WHat still at it Countrey men? Do's your thirst in­crease with your drunkennes? Will nothing cure your dropsie but a generall devastation? Are not your veines yet dry enough? Is not the earth moist enough with your blood? I little thought ye had lov'd me so dearly, that for my sake ye would have all bled to death as I did; and indeed had I mistrusted any such matter, I would for your sakes have beene honest in spight of Honour, and have liv'd to give my Sove­raigne better counsell. O the guilt that sticks upon my sad soule will ne­ver be wash'd off with these showers of blood and teares, spare them deare Countrey men, sheath not your swords in one another bowels till there be none left to punish, nor any to perish: pray make not me your example. Alas, I was a mightie Malefactour, you are innocent; I died because I was guiltie, do not you make your selves guiltie by dying. Indeed I was made an Instrument i'my life time to set these warres o'foot: for which my af­flicted Ghost (haunted with horrour) can take no rest, as long as they con­tinue; ther's not a man falls, nor a wound given but I am sensible of it, I smart for't, so closely am I follow'd by Divine Justice, for betraying Innocency. Consider O yee Mortalls that live i'the same state I died in, what I might have been, and what I am; how bravely I might have liv'd, how wretchedly I died, and how justly I am tormented. Survay the course I ran, and shun it; keepe from the Court, 'tis infectious; be not be­witch'd with the vaine hope of greatnes; purchase not honour with disho­nestie, [Page 3] lest your lives and fames perish together, and your Ghosts hereaf­ter affright your posteritie with dismall apparitions, and the fearefull Re­lations of these bloodie broiles.

