THE Life and death of Gamaliell Ratsey, a famous thief of England, executed at Bedford the 26. of March last passed, 1605. IN a Town in Lincolnshire called Market-Deeping, lately dwelled a man enriched, as well in the virtues of his wife, as in the qualities of his own condition. For he was generous both by birth and other perfections of the mind, which made him more fortunate in the love of his neighbours, then in the comfort of his children. Careful he was for their education, and very industrious to give them that bringing up, that might either answer his hope, or be likely to yield them honest means of maintenance and preferment. His name was Richard Ratsey, a Gentleman, and belonging to some honourable parsonage of this land, whom he followed a long time in great favour and estimation. Amongst his other children he had one son named Gamaliel R●ts●y, of whom in his younger years, he conceived a very hopeful expectation, for his care was great to bring him up in learning and the knowledge of good letters. Wherein at the first he profited not a little, while he lived in the ●eare and reprehension of his parents, and the awful correction of his teacher. But as, Imberbis juvenis tandem Custode remoto Gavaet equi●, ●am●ns, & aperei gramine Campi, etc. So this Gamaliell Ratsey growing more mature and ripe in years and having that hand of restraint carried more lose and ●asie than was accustomed, by which he was formerly curbed of some liberty, grew less duteous and more desirous to range abroad, & see strange Countries, holding his hopes frustrated and himself disparaged by living at home: and therefore resolved to surrender the life and exercises of a Scholar, and betake himself to the fortunes and profession of a Soldier. As you shall here understand by the course of his life, the which he related to some friends of his after the time of his imprisonment, with desire it might be published, as well to testify unto the world his repentance, as to give cawsion to his countrymen, to eschew his folly, and prevent his fall. The which is further manifested in the end hereof, by his repentance written in his time of durance with his own hand. How Gamaliell Ratsey first left to be a Scholar and became a Soldier. THerefore I first thought good to make known, that at the time that the right honourable the Earl of Essex went into Ireland, this Gamaliell Ratsey ventured his fortunes over with him, being at that time very young, and unskilful in managing of any Martial affairs: yet he spent much time in those wars, and was very venturous and hote-spirited, and profited not a little, as well in knowledge, as in the commendations of his Commanders: For in any public designs or skirmishes, he was not slack to show forwardness, and in any private quarrel, very resolute to repel injuries. Insomuch, as in those parts he was then thought worthy from a private Gentleman of a Company to be made Sergeant. Which place he remained in under the Company of Captain Langford, till the time that my Lord of Devonshire came out of Ireland, and brought over Tyrone, after the death of our late Sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth. How Ratsey first fell into theft, by what means, and in what place, and how he was imprisoned in Spalding, with his dangerous escape out of prison in his shirt. AT the Earl of Devonshire's return into England, the said Ratsey came likewise back again, & shaped his course through the Country, homewards to the place where he was borne, where it is bootless to tell what pranks he performed in his journey. But this at his arrival at home, though it was first, yet was it not the least of his exploits, for he gulled the servant, deceived the master, and escaped for that time out of prison. But as Every evil act hath his evil end: so his success was so hard, that he was crossed almost to the cross, and that is the next neighbour to the gallows; and miserere mei, had been the best matins, had not one pair of legs been better than two pair of hands. For thus it fortuned, that not long after his coming home out of Ireland, he went to a Market town called Spalding, not far from the place where he was borne, where coming into an Inn in the same town, he insinuated himself into the love and league of a servant, Maid in the same house, with whom he prevailed so far, what with his pleasing speech (and with what else he pleased her I know not) that he was the only man in the maids estimation. Insomuch that in his absence (for he was coming and going thither often) the Maid prevailed so with her Mistress, that he before any other guest should be admitted the privilege of the Parlour. But as had-I-wist comes too late, and kindness oftentimes receives not her deserved effects. So fell it out in this his so sudden entertainment: for he only made that his mean to await some opportunity, when he might spy out a purchase and effect his purpose, as it shortly after fell out he did. For a Farmer, or husbandman, coming to the same Inn (as it was his custom upon Market days) to pay a matter of forty pounds to a Gentleman dwelling there, which was due upon a bond, called the Hostess aside, and desired her, that she would lay up the same safe for him (being sealed up in a bag) till the Market was done, which she received, and promised to do accordingly. And coming into the Parlour where Ratsey remained, she showed herself nothing squeamish to show what trust was reposed in her: but locking the same in a Press, he thought (that her back once turned) he would discharge her of that charge. For as he had an eagle's eye to espy advantage, so had he a Lion's heart to effect his purpose: for he was not long hammering it in his head, but with a quick dispatch, unlocked the Press, and pocketed the bag. Which when he had got, it was bootless to bid him haste away: for he presently bade them farewell in the Inn for a while, and told them he would but walk into the market, and come again by and by, although he meant nothing less, and they mistrusted nothing at all. But he hied home to Deeping, where in his Mother's Orchard, he digged a pit, and buried the bag of money, doubting there would be search made after him for it, and nothing found about him, or in his mother's house, it would be out their yea, and his nay, and so the matter might he the more easily answered. Now you must imagine, that the market being done, and the Farmer calling for his bag of money, and the Hostess finding that the same was taken out of the Cupboard, and her Press opened, was not a little perplexed in mind, but it struck such a quandary to her stomach, as if she had drunk a draft of small beer next her heart in a feostie morning. She came back to the Farmer, with her hands empty, and her heart full of cares, exclaiming against Ratsey, whom she remembered she left in the Parlour, but that availed nothing. Thereupon they both went to a justice of Peace dwelling near Spalding, and opening their said griefs and losses, desired his warrant to bring Ratsey before him, which he granted, and they procured to be served by a Constable of Deeping. So Ratsey being apprehended, and brought before the justice, stood stiffly in the denial thereof, and was committed to the safe keeping of the Jailor, upon suspicion of felony. Where he had not long remained, but money was wanting unto him, and he had no means to relieve his necessities in prison, but to reveal the hiding of the money in the said Orchard, and therefore bethought him whom in such a case he might make the same known unto, with his best security. Whereupon he resolved to make none acquainted therewithal, but his own mother, to whom he addressed secret knowledge thereof. Which when she heard, she was in a great perplexity what to do, whether she should prove unnatural in revealing the same, or by concealing it, hazard her reputation in the Country. In the which she was always very well esteemed with the most and best, both for wisdom and virtue. His mother to be