halter, and that they would take away her bed and trunk, and her money
too: to which Sarah said, it may be she might not send to Catharine any
more: and she asked the deputy, whether he was a minister of Christ,
or a magistrate; if he were a magistrate, said she, he might take her
money, but she would not give it him. He then growing angry, said she
was possessed; to which she replied, if so, then it was with the power
of an endless life.

Thus from time to time they suffered many assaults; and sometimes it
so happened that those who came to see them, were struck to the heart,
which offended the friars. Now at length their money was almost gone,
they having sometimes employed it for victuals. But the friars told
them they might have kept their money for other services; for they
should have maintained them whilst they kept them prisoners. To this
they said they could not keep their money and be chargeable to others.
Then it so fell out that their stomachs were taken away, and they did
eat but little for three or four weeks, till at length they found
themselves obliged to fasting for several days together: which made
the friars say, that it was impossible that people could live with so
little meat as they did. And it was told them the lord inquisitor had
said, they might have any thing they would. To which they signifying
that it was not in their own will they fasted, said they must wait
to know the mind of the Lord, what he would have them to do. They
continued weak, especially Sarah, who apprehending her death near, did
therefore dress her head as she would lie in the grave. They both were
so feeble that they could not put on their clothes, neither put them
off, being also unable to make their beds. And though they desired to
be together in one room, yet the friars would not permit it. In this
condition they concluded they were like to die; but heaven had provided
otherwise.

Catharine about that time, being exercised in supplication to the Lord,
that it might please him to put an end to their trial, which way it
seemed good in his sight, thought she heard a voice saying, ‘Ye shall
not die:’ and she took this to be a heavenly voice: and from that
time they felt themselves refreshed with the living presence of the
Lord, to their great joy and comfort, so that they felt freedom to eat
again: and then they were provided with good victuals; but yet they
were under a fear of eating any thing which in some respect might be
counted unclean; and therefore they cried unto the Lord, and said,
‘We had rather die than eat any thing that is polluted and unclean.’
And Catharine believed it was said to her from the Lord, ‘Thou mayest
as freely eat, as if thou hadst wrought for it with thy hands.’ And
Sarah, who sometimes wrought for others in the inquisition house, was
persuaded that it was told her by inspiration, ‘Thou shalt eat the
fruit of thy hands, and be blessed.’ And so they did eat, and for
eight or ten days they got whatever they did call for. But afterwards
they were so straitened for want of food, that it did them more hurt
than their fast. Yet they being preserved alive, the friar said, ‘The
Lord keeps them alive by his mighty power, because they should be
Catholics.’ To which they returned, it should be known one day the
Lord had another end in it. But the friars told them plainly there was
no redemption for them. Whereupon they said, With the Lord there was
mercy and plenteous redemption: and they bade them take heed, ‘ye be
not found fighters against God.’ To which the friars returned, ‘Ye are
foolish women.’ ‘Then we are,’ replied they, ‘the Lord’s fools; and
they are dear and precious in his sight.’ The friars then showing their
shaven crowns, said that they were the Lord’s fools; and, pointing to
their gowns, said they did wear them for God’s sake to be laughed at
by the world. One of the friars about this time did what he could to
send Catharine to Rome; and not succeeding, he said they should go
both. But this not taking effect, the friar was sent thither with a
paper, containing matter of charge against Catharine; but she speaking
zealously to the scribe, pronounced wo against it, and defied it in
the name of the Lord. Before the friar departed, he told Sarah that
Catharine was a witch, and that she knew what was done elsewhere. He
said this, because once telling Catharine abundance of lies, she told
him she had a witness for God in her, which was faithful and true; and
she believed this witness.

After he was gone, the English consul came to her with a dollar from
the master of a ship, who came from Plymouth. She told him she did
receive her countryman’s love, but could not receive his money. He
then asked her what she would do if she would take no money; to which
she answered, ‘The Lord is my portion, and thus I cannot want any good
thing. We were in thy house near fifteen weeks, didst thou see any
cause of death and bonds in us?’ And he saying No, she signified to
him, that in some respect he had been accessory to their imprisonment,
and had not been ignorant of the intent: ‘Thou knewest,’ said she,
‘that a room was provided for us in the inquisition; and had we not
been kept alive by the mighty power of God, we might have been dead
long since.’ Endeavouring to excuse himself, he said, ‘how could I help
it?’ Then she put him in mind of what happened at his house, when they
were there, and how they called them to repentance, and forewarned
them. To which he said, ‘However it be, it will go well with you.’
Then she told him how he required a sign of her, when they were at his
house, if they were the servants of the Lord God: and she asked him
whether that was not true they spoke to him: ‘Thou art a condemned
person, and standest guilty before God; yet nevertheless repent,
if thou canst find a place.’ While she thus spoke to him, his lips
quivered, and he trembled, so that he could scarce stand upon his legs:
and though otherwise a very handsome man, and in his prime, yet he now
looked as one that was pining away; and this was a sufficient sign for
the whole city, if they had duly taken notice of it. Catharine having
refused the piece of money, he went to Sarah with it: but she likewise
told him she could not take it; but if he had a letter for them she
should be free to receive it. He saying he had not any, asked her what
she did want; and she answered, the Lord was her shepherd, she could
not want any good thing; but she did long for her freedom. He, not
willing to discourage her, said, ‘That you may have in time.’ But he
did not live to see it, for the next time they heard of him he was dead.

Whilst the friar was gone to Rome, it was told them they were also to
be sent thither; and there was indeed great workings about it; but it
seems they could not agree in the matter. In the meanwhile Catharine
and Sarah remained separated, and there were five doors between them
with locks and bolts; and yet Sarah sometimes found an opportunity
either by the carelessness of the keeper, or that it was done on
purpose, to come where she could see Catharine; and how much soever the
friars did watch them, yet she came to Catharine’s door by night. But
being once discovered, she was locked up again; yet not long after the
doors were again open, so that they sat in sight of each other.

Sometimes there were of divers nations brought prisoners into the
inquisition; and the friars, and other great men, endeavoured in their
way, to make Christians of them. Then these women would often show the
errors of popery, and declare the Truth, for which they were willing to
suffer death, if required: but this was taken very ill. At length it
happened that two Englishmen came into that city, and tried to obtain
their liberty, but in vain. Yet a little while after, the magistrates
sent for and asked them whether they were sick; or whether they did
want any thing; saying they might write to England, ordering the scribe
to give them ink and paper.

Not long after came one Francis Steward, a captain of a ship, and a
friar of Ireland, who both took great pains to get them released; and
their friends in England had not been wanting in any thing that might
procure their liberty. But the time for it was not yet come. The said
captain, and the new English consul, endeavoured much to procure their
liberty; but it was not in the magistrates power, for the inquisitor
said, he could not set them free, without an order from the pope.
Yet Catharine and Sarah were brought into the court chamber, and the
English consul asked them if they were willing to go back to England,
and they said, Yes, if it were the will of God they might. The captain
of the ship, who also was there, spoke to them with tears in his eyes,
and told them what he had done in their behalf, but in vain. ‘It is the
inquisitor,’ said he, ‘who will not let you go free: you have preached
among these people.’ To which they said, that they had witnessed
the Truth, which they were willing to maintain with their blood. He
replied, if they could be set free, he would freely give them their
passage, and provide for them. And they returned, his love was as well
accepted of the Lord, as if he did carry them. He also offered them
money, but they refused to take any. They then gave him a relation
of their imprisonment and sufferings, and said they could not change
their minds, though they were to be burnt to ashes, or chopped in small
pieces. The friar then drawing near, said they did not work: but this
was not true, for they had work of their own, and did work as they were
able. They also told him their work and business was in England. He
confessing this was true, said they had suffered long enough, and too
long, and that they should have their freedom within a short time, but
that there wanted an order from the pope. In the meanwhile it grieved
the captain that he could not obtain their liberty; and going away, he
prayed God to comfort them; and they besought the Lord to bless and
preserve him unto everlasting life, and never to let him, nor his, go
without a blessing from him, for his love. For he ventured himself
exceedingly in that place, by labouring to get their freedom.

After he was gone, they met with worse usage, and the inquisitor
coming, looked upon them with indignation; for the taking away of their
lives was again on foot, and their doors were shut up for many weeks.
After some time the inquisitor came again into the tower where they
sat; and Sarah called to him, and desired the door might be opened for
them to go down into the court to wash their clothes. He then ordered
the door to be opened once a week: and not long after it was open
every day. And since it had been said, that they could not be released
without the pope’s leave, Sarah said to him, ‘If we are the pope’s
prisoners, we appeal to the pope: send us therefore to him.’ But those
that had their abode in the inquisition, especially the friars, were
their mortal enemies, although they would sometimes have fed them with
the best of their victuals, and given them whole bottles of wine, if
they would have received it; and it troubled them exceedingly, that
they refused to eat and drink with them; which they did, because they
looked upon them as their fierce persecutors.

Once there came two or three English ships into the harbour, and the
English consul telling them of it, said, that he did what he could
for them, but that they would not let them go, unless they would turn
Catholics, and that therefore they must suffer more imprisonment yet.
Before Sarah knew these ships were come thither, she saw them in the
night in a dream, and heard a voice saying that they could not go
yet. When the ships were gone, they were sent for, and it was asked
them if they would be Catholics; to which they answered, they were
true Christians, and had received the Spirit of Christ. One of the
magistrates showing them the cross, they told him, they did take up the
cross of Christ daily, which was the power of God to crucify sin and
iniquity. Knowing that there was a friar, who, as the captain had told
them, took a great deal of pains for them, but not seeing him there,
(for he secretly favouring them, was now absent,) they said to those
that were present, ‘One of your fathers hath promised us our liberty.’
But this availed nothing. Yet they acknowledged his kindness, and told
him afterwards, he would never have cause to repent it. A friar once
coming to them, said, ‘It is God’s will ye should be kept here, or else
we could not keep you.’ On which Catharine told him, ‘The Lord suffers
wicked men to do wickedness, but he doth not will them to do it; he
suffered Herod to take off John the Baptist’s head, but he did not will
him to do it: he suffered Stephen to be stoned, and Judas to betray
Christ; but he did not will them to do so; for if he had, he would not
have condemned them for it.’ The friar hereupon asking, ‘Are we then
wicked men?’ She answered, ‘They are wicked men that work wickedness.’
‘But,’ said he, ‘you have not the true faith.’ To which she answered,
‘By faith we stand, and by the power of God we are upheld. Dost thou
think it is by our own power and holiness we are kept from a vain
conversation, from sin and wickedness?’ He then saying that was their
pride, she told him, ‘We can glory in the Lord, we were children of
wrath once as well as others; but the Lord hath quickened us that were
dead, by the living word of his grace, and hath washed, cleansed, and
sanctified us in soul and spirit, in part, according to our measures;
and we do press forward towards that which is perfect.’ He then said,
‘Ye are good women: but yet there is no redemption for you, except ye
will be Catholics.’ This was the old lesson of the friars, who, at
another time, said, ‘Ye may be Catholics, and keep your own religion
too, and yet shall not be known to be Catholics, except ye were brought
before a justice.’ To which they returned, ‘What, should we profess a
Christ we should be ashamed of?’

Some of those that came to see them would pity them for not turning
Catholics; but others showed their hatred, by crying that they must
be burnt, and by bawling, ‘Fuoco, fuoco, (fire, fire.)’ Whilst they
were separated from each other, Catharine was often much concerned for
Sarah, and afraid that she should be ensnared; for one of the friars
many times accosted her with fawning words: but they both continued
steadfast, and were often ravished by the inward joy and consolation
they felt. Catharine in one of her letters said, that the spirit of
prayer was once upon her, but that she was afraid to speak to the Lord,
for fear she should speak one word that would not please him. And then
it was returned from the Lord, ‘Fear not, daughter of Sion; ask what
thou wilt, and I will grant it thee, whatsoever thy heart can wish.’
But she desired nothing of the Lord, but what would make for his glory,
whether it were her liberty, or bondage, life or death. And in this
resignedness she found herself accepted of the Lord.

Sometimes they spoke so effectually to those that came to them, that
they could not gainsay them, but were made to confess that God was with
them; though others would make a hideous noise, and cry, ‘Jesu Maria,’
and run away, as people that were struck with fear. Catharine’s prison
being so near the street, that she could be heard of those that went
by, she was moved sometimes to call them to repentance, and to turn
to the light wherewith they were enlightened, which would lead them
out of all their wicked ways and works, to serve the true and living
God, in spirit and in truth. This so reached some, that they did sigh
and groan, and stay to hear her; but not long, it being forbidden upon
great pain. Yet some that passed by to their worship-houses were so
wicked, that they threw stones at her window, and often made a sad
noise, and howled like dogs.

Thus they were assaulted both from abroad, and within doors from the
friars, who fiercely threatened them for their bold testimony against
idolatry. Once when they showed Sarah the Virgin Mary and her babe
pictured against a wall, and would have her look upon it, she, to show
her zeal against idol-worship, stamped with her foot, and said, ‘Cursed
are all images, and image-makers, and those that fall down to worship
them.’