And O King, I must not flatter thee now, nor need I; I am out of thy power! Looke upon thy owne worke, and consider how other Kings liv'd and died, and what fame follow'd 'em that gave their minde [...] to Ty­rannie, to crueltie, to murther. Hast never an honest man about thee to lay these things before thee? none but villaines at thy elbow still, that seeke the ruine of thee and all thy Kingdomes? why where are all thy Bi­shops now? thou't heare them; they can (if they please) tell the strange and true Stories of the lives of thy Predecessors; they have bin forward enough to bring thee on; wher's now their wisedome and learning, their zeale and affection, their power and pollicie to bring thee off againe? What good have their counsels done thee? Poore Ireland's desolate, England's despe­rate, and Scotland's in danger; and can thy Bishops make thee beleeve that thy person is in safety, when thy three Kingdoms are a fire about thy eares? or that the Prince may prosper, when his people perish? Trust'em no lon­ger King, they f [...]tter thee for their own ends, and feare onely their owne falls, and that makes 'em endeavour to perswade thee that the Miter and the Crowne are inseparable; They love thee for their owne honours not for thine; for the benefit of Rome, not of England, they desire thou should'st live to be subject to them, rather then thy people should live to be subject to thee, and therefore according to their owne law and honestie these in­humane Massacres and Murders are cryed up, and kept up by their care and counsell as convenient and necessary: Wher's little Land, and great Canterbury all this while, do's the Tower still keepe that grace and good­nesse together? Hath the holy man wrought so many miracles, that they cannot all this while be reckon'd up, and set downe in a Chronicle? I have look'd long for him, and wonder he should be so slow to follow mee, that was so forward to send me packing. O how carefull he was at our first ac­quaintance to get me into favour at Court, and make mee acquainted with a Duke of his owne condition, that I might be hansomly handl'd betwixt 'em, and screw'd up into a capacitie of furthering Court designes, and abu­sing the Common-wealth. He tooke a great deale of paines to make me a great Counceller, that he might with the lesse pains bring me and the King­dom to nothing; I must forsooth be conversant with my King and flatter him, this (he told me) would bring me along by the path of preferment to the honour I aim'd at; so I follow'd his advice and prosper'd: My carri­age and my councells were so approv'd of, that I was held a fit man to be a Governour Away I went for Ireland, where (my swelling thoughts appea­ring [Page 4] in my countenance) I soon purchased (to the satisfaction of my soul) the respect of a Prince. What was then to be done? Meane actions are not fit for mightie men, I must exceed my Predecessors, and I must please my Soveraigne, all fell out according to mine own heart, for I could not doe the one, but I must needs doe the other; so I presently bent my endea­vours to subvert the laws I lik'd not, and made (for mine own advantage) what laws I listed. The power of a Prince would no longer content me, so that I caus'd many times the best men to be punish'd by the hands of the basest, on purpose to have my actions grac'd with the name of tyranie. This was the Government I aim'd at, and to maintaine this, I made bold (by His Majesties leave) to compell the people (by force of Armes) to obe­dience. Thus their lives and liberties were at my disposure, honour and wealth came flowing in upon me, and ambition told mee I had found out the true way to be great, and happy. But for all this I was not unmindfull of the worke I was put upon, I stuck close to my maine busines, the rise of the Papists must be the ruine of the Protestant, and whether I have not prov'd faithfull in that, let the world judge: But O monstrous ingratitude! how am I rewarded? O ye Irish, English, and Scot'sh Catholike Gentle­men, what affront have I given you? if your owne plots have wrought your own destructions, what's that to me? I spent my life in your quar­rell, and now for my paines I am tossed from one side to another, and not suffered to rest in my grave; which way have I deserv'd this? Wherein have I been disobedient to his Majestie, or crosse to any of your wicked Counsells? What have I done to purchase reproach on your part? nay, what have I not done to merit your love and favour? Did I not in my life time bring on the busines bravely? Was it not I that arm'd the Irish Catholikes, and disarm'd the Protestants, on purpose to make you happie (if heaven had had a minde to't?) Was it not I that indeavour'd to make the English and Scottish Protestants worke themselves into a weake condi­tion, by setting the two Nations together by the eares, when Arundell, Dig­by, Cottington, Windebank, & [...]. had made way for the Spanish second Armado to second the busines? 