George Keith, in his Three Books, (viz.) His Bristol Quakerism▪Bristol Narrative, And his Deism. On Perusal of which, viz. His Answer to G. Keith's Deism, &c. T. E. writ the following Verses.

INDEED, Is then the Work by me begun,

And which I labour'd at with such good Will,

Already, by a readier Work-man, done:

Who Nimbleness hath added to his Skill!

Well may it thrive, Successful may it prove,

Truth's way to Clear, and Stumbling-Blocks Remove!

I never was Ambitious to appear

In Print, nor to my self Applause have sought;

With satisfaction therefore, I can bear

What thon design'st, another hand hath wrought:

This superceeds my Work. I'm glad to see

Such help come in, that there's no need of me.

This is the third Time, I have thus been put

Besides my Work, which makes me think (my Friend)

The Controversial Door to me is shut;

And of my scribling Service there's an End.

If so, Content, I can with pleasure see

The Work well done; although not done by me.

T. E.
17th. 11th. Month, 1700.

The three Times he was put besides his Work, of which (he says) this was the Third: The other Two (I suppose) were, his Remarks on Gerrard Croese's History of the Quakers. And his Answer to The Snake in the Grass, his Book called Satan Disrob'd. Both before mentioned.

However, this of B. C's. Anticipating his Answer to the Deism, he laid it by and never finished it; thinking perhaps, the other (tho' far short of his) might suffice at present for an Answer thereto; and so we were deprived of his Labour in this respect also: Which yet I hope, one time or other, may be Published for the Service of Truth; which its pity the World should be deprived of.

His next Service, upon a general Foot, which I find any Footsteps of, was on this Occasion. One John Shockling a Priest, of Ash, near Sandwich, in Kent, having got some of the Snake's Books, set up for an Opposer, or Disputant, about Water-Baptism, and sends a Paper to John Love, Called, A Question upon those Words in Mathew 28. 19. Go ye therefore and Teach all Nations, Baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Whether the Apostles were not commanded by them to baptize with Water? This Paper and Question our Friend T. E. answered in the 4th Month, 1701, very much to the purpose. To which the Priest being unwilling to take an Answer, and let it drop so, replying (I might say, to little purpose) T. E. writ a Rejoinder, in the 4th Month, 1702. Both which, Answer and Rejoinder, being very pertinent to the Purpose, and notable on that Subject, I should insert some part of it, but that it was only private, and never published (that I know of:) And therefore I would not begin to be the first Publisher thereof.

But now we come to his great Work, of the History of the Old Testament: which, at his Leisure, he had in Hand for some Years; and both he and we had this Advantage of his being put by his Work in answering Adversaries; particularly that of the Snake, and G. K's Deism (having now seem'd to have done with Controversie) that he had the more Time and Leisure to prosecute this more excellent Work; which having finished in 1704, he brought it up to London, to shew it to Friends, for their Perusal and Approbation. Which being done, it was published in Folio, the next Year, 1705, under the Title of Sacred History; or the Historical Part of the Holy Scriptures of the Old Testament. Gathered out from the other Parts thereof, and digested (as near as well could be) into due Method, with respect to Order of Time and Place: with some Observations here and there, tending to illustrate some Passages therein. In his Preface to which, having mentioned the Praise of History out of Cicero, viz. That it is The Witness of Times, the Light of Truth, the Life of Memory, &c. which he thinks cannot be so well verefied of any particular History, as of that which, being written by divinely-inspired Penmen, is contained in the Books of the Old and New Testament. Then speaking of the Motive or Inducement to the Undertaking, Two things (he says) more especially led him to it: One, That the Divine Providence, the Wisdom, Power, Goodness and Favour of God, in ordering, disposing, providing for, preserving, defending, and wonderfully delivering his Servants and People out of the greatest Straits, Difficulties, Hardships, Dangers and Sufferings, being more directly, and in a continued Series and Course of Actions set before the Readers Eye, he might be thereby the more stirred up, and engaged to admire and magnifie, to love, reverence and fear the Lord, and be the more careful not to offend Him. The other Motive was, That all, the Youth especially, of either Sex, under what soever Religious Denomination they go, might be furnished with such an Entertainment, to spend (at least) their Leisure Hours upon, as might yield them at once both Profit and Delight. After which he proceeds to speak of the Manner of Performance under Eight Heads: The Substance of which are,

1. That in digesting the following History, he hath not strictly tied himself to the Letter and very Syllables of the Text; but with all due Circumspection and Care to retain the Matter and Sense, hath sometimes varied the Expressions, &c. 2. Where he hath left the last English Translation of the BIBLE, he hath followed for the most part some other English or Latin; or the Judgment of some eminently Learned Expositors. 3. As to the Chronology (especially with respect to the Times of the Judges and Kings of Israel and Judah) he found so much Incertainty, and so little Certainty or Agreement amongst Interpreters about it, that he had a Mind to have left it out; but at the Desire of some he added it in the Margin; wherein for the most part he followed R. Blome's History of the Old and New Testament. 4. The few Helps (he says) he had, were chiefly from Dr. Gell's Essay towards an Amendment of the last English Translation of the Bible. Hugh Broughton's Consent of Scripture, Godwin's Moses and Aaron. The Annotations of Tremelius and Junius. And for Names of Persons and Places the Tables of Robert F. Herry. 5. The whole Work is divided into Three Parts, without any particular Regard had to the Seven Periods of Time, into which Chronologers and Historiographers, out of a Desire to reduce them to some sort of Proportion with the Six Days Work and Seventh Days Rest, in the first Week of the Creation, have generally divided the Ages of the World, from Adam until now. 6. Of these three Parts, the first reaches from the Creation to the Death of Moses, when the Children of Israel, being come to the Borders of the Promised Land (the second Time) were ready to enter in; and contains the Remarkables in the Five Books of Moses, taking in Job between Genesis and Exodus. 7. The second Part beginning with the Book of Joshua, goes through that, and the Book of Judges, with the first Book of Samuel, and carries on the History from the Death of Moses to the Death of Saul, and the Account that was brought to David of it. In which are recounted the Transactions of chief Note under all the Judges and Saul, the first Anointed King of Israel. 8. The third Part (by much the largest) goes on with the second Book of Samuel, thro' the rest of the Canonical Scripture, sets forth the Reigns of the Kings of Israel and Judah throughout the Jewish Monarchy, with the most remarkable Acts and Occurrences therein, from David to the Return of the last Babylonish Captivity, and Re-building of the Temple, taking in the Prophets, as near as may be, in their several Times.

Then he gives Account who hath writ on this Subject; particularly a Treatise called The General View of the Holy Scriptures, supposed to be the Learned Broughton's; which T. E. commends as a useful Discourse in its kind. And of late Years Chr. Ness his History and Mystery of the Old and New Testament, (in four Volumes) A Book (says he) well fraught with Variety of useful Matter; but (wittily observes) the Mystery is not only interwoven with the History, but hath also so much overgrowu it, that the Reader who desires to peruse the History by it self, will be at some Loss in that respect. And that which promises most to answer his End, he says, is, R. Blome's History of the Old and New Testament. A Work indeed (says he) not only instructive and delightful, but pompous and magnificent. A Character that may justly be apply'd to his own (except the Word pompous.) A Work indeed it is both pleasant and profitable; such judicious Observations, and witty (though grave) Turns on Passages and Things, as make it (as well as his other Writings) not only pleasant to read, but profitable to the Reader. A Work that will remain a Monument of his Worth and Ingenuity to Generations to come.

I would only add, That there is a Book of Sulpitius Severus, intituled Sacred History: but as that is in Latin, and far short of this of T. E's; so this cannot interfere with that, or be justly thought to be in Imitation of it.

About this time we entred into a more particular Correspondence by Letters on several Occasions; which we continued, at times, almost 'till his Death. So that I usually imparted to him the most remarkable Occurrences that passed here; and often advised with him in the most important Affairs, as I had Occasion: and he, in Requital, was always ready to Answer me, in a very obliging manner, in any thing I desired. And I must acknowledge, he was very helpful to me, by his Advice, in some Controversies I had with some late Adversaries; which I shall not now name, some of them being gone 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 to their Graves; and his friendly Correspondence was always very acceptable, and instructive as well as grateful to me, in his agreeable Letters: of which I have many by me. Some of which he hath inserted in his Decades.

The next Year, viz. 1706, there followed an Intercourse of some Letters between him and William Sewell of Holland, upon some particular Points; which led into a Friendly Correspondence between them, in some other Matters not unpleasant to read. Several of which Letters of T. E's are in his Decades; with many others to divers Persons, Friends and others, on various Subjects: Which, if ever it should be thought meet to publish them, or any of them, they would, I doubt not, be very instructive, as well as diverting.

His next publick Work was on this Occasion. About this time a Book was published by a Nameless Author, called A Divine Treatise, written by way of Essay, (pretending) to demonstrate, according to the Mosaical Philosophy, Water-Baptism, Imposition of Hands, and the Commemoration of the Death and Passion of our ever blessed Lord and Saviour under the Species of Bread and Wine, &c. This Treatise coming accidentally or providentially to our Friend Thomas Ellwood's Hands (as he says in his Preface) he observed that the Design of the Author therein was, To re-introduce and set up again those Typical Representations therein treated of, among those who have been led by the Lord out of the use thereof, into a more spiritual Dispensation. And finding his Understanding in some measure Opened, to see the Danger and Mischief of that Undertaking, and his Spirit withal stirred in him against it, he felt a Concern upon his Mind to publish his Observations which he had made thereon, that others might the more clearly see and readily escape the Snare therein laid to entangle them, and draw them into Bondage to outward Ceremonies, and elementary Shadows again. This he did in a Book Printed 1707, intituled, The glorious Brightness of the Gospel-Day, dispelling the Shadows of the Legal Dispensation, and whatsoever else of Humane Invention hath been super-added thereunto. And hoped to make it evident, that they are not of the Nature of the Gospel Dispensation; nor have by any Divine Institution a continued Place or Service in the Church of Christ, without taking Notice who or what he was that writ it, 'Since the Author of the Treatise, (says T. E.) under my Observation, hath thought fit to conceal his Name, I shall not pry behind the Curtain which himself hath thereby drawn before him, or concern my self to enquire either who or what, he is, or has been: but without any regard to that, shall directly apply my self to give a plain Answer to the most material Parts of his Treatise: which he did to the purpose, in a close and nervous Answer; it being indeed an excellent Treatise, well worth the Perusal of every impartial Reader: To whom therefore I recommend it.

