DID not the Air of this place then agree with your weak, tender Constitution? hah! did you want airing, bloody Politician? and Liberty to range the World about, to do more mischief to this groaning Nation? 'Twas time for Providence, who all things sees, to bring an Habeas Corpus, and to call the Bloody Da— to his juster Bar: Look on me cruel Wretch, see the Effects of thy most horrid, and most bloody Plot. See me the humane Sacrifice, which thou inhumane offer'dst up to thy God Moloch, thy God of humane Policy, the Devil. Didst thou never dream of Providence above? Didst think the shades of Hell could hide thy Act, thy Impious Act, from the all-seeing Eye, which penetrates into thy very Heart, And sees the very canker'd Poyson there? Vain idle Wretch, that thought thus to delude the Almighty Mind, who all thy actions knows: and durst contend with thy infernal Arts of Hel-bred Policy, with God himself: For didst thou think that he would e'er approve the Murther of a Man, an Innocent, by the Contrivance wrought, and not detect at last the bloody Au­thors, and Contrivers, as well as those poor hireling Instruments, that did the bloody deed? Blood still cries loud ith' Ears of Justice, none did e'er es­cape the hand of Vengeance: And the wrath of Heaven reaches them in this World, or in the next. I laugh to see thee tremble, to behold thy Con­science thy Accuser, and to fly in thy own Face; as once thou laugh'dst at me, before thou sent'st me to be sacrific'd. You now remember well your close Consult, What Persons then were laying Heads together, the bloody Scene was laid with hellish Art, and the Contrivers smil'd to hear it done: O pious Act, to hide an impious Plot, in which your hands were deep: but all in vain, For though I thus to Heaven was pack'd away, by thy Con­trivance, yet God took the Cause of this distressed Nation into his own [Page] hand, and strangely raised up new Witnesses, that could through various Tides of Opposition, make true Discoveries of poor Englands Troubles, Such as have hitherto kept off the Blow of utter Ruine, though they ne'er were suffer'd to reach the Root. Hope like delusive Lights, that lead poor Travellers out of the way, till they are brought into some Pit or Ditch, where they perhaps at last may loose their Lives, has led you and your dear Confederates, till now you fall into the Pit of Justice. Down, down poor groveling Dust, and see your folly, Contend no longer with the power of Heaven, think Politician, that thou hast a Soul more precious yet, than a poor blast of Fame, save that, save that, perhaps thy Body too Let God be glorified by thee at last, Fear not a Mortal Man, own Truth, I say, confess and satisfie the wondring World, For if thou dost not, know that God at last will bring forth Truth, the glorious Child of Heaven, and spite of Hell, and all its Policies, The very bottom of the Plot shall be turn'd up to open view. The World shall judge the depth of Wickedness, that covered now lies in the Hearts of Men. Nor He, nor She, nor any, who such horrid things design shall scape. Murther, O bloody Murther still will be found out, for God is ever Just. Lay on thy guilty Heart thy Hand, and say, I see that God us wiser far than I: For when I thought the bitterness of Death was past, and flatter­ing Hope appear'd, A Clew to lead me from my imprison'd Labrynth, when I with working Brain had undermin'd those who with eager cry persu'd me still, and working like a Mole, still under ground rais'd up those little rugged Hills that spoil'd Englands fair Garden: When I had thought by cunning Pleas to get a little Liberty, that I might laugh at the deluded World, and steer unseen the faultring Barque to ruine, exposing others Lives, whilst I sculkt close, as if I'ad left the World: when thus I say, I'ad built a [...]abel almost up to Heaven, that then when I ne'er dreamt of such a thing, a Bill of Murther should be found against me, that by a strange and unusual way, in open Court, and before all the World, it should be sworn with all its Circumstance; that this the unseen hand of Heaven should cut my Clew of Hope, and fling my Babel down, and pull me from my Mine into the Light, argues that I, with all my Policy, am but a Worm, and that in vain I struggle against Omnipotence: Consider this, lay it to Heatt, let Hell delude no more, strive not against the Stream of Providence, nor kick against the Pricks of Divine Power; in thinking thou by tricks, of cunning shifts, shalt clear thy self of my most horrid Murther. A door of Hope, of better Hope than thine, stands open to thee: Turn on thy Right Hand, and let Truth be thy Guide; at last confess, and Glory give to God. Trust not to Man, he shall deceive thee. Hearken to the Call of thy own Conscience; hearken now to me, Heav'n's Messenger: Go satisfie the King, and the whole English Nation, then shalt thou be call'd a Saviour of the Nation too.