further advised, revealed it to her daughter dwelling in the same Town, her daughter to her husband, and so from one to another, (as two may keep counsel, if the third be away:) it came to the justices hearing, where, and in what place, and under what tree in the Orchard it was hidden. Ratsey having secret information of notice given to the justice, and that he should be further examined concerning the same, knew that denial would not then serve his turn, but resolved to set all his wits abroach, to free himself from their hands, which could by no means be done, but by escape, which he effected in a morning betimes, out of a very narrow passage in his shirt. But the time was not long after his escape before he was miss, and hast made after him on every side, both by horse and foot. He was eagerly pursued, yet knew the Country well; and was a long space followed so hardly, that he was at last forced to a very dangerous great water, which he took and swam over; and being over, he stayed and turned himself towards them, and after some bravadoes given them, (for he knew none of them durst follow him) he went his way and outstripped them all. A kind conceit of Ratsey, performed by him in his way upon a serving-man that overtook him by chance, riding to London with his masters horse to fetch him from the Term. AFter he had made this escape, he took his way to a friend of his not far off, with whom he might be bold for suit of apparel, and to furnish him with such necessaries as his case required. The which his friend furnished him withal, and put some small matter of money into his purse to bear his charges, for he knew as soon as Ratsey had struck a hand, he should be no loser by it. Ratsey, as a man then half armed to enterprise any exploit, and well fleshed by his late escape, took his journey on towards London, thinking there to find men of all faculties, and copesmates to fit his humour in every condition. For although by the great discretion of the judges and justices, many are daily trussed up, yet still there springeth up young that grow, in time, to bear fruit fit for the gallows. As he had thus travailed two or three days towards London, booted and spurred, and afoot, he turning back to breath himself, being weary, espied a serving-man riding after him with a spare nag, for he led his own horse in his hand, and road upon his masters Gelding; which good opportunity was soon apprehended by Ratsey, for he presently began to call his wits about him, and to bethink him how he might overreach the plain serving creature that followed him. Who no sooner overtook him, but he straightway veiled his bonnet at the sight of Master Ratsey; who seeing the young Novice so full of courtesy, resolved to repay him with craft ere they parted. For Ratsey fell presently a questioning with him, if he did not overgo a serving-man leading a Gelding (as he did) in his hand? who made him answer, that he met not any such. Then Ratsey began to feign himself in a fustian sum, and swore his man should neither carry it to hell nor heaven for abusing him so, for I bade him follow me (saith he) and he sure mistook me, thinking I would ride to such a Gentlemans to night, and hath so left me as thou seest. But if thou be'st an honest fellow (quoth he) let me ride upon thy léere horse and I will give thee a couple of shillings to drink. The seely fellow greedy of two shillings, (for it was a great deal of money in his purse) and seeming to be sorry that such an honest Gentleman (as he thought) should go a foot and he a space horse in his hand, gave his good will, which Ratsey took hold of, and presently mounted himself. So they road a great part of the day together, passing the way with much idle prattle. But yet Ratsey was not satisfied in his mind, that the Servingman should ride upon the best Gelding, and not he, and resolved to have a fling at him for that too. So the afternoon being well spent, and night drawing on, Ratsey began to betake himself to his first discontent, and road a pretty way without any chat or prattle, as he had before. Which the simple serving-man perceiving, thought he would cheer him up a little, and began to ask him how he did, and what ailed him: Ratsey told him his man's negligence stuck still in his stomach, and he could not forget it. For saith he, I am now near the place where I intend to lie all night, and I have many worshipful friends and kinsfolks there, and it grieves me to the heart, that I should be seen come riding into the Town in such a fashion and so meanly horsed, for I tell thee (friend saith he) I never came thither without my man or two with me, and a very good Gelding under me. The Servingman hearing this, told him, if that were all if his Master's gelding would pleasure him, he should ride on that, and he would change horses with him. Yes mary quoth Ratsey, (for he aimed at that) for I hold thy masters Gelding to be worth some twenty ponnd: he cost not a penny less, quoth the Servingman. So they interchange horses, and riding on, Ratsey persuaded him, seeing he had been thus kind, to do him one other pleasure, and he would pay for his horse meat and man's meat that night, and set him forth free in the morning, with somewhat in his purse to drink. The Servingman asked of him what it was; nothing (says he) but to lie at my Inn too night, and be to me as my man, and I will reward thy pains, for thou shalt both save thine own charges, and continue my credit. That I will (saith he) with all my heart, and do you the best service I can. So the seely fellow for that night became ratsey's man, and coming to the Inn, the horses were set up, and he commanded his man to direct that supper should be provided. Which being done, and supper ended, Ratsey goes into the stable, and gives order that his horses be well dressed and looked too. For (●aies he) my man is but new come to me, and I dare not as yet trust him with dressing my Gelding, which the Ostlers promised to do accordingly. And perceiving the gentleman to be a kind man, they thought they would do some kindness to his servant in the bottom of the Seller. For while Ratsey was playing at dice above, with some others that were there, his new man was carousing below. And wanting that vim etentivam, and ability that the rest had to carry their liquor, he began to fell Dakes in the Taphouse, and his best brains were wrapped in a leaden cap: for he was so heavy in the head, that he could not stand on his feet. So he was had to bed presently. It fitted ratsey's purpose well, that while he lost his money at Dice, his man did gain his loading with drink, for he had an intention to send him away on foot, and so he did. For by that they had done playing, the morning began to wax grey, and he fell a bargaining for his best Gelding with the Host of the house, and received nineteen pounds for him. Who was no less glad of the one, than Ratsey was of the other. So he discharged the house, and commanded his man's Nag to be saddled for him, (while he was all this while asleep.) Which being done, he left some small matter of money behind him for his man, and gave order that he should follow him to such a Gentleman's house, where he never meant to meet him, and so road his way. Now what a sorrowful and troubled heart this young Novice had, when he rose and found his new master gone with his old masters Geldings, I refer to to them that have grieved at the like loss. How Ratsey met George Snell, and Henry Shorthose, and of their riding together in North-hamtonshire, and his robbing of nine men alone. RAtsey resolved after his late purchase, neither to buy house or land with his nineteen. li. but seeking for copsmates of his own condition, that were as ready to live upon spoil as himself: at last her met with Shorthose an old friend and Countryman of his (for Shorthose was likewise borne in Market-deeping.) And although Shorthose (till he persuaded him) never gave consent to enter into any malefaction, but was driven for matter