It happened that some French and Spanish ships came to join with the
cavaliers of Malta, to fight against the Turks; Sarah hearing this,
said, ‘God is angry, God is angry; go not forth to kill one another;
Christ came not to destroy life, but to save it.’ This she told many
who were persuaded of obtaining a victory; but it fell out otherwise,
for their fleet was beaten by the Turks, and they returned with great
damage.

A friar coming once to Catharine, asked her why she did not work;
which made her say to him, ‘What work dost thou?’ He answered, ‘I
write.’ To which she returned, ‘I will write too, if thou wilt bring me
pen, ink, and paper.’ He not willing she should write, said, ‘St. Paul
did work at Rome; and by knitting she might get about three half-pence
a day.’ She told him, ‘If we could have that privilege among you, which
Paul had at Rome under Cæsar, who was a heathen prince, we would have
wrought, and not have been chargeable to any; for he lived in his own
hired house two years, preaching the gospel, and doctrine of the Lord
Jesus Christ.’ She asked him also, whether he knew the holy war of
God? ‘And if thou knowest it,’ said she, ‘then thou canst not but know
that we cannot be without exercise day nor night.’ This stopped his
mouth; besides it was well known that they spent not their time idly;
for they knit stockings for those that were serviceable to them; they
made garments for the poor prisoners, and mended their clothes; though
they were not willing to work for the friars, who sometimes coming to
her, kneeled down, and would have Catharine to say after them the words
they spoke. But this she refused to do, though it made these men grow
more angry. Such and the like occurrences so grieved her, that once in
anguish of spirit she cried out to God, ‘It were better for me to die
than to live thus.’ For being almost continually constrained to testify
against idolatry and superstition, she would have been willing to have
laid down her life for a testimony against it, if it had been required
of her. And when once the friars told her that Sarah was to be carried
to Rome, whilst she should stay at Malta, it so grieved her, that with
supplication, she asked the Lord if he did not count her worthy to
go to Rome also, and to offer up her life there for the testimony of
Jesus: because, if she was at liberty to choose, she would rather do
so, than return without her to England.

At another time, when it was told them that their bibles were false,
Catharine asked the friar that said so, ‘Wherein are they false?’ He
replied, because the books of the Maccabees were not in them. To which
she answered, that though something might be wanting, yet the rest
might be good for all that: but if something were added, then the bible
was corrupted. This struck at some additions she had seen in the bibles
there. Then he asked her whether she did not think that every one must
bow at the name of Jesus; and she answering, ‘Yea,’ he said, ‘Jesus,’
and bade her to kneel down, or to bow herself. To which she said, that
her heart and whole body was bowed down under the name of Jesus; but
that she would not bow at the will of him, or any body else. ‘He that
departs from iniquity, (thus she continued,) bows before the name of
Jesus; but they that live in sin and wickedness, do not bow before the
Son of God.’ Then he said, that he and his companions stood in the same
power, and were led by the same spirit as the apostles. Which made
her ask, why then they abused that power, and used carnal weapons? He
answered, they did not do so, for their inquisition, nay, even their
chains and fetters were spiritual. Then he asked her, whether she did
not think all those damned that were not of her persuasion; she said,
‘No, Christ hath not taught us so; for those that are to-day in a state
of reprobation, the Lord, if it please him, can call to-morrow out of
it.’ He then said, ‘We think you damned, and all those that are not of
our belief.’ To which she returned, ‘The judgment of man doth not hurt
us.’

Sometimes some came to the prison upon their saints’ days, and asked
them what day it was: and they not being acquainted with those saints,
would answer, ‘We do not know it.’ When the others then told them, that
it was such or such a saint’s day, and that this saint would punish
them that night, because they did not observe his day; they answered,
that they knew the saints to be at peace with them, and that therefore
they did not fear them. Another time a friar came and told them, it
was seventeen days to Christmas, and that the Virgin Mary conceived
that present day. On which Catharine made this remark, that indeed this
was very singular, that she did go with child but seventeen days. Such
like occurrences grieved her exceedingly, when she considered the gross
darkness these people were in: and as she was crying to the Lord in
prayer, that it seemed that all their travail and labour was fruitless,
she felt this answer: ‘Be not grieved, though Israel be not gathered,
the seed of Malta is to increase into multitude; that which ye have
sown shall not die, but live.’

1662.

After Catharine and Sarah had been imprisoned at Malta about three
years, there came one Daniel Baker, who did whatever he could, and
went also to the inquisitor, to obtain their liberty, but in vain; for
he required that some English merchants at Leghorn, or at Messina,
should engage for four thousand dollars, that they being released,
should never return into those parts. But they were unwilling to enter
into those terms, as not knowing what the Lord one time or other might
require of them. Daniel, seeing he could not obtain their deliverance
this way, offered himself to be imprisoned instead of them; and this
not being accepted, he went yet further, and signified, that he was
willing to lay down his life for their liberty, if it was not to be
purchased otherwise. Great love indeed! of which but few instances are
to be found. And they hearing of this, were touched with exceeding
great admiration. In the meanwhile, he found a way to get some letters
delivered to them, and wrote also himself, both to comfort and exhort
them to steadfastness. At length he found means also to speak to them:
for on a time, as they stood at the prison gates, he being come in
their sight, saluted them in those words: ‘The whole body of God’s
elect, right dearly beloved, own your testimony, and ye are a sweet
savour unto the Lord and his people.’ To which one of them answered,
that it was a trouble to them that they could not be more serviceable.
This made his heart melt with pity and compassion, considering the
wonderful mercy of the Lord in preserving them without fainting in that
sharp trial: and they beholding one another at a distance through the
iron grates, were mutually refreshed at that season. They afterwards
wrote to him, and signified with the most tender expressions, how
highly they valued his great love; and also sent him letters for their
friends and relations in England; and he neglected not to write back
again to them during his stay, which was in the forepart of the year
1662. But he was forced to leave them prisoners there: yet the time of
their redemption drew nigh, which was brought about at the instance of
George Fox and Gilbert Latey, by writing to the lord Aubigny, as hath
been said already.

Some time before Daniel Baker came to Malta, it had been told them,
that if they would turn Catholics, they might dwell at Malta. To which
their answer was, that they were true Catholics. One of the magistrates
said, that if they would not turn Catholics, they must yet suffer
long imprisonment by the pope’s order. And yet it was not true that
there was such an order. It was also told them, if they would kiss the
cross, they should be released; and they might stay at the house of the
English consul, until an opportunity offered to carry them to England.
In the meanwhile they heard that the pope had given order to let them
pass to England without doing them any hurt. But however it was, they
were preserved well contented, and they said resolutely, that they
would not kiss the cross, nor purchase their liberty at that rate. It
seems the consul aimed at some advantage by their releasement; for he
told them that the inquisitor had said, if any one would engage for
three or four thousand dollars to be paid, if ever they came thither
again, they should be set at liberty. This he said also to D. Baker,
and added, that if none would engage, they must die in prison, and
that this was the pope’s order. After Baker’s departure, word was sent
to some English merchants, concerning such an engagement, but none
appeared willing to enter into it; and the prisoners were so far from
desiring, that they spoke against it. Yet there were many that sought
to obtain their liberty, showing themselves willing to engage for what
was reasonable; but all their endeavours were in vain.

Once they fasted three days, and though it was a cold season, they
sat upon the ground, with a very little clothes, without stockings
or shoes, having nothing upon their heads but ashes. The inquisitors
seeing it, wondered exceedingly; and Sarah began to speak zealously
against superstition and idolatry. And when the time of their fast was
expired, Catharine composed the following

HYMN TO GOD.

    All praise to him that hath not put
      Nor cast me out of mind,
    Nor yet his mercy from me shut,
      As I could ever find.

    Infinite glory, laud, and praise.
      Be given to his name,
    Who hath made known in these our days.
      His strength and noble fame.

    Oh none is like unto the Lamb!
      Whose beauty shineth bright,
    O glorify his holy name,
      His majesty and might.

    My soul praise thou the only God,
      A fountain pure and clear,
    Whose chrystal streams spread all abroad,
      And cleanseth far and near.

    The well-springs of eternity,
      Which are so pure and sweet,
    And do arise continually,
      My bridegroom for to meet.

    My sweet and dear beloved one,
      Whose voice is more to me
    Than all the glory of the earth,
      Or treasures I can see.

    He is the glory of my life,
      My joy and my delight.
    Within the bosom of his love
      He clos’d me day and night.

    He doth preserve me clean and pure
      Within his pavil’lon,
    Where I with him should be secure,
      And saved from all wrong.

    My soul praise thou the Lord, I say,
      Praise him with joy and peace;
    My sp’rit and mind both night and day,
      Praise him and never cease.

    O magnify his majesty,
      His fame and his renown,
    Whose dwelling is in Sion high,
      The glory of his crown.

    O praises, praises to our God,
      Sing praises to our King;
    O teach the people all abroad,
      His praises for to sing.

    A Sion song of glory bright,
      That doth shine out so clear;
    O manifest it in the sight
      Of nations far and near;

    That God may have his glory due,
      His honour and his fame,
    And all his saints may sing anew
      The praises of his name.

After Catharine had joyfully sung thus, she went to the well in the
court, and drank much water in the sight of the prisoners, as did Sarah
also: for they were very dry, and Sarah washing her head also in cold
water, they cried out in their language, ‘Ye will kill yourselves, and
go to the devil.’ But this they did not fear, neither caught they any
cold, and so became a wonder to others.

About half a year after Daniel Baker was gone, it came into Catharine’s
heart, that if she could speak with the inquisitor, he would grant
them their liberty. And it was not long after that he came to the
inquisition court chamber, which they hearing, desired to speak with
him, which was granted, and being admitted into his presence, they told
him they had not wronged or defrauded any, but had suffered innocently
almost four years for conscience-sake, &c. After this the inquisitor
was very courteous to them, and promised their liberty in a few days,
saying he would send for the consul, and get him to engage for five
hundred dollars, to be paid for them if ever they came again. And in
case the consul denied this, he would send to Rome to the pope, to set
them at liberty without any obligation.

Not many days after the inquisitor came with his lieutenant, the
chancellor, and others, and after some discourse, asked them whether
they would return back again to their husbands and children, if it were
the will of God: to which they answered, it was their intent in the
will of God so to do. Hereupon they were released, and the inquisitor
took his leave very courteously of them, and wished them a prosperous
return to their own country; so likewise did the magistrates, and the
inferior officers, not requiring one pennyworth for fees or attendance;
yet in their own freedom they gave something to the keeper and some
poor men.

Being thus set at liberty, they kneeled down and prayed God never to
lay to their charge what they did unto them, because they knew them
not. And then they were delivered into the consul’s hands, who told
them that he had engaged for them to get them free; but they could
never find that it was true. Now they were kept eleven weeks at the
consul’s house, before they could get a passage from thence. Catharine
in the meanwhile, being under a great concern, because of a judgment
that was impending over the city, wrote a paper to the rulers of Malta,
in which she said, that on the 25th of the month called August, it
came upon her from the Lord to write thus to them in his name, ‘My
wrath is kindled against you, and my judgment is set up amongst you,
because of your hard-heartedness and unbelief. I the Lord, who desire
the death of no man, but that all should return unto me and live, have
cast my servants amongst you, contrary to their will, and without their
knowledge, to go and forewarn you of the evil that was coming upon you.
For all the wicked shall be brought to judgment. I will establish my
beloved Son upon his throne, and he shall rule in his princely power,
and reign in his kingly majesty, whose right it is over all; and his
own spiritual government shall he set up in all places, righteous rule
and pure worship in Spirit and in Truth. There is nothing that can
prevent the Lord, who saith, If ye will not hear my servant, which
speaketh my word, whom ye proved almost these four years, whose life
hath been harmless and spotless, in pure innocency amongst you, then
will I bring wo upon wo, and judgment upon judgment upon you, till the
living shall not be able to bury the dead. My mouth hath spoken it,
and my zeal will perform it; and every man’s hand shall be upon his
loins for pain; for the day of recompence is come. But if you will hear
my servant which speaketh in my name, and return in your minds to the
light in your consciences, which convinceth of all evil, and deny all
evil thoughts, words, and actions, then will I pour out my spirit upon
you, and will soon cure you of your diseases, and heal you of your
pain.’

This, and more she wrote, and delivered to the consul to give it to
the grand master, and the rest of the governors; but the consul not
being pleased with it, threatened her with imprisonment again. What
further became of the paper I do not find, but this, that on the 8th
of October, there was great thunder and lightning, which set on fire
and blew up one of the powder-houses about a mile out of the city, and
another powder-house was thrown down; and in the city, five houses were
overthrown, most of the glass windows of the palaces and other houses
broken, the doors lifted off their hooks, the walls torn, and the whole
city terribly shaken, so that being at midnight, a cry went through
the whole city, and the bells were rung. At the bed’s feet where
Catharine and Sarah lay, was a glass window, which also was broken,
but they received no hurt, though the house was so shaken that they
did exceedingly fear and quake; but being given up unto the Lord to
live and die, their fear was soon taken from them, and turned into joy
in the Lord. When it was day the consul came to them, and they being
still and quiet, he asked whether they were not dead: and while he was
speaking others came in, telling what was done in the city; and he told
them that even the ships in the harbour had suffered damage. Then they
said, ‘One wo is past, and behold another wo cometh quickly, if ye do
not repent.’