And now I must say something of him under another Consideration as well as Writing. He had writ several Books against Tythes (as before hinted) to shew the Unsuitableness of them to the Gospel Dispensation (being Jewish in their Original, and Popish in their Revival) and that the Obligation of paying them was ceased under the Gospel, as to any Divine Right from Scripture. And now it fell to his Lot to suffer also in his turn for his Testimony against the Payment of them (For to him it was given, in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe in him (and bear witness to his Coming in the Flesh, and offering up himself, to put an End to the Law and Priesthood, Tythes and Offerings) but also to suffer for his sake) being prosecuted (with three Friends more, viz. John Penington, Abraham Butterfield and William Catch) in the Exchequer for Tythes, at the Suit of Joshua Leaper, Tythe-Farmer of Amersham in the County of Bucks under Humphry Drake, Clerk, Rector and Parson (so called) of the Rectory and Parish-Church of Agmondesham, alias, Amersham, aforesaid. Thomas Ellwood (with the rest) were Subpoena'd to appear at Westminster in Trinity-Term, 1707. which they did by an Attourney to prevent being in Contempt of the Court, and took a Copy of the Complainants Bill. But for not Answering, Attachments were issued out in Michaelmas Term, to take them up: on which they were taken into Custody in the Eleventh Month, and afterwards an Habeas Corpus sent down to the Sheriff of Bucks, to bring them up to the Exchequer-Bar Bar in Trinity Term, 1708, on which they came up. And to to prevent the Plantiffs going on to a Sequestration by default, they put in their Answers; setting forth the Value of the Tythes, according to the best of their Knowledge. Yet so vexatious was the Adversary, that he would not be satisfied with their Answer, but got a Commission of Enquiry to Examine Witnesses in the Country, as to the Value of the Tythes; which they did at Amersham, in the Tenth Month. The first Witness they examined, was one E—. G—. of the Parish of Chesham, Aged (as they say) Fourty four Years, or thereabouts, who deposed, That he knew the Complainant and Defendants; and had known the Complainant about Sixty Years (which was about Sixteen Years before he was born.) Whereby we may Judge of the rest of his Evidence: The Charge of which Commission, and executing it, came to between Thirty and Fourty Pounds, though some of it was abated on taxing the Cost; and yet they proved little, if any thing more than the Defendants had set down in their Answers; yet went on to a hearing on it, and obtain'd a Decree for the Tythes and Cost. For not performing which, Attachments were issued out a-fresh against them, in Trinity-Term 1709, to the Sheriff of Hartfordshire (T.E. A.B. and W.C. living in that County) but J.P. living in Bucks, was drop't, because the Attachments to the Sheriff of Hartfordshire would not reach him) and then a Proclamation; but the Sheriff living remote, did not endeavour to take them; and the Prosecutor seemed rather to aim at a Sequestration on their Goods and Estates, than their Bodies: so that seeing them resolved to go on, the Defendants, to prevent it, offer'd to surrender themselves to the Sheriff; but he return'd them each, Non est Inventus, and they got a Commission of Rebellion antedated, and moved for a Serjeant at Arms, the same Day, to run them to a Sequestration in all haste, (Leaper being Sick and bad, like to die) least he should not live till it was accomplish'd: but being so illegal, at least in point of time, for that there ought to be Eight Days, between the Test and Return of the Writ, in 30 Miles off London, and 14 beyond, on our appearing against it, they could not obtain it till Hillary Term. In which time Leaper recovered; and one might have hoped that he might have repented: but instead thereof then got a Sequestration against them and their Estates, both Real and Personal, for Tythes of Thomas Ellwood;

which was but

00

12

0

And Abraham Butterfield's

15

15

6

And William Catch's

16

07

4

And Cost as tax'd by the Deputy

71

17

8

In all for Tythes and Cost

104

12

6

For which they seized and took from T. E. in Houshold-Goods, Bedding, Pewter, &c. (throwing out the Meat to take the Dishes) to the Value of 19l. And a Horse he used to ride on, which he would not have took Five Gueneas for.

In all about

24

10

0

Which they sold (working and hobling about the Horse, till they had almost spoil'd him) all for about

14

15

0

And from Abraham Butterfield, Cattle, Corn, Hay, &c. to the value of which they Sold by their own Account for so much.

86

17

0

And from William Catch they took, by their Account, Grass, &c.

8

14

8

And a Years Rent of his House, (deducting for Taxes, 11 shillings.)

2

09

0

Being about 3 l. per Annnm, which they seized, and kept till paid; which for Four Years, since the time called Michaelmas 1709, when they gave in their Account, came to

9

16

0

In all from W. C. about

20

19

8

Seized & taken in the whole about

132

06

8

For Tythes and Cost

104

12

6

More than demanded

027

14

2

And yet, what by Charge of Sequestration making out, and selling the Corn; Selling underhand, &c. they brought in the Defendants in Debt, and wanted more.

I have been the larger in this Account, to shew the Proceeding of the Exchequer, and the Fruit of Tythes, to ruin the QUEEN's Subjects for small Matters, when they might recover by Justices-Warrants to the value of 10l. with the hundredth part of the Charge.

Now we come to the second Volume of his Great Work, the History of the New Testament, which he had had in Hand at times, for the most Part since he finished his former; and when he had finished this, he brought it up to London for Friends Perusal and Approbation: where it was Read, and afterwards published this Year 1709, in Folio, under the same Title with the former, only as that was of the Old Testament, this was of the New, viz. Sacred History, or the Historical Part of the Holy Scriptures of the New Testament, &c. (as in the Title of the former) which as I gave some Account of, so it behoves I should of this. The former Treatise (says he in his Preface) having found a favourable Reception, he was thence encouraged to resume his Pen (which at the close of that Volume he had let fall) and proceed to the Methodizing of the Historical Part of the New Testament, in Two Parts. In the first Part whereof the Reader will find an Account of the Conception, Birth, Life, Travels, Doctrines, Discourses, Miracles, Sufferings, Death, Burial, Resurrection and Ascention of our Blessed Lord and Saviour JESUS CHRIST (the Author of the true Christian Religion) plainly, fairly and succinctly given; ushered in with a brief Account of the Conception, Birth, Manner of Life, Ministry and Death of his Forerunner, John, Sirnamed the Baptist: And attended (in the Second Part) with a like Historical Account of the Acts and Travels of the Apostles of our Lord, in the Propagation of his Blessed Gospel, after the Ascention of our blessed Saviour; so far, at least, as the Evangelist Luke in the Acts of the Apostles hath recorded, or the Clue or Thread of the Holy Text leads him: beyond which (he says) he was not willing to adventure, &c.

In this Undertaking, he says, he aimed at the same End as in the former, viz. That all the Youth especially, of either Sex, under whatsoever religious Denomination they go, might be further furnished, with such an Entertainment, to spend, at least, their Leisure Hours upon, as might yield them at once both Profit and Delight; and might be thereby drawn off from mis-spending their precious Time upon other, either hurtful, or (at best) unprofitable Subjects. Then he gives Account why he hath, with the Matter of Fact, delivered the Discourses, Speeches, Sermons and Doctrines delivered by our blessed Lord to his Disciples, &c. viz. That the Nature of the History required it, and that without it the Discourse would have been less profitable and pleasant to the Reader; and by that means less conducive to the End he proposed, which is to allure him to read the Holy Scriptures with Delight, &c. according to the Poet,

He certainly doth hit the white,

Who mingleth Profit with Delight.

After which he gives an Account of his going from Place to Place in the Evangelists, to reduce the several Parts and Passages of the History (in the first Part) to their due and Proper Times and Places, which he endeavoured to do, (tho' difficult) as near as he could. But the Second Part (the Acts) being all written by one Hand, the Method (he says) is more regular, and the Course of the History more clear. Yet the Apostolical Epistles, being without Date, are hardly, he conceives, to be reduced with indubitable Certainty to exact Order; which yet he hath endeavour'd to place them right, according to the best of his Understanding. Then owning the Helps he had in Compiling this History, had been chiefly from the Criticks, and Cradock's Harmony of the four Evangelists, and his Apostolical History, with a few Words of the Performance; which if not done as it should (nor as he would) yet as well as he could; And therefore, in all Humility, recommending and committing it to the Divine Disposal, he concludes his Preface.

Next to the Preface is an Introduction, concerning the Pen-men of the New Testament, and in what Language Originally written, and in what Order of Time; particularly of the four Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, what they were, the time of their Writing, and some particular Circumstances concerning them and their Ends; well worth the Readers Perusal, for the better understanding the History, both of the Evangelists and Apostles. So proceeds to the History; which he deduces from the Promised Seed after the Fall, for Man's Restoration, which the Prophets foretold the Coming of, and which he pleasantly draws out at large in Order of Time, and explains with the like judicious Observations, as in the former, taking in the Epistles of St. Paul, &c. (in the second Part) in their proper Places (as near as could be) and gives an Account of them, the Occasion why, the manner how, and time when they were written: ending with the Revelations, which he renders as a Revelation unrevealed; with some Brief Notes on it. The whole, as I said of the former, being both pleasant and profitable. Both which will remain a lasting Monument of him in time to come.

This Year (1710.) our Friend Oliver Sansom, formerly of Faringdon, since of Abington in Berkshire (who had long War with the Priests about Tythes) dying in the 2d Month, and leaving behind him An Account of some Remarkable Passages of his Life, which he Communicated (in his Life time) to our Friend T. Ellwood to peruse, who being always ready to be helpful and serviceable to all, especially his Friends, he Transcribed the same, and fitted it for the Press: which was Printed this Year; to which T. E. prefixed a Testimony concerning him, pertinent to the Occasion.