of debt to forsake his native country. Yet being very poor he was glad of ratsey's company, and holp him to spend a great part of his money so lately, and so lewdly got, which in a little space drew near an end, (for two hands in one pocket soon makes a light purse.) Then came they both in company by chance with Snell, whom Ratsey perceived, as well by conference, as by countenance, (as Quam difficile est animam non prodere vultu) as apt to incline to desperate courses, as themselves, (as indeed he had been before,) for he was twice burnt in the hand in Newgate for his bad conditions. Well: they all laid their heads together, and forth they went, although none horsed but Ratsey, and laid their plots for Northamtonshire, and those parts, for there he was most skilful of the Country: and coming to a place called Helpson-heath, they espied nine men riding towards them together, that were bound for London. Ratsey resolved to show his resolution upon them, and bade his other companions to go on the infide of the Hedge into a coppice, while he lay on the outside cracking of Nuts: and bade the other not come forth unless they saw great necessity of their help. The men drew somewhat near the place where Ratsey lay, and being within sight of him, one of them knew him, (for they were all Lincolnshire men) and bade the rest be resolved to lose their purses now, for (sayeth he) yonder lies Ratsey, whom I know to be a dangerous and desperate fellow, and he awaits nothing but a prey. Ratsey makes roughly towards them, and told them that he came for money, and money he must have, and would have: therefore dispatch (quoth her) for one of your company here knows me, and knows I will not be trifled with. On our faiths (said they) master Ratsey, we are no better provided than will be are our charges to London, and that at the most is not twenty shillings a man, if you will have that, you shall have it with all our hearts. Nay (says Ratsey) that will do me no good: for it is well known I rob not for trifles. But what have you sir, says he to one that stood aloof from the rest, in your Portmantgle? faith, says he, I have a little money that I am to pay upon bond by a day, and we are two or three of us here bound to pay it, if you take it from us we are undone. How much is it, says Ratsey? Two hundred pounds (says the other) I Marry, quoth Ratsey, such a lump I look for. And seeing there are so many to pay it, it will not hurt you much if all of you lose it. Therefore be brief, deliver it, for if you stand upon terms, or delays with me, I have Whelps within the inside of the Hedge, that upon a Watchworde will presently come forth, and they never bark till they bite: if they stir, it is all things to nothing, but some of you lose your lives, and your limbs. This being heard, the money was presently delivered, for of two evils, they thought it best to choose the least. And Ratsey, he thought it the best cracking of Nuts that ever he made, that yielded such shells; And so they parted. How Ratsey rob a conjuror. RAtsey had secret notice given him of a conjuror that was a master of Arts, and a Scholar of Cambridge (for he had his intellegencers abroad, although against the state of the Commonwealth) and was directed which way he road, with his books of conjuration in a Cloak-bag behind him. But Ratsey thought all his books should not save him: for he meant to conjure him without book, not so much for the money sake (for he had knowledge that the Scholar had not above five or six pounds about him.) But for that it should be said that he once in his life, his courage and spirit outstripped and daunted the cunning and art of a conjuror. For following him till he came in Bawtrie Lane, where he intended this exploit, and which indeed is a very dangerous place for thieving, Ratsey made towards him, and the conjuror thought a good pair of Spurs better than Spells or Conjuration at that time, and began to prick forwards his Horse, which indeed was so far better than Ratsey's, that had not Shorthose stepped in, who lay to prevent his escape, the conjuror had out-rid Ratsey, and saved both his books and money. But now the conjuror is in hucksters handling, there is no wap with him but one, for Ratsey seizes both upon his money and books, for the which the conjuror pleads hard, but prou●●es not. And thinking his pain had been past, be gins to take his leave of master Ratsey, and to ride away: nay says Ratsey (and takes his horse by the head) I have not done with you yet; I have a quarrel to this gallant too, he must go with me, for presuming to overrun me: it may be you have infused some Art into your horse, that may stand me in steed hereafter, for I like him well at hand, howsoever he is at length. So the conjurers horse went with Ratsey, which was an excellent good Gelding, for Ratsey was oftentimes offered xx. pound for him, which he refused, for he proved so fit for his purpose, that all the pranks that Ratsey played afterwards, was upon the conjurers horse. The conjuror he walks now a foot, and had he not had two or three pieces of gold left in a secret place, which Ratsey found not, I think he would with Batillus have hanged himself. How Ratsey robbed a Scholar of Cambridge, and caused him make an Oration to him in a Wood RAtsey another time riding by the way, and Snell and Shorthose with him, (for they still served for his men, unless upon the performance of any exploit) met with a Scholar, that had been to receive a part of his wives dowry which was four score pound and upwards: And Ratsey pretending his course the same way that the Scholar did, they road together a great while, they passed away the time with much talk of many matters. And the Scholar (thinking at least he had been in the company of a Knight's son and heir, for that Ratsey road with his two men, one before, and another behind) began to discourse of many former accidents, and after fell into complaint of the iniquity of the time, the corruptions of men's conditions, and the obduracy & hardness of their hearts, for (saith the Scholar) it is a world to see how little regard is now a days had of Scholars and Soldiers, how they range in every corner without respect, or relief. Their distress is in every man's eye, but out of every man's heart, so that our present times make good that old saying: Charitas laudatur at alget. With much other prattle to this effect: which Ratsey hearing, soothed up a pretty while, till he came to a convenient place, near a wood side, and then whistled, and both his men came about the Scholar, for the whistle was a watchword between them, which when he saw, he was in a pitiful plight, and Ratsey spoke to him thus, or to this effect. Now honest Scholar, for so thy talk and thy habit shows thee to be; know we are not as we seem, for we are Gentlemen and Soldiers, such as thou didst talk of before: we are in want, and we scorn to cry out our wants in the streets, for we shall not be heard; we will have money if it walk upon the earth. And therefore to be short, you must needs minister your purse to me presently. Come dispatch, make no delay, for we cannot tarry. This stroke cold to the scholars heart, for he little thought that the speech he made would produce such effect. But seeing he perceived there was no remedy, but he must needs untruss (for he saw they were all resolute) he quietly delivered his money unto them, and would have been gone. Nay says Ratsey you must needs stay with me a little, for I must talk a word or two with you in yonder Wood: The Scholar fearing if he had him there, he would bind him, and do him some bodily harm, fell on his knees, and desired him to be good unto him; Rise up man, says Ratsey, come I mean not to hurt thee, I would but have thy counsel in a matter. Well, when they were in the wood together, Ratsey told him, that he liked his discourse so well at first, and sped so well after it, that he was desirous he should preach unto him some short Sermon of Repentance, for