Some days after Sarah fasted, sitting upon the ground with ashes upon
her head, her neck and shoulders bare; and she spoke to the consul to
desire the grand master to proclaim a fast, and to make the people to
meet together to wait upon the Lord, with their minds turned to him,
that so he might turn away his judgments from them; for the hour of
his judgments was come, wherein the painted harlot should be stripped
naked, and receive a cup of trembling from the hand of the Lord. The
consul performed this message to the magistrates, and the friars said
the woman had a good intent. Sometime after the inquisitor came, and
talking with them, said, ‘Your intent is good, but the devil hath
deceived you.’ And they asked him whether the devil could give power
over sin: to which he said, the devil could transform himself into an
image of light. This they assented to, but yet said he could not hide
himself from the children of light; though they that were in the dark
could not discern him. He could not abide to hear this, but went away,
and the consul, who was present, wrought against them to get them into
bondage again, but in vain. Many now died in the town of a violent
fever: whether any other disaster followed upon their prediction, I
cannot tell.

At length there came one of the king of England’s frigates, called
the Sapphire, commanded by captain Samuel Titswel, who took them in,
together with some knights of Malta; among them was the inquisitor’s
brother, who often spoke to the captain, that they might not want any
thing that was in the ship, and he told them, if they came to Malta
again, they should not be persecuted so. And to the captain he said,
‘If they go to heaven one way, and we another, yet we shall all meet
together at last.’ But they told him that Christ Jesus, the light of
the World, was the only way to the Father.

Departing from Malta, after some time they came to Leghorn, where
the merchants showed them great kindness, and sent wine and other
things for their refreshment, proffering them also money; but they
were unwilling to accept it. From thence they came to Tangier, which
the king of England had in marriage with the daughter of the king
of Portugal. This place was at that time besieged by the Moors, yet
Catharine and Sarah entered the town, and many came flocking into the
house where they were lodged, for they boldly exhorted the people
to depart from wickedness. They also went to the governor, who was
courteous to them, and took their admonition in good part, and promised
to follow their counsel. And he would have given them money, but they
took none, though they accepted his love; for he commanded that none
of the garrison should abuse them either in word or deed, upon pain of
severe punishment: yet the Portuguese and Irish were ready enough to
have done them mischief. They being inclined to go out to the Moors,
desired the governor to let them go forth, but he told them they must
expect from that savage people nothing but cruel death, or bonds
forever: and though they signified to him that they believed the Lord
would preserve them, since they were persuaded that he required of them
to go to the Moors, yet the governor in a friendly manner withheld them
from going. Being thus stopped, they believed that the Lord accepted of
their good will. When they went aboard again, though in another ship,
several took shipping with them, from a belief, that on their account,
they should have a safe passage. The captain and others that were in
the ship, behaved themselves very civilly towards them; and though they
met with tempests, yet at length they arrived safe in England.

Catharine afterwards related, that when, (in the inquisition,) she
was for many days together in expectation that they should be burnt,
she saw in a dream in the night, a large room, and a great wood fire
in the chimney, and she beheld one sitting in the chair by the fire,
in the form of a servant, whom she took to be the Eternal Son of God:
likewise she saw a very amiable well-favoured man-child, sitting in a
hollow chair over the fire, (not appearing to be above three-quarters
of a year old, and having no clothes on but a little fine linen about
the upper parts,) and the fire flamed about it; yet the child played,
and was merry. She would then have taken it up, for fear it should have
been burnt; but he that sat in the chair bid her let it alone. Then
turning about she saw an angel, and he that sat in the chair bid her
take up the child, which she did, and found it had no harm; and then
awaking, she told her dream to Sarah, and desired her not to fear,
since the heavenly host thus followed them.

I have collected this relation of the occurrences of these women at
Malta, from several papers and letters, which not long after their
return home were published in print. And since no due order was
observed there, and many things mentioned, which to avoid prolixity I
have passed by, as not very material, I may have haply missed in some
case or other, as to the order or series of time, but yet I think the
matters of fact are not mutilated. Now to give the reader an idea of
the frame of these women’s minds, and their sufferings, I will insert
some of their letters: among those which they wrote to their friends in
England was this following:

  ‘O dearly beloved friends, fathers, and elders, and pillars of
  God’s spiritual house, and brethren and sisters in the Lord Jesus
  Christ, in the measure of love and life of our God, do we salute
  you all, and do embrace you in that which is eternal, and we do
  greatly rejoice, and glorify the name of our heavenly Father,
  that he hath counted us worthy to be partakers of the death and
  sufferings of his blessed Son with you; though we be the least
  of God’s flock, yet we are of the true fold, whereof Christ
  Jesus is shepherd; and he hath had as tender a care over us, as
  he hath had of any of his lambs which he hath called forth in
  this the day of his power, and hath carried us through and over
  as great afflictions as most of our brethren and sufferers for
  his name, both in mockings, scoffings, scornings, reproaches,
  stripes, contradictions, perils at land, perils at sea, fiery
  trials, cruel threatenings, grief of heart, sorrow of soul, heats
  and colds, fastings, and watchings, fears within, and fightings
  without; terrible temptations and persecutions, and dreadful
  imprisonments, and buffetings of Satan; yet in all these our
  trials, the Lord was very gracious unto us, and did not absent
  himself from us, neither suffered his faithfulness to fail us,
  but did bear us up, and keep us from fainting in the midst of
  our extremity. We had not another to make our moan to, but the
  Lord alone; neither could we expect a drop of mercy, favour, or
  refreshments, but what he did distil from his living presence,
  and work by his own strength; for we sat one in one room, and the
  other in another, near a year; as owls in deserts, and as people
  forsaken in solitary places. Then did we enjoy the presence of
  the Lord, and did behold the brightness of his glory, and we
  did see you, our dear friends, in the light of Jesus, and did
  behold your order and steadfastness of your faith and love to
  all saints, and were refreshed in all the faithful-hearted, and
  felt the issues of love and life which did stream from the hearts
  of those that were wholly joined to the fountain, and were made
  sensible of the benefit of your prayers.

  ‘O the sorrows, the mournings, the tears! “But those that sow in
  tears, shall reap in joy.” A true sorrow begets a true joy; and
  a true cross a true crown: for when our sorrows did abound, the
  love of God did abound much more: the deeper the sorrows, the
  greater the joys; the greater the cross, the weightier the crown.

  ‘Dear friends and brethren, marvel not that Israel is not
  gathered, our judgment remains with the Lord, and so do our
  labours; for it was not for want of travail, nor pain, nor love
  to their souls; for we could have been contented to have fed
  upon the grass on the ground, so we might have had our freedom
  amongst them: for, had it not been for the great opposition,
  they would have followed after us, as chickens after a hen,
  both great and small. But oh! the swelling seas, the raging and
  foaming waves, stormy winds and floods, and deep waters, and
  high mountains and hills, hard rocks, rough ways, and crooked
  paths, tall cedars, strong oaks, fruitless trees, and corrupted
  ones, that cumber the ground, and hinder the righteous seed to
  be sown, and the noble plants from being planted. Oh! they shut
  up the kingdom against the simple-hearted, and hide the key of
  knowledge from the innocent ones, and will not enter into the
  kingdom themselves, nor suffer them that would enter, but stir
  up the magistrates to form carnal weapons, thinking to prevent
  the Lord of taking to him his inheritance, and to dispossess his
  Son, who is heir of all, that he might not have a dwelling-place
  among them, nor a habitation nigh them; because that his light
  will discover their darkness, and his brightness will burn up
  all their abominations, and mar their beauty, and stain their
  glory, their pomp, and their pride, that it may perish as the
  untimely figs, and fall as the flower of the field, and wither
  as the grass upon the house-top. Oh! the belly of hell, the jaws
  of Satan, the whole mystery of iniquity is at the height, and
  all manner of abomination that makes desolate, stands where it
  ought not, and is upholden by a law, that upon pain of death none
  must speak against it, nor walk contrary to it. But praises to
  our God, he carried us forth to declare against it daily. Oh!
  the blind guides, the seducing spirits, that do cause the people
  to err, and compel them to worship the beast and his image, and
  have his mark in their foreheads, and in their hands, and to bow
  to pictures and painted walls, and to worship the things of
  their own hands, and to fall down to that which their own fingers
  have fashioned, and will not suffer them to look towards Sion
  upon pain of death, nor to walk towards Jerusalem upon pain of
  faggot and fire, but must abide in Babel, and believe whatsoever
  they speak or do to be truth. But oh! the ways, the worships,
  the fashions, forms, customs, traditions, observations, and
  imaginations, which they have drawn in by their dark divinations,
  to keep the poor people in blindness and ignorance, so that they
  perish for want of knowledge, and are corrupted, because the way
  of Truth is not made known among them; they are all in the many
  ways, out of the one true living way, and their ways be so many
  and so monstrous, that they are unrehearsable; but the Lord our
  God hath kindled a fire in the midst of them, that will consume
  all forms, fashions, customs, and traditions of men, and will
  burn up the briers, thorns, and tares, stubble, and fruitless
  trees, and corrupted ones; and will blast all the fruits, works,
  and labours of wicked and ungodly men, with the mildews of his
  wrathful indignation, and will scatter all his enemies with the
  whirlwinds of his displeasure. They do not know the Scriptures:
  their bibles would grieve any honest heart to behold them,
  because of the corruption.’

This letter was signed by both of them, though perhaps Catharine was
the writer, who also wrote a letter of exhortation to the popish
inquisitor at Malta, and another to friar Malachy. Among the letters
she wrote to her husband and children, I count the following really
worthy to be delivered to posterity:

  ‘_For the hands of John Evans, my right dear, and precious
    husband, with my tender-hearted children, who are more dear and
    precious to me than the apple of my eye._

  ‘Most dear and faithful husband, friend, and brother, begotten
  of my eternal Father, of the immortal seed of the covenant of
  light, life, and blessedness, I have unity and fellowship with
  thee day and night, to my great refreshment, and continual
  comfort. Praises, praises be given to our God for evermore, who
  hath joined us together in that which neither sea nor land can
  separate or divide.

  ‘My dear heart, my soul doth dearly salute thee, with my dear
  and precious children, who are dear and precious in the light of
  the Lord, to thy endless joy, and my everlasting comfort; glory
  be to our Lord God eternally, who hath called you with a holy
  calling, and hath caused his beauty to shine upon you in this
  the day of his power, wherein he is making up of his jewels, and
  binding up of his faithful ones in the bond of everlasting love
  and salvation, among whom he hath numbered you of his own free
  grace; in which I beseech you, dear hearts, in the fear of the
  Lord, to abide in your measures, according to the manifestation
  of the revelation of the Son of God in you. Keep a diligent watch
  over every thought, word, and action, and let your minds be staid
  continually in the light, where you will find out the snares and
  baits of Satan, and be preserved out of his traps, nets, and
  pits, that you may not be captivated by him at his will. Oh, my
  dear husband and children, how often have I poured out my soul to
  the everlasting Father for you, with rivers of tears night and
  day, that you might be kept pure and single in the sight of our
  God, improving your talents as wise virgins, having oil in your
  vessels; and your lamps burning, and clothed with the long white
  robe of righteousness, ready to enter the bed-chamber, and to
  sup with the Lamb, and to feed at the feast of fat things, where
  your souls may be nourished, refreshed, comforted, and satisfied,
  never to hunger again.

  ‘My dear hearts, you do not want teaching; you are in a land
  of blessedness, which floweth with milk and honey, among the
  faithful stewards, whose mouths are open wide to righteousness,
  to declare the eternal mysteries of the everlasting kingdom, of
  the endless joys and eternal glory; whereunto all the willing and
  obedient shall enter and be blessed for ever.

  ‘My dear hearts, the promises of the Lord are large, and are all
  Yea and Amen to those that fear his name; he will comfort the
  mourners in Sion, and will cause the heavy-hearted in Jerusalem
  to rejoice, because of the glad tidings: they that do bear the
  cross with patience, shall wear the crown with joy; for it is
  through the long-suffering and patient waitings, the crown
  of life and immortality comes to be obtained. The Lord hath
  exercised my patience, and tried me to the uttermost, to his
  praise, and my eternal comfort, who hath not been wanting to us
  in anything in his own due time; we are witnesses he can provide
  a table in the wilderness, both spiritual and temporal. Oh, the
  endless love of our God, who is an everlasting fountain of all
  living refreshment, whose crystal streams never cease running to
  every thirsty soul, that breatheth after the springs of life and
  salvation.

