these holes, pointing to the pillory, God can bring light to his church. The keeper going about again to mend the pillory, he said, Do not trouble yourself so much; but, indeed, we are the troublers of the world. By and by, some of them offering him a cup of wine, he thanked them, telling them, he had the wine of consolation within him, and the joys of Christ in possession, which the world could not take away from him, neither could it give them unto him. Then he looked towards the other pillory, and, making a sign with his hand, chearfully called to Dr. Bastwicke and Mr. Prynne, asking them how they did; who answered, Very well. A woman said unto him, Sir, every Christian is not worthy this honour which the Lord hath cast upon you this day. Alas, said he, who is worthy of the least mercy? But it is his gracious favour and free gift, to account us worthy, in the behalf of Christ, to suffer any thing for his sake. Another woman said, There are many hundreds, which, by God's assistance, would willingly suffer, for the cause you suffer for this day; to whom he said, Christ exalts all of us, that are ready to suffer afflictions for his name, with meekness and patience: but Christ's military discipline, in the use of his spiritual warfare in point of suffering, is quite forgotten; and we have, in a manner, lost the power of religion, in not denying ourselves, and following Christ, as well in suffering as in doing. After a while, Mr. Burton, calling to one of his friends for a handkerchief, returned it again, saying, It is hot, but Christ bore the the burthen in the heat of the day: let us always labour to approve ourselves to God in all things, and unto Christ, for therein stands our happiness, come of it what it will in this world.

A Christian friend said to Mr. Burton, The Lord strengthen you. To whom he replied, I thank you, and I bless his name, he strengthens me. For, though I am a poor sinful wretch, yet I bless God for my innocent conscience, in any such crime as is laid against me; and were not my cause good, and my conscience sound, I could not enjoy so much unspeakable comfort in this my suffering, as I do, I bless my God. Mrs. Burton sends commendation to him by a friend: he returned the like to her, saying, commend my love to my wife, and tell her, I am heartily chearful, and bid her remember what I said to her in the morning, namely, that she should not blemish the glory of this day with one tear, or so much as one sigh. She returned answer, that she was glad to hear him so chearful; and that she was more chearful of this day, than of her wedding-day. This answer exceedingly rejoiced his heart, who thereupon blessed God for her, and said of her, She is but a young soldier of Christ's, but she hath already endured many a sharp brunt, but the Lord will strengthen her unto the end; and he, having on a pair of new gloves, shewed them to his friends there about him, saying, My wife yesterday, of her own accord, bought me these wedding gloves, for this is my wedding-day.

Many friends spoke comfortably to Mr. Burton, and he again spoke as comfortably to them, saying, I bless my God that called me forth to suffer this day. One said to him, Sir, by this sermon, your suffering, God may convert many unto him. He answered, God is able to do it indeed. And then he called again to Dr. Bastwicke and Mr. Prynne,

asked them how they did? Who answered as before. Some speaking to him concerning that suffering of shedding his blood: he answered, What is my blood to Christ's blood? Christ's blood is a purging blood, but mine is corrupted and polluted with sin. One friend asked another standing near Mr. Burton, If there should be any thing more done unto him? Mr. Burton, overhearing him, answered, Why should there not be more done? For what God will have done, must be accomplished. One desiring Mr. Burton to be of good chear: to whom he thus replied: If you knew my chear, you would be glad to be partaker with me; for I am not alone. neither hath God left me alone in all my sufferings and close imprisonment, since first I was apprehended. The halbertmen standing round about, one of them had an old rusty halbert, the iron whereof was tacked to the staff with an old crooked nail; which one observing, and saying, What an old rusty halbert is that? Mr. Burton said, This seems to me to be one of those halberts, which accompaanied Judas when he went to betray and apprehend his master. The people, observing Mr. Burton's chearfulness and courage in suffering, rejoiced, and blessed God for the same. Mr. Burton said again, I am persuaded that Christ, my advocate, is now pleading my cause at the Father's right-hand, and will judge my cause, though none be found here to plead it, and will bring forth my righteousness as the light at noonday, and clear my innocency in due time. A friend asking Mr. Burton, if he would have been without this particular suffering? To whom he said, No, not for a world. Moreover, he said, that his conscience, the discharge of his ministerial duty and function, in admonishing his people to beware of the creeping in of popery and superstition, exhorting them to stick close unto God and the king in duties of obedience, was that which first occasioned his sufferings; and said, As for this truth I have preached, I am ready to seal it with my blood, for this is my crown both here and hereafter. I am jealous of God's honour, and the Lord keep us that we may do nothing that may dishonour him, either in doing or suffering; God can bring light out of darkness, and glory out of shame: and what shall I say more? I am like a bottle which is so full of liquor, that it cannot run out freely; so I am so full of joy, that I am not able to express it.