says he, I have been a long malefactor, and it may so prevail with me, that it may work me to some good deeds, after my many evils. The Scholar knew he must needs do as he would have him, now being in his hands, & therefore stepped to a Tree, chose his text to that effect, and made a speech of half an hour long: which being ended, Ratsey gave him a brace of Angels back of his money, and told him if ever he came to be a Lord, he would make him his Chaplain for his labour. How he robbed two men, and Knighted them. THis Gamaliell Ratsey, & his two other companions, Snell & Shorthose, having lain two or three days in an Inn in Stamford, expecting some booty worthy the taking; At last there came into the same Inn where they lay, two men that had forty pounds a piece about them, and were riding into Lincolnshire to buy wool, which when they heard, they were not a little glad of, for they made account it was their own strait, & dealt with the Chamberlain of the house to learn which way they road in the morning, which the chamberlain performed accordingly & that with great care & diligence, for he knew he should partake of their fortunes, and share with them, if they sped. So they were directed by him, which way the two men did intend their travel in the morning. The morning being come, the Chamberlain gave them such an hunts-up, as made them rise presently, for; Quid non mortalia pectora cogit Auri sacra fames? They slept not sound that night, till the thirsty desire of their purchase was effected. Up t●ey got with all speed, and gave order that their horses should be made ready, which being in readiness, they road easily before the same way that the Chamberlein directed them, for they imagined the two men would not follow them in an hour, or two after. But they made too much haste for their little profit for they had not stayed one whole hour, when they might espy the two Clothiers five miles beiond Stamford riding towards Lyncolne. And at Five mile Cross, Ratsey gave them such a good morrow, as with four words speaking, (Stand, deliver your purse) he fetched fourscore pounds from them at one clap. This being done, he had them kneel down & drawing forth his weapon, he asked them what their several names were, and of what profession. They told him, and answered they were Woolmen by trade, Ratsey then laying his weapon on the shoulder of one of them had him rise up Sir Walter Woolsack, & of the other rise up Sir Samuel Sheep-skinne. You are now (says he) both my knights, as I have many others besides you; that have paid me their several fees, according to their abilities, as you have done, for their election into the order of Knighthood: If any ask you who bestowed that dignity upon you, say you met with K. Ratsey, and so farewell. Thus they rid away, and left the two Woolmen heavy in heart and empty in purse, and how little they joyed in their poor Knighthood so richly paid for. Let every indifferent opinion judge by himself, as if he had been in their taking. How Ratsey dealt with a poor man going to a Market, whom he intended to have robbed. ANother time Ratsey riding between Huntingdon and Cambridge (for he kept for the most part in those parts) he met with an old Man going to S. ●lves to a fair, And thinking he had had more store of money about him, he began to be brief with the old Man, and his wife (for she was likewise in his company) and to tell them that he lacked money, it was a hard time for men of his profession, there were no wars, and Soldiers had no employments. Therefore (father says he) I must have your money, I come for it, be short and deliver it. The old man he sto●d shaking as if a man had been giving up the ghost. And told him that in all world he had but five nobles and that he was feign to make hard shift for, and sell some of his household stuff to make it up, and if he should die he left not one penny at home to help him, and my wife (says he) hath but one Edward shi●ling and a Mill sixpence, which hath seen no sun these seven years, and that she hath taken in her purse if we should want money, and all this we have patched up together (master) to buy us one cow to keep me and my wife now we are old. If you take if from us we are utterly undone. You are an old dissembler (Sirrah says Ratsey to him, I have met with such as you that have said as much as you do, and yet I have found more silver and gold in a russet hose then in velvet breeches. It may be so quoth the old Man, but on my faith and hollidome I deal truly with you sir. And with that he drew forth his leather purse, and powered forth his store, and his wife hers, and bad him even deal with them, as he would. Ratsey seeing this was true, took the moneys of both of them, but returned it back, and told them he had too high a mind to look upon so low a matter, and therewithal gave the old Man Forty shillings out of his own purse, and bade him by a couple of kine: for I hold it worse than Sacrilege (says Ratsey) to rob the spittle, and while I live the Sermon in the wood must teach me to favour and pity them that are poor, and help them, for the rich can help themselves. Thus did Ratsey leave the old Man both lighter at heart, and heavier in purse then he found him, but how honest a thief the old Man thought him to be when he was gone, let every poor Man judge, that lacks a Cow & hath forty shillings given him to buy one. How Ratsey got 300. pounds in one night by his venture of 50. pounds with a farmer, that he never saw till they met together in an Inn. IT fortuned that Ratsey, and his company lying at an Inn in New Market, there came into the same house a farmer, or husbandman by occasion of business that way, who intending to lie there all night, and being alone, demanded of the Host, if there were no company with whom he might sup, he made him answer that he had no guests that night, but one Gentleman and his Men, and he knew not whether he would permit any stranger to sup with him, but (says the Host) I will ask of him. So ratsey's pleasure being demanded in that case, he was very well content: for it was an accident that fitted his expectation, that lay there to no other end, but to await opportunities: & it was a good wind he thought that would blow him some profit. Then ratsey's supper being ready, the stranger was calin to his chamber, where the cloth was laid▪ and Ratsey gave him a kind welcome, though with a jewish heart, (for he meant to rob him, though indeed it sell out otherwise) So they fat down, & Ratsey's two supposed servingmen, waited as dutifully, as if they had had a Master of a better condition. But all supper time the farmer used very few words, was discontent, and very heavy at heart, which he could not but discover, which Ratsey perceiving, demanded of him the cause of his so great grief and melancholy, which with much ado he told him. The truth is, saith the farmer, I have much cause of grief, and for my life I cannot dissemble it, it toucheth me so near; For to morrow I am to pay two hundred pounds to a Gentleman not far from hence which I am bound to discharge, and more than my bond, my house, and land is mortgaged unto him, and I remain at his mircie, for I have had such losses and hindrances, that all I can make amounts but to one hundred and fifty pounds, & I & mine are utterly undone, unless I can take new order for payment of the other fifty pounds by a day, which I am very doubtful of; he is reported to be so cruel, and unconscionable. If this be all (says Ratsey) be of good cheer, for although myself am unknown unto him, yet I am sure he hath heard of my friends, for they are not dwelling far from him: And I will do so much for you as to ride with you in the morning to him, and doubt not I will prevail, that he shall forbear you till a further time, without forfeiture or advantage taken: for I presume one gentleman will not deny another such a request being so near neighbours. The Farmer gave him great thanks, & was well comforted by that promise, for