  ‘In our deepest affliction, when I looked for every breath to be
  the last, I could not wish I had not come over sea, because I
  knew it was my eternal Father’s will to prove me, with my dear
  and faithful friend. In all afflictions and miseries the Lord
  remembered mercy, and did not leave nor forsake us, nor suffer
  his faithfulness to fail us; but caused the sweet drops of his
  mercy to distil upon us, and the brightness of his glorious
  countenance to shine into our hearts, and was never wanting to
  us in revelations or visions. Oh, how may I do to set forth
  the fulness of God’s love to our souls: no tongue can express
  it, no heart can conceive it, nor mind can comprehend it. Oh,
  the ravishments, the raptures, the glorious bright shining
  countenance of our Lord God, who is our fulness in emptiness,
  our strength in weakness, our health in sickness, our life in
  death, our joy in sorrow, our peace in disquietness, our praise
  in heaviness, our power in all needs or necessities; he alone
  is a full God unto us, and to all that can trust him. He hath
  emptied us of ourselves, and hath unbottomed us of ourselves, and
  hath wholly built us upon a sure foundation, the rock of ages,
  Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, where the swelling seas,
  nor raging, foaming waves, nor stormy winds, though they beat
  vehemently, can be able to remove us. Glory, honour, and praise,
  is to our God for ever, who, out of his everlasting treasures,
  doth fill us with his eternal riches day by day; he did nourish
  our souls with the choicest of his mercies, and doth feed our
  bodies with his good creatures, and relieve all our necessities
  in a full measure. Praises, praises be to him alone, who is our
  everlasting portion, our confidence, and our rejoicing, whom we
  serve acceptably with reverence and godly fear; for our God is a
  consuming fire.

  ‘Oh, my dear husband, and precious children, you may feel issues
  of love and life, which stream forth as a river to every soul
  of you, from a heart that is wholly joined to the fountain. My
  prayers are for you day and night without ceasing; beseeching
  the Lord God of power to pour down his tender mercies upon you,
  and to keep you in his pure fear, and to increase your faith, to
  confirm you in all righteousness, and strengthen you in believing
  in the name of the Lord God Almighty, that you may be established
  as Mount Sion, that can never be moved. Keep your souls unspotted
  of the world, and love one another with a pure heart fervently;
  serve one another in love, build up one another in the Eternal,
  and bear one another’s burdens for the Seed’s sake, and so fulfil
  the law of God. This is the word of the Lord unto you, my dearly
  beloved.

  ‘Dear hearts, I do commit you into the hands of the Almighty, who
  dwelleth on high, and to the word of his grace in you, who is
  able to build you up to everlasting life and eternal salvation.
  By me, who am thy dear and precious wife, and spouse, in the
  marriage of the Lamb, in the bed undefiled,

                                                              C. E.’

  ‘My dearly beloved yoke-mate in the work of our God, doth dearly
  salute you. Salute us dearly to our precious friends in all
  places. I do believe we shall see your faces again with joy.’

  This was written in the Inquisition
    at Malta, in the 11th month, in the
    year 1661.

           _The following letter was written by Sarah to her
                husband, Henry Cheevers, and Children._

  ‘My dear husband, my love, my life is given up to serve the
  living God, and to obey his pure call in the measure of the
  manifestation of his love, light, life, and Spirit of Christ
  Jesus, his only begotten Son, whom he hath manifested in me, and
  thousands, by the brightness of his appearing, to put an end
  to sin and satan, and bring to light immortality, through the
  preaching of the everlasting gospel, by the Spirit of prophesy,
  which is poured out upon the sons and daughters of the living
  God, according to his purpose; whereof he hath chosen me, who
  am the least of all: but God, who is rich in mercy, for his own
  name-sake hath passed by mine offences, and hath counted me
  worthy to bear testimony to his holy name, before the mighty
  men of the earth. Oh the love of the Lord to my soul! My tongue
  cannot express, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, to
  conceive of the things that God hath laid up for them that fear
  him.

  ‘Therefore doth my soul breathe to my God for thee and my
  children, night and day, that your minds may be joined to the
  light of the Lord Jesus, to lead you out of satan’s kingdom,
  into the kingdom of God, where we may enjoy one another in
  the life eternal, where neither sea nor land can separate; in
  which light and life do I salute thee, my dear husband, with my
  children, wishing you to embrace God’s love, in making his truth
  so clearly manifest amongst you; whereof I am a witness, even of
  the everlasting fountain that hath been opened by the messengers
  of Christ, who preach to you the word of God, in season and out
  of season, directing you where you may find your Saviour, to
  purge and cleanse you from your sins, and to reconcile you to his
  Father, and to have unity with him and all the saints, in the
  light, that ye may be fellow-citizens in the kingdom of glory,
  rest, and peace, which Christ hath purchased for them that love
  him, and obey him. What profit is there for to gain the whole
  world, and lose your own souls? Seek first the kingdom of God and
  the righteousness thereof, and all other things shall be added
  to you. Godliness is great gain, having the promise of this life
  that now is, and that which is to come; which is fulfilled to
  me, who have tasted of the Lord’s endless love and mercies to my
  soul; and from a moving of the same love and life do I breathe to
  thee my dear husband, with my children; my dear love salutes you
  all; my prayers to my God are for you all, that your minds may
  be joined to the light, wherewith you are lightened, that I may
  enjoy you in that which is eternal, and have communion with you
  in the spirit. He that is joined to the Lord, is one spirit, one
  heart, one mind, one soul; to serve the Lord with one consent.
  I cannot by pen or paper set forth the large love of God, in
  fulfilling his gracious promises to me in the wilderness, being
  put into prison for God’s truth, there to remain all the days of
  my life, being searched, tried, examined, upon pain of death,
  among the enemies of God and his Truth; standing in jeopardy for
  my life, until the Lord had subdued and brought them under by
  his mighty power, and made them to feed us, and would have given
  us money or clothes; but the Lord did deck our table richly in
  the wilderness. The day of the Lord is appearing, wherein he
  will discover every deed of darkness, let it be done never so
  secretly; the light of Christ Jesus will make it manifest in
  every conscience; the Lord will rip up all coverings that are not
  of his own spirit. The God of peace be with you all. Amen.

                                Written in the Inquisition prison by
                                                 SARAH CHEEVERS.’

Several other letters both she and Catharine wrote to their husbands,
and relations. But since great part of my narrative was fetched from
thence, I pass them by. But by these inserted, one may see that they
were not women of a dull temper, but ingenious and cheerful.

In a letter of Sarah’s to her friends in Ireland, I find these words:

  ‘My life is given up to the service of the Lord: bonds, chains,
  bolts, irons, double doors, death itself, is too little for the
  testimony of Jesus, and for the word of God; so the seed be
  gathered, it is but a reasonable sacrifice. Bonds and afflictions
  betide the gospel of Christ. Those that will live godly in Christ
  Jesus, must suffer persecution.’

And in a letter to Daniel Baker, Catharine said,

  ‘The time is too little for me to disclose the twentieth part
  of the terrible trials; but whensoever we were brought upon any
  trial, the Lord did take away all fear from us, and multiplied
  our strength, and gave us power and boldness to plead for the
  Truth of the Lord Jesus, and wisdom of words to stop the mouths
  of the gainsayers; but then they would say, we had not the true
  faith, but we had all virtues. Dearly beloved, pray for us, that
  we fall not, nor fail; whereby our enemies may have any advantage
  to rejoice, and say, we served a god that could not serve us,
  and called upon a god that could not deliver us; as if we were
  like them, to call upon stocks, stones, pictures, and painted
  walls, and dead things that cannot hear, see, nor speak. We do
  beseech thee to tell all our dear friends, fathers, and elders,
  the pillars of our spiritual building, with all the rest of our
  Christian brethren, that we do desire their prayers, for we have
  need of them.’

This letter they concluded with the following Poem:

      How strong and pow’rful is our King
    To all that do believe in him?
    He doth preserve them from the snare,
    And teeth of those that would them tear.

      We that are suff’rers for the seed,
    Our hearts are wounded, and do bleed
    To see th’ oppression, cruelty,
    Of men that do thy Truth deny.

      In prisons strong, and dungeons deep,
    To God alone we cry and weep:
    Our sorrows none can learn nor read,
    But those that in our path do tread.

      But he whose beauty shineth bright,
    Who turneth darkness into light,
    Makes cedars bow, and oaks to bend
    To him that’s sent to the same end.

      He is a fountain pure and clear,
    His crystal streams run far and near,
    To cleanse all those that come to him
    For to be healed of their sin.

      All them that patiently abide,
    And never swerve nor go aside,
    The Lord will free them out of all
    Bondage, captivity, and thrall.

They composed several others, which fell into the hands of their
enemies, and copies of them were given to the inquisitor. But now I
leave them; and yet before I return to transactions in England, I shall
relate a singular case of Daniel Baker, who being come to Smyrna,
with intent to travel from thence to Constantinople, was stopped by
the English consul, and sent to the Isle of Zant, where a ship lay
bound for Venice, in which he embarked, and coming into that city, he
staid there a week, and went from thence to Leghorn, with intent to
take shipping there for England: but during his stay in that place,
he inwardly felt drawings towards Malta, to try whether he could be
helpful to Catharine and Sarah, that were prisoners there, since he
had several times been stirred up thereto; and though the difficulty
of the matters had kept him back, yet he could not have peace in his
mind, before he gave himself up to that service; and so he embarked
in a French ship for Sicily: and coming to Syracuse, he staid there
five days, and then set sail for Malta; where being arrived, he got
admitted to the pope’s inquisitor, to whom he spoke in the Italian
tongue on this wise: ‘I am come to demand the just liberty of my
innocent friends, the English women in prison in the inquisition.’ The
inquisitor asked him if he were related to them as husband or kinsman,
and whether he came out of England on purpose with that message. To
this Daniel answered, that he came from Leghorn for that same end. But
the inquisitor told him they should abide in prison till they died,
except some English merchants, or others that were able, would engage
for the value of three or four thousand dollars, that they should
never return into those parts. His request being thus denied, he went
to the English consul, and spoke with him and several others: but all
his endeavours proved vain; and he himself was threatened with the
inquisition; and the pope’s deputy would have had him bound, that he
should neither speak good nor evil to any body, while he was on the
island, save to him and the consul.

After a stay here of three weeks, he passed again to Italy, and from
thence took shipping for England: but being come into the Streights of
Gibraltar, he saw that the high mountain there, was the same place he
had seen the foregoing year in a dream, when prisoner in Worcester jail
in England. Here the ship wherein he was, with several other vessels,
lay about a month, because of the contrary wind, so that they could not
set sail. In the meanwhile being under a burden, he perceived there
was a service for him ashore; but, considering this to be dangerous,
he wished to have been excused of it; but felt no peace before he
fully gave up, whatever, either bonds or death, might ensue. Whilst
the fleet lay here wind-bound, divers ships attempted to pass through,
but could not: and the like temptation attended him as that of Jonah,
viz. to flee from the place, and so to escape the burden under which he
laboured. But he found, as afterwards signified in a printed relation,
that obedience was his duty, though it was required of him to be a sign
against the idolatry of the church of Rome. He then told the master of
the ship in which he was a passenger, something of the matter, and said
that he believed that God would soon give opportunity for the fleet to
pass away, after his service was performed. The master was hard to be
persuaded to put him ashore, yet at length he suffered it, upon the
day they used to call Maundy Thursday. Being now landed, he went to
the town, and so into the mass-house, where he found the priest at the
high altar, upon his knees, in his white surplice, adoring the host.
After he had awhile been viewing this idolatry, he felt the indignation
of God kindled in his heart against it: and turning his back upon the
priest and his dead god, he set his face towards the people, and saw
the multitude upon their knees also, worshipping they knew not what.
In this posture, spreading forth his arms, he slipped off his upper
garment, and rent it from top to bottom in divers pieces, which he cast
from him with indignation: then he took his hat from off his head, as
being the uppermost covering of man, and casting it down, stamped upon
it with his feet, and appearing in sackcloth covering, he with a loud
voice, thrice sounded repentance, and said that the life of Christ and
his saints was arisen from the dead. And so he passed away unmolested,
sounding the same message with repentance through the streets, till he
came to the sea-side, where he kneeled down to pray, and gave thanks
to the Lord for his wonderful preservation, and that he had suffered
no man to touch or do him any harm. Being on shore, he delivered a
paper, written in the Spanish tongue, to the governor and inhabitants
of Gibraltar, with some Latin books. That to the governor, &c. was as
followeth:

  ‘Behold, behold, the great day of God is come, and of his wrath,
  and of the wrath of his Lamb. The hour of his judgment is come.
  Wherefore, O inhabitants of the earth, repent, repent, repent!
  Fear God, and give glory and honour to him that made heaven and
  earth and the fountains of waters. Wo, wo, wo to the inhabitants
  of the earth. John heard another voice from heaven saying, “Come
  out of her my people, that ye partake not of her sins, and that
  ye receive not of her plagues.” These are the words of the power
  of Christ, that is contrary to the false church. Behold, behold,
  plagues, plagues, plagues are coming upon the church of Rome, and
  upon her heads in all parts of the world.’