There is one Book more of his, which he published in his Life-time; which, it seems, he had had by him, for the most part, a long time, and after he had finished his Sacred History of the New Testament, he took in hand to finish, and compleated. And that is The Life of DAVID in Verse; first begun (for his own Diversion, not then thinking of the Press) and carried on, by degrees, to the End of the Third Book, in the Year 1688. (as hinted before in that Year) when the Prince of Orange Landing, and the Nation being in Arms; the Noise of Guns, and Sounds of Drums and Trumpets so affrighted, and disturbed his peaceful Muse (as he says in his Preface) that both she, for a while, forsook him, and he thereupon the Work (for above Twenty Years:) save that on a Review, observing how abruptly David was brought in, he added the first Chapter (of the first Book) to introduce his Hero from the Beginning of his Story. Where it rested again, without any Prospect of its ever going further, until the last Winter; (1711.) When having (as he says) less Health and more Leisure, than at sometimes before, he took it up for an Entertainment, to make some uneasie Hours pass somewhat less uneasily over. And after he had read it through, considering that if, after his Death, it should be found among his Papers and committed to the Press, it would be but an imperfect Piece; he found an Inclination to carry on the Story to the End of David's Life, (I wish he had done so by his own) And giving a kind Invitation to his gentle Muse to return (which by some short Visits on particular Occasions, in the Interval, had given him some Ground to hope, she had not quite forsook him) he entred again upon the Subject, where he had left off; and by degrees went through it, till he had brought his warlike Hero to his peaceful Grave.

After it was finished, deliberating, whether to publish it himself, or leave it, as a Posthume, to be published by some kind Hand after his Death, for some Reasons; particularly, That if any should Carp at it, he might be capable to answer for himself, he thought best to publish it in his Life time; and accordingly brought it up with him, when he came to the Yearly-Meeting (1712.) but not having then an Opportunity to have it Read, he came up again with it some time after (which I think was the last time he was at London) and after Reading, committed it to the Press this Year, under the Title of DAVIDEIS. The Life of David King of Israel. A Sacred Poem: in five Books, in Octavo. Tho', as he observes, Abraham Cowley writ a Poem called Davideis, he had not read it till after he had finished his; and besides, their different way of Writing, A. C's was but of the Troubles of David in his Youth, and that not half finished. And that he had the same Aim in this, as in that of his Sacred History aforesaid. Which Book begins thus.

I Sing the Life of David, Israel's King,

Assist, thou sacred Pow'r who did'st him bring

From the Sheepfold, and set him on the Throne,

Thee I invoke, on thee rely alone.

Breath on my Muse; and fill her slender Quill

With thy Refreshing Dews from Hermon-Hill:

That what she Sings may turn unto thy Praise,

And to thy Name may lasting Trophies Raise.

But I would not Anticipate the Reader, but leave him to Read and Judge for himself, as it deserves

I shall Conclude his Works and Writings with a Copy of Verses he formerly Writ; which, though out of Course as to Time, is so well worth the Inserting, that I hope they will make amends for being mis-placed, viz. ‘’

Thus having gone through his Printed Books and Papers, which I have endeavoured to give a plain and succinct Account of, and of him out of them, as far as I could, and with as much Brevity as well might be: I shall now speak somewhat of him in his Private Capacity, and other Services and Station in the Church, with his Death and Character; and so Conclude the Whole.

He lived many Years (if not most of his Time, especially after he was Married) at Hunger-Hill, in the Parish of Agmondesham, alias, Amersham, in Buckinghamshire (though his House stood in Hartfordshtre, as aforesaid) where the Monthly Meetings of Men and Women were constantly kept, for that part of the County of Bucks: Wherein he was very Serviceable, in Writing, Advising, and Exhorting to keep all things Well, and in good Order, according to Truth, and the Testimony thereof; and had a Peculiar Gift for Government in the Church, and ordering things in Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, and used to come up constantly to the Yearly-Meeting at London, and was very Serviceable therein; not only by his Grave Counsel and Advice; but also, in Reading and Writing on occasion, especially in difficult Matters. He had a singular Talent in Indicting and Composing of things, Epistles and Papers beyond many; so that I must needs say, he was an Ornament to the Meeting, and will be much missed therein, and many other ways. His Wife Died about Five Years before him, being a Solid Weighty Woman, who had a Publick Testimony for the Lord and his Truth, in Meetings; and therefore the greater Loss to him and Friends: And for himself, he lived a Private Retired Life, not concerning himself with much Business in the World; but gave himself much to Reading and Writing, and lived in good Repute among Friends, and all sorts of People, as far as ever I heard of, to a pretty good Age; but bore his Age very well, being of a Regular Life, and Healthy Constitution; only in his latter Years, was somewhat troubled at times with an Asthma: And at last he was taken ill of a Palsie, the 23d Day of the 2d Month, 1713. which he bore with great Patience and Resignation; an Account of which, and his Dying Words, I leave to them who were with him in the time of his Sickness, the 8th day of which, he departed this Life, the 1st of the 3d Month, in the 74th Year of his Age: Having served his Generation according to the Will of God, he fell a Sleep; and was Honourably Buried the 2d Day following, being the 4th of the 3d Month, at Jordans: Being accompanied from his own House by a great many Friends and others, to the Meeting-House there (the Meeting he belong'd to) and Interr'd in the Burying-Ground belonging thereto, where was a very large Meeting, and great Appearance of Friends and others, several Publick Friends being there from London, and other Parts; and divers Living Testimonies born, to the Truth he Lived and Died in, in a Living Remembrance of him, and his Services in the Church. A Man of a Comely Aspect, of a Free and Generous Disposition, of a Courteous and Affable Temper, and Pleasant Conversation; a Gentleman Born and Bred, a Scholar, a True Christian, an Eminent Author, a Good Neighbour, and Kind Friend; whose Loss is much Lamented, and will be much missed at Home and Abroad. The Lord (if it be his Will) Raise up many more such Pillars, Elders and Overseers of his Flock and Family (as Watchmen upon Sion's Walls) for his Honour, and the benefit of his Church and People, saith my Soul, Amen.

J. W.
London the 30th of the 9th Month, 1713.

POSTSCRIPT.

SINCE the Writing of the foregoing Supplement, I have Understood, that our Friend Thomas Ellwood, after he had finished and Published his Davideis, signified, That he had but one thing more that lay upon his Mind, and that was, to add something to his Journal, or Account of his Life; which was chiefly to give an Account of his Books and Writings: Which, as it shews he had not done it, or finished it before, and 'tis to be doubted he did not after (not Living long after that) and so no more to be expected (more's the Pity) from his own Hand. So it shews what his design was, as to what he intended to have added to it; had he Lived to perform it, or had not Death prevented him. So that the foresaid Supplement seems (in some sort at least) to Answer his own Intention (though far short, as was said, of what his own Hand could have done) yet so far as it does any way answer his Mind, I am therein Glad that I have done any service to his Memory, or the Truth in that respect; having endeavoured to represent things according to his own Mind, and to speak of him and things as probably he would have done it he had been Living, and hope the Reader will accept it the better. To whom therefore I recommend it; as giving at least, a fair Character of the Books he Writ, and Controversies he Managed, both Published and Unpublished; which I hope will be no Disservice (but Service) to the Truth, as it is intended in the Fear of God: To whose Honour, and the Service of his Truth, I desire, with great Sincerity, to Dedicate the remainder of my Days, and Rest,

A Friend to all Men. J. W.

A Catalogue of his Printed BOOKS before mentioned.

- 1. AN Alarm 〈…〉 Priests, &c. Pr. 1660. 1 Sheet. Page. 104

- 2. A fresh 〈…〉 &c. Broadside, 1674. 315

- 3. Forgery 〈◊〉 •istianity, against T. P. 80. 9 sh. 316

- 4. Truth pr•ailing and detecting Er. 8o. 1676, 23½. 322, 344

- 5. The Foundation of Tythes shaken. 8o. 1678, 33. 323, 346

- 6. An Antidote against the Infection of W. Rogers's Book. 4to. 1682. 31. Sheets. 327, 352

- 7. A Caution to Constables, &c. 4to. 1683, 2½. 327, 353

- 8. A Discourse concerning Riots. 4to. dit. 2. 354

- 9. A seasonable Disswasive from Persec. 4to. dit. 1½. 356

- 10. Rogero Mastix; • Rod for W. R. 4to 1685. 4. 361

- 11. An Epistle to Friends. 4to. 1686. is inserted 367

- 12. The Acco. from Wiccomb examined. 4to. 1690. 2½. 387

- 13. A Reply to J. H's Answ. to W. P. 4to. 1691. 13. 388

- 14. His Answer to Leonard Key's late printed Sheet. Broadside. 1693. 390

- 15. Deceit discovered, and Malice manifested. L. K. ditto 391

- 16. A fair Examination of a foul Paper. 4to. dit. 3. 392

- 17. An Epistle to Friends; briefly commemorating, &c. 8to. 1694. 5. 398

- 18. A further discovery of the Spirit of Contention. 8o. ditto 8. 405

- 19. Truth defended, and the Friends thereof cleared, &c. 8o. 1695. 11. 408

- 20. An Answer to G. Keith's Narrat. 8o. 1696. 14½ 416

- 21. A sober Reply, &c. 4to. 1699. 2. 432

- 22. Sacred History of the Old Testam. fol. 1705, 150. 445

- 23. The Glorious Brightness of the Gospel-Day. 4to. 1707. 12. 451

- 24. Sacred History of the New Testa. fol. 1709. 111. 456

- 25. Davideis. The Life of David. 8o. 1712. 20½ 386, 461 About 464 Sheets.

A List of the MANUSCRIPTS he left behind him.

- 1. AN Answer to a Paper directed to the Members of the Society of Quakers, especially to those that frequent the Town of Feversham (in Kent) 1672. To which the Priest replying, T. Ellwood writ a Rejoinder, very notable, and worth the Publishing. The whole about 15 Sheets, in 1672, or 1673.

- 2. His Reply, or Rejoinder to the Priests second Book, called The Right of Tythes Re-asserted, 46 Sheets. About 1681.

- 3. Some Remarks on Gerard Croeses General History of the Quakers, in Latin, 3 or 4 Sheets. About 1695, or 1696.

- 4. A Rejoinder to the Snake in the Grass, his Book called Satan disrob'd, in reply to T. E's Answer to G. Keith's Narrative. 27 Sheets. 1696.

- 5. Some Instructions for Children. About 2 Sheets.

- 6. An Answer to G. Keith's Deism of W. Penn and his Brethren. 37 Sheets. 1700.

- 7. An Answer to John Shockling Priest of Ash near Sandwich in Kent, concerning Baptism, 1701, and a Rejoinder to his Reply, 1702. both about 3 sh.

- 8. The Tythe Dialogue improved, for the better explaining the present State of Tythes, by the same Method of a Dialogue, supposed to be holden between a Tytheman and a Quaker. 6 Sheets. 1707.

- 9. A Volume of Miscellany Poems, about 20 Sheets.

- 10. Several Decades of Letters to particular Persons; about 35 Sheets.

- 11. To Robert Snow, in Answer to his Objections.