it seemed a very likely thing, the a gentleman of that show that Ratsey was of, might both persuade and prevailed with his creditor. So supper ended, they parted to their several todgings and the poor man was much merrier by this hope conceived. Well, morning being come, they road altogether according to promise, and as they road, still Ratsey would feign have been doing with this hundred and fifty pound, but (as God would have it) his purpose was still croft by the continual coming too and fro of passengers, who made Ratsey at that time volens nolens, to play the true man against his will. But he thought he would go through stitch now, as he had beg●nne, and indeed (although at first he never meant it, when he said it) road with the Farmer to the Gentleman his house, where Ratsey as well as he could played the rhetorician, to persuade the Gentleman to bear with his debtor for a time for the odd fifty pounds & told him, if either he or any friend of his had cause to use him, or his means, where he dwelled, (for he took upon him the name of a Gentleman's son some xx. miles from thence of great reckoning) he should command him to requite his courtesy. Sir, said the Gentleman▪ I have no acquaintance with your father but this I have heard, that he is a man of great worth & worship in the country, and could I without my great prejudice, pleasure this man at your request, it is as like you might obtain it at my hands, as any man living to whom I am not further engaged. But believe me sir, as I am a Gentleman, I am to ride to morrow to pay 300. pound for a purchase, & my credit is bound for it, & I have so depended upon the payment of this money, as I have neglected to provide for myself otherwise, upon the assurance of it. Therefore you must needs excuse me, and so turned his back, and was going away Nay stay sir says Ratsey, I will once in my life play the Merchant venturer, and hazard fifty pounds upon a man I never saw before: Oh sir, says the man (and sell upon his knees) if you will do this pleasure to a stranger, you shall bind me, my wife, and children to pray for you, and I will be as careful to make you restitution, as I am now desirous to be helped in this extremity: and I hope you shall not stay long for your money. Ratsey made that reckoning so, for he intended to be paid at some of their hands before they parted. To be short, Ratsey tendered down fifty pounds in gold presently in the man's behalf, which the Gentleman received, & was so well conceited of Ratsey, that he made them all his guests the night. The night being passed over, and the morning come, the Gentleman of the house got up, & bagd the three hundredth pounds, and made himself ready for his business, & to ride: Ratsey was not long after, before he was as ready as he, for he meant to accompany him which way soever he road, So breakfast being past, Ratsey told the Gentleman he would ride some part of his way with him, as he pretended occasion of business, which the Gentleman was very glad of, for he was so far from any mistrust of him, (for that he named himself such a Gentleman's son) as he held himself much graced by his company. The Farmer took his leave of them both, and was not a little glad that he had escaped his late danger. Ratsey and the Gentleman had not road many miles together, when the Gentleman's man's horse (for he carried the three hundred pounds in a Portmantle behind him) began to faint, being a grass Nag, and they were much troubled with him; which Ratsey perceiving, had the Gentleman (if he pleased) to let his man take it behind him (being better horsed) as long as they road together. The Gentleman thanked him very hearty. So the money was removed, and set behind Shorthose. This was that which Ratsey aimed at, for now he knew his venture of fifty pofids would come home with profit. Shorthose having the Portmantle behind him, needed no directions what to do, for their minds were well enough known the one to the other. But as the Gentleman & Ratsey past the time away with talk of many matters, little minding the way before them, so Shorthose by little and little mended his pace, and in very short time got much ground of them, which the Gentleman perceiving, told M. Ratsey that his man road too fast. Then Ratsey began to call and whistle to his man, but he would take no notice of it, but the more he called or whistled, the more he stole away by degrees. At the which Ratsey seemed much moved, and did swear and tear exceedingly, and told the Geatleman that he would ride & overtake him & stay him with a vengeance, who all this while mistrusted nothing, for ratsey's assumption of such a Gentleman's name, drowned the conceit of any doubts or suspicion. But being ridden after his man, Snell likewise gins to pace after his master (as it was his duty) & the faster they followed Shorrhose, the faster he road from them so that in a little time as they grew near together, and at a convenient place of changing the way, they rained their horses back towards the old gentleman (who followed likewise as fast as he could) and waved their hearts over their heads as a farewell for his 300. pound, and so rid clear away. The Gentleman he made hue and cry after them, but to no purpose for they were so well horsed and so well experienced in every by way, that at their pleasure they would outstrip a country. The Gentleman went about to trouble the Farmer, because he brought him to his house but it availd him nought, for he produced such sufficient proof how they met by chance in the Inn together, and was so well known to be of honest life and conversation, that any matter suggested against him, could not prevail to his hurt. So the old Gentleman with his man returned home by Weeping Cross, and all he had for his three hundredth pounds, was but a Caveat hereafter to beware how he gave such sudden entertainment to strangers. A true and merry conceit Ratsey performed upon a Pick-lock that traveled the Countries as a foot-post. IT chanced that as Ratsey road abroad, he heard still of a fellow that traveled up and down the country, in the name and nature of a foot-post, with a long pikt staff on his neck, and a Leathern bag overthwart his shoulder and under his arm, that protended to carry letters too and fro, but in steed of packets, his bag was filled with picklocks, and in every Inn and Asehouse where he lodged all night, he paid the hostess with her own money, and carried somewhat away beside too, for there was not a Cupboard or Chest that he could come near, but he would pick open, and if th●re were no money in it, than money worth should walk with him; and he would not stick to rob poor Milkmaids, and servants towards an evening, if be met them handsomely, if they had not above six pence in their purses. Ratsey came in no place, but complaints were still made of such a fellow, and he did envy the practices of such deject and base conditions, and resolved in his mind if ever he met with him, both to redress & revenge his villainies, & to effect some matter of conceit upon him, that should be worth talking, and deceive the foot-post in his art of lock-picking. It chanced that not long after the foot-post came into an Inn in Stilton to drink, where Ratsey was at dinner, who espying him out of the casement of a window that stood open, (for he had certain notice what kind a fellow he was, & in what attire and fashion he traveled) he caused him to be called in, and after some questions, Ratsey made him to drink, and to sit down to dinner with Shorthose and Snell. They filled his veins with good victuals, and wine, & that made the footpost very merry. I pray thee footpost (says Ratsey) which way dost thou travel? faith Sir (says he) I go every way, even as the directions of my letters give me occasion, But now I am going to Cambridge: I pray thee then quoth Ratsey, let me entreat thee to carry me a letter to the jailor. For my father sent in a felon thither the other day, and I should send word to the