Daniel being now come again on ship-board, the next day the Lord gave
them a fair wind, and all the fleet set sail; and after some time he
arrived safe in England. But being come to London, it was not long, ere
he, who had travelled without hurt in foreign parts, was imprisoned
by his countrymen, as will be related hereafter: and being shut up
in prison, he wrote a narrative of his travels, from which I took my
relation.

About this time John Stubbs returned into England, having been in
the dominions of the great Turk. But I do not find that he met with
any singular occurrences, but that he had spread some books. He and
Alexander Parker coming to London, found G. Fox there, with whom they
travelled towards Bristol: by the way they had several meetings, and
being come to Bristol, they understood that the officers were likely
to come and disturb the meeting. Yet on the First day of the week they
went thither, and A. Parker stood up first to preach; but while he
was speaking, the officers came and took him away. Then G. Fox stood
up and preached undisturbed, so that the meeting ended peaceably. And
he, staying in town that week, visited his friends, and was visited
by them. The next First-day some of his friends came to him, and
endeavoured to persuade him not to go to the meeting that day; ‘For,’
said they, ‘the magistrates have threatened to take thee away, and in
order thereto, have raised the trained bands.’ G. Fox desired them to
go their way to the meeting, without telling them what he intended to
do. Yet not long after he went thither: but being met by some of his
friends, they did what they could to stop him; and, ‘What,’ said one,
‘Wilt thou go into the mouth of the beast?’ ‘Wilt thou go into the
mouth of the dragon?’ said another. But G. Fox would not suffer himself
to be thus prevented, but went on. Being come thither he perceived a
concern and fear upon his friends for him, but his preaching there was
so powerful, that all fear departed from them; and having concluded
his sermon with a prayer, he stood up again and told the auditory, now
they might see there was a God in Israel that could deliver: for the
officers and soldiers had been breaking up another meeting, which had
taken up their time; and they were in a great rage that they had missed
him; for it was resolved on now to persecute the Quakers, and, if
possible to root them out.

G. Fox, after having tarried yet some days at Bristol, went through
Wiltshire and Berkshire, back again to London; yet he did not stay long
there, but travelled towards Leicestershire, and passing by Barnet
Hills, he found there one captain Brown, a Baptist, whose wife belonged
to the society of those called Quakers. This captain, for fear his wife
should go to meetings and be cast into prison, had left his house at
Barrow, and taken a place on the said hills, thinking himself more safe
there. G. Fox going to see the wife, and being come into the house,
asked him how he did; ‘How I do!’ said he, ‘the plagues and vengeance
of God are upon me, a runnagate, a Cain, as I am: God may look for a
witness for me, and such as me; for if all were no faithfuller than I,
God would have no witness left in the earth.’ In this condition Brown
lived there on bread and water, and thought it too good for him; but at
length he returned with his wife to his own house at Barrow, where he
came to be convinced of the Truth professed by those called Quakers,
and died in it; and a little before his death, he said that though
he had not borne a testimony for Truth in his life, he would bear a
testimony in his death; desiring to be buried in his orchard in a plain
way.

But I return to G. Fox, who being come into Leicestershire, went to
Swanington, to the house of a widow woman, where at night came one
called the lord Beaumont, and a company of soldiers, who took him out
of the hall where he was, and brought him to the said lord who asked
him his name: to which he answered, ‘My name is George Fox, and I am
well known by that name.’ ‘Aye,’ said Beaumont, ‘you are known all the
world over.’ Then he put his hands into George’s pockets to search
them, and pulled out his comb-case, and afterwards commanded one of the
officers to search for letters: which made G. Fox say, that he was no
letter carrier, asking him why he came amongst a peaceable people with
swords and pistols without a constable; since this was contrary to the
king’s proclamation; and it could not be said there was a meeting; for
G. Fox had been talking in the hall only with the widow woman and her
daughter. Beaumont sending then for the constables, gave them charge
to watch G. Fox, and some that were with him that night; accordingly
the constables set a watch upon them, and next morning brought them to
Beaumont’s house, who then told them they met contrary to the act: for
not long before this time the parliament, by the instigation of the
clergy, had made an act against conventicles, containing that if any
were convicted of having been at a conventicle, they should incur a
fine not exceeding five pounds, or imprisonment not above three months.
G. Fox saying to the lord Beaumont, that he did not find them in a
meeting, and so there was no transgression of the said act, Beaumont
asked him, whether he would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy:
to which G. Fox answered, ‘I never took any oath in all my life.’ And
desired him to show that oath, that they might see whether it was not
for the discovery of Popish recusants. But Beaumont being unwilling,
caused a mittimus to be made, which mentioned that they were to have
had a meeting: a cunning artifice indeed to vex an innocent people.
And with the mittimus he charged the constables to convey them to
Leicester jail. The constable who was charged to bring G. Fox and his
friends to prison, was loath to do it himself, and being harvest time,
it was hard to get any body to go with them; and therefore he would
have given them the mittimus to carry it themselves to the jailer.
This they refused, though sometimes some of their friends had done so:
for the constables had such experience of their fidelity, that they
durst trust them even in such a case, without fearing the bird would
escape. Then the constable hired a poor man, who was loath to go with
them on this errand. Yet they rode with him through the country, being
five in number, and some carried their bibles open in their hands,
and passing through towns, they told people they were the prisoners
of the Lord Jesus Christ, going to suffer bonds for his name’s sake.
Being come to Leicester, and going into an inn, the master of the house
seemed somewhat troubled that they should go to prison; but they being
unwilling to consult with lawyers, to which they were advised, suffered
themselves to be had to prison; where being come, G. Fox asked whether
the jailer or his wife was master: and it was told him, ‘The wife,’ who
though she was lame, and not able to go without crutches, yet, would
beat her husband when he came within her reach, if he did not do as she
would have him.

G. Fox perceiving from this that without her leave he should not be
able to agree with her husband, got somebody to bargain with her for a
room, for him and his friends, and to leave it to them to give her what
they would; to which she consented. But then it was told the prisoners,
the jailer would not suffer them to fetch any drink out of the town
into the prison; but what beer they drank they must take it of him, and
that, as was easily to be guessed, would be at a dear rate.

This made G. Fox say, he could remedy that; for since the jailer could
not deny them water, he would get a pail of it once a day, and put
some wormwood into it, and that might serve their turn. So long as
G. Fox was in prison there, he and his friends had a meeting every
First-day of the week in the yard, to which came not only the debtors
and felons that were prisoners, but also several people out of the town
and country; whereby many were convinced of the truth he preached, and
continued to be faithful witnesses for it.

Whilst G. Fox was confined there, several more of his friends were sent
to prison; to the number of about twenty. And when the sessions came
they were brought before the justices, who tendered to them the oaths
of allegiance and supremacy: for this was the ordinary snare, when no
other thing could be found to lay hold on. But G. Fox told them he
never took any oath in his life; ‘And ye know we cannot swear because
Christ and his apostles forbade it; and therefore this is but as a
snare to us; yet if ye can prove that after Christ and his apostles
forbade swearing, they ever did command Christians to swear, then we
will take these oaths; otherwise we are resolved to obey Christ’s
command, and the apostle’s exhortation.’ To this it was returned that
they must take the oath to manifest their allegiance to the king. G.
Fox, to show that he was not unfaithful to the king, told them that
formerly he had been sent up a prisoner by colonel Hacker, from that
town to London, under pretence that he held meetings to plot for
bringing in king Charles. Then he desired that their mittimus might
be read, which set forth the cause of their commitment to be, that
they were to have a meeting. And he said also, that the lord Beaumont
could not by the act send them to jail, unless they had been taken at
a meeting; and therefore he urged the reading of the mittimus, that
it might be seen how wrongfully they were imprisoned. But whatever he
said, they would not take notice of the mittimus, but called a jury,
and indicted the prisoners for refusing to take the oaths of allegiance
and supremacy. When the jury was sworn and instructed, as they were
going out, one that had been an alderman spoke to them, and recommended
them to have a good conscience: but one of the jury being a peevish
man, told the justices there was one affronted the jury. Whereupon he
was called up, and to try whether he was a Quaker, the oath was also
tendered to him, and he took it; and thus the snare intended against
him did not hold.

Whilst the prisoners stood waiting, a cut-purse had put his hand into
the pockets of some of them, which they told the justices of, and
showed them the man. They then called him up, and upon examination
he could not deny the fact, yet they let him go free, just as if the
robbing of those called Quakers was no crime.

It was not long before the jury returned, and brought the prisoners in
guilty. And then the justices whispered together, and bade the jailer
take the prisoners and carry them back to jail. But a little after they
were in prison again, the jailer came to them and said, ‘Gentlemen, it
is the court’s pleasure that ye should all be set at liberty,’ &c. Thus
they were released on a sudden, which was indeed remarkable, because
the jury had brought them in guilty; on which passing of sentence must
have followed. But G. Fox’s liberty seems to have been owing to the
following cause: he had a letter from the lord Hastings, who having
heard of his imprisonment, had written from London to the justices
of the sessions to set him at liberty. This letter he had not as yet
delivered to the justices, who perhaps had some knowledge of the said
lord’s mind from another hand, which made them resolve on this sudden
discharge. G. Fox being now free, carried this letter to the lord
Beaumont, who having opened and read it, seemed somewhat troubled;
and yet threatened him, if he had any more meetings at Swanington, he
would disperse them, and send him to prison again. But notwithstanding
these threatenings, he and his friends went to Swanington, and had a
meeting there without being disturbed. From thence he travelled to
London, where we will leave him, and in the meanwhile see what happened
elsewhere.

Some time before, Thomas Goodair and Benjamin Staples were imprisoned
at Oxford, and being brought into the court of judicature before Sir
William Walter, who sat there as judge, and Goodair being examined
and nothing found against him, the oath of allegiance was tendered,
to which he answered, that he acknowledged the king as supreme ruler
in civil temporal matters, and that he was willing to obey him in all
just commands. ‘But,’ said he, ‘if king Charles and those who are in
authority under him, enjoin me to any thing contrary to the command of
Christ, then I will rather obey Christ than king Charles, or those in
authority under him. It is for conscience-sake that I cannot swear,
though I could gain the whole world thereby; for Christ hath forbidden
it, and said “Swear not at all;” and James saith, “Above all things
swear not.”’ But whatever Goodair said was in vain, for they would
needs have him swear. He continuing to refuse swearing, justice Walker
asked those that were with him on the bench, whether they had any
thing to say against his passing sentence against them: to which they
having said no, he spoke thus to Goodair, ‘Hearken to your sentence:
you are out of the king’s protection. All your lands, real estate, and
chattels, are forfeited, and shall be seized for the king’s use: and
you are to remain prisoner during the king’s pleasure.’ Then he bid
the jailer take Goodair away, who asked whether the jailer had charge
to fetter him, for he had been fettered as thieves and felons, before
he had been brought into the court. Whereupon the judge answered, ‘The
jailer may do with you what he will: for you are now out of the king’s
protection.’ Then he was led away, and B. Staples brought to the bar,
to whom the oath being also tendered, and he refusing to take it, the
same sentence was passed on him. Both being returned to prison, the
jailer said to the other prisoners that were there for evil or debts,
‘If ye want coats, ye may take those of the Quakers, for they are now
out of the protection of the law.’ But one of the prisoners was so
honest as to say he would rather go naked, than take away those men’s
coats. How long they were in prison, and whether they died there, or
were at length released, I know not.[21]

  [21] They both were supposed to be discharged at the next
  general jail delivery: for T. Goodair in 1666, had been prisoner
  some years at Warwick, being premunired without legal trial or
  judgment. At length he died at Selby in Yorkshire, 1693.--J.
  Whiting’s Account.

But now I return to Ambrose Rigge, who being come to Hurst Pierpoint in
Sussex, had a meeting there at the house of his father-in-law, captain
Thomas Luxford; this so displeased the priest Leonard Letchford, that
Rigge was taken and brought before the Justices, Walter Burril, Nisel
Rivers, and Richard Bridger, who being minded to bring him under
sufferings, tendered him the oath of allegiance; and he, saying that
for conscience-sake he could not swear, was forthwith sent to Horsham
prison, and at the time of the assizes brought into the court, where
judge Samuel Brown then sat, and passed the sentence of premunire upon
him. Then he was carried back, and by the instigation of the said
Leonard Letchford, committed close prisoner, where he continued above
ten years, and suffered during that time much hardship by the malice of
the jailers, since such prisoners as he was, are shut out of the king’s
protection. In the meanwhile the aforesaid priest Letchford summoned
Rigge’s wife for tithes, and she refusing payment, was also imprisoned
at the prosecution of this priest; and then he seized her goods, taking
away also that which her husband had earned in prison by his hard
labour, not leaving him and his wife a bed to lie on; nay, he also took
away a pot they had borrowed from other prisoners to boil victuals in,
and vaunted he had Rigge so fast, that it was not in the King’s power
to release him. But notwithstanding this wicked boast, yet to his great
disquiet and vexation, he lived to see Rigge released by the king under
the great seal. And Thomas Luxford, A. Rigge’s father-in-law, being
also become one of the society of those called Quakers, and refusing to
pay him tithes, felt likewise the effects of his fury; for he caused
him also to be cast into jail, where he kept him six years: and the
prisoners being then released by the sheriff, he was excommunicated by
Letchford, and afterwards at his suit, by virtue of the statute _De
Excommunicato capiendo_, shut up again in prison, from which he was set
at liberty by an act of parliament.