1639. Was it not I that laid huge taxes, and impos'd great sums upon many Townes and houses in Ireland, and forc'd payment by my souldiers in a warlike manner? Did not I with my Troopes compell divers great Lords and Gentlemen there, to forsake their own possessions, and yeeld up their rights i'their livings contrary to Law and Justice? Did not I am many other unlawfull and uncon­scionable enterprises enhaunce the rates of al customarie commodities, and make restraint of their transportation at my pleasure, and all to bring in money to maintaine the (then) intended Rebellion, and the wars like to [Page 5] follow it? Did not I also (for the same cause) become the onely Mer­chant of Tobacco in Ireland, as his Majestie did of Gunpowder in Eng­land? The ingrossing of two such commodities by a King and his Ʋice-ray, are worthy the worlds observation. Did I not besides restore your Frieries and Masse-Houses, and force a new Oath upon the Protestant to tie him to the observation of all Church Ceremonies in use for the present, or to be hereafter established by his Majesties authoritie? Did not Canterbury and I (when we perceiv'd we could not cousin the Parliament of so many Subsidies, as we thought would serve our turnes to undoe the Kingdome) cause it to be broke up, and did I not then promise his Maiestie to bring downe the sturdy stomacks of His people by my Irish Catholike Armie? Did I not further perswade his Majestie to reviue the levying of Ship­money, and to punish many Sheriffes of the Counties, about that and other payments for being obstinate honest men? And did I not threaten the Lord Maior and Sheriffes of London at the Councell-Table, for not yeelding to a busines of the like nature? Was not I the cause of some of the Aldermen of Londons commitments, for not discovering the abilities of their neighbou [...]s. And were not all these things done for your sakes? Yes, yee know they were, and yee lik'd 'em well enough, and mee too all the vvhile yee prosper'd. VVhen the Rebellion in Ire­land grew to such a height, that yee supposed no power could hinder your conquest: when ye were either bloody actors, willing spectators, or joyfull hearers of the Stories of those horrid massacres; and when the men, money, and Armes, sent over by the Parliament (his Majestie desiring it) against the Rebells, were again (by your counsells) at his Maiesties com­mand, made use of by the Rebells against the Protestants, then were my actions of high esteem, and my Name was famous amongst you. O you Romane Catholike Courtiers, you that are still mighty men with his Ma­jestie, can you not worke your wills in England yet? No new project? No quaint device to cleere the Kingdome of Protestants? Did I begin to work so handsomly, and can you not goe forward; can you not finish't? Have not the lazie Irish done their worke at home yet, that they may move with a full body, and make an end of their Tragedie here, to you [...] eternall con­tent! But oh—! Eternall did I say? Did you with your clamours raise me from my grave, to have my counsell? Did you in serious sadnesse? take it then: proceed not in these dangerous and damnable courses, except ye have no soules, or know no God; remember the word Eternall! and be confident, that such works as you are now in hand with, cannot be fini­shed in this world. Y'are content for the present to hear of the cruell slaughter of your innocent Countrey-men, and think your selves safe un­der [Page 6] the wings of your Soveraigne; but the more security, the more dan­ger: Take heed ye be not couzen'd of your lives, as I was; remember the word Eternall, and make preparation for a better world, before y [...] leave this, that's the worse for ye, and growes weary of ye: Be accessary to no more blood, y'ave waded deep already, consider my condition, that am hurried (as in a whirl-wind) from one place to another, now I am in York, straight in London, by and by in Ireland, and in every place suffer varietie of afflictions, according to my crimes: Here I am plagu'd for my bad Councells, there for my worse actions; in one place for my Ambition, in another for my luxurie; but every where for being accessary to this h [...]l­lish Plot, of murthering Christians. In York I am much tormented, in Lon­don more, in Ireland most of all; where many times, as in a Theater, the bloody Tragedies I made way for in my life time, are presented to my view. The lamentable cries of my own Countrey-men inhumanely mur­thered, affright me on one side, and the damnable oathes and execrations of the perfidious Rebells terrifie me on the other. The high wayes and fields are strew'd with mangl'd Carcases, some dead, o pittifull, some dy­ing, o miserable, but many lame and wounded, lie gasping and groaning, expos'd to the lingring rage of cold and hunger, O intollerable! Some­times I meet with hundreds of men, women, and children stark naked, run­ning from one death to meet another, as rather trusting to the fury of frost and snow, then to the mercy of the insulting Enemy. These are no sooner out of my view, but as many more (betraid by promise of quarter) are rob'd and strip'd in my sight, by a crew of periur'd villaines, that show they are uncapable of mercy themselves, by denying mercy to Innocents that beg it. I have bin forc'd to behold with horror, as I am now to report with paine, the eruelty exercis'd upon Ministers by Monsters; some I have seen cut in pieces, some whipt, some hang'd up, cut down, quarter'd, and their mouthes stop'd with their members; others I have seen hang'd, and their flesh pull'd from their bones in the sight of their wives, and some tyed to tre [...]s, whil'st the basest of the rabble have ravished their wives and daughters before their faces, and then hang'd up their parents in the sight of their children.