- 12. An Account of Tythes in general.

☞ The two last mentioned Papers, because we could not fix their Dates, are here added at the End. And are as follow:

AN ANSWER To Some OBJECTIONS OF A Moderate ENQUIRER.

Robert Snow,

WE received a Paper subscribed by thee, and directed to the Church or People of God called Quakers, &c. Which Paper contains some Objections, which (thou sayst) thou hast heard spoken against us, and wherein thou desirest to be satisfied. To which we say, It is no strange Thing to us to be spoken against by the World's Teachers, that being no more than befel the People of God, in the First breaking forth of Christianity in the World, Of whom it was said, Acts 28. 22. As concerning this Sect, we know that every where it is spoken against. But we are willing to endeavour thy Satisfaction, by Answering the Objections.

The First is, You own no Day, either the First or Last, as a Sabbath to the Gentiles.

Answer. The Sabbath (which was the seventh or last Day of the Week) was given to the Jews, Ex. 16. 29. Rom. 9. 4. Not to the Gentiles, Psal. 147. 19. 20. Rom. 3. 19. and was to last (as other typical Ordinances were) untill the time of Reformation, Heb. 9. 10 till the Seed should come, Gal. 3. 19. which was Christ. ver. 16. the Lord of the Sabbath, Mat. 12. 8. who, in the Fulness of time, did blot out the Hand writing of Ordinances, &c. and took it out of the way, nailing it to his Cross, Col. 2. 14. From whence the Apostle thus infers, Let no man therefore judge you (the Saints and faithful Brethren, Col. 1. 2.) in Meat or in Drink, or in respect of an Holy Day, or of the New Moon or of the Sabbath Days, Col. 2. 16. which, says he, are a Shadow of things to come, but the Body is of Christ. ver. 17. Thus was that Sabbath, which was given by God, to his People the Jews, ended and taken away by Christ, before the Gentiles were called to be his People. And as for the First Day of the Week, we do not read in the Holy Scriptures, that it is called the Sabbath-Day, or commanded to be kept and observed for a Sabbath, as the Seventh Day had been. But, on the contrary, we find the Apostle Paul, writing to the Romans, who were Gentiles (though not without some mixture of believing Jews amongst them, as appears, Acts 18. 2.) says, One Man esteems one Day above another (there was the believing Jew) Another esteemeth every Day alike (there was the believing Gentile.) Well, what then? Doth he commend the Former of these, and condemn the latter? No; but he says, Let every Man be fully perswaded in his own Mind, Rom. 14. 5. And in the 4th, 10th, and 13th verses disswades them from judging one another about the Observing, or not observing a Day, as well as about the Eating, or not eating of Meats; and seems to lay no more Stress upon the one, than the other. And if the Drift of the Apostle's discourse there be heedfully minded, it will appear that, as he sets him who believed he might eat all Things, with him that esteemed every Day a like; and him that esteemed one Day above another, with him that eat Herbs: So he imputes the Weakness to the Latter, ver. 2. and sets himself on the other side, saying, We then that are strong ought to bear the Infirmities of the weak, Chap. 15. 1. And he tells the Galatians (which though a Gentile Church, had also Jewish Believers in it) I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you Labour in vain, Gal. 4. 11. Why so? Ye observe Days, and Months, and Times, and Years, says he, ver. 10. So Jealous was the Apostle, lest any that had been gathered from outward Observations, and from a shadowy State, should imbondage themselves again in Shadows, and fall short of injoying the Substance, which is the true Gospel Rest that remains to the People of God, Heb. 4. 9. Which in the next Verse is described to be, Their Ceasing from their own Works, as God did from His. Into which Rest we (saith the Apostle) that have believed, do enter, ver. 3. And in the 11. Verse he presses others to labour to enter into that Rest, Now when the Apostle says, There remains a Rest, it plainly implies that the former Rest, the outward Sabbatical Rest did not remain, but was passed away and gone. Nor is it reasonable to suppose, that the Rest here mentioned, which is said to Remain to the People of God, was an outward bodily Resting, from outward bodily Labour, on whatsoever Day; both, as that would be but to change one Type or Figure for another; And, as the entring into this Rest is set forth in the Text, as a Matter of Labour and Difficulty, ver. 11. as it is indeed, yet blessed be the Lord, he hath enabled some, that have believed in his Name, and subjected to his Power, to enter into this Rest, in this his Day; and many are pressing after it, as the true abiding Gospel-Rest, which the Legal Sabbath was but a Type or Shadow of.

The 2d Objection is, You deny the Scriptures to be any Rule for Man or Woman to walk by, so as to direct them to the saving of their Souls.

Answer. In this we are misrepresented. We sincerely own, love and regard the Holy Scriptures, believing with the Apostle, that they were given by Inspiration of God, and are profitable for Doctrine, for Reproof, for Correction, for Instruction in Righteousness, that the Man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good Works, 2 Tim. 3. 16, 17. and that they are able to make wise unto Salvation, through Faith that is in Christ Jesus, ver. 15. And great benefit and delight we find in them, reading them in the openings of that Divine Spirit, by which they were given forth. We are so far from denying them to be any Rule, &c. that we acknowledge them to contain many excellent Rules, Precepts, Doctrines and Instructions, directing Man and Woman how to walk, that they may obtain the Salvation of their Souls. Yet we do not say (as some have done) that the Scriptures are the only Rule, or the chief and principal Rule: because we dare not give the Honour and Office of the Holy Spirit unto the Scriptures; For the Scriptures themselves declare, That it is the Office of the Holy Spirit to guide Believers into all Truth, John. 16. 13. And indeed, the true Meaning and Benefit of the Scriptures themselves is not attained to in the Reading of them, unless the Spirit that gave them forth do open them, and unseal the Mysteries contained in them. So that the Holy Spirit is greater than the Scriptures, and therefore we cannot but give the chief Place unto him. For he is able to manifest himself unto Man, and to lead Man into the Way of Salvation, either with and by the Scriptures, or without them, as he pleases: But the Scriptures cannot do that without the Operation of the Holy Spirit. Justly therefore do we affirm the Spirit of God, to be the Chief Rule, and yet acknowledge the Holy Scriptures to be a true Rule, and proper Instrument in the Hand of the Spirit, to direct Men and Women how they ought to walk, to obtain Salvation to their Souls, as the Spirit of the Lord makes use of the Scriptures to that End.

The 3d OBJECTION is, You deny the Resurrection of this mortal Body, that this Mortal shall not put on Immortality.

Answer. In this also we are misrepresented: We do not deny, but own the Resurrection of the Dead; Believing, with the Apostle, that This Corruptible shall put on Incorruption, and this Mortal shall put on Immortality, 1 Cor. 15. 54. And indeed, if we did not believe this, we might well say (as he did) If in this Life only we have Hope in Christ, we were of all Men most miserable, ver. 19. And, Why stand we in jeopardy every Hour, ver. 30. But the Lord knows, and we have openly and sincerely declared, that we believe and own the Resurrection of the Dead, according as the Holy Scriptures testify concerning it; Which say, Thou sowest not that Body that shall be, but bare Grain &c. But God giveth it a Body as it hath pleased him, and to every Seed his own Body, ver. 37, 38. It is sown a natural Body; it is raised a Spiritual Body, ver. 44. the reason of which follows ver. 50. namely, That Flesh and Blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God, neither doth Corruption inherit Incorruption. And as we firmly believe this; So we take this to be sufficient, without being so curiously inquisitive as he, who would needs ask, How are the Dead raised up? and with what Body do they come? ver. 35. and was called Fool for his Pains, ver. 36.

The 4th OBJECTION is, You suffer Women to be your Teachers, that were forbid by the Apostle, for he says, that they should keep silence.

Answer. The Jews of old had a strong Persuasion (grounded upon some misunderstood Places of Scripture) that the Salvation of God was confined to them, and belonged not at all to the Gentiles. And this Opinion had prevailed so far upon them, that even those of them that received the Gospel could not easily shake it off. In so much that, after Peter had been with Cornelius the Centurion, and was come back again to Jerusalem, he was called before the Church for it, they that were of the Circumcision contending with him, and saying, Thou went'st in to Men uncircumcised, and did'st eat with them, Act. 11. 2, 3. To whom, having related the Occasion and Particulars of that Matter, he concludes his Defence thus, For as much then as God gave them the like Gift as he did unto us, who believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, what was I, that I could withstand God? ver. 17. And in the next verse it follows, when they heard these Things they held their Peace, and glorified God, &c. This Answer, which the Apostle gave in that Case, may be suitable (we think) for us to give in this Case, to such as (from some misunderstood Places of Scripture) are offended at us for Suffering Women to speak in our Assemblies, viz. For as much as God hath given them the like Gift as he did unto us, who believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, what are we that we should withstand God? God, by his Servant Joel, in the Time of the Law, had made this Promise, with Relation to the Times of the Gospel, viz. And it shall come to pass afterwards (or in the last Days, as Peter repeats it, Act. 2. 17.) that I will pour out my Spirit upon all Flesh, and your Sons and your Daughters shall prophecy, your old Men shall dream Dreams, your young Men shall see Visions: And also upon the Servants and upon the Handmaids in those Days will I pour out my Spirit, Joel 2. 28, 29. (And they shall prophecy, adds Peter, Act. 2. 18.) Here was no Distinction of Sex made; But this Promise of pouring out the Spirit, and of prophesying thereby, is extended as expresly and fully to the Daughters as to the Sons, to the Handmaids as to the Servants. And this the Apostle Peter doth expresly apply to that great pouring forth of the Spirit upon the Church, at the Pentecost immediately after Christ's Ascension, saying, This is that which was spoken by the Prophet Joel, Acts 2. 16. Now at that great and eminent pouring forth of the Spirit it appears the Women were not excluded: For when, after the Ascention, the Apostles and Disciples were returned from Mount Oliver to Jerusalem, it is said, These all continued with one accord in Prayer and Supplication with the Women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, &c. Acts 1. 14. The Number of the Names together being about an Hundred and Twenty, ver. 15. And when the Day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one Place, Chap. 2. 1. And in Ver. 3. it is said, The cloven Tongues sate upon each of them, and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance, ver. 4. Here was no Distinction made, no shutting out the Women; but all were together, all received the Gift of the Spirit, and began to speake with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. Nor was it thus only at that time, and upon that extraordinary Occasion, but continued in the Church afterwards. For we read that Philip the Evangelist had four Daughters that did prophesie, Acts 21. 8, 9. Phebe, a Woman, is recommended by the Apostle Paul to the Church at Rome, not only as a Sister, but as a Servant of the Church, Rom. 16. 1. Priscilla, a Woman, is called by the same Apostle, My Helper (or Fellow Labourer) in Christ Jesus, ver. 3. Tryphena and Tryphosa, two Godly Women, are saluted by him as Labourers in the Lord. And of the beloved Persis, another holy Woman, he testifies, that she laboured much in the Lord, ver. 12. The same Apostle, in his Epistle to the Philippians, says, I entreat thee also, true Yoke Fellow, help those Women which laboured with me in the Gospel, Phil. 4. 3. Which is the Phrase by which the Apostle doth frequently express his own Ministry; and which he particularly applies to Timotheus, whom he calls Our Brother and Minister of God, and our Fellow Labourer in the Gospel of Christ, 1 Thes. 3. 2. Which is a clear Evidence that those Women, that had received the Gift of Prophesy, did minister therein to the Edification of the Church, as well as the Men. Nay the Apostle Paul, in that very Epistle, wherein he is thought by some to discountenance Womens Preaching, doth give Directions for the Manner of their Preaching or Prophesying, viz. That they should do it with their Heads covered. For having first said, Every Man praying or prophesying, having his Head covered, dishonoureth his Head, 1 Cor. 11. 4. He adds, But every Woman that Prayeth or Prophesyeth with her Head uncovered dishonoureth her Head, ver. 5. This puts it out of doubt, that Womens Praying and Prophesying in the Church, was at that Time both lawful and usual, as well as Mens.