Not long after, Letchford got a warrant to sue also some others of the
Quakers, so called, belonging to his parish, for not paying tithes: but
before he could get them imprisoned, it happened, that having at night
gone to bed healthy, in the morning he was found stiff dead in his bed,
according to the testimony of his neighbours; and this prevented the
stroke he had levelled against others.

Not being willing to finish this relation abruptly, I am advanced in
time, but now I return to the year 1662. In the middle of this year,
Sir Henry Vane and John Lambert, both vigorous champions against king
Charles the First, and having been in great authority under the former
government, were brought to their trial. Vane behaved himself with very
great presence of mind: how far he was guilty I am not to inquire; but
he was declared guilty, and afterwards beheaded on Tower-Hill. He was
reputed to be a man of great knowledge, having been one of the chief
members of the long parliament, and also an opposer of Cromwell: for he
was an entire republican, and had a great share in the administration
of state affairs. Lambert, who had been an eminent general, saved
his life: for since Vane, as Ludlow saith, pleaded for the lives and
liberties of his country, and Lambert for his own, he evaded the storm
which took away Vane. Lambert now, though condemned to death, begged
mercy, and was confined to perpetual imprisonment, and carried to a
small isle near Plymouth, where he finished his days.

Seeing, on the insurrection of the Fifth-monarchy-men, occasion was
taken to make an act against plotting, and seditious meetings, the
persecution against the Quakers increased, under a pretence that their
meetings were dangerous, and to the terror of the king’s subjects, and
an act was made against those who refused to take an oath, as appeared
by the title of it, viz:

        ‘_An act for preventing mischiefs and dangers that may
          arise by certain persons called Quakers, and others
                    refusing to take lawful oaths._

  ‘Whereas of late times, certain persons under the name of
  Quakers, and other names of separation, have taken up, and
  maintained sundry dangerous opinions and tenets, and among
  others, that the taking of an oath, in any case whatsoever,
  although before a lawful magistrate, is altogether unlawful,
  and contrary to the word of God; and the said persons do daily
  refuse to take an oath, though lawfully tendered, whereby it
  often happens, that the truth is wholly suppressed, and the
  administration of justice much obstructed: and whereas the said
  persons, under a pretence of religious worship, do often assemble
  themselves in great numbers in several parts of this realm, to
  the great endangering of the public peace and safety, and to
  the terror of the people, by maintaining a secret and strict
  correspondence amongst themselves, and in the meantime separating
  and dividing themselves from the rest of his majesty’s good and
  loyal subjects, and from the public congregations, and usual
  places of divine worship:

  II. ‘For the redressing therefore, and better preventing the many
  mischiefs and dangers that do, and may arise by such dangerous
  tenets, and such unlawful assemblies, (2) Be it enacted by the
  king’s most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent
  of the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons assembled in
  parliament, and by authority of the same, that if any person or
  persons, who maintain that the taking of an oath, in any case
  soever, (although before a lawful magistrate,) is altogether
  unlawful, and contrary to the word of God, from and after the
  four-and-twentieth day of March, in this present year of our
  Lord, one thousand six hundred and sixty-one, shall wilfully
  and obstinately refuse to take an oath, where, by the laws of
  the realm he or she is, or shall be bound to take the same,
  being lawfully tendered, (3) or shall endeavour to persuade any
  other person, to whom any such oath shall in like manner be
  duly and lawfully tendered, to refuse and forbear the taking of
  the same, (4) or shall by printing, writing, or otherwise go
  about to maintain and defend that the taking of an oath in any
  case whatsoever, is altogether unlawful; (5) and if the said
  persons, commonly called Quakers, shall at any time after the
  said four-and-twentieth day of March, depart from the places of
  their several habitations, and assemble themselves to the number
  of five or more, of the age of sixteen years or upwards, at any
  one time, in any place under pretence of joining in a religious
  worship, not authorized by the laws of this realm, (6) that
  then in all and every such cases, the party so offending, being
  thereof lawfully convicted, by verdict of twelve men, or by his
  own confession, or by the notorious evidence of the fact, shall
  lose and forfeit to the king’s majesty, his heirs and successors,
  for the first offence, such sum as shall be imposed upon him
  or her, not exceeding five pounds; (7) and if any person or
  persons, being once convicted of any such offence, shall again
  offend therein, and shall in form aforesaid be thereof lawfully
  convicted, shall for the second offence forfeit to the king, our
  sovereign lord, his heirs and successors, such sum as shall be
  imposed upon him or her, not exceeding ten pounds: (8) the said
  respective penalties to be levied by distress, and sale of the
  party’s goods so convicted, by warrant of the parties before whom
  they shall be so convicted, rendering the overplus to the owners,
  if any be: (9) and for want of such distress, or non-payment of
  the said penalty within one week after such conviction, that
  then the said parties so convicted shall for the first offence
  be committed to the common jail, or house of correction, for
  the space of three months; and for the second offence during
  six months, without bail or mainprize, there to be kept to hard
  labour: (10) which said moneys so to be levied, shall be paid to
  such person or persons, as shall be appointed by those before
  whom they shall be convicted, to be employed for the increase
  of the stock of the house of correction, to which they shall be
  committed, and providing materials to set them on work: (11)
  and if any person after he, in form aforesaid, hath been twice
  convicted, of any the said offences shall offend the third time,
  and be thereof, in form aforesaid, lawfully convicted, that then
  every person so offending, and convicted, shall for his or her
  third offence, abjure the realm; or otherwise it shall and may
  be lawful to, and for his majesty, his heirs and successors, to
  give order, and to cause him, her, or them, to be transported in
  any ship or ships, to any of his majesty’s plantations beyond the
  seas.

  III. ‘And it is ordained and enacted by the authority aforesaid,
  that all and every justice of _Oyer_ and _Terminer_, justices of
  assize, and jail-delivery, and the justices of the peace, shall
  have full power and authority, in every of their open and general
  quarter-sessions, to inquire, hear, and determine all and every
  the said offences, within the limits of their commission to them
  directed, and to make process for the execution of the same, as
  they may do against any person being indicted before them of
  trespass, or lawfully convicted thereof.

  IV. ‘And be it also enacted, that it shall and may be lawful to,
  and for any justice of peace, mayor, or other chief officer, of
  any corporation, within their several jurisdictions, to commit
  to the common jail, or bind over, with sufficient sureties to
  the quarter-sessions, any person or persons offending in the
  premises, in order to his or their conviction aforesaid.

  V. ‘Provided always, and be it hereby further enacted, that
  if any of the said persons shall, after such conviction as
  aforesaid, take such oath or oaths, for which he or she stands
  committed, and also give security that he or she shall for the
  time to come forbear to meet in any such unlawful assembly as
  aforesaid, that then, and from thenceforth, such person and
  persons shall be discharged from all the penalties aforesaid: any
  thing in this act to the contrary notwithstanding.

  VI. ‘Provided always, and be it ordained and enacted by the
  authority aforesaid, that all and singular lords of the
  parliament, for every third offence committed against the tenor
  of this act, shall be tried by their peers, and not otherwise.’

This act caused E. Burrough to write a small book, called, ‘The Case
of the People called Quakers, stated, to show the falsehood of the
accusations charged upon them.’ First he showed in this treatise, that
suppose the Quakers were heretics and erroneous people, which was never
yet proved; yet we found no examples in Scripture that such should be
imprisoned, or afflicted with corporal punishments. Having treated of
this matter at large, he laid down the state of their way of meeting
and worship, appealing to others on this account, with these words:

  ‘What judgment do our neighbours give in this case? They say,
  concerning our meetings, that they have known us to meet together
  in such manner, for divers years, in towns and villages, and
  never knew, nor understood of any harm or danger therein, nor
  ever were any way prejudiced, either in their persons or estates,
  in our meetings. The very witness of God in all our neighbours
  does testify, and give judgment, that our meetings have always
  been peaceable and quiet, and that we come together in peace and
  good order, and part in the same, and no person hath been harmed
  by such our meetings; inquire of the neighbourhood, and they will
  tell you they believe in their consciences, our meetings are for
  good, and have good effects, and are not evil, nor bring forth
  any evil, to any.

  ‘And as for the manner of our meeting and sitting together, it
  is orderly and decently, and of good report among men; and for
  any doctrine that ever was there held or heard by any, none can
  truly accuse it to be either error, or heresy, or sedition; but
  on the contrary, they know it witnesseth against all sin and
  iniquity, and tends to the turning of people from ungodliness
  and unrighteousness to truth and holiness: and many can tell,
  this is effected by our doctrine preached in our meetings; and
  our neighbours can witness that we part again in peace and good
  order, and in convenient time; and they can show you they are not
  terrified, nor the peace of the land disturbed, (on our part,) by
  our meetings, which are in God’s fear, and to the glory of his
  name, which all sober men know are according to the law of God,
  and gospel, and primitive Christian example.

  ‘We are accused as heinous offenders, and imprisoned, because it
  is supposed we do not submit to obey the known laws of the land,
  but break them, and will not conform to the church, pay tithes,
  take oaths, have meetings together, &c. though we know the laws
  of the land command these things.

  ‘Plea first, as to submitting to all known laws of the land;
  this is known to God and our neighbours, that our principle
  and practice is, and ever hath been, to submit to every
  government, and to submit to all laws of men, either by doing
  or by suffering, as at this day we resist not the greatest of
  afflictions and tribulations that can be imposed on us; and
  this is well known to our neighbours and all people, that we
  are submissive to all laws of men, by patient suffering without
  resistance: even when any law requires any thing of us, which
  we cannot perform for conscience-sake, that law we fulfil by
  patient suffering, resisting no man, nor rendering evil for evil
  to any. And the judgment of the Scriptures, which are according
  to both law and gospel, and the precedents of saints justify
  us in this case, in choosing patiently to suffer the greatest
  penalties of the law, rather than to obey, (by doing,) any such
  law as requires things contrary to our pure consciences; as in
  the example of the three children, Dan. iii. who were commanded,
  to fall down and worship the golden image, at what time soever
  they heard the sound of the music, upon the penalty of being cast
  into the midst of the burning fiery furnace: which commandment
  they could not obey, nor could they fall down to worship the
  image; but rather chose to suffer the penalty of being cast
  into the midst of the burning fiery furnace, which accordingly
  was done unto them. Again in the case of Daniel, chap. vi. who
  was commanded to make no petition to any god or man for thirty
  days, save to king Darius, upon the penalty and affliction of
  being cast into the lion’s den: but Daniel did rather choose to
  suffer the penalty, to be cast into the den of lions, than to
  obey the commandment; and was cast into the lion’s den. By these
  examples of holy men, with many more that might be given out of
  the Scriptures, it is evident, that righteous men will rather
  choose to suffer than to obey any law of man contrary to their
  consciences. So the law of God, and example of saints, and Holy
  Scriptures, give judgment for us in this case, of rather choosing
  to suffer, than to obey laws contrary to our consciences; and
  consequently must needs condemn such that persecute and imprison
  us, because they require obedience of us in things against our
  consciences.

  Secondly. ‘Though we disobey laws, and cannot actively obey every
  law of man, when it requireth and commandeth things contrary to
  a good conscience; yet herein also are we justified by the law
  of God, example of saints and Holy Scriptures, and they give
  judgment for us, and consequently against our enemies in this
  case; and in particular in the two examples before-mentioned in
  Daniel, the three children were expressly commanded to fall down
  and worship the golden image: and Daniel was also required by
  the king’s decree, not to pray to any God or man, save to king
  Darius; yet all these holy men of God did absolutely disobey
  the law and decree so requiring of them, and did contrary to
  the commandment: for the three children did not bow, nor Daniel
  cease to pray to God, but prayed as at other times, and yet were
  justified of God in so doing. Also the apostles of our Lord Jesus
  Christ, (Acts iv. 18,) were commanded to preach no more in the
  name of Jesus; but the apostles did disobey their commandment,
  and went on and preached in the Spirit and power of Christ,
  contrary to the commandment of the rulers; and appealed to them,
  whether it were not better to obey God than man. Many examples
  we might collect out of the Scriptures, that the servants of God
  did disobey the commands of kings and rulers, and could not
  obey, (by doing,) any command contrary to God, but rather chose
  to suffer afflictions, and death itself, than to obey such laws
  and decrees, as required any thing contrary to a pure conscience:
  and this is our case at this day: we cannot obey, (by doing,) any
  thing against our consciences, but must break the laws of men,
  and disobey their commandments, rather than break the law of God,
  and sin against our own consciences, whatsoever we suffer because
  hereof; and the examples of saints and Scriptures justify us in
  this behalf.