I have seen men and women set upon burning hot Gridirons, and others tortur'd by clapping hot Tongs to their hands and feet to make 'em disco­ver their hidden Treasure.

Young virgins have been bound and ravished by the Rebells, whereof somo have had their tongues cut out, that the cruelty might be conceal'd, and others been script, and turn'd naked amongst the common Souldiers.

I have beheld young infants rosted upon spits before their Parents faces, [Page 7] whilst they have been tyed in Chaires, and forc'd to be wofull spectators of their childrens inhumane tragedier, and expecters of their own: then the wife has bin stript, and forc'd in the sight of her husband, and at last the hus­band [...]s'd of the intollerable torment he suffered in (seeing all this) by be­ing murdered.

I have beheld women with child rip'd up after they have been ravish'd and the children slung into the fire; some I have seen hang'd, and some dragg'd up and down the streets by the haire of the head; and I have seen children toss'd into the water with Pitchforkes, the braines of some dash'd against the posts, and others snatch'd out of their mothers Armes, and burnd before their faces; amongst these, and thousands, the like barbarous cruelties, and murthers, I have beheld some throwne upon dunghills with their guts half out, that have not been able with their wofull cries and la­mentations to move so much pittie in the mercilesse murtherers, as to put 'em out of their pain.

And what think ye now? are these commendable Actions? are these pleasant objects? is all this done for the grace of Christianity, or the glo­ry of his Maiestie! Was ever Religion sought, or bought with so much blood, or absolute Soveraignty with such infinite slaughter! And are ye not satisfyed yet? not yet weary? not yet ashamed▪ d'ye suppose that ye have not yet made work enough for a Chronicle, that your childrens children will be amaz'd to read? and blush when they shall find i'the Margent, that all this blood was spilt by the pernitious counsells of their graceles grand­fathers! Are the miseries of Ireland nothing, unlesse England smart in the same degree? O I am rack'd and tortur'd, poor England suffers in a farre higher nature, and is hardly sensible of it: Alas, in Ireland the Papists only kill the Protestants, the Irish murther the English, but heere the English kill the English, the Protestant murders the Protestant, there the greatest part of them that are kill'd, are women and children, heere the best men are pick't out, and arm'd to kill one another.

This is your device Digby, your craft Cottington, your policie Porter; what the Irish Rebells, English Papists, and the Bishops cannot doe, to pro­more Popery, must be done by the Protestant himself; when this plot was first contriu'd i'the Devils fencing-school, some of ye plaid your Master­prize there. But to what end have ye taken all this paines? where are your hopes (for all this) of working your wills, and advancing their Papall Monarchie? How much the neerer are you to the good you aime at, by doing all this mischief! O for shame give over, lay by your wicked re­solutions, these courses will neither purchase happinesse heere, nor heaven hereafter. Hark how the Rebells rave, as if they were in hell already, you [Page 6] have vndone 'em, their Liberties, Lands and Lives are all forfeited through your unhappy counsels, this is their clamour. Your own Countrey men the Papists are growne sensible now at length of your shamefull proceedings, and curse your plots and practises, d'ye not heare 'em? And the King whom you threatn'd to make Mightie by killing his Subiects, is brought into such streights by your stratagems, that hee dares not doe what hee ought, nor find fault with that hee likes not, what thinke ye of this, are yee not in a fine condition? and how will yee recover? your fa­vourers suspect you, and your favourites hate you, what will become of you? O wretched men, why doe ye still trouble the world, that would be so glad to be rid of yee! ther's nothing in't but vanitie and villanie, and ye know ye must part with't shortly; the Courts of Kings cannot give per­peruall protection to their unhappie inhabitants. I was great enough, and good enough to be a Courtier, and yet I fell in the height of my glorie. Come away. But let me not forget the Parliament, that remembers mee no question.

Noble Lords and Gentlemen, though it will seeme strange to the world that I should comply now, who have beene so averse in my life time, yet I cannot but acknowledge my thankfulnesse to you for freeing your Coun­trey of the danger my longer life would have made it lyable to. I confesse I would faine have liv'd still, that you might have perished; but as soone as yee had tooke off my head, my minde was alter'd. If the rest that are sicke of the same disease were cur'd i'the same manner, 't would be happie for England. My abode is very solitary, and I am inclin'd to Melancho­ly, pray send me some company: but in the meane time that I may with the more ease beare my affliction, go forward still with courage in your admirable worke of preserving two distressed Kingdomes. Trust men as you know 'em, and relieve not all particular persons according to their wants, but their merits: for there are many pretend they have been robb'd by the Rebels, that are little better then the Rebels that robb'd 'em, they make suit for maintenance, when they meane mischiefe; their malice is so great they cannot hide it. 'Tis strange we o'the other world, should know more then you doe in this: but I cannot stay now to make any further discovery, my houre limited is expir'd, harke, I am call'd, I come, I come.