Now, that by Prophesying here is meant Preaching (not barely foretelling Things to come) may not only be inferred from the use of the same Word in the verse foregoing, where, being spoken of Men, it is granted on all Hands to intend Preaching (and from thence the general practice of Mens Preaching uncovered is defended) but may also fairly be concluded, from the explanation the Apostle gives of it, in Chap. 14. ver. 31. where he tells that Church in general, We may all Prophesy one by one that all may learn ; Which manifests that by Prophesying he intended Preaching or Teaching, that being the proper way or means of Learning. And in the Beginning of that Chapter, where he prefers Prophesying before Speaking whith Tongues, ver. 1. and 5. he says, He that Prophesyeth, Speaketh unto Men, to Edification, and Exhortation, and Comfort, ver. 3. And, He that Prophesyeth, Edifieth the Church, ver. 4. which plainly shew that by Prophesying he meant Preaching or Teaching, that being the proper means or way of Edifying. And therefore, seeing he not only allowed Women to Prophecy, but directed and advised them how they should perform it, Chap. 11. 5. and that in this Place Prophesying and Preaching appear to be one and the same Thing, it is unreasonable to suppose he denied them the Liberty of Preaching, being gifted and called thereunto. As for those Words of his, 1 Cor. 14. 34. Let your Women keep silence in the Churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but to be under Obedience, as also saith the Law. Observe first, that those Words, [as also saith the Law] relate only to the Womens being under Obedience, not to their keeping silence in the Church: For that was never enjoyned them in the Law, but they were permitted to speak in the Congregation; And both Miriam, who was a Prophetess, did sing the Triumphs of the Lord, in the publick Congregation, Ex. 15. 20. 21. And Deborah, who was a Prophetess, did recount the noble Acts of the Lord, and celebrate his Praises in a Triumphant Song, Judges 5. Read also what Hanna spake in the House of the Lord in Shiloh, 1 Sam. 2. And Anna, who was a Prophetess, did not only give thanks unto the Lord, but spake of Christ to all them that looked for Redemption in Jerusalem, Luke 2. 38. This was direct Preaching, and that in the Temple. So that the Women were not enjoyned silence under the Law, but were permitted to Speak. In the next Place, consider what Speaking it was that was forbidden by the Apostle in that Place, 1 Cor. 14. 34. which from his following Words will appear to be, not a Speaking of the Words of Life and Salvation, not a Speaking as the Spirit of God gives utterance; but speaking disorderly, asking Questions unseasonably, and out of place; not speaking for the Edification of Others, but speaking for their own Information only: for he immediatly adds, If they will learn any Thing, let them ask their Husbands at home, ver. 35. These Words [learn and ask] plainly shew, that the Speaking here condemned was not a Speaking the Doctrines of the Gospel for the Edification of the Church, but asking Questions for their own Satisfaction, which they might have done at home, but not there: therefore he adds, For it is a Shame for Women to speak in the Church. And so indeed it was in such a disorderly manner as they spake, to interrogate or Catechise either the Minister, or their Husbands, openly in the Church, to ask the Meaning of this, or call for an Explanation of that, which might look like a throwing off their Obedience to their Husbands, and must needs occasion Disorders and Confusion in the Assembly; which we may perceive was the thing that troubled the Apostle, and which he laboured to reform: for he said before, God is not the Author of Confusion, but of Peace, ver. 33. and he concludes the Chapter with this Admonition Let all things be done decently and in order: So that it was the disorderly Practice of some Women in that Church which he reproves, who, it seems, when any Thing was spoken which they did not understand, would interpose, and ask Questions for Information sake, which was uncomely in them, offensive and troublesome to the Congregation. This sort of Speaking was not permitted them, but was a Shame to them, and from which they ought to have kept silence in the Church, and if they will learn any thing, says he, let them ask their Husbands at home. Of like import are those other Words of the same Apostle to Timothy, and probably on the same Occasion. Let the Woman, says he, learn in silence with all Subjection. But I suffer not a Woman to teach, nor to usurp Authority over the Man, but to be in silence, 1 Tim. 2. 11, 12. For hence it appears still, that the Occasion they took of speaking, was under pretence of learning, wherein they took an undue Liberty to ask Questions, as if they would catechize or teach their Husbands. But though the Apostle would not suffer such sort of Speaking in the Church, as might give Occasion to any to think that the Women did cast off the Obedience they owed, and did usurp Authority over their Husbands; nor after such a Manner, as might breed Confusion in the Congregation, for he was so watchful against that, that he enjoins the Man to be silent in that Case, as well as the Woman. If any Man, says he, speaks in an unknown Tongue,— let one interpret: But if there be no Interpreter, let him keep silence in the Church, 1 Cor. 14. 27, 28. Yet we have before shewed, that he allowed of Women Prophesying, and that by Prophesying he meant Preaching. We have also given many Instances of Women that laboured in the Work of the Gospel in that Day; and could, from a living and sure Experience, multiply instances of many Women in this Day, whom the Lord hath committed the Word of Life and Reconciliation unto, and who, in the quickning Power and Virtue thereof, have sounded forth the same, to the awakening of many that were asleep in Sin, and turning of many from darkness to Light, and from the Power of Satan to God, who are now become living Seals of their Ministry. Neither would this seem so strange as it doth to some, did they duly consider. That God is no Respecter of Persons. But that, as, in the old Creation, Male and Female were Created in the Image of God: So, in the new Creation, Male and Female are all one in Christ Jesus, Gal. 3. 28. But, as they that contended with Peter, for conversing with the Gentiles, when they had heard his Defence, held their Peace, and glorified God, saying, Then hath God also to the Gentiles granted Repentance unto Life, Acts 11. 18. So, we hope, they that have taken Offence at us, for suffering Women to speak in the Church, when they shall have duly and impartially weighed what is herein offered for their Satisfaction, will hold their Peace (as to any Opposition thereunto) and Glorifie God, saying, Then hath God committed unto Women also the Word of Reconciliation.

The fifth Objection is, You are a People that have gained Health to your Immortal Souls, and are sure of Heaven, when the Scriptures say, that the Righteous Man falls seven times a Day; and the Apostle Paul said that Sin was still actually in him.

Answer. We do not desire to boast of any Attainments. Yet we cannot but confess, to the Glory of God, and the Praise of his Holy Name, that His saving Health hath appeared in this his Day, and we (through his Mercy) have tasted of it. Christ the Saviour, is manifested in Spirit, and we (through Grace) have felt the healing Virtue of his Divine Life and Power. Through the tender Mercy of our God, the Day-spring from on high hath visited us, and hath given Light to us that sate in Darkness and in the Shadow of Death, and hath guided our Feet into the way of Peace, and hath helped us to make our Calling and Election sure. As for the Scripture thou mentionest, we do not find that the Scripture saith, The Righteous Man falls seven times a Day; but in Prov. 24. 16. we find it thus written, For a Just Man falleth seven times, and riseth up again; but the Wicked shall fall into Mischief. And as the Verse before shews the Occasion of these Words, where it is said, Lay not wait, O wicked Man, against the Dwelling of the Righteous: spoil not his resting place. So the latter Part of this 16th Verse [but the wicked shall fall into Mischief] implies, that the just Man doth not fall, as the wicked Man does, into Mischief. And seeing all Sin is Mischief, it seems as if the Fall here spoken of the just Man, were not a falling into Sin, but into some outward Calamity or Exercise. However the Place speaks nothing of daily or continual falling. Nor do we remember that Paul doth use that very Expression concerning himself, viz. That Sin was still actually in him; though we know that he doth, in divers places, run through, as it were, and open the various States and Travels of the Soul; in some of which he cried out, O wretched Man that I am, who shall deliver, &c! But he rested not there, but quickly breaks forth into a Rejoycing, and cries out, I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Rom. 7. 24, 25. And then in the next Chapter, having said, There is no Condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the Flesh, but after the Spirit, he says expresly concerning himself. For the Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus, hath made me free from the Law of Sin and Death, ver. 2. And again, Thanks be to God, which giveth us the Victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. 15. 57. This Victory we press after; this Freedom from the Law of Sin and Death, we labour and travel to attain unto, by a Subjection (through Divine Assistance) to the Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus.

The 6th Objection is, Why your Teachers perswade you, that all other People are in a barren and desolate Condition, and are out of Christ.