  ‘And let our enemies cease to cry out, ‘Rebellious and
  disobedient to laws and government;’ for we are not such as
  do wilfully and obstinately disobey any laws of men, but for
  conscience-sake, and that we may not sin against God, nor offend
  his witness in us; therefore we cannot obey laws contrary to our
  consciences, whatsoever we suffer, which we resist not, nor rebel
  against any in this case: so that our principles and practices
  are to obey every law and government, either by doing or
  suffering. And though we disobey such laws as are not according
  to the law of God, and rather do choose to suffer, yet herein we
  are justified by the law of God, and the Holy Scriptures.

  Thirdly. ‘And as for our conversations among men, in respect
  of our daily walking and converse with them in our dealing, in
  respect of honesty and faithfulness, and truth and justness in
  works and words, our neighbours shall give witness for us. We
  will not justify ourselves, it is God that justifies us, and the
  law of God, gospel of Christ, Scriptures, examples of holy men,
  our neighbours, and the witness of God in all men’s consciences
  shall bear witness to us; and all these do give judgment for us
  in these cases, to whom we do appeal for judgment. And O Lord God
  everlasting, do thou judge our cause; do thou make it manifest in
  thy due season to all the world, that we are thy people; that we
  love thee above all; that we fear thy name more than all; that we
  love righteousness and hate iniquity; and that we now suffer for
  thy holy name and truth, and for thy honour and justice, and for
  thy truth and holiness. O Lord, thou knowest we are resolved to
  perish, rather than to lose one grain hereof. Amen, Amen.

  ‘Our accusations and answers truly compared, and weighed in the
  balance of justice and truth in every man’s conscience, let
  all the world judge of the case: do we deserve to be ruined,
  destroyed, imprisoned and banished, and to be devoured of wild
  beasts, as our enemy threatens us he will do? Is it so? Are we
  heretics? Are we seditious? Are we drunkards? Are we double
  dealers? Are we such as the law of God condemns? What evil have
  we done in the land? Do we hurt any body? Are we not innocent
  before the Lord and men? We appeal to the just witness of God
  and men. Let it be answered; and though no man will hear and
  consider our cause this day, yet the Lord will plead our cause
  in his time, and season, and make the world to know we are his
  people; in the meantime we are willing to suffer the reproaches
  of ungodly men, till the Lord works deliverance in the earth.

  ‘But now it may be objected by the magistrates and rulers, that
  we have now a law against you, and you must suffer, for we cannot
  but put the law in execution, according to our oaths and offices;
  and it is not we that persecute you, but it is the law of the
  land by which you now suffer; and we cannot be blamed for your
  suffering, we only execute the law. And after this manner is the
  reasoning of some at this day,’ &c.

  Answer. ‘To all which I do answer: It is true there is a law now
  enacted against us, which is pretendedly made the ground of our
  suffering; but whether that law be in itself just or unjust, I
  shall not now demonstrate, but shall leave it to the judgment
  of all Christian men that know us, our principles, doctrines,
  ways, conversations; and let them judge whether we deserve the
  penalties and punishments therein described, for any principles
  or practice held and maintained by us. And though there be a
  law against us, yet the magistrates that are executors thereof,
  may execute the same with moderation or with violence; with
  discretion, or too much rigour; and it will be well for them to
  use moderation and discretion in this case: hereby may they save
  themselves from that weight of anger and indignation of the Lord
  God, that will come upon all violent-doers, who seek to destroy
  the innocent, and rejoice in the occasion administered.

  ‘And though this law be enacted against meetings, not ours I may
  say, but such meetings as are dangerous to the public peace, and
  to the terror of the people: but our meetings are not such, and
  therefore this law may not justly extend in its execution to the
  breaking of our meetings, nor to banish us because of our meeting
  together, which is for the worship of God, and are peaceable and
  of good report among all good men; and are not for disturbance of
  the peace, nor terror of the people, and therefore justly free
  from this law as aforesaid.

  ‘And though this law is pretended against us, for to banish us,
  and to rid the land of us, as some vainly suppose; yet must it
  needs be executed to the height of it, without limitation or
  restriction? Must this law be executed to its height more than
  some others laws that are as truly enacted, and as fully in
  force as this act can be? Yet some such laws there are, which
  better deserve execution than this, yet they lie dormant, as it
  is visibly apparent at this day, as in 4 Jac. c. 5, in these
  words: ‘Be it enacted, &c. that all and every person or persons,
  which after forty days next following the end of this present
  session of parliament, shall be drunk, and of the same offence
  of drunkenness shall be lawfully convicted, shall for every such
  offence, forfeit and lose five shillings, &c. to be paid to the
  hands of the church-wardens of that parish where the offence
  shall be committed, who shall be accountable therefor to the
  use of the poor of the same parish. And if the said person or
  persons so convicted, shall refuse or neglect to pay the said
  forfeiture, then the same shall be levied off the goods of every
  such person or persons, by warrant of precept from the court,
  judge, or justices, before whom the same conviction shall be; and
  if the offender be not able to pay the sum of five shillings,
  then he shall be committed to the stocks for the space of six
  hours.’ I pray you read the statute at large; it is worth a
  sober man’s pains to read over, and then judge whether that law
  be duly executed at this day: and also whether it deserves not
  more strict execution than the present act against us. Also
  the 1 Jac. c. 7, in these words: ‘That all persons calling
  themselves scholars, going about begging; all idle persons
  going about in any country, either begging or using any subtle
  craft, or unlawful games or plays, or feigning themselves to
  have knowledge in physiognomy, or pretending that they can tell
  fortunes, or such other like fantastical imaginations; all
  fencers, bear-wards, common players of interludes and minstrels,
  wandering abroad, shall be taken, adjudged, and deemed as rogues,
  vagabonds, and sturdy-beggars, and shall suffer such pains and
  punishments as are expressed, 39 Eliz. c. 4. viz. That every
  such person shall be stripped naked from the middle upwards, and
  shall be openly whipped, until his or her body be bloody, &c.
  and shall be forthwith sent from parish to parish,’ &c. Read the
  statute at large, and then consider how duly it is executed now,
  and whether it deserve not the execution as much as the late act
  against us, though in some places the one is more executed than
  the other, where many of our friends being honest sober persons,
  and of good conversation, yet are hauled out of their meetings,
  where they are met only to worship God, and for no other end, and
  sent to prison, and persecuted to the very height of the said
  act; whereas idle persons following unlawful games and plays, and
  bear-wards, common players of interludes and minstrels of divers
  kinds, do wander up and down city and country, and having their
  play-houses public, where their wickedness is acted; such persons
  and such things, though appearing publicly, yet are permitted,
  and little or no notice taken of them by some of the magistrates,
  so as to punish them for breach of the laws, for the preventing
  of these evils; but such wickedness is too much suffered, though
  there be divers acts of parliament against such persons and such
  actions, as well as there is one against our meetings; yet the
  act against us is more put in execution in some places, for the
  breaking of our meetings, which are for the worship of God, than
  the good laws for suppressing of wickedness, though there is
  better law for the one than for the other. Divers other laws and
  statutes made for good ends, for the suppressing of wickedness in
  the land there are, which are but easily executed at this day;
  but here is one act against peaceable meeting together for the
  worship of God, which is violently prosecuted and executed upon
  innocent men; let all just men judge of these things. Though
  there be a law enacted against our meetings, so there is against
  drunkards and drunkenness, and unseasonable tippling in taverns
  and ale-houses, and against minstrels, fiddlers, pipers and
  players, common players, and stage players that go up and down
  the countries, and have their play-houses in public cities; which
  statute ought rather to be executed, though they are not: but
  these things we shall leave to all sober people to judge of.

  ‘And seeing that the law against us is more put in execution than
  those other laws, it doth appear that there is more envy against
  us and our peaceable religious meetings than there is against
  profaneness, and wickedness, drunkenness, and stage-playing, and
  such like: and such magistrates wheresoever they are, are not
  excusable in the sight of God, though there is a law against us,
  while they prosecute it against us, and not those other good
  laws, against profane and ungodly persons and practices; and
  therefore seeing we do suffer, we must say it is not only because
  there is a law against us, but it is also, or rather, because
  there is enmity, and wrath, and wickedness in the hearts of men
  against us, which is the main cause of our sufferings at this
  day.’

Thus was E. Burrough always laborious, and like a faithful and diligent
minister of Christ, he was so totally devoted to the service of God
and the church, both in preaching and writing in the defence of the
gospel, that he scarce reserved any time for himself, and seldom took
rest, but continued to work incessantly till the time of his departure
drew near; plainly manifesting that it really was his meat and drink to
do the will of his heavenly Father; and this he endeavoured unweariedly
to the end of his days.

Now I turn again to New England, where though the murdering part was
acted to the full, yet their blood-thirstiness was not quenched, as may
appear from the following relation I shall give of the cruel whippings
inflicted on some. If I should relate all of that kind that happened
there, it would make up a pretty big volume by itself; and therefore I
will mention some few instances only.

Among these, I meet with Josiah Southwick, (whose father and mother,
Lawrence and Cassandra, had been of the first that were banished
from Boston because of their religion, as hath been said before;
and whose brother and sister had been ordered to be sold for bound
slaves,) who, having been in Old England, and had found himself obliged
notwithstanding the severe law, to return to Boston, was sentenced to
be whipped at a cart’s tail, first at Boston, and then at Rocksbury and
Dedham, when with out-stretched arms, he said to those who sentenced
him, ‘Here is my body; if ye want a further testimony of the Truth
I profess, take it, and tear it to pieces; it is freely given up;
and for your sentence, I matter it not:’ adding further, ‘it is no
more terrifying unto me, than if ye had taken a feather and blown it
up in the air, and had said, take heed it hurt thee not: for surely
tongue cannot express nor declare the goodness and love of God to his
suffering people.’ Then he was stripped and tied to the cart’s tail in
Boston, where the hangman scourged him with what vehemency he could.
It is remarkable that the whip used for those cruel executions, was
not of whip-cord, as those in England, but of dried guts, and every
string with three knots at the end, which, being fastened to a stick,
the hangman many times laid on with both his hands, which must cause
violent torture to the body. But all this cruelty was not able to make
Josiah faint; for as he was led through the streets of Boston at the
cart’s tail, he sung aloud, and was heard to utter these words: ‘They
that know God to be their strength, cannot fear what man can do.’ The
same day he was whipped also at Rocksbury, and the next morning, it
being very cold, at Dedham, where he was discharged and turned into the
wilderness; for so inhuman were these furious New England professors,
that they seemed to think that whatever it was, there was nothing done
amiss to the Quakers. Nay, it hath happened that being shut up with
thieves, and endeavouring to turn them from their wicked lives, they
have been ill-treated on that account, and the thieves set at liberty,
lest they should turn Quakers.

At Dover, in New England, Anne Coleman, Mary Tomkins, and Alice
Ambrose, were sentenced to very cruel whipping, only for being come
there: the warrant was as followeth:

  ‘_To the constables of Dover, Hampton, Salisbury, Newbury,
    Rowley, Ipswich, Wennam, Linn, Boston, Roxbury, Dedham,
    and until these vagabond Quakers are carried out of this
    jurisdiction._

  ‘You and every of you, are required in the king’s majesty’s name,
  to take these vagabond Quakers, Anne Coleman, Mary Tomkins,
  and Alice Ambrose, and make them fast to the cart’s tail, and
  driving the cart through your several towns, to whip them upon
  their naked backs, not exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of
  them, in each town; and so to convey them from constable to
  constable, till they are out of this jurisdiction, as you will
  answer it at your peril; and this shall be your warrant.

                                            Per me,
                                                    RICHARD WALDEN.’

  At Dover, dated December 22, 1662.

Cruel indeed was this order; because to whip these three tender women
through eleven towns, with ten stripes apiece at each place, through a
length of near eighty miles, in bitter cold weather, would have been
enough to have beaten their bones bare, and their lives out of their
bodies.

Now in a very cold day the deputy Walden, at Dover, caused these women
to be stripped naked from the middle upward, and tied to a cart, and
then whipped them, while the priest looked on, and laughed at it; which
some of their friends seeing, and taking notice of Walden’s cruelty,
testified against him; for which Walden put two of them in the stocks.

The women being thus whipped at Dover, were carried to Hampton,
and there delivered to the constable, William Fifield, who having
understood by the constable of Dover what work he had in bringing them
through a deep road, thought to have daunted them, and said, ‘I profess
you must not think to make fools of men.’ To which they answered, they
should be able to deal with him as well as the other. This constable
the next morning would have whipped them before day, but they refused,
saying that they were not ashamed of their sufferings. Then he would
have whipped them on their clothes when he had them at the cart; but
they said, ‘Set us free, or do according to thy order;’ which was to
whip them on their naked backs. He then spoke to a woman to take off
their clothes; but she said she would not do it for all the world.
‘Why,’ said he, ‘I profess I will do it myself.’ So he stripped them,
and then stood trembling with the whip in his hand, and so he did the
execution, though at first he professed himself so stout. Then he
carried them to Salisbury, through dirt and snow, half the leg deep,
and here they were whipped again. Among the rest of the spectators,
Edward Wharton accidentally passing along that way, came to be one; and
beholding this whipping, one Thomas Broadberry, clerk of the courts of
Salisbury and Hampton, said to him, ‘Edward Wharton, what do you here?’
‘I am here,’ answered he, ‘to see your wickedness and cruelty, that
so if ye kill these women, I may be able to declare how ye murdered
them:’ for indeed their bodies were so torn, that if Providence had
not watched over them, they might have been in danger of their lives.
But it fell out so that they were discharged: for the constable at
Salisbury, who must have carried them to Newberry, was desired by
one Walter Barefoot, to make him his deputy, who thus receiving the
warrant, set them at liberty; though John Wheelright, the priest,
advised the constable to drive on, as his safest way.