jailor that he should not be bailed. Marry that I will in most dutiful manner (quoth this supposed footpost) and much more for your worship then that: Then Ratsey demanded his name which he told him, Give him a cup of wine (says Ratsey: and while he is drinking and at dinner I will write my letter, & make it ready. But in stead of a letter Ratsey counterfeited a justice of peace his hand in Cambridge shire and wrote his Mittimus, and set it in with this Proviso, that he should be kept fast bolted or else he would break away. As soon as the Mittimus was made, sealed, and subscribed in form of a letter, Ratsey delivered it to the footpost, and said give this to the chief jailor of cambridge, and here is half a crown for thee to drink for thy labour. So the foot-post took the letter and the money, and with many a cap and knee thanked Ratsey and departed. And made haste till he came at Cambridge, and staid not in the town somuch as to taste a cup of nappy Ale, before he came to the jailor, and to him very briefly he delivered the letter, The jailor took it, and read it, and smiled a good, and said, Footepost thou are welcome, for such a Gentleman's sake, He bids me give thee the best entertainment I may, I, Sir, quoth the Footpost, the Gentleman loves me well, and I thank him for it, I dined well with his Men to day. But I pray you (says the footpost) hath the courteous Gentleman remembered such a poor man as I am in his letter? I mary doth he (fellow) quoth he, and therefore Sirrah (saith the jailor, and calls to one of his men) take the footpost into the lowest ward, clap a strong pair of bolts upon his heels, and search what other letters he carries in his leathern Casket, which his man performing, found nothing in the same, but 3. or 4. bundles of picklocks, Then the jailor commanded he should have a pair of shackles clapped on more, and bade him to see if his picklocks would serve his turn to bail him thence. But the footpost (or rather picklock) hearing his Mittimus, was blank and cold at heart, and had not a word to say his Conscience did so accuse him. But there he lay while the next Sessions and was hanged, for many matters did come against him. Now let true men judge, what knavery is amongst thieves when one crossbites another to the Gallows. How Ratsey robbed a Preacher, by persuasion. ANother time Ratsey riding by the way, upon New Market heath, overtook a Preacher, upon whom he intended to pass some prank, and resolved there could be no better jest practised upon a Parson then to pick his purse by persuasion, without drawing of any weapon, And at the first gave him this encounter. You are well overtaken sir. You are welcome says the Preacher. Pray you how far ride you this way quoth Ratsey, I ride says the Preacher to such a place: if you ride that way, I would be glad of your compnay: yes indeed (answers Ratsey) that same waie●lies my business, and I will accompany you with all my heart. Thus their several salutatons ended upon their first meeting: they entered into further communication of divers matters and so beguiled much time and way with such talk, but that was not the matter which Ratsey aimed at, for he meant to give the Churchman another text to preach upon. Therefore fell roundly to his purpose in this fashion. I perceive Sir by your habit you are a Preacher, and Scholars both by art and nature are kind and courteous, I do little therefore misdoubt your friendly respect of what I shall speak unto you Know then that I am a Gentleman, and have been a man of better means than my present fortunes makes show of; But by the fortunes of war, and my own disorder I am fallen into the hands of Extremity, and am forced to lay my wants open to the help of others, and I think I cannot fitter communicate my griefs to any then a man of your condition, for you preach to others the Doctrine of good deeds and Charity, therefore I doubt not but yourself will be respective of such as are needy. I confess I have been a great malefactor, bu● am sorry for what is past and would willingly prevent any misfortunes to come: Yet I was never nearer the mouth of mishap, than I am now at this instant, For my wants are such, and so desperate as if I have it not of you, I must and will have money of him I meet next, although I hazard my dearest blood. Therefore as you are a Gentleman, and a Scholar, tender my distress: and consider the force and power of Necessity, which constrains them that are needy to rod, and take away the goods of their neighbours, & oftentimes to endanger their lives and limbs, & so at last bring themselves by such lewd courses to untimely end. If I do pass from you unpitied and unrelieved, notwithstanding I thus make my mind and extremities known unto you, and afterwards be constrained to fall into Theft, or murder, assure yourself you are partaker of my evil, in that you have not reduced me going awry, nor supported me being ready to fall. The Preacher was feelingly touched with this passion, & told him that he was inwardly grieved that a gentleman of his rank and fashion should be driven to so low an ebb: and that his means could not answer his willing mind: And so drew his purse out of his pocket, and says to Ratsey here's money, hold, take it, I think it be three pounds or thereabouts. I would I were better provided to pleasure you. Ratsey received it, and gave him great thanks, but resolved to sound him deeper whether he had any more store or no. Therefore seconded his speech in this manner. Sir quoth Ratsey, this is money indeed, and will serve a man's present occasions for meat and drink, but not to furnish me to such preferment as I am hopeful of: and my mind gives me (I cannot tell what the reason is) that you have more money about you, If you have, it ill befits a man of your profession to dissemble, for that is a fault you much reprehend in others: Therefore as you will answer before God, I charge you tell me the truth howsoever it be: Why then (quoth the preacher) to deal plainly with you: I have ten pounds more which I received this Morning. Let me see it (says Ratsey) So he drew it out of his other pocket, and delivered it to Ratsey: Who returning the purse and three pounds back to the Preacher, kept the ten pounds and told him, that (he thought) would serve his turn, and save him from imminent danger that before he was ready to fall into. And (says Ratsey) if ever my estate be raised to that ability that I be able, I pray you tell me your name and dwelling, and I will make you undoubted restitution for it, in the mean time I will but borrow this of you till my better fortunes. And so would have taken his leave and departed. Nay (says the Preacher) I pray you leave me not to night, but lie at mine Inn with me, and I promise you (for all this) I will bear your charges, and be merry with you. Pardon me for that, says Ratsey; so you may do me wrong, and charge the Constable with me, and say I have robbed you of ten pound, when I have but borrowed it: I dare not hazard my life and liberty so slenderly. As I am an honest man, says the Preacher, and look for mercy at God's hands at the last day, believe me I will not speak one word of it to any man, neither shall you be troubled or injured any way by my means or procurement, for I am so well persuaded of you, that if you live, you will one day give it me again. Upon this religious protestation, Ratsey road along with him, and set up their horses together, supped together, and lay together. For Ratsey handled his talk, and behaviour so orderly in the presence of the Preacher, that he conceived an extraordinary good opinion of him, and imputed the former accident to necessity, rather than the corruption of ratsey's condition. The morning being come, they broke their fast together, and the Parson paid all according to promise, and Ratsey brought him ten miles of his way, where they took their several leaves. Ratsey with redoubled thanks, and promise to pay the money again, and the Preacher with