THE Dreadful Apprehensions of a future being to Souls so ill-prepared, and the Ter­rors of Conscience under the Visitatio [...] of Heaven, are of that sad weight, that no thought can imagine but his th [...]t groans under it. When I tu [...]n my Eyes inward, I can look upon my self as no other than the unhappiest of Men, loaded with Infa­my, Misery, Imprisonment, and almost Despair; but a­bove all, with the Universal Hatred of a Kingdom; so U­niversal, that I stand the very Center of Shame, whilst every Tongue that reviles, each Eye that loaths, and every Finger that points, seem to terminate in miserable me. Such is my hard Fate, and such my serious Reflections, that I believe, had my Faults been ten-fold greater than they are, it was impossible for me to disoblige Mankind in all my Exalted Glory, but half so much as I have pleased them in my Fall; so naturally lovely in the En­glish Eyes, does the Distress and Ruines of Tottering Greatness look, where they seem but just.

But all these Accumulated Calamities are but my lightest Burthen; for, alas, how justly, and more sadly may I cry out with falling Woolsey, Had I served my God with half that Zeal I served my King, He would not have left me thus Wretched! Wretched indeed, when my weakness of Body calls me to consider, how near I may stand to that Tribunal, before which, the proudest of Earthly Judges, Potentates, and Princes tremble. The Summons from that terrible Judge, is such an Alarm, that what would I do, if possible, to Soften that Almighty Justice that stands arm'd against me? Could the Confession of my Crimes make the least part of their Attonements; how happy should I think my self, in Unbosoming my whole Soul, even to my secretest and minutest Thought? The sence of which, makes me borrow from my Pains, these few favourable, though d ftracted Minutes, to use that Candour and Openness before I leave the World, that may reconc [...]le it, if possible, amongst all its Odium and Aversion, to at least one charitable Thought of me.

But alas, before I come to the sad Narrative of those numerous Ills I have committed, before I launch down into that deeper Torrent; my akeing Heart, and sad Re­membrance, lead me up to the fatal Fountain Head, from whence they took their Rise: And there, to my Con­fusion, I am forced to acknowledge my Crimes are scarce so black as the Polluted Source they sprung from: For whereas Ambition, Interest, Honours, those smiling Gourt-Beams, the common Ignes fatui, are those gaw­dier Snares that mislead the wandring Steps of other Of­fending Statesmen; I cannot but shamefully confess, that a Viler and Sootier Coal, Rancour and Malice, warp'd me crooked.

The two famous Occasions of my rising Spleen and bit­terness of Spirit, proceeded from the Parliaments bring­ing me upon my Knees, for my abhorring of Petitions; and next, the City of London's Turning me out of my Re­cordership.

The Anger, the Rage, the Spight I conceiv'd at this double Disgrace and Affront, was the first accursed Gall that Poyson'd me; a Resentment that struck me so deep, and so Canker'd every faculty of my Soul, that what is it I did not study, Contrive, and Plot to be reveng'd? I profess in the Agony of my Thought, I was a hundred times not only. Thinking, but Resolving (if no other means) to turn Wizzard, to wreak my Malice upon my Enemies, had my small Belief (Heaven forgive me) of either a God or a Devil, perswaded me there was any such Creature as a Witch, or such an Art as Sorcery.

As for that damn'd Town of London, not Cataline a­gainst Old Rome, was half so sworn a Foe, as I, against that Insolent Proud City. Really and sincerely, I could willingly and heartily out of my own Pocket, (though I sold my last Ragg in the World) have been my self at the charge of a New Monument, so I had had but the Pleasure of a second same Occasion of Building it. Nay verily, I envied the Fate of the old Erostratus, and that more modern Worthy, Hubart; and could have wish'd my Own Name, though at the price of his Destiny, Engra­ven in the very Room of that wisely raz'd-out Inscription, on so glorious an Occasion.