Answer. Our Teachers do not perswade us so; nor do we Judge so of all other People: For we our selves were gathered out of various Professions, States and Conditions; and some of us, who had been seeking after the Lord in other Professions, can remember, that before we were thus gathered to this divine Principle of Light, which the Lord hath set up, in this his Day, as an Ensign for the Nations to be gathered unto, and to walk in: we were not wholly barren and desolate; but had, at Seasons, some touches and tastes of the Vertue of that hidden Life, which we were then Strangers to; the Lord having regard to the Sincerity of our Hearts, and answering, in some measure, the Breathings of our Souls to him; so far, at least, as to cherish and keep alive those good Desires which were begotten in us, and to beget in us a greater Hunger and Thirst after him. And it is not hard to us to believe, that so it may be with others at this Day, who have an Integrity to the Lord, though not acquainted with his Outgoings, and Manifestations of himself in this Dispensation of Light and Life: And both our Prayers to God the Father, in and through his Son Jesus Christ, and our Labour and Endeavours, in the Openings of his Love and Life in our Hearts, are, That all these, in whatsoever Profession, may be drawn off from all the dry Hills and barren Mountains, and gathered into the true Sheepfold. For we remember our Saviour said, Other Sheep I have, which are not of this Fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my Voice; and there shall be one Fold, and one Shepherd, Joh. 10. 16. The Lord grant, that none of these may mistake his Voice, or disobey it.

The last Objection is, You deny all outward Ordinances, as Baptism, and the Six Principles, that were taught to the first primitive Christians.

Answer. The Dispensation of the Law was outward, and the Ordinances appertaining to that Dispensation were outward also: But the Dispensation of the Gospel is spiritual and inward, and the Ordinances appertaining to this Dispensation are of a spiritual Nature. The Baptism with Water was John's, and came up under the Dispensation of the Law, nor did properly belong to the Gospel Dispensation, though for a time, by Condescention, continued; as Circumcision, and some other Legal Rites, were. And this was that Baptism which Paul says Christ sent him not to baptize with, 1 Cor. 1. 17. But the Baptism of Christ, the true Gospel-Baptism, that by which the true Believer is baptized into Jesus Christ, Rom. 6. 3. and buried with him into Death, ver. 4. The one Baptism, Eph. 4. 5. is the Baptism with the Holy Ghost and with Fire, and is plainly distinguished from the Baptism with Water, both by John, to whom the Water-Baptism belonged, and by Christ, to whom the Spirit-Baptism belonged. For John said, I indeed baptize you with water unto Repentance; but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose Shoos I am not worthy to bear: He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with Fire, Mat. 3. 11. And Christ, as Luke records a little before his Ascension, said, John truly baptized with Water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many Days hence, Acts 1. 5. which was the Promise of the Father, ver. 4. delivered by Christ to his Apostles and Disciples, just before his parting from them, Luke 24. 49. Let it therefore be fairly considered, 1. That the Dispensation of the Gospel is Spiritual, and therefore the Ordinances belonging to it should be so too. 2. That in Mat. 28. 19. (From which place the Commission for Water-Baptism is usually fetched) there is no Mention ef Water. 3. That Baptism with Water is no where in Scripture called Christ's Baptism. 4. That Baptism with Water is frequently called John's Baptism. 5. That the Baptism with the Holy Ghost is called Christ's Baptism. 6. That the Apostle Paul acknowledges but One Baptism, Eph. 4. 5. which cannot be supposed to be that with Water, since then he must exclude the Baptism of the Spirit. 7. That the Apostle Peter, speaking of the Baptism that saves, says expresly, It is not the putting away the Filth of the Flesh, 1 Pet. 3. 21. (which it is the Property of Water to do) as if he had said, The Baptism which now saves us is not Water-Baptism. 8. That Baptism with Water is no where expresly commanded in Scripture, as it would doubtless have been, had it been intended by Christ for a Gospel Ordinance. 9. That tho' it was sometimes used after Christ's Ascension, yet that cannot authorize the use of it now, any more than of Circumcision, and other Legal Ordinances, which, in Condescention to the Weakness of Believers in that Day, were also used after Christ's Ascension, yet are confest by all not to be in force now. For John, as himself said, was to decrease, Joh. 3. 30. which related to his Ministry or Dispensation, not to his Person. Now a Decreasing implies a growing less, or wearing away by degrees, not all on a suddain; or at once; and therefore no wonder, if his Water-Baptism was continued for a time, even after Christ's Baptism of the Holy Spirit took place. But as Christ's Baptism was to increase, so John's was to decrease, till Christ's came to be all in all, and John's Water Baptism wholly to give place. Let these things, we say, be duly weighed, and we hope we shall not be blamed, for leaving the Baptism of John, and cleaving to the Baptism of Christ.

As for the Six Principles thou mentionest, seeing thou hast not declared what they are, it cannot be expected we should speak to them at this time. But we recommend to thee that holy divine Principle of Light wherewith Christ lighteth every Man that cometh into the World, Joh. 1. 9. In which Light the Nations of them that are saved shall walk, Rev. 21. 24. And we heartily desire thou mayst walk therein.

T. E.

AN ACCOUNT OF TYTHES In GENERAL.

THE only Command from God, that we read of in Holy Scripture, for the Payment of Tythes, was given by Moses, to the People of Israel, in the time of the Levitical Law. Then God first reserved to himself the Tythe of the Land of Canaan, Lev. 27. 30. Which he did for this reason, that, intending to take the Tribe of Levi more peculiarly into his Service (as he did, Numb. 3. 6. in stead of, or in exchange for all the First born of Israel, ver. 12. 13. and 45. and Chap. 8. ver. 18. Having before reserved and appropriated the First born to himself, Ex. 13. 2.) he might bestow those Tythes on the Levites, for and towards the Maintenance of that whole Tribe, as a Reward for their Service in the Tabernacle of the Congregation, Numb. 18. 21, 31. and in lieu of, and Compensation for, their Part or Share of and in the Land of Canaan, which thereupon they were expresly cut off from, ver. 20, 23, 24.

2. Now although it was grounded on a Principle of Moral Justice and Equity, that the Levites, thus engaged in a continual Attendance on a publick Service, and shut out from their Share in the Inheritance of the promised Land, should receive a sufficient Maintenance from them for whom they performed that Service, and who enjoyed their Part of the Land: Yet the ascertaining of the Quot a of that Maintenance to the exact Proportion of a Tenth Part of the Increase of the Land, was not grounded on moral Justice, but had its Dependence on the Ceremonial Law, adapted and limited to the Polity of that Dispensation and People only. And that it might not be extended beyond its appointed Time and Bounds, it pleased the Divine Wisdom, to subject it to such Ceremonial Circumstances, as plainly rank it amongst those carnal Ordinances (Rites or Ceremonies) which were imposed but till the Time of Reformation, spoken of Heb. 9. 10. For as God appointed the Levites to be offered for a Wave-Offering, by Moses, in the Name and on the Behalf of the Children of Israel, when he said to Moses, Thou shalt bring the Levites to the Tabernacle of the Congregation, and thou shalt gather the whole Assembly of the Children of Israel together; And thou shalt bring the Levites before the Lord, and the Children of Israel shall put their Hands upon the Levites: And Aaron shall offer (in the Margin Wave) the Levites before the Lord, for an Offering (in the Margin Wave-Offering) of the Children of Israel; that they may execute the Service of the Lord, Numb. 8, 9, 10, 11. So the Tythes, which were assigned for the Maintenance of the Levites, were to be first offered, by the People, as an Heave-Offering unto the Lord. (The Tythes of the Children of Israel, which they offer as an Heave-Offering unto the Lord, I have given to the Levites, &c. Numb. 18. 24.) And even the Tythe of those Tythes, which the Levites were to yield unto the Priests, were to be offered, by the Levites, as an Heave-Offering to the Lord, before the Priests might have them. Thus speak unto the Levites (said God to Moses) and say unto them, When ye take of the Children of Israel the Tythe which I have given you from them for your Inheritance; Then ye shall offer up an Heave Offering of it for the Lord, even a Tenth Part of the Tythe. And this your Heave-Offering shall be reckoned unto you, as though it were the Corn of the threshing Floor, &c. Thus ye also shall offer an Heave-Offering unto the Lord, of all your Tythes, which ye receive of the Children of Israel: And ye shall give there of the Lord's Heave-Offering to Aaron the Priest, ver. 26, 27, 28. This makes it evident, beyond doubting, that the Tythes, which were given by the People to the Levites, and by the Levites to the Priests, under the Law, had their Dependence on the Ceremonial Law, as that Priesthood had; And were to stand no longer than that Law and that Priesthood stood: Which was but till Shiloh came, and by the Offering of himself once for all, had put an end to all the shadowy Offerings under that Law.

3. This the Author of the Epistle to the Hebrews did so well understand, that he positively declared that the Levitical Priesthood being changed, there was made of Necessity a Change also of the Law, (of that Law, by which that Priesthood and the Maintenance of it had stood) See Heb. 7. 12. And 'tis also evident from Scripture and Primitive Antiquity, that neither the Apostles themselves, nor (for some ages after them) any of the Christians, did meddle with, or at all concern themselves about Tythes; But let them totally fall as they did the other abrogated Part, viz. Offerings, &c. and of the Ceremonial Law of Moses.

4. But after that the Mystery of Iniquity, which in the Apostles time began to work (2 Thes. 2. 7.) had wrought to that Degree amongst some Christians, and had drawn them so far from the Purity and Simplicity of the Gospel, as to form and model the Church in many things, by and according to the Jewish Pattern amongst other Ceremonial Parts of the Jewish Religion, which had been abolished by the Coming and Death of Christ, Tythes were preached up again (about the latter end of the fourth Century, and beginning of the fifth) by some, at first, under the Notion of Alms and Charity (because part of the Tythes under the Levitical Law, were appointed for the Maintenance of the Fatherless, the Widow and the Stranger, Deut. 14. 28, 29.) And by others, as then still due by the Mosaic Law, which had required them to be paid to the Levitical Priesthood. Which Plea afterwards (Corruptions increasing in the Church, and in those especially who were called the Church-Men, or Clergy) more and more prevailing, the Payment of Tythes was re-introduced, as due by those Levitical Laws, which had been given to the Israelites of old. And upon that Bottom, Tythes have stood, been claimed and the Claim defended unto this Day.

5. Now, not only he that thus claims, and receives Tythes; but he that consents to, and complies with such Claim, by paying Tythes thus brought in, and thus claimed, doth thereby implicitly, and vertually (at least) deny that Christ has put an End to the Ceremonial Law of Moses, and consequently that he is come, and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind. And that this may appear as plain as is possible, I shall draw the Matter into an Argument, thus:

- To uphold any Thing, as still in force, which was to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ, is to deny that Christ is come and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.

- But to receive, or pay Tythes now, is to uphold a Thing, as still in force, which was to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ▪

- Therefore to receive, or pay Tythes now, is to deny that Christ is come, and hath suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.

The Major must be granted, and the Minor I thus prove.