In conclusion, some told him of the approach of the executioner, and prayed God to strengthen him. He said, I trust he will. Why should I fear to follow my master Christ? who said, I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheek to the nippers, that plucked off my hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting, for the Lord God will help me, therefore shall I not be confounded; therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.

When the executioner had cut off one ear, which he had cut deep and close to the head, in an extraordinary cruel manner: yet this champion of Christ never once moved or stirred for it, though he had cut the vein, so as the blood ran streaming down upon the scaffold, which divers persons standing about the pillory seeing, dipped their handkerchiefs in, as a thing most precious, the people giving a mournful shout, and crying for the surgeon, whom the crowd and other impedimentsfor a time kept off, so that he could not come to stop the

blood; this patient all the while held up his hands, and said, Be content, it is well, blessed be God. The other ear being cut no less deep, he then was freed from the pillory, and came down, where the surgeon, waiting for him, presently applied a remedy for stopping the blood, after a large effusion thereof; yet for all this he fainted not, in the least manner, though through expence of much blood he waxed pale. And one offering him a little wormwood water; he said, it needs not, yet, through importunity, he only tasted of it, and no more, saying, his master Christ was not so well used, for they gave him gall and vinegar, but you give me strong water to refresh me, blessed be God. His head beiug bound up, two friends led him away to an house provided for him in King's-street, where being set down, and bid to speak little, yet he said after a pause, This is too hot to hold long: now, lest they in the room, or his wife, should mistake, and think he spoke of himself concerning his pain, he said, I speak not this of myself; for that which I have suffered is nothing to that my Saviour suffered for me, who had his hands and feet nailed to the cross: and, lying still a while, he took Mr. Prynne's sufferings much to heart, and asked the people how he did, for, said he, his sufferings have been great. He asked also how Dr. Bastwicke did, with much compassion and grief, that he, being the first that was executed, could not stay to see how they two fared after him. His wife, being brought to him, behaved herself very graciously towards him, saying, Welcome, sweetheart, welcome home. He was often heard to repeat these words: The Lord keep us that we do not dishonour him in any thing. Amen.

Thus, Christian Reader, you have heard the relation of such a censure, and the execution thereof, as I dare say, all circumstances laid together, cannot be paralleled in any age of man, throughout the Christian world, and I think I may take in even the world of Pagans and Heathens to it. Which though it be not drawn up in so elegant a strain as it was delivered and deserved, nor all the heavenly words and eloquent speeches recorded, which were uttered by these three worthies of the Lord, both in the presence of the Lords themselves at their censure, and also at the place of execution: yet I earnestly beseech you, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, that you do not in the least manner undervalue the glory and dignity, either of the persons, or the cause, but rather lay the blame upon the rudeness and mean capacity of the composer, who is an unfeigned well-wisher to them both.

THEEVES FALLING OUT,

TRUE MEN COME BY THEIR GOODS;

OR,

THE BEL-MAN WANTED A CLAPPER.
A Peale of new Villainies rung out:

BEING MUSICALL TO ALL

GENTLEMEN, LAWYERS, FARMERS,

And all Sorts of People that come up to the Tearme :
SHEWING,

That the Villanies of lewd Women doe, by many Degrees, excellthose of Men.