'Twas then alas, Edg'd and Enraged with a Mortal Hate, and an Avowed Vengeance against that accursed and detested City, and more detested Parliaments; with two such meritorious Qualifications. I applyed my self to the once great Coleman's Greater Master, at that time an ear­ly, and indeed almost only governing Pilot at the Helm; both infallible Recommendations to Entitle me to the highest Hopes of the most Exalted Honours. In short, I Entred, Listed, and Swore my self Engineer General under that leading Heroe's Banners; and how hugged, and how embraced, my succeeding almost Deluge of good Fortune, Glories, and Preferments will sufficiently Testifie.

And though the World has sometimes wondred at so sudden a Rise, as is little more than seven years, to mount from a Finsbury Petty-fogger, to a Lord High-Chan­cellour of England; from bawling at a Hedge-Court-Bar for five Shillings Fee, to sit Equity-Driver with Ten thou­sand Pound per Annum (besides P [...]esents and Bribes unac­countable) honestly gotten. But alas, to rectify the Mi­stakes of Mankind, and suppress their Astonishment at so Unpresidented an Advance, I must assure them, that as no History affords a parallel of such a Crown-Favourite as my self; so no Age ever yielded such a true Crown-Drudge neither, to deserve those Favours. Alas, my Dar­ling Fortune mov'd not half so Rapid, as my dearer Coun­sels drove; and all the Caresses of my Glory were thought but the poorest Meed and Reward of those Services that gain'd them.

But to recite my fatal Particulars: Upon my first En­trance (as I was saying) of Engineer General, our first great Attacque was against the Charter of London; and to the Honour of my Premier Effort, what by our terri­ble Dead-doing Quo-Warranto, my own invented Bat­tring-Ramm, planted ageinst them at Westminster, and the Tower-Hill-Guns, removed and mounted against them on the Tower Battlements; we soon reduced that Impe­rious Town, to almost as intire a Subjection and Vassa [...] ­age, [Page]as our own Hearts, and our Roman Friends, could wish.

Next, for those Prerogative-Crampers, those Cheek­mates of Crowns, call'd Parliaments, there our Triumph was Absolute; we Prorogued or Dissolved, and Danced them from Pillar to Post, from Westminster to Oxford, &c. at pleasure; and Heaven knowes, with timely, pru­dent and wise Care, to hush their too impudently inqui­sitive Curiosity into our Colemans Pacquets, our Le Chaise and Lewis Intrigues, and the rest of our Popish Plots and Cabals; and all God wot [...], little enough to keep our Clo­ven Foot undiscover'd,

Flusht with such prosperous Success, even in my Infant Mischiefs, what was it that I either staggered or shrunk at? My Temptations so allured me, my Rewards so daz­led me, and my Felicity so hardned me, that Moderation, Reluctance, or Humanity, were only so many Manacles and Shackles, that my inpatient Soul threw off with Dis­dain.

Who alas but I, with so much Unrelenting and Pitiless Ba [...]barity, Triumpht in the Blood of those poor miserable Western Wretches; and Sanguin'd my very Ermins in their Gore, till even the Air with the Noisomness of their C [...]rcasses stunk almost as much (if possible) as the very Name of Jefferies their Butcher? Yes, and I acted by the Commissioning Vengeance that sent me thither, to inform the Heretick Enemies of Rome how much their Blood Tickles when it Streams; and to let them know by the Sample of my Hand, how keen is a Popish Ed [...]-Tool.

Was it not I too, that with so much Cunning and Artifice, and by so many Rhetorical High-Treason-Flourishes, wheedled poor Cornish to a Gibbet, and Russel to a Scaffold? Yes, and 'twas a Master-Piece! To give the Trembling World a Timely Warning what Pro­testant Zeal must trust to, when Popish Malice is pleas'd to be Angry; and to convince how easily can a Jesuitical Engine wire-draw Guilt, where Popish Ran­cour is Resolv'd to Destroy.

Who Dissolv'd all the Charters, and new Garbell'd all the Corporations, but Jefferies? And why, but to prepare 'em to unde [...]stand that what with our Quo Warranto's, and the rest of our Modelling Tools, we were Resolved at last to have PARLIAMENTS Al-a-mode de Paree, and their Dragoon-Reformers too, soon after.