- Whatsoever was a part of the Ceremonial Law of Moses, was to be taken away and cease at and by the Death of Christ;

- But Tythes were a part of the Ceremonial Law of Moses;

- Therefore Tythes were to be taken away, and cease at and by the Death of Christ:

The Major here again is unexceptionable; And the Minor is thus proved.

- Every Heave-Offering among the Jews was a Part of the Ceremonial Law of Moses;

- But Tythes were an Heave-Offering among the Jews, Num. 18. 24.

- Therefore Tythes were a Part of the Ceremonial Law of Moses.

6. By this it appears, that without regard had of the Person to whom, or the Use for which Tythes are paid, the paying of Tythes (as well as the receiving them) being a Part of the abrogated Ceremonial Law of Moses, imports a denyal of the Coming, and Death of Christ. Hence it is, that Tythes have been, and are commonly called Antichristian, or against Christ. And hence hath risen that saying (often used not only by our antient Friends, but by some of the Martyrs long before) viz. He that pays Tythes, doth thereby deny that Christ is come in the Flesh. That Conclusion could not have been drawn, from the paying of Tythes to a wrong Ministry, or for a wrong use only, though such Payment be evil: Nor could any thing justify that Inference, but the Consideration that Tythes, depending on the Ceremonial Law of Moses, which must of Necessity and in course fall, and cease when Christ suffered; the paying of Tythes carries in it a supposal, that that Law is not yet ceased, but is still in force: and consequently that Christ, whose Death must needs have ended it, is not yet come, nor has yet suffered in his Flesh for Mankind.

7. That other Objection, not less weighty than common against paying Tythes to the Clergy, so called, viz. The unlawfulness of upholding a false Ministry, to perform a false Worship (being it self so clear and plain, that it needs no illustration) I shall, in this Discourse, no further meddle with, than to observe in my way, how far it may affect those Tythes also, which the Impropriators claim. Wherefore having premised what is said before concerning Tythes in general, to what Hand, or for what Use soever paid, let us now inquire into those Tythes, which are called Impropriate.

Of Impropriate TYTHES.

1. THAT these Tythes, which are claimed by the Impropriators, are of the same Nature, and stand originally on the same Root and Ground, on which the other Tythes stand, which are claimed and exacted by the Priests, is evident from hence, that they were all heretofore, these as well as those, claimed by, and paid to some or other of the Romish Clergy, or their Appendices, the Religious Orders (so called) and upon the same Foot. That is, These Impropriate Tythes were paid to those Religious Orders or Houses, as being due to God, by vertue of the Levitic Law; as well as the other Tythes were paid to the Parish-Priests, on the same supposed Right, from the same Law. But how these Tythes came to those Religious Houses first, and how afterwards from them to the Impropriators, is next to be inquired.

2. Until the Lateran Council (so named, because it was holden in the Pope's Palace at Rome, called the Lateran) in the Year 1215. It was in the choice of every Man to give his Tythes to what Church he pleased, so he gave them to some Church. And even after that Council, the Popes, as Heads of that Church, by their dispencing Power, did give leave to such as would sue, and pay for it, to give their Tythes from the Parish-Priest, to such Order of Religious People (whether Monks, Friers, or Nuns) as they were best affected to. By which means, the Parish-Priests (called Seculars,) and those of the several Religious Orders (called by a general Title, Regulars) being left to scramble, as they could, for maintenance, the Regulars (mendicant Fryers, and others) swarming in all Places, and pretending, at least, to greater Sanctity, and Austerity of Life, than the Parish-Priests, prevailed with the People, either living or dying, to give not only very considerable Estates in Lands, but also the Tythes of other Lands, and of whole Parishes, from the Parish-Priests, to their Religious Houses or Convents.

3. The Tythes, or Parsonages, so given, were then called Appropriations, because they were appropriated to this, that, or the other Religious House or Convent. And I have read, that there were in England about 3845 Parsonages thus appropriated. And as Tythes were then held to be due to God and holy Church; and those Religious Orders were reputed a part of that Church: So the Tythes, as well as the Lands thus given them, were continued to them, and possessed by them, till that general Storm arose, in K. Henry 8. his time, which overturned those Religious Houses and Orders together. And here, by the way, it may be noted, That while those Religious Houses stood, a great part of the Lands which had been given to them, were, by Papal Authority, exempted from paying Tythes: Whence it is, that many of those Estates, which had belonged to those Religious Houses, remain discharged from the Burden of Tythes still.

4. As Tythes were set up here on the Authority of the Levitic Law, and in imitation of the Jewish Practice, consonant to that Law: So while those Religious Houses stood, and the Pope's Power prevailed here, not only the Seculars or Parish-Priests, but all those Regulars who received Tythes, were bound to pay the Tenths out of the Tythes they received to the Head of their Church, the Pope as the Levites, under the Ceremonial Law, were required to do to the Priests.

5. But after that K. Hen. 8. (upon a Quarrel between the Pope and him, about his Divorce from his first Queen Catharine, which he earnestly desired, and the Pope would not grant) fell off from the Pope (though not from Popery: For after that, he retained the most pernicious Doctrines of the Romish Church, contained in the six Articles, and burnt some for denying them) he threw off the Pope's Supremacy here, and assumed it to himself; declaring himself, and being declared, first by the Clergy in their Convocation, and soon after by Lords and Commons in Parliament, The only Supream Head in Earth of the Church of England. This was done by the Statute of 26 Hen. 8. c. 1. And therein it is enacted. 'That the King, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, shall be taken, accepted and reputed the only Supream Head in Earth of the Church of England. And shall have and enjoy, annexed and united to the Imperial Crown of this Realm, as well the Title and Stile thereof, as all Honours, Dignities, Praeeminences, Jurisdictions, Privileges, Authorities, Immunities, Profits and Commodities to the said Dignity of Supream Head of the same Church belonging and appertaining. And shall have full Power and Authority, from time to time, to Visit, Repress, Redress, Reform, Order, Correct, Restrain and Amend all such Errors, Heresies, Abuses, Offences, Contempts and Enormities whatsoever they be, which by any manner of Spiritual Authority and Jurisdiction ought, or may lawfully be reformed, repressed, ordered, redressed, corrected, restrained, or amended, &c. By which it is evident, the Intention of the Parliament then was to transfer, confer and settle unto and upon King Henry all the Powers, Profits and Privileges, which had been before supposed to be in, or belong to, or had been enjoyed or exercised by the Pope, while he was received as Supream Head of the Church.

6. And therefore, as the Pope, while he retained the Supremacy here, had the first Fruits (which are the Profits of every Spiritual or Ecclesiastical Living for one Year, upon the advancing of any Ecclesiastical Person, to such a Living; and also the Tenths, that is the tenth Part of all the Tythes: So these two Revenues, as appendant to that Supremacy, followed it; being settled on the King, in the same Session of Parliament, wherein the Supremacy was vested in him. The Words of the Statute, 26 H. 8. c. 3. relating to the first Fruits, are these. 'That for the more surety of Continuance and Augmentation of his High¦ness Royal Estate, being not only now recognized (as he always indeed hath heretofore been) the only Supream Head in Earth, next and immediatly under God, of the Church of England, but also their most assured and undoubted natural Soveraign Liege Lord and King, &c. It may therefore be enacted and ordained by, &c. That the King's Highness, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, shall have and enjoy from time to time to endure for ever, of every such Person and Persons, which at any time after the first Day of January next shall be nominated, elected, perfected, presented, collated or by any other means appointed to have any Arch-Bishoprick, Abbacy, Monastery, Priory, Colledge, Hospital, Archdeaconry, Deanry, Provostship, Prebend, Parsonage, Vicarage, Chauntry, Free-Chappel, or other Dignity, Benefice, Office, or Promotion Spiritual, within this Realm, or elswhere within any of the King's Dominions, of what Name, Nature, or Quality soever they be, or to whose Foundation, Patronage, or Gift soever they belong, the First-Fruits, Revenues and Profits for one Year of every such Arch-Bishoprick, Bishoprick, Abby, Monastery, Priory,— Parsonage, Vicarage, &c. Then (after Provisions made for finding out the value of those Spiritual Livings, and for paying, receiving and recovering those First-Fruits) the Settlement of the Tenths (that other part of the Pope's Revenue) upon the King, follows, in the same Statute, in these Words.

'And over this, be it enacted by Authority aforesaid, that the Kings Majesty, his Heirs and Successors, Kings of this Realm, for more Augmentation and Maintenance of the Royal Estate of his Imperial Crown and Dignity of Supream Head of the Church of England, shall yearly have, take, enjoy and receive, united and knit to his Imperial Crown for ever, one yearly Rent, or Pension, amounting to the value of the Tenth Part of all the Revenues, Rents, Farms, Tythes, Offerings, Emoluments, and of all other Profits as well called Spiritual as Temporal, now appertaining or belonging, or that hereafter shall belong to any Archbishoprick, Bishoprick, Abbacy, Monastery, Priory, Archdeaconry, Deanry, Hospital, Colledge, House-Collegiate, Prebend, Cathedral Church, Collegiate-Church, Conventual-Church, Parsonage, Vicarage, Chauntry, Free-Chappel, or other Benefice or Promotion Spiritual, of what Name, Nature, or Quality soever they be, within any Diocess of this Realm, or in Wales, &c. And so goes on to direct the time, place and manner of Payment of these Tenths, with the Penalty for non-payment.

7. Thus were these two great Pillars of Papal Supremacy (First Fruits and Tenths) transferr'd from the Pope, (the old Head,) to the King, (the new Head of the Church,) to support and maintain that Headship in him, as they had done before in the Pope. Which Ecclesiastical Headship the King was no sooner possessed of, than he began to exercise it amongst those Religious Orders, Suppressing (as Herbert, in his Life, p. 379. relates) the Observant Fryers at Greenwich, Canterbury, Richmond and other Places, and substituting the Augustines in their Places. 'Which he did (says Herbert there) for the finding out how his People would take his Design of putting down Religious Houses: To which he proceeded the next Year, beginning with the lesser Sort, and suppressing all those Monasteries, Priories and other Religious Houses of Monks, Canons, and Nuns, which had not in Lands, Tenements, Rents, Tythes, Portions, and other Hereditaments, above the clear yearly Value of two hundred Pounds. By which means 376 of those Religious Houses being dissolved, a Revenue of above thirty thousand Pounds a Year, beside an hundred thousand Pounds in Money raised by sale, at low Rates, of the Goods and Chattels, of those Houses (a Sum not small in that Age) came to the King, for support of his Ecclesiastical Supremacy.