a world of good counsel, for (says he) if that may serve to save you from such peril as you pretended, I shall think it the most charitable deed that ever I did in my life. And so they parted. A true relation of the Robbery committed by Ratsey and his company, within a little off Bedford, for which they were Executed at Bedford the 27. of March last. 1605. A Gentleman, and his Brother dwelling within six or seven miles of Bedford, having been in a place where they had received the sum of eight score and fourteen pounds, or there about, Ratsey had secret knowledge and intelligence thereof, and of the way which they traveled homewards: So both he, and Snell, and Shorthose dogged both the Gentlemen, whereof the one carried the money before him in a Wallet, & could spy no convenient place to give onset to their purpose, till they came within half a mile of the Gentlemans own house: Then Ratsey (by his intelligence) thought it was either high time to strike or to desist from their former resolution, for by the notice that was given him, he knew be was not far from the Gentleman's grounds, and place of dwelling. And therefore being well horsed (for he was upon the conjurers Gelding he touched him with his spurs and soon overtook the Gentleman. To whom he briefly began to tell the cause of his coming, which was (he said for money, and money he must have. The Gentleman told him that he would not part with his money so easily and alighted and Ratsey and he betook themselves to their weapons, and while they were at it, very lustily, the Gentleman's brother began to ride away with the money, but Sne I followed him and soon brought him again, who kept him safe while the other were fight who should carry away the money. The Gentleman is known in his Country to be very stout and valiant, and had not his sword broken, it is thought that Ratsey and Snell both could not have robbed him, (for Shorthose never came in.) The Gentleman hurt Ratsey very dangerously, and he himself had a maim in his leg, which is said to be done by Snell coming in to aid Ratsey, and being both upon him, when the Gentleman's sword failed, the money was delivered, and with much danger Ratsey and his companions escaped, for hue & cry went forth in every place, but they spared no Horseflesh till they Coasted the Country and came to Saffronwalden, there one of them had some friends or Kinsfolks, with whom they all reposed themselves a day or two, and Snell and Shorthose did there change away their horses. From thence they took their several courses to London, where they met altogether in an Inn in Southwark, where it is reported they shared their money, and that Ratsey had two shares allowed him in respect of his hurts received. But as goods evil got, are for the most part evil spent: so they made as little conscience in consuming their money as they did in getting the same. And as deceit hath still his due, and God is just in punishing offenders, so fell it out in their several apprehensions, for Snel being taken in Duck-lane in London for a Horse that he had stolen from about Gravesend, not for the robbery committed in Bedford-shire, & being examined before a justice, & ready to be committed to prison, he appealed to the justice for favour, lolde him he would help him to one Ratsey of whom such fame went for many robberies, if he wield be good unto him for his life. The justice promised him his lawful favour, & thereupon Snell gave him notice where ratsey's Horse stood, and where he should have him. So by his directions Ratsey was taken, and apprehended near the Doctor's Commons and committed to Newgate, where he remained a long time, and Snell likewise. In which space, two or thee Sessions past, & they never called to any trial. All this while Shorthose was at liberty, and having been up and down in the Country, five or six weeks, and coming to London to listen how Ratsey and Snell had sped the Sessions before, he went and unfolded his mind to one Water Skellington a Countryman of his, who revealed him to the keepers of Newgate, and so he was likewise apprehended in Long-lane, in the liberties of great S. Bartholomew's. So being thus severally taken, Newgate held and contained them till Snell desired the justice to remove him to the Kings Bench, for fear lest one of the other should do him some sudden mischief for revealing of Ratsey. A little before the Assize time in Lent last, they were all removed down to Bedford, where they had not remained long, but Ratsey had eaten off his Irons with a water which he had gotten, and so had escaped, but that he was espied in time, and prevented by the Keeper. To be short, the Assizes being come, they were all brought down to the place of judgement, where they showed themselves so valiant that they thrust twelve men into a corner, who sound them all guilty for the Robbery committed in Bedfordshire upon the Gentleman and his Brother. And they were sent away from the Bar with the doleful sentence of Lord have mercy upon you. And the seven and twenty day of March last, they were all Executed in Bedford aforesaid. ratsey's repentance which he wrote with his own hand when he was in Newgate. THe silent night had shadowed every Tree, And Phoebus in the west was shrouded low: Each Hive had home her busy labouring Bee, And Birds their nightly harbour 'gan to know. And all things did from weary labour linne, When I began to way my state and sin. Men worn with work betook them to their rest, The sun had left to show his glorious beams: Titan had fully hid him in the West, To cool the set locks of his weary teams; When sunk with sorrow being captivate, I shed forth tears, lamenting much my state. My head on hand, my elbow on my knee, And tears did trickle down my countenance than, My countenance as sad as man's might be, My dumps befitting well a captive man. Fettered in Prison, passionate alone. My sighs wrought tears, and thus I 'gan to moan. I that of late did live a soldiers life, And spent my service in my country's good, Now captive lie, where nought but cares are rife, Where is no hope but loss of dearest blood, This is befallen me, cause I did misspend, That time which God to better use did lend. Sigh! for my music is a Sirens song, A fair deceit, to shadow men in grief: Did I say fair? Alas I called it wrong, Ulysses knew the Sirens dangers chief, Was when she sung to lull a man a sleep, Then fashioned she to sing, to make men weep. Deceiving Sirens, Siren's all to me, A shining shadow, but a dream of glo●de: A bait, a trap: I blind and could not see, A dangerous pray, and I both fond and bold. Would venture all, all for a worthless toy, And so I left, and lost my chiefest joy. Had I but stopped mine ears when Sirens sung And bound myself unto Ulysses mast: Or had I thought, alas I am but young, Too much is all to venture on a cast. I might have lived, and from all dangers free, Where now I die, for life is not for me. But I did follow what I knew was vain, Instead of virtue, I did vice embrace: My former pleasures now procure my pain, And cause I lacked one spark of timely grace. The poisoned Aconite of death and woe, Resolves to send a fatal overthrow. This makes mines eyes to gush out floods of tears, My flesh to melt, my veins and arters rend: My soul to seek redress, to cure her fears, For now my cause cannot afford one friend. I that of late did number many friends, Now find them fled, and no man comfort lends. The leafless tree with wrath of Winter's wind Best represents my wretched wasting state: Fortune the wind, the leaves my friends I find, Myself the Tree that thus am crossed by fate. And yet in this we greatly differ may, That it revives and I still pine away. I cannot speak but kill myself with words, I cannot think, but I my conscience wound: Law stabs me still, in every part with swords, justice commands in fetters I be bound, And for I have been graceless, griefs do spring, My days misled, my present cares do bring. Confounding sadness like a load