Who invented that Ensnaring Command to the Bi­shops, of Reading the Declaration, and put their Re­fusal to the stretch of High Misdemeanor, if not High Treason, but the Chancellor? And why, think you, but to satisfie them what Romish Eye-sores are the Protestant Lawn-Sleeves; and that they shall want neither J [...]stles nor Stumbling-Blocks to trip their Heels up, and their Heads off too, when they stand in our way?

Who but the Great Jefferies, in Defiance of the very Fundamentals of Humane Society, the Original Laws of Nature, and to the Face of MAGNA CHARTA it self, got the Bishop of LONDON Silenc'd and Suspended, without so much as that Universal and Common Right, Sacred even amongst Heathens and In­fidels, viz. the Priviledge of making either Plea or De­fence, Condemn'd Untry'd and Unheard? Yes, I did it; to instruct the World what feeble Cobweb-Lawn are the Bonds of Justice, Law, Liberty, Common Right, &c. in the hands of an Imperial Popish Sampson Ago­nistes?

Was it not I too, by my Ecclesiastick High-Commis­sion-Supremacy, not only against the Statutes and Cu­stoms of the University, but the Positive Laws of the Land, turned Maudlir-Colledge into a Seminary of Je­suites, and in spight of that Bulwark of the Church of England, the Act of Uniformity, converted a Collegi­ate Chappel into a Mass house? And by the same Justice, might not every Collegiate, Cathedral, and Parochial Church, had the same Conversion? And both the Foun­tains of Religion and Learning, the Mother Universi­ties, been deprived of all her Protestant Sons, and re­peopled with the whole Race of St. Omers and Sala­manca?

Who did all this? The Chancellour! Yes, and he sav'd the Church of England, and the whole English Liberty, by it. The Nation was lull'd into so profound a Sleep, that they wanted such Thunder-Claps, and such a Boa­nerges, to awaken them from their Lethargy.

With these serious Reflections, That these Rapid and Violent Motions of the Romish Cause, are and have been the Destruction of it; who has been the Protestants Champion, but I? Who has pull'd off the Vizor from the Scarlet Whore, and exposed the Painted Babylon Pro­stitute, but I? And if I drove like Jehu, 'twas only to the Confusion of a Jezabel. Who call'd in the Deliverer of our Church and Laws, that second Hannibal, the migh­ty Nassau, but Jefferyes? Who has Re-mounted the sink­ing Glory of our Temples, till their Pinacles shall kiss Heaven, but Jefferyes? Who has United. Two such for­midable Protestant Neighbours, with that Eternal Link of Interest, as shall render us once more the Arbiters of Europe, and Terrour of the World? Who but Jefferyes and Jefferyes. Conduct, has joyn'd those Naval Forces, those Floating Walls that shall one day mew up that French An­tichristian Monster, till in Despight and Despair, he bursts his Soul out at his Fistula?

In fine, Who has cut off the very Entayl of Popery and Slavery from three happy Kingdoms, but Jefferyes? Three Kingdoms did I say? Yes, possibly has laid that Foundation to the Protestant Cause, as perhaps shall one day m [...]ke her over-top, the Seven Proud Hills, and strike her Dagger into the very Gates of Rome.

With this Confession of my Crimes, which under the Afflicting Hand of Heaven, I think my self Obl [...]ged to give the World, I beseech my E [...]emies themselves so to represent my C [...]se, as that at least. Out of the Devourer may come forth Meat; and out of the Strong, Sweetness: And by Ballancing the Services of my Actions against the Guilt of them, give me some small dawn of Hope, that the Approaching Parliament, my Judges, my Accusers themselves, may be softned into some Commiseration and Forgiveness. I assure them, if Heaven spare me Life to ask it, they shall want neither Confession, Discovery, nor Contrition, to obtain their Absolution. And Black as I am, I beg, even my most Hard-hearted Adversaries, to Consider, that still I am not Blacker then Judas. And alas, there was some Merit even in Judas; for there want­ed his Betraying of his God, for the Saving of the World.

With Allowance.