8. The Statute, which countenanced this Proceeding, is the 27. of Hen. 8. cap. 28. And a new Court, called the Court of Augmentations, was then erected and settled by Parliament, for receiving and ordering these new accessional Revenues: the Act for which, in our printed Statute Books, is set before that for the Suppression of those lesser Monasteries. But though that, for Suppressing those Monasteries, be, by an Hysterosis, set after that for establishing the Court of Augmentations; Yet it must have been made before it: For it is recited in it.

9. In that Statute, 27 Hen. 8. 28. for suppressing those smaller Monasteries, mention is made of Monasteries, Abbies, and Priores, which, within one Year before the making of that Statute, had been given and granted to the King by any Abbot, Prior, Abbess or Prioress, under their Convent-Seal, or that otherwise had been suppressed, or dissolved. All which were, by that Statute confirmed to the King, and to all those, unto whom the King either then before had conveyed, or then after should convey any Part or Parts thereof; 'To hold to them in like Manner, Form, and Conditions, as the Abbots, Priors, Abbesses, Prioresses, and other chief Governors of any religious Houses, which had the same, might or ought to have had if they had not been suppressed. For upon the King's falling (as was noted before) upon the Observant Fryers at Greenwich, and other places, some of the more considerate of the Abbots, Priors, &c. Seeing the Storm arising, which then threatned, and soon after brought Destruction on those Orders, thought it better Policy to comply with the times, and surrender upon Terms, in hopes to save something, than hold out to the last (as many did) and lose all.

10. And indeed, the suppressing of those 376 lesser Monasteries, struck so great a Fear into the greater, that the Statute made four Years after (31 Hen. 8. cap. 13.) whereby the Rest of the Religious Houses were given to the King, recites, 'That divers and sundry Abbots, &c. of their own free and voluntary Mind, since the fourth of Feb. in the 27 of his Reign, had by due Order of Law, and by their sufficient Writings of Record, under their Convent and common Seals, severally given, granted and confirmed to the King his Heirs and Successors for ever, All their said Monasteries, Abbeys, Priories, &c. and all the Mannors, Lord-ships, Lands, Tenements, Tythes, &c. to them belonging; and had voluntarily renounced, left and forsaken the same. And therefore, in the said Statute it is enacted, 'That the King shall have, hold, &c. All such late Monasteries, &c. and all the Sites, Circuits, Manners, Lands, Tenements, &c. thereunto belonging. In the ennumeration of the Particulars whereof, (which are many) Tythes, Parsonages, appropriate, and Vicarages are expresly mentioned. All which (as likewise all other Religious Houses, with the Revenues thereof, which should there after be dissolved, suppressed, relinquished, forfeited, or given to the King, and which by that Statute are settled on him) he was to hold and enjoy, in as large and ample Manner, and Form, as the late Abbots, &c. had held or of right ought to have held, the same, in Right of their said late Monasteries, &c.

11. From hence this Observation arises. That since those Religious Orders did hold the Tythes which they possessed, upon the supposed Right of their being due to God and Holy Church, which they held themselves, and were by others holden to be a part of; and the King received those Tythes and Parsonages (amongst the rest of the Revenues of the Religious Houses) as well those that were resigned to him by the Governours of those Houses themselves, as the rest which by Act of Parliament he took, upon the same Right on which those Religious Orders had holden them: He also must hold them upon that supposed Right of their being due to God and Holy Church; which he then held himself, and was holden by all, both Clergy and Laity, to be the only Supream Head of here in England. And as upon that supposed Right (of their being due to God and Holy Church) on which the Religious Houses held them, they passed them from those Houses to the King, as supream Head of the Church: So on the same supposed Right (of their being due to God and Holy Church) they passed from the King, as supream Head of the Church, to those (whether Spiritual or Lay Persons) unto whom the King granted them. For they stuck not long in the King's Hand: But he, of his own meer Motion, Liberality and Benignity (as the Statute in the 33d Year of his Reign, cap. 39. relates) had by that time freely given and granted, &c. unto divers and sundry of the Lords and Nobles, as well Spiritual as Temporal, and unto divers and many other Persons and Bodies politick, &c. divers and many sundry Honours, Castles, Manors, Lands, Tenements, and among the rest, Rectories, &c.

12. But great care was taken to retain, and keep up the Character of Spirituality, which had formerly been stamped upon those Rectories, Parsonages, and other Revenues by Tythes, into what Hands soever they were passed. And therefore, by the Statute of 32 Hen. 8. cap. 7. in case of with-holding, or denying to pay the Tythes, all Persons claiming them (Impropriators, as well as Priests) are restrained from suing in the Temporal Courts, and limitted to the Ecclesiastical or Spiritual Courts only, for the Recovery of them.

13. And that they might still have Dependence upon the Supremacy, care was taken, from the first, by the Statute of 27 Hen. 8. cap. 27. That none of these Estates, which then had come, or should come, from any of those Religious Houses to the King, should pass from him by Grant to any Person whatsoever, without an express Reservation of a Tenth. And in a subsequent Statute (33 Hen. 8. cap. 39.) complaint being made that, altho' out of those Grants, which the King had made to sundry Persons, of Honours, Castles, Mannors, Lands, Tenements, Rectories, &c. (which were under the Survey of the Court of Augmentations) the Tenths had been reserved; yet the Persons unto whom such Grants had been made, though they had quietly enjoyed and taken the Issues and Profits of those Lands, Rectories, &c. had not paid the reserved Tenths to the King: Provision was made in that Statute, by several Forfeitures and Nomine-Poenae's to enforce the Payment thereof.

Nor was Care taken of the Ecclesiastical Head (the King) only, but of the Ecclesiastical Members (the Clergy) also: Many, if not most, of which had Pensions, or Portions issuing out of those Parsonages, Rectories, or other spiritual Benefices (as they were counted) which the Religious Orders held: for, besides that upon the increasing of those Appropriations, whereby the Parish Priests were pinch'd, there had been Provision made early, in the time of K. Richard the Second, for the Vicars, as well as for the Poor; the Statute of 15 Ric. 2. 6. directing, 'That, upon the Appropriation of such Churches, the Diocaesian of the Place (or Bishop of the Diocess) shall ordain, according to the Value of such Churches, a convenient Sum of Money to be paid and distributed Yearly, of the Fruits and Profits of the same Churches, to the poor Parishioners: and also, that the Vicar be well and sufficiently endowed. Which Statute (so far, at least, as concerned the Vicars) was afterwards confirmed by another Statute of 4 Hen. 4. cap. 12. which expresly ordains, 'That the Statute of Appropriation of Churches, and of the Endowment of Vicars in the same, made the 15th Year of K. Ric. the 2d be firmly holden, and put in due Execution: I say, besides these, the Stat. of 34 and 35 of Hen. 8. cap. 19. takes notice, 'That the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons and other Ecclesiastical Persons, of both Provinces of Canterbury and York, having formerly, in right of their Churches received out of the late Monasteries, &c. divers Pensions, and other Profits, had after the Dissolution of those Houses, been disturbed, and denyed of the having, receiving and gathering of the said Pensions, &c. Whereupon it is, in the said Statute, enacted, 'That if any Person or Persons, being Farmer or Occupier of any Manners, Lands, Tenements, Parsonages, Benefices or other Hereditaments of any of the said late Monasteries, &c. by the King's Gift, Grant, Sale, Exchange, or otherwise, out of which any such Pensions, &c. have been heretofore lawfully going, answered or Paid to any of the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiastical Persons abovesaid, do, at any time after the first Day of April next coming, wilfully deny the Payment thereof, Then it shall be lawful for the said Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, or other Ecclesiastical Persons aforesaid, being so denied, to be satisfied and paid thereof, &c. to proceed in the Ecclesiastical Courts, for the recovery thereof.

14. By which Statute, all Pensions payable to Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, or other Ecclesiastical Person, that had been possessed thereof, at or within Ten Years next before the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, out of the Parsonages, Rectories, or Tythes holden by the said Monasteries, &c. are confirmed and assured to such Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiastical Persons still.

15. So that, upon the whole, besides what hath been said of Tythes in general, with respect to the Judaizing, and denying of Christ, by the paying thereof (which extends a like to all Tythes, those claimed by the Impropriator, as well as those claimed by the Priest) the Impropriate Tythes being generally charged, either with some Payment to the Vicars, for enlarging of their Stipends, or with Pensions to the Arch-Bishops, Bishops, Arch-Deacons, and other Ecclesiasticks: all such of them as are so charged, come under the same Objection, that is made against paying to the Priest, viz. The upholding of a false Ministry, to perform a false Worship. And if any Impropriation may be supposed to be free from all those Charges: yet all Impropriators, as well as Priests, being bound to pay the reserved Tenths to the King, as Supream Head of the Church (which were wont before to be paid to the Pope, while he was owned for Head of the Church) the paying of Tythes to an Impropriator, is a Recognizing, and acknowledging of a Man (Bad or Good, Popish or Protestant, as it happens) to be the only Supream Head on Earth of the Church. Which is to set an Human Head to a Spiritual Body: and to divest and deprive our Lord Jesus Christ of his undoubted Right, who the Apostle says expresly, is the Head of the Body, the Church, Col. 1. 18. And that not of Man's making or appointing; but God (saith the Apostle) hath given him to be the Head over all things to the Church, which is his Body, Ephes. 1. 22, 23.

T. E.

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The history of the life of Thomas Ellwood: Or, an account of his birth, education, &c. with divers observations on his life and manners when a youth: ... Also several other remarkable passages and occurrences. Written by his own hand. To which is added, a supplement by J. W.

Ellwood, Thomas, 1639-1713.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4646

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1106016459

ID [isbn13]

9781106016454

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K065474.000

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CW3302793607

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0726600200

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— The history of the life of Thomas Ellwood: Or, an account of his birth, education, &c. with divers observations on his life and manners when a youth: ... Also several other remarkable passages and occurrences. Written by his own hand. To which is added, a supplement by J. W., Ellwood, Thomas, 1639-1713.. The second edition.. 466,[2];32p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed and sold by the assigns of J. Sowle,. 1714.. [In two parts; part two contains 'An answer to some objections of a moderate enquirer', pp.1-16, and 'An account of tythes .. ', pp.17-32, each signed: T. E.] [J. W. = Joseph Wyeth.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT79031.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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