of lead, Chills all my blood, and makes my sinews shrink, Revenge (quoth wrong) let rigour stand in stead, Death fills the Cup, and says that I must drink. This makes me plead, this makes me call and cry To heavens great King for mercy ere I die. I all confused and in confusion wrapped, Implore God's mercy, prostrate on my face: Youngling I was, and novice-like entrapped, Repentance true, away shall follies chase. Forgive, Oh heavens th'iniquities of youth, Do not object the faults of my untruth. villains avaunt, you bastards are by kind, That do perturb the Country's quiet state, Shame to offend, shun a corrupted mind, And learn by me your former life to hate. Live of your own, and brave it not with brags. Lest Law condemn you in your proudest rags. Awake for shame, and lift your eyelids up, Sleep not secure, nor dream of doing wrong, If justice strike, you cannot change her cup, Death being done, you fall, for he is strong. And then your course, because you did not cease To vex your King, with noubling country's peace. Drink not the Nectar of your neighbours sweat, Steal not at all, thy God doth so command: Whose law to keep thy Sou●raigne doth entreat, Thy health it is, God's law to understand; Obeying God, God shall all harms prevent, Keeping King's Peace, thy King is well content. Like to the Wolf in every place you range, Praying on Lambs that never went astray: And like Chameleons must your suits be strange, Who doth by kind change colours every day; Without respect, forgetting what you be, Masking in sin, as if God could not see. Abate presumption, sin is not a jest, Though God forbear, yet will he strike at length, God made thee man, make not thyself a beast, But seek to love thy God with soul and strength. Ill got ill spent, your hopes (in Theft) pretended, Are grief and shame, and life in sorrows ended. Your chief desires to fill your purse with gold, By hook and crook all careless of regard; You count him best that Bayardlike is bold, For such desires, sharp reckonining is prep●rde. Leave then to sin, so may you scape that fall: Which following vice, you cannot shun at all. Mad is the mind, that still in dangers stray, Iron his heart, whose gain is others woe: Sold is his soul, whom Satan leads away, His path destruction, where so ere he go, Sold, sold, for dross: Oh be not so deceived! Hell gapes, soul sinks, of heavenly joys bereaved. It's I invect, knows what infection is, And loves effect, that makes me thus to warn: Take what I give for good confection 'tis, By my downfall far better may you learn, Lest all to late, you weep as well as I, In deaths deep grief, expecting still to die. My sorrowing sobs with tears redeem what's past. Or slouds of tears suffice for fore-done ills: Behold my looks with discontent over cast, Whose heart doth rend, whose eyes fresh fountains s●●ls, And yet all this, and all that I can do, Is small to that, which I have need to do. My soul shall mourn for all my ill-done deeds, And I will weep, sole Author of soul's woe: Repentance shall be my black mourning weeds, I'll bathe myself in tears from top to toe. And while life is, which cannot now belong, Grant mercy Lord, this shall be all my song. My heart through flesh shall issue sweeting grief, And scald my bones, with salt and brinish tears: Through flesh and bone my heart shall beg relief, On bended knees, till bone my flesh outweares. All that I am, I'll spend in mourn for sin, And where I end, a fresh I will begin. Divine celestial maker of earth's Globe, Crowned King of Kings, most happy power of powers: Just in thy judgement, clear in Scarlet rob, Sweet of all sweets, in judgement gall to sours. Release my sorrows, if thou think it meet, And Salve my sinful sores with Balm so sweet. Great God, remit the follies of my youth, Thy power divine, I will no more offend, But I will strive to serve thee still in truth, While to this body thou a life dost lend, And at my end, I'll give the praise to thee, If thou but grant one dram of thy mercy. If Maudlin's tears did ever Christ's feet wet, And sweet her soul with true repentant tears: If Peter's mourning streams did mercy get, For all his sins, though he his Christ forswears. My sad laments abounding from mine eyes, Sweet God accept, and hear my mournful cries. A wounded Soul, a broken contrite heart, Creeps in great'st throng thy mercy's Throne to touch, The oil of life, King of my life impart, Though sin be great, thy mercies thrice as much. Oh thou that art in power, and mercy great! Send down thy mercy, from thy mercy's feat. The Publican suppressed with weight of sin, Durst not presume to cast his eyes on high, Gazing on earth his heart did never linne, But Miserere lowly he did cry. Peccavi Lord, this sinner's soul confessed. Whose note I sing that have no less transgressed. The wandering Son, whose portion was misspent, With riots, surfeits quaffing bowls of wine, Dainties all dear: In hunger now content, To feed with Hogs this prodigals not nice. All tattered torn shaked out of colours fine, Need him compels to keep a stranger's swine. The ground contents him now to rest upon, Whom beds of down did whilom discontent, His head up bolstered with some hill or stone, The clouds a covering to his field-bed lent, Where sorry man over ' plunged woeful lies, His Curtains cold, his canopy the skies. Renumerating with himself the cause. Of want, of woe, of hunger and of cold: Offence to God, the breaking of his laws, Then break out tears, he could no longer hold, But weeping ran, till he his Father sees, In true repentance, bending on his knees. And with loud Organ of a fainting soul, Father, (he said) I have 'gainst heaven offended, 'Gainst earth and thee, whose power doth sin control▪ No worthy Son: so he his faint speech ended. Yet still in silence, pearls of tears drilled forth, Till Father's welcome counted him of worth. His Father's heart in pity then relents, About his neck he closed his aged arms: Glad in his heart, his Son in heart reputes, receives him home, and with a kiss he warns, That all his friends should feast at his free cost, And welcome home his Son, so long was lost. Thrice happy Son, whose tears renew this grace, And sweet repentance was it home thee brought: Threefold, thrice double, happy Father's face, A Son to find whom thou so long hast sought. And Son most happy in a Father kind, Who being lost, did such a Father find. The self same Balm, is cure for my great woe, The same repentance makes me Abba cry: My speech doth faint, and I can say no more, Mercy redress, else languishing I die. Sweet, sweet of sweets, blessed balm, chief ease of pain, Grant memy home, I will not stray again. No more shall folly hold my wits in thrall, Wisdom shall ransom Will from Folly's bands, Experience shall forewarn me Sirens all, Nor shall despair, touch Conscience with foul hands; But till life's end, my prayers to heaven shall high, And with repentance will I live, and die. With sin my soul shall be no more oppressed, My God to serve shall now be all my care: No longer shall my thoughts be at unrest, But daily shun the place where wicked are. And while the remnant of my life doth last, I'll sigh, and sorrow for my sins forepast. My coloured suits I now exchange for black, Till scarlet sins be all as white as snow: On me sweet time shall never turn his back, Nor shall his task be more my tars to mow, But with repentance, furrow hopes forlorn, Till God give grace, I sheaff up better corn. This little remnant of my life so poor. He teach to shun all sin and vices all, Giver of grace, grant grace I sin no more, Establish me that I may never fall, To thee my heart, my life and soul I give, Who after death eternally makes live. Direct my paths even for thy mercy's sake, Guide thou my steps, to keep repentant ways: Keep me from steeped, in thee still let me wake, To laud thy name, during these arthly days. And when from earth I shall dissolve to just, Grant that my soul may live among the just. Gamaliel Ratsey. FINIS.