These three women being thus unexpectedly released, went to New
Quechawanah, where they had a meeting, and Shubal Drummer, the priest
of the place, came also thither, and sat quiet. And the meeting being
ended, he stood up and said, ‘Good women, ye have spoken well, and
prayed well; pray what is your rule?’ They answering, ‘The Spirit of
God is our rule, and it ought to be thine, and all men’s, to walk
by:’ he replied, ‘It is not my rule, nor I hope ever shall be.’ A
clear evidence how prejudice may bias even discreet people; for
being prepossessed thereby, men will speak sometimes rashly, without
considering what.

Not long after these women returned to Dover to visit their friends,
and being in a meeting the next First-day of the week, the constables,
Thomas Roberts, and his brother John, rushed in, and laid hands on
Alice Ambrose, as she was in prayer, and taking her, one by the one
arm, and the other by the other, they dragged her out of doors, almost
a mile, with her face towards the snow, which was near knee deep, over
stumps and old trees, having put on their old clothes on purpose not to
dirty their better suits. They then locked her up in a certain house,
and so went back to fetch Mary Tomkins, whom they dragged in the same
manner, which their father, old Thomas Roberts seeing, lamented, and
cried, ‘Wo that ever I was father to such wicked children.’ But they
seemed not to matter what their father said, who had been, a member
of the church at Dover above twenty years; but because he no longer
frequented their worship for their degeneracy, they took away his cow,
which with its milk, helped to support him and his wife. Mary Tomkins
being brought into the house where Alice was, Anne Coleman was also
fetched. Next morning they got a canoe, and threatened the women they
would now do so with them, that they should be troubled with them no
more; by which saying they seemed to signify that they would give them
up to the mercy of the sea, which made the women unwilling to go to the
water-side. Then one Edward Weymouth took Mary by the arms, and dragged
her on her back over the stumps of trees, down a very steep hill, by
which she was much bruised, and often died away. They also laid hold
on Alice, whom they plucked violently into the water, and kept her
swimming by the canoe, so that she was in danger of being drowned or
frozen to death. Anne Coleman was also rudely dealt with, and all this
in the presence of one Hate-evil Nutwel, a ruling elder, who stirred
up the constables to this wicked action, and so showed that he bore
a wrong name. But the wicked intention of these men was stopped by a
power from on high, for on a sudden a great tempest arose, so that they
brought the women back again to the house, and about midnight they
turned them all out of doors in the snow, the weather being so frosty
that Alice’s clothes were frozen like boards. How barbarously soever
these women were treated, yet the Lord was pleased to preserve and
support them.

Afterwards it happened that Anne Coleman and four of her friends
were whipped through Salem, Boston, and Dedham, by order of William
Hawthorn, who before he was a magistrate, had opposed compulsion for
conscience; and when under the government of Cromwell it was proposed
to make a law that none should preach without license, he publicly
said at Salem, that if ever such a law took place in New England, he
should look upon it as one of the most abominable actions that were
ever committed there, and that it would be as eminent a token of
God’s having forsaken New England, as any could be: and yet afterward
this man became a fierce persecutor of those who asserted liberty of
preaching: though formerly it may be, if any one had foretold him
how he would be given to persecution, he would have said as Hazael
to the prophet Elisha, ‘What, is thy servant a dog that he should do
this great thing?’ But to return to Anne Coleman, when she was to be
whipped at Dedham, and fastened to a cart, deputy Bellingham having
seen Hawthorn’s warrant, said, ‘The warrant is firm;’ and then bade
the executioner go on; who, thus encouraged, laid on so severely, that
with the knot of the whip he split the nipple of her breast, which so
tortured her, that it had almost cost her her life; and she, who was a
little weakly woman, thinking this would have been her lot, said once,
that if she should happen to die thus, she was willing that her body
should be laid before Bellingham’s door, with a charge from her mouth
that he was guilty of her blood.

The usage Elizabeth Hooton met with, I cannot pass by in silence,
because of her age, being about sixty, who hearing of the wickedness
committed by those of New England, was moved to make a voyage to
America.

In order thereto she went from England in the year 1661, having one
Joan Broksup with her, a woman near as aged as herself, who freely
resolved to be her companion: and because they could not find a master
of a ship that was willing to carry them to New England, because of
the fine for every Quaker that was brought thither, they set sail
towards Virginia, where they met with a ketch which carried them part
of the way, and then they went the rest by land, and so at length came
to Boston. But there they could not soon find a place of reception,
because of the penalty on those that received a Quaker into their
houses. Yet at length a woman received them. Next day they went to the
prison to visit their friends; but the jailer altogether unwilling
to let them in, carried them to the governor Endicot, who with much
scurrilous language called them witches, and asked Elizabeth what she
came for: to which she answered, ‘To do the will of him that sent me.’
And he demanding what was that: she replied, ‘To warn thee of shedding
any more innocent blood.’ To which he returned that he would hang
more yet; but she told him he was in the hand of the Lord, who could
take him away first.[22] This so displeased him, that he sent them
to prison, where many more of their friends were. After consultation
what to do with them, they were carried two days’ journey into the
wilderness, among wolves and bears; but by Providence they got to
Rhode Island, where they took ship for Barbadoes, and from thence
to New England again, and so they returned to Boston. But then they
were put into a ship, which carried them to Virginia, from whence
Elizabeth departed to Old England, where she staid some time in her own
habitation.

  [22] Which was fulfilled, for after that he never took away the
  lives of any more of those called Quakers.

But it came upon her to visit New England again; and so she did, taking
her daughter Elizabeth along with her. And being arrived, those of the
magistrates that were present, would have fined the master of the ship
an hundred pounds, for bringing her over contrary to their law. But he
telling them that Elizabeth had been with the king, and that she had
liberty from him to come thither to buy her a house, this so puzzled
these snarling persecutors, that they found themselves at a loss, and
thus were stopped from seizing the master’s goods.

Elizabeth being come to Boston, notwithstanding the rulers, went to
them, and signified that she came thither to buy a house for herself
to live in. She was four times at the court for that purpose, but it
was denied her; and though she said that this denial would give her
occasion if she went to England again, to lay it before the king, it
was in vain, and had no influence upon them.

Departing then, and passing through several places, she came to
Cambridge, and was thrust into a stinking dungeon, where there was
nothing to lie down or sit on. Here they kept her two days and two
nights, without affording her any thing to eat or drink; and because
a certain man in compassion brought her a little milk, he was also
cast into prison and fined five pounds. Being brought to the court,
they ordered her to be sent out of their coasts, and to be whipped at
three towns with ten stripes at each. So at Cambridge she was tied to
the whipping-post, and lashed with ten stripes, with a three-stringed
whip, with three knots at an end. At Water Town she had ten stripes
more with willow rods; and to make up all, at Dedham, in a cold frosty
morning, she received ten cruel lashes at a cart’s tail. And being thus
beaten and torn, she was put on horseback and carried many miles into
the wilderness, and towards night they left her there, where were many
wolves, bears, and other wild beasts, and many deep waters to pass
through; but being preserved by an invisible hand, she came in the
morning into a town called Rehoboth, being neither weary nor faint;
and from thence she went to Rhode Island, where coming to her friends,
she gave thanks to God for having counted her worthy, and enabled her
to suffer for his name’s sake, beyond what her age and sex, morally
speaking, could otherwise have borne.

After some stay there, she returned to Cambridge, about eighty miles,
to fetch her linen and clothes, which the inhuman persecutors would not
suffer her to take with her after they had whipped her. Having fetched
these things, and going back with her daughter and Sarah Coleman,
an ancient woman, she was taken up by the constable of Charlestown,
and carried prisoner to Cambridge; where being asked by one of the
magistrates, whose name was Daniel Goggin, wherefore she came thither,
seeing they had warned her not to come there any more: she answered
that she came not there of her own accord, but was forced thither,
after she had been to fetch her clothes, which they would not let
her take with her when she was whipped and sent away; but that now
returning back, she was taken up by force out of the highway, and
carried thither. Then the other old woman was asked whether she owned
Elizabeth and her religion: to which she answered, she owned the Truth.
And of Elizabeth’s daughter he demanded, ‘Dost thou own thy mother’s
religion?’ To which she was silent: and yet they were sent to the house
of correction, with order to be whipped. Next morning the executioner
came betimes before it was light, and asked them whether they would be
whipped there: which made Elizabeth ask whether he was come to take
away their blood in the dark: and whether they were ashamed that their
deeds should be seen: but not heeding what she said, he took her down
stairs, and whipped her with a three-stringed whip. Then he brought
down the ancient woman, and did the like to her. And taking Elizabeth’s
daughter he gave the like to her also, who never was there before, nor
had said or done any thing. After this Elizabeth the mother was whipped
again at the cart’s tail at Boston and other places, where she came to
see her friends: since which I have several times seen her in England
in a good condition.

I could relate many more severities of the New England persecutors; but
I long to come to an end, and therefore shall make a large step, and
outrun some space of time.

1664.

In the year 1664, it happened that Mary Tomkins and Alice Ambrose
came again to Boston, having been in Virginia, where for their
religion they had not only been pilloried, but whipped also each of
them with thirty-two stripes, with a whip of nine cords, and every
cord with three knots; and they were handled so severely, that the
very first lash drew blood, and made it run down from their breasts.
Being afterwards arrived at Boston, Mary grew so sick, that she was
thought to be near death; which made Edward Wharton with Wenlock
Christison come from Salem to visit her. But after they had been there
a little time, two constables came in, and notwithstanding Mary’s weak
condition, forced them all to the governor’s house. Now though Mary
seemed to be a little on the mending hand, yet she was so ill, that she
fell down as it were dead in the way. But one of the constables staid
with her till she came to herself again, and then brought her before
the governor, where were also deputy Bellingham and Thomas Daufort,
one of the magistrates; who ordered all four of them to be whipped;
but because Mary was so weak, and lest probably she might die under
their hands, they gave order that she and Alice should not be whipped
at Boston, but at the towns beyond. And this was to have been executed,
but that colonel Temple coming in, interceded and prevailed for three
of them. And now Edward became the mark of their fury, on whom they
vented their passion, though they had nothing to charge him with, but
that he was come from Salem to Boston to visit his sick friend; and for
this pretended crime the following warrant was framed:

              ‘_To the constables of Boston, Charlestown,
                          Malden, and Lynn._

  ‘You are required to take into your custody respectively,
  Edward Wharton, convicted of being a vagabond, from his own
  dwelling-place; and the constable of Boston is to whip him
  severely with thirty stripes on his naked body. And from
  constable to constable you are required to convey him until he
  come to Salem, the place where he saith he dwelleth: and in so
  doing this shall be your warrant.

                                                      JOHN ENDICOT.’

  Dated at Boston, the 20th of June,
    1664.

Pursuant to this warrant, Edward, (who therein was called a vagabond,
for no other reason but that he was gone from his dwelling-place,) was
led away to the market place, and there being stripped, his arms were
bound to the wheel of a great gun. Then the constable John Loel, bade
the hangman to do his work severely; which he did so cruelly that it
was testified pease might lie in the holes that the knots of the whip
had made in the flesh of his arms and back. And his body was swelled
and very black from the waist upwards. Such was the doings of those,
who to enjoy the free exercise of their worship, had left Old England;
and thus they treated a man that was of good repute, and had lived in
that country above twenty years; and was once by the governor himself
acknowledged to be his friend, when he supplied him with necessaries
in his want, saying then, that if ever it lay in his power he would
requite him; which now he did, but in what an inhuman and barbarous
manner! That this governor Endicot once had been a man of but a mean
condition, appears from a letter written to him shortly after the death
of Mary Dyar, by one John Smith, because he had not only caused his
wife to be whipped severely, but had also kept her prisoner a whole
winter, separate from her children, and had been assisting in the
making of an order that no man or woman should bring any thing to the
imprisoned Quakers, or carry any thing from them, upon the penalty of
five pounds for the first time, and ten pounds for the second. In this
letter John Smith said:

  ‘O my spirit is grieved for thee, because that the love I did
  once see in thee is departed from thee, and there remaineth
  in thee a spirit of cruelty, of hard-heartedness to thy poor
  neighbours, which thou hast formerly been much beholden to, and
  helped by, in time of want, when thou hadst no bread to eat. O
  consider of these times, and forget them not, and of the love
  thou didst find among poor people in thy necessity, and how
  evil thou hast dealt with, and requited some of them now; and
  how thou dost walk and act contrary to what thou didst formerly
  profess: yea, I have heard thee say that all the armies on earth