BY ROBERT GREENE.

Goe not by me, but buy me, and get by me.

London, printed for Henry and Moses Bell, 1637. In black letter. Quarto, containing forty-eight pages.

To all Gentlemen, Merchants, Apprentices, and Country Farmers, Health.

NEWS and green bushes at taverns new set up; every man hath his penny to spend at a pinte in the one, and every man his eare open to receive the sound of the other. It is the language, at first meetings, used in all countries, What news? In court it is the mornings salutation, and noones table-talke; by night it is stale. In citty, it is more common then What doe you lack? And, in the countrey, whistling at plough is not of greater antiquity. Walke in the middle of Pauls, and gentlemens teeth walke not faster at ordinaries, then there a whole day together about enquiry after news.

News, then, being a fish that's caught evry day, and yet a meate for every man's table, I thinke it not amisse to invite all men to a feast of such news, as hath of late, in shoales, come into my net. I will not hold a byrd in a cage to sing strange notes to my selfe, but let her forth to delight others; and albeit, about two or three years past, the ugly faces of divers damned abuses were set naked upon every post, their vizards being flaid off, both by lanthorne and candle-light, and by the Belman of London, yet villany, when it runnes to seed, being of all other graines the most fruitfull and luxuriant, the candle-light was burnt to a snuf, and the belman fast a sleepe, before these monsters, which now are hatcht forth, crept out of their dennes,

In Westminster, the Strand, Holborn, and the chiefe places of resort about London, doe they every day build their nests, every houre flidge, and in tearme time especially flutter they abroad in flocks. You shall know them by their feathers; and, because, for the most part, they flie in payres, a cock and a hen together, behold a couple newly alighted on the pearch, a he-foyst and a she-foyst: What they chyrp out, their own voyces can best deliver; and therefore listen to them. Suppose you heare the first set out a throat thus. Farewell.

ROBERT GREENE.

A Disputation between a He-foyst and a She-foyst, Stephen and Kate.

Stephen.

FAIRE Kate, well met, what news about your Westminster building, that you look so blithe? Your cherry-cheekes discover your good face, and your brave apparell bewrayes a fat purse: is fortune now a late grown so favorable to foysts, that your husband hath lighted on some large purchase? Or have your smoothe lookes link't in some young novice, to sweat for a favor all the byte in his boung, and to leave himselfe as many crownes, as thou hast good conditions; and then he shall be one of Pierce Pennilesse fraternitie? How is it, sweet wench, goes the world on wheeles, that you tread so daintily on your typ-toes?

Kate. Why, Stephen, are you pleasant or peevish, that you quip with suche briefe girds? Thinke you, a quartern winde will not make a quick sayle? That easy lifts cannot make heavy burthens? That women have not wiles to compasse crownes, as well as men? Yes, and more, for, though they be not so strong in the fists, they be more ripe in their wits; and it is by wit, that I live and will live, in despight of that peevish scholler, that thought with his conny-catching bookes to have cros-bit our trade. Dost thou marvell to see me thus briske? Faire wenches cannot want favors, while the world is full of amorous fooles. Where can such gyrls as my selfe be blemish't with a thredbare coat, as long as country farmers have full purses, and wanton citizens pockets full of pence?

Steph. Truth, if fortune so favour thy husband, that he be neither smoakt nor cloyde; for I am sure, all the bravery comes by nipping, foysting, and lifting.

Kate. In faith, Sir, No: did I get no more by mine own wit, then I reape by his purchase, I might both goe bare and pennilesse the whole yeere; but mine eyes are staules, and my hands lime-twigs (else, were I not worthy the name of a she conny-catcher) Cyrces had never more charmes, Calipso more inchantments, the Syrens more subtile tunes, then I have crafty sleights, to inveigle a cony, and fetch in a country farmer. Stephen, believe me, you men are but fooles, your gettings are uncertain, and yet you still fish for the gallows; though, by some great chance, you light upon